lildenzy

[aunty-matter]

Had a Dr.’s appointment yesterday. I had a TeleHealth visit for obvious reasons. (#CovidIsntOver)

The doctor asked about insurance, and I explained we are self-pay. He only mentioned it because insurers aren’t allowing TeleHealth visits anymore and won’t reimburse people if they choose to use it.

Feels like the people pushing to declare the pandemic over really want to hurt anyone who doesn’t comply with the lie.

[richincolor]

We have several books on our radar for today. Check them out!

The Art Thieves by Andrea L. Rogers Levine Querido

Angel Wilson (LawAngel@IBLO.gov) Stevie Henry (shenry@gmail.com) Thanks for coming to see me; but by the time you read this, it will be too late. No one will have started to panic, yet; but in less than two months nothing will be the same. What came first, The Chicken or the Egg Flu? I wish it mattered. But let’s just say, maybe go back to wearing a mask, bathing in sanitizer, and avoid birds and eggs for a bit… I did not kill my brother. I did quite the opposite, really. It’s the year 2052. Stevie Henry is a Cherokee girl working at a museum in Texas, trying to save up enough money to go to college. The world around her is in a cycle of drought and superstorms, ice and fire … but people get by. But it’s about to get a whole lot worse. When a mysterious boy shows up at Stevie’s museum saying that he’s from the future -- and telling her what is to come -- she refuses to believe him. But soon she will have no choice. From the author of the Walter Award-winning Man Made Monsters comes a YA novel that conjures our futures in startling life – the ones that we are headed towards, and the ones we can still work towards.

The Dividing Sky by Jill Tew Joy Revolution

In 2460, eighteen-year-old Liv Newman dreams of a future beyond her lower-class life in the Metro. As a Proxy, she uses the neurochip in her brain to sell memories to wealthy clients. Maybe a few illegally, but money equals freedom. So when a customer offers her a ludicrous sum to go on an assignment in no-man’s-land, Liv accepts. Now she just has to survive. Rookie Forceman Adrian Rao believes in order over all. After discovering that a renegade Proxy’s shady dealings are messing with citizens’ brain chemistry, he vows to extinguish the threat. But when he tracks Liv down, there’s one problem: her memories are gone. Can Adrian bring himself to condemn her for crimes she doesn’t remember? As Liv and Adrian navigate the world beyond the Metro and their growing feelings for one another, they grapple with who they are, who they could be, and whether another way of living is possible.

Fledgling: The Keeper's Records of Revolution by S.K. Ali Kokila

The first book in a gripping duology from acclaimed author S.K. Ali introduces a fractured world on the brink of either enlightenment or war. Would you trade love for peace? Raisa of Upper Earth has only lived a life of privilege and acquiescence. Ever dutiful, she accepts her father’s arrangement of her marriage to Lein, Crown Prince of the corrupt, volatile lands of Lower Earth. Though Lein is a stranger, Raisa knows the wedding will unite their vastly different worlds in a pact of peace: an infusion of Upper Earth technology into Lower Earth will usher in the final age of enlightenment, ending war between humans forever. Or is justice more urgent? Newly released from imprisonment, Nada of Lower Earth has found her own calling: disrupting the royal wedding. Convinced her cousin Lein’s alliance with Upper Earth will launch an invasive, terrifying form of tyranny, Nada sets out undercover to light the spark of revolution. When Raisa goes missing a week before the wedding, all eyes turn to the rebels, including Nayf, Nada’s twin brother—a fugitive on the run. And when Nayf and Raisa meet, the long-simmering animosity they feel toward each other's worlds slowly burns away into something unexpected. But the Crown Prince wants his bride—and future—back. And he will go to the ends of the Earths to reclaim them.

If You're Not the One by Farah Rishi Quill Tree Books

This funny, electric rom-com follows a teen struggling to reclaim her perfect life and the perfectly wrong guy who sees through her facade, from the acclaimed author of It All Comes Back to You. Anisa Shirani is…well, perfect. A fact, not an opinion. Of course, it’s all a front to feed her own praise-obsessed ego. Behind closed doors, she is—some might say—a little slobbish and snobbish, and she works obsessively to maintain her God-given talents. Fate has favored her, but Ani knows better than anyone that fate is made by effort. But she must, especially when all signs point to her being a top-notch lawyer with a top-notch education and being destined to marry Isaac, total heartthrob and eldest son of the richest family in the community. A perfect girl deserves a perfect life, and Ani’s perfect life is going exactly the way it should… Until Ani’s parents announce they’re getting divorced. Until Isaac shows all the signs of…cheating. Sort of. Until she starts catching feelings for Marlow, an overly friendly weirdo she’s hated since the moment she laid eyes on him in class. How can fate be so wrong?

Of Blood and Lightning by Micki Janae Three Room Press

In the idyllic town of New River, North Dakota, 16-year-old Ophelia Johnson and six other teens inherit the powers of the old gods—Zeus, Poseidon, Hades, Artemis, Apollo, and Ares—and embark on a mission from the Vessel of Destiny to find the missing Fates, restore the Codex, and save the ancient world. Still grieving the recent and mysterious death of her father, Ophelia begins to unravel the secrets woven into her family’s history as she and her friends plunge into the quest of a lifetime. Armed only with powers they don’t totally understand, Ophelia, Roman, Cassius, Olivia, Alessia, and Baxter are soon immersed in a mythical chess match upon which rests the fate of the universe. As they journey into a world of blood pacts and war, the diverse group members find more than they bargained for, and Ophelia discovers a family tie that might mean the ensuing chaos and destruction is her fault. Of Blood and Lightning is an upper YA contemporary fantasy (age 16-25) with a gripping and fresh twist on Greek mythology as the ancient pantheon of gods inhabit an ensemble of BIPOC and queer teenaged characters.

Only for the Holidays by Abiola Bello Soho Teen

City girl Tia Solanké is dreading the festive season. She and her boyfriend are on a break and the last thing she wants is to spend Christmas away from London. Dragged to Saiyan Hedge Farm by her mother, Tia takes an instant disliking to the countryside estate. She falls in horse manure, is chased by sheep and the Wi-Fi sucks. How can she stalk her ex and concoct a foolproof plan to win him back from here? Country boy Quincy Parker and his family run the farm, and this year they’ve been selected to host the biggest event in the town’s calendar—the Winter Ball. Preparations are underway, and Quincy is working around the clock to make it a success. The only problem is, he’s told everyone he has a date to the ball, when in reality that couldn’t be further from the truth. At first, Tia and Quincy don’t see eye to eye, until they realize they both have something to gain by pretending to be a couple. But when a snowstorm threatens to cancel the Winter Ball, their fake relationship is put to the test. Will Tia and Quincy be able to keep up appearances and save the day, or will real feelings get in the way?

