#I am going to ultrakill that machine

[internets-big-dommer]

@ pornbots

I must say as a newbie tumblr user, and I will say it empathetically and in the softest way possible:

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[astrum99]

Do you think bugs fall in love?

Their small bodies host even tinier brains. Built to crawl through soil and rocks bigger than itself. Running on a simple software bouncing between eat, sleep, fight, flight, and copulate.

V1 is smarter than a bug. It must be. It’s a war machine, so it must be. Its programming is complex enough to fry several motherboards; the internals are heated from constant, unrelenting processing needs. If it updates its optical data intake to any greater degree than these rough, messy polygons, it’d surely perish from the overwhelming information.

V1 is built to kill first, survive second. To be fair, survival would ensure more killing, so it’d be more effective. Moving through the battlefield, culling lives, drawing blood. Perfectly aligned with its programmed objectives, then.

Gabriel is smarter than a bug. He must be. He’s an angel, so he must be. He’s one of the best soldiers in the heavenly realm. Armour and swords glistened with pride and justice. He sees all. He judges all. His loyalty and perfect track record have earned him a high rank within the order. Leaving behind the creaturely "it". His light burns hot and bright within his constitution.

Gabriel is built as a messenger of the Father, then a judge of Hell. To be fair, the role of a judge was assigned to him by the council, so he supposes that his placement can be summed up as the bearer of the divine authority to bring right to all other creatures. Perfectly aligned, then.

Bugs… Well, they’re the same. I suppose. Small beings. Running pre-programmed orders derived from centuries of evolution: eat, sleep, fight, flight, and copulate. No role. No responsibilities.

Bugs are built naturally and fully, unlike humankind; but formed and ready to go within seconds from their births, like machines and angels.

So. Do they live?

When the machine and the angel escape their chains, do they see themselves in bugs?

Bugs are born to live, temporarily, fleetingly, yet live nonetheless. Do they, then, deserve to live, freeing and meaninglessly. No role. No responsibilities.

So. Do bugs love?

Do they learn that they can go beyond their basic structures? Do they see their own reflection in each other’s compound eyes? Do they recognize each other’s bodies, scents, heat? Do they feel the desire for closeness?

To flutter wings like a dance of waltz. To brush antennae like butterfly kisses. To greet and caress and lie next to each other near their death.

To move through the sky in battle, in passion. To clash swords and fists and bullets. To greet and caress and lie next to each other near their death.

The same cells in the same blood coursing beneath the same suit of exoskeletons.

Machine, angel, bug. Boiled down to the barest essence of existence; crisp simplicity.

To live, to love.

[songsofwaterandnight]

Demon blood taste good af when you don't have an archangel in ya ear telling you to get outta hell

[wiishopwednesday]

fucken crazy that when an actual agender person [me] goes "hey, the devs have confirmed that the machines in ultrakill can use any pronouns. in fact its really important to acknowledge that typically gendered pronouns≠binary gender" and everyone goes "thats not even canon. youre scared of it/its pronouns. [i am a sole it/its user online]" and then proceeds to talk about how cool it is that the angels in ultkill only have pronouns as a sign of rank [also a fact that is not canonically ingame].

[muzzleroars]

you know now im thinking of a lot of implications. why do the new peace era machines still run on blood? is it because after 200 years of war, the most advanced technology humanity has is so firmly rooted in persistent violence? how does v2 get its fuel, how do the streetcleaners get theirs, how do the terminals, even, if we choose to believe they are also blood-powered machinery? are there blood donations by people willing to give? or is it taken by force like their earliest predecessors? is it all so deeply entrenched in a culture of violent conflict that humanity couldnt even begin to find alternatives?

YEA YEA REAL......i really love how much information we got about the war in this update, and its implications really are. insane. I KNOW IT'S ALL BEEN TALKED ABOUT BUT. i'd have to think humanity truly is just too deep into this technology to change it, particularly with how fast they seemed to have needed to force the new peace. like i keep thinking about this massive timeline that has consumed humanity for generations...how it was 200 years. v1's final firmware update was in 2112, the guttermen fought in trenches, and the earthmovers, massive beings with an incomprehensible amount of technological advance, were its end. that's mindbending when you try to conceptualize just what a people would be like by the end of it. i know this takes place in an alternative timeline, but this war has been humanity. it began in TRENCHES and ended in machines capable of leveling a city in a single blow, machines the blotted out the sun with their rampant destruction. i've thought about this idea with the new peace for a long time, but it's becoming more and more likely that this peace is built on blood just the same. it's 200 years. it's all the technology they have. and their world is dependent on machines (i'm almost beginning to think their industrial revolution, if there is an equivalent here, was robot-based), they can know no other way forward. unfortunately for them, it was tech all based in centuries of war and so it must carry forward. the new peace was a veneer imo large-scale atrocities ended because they had to, because people could live only on the earthmovers, and they were dying. but blood was still needed, just like when the guttermen were made, and i'm increasingly sure it was harvested just as unethically. anyone that proved any kind of "threat" to the peace could be used in this capacity with little push back- civilians this embattled, desperate for security yet now inherently bloodthirsty (hah), would be easily against those deemed malcontents. so the machines go on, powered as they always were...i just have to wonder what finally did them all in

[icefir-windbreaker]

[starfolk7]

Charlotte is giving me emotions and I am yELLING

[brainjuicezz]

Never thought about this till now but I think I'll be irreperably damaged by Act III when we fight Gabe for the last time and the end rank score shows us Kills: 1 S

[fernsensei]

(bayleafpsa speaking here) Sorry to Christianity on main but I just remembered the theory that claims that Jesus is actually the same as the Archangel Michael, as both would be manifestations of the Logos or Word of God. Which would be hillarious in the context of Gabriel Ultrakill and Miriam/Maria/Mary friendship. Like, Jesus is his older brother since the beginning of time, but he's also Mary's son now, so she's kind of his stepmom in a backwards way??

even so, he's more willing to talk with his new stepmother, than with jesus/michael. she's NICE and she offered him SWEETS what did jesus do?? died for his sins? well joke's on him gabriel is free of sin

[l0verseyes]

ultrakill oc fic? more likely than you think. V1 is back in 4-2 to access 4-S while Sinta and Charity meet for the first time :)

They hear it first before seeing it. Thundering explosions and ricocheting bullets. The screams of the damned and the holy alike. The rhythmic sliding of metal against the floor, followed by a quick jump. They've heard more than enough virtues splintering into glass underneath its vicious, mechanical grip, but they grapple for composure. They planned meticulously for this, they'll–

"Hey angel, I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Charity would've let out an embarrassing squeak if they were capable of it. They dramatically swivel their entire body to face whatever it is that spoke, debating with themselves if they can risk summoning a beam of light right now without the blue machine going on a frenzy outside noticing (it most likely would). 

