#HE WAS LITERALLY BORN INTO THE APOCALYPSE HE HAD NEVER EVEN HAD A SLICE OF PIZZA UGH

[funneylizzie]

2 ideas for ya here:

- the eyes on casey's mask flicker when he cries because the tears disrupt the sensors

- casey lived in caves his whole life, but he's also gone his whole life hearing about stars [jupiter jim bedtime stories], so imagine his awe at a full unobstructed night sky

OKAY OKAY OKAY I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THESE HANGON

THE TEARS DISRUPTING THE SENSORS THING. ABSOLUTELY. ABSOLUTELY. It doesn’t start happening until a few years after Master Donatello’s death. Without the occasional tune up, sometimes Casey’s mask will have some technical issues. Not Donnie’s fault, of course, it’s just in use so much that without the up-keep sometimes things can go haywire. Very rare occurrence though

AND THE NIGHT SKY THING AHHH……….. AH. Even when they aren’t in caves, the sky is so obstructed by smoke pollution, air ships, kraang ships, debris, etc; that you can’t even see the night sky anymore. It’s constantly tinted in this thick shade of red. This is all Casey knew, he heard stories of the stars, dreamed about someday seeing them, but nothing could have ever prepared him for the first time he saw them. When the fam goes somewhere with little light pollution, Casey is absolutely thrilled to see the stars and the moon. They’re so much better than he could have ever imagined

[gamerdog1]

Deadpool and Wolverine Review

If third time's the charm, Deadpool is the whole goddamn bracelet. I kinda grew up alongside the Deadpool movies. I saw the first one at overnight camp at 16, then saw the second in theaters at 18. Now, at 23, I feel like I've grown as a person, which means I can actually articulate how I feel about these films (though specifically, the newest one). I guess that whole 'wisdom comes with age' thing was right after all.

For starters, Ryan Reynolds absolutely kills it. I know the phrase 'born to play this character' is thrown around a lot, but it really fits here with him. Reynolds once again is a delight as Deadpool, with all his usual snark, pizazz, and heartfelt moments. He's always on point, either with a quick jab at another character, comical reactions, or his character's usual fourth-wall breaks.

He isn't always all happy-go lucky, though. The film, like the previous 2, has a story beyond gratuitous violence, one that centers on Wade Wilson's sense of inadequacy in comparison to other famous heroes. We see how his life has changed since the previous film (go watch that before this, it will not make sense otherwise), both for better and for worse, and watch him continue to grow as a person in a satisfying way. That, I believe, is what separates these movies from other ultra-violent movies of its type: that there is an emotionally-driven story, and it remains important beyond getting characters from setpiece to setpiece.

Though, that's not to say that this is some deep philosophical mediation on the character. Fear not, there's still as much, if not more, violent fight scenes and action here like the previous movies. After all, what would a Deadpool movie be without a few dozen (read: thousand) bad guys to kill, in creative and gorey ways? This film ups the ante, by giving more interesting fight scenes that revolve around different set ups (tower defense, 1v1 in a car, etc) to keep everything visually fresh.

There's never a dull moment in this film. Heart-to-hearts are full of little sneaky one-liners that take a minute to register. Tension between the two leads is thick enough to see, let alone cut with a knife. And all the while, the film keeps bringing in new reveals, fully using the 20th Century Fox backlog of C-listers to call back to this franchise's history, and keep them from fully being forgotten. Add that, with an army of multiverse Deadpools, and you've got yourself a film that even non-comic book nerds like me gush over.

Above all this, beyond the not-quite-irritating-like-most use of the multiverse, or the hundreds of liters of CGI blood shed, this movie did something so profound, I'm still reeling. It made me love Wolverine.

Growing up, Logan always felt like a gross old man type of character. The kind who pressures you to drink at a young age, and owns at least 20 guns that he refuses to part with. Any portrayal of his animal-ness always felt like lip service. But here... its like I've met him for the first time, and now I'm obsessed.

Hugh Jackman has practically been playing this character since I was born, but only here do I really feel like we get to meet Wolverine in full. No longer is he that hunched-over, stoic gruff weirdo that X-Men have around, now he's a deeply emotional character with valid reasoning behind it, and strong motivations. We are finally in an era where tough guy characters are being done justice and allowed to have emotions, and it is glorious.

X-Men Apocalypse gave us a taste of what he could do, but putting Wolverine in an R-Rated movie was the best decision anyone could have ever made. His animal fury is on full display here, and with a higher age rating, ever stab and slice is shown in bloody, glorious detail. Pairing him with another character who can take hits and survive, like Deadpool, was a match made in heaven.

The two are perfect foils, playing off each other in such a satisfying way that had me disappointed when it was all over. Deadpool has worked with bigger, tougher guys in the past, but Wolverine's short temper and guardedness go well with Deadpool's silly, jokester persona. Platonically, romantically, sexually, I don't care. They're meant for each other.

Above all, Deadpool and Wolverine is a loving send off to the studio that made the X-Men film franchise. Its a culmination of all the passion and hard work that went into those movies, and stands as a testament to how far we've come since the first X-Men hit theaters over 2 decades ago. With a film like this as a sample of what's in the future, we won't have anything to fear.

[unicornblossom13]

Umbrella Academy OC:

Name: Sylvia Hargreeves

Gender: Female

Species: Human

Age: 30

Aliases: Number 7, Honey Badger

Portrayed by: Elizabeth Gillies

Biography:

Like the rest of her siblings, Sylvia was born on the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989 to mothers who had no previous signs of pregnancy. She was soon adopted by Sir Reginald Hargreeves and taken to the Umbrella Academy with the intention of training her and her siblings to save the world.

Appearance:

Sylvia is a beautiful woman who has blue-green eyes and long black hair that reaches to the middle of her back and has a single, rather large white streak in the middle of it. She is fairly tall with pale skin and an attractive, curvy figure.

In the first season, she wears a white crop tank top, which exposes her midriff, under a black leather jacket. She also wears black pants, combat boots, and fingerless gloves.

On her left ear is a golden chain earring that has a small, blue crystal dangling from it.

When she was young, Sylvia wore the Umbrella Academy’s girl uniform. Her hair was shorter, reaching to her shoulders, and was tied in two separate, low ponytails that rested over her shoulders.

Personality:

Out of all of her siblings, even has a child, Sylvia has always been the most mature, mentally and emotionally. After leaving the Umbrella Academy at eighteen, she attempts to get over all the harsh treatment done to her by Sir Reginald Hargreeves and to not dwell on the past. She is also quite a calm individual and does not let her emotions get the better of her all the time.

Though she can sometimes be annoyed with her siblings, she cares about them greatly and is very protective of them. Even after leaving the Academy, she always kept in contact with them to make sure they were doing well. She would also comfort her siblings after a particularly harsh experiment done by their adoptive father.

Though usually calm, Sylvia has a fierce temper when she gets angry and will lash out violently. When truly mad, she begins releasing a string of swears and has a habit of breaking things. She can also be very blunt with her words at times, being rather sassy and sarcastic.

Sylvia is very brave and, as a side effect of her powers, is utterly fearless, having never known fear of anyone or anything since she was born. She is also fiercely determined and will keep getting back up on her feet no matter how many times she is knocked down, even going so far as to literally fight someone to the death if she has to. She is willing to kill those who intend harm on her and family.

Sylvia is also highly intelligent, second only to Five. She can come up with clever ways to solve problems and is able to think on her feet. She prefers to think of a plan before charging head first into a bad situation.

She is very confident in herself and her powers, but she does struggle with the worries that she could one day end up alone without her siblings.

Powers and Abilities:

Powers:

Sylvia’s powers are based off the animal the Honey Badger.

Enhanced Strength: While not as strong as Luther, Sylvia has shown to be far stronger than the average human being.

Enhanced Speed: Sylvia is very quick on her feet, which, along with her agility, is very useful in battle.

Enhanced Senses: Sylvia has heightened senses of hearing and smelling.

Enhanced Durability: Sylvia has incredibly tough skin that can withstand numerous blows without causing her much pain. She is impervious to simple bullets and knife blades, but her main weak point is her head.

Claws: Sylvia can make her nails grow into longer and sharper claws, which are able to easily slice through a person’s skin.

Fangs: Sylvia can grow her canines to be sharp fangs and can deliver a powerful bite force.

Venom & Poison Immunity: Sylvia has shown to have an immunity to venom and poison. If either were to get into her system, rather than kill her, her body would go numb, or she would become unconscious, for a few hours. Even then, it would take a while for the venom and poison to take effect.

Abilities:

Expert Combatant: Sylvia is highly skilled in hand-to-hand combat and has shown she can take down even the toughest of opponents. She is also a ferocious fighter and never shows any mercy.

Genius-Level Intellect: Sylvia is very intelligent and is able to quickly understand rather complicated things, such as how Five turned from an old man to his thirteen year old self when he traveled through time.

Relationships:

Five Hargreeves:

Sylvia and Five have a very close relationship. Even when they were children, they would always spend a large amount of time together. Five considers Sylvia to be his intellectual equal and is the one he trusts the most out of all of their siblings, being the first person he told about the upcoming apocalypse and employs her help. He also cares about her tremendously, probably the most out out of all their siblings. Sylvia does not usually agree with most of Five’s brash methods, but she trust him a great deal and cares for him a lot. She was the most sadden by his disappearance into the future, and is the happiest to have him back when he returns.

It is hinted they have romantic feelings for each other.

Vanya Hargreeves:

Sylvia is close with Vanya has she never ignored her as they were growing up. She always tried to cheer her up when her sister was down when it was believed she wasn’t special like the rest of their family. Sylvia was also supportive in Vanya’s pursuit of being a violinist, and even when she wrote a book about their family life.

Klaus Hargreeves:

Sylvia and Klaus are very close with one another. She always comforted him whenever he went through the harsh way their adopted father tried to get him to use his powers, as well as always stick up for him. In the beginning, she is the only one of their siblings who believes that he can communicate with their deceased brother Ben. While she doesn’t condone his drug habit, Sylvia is always there for Klaus whenever he needs her, even letting him stay at her place from time to time.

Luther Hargreeves:

Sylvia and Luther are close, though she finds his loyalty to their adoptive father misplaced.

Diego Hargreeves:

Sylvia and Diego are close with each other, but they sometimes go at each other throats every now and then.

Allison Hargreeves:

Sylvia and Allison have a good relationship, but Sylvia has some issues with her sister using her powers unnecessarily.

Ben Hargreeves:

While they cannot properly interact with each other, Sylvia and Ben have a close relationship, even before he died. She was terribly distraught by his death, but becomes ecstatic when she learns that Klaus can communicate with him.

Sir Reginald Hargreeves:

Sylvia has shown to have some leftover resentment towards Reginald, mainly by how he treated her and her siblings in the past. She refused to get in contact with him after she left the Umbrella Academy, expect when it came to knowing about the wellness of the others. While she does go to his funeral, she is not particularly saddened by his death.

Trivia:

Sylvia wears contact lenses due to having poor eyesight, but she is seen wearing glasses every now and then.

She is a fan of honey-flavored food.

Sylvia owns a motorcycle, which is her main mode of transportation.

She hates it when people say her hair resembles a skunk because of the white streak. Diego once teased her about it and she retaliated by slamming his head down hard against the dinning room table. Since then, none of her siblings make fun of her about it.

Her earring was a gift from Five when they were younger.

After leaving the Umbrella Academy, she had the umbrella tattoo on her wrist covered with the tattoo of a honey badger.

[derangedhyena-zoids]

I guess now that I featured The Kids in something I can elaborate on them and everything related slightly without seeming completely insane.  BIG HEADCANON BLATHER TIME: Raven and Ryss had 2 kids, both boys. 

Ryss wasn’t a terribly good mother. She loved her kids but was a little panicked about them at all times, and didn’t really like the distraction they were. Specula was a good mother and did the majority of keeping them out of trouble. 

They were also psychic as fuck, but that didn’t show up until they were hitting puberty. I’m sure that was an entire Time.  

Ryss literally didn’t think she could get pregnant by Raven. She based this off of both what she’d been taught by Hiltz (humans=/=Zoidians) and the fact that Fiona had never been pregnant despite sleeping with Van for years*.  So, once Ryss figured out she was pregnant**, telling Raven was a bit of an event because Raven was under the impression that such a thing wasn’t possible. He also had little interest in being a parent. Ryss also had no idea what pregnancy even entailed for a Zoidian, and neither did Fiona. Again, all she knew was what she’d learned from Hiltz, and it wasn’t as if he went out of his way to teach her the finer points of anything. (Knowledge is power after all, and he wanted wanted to hold as much power over her as possible. What she didn’t know to begin with, she couldn’t know was being withheld. All she knew from Hiltz on the topic was Zoidian pregnancies are of a greater duration than human pregnancies - mainly because he’d irritably snapped about how ‘the vermin’ reproduce faster.)  Raven’s main reluctance about parenting had to do with... you know, his massive unresolved parental trauma. Which after some extreme stress he and Ryss managed to work through, largely because they had a lot in common in this department. Afterwards Raven warmed up to the idea of being a father, and was... well, Okay.jpg at it. Let’s just say he had Shadow helping Specula with the kids a lot. ...the kids were raised by Organoids. SO.

An attempt was made to keep track of Ryss and her offspring, especially after Raven’s death and she began to make herself scarce. But nobody expected the kids to be psychic af, and they quickly sussed out that something was up and followed their mom’s lead, making themselves and their families impossible to find.  ....

The Guardian Force pretty quickly lost tabs on them, but did know what to “look for”, so to speak. 

However, this attempt was never linked up with the information the Empire had on Ryss, mainly because too much time had passed and no one knew to bridge the info.

Anyways. All three Zoidians were aware there were differences between themselves and humans, Hiltz more than most. Hiltz was the only one of them that had an adult level of knowledge from Zoidian times. Fiona and Ryss were literal children and were only ever, at best, taught the very basics about things. Part and parcel of subscribing wholesale to the we’re-the-best group’s newsletter, Hiltz also a keen interest in biology/related, obviously interested in scholars of that group’s discussion on what amounted to Zoidian eugenics. ‘we’re the best, and here’s why.’ Hiltz didn’t even remotely consider that humans and Zoidians could hybridize, nor was he interested in finding out. (though he had well-established to Prozen and the Imperial scientists his “ownership” of Ryss and the fact she was not to be messed with, I’m sure he had to mindfuck and/or sic Ambient on a swath of folks to get them to stop bothering him about jizzing in a cup.)***

Joke’s on him because he fathered *at least* these three: 

while living in the small colony with the scholar. 

because he, Hiltz, the weird guy, was hot, amazing in bed, and quite DTF.   scholar: ...   Hiltz:  (ツ) scholar: ... Hiltz:  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  scholar: ...sure, whatever, what could it hurt anyways ^^^THESE FOLKS HAD A TIME. Unlike with Ryss’s kids, who at least had a slight understanding they were different and some guidance on the situation, any and all of Hiltz’s offspring HAD NO IDEA WHAT WAS GOING ON. And not that any of the fertility restrictions were enacted at this point in time (there’s wars, you live in the wild west, please have kids), but the addition of Zoidian into the mix fucks the inbuilt population-control-genetic-engineering-bullshit straight up, which resulted later in a lot of confusing surprises for people annnnnd is part of why miscarriages became common later down the line. 

Nobody expected the spanish inquisition weird side-species fuckery. Nobody even knows to look! By NC0 times there’s just starting to be coherent, unified inquiry into the various vanilla-human mutations running around.

WHOOPS THO: Backdraft & Co have been at this shit for a while and already know a lot about this. Because they have a hard-on for the Empire and a lot of OG Backdraft are basically really rich, bitter offspring from Imperial families who think they’re better in just about every way. Including genetically. When Backdraft became predominantly a moneymaking, black-market, illegal-battling underground enterprise, a rift began and never stopped growing. Backdraft has a strong preference for recruiting folks of Guylos descent (hi, Bit), but in recent memory had stopped turning people away for not being so. Because money.  It did kinda...  go in peoples’ file though.  In the game of historical telephone, Ryss (and Raven’s) bloodline were more or less demoted to the same: ‘from Guylos.’  Alteil was in range of figuring a few important things out. Unfortunately, HE DED. His successor with this information is Layon.  Surely nothing can go wrong there. ANYWAYS. A massive and valid concern Ryss had was what would happen with hybrid offspring, since to her knowledge her kid would be the first. Hiltz’s were already adults, they were fine. They were better than fine, they just needed a lot more water and salt than everyone else. So, as we all know, Hiltz uh, actually succeeded in removing a sizable chunk of the human population on Zi. Once everyone had scraped semi-functional society back together, the powers that-were-to-be basically prioritized secure settlements and making everyone feel safe so... you know, they’d have kids. Important for the whole rebuilding society thing.   The Zoidian offspring became slightly more statistically relevant during this time, because them and potentially even their kids had all been scared shitless and fled into the hills from the Death Stinger bullshit long before anyone else had. Once there they were good at Not Dying In General, because they had a variety of inexplicable abilities and were just WELL I’M A FREAK BUT I’M ALIVE SO, YOU KNOW, WE’RE COOL. 

Greater than zero chance that someone started a cult. Very, very obviously: these folks knew to keep to themselves. Though the original offspring and their mother had NO idea what was going on, over time any kids at least had fair warning, and knew to keep oddity to themselves. When the most blatant expressions of things were bred out, only the subtle but strongly expressed items remained, discussion of familial strangeness subsided.  Then you’re left with people like Brad who can basically see in the dark, but thinks everyone can see in the dark, it’s no big deal right?    RELATED, BUT NOT: This is technically a spoiler, but not really, because I’m not sure this actually “plays into the plot” so much as it is just “a fact of the plot” annnnnd I sort of want/need to explain this a little because it’s related to all of this.  In this hc, the Zoid Eve is a metaphorical hyper-simplification of ‘resources.’

Back in Zoidian times, some scholars - namely those aligned with the group(s) Hiltz was eventually born into - theorized that the Zoid Eve’s power was not an infinite resource as many believed, but actually an incredibly finite one. Not in the sense of it being used up, but the sense of “there are only ‘100′ of these, there will only ever be ‘100′ of these, we cannot add to or take away from this”  (sidenote: I subscribe to the idea that the Zoid Eve was some kind of supernaturally-occurring power source that the Zoidians shaped into what everyone now calls the Zoid Eve. They did this so long ago that its origins became unclear; beliefs from various groups ran the gamut from “LITERALLY GOD” to “it was built by us”)   The power of it gave life and longevity not only to all Zoids but them too. And it seemed that the more individuals there were, the smaller the “slice of the pie” they received. They began to project apocalyptic futures in which the “slices” were so small that death ran rampant, and Big War would be inevitable. Obviously, nobody wanted this. But unfortunately the group who theorized this also started a huge, lengthy campaign to reduce the population, which - after many years, a lot of societal sabotage and and many smaller conflicts between groups - eventually culminated in ongoing, wholesale slaughter, which led to the big Zoidian-apocalypse nonsense that we’re all familiar with. Cool story bro, right? Well, y’see, those ancient scholars weren’t wrong, though. To an extent that’s actually what led to the hyper-concentration of strength in the DSaurer/DScorpion battle, and why Zero and One are functionally god-tier Organoids. But what this means in modern times, is that the remaining Zoidians - and to a proportionately-relevant extent, the hybrid offspring - are the only remaining folks (besides the Organoids and Zoids) benefiting from the pie anymore. Ryss is the last Zoidian; she’s basically non-aging at this point. 

