#archangel with a shotgun

[prolibytherium]

Smirking and shaking my head and pointing at myself mouthing "Get a load of this guy" while jerking off to gay porn so that god knows I'm doing it for the bit

[marys2ndson]

hunting fucking sucks: a fic rec list

I just love when their lives suck not because they’re vessels for archangels or whatever, but just because their job is the worst. thankless, dangerous, morally ambiguous, leaving them injured and dirty and bone-tired. i <3 whump

Due East by sowell (4,700 words)

Just hunts and angst and them, together. Love the characterization. 

“I think I like you injured. Less bitchy,” Dean says with a smile, and Sam blinks at him. / “What?” / “You think I haven’t noticed you sulking for two days straight?”

Hard to Come By by sevenfists (1,700 words)

Hunting, driving around, sleeping in shitty motels. Making difficult choices, dealing with hard realities. 

"You don't smoke," Sam says, and Dean says, "What's it look like I'm doing?" The cigarette tastes like ass. He smokes it anyway, tapping the ash out the open window. It's August. Sam turns up the air conditioning. Dean turns it back down.

Below Breath by kalliel (3,100 words)

Season 2, case fic. Love the complete lack of exposition. You’re just thrown into it on Dean’s terms, and everything is complicated and difficult and unknown. 

Dude, he says, and shoves you in the back with his shotgun. You resist the urge to turn around and smack him with it. Or kiss him, all teeth. See how much he’s paying attention then. 

Every Rhyme Without Reason by kalliel (44,800 words) 

Season 1, case fic, Sam POV. Fascinating and atmospheric and a tough read bc Sam’s life is very uphill at this point, but he’s so present, wrestling and grappling with it. Love him. <3

Maybe they killed that rawhead, released that reaper, slashed that bax'aan's throat. Maybe they'll kill this thing in Rime. But this is what's gonna get them: They have $127.34, four more nights, half a tank of gas, and some cold leftovers to their name. Out here, there's nowhere to go but down; and even then, they're going to have to limp.

With Gravy by kalliel (3,700 words)

Vague season 2. A hunt gone wrong. Slim chances of survival, complete darkness, pain, and heroism. 

The tunnel stretches on and on, and all Dean hears is their footsteps getting heavier, sloppier. One kid cries. The woman cries. The man's leg doesn't quite clear some jutting rocks, and he weeps.

The Real Thing by ameliacareful (14,200 words)

Jensen wakes up in a motel room in Dean’s place. So outsider POV. That thing about the third trial, about Tom and Shep… Kill me. 

“Are you doing that on purpose?” / “What?” / “Sounding like him?” / “A little. Does it work?” Jensen asked. / Sam did that funny little flicker of a smile/grimace that Jared only did as Sam. “Yeah, it does.” His gaze hardened. “Don’t do it again.” / Sam was suddenly very big. Armed. / “Gotcha,” Jensen said.

Catch Your Death by road_rhythm (22,300 words)

They work a ghost hunt while Sam’s sick. This fucks severely! All their petty fights and their biases and bickering really get the spotlight they deserve, as well as the fact that they just really love and care about each other. Feels exactly like a really good ep of s2. And takes up some of the interesting Sam issues as well.

It was this, every time. Sam lashed out and Dean came back with impenetrable patience and washcloths and medicine and touch and one day it would be his life. And there was no answering back to that.

my habit of breaking hearts as soon as i have them by acccording2thelore (6,600 words)

WARNING: major character death. 

A hunt gone wrong. Staggering grief and horror mixed with intimacy and connection. <3 

If he can just get to Garth, he can send up some of his people and help carry Sam to the base of the mountain. Dean won’t make it that far.

the blurriness of being alive by hathfrozen (3,500 words)

WARNING: major character death. 

Sam dies of an infection.

“They don’t get to grieve for him,” Dean tells Miracle when he decides he isn’t calling anybody to tell them. “They ain’t allowed. They don’t get it.” Dean’s had the worst things in the known universe leeching off of him, trying to turn him into evil, but this is the most rotten, meanest he’s ever felt. He doesn’t fucking care.

A Lifetime or Two by nigeltde (18,400 words)

They work a case with their mom; Sam gets banged up; they try something new. This fic feels so real and lived in. The familiarity between Sam and Dean, the way Sam feels left out, Sam’s quiet loneliness and enduring hope, Dean’s desperate affection. <3

Sam would say lucky it was just broken bones. Lucky nothing else cut too deep. Lucky his ear was intact. Dean gets lost, strung out, trying to calculate: if Sam had been concussed, would that still be good luck? If he’d lost the finger, should Dean be thankful? Where does it end, the tallying? Sam thrown through glass, dragged across pavement, tossed into a car, stitched up in this cramped doll’s house of a room, having to bluntly endure; this is what he’s supposed to be grateful for?

Settle Down My Shivered Bones by abitingsmile (4,800 words)

WARNING: disordered eating, food insecurity, and child neglect. 

Pre-series. John, unreliable and off hunting somewhere, and Sam and Dean, making it work with too little cash and too little food. Love this exact flavor of codependency, not sweet, but hard-earned and for survival. 

Sam still bickered with him about school and television and laundry, but not about food. Hell, he practically waited for Dean to give him permission to eat, because that way they knew there’d be enough. John or no, this was something incredibly important they could control, they could handle. John simply wasn’t in the loop anymore.

[felassan]

Email from Modiphius:

"MASS EFFECT NEWS! Mass Effect The Board Game and Mass Effect Miniatures are almost here! Commander Shepard, it’s time to suit up—the galaxy needs you again! Mass Effect The Board Game - Priority: Hagalaz is coming very soon! But here’s some top secret data just for you: we’re also releasing a range of high quality resin Mass Effect Miniatures! You can use these miniatures to upgrade the plastic miniatures and tokens in the base game, or field them in any miniatures skirmish game (like Five Parsecs from Home), and they’re great for for miniatures collectors and Mass Effect fans everywhere! Find out more on our Mass Effect blog and get a tease of the miniatures representing the crew of the Normandy, including both male and female Shepard minis (with optional helmets) and Wrex and Tali (with detachable drone)! If you haven’t already, sign up for Mass Effect news here, so you can be among the first to find out when pre-orders for Mass Effect The Board Game - Priority: Hagalaz and our Mass Effect Miniatures launch VERY soon! Until then, stay vigilant. The galaxy is counting on you."