They meet face to face with a violet machine with a similar build to what they've come to known as "streetcleaners." It wore a shorter skirt and its chest is decorated with a pink, stylized heart. It has a pink antenna on top of their head. It crosses its mismatched arms, seemingly waiting for their response and Charity notes that it has a different weapon as well. It does not have an imposing flamethrower and ignition tank, but a smaller gun connected to a water tank. Logically then it should be a water gun but, why? In hell?

They must have taken longer than its patience afforded, as it began to walk towards the only entrance to the dim room. "Hmm. I don't know what I expected," it says to itself more than anything. Charity has never met a machine who vocalized and in turn has never known a way to communicate back. They fumble with their wings for a while before beaming their thoughts telepathically to the machine, similar to how they delivered the word of the Father to humans before.

"Be not afraid, machine. I was merely surprised. I did not know your kind is capable of vocalizing in any way. What did you mean by your advice?"

The machine stopped in its tracks, caught off guard. Charity felt satisfied to have surprised them as well. "Telepathic polyglots...," the machine mutters, before turning back to properly converse with the virtue, "I'm just saying you won't be able to beat V1 so you may as well not try. You are a cute little thing so, yeah."

Charity's feathers ruffle, "I am not little. In fact, you dwarf in comparison to my wingspan, machine." It holds up both its hands in a placating manner in response, moving to leave once again, "Yeah okay, whatever. I tried to be nice. Have fun with V1, bye!" They did not appreciate how nonchalant the machine was in their presence, but it was quick to leave. How strange. They did not ask for its advice. Why would Charity ask one from a mere object? How laughable. 

Before they can dwell further on their encounter a bright yellow light pierces through the dim room. Charity was late to notice that the cacophony outside has stopped and they're face to face with a different machine at the entrance. The blue one they have been eyeing since gracing the layer of Greed. Curiously, the machine was wet, dripping water where it's standing. Then, in the span of a single second, the machine dashed in, swung out its green arm’s mechanism to grab the moon torch at the back of the room, and reached behind its wings to arm itself with a menacing gun charged with electricity. Charity can barely call upon their holy light before–

...

The stars twinkle above Sinta as they lie comfortably on the cold, golden floor of the layer, her tank and water gun discarded beside her. She supposes this is what the night sky must have looked like on Earth before the war. Only ash, smoke, and soot clung to her memories. But here, the glittering night sky was beautiful. V1 has shown her a lot of beautiful things, she thinks with a sigh. The said robot has long descended the shaft that appeared under the moon after it did... whatever it is that led to the damned sun being replaced by this awe inspiring wonder. It was one of the rare instances where she just had to stop chasing her obsession to attend to other things. Distantly, it struck her that she was the only one left in the area to marvel at it. 

Wait... isn't that romantic? It's as if V1 has purposefully left her such a sight to behold like–

"Machine."

Sinta attempts to sit up with her elbows to look at the interruption. Apparently the pink virtue was still here, their glow dim amidst the darkness. "Angel," she mocks in reply before plopping back down to her previously comfortable position. Not alone then.

"I apologize for our earlier meeting. I now realize the foolishness of my pride. You were right that I was no match to this machine you call V1," the angel's voice offered their hasty apology in her mind, "Perhaps in my preparations to capture it, it had not crossed my mind that your advice was earnest. You were kind and I treated you coldly. It is unbecoming of me."

"Okay, calm down babe. I get it, you're a prideful bunch. I'm honestly surprised you followed my advice but hey, you didn't die! That's great, you can go back to heaven or something now," Sinta put both her hands behind her head, settling more into her position. Perhaps she can power down for a bit here. She can ask the area's terminal on V1's whereabouts later...

"I regret to inform you that I failed to follow your advice, machine. I am merely lucky I possess the capability to protect my core from its terrifying weapon imbibed with lightning." The angel is still here. However, what they confessed was significant enough for Sinta to look at them properly before replying, "You survived an electric rail cannon shot? I'm pretty sure that thing one-shot virtues! Not bad. I guess you're actually different because you're pink?"

The angel glowed brighter, their rosy hue shining through the night. "Yes, I suppose. You see, I was never assigned to this wretched place. I lived and served above in the heavens with most of my siblings. Virtues up in heaven are not as monotonous as the ones here who serve as wardens for sinners. After... a shocking revelation I decided to go here because I simply had no greater purpose there. Not anymore." 

Sinta hummed in acknowledgement. An angel without purpose? "That's funny, I guess I went through the same thing. On Earth instead of heaven. Say, is this what the night sky looked like on the planet? Before everything else?"

The angel's orb tilted upwards, looking at the sky as if only now realizing the difference from when they first came here. Their core held a shape similar to her chest decal–a heart. They seem to share a lot of things. 

"Yes. In the heavens too. Before everything else."

They share a moment underneath the stars before the angel settled on the ground in their own way. Their smaller wings are nearly touching the ground and they hold their greater wings closer to their core. "Why did you speak to me? I am curious. Angels do not take lightly to machines. If I were a bigger fool I could've harmed you. You do not belong in this place after all, it is not the Father's will." 

Sinta pretends to think for a moment, even if her processors already have the answer, "I don’t know. I guess pink is my favorite color." The virtue seems to mull over her answer, so Sinta looks back to the sky. She's made up her mind, she's going to have a nice nap here. The heat of Greed always took a toll on her and it’s not everyday she gets to enjoy this. She wonders what kind of mechanism V1 manipulated to get this and if she can even hope to recreate it.

"I do not know how to take your answer as, but nevertheless I am pleased and grateful. Thank you, machine. I wish to pay back your kindness," the virtue implores, "Is there anything I can do for you? What does a machine want?"

