#mashuradi

[heavnofhell]

Pelly Belly™ Appreciation XXXI

[charlie-bradcherry]

I am interested to join The Archangel Network :D. "We're going to kill each other. And for what? One of Dad's tests. And we don't even know the answer. We're brothers. Let's just walk off the chessboard."

Hey! :D Ahhh, some Michifer feels ♥ You can tag all of your angel posts under #thearchangelnetwork now and search it in the Tumblr bar to see stuff of other people!

[fatalchild]

A lot of people talk about religious experiences, but I’ve actually seen the face of God. I’ve touched his hands. I crawled straight out of the fire and dived head first into the cause. And I don’t regret any of it--not even now. The human I used to be was shitty and forgettable, like most of them are, but going to Hell let her become something new. The upstairs god might not have wanted me, but there was someone else who did.

(read on the archive)

[fatalchild]

Where You Want to Be

Chapter One

The air was thick with a sickly mingling of sulfur and smoke. Bile rose up in Lucifer’s throat, the product of a weakened vessel, and his muscles rebelled with a strange, burning stiffness. Hell. He had been banished to Hell. Lucifer turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the blocks of dull color to coalesce into something definite. It took too long, and even when he was able to see straight, the vessel seemed to protest even the smallest movement. Lucifer swore to himself. Fucking humans. They had no business with such power, no right to use it against an angel, an archangel like himself. Lucifer struggled to his feet and wiped the pit’s grime from his palms across his coat. Arrogant little abominations. He needed to lie down.

[read on the archive]

[art by mashuradi]

[fatalchild]

mashuradi reblogged your post:[[MOR]mashuradi replied to your post:Every time...

Saw the post, sure, I will try to work on something, thing is that I’ll be busy in june and july mostly, but I can try....

Sign-ups for artists are scheduled to go until August with posting not until late September, so there is plenty of time. The schedule is already up on livejournal. You can find it here: http://angel-bigbang.livejournal.com/

[fatalchild]

mashuradi replied to your post:Every time @mashuradi draws Casifer, I am...

No one complains, you see me complaining? :D NOPE, You know I love your writing~

My preparations for the Angel Big Bang are underway. I hope you sign up. :’)

[fatalchild]

Because I’ve been wanting do draw a broken Lucifer, and @fatalchild wanted Castiel to be there, comforting him. So I pictured something inside “Jimmy”, after Sam kinda broke him in 11x10. Castiel was...

The following story is inspired by @mashuradi‘s amazing artwork:

Castiel’s bones felt hollow. The vessel worked. It was even comfortable. But there was no ancient promise held in the gaps between its ribs, no destined blood singing through its veins. There was just the quiet and the dull thrum of another’s distant grace. Lucifer held a breath in his lungs as he stared vacantly into the darkness.

He could hardly remember what silence felt like. The Cage had been an endless cacophony of pain, and even on Earth, there had been Nick and then Sam. Castiel was different. He expressed no desire to interact, or even to exist. No, Castiel seemed content to be left alone, and Lucifer assumed he would reciprocate. That suited him fine. The endeavor would be difficult enough with Castiel’s full cooperation, which Lucifer did not expect to have, but without resistance, it was still feasible. Or it would be once he settled into the vessel. The imperfect fit was purely psychosomatic, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t chafe.

***

Castiel did not expect to wake up. Lucifer’s grace was overwhelming, and he had expected to drown, to burn, to cease within it. Then he was breathing, and that was, perhaps, the strangest thing, because he had surrendered his body. Which meant Castiel was not breathing; Lucifer was. Castiel was just floating somewhere dark and cold, blindly grasping at sensation. He could feel some restlessness settling over him, but it wasn’t his own. At least, he didn’t think so. He found his feelings harder and harder to distinguish, and Castiel began to wonder why he was not suppressed as all his vessels had been. Maybe it was because he was an angel, and that thought alone gave him comfort. He thought to sleep, to pass his time in an abyss of peacefulness, but the world only grew more concrete around him. Castiel’s memories mixed and mingled, forming passageways between them like connecting the rooms through a house. He recognized each location, each memory preserved with agonizing detail, but felt no exhaustion for having created them. Castiel then began to wonder if this place was created by him or for him.

The television kept Castiel occupied for hours. He drifted in and out of something like sleep except for the fact that he had not expected to dream here, but every time he felt himself relax, some heavy, oppressive force twisted around his grace and some distant noise startled him from his calm. Castiel dug the remote out of the blankets to mute the TV and sat upright, listening carefully. Nothing. He felt sick, something about that sound continuing to haunt him regardless of whether he was awake or asleep, but each dream grew more and more vivid, images of Heaven flashing in Castiel’s mind until he placed the cry as an angelic call of distress. Castiel felt the air pulled from his lungs. Blanket pooled at his feet, TV remote clattering on the floor, he stepped forward.

***

Castiel found no homey rooms, no happy memories further in. There were just walls of darkness, echoes of pain, and at the very center, there was Lucifer. He was hunched with his head down, staring at the floor, staring at nothing. Castiel felt like an intruder, but he couldn’t look away, not even when Lucifer looked up, eyes wide and blazing with enough indignation to hide almost all the shame.

“Your grace is crying,” Castiel said, and Lucifer’s shoulders instantly dropped.

“I thought you were watching television.”

“Is that why you put me there? So I wouldn’t hear your--”

“I didn’t put you anywhere,” Lucifer snapped, but his anger deflated quickly. “They were your blueprints, Castiel.”

“I see.” Castiel hazarded another step forward. “And are these yours?”

“Hell is my blueprint.” Lucifer closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “This is better.”

“Is it?” Castiel looked around, wrapping his arms around himself against an invisible chill. “Are you saying there’s nowhere in the world you feel happy? Not even a little?”

Lucifer just shrugged.

“That’s awful, Lucifer. I’m--”

“Don’t.” Lucifer’s body tensed, and his jaw ground back and forth as he stared down again. “I know what everybody thinks of me. I’m no fool. Old dog, old tricks; only good for one thing. I’m the worst monster to ever--”

“I don’t think that.” Castiel crouched, trying to catch Lucifer’s gaze. “Lucifer, I don’t think that. Do you think I would have said ‘yes’ if I thought that?”

Lucifer looked up, and his eyes were red, tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Please don’t cry,” Castiel whispered, even as his own eyes began to burn. “I don’t think you’re a monster. I think you’re the one person who can save us from the Darkness.”

“What makes you so certain now?”

“Because you’re my brother,” Castiel said, “and I believe in you.”

Lucifer stared quietly for a moment before unfolding his arms, allowing Castiel to crawl closer. He reached up, wiping Lucifer’s face with the edge of his sleeve before embracing him. Castiel pressed their foreheads together and let himself feel the weight of Lucifer against him. He held him there until Lucifer’s arms wrapped around him, pulling him close to whisper in his ear.

“I believe in you too.”

[simplyamoosed]

For my friend @mashuradi and all the Michifer shippers out there.