[source: email from Modiphius]

Images of the miniatures (Sheps, Garrus, Liara, Tali, Wrex)

[source]

Info from the associated blogpost:

"Mass Effect Miniatures By Gavin Dady Art by David Benzal October sees the launch of Mass Effect The Boardgame - Priority: Hagalaz. In it, Commander Shepard and their band of loyal squadmates take on a new mission to explore a crashed Cerberus Cruiser on the storm-wracked world of Hagalaz. Within the cruiser they will face many dangerous enemies, from the survivors of the Cerberus crew, native life and even the dangerous captives and experiments that Cerberus were keeping aboard the ship. The enemies are represented by thick, full colour, illustrated card tokens in the game, but Modiphius are also producing a range of 32mm, multipart miniatures to compliment them. As with our previous Fallout and The Elder Scrolls miniatures, these are highly detailed resin collectors miniatures.    In this first phase of miniatures, we are concentrating on the core sets required to build up the forces for the board game. The first of these is The Heroes of the Normandy Alpha. It includes six miniatures in alternative poses for the PVC sculpts from the board game.  Commander Shepard is represented in both male and female versions. Armed with the M-8 Assault Rifle or her M-3 pistol and Omni-blade, Shepard is ready to take the fight to their enemies. Shepard also comes with optional parts to depict them with either bare head or their iconic helmet from their N7 armour. The former C-Sec officer, Garrus Vakarian, has been by Shepard’s side from their earliest days as a SPECTRE and is depicted in his role as one of the galaxy’s premier snipers (arguments about who is the better shot between Shepard and Garrus aside). Garrus is depicted with his signature M-92 Mantis rifle, repaired armour and the scars he gained as The Archangel. Next amongst Shepard’s staunch allies is Dr. Liara T’soni. A powerful Asari biotic, expert on the ancient Prothean race and, secretly, the powerful underworld figure The Shadowbroker. Liara  is depicted initiating one of her powerful biotic abilities, energy crackling around her hand. Tali’Zhora Nar Rayya is the young Quarian that Shepard first met whilst pursuing the rogue SPECTRE Saren. Tali is a gifted engineer and staunch advocate for the Quarian people. She is depicted with her drone, Chatika, who can be modelled attached to Tali’s Omni-tool, or kept separate to act as a marker during gameplay. Rounding out the squad is Urdnot Wrex, the veteran mercenary and leader of Clan Urdnot. Wrex is a powerhouse in battle, utilising biotic abilities, a powerful M-300 Claymore shotgun and, more than once, a well placed head-butt. As well as these miniatures, we are also producing further sets to compliment the boardgame, including Reaper Forces, Cerberus Troops and some of the Priority Threats that you will face as you make your way through the crashed cruiser. These sets are ideal for upgrading the tokens in the base game, or for use in any miniatures skirmish game (like Five Parsecs from Home) or for miniatures collectors everywhere. Look out for special collectors and gameplay bundles available exclusively from Modiphius  when the Mass Effect Board Game pre-orders go live soon! In the meantime, you can sign-up for more Mass Effect news here."

[source]

[siriusleee]

up to light

a/n: so part 1 and 2 were the only parts of this story that were originally going to be published. i did this to wrap the story up, so it is narratively different because the first 2 parts were a story of like being enamored and panic, and all that. this is about becoming better and healing. i did a lot of research into ptsd in returning soldiers for this. tags: PTSD, arguing, some domestic arguments, breaking shit, fighting, blood, redemption, some religious imagery, did not proofread because I am lazy “Long is the way and hard, that out of Hell leads up to light.” ― John Milton, Paradise Lost part one | part two

He has fits of rage that shock him: chairs broken into pieces, plates smashed in the sink, his hand through the window, a hole in her dashboard. Sodom and Gomorrah beneath his hands. He expects her to react in kind; more than once he begs her to retaliate, to scream at him. 

She refuses, but she doesn't speak to him when she wraps his knuckles, wiping the blood away with a sting. He fixes each broken item the next day, a silent apology that he'll do better the next time he gets angry.

Once he wakes up and expects her to be in the kitchen like every morning, the golden light filtering through - a cup of coffee already made for him on the counter. She's not there. He knocks on her bedroom door, but she doesn't answer. He doesn't know what to do with himself, so he paces, carving a trail in the carpet. He sits at the kitchen table and flashes back to seeing her above him. He can't sit there long.

It takes an hour for her to come back, grocery bags in her hand. He barely registers what he's doing when he grabs her by her shoulders in a bruising grip and shakes her. He doesn't yell, but he's close to it.

"Where the fuck were you? You were supposed to be here!"

The bags hit the floor, contents spilling out onto a disarray. She shoves him, harder than he would have expected her to be able to; he stumbles backward, surprised at her strength. 

Scream at me. Please.

She doesn't move, fist clenched at her side - an archangel ready to strike him down. She rubs her hands on the thighs of her jeans, eyes downcast before she speaks to him.

"You can break everything in my house if you want, but the next time you grab me like that, you will regret it."

She is the wrath of God; Simon expects her to strike him down at any moment: his angel showing her true strength. He feels her anger radiate off her in waves. But she leaves it, dropping to her knees to grab the apples that have rolled across the floor. Simon's hands shake when he bends down to help her; the first box he picks up is the brand of tea he mentioned last week. 

***

You teach him how to garden; repenting to the dirt for all the harm you've ever caused. The dirt cakes under his nails and in the evenings he lets you wash them. You trace your fingers over the bruised and raw skin of his knuckles before he pulls away and disappears into the spare bedroom.

He stays up in the long watches of the night; you hear him through the thin walls. He showers quickly - you don't even think five minutes pass before the water shuts off. You wonder if he wears his mask to the shower. 

He's there to watch your cook dinner every night, a shepherd of the potatoes. 

"Here," you say, shoving the vegetables towards him, "cut these up for me please."

You both eat in silence, your eyes downcast so that you don't see his face. He eats everything quickly, finishing his second plate before you can even finish your first.

He leaves you at the dinner table to check the locks, to make sure the windows are latched shut against the outside world. He rotates through each of them twice, reassuring himself that they're impenetrable. He checks the shotgun behind the front door before disappearing into the spare room. Through the door, you hear the sound of a bullet being chambered; you know he puts it underneath his pillow and there's another on the bedside table. 

***

Simon spends more nights at the bar than he'd like to admit. She's always there to unlock the door for him to stumble in, feet catching the edge of the stairs. He leans on her and she helps him to bed. She doesn't complain about his weight. She slides his boots off, fingers catching in the laces. Her hands trail up lightly, pausing at the scar she knows is below his ribs, before pushing down gently on his shoulders. 

Simon lets himself fall heavily back, he pretends not to feel her run her fingers across the top of his mask, nails massaging his scalp through the fabric before she leaves him.

One night he lets himself fall into temptation, his hand snaking out to grab her wrist when she turns. His thumb traces the inside of her wrist, she smells like apple blossoms and spring. Redemption.

"What is it, Ghost?" 

She speaks so softly to him, it makes the room spin around him.

"I'm sorry I'm a disaster." 

In the moonlight, her eyes soften; she pulls her wrist from his hand. For just a moment, their fingertips linger together. 

"Go to sleep, Ghost."

It spills out of him, a prayer he wants her to listen to.

"Simon."

"Go to bed, Simon."

She leaves him in the dark.

