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My art style is too cute and gay and I was too tired to make him goopy and scary and gross and cool so here’s silly and quaint 6000 foot Michael. He’s also blue because I hate you ❤️
Michael being so vain and proud of his skin-suit is funny until you remember the reason is because he hates his real body so much and thinks the suit is the only thing stopping everyone from seeing him as a gross, dangerous monster. No wonder he values the suit so much.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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“I warned you; if you want them, you’ll have to go through me!”
Another amaaazing commission from @star-pepper ! S4 AU where the gang lose, the humans are sent to the Bad Place, but Michael doesn’t go down without a fight.
Star made a tweet about wanting to write Michael going feral with rage so we combined our ideas. ^_^
Quick missing scene from If I Were To Lose You. After I’d finished, I regretted not going back to Michael’s pov for a moment but couldn’t decide how, so just wrote some fluff here while he’s still in his fire squid form. I’m just in a very fluffy hug mood tonight, before the stress of the week begins
*
There had once been a time when he’d dreamed of what it felt like to be cold. A time when he’d tried to imagine the sound of snow crunching beneath him or to swim the ocean without it boiling away by his intense heat.
After today he thinks he’s had enough experience with ice for a millennia.Â
It’s not so bad without the arrows digging into his body, their tips charged with arcane magic, freezing his insides and draining him of his natural temperature. The wounds still hurt like a bench but at least he can feel the awful cold leaving him, helped a lot by the little fires his friends have quickly crafted around him...and one of them being snuggled as close as she can get.
Eleanor hasn’t left his side, her head rested against his large spongy body, her eyes closed as if she could fall asleep against him.
She’s not tired though. Not physically.
His demon vision is just as perceptive as it is when he’s in his human suit. He can see the little boulders of green and blue energy crushing against her. Guilt. Guilt and...regret? Michael scarcely remembers seeing her weighed down by this much shame, even all those times she tried to truly atone for her crimes on Earth.
Feeling a little more energised, though still rather weak, he raises his tentacle to nudge her cheek.Â
She opens her eyes and smiles, reaching out to put her fingers around the tip.
If there was one blessing to her vengeful assault, it was that it took away his foul juice and flames, enough to be close to her in his true form. He feels as though he should be pushing her away, in case his essence recharges enough that he starts to leak and grow and burn again...But he thinks he’ll know if that will happen. And hopefully Derek will have his suit ready by then.
For now, he keeps all of his eyes on Eleanor, wishing he could smile at her. He blinks, slowly, six times, giving a soft purr as she squeezes his tentacle.
“How’re you doin’, buddy?” she whispers, her voice a little cracked from where she’s been quietly crying to herself.
Please, don’t, he wants to say. Don’t cry over me. You didn’t know, it was nothing personal...
So she says. He tries to shove aside his fear that her reaction was always destined to be as it was when finding out what he is.
No. She’s here. As soon as she found out, he saw her entire spirit shift.
She’s as close as he has any right for her to be. She’s smiling at him like...he isn’t a giant, disgusting, wounded squid.
He moves another tentacle to brush against her face (careful of the teeth).
“Yeah...Sorry for getting all goopy on you. It’s been a rough day...Not that I have to tell you that.” She sighs, stroking him with her palm again.
Her touch feels so soft, so nice.
She wouldn’t touch him like that, with so much acceptance, if she didn’t mean it.
“I wish you had told us from the start what you were. I believe Jason, I’m sure you had reasons, but...If you think for a second we wouldn’t wanna be friends with you knowing you were this? This...pretty awesome kickash Cthulu? Then you must have a teeny tiny brain in that giant body of yours, dude.” She whispers, leaning against him again.
Oh...Kickash? He didn’t think he’d ever get to be called that. Violence really wasn’t his thing, which should have been the first sign he was no ordinary demon.
He moves his tentacle to curl around her, bringing her close, almost holding her to him as he’s not really able to lean into her - and he doesn’t want to roll into her in case he squashes her. He might be pretty far off his usual six thousand feet but he’s still a lot bigger than this rather tiny human.
“I’m kinda glad you can’t talk right now. Means you don’t get to try interrupting me when I tell you how awesome we think you are. Or how sorry I am. Or how much we care about you. You just gotta lie here and take it.” Eleanor sighs, “But I can’t wait to have you back in your human suit, Michael. I can’t imagine not hearing that voice of yours again.”
Another soft rumble against her. She must know that not being able to communicate, unable to have his friends hear his cry for help, was one of the most horrifying parts of what happened this evening.Â
Then having her corner him here, shrunken and extinguished, ready to gut him like a fish...It had only been that little mention in her speech of her true motivations that helped him cling onto hope. She had done all of this, taken him down with such brutality...because of how much she cared about him. That still felt surreal, which was saying a lot considering the fantasy environment he was raised in. He wants to explain it to her. He wants to be truly honest now.
I need my voice to tell you not to feel bad. I need it to tell you how cool you looked with that crossbow.Â
I need it to tell you...It’s okay, Eleanor.
As long as she says it is.
“I think I’ll even be glad to listen to one of your terrible songs again.” She jokes and he jostles her a little, disgruntled. Then he feels her smile against him, warming him through as much as the campfires, despite those rocks of regret still heavy on her form.
He strokes a soothing tip down her back, already trying to come up with some lyrics.
