woah graham how come that young producer guy calls you babygirl 👀🤨🤨😳😳

Michael, the Ruined Prince

Michael, having used all of his power to seek out God, had failed as the Prince of Heaven. He had abandoned his people, absent for centuries on a fruitless search filled with unheard, increasingly desperate prayers and an unrelenting, bone-deep exhaustion that is now permanent. His grief grew day by day, and an angel in isolation begins to wither, to warp – they must be with one another lest they twist into their extremes, retreating into their divine purpose until it becomes self-destructive parody. And Michael had already been scarred long ago by his role in banishing Lucifer, by God’s own ever-mounting wrath that ate away at the mercy he was meant to feel alongside it. Michael had already been insular, something had already pulled at the seams of his soul, and now centuries of failure consume him. He would return to Heaven with nothing for his people. Nothing for the siblings he swore to protect.

So his final thought in a deeply troubled mind urged him to try one last time. That if he could not find God, then he must bring God to himself. He must sin, he must beg for punishment, and then God will come to deliver it onto him. Just as He once did to Lucifer. It disgusted him, to think he had to debase himself to be as the sinners he held nothing but vile contempt for ever since he couldn’t cope with the guilt of the first fallen angels. But his prayers have failed, his days of weeping have failed, he moved Heaven, Earth, and all of Hell to come up with empty hands. Less than that. Not even a feeling. So Michael, even as a Cherub who could not, did everything he could to replicate his memories of when he had witnessed God Himself tear the light from His angels. Michael had seen it every time, it was he that had to bind any fallen angel that survived it to their place in Hell. He knew, implicitly, what the ritual was even if God seemed to enact it in one beautiful, elegant motion. And he did just that. Imperfect pantomiming, flawed execution, but the same ritual as best as Michael could copy it. All to himself.

But only God and the high Seraphim can sever an angel from their light.

His soul was rent from his body. His light was torn to shreds by his inexperienced hands. The agony that it screeched resounded all the way back to Heaven in unintelligible, muted whispers of nauseous grief no one could understand. Michael felt himself die, but it was incomplete. He was left in a corpse, a body destroyed and succumbing to all it meant but with him still inside of it. God did not come, and Michael was trapped a ruined body, bereft of a soul, of his light, giving way to rot and deterioration yet fully functional. He could do nothing but take this as a sign from God, one that he will not be punished no matter his crime for being such a loyal servant. Even as his body falls apart, as plants begin to burst from his remains, he believes himself to be blessed – see how he grows God’s garden. See how his crown remains pristine. He adorns his exposed bones with gems and finery, ostensibly as thanks to God for keeping him alive, keeping him sinless when he had so despised his impending fall from grace. But. Michael is, in the back of his mind, highly aware of what he’s become. He knows he is rotting, he knows he is in a dead body, he knows, somewhere, God had nothing to do with it. It was just a mistake, it was just his own foolishness with catastrophic consequence. He is more noxious than a fallen angel now, a botch job shambling numbly back to Heaven when he feels the death of Gabriel.

Upon his return, he largely attempts to hide the rot of his body, at least from the citizenry – he cannot hide it from Raphael or Uriel, nor does he try. To Michael, it proves his devotion, it shows God’s still present love for him, and it is a testimony to how he cannot fall, that he can never lose his place in Heaven. Raphael begs for him to be healed, Uriel pleads reason to him, but neither had ever been as strong as Michael and ultimately, he is their leader. No matter the state he returns in, he is the Prince of the Archangels and truthfully...they both fear him now. He is not the Michael they loved, not the one that had been quiet and stoic yet still loving in return. The Michael that would have done anything for them, that never wanted to lose another like he lost Lucifer. He commands them now to join him in binding Gabriel, his tangible grief the only thing that seems to be left of who he had once been.