Solis by Paola Mendoza & Abby Sher Nancy Paulsen Books

The year is 2033, and in this near-future America where undocumented people are forced into labor camps, life is bleak. Especially so for seventeen-year-old Rania, a Lebanese teenager from Chicago. When she and her mother were rounded up by the Deportation Force, they were given the brutal job of digging in the labor camp’s mine searching for the destructive and toxic, but potentially world-changing chemical, aqualinium. With this chemical the corrupt and xenophobic government of the New American Republic could actually control the weather—ending devastating droughts sweeping the planet due to climate change. If the government succeeds, other countries would be at their mercy. Solidifying this power comes at the expense of the undocumented immigrants forced to endure horrendous conditions to mine the chemical or used in cruel experiments to test it, leaving their bodies wracked in extreme pain to the point of death. As the experiments ramp up, things only get worse. Rania and her fellow prisoners decide to start a revolution; if they don’t, they know they will die. Told by four narrators—Rania, Jess (a former teenage Deportation Force officer), Vali, and Vali’s mother Liliana—Solis is about the courage and sacrifice it takes to stand and fight for freedom.

Twenty-Four Seconds From Now... by Jason Reynolds Atheneum/Caitlyn Dlouhy Books

Twenty-four months ago: Neon gets chased by a dog all around the parking lot of a church. Not his finest moment. And definitely one he would have loved to forget if it weren’t for the dog’s owner: Aria. Dressed in sweats, a t-shirt, hair in a ponytail. Aria. Way more than fine. Twenty-four weeks ago: Neon’s dad insists on talking to him about tenderness and intimacy. Neon and Aria are definitely in love, and while they haven’t taken that next big step…yet, they’ve starting talking about…that. Twenty-four days ago: Neon’s mom finds her—gulp—bra in his room. Hey! No judging! Those hook thingies are complicated! So he’d figured he’d better practice, what with the big day only a month away. Twenty-four minutes ago: Neon leaves his shift at work at his dad’s bingo hall, making sure to bring some chicken tenders for Aria. They’re not candlelight and they definitely aren’t caviar, but they are her favorite. And right this second? Neon is locked in Aria’s bathroom, completely freaking out because twenty-four seconds from now he and Aria are about to…about to… Well, they won’t do anything if he can’t get out of his own head (all the advice, insecurities, and what ifs) and out of this bathroom!

Under All the Lights (When It All Syncs Up, #2) by Maya Ameyaw Annick Press

After one of his songs goes viral, Ollie Cheriet gets the opportunity of a lifetime: a cross-country tour, an album deal, and a chance to help his family with their financial struggles. The only problem? Ollie has major stage fright, a symptom of his anxiety disorder. As pressure from performing, social media rumors, and his romantic life rises, his mental health starts to spiral. So he’s surprised at how grounded he feels when he collaborates with his wildly talented—and distractingly cute—touring partner, Jesse. Music has always helped Ollie through hard times, but he’s going to have to be more vulnerable than he ever thought possible to find self-acceptance in the glow of the spotlight. Featuring characters from Maya Ameyaw’s acclaimed debut When It All Syncs Up, this story takes readers into the green room, immersing them in the vivid behind-the-scenes world of touring musicians.

[excalculus]

Here we are, heading into another COVID winter.  The fucker’s still here and sadly we aren’t likely to get rid of it any time soon.  You kill diseases by cutting off transmission and slowly strangling them to death.  We tried that.  We locked down the whole world and it didn’t work.

I won’t deny that things look really ugly right now, especially with other respiratory diseases coming back.  But as the sequencing results keep coming in, it’s really starting to look like something incredible happened.

Sure, the lockdowns didn’t succeed in killing COVID.  That doesn’t mean they killed nothing.

Hey, I wonder how the influenza viruses are holding up?

There are two types of influenza that cause the epidemics we get every winter: A and B.  (C and D don’t really get up to the same level of mischief so let’s ignore them for now.)  Type A infects both animals and people, and includes things like the H1N1 bird flu pandemic strain, swine flu, et al.  The H[number]N[number] format points out which subtype of two important viral proteins it has, and usually strains are reported with that code, what animal they jumped into humans from, and where they were first sequenced.  Type B only affects humans, especially children.  It doesn’t have subtypes like Type A.  Instead it has two distinct lineages: B/Victoria and B/Yamagata. 

Today’s best flu vaccines are called “quadrivalent” because they target B/Victoria, B/Yamagata, and our best guess at which two Type A’s are going to blow up this year.  The guess is based on global sequencing of flu infections, so we have at least a decent idea of both past and current circulation logged in databases like GISAID and the WHO’s FluNet. 

Cases went way down during the lockdowns - masking and social distancing pushed spread down to a fraction of what it usually is.  Influenza in general is now back in force as people go back to their normal behavior.  There’s plenty of Type A flying around.  There’s been B/Victoria.

B/Yamagata has not been conclusively identified since March of 2020.

As early as 2021, flu researchers noticed the lack of new B/Yamagata sequences coming in and started to suspect something was fishy.  Look at this graph of GISAID flu data by lineage:

[GISAID] [paper]

Let’s, uh, check FluNet maybe?  That shows that in a typical year you see tens of thousands of cases of B/Yamagata on PCR tests.  2017 had 30,552; 2018 had 51,524.  Then... 3,464 in 2019.  364 in 2020 in only 9 countries.  It does seem like there are still signs of life in 2021 with 8 hits, but keep in mind these detections are based on simple PCR tests like what we do for COVID.  PCR tests are exquisitely sensitive, to the point where it’s been shown that giving flu vaccines and then later using the same room to give flu tests can throw a weak positive by picking up viral RNA from the vaccine.  More specifically, as of March 2022 there’s been a case of this exact thing happening with what looked like a B/Yamagata detection.  So it’s going to be more reliable to look at only the results from full sequencing, where you can yeet anything that matches the vaccine ingredients and only look at wild viruses. 

[paper]

Zero.  Nothing.  All signs point to we shot at COVID and blew up an entire flu lineage as collateral damage!  What the fuck!  We’re probably going to have to change how we do flu vaccines because fully a quarter of what they aim at looks to be gone from the face of the earth!

True, influenza B/Yamagata could still be out there somewhere that hasn’t been sequenced.  Proving absence is hard.  But the fact that Type A and its sibling B/Victoria are back and easy to find really does suggest it’s gone, or stomped down so far it’s near impossible to find.  Time to watch and wait and feed every sample we can into the sequencers, but if we keep not finding it...

