#god!michael

[obscuredsavepoint]

here's the official ref sheet for Michael for my Hazbin Hotel Au Fallen Grace! i had to do a complete redesign over hall for his god form because the old version was just...so disgusting. it was terrible i tell you. i really like this version i made.

i really really wanted to add a crown and halo but i spent a literal hour trying to design them and they all looked so bad so i just....nixed them. but i love his wings, so shiny qwq he has gold and rose-gold wings, and he has teeeeechnically 20, but only 16 if you want to count the ones on his back. i tried to fit 20 (10 each side) but i ran out of room for big pretty wings lol

also this file is freaking huge i'm sorry oof.

Michael and Lucifer still don't see eye-to-eye even after Lucifer's Rebellion and whenever they see each other (either having to or just accidentally) they always end up in a physical fight. Which honestly is like watching a real like fight of two cartoon women fighting over shoes in a store. Includes hair pulling, biting the arms, cat scratching, and lots of cursing. He doesn't curse really at all, but when it comes to Lucifer he has a mouth like a sailor. Other times he only swears when the situation is serious. Or he's caught off guard/flustered. He is extremely protective of Raphael, not only because the young archangel is his heir but because he had raised him when God just...kinda fucked off. Michael had stormed Hell once in a fit of parental rage when Raphael got into trouble with the previous Lust Deadly Sin. Lucifer had to assign a new guy to take that role after Michael had torn the girl apart. Michael doesn't unlock his god powers until he confronts God who comes back and doesn't like the peace between Heaven and Hell. Michael only unlocks his sealed power because he thinks his husband was murdered by God. After becoming God, Michael hates being referred to as "God" by his friends and family, only in business meetings does he enforce the "everyone calls me God" thing. He also doesn't like to wear his crown much, he prefers his leafy circlet which had been reshaped to fit his new hat. Lucifer teases him about being "hat buddies" now, which Michael hates but endures. Michael is the most serious archangel in Heaven, aside from Uriel. After becoming God, Michael gets rid of Adam and Lute permanently and assigns Uriel and Azrael as the new leaders of the Exterminators/Exorcists. He doesn't call for a truce between Heaven and Hell and stop the exterminations until after Rabello is sent there after his death. Michael didn't want Rabello to end up exterminated and reincarnated. He is a pansexual. Michael grew up under a lot of pressure and doesn't really know when to take a break, much like Gabriel. He becomes Rabello's guardian angel in an attempt to repay a life debt after Rabello saves his life. Albeit unintentionally, it still counts.

God!Michael hides his wing ears nearly all the time unless he's around his husband or children. he is very embarrassed and slightly sensitive about them. God!Michael can change the size of his wings and show how many. When he first got his extra wings he couldn't control them at all (think Twilight Sparkle from MLP trying to fly, it was a disaster for Michael) He only allows his family to view and touch his wings, though he prefers Rabello grooming them. Even after becoming God, Michael still likes to tease Lucifer about his height. Though God!Michael is much harder to provoke into a physical confrontation now, he still likes teasing his twin brother. He hates that his wings are half pink. It's another reason he hides them. God!Michael can make his wings as sharp as blades and has used this to decapitate a few demons who got too cocky. Unlike the previous God who didn't have any set criteria for entering Heaven, God!Michael has made a list of what can and will get you into Heaven, making redemption for demons possible. God!Michael has also allowed very limited and mandatory supervision of demons entering Heaven to see loved ones/family (the max time is a day, once a year. it's also vice versa for angels entering Hell to see loved ones/family) He has banned any and all soul related contracts to be made by/with angels. If you want a contract with an angel, sign paper. He has become very cuddly with his family at bedtime and will deny it if it's pointed out.