V1, her processors helply supply. "That's not necessary. It really was a spur of the moment. But I'd appreciate it if you dim your light so I can enjoy the night sky in peace." The angel complies wordlessly and immediately. "...Thanks."

"You are most welcome… Forgive me, do machines have names or designations?"

Sinta almost laughs. "Yes. Mine is Sinta. Do angels have names or designations?"

"We certainly do. I am Charity. Thank you Sinta, you are kind."

She briefly wonders how kind she has been exactly, but if an angel insists upon it she won't argue. Besides, it was about time she took her nap. "It was nice seeing you in Hell, Charity."

[weirdbeancurd]

Attempted Apologies, Chapter 3- ULTRAKILL Fanfic

Chapters: 1 2 3

Ao3 (Link)

@h0ped3lusion @vallianttreedreamland (thanks for loving my work lol)

god I am SO sorry for taking so long to write this, but I've been super busy with a job, moving, and a bunch of other adult stuff. thank you all so much for being patient and leaving lovely comments. I'm not totally happy with some of this story (I'm never happy with my writing lol), so I might make minor changes, but other than that, this fic is finally done!!! thanks again for sticking around, and thank you @persi-person for helping peer review!

also I originally planned for this to be strictly platonic, but it definitely leans more into romantic territory with V1 and Gabe (and a bit with Minos and Sisyphus). it can still be seen as platonic, if that's what you'd like, though!

Takes place in an AU where the prime souls live, and Gabriel and V1 live on the surface as apocalyptic roommates. (oh my god they were roommates)

Summary: Gabriel attempts (key word: attempts) to apologize to Minos and Sisyphus for their executions, but it doesn't go as well as he had hoped. Chapter 3 out of 3.

“I, uh. Love what you did with the curtains?”

Gabriel’s feeble attempt at small talk is ignored. Breaking the ice has never been this difficult, and he's getting absolutely stone walled by the man stitching up his skin. Prestigious ruler or not, his bedside manners can use some work. He tries not to let his irritation show through his body language. I think I’d rather get my ass handed to me again over whatever this is.

“Is everything alright?”

“...”

“Look, you really don’t have to do this. I can just head back and patch mys-”

“Hold thy tongue,” Minos snaps. His mouth slams shut. He immediately drops the subject.

“Oh, um yeah. I can do that.”

He fidgets with his hands for lack of anything better to do. The loopiness from his fever is fading, his dampened healing factor working overtime to repair weary muscle. While he still had his light, Gabriel’s regeneration was enough to mend any wound in seconds. Now more than ever, he longs for that invulnerability, bestowing him confidence to the point of arrogance, reckless beyond abandon. It encased him like his shell of armor, covering incorporeal flaws. If only he could see himself now, having to rely on the tools of man and the care of another to heal. Some days, he berates his reflection. “How weak,” “how distasteful,” he thinks. “How pathetic.”

How the mighty have fallen.

His eyes flick back and forth from Minos and the floor, trying not to get caught staring. He doesn't deserve to be in their presence; a kind and noble man like him shouldn't be tainted by his darkness. Perhaps that's why Minos is being so irritable; he must be rubbing off on them. Despite the need to shy away, he spares another glance.

Gabriel's helm shields his face, but he feels naked, transparent, like the king’s iridescent skin. He sees right through them, literally and figuratively. Right through their resentment, which is held not only for Gabriel, but also for the man himself. V1 once spoke of his rage upon being liberated from the flesh prison, going as far as to describe his demeanor as “violent;” a bit ironic coming from the literal murder machine. He never thought those two words could be said in the same sentence; violence and Minos simply aren't compatible, like oil and water, fire and ice. Or so he thought.

Halfway through their battle, he grit out a single, spiteful word; “weak.” He spat it out as if it tasted vile, vicious and repulsive like acid on his tongue. And while yes, Minos despises V1 for all their kind has done to humanity, he’d never deny their skill in battle. The king was struggling to his feet, having to push off his knee to stand, frustrated that his muscles seemed to rebel against him. It's almost as if that bitterness was directed not at the machine, but instead at…

Hm. Maybe they're not so different after all.

Gabriel observes the man beside him, no longer trying to be discreet. Their shoulders are tense, whether it's from being hunched over so long or the restraint needed to not beat him until his bones are a fine, white mist, he doesn’t know. But he will risk his skeletal system if it means this’ll stop being so damn awkward.

“I’m well aware you told me to shut up,” Gabriel says, holding his hands up in a placating manner. Minos gives him a deadpan glare (or what he assumes is a deadpan glare), but lets him continue. “But I must speak my piece.” He takes a deep breath and resists the urge to pray to a god that no longer exists.

“The father once told us that all sin can be forgiven with a confession and a wave of the hand.” He laughs bitterly. “Now, that's really not true, is it.” It's not a question. He knows the answer.

“No confession will ever right the wrongs that are my actions. No apology of mine will ever be worthy of your ears. I presume you would not want one from me, anyways.”

Minos doesn't dignify him with a response, opting to stare straight ahead.

Gabriel is reminded of his own silent brooding, remembering the warm glow of the campfire while he pondered his questionable morality. After a (not-so) healthy amount of denial, he'd turned to self loathing. How could he have not recognized the council's manipulation sooner? Was he that blind, that moronic to believe their lies? Or was he just too pathetic to form any sort of resistance? What if he was more observant, would he have figured this out earlier and prevented it all from spiraling down to disaster? These questions crowded his mind, like fish in a much-too-small bucket, gasping for air, suffocating each other as they squirm and writhe. The “what ifs” and “if onlys” taunted him with a universe in which he was better, stronger.

How he yearned for someone to battle his thoughts for him, to shut down the paralyzing convictions that plagued his dreams. So maybe what they really need isn’t an apology, just simple reassurance.

“You…are not weak. Far from it.” The words come out awkward and stilted, though he barely needs to think before he speaks. It’s like the syllables have long been ingrained in the deepest parts of his mind, mouth moving to form sounds that have already left his lips.

“You were wronged, and people suffered for it, but it wasn’t your fault. Your strength would not have made a difference, though you harbor more of it than I ever will.”

It's hard to tell what Minos is feeling, half from the fact he lacks a face, and the other half being that Gabriel's people skills are out of practice. In fact, he never had them in the first place. Never had a reason to, if your only purpose is to carry out orders.