***

You go out with Simon when the New Year comes; he promises he won't drink as much as he usually does. It's a tradition - an obligation the two of you can't seem to shake off from all the years before each other. You nurse a rum and coke for hours and watch him disappear into the dark corners with his drinks. When the fireworks go off early outside, it takes you by surprise; you push through the crowd, drink spilling onto your wrist. You find Simon in the back, hands bleeding where he gripped his glass hard enough to shatter it. 

Outside a firework explodes in the sky, bright enough to shine through the dingy windows of the bar. Simon doesn't look at you when you wrap your hands around his wrist, trying to pull his attention to you. Beneath your fingers, his muscles are taunt - ready to run. 

"Simon, come on. Let's go home."

He lets you pull him towards the back door of the bar, and into the dark parking lot, but his muscles don't - can't - relax under your touch. Outside the air crackles around the two of you, the fireworks screaming in the air. You lace your fingers through his and pull him towards your car, blood pooling where your hands connect. Three men watch the two of you, the cherries of their cigarette burn in the darkness.

One of them jeers at you - come on babe, ditch him and come with us. 

Simon rips his fingers from you, his anger exploding in the night.

***

He is Apollyon in the darkness; he comes to when his feet connect to the door of the guy's truck. It crumples beneath his boot, caving in. He hears the guys screaming at him; one tries to grab him and Simon shoves him off. Dents litter the side of the truck the guys were leaning on and one of the men has his hand pressed to his nose, blood running between his fingers.

His lungs burn in the cold air. The guys are still screaming at him, minglings of you fucked up, and call the fucking cops. Shame burns through him when he finds Hazy, her hands hanging limply at her side, illuminated by a street light. Her face is screwed up; Simon knows she's about to cry. His blood stains her jeans - he's slammed back to her begging him for his name, hands trying to stem the flow of his blood- back to her pulling him from the nightmares.

Hazy.

His angel.

He leaves her in the parking lot - the shouts and fireworks behind him. 

The door is unlocked when he gets back to her place - the sun tinging the horizon. His heart stutters - she never leaves the door unlocked, but it stills when he sees her curled up on the couch. She's under the blanket from his bed, hair haloed around her. He lowers himself down to the floor beside her and falls asleep with his head by her knees.

***

You slither from behind Simon, fingers tracing his shoulders as you try not to wake him, but he stirs beneath your touch. You lower down beside him, back pressed against your coffee table. His eyes shine in the early morning glow, the skin below dark from exhaustion. 

You reach forward to grab his hands gently, flipping them over to inspect the clotted blood from the night before. 

"I'm sorry," his voice cracks from the lack of sleep. You trace one of the cuts with your thumb before cradling his hand in your lap.

"I know you are."

"I don't know what's wrong with me," it comes out half a whisper; you grip his wrist tighter. You push yourself up enough to crawl in front of him, resting your knees between his. You hold yourself up by leaning on his thighs, hands pressing into the rough material of his jeans, dirt and blood that wasn't there the night before staining your hands.

"I'm ruining everything." His voice is rough and he looks at the ceiling above you. 

"Simon," your voice draws his eyes down to yours, "you're still learning how to come home. It's not easy - I know."

He reaches down to grab your wrists, pulling your hands up until they're level with his chest. You can see he wants to say something; he struggles to form the words. His eyes stay locked where he holds your wrists.

"I'm - I'm worried I'm going to hurt you."

"I can take care of myself."

Simon squeezes your wrists, hard enough that you know you'll have a thumbprint bruise there tomorrow. 

"I know you can, angel."

***

Johnny shows up a few months later banging on the door. Simon's fingers itch for the pistol beneath his pillow at the sound, but he can't make it across the room before Hazy swings open the door. 

"It's for you Simon," she yells over her shoulder. She lets Johnny in, muttering something about another one showing up.

"What are you doing here Johnny?"

Johnny grins at Simon from his spot on the steps.

"Just wanted to check on you L.T.; make sure you were surviving."

"Fuck off Johnny. You came to eat for free."

***

Simon and Soap - no Johnny is what Simon called him - sit outside and smoke on the front steps while you finish dinner, beating the chicken until it's paper thin. Their cigarette smoke floats through the window - the same window Simon put his hand through after one of the neighbors complained about him cleaning his gun on the front steps - and curls around you. It makes your stomach turn, reminding you of how you and your Boys had sat with your feet dangling outside of the helis and passed a cigarette along when you were finally pulled out, the way you all smoked on the back of a smoking Stryker when it got hit by an EFP - the copper lodging itself just inches from your own sergeant. You hadn't been able to smoke since you came home years ago.

The chicken sizzles in the oil when you drop it into the pan - the sound of Johnny laughing cutting through the air. You hear Simon laugh just slightly beneath him, a sound you hadn't heard since he showed up at your door. 

You call to the boys from the open window, chastising them to wash their hands before they dare touch the dinner you slaved over. 

It's horrifically domestic, you think, watching the two of them eat at the dinner table from your spot in the living room. Simon has his back to you; you can see his balaclava pushed up around his nose, the two of them angle themselves towards each other. Simon's loose, shoulders slumped in comfort at the way Johnny speaks to him. The way Johnny can touch Simon's shoulder without Simon flinching away from him.

All at once it hits you - a wave of jealousy in the pit of your stomach. You leave the two of them in the house, your feet pulling you towards the rain-soaked pavement outside; the smell of ichor overwhelming you.

***

Simon hears the door shut behind Hazy - Johnny stares intently at the door, eyebrows knitted together. 

"I think your girl is upset."

"She's not my girl Johnny."

"Oh?" Johnny's eyebrows go up, disappearing into the hair he's growing out. "So you just live here and nothing? You don't fuck?"

Simon's hand hits the top of the dining room table, hard enough to knock over Johnny's glass of water. 

"Shut your fuckin' mouth; don't speak about her like that."

Simon can see a dangerous glint in Johnny's eye, in the way Johnny leans closer to him. It makes Simon's skin prickle.

"So she's open for business? I might stay awhile; I was hoping to share her like-"

Simon slams into Johnny, the chair beneath shattering like matchsticks. They land heavily on the ground, Simon's hands fisted in the front of Johnny's shirt. Johnny doesn't fight back - his hands out to the side of him, ever forgiving on the cross, as he grins up at Simon. Simon lifts him up once before slamming him back into the ground, but Johnny never winces. 

The anger rolls and bubbles inside of Simon, hellfire ready to overflow. The stupid fucking grin on Johnny's face makes it worse. Johnny's hand wraps around Simon's wrist, limply, but enough to remind Simon that Johnny can still kick his ass. 

"Be honest with me L.T.."

Simon's fingers falter in the slick fabric of Johnny's shirt.

"I'm going to hurt her Johnny."

"L.T.-"

"I get so fucking angry at everything. I grabbed her once. I'm worried I'm going to do it again."

It scared the fuck out of me.