[freetobeafcknriot]

me: i have no time to write. also me, 1 hour later: i'm gonna fail this exam but look what i did :)

for midam week 2k21, day 1: expectations. (...well, kinda) (psa that this is canon divergence, take any knowledge you have of the end of 15x17 up to the end of 15x19 and throw it in the trash can where it belongs <3)

One of the many truths about life nowadays is that assumptions are a waste of time, but apart from malicious cases, it's generally not a sin or a fault to assume something: it's inherent to human nature, correlated to the natural instinct of making hypotheses and being curious. So really, questioning and wondering is good, but in some cases, it really is pointless. When everything is said and done, and Amara and Michael exchange a curt nod and a look that aren't a reconciliation yet, but don't seem cold or hateful either, for all their divergencies the archangel—or, well, technically God—does spare the Winchester brothers a look that seems to say, no, assert: don't mess anything up and if you do, don't bother praying.

Adam's presence at the back of his mind, inside their body, only does so much to mellow it. He is too tired to bother, actually, so the message is pretty clear. Anyway, between a moment and the next a brief conversation seems to go through between archangel and human. (“Man, I hope I never have to see them again.”)

(“If anything's amiss the only person who needs to contact me is Amara, so don't worry about it, kid.”)

(“Oh, okay, cool. Wait, hang on, what time is it again?”) Then, out of the blue, Michael simply announces, “We'll be off.” And it's not like they're planning on having a celebratory dinner together, but it's been, what, ten minutes? Dean squints at him, and Sam asks, “Wait, where are you going?” A bright flash of blue and the change of posture bring Adam to the front. His only reply is a hurried and curt, “I have class!”, and that... literally is the sum of it because then they're both gone in a flutter of powerful wings. No one there expected the last time they spoke to play off like that. Had there been some kind of actual bond or instance of caring between the three brothers, Sam and Dean would probably have been worried about Adam's state of mind. As it is, they're just left weirded out and bewildered for the entirety of twenty minutes. And Adam, well, he does have classes to attend. “...and a useless piece of paper with the instructions to put this thing together. Seriously!” “You know I can have it done and ready in an instant, right?” It turns out if there is any trait that resembles humanity Adam still has and, in fact, shares with the rest of his kind, that's the struggle of building an IKEA furniture. Michael knows that thing is supposed to be a desk, but it looks anything but one. The floor of their bedroom is basically invisible with the exception of the area near the window Michael is currently occupying and the bed, and Adam is currently fidgeting with a screwdriver. He casually points it in Michael's general direction and waves it around without looking at him. “Yeah, I know, but you don't need to, halo. I got this,” he says. “Hhm,” Michael blinks, vaguely amused and fond, but mostly blunt when he inspects the pieces of wood and says after a minor, hushed curse escapes Adam's mouth, “I don't think you got this.” Adam sighs, frustrated because he really needs to get this thing built and he's trying. It's not like he's going to have a mental breakdown for not being great at building a desk — let's be clear — he's just. . . well, it's only been a week since the almost end of the world. Okay? “Rome wasn't built in a day, it's fine,” he insists. Michael's grace engulfs him, soothingly. The sensation and the pulse of warmth are subtle enough to suggest that he senses a little part of that human soul he cares about so deeply is hurting a little, but knows he doesn't need to hover. He's just there. “That's a desk, not Rome.” Michael's voice is honey-like, a vessel of the affection that he carries in his very core and that, under his attentive gaze, seems to help wash away part of Adam's tension. Michael's mind may be preoccupied with even more matters nowadays, their visits to Heaven are a concrete testimony of that, but his main focus lies to his right, where Adam is. Where the only person he has left, the only one who cares about him and who Michael cares for in return, is. “Well, shit, I have all eternity to get better at this,” is Adam's final statement, before he tosses the instruction paper aside and looks at Michael, bright blue eyes filled with resilience and humor, and a smile that makes his cheeks pop up endearingly and the room so much brighter. (And he's not even aware of it.) Adam pats the spot next to him. “Alright. But no archangel magic.” He blinks, then adds, “Or godly.” He briefly thinks he should put that on a shirt. Swiftly and not even a moment later, Michael's apparition is at his side, on the floor. Quiet mirth smoothes the lines of his face when he imperceptibly quirks a brow in humor and hums, “If you insist.” He is so close that their thighs touch, and a buzzing feeling passes through at the contact. They both know what it is by now. Captivated, Adam watches as Michael idly takes initiative. “Here, you had the wrong pieces.” And, well, indeed, isn't that a sight to behold! But then again, that's their thing, isn't it? The entirety of their story — because that's what everyone is, at the end of the day. And it's not necessarily bad, it's just another way to see life as a journey. Your journey, your story; no one else's. (Not even God's. No, he stopped having a say in their story a long time ago, and there is a new one now anyway. A God who isn't a writer so much as he is a protector.) They trace it together; build it, write it down, sear it among the stars themselves. Together, little by little, and like I was saying, that has always been kind of their thing: unpredictability.