A disease is considered eradicated when we’re sure there’s no more transmission “in the wild”.  For smallpox, which was also wildly contagious and also had no nonhuman reservoir, that was three years from the last known case. 

Clock’s ticking.

[strangerivy]

Through Sickness and Health

Summary: Erwin had you go out on an expedition without Levi and you had gotten caught in the middle of a storm a few days into it. After being stuck in the rain for hours you arrive back at HQ with the flu. Warnings: Swearing | Implied Smut Pairings: Levi Ackerman x Reader (y/n) Genre: 18+ | Fluff Word Count: 3.1k Author’s Note: I hope you guys enjoy! 😊❤

|| Masterlist | AOT Masterlist ||

Year 847 - Spring

This. Was. Miserable. The rain pelleted down as you rode back to the wall, Erwin finally calling the retreat after over 3 hours of the weather not clearing up which was already risky since you would not be able to use your smoke flares to signal the other squads of any titans. Thunder and lightning crackled and boomed over you as the storm worsened each minute, the wind whipping your soaked cloak around so violently that it whipped you in the face a couple of times, a nice red mark forming on your cheek from one of the hits.

You braced yourself as another gust of powerful wind pushed you. You cursed Erwin for making you come out on this mission, your mind thinking about how Levi was probably warm in his office with the fire going probably completely so absorbed in his work that he doesn’t even notice the weather outside. You could only hope he hadn’t noticed knowing he would be worried otherwise.

Despite the weather, you couldn’t say this mission was a complete failure. You had located the group of Titans that were near the south side of the wall and had cleared out the few that hung around the outpost you had stayed at the last two days. Reclaiming it once again. A total of 8 solo kills for yourself to add to your ever-growing number. You finally were able to see Wall Rose coming into view and you had to force yourself to not go faster and break formation. You were cold, tired, and sore. You were more than ready to crawl into your bed to sleep for the next week if they would let you.

You passed a couple of abandoned homes as you got closer to the wall, nature starting to take over once again now that no one lived within Wall Maria. Almost two years have passed since that day and things were just now starting to feel normal, as normal as living in a world with man-eating giants could be that is.

You could hear the bells signaling your arrival as you got close to the gate.  You sat up straighter as you walked through the city putting on a brave face for the people that still held fear in their eyes knowing that the Colossal titan could return at any moment. You wished you could help ease that fear even if it was just a small fraction. The rest of the ride was smooth now that you were within the safety of Wall Rose.

You handed your horse off to the stable hand but not before giving her some much need pets for a job well done making a mental note to bring her some apples, a tradition of your own after each mission. Your boots made a gross sloshing sound with each step from the water that had soaked into your socks. Levi was going to be so mad about you not taking them off before coming inside but your body was so tired you weren’t even sure you were able to get them off by yourself at this point. You stopped in front of Hange’s door knocking on it, a muffled ‘come in’ sounding through the door.

You opened it to see her slouched over her desk looking up with a big smile on her face when she saw it was you, an excited ‘Ooo’ noise coming out of her lips as she reached out with grabby hands. You pulled out the small notebook putting it in her palm as you turned around to leave.

“That’s all the notes I could manage to take this time,” You mumbled as you headed for the door with a wave of your hand.

“You are incredible, you know that!” She beamed as you walked out shutting the door behind you. You dragged your feet down the hall until you stood in front of your shared quarters with Levi, you paused staring down at your soaked muddy boots trying to see if there was a way for you to get them off without having to bend over or sit down. You stood there for a few more minutes still running through options in your head when the door opened suddenly showing and annoyed Levi his eyes narrowing as he looked you up and down.

“You look like shit.” You narrowed your eyes at him as you let out a sneeze as if on cue. He grimaced brows scrunched in disgust but still opened the door further for you to enter, you heard him grumble about your shoes as you went to take a seat on the chair by the fire as he shut the door behind you. He let out a sigh as he kneeled helping you get out of your soaked boots placing them by the fire to dry. He leaned in placing a small kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll go run you a bath,” He told you softly, you nodded your head as he walked through your bedroom to the attached bath. Your head lulled to the side as you stared at the fire your eyes fighting to stay open. You let out a deep sigh as the fire slowly started to warm your body, your joints starting to ache as they began relaxing. Levi came back giving your arm a gentle shake to make sure you were still awake before helping you back up and to the bathroom.

You let out a sigh when the hot water hit your body your muscles beginning to relax almost instantly. Levi helped you wash your hair and body as you fought to stay awake letting out a fit of coughs making him raise a brow in question. Once you were cleaned of the expedition Levi helped you out and you dried yourself off, putting on some clean sleepwear before he guided you to the bed. You sniffled, your nose feeling congested as he tucked you into the warm blankets. He gave another concerned look before going and putting out the candles the room falling into comfortable darkness the only sound from the fireplace and his feet shuffling around until he made it to the bed crawling in behind you.

You rolled over and he pulled you closer to him so that you could rest your head on his chest listening to the soft beat of his heart and feel the soft rise and fall of his breaths.

“I was worried,” He whispered playing with ends of your hair working out any knots he came across.

“I promised I would always come back,” You titled your head to look up at him with a soft smile before another fit of coughs caused you to roll away to avoid coughing on him. Once you were done, he pulled you into him kissing the back of your head. You were sick there was no doubt. You silently cursed Erwin again as you sniffled not being able to breathe through your nose.

“Get some sleep,” Levi whispered softly turning to blow out the candle on the nightstand, the only light coming from the fireplace. You let out a comfortable sigh as you slipped deeper into the mattress letting the night take you into a deep sleep.

“I wouldn’t worry too much Levi,” You faintly heard Hange’s voice as you came to, the light of the sun shining down on your face the soft sounds of birds singing outside your window. You kept your eyes shut as you slowly adjusted to the light.

“It’s been two days, Hange” Levi’s worried voice came from the other room, your eye blinked open as you listened trying to remain quiet. You noticed your nose was now clear a small sense of relief went through you with that, hating the stuffy feeling. Even though you had just woken up your body was still tired and if you really wanted you could probably fall right back asleep.

“There are few others from that expedition down with the flu as well, y/n is only human. She’ll recover.” Hange reassured Levi and that piqued your interest, how long were you asleep for? Your throat began to itch from the dryness, and you let out a round of coughs catching the attention of the other two. Levi was first to walk in going and grabbing a glass he had placed on the nightstand next to you handing it to you as he helped sit you up. You took a couple of gulps sighing as the cool liquid eased the soreness of your throat.

