gifs:michael

sparxflame

pssst you should totally write something with michael grooming lucifer’s wings where they’re all damaged and dirty from the cage and angry snarking and bonding (or not if you don’t like the idea but just a suggestion!)

(I always like wing grooming and snark.  I hope you like it!) When Michael firsts asks to see Lucifer’s wings in the Cage, Lucifer spits at him like an angry cat and doesn’t talk to Michael for days. He doesn’t ask again. At least, not until long after they’re free from the Cage and hunkered down in their apartment, where ashy feathers seem to keep turning up in the strangest of places.  Bearing in mind their previous “conversation” about Lucifer’s wings, Michael cleans the stray, singed feathers he finds in the assortment of places (how Lucifer got feathers in the refrigerator is beyond Michael) without a word.  It’s only after he takes the time to examine the feathers - blackened with soot, jagged and burned beyond recognition, all vibrancy lost to thousands of years in a dark, forsaken cage - that he changes his mind.

The timing must be perfect, or else he’ll be awarded with another flustered outrage.  Michael has long since learned that Lucifer is most amiable right after sex or when he’s drunk - though not a combination of the two, as he’s more likely to pass out than not.  So Michael waits until they’re in bed and finished with their latest tryst, Lucifer sprawled out on his back in a state of fucked-out contentment.  Michael lies beside him, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, listening to his breathing slow as he comes down from the blissful high.  And when Lucifer cranes his head back, revealing the multitude of marks Michael sucked and bit onto his neck, Michael makes his move.

“I found feathers in the refrigerator the other day,” Michael says, and Lucifer stiffens, lips thinning in a hard line.  

“And?” Lucifer asks, all sarcasm and poison, as if it’s totally reasonable to find burned feathers in the refrigerator and Michael is ridiculous for insinuating otherwise.

“And, I’ll tend to your wings, if you’d let me.”

Keep reading

As I was feeding squirrels in the park, I noticed a small one that didn’t seem to trust me. While the others came close enough to eat out of my hand, he kept his distance. I threw a peanut his way. He edged up, grabbed it nervously, and ran off. Next time he must have felt less afraid, because he came a little closer. The safer he felt, the more he trusted me. Finally he sat right at my feet, as bold as any squirrel clamoring for the next peanut.

Trust is like that, it always seems to come down to trusting in yourself. Others can’t overcome fear for you; you have to do it on your own. It’s hard, because fear and doubt hold on tight. We are afraid of being rejected, of being hurt once more. So we keep a safe distance. We think separating ourselves from others will protect us, but that doesn’t work either. It leaves us feeling alone and unloved.

Trusting yourself begins by recognizing that it’s okay to be afraid. Having fear is not the problem, because everyone feels anxious and insecure sometimes. The problem is not being honest enough to admit your fear. Whenever I accept my own doubt and insecurity, I’m more open to other people. The deeper I go into myself, the stronger I become, because I realize that my real self is much bigger than any fear.

In accepting yourself completely, trust becomes complete. There is no longer any separation between people, because there is no longer any separation inside. In the space where fear used to live, love is allowed to grow.

—  Michael Jackson, from “Dancing The Dream”

anonymous asked:

Hey Michael are you still a virgin?

Hmm? I don’t believe my private information is anything of your business. *Sigh* Since Father put me to this…. No I am not a virgin. I do believe I answered your question.