Internally, Michael sees their fear, he feels the crushing guilt of Gabriel’s fall, he is violently ill with one true look at himself. He had gone wrong a long, long time ago, when he lost Lucifer, and now all of that was being made manifest, but he can’t face it. As flesh falls away, he covers it more and more with jewels as if that could hide the decay he can feel spreading night and day, the only thing he feels now. He must retreat into his purpose, he must not allow such devastating failure to be his legacy. So he turns on Gabriel. Gabriel, whose light had been severed. Who walks freely in an abandoned Hell. Who still has a living, breathing body. Michael’s vitriol toward the damned hones in on Gabriel, consumed with being sure he is left nailed to the lowest pit in Hell for his treachery. All the love he once had turns to hatred and in it, the other three can see that Michael has been left shattered, that nothing in him truly believes God made him this way. God’s most loyal, left to rot.

Additional information:

Michael now always exudes the Odor of Sanctity, but there is a distinct undertone of mold to it

The opalescent webbing that runs through his body is the angelic brain - normally it is iridescent and transparent with a strange glow, but Michael's is opaque and dull

Michael now prefers walking, something noted as unusual when he returned to Heaven, but it's simply due to the fact that his body has been left entirely numb and so it's difficult to maneuver in the air properly

He is very protective of his crown and dragon-skin bag, as they seem to be the only things left uncorrupted on him

caw 🦅

On bonds.

what they had in P3M was really precious!!

I refuse to believe that wasn't part of the base game..it's something that should have been there in the first place!! hope reload does them more justice!!

Was inspired by @mushtoons HC’s and came up with my own silly little thought 💙💅❤️

doodles

edgar vargas and squee by johnen vasquez

scriabin by zarla-s

mmm doodle dump... I've run myself dry of ideas

here are the plushies i made for my brothers - bot and the announcer!! now that they have been gifted i all happy to share them with you all :)

Kinda in the middle of planning a defense, no flirting pls (Patreon)

Bonus:

hi!! i just wanted to say that ive liked midoyuzu since i was like 14 and its been a few years since then (obviously) but seeing your midoyuzu art now is so!!! its so fulfilling to my past self who had like NO art to go off of, i guess? anyway! your art is super good and i love it so much <3

im glad omg? extremely late to the party but by god i am bringing snacks in here or die trying o7 was pretty baffled the first time finding out more abt their dynamic and looking them up on here to find maybe like two more recent posts and the rest from no sooner than 2017 or so askjdghsjkgdhjks but really THANK YOU!!!!!!!! happy to be of service to your inner 14yo somewhat ;v;

yknow what though the really funny thing is that i wasnt even that into them initially. just remembered that cute interaction at the end of xmas live and thought "huh these two r kinda sweet actually" and that curiosity is always a slippery slope into genuine investment and by god is tripping into it a favorite pastime of mine

One of the most ridiculous (and worrying) trends in modern fashion is huge brands selling items that are designed look like DIY. Things like jeans with fake marker drawings on them, jackets with various patches already sewed on, T-shirts pieced together from two different parts... Are people genuinely paying extra money for something they could (and should, in my opinion) be doing themselves? What sort of authenticity is that?

What is it about Banana that makes random people ask us if he's a basenji and then look like they don't believe us when we say he's not? Yes, ma'am, we've heard of basenjis before. No, ma'am, he is not one. He's mostly pit and chow, I promise you he is not a basenji and he does not look like a basenji.

Sorry for existing publicly today it will not happen again ( < thinking about looking for more pictures of the comfort blorbos to reblog)

it's always the weirdest conversations that make you realise this is the first time in your life youve ever had friends

so i caught up on amphibia,, i dont think i watched the same show as you guys

took a closer look at lucifer’s notebook. it’s headed “PLEASE HELP 4/21/15″ followed by 160something tallies (though they say there’ve been 154 people who don’t give a fuck), then doodles, including what may be a face, seemingly smudged or erased lines, what i’m just now realizing may be the head of a snake with an arrow shooting at it, and crucially and most obviously, a backwards Cool S.

the writing in the middle of the page is:

I miss you and I remember what it was like be[fore]

I wish I didn't