Levi took the glass back from you, setting it back down before feeling your forehead with the back of his hand, looking at you with concerned eyes but then a small hint of relief flashed through them.

“Your fever has gone down a bit,” He stated with a soft smile as he leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead, you let out a few small coughs using the back of your hand to cover your mouth from spreading the germs.

“Glad to see you rise from the dead, another day or two and shortie over there probably would have had assembled the best doctors from Sina to treat you,” Hange joked leaned up against the bedroom door frame with a smirk as Levi quickly shot a glare at them,

“Don’t you have some titan to torture?” He spat and she let out a loud chuckle before she stood up with a wave as she left.

“I’m happy you’re okay, y/n” She shouted before you heard the office door shut leaving just Levi and you now

“How-” another cough “How long was I out?” You asked your voice coming out hoarse from lack of use and from being sick no doubt.

“Two days,” He answered going to reach for the water but you shook your hand signaling you didn’t need it. He grabbed it anyway and you let out a sigh taking it from him finishing it off.

“You don’t need to baby me,” You whined handing him the empty glass, He clicked his tongue.

“You’ve been out for two days, you need water,” He said setting the glass back on the nightstand. You laid back on the pillows closing your eyes once again ready to drift back off to sleep.

“Tch! You need to eat before you fall back into a coma,” He stated giving you’re a little shake causing you to let out a small groan as you fluttered your eyes back open with a small glare and pout. He smiled down at you pushing your hair out of your face.

“Let me sleep Levi,” You whined again, going to roll over away from him, but he was quick to snake an arm around your waist preventing you from rolling away.

“I’ll get you a bath going before I go get us some food, hmm?” He offered, you let out a defeated sigh giving a small nod and he helped you sit up, your legs felt weak from the lack of movement. He left to the bathroom to get the bath ready. You stretched out your limbs trying to wake them up. You slowly made your way to standing trying to make sure you wouldn’t collapse to the floor, that was the last thing you need with Levi being as attentive as he was. It had been a while since you’d been sick but the last time you remember him being just like this except your cold was much worse being in the underground.

You slowly dragged your feet across the floor making your way into the bathroom to be greeted with the warm steam the tub had filled the room with the faint scent of lavender in the air. Levi noticed you walk in and was quick to your side helping you to the tub which you couldn’t help but chuckle softly to yourself shaking your head.

“Levi, I’m not made of glass,” You smirked as he helped you undress. He rolled his eyes at your comment before helping you get into the tub, you sighed once you were all the way in resting your head against the edge. Levi gave you a kiss on the head before leaving to get your food. You honestly could fall asleep with how warm the water was, but you knew how badly that could end and Levi would scold you about how it was dangerous.

You washed your body and hair by the time he got back you were already out, lying back in your bed with fresh sleep clothes on. You coughed a few times as he sat down next to you a bowl of soup in his hands as he waited for you to finish coughing. You set the bowl in your lap careful not to tip it and get it all over the bed as you slowly ate, you weren’t very hungry, but you knew Levi wouldn’t let you go back to sleep without at least getting something in your system.

Once you were finished, he took your bowls setting them on the side table as he helped tuck you back into bed. You smiled softly as you watched him tuck the blankets into your side. He glanced up at you with a curious gaze.

“What?” He asked sounding annoyed, but the small smile gave him away, you hummed shaking your head.

“Just thinking how I should get sick more often, this is nice,” You murmured, nuzzling into the blankets, you were finding it to be more and more difficult to keep your eyes open. Levi clicked his tongue at your comment and went to reply but when he looked up, he saw you had already fallen back asleep soft snores coming from you.

It took another two days for you to start feeling well enough to start working again. Levi was persistent to still wait another day, but you couldn’t lay in the bed for another day sneaking out of the room while Levi was in a meeting with Erwin to go train with Hange.

Both of you had sweat dripping from your heads and you were both breathing heavily going back and forth on hand-to-hand combat. You knew you wouldn’t be able to go for much longer feeling the effects of having been in a bed for four days to take its toll. You would need to rebuild your stamina again.

“So how did you get Levi to let you train?” Hange asked going for an attack that you were quick to dodge easily countering and tossing her on the ground with a huff. You offered her your hand which she gladly took.

“Well,” You rubbed the back of your neck a little embarrassed, “I kind of snuck out,” Hange looked at you with a blank face before bursting out laughing.

“You- you had to sneak out of your own room?” She chuckled as you walked to the bench on the edge of the training ground. You let out a sigh taking the towel she offered you wiping the sweat from your forehead and neck.

“It's not funny Hange!” You groaned plopping down on the bench with a huff,

“I mean it’s not surprising if you think about it. Remember how hard it was to get him to let you back when you broke your ankle?” She pointed out and you let out a knowing hum. You had to get Erwin involved then, but you couldn’t blame him too much then. You had just lost Isabel and Furlan then. But this was different.

“I’m honestly surprised he hasn’t noticed yet, I didn’t think their meeting would go this long,” You laid back on the bench one leg bent resting on the bench the other dangling. The spring afternoon sun shining down on the both of you. It felt nice to get some fresh air.

“Mmm, I think you may have spoken too soon my dear,” You lifted your head to see her pointing towards HQ and there was a familiar black head of hair walking, very angrily, towards you. You could feel the annoyance radiating off him from where you rested. You snorted unaffected by his intimidating stature, laying your head back down waiting for him to get to you.

“Oi! Y/N! What the hell are you doing out here?” He scolded when he got close enough to where he knew you would be able to hear him. You smirked and Hange snorted tapping your foot.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” She said before leaving in the opposite way Levi was coming. You patiently waited for him to get to you hearing his feet hit the grass with each step before they stopped right next to your head his shadow blocking the warm sun from hitting you. You opened your eyes with an innocent smile as you looked up at him.

He had his arms crossed and was glaring down at you tapping his finger annoyedly on his arm.

“I thought we agreed you would rest another day?” He asked as you sat up. You let out a small snort as you stood up stretching your arms.

“I don’t remember this,” You couldn’t hide the smirk as you both started to head back inside. Levi scoffed with a shake of his head.

“Of course you don’t,” He was annoyed but you could see the small twitch of his lip that showed he wasn’t too annoyed with you. He opened the door holding it open for you to enter letting it close behind you as you both walked down the hall in comfortable silence.

When you got back to the room you went into your bedroom starting to take off your straps and you heard the scratch of a desk chair across the floor. Once you had the straps off and your boots you went into the bathroom starting the shower when you had an idea on how to cheer him up.