***

You notice one less chair when you get home, hair stuck to your neck from the humidity. Johnny is gone, a thank you for dinner note scrawled in chicken scratch handwriting on the counter. The sink is empty, dishes washed and dried, and put away. 

You can see in the small backyard, Simon sitting on the back steps. His mask is off; his hair, brown and cut short, makes your fingers itch to run through it. He's cradling his head in his hands - you want to go out to him, to rub your hands across his back, but you don't. 

The shower water runs hot, burning your skin red. You let it wash over you, a Lazarus pit trying to pull you back into the mortal realm. The backdoor slams shut, hard enough to shake the walls around you. Outside of the shower, your hair drips onto the carpet of your bedroom as you dress, drenching the back of the t-shirt you pull on. It takes a moment for you to realize it's Simon's, hanging to your knees; it must have gotten mixed up in the wash. 

Simon's on the couch, balaclava pulled back on. You drop down heavily on the other end of the couch, the distance a chasm between the two of you. Unceremoniously Simon holds out a wrinkled pamphlet towards you; you take it, wet fingertips indenting the paper. PTSD for Veterans.

"It's a group; Johnny goes to it."

You trace your fingers over the words without reading them.

"I went to one like this when I got out," you tell him, handing the pamphlet back to him. "It helped a lot."

Simon doesn't speak, but he tucks the pamphlet back into his jeans. 

Next Tuesday, he comes home sober. 

***

Simon sits in the back of the group for weeks, his usual balaclava switched out for a plain black surgical mask to keep everyone from staring at him. They talk about ways to reduce anger, to get your mind back here and not there. 

The next time he curls his fist, he remembers what the group leader said about pausing and being in the moment. His hand unfurls slowly. He sets the glass he thinks about shattering back in the sink. Beside him, Hazy hums, slicing mushrooms into precise slices. He reaches around her to grab the dish soap; his hand lingers at the small of her back for a moment too long; he sees how Hazy stops cutting the mushrooms, how the next cut is uneven.

They don't speak at dinner; the sound of their forks on the plates punctuates the silence. Hazy goes to wash the dishes, but Simon beats her to it. He can feel her eyes on him, piercing him from behind as he slops the dishwater onto his shirt. 

Hazy leans across the counter, watching as Simon meticulously dries each plate, each fork tine until they shine the way he wants them to. 

"Do you want to go on a walk?" She asks as he finishes. Simon wipes his wet hands on his jeans as he looks at her.

"Sure."

They pace beside each other, the hot pavement cooling beneath their feet. They're crossing the street when Hazy reaches out and takes Simon's hand; the first time since New Year's. Simon remembers his dreams of her, golden haloed and tracing the scars on his body. 

They walk in silence, a quarter-mile trek until they circle back home, Simon's heart in his throat the entire time. He knows something is different when the door clicks behind them; in the dark, he can see Hazy fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. Simon pushes the bottom of his mask up enough to hook over his nose; when she turns back around, she doesn't speak, her hand lifts up to trace Simon's jawline, but pulls back before she can actually touch him. She starts to pull away, but Simon catches her and pulls her hand to his face.

She's so soft and warm, the way he dreamt she would be. She traces a scar on the underside of his chin and Simon feels his knees buckle, just a bit.

"Can I touch you?" His voice is soft, so quiet he can hardly hear himself. Hazy's breath catches in her throat, fingers teasing the edge of his mask. She nods; Simon wraps the piece of hair that hangs down in front of her face around his finger before resting his hand on her shoulder. He can feel her pulse quicken beneath her skin.

"Are you scared of me?"

Hazy's hand trails down past his chin to rest on his chest, nails lightly digging into his skin.

"Are you?"

His thumb rests on her clavicle; his hand tights against her skin.

"Absolutely. I wake up every day worried I'm going to hurt you."

Hazy presses herself closer, Simon's hand reaches up to tangle in the hair at the nape of her neck. Her hands slide under his shirt, tracing the scars below and Simon sees his angel again, she pulls him back from the darkness.

"You're not going to hurt me, Simon."

"How do you know?"

Her answer is to kiss him, pulling him down to her height. Her tongue traces the edges of his lips, pushing through until Simon can taste her. Simon's grip on the back of her neck tightens, and he pulls her closer until Simon can feel the heat of her through his clothes. 

She guides him to her room, fingers soft and pleading against his belt buckle. When Simon freezes at her touch, she doesn't push him farther, she stills until Simon can move again. Later, when the sheet is tangled beneath them, and she's straddled over him, fingers splayed out across his chest, tracing the scars that crisscross at random, Simon brushes her hair out of her face.

"I thought you were an angel when you were above me on that table. I dreamt about you - a golden halo."

And this.

The corner of Hazy's mouth twitches up, and she presses a kiss to the middle of his chest. 

"I thought you were going to die there; I begged god to keep you alive."

Simon's hands grip her hips, stilling her. 

"Why didn't you ever come back and see me?"

Hazy traces her fingers in circles slowly around Simon's skin, and he waits for her answer.

"You called me an angel that day when you woke up. It scared me, someone so enamored with me like that just all at once. I didn't know what to do. I thought I would disappoint you when you got your senses about you."

Simon flips the both of them, hovering over her, studying the way the light glitters in her eyes. He wants to tell her how his angel could never disappoint him - how she keeps him alive every day, but he can't make the words come out of his mouth. Instead, he presses a kiss to the base of her neck, fingers dipping below her shirt. 

taglist:

@lieblinqs, @random-thot-generator, @nervousloverkitten, @thychuvaluswife, @stillinracooncity, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @fog-sama, @wordsfromshona, @soundsfunbutno

[parab0mb]

I saw one of those “what didn’t happen” polls recently and decided on a whim I wanted to make an Ultrakill related one (this game is so ridiculously absurd its perfect for it).

Feel free to reblog this, especially if you know a lot of people who haven’t played the game (please I’m hoping for a decent sample size).

[breachverse]

Breach: Chicago War Zone - WIP Update 14 - 10th of February 2023

I didn't think I'd be able to finish it this month considering my hard drive decided to corrupt itself, but, goddamn, I did it.

WIP Update 14 has been released! Chapter 2 Part 2 for both routes have started all the way up to the first chance of a downtime. Though you can't hangout with anyone, except for Hayne, you can now enjoy the limited shop for both the Archangel AND the FBI route, as well as the completed skill training feature.