“The fact you still stand here today, tragedy after tragedy, is a show of resilience. Though you couldn’t prevent the tragedies in the first place, you did your best to make do with what was left. What’s done is done, Minos.”

He wishes he can take his own advice. Practice what you preach, as they say. Gabriel was never a good preacher, but he tries. He makes sure the other man is listening before delivering his final words.

“You did good.”

Minos says nothing, and for a terrifying moment he thinks he’s made a fatal mistake. And then the man huffs a quiet laugh. Gabriel stares in confusion.

“I…appreciate thy appraisal, but I must admit I’m rather conflicted. On one hand, I understand thou hast merit, but I am reluctant to entertain thy words, due to our history.”

Gabriel lowers his gaze, disappointed he didn’t get through to them, but Minos starts again.

“However, I must thank thee. Thou clearly drew from thy own experience; that shows courage. I shall consider thy appraisal.”

He perks up at that, looking to the king with elation and surprise.

“Just…keep the creature of steel away from this layer. I’m sure thou can surmise why.” He sounds like he’s trying to keep his anger at bay, staring at the floor.

Oh, V1. Yes, he can do that. It did destroy much of what was left of Minos’ kingdom after all, so a permanent ban from the lust layer is more than fair. And that’s not even delving into their battle, the man treating his own defeat as a sign that he’d failed humanity. He shudders at the thought of what Minos would do if he got his hands on them again.

“I understand. I’ll tell them to avoid your city.” It’s Gabriel’s turn to laugh. “Maybe it’ll actually listen to me for once.”

He fixes his eyes on the floor as well, the two sharing a moment of understanding. And then the moment is gone, brief as it is cathartic.

“Sisyphus will accompany thou as I prepare supper. Stay.” Minos goes to open the door…revealing the man in question. Speak of the devil. He has the gall to look smug, bent at the knees to press his ear to the door, the shameless bastard.

“What have I told thee about eavesdropping,” Minos seems unphased, expectant, even.

“Sorry,” But Sisyphus’ grin says otherwise. “I can't help it. Force of habit, I suppose.” The other lets out a rather childish groan.

“I would tell thou to cease thy antics, if not for thy refusal to listen.”

“That's not true. I listened in on your conversation perfectly well.”

“That's…just entertain thy guest.”

“Anything for you, my friend.”

Minos tries to slip past the other, very much ready to leave, but not before Sisyphus catches him with a warm hand on his shoulder. His large frame blocks most of Gabriel's view, but he sees his body lean into theirs. All encompassing, like a solar eclipse. He can't hear what they're saying, so he can only imagine the kindness Sisyphus reserves for friends alone, something he knows he’ll never deserve. He’ll let them have their moment, too.

Once Minos has had enough (said affectionately) with his friend’s fussing, he leaves the two alone in favor of attending to his kingly duties (or whatever that man does in his free time). Sisyphus takes a place at his side, awkwardness not any less prevalent. Time to pull out his award-winning small talk skills again, because that went over so well last time. Believe it or not, Gabriel's smart enough to know that bringing up the king's beheading is a bad idea. The traumatic event is likely still an open wound, for lack of a better term. When would it be appropriate to “get over” your own beheading, anyways? Fourty, fifty years? A hundred? Never? It's not like he's going to get his head back. Alright, now he's just stalling. He needs to come up with a conversation topic quick, because he swears the silence is eating away at his soul. Maybe he can talk about V1; he finds himself doing that often. Not that it means anything.

“...I apologize for my friend's behavior.”

Sisyphus raises a brow.

“You have friends? I never thought you had it in you to be likable.” Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be. Gabriel rolls his eyes, giving an indignant glare. “I do not know who you are referring to. Not many can tolerate your presence.”

“I'm just going to ignore what you said and move on. Look, the machine has said it regrets it's actions-”

“Ah, you mean the child of man.” His mood lifts instantly. “At least you have good taste in company. Our battle ought to be remembered; it was invigorating. I hope to have a rematch someday.” Well, that was very much not the reaction he was expecting.

“You don’t…hate V1? They nearly killed you!”

“Is that its name? I shall honor that, for unlike you,” He shoves a finger in his direction. “it fights with a sense of decency.” Gabriel shrinks under his scrutiny. “How ironic, that a war machine holds more virtue than the supreme angel.” Ouch.

“...That was uncalled for.”

“Was it? It’s not my fault that your lover has better morals than you.”

Time stands still for Gabriel. He feels like he just got shot by the railcannon. There’s no way he heard that right…right?

“I’m sorry, my WHAT?”

“Your lover,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You two are joined at the hip. It’s nauseating, honestly. Or was your relationship supposed to be a secret?” Gabriel flounders like a fish out of water. This greatly amuses Sisyphus, who’s found his new favorite pastime: pestering a certain archangel.

“I-we are not a couple! I don’t know where you could’ve possibly gleaned that from, but you’re wrong. They are my companion, nothing more.”

“Denial does not look good on you, Gabriel. I thought you were past that.”

“Listen,” he grumbles. “we may be close, but I do not have feelings for the machine!”

“Whatever you say.” He drawls, voice dripping in sarcasm. Sisyphus grins when the other lets out a frustrated groan.

“You-ngh. You are impossible. For the last time, I’m not in love with them. I don't even like them; they're, uh. Sinful and unholy-”

Thud. They whip their heads towards the noise. It sounded like someone kicking open a pair of doors.

“Did…did you hear that?”

“Of course I heard that. Now shut your mouth.” They sit in tense silence. A single beat passes before the quiet is shattered by a thunderous shout.

“CREATURE OF STEEL.”

Oh no. It better not be who he thinks it is. It seems Sisyphus has the same inkling, both slowly turning to give the other a wary look.

“...Is that-”

CRASH.

The wooden wall by the door explodes inward, a blue torpedo rocketing into the room, splinters flying everywhere. Gabriel lets out an undignified shriek. As the dust settles, he can make out a familiar figure lying in the rubble. Shit. It is who he thought it was. At least they seem completely unharmed, despite crashing through a damn wall. It perks up when it sees Gabriel. V1, like the menace it is, waves excitedly. He can’t for the life of him conjure up a single word to say, speechless for the Nth time today. Sisyphus, for one, doesn’t appear phased, greeting them with a hearty chuckle.