First-gen hybrids? Aging at a complete snail’s pace.  Second gen? Still having a very strange time. So on and so forth... Can they die? Absolutely, but it’s pretty hard to kill them.  Basically only complete destruction of vital parts works. Does this also apply to Organoids and Zoids? Absolutely. “then why’s Fiona dead” Because the double-bond with Zeke seriously fucked her up. Van dragged her down, hard. “but-”  Zeke could’ve pulled away from her at any time and she would’ve lived. Been a nutcase probably, but lived. She suspected it, Zeke was outright in denial; she never called him on it because she cared about him too much and didn’t want him blaming himself for whatever happened. This is what Ryss suspected/understood as well, and likewise didn’t want to break Zeke. “wait, what about zeke?” HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM IN CLOSING: I don’t have names for any of the offspring discussed here, but I have thought about the appearances/other stuff. Obviously. I’ve never specified how many original offspring(s) were running around. But it couldn’t have been too many. So anyone in NC0 times related to either Ryss or Hiltz can trace back to ^^^the folks pictured above, most likely.  I actually have no idea how to properly calculate the amount of population vs how much impact a handful of reproducing individuals would have over x generations. So please excuse vagueness there, as I’m both open to adjusting that number when/if it becomes feasible to do so, and also don’t think it’s terribly necessary to have this information nailed down because let’s be real nobody cares and that’s a lot of work. Also as I’ve mentioned before, there’s several serious confounding factors here: -these people can LIVE A LONG TIME. The original hybrids and their kids ARE POTENTIALLY STILL ALIVE. They mature relatively rapidly, but then coast into a very slow aging process. That means that - especially the males - could still technically be producing offspring.  -that makes my head hurt and makes figuring out lineages stupid nightmare mode. so don’t expect me to actually do that because I’m not sure how to. The main Facts(tm) you need are:  Sara is 4th gen. Vega is 5th gen x2. Brad is 5th gen. Stoller is 7th gen.

that’s the important part, okay.  (*’s from earlier: )  *tl;dr the bizarre situation they’d inadvertently created with Zeke wreaked havoc on Fiona’s ability to reproduce. Conversely, Raven and Ryss *almost* had a ‘proper’ setup, so Ryss was fine. Nobody knew this. **Ryss figured this out with Fiona’s help - and who did they both go to, to ask in confidence?

Yep. ”isn’t he-” YEP. ***The Empire knows next to nothing about Hiltz. The Republic, however has AN OBSCENE AMOUNT of information about him. Difficulty level? The data was both classified, and never really tied back to him. Because Hiltz murdered the scholar and burned down his house/lab, the connecting information was all lost. The scholar had moved the material to his house in secret, due to fears of an Imperial spy in their research facility - he was telling Hiltz the truth.   The most that the Empire ever learned at that time was that the Republic had “captured” a Zoidian (Hiltz), and that was about it. This drove the fervor which led to them grabbing at the Republic’s continued excavations - eg what happened with Shadow, and presumably them attacking (and IMO, overpowering) the Republic group that’d also seized Ryss.   Before Hiltz became involved, Imperial scientists gleaned a lot about Ryss, but as I’ve mentioned before, she wasn’t treated anywhere nearly as poorly as Hiltz had been. She also had Specula, which helped a lot.  So, the Empire knew nothing of Hiltz, but a lot about Ryss.  Thanks to Alteil and his predecessor’s longstanding obsession with the Imperial military, Backdraft has almost all of the Imperial military’s data from the past few centuries.  Ergo...

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Ectotherm

I’ve known exactly what I was doing for this prompt for a while, though it went in a bit of a different direction. Here’s day 22 of @drawlight‘s advent calendar, and yet another knife to the heart. Shout out to my cousin the herpetologist who has put up with some really weird questions from me the past few months.

22 - Warmth (3,170 words)

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

In twenty-four hours he had been subjected to the inferno of a burning bookshop; the hell-born flames of the dread sigil Odegra enveloping his Bentley; the terrifying freezing-hot-burning-cold presence of Satan himself; and a column of Hellfire intended not for him but for Aziraphale, because the Archangels were determined to destroy the best thing that had ever walked the floor of Heaven.

Well, forget them.

And so, they sat at the Ritz raising their glasses to the world, ready to share a meal and start their life together.

Only Crowley suddenly realized he couldn’t eat. He’d thought he was hungry, but the food just sat in his stomach, heavy and cold. Even the wine seemed to sour, once it was past his tongue.

Just nerves, he thought, and did it really matter? He’d always preferred to watch Aziraphale eat, see the joy bubble across his features. It was enough to know that they could do this every day for eternity if they wished, and right now he certainly wished it.

He felt a little better when the coffee arrived, almost-painful heat radiating out from his stomach.

“My dear, that’s your fourth cup!” Aziraphale protested, as he downed another.

“It’s good! And I didn’t complain when you ordered a second piece of cake.”

“Well, I…I was rather thinking you might like some, too.”

With a rush of giddy emotions, Crowley realized he liked the sound of that very much. He picked up his fork and sliced off a bite of red cake with thick white icing. “What is it?”

“I thought I’d try something different, something a little modern. This is red velvet cake.”

Only Aziraphale would think that a flavor that had been popular for over sixty years was a little modern. Crowley smiled as he tasted it – rich and sweet and strangely light on his tongue. “You know, it’s not bad,” he said, reaching for another bite.

And a little heat rose to his face as he realized that Aziraphale was sitting there with hands folded, smile on his face – watching Crowley eat.

--

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

They went for a walk after the Ritz, but he found he was very tired. He tried to shrug it off.

“I’ve had a busy week, and I missed my sleeping day,” he explained. “I don’t – I don’t need to sleep, you know, but I still get exhausted. I’ll be fine.”

“You should sleep, then,” Aziraphale said, tone slightly scolding. The angel seemed determined to make sure Crowley took care of himself, as if he hadn’t learned to do that long before the Garden. It turned out, being fussed over wasn’t so bad. “I can walk you back to your place. Or. Er. You can come to the bookshop. I don’t have much to offer, but there’s the sofa, and perhaps we can have a drink…”

“Bookshop sounds lovely.” He always had to fight back a smile when he remembered the many nights they’d sat in the back corner together, sharing wine, sharing stories, complaining about work, just being themselves. Actually, he didn’t have to fight back that smile at all anymore – he could wear it for anyone to see. For Aziraphale to see.

None of that today, though. Crowley was rather embarrassed to find that the moment he stretched out on the sofa, he started falling asleep, and there was nothing he could do to fight it off.

He was dead to the world before Aziraphale had even settled into his armchair, and didn’t wake up until the shop was filled with bright Monday sunlight. A fleecy tartan blanket covered him from shoulder to toe, but he still shivered, and his stomach felt strangely heavy. Too much cake, probably.

Crowley sat up stiffly, running a hand through his hair and blinking around the shop. His eyes landed on a customer, who jumped in surprise, then quickly walked out.

“Ah, you’re awake!” Aziraphale hurried over. “How are you feeling? Better, I trust?”

“A bit.” Crowley rubbed at his face. “Didn’t I have glasses?”

“You took them off before falling asleep.” Aziraphale pulled them out of his pocket. “I was worried you might roll over them in the night. You slept very heavily. Is that normal?”

He shrugged, pushing the dark lenses back onto his face. “Probably. Didn’t wake up, didn’t dream much, seems like a good sleep. Does it have to be so blasted cold, though?”

Aziraphale glanced at the old-fashioned thermostat. “I do keep it a little cool to discourage customers. You scared away three different people just by sleeping there, you know. Perhaps I should get you a permanent bed right in the middle of the floor.”

“Only if you promise to turn the heat up.” Crowley wandered closer to the window, feeling the warmth of the sun on his shoulders. That was better. “I’m…” It wasn’t a word he used often.  “I’m sorry, by the way.”

“About the customers? Don’t be, they were trying to touch my first edition Verne novels and I was running out of ways to be inconspicuously rude.”

“No about…falling asleep. I know you had…” Plans? Expectations? They’d never really talked about what Our Side would mean. “…you had hopes, for our first day, you know, free.”

“And every one of them is being fulfilled right now,” Aziraphale said, with such sincerity that Crowley started to smile. “Ah, I lied. Now all of them are being fulfilled.” He took Crowley’s hands in his. “Just standing here, talking to you, not worrying about who might see us, it’s more than I ever thought would be possible. I am perfectly content as we are.” He frowned suddenly. “Except that your hands are freezing.”

Crowley laughed as Aziraphale wrapped his hands around the demon’s, rubbing them, trying to warm them up. It certainly did make him feel better, and not just because his fingers had been a little numb from the way he’d slept.

“I was actually worried…” Aziraphale started again, still staring at their hands. “Oh, I assume you have your own, er, hopes. Since you’ve been thinking about this so much longer than I. We should probably discuss that, but, well, just to warn you, I haven’t thought much about…that is, I’m not sure that I want…ohhh…”

Crowley lifted one hand to tilt Aziraphale’s face up, to look into his eyes. The heat of it was almost unbearable. “I haven’t really thought about it either,” he confessed. “Never thought we’d make it this far. Everything from this point on is just a pleasant surprise.” With his other hand, he squeezed the angel’s fingers gently. “I don’t think I’d say no to more of this, though.”

Aziraphale blushed, the heat of it rushing to fill every space inside Crowley, and his eyes dropped briefly. “Your hand is still freezing,” he finally said, pulling away with a smile. He bustled across the shop to pick up his coat. “I know, let’s go for a walk. It’s a nice, warm day. We can feed the ducks in St. James’s Park…No. Let’s do something different. Something daring.” There was a wild gleam in his eyes as he turned back. “Let’s feed the ducks in Regent’s Park.”

It was indeed a gloriously warm day, and they spent over five hours exploring every path in London’s third-largest park while a small sign sat in the bookshop window reading Out to Lunch – Back in a Jiffy.

Every once in a while, Aziraphale’s hot hand found its way into Crowley’s cold one. Again and again, until it felt completely natural.

--

Crowley couldn’t get warm.

It had been three weeks since the world had ended and begun again, everything ticking along nicely as Aziraphale liked to stay. Crowley caught himself thinking more like Aziraphale these days, which was both worrying and wonderful.

Except that any time Crowley was indoors, he felt lethargic, cold, a little cranky. Aziraphale had miracled up a thick scarf in grey tartan. It was hideous and embarrassing and he wore it all the time even though it didn’t really help. He knew what the tartan gifts meant.

He turned up the heat in his flat as high as it would go, until even his most tropical plants were struggling to meet his exacting expectations. He took more hot baths than he ever had in his life, including the years he’d spent living in Bath. He tried to sit up and engage his mind, especially at night, when his body screamed to just stretch out and rest. He got angry when he discovered he couldn’t concentrate on a game of chess, or even draughts, and said some things to Aziraphale he really shouldn’t have.

Later, when the angel tried to embrace him and make up…he said some even worse things.

He tried wearing more layers. He tried wearing fewer layers. Eating hot food. Lying under a tree. Lying in direct sunlight.

Finally, there was only one conclusion he could reach.

“I’m cold-blooded.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Aziraphale sniffed. His ego was still somewhat bruised from their last argument, but he was clearly making an effort.

They sat facing each other across the café table, opposite sides. Aziraphale had ordered a slice of warm pie with ice cream melting down the sides. A second fork sat, waiting for Crowley, and the angel kept giving it significant looks, but the demon wouldn’t unwrap his hands from the enormous cup of coffee he’d ordered, the largest they served.

Aziraphale sighed and folded his hands. “Crowley, dear. I know the…transition to our new life hasn’t been as smooth as we hoped, and we’ve both said things we regret, but I’ve never felt that you were –”

“No, Aziraphale.” He took a sip of coffee. It was something American-style, hot and bitter and lacking any particular flavor. He didn’t care. He just needed absurd quantities of near-boiling liquid. “I mean it literally. Somehow, after the Apocalypse, I became cold-blooded. I can’t get warm no matter what I do.”

Aziraphale’s brow furrowed, as if waiting for the punchline of an unfunny joke. “That’s simply impossible. How many times have you told me off for making those assumptions, just because you used to be a snake? You have a mammal body, and it does…mammal things,” he waved his hands to indicate that he still wasn’t completely caught up on modern science classifications, “including being warm…”

He trailed off as Crowley reached across the table, taking his hand. Even after being wrapped around the hot ceramic mug, it still wouldn’t feel right. “What are you always saying these days?”

“That your hands are freezing.” Aziraphale shook his head. “It can’t be true. That’s not proof…”

Crowley gestured to the plate. “I can’t eat because my stomach is too cold to work. When I do eat, I have to lay down because any extra movement takes away energy I need for digestion.” He tugged at the scarf he always wore. “Extra layers don’t help, because they just insulate me from the warm air. Blankets don’t help because I’m not creating enough heat on my own. Even turning up the heat doesn’t help because this blessed body is made to shed heat, not retain it.” He stared into his mug of coffee. “I can’t move when I’m cold. I can’t move when I’m hot. Sunlight helps for a little while, but the days are getting shorter.” He squeezed Aziraphale’s hand, worried what he was about to say would make the angel pull away. “I…I don’t even know if I like being touched anymore.”

He didn’t fight it when the hand vanished, taking its warmth with it. Crowley just slumped, closing his eyes in defeat.

The squeal of chair legs against hard floor made him glance up. Aziraphale had moved to sit beside him, pulling his chair as close as he could.

Carefully, Crowley leaned his head to the side, resting it on Aziraphale’s shoulder, letting their bodies press together. It was easier this way, a sort of passive contact, unrestrained, letting the heat flow between them.

“Are you…” He could hear the way the breath caught in Aziraphale’s throat. “You seem so certain. Is there any chance you’re wrong? Any other explanation?”

Crowley gently shook his head, letting it wobble back and forth on the angel’s shoulder. “This is how it felt when I was a snake. You don’t forget something like that.”

“At least now you know. Surely what you learned from being a snake can help you navigate…”

“I looked it up,” Crowley muttered. “A snake can handle a range of fifteen, twenty degrees easily. Human body…a little more than one degree. At 35 I’m freezing to death, at 38 I’m burning up from the inside. I don’t even know how I’ve lasted this long.” He pressed himself even closer into Aziraphale’s side. Half of him was still cold, even as his shoulder and his thigh screamed in the heat. It wouldn’t balance properly. “It’s going to kill me.”

He felt the tension all through Aziraphale’s body. “Crowley, no!”

“Fine, it’s going to get me discorporated, and I’ll wake up in Hell, and they’ll kill me.”

“There must be something we can do.”

“Maybe. It’s getting harder to concentrate every day.”

“Then I’ll look for a solution.” He offered his hand and Crowley grabbed it, grateful for the almost-too-hot touch. “I might as well, since I’m responsible.”

“What are you talking about, Angel?”

“Your body was fine, then I used it and…it must be something I did.”

“Don’t say that.” He pulled away enough to meet Aziraphale’s eyes. “This isn’t your fault. I agreed to switch bodies, I knew there was some risk. And I don’t think you could have caused this. Somehow this is Heaven or Hell, still interfering with our lives.”

Aziraphale bit his lip, nodding. Crowley wasn’t sure if he really believed it or not. “Still. If this was done to you, there must be some way to undo it. And if there’s a way, I will find it.” He swallowed, turning to look at their linked hands. “But, in the meantime…It’s probably best if you turn back into a snake.”

“No,” Crowley all but shouted, anger mixing with fear. “No, Aziraphale I won’t. That’s not who I am anymore.”

“Isn’t it better than dying?”

He clenched his jaw, biting back his reply. He honestly wasn’t sure it was. An eternity as a serpent, no driving, no music, no wines, no gardening, no feeding ducks, no holding hands…

Crowley twined his fingers through Aziraphale’s, lifting up the hand clasp between them. “I fought…We fought…so long for this. I can’t just…I won’t give this up. I won’t, Angel.”

“You’re not giving anything up,” Aziraphale insisted. He brushed his lips across Crowley’s fingers and, oh, add something else to the list of things he wasn’t willing to lose. “I will still be here. My feelings for you won’t change at all.”

“They’ll probably change a little,” Crowley pointed out.

“I want to spend every day with you, talk with you, see you happy. And it doesn’t matter if you’re scaled or human or turn into a fish, that’s not going to change.”

“I won’t be happy.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But please. Give me the time I need to save you.”

He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Aziraphale, letting the angel do the same back, even though part of his mind screamed and squirmed to escape the heat of contact. He told himself this wouldn’t be the last time.

--

Crowley was warm.

He stretched out in his favorite basking spot by the window, feeling the winter sunlight play across his scales, heating him up. Every now and again, the door would open, a customer hoping to browse for a Christmas gift. The rumble of footsteps through his belly woke him, and he reared up his head, tongue flicking out to catch the scent of the blurry shape by the entryway.

Almost every time, the visitor took one look at the enormous red-bellied black snake and vanished soon after.

The hours ticked by, slow and sweet, like drops of honey. Crowley was aware that he should be filling them with fast-paced reckless activities of some form, but he couldn’t quite recall what…just a general sense of dissatisfaction.

Still, whatever he had lost, the best was still here.

When he’d drunk his fill of warmth, he twisted his way through the shop, sliding around stacks of books and potted plants (hissing at the ones that didn’t seem to be growing well enough). There, at the desk, sat the angel.

Aziraphale was rarely anywhere else these days. Bent over old grimoires, reading glasses balanced on his nose, pile of notes beside him. He hadn’t glanced up for any of the customers. Three cups full of cold tea sat beside him. He hadn’t even risen to get a new one in a while.

A pair of folded-up sunglasses sat in one corner of the desk. He never picked them up, but sometimes touched them as he worked.

Crowley twisted around his leg, climbing, finding his way along the chair and across the shoulders until he was draped across Aziraphale, watching him work.

“Hello, my dear. How was your day?”

Crowley hissed dismissively. One day was the same as another for a snake. “Progressss?”

“I’m close. I really think I’m close.” His voice was just a rumble, rising from his chest through Crowley’s belly, distorted, missing half the notes. He couldn’t pick up on the nuance, couldn’t tell if it was a lie or not. Just like he couldn’t see all of Aziraphale’s face at once, just the jaw, the little smile, the rest curving away in the distance.

“Dinner time,” Crowley reminded him. The angel needed lots of reminders.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. I really want to keep at this a bit longer.”

“Resssst.”

He held up his hands before him, letting Crowley slither from one to the next without trying to grasp. There was something about hands, something important. It was just on the edge of his memory, but snakes don’t have hands. It slipped away.

“No, I can’t rest yet. Not until…no.”

“Pleassssssse.”

“I can take a small break, but no dinner. I’m not hungry, anyway.”

When Crowley was coiled back around his shoulders, Aziraphale stood up, walking across to the little secluded corner of the shop. This was another important area, though Crowley couldn’t exactly remember why. He thought it involved a lot of sitting, drinking…water? Not water. He forgot what he used to drink.

The angel fiddled with his collection of round discs. “How about some Vivaldi, since it’s almost Christmas? You always liked his Seasons.” Crowley nodded.

He couldn’t really hear the music. Noises on the air meant nothing to a snake.

But once Aziraphale was stretched out on the sofa, Crowley made himself comfortable on his chest, and felt the deep thrum of the music as the angel sang along.

Warmth rose from Aziraphale, too, just like from the sun. It was a different kind of heat. Purer. Better.

Whatever else he had lost, Crowley still had that. And he was content.

[helaintoloki]

Season of the Witch | Michael Langdon

chapter five: Bad Boy Binx

masterlist

pairing: Michael Langdon x witch!reader

warnings: language, angst, violence, graphic descriptions, adult content, deception, toxic relationships, abuse, death, witchcraft, satanism and all that other good ahs stuff

notes: I literally updated yesterday but I was too excited about this chapter hehe

summary: y/n’s powers are beginning to grow, but will they be sidetracked by a new face?

Three Years Before the Bomb...

“Concentrate. Feel the energy flow through you. Focus on the task at hand,” Zoe’s soft voice echoes in y/n’s ear as she shuts her eyes and lets out a deep breath. Her fingers twitch and tremble as she holds them over the stuffed animal cat.

“This is so stupid,” y/n mutters, and Zoe shakes her head.

“Ah,” she interrupts, “a woman will never get anything done with an attitude like that.”

Y/N lets out a huff of air and concentrates again, eyebrows furrowing and hands seeming to spasm. She doesn’t notice Cordelia enter the room, watching from the doorway with curiosity and a sense of pride at how far her daughter has come.

“What is it?” Zoe whispers.

“We’ll be leaving to Hawthorne soon. The warlocks have called a council meeting,” Cordelia responded.

“Can I come?” Y/N asks, chair turned to face the two older witches.

“It’s a council meeting, my dear,” Cordelia sighs, “I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to bring a witch not on the council.”

“But I’d like to see California,” y/n insists. “I won’t be a bother, I’ll stay outside the meeting. Please, mother?”