Breach: Chicago War Zone (Updated)

DEVELOPMENT LOG#14 (10-February-2023)

(B2.1.1.22.12.20)

Alpha - 14

Tons of bug fixes typos and grammar fixes

Added the ability to buy plasma cutter pre-hangout

Added ARC skills training and store (limited)

Added FBI skills training and store (very limited)

Fixed FBI armory not being free. (Everything should now be free)

Tweaked a few of the weapon's descriptions to be available for both routes

Tweaked several weapon accessories token modifiers

Tweaked available accessories for the UTS-15

Added Flash Grenades

Added AR-10 Battle rifle (I know, I'm calling it one)

Added KSG-12 Shotgun

Added RPD Machine gun

Added AK-12 Assault rifle

Alpha - 14

Added Chapter Part restart feature to Show Stats screen (Testing)

Added Settings tab to the Show Stats screen (Testing)

Added Cheats tab to the Show Stats screen (Testing)

Added Hayne's 1st hangout

W.I.P.: Chapter 2 Part 2 of The AA branch (23%) W.I.P.: Chapter 2 Part 2 of The FBI branch (23%) W.I.P.: AA Hangout (9%) W.I.P.: AA Store system (60%) W.I.P.: FBI Hangout (9%) W.I.P.: FBI Store system (50%) W.I.P.: Stat screen upgrade (30%) COMPLETED: Chapter 2 Part 1 of The AA branch (100%) COMPLETED: Chapter 2 Part 1 of The FBI branch (100%)

Word Count: 656,856 words including codes (Last update was 637,822)

The private testing for this was uploaded last month so technically I managed to get an update out once month but still… it was quite a delay and I'm terribly sorry.

For those who don't know, I had a horrible setback in which my computer's hard drive decided to bork itself and I had to reinstall windows. I lost a small number of data but it took me some time to rebuild my database and retrieve data from my corrupted hard drive. Thankfully, Breach itself is saved due to the number of backups I've made and the precaution of having multiple copies on different hard drives.

More detail on the situation on this post if you want to see the exact problem I was having.

But, all of that is past now and though I am still building up everything again, I was able to get my workspace back in order and thankfully, I've managed to finish this damn update before the end of the month for private testing, and added a few things for the public update.

The update also consists some scenes for the ARC route where if you choose to do the prep work for the grate work or wall work in the tunnels under the bank, as well as some new scenes for the FBI route where [spoiler]if you let Greg escape during the raid, he'll want to meet with you and he'll give you some secrets about the trio.[/spoiler]

I'm sorry it's taken so long, and thank you for being so patient. It's not a huge update, but it features the shop and the skill training system in-game where you can buy and change your gear however you wish, though the FBI armoury is quite limited for now.

Thank you all for your patience.

Much love! ❤️

-------------------------------------

Link to the CoG Forums post

I also have a Discord server!

As always feel free to drop however many screenshot feedbacks you'd like, either in the forums or in our Discord channel!

[swaps55]

Mezzo - 05 - Glass of Gasoline

Pairing: mshenko | Rating: M Tags: Canon-typical violence, trauma, dealing with your problems poorly, body autonomy struggles   Summary: The twists and turns of ME2, through the eyes of everyone but Commander Shepard. Chapter Summary: Omega lets Sam Shepard off the chain.   Thank you to @sinvraal for betaing!

Chapter 5: Glass of Gasoline | Read on Ao3

02 November 2185, Omega Nebula, Sahrabarik System, Omega

Shepard shouldn’t be struggling with biotics. The implant insertion had been flawless. Every scan showed it was communicating with his nervous system exactly as designed. If anything, the biosynthetic fibers used to repair his nervous system should improve his ability to tap the gravity well, and the advancements in implant technology should increase the strength of his fields considerably.

He shouldn’t be struggling.

Perhaps this should not be troubling Miranda more than Shepard nonchalantly agreeing to stroll across a bridge dressed as a mercenary, in plain view of a vigilante shooting anyone who comes into scope, but thankfully Archangel isn’t stupid. The moment Shepard puts a shotgun into the back of a Blue Sun and opens fire, not one sniper bullet strikes his shields.

Archangel is indeed in trouble, just as Aria told them, and those who are drowning tend not to question lifelines.

Except Shepard, who has questioned everything Miranda has offered. Her attempts to ask about the implant’s performance have been swiftly rebuffed, but she can feel every futile twist and churn he makes in the gravity well. At best his corona is no more than a pale glimmer, a weakening flame desperately seeking oxygen.

It was perfect. You were perfect.

Well, not quite. The scarring still remains. Easily repairable if she still had access to the Lazarus lab, less so on the Normandy, but still possible. A few more weeks, and that, too, would have been rectified. There would have been no visible sign of her work. 

Damn Wilson and his short sightedness.

Shepard has been right at her fingertips for two years. Height, weight, body temperature, blood pressure, heart rate, metabolic rate, all of it. She is more intimately familiar with the body of Sam Shepard than she ever will be with a lover.

But she has no baseline for him.

Even without the biotics, he still fights like the Alliance’s hero. Alliance Ns are a sight to behold, and all of Shepard’s muscle memory remains intact. He is swift, brutal, with no fanfare or showmanship. Just a hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips that chills her right to the bone whenever she glimpses it behind his faceplate.

Miranda is well-equipped to handle herself but she is no soldier, and this is a battlefield. For all her skills and all her training, it is Jacob and Massani, the former Blue Sun with a grudge they had recruited upon arrival at Omega, who carry the weight of the fight.

She checks the right corner as they enter the ground floor of the shipping warehouse where Archangel chose to make his stand, gagging at the sickening rot of death inside. Blood stains the floor, some blue, some red. A row of bodies lie hastily covered under tarps. Scouring mars the walls, with overturned furniture forming a hasty barricade. 

She is so caught on the sight of it all she doesn’t spot the mercenary on her left until Shepard yanks her out of the way and unloads with his pistol. A body hits the ground with a thud and a squelch. She didn’t see him switch to the pistol from his shotgun. Surely there hadn’t been time. But the man who would have killed her now lies in a pool of his own blood, and Shepard is already moving up a set of stairs towards Archangel’s perch on the second floor, her brush with death already forgotten.

“Massani, watch the entrance,” he barks over his shoulder.

“Goddamn right,” Massani replies, checking his heat sink. Combat is comfortable on him, like being in his armor is more natural than being out of it. But he still wears it, unlike Shepard.

Shepard becomes it.

Read from the beginning | Read the rest on Ao3 | The Mezzo Playlist

[kkglinka]

Heh, so, I come from a fandom where character names have major significance, which means I promptly checked for that with Warrior Nun. I already knew a lot of catholic lore due to reasons, which meant I could guess certain character arcs, but boy howdy am I glad I checked some hunches.

Ava Silva, given the show's setting, would be Eve (rather than one of the convergent latin or germanic origins, with different meanings). Eve is the english translation of 'chavah', which is more description than name proper. Which in turn (very) roughly translates from hebrew as "giver/protector of life". This role of the mother remains unchanged by expulsion from Eden.

Notice how the halo always gives out quickly if used for violence, aggression or the taking of life, but ramps up like a champ if protecting and/or healing, even if it appeared to have gone empty moments earlier? While it is controlled through mental state, especially the one triggered by meditative thought, it clearly prioritizes the preservation of life. Eg; when Suzanne fell into despair and probably felt like dying over the prior Mother Superion's death, the halo made a quick exit.

