#suzanne warrior nun

[earthravenclaw]

Been making a lot of these lately.

[sisterdivinium]

#touching

[whaledocboi]

im sorry but the OCS really gathered a whole crapton of insanely attractive people for one of the most homoerotic jobs out there (being a nun) and then expected them to just what, not fall in love with each other? rookie mistake

[everythingoiezoie]

Hey, i get it. Everyone's into Sister (ex-sister) Bea..

But Suzanne...

Suzanne...

[juodojimirtis]

Vincent: [text] Suzan

Vincent: [text] Suzan please

Vincent: [text] Let me see the kids :(

Vincent: [text] I swear I left the cult

Vincent: [text] You were right Adriel is the Devil

Vincent: [text] Suzan I beg you pick up the phone :(

[prettymimi]

i would never argue with a woman covered in blood like whatever you say baby i love you🥺

[multifandotakugirl]

WOW I am attracted to Mother Superion (to a new level)

[grechkathekasha]

random cowboy hat situation in ocs family because it’s accurate

(let me know if we want some serious art with jillian in cowboy hat………)

[this-sapphic-paradise]

Do you think that if Suzanne hadn't been riddled with guilt by the death of her Mother Superion, she would have been able to bring her back like Ava did for her?

Do you think she ever reflected on that after being brought back?

Cuz now that's all I can think about .-.

[geekgirlspoetryproject]

I'm so fascinated with Mother Superion and how steely she is in the face of the patriarchal Catholic Church, yet still fights for it. I want to write much more about her at some point. But I started with a little peek at what she might feel about the patriarchy.

Junia in the Roman Prison

We are not here to see ourselves    immortalized in stained glass. Sometimes God rebukes us     to remind us of this fact. 

The angel’s halo spat me out     to tell me I was called to serve, not lead, And made of me a footnote   In the church’s history.

Junia, they say, did not weep    in the Roman prisons,   withstood cruelty with stoic grace. So scholars plucked her from the story,    put a man in her place.  It was not the first nor last time    a woman’s worth would be erased. But our backs are the rock   On which these men have built their faith.

God has scarred me more   Than any demon ever could  It’s bitter wine, a sacrifice    That can’t be understood, But stricken from the record,   Still, I will always wield my sword for good.

So you may call a woman     a prisoner, a warrior,     or just an inconvenience… But Hell will not forget her   when she sends them back their demons.

[aggressivelyaverage21]

Shannon, Mary, and Lilith go on a mission. Shannon gets the business end of one of the library shelves and does her best spiderman impression. Lilith is mad about it. Mary helps her out. Shannon just wants a nap.

Madrid’s autumn sun was warm through the black cloth of the habit on Shannon’s back. It felt nice, how it warmed her. Almost like a hug. A much-welcomed, no-contact hug. Shannon could feel the mission-induced aches settling into her body as she dropped her head to the inside of the van door. Just to rest. Just for a second. 

She hadn’t lied to Beatrice when she told her everything was fine. Not intentionally, at least. It was fine when they talked, and they were just going to grab an old book. In one of the world's oldest and most secure libraries, but still. As far as missions went, this one was easy.

It should have been fine. 

It was, mostly. 

But here Shannon stood, her body feeling every bit of the mission: head aching, mind clouded over, bruises forming below her eyes and likely in several other places, right shoulder throbbing and asking not to be used too much. An uncomfortable sting every time the wet fabric of her habit brushed against her neck, Shannon suspected she’d probably cut herself pretty well when that bookshelf fell into her. 

Shannon wondered when she’d become the veteran Sister. The one who was old and a little over their body constantly feeling like this–even if this one was mostly her fault. She wasn’t even that old.  Especially not when compared to Suzanne. However, she’d heard one of the older girls on her team say once that every year in college athletics added seven years to your body… Shannon figured it was probably about the same for the OCS.

So she let the sun hug her. 