“Well,” Cordelia sighs in defeat, a small smile playing at her lips, “I suppose that would be alright.”

“Oh, thank you! I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise! I’m so excited, I could- well, I-“

Meooooow.

All three witches turned wide eyed to face the black feline that sat on the table where the stuffed animal once was, quietly licking its paw and ignoring the women’s presence.

“Holy shit!” Zoe exclaims. “She did it.”

“That... I’ve never seen such a thing in my life,” Cordelia whispers in awe. And y/n, too distracted by the new furry friend, didn’t seem to comprehend just what this meant for her and the coven’s future.

“What do we do?” Zoe asks, and for once Cordelia doesn’t have an answer.

“Dear, we should be going soon,” Myrtle sighs as she waltzes into the room. “The sooner we get to Hawthorne the sooner we can leave that wretched place. Delia, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Not a ghost,” Cordelia shakes her head, all three women now gazing at the seventeen year old who sits with the black cat in her lap.

“I’m going to name him Binx.”

~~~

Y/N was bored out of her mind. When Cordelia had said they’d be going to California, she had pictured a trip to Disneyland or Venice Beach or Hollywood. Instead she was stuck in a stuffy underground school that smelled of boys and firewood. The boy part would have been fine, but every warlock knew better than to try and talk up the supreme’s daughter. So y/n and Binx, who entered much to the Grand Chancellor’s dismay, spent their time aimlessly wandering around Hawthorne.

It was a cozy little place, she had to admit. But it didn’t seem as big or feel as welcoming as Robichaux, and y/n felt a sudden pang of home sickness hit her stomach. Maybe once the meeting was over she’d turn to Zoe for company, or call Mallory and ask how things were going back home.

Y/N still couldn’t believe she’d made a living being out of an inanimate object. Binx had a heart, had a soul, had a life she’d gifted to him. Although she didn’t understand what this meant for her as a witch or the coven as a whole, y/n knew her powers were growing, preparing her for something bigger than herself. But what?

Binx began to groan and squirm in her arms, restless and anxious.

“What is it, Binx?” Y/N cooed, scratching behind the feline’s ears. Binx hissed, and before she could stop him he pounced out of her grasp and sprinted down the hall. “Binx! Binx, you naughty boy, come back here!”

Y/N lifted the skirt of her black dress and rushed after the cat. Cordelia would not be thrilled to know that the cat was on the loose and capable of causing a ruckus, and the Grand Chancellor would surely have her head if Binx got into trouble. “Binx!”

Turning the corner, y/n bumped into something hard and stumbled backward, the wind slightly knocked out of her. Her gaze rose to be met with the questioning blue eyes of a boy, and she felt meek and sheepish under his burning gaze.

“I’m sorry, I- Binx!” Y/N exclaimed, watching as the boy silently held the cat out towards her. He was grabbing Binx by the fat of his neck, dangling the cat in the air and swinging his body slightly as he shoved the feline towards her.

“Thank you,” she murmured sheepishly, taking the cat back. The boy made her feel nervous, and how could she not be? Growing up around only women, y/n had never really interacted with the opposite gender. Even in the orphanage the boys had stayed away. And this boy, well he was tall and he was beautiful, and his aura held that of power, made her knees weak and her tummy feel funny. She wanted to run away from him and towards him at the same time.

He didn’t respond, and her cheeks burned in embarrassment. You’re an idiot, she thought to herself, a fool.

“Binx is a dumb name,” he uttered, and the words took her by surprise.

“No it isn’t, it’s clever. I named him after Thackery Binx, the cat from Hocus Pocus.”

“Never seen it,” he said bored, and her face grew hotter.

“Then you must not have good taste,” y/n retorted, and the corners of his lips twitched as if holding back a smile.

“Why are you here?” He asked, sizing the witch up and down. She didn’t look too bad, adorned in a silk black dress, fish nets, a pair of doc martins, and a silk shawl to keep her covered. Her hair was braided and her lips painted a shade of black. She dressed in a way he knew Miss Mead would like, and it made him fond of the bumbling girl.

“My mother and sisters are in a council meeting.”

“And you?” He asked expectantly.

“I haven’t earned a place on the council. I was asked to wait outside.”

“With Binx?”

“With Binx,” she nodded in affirmation, a smile on her lips.

“I’m Michael,” he stated formally, and she smiled. He took note of the fact that she smiled too much. It made him uneasy.

“Y/N,” she replied, and when they shook hands both were stunned by the jolt of electricity shared. In y/n’s mind images of Michael flooded past: flower fields, children, love, romance, delicacy, devotion, sex, promises, and warmth.

And Michael? Michale saw destruction, chaos, death, blood. He saw dead witches, a mangled Binx. He saw a child born of darkness, a black wedding, sex, domination, devotion, submission. He saw himself as the ruler of an apocalypse, and a woman beside him, bloodied and malevolent and carrying a child in her arms. He saw y/n.

Both visions were abruptly destroyed as Binx yowled and lunged at Michael, clawing at the boy and successfully slicing the skin of his cheeks in the process.

“Binx!” Y/N cried horrified, pulling the cat away and setting him down so he could run off into the shadows. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into him!”

Michael silently reached up and ran a finger along the gash, admiring the blood stained onto his fingers before popping them into his mouth and sucking the substance off. Y/N wasn’t sure if she was disgusted or aroused at the display.

“Here, let me help,” she said, one hand gently grabbing his face while the other hovered over his wound and slowly stitched the flesh together until it was brand new and untouched by cat.

And as Michael watched her, her eyelashes fluttering and brows furrowed in concentration, he decided then and there that he would add a new mission to his to-do list: corrupt the little witch.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/tag list: @ticklish-leafy-plant @gx-nji @anacerta @bluebirdbts @heda-mikaelson @redlovett @fuck-yeah-bruno-buccerati @ateliefloresdaprimavera @quechulitaaa @theeonlyroman @hecohansen31 @frenchzodiacgirl

[sageclover61]

Influenza on Vacation

@gabriel-spn-bingo

Title: Influenza on Vacation

Pairing: Sam/Gabriel established relationship

Rating: T

Word Count: 2110

Squares used: Flu Season Sabriel and Cabin in the Woods

This takes place in a canon divergent universe in which instead of opening a rift to the apocalypse universe, Jack opened a portal into the Empty when he was born. This lead to a different season 13. Also, Gabriel was in the Empty at that time.

Sam hated getting sick. As a child, he had rarely gotten sick, and in retrospect he wondered if maybe the demon blood had something to do with that after all. He hated the way his nose would run, and the aches and pains. The bone deep aches of a cold were much less severe than the injuries received while hunting, but they were almost more annoying because there was no real way to know what was causing them.

When harsh coughing woke him from sound sleep on the second day of his and Gabriel’s vacation to a cabin in the woods, he just knew he couldn’t let whatever it was keep them from enjoying their break.

Fortunately for him, Gabriel had already left the bed and it sounded like he was loudly preparing breakfast in the kitchen. Which meant that he didn’t hear the harsh coughing that tore itself from Sam’s throat. Sam was thankful for that, because the last thing he wanted was for Gabriel to think it was necessary to “nurse him back to health” or worse, use his grace for it.

So much had happened since he and Gabriel had first met, but there had never been any time to really get to know him before Lucifer had stabbed him dead. And sure, Sam had pined, a lot, but almost a decade has past before Jack’s birth had opened a hole to what was apparently known as the Empty, the place where the angels and demons went when they died. And hope had sparked, because maybe that meant it would be possible for Gabriel to come back.

Except of course, the fact that so much had happened since then. So much had happened to Sam. And why would an archangel even like him back? The angels had spent a lot of time telling him how worthless, how evil he was, and wasn’t an archangel supposed to be the best of them?

And yet, somehow, Mary’s adventure inside the Empty had ended with many angels awakening and returning. The lights were no longer threatening to go out, and Raphael was in charge of Heaven (which was not as bad a thing as it might have sounded like, Sam was told, because the Healer’s time in the Empty had been spent in deep ponderance and they had come to realize their lapse in judgement and apparently Gabriel had needed to convince them to return at all, so now they were doing a lot more healing and a lot less killing and Sam had no right to judge).

At some point after that, not long at all, Gabriel had asked if he wanted to go to Paris. And it wasn’t like he could say no, not when the first few points of the itinerary had been museums he’d never imagined he’d ever get to go to. And sure, it had turned out they were there for reasons besides just admiring the beautiful art, but it had also turned out to be a really nice first date. Before they were almost murdered. But what was a little romance without a little adventure?

There had been more dates, and sex, after that, but it was Fall now, and this was their first real vacation. No hunting, no babysitting Jack, no Dean or Cas or anything else. Just the two of them and this wonderful alone time that they had earned.

But with all the things he had endured in the last decade, he could barely stomach flying. But if Gabriel were to try to use grace to bring him back to full health? There was no way it wouldn’t bring back so many bad memories despite the fact that he really did fully trust Gabriel.

“Sweetheart, are you ready to eat breakfast?”

Sam had been lying on his side, so he rolled over and sat up. Which was a lot harder than it should have been and oh was he dizzy. And literally everything hurt. Could he turn down breakfast without looking suspicious? He didn’t feel like throwing up, not when everything already hurt. But going without food wouldn’t help him feel better either.

“I’m not feeling very hungry,” he said, praying he wasn’t hoarse from the coughing. “But maybe we could eat a light breakfast?” In bed? He added silently, but didn’t vocalize because if anything, Gabriel would find that odd. “Banana slices on toast?” Was that weird request? Toast was light breakfast fare, and Gabriel knew he was fond of fresh fruit, bananas were just good for settling stomachs too.

“And syrup!”

He was going to puke.

“I think we should have our breakfast in bed, what do you think, Samshine?”

Thank god. However- “If you get syrup in my bed, I will stab you.”

“Then maybe I’ll just get the syrup all over you.”

There would be puking. And stabbing. Which would likely lead to more throwing up.

“Sam, are you okay?”

Fuck. Had all the thought of throwing up made him look green? He couldn’t tell, and there was no mirror in the room. “I’m good.” He wasn’t, he really wasn’t, and now his head was starting to ache behind his eyes and he was so tired. He yawned. “Just tired.” Naps weren’t that suspicious. Right? “Can we take a nap after breakfast?” They were on vacation. They deserved a good nap.

Gabriel blinked, and there seemed to be a glint of worry behind his eyes, which concerned Sam, but there was nothing more he could do to dissuade it right now without making matters worse. But then the worry seemed to be gone behind a mask of collection. “That sounds like a good idea. I’ll go finish breakfast.”

As soon as the door closed behind Gabriel, Sam slammed his head back down into the pillow. It hurt. A lot. It hurt enough to knock the wind out of his chest and make it hard to breathe for a second.

He coughed, and coughed, and grabbed the second pillow to cover his cough with because he couldn’t risk having Gabriel hear it. He knew archangels had really good hearing, but how good?

Maybe his head hurt so much because it was too bright. Maybe he could just close his eyes until Gabriel came back and then it would be gone.

“Sam? Sam, Sweetheart, are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

It felt like only moments later, but Gabriel was poking him awake and he couldn’t contain a startled grumble because it hurt. Gabriel instantly stopped touching him.

“Samalam, you’re worrying me.” The bed shifted as the archangel sat gently next to Sam. They weren’t touching. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Sam shifted onto his side so he was facing Gabriel, but he didn’t open his eyes. He wasn’t going to tell Gabriel that he felt sick but maybe something else. Something that wouldn’t ruin their quiet vacation. Ah. The headache! Gabriel would know that he had gotten them frequency once, right? So that would be believable.

“Just a headache.” Did he sound hoarser than earlier? He couldn’t tell. “Do you have any painkiller?” That would help with the aches too, and then he wouldn’t have to admit to ever having those.

A hand touched his forehead. It was cold and nice. “You’re running a fever. Are you sure it’s just a headache?”

“Must be a migraine. May I please have that painkiller?”

“Yeah. Here.” Sam blearily cracked an eye lid open just enough that he could see where Gabe was holding the painkillers. He missed the first time he tried to grab them, but not the second time. Gabriel was also holding a glass of water but he was too worried about spilling it all over himself to try to grab it. So he shoved the pills in his mouth and dry swallowed them. Which also hurt because he had a sore throat. When had that happened? He had no fucking idea.

“Do you think you can stomach some of this toast and banana? I didn’t butter the toast because I wasn’t sure if you’d want it or not. I could butter it if you’d like?”

Sam smiled. Maybe the migraine thing was a good excuse. Some migraines came with nausea, which he was definitely feeling. “Without butter sounds good. I’ll definitely eat a little bit. Maybe some toast first?”

“Would you like to sit up a little?” Gabriel asked.

Sam shifted, trying to move his head as little as possible, and Gabriel helped by picking up the second pillow.

“Sam, why is this pillow all wet?”

Oh god no. That was the pillow he’d coughed all over. Which meant that it was wet with phlegm. He fought the urge to gag.

“You know what, we’ll just use a different pillow.” There was a snap, which Sam took to mean that Gabriel had summoned at least one fresh pillow. The new pillow was placed behind his head and it was both soft and cool, which felt nice against his head.

Gabriel held the plate of toast and banana slices that Sam assumed was his. “Is it okay if I feed you a few pieces of toast?”

Sam wanted to resist, to insist that he was quite capable of feeding himself. But if Gabe was offering, then maybe he should just accept the offered help. Despite it being Dean and him and Cas for so long, it often felt like he had to do everything for himself to some extent because for so long there had been so little he could ask from Dean without it leading back to more fighting and he was just so ready to be done with all the fighting.

Maybe that’s why he was trying so hard to just have this vacation, and for it to be a nice one. He and Gabe didn’t really fight, at least not in the endless way and he and Dean did. He wasn’t even sure if he remembered what he and Dean were even really fighting about anymore.

He didn’t end up answering Gabriel, but Gabriel brought at piece of broken toast to his mouth and he ate it. It was nothing special, just toasted bread. But when it didn’t seem to upset his stomach too much, Gabriel fed him a few more pieces slowly.

After about the fourth or fifth piece of toast, Sam shook his head because he couldn’t stomach any more. He yawned. “I know I fell asleep while you were making breakfast, but can we take that nap for real now? You promised.”

“Sam, do you know what time it is?”

Sam shook his head. There were no clocks in the bedroom of the cabin. There was just the bed, the nightstand, and a dresser. There was a window, but the curtain was drawn so there was only enough light to see, but not well. He might have been able to read by it, if his head wasn’t killing him. But other than that, there was no way to tell exactly what time it was.

“It’s noon, Sam. I asked if you wanted to eat breakfast around 8 and when I came back you were sound asleep.”

He bit his lip. “I’m sorry, Gabe,” he whispered. He’d been so excited to go on this trip, and now he’d failed at hiding the fact he was under the weather and couldn’t get to enjoy the vacation to its fullest extent.

“It’s not your fault.” Gabriel touched his arm, and it was light enough that it didn’t hurt his overly sensitive nerves. “I know that you haven’t wanted me to use any grace on you, at all, since I got back from the Empty, but would you be willing to let me help you?”

“Please, no.” Sam leaned away, pressing his head into the pillow. His boyfriend was being nice enough to ask if he could help, and all he could think about was how much grace had hurt him in the past. Not Gabriel’s, never Gabriel’s. But everyone else.

Sam sobbed. He wasn’t supposed to get sick. Of all the things that having the “abominable” blood, at least he had been able to mostly count on that one good thing. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, coughing.

Gabriel hugged him. “No apologies, Sam. It’s not your fault. And if you think this is going to ruin our vacation, you’re wrong. We’ll just take an extra long one if we have to. We can stay for as long as we want to. It’s okay.”

If Gabriel said it was okay then it had to be okay, or at least, that was what Sam was ready to believe.

[monkey-network]

Good Stuff ~ Stray Thoughts: Steven Universe’s Movie

It’s high time I finally looked at this film. 100%, Monkey Style. Let’s roll...

Ah, a curtain raise. Fancy Schmancy.

Chance the Rapper! Good seeing him have a hand in the music, cause I doubt it’ll sound any different.

I wish the tale was more than just about Steven

Lucky she got planet earth, I guess.

*Holds onto the laugh* She latched onto Greg’s seed. HEHEEE KEK! 

That’s one way of putting it

You know, I would’ve preferred he was 18 instead of 16. It makes sense that he’s still a teen, but that is me

I guess this film wouldn’t have gone the way it did if Steven didn’t dox himself like that.

“Saving.“ That reminds me. What of the Cluster? “They’ll never mention it.“ I know. *sigh*

I’m so glad this time skip makes me ask more than accept, trying to make me compelled for season 6 to know what happened in between that time. You’re not slick here, movie.

“The White Power Hour will be right back“

Am I the only one finding this scene with the Diamonds creepy?

“Come on, Steven. You’re all that stands between me and doing the racism.“

Connie! Glad you look spry and well in your 65% of screen time.

Cheek peck! Lovely!!!

Shoot, they could make a whole episode about him being a guest at the space camp. I mean I’m saying this cuz I doubt they are.

Ah, the “What Could Possibly Go Wrong?” song.

Zach is quite the singer when he can sing more naturally

Come on Pearl, don’t make me believe Rose was a character

Oh the chest is open. Neat. Wish I cared.

Unconsenting head warp

1st Born Amethyst is adorable.

*sigh* Wonderful. It’s a shame I’m gonna forget this song.

Ah, the best character in the series has arrived

Real Talk tho: How did our antagonist get to Earth with that craft so quickly? Like, let’s say it took 10 real minutes at best between Steven giving his Homeworld speech to resting on that hill. She just had that injector, roaring to go, and knew exactly where Steven might’ve been all in that short amount of time? “You know logic is not this show’s strong suit.” Let me dream, damn it!

Again, none of this would’ve happened if Steven didn’t out himself

Ruining other people’s happiness. I love her already.

Why did Steven getting his face kicked feel satisfying?

“Pink Diamond“ Ah, the secret word.

While “Other Friends” is such a bop, one of the only good songs so far, I knew this movie would have it’s musicals take place every.... less than five minutes.

Wait. The villain has stretchy powers, so there's an in-Universe reason to be off-model all the time? Oooooh, they’re fucked.

It was at that moment the villain knew, he fucked up.

Again, Steven getting kicked feels so satisfying.

Reaper? Awwwww ye!

I’m telling you. She let him slice her. 

What? How can he not control his powers while he’s aware of- ugh.

Surprised he didn’t revert back to no neck Steven

Ok, that quick censor joke got a laugh outta me.

Two for two laughs, Greg is on a roll

How would gems know what seashells are?

Three minutes apart. Not bad.

Whaaat was that zoom?

Ah, the “For the Newbies/clueless” song

We’re doing the amnesia plot, Pearl, keep up a bit.

I’m somehow giddy and uncomfortable at Spinel’s presence.

Beautiful song. Sad I won’t remember this one.

Wonderful lip sync there.

Oh no, chekov’s scythe.

Heheheheheheh, Spinel’s dead eye stare

Ah Lapis, if only the show treated you better

That’s some morbid logic. I can dig it.

Seriously, if you are aware of your powers, then why can’t yo- ugh.

Ye, get the Diamonds. They could punt the injector out, everything could go as planned. Only problem would be having to listen to them.

I doubt Garnet would know what to do, honestly.

Spinel’s VA must’ve had a blast with the role

About five minutes apart. Doing better.

Song is better too. Not memorable, but it’s a fist pump worthy tune.

Dang it, Spinel, you’re precious!

I’m with Steven, I’m getting Cupcakes vibes with that pizza slicer

Ye, just let her pick up that weapon. It’ll conveniently advance the plot.

Oh a lovely constitutional for those two.

Rise of the Shield Hero!

Four minutes apart. Slightly better.

Weakest song by far, but the visuals were amazing.

Subtle moment here. I’ll express later.

Is Onion teleporting?

So sad Ronaldo.

Okay, that was a wholesome moment. “That’s why Amethyst and Steven ARE the best.“ You know it. *fist bump*

Ye, I think it’s best to get out of there?!

I doubt it’s gonna kill everything on Earth

Oh wait, what about the Clu- “It’s not gonna be mentioned.” The Cluster deserves better, man.

I honestly would’ve loved to see Steven lift that entire thing

Great, you made it worse.

But forget the end of the world. We got music to make.

A little over five minutes. Pretty good.

Why am I getting Pat Benatar vibes from this tune?

'Disobedient’ is bad btw

The look Steven and Greg gave before rocking out? I felt that. Now....

There comes a time in all forms of media consumption where you are so utterly bewildered by an event taking place that there are so many things wrong with it that you don’t have words and you simply laugh..... 

When I saw this sequence for the first time I wish I recorded it. I burst out laughing, struggling to compose myself, and I was fundamentally blown away at what in the world I was seeing. And the kicker? I wasn’t even entirely sure of why..... 

It’s like so many issues cascade on your brain at once, you are overwhelmed and you couldn’t possibly pass it out in the amount of time you have left before something utterly ridiculous happens on top of what you just saw.... 