Shotgun Mary: Mary Magdalene, the apostle of apostles, was the closest to Jesus (the halo-bearer) and witnessed his death. Eventually gets conflated with Mary of Bethany, and subsequently slandered every which way. Since the show's character seems to have a criminal background, she's likely meant to be both of them.

Lilith: From jewish mythology and folklore. The first woman, created to be equal to man, and rejecting subservience. Lots of story variations for her. Might've hooked up with the archangel Samael, after which she could not return to the garden of eden because that angel was kind of a demon, and subsequently becomes the mother of all demons. So show Lilith was first in line of halo succession, was robbed of that role by Ava, went to another realm, hooked up with a fallen archangel, but ultimately refused subservience to him.

Sister Beatrice: Saint Beatriz da Silva (*coughs pointedly*), a beautiful and accomplished illegitimate child of a nobleman, raised in a royal court, but wound up imprisoned in a tiny cell. (A proverbial closet, one might say). Went on to found a new order after she was freed. I don't think I even need to add to this one.

Sister Camila: Saint Camilla Battista, a vivacious young noblewoman fond of musical arts, who experienced numerous visions, and struggled with temptation. Show Camila is indeed slightly whimsical, musical, and enduring unwanted visions of an ex-archangels (and therefore arch-demon) and his pitiful idea of temptation.

Miguel: the Archangel Michael who appears at the moment of death, offering salvation. Yup, goes to the show's version of Eden, comes back super-powered, but his function is to mete out death. Pretty straight-forward.

[ty-bayonet-betteridge]

the archangel gabriel: YOU ARE LESS THAN NOTHING. A MERE OBJECT

me, pumping my shotgun so that i can bathe in his blood: stop i can only get so erect

[this-is-a-nice-show]

I adore any and all Supernatural and Good Omen crossovers because On one hand, you have a show comprised of at least 60% male brooding and emotional heart to hearts with jarring, nonsensical, violent plot points almost always with a devastating season finale.

And on the other hand, you have a show featuring an unlikely pairing who constantly bicker but also would die for each other in a heartbeat exclusively in the most stupid, chaotic, and unnecessary way possible.

They both have extremely established lore in their universes that do not line up whatsoever. My favourite part is someone trying to combine the lore or totally disregard the rules of these universes like a prophet who has heard whispers of the word of god/Chuck directly and is communicating their word to us. And they are beautifully creative every time. Every take is completely different on how the lore is combined and I'm still like "You're so damn right. Cheers, I'll drink to that."

But ignoring the biblical themes of both shows they have so many similarities...

A vintage car is kept in pristine condition and is almost exclusively the main method of transportation. "Get in the car, angel! Alpha Centuri!" - Crowley (2019, colourized). Okay, were you planning on driving to Alpha Centuri??? "Hop in the car, Sam. Time to go on our day-long road trip for the second time this week." For fucks sake, you have infinite money. Buy a plane ticket.

We listen to One Song. A Nightingale Sang in Berkley Square. Carry On My Wayward Son.

We will extend our musical selection To A Certain Extent. Queen only. No modern music.

Angst.

Weird Haircuts.

Zombies, Nazis, Witches. Unclear definition of what the capabilities of witches are in both universes. Dean killed Hitler, Crowley killed three nazis.

Female love interest? Ehhh... No, thank you.

Male love interest? Ehhh... No, thank you. I'm rolling with genderless Crowley/Aziraphale. But don't worry because Castiel is happiest when he says he loves Dean. If that doesn't say platonic male friendships, I don't know what does. /s

Dumbass Behaviour. "Yes, I am playing detective searching for Clues for Archangel Gabriel. No, I did not inspect the Clue that he showed up with." "Yes, I have many, many contacts throughout not just Earth but also Heaven and Hell. No, I will not contact anyone for help."

Pornography and Sex Workers.

Risking death and destruction for others. Crowley rescues Aziraphale in France, Aziraphale saves Crowley by getting the photo back from the Nazi zombies. In Supernatural wtf, where to start...

The line between 'good' and 'evil' is virtually nonexistent. However, humans are regarded as 'closer to evil than good' or 'more likely to be evil than good'.

Found Family. "Hey hellspawn, you want two dads? No? Well how about a Nanny and a Brother Francis?" & "Hellspawn #2, tell your dad to fuck off and then bing-bang-boom, adoption complete. Adopted parents are just parents." "Hey hellspawn, you want three dads? No-oh wait, you do? Great."

God/Chuck is treated as a neglectful parent. They still seem hopeful that they'll receive help at some point but understand that they are required to fend for themselves and that can include going up against god/Chuck. It is cannon in Supernatural that all beings project their daddy issues onto Chuck.

They drink an extraordinary amount of alcohol and can sober up quickly. Good Omens is self-explanatory. But I've never met a person who can shotgun four beers back-to-back and shoot dead center. They have to be sobering up in between these activities.

They only own One Outfit. Coat/trench coat, waistcoat (optional), tie/scarf (optional), one or more layered shirts, jeans/slacks, and shoes. And of course, you have the accessories. Dean's necklace and Aziraphale's ring + watch. And it is cannon that in Supernatural, the characters (not the actors playing the characters, but the actual characters) wear a full face of makeup. And you can see Crowley/Aziraphale's makeup. Their lip colour changes pretty frequently. The angels in Heaven wear gold lipstick iirc.

Both of their main 'bases' are filled with books. The bookstore (for obvious reasons) and the Winchester's bunker has their hunter's manuals and the fucking Supernatural books.

The actors that play the characters canonically exist in their universes as well as thier characters. Dr. Who exists in Good Omens -> David Tennent exists in Good Omens along with Crowley. There is an episode of Supernatural where the main 3 exist in the 'real world' -> those 3 actors also exist in Supernatural. (There are multiple episodes where this happens without Castiel, but there is only one where Misha Colins plays himself.)

The most glaring difference between the shows is: one is developed starting with the characters and one is developed starting with the plot. Sam and Dean are inserted into a plot that they had no control in creating. Their father placed them into situations, and they were forced to find a way to survive. Crowley and Aziraphale literally started the story. They should understand the concepts of anything that happens in the plot (to a certain extent). As in, unlike the Winchesters, they don't need to do copious amounts of reading to foil nefarious plans.

Dean, Sam, and Castiel are pessimistic and dismissive of help. Other beings have to prove themselves worthy of their trust and usually not the other way around. Crowley and Aziraphale are optimistic and see the good in humanity. They enjoy the simple everyday joys of being human and they had the trust of Hell/Heaven for 6,000 years, up until Michael found the pictures of the two on Earth.

But would Crowley/Aziraphale drink bargain bin beer? Go to the greasiest diner imaginable? Directly commit murder? Participate in hand-to-hand combat? Would the Winchesters/Castiel drink a fancy, expensive wine? Go to the Ritz? Analyze their thoughts from a different perspective? Read a book for fun?