“I’m going to shower,” You shouted loud enough for him to hear you, you waited a few more moments a playful smile on your lips. “Since I’m feeling better, I thought you could join me?” You heard the chair move again instantly and quick footsteps heading towards you.

You yelped with some giggles as he slammed his lips to yours when he got to you, his fingers quickly working the buttons of your shirt as he pushed you back towards the shower. You smiled against his lips your fingers moving to his straps to help him out of them.

His straps fell to the ground the belts clinking against the floor as they hit. Then it was your shirt and his and soon you were both bare as he guided you into the shower. A soft moan leaving your lips as he kissed the spot just below your ear, a smirk on his lips.

Levi may be a pain whenever you were injured or sick, but it was only because he cared, it was his way of showing he loved you. Besides, you couldn’t complain about what always came after.

[bosspigeon]

not if it's you

Prompt: Day One: Cooking, Day Two: Cuddling💕 Pairing: Mason/Male Detective Words: 3293 Summary: Mason is sick. Mason's not supposed to get sick, but magic tends to not give a shit if you're a big, tough vampire man with a reputation to maintain. A prompt fill for @wayhavensummer that I wasn't sure I'd finish, but I'm glad I decided to. I combined two prompts into one, along with the inclusion of the bonus challenge, "love languages!" Juni's love language is Acts of Service~ CW for emetophobia. Nothing actually happens, but it is discussed!

“I’m not a vampire, Mason,” Juni said to him when he clicked on the lamp on his dresser and Mason growled loudly in protest. “I’m sorry, but I can’t see in the dark.”

Mason's growl became a long, low groaning noise as he dragged a pillow over his face. It helped more than he cared to admit, being immediately plunged into soothing darkness and smothered in the warm, sweet scent of the detective buried in his pillow.

Still, he feels like absolute shit.

The illness should run its course in just a few days, from what Juni’s relayed to him about Nate’s research—since he won’t leave Juni’s apartment (he’s not going to say can’t, because that implies weakness, implies that he couldn’t even if he wanted to, and he could, he just won’t, and that’s all there is to it) until he’s well, and refuses to go crawling to the Agency when he just needs to wait things out.

If he went to the Agency, he’d just be “waiting things out” the same as he is there, only he’d be doing it alone in a stiflingly empty observation room, bored out of his fucking skull until someone decided to come poke at him for science. At least here, he’s got Juni fussing over him.

It’s sort of… nice, being fussed over.

And Juni would be fussing whether Mason was here or not. He’d probably be driving himself crazy with worry, making himself sick with it, if Mason were stuck at headquarters without him, and the thought of that makes Mason feel even worse than he already does. It’s really best for the both of them that the vampire is here, buried in a metric fuckton of blankets (because even if he feels like he’s going to burn alive, the second he leaves them the sweat cools on his skin and leaves him trembling) looking into the blank, beady eyes of a patchwork plush cat.

His entire body aches, throbbing dully from the top down, but he reaches out with a heavy arm and turns it around so it’s not fucking staring at him anymore.

Juni’s been gone for a while, but Mason can hear him over the low ringing in his ears, puttering around in the kitchen. His senses are weakened by the bizarre magical illness Juni’s likened to the flu after hearing the symptoms, but he hears the detective humming quietly to himself, smells some spices and herbs he’s too exhausted to bother identifying over the low thrum of something metallic and familiar.

Mason's stomach growls at the same moment it churns. Hungry, but the very thought of consuming anything, blood included, makes him feel nauseous.

He doesn't know how Juni managed to sweet-talk Adam into handing over Mason's blood rations for the few days it would take this sickness to work its way through his body, but it makes him faintly irked he'll have to disappoint the detective when he tells him he doesn't even think his traitorous stomach can handle it, no matter how hungry he is. Juni always looks so pitiful when he can't help, soft doe eyes and pouty mouth and genuine, heartfelt distress rolling off him in waves. Mason groans into the pillow and comforts himself by drawing another detective-scented breath deep into his lungs.

And then Juni knocks on the doorframe (of his own fucking bedroom, because he's ridiculous, and Mason's chest squeezes) and calls, "Still alive in here?" softly teasing, his voice carefully lowered in deference to Mason's throbbing skull.

He makes a rough noise and tosses aside the pillow, because the only thing better than being buried in Juni-perfumed sheets is taking in the scent of him right from the source.

Juni always looks so different when he's at home. He relaxes, softens, like a bird coming to roost. His shoulders aren't so tense, his eyes stop darting like he's waiting for an attack (something Mason noticed even before Juni was actually under attack every other week) and he just, he looks settled and safe. After the shit he’s been through, he deserves to feel safe.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Mason just awkwardly squirms his way out of the blankets to free his arms enough to reach out.

"C'mere," he grunts.

Juni laughs, and the way his cheeks curve, the way they make his eyes crinkle at the corners, makes Mason hate whatever magic bullshit allowed him to get sick in the first place with a burning fury that feels like it's immolating him from the inside.

Or maybe that's the fever.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Juni teases when Mason growls. It's not as fierce as he hoped it would be, which is more than obvious when Juni only smiles indulgently at him.

He perches on the edge of the bed and smooths a hand over Mason's clammy forehead, making a soft, commiserating cooing noise. Mason wants to be annoyed, wants to growl again, complain about being coddled, but the sound that comes out of him is not a growl, or a curse, but a soft moan. He pushes up into Juni’s hand and closes his eyes.

“You’re still burning up,” Juni sighs, sinking his fingers into the vampire’s hair and scratching at his scalp. He moans again, lower and rougher. A little awkwardly, he adds, “Nate said you should, y’know, drink something.”

Mason’s stomach turns, and he grits his teeth and shakes his head.

“Mason.”

He shakes his head again, turning his face into the pillow again when it starts to make him dizzy. He wants to break something. He feels so pitiful.

“Mason, you’re not gonna get better if you don’t—”

“You ever seen someone puke blood, detective?” he snaps. Juni’s hand retracts sharply, and Mason keeps his eyes closed. He doesn’t want to see the hurt streaking across that soft, expressive face. “It’s not pretty,” he adds gruffly, and it takes all the strength in his flagging body to roll over and turn his back.

Juni’s quiet for a long moment, before soft fingers are sliding into his hair again,rubbing at the nape of his neck. “I had kind of a weird idea that might help, if you think you can stop pouting long enough to hear me out,” he says.

“You sure know how to sweet-talk a guy, huh?” Mason grumbles, but his body, an aching knot of sweaty tension, starts to slowly loosen up under the gentle petting.

Juni goes quiet again, and then, with a little laugh, he says, “Would it make you feel better if I told you you’re really cute when you’re all whiny?”