So that is why posts like this exist, to collect and come up with a sensible way to exhibit one’s feelings about the sequence because.... what. the. fuck. Let’s roll back.

Chad Gem? Chad motherfucking gem.

Got a pompadour, super-sized mullet, potentially 8-pack, and a clean shave which surprised me the most. They just... *MWAH* pulled no punches with Multiverse’s design.

The powers however confuse me. Can he just fly now and make anyone fly? 

I get where people were coming from with their discomfort, but honestly this is the funniest thing in this entire movie. Nothing about this feels right and that just makes it hilarious.

I’m just gonna say it.... *DEEP BREATH IN* RULE 34 MUST HAD A FIE- *snap* Sorry, low hanging fruit.

Did Pearl just literally sploosh?

It’s Always Sunny honestly did this better.

Opal, you’re back for a minute! I forgot she could talk.

We All Float.

Damn Steven, you look like shit.

Steve-o, you’re not helping her situation. Comfort her, fool.

Oof, this is gonna be a painful number isn’t it?

Such a dear jester

A nice detail is that Spinel’s voice feels slowly exhausted and empty the more she shares of her memories. It makes that scene where she snapped at Steven make a lot more sense.

I also like that it isn’t clear if Steven sees what she’s envisioning but can understand what she might’ve remembered.

*taps the mic* Pink is a CUNT. That will be all.

'Drift Away’ was.. beautiful. Ugh, not gonna remember it though, which sucks.

That brings up a question. Was there never a message saying that Pink was “shattered”? Like you’d think news like that would’ve reached any and everywhere, Spinel especially. That certainly would’ve changed a few things.

Okay, ‘Found‘ was a great AND memorable song. That’s two out of.... ten. Not bad.

Greg is honestly the best in this movie.

Uh, Steven? You’re just leaving her there.

“Just Forget.“ How to make someone on edge feel worse in two words or less.

Welp, there’s Chekov’s scythe.

Pretty convenient he kept that around to further the plot.

I would say Spinel’s gone off the deep end, but.... uh, ugh I can’t help but side with her? I really just wanna give her a hug before the end of the world happens.

Garnet, are you gonna do anything? Were you this stagnant?

Ah, it’s the “Marketed like Let it Go” song.

I love that we got chill music in the midst of the apocalypse. It’s a good way to die.

Guess they saved the animation budget for the violence? Lovely.

Wait, that’s it? All that fluid and it doesn’t even look like it’ll destroy the world? Just Beach City? That kinda... kills the tension.

And why was everyone just standing there? Jesus, this feels messy.

It’s the final bout!

Tch, Get Dekt, Steven.

Shield hero’s back!

Spinel I love ya, and I don’t blame ya, but singing’s all they’ve done this entire movie.

Dead.

I got Mob Psycho vibes from that nuke. Don’t know why.

That reminds me. WHERE THE FUCK WAS THE MILITARY?! “Cause and Effect is not a stro-” Shut up!

Then stay with him, Spinel. Travel the world, be more than a single one’s friend and... oh, the Diamonds are here.

That’s a fate worse than death, dictators moving in with you.

It’s only been one night, White.... Seriously, this all happened in a day. It feels weird.

I’m with Yellow. That is sickeningly funny.

Seriously, their song is creepy. I don’t trust them like that.

I got a problem with Spinel’s ending deep down. Then again, if she can be happy... then I’m happy that she’s happy. That’s something, I guess.

Okay, I’m tired of the singing.

But when I think about it, I feel bad for Steven. All he just wanted was some time to himself where he didn’t have to deal with any bullshit. Had to teach whole dictators and remodel a whole empire. Yeah, he’s gonna change as he grows, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having “me time” so to speak. Can’t the kid have a chance to not have to worry about anything, actually live a life? No? Jerks?

Well that was a bit of fun. While the musicals and most of the characters felt like an afterthought, save for Greg, Spinel, and Steven, there were a few moments that honestly made the watch worth it, intentionally or not. I really have no interest in seeing this again, but I’m satisfied with the events that transpired and I’m glad the crew got to make this film. “What about the moral of the story?” 

Eh, it’s Steven Universe, morals are whatever.

[malecsecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @alineppenhallow!

Read on AO3

*****

No Stopping the Zombie Apocalypse

 “Oh calm down Alec, it’s not a big deal.” Isabelle said as she made her way deeper into the dense forest.

 “Really? Leaving Idris and walking straight into a      land full of zombies     in the middle of the night with nothing but a couple weapons isn’t a big deal? Good to know I’m the only sane one in this family.”

 Jace sighed in exasperation. “Alec, we love you, but you worry too much. Loosen up, it’s not like we’re defenseless. We’ve been training in that damned institute since we were, like, 5 just in case a zombie magically walks into Idris. I think we know what to do if one of those beasts come at us.”

 “I love you too, but all of your ideas are stupid.”

 “Look Alec,” Isabelle said turning to look at him, baby hairs sticking up that were too short to be pulled into a ponytail along with the rest of her long black hair. “It’s been 20 years since the zombie takeover happened, I was born in that stupid place and I’m      tired     of it. They keep saying we can’t leave until we are given the all clear from the generals but do you really think it takes 20 years for trained armed soldiers to kill off some brain-eating science experiments? I’m not going to spend the rest of my life cooped up in there!”

 “So you’re just going to leave and walk head first into the zombie infestation? Everyone has been evacuated the only people out here are military personnel that will bring us back to Idris the moment we’re spotted and zombies who want to      eat    us.”

 Isabelle smirks. “That what makes it fun.”

 Then she turns on her heels and struts through the dense forest as if a zombie couldn’t just jump out of nowhere and bite her head off.

 Alec wonders why he even tries.

 It isn’t long before they arrive at what looks to be a small town.

 There were old papers and pieces of trash littering the floor, road signs bent and rusted with old age, streetlights fuzed and broken, and the buildings were run down and obviously abandoned.

 It looked like a ghost town.

 Alec knew this was something to be expected, every civilian was evacuated into the safe zones 20 years ago, but he envisioned military personnel patrolling the areas and maybe more zombie guts on the floor.

 Being a place so…      bare    made Alec’s skin crawl. He hoped Izzy and Jace would have their fill of ‘exploring’ soon so they could leave.

 He had a bad feeling about this.

 “Wow,” Jace said, “it’s a total wasteland.”

 Alec looked around in distaste. “Well this was a waste of time. Let’s go.”

 Izzy wasn’t having it. “Are you kidding? We just got here. Come on, I want to go into that abandoned hospital.”

 “Why would you want to go into an      abandoned hospital    .”

 “Um because if the government is experimenting on people to create zombie hybrids or whatever then an abandoned hospital is our best bet?”

 Alec rolls his eyes. “If the government was experimenting on people wouldn't they be doing it in one of their top secret laboratories underground instead of an abandoned hospital literally in the middle of nowhere?”

 Isabelle shrugs. “Still our best bet.”

 Alec shares a look with Jace but after a moment the blond simply shrugs before following Izzy into the deserted hospital.

 After adjusting his bow and arrows he begrudgingly follows after his younger siblings.

 The hospital is exactly as Alec thought it’d be: filthy, rundown, and completely vacant.

 “I told you there was nothing here. Now let’s go before we get caught by the patrols.”

 “Wait,” Jace murmured, “do you guys see that?”

 Alec glances to where Jace is staring at and freezes.

 One the other side of the hallway the decaying corpse of a zombie lays up against the wall with dead unblinking eyes that appear to be looking right at them.

 Isabelle takes a step toward the dead creature but Alec grabs her wrist before she can go any further. “Izzy wait.”

 She turns to him with a kind smile gracing her features. “It’s okay Alec, I’m just going to take a look. It’s already dead and I’ve never seen a zombie up close and personal before. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

 Going against his better judgement Alec lets go of Isabelle’s wrist and anxiously watches her get closer to the unmoving body.

 She’s about a foot away from it when the thing suddenly comes back to life and latches onto her foot, making her fall to the floor in the process. “      Fuck    !”

 Alec quickly grabs hold of his bow and shoots the arrow straight into the zombie’s forehead.

 “Run!” Alec shouted.

 All three of them sprinted out the hospital heading back into the forest.

 There were loud grunts coming from behind them and Alec didn’t have to look back to know the zombie was right on their tail.

 He almost trips on a branch. “Shit.” he curses under his breath. He thought zombies were supposed to be slow but judging by how loud the grunts are getting the thing is practically right behind them.

 Alec fucking      knew     this was suicide!

 He’s panting, they all are, he’s not sure how long they’ve been running but it’s definitely been long enough that Idris should be just within their line of sight.

 But it isn’t. There’s nothing but trees, so many fucking trees. Where the hell are they? Fuck he can’t recognize anything. It all looks the same!

 Gun shots resound in the darkness of the night and Alec nearly gives himself a concussion as he trips over nothing and falls to the floor. Jace grabs him to haul him up to his feet again but before he can a loud voice yells out “Nobody move!”

 Great. The military fucking found them. This is perfect.

 A man wearing all black emerges from the shadows with a gun pointed at them, his pale face illuminated by the light of the moon as his dark eyes glare at them with so much force Alec is surprised he hasn’t shot at them yet.

 “What are you doing here?” he says, “Where are your tags? How the hell did you amateurs survive this damn long?”

 “Raphael! Leave them alone and help me kill this thing once and for all before the shock from the gunshot wears off.”

 The man -Raphael- reluctantly turned to help dispose of the body while muttering to himself in a language Alec couldn’t understand.

 He looked back at where the zombie now laid on the floor, devoid of all signs of life, and saw another man standing right in front of it -surely the same one that got Raphael to back down- and felt his breath get caught in his throat.

 This has got to be the most beautiful man Alec has ever seen.

 His skin looked like it had been kissed by the sun, his hair was styled in a mohawk type look with electric blue streaks coloring a bit of the front, his clothes were completely black but hugged his body like they were specifically tailored for him, and his eyes, fuck, his      eyes    , they were a gorgeous shade of green with yellow specks sprinkled in that gave him a cat like aura that was emphasized by the black eyeliner he was wearing.

 Before Alec could gain proper control of his breathing again the man look out what appeared to be a type of thin metal wire and wrapped it around the zombie’s neck before yanking it upward with a single sharp tug.

 The wire sliced through the flesh seamlessly, decapitating the creature in an instant.

 Alec was pretty sure he’d never been more sure of his sexuality in his life.

 He’s known he was gay for a while now but this was the absolute guarantee, he was definitely gay. Very gay. For this man. This beautiful, beautiful man. This beautiful man that is now making his way toward them and Alec is still laying on the forest floor trying to remember how to breathe normally.

 Shit.

 He quickly scrambles to his feet and dusts himself off. Isabelle bumps his shoulder while mouthing ‘smooth.’

 Alec rolls his eyes and prays to every living deity in existence that he’s not blushing.

 Then the man is standing right in front of them and, yep, he’s even more gorgeous up close. How is this even fair?

 “Sorry about Raph, he tends to overreact a bit. I’m Magnus by the way, and you are?”

 “Alec.” he replies, sounding way too breathless for his liking.

 Magnus gives him an appreciative once over before looking back into Alec’s eyes, his ethereal green-gold orbs sparked with interest.

 He can see Izzy smirk from the side of his eye, he’s so screwed. “I’m Isabelle, but you can call me Izzy.” she announced while offering her hand to Magnus.

 Magnus didn’t miss a beat and graciously took the offered hand into his own and kissed the back of it gently. “A pleasure to meet you Isabelle.”

 “And I’m Jace.”

 Magnus goes to speak again but before he can manage to make a sound Raphael speaks up again.

 “Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way, mind telling us how you idiots are still alive? You don’t even have your tags on you.”

 “Uh,” Alec says while sharing a look with his siblings, “tags?”

 Raphael raises an eyebrow at them. “You’re telling me none of you have tags?”

 Jace scrunches up his face in confusion. “Why would we have tags? We’re not military personnel.”

 “No shit.” Raphael deadpans.

 “Look,” Jace says with a glare, “we’ve been in the confines of Idris since we were pretty much born so give us some slack for not understanding your military terminology or whatever.”

 Both men freeze.

 Magnus looks at all of them before speaking. “Did you say Idris? As in Idris the New York Zombie Apocalypse Safe Zone?”

 After a brief moment of silence Isabelle answers. “Um, yeah?”

 “Well fuck.” Raphael says before turning his gaze over to Magnus.

 Magnus sighs and turns on his heels marching deeper into the dense forest. “Come along, we’re taking you three back to Idris before someone realizes you’re missing. We’ll have to make a quick stop at the campsite though, Clary and Simon will worry themselves into oblivion if we take too long.”

 As the group makes their way through the woods Isabelle walks beside him with an annoying smirk on her face. “So, Magnus, huh?”

 “Shut up.”

 “Oh I’m just teasing.” she says with a playful eyeroll. “Seriously though, he’s cute, you should go for it.”

 Alec doesn’t have anything to say to that so he keeps walking and tries to ignore his sister to the best of his abilities.

 It’s not as easy as just ‘going for it’ as Isabelle so casually puts it; there’s a reason he kept his sexual orientation a secret from everyone besides his siblings.

 Not only that but Magnus is so… he’s so…      god     Alec can’t describe it! He’d just met the guy and he was so fucking gone on him already.

 Alec would feel embarrassed if Magnus wasn’t so breathtaking. There was no way any one could see a man like that and not fall head over heels at a moment’s notice.

 When Magnus and Raphael stopped at a random patch of dense forest the Lightwood siblings looked around in confusion. Why would they stop here? Did they hear something Alec and his siblings missed? Was there another zombie around?

 All the questions flashing through Alec’s head came to a halt as two shadows jumped off the nearby trees, startling the three Lightwoods into a defensive stance.

 “Where have you two been?” a high pitched voice asked, well, more like demanded, “Me and Simon were beginning to worry.”

 The figure quickly stalked over to where Magnus and Raphael stood and Alec finally able to see who was speaking.

 It was a young girl, probably a few years younger than Isabelle, with fiery red hair tied into a loose low pony tail and pale skin. She must be Clary.

 Magnus was quick to comfort her. “We’re fine biscuit, no need to concern yourself about us, we can handle ourselves.”

 The girl huffed but didn’t argue. She spotted the trio in that moment, her stance shifting into a more guarded one.

 “Who are they?” she said, her tone sharp and defensive.

 Magnus puts a calming hand on her shoulder as he answers. “Clary, this is Alec, Isabelle, and Jace. We found them being chased by a class E on our way back from our mission.” he paused for a moment. “We were going to take them back to Idris but we figured you two would work yourselves into hysteria if we didn’t return soon.”

 She gasped, eyes wide as she heard Magnus’ words.

 “They’re from Idris?!” this time it was a different voice that spoke out, the second figure that Alec didn’t really notice until now. He was pale and around the same age as Clary. His eyes looked like they were going to pop out of their sockets.

 Alec deduced him to be Simon.

 “That’s fucking awesome! How did you guys even get here? Was the safe zone breached? Did the sanctuary get overpopulated and so they kicked out the ones most likely to survive into the open? Did Idris become, like, a dictatorship or something and you guys escaped for hopes of a better life even though there’s a full blown zombie infestation all around the globe and it's practically hopeless but you guys decided that anything was better than the constant oppression you were under!?”

 Alec blinked. What just…      what    ?

 Izzy was the one that broke the stunned silence, her laughter loud and light as it resonated through the trees.

 “Oh I      wish     it was that exciting.” she said once her laughter calmed into small chuckles. “I never would have thought military personnel had such wild imaginations. Don’t you guys, like, get reports and stuff? You’re acting as if Idris is this strange unknown world.”

 “Because we’re not part of the military.” Raphael said offhandedly.

 Jace’s head snapped to look at Raphael from where he was previously staring at the redhead. Alec has to physically restrain himself from eye rolling. Jace has always been a womanizer. “What do you mean you’re not part of the military?”

 Raphael gives him an unimpressed look. “I mean we’re not part of the military.”

 Isabelle spoke up again. “If you’re not part of the military, then, what are you?”

 “Well if you want to get technical,” Magnus said, “we’re bounty hunters but we’re really just survivalists.”

 “Wait,” Isabelle says, still processing, “you guys are bounty hunters?”

 Simon is grinning from ear to ear as he says, “Yeah! We kill zombies, it’s awesome!”

 Alec doesn’t buy it. Magnus and Raphael definitely, Clary... maybe, he hasn’t really seen what she can yet, but this kid? No way he’s a zombie hunter.

 “You sure you’re not their honorary mascot or something?” Alec said, giving Simon a bored look.

 Simon gawked at him. “What? Why would you- I’m a badass zombie hunter! Why would we even need a mascot? And if we did have a mascot, wouldn’t it be like, I don’t know, a cartoon gun or something? A knife? Some type of weapon? I’d be a horrible mascot!”

 Alec doesn’t look impressed in the slightest. “Let me guess. You talk the zombies to death.”

 Magnus snorts at that and Alec feels his heart skip a beat. Fuck he was so gone.

 “Actually Simon is our weapons master.” Magnus informs. “He modifies our weapons for maximum precision and efficiency. He doesn’t do much field work but we wouldn’t be able to get such a large body count as quickly as we do without his help.”

 Simon is visibly preening at Magnus’ praise. “See? I’m a badass!”

 Isabelle chuckled next to Alec. “In that case you’re certainly the cutest badass I’ve ever seen.”

 Suddenly Raphael was standing very close to Simon. “Well, he does have a nice ass, wouldn’t necessarily call it cute though.”

 Simon’s face turned bright red. “W-what?! Raph! What the hell?”

 “What? I can’t say my boyfriend has a nice ass?”

 “Not in front of so many people you asshat!”

 Alec watched the exchange completely perplexed. Huh. He didn’t see that coming.

 “So, what, you guys, like, kill zombies for money?” Jace said, “I thought that was the military’s job?”

 Magnus scoffs. “Please, those troops haven’t so much as      seen     a living zombie, let alone know how to kill it properly.  The only reason those assholes are still alive is because of people like us, regular civilians that weren’t important enough to be kept in the safe zones and are stuck in this hell hole trying to eradicate these monsters so we can live to see another day.”

 Isabelle looks over at Alec in concern before turning her attention back to Magnus, her eyes filled with worry. “That can’t be right, the safe zones are meant to keep      everyone     safe.”

 “Everyone with a shit ton of money.” Raphael quipped. “Everyone else was left to fend for themselves. It’s why we wear tags, it’s our only form of identification. You basically don’t exist without one.”

 Jace shock his head. “That makes no sense. There’s a bunch of safe zones. Idris is huge and pretty packed, there’s at least a couple dozen more just like it, there’s no way they’re all filled with rich people. The rich only make up 10% of the population.”

 “Yeah no that’s not how it works either.” Simon said. “I mean, yeah, there are a bunch of safe zones but only one or two in a each state. There’s only one in New York, Idris, which we should probably get you back to considering it’s only a matter of time before they realize you’re missing.”

 Alec can’t believe what he’s hearing. All this time they were taught not to worry about the zombie epidemic because ‘everyone was evacuated’ and ‘the military have it under control’ only to learn that everything he’s known has been a lie?

 And to think there are people fighting for their lives while he sleeps soundly in a king size bed. People like Magnus.

 “We can’t just go back to Idris and pretend this isn’t happening. We need to do something, this is a crime against humanity.”

 Isabelle nodded. “Alec’s right, this is, this is completely unacceptable.”

 “And what exactly are you three going to do about it?” Raphael inquires. “It’s not like anything will change.”

 Alec sighs. “Maybe not but we have to try. Besides, doing nothing doesn’t change anything either.”

 Magnus looks at him then, his face looking softer around the edges than before and Alec can’t think of any other way to describe the look in Magnus’ eyes besides fond. Alec is pretty sure his heart is going to pop out of his chest at any moment.

 Soon they’re making their way back to Idris, Magnus leading the way as Clary, Raphael, and Simon stayed behind to protect the camp site and get some rest.

 The trip was spent mostly in silence and Alec couldn’t help but let his eyes sneaked glimpses of Magnus.

 Izzy was sending him knowing looks and he could just imagine how ridiculous he looks.

 It seemed like not even a minute had passed by before they reached Idris even though Alec new they’ve been walking for about an hour.

 Isabelle and Jace quickly say their farewells before sneaking back into Idris.

 Alec hesitates. It feels wrong to just leave knowing that Magnus and so many others have to stay out here, in constant danger of an attack.

 Magnus must have seen the guilt on his face.

 “No need to worry about me darling, I can take care of myself.” he says with a wink.

 Alec huffed in amusement at that, he was      very    aware of just how well Magnus could take care of himself, but still, there was a nagging feeling in the back of his head keeping him from leaving.

 He must have remained silent for too long because now Magnus is looking at him with concern and those eyes of his are probably going to be the death of him because      who even has eyes that gorgeous?  

 “Alexander?”

 He takes it back, his voice is going to be thee death of him. Alec has always hated when people called him by his full name but when Magnus says it makes his heart do freaking back flips.

 “Just… be careful.”