“Ah, V1. We were just talking about you. How nice of you to join us.” It would've given him a wave as well, but their friendly conversation is interrupted by a foreboding presence.

“THOU ART NOT WELCOME HERE.” Minos has arrived, and boy is he pissed. He stands in the hole left in the wall, posture stiff and gaze unyielding. The dim, blue-tinged light that once emanated from his form has grown into a blazing, turquoise glow. His heart pumps furiously, veins bulging, visible through his translucent skin.

If Gabriel thought Sisphysus’ wrath was terrifying, Minos’ is nearly enough to make him go into cardiac arrest. Before he can properly process his own terror, the king starts approaching V1, fists ready. Gabriel quickly scrambles to put himself between the two, reacting before his common sense can stop him.

“Don’t!”

Minos glares down at him. Somehow his lack of eyes makes him even more terrifying.

“Please. Spare them.”

The realization sets in that he’s keeping a predator from its prey, and there’s a slight tremble in the arm he shoots out to keep the man at a distance. With a huff, Minos tries to shove past, but the angel shifts to block him. Gabriel sternly shakes his head.

“Move.”

Minos’ voice drips with venom, thick with barely concealed rage. It takes everything within him to stand his ground, anticipating the worst. After all, V1 would do the same for him.

“I will not. Ask. Again.”

Fuck. Gabriel is starting to regret not bringing his swords. He watches helplessly as the other advances, quick steps with murderous intent. He tenses his muscles, steadies his breath, and prepares for a jaw shattering punch…but is instead met with a voice, low and understanding.

“Minos. Think about what you are doing.”

Gabriel locks eyes with his unlikely savior. Sisyphus is the picture of neutrality, brow set in careful analysis. He's well aware of the fragility of the situation; Minos looks like he’s just about to go off the deep end. And while he has good reason to loathe, Sisyphus knows he'll regret lashing out. His conscience always comes back to haunt him, the damn thing. As much as he'd like to see the two mashed into a red paste, Minos doesn't need another thing to lament over. He can’t say he’s looking forward to defending the duo, suddenly reminded of what provoked such an intense response. He scolds himself for starting to actually get along with Gabriel, nearly forgetting the horrors he unleashed upon his greatest friend. Sisyphus schools his expression, trying not to let his own anger show.

“Your people, they look up to you for your compassion and empathy. Where is that mercy now?”

There's a near unperceptive tremor that wracks his friend's tense frame. Good. He's getting through to him.

“The beings before you did what they needed to survive. While their actions had dire repercussions, and I am not absolving them of fault here, consider their circumstances.”

Minos doesn't want to. He doesn't want to humanize them any further. He wants to tear them apart like they did humanity, unhindered by stupid morals.

“Would one blame a trout for thrashing when caught? Would one scorn a wolf for killing to eat?”

A thick, black liquid starts to ooze out of Minos’ abyss-like face. It flows like tar, ugly and coagulated with sorrow and feelings he'd hate to dissect. In the hollow silence that swallows the room, they can hear his breath hitch.

“Gabriel,” Sisyphus says, fixing him with a piercing stare. The angel stares with wide eyes, not expecting to have been brought into the conversation. “You were a weapon wielded by another, neglected and abused. When you inevitably faltered, you were discarded like a rag.”

Gabriel lowers his gaze. He hates that they're right.

“The sins you committed were the result of eons of manipulation and torture. When you finally realized what you'd done, you took immediate action to correct your mistakes with the little time you had left.”

The angel in question is stunned into silence. Truly, what more could he have possibly done in his situation? With only one day to right his wrongs, it’d be futile to reason with the council; killing them was the sole solution. As for the sins of his past, perhaps all the blame does not fall on him. It was the council’s abuse that forced him to carry out their word, conditioned to be unquestioningly loyal to the point of blind faith. While he was the one to strike innocents down, the blood is also on their hands. An ancient weight is halved, lifted from his shoulders, no longer unbearable. A sliver of forgiveness, not from another, but for himself: a gift he never expected Sisyphus of all people to bestow upon him. He would’ve expressed his gratitude if not for the sudden shift in subject, mourning the chance to thank his unlikely advocate.

“V1,” the machine perks up at the mention of its name. “You were created to kill and survive, and you did just that. After the threat of death had passed, you opted to explore beyond your nature. If passivity was an option, you took it.”

They do little more than tilt their head in consideration. They’re a bit hard to read on the count of not having a face, so he can only speculate if it's having a similarly Earth-shattering revelation like his.

“You defied your creator’s wildest expectations. Yes, you are violent, and ruthless, and efficient, but you are more than just that. I see flair in the way you fight, confidence in your skills, and a desire to succeed. You are so much more than the actions you did in order to survive.” He lets a beat of silence pass for the information to sink in before addressing the man of the moment.

“Minos, listen to me.” The king doesn't turn to face him, but he's known him long enough to tell he’s hearing every word. “You are a just ruler who took the time to care for each of your denizens, and you have every right to be angry that they met an untimely death. You did not deserve your fate, and neither did they. And neither did V1 and Gabriel. We are all victims of circumstance.”

Minos’ fists shake, clenching and unclenching. Everything sounds like it's underwater, words garbled and distorted, yet frustratingly coherent. He wants to plug his ears and scream until he suffocates, anything to get Sisyphus’ voice out of his head. He wants to destroy everything and everyone, until there is nothing left, and then destroy himself too. For once, he just wants revenge, not resolution. It’s not like he can ever get his people back, anyways. Clench. Unclench. Clench. Unclench.

“The only thing we can do now is to live on. Stand down, Minos. Is this what your people would've wanted?”

Something in him snaps, and the fight leaves him all at once. It’s not. It’s not what they would’ve wanted; how deplorable it would be to kill in their memory. Wordlessly, he rushes out of the room. Sisyphus holds out an arm to stop the other two from following.

“No. Give him time.”

The air is plunged into silence once again. Gabriel dares to break it, eager to give thanks.

“I-thank you. We truly appreciate-”

“Don't. Just-” Sisyphus sighs, shaking his head. “don't. I didn't do this for you.”

“...”

“We will meet by the castle entrance when the sun starts to set for your departure. Do not follow me.”

“...I understand.”