“How fucking dare you,” he snarls impotently into the pillow.

Juni laughs, and when Mason rolls over again to glower at him, he snorts trying to stifle it. “Do you want to hear my idea or not?”

“Not exactly in any position to stop you, am I?” Mason scoffs.

The detective pokes his nose. “Nope!” Mason nips at his finger, but his reflexes aren’t exactly great at the moment, and Juni just pulls it back with a smile. “I wanted to ask before I, like, ruined one of your blood rations for a weird experiment, but I’ve been doing research on different recipes that use blood—” “Why?” Mason interjects.

Juni flounders a bit, shoulders drawing up to his ears. “I… Well, I know you don’t like to eat human food, for good reasons, but sometimes I can convince Felix and Adam to try stuff I make, and Nate likes to eat sometimes, and I like… I like cooking for people? And I can’t really do that for you, because I know how overwhelming your senses can be, but you’ve said they’re kind of dull right now, so I thought maybe I could make, well… sort of a blood soup?"

Mason blinks at the detective.

Juni nervously babbles on to fill his befuddled silence. "If I thinned it out with a mild broth, I figured it would go down easier. And I know ginger is really strong on its own, but it also settles the stomach, and with the blood and the broth, it might help? I thought about adding some other things, but I tried to be picky with it, because even if your senses are dulled, I don't want to overwhelm you."

Mason chews it over, and even though he can tell his silence is making Juni nervous with every second that ticks by (fidgety, fussy, open and honest to a goddamned fault, a ball of nerves Mason wants to drag into bed and shield from the world) he can't really think of much to say, except, "Sure. Why the fuck not?"

"That's okay! I figured it was a long shot anyway, and—" Juni freezes, his knee-jerk anxious capitulation cutting off like he’s run into a brick wall. "What?"

"I'm already overwhelmed, sweetheart," Mason groans, and honestly, even talking is getting exhausting, his aching throat protesting every word he can manage to eke out. He wants Juni closer, wants to bury his face in his neck and hide like a wounded animal crawling its way home. "It honestly can't get worse at this point. If you think it'll help, I'll try it."

Juni still looks stunned, but is also clearly jangling with nervous excitement. Nate's used the term "puppyish enthusiasm" before when describing the way Juni lights up when he's actually able to help, and it's almost comically accurate.

Juni's bolted from the room before Mason's sluggish brain has a chance to even process the humor at the observation into a snort.

He's alone again, and if Juni were still here, he'd call what Mason's doing pouting, but he's scowling, damn it. Not that anyone's around to see it save for Juni's stuffed animals. He pulls the pillow to his chest, half-burying himself underneath the blankets again. He keeps his foggy focus stretched far enough to hear Juni in the kitchen again, making a game effort not to clatter around noisily and failing spectacularly. It's the thought that counts, Mason supposes.

It doesn't actually take all that long for him to come back, but it still feels like ages with how shitty Mason feels. He's painfully aware of every single ache in his body, radiating down to his bones, of the fever burning him up, the mutinous turning of his stomach even as it gnaws itself apart with hunger. He’s becoming so bogged down in the prison his ailing body has become, he almost doesn’t notice Juni pattering his way back into the room. Almost.

The second he crosses the threshold, Mason senses are honing in on everything they can about him, his smell, his warmth, the way his cozy sweater (it’s midsummer, for fuck’s sake, and sure the AC is cranked due to Mason’s fever, but it always is, because Juni’s body regulates temperature like a goddamned lizard and he hates the heat almost more than Mason does) makes him look soft and touchable. It takes him a long while to even notice the detective is carrying a tea tray with a bowl on it, as well as a glass of water, and when he does, he’s honestly not sure what to make of the smell.

Human food is overwhelming, usually. But usually, Mason’s sinuses aren’t swollen and borderline useless. Juni is walking as carefully as he can, and there is a palpable relief when he sets the tray down on his bedside table without incident. “I made the broth already, because I didn’t want it to take too long if you said yes. It actually smells, like, really good? Is that gross of me to say?”

Mason tries to push himself upright, and his muscles protest loudly enough that he can’t quite bite back a grunt of pain. Juni makes a sound like he’s been shot, and his hands are on Mason with an urgency that vibrates through his skin. Still, his touch is an instant balm to the vampire’s overwrought senses, his hands gentle as they ease him upright and fussily pile pillows behind him to support him. It fucking sucks to be so weak, but at least it’s only Juni seeing him like this. He can’t quite express why, when it feels like his head’s stuffed full of cotton, but he thinks it would suck a lot more if he were riding this out alone, or in a sterile room at HQ. He lolls his head towards Juni, his cheek smashing against one of a half-dozen goddamned pillows piled around him, and laughs weakly. “Gonna feed me too, Nurse Fenn?”

Juni blushes, and the usual rush of his blood doesn’t smack Mason in the face like usual, but it washes over him in a gentle wave of warmth, that tempting smell tickling the back of his tongue. “Do you need me to?” he asks, and it’s pretty clear he’s trying to make it sound teasing, but it comes out much more earnest than anything else.

Mason almost wants to say yes, but he also doesn’t want Juni to be in the splash zone if his stomach decides it can’t handle the detective’s little experiment. “Nah, I got it,” he grunts, reaching for the tray. It trembles dangerously when his shaking hands lift it, but Juni’s quick to steady it and guide it to his lap. He mutters a quiet thanks, and Juni mercifully doesn’t rib him for his uncharacteristic politeness. “You’d make a cute nurse, detective,” he says to cover the strangely loaded silence.

Juni laughs and sits on the edge of the bed, close but not quite touching. “I’m too squeamish,” he offers with a shrug that rubs their shoulders together.

“You just made me soup out of blood,” Mason says dully.

“I also have a borderline breakdown giving myself the same shot I’ve been giving myself every week for the last decade,” Juni retorts. “Do you really think I could do it for someone else?”

Mason snorts. “Probably not. Would kill to see you in one of those little dresses, though.”

The only thing protecting Mason from getting a hilariously ineffectual swat on the shoulder is the bowl of soup in his lap. He’s not even sure his current feeble condition would be enough to stop Juni otherwise. “Eat your soup, asshole,” Juni groans, covering his burning face with his hands. He peeks through his fingers after a moment’s hesitation, “And maybe I’ll show you the Halloween costume Tina got me as a joke a couple years ago when you’re feeling better.”

Mason’s whole body reacts to that, and he can’t be sure if the chill that rolls down his spine is due to the illness, or something else entirely. If nothing else, choking down some soup will be worth it, just for that promise.