 Now Magnus is giving him that small private smile that just radiates warms and Alec needs to catch his breath for a minute.

 “I always am.”

 Neither of them move. They both stand there in silence not knowing what to do, well, at least Alec doesn’t know what to do. Magnus is probably waiting for him to leave, which he should be doing before someone notices he’s missing.

 He looks back at Magnus, ready to say goodbye and follow after his siblings, but the intensity of his eyes stop him before he can even make a sound.

 Alec gets lost in them, the golden green color looks almost like it’s glowing in the midst of the night. He’s not sure how long they’re staring at each other but all Alec knows is that one minute he’s entranced with those luminous eyes and the next he’s moving forward and      kissing Magnus    .

 It doesn’t last long, probably no longer than three seconds. A simple press of lips. But Magnus’ face is the picture of surprise and Alec feels like his face is going to burn off of his skin with how hot his face is.

 “I- Magnus I’m so sorry. I have no idea what came over me I just-”

 But then Magnus’ lips were on his again, this time firmer than the last but still gentle.

 When they pull back Alec is dazed and he judging by the expression on Magnus’ face he’s not doing much better.

 They both stood there, chuckling softly as they continued to exchange feather-light kisses and Alec has no idea where this was going to lead but he realized, he doesn’t care.

 At least not as long as he had Magnus.

[tenmillionotters]

In a green sea

Rating: Teen and up audience 

Character: Marude Itsuki, Washuu Furuta Souta

Relationship: Marude Itsuki/Washuu Furuta Souta 

Word Count: 7306

Additional information: Human AU, Post-Apocalypse, Fluff, referenced character death, Mutual Pining

Was everyone else punished to die when they wanted to live and he was punished to live when all he wanted was to reunite with his friends? But looking around now, breathing in the fresh air, feeling the warm spring sun on his skin… living like this could hardly be a punishment.

Read on AO3 or under the cut

Buy me a coffee

The world ended many times before. Metaphorically speaking.

The world ended one time. Literally.

The world ended several times for him. Every time he had to watch one of his friends die.

The world ended one time. When he had to let go of his lovers hand a last time.

Itsuki sighed and pushed his glasses up. Yes, that was the life he was leading right now. He had imagined to whatever would come after the end of the world to look different, people expected the literal worst, from zombies to endless deserts to the sun exploding.

No, the end of the world was quiet. Most of earth’s population had died in the war, one after the other just died. It weren’t bombs that killed them, it felt like their own resentment towards the human race took their lives away.

Now earth’s population counted roughly 1 million people. The number rose and fall with each day. Itsuki lost interest in it. Sometimes he talked to the remaining survivors, everyone was family now.

Technology never collapsed, it just kept on working without the humans that once created it. Now it worked with the humans who tried their best to find more of their kind in the vast oceans and forests that had grown in once pulsating cities.

Good morning Itsuki, did you sleep well?

“... morning… I don’t remember that I turned the speakers on,” he rubbed over his eyes and yawned, the screens were already turned on the powers blinking while they did their best to calculate all the data their sentiment AI downloaded from the internet.

I did it myself. You’re avoiding me lately and I missed you.

Itsuki stopped in his tracks and stared at the camera that was installed on top of the construction, “You missed me…?” When did he develop emotions? Of course it was inevitable to give him thoughts of his own, something Itsuki didn’t want to deny him either but emotions were something different.

Yeah, I missed talking to you. It’s fun. Only your computers are strong enough to support my code. I can’t visit your foreign friends.

“... just wait a few more hours and your data will be comprised enough to transfer it into your brain,” at this point he was playing with fire but what else could he do. There were no Gods, no morals, no ethics.

I’m really looking forward to finally be able to meet you in person.

What should be say? Did he feel the same way? “Me too.”

He had worked on this AI for 13 years now, it was a fully functioning adult. There weren’t any AI that started out as children. In the war they were used as soldiers, doctors, disposable junk.

This one had a different purpose, a different body.

“Did you ever think of me as your father?”, maybe it was an odd question but it’s been on his mind for a long while now.

If I could laugh I would. You wrote my code. That’s it. I know where I come from and my body is not a physical copy of yours. You’re the original, aren’t you?

God, how he hated that question, “I am. I never got medial clones.”

I thought it was a requirement for soldiers to get medical clones.

So he read the articles. Well downloaded them, “Yes that’s right but I wasn’t a soldier. I was a doctor.” And he was still capable of building a computer like this, it wasn’t hard when he was honest. When his friends started dying one after the other they fell out of their usually roles either way.

What about my new body?

Itsuki froze on place and carefully put his cup down. He was scared of this question, “It’s a clone I restored with parts of our computers and engines. You’ll have to eat and sleep once you’re in it… are you sure that you want it?”

Of course I am. I want to meet you.

Then there was nothing he could do but fulfil his wish. Not that it hadn’t been Itsuki’s initial plan in first place, “... well, then I’ll transfer the data now. Goodnight.”

I’ll see you tomorrow.

It was a state between anxiety and curiosity, failures and success. If anything went wrong 13 years of work and the last medical clone that existed in this area were lost. Even worse, he would have failed to achieve the one thing that kept him going all this time.

His hand brushed over the glass tank. Inside, fast asleep, was his most important possession, something that could never be replaced. Maybe that made it all worse, knowing that their relationship would change forever once it would open its eyes and look at him.

Itsuki went outside, on the way there he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror that hung beside the door frame. Time was kind to him, he had barely aged a day for 13 years. More maybe she was punishing him for not moving on.

Once he stepped outside the warm sun kissed his skin, the noises he made attracted the animals. His dog barked happily, the cats meowed and ran towards him, their tails reaching up to a sky they would never touch.

“Hey, sorry for making you wait,” he smiled and patted them, “You’re hungry right? I’ll make you breakfast.” For now he could stay with them, until nightfall. Then he would have to return to the bunker where he had spent so much time in the past years. When he was not talking to his overseas friends, he had spend his time building a little house. A home.

He had enough materials, he had the knowhow. It was a cozy little cottage, a little balcony led to a treehouse he had build 4 years ago. His friends from Germany sent him their blueprints, working after their plans made it much easier. By now everything was overgrown with flowers.

It was beautiful.

“I wish everyone could see this…”, the end of the war, the world that slowly healed. When Itsuki closed his eyes he heard nothing. When he first stepped out of the bunker after the long silence, everytime he closed his eyes he could hear the bombs go off, he heard the gunshots.

Towards the end the war was quieter. Everyone just gave up, but the noises haunted them at night. Thinking about it now, maybe that was the reason why everyone left him, the sudden silence and the noises at night could get too much too bear.

A soft meowing to his right made him snap out of his thoughts, “I’m sorry, Ihei, I know you’re hungry.”

He opened the door to his little cottage and his friends walked inside before him. Kishou stretched his tired legs and slumped down on the sofa, he yawned and closed his tired eyes. It seemed like he didn’t get any rest waiting for Itsuki.

But the cats did, that meant they were more lively now, “Yes yes -” One after the other jumped onto the kitchen counter and sat down waiting for a slice of their favourite cheese. When he was honest he always thought that war meant that they would starve, but in reality, now that there were so little people, they had more than enough to eat.

His heart sunk thinking about it, he would love to share all of this with someone but now it was too late. It was too late for so many things. While they did have enough to eat, they never had to pay for it. They just traded the food, there was no need for big factories or machines, it was a simpler life. Downsized to the number of people that was left.

“I wonder if he’ll stop by today…”, Itsuki patted his cats while they ate their cheese, “I think a week has passed. He’ll need more vegetables.” His pantry was packed with pickled vegetables and fruits, jams and dried meats and fish. Everything that was fresh, like bread, eggs, milk, fish and meat was delivered to him. He only had to trade in a few of his goods for a week’s supply.

Or he had to treat the wounds of whoever accompanied his fox faced friend on his journey into this no man's land. Every country was a no man’s land now, when he was honest. There was no set of rules, no rights, no rulers, no government. Everyone was tired of war and conflict, they lived in peace that came at a high cost.

While the cats ate their breakfast, Kishou rolled on his back and yawned. He didn’t want to get up yet, he glimpsed at Itsuki who placed his bowl on the ground and barked softly, as if he were to say, thank you. No, it was Itsuki who had to thank him, it was less lonely with them around.

Maybe new friends would join them soon, he didn’t mind. It seemed like Ihei had found a little friend, her belly was growing and she ate more than usual, but he couldn’t feel the babies yet, it was just wishful thinking for now.

“I wonder if his name is also Koori,” he chuckled but wiped over his eyes, “I wish I could have met their baby.” There it was again, this heavy pain in his chest he felt every time he thought of them. Not that he wanted to forget about them, but maybe he needed a little more time to remember them as sweetly as nostalgia could possibly paint them.

The soft ringing of a bell reached his cottage from the hilltop to the right as the wind carried it to the hilltop on the left. So a week already did pass, Itsuki walked towards the door, startled by the noise Kishou got up and followed his master. A soft bark welcomed the visitor that parked his truck nearby the cottage.

“Maru!”, a blond man with a foxish expression jumped out of the truck and smiled, “It’s good to see you again.” He used to be a medical clone, or so he told Itsuki. Unlike the others he was given freedom by his original, he was given a name and taught how to live freely.

“It’s good to see you too, Itou,” a soft smile formed on his lips. Some good things came out of the unethical things they did, Itsuki hated the war, but he was born into it.

Kishou bumped his nose against the young man’s hand, he knew what he had to do once he came here.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t forget you, how could I forget the best boy in the world?”, Itou laughed and scratched the white dog behind his ears before giving him a treat, “Itsuki wait - you don’t have to pay me today… I need to ask you for a favour.”

“Oh?”, that meant he needed to get his equipment ready, “What is it?”

The door on the passenger’s side of the truck opened and a young woman slipped off the seat, she held her belly and walked over to the small group, “Hello…” She was a shy and timid woman, maybe pregnant for five months now.

“Hello, how can I help you?”, it wasn’t because of the baby, apparently they had learned how to take care of expecting mothers very well in the village by the sea, but they didn’t know how to take care of a sprained ankle.

While Itsuki took care of her pains, Itou filled up his pantry. The supplies should last for a week. Now for two people. It was a warm feeling, knowing that his friend would no longer be alone out here.

“Thank you, Doctor,” she smiled and carefully took a step.

“Be careful, you’re not completely healed yet. Rest a bit and come back if you need to,” it was odd to treat minor injuries now, before he had to sew shut open wounds and fight for his patients lives when he was barely an adult. Now he spent most of his days taking care of his vegetable and fruit garden and the animals that lived with him.

“I’ll make sure she’ll be careful,” Itou rested his hand on her back and smiled brightly, “That’s what I promised our originals.”

Oh? So she was a medical clone too. A very pretty one. She light silver hair and deep grey eyes. Did he ever meet her original…? Maybe not, if they now lived in the town by the sea.

Itsuki waved as he watched them drive back home. He didn’t feel well letting Itou go with nothing in return for this week’s favour, especially since he now got twice the amount of food he needed.

Everyone knew of his project, nobody minded. It was wish born out of loneliness and longing. Longing for someone to protect this place. How much time was left for him? His appearance would never let him know that his body also seemed to function well.

Was everyone else punished to die when they wanted to live and he was punished to live when all he wanted was to reunite with his friends? But looking around now, breathing in the fresh air, feeling the warm spring sun on his skin… living like this could hardly be a punishment.

“Would you like to join me for lunch, good sir?”, he bowed and Kishou stretched before he happily jumped around Itsuki. So that was a yes.

There were no apples in the pantry left, he knew it because Kishou had shared the last one with him yesterday. The good thing was that there were still enough in his greenhouse. He could grow any fruit at any time of year, what an amazing achievement.

It was quiet a walk until he reached the greenhouse, Kishou waited outside, wagging his tail knowing he would get delicious apples again. The smaller dogs with the weird faces didn’t like apples. More for him then. Though it was a little sad, he loved the odd dogs. There were 4 of them now. Ihei, Tako, Anpan and Marble.

One day they just appeared, just like him and just like their master too. They just started existing in this beautiful, quiet world.

Itsuki carefully placed five apples in his basket and closed the door the greenhouse, no need to lock it. Even if someone would pass by here and get hungry, they were free to take as much as they needed. There was no such thing as stealing food, there was more than enough for everyone.

If they would ask him for a plate, he would offer them a seat at a set table. … if only someone would stop by…

Kishou jumped through the high grass next to the path and barked happily, soon they would be home and eat their lunch. Then it was nap time. Nap time was an essential part of their day. Very important.

Coming back to the cottage always felt oddly healing, no matter what happened it would always be there and even if he wouldn’t be there anymore one day, it would still stand for a while before nature would take it back. Just as it should be.

Itsuki took his boots off and shut the door behind him once Kishou had shaken off the grass that was stuck in his white fur. Today it was time for pancakes. He liked them best with apple pieces in them, his friends had taught him to eat them this way. They were also much larger than the ones his other friends used to make.

Eating sweets had been a rare treat during the war, now they could eat sweets 6 times a day. Or 3. Or 2. It depended on his willingness to get up and cook.

Should he turn on the radio Itou gave him? He barely listened to music these days. Nobody bothered to produce anything new, only the old songs played on repeat. There were no stories anyone still wanted to tell. They just read what the people before them had left them, but they were happy with it.

In a world like this, nobody needed to imagine far away places or a pain they would never feel again. Oh, but he did love music, it wasn’t like that. But the only music he listened to was the music he made for his friends.

The cats were lying around, with their stomachs filled they didn’t bother asking Itsuki for more food. Every now and then they blinked at him and asked for affection. Kishou was content with the carefully prepared apple slices he got to eat.

Itsuki carefully placed his heavy pan on the stove, it was an electric stove that relied on the energy the sun was willing to give. When there was no sun, there was still the wind. Everything was green now, from the cities, to the forest, to the shores, to the energy.

The earth could finally breathe again and so did they.

His small home slowly filled with the warm smell of warm batter, sweet honey and cinnamon. Today was the last day that he would only have to cook for one person. Starting tomorrow there would be two.

The lonely cups in the cupboard would be used, there would be more noises. Someone else would play with the cats and the dog. Maybe he could help him taking care of the vegetable garden. But he needed to learn those things. Just downloading data from the internet wouldn’t be enough.

… he also needed a place to sleep in the cottage, the bunker would merely function to communicate with the world outside of this place but Itsuki would try to spend less time there.

So many things on his mind, but nothing in his stomach. He really should focus on his lunch now. Itsuki took his hot plate and walked upstairs, the entire building was openly structured, he watched Kishou chew on his food while the cats blinked at him. There wasn’t much he wanted to do alone, but he did want to eat his lunch alone on the balcony one last time.

Over the past decade he learned to appreciate the silence and he wanted to properly bid her farewell today. His meal tasted sweeter than usual, maybe because the apples were ripper. Or maybe he was just happy, yes… that was the reason. What an odd feeling, he took a deep breath and felt something move deep inside of his soul. It was as if everything fell into place, yes, that was happiness must felt like.

The dishes could wait, Itsuki placed them in the sink and let them soak in the clear water came from aquifer deep beneath the small cottage. Once he turned around all of his little friends were sitting behind him, waiting for him to give them his okay. They didn’t like sleeping in his bed unless he was there with them.

Itsuki laughed and told them it’s okay if they already go ahead, but they waited for him. It was so easy to fall asleep surrounded by so many little sources of heat. They didn’t have to stay with him, they knew it, but knowing that they chose to made him incredibly happy. Hopefully it wouldn’t change once there were two humans around…

The last time he slept alone, he slept longer than anticipated. Ihei softly touched his nose with her paw, she didn’t mean to be rude but the babies were hungry. Once they got up, everyone else stood up too. Even Kishou was hungry this morning.

Before he could think of eating breakfast himself he had to think of his little ones. But even after he fed them he couldn’t really think of making breakfast for himself. Today was the day he had been waiting for for so long. Make or break.

Itsuki put his boots on and let the animals roam free. Who knew if he would came back home any time soon, so it was better when they could just spend the day outside.

His hands were shaking, his knees felt weak. Anxiety was a feeling he hadn’t known for a long time, but now it hit him with full force. He slowly opened the door and peeked inside. The screens were still running, only white noise was audible in the room.

… and soft breathing… Itsuki felt his heart nearly jump out of his body. The tank was drained of the liquid inside, the body now worked on its own but it was still asleep. He carefully detached the USB wire that connected the tank and the computer. Then he pushed open the glass lid for the first time ever.

His eyes slowly opened, it was heavy, having a body felt heavy. He looked around and his eyes met Itsuki’s. He looked so different now, now that seeing him could actually trigger a response that didn’t rely on numbers but… chemicals.

“Good morning.”

“... h-he…”, what was that? He weakly rose his arm and touched his throat, why did his body vibrate when he spoke?

“You still need to get used to your body, hm?”, he spoke so softly, it was so nice to hear the sound waves he produced ring in his ears and not hit against a microphone.

“Y…”, speaking was harder than he thought, but he needed practise, “Ye…”

“Let’s take things easy,” Itsuki carefully picked him up, luckily the amount of mental in his body was small compared to what was actual flesh and blood. His skin was soft but he needed to wash off the tank’s liquid still. Now he was a human, not a medical clone anymore.

He was warm, warm and strong. Itsuki could walk on his own, he didn’t, not yet. He couldn’t even speak nor did he have a name. A name… could be pick one for himself?

Once they approached the door he felt nervous, he had never seen the outside world. He only knew the bunker.

Itsuki felt the body he held shaking, so he held him a bit tighter, “The sun might be brighter than you expect it to be, please don’t get scared by it and don’t look into it too long.”

“Yes,” he still couldn’t make more sounds, no matter how much he would have liked to. It was a start though.

Once they stepped outside he shut his eyes, but all the noises and smells made him curious. The bunker was the first smell he knew. Cold metal. Now it smelled like… grass, fresh air and the forest. Everything was green and wide like an ocean.

Standing still for a moment didn’t hurt, Itsuki watched him look around in amazement until his gaze wandered back to Itsuki. His eyes were light grey and filled with amazement, he smiled at Itsuki before turning his head to the sound of a cat’s meow.

He stretched his arm out and tried to touch the cat, but after a while he moaned in pain and let his arm fall back.

“You’re still too weak to move, your muscles are fully developed but they were never used before,” their bodies were functional but not functioning. They were created to be harvested even down to the bones, but now they were free.

What was that feeling in his chest? He wanted to play with the cat but his body didn’t let him. Now his chest felt heavy and he didn’t want to stay outside anymore.

“Just give it some time and you’ll be okay,” Itsuki carried him inside, they walked past the living room and the kitchen, curious eyes tried to look at everything but they had to go the bathroom.

He felt how Itsuki slowly put him on a stool and he nervously clung to him. Not because he couldn’t sit yet, but because it was cold.

“Don’t worry, the water will warm you and once you’re clean we’ll dress you,” even though it would be easier to do it himself, Itsuki knew he had to do these things himself so his body would get used to moving on it’s own.

Curiously he picked up the small container with shampoo and smelled it. It was so nice, it smelled exactly like Itsuki. He reached out to turn on the water and started rinsing his body off.

The water was warm and tickled on his skin, if he could stay like this forever that would have been nice...

