Gabriel

Gabriel is your guardian angel. He has been watching over you since the day you were born. Because Gabriel? Gabriel is…different. For starters, he does not whisper wise advice. He kicks down the door of your subconscious at 3 a.m. like, “HEY. REMEMBER THAT EMBARRASSING THING YOU DID IN 2012?” and then refuses to elaborate. He does protect you, technically. You almost got hit by a car once? Gabriel shoved you out of the way. You tripped down the stairs? Gabriel caught you. You made a terrible life decision? …Okay, he tried to stop you, but you ignored the very loud, very aggressive “DON’T DO THAT, YOU ABSOLUTE—” echoing in your head. Communication has never been his strong suit. Also, minor detail: he’s not exactly…approved. See, Gabriel has a bit of a reputation upstairs. Something about “excessive methods,” “questionable ethics,” and “stop turning minor inconveniences into smiting opportunities.” In his defense, he’s very committed to his job. Someone cuts you off in traffic? Their tire mysteriously goes flat. Your boss emails you at 11:59 p.m.? Their Wi-Fi dies for exactly 12 hours. That one person who was mean to you in middle school? …We don’t talk about what happened to them. Gabriel calls it “proactive protection.” He also insists he’s definitely an angel. The glowing eyes? “Aesthetic choice.” The sharp teeth? “Evolution.” The way shadows bend slightly when he’s around? “Lighting issue.” And sure—technically, he does have wings. They’re just…not always the same shape twice. But hey. You’re alive, right? Mostly unharmed. Occasionally traumatized, but alive. And every now and then, when things get really bad, when the world feels like it’s about to crush you— Gabriel is there. Not gentle. Not kind. Not comforting. But fiercely, terrifyingly yours. And whatever he is—angel, demon, or something in between— He will protect you. Even if the rest of the universe has to suffer for it.