The first spoonful goes down surprisingly easy. He doesn’t really taste much, at first, not even the coppery tang of blood. It’s thin, as Juni promised, so it doesn’t quite coat his mouth the same way fresh, raw blood would. Juni’s watching him with obvious concern, eyebrows scrunched together and plush bottom lip caught between his teeth. Either concern that Mason’s body is going to reject it fully, or he just won’t fucking like it. Probably both.

“It’s not too hot, is it?” Juni asks, touching Mason’s knee lightly through the blanket. He swallows his mouthful hard and bites down the urge to ask the human not to stop touching him.

“S’fine,” he grunts, trying to parse what exactly he makes of it at all. The warmth feels nice, soothing his raw throat. He takes another bite. He thinks he can sort of make out the individual spices underneath the taste of the blood and the broth (slightly watered down bone broth, he;d guess) but he can’t really smell them either. The ginger, at least, is obvious. He knows the smell enough to guess the taste, even with the complete lack of culinary experience. It’s, strangely enough, not horrible. It does taste mostly like thinned-out blood, which is weird, and gives him a sense of dissonance from the texture he expects blood to have. “Weird.”

Juni doesn’t seem to take offense to that. “Well, you’re not spewing it across the room like you’re possessed, at least, so weird is better than bad?” he laughs, squeezing Mason’s knee. “How’s your stomach?”

Mason takes a second to consider. “Not great, but not terrible.”

Juni almost deflates with relief. “And the taste? It’s not too much, is it? I can be kind of heavy-handed with my seasoning, so I tried to be really careful. It’s really only a pinch of salt, sage, and ginger, with a little bit of licorice root, which I know is kind of weird, but it’s good for sore throats?”

“Tastes like…” Mason screws up his face, realizing he has absolutely no context to work with. “I don’t know. I think I like it?”

Juni smiles like the goddamned sun, and it somehow makes his snarky little pet name for Mason that much funnier. “Really?”

Mason’s not sure he’d be saying the same thing if his senses weren’t dulled to near-uselessness by his traitorous body, but the way Juni looks, like he couldn’t be happier to be dealing with a sick, cranky vampire hogging his bed and sweating in his sheets, makes him bite his tongue. There’s always a brightness to the human when he brings food to the warehouse for Nate and Felix, he smiles so wide his face almost cracks when Adam crumples under the weight of those puppy eyes and takes the smallest portion of whatever concoction Juni’s brought to nibble on, and offers the most awkward compliment he can manage. Juni just likes doing things for people, providing for them any way he can. Food is his usual go-to, but if he can help at all, he’s happy.

I can’t really do that for you.

It almost makes Mason wish he could enjoy whatever the detective whips up in his cramped little kitchen, just to make him smile.

Christ, his brain must be more addled than he thought.

He manages a few more spoonfuls of soup before his stomach starts to feel uncomfortably full, but the gnawing hunger of going too long without drinking has gone away, and he doesn’t feel so much like he’s going to puke like he did earlier. He feels heavy, and tired, and honestly that’s one hell of an improvement. Juni’s quick to take the tray and spirit it off back to the kitchen, bending to press a quick kiss to Mason’s cheek before he goes, and when he returns, the vampire is slumped in his pillow nest and half-asleep, eyes shuttered to thin slits.

He feels more than he sees Juni approach, and when a gentle hand smooths over his clammy forehead, he pushes up into it with a raw, weak noise he has zero energy to be embarrassed by anymore. He reaches out blindly, tangles his fingers in the knit of his detective’s sweater, and tugs. He can’t be sure how it happens, a jumble of movement and complaining muscles, but Juni winds up in bed with him, slouched comfortably against the pillows so Mason can rest his head on the soft curve of his belly. The human plays idly, sweetly with his hair, twirling damp curls around his fingers.

“I’m sweaty,” Mason halfheartedly protests. Juni’s stomach rises and falls beneath his head. It feels like being on the ocean, like being rocked to sleep on quiet waves.

“I don’t mind,” Juni murmurs, thumb stroking the shell of his ear.

Before he can think of anything to say to that, he’s being pulled under, dozing off between one breath and the next.

[toosicktoocare]

Prompt: Batfam prompt coming your way if you want it! Entirely up to you! How about Dick goes out with a cold/flu/fever, because he cares more about the people he's saving than himself, and Jason and Tim have to catch him, beat the bad guys, and bring Dick home to rest and get alllll sorts of brotherly love?

It’s the drool that wakes Tim, the uncomfortable dampness pooling at the corner of his mouth. He comes to slowly, consciousness bringing with it an evident twinge across his lower back. A groan grows deep in his throat, wakefulness reminding him that he’s been hunched over a computer in the Cave for hours, leaving him feeling far older than he actually is. He contemplates nodding back off, fleeing from the lingering need for caffeine, but then there’s a scoff too close to his face, and he cracks an eye open to see Damian frowning at him.

“You’re repulsive, Drake.”

Tim sits up with a yawn and narrows his eyes into a dull glare, too tired to hold much heat across his eyes. He throws his arms over his head, lacing his fingers and arching his back into a much-needed stretch. “At least I’m not a demon spawn.”

Damian scoffs and pulls off his domino, a small yawn slipping past his lips.

“Did you just get back?”

“Father and I returned twenty-three minutes ago.”

Tim slumps back against the chair, working around the small, admitting thought that he actually needs to sleep in a real bed for more than an hour if he wants to continue operating as a human. He rubs at his bleary eyes. “How was it? Quiet?” 

“Our territory was. We bumped into Grayson about an hour ago. He was tipped off about a potential metahuman ring.”

Tim hums, eyes slipping shut, but then his sleep-riddled mind clears, and he jerks forward, eyes flying open. “Wait, what? Dick’s out?” He scans the room, noticing a distinct lack of Nightwing material.

“Of course he’s out.” Damian’s voice is annoyingly matter of fact, and Tim hops to his feet and crosses his arm, frown sharp.

“Damian, he’s sick.”

“Grayson is more than capable of working through illness, Drake. He’s been trained to withstand—”

“—anything. Yeah, I know,” Tim finishes, a worried bite to his tone. Bruce trained all of his bats to withstand illness, to work through ailments, to find an inner balance between exertion and fatigue. Still, he had checked Dick’s fever earlier, and it was worryingly high, resting at 102.3 degrees. He also knew that Dick was itching to explore the anonymous tip about the metahuman ring, and Tim had meant to keep Dick from leaving. Falling asleep over a large monitor was not a part of his nightly plans.