Somewhere on the side of the van, she heard Lilith moving about all huffy and rough. Mary was much more haphazard about discarding her gear while she changed. Occasionally Shannon heard them speaking through the open doors, not that she could make out words. The familiar melody of their voices curled into the warm rays and only embraced her more. If that was even possible. 

It felt like it was. 

It also felt like she could stand here forever. Eyes closed. Maybe she could take a nap like this—just a little one. 

“Shannon,” Mary’s voice was sharper as she raised it through the van. She hadn’t so much as heard any signs of their leader back there after she opened the door. Usually, Shannon was the fastest of them to get changed and get her gear stowed. That didn’t so much seem like it would be the case today. “You alright back there?” 

Shannon didn’t want to answer. Not because she wanted Mary to worry. Not because she didn’t want to tell Mary she was ok. It just felt like a little more effort than she had to give right now. 

“Shan?” 

“All good.” Shannon let her head rest for another three deep breaths before straightening slowly. It felt like she was moving through molasses, which was never a great sign after taking a hit to the head if she was being honest. Though it was somewhat dulling, the pain shot sharp from the cap of her shoulder across her chest and neck and down her arm. That also didn’t bode well. 

“Alright, let’s go,” Shannon shapes her soft exhale over her tongue as she tries to talk herself into moving. It wasn’t going to feel great; that was for sure. Shannon reached across her body to the buckle on her left side to start loosening the vest-like part of her battle habit. The many layers were a pain to put on at first, but each served a purpose. The more annoying part of the battle habit was taking it off, especially when injured. 

“Why can’t we make these easier to get off?” Shannon complained, tugging at the sleeve as she tried not to twist her body too much following a mission early in her career. If her memory served her correctly, she’d had a bruise on her side for weeks after being tackled by a possessed man. 

She’d called him a linebacker when Suzanne had helped her to her feet, only to be corrected, “flanker.” Whatever that was, something in rugby, apparently. Shannon didn’t care about semantics then, just about trying to get some air back into her lungs. 

“The armor of God is not meant to be easily removed, Sister Shannon.” Suzanne stood there–rather annoyingly if Shannon had anything to say about it–cleaning her sword. She was teasing. She was always teasing, but the rookie needed to learn.

“Can you not right now?” Shannon mumbled petulantly as she continued trying to wiggle out of the sleeve, settling for biting the end of it in her teeth as she tried to pull her elbow through. Her huffing up at the loose hairs falling into her face added to the peevish air around the younger woman. It reminded Suzanne so much of her younger sister. 

Suzanne’s eyebrow raised slightly as she watched Shannon struggling to free herself. “It would be much easier if you hadn’t allowed yourself to become a tackling dummy,” she watched another moment as Shannon winced, twisting herself further into the battle habit, getting herself more tangled. It was almost like watching a child with a Chinese finger trap. 

Hopeless. She was hopeless. 

“Stop. You’re going to make it worse.” Suzanne sighed and placed her sword down on the table. She’d have to remember to finish cleaning and sharpening it later. Pulling her fingers from where they lingered on the cool metal, she stepped forward, shaking her head with quiet amusement. “What am I going to do with you, piccola?” 

Shannon wished for two things as she shook her head to clear the memory. One: that Suzanne would return to that woman. That they would once again be sisters, and she would be warm like she once had been. 

Two: that she had some help with this stupid habit again. While Shannon was reasonably dexterous, lewd jokes aside, right now, she could do little more than fumble with the fastening on the side of the habit. It didn’t matter that she was apt at sewing, a skill that came in handy for constantly returning with torn habits, or that she also had steady enough hands for the most sensitive explosives and the most concerning wounds. Right now, she didn’t think she could tie her shoes properly. 

keep reading

[sisterdivinium]

bamf out

[whaledocboi]

"master, i dont think its a good idea to send camila on undercover missions, by this rate everyone in dunwall will know her face"

dishonored au

[bowtothewitch]

“this ship isn’t canon” to YOU. I, however, am delusional

[prettymimi]

fuck that lover boy x killer queen,,, gimme killer queen x killer queen