NO, and that is why I love you fanfiction writers and artists. I appreciate everything you do. <3

Something a little sad under the cut

I think the reason why I haven't been able to see more fun? silly? (idk how to describe it) fan fiction of SPN without crossovers is because Good Omens has never made fun of its audience or belittled how much effort goes into making content. When you know that you're actively being mocked by the show you like, you have to be on your Best Behaviour and Don't Fuck Up.

I remember that they were upset that the show attracted an audience of teenage girls. They made multiple episodes making fun of cosplayers, what I can only describe as an "obsessive fan girl", and destiel.

It feels like the people involved in Good Omens actually care about it and give a shit and that feels like putting lotion on a sunburn. Y'know?

[terminallycapricious76]

(Next crack ship, Cupid Valentine x sollux captor wit Little of headcanons. Homestuck au. Warming! I do not own any of those characters nor Homestuck or gacha world.)

[Then she aimed for my chest with love in her eye, said she aimed for my chest with love in her eye, she was walkin' around with a loaded shotgun, Ready to fire me a hot one It went bang, bang, bang, straight to my heart.] When first play Sgrub with other gacha units such as president Naomi, Xiao, Sagittarius Ellyn. Seraphic archangel Valerie or cupid server player's was none other than sollux despite the difference between the two such as personalities and race, they did work out well as duo. Valerie's angelic abilities and ability to control light/storms did go well with his psychic abilities despite his claims to not like her due to her much more extrovert and lively personality even though someone has saw him stutters over his words or blush in her presence when ask why he chose the angel. He will say she work well as healer when in reality he actually enjoy working alongside her, Cupid’s light-based powers clash somewhat humorously with Sollux’s psychic abilities. Whenever she accidentally shoot him with a love arrow due to her clumsiness, he uses his mind powers to redirect it, often resulting in a love strike on someone completely random. Dual Perspectives on Love: Cupid, the embodiment of love, and Sollux, who often sees the darker side of relationships through the lens of his dual nature, spend hours debating the true meaning of love. Their conversations would be a mix of heartfelt moments and hilarious misunderstandings, especially when Sollux’s sarcasm flies over Cupid’s head,

Literal Cupid's Curse: Sollux gains a slight “curse” from Cupid's magic—every time he tries to insult someone, instead, he accidentally ends up complimenting them, leading to goofy misunderstandings and a series of comedic events.

Playful Rivalry: Being from different worlds, they engage in playful competition regarding their abilities — Cupid challenges Sollux to aim better with his psychic powers, while Sollux teases Cupid about her “love arrows” not being able to match his “psychic projectile.”

Understanding Miscommunication: Sollux can be a bit sarcastic and cryptic, which sometimes confuses Cupid. She might initially take his jokes too seriously or misunderstand his intentions. Over time, they learn to clarify their feelings, making humor a rich part of their relationship.

[bracketsoffear]

Gunpowder Tim (The Mechanisms) "Ignoring his present day role as an immortal murderous space pirate, roving through the galaxy having “fun, violence” his origin story ballad, Gunpowder Tim vs the Moon Kaiser is basically world war 1 on the moon, with an Achillean inspiration. Tim is in the place of Achilles in this story, and after his best friend is killed, descends into a violent rage, and to include some convincing lyrics: “We’ll murder all the Lunar Men with fury heaven sent/And we’ll carpet Lenny’s tunnels with the rounds that we have spent/they tried to shake our firm resolve but haven’t made a dent/and their blood will run like wine.” “Take no prisoners give no quarter/show them all the color of their entrails on the floor/the Kaiser’s men are cattle to the slaughter/and their blood will run like wine.” “Their existence is a mad disease there needs to be a cull/upon their rancid soldier flesh out bayonets will dull.” The statements of wine, while a literary reference, show the delight and almost decadence Tim is viewing violence with, wanting it to be as abundant as wine. A later description of him by the First Mate: “So Gunpowder Tim cut a bloody red path/Through cannon and through infantry, dealing out his wrath/Battalions were gathered/and charged with his destruction/but all of them fell to his maddened corruption.” And, as if the battlefield origins and enjoyment of brutality isn’t enough, he is also musically aligned, both in lyric, with “the brutal hymn of gunpowder” as his “favorite song” and the slightly meta piece of info, the pirate crew he’s in is in-universe, a band.

V1 (Ultrakill) "V1 is a robot fueled by blood, designed for war—though it was never put into mass production due to the end of wartime, it outlived its original purpose and the entirety of humanity. Fueled by a desire to satiate its hunger and to kill for itself rather than the good of humanity (making it more slaughter-inclined rather than hunt-inclined, as avatars of the Hunt take no joy in the kill), V1 breaches the gates of hell in search of more blood. Its inherent ferocity and deadliness during its rampage is enough to not only inspire other machines to follow (and compete against) it in its search for blood, but its appetite for slaughter also emboldens the Archangel Gabriel to break free of his own original purpose, inspiring him to kill the entire council he was a part of and show off the carnage to all of Heaven.

Additionally, though less notable, V1 seems to have an affinity for music as well. Though not built-in as part of its original purpose, it enjoys spending time around the terminals which offer advice and an opportunity to swap out and augment its stolen spoils of war (which, in the current build of the game, consist of a stolen shotgun and two stolen arms, in addition to a revolver, nailgun, and railcannon it found laying around in the depths of Hell) in addition to playing the remnants of humanity’s music. It is shown to be very practical and “exceptionally lethal” (as described by the dev of the game), and therefore probably wouldn’t stick around to listen to the music otherwise."

[jet2themoon]

So to anyone else who used to watch a ton of Gacha Life music videos when they were kids, remember that song Angel With A Shotgun? That song where it was like "oh no this one angel's sister/boyfriend/etc was kidnapped by demons so I'm gonna shoot a bunch of them and become a fallen angels just to save this person"? That song was was so interesting because it juxtapose angels, who are normally peaceful and stuff, with a shotgun, which is used in violent acts.

Because I just found out "angel w/shotgun" is actually a thing.

For those of you not taking AP Art History, allow me to introduce you to Archangel with Gun, Asiel Timor Dei (by Master of Calamarca, oil on canvas).

Seriously, look this up. It's an actual thing, and it's really interesting.

Also, it's about Christian missionaries because of course it is.

[agentcable]

50 Dialgoue Prompts - Supernatural

Dean: “Sammy, if we’re gonna save the world, we’re gonna need more pie.”

Sam: “Dean, not every problem can be solved with a shotgun and a smirk.”

Castiel: “I may be an angel, but even I can’t fix stupid.”

Crowley: “Darling, if you think this is hell, you haven’t seen my Mondays.”

Bobby: “Idjits, if you’re gonna hunt demons, at least bring the right ammo.”

Jack: “I’m still learning, but I know one thing: family is everything.”