Wow. A bit harsh. Regardless, he's still grateful for this new perspective, if not a tad disappointed. Sisyphus rises from his chair and heads toward the door, steps stiff yet dutiful. Lost in thought, it takes Gabriel a moment to notice the king hasn't actually left the room yet, lingering with his back turned.

“The suffering you’ve brought my dear friend is beyond cruel. For that, my forgiveness is withheld, but my words hold true. Do with that what you will.” He finally exits, figure slipping through the door.

Huh. The pseudo-approval of Sisyphus feels…nice. It’s easy for him to get lost in his own sense of accomplishment. Gabriel feels a hand rest upon his. He snaps out of his trance, eyes trailing up its arm to see the machine sitting beside him, staring ahead. There's an awkwardly long pause before V1 has the courage to speak up.

Its hands move in quick, stilted gestures, conveying aggression in its urgency. Oh, they’re angry, he realizes, cringing in anticipation. He’s had more than enough action for today, thank you very much.

What are you doing here?!

“Me? I-uh,” Gabriel scrambles for an excuse. “I was just visiting lust for a chat with a couple old friends, but um. We had a little disagreement.”

The machine raises a single brow. Or they would’ve, but making fully-functional robotic eyebrows was apparently not one of their creator’s priorities. Shame.

Right. It looks like you three had an absolute ball.

The angel grimaces.

“Alright, fine. I came here to apologize for my actions.” He huffs. “And clearly, it didn’t exactly go to plan,” gesturing to the bruises that still litter his torso.

No shit. And without your armor, too. What, were you trying to get yourself killed?

“W-well, when have you ever cared about my wellbeing?” Gabriel growls, suddenly standing to his full height. “Even if you do, I’m just a bloodbag to you. You only care about your own survival. You always have.” V1 narrows their optic.

You don’t mean that.

“What if I do? And what if I was trying to kill myself?!” He shouts, picking up the nearest chair and chucking it across the room. It isn’t until its splintered remains settle on the floor that he regains his composure, kneeling on the ground, visibly deflating.

“I should’ve died after those twenty-four hours were up. I should’ve.” He whispers. He sounds so frail, a startling divergence from his usual bravado. Cold metal makes contact with his shoulder. He turns sluggishly to V1, if only to “hear” what they have to say.

I-

Its movements falter momentarily.

I do care about you. And I always have.

They don’t meet his eyes, but he still desperately clings to the hope that it’s speaking truthfully.

“I…I need some air.”

Gabriel speeds toward the balcony, the machine following suit. He takes a seat on the banister, gaze facing forward as V1 does the same. They both stare at the blazing horizon for a while, until V1 can’t take the silence any longer.

You make me dissatisfied with existence, it blurts out, signing almost incomprehensibly fast.

Gabriel blinks. How to respond to that, he does not know.

“I…thanks? I guess?”

It frantically waves its hands, trying to show it means no ill will.

I mean, you make me want more out of life.

It was never allowed to enjoy things; It never had the chance. But now, they spar for the heck of it, not over sustenance or resources. It takes the time to manually read books instead of scanning them, something they once considered a mere waste of fuel. It ignores the alerts that flood its vision, closing them before they have the chance to tell it that it's being “inefficient.” Text irrelevant its ass. Before Gabriel, they were just surviving. Now, they live.

Gabriel can't help but smile. They said so little, but they needn’t say more. He knows what they're feeling all too well. It takes a bit of effort to muster up the courage, but the machine’s honesty spurs him on, and he manages to find his words.

“I think I understand. You taught me to…want. And by the heavens, I wanted to live, I wanted to fight and struggle and fail, to laugh and cry and watch the sunset a million times over just to say that I did. When my light was taken away, it was you who gave me clarity, and for that…I cannot thank you enough.”

He leans a bit closer, just reveling in the comfortable silence they've created. V1 scoots over, closing the distance between them. The cool metal feels nice against his skin.

I think he's right.

“About what?”

Only thing we can do now is keep living, despite-no, with the guilt.

“...How?” The question of “why” goes unasked.

Not sure. But we're still alive, so we've got to be doing something right.

“...I suppose you have a point.”

Perhaps those questions can be answered another time. Right now, all that seems to matter is the gentle breeze that passes through the cracks in his armor and the feeling of the machine's plating against his shoulder. His heart swells as they bask in the “sun's” rays. Considering they're in literal hell, that glowing ball is no star, but whatever it is shall suffice. They’ll make do, as they always. A ray of light falls upon the pair, encasing them in warmth. How picturesque. Two beings at the end of time, watching the sun set as it slips below the horizon.

…Hold on.

Aren't they supposed to be heading somewhere right now? Oh. Oh. Sisyphus is expecting them.

“Shit. We need to go, now.” He snatches V1's hand and bolts for the door. Heart to heart be damned, they have a deadline to meet.

Maybe Gabriel's previous difficulty navigating the palace was procrastination after all. It's remarkably easy to traverse, especially with his head clear and V1 helping guide him. He supposes everything feels a little easier with a clear head, and they find the castle gate in record time. The prime souls are already waiting there, punctual as expected.

As the two pairs face each other in the doorway, Gabriel notices Minos’ glazed look, Sisphysus’ hand resting on his shoulder. He follows the king’s stare, his eyes landing on the city below.. Before he has time to wallow in shame, Minos’ gaze drifts back to him. Silence. Introspection. After an excruciatingly long lapse in conversation, Minos sighs.

“I bid thee farewell. May thy travels be uneventful.” He senses the sincerity in his voice, and it's honestly relieving. The fact they can even speak to him without hatred oozing from their words leaves him dumbfounded. And it’s not forgiveness, most definitely not, but it’s something. After the atrocities he’s committed, Gabriel is endlessly grateful for this morsel of absolution. The corners of his lips turn upwards as he bows his head in gratitude. His core blooms with warmth.

Ever impatient, V1 halts their respectful exchange by tapping him twice on the shoulder, metal meeting flesh. It raises its hands to sign. Home? It asks. Gabriel huffs fondly, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, yes. We’re going home.” He pivots to the kings. “Thank you very much, truly, but we must get going. This one,” gesturing to V1. “is getting restless. And should also learn some manners.” That earns him a flick to the helmet. He swears he hears Sisyphus stifle a chuckle.