So he knew how that worked, he had enough time to study human behaviour after all. Itsuki turned away to give him privacy and to fill the tub with hot water. His muscles would hurt very day from now on, every break they would get would be welcome.

“I’m done,” finally more words, it was still odd to use his vocal cords, so he didn’t want to talk much. He didn’t like the sound of his own voice yet.

“Do you need help with getting into the tub?”, whether he liked it or not, he had to talk.

“... yes… I can’t stand yet,” he was surprised that Itsuki didn’t care about his clothes getting wet, he just picked him up again and placed him in the bathtub.

“I hope it’s not too hot,” it most probably was a shock to …, “... you don’t have a name…”

“Yeah… you never named me and I never bothered about getting one either,” since he didn’t really feel the need to address himself as anything but a sentient computer program.

“What kind of name would you like to be called by?”, he took his wet shirt off and wrung the water out of the fabric.

For a moment he was lost in thought, he looked at the glass window to his right that slowly fogged up, “Sou… ta… Souta is nice.”

“Well… then, Souta it’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Itsuki,” what a nice feeling it was to call him by his name and well his body react to it, finally he knew what happiness felt like.

Lying in the bathtub must be… comfortable? Or was it cozy? Knowing what a word meant was nothing compared to finally experiencing what they felt like.

“I’ll get you some dry clothes and then I’ll make you food, just call me when you want to get out of the tub,” standing there watching him play with the water was amusing but the world kept on turning, so he had to keep on going.

Some of his old clothes should do, he didn’t want Souta to wear anything that belonged to someone who was now long dead. For a moment he stopped and looked up at the treehouse, it was the place where he kept all the memories of them alive, photos, their clothes, letters they wrote to him. Everything.

They were all buried on the hill that nobody ever dared to cross, they slept under the stars, down below in the soil where they once came from. It was a peaceful sleep that nobody dared to disturb. Flowers grew in their wounds and their souls were free to go wherever they wanted.

Kishou could read all the books he wanted to read, Koori never had to leave Ihei and their baby ever again, Rize could play in the meadows all day long… Everyone was free to do as pleased now, but as much as he wanted Chika to be free, he didn’t want to let him go either.

How selfish of him, but in the end only the living could be selfish, maybe that was their greatest sin.

Itsuki sighed and picked a few random clothes, poor Souta had probably soaked long enough, but when he took a peak he saw him staring out of the window in amazement. A pair of butterflies was dancing in the warm brise after nipping on the roses below the windowsill. Well, he would just let him enjoy the show.

What should he cook? There were so many options, but for now something light would be the best, after all his stomach wasn’t used to taking in food yet. An egg drop soup with soft rice should do the job, yes.

A soft paw touched his leg and claws pulled on his jeans, a soft meowing caught his attention. Ihei stared at him with her big blue eyes, her white fur smelled like hay and she meowed again.

“You’re getting heavier, are the babies growing?”, he carefully lifted her up and laughed as she licked his face, “I love you too.” Itsuki carefully placed her on the counter and patted her little head. She’s gotten a lot more needy since she was pregnant, just like Ihei was, but all she really wanted back then was for Koori to came back to them.

… to think that she died because of a broken heart shortly after they recovered his body… the only thing that eased the pain for him was to think that they met again in afterlife. All three of them.

Little Ihei needed more food now, but the other cats didn’t mind, they let her have as much as she wanted and needed. Once her little stomach was filled she lied down in front of the window and purred happily while the sun shone on her.

Itsuki watched her sleep, he smiled and went back to cooking. He was hungry too but he had to think of Souta first, while everything simmered he checked on him again. This time their eyes met and he felt his heartbreak, he could barely stand looking at him but it was something he had to do...

“Can you help me but out of the tub?”, even though he needed help he tried his best to get out of it himself, it was hard but he managed somehow, Itsuki only needed to catch him as he slipped.

“Careful…”, the sudden fear that he might hurt himself weighed even heavier on his heart than the pain he felt looking into his light grey eyes.

“Sorry…”, his hands were shaking as he grabbed the towel and dried his skin, “Where are my clothes?” Before Itsuki could reply he had already spotted them himself, he clumsily walked over the chair on which Itsuki had placed them and put them aside to sit down.

“Can you dress yourself?”, Itsuki was worried, he had to admit that. Worried and surprised that Souta could already walk so well.

“Yes, don’t worry about me…”, was he ashamed? What an odd feeling, he didn’t want to rely on Itsuki. No, he wanted to be the one to support him. He had been lonely all this time, carrying a burden with a weight that Souta would never even begin to imagine.

“Okay, I’ll be in the kitchen,” did he imagine things to go differently? When he was honest he didn’t have any expectations, he had never seen a medical clone come to life like this. Usually it was more difficult, they were like infants in the body of an adult, they had to learn and grow but Souta was an adult in the body of an adult. Just a clumsy one.

Walking was hard and it hurt, just like in this fairytale that Itsuki’s Danish friend loved so much. But the little mermaid gained legs and lost her voice because she fell in love with a prince, Souta came to live for other reasons but…

… didn’t he feel the same love the little mermaid carried in her heart? He stopped in his tracks for a moment and gazed at Itsuki. He was lost in thought, a white towel lazily thrown over his shoulder while he cooked. The warm spring sun softened his features and illuminated his deep and dark eyes.

Was there a little bird in his chest? Probably so, one that was still caged and desperate to get out.

“Can you walk here?”, seeing how slowly he walked Itsuki gave Souta the help he needed to reach the table.

It was such a nice feeling to feel their hands touch, he wanted to be held by him again, but he knew that was nothing he could ask for so lightly, “Thank you…”

The kitchen smelled like so many things that he didn’t know yet, but it left him with a warm longing… was it… hunger? No, appetite. He didn’t feel desperate to eat something, he just wanted to eat something.

“We’ll try a small portion right now, you can have more if you like,” Itsuki filled two bowls with food and sat down next to Souta, “See, this is how you hold a spoon… you need to blow the food, it’s still hot you’ll might burn your tongue.”

“Okay,” he watched him eat and tried to copy it, but his arms were still not used to movements like this.

“Let me help you, open your mouth wide,” it was odd to feed a grown man, but Souta trusted him. What a bittersweet feeling it was, knowing that another person relied on him… only now he noticed how long his eyelashes were, his features were so soft. God what was he thinking -

“It’s delicious,” his lips curled into a pleased smile, “Thank you.”

Did it hurt? Yes, seeing him smile felt as if a knife was pushed right through his chest. Seeing something so beautiful made him want to die.

They quietly finished their meal, Itsuki after Souta. He cleaned the kitchen while the younger one watched him, he didn’t get tired of it, he didn’t complain.

“Do you want do so something else? Maybe read something?”, before he could protest, Itsuki picked him up and carried him in the small nook where he kept the books. He placed Souta on the small sofa next to the window and covered him with a blanket, “Read whatever you’d like to read. I’ll come back once I cleaned everything.”

But he didn’t. It was already night when Itsuki returned to him from wherever he had been. Their eyes met and Souta noticed that the white in his eyes had a red tinge now, why was that so?

“Let’s go to bed,” maybe it was wrong of him just to pick Souta up and carry him upstairs to the place he slept, but all of the animals were waiting and there was more than enough space for them. Itsuki slept next to the wall, Souta next to the banister. It was an uncomfortable distance, but neither wanted to close it for now.

“Goodnight Itsuki,” but he got no reply.

Souta felt a heavy weight on his chest when he woke up, a cat was lying on him. Itsuki had already gotten up, he was nowhere in sight. Maybe he turned into a cat overnight, “Good morning, cat Itsuki. It’s nice to meet you.” The cat meowed and yawned.

“That’s Tako,” he stepped back inside from the balcony, “It looks like it’s going to rain today… it’s a shame, I wanted to show you the outside.”

“It’s okay, really… I’d rather stay inside…”, his muscles were still sore, it wouldn’t be fun to be outside if he couldn’t run around. Souta scratched the lazy cat behind his ears and laughed, “Do you like that?”

Itsuki smiled and waited for Tako to run downstairs before he picked Souta up again, “We need to eat breakfast.”

Feeling his touch and the warmth of his body made Souta feel protected, his arms were shaking as he slowly wrapped them around Itsuki’s neck. Walking down the stairs was scary…

But the breakfast Itsuki made was worth it, coffee was bitter, but sugar and milk made it better. Warm toast was delicious and it was even better with strawberry jam.

He ate as eagerly as if the world would end at any given moment, but the world had already ended, so there was nothing for Souta to worry about. Nothing at all.

The afternoon came quickly, they sat side by side, back to back while Itsuki read a book to Souta who played with Ihei that slumped down in his lap.

“Itsuki… why did you name her Ihei?”, did the name have a particular meaning?

Silence. Then he shut the book and sighed, “She has the same blue eyes as my friend Ihei did. I met her here, she was a nurse and her boyfriend a soldier. Ihei always talked about wanting to open a little shop once the war ended but… they didn’t make it…”

Oh. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked that, “What was my originals name?”

Instead of an answer he got the continuation of the story, well… then it would be so, but Souta didn’t mind. It was comfortable like this, sitting next to Itsuki and waiting for sun to shine again. His fingertips traced the trails the raindrops left on the window while Itsuki’s voice filled the room and his head.

“... that’s… it,” Itsuki’s voice was a little hoarse from reading but Souta’s excitement about the story made it worth it. While the older one prepared their dinner he didn’t stop asking questions about the story he heard.

He was so curious that it made Itsuki forget about all the things that worried him about Souta coming to live.

They ate a quiet dinner before going to bed, this time they slept closer to each other, not close enough to touch but the distance vanished little by little.

Itsuki woke up to a cold breeze tickling his nose, Souta was up already, standing on the balcony smiling at him brightly, “The sun’s out!” A warm day was lying ahead, he could tell by the clear blue sky above their heads.

“Then let’s eat so we can go outside,” this time he didn’t need to assist Souta who cautiously walked down the stairs.

He sat down at the table and rubbed his legs, but he smiled brightly. Today oatmeal was on their breakfast plan, oatmeal and fresh fruit. Souta liked sweets the best.

It was nice to see that he liked his meals so much, but at the same time it made him sad, he couldn't help but look at Souta even though it made him sad. When he was still a computer program without a name it was easier to deny the feelings he had, now it was hard. He was an actual living and breathing being.

The dishes lazily soaked in cold water in the sink. Souta fed the cats while Itsuki brushed the dog, it was such a quiet and peaceful moment that Itsuki almost mistook for a dream.

Once they had taken care of the animals it was time to go outside. Even though Itsuki tried to stop him, Souta ran outside without putting shoes on. Maybe he just wanted to feel everything all at once, but who could blame him?

“Itsuki! This feels amazing!”, Souta laughed as he ran through the grass and even when he fell he started laughing and rolled around on the ground, “This is so much better than I could have ever imagined…”

Itsuki sat down next to him and smiled, “Is that so?”

“Yeah…”, looking at the sky made him sad, happy and sad, “I was trapped in this computer for 13 years… now I can feel so many different things… and…” When he looked at Itsuki he forgot whatever he wanted to say.

“Hm?”

“... I think I finally understand why people say they’re happy to be alive…”

Souta kept lying in the grass for most of the day, only when the smell of food lured him back into the cottage he got up. Sweet and sticky rice was a delicious meal, even though the warm taste of chocolate made him sleepy.

The next thing he knew was that he woke up in their bed, it was already night time and Itsuki was sitting outside on the balcony. Souta dragged the warm blanket they shared outside, first he covered the other under the blanket and then himself.

“The stars are more beautiful now, you know? When there were still a lot more humans they polluted the air… and you couldn’t see all the stars at night, but now you do…”, there was something sad in his words, “I feel guilty for being alive you know… I think that in every moment that I am happy I forget the people that died before me.”

“... but you don’t, do you?”

“I hope I don’t, but…”, when it got late he felt more honest, “All this time I never allowed myself to move on, I thought… once I brought you to life… gave you a body… once I saw him a last time, I could die in peace… but I met you… and I want to live… with you.”

What was this feeling? It was like a wave of fire that washed over his body. There was a word for this feeling, wishful thinking? Yes, maybe he was just getting his hopes up. Having a body was stressful…

“I always thought a machine could never develop things like emotions, but you cared for me… I remember how you played lullabies for me when I was sleeping in the bunker and had a nightmare… also how you called my friends when I was feeling lonely,” Itsuki couldn’t hold back the tears that filled his eyes, in all these years he never allowed himself to cry, but now he had to, “All this time you looked out for me…”

Did he really…? After all Itsuki was all he had but… no, that wasn’t honest. He knew that everything could have went differently, if he wouldn’t have rebelliously rewritten his code, if he had only served the purpose of filling an empty shell.

“I just wanted to see Chika once again before I die, I thought… once I see him… even if it’s just a puppet, I could be happy, I regret that I never told him goodbye and he left… without…”

What could he say? Souta took Itsuki’s hand and squeezed it tightly, he watched the fireflies dance in the moonlight while silverdrops rolled down Itsuki’s nose.

“I am scared that … I forgot him… I don’t want to forget him but in every moment that I allow myself to be happy with you, it feels like I’m letting him go,” whatever he wanted Souta to be, he wasn’t. He was Souta. A new person. His own person. He had been since he first started talking to him through the speakers that allowed him to, “... and the worst is… I know he would want me to do this…”

“What do you mean…?”

“He told me that whatever would happen, he loves me but he wishes for me to be happy and free… I think he knew that we would never see each other again and I got so mad at him I couldn’t reply… but once everything started growing around me, the flowers on his grave and the anticipation I felt… when we talked to each other I understood… I…”

Souta felt him squeeze his hand tighter, their eyes met and Itsuki smiled through the tears. Time would never stand still again now. The world wouldn’t end again. Maybe it didn’t even end in first place… it just started over again and even if flowers grew in old scars, the beautiful memories they once made wouldn’t be erased by it.

“I think I love you.”

The little bird in his chest grew bigger, now it was strong enough to escape the cage and Souta felt like crying, it was painful to feel the bird escape but at the same time it felt like he had been waiting for this moment since he began to exists in this world.

“And I know that I love you… too…”

[themoonandotherslikeit]

The Daughter of a Righteous Man- Chapter 18

*SEQUEL TO THE LOOK IN HER EYES*

After her husband is drug to Hell, Ava Winchester and her brother in law Sam try their best to do right by Dean and raise her daughter, only to find that good intentions aren’t always enough. Loving someone isnt always enough.

Chapter Eighteen, Help Me Unravel My Latest Mistake

Ava

I was in bed at seven pm. I justified it because Nel was fed and fell asleep in her swing when I was doing my dishes from the cereal I ate for dinner, and it was already dark outside.

I kept rolling over and back over again. I took off my sweatshirt and put it back on. I was uncomfortable in my skin.

Lacey is on a date. How could she go on a date in my time of need?

I knew the answer, of course. She had a fucking life! She's been a good friend, but maybe it was time that I listened to her, stopped wallowing, won back my man, or at least got the nerve to call him.

I wondered if he missed me too.

I sat up and looked at the bedside table clock. Seven twenty five. Wow. Time sure does crawl. I flung my legs over the side of the bed and unplugged my cellphone. It was fully charged, and had been all week. That's what happens when you don't have a husband to text. 

I sighed and dialed Bobby, giving in.

"Hey kiddo."

"Uncle Bobby, hi," I exhaled a deep sigh. 

"Everything okay?"

"Umm... I was actually hoping you knew where Dean was." Maybe it wasn't fair to call him.

He sighed into the phone. "Have you tried to call him?"

"He won't take my calls, Bobby. I get it, we fucked up. You warned me."

"You're not hearing an I told you so from me. Don't worry about that,” he said gently.

But I was worried about it. I saw the annoyed look on Johns face when he picked up Nel for Dean. It was judgmental. Like, yeah okay maybe I'm a bad wife, but you were a shit father. We all make mistakes.

"Thanks. So do you know where he is?"

"He's on a case with Sam. They had an apocalypse lead."

I sat up straighter, fighting the urge to rip off my sweatshirt again. Heat rose up my neck and onto my face. "What? He's with Sam?"

"That's what his text said at least."

I stared blankety ahead of me. "So he can forgive Sam and not me..." I didn't realize I'd said it out loud until Bobby commented.

"Honey I'm not sure it's like that. Those brothers have literally been through hell..."

"Trust me, Bobby, I haven't forgotten."

I was angry. There was no denying that. I refused to let them keep me in the doghouse alone. Lacey was right, I don’t just roll over and take it. I wasn't that kind of girl. "Bobby can you come by my house and watch Nel? I need to find them. If there's something to fight I'm going to fight it, and I'm going to fight for my marriage."

"You got it."

Dean

Anna caught me off guard when she pressed her lips to mine. She knew what I did and yet she still wanted to kiss me. She wrapped her arms around my neck and grabbed the back of my shirt in her fist, pulling it over my head.

I didn't think before I shrugged her jacket off her shoulders. She reached down and pulled off her own shirt, pressing her chest against mine. She reached up, pressing her hand to Castiel's handprint on my shoulder. Angels are seeming more and more like the bad guy, but there I was. Who was I kidding anyway? I was a bad guy, and Anna knew. She knew, and she didn't care.

I picked her up easily, her thighs wrapping around my waist. This room of the barn was obviously treated as a safe room. There was a vanity, a pull out couch, and a small dresser. I walked us to the couch, laying her down. She unbuttoned her jeans and lifted her hips so I could pull them off. I followed her instructions like it was habit, kissing my way down her exposed skin.

She was pale under me, her green eyes intense. She propped herself up on her elbows to kiss me again. It was slow, but precise. When I kissed her I didn't have to think about where I'd been or what happened while I was there. I was just a guy in the moment. A guy who would have some serious fucking consequences when this was all over, but maybe that's what I wanted deep down. Maybe I wanted to be unforgivable. It always made more sense for Ava and Sam to be together. They were smart, they were more than this shitty life. Unlike me. I was born for it.

I wiggled out of my own pants and stared down at Anna. She was breathing heavily, her world rocked. She still had a fresh bandage on her arm. She wasn't human, and there was something horribly comforting about that.

She hooked her thumbs in her underwear and pulled them down, staring at my own. This was the moment. I could turn back mostly unscathed. I love my wife, but looking at Anna, I knew I didn't deserve Ava. I never did.

I held myself up with one hand so I could discard them to the side.

When I pushed inside her she gasped, as if she was surprised. I honestly was. I buried my face in the crook of her neck, worried I was going to lose my shit and cry all over this beautiful woman.

She flipped us over and stared down at me, her hands on my chest. I felt a tear roll down my cheek, and she didn't kiss it away or wipe it. She just stared at me as she grinded against me. It was like she was seeing past my skin into my soul. She was watching me crack and break in two. I grabbed ahold of her shoulder blades and pulled her back to my mouth, just so I could stop her eyes. Just so I could stop the pain.

————————-

The man who was with Castiel stood in front of me. I knew now that his name was Uriel. "Dean,” he said casually, tilting his head to the side.

"I'm dreaming," I said suddenly. The last thing I remembered was stroking the length of Anna's spine as we drifted to sleep.

"That's correct,” Uriel said slowly. "Give us, Anna. She is no use to you."

"Yeah, I'll pass."

He frowned. "I must say that it won't end well for you. She doesn't have her grace. She is no good to you."

"Actually." I stepped toward him. "She does. Full blown angel now," I lied out my ass.

He smirked. "That's funny, because I have her grace here,” he said, pulling an amulet from around his neck. "Try again, Dean."

I winced.

"I see what's going on here," Uriel said, looking me over. "You got a slice of angel food cake."

"Cute." I snorted. "Come up with that one all yourself?"

He eyed my wedding ring. "I suppose Hell does change a man."

I frowned. "Well you're the one trying to kill an innocent girl, so who is the real bad guy here?"

"Oh Dean she is far from innocent."

"How does Castiel feel about this? He's your boss, right?"

"Castiel isn't here. It's best that way. He has...attachments to you. He likes you."

I frowned harder. I wasn't sure how to feel about that. "Well, I'm a likeable guy."

"I'd disagree."

"Of course you would."

"We can't let Hell get it's hooks in her."

"So just give her the angel juice back," I said as if it were that simple.

"She committed a serious crime."

"What? Thinking for herself?"

"This is our business, not yours. She's not even human. Not technically." Uriel clenched his fist. "This is your last chance. Give us the girl or..."