Lucifer: “Oh, come on, you know you missed me.”

Mary: “Saving people, hunting things. It’s the family business, and I’m back in it.”

Dean: “If it’s got fangs, claws, or a bad attitude, it’s on my hit list.”

Sam: “Research first, shoot later. That’s how we stay alive, Dean.”

Castiel: “I’ve seen Heaven and Hell, and trust me, Earth is the real battleground.”

Bobby: “You boys better not be calling me for another apocalypse.”

Rowena: “There’s a spell for everything, if you’re clever enough to find it.”

Charlie: “Who needs a sword when you’ve got a keyboard?”

Lucifer: “I’m not evil, I’m just misunderstood. Okay, maybe a little evil.”

Mary: “I didn’t come back from the dead to watch my boys get hurt.”

John: “Hunting isn’t just a job, it’s a war. And we’re soldiers.”

Castiel: “Free will is a gift, but it’s also a burden.”

Crowley: “Hell’s got nothing on a Winchester’s bad day.”

Bobby: “You boys better have a damn good reason for dragging me into this mess.”

Lucifer: “You can’t kill the devil, but you can sure make him mad.”

Mary: “I’m not just a hunter, I’m a mother. And that makes me dangerous.”

Jody Mills: “I’ve faced worse than you, and I’m still standing.”

Chuck (God): “Even I can’t predict what you Winchesters will do next.”

Dean: “Baby’s got more miles on her than a demon on the run.”

Sam: “Dean, it’s just a car. Dean: ‘Just a car?’ Bite your tongue, Sammy.”

Lucifer: “You think that car can outrun me? Cute.”

Mary: “She’s more than just metal and wheels. She’s home.”

Crowley: “I wouldn’t mind taking that beauty for a spin.”

Bobby: “That Impala’s been through hell and back. Literally.”

Charlie: “The Impala’s like a TARDIS, but cooler.”

Sam: “Dean, can we at least clean out the trunk once in a while?”

John: “Remember, Dean, always check the oil.”

John: “Remember when you two were kids and thought ghosts were just stories?”

Mary: “I missed a lot of birthdays. How about we celebrate them all at once?”

Dean: “Remember our first hunt, Sammy? We were so green back then.” Sam: “Yeah, and you thought salt was just for seasoning.”

John: “I always knew you two would make great hunters. Just didn’t expect it so soon.”

Dean: "If it bleeds, we can kill it. If it doesn't, we'll find a way."

Sam: "Every hunt is a puzzle, and I'm pretty good at solving them."

Castiel: "I've seen the end of the worl, and it's not as scary as Dean's driving."

Crowley: "You Winchesters are like a bad penny. You always turn up."

Mary: "I didn't come back from the dead to sit on the sidelines."

Gabriel: "Life's a joke, and I'm the punchline."

Kevin: "Prophet duty isn't exactly a walk in the park, you know."

Dean: "Monsters don't take a day off, and neither do we."

Sam: "Knowledge is power, and I've got a library in my head."

Castiel: "I may be an angel, but I'm learning to appreciate human flaws."

John: "I taught you everything I know. Now it's your turn to teach me."

Gabriel: "Trickster by name, archangel by game."

Kevin: "I'm a prophet, not a miracle worker. But I'll do my best."

[catholic-character-tournament]

Finals - Resurrect Bracket (Losers Bracket)

ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to [make it to the finals]

Propaganda below ⬇️

Gabriel

Well he's an angel so I'm taking him being catholic as canon. There are a lot of themes in the game that point to catholisism specifically.

He's so fucking funny. he listens to nine inch nails and quotes one of the songs in a fight basically "fight me like an animal". he and v1 kind of have this yuri thing going on. he has an official bodypillow. hes a metaphor for being excommunicated and no one gets him like me and my friends do

The *true* Catholic experience is leaving the church and having a gay awakening, ask anyone

its debatable if Gabriel truly believes he's "the one true savior" or is mocking the idea of it

ok im actually gonna write some gabe propaganda bc despite what you may expect from a game called ULTRAKILL theres a lot to be said about his character and how catholicism is represented

Gabriel is a genuinely caring person who struggles to square his desire to help people with his duty as an archangel. He's the only one in Heaven trying to make things better for those in Hell, but his faith is used to manipulate him into committing atrocities against the people he used to protect (see the "TRAITOR" mural in 4-2)

he only realizes his mistakes after losing everything and being sentenced to death, but he still decides with only a little time remaining to try and make things right. for the sake of spoilers i will just say that the measures he takes are... extremely drastic and very enjoyable. i just really like the idea that even facing the end of all living things, no matter how steep your crimes, it is never too late to fix your mistakes. you are never unworthy forgiveness.

hes also SO FUCKING GAY for this dumb little robot. it mauled him so hard he tasted his own blood and he fell in love right there. theres no way this guy has a normal healthy relationship to pain he is soooooooooo fucked. i love him. please vote for Gabriel "patron saint of gay lapsed catholics" Ultrakill !!!!!!!!

Doomguy

PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD PUT DOOMSLAYER IN HERE

In the books he’s canonically Catholic. Haven’t played enough of the games to know but I think they keep it vague in the games. The books are pretty divergent from the games in some ways though so idk

Literally insane. Kills demons because of murder of pet rabbit. Traps himself in hell to give demons more whoopass.

In addition to being Catholic, Doomguy is canonically celibate, meaning he is, in fact, eligible to become the Pope. He’s also very proficient in exorcisms, if “blasting demons into a bloody mess with a shotgun” counts as an exorcism.

Literally kills demons & his universe’s equivalent of Satan

HE GOES TO HELL like 5 times to fight demons and protect earth. He’s also canonically celibate.

[nekrotikon]

For the oc of your choice:

🍩 What is their favorite dessert? Do they get it often? What is their go-to dessert?

Also hiiiii~ love you~ 💜

let's go with lucifer and the archangels! and hi <3...i've been up since 3:30 and i'm so tired

lucifer: i think he'd like Turkish delights and he'd have them all the time! but he's also fond of way too much sugar even as an angel. plop him near an ice cream place and he will get the most diabetes-inducing thing there. it can't hurt him so bonus points. he also really likes mangos and peaches specifically. yes he makes a mess each time he eats one

michael: for him food and dessert are the same thing (the angels are all vegetarian or vegan). catch him in the middle of the night sitting on the kitchen floor eating an entire box of blueberries. but he will have cookies and creme ice cream occasionally (and Lucifer will call him basic for it)

gabriel: weirdly i don't think he'd like dessert? dunno it just doesn't jibe with him but he might like sour fruits and stuff. maybe it's cuz he's got seagull wings before seagulls even exist. and no he does not eat garbage don't ask him that. however fully convinced he'd shotgun an energy drink

raphael: anything simple and sweet with nuts! he's particularly fond of almonds and walnuts. fruit-bearing trees are all over heaven and are actually the angels' main source of food! so he has access to those all the time