[cecelianonymous22]

guys look michael got drip

this is who i like to call Guradian god!Michael :)

i already have a god!Michael, but me and my friend Zack ended up starting a new rp and well

i came up with this guy

he's a new god who is

incredibly confused by modern day shit but Rich won't believe him if he tells him he's a god

[signoraviolettavalery]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Chapter 3 is up! Michael whisks Alex away to a castle perched in the clouds, white as snow lilies and gilded at the edges.

If anyone is still into reading Malex fic after The Debacle of 2x06, here is a wildly, wildly AU fic in which Maria Deluca doesn’t even appear. Please enjoy, and I hope it takes your mind off canon at least a little bit. Comments are <3

[signoraviolettavalery]

....and a second snippet, because I’m a generous bitch today ;) 

Alex sways, falling into Michael’s arms, who catches him with the swift reflexes of a god.

“I yield, my god,” Alex whispers. Blood trickles from his mouth, and Rath thinks he looks beautiful in his defeat.

“Shit,” Michael curses.

Alex’s eyes flutter closed.

“Damn it!” he curses again, louder this time, though the swear is directed at the other inside his head who has done this. But Rath has no remorse.

He is ourssss, he whispers in Michael’s head.

He’s hurt, Michael argues at him.

He’ll live, Rath insists. Don’t make a fuss.

[signoraviolettavalery]

Even though I missed six-sentence sunday, have a snippet from the next chapter of god!Michael. Because I felt like it. 

It is the pain and the surrender that give him the courage to ask Michael for a favor.

“My god, may I – ” He pauses, biting his lip, the words stuck in his throat.

“What?”

Michael’s voice is gentle. Still, he hesitates.

“Alex, whatever you ask for, it is yours, freely. I swear it on all that I am.”

“Can I share your bed, my god?” Alex asks, and Michael startles. “Lie beside you,” he hurries to clarify. “I miss your warmth, your favor.”

“Oh, Alex, you have my favor, always. And my bed is yours.”  

“Thank you, my god,” he whispers, reverent.

[signoraviolettavalery]

Six Sentence Wednesday...

or whatever it is. Fuck it, it’s almost Wednesday and I need validation so here goes, a snippet from my god!Michael fic.

TW: self-harm, internalized homophobia

He kneels on cold stone that has soaked in so much of his blood that it is perpetually stained. On the altar, his god looks down upon him, benevolent and devastatingly beautiful, and that last thought is why Alex is here yet again.

Forgive me, he begins as he always does. The whip is familiar as a lover on his back, though it is new; he uses them often enough that he has to renew them regularly.

I’m sorry, he pleads his god to understand. Please. Please take this weakness from me.

He barely even notices when the tears start to fall along with his blood.

There’s no answer. There never is, and Alex hits harder, because it must not be enough. It’s never enough, given Michael’s perpetual silence.

Cleanse me, he begs. Please. Only you can make me pure. I am not strong enough to do it myself.

The brightness startles him, and he raises his head to stare, barely able to make out the shape of his god.