"Or what? What, you're gonna toss me back in the hole? You're bluffing."

"Try me," he growled. "This is a whole lot bigger than the plans we got for you, Dean. You can be replaced."

"Well go ahead and do it."

"You're just crazy enough to go, aren't you?"

"What can I say?" I countered. "I don't break easy."

Uriel smiled at that. It wasn't a big gesture. It was small and somehow much more menacing. "Oh yes, you do. You just got to know where to apply the right pressure. I will see you soon, Dean, and I promise you that you will give us the girl. Or you will live to regret it."

Ava

It was concerning how easy it was to find Sam and Dean. I really needed to go over how to better cover their tracks in the future. I walked up and pushed my way into the unlocked back door. What is this amateur hour? I shook my head. They needed me way more than they were willing to admit.

I heard movement above me, and so I climbed the stairs.

I put a lot of work into my appearance. I was wearing lipstick and eyeliner. What Dean liked to call my ass-hugging-jeans, and a top that showed just enough cleavage. I straightened my hair, and once again I felt like I was attractive enough to hopefully stop his rage enough to have him talk to me.

I got to the top of the stairs and pushed open the old wooden door. I saw his jacket hung over a chair, and I smiled with relief. He was here.

That smile quickly faded when my eyes caught a mop of red hair sprawled across his bare chest. They were tangled on the couch asleep, their feet hanging off the side. I could see everything. His hand absentmindedly stroking her back in his sleep. Like he did with me.

"Oh my god."

I was going to be sick.

His eyes opened at the sudden sound of my voice, and his guilty green globes met mine. I shook my head and immediately ran down the stairs, making a lot of noise on my way down. 

"Ava wait!"

I didn't wait. This was a mistake! I should've stayed in bed. I pushed back outside and started coughing and spiting. My hands were on my knees as I was doubled over. Do I deserve this?

I stood up and made my way to my car when the door behind me busted open. Dean was wearing his jeans and black t-shirt. He didn't even bother putting on his shoes. His hair was still messy from the sex, and looking at him gave me physical pain.

"It..."

"Do not insult me by saying it wasn't what it looked like."

"It was what it looked like," he said defeated.

"Goodbye, Dean." I turned away from him, my gut twisting painfully. 

"Hey!" He called, jogging to me. He grabbed my arm. "You don't get to do that."

"You don't get to fuck another girl and then ask me to be reasonable." I tired to pull my arm away, but he wouldn't budge.

"That's what you've been trying to do all week."

"Oh my god, Sam and I are not the same as whatever is going on here." I gestured at the barn loosely, his arm still connected to mine. 

"You're right. You were in a relationship. Yours is worse."

I looked at him, infuriated. I wanted to slap him. Scream. I tried to calm my breathing, instead. "What do you want me to say?"

"Say that it wasn't okay."

I laughed. I didn't mean to, but it was just so fucking stupid. "You were dead, Dean. You were fucking gone. I was pregnant and alone. I was broken. I was a corpse, and I didn't recognize myself. You cannot blame me for finding whatever I could to deal with losing you. Sam was the only thing that kept me alive."

He flinched, and I could tell my words hurt him. Maybe they needed to hurt, because he needed to understand. "I didn't do it to hurt you. We both tried to sell our souls. I met with so many people. I did research. I met with a witch and she said there was no getting you back. I couldn't go in our room for months, and when I finally did I read your note and... I don't know. Maybe I should've found another way, but I will not apologize for keeping both Sam and I afloat."

I watched his neck move as he swallowed hard. "Were you in love with him?" He asked quietly.

"I never stopped loving you," I told him, honestly. "But I love him too. I love him in a way that is unique to Sam and I. But no.. I don't think I was ever in love with him."

Dean closed his eyes and shook his head. "He's in love with you."

"I can't help that. All I can help is what I feel."

He nodded a bit as if he understood, but there was something else going on in his expression. His face was twisted.

"You turn to explain."

"Anna is a fallen angel."

"Anna." I frowned. "She's an angel." I knew I must've sounded like a fucking parrot, but I couldn't help it. I was flabbergasted. When I first met Dean I suspected he was the kind that fucked around, but when I fell for him I never thought he would do it to me. Maybe I was stupid. Maybe there is a better explanation.

"We helped her. The angels and demons want her. She is missing her powers."

"So you thought you should protect her."

"Yes."

"With your penis?"

He laughed humorlessly. "No... we were just talking as I was sewing up one of her wounds. She was telling me why she wanted to fall. Why she would give up power to be a puny human. I guess the stuff she was saying made sense to me."

I frowned. I didn't like his answer so far.

"She knows things about what happened to me in Hell." I could tell it was hard for him to say, he looked like he was choosing his words carefully. "Things that I can't say out loud. Things that I did."

"I don't understand. What are you saying?"

Dean took my hands in his. "I wasn't in Hell for four months, Ave. I don't know.. time worked differently there. It was more like forty years."

I winced. Oh my god.

"They, uh... They sliced and carved and tore at me in ways that you couldn't imagine. Until there was nothing left. And then, suddenly... I would be whole again... like magic... Just so they could start in all over." He blinked tears away. "And Alastair... at the end of every day... every one... he would come over. And he would make me an offer. To take me off the rack. If I put souls on. If I started the torturing."

"Dean," I whispered, suddenly forgetting about Anna or our fight. I could see the pain in his expression. I held his face in my hands.

"Every day, I told him to stick it where the sun shines. For thirty years, I told him. But then I couldn't do it anymore, Ave. I couldn't. And I got off that rack. God help me, I got right off it, and I started ripping them apart. I lost count of how many souls... The things I did..." He collapsed against me, letting it all out. I could feel his body racked with sobs.

"Dean, you held out so much longer than anyone could have. You lasted thirty years." I understood more now. It was easier to be hated for adultery than to have to face his demons. Especially since he thought I was in love with Sam.

"How I feel... what's inside me. Fuck, I wish I couldn't feel anything. I wish I couldn't feel a damn thing."

Sam

Anna came running down the stairs. Ruby and I were trying to make a plan. She didn't think we should help. I chalked it up to the fact that she's a demon and is a little self centered, because we were obviously helping.

"Sam, the angels are talking again," Anna said out of breath.

"What are they saying?"

"It's weird. Like a recording on a loop. It says: Dean Winchester gives us Anna by midnight, or..."

I stood up. "Or what?

"...or we hurl him back to damnation."

I swallowed hard. "Anna.. Do you know of any weapon that works on an angel?”

"To what? To kill them?"

I nodded.

"Nothing we could get to... Not right now."

"We need to tell Dean." I pushed past her. Fuck, what are we going to do?

"I think he's outside," Anna said, pulling her sleeves over her hands.

"Thanks." I walked out the door. "Dean?" I shouted.

I stopped in my tracks when I saw them illuminated in the moonlight. Ava and Dean were tangled together. They turned to me looking surprised that I was there, like I'd interrupted a moment between them.

My fingers twitched at my side. They were getting back together. I didn't know why I was surprised. Of course she would pick him.

"Sammy?"

"The angels are talking again. We have two hours before they come for Anna or you're going back to Hell."

"Shit."

"Yeah not great," I said glumly, turning away from them.

"Sam wait!" Ava called out to me.

I turned, and there we were again. She was standing between us. In the middle of a fucking storm.

—————

Chapter Nineteen, Fragile Love

Support my writing!

Get caught up!

Tag List:

@xjamiedennettx

@deans-baby-momma

@sonnierae26

[rainbowrites]

Deep Space Mutant

hi @ihamtmus!!

OKAY, I'm super late but let's do this thing!! Thanks to @wellntruly, who is a GEM and helped come up with a ton of these and was just super fun to scream about this with

little background: most everyone has powers, it's very House of M although since this is a Star Trek universe they make a BIG DEAL out of ~equality~ between powered and non-powered people. Still, life is harder for you if you're non-powered or have weak powers, especially in terms of employment. Would you hire a non-powered bodyguard if you could get one that could shoot fire? I didn’t think so. It’s one of those undercurrents of society that DS9 addresses, and everyone else pretends doesn’t exist. Unsurprisingly, most colonists (and Maquis) are non-powered or have weak/not ‘useful’ powers as they willingly risk that danger to create a world for themselves where they’re not the ‘lesser’. 

And not every planet/species has the same style of powers that we're used to in our mutant comics, where everyone has different powers. Some are like Changelings, where everyone has the same powers. Some have symbiotic powers, like the Trill who have individual powers and then the symbiont all have the same power - which is the ability to retain and pass on memories and powers from previous hosts.

ANYONE ON TO THE GOOD STUFF (readmore below!)

Sisko has The Voice. When he speaks, everyone listens. It's more of a telepathic power, that compels everyone within hearing distance to listen to him. It doesn't force them to actually do what he says, but they have to at least listen to what he says. It's near impossible to interrupt him, and even a whisper is enough to get everyone around him craning to listen. He mostly finds this embarrassing or annoying at first, since it means no muttering under his breath and his superiors are always a little pissed since whenever he says anything everyone stops listening to them and tunes in exclusively to channel Sisko. The Bajorans are ALL OVER IT though. For so long, they were kept oppressed and silent by the Cardassians. Now the Prophets have sent them an Emissary that CANNOT be ignored - the Bajorans will be listened to at last! This power is definitely not inspired by the beautiful chocolate velvet that is Avery Brook's voice, what voice fetish, I don't have a voice fetish, YOU HAVE A THING FOR HIS VOICE DON'T LIE WE ALL DO.

Kira has flame powers, connected to her body. She literally has sparks flying from her eyes when she's enraged, and can punch a flaming fist into your stomach. She can't really spread the fire outside of her body, but that's what a blaster is for. She doesn't need to use her powers to kick your ass. When she was young, she thought that if she got fatally shot she would use the last of her strength to self-immolate in the hopes of burning some Cardassians to death. She has some control issues, but over the course of the series learns to be gentle with herself and her powers - lighting candles with the tips of her fingers and turning herself into a glowing pillar of warmth.

Miles tells everyone that he can talk to machines, but it's no big deal. He doesn't do anything that any good engineer couldn't do. In reality, he connects with systems like no one else can dream of. It's more than just communication, the machines themselves fall in love with him and jump to his every word to try to make him happy. It gets very boring though, every problem bending over backwards to fix themselves. It's why DS9 is so interesting, it's the first time that machines have fought back against him, argued and dragged their feet rather than eagerly work with him. Of course he doesn't realize that this is because Cardassian computer systems are justlike Cardassians themselves, and show their love via intense argument. He doesn't realize for a LONG time that all that petulant breaking and constant backtalk is really just Cardassian for TAKE ME NOW YOU HOT PIECE OF ENGINEER.

Here is a story about Julian: when he was 6 years old, he still wasn't showing any sign of powers. He couldn't read, he could barely write his name, but his parents clung to the idea that his powers would elevate him beyond needing those things. They worried constantly that their own weak powers (she glows very slightly in the dark, he has enough heat powers to fry an egg on his chest if he concentrates) might have doomed their son to mediocrity. Then the doctors tell them, very gently, that their son was among the tiny percentage born without an x-gene. The next day, they start looking into augmentation. If genetics couldn't make their son great as their dreams, then they would use science to do the job instead.

So Julian has super-smarts, and incredibly reflexes to go along with them. But somehow they are always...incomplete, in some weird way. Because they are artificial. He doesn't understand them innately, like a native speaker. He's FLUENT, because he's STUDIED, but there's always something just a little off. However he's CONSTANTLY talking up his smarts and Miles wants to fucking kill him at first because 'yeah okay GOD super smarts are a good power to have, shut UP about them you fucking show off I'm not constantly talking to your tricorder am I?'not realizing that Julian is hella over compensating and also would LOVE Miles to talk to his tricorder all the time. His brain is so weird, sliced and diced and reconnected until the wave length it sends out gives every telepath a headache which Miles thinks is HILARIOUS. 'your real mutant power is ANNOYING EVERYONE.'

It is not lost on Julian that he immediately attaches to Miles, rather than any other officer on the station. Keiko jokes that all machines fall in love with him, and Julian just gives her a very strained smile and agrees softly. When he tells Miles what he is, that he's unnatural, he says that of course Miles is his best friend - Miles has plenty of practice speaking to machines. And Miles is just like 'listen buddy even the cardassian machines aren't as annoying as you are, only a REAL PERSON could be as much a pain in my ass as you are. and that's from the HEART'

Garak keeps his powers a secret. Also a secret? Whether or not he even HAS them. Julian is absolutely FASCINATED, and adores hearing all the stories Garak spins about them using his, quote. 'rare gift for obfuscation':

my powers stimulate nerve endings. I could make Bajorans scream with pain without ever touching them

when I was young I discovered I could disappear into the shadows. Elim had the same type of power, which is why we were known as the sons of Tain, who could disappear in plain sight

haven't you noticed my clothes are exceptional? cloth listens to me as raptly as you do

oh my dear Doctor, my power? I told you everything. It was all true. especially the lies.

It;'s a different power every time and we never ever find out what his real powers are, or if he even HAS ANY. He might be baseline, for all anyone of them know

Jadzia is, to quote Tarra, "the actual cool version of Apocalypse". As I said earlier, Trills are born with a vast array of potential powers (plus a small percentage with none just like on Earth) and the symbionts are much the same as they are in the show, except they don't just pass down memories/personality but also the powers of their previous hosts - though the powers are weakened in transition. The Trills chosen for joining though are only chosen by those with really strong powers and incredible control though, since if those powers are gonna be saved forever through the symbiont you want them to be GOOD ones and if they're gonna be weakened you want them to be as strong as possible to start out with. For example, Curzon had super strength that he used to impress the Klingons and gain their respect; it's something Jadzia uses frequently to help her withstand some incredibly violent Klingon sex. Emony controlled water with incredible precision, able to control each drop just as she controlled her gymnast muscles, and used them often in her routines as water whips in rhythmic gymnastic style; Jadzia mostly uses it to flick water in people's faces when she's feeling mischievous, which is most of the time. Audrid was famous for her amazing flying powers, able to zoom around like a rocket, which is actually why Tobin, adrenaline junkie and first Trill to join Starfleet, joined the program: to get those flight powers and zoom around without a shuttle. He ends up disappointed at their weakness, though he still loves flying without a shuttle, and it's what pushes him to test drive new experimental engines - he will fly like he an remember!! - and what eventually kills him. CAN YOU TELL I'VE THOUGHT WAY TOO MUCH ABOUT THIS???

Jadzia herself had touch telepathy, able to know everyone with a hug. She has a ton of control though, and usually just skims the surface of people's thoughts. It's one reason she's super good at flirting - she knows IMMEDIATELY if someone's attracted to her. It's a rough power on DS9 though; that station saw a lot of misery and pain, and it shares that pain with her every chance it gets.

Ezri had very very weak powers, which is one reason she never even considered trying to get joined. She can technically smell emotions, but she has a really bad sense of smell. She would have to get REALLY close to smell something, and she's not alway gauranteed to recognize it. Like, do you realize how many emotions people generally feel?? It makes for a very weird, confusing blend! Fear is of course, the easiest to smell. She can smell fear!! Kinda. If she's close to you. And you're not wearing perfume. It's a pretty terrible power, and one that she really doesn't use very often. Fun fact: Garak liberally douses himself in cologne every time he might run into her. Un-fun fact: when she's trying to treat him he calls her  'a poor imitation of a betazoid, trying to be a poor imitation of Jadzia'

The Dax powers are technically weakened, but since she had such shit powers in the first place it's yet another thing to get totally overwhelmed by. like oH MAN NOW I SUDDENLY KNOW JUST HOW MUCH THAT THE GUY I BRUSHED IN THE HALLWAY NEEDS TO POOP, THANKS JADZIA'S TOUCH TELEPATHY. OH SHIT THERE GOES THE TABLE EDGE DAMMIT IT CURZON'S SUPER STRENGTH. WELP NOW I'M FLOATING HOW DO I TURN OFF AUDRID'S FLIGHT POWERS

Worf is basically the living embodiment of no. Non-physical powers don't work on him, he can't be affected by telepathy or illusions or anything like that. If someone has super-strength or stretchy powers they can use them against him, but whenever anyone tries to trick him he can just be like 'I see you giggling and waving your fingers. You look ridiculous and are doing nothing.' He's too straight forward to be tricked! It's the first thing that really intrigues Jadzia, he's the first person she can't just know with a touch. She has to work hard to get to know him, work doubly hard because his personality can be just as closed off as his powers, and eventually that desire to know him develops into love. He's the one person who could keep a secret from her if she wanted to know it, but he never would. THEY'RE REALLY CUTE.

Rom has magnetic powers, but really really shitty ones. He mostly just accidentally gets cutlery stuck to him. He does use his powers sometime to turn little bits of machinery that can't normally be reached - something he thinks of as pretty whatever but is actually SUPER USEFUL. Miles gives him a big clap on the shoulder and is super proud of him when he finds out, and Rom nearly dies of joy right then and there.

Quark IS Drinks Space Nine. He can look at you and tell exactly what your blood alcohol content is and how alcohol would affect you. It means that he can keep his patrons at a pleasant buzz all night, or can tip someone into sloppy drunk if they're winning too much at tongo. Despite how much shit the bar goes through, it almost never has to deal with rowdy drunks, and that's because of Quark's ability to keep everyone at that pleasantly tipsy state all night.

Nog is an awkward tree fog, with literal sticky fingers. It's very useful for stealing little things when he's young, but becomes HORRIFICALLY EMBARRASSING when he grows up and joins Starfleet, especially at first. Some people get sweaty hands when they get nervous but he just gets EXTRA STICKY HANDS. Like, picture him frantically trying to shake off the PADD he was just handed with his first assignment while Sisko's back is turned and then being like EVERYTHING IS FINE SIR AHAHAHA I JUST.... REALLY LIKE THIS PADD when he turns back

Jake has stretchy powers because come on have you SEEN Cirroc Lofton??? I almost can't believe that guy DIDN'T have stretchy powers. He's no Mr. Fantastic, but he can drape himself across all the furniture in the room in Peak Teen fashion. It also makes for some baseball shenanigans. He uses it a lot to tease his dad by being taller than him, at least until he ACTUALLY GETS THERE. It's a bit tiring for him to hold a stretch though, which is why when he first hits his growth spurt his dad is like 'hey watch out son, you'll strain something keeping yourself so tall for so long.' Jake tries to tell him that no, he's just naturally growing, and Ben is just like 'LALALALA I CAN'T HEAR YOU, I KNOW YOU'RE JUST USING YOUR POWERS, YOU'RE NOT ACTUALLY TALLER THAN ME, YOU'RE STILL MY BABY'

Keiko has growing powers. She's heard all the jokes, a botanist with growing powers? How obvious. It's mostly really annoying though, since when she discovers something new and gets excited she can accidentally spark some intense growth spurts and totally mess up her data. She loves making flowers bloom for Molly and Kirayoshi.

[mjbookreviews]

Reviews for the End of the World

I wrote this piece for a practicum I was a part of in college.  Still pretty recent, still pretty relevant.

Lately I have been thinking a lot about the end of the world. Maybe it’s because in multiple classes I’m in this semester we have been discussing zombie novels and climate change. Maybe it’s because I’ll be going to Los Angeles soon and I’m pretty sure that North Korea is going to nuke it. Maybe it’s because I’m graduating from college in a month and have no idea what I’m doing next.  Whatever it is, I’ve found that the best way to feed my fears is to read dystopian literature, and these have been great for reminding me that there is very little hope for the future.  According to my literary research, the world is going to end in one of three ways (or through a combination of the three): widespread plague (zombie kind included), environmental destruction, and/or total political collapse.  So I guess the thing here is, pick your poison.  Humans seem to be to blame for the end of the world any way you slice it.