Resisting the urge to bicker, Gabriel turns away, guiding V1 into his hold. With a flap of the wings and a powerful thrust from his legs, they take to the sky. Every beat takes them higher and higher, and further and further from Lust. He doesn’t look back, just focuses on keeping V1 from slipping out of his arms.

His stamina isn’t as infinite as when he still had his light, so by the time they reach the surface, Gabriel is exhausted. They decide to call it a night and rest where they land. He sets up a campfire, not unlike the aftermath of his second defeat, but now with kinder circumstances. It’s nice having someone beside him, even if they are a bit of a pest.

“You're a nuisance, you know.”

The machine gives a cheeky thumbs up. Gabriel heaves a heavy sigh, and for the first time in eons, he feels light. His burdens do not sag and tug at his heart, and the gnawing guilt he harbors has lost its bite. He laughs, pulling V1 in, sheltering them with his wings. Joyous and content, Gabriel gives in to the lulling effect of the setting sun. As sleep pulls him under, he dreams of a hopeful future, not of tongues and teeth.

And though the sight of the lust layer still fills him with regret, the weight on his shoulders is a bit easier to carry. Gabriel may never be able to cry life back into the townsfolk, nor grieve them back from death, but he’s made an effort to make amends. It's a long way forward, yet it's a step in the right direction. These days, the shame doesn't linger and fester like it used to. It's been replaced with a fire that burns bright and unyielding. Gabriel decides he likes his newfound vigor.

And oh, how it suits him to feel strong.

Leave a reply telling me your thoughts if you'd like. :) I appreciate any and all replies lol. And yes, the last line is a reference to the dodie song "Ready now" hehe

[mossy-green-aka-ferrythem]

Man, that recent episode of Dungeon Meshi hits hard...

Makes me think very, very deeply about the entire narrative and the meaning of it all, the very meaning of life with how the food chain functions and how fundamentally INESCAPABLE the ecosystem is... that a human being can be so easily seen as a mere nourishing bundle of fat and sinews...

This tonal shift also does make me think about ULTRAKILL as well. Now this may seem like a bit of a stretch, a jump, (especially since I am not caught up on the narrative of Dungeon Meshi), but hear me out (Violence Spoilers ahead btw)

ULTRAKILL is fundamentally thematically about Violence, and a certain kind of it. The Violence that reduces a human being to a splatter of blood, the Violence of a machine who is inherently DEFINED by Violence, how the entire Violence layer is the game's narrative way of cementing the implications that your actions have had over the course of the entire game.

Now my thoughts would be messy, trying to compile the thematic bombshell that is Layer 7, Violence, so I will focus on the part that hit me harder than anything else:

1000-THR "Earthmover"

Just the name alone is so loaded, a Machine so large it causes one's perception of their surroundings to fade away, and stand in awe of this singular, perfect pinnacle of Violence, a machine that stands at the apex of the arms race of the final wars, a perfect representation of Violence, for it is a being that is defined by Violence so completely, and so perfectly, that it really is the only way it could have ended. What hits me about it so hard is that throughout all of Violence, the game has been hitting you over and over again with the impact and implications of your actions, but with the Earthmover? That's just... everything...

1000-THR "Earthmover" has left nothing left, 7-4 "...Like Antennas to Heaven" hits so colossally hard that it's hard to get all my thoughts into words, it feels like an impossibility almost. But one thing I can say is how beautifully it paints the horrific meaning of "Blood is Fuel" when it's exhaust vents are opened up.

That moment, when the music in the background changes from a quaking, all encompassing song of Violence, to a towering, harrowing lament, as if to draw attention to what the Earthmover is... the way the smoke that comes out isn't white like steam, or black like coal or oil, but is RED. There is not a single part of this machine that is built for Violence, that is not fueled by Violence. Crushed Bone and Cut Sinew are the only things that can define it. It's not so much a travesty that it exists this way, but with how complete it is conceptually with it's Violence, with how it came into existence in the first place...

God I am saying a lot here but I really do hope what I'm saying strikes an accord. Dungeon Meshi is such an insanely fucking good narrative, and ULTRAKILL probably has one of my favorite narratives (and just about everything) that I've seen presented in a game. Ever.

Anyways yeah go forth my autistic ramblings!

[timeshift-playground-sys]

uhm ultrakill hc talk (V1 and Gabriel edition)

guys did you know i like ultrak- *explodes*

\\also slight suicide mention

-🪷 (Adrian)

VERY LONG POST so the rest is after the cut

V1:

Runs digitigrade

The heels on its feet are actually the jet boosters that let it dash

maybe has small wheels built into its feet to help it slide. maybe. i swear i don't just want the murder robot to have heelies

weird fucking insect THING

Any idea of affection and human actions it has learned from observing its creators interact. Ex. blinking, twiddling its thumbs, etc

Also the concept of it being capable of mercy is very interesting to me. We see in the ferryman fight that once he stops attacking, V1 does too. The same with characters giving monologues and such. It doesn't attack until it knows the target is a threat, and seeing that everything in hell is like completely hostile we don't really get to see it sparing those who don't harm it.

as for killing i feel like it just doesn't feel anything. It doesn't have satisfaction it's just doing what it has to to survive, like a wild animal. I think it's going down through hell not only out of hunger but also curiosity. I mean it probably consumes a lot of blood to run its systems at the capacity it does so. Things like the cybergrind serve as practice when it gets bored (also it def replays its favorite fights)

As for dying i have two ideas

It leaves the pools of blood instead of collecting them for a reason. Once it is destroyed it can absorb blood from the ground to put itself back together. This of course takes time, which is why the enemies and bosses come back after you die. Meaning it's immortal

Hell itself brings V1 back each time because it wants entertainment, maybe resetting time too??? This doesn't really make sense to me tho

Gabriel:

gifted kid syndrome and BADDDDD

Shapeshifter. I don't know why. He has a human form (i refuse to believe he'd be white) and a more angelic form (his head is just a biblically accurate angel

immortal with his light, but can be exhausted with enough harm (ie. first fight)

his wounds heal extremely fast, but the more exhausted he gets the slower he heals (this is why he can taste his blood in the second fight)

this guy. oh my GAWD. Daddy issues times 10000000. Nice chill dude but indebted to his job because the council. I think he had a good friendship with minos before he had to kill him. Secretly played organ and read stories to filth children he didn't think belonged in hell (such as those who died to suicide). The only angel who really dared to step foot or even worry about Hell, so the council used his faith as a tool to manipulate him. This is a majority of what drives him to kill the council after the second fight

Now GabV1el, this shit is so canon.