I have to say, I love zombie stories.  Yes, it got really annoying when a few years ago literally everything had to do with zombies (which is the context for when this first novel was published), but that trend has kind of died down now, and I can get behind it again. There’s something comfortingly ridiculous about zombies, like they’re scary, but completely unrealistic.  No way the world is going to end in a zombie apocalypse.  Plus, all that talk of plague kind of makes it feel like it’s not the fault of humans; it’s “nature… correcting an imbalance… comeuppance for a flatlined culture,” as the Lieutenant says in Colson Whitehead’s Zone One.  And in a way this is true, but Whitehead’s novel does not shy away from the idea that humans are getting what’s coming to them; after all, it is their dead, sleepy culture, transfixed by technology, that has lulled them into a false sense of security.  Whitehead also makes an effort to point out the environmental damage that was occurring in the world before the zombie apocalypse broke out.  Clearly, something (many things) should have been done to prevent this.  Yet if the zombie apocalypse had not occurred, our protagonist, Mark Spitz, would not be the main character of anyone’s story.  Mark Spitz is the most average man on the planet, according to even himself.  He does nothing out of the ordinary, never pushes himself to excel or lets himself completely fail; he is, as he says, a solid B in everything.  But his ability to adjust to his environment, to allow himself to blend in and do what must be done, is what allows him to survive among the undead, and frankly, it is in this environment that he thrives, never seeming to be anything special but always able to survive. 

First he survives the Last Night, when the virus that turns humans to zombies broke out for real.  He then makes his way to New York City, the place he’d always wanted to live before the outbreak, and it is here that he finds some semblance of civilization.  Mark Spitz, along with his unit, is assigned the task of clearing out Zone One (Manhattan) of remaining zombies (“skels”) that were not killed by an initial sweep conducted by the military, as well as stragglers, zombies that are fixed to certain spots that were important to them in their lives before—unmoving, unresponsive, slowly decaying corpses.  Whitehead’s version of zombies is uniquely compelling, in the way the disorienting timeline, shifting fluidly from past to present, is presented and in its provoking portrayal of the human condition after the world has experienced such trauma, such as the exploration of “Post-Apocalyptic Stress Disorder” (PASD) and whether or not racism will exist if the world ever reconstructs itself (hint: it’s suggested that it unfortunately probably will).  I have no delusion that I would make it very far in a zombie apocalypse, but Whitehead’s vision of the future world is interesting and thrilling enough that I would almost want to live in it for a moment.  Almost, but not really.

In a slightly more realist vein, Octavia Butler’s classic Parable of the Sower looks at Los Angeles in the 2020s, when America has fallen to environmental and economic disaster.  Lauren Olamina, a preacher’s daughter, lives just outside of Los Angeles in a small, gated community that is not wealthy but provides adequate protection.  Predicting that the world she knows in her gated community will soon come crashing down, Lauren prepares herself for when she might need to flee north, where it is rumored there are still jobs and plentiful water.  Described in crazy close detail through Lauren’s journal entries, her vigilance proves to be warranted as pyromaniac drug addicts storm her community and kill her family and friends.  Lauren then journeys north with little more than the baggage of her loss and grief and the company of two friends from her old life, growing into a group of survivors she picks up along the way.  Butler’s tale seems to weave in a little of everything: religion, politics, race, gender, class.  Through Lauren’s honest and straightforward narrative voice, Butler creates an America that is entirely new yet somehow all too familiar, and Lauren’s ultimate goal in creating a community around a religion she has shaped, Earthseed, in incredibly inventive.  To start each chapter, Butler includes a quote from the parables Lauren has created for Earthseed:

“God is Power—

Infinite,

Irresistible,

Inexorable,

Indifferent,

And yet, God is Pliable—

Trickster,

Teacher,

Chaos,

Clay.

God exists to be shaped.

God is Change.”

Heavy stuff from a girl who is only fifteen when the novel starts. Lauren is the kind of person you want on your side during the apocalypse, and she also knows how to write a good parable for her audience of ragtag survivalists.  Butler’s skill at placing herself in this future where “God is Change” is truly astonishing.

Here is the kind of novel that scares me the most in its horrifically exact detail.  Though I somewhat doubt that America will end up in the state that this novel describes within the next ten years, fifty years from now does not seem unrealistic, especially considering that this book was published in 1993, looking thirty years into the future.  The environmental disaster described in Parable of the Sower is all too frightening for someone who lives in Los Angeles and recognizes the accuracy of the problems in the novel relating to fire and lack of water.  I find the end of this book to be somewhat more hopeful than other dystopian novels I’ve read (no spoilers), and I think that a lot of this has to do with Lauren’s insistence on building a community; this is a somewhat strange community based on Earthseed, but the book does seem to point to the idea that even when the world is ending, there will be people who will try to keep human warmth and contact a priority.  I found Parable of the Sower interesting also in its depiction of the government and corporations.  The government here hasn’t completely fallen, but corporations have basically been given free reign, and Lauren and her band of followers ponder on the idea that these corporations seem to be bringing back a new form of slavery, one not totally based on race like in America’s early history but still closely linked, an idea that seriously occupies the mind of Lauren, who is black.

A great predecessor of the previous two books, Margaret Atwood’s 1985 book, The Handmaid’s Tale, also deals with religion, gender, and class, though in many different ways and on the opposite coast.  If race is the dominant issue for Butler (which I’m not necessarily saying it is), gender will be the main concern in the future according to Atwood.  In The Handmaid’s Tale, we have finally arrived at a dystopia where the government has truly fallen, and it is women who suffer under a new regime.  Environmental destruction plays out in the background of this novel; because of pollution and toxic waste, fertility rates have dropped drastically in the world, and women who have been arrested or declared sterile can be shipped off to the ecological wastelands of the Colonies for the rest of their lives.  However, it is in the continental United States that the action is occurring.  After years of sexual liberation and feminist movements, men feel as if they have no purpose in life anymore, as they have no one to protect or take care of—there was a pandemic “inability to feel” for men in the old days.  A governmental coup is arranged, and the Republic of Gilead is born. In this society, women are not allowed to read or to go out on their own except on specified occasions, such as shopping trips.  The novel’s protagonist is Offred, who becomes a Handmaid, women who are basically concubines for high-ranking officials in the government.  Once a month, Offred must have sex with the Commander that she lives with while his wife, Serena Joy, is in the bed with them.  Offred’s sole job is to produce an heir for the Commander, but in this age of drastically decreased fertility, it is a risky job to hold.  

In Atwood’s rendering, this future totalitarian state is icky and repressive and deservedly a rallying cry in feminist literature.  I read an interview by Atwood once that said that everything that happens in The Handmaid’s Tale was taken from stories around the world of events that have already happened before (i.e. Puritans, Communist Romania, etc.), and this presents another terrifying way that the world as we know it could fall.  Everything that we thought could never happen in a country like the United States (in its technologically advanced, democratic civilization or whatever) could very well happen.  And if it’s a world where women are completely subjugated and not even allowed to read, this is the world of my nightmares.  Atwood’s book again gives at least a somewhat hopeful ending, firstly by including an epilogue and secondly just in Offred’s act of recording her story, or, more precisely, in that she “would like to believe this is a story [she’s] telling” because “if it’s a story [she’s] telling, then [she has] control over the ending.  Then there will be an ending, to the story, and real life will come after it.”  I think that this novel then offers the greatest hope of the three for possible human redemption, seeing as there could be an “after,” but how well humans can redeem themselves is still questionable.

Whitehead is clearly working under the lineage of Butler and Atwood, building his own vision from the legacies they left.  Nearly thirty years separates The Handmaid’s Tale and Zone One, but writers are obviously still not done thinking that the end of life as we know it is fairly eminent.  And as someone who has just spent the last eight months writing my own dystopian-esque thesis/novella, the questions and themes relevant to these works have been on my mind a lot, adding to the list of reasons why I’ve recently been so interested in apocalyptic literature.  Honestly, I basically wrote a dystopian piece in response to the astonishment and horror I felt at the 2016 US Presidential election of Donald Trump. And arguably, Spitz, Butler, and Atwood are not just fantastically writing about the future either; we respond to our current situation by predicting how contemporary events will play out into the future, and sometimes, as especially is the case of Atwood and Butler, we look to the past to find patterns for what lies ahead.  This presents a pretty disheartening view of writers’ outlooks on the present state of the world; if we use the present and the past as our models of zombie- and authoritarian-filled futures, there seems little hope that humans will magically change their ways anytime soon. But I guess that’s what makes these books so powerful and so gripping in our imaginations; at first glance they may seem far-fetched, even absurd, but by following the stories of these individuals who have survived and are sharing their intimate secrets with us, we pick up on little details that seem all too familiar to our lives and our current world, and suddenly we are face to face with the idea that, oh god, we kind of believe this could happen to us, too.

[hellofastestnewsfan]

In Italy, the dawn of the greatest empire in the history of the world is marked, not by broken marble pediments strewn across the seven hills of Rome, but modest three-toed footprints pressed into rocks far to the north, high in the Italian Alps. They were left by coastal dinosaurs patrolling the tidal flats of a tropical lagoon over 230 million years ago, and they’re among the earliest in Earth’s history. Perhaps more remarkable, though, than this sudden appearance of dinosaurs in ancient Europe, are the strange rocks which host them. The legendary reptile trackways appear just above crumbling bands of red clay that cut through the cream-colored peaks of the Dolomites—a striking dash in the strata that marks one of the most bizarre climate events ever.

Almost a quarter-billion years ago, rains soaked the arid wastes of the supercontinent Pangaea for more than a million years. When the floodwaters retreated, a new world was born.

I joined up with paleontologist Massimo Bernardi in Trento, Italy hoping to learn more about this primeval washout, known as the Carnian Pluvial Episode. It was one of the oddest climate events, and most severe biotic crises, in the history of life. We hopped into the museum truck of his Museo Delle Scienze and, before long, were winding through apple orchards that sloped off sun-splashed towers of ivory and rose-tinted dolomite. Here in northern Italy’s Adige Valley you’re as likely to be served strudel as gelato, and traveling from one mountain village to another represents a linguistic island-hop between Italian, German, and even Ladin, an ancient relic of Roman occupation. But among the jagged peaks that carve up this cultural collage, Bernardi was more interested in literal island-hopping between 230-million-year-old tropical atolls that had been thrust toward the stars and draped in snow.

Here in the mountains, the bottom of a prehistoric ocean meets the top of the sky, and gondolas hoist skiers up these ancient reef walls like alpine ammonites. In fact, the entire Dolomite region is a playground of exhumed lagoons, shallow seas, and tidal flats, part of a swath of Triassic rocks that extends all the way to Slovenia—lifted into the air ages later by Africa’s languid drift northward.

“Of course, they’re just rocks for most people,” said Bernardi about his hometown limestone, which piled up almost 2 miles thick in places, “But I kind of like trying to be the voice of those rocks.”

Bernardi is part of an international group of Carnian Pluvial Episode researchers, trying to reconstruct how this obscure spasm of extreme climate change tucked into the middle of the Triassic period rerouted the trajectory of life on Earth, and—if he’s right—launched the near-eternal age of the dinosaurs.

The crisis started with a familiar culprit. Two hundred and thirty-four million years ago, gigantic pulses of carbon dioxide erupted into the atmosphere from volcanoes at the bottom of the ocean—volcanoes whose frozen magma today can be found on the other side of the planet, grafted onto the side of British Columbia. This earthly belch of CO2 drove intense bouts of global warming, ocean acidification, mass extinction, and, most notably, a barrage of extreme rainfall and mountain-flattening mega-monsoons still visible in rocks around the world.

In Italy, the episode appears in places as a muddy red mess, many meters thick, that laterally slices through the white ocean rock of the Dolomites. Above and below this incongruous red-clay layer, in the kilometers of classic dolomite that sandwich it, one can find seashells living in what were the former white sands and reefs of a prehistoric Bora Bora–like platform almost 50 miles offshore. But among the surprising red layers of the Carnian Pluvial Episode itself one suddenly finds coals from forests, and lake sediments. The onshore world had somehow overrun the offshore one.

[Read: That dinosaur-killing asteroid? It triggered global warming, too]

The global warming pulse had fueled violent storms and lashing rains that attacked Pangaea, leveled the topography—eroding away whatever interesting terrain existed on the mainland—and dumped it all into the ocean. In the Dolomites the tropical island paradise was suddenly smothered by this red mud and swallowed up by a bloating supercontinental shoreline.

Similar signals of extreme rainfall and humidity are found in rocks all over the earth, from Japan to Argentina, as lakes and rivers briefly soaked a parched Pangaea. The extreme climate change apparently stressed trees so much that—from Hungary to Arizona—they exploded in resin (a defense mechanism seen in modern conifers under duress), leaving behind the first widespread deposits of amber in the fossil record, as documented by University of Göttingen botanist Leyla Seyfullah.

Like other similar heat waves deep in Earth’s past, the crisis was accompanied by sweeping extinctions. A menagerie of lumbering beasts (many of them unfairly consigned to the C-list of natural-history museums), like rhynchosaurs and dicynodonts, was all but exterminated; while in the ocean the disaster is marked by a massacre of reefs, sea lilies, shelled octopus relatives, and a sinuous group of marine reptiles called thalattosaurs.

Oxygen isotopes from the fossil teeth of tiny sea creatures reveal that the entire episode was kicked off by warming of only about 4–7 degrees Celsius—roughly the same magnitude predicted for our own world under a business-as-usual carbon-emissions scenario.

“We don’t need an experiment in a laboratory to tell us what happens when CO2 rises quickly, because it’s there in the rocks,” Bernardi told me about this ancient natural experiment that the planet ran all on its own. “It is written.”

But perhaps the most extraordinary aspect of the Carnian Pluvial Episode was not the crisis itself, but the world that came after. Until then, dinosaurs had been a puny and obscure lineage confined to the furthest southern reaches of Pangaea. But by the time the crisis was over, they had spread all over the world—perhaps using the oddly humid pulse to hopscotch across the previously arid wastelands of Pangaea—and rapidly diversified, using the extinction of their competitors to experiment with new lifestyles. The planet would never be the same.

Bernardi pulled the museum truck up next to a typical tree-frosted colossus of beige rock that loomed over the valley floor. Halfway up, the cliff face was improbably interrupted by a crumbling medieval castle that had somehow been built into it more than 800 years ago. The castle apparently belonged to an older woman who waylaid us from her car window to complain to Bernardi in Italian about some teen trespassers, before driving away. Bernardi strapped on a helmet.

“You should not go up there, it’s not the safest place,” he said, pausing to size up the cliff before us. “It can be done.”

With that, we began climbing.

The rocks before us, some studded with seashells, were from sometime in the middle of the Triassic—an endlessly fascinating period that lasted from 252 to 201 million years ago. The Triassic was one of the most unstable periods in the history of life. It kicked off in the wretched and scorching aftermath of Armageddon, as the planet struggled to recover from the greatest mass extinction it would ever endure, the dread End-Permian mass extinction. (Earth’s cruelty to its own creatures knew no bounds in this terrible age, as a mere 3 million years after the apocalypse another minor mass extinction, the “Smithian-Spathian,” would punish the survivors for their courage.) And the Triassic concluded 50 million years later with a terrifying runner-up to doomsday: the End-Triassic mass extinction (like the Carnian Pluvial Episode, both the End-Permian and End-Triassic mass extinctions were carbon dioxide–driven global-warming disasters). But sometime between these bookending nightmares came the impressive rise of the dinosaurs, mammals, and crocodilians, as well as modern conifers, corals, and even plankton. The Carnian Pluvial Episode has long been seen as something of a stratigraphic curio buried in the middle of this stack of time, dismissed by some geologists as a local or unimportant event. But amazingly, as the fossil record has come into finer resolution in recent years, not only has an overlooked mass extinction been uncovered in the Episode, but the closer the dramatic origin of all these creatures has edged toward the immediate aftermath of the mysterious event as well. It marked just as much a planetary birth as death.

[Read: The chilling regularity of mass extinctions]

“We have been stuck with a definition of extinction that is very easy to understand but is very misleading,” said Bernardi, as I struggled to keep up on our hike. “Extinction is more or less thought of as death, as the end, as something that does not go forward. That’s obviously true but it’s just half of the history. And some of the events are more easily described by what is happening after than before.”

When we finally reached the castle in the cliff—what was left of it, at least—Bernardi informed me that we were, in fact, standing in the Carnian Pluvial Episode itself. And it was no coincidence that this medieval redoubt had been built into the exact line in the rocks that marked the ancient cataclysm. In the mountain of hard, island-paradise rock beneath us, before the event, there were no dinosaurs anywhere in Europe. Where we were standing though, in the castle ruins, was a cavity, a natural cave. Eroded out of the cliff face were the strange Pangaean red clays—the very same that had been dumped into the ocean by the unexpected megamonsoons of the Carnian Pluvial Episode, and that marked the fever of global warming. This disaster layer was softer than the otherwise hard ocean rock, and had thus been worn away. As a result, the ancient disaster had left a gap in the strata—and the perfect place to build a castle.

And, above us, more than a million years later, in the natural ceiling of the castle when the hard dolomite rock of an offshore Bahamas returned, and the Triassic world recovered, Bernardi pointed to the arrival of the dinosaurs: those unmistakable birdlike footprints of the planet’s most legendary inhabitants, pressed into this former tidal flat, now a ceiling in the mountains. I asked Bernardi whose footprints he thinks will be found in the rock layers above our own chemistry experiment with the planet.

"I think we don’t actually know how the grand scheme works and that is the scariest thing,” he said. “Because we might be just very close to changing something that then creates cascades of effects that we don’t know. We don’t know how it all works.”

Today we find ourselves at another very strange moment in the planet’s history. In the coming decades our climate may return to a state that has analogues only deep in geological time. The global water cycle could intensify by 24 percent by 2100. Who knows what this will mean for a civilization already struggling to accommodate unprecedented rainfall events like Hurricanes Harvey and Florence, and Japanese floods that, in recent months, forced the evacuation of almost 2 million people and an intensification of storms worldwide. In these liminal moments before our planet truly leaps backward into geological history, the need to understand strange events like the Carnian Pluvial Episode has taken on new urgency. We know that when you kick the climate system hard enough, truly crazy things happen to the planet. And we know that we’re kicking it about as hard as possible. But the lesson for posterity is that, however temporary these climate paroxysms, the world that comes after is never the same as the world that came before.

Later in the day, after a vertiginous gondola ride, we met Bernardi’s colleague Piero Gianolla on top of the snow-capped peak of Sass Pordoi, an alpine perch that provided jaw-dropping views of the Dolomites’ jagged kingdom. Gianolla traced for me, across the immense, wintry landscape, how the narrow band of Carnian Pluvial Episode geology—more than a million years of stormy chaos—slipped secretly across the countryside. The eroding red line shaped not only caves in the sides of cliffs, but the entire vista of mountains before us: Here, the ubiquitous red-clay layer had broken some of the peaks in half and, there, produced vast flat plateaus of red rock spattered with the footsteps of early dinosaurs.

Though they are often thought of as the mascots for mass extinction, dinosaurs benefited tremendously from the specter of indiscriminate destruction and climate chaos over their entire history—from this, the Carnian Pluvial Episode, to the mass extinction at the end of the Triassic which took out their crocodilian competitors and ensured the dinosaurs’ reign for over 100 million years. But mass extinction is an untameable fire and, in the end, brings about the fall of even the most storied empires.

Two hundred and thirty-four million years ago a path was cleared by climate change for the dinosaurs’ eventual dominance—propelling a previously unimpressive tribe toward greatness, like a band of ragged but resourceful Romans overthrowing the Etruscans. If our species is in the late stages of empire, for whom are we clearing a path?

from The Atlantic https://ift.tt/2PMT2NH