I don't think they're really a romantic pairing, and it's very likely one sided on Gabriel's side. Gabriel is just enamored with V1 because it's the first thing to ever give him true struggle. Killing Minos? Easy. Killing Sisyphus? Easy. Killing the council? Easy. But V1 just keeps beating him. It's a passion to overcome, to finally beat this machine. And I am not normal about it AT ALL

As for V1, I feel like it doesn't understand the concept of romance. Things like kissing and embracing are just an action like any other to it. Although it may find the concept of affection interesting when all contact with others has always been harm

[etherealmach1ne]

- Intro Post ⋆｡°✩

| Hello! My name is Ori/Bee/Star or V1 and i am 20. This is primarily my otherkin/personal blog, however ill probably post whatever. ^^

i'm an artist and occasional animator, i also do livestreams every so often. i love drawing robots or fanart of things i like, i also draw furries. I am autistic, adhd and likely (quiet) bpd.

i am agender, my pronouns are they/he/it/bot. i do not mind most gendered terms (although i tend to prefer the masc ones, there is exceptions) so you can use he or "look at the little guy!" the way you would if you saw a little robot wearing a fancy hat. Im also Greysexual and Queer.

My Kins/Kintypes (will go more in depth another time)

Robotkin/Machinekin - Nonspecific, i feel this with anything that could be referred to as a machine, electronic or mechanical. Although with robots im most attached to ones with non-humanoid faces. This was the first kin-thing i discovered about myself!

Angelkin - i believe this is also nonspecific, but im most drawn to multiple winged ones, the statues of angels, or depictions of them being abstract like beings of pure light.

Fictionkin - v Here is a list of my fictional character kins v

Starscream (Transformers) - My highest(and most intense) kin, mainly G1 starscream or similar versions (earthspark and some comics). He is incredibly important to me. Skyfire also plays an important comfort role to me because of this kin, I do ship them so i am incredibly attached to them both.

Bumblebee (Transformers) - Much less intense of a kin, i mainly kin G1 or the bumblebee movie version (or similar ones in some comics once again)

V1 (ULTRAKILL) - Realised this kin at the same time i realised i was robotkin! Was also a very intense kin, however its calmed down as im hyperfixated on starscream/transformers at the moment.

Questioning/not sure

Starkin - This may link with Angelkin, as i do see stars and angels as connected/appearing similar.. not sure.

Birdkin - Same thing, i do very much relate with having wings. some of their behaviours i also feel attached to, but im unsure if its just because i associate them with other kins..

Deerkin - Ive had certain shifts that seem to align with deer, ive always been quite drawn to them.

Foxkin - i connect a lot with the way foxes act and used to identify with them a lot in my early teen years, some shifts ive had could also align with them.

Interests (some, at least..)

Transformers (current special interest) | Robots/anything mechanical (also special interest)

Space/Sci-fi | Character analysis (or overanalysing..) | Art/Animation (of course)

(Any kind of) Science ( i am not smart enough to understand it fully but im autistic enough to find it exciting regardless /hj)

Video games in general (ULTRAKILL, Undertale/Deltarune, Fnaf, Splatoon, Portal, to name a few) | Phasmophobia/Lethal Company/Among us

Clowns/Jesters | Markiplier (his videos and his projects) | Good omens

Other

With fictional kins i do tend to feel discomfort with doubles (people who share the same kin) however you can still interact, i do try to look past the discomfort.

DNI if youre a weirdo (proship, homophobe/transphobe, racist, ect.)

i'll likely never post anything entirely nsfw here, but im not sure about suggestive stuff,. it will be tagged if i do, so if you dont want to see that it should be easily filtered out! i'll likely leave it all below a "read more" anyway just to be safe.

Dont be shy to interact! whether its to ask questions or anythin!

[avitally]

Ok but like. what tf is Violence/7-4's boss fight gonna be, cause the formula for the layers on both act 1 and 2 was V2 -> Giant Fight -> Gabriel. But we fuckin killed V2, they're dead as shit. as delusional as i am i don't believe we're gonna fight their ghost, cause they're a machine, there's no soul in there, it's wires, blood that isn't theirs and programming.

So like. what if you go through the level and there's nothing, like most boss fights in ULTRAKILL. What if you get to the boss chamber, it's dead silent, and nothing. The level ticks on for a minute and nobody appears, you killed your foe, they can't return to face you again. The door opens and you leave. You continue on. The formula goes on as normal.

I know it's probably gonna be some different greater machine that we get glimpses of throughout Violence, kinda like the Swordsmachine in prelude, but i thought of this while playing the game for the 30th time and went "damn that's sad as fuck. tumblr might like this"

[sofi52]

So with hell being revealed to be alive my immediate first thought was “this is just like i have no mouth and i must scream...” cus in my mind AM is the only way realistically we could have hell on earth. And i was wondering what was ultrakill’s hell’s sort of essence, it’s main thing since in this comparison AM’s is hate. Hell is described as cruel and only doing things for entertainment, but I think what’s more important to look at is the final line of the text we got from the arg, where seemingly hell is the one communicating and it mentions one thing: hunger. But hunger for what exactly?

This is where the latest testament mentioning Lucifer inspired this theory (btw I think it’s really cool that God is depicted as an emotional character here): Lucifer after being cast down by God became Hell. He hungers for the despair of those cast into his being, the same thing he felt when he fell. We don’t know if the angels have any control over Hell, I theorize no, so I think it was out of it’s own self interest to let the lust renaissance and the greed insurrection fail to be able to feed off even more of the denizens anguish. It most likely keeps a symbiotic relationships with the terminals, through which with the machines, which unknowingly help it in its goals. It’s probably as short sighted as the machines in their mad dash for blood and doesn’t care if it loses many of it’s playthings (mayhaps it could go an AM route and keep a few in the end?).

If this is true I think it would be a really cool way to continue the theme of hunger in ultrakill, and while I saw ppl being afraid this will make Hell some sort of silly mastermind antagonist I don’t think it has to go that route. While Hell may scheme a lot I don’t think it’s responsible for the downfall of humanity, rather its existence is a product that exemplifies everything wrong with God and heaven.