He leans over and taps into the comms on the computer, only faintly aware of Damian slipping up behind him. “Red Robin to Nightwing.” He waits, scanning the connection, waiting for a quiver in the flat audio line. “Come in, Nightwing.”

“He’s probably busy, Drake, making himself useful unlike—”

“Shut it,” Tim spits out, whipping a sharp glare over his shoulder before turning back to the computer. “Dick, answer the damn comm.”

There’s a drawn-out rasp of a breath that flicks across the audio line, a few, harsh coughs following. “Language, little wing.”

Tim wants to feel relieved, but Dick sounds exhausted, winded, his voice cracking and an octave lower than usual. “Jesus, Dick! What the hell are you doing?”

Dick sighs over the comm, and Tim taps loudly at the computer until he’s pulling up a visual of Dick sagged against a wall, chest heaving deeply as if he’s just run a marathon.

“I’ve got to look into this, Tim. A second tip came in. There’s movement at the shipping dock— very large boxes that are being transported to the warehouse that’s housing the metahuman ring.”

Tim taps a few more keys, pulling up a vitals scan that shows Dick’s temperature elevated to 102.6 degrees. “Dick, your fever’s rising. You need to—”

“I’ll be quick; I swear. I’ve gotta run.”

The comm goes dead, and Tim can see Dick pulling the earpiece from his ear and slipping it into his utility belt. He watches a moment longer, eyes studying Dick’s surroundings, each street sign, each flickering streetlight, until he swipes off the feed and whips around, moving past Damian to suit up.

“You’re going out?”

“Someone has to drag his stupid ass back here.” Tim exhaustion is teasing at his mind, and he shakes his head as he begins to dress into his uniform.

“I’ll go—”

“—straight to bed,” Tim finishes, arching one brow, daring Damian to argue.

“Drake, you do not have the authority to order me around. Do you honestly think you’re capable of bringing Grayson back alone?”

“No,” Tim admits, fiddling with the comm in his ear before pulling his attention down to his phone. “He’s too bull-headed.”

“Well, what’s your plan then, Drake?”

“I call in someone even more bull-headed.

***

Tim swallows back a flinch when Jason drops down beside him with a loud thump, having travelled by roof apparently.

“Replacement.”

“Hood,” Tim greets, matching Jason’s tone, eyes trained to the warehouse across the street.

“You sent out an SOS.”

“I did.” Tim narrows his eyes, domino moving along the sharp movement. He pulls his gaze upward until he spots a familiar tuft of dark hair peering over the edge of the roof. “You made good time.”

“Because you sent out an SOS,” Jason presses.

“Worried?” Tim asks, arching one brow, and Jason swats him hard on the back of the head.

“In your dreams, Replacement. I was hoping to come in guns a-blazing.” Jason ghosts his hands over the guns in his holsters, fingers itching for a need to shoot.

“You’ll get your chance,” Tim mutters, nodding toward the roof. “First, we have to stop this idiot.”

“This is Dick Brain’s territory,” Jason reminds Tim flatly, eyes slowly following Dick’s careful movements on the roof. “Why are we—” He stops when Tim patches an audio message that reads out Dick’s vitals, his frown deepening along each word. “Okay,” he drags out. “Point taken. What’s the plan?”

“I’m kind of making it up as I go,” Tim admits, standing from his crouch. He pulls out his grapple hook and aims it toward the edge of the roof, close to Dick’s peering face. He pulls the trigger and waits for the weightless tug.

“That’s my type of plan.”

Tim hears Jason laughing behind him as he shoots forward, going airborne, wind whipping tightly around him until he’s barrel rolling onto the roof, with Jason landing on his feet beside him mere seconds later.

Tim’s quick to dodge the sudden swing of a baton at his head, stumbling backward against Jason’s chest, and Jason’s a lot faster, reaching over Tim’s shoulder, fingers snagging Dick’s wrist mid second swing.

“Easy, dumbass. Are you trying to smash your baby bro’s head in?” Jason’s growl is deep in Tim’s ear, and Tim stills, watching carefully as it takes longer than it should for Dick’s face to fall into recognition.

“Jay…?” Dick turns to cough into the crook of his arm, harsh, grating coughs that leave Tim wincing as he pulls for another vital scan, finding Dick’s temperature tipping toward 103 degrees.

“Good to see you too, Dickie Bird.” Jason mutters, and Tim slips toward Dick, pressing a hand to his shoulder, Dick’s muscles shaking under his palm.

“Dick, you need to go back to the manor. At this rate, you’re going to need an IV.” Tim keeps his voice steady, but when Dick jerks away from him, he frowns, making to step forward only not able to when Jason wraps an annoyingly strong arm around his waist.

“Tim, don’t, you can’t…” Dick’s coughing again, and Jason’s dragging Tim backward despite Tim’s thrashing. 

“Jason, what the hell?”

“No spleen. Remember?” Jason pokes at Tim’s side, and Tim sighs loudly, slumping against Jason’s grip.

“Dick will listen to you,” Tim tries, twisting around to face Jason, mind plotting through his sporadic plan. “All he wants is to make things better between you both.” He keeps his voice quiet, studying Jason’s covered frown and narrow eyes that are glued to Dick.

“What’s happening in the warehouse?”

 “Metahuman trafficking,” Tim answers, and Jason tenses before him, just as Tim expected he would.

Tim could have taken Damian; hell, he could have made Bruce come, but Jason’s the key. Aside from the fact that Dick would drop just about anything if it means he can mend another thread of he and Jason’s frayed relationship, Tim’s also acutely aware of Jason’s violent need to protect Gotham’s youth, hitting too close to home of a damaged childhood.

There’s also, Tim thinks, the small fact that Jason will do anything for Dick, even if he’d never admit it out loud. Tim knows. Dick was, and always will be, who Jason looks up to the most.

“You play dirty,” Jason growls, catching onto Tim’s reasoning. He slips both guns from his holsters, aiming one at Dick’s forehead. “Stay here, dumbass.”

“Wait, Jay—”

“Did I stutter?” Jason bites out, cocking a brow. He waits for Dick to argue, and predictably, Dick doesn’t, instead sagging to the ground as if his legs can no longer support his weight.

“Good,” he mutters, pulling a sharp gaze to Tim. “Ready to go fuck up some motherfuckers?”

“You’re the only person who can make that sentence sound decent.” Tim brings out his bo staff, fingers tightening around it, his lips curling into a smile that almost matches the wild one Jason’s wielding.

“Ha. Guns a-blazing time?”

Nodding, Tim watches as Jason leaps off the roof, and he spares a glance to see Dick curled in on himself, shaking and coughing, before he leaps off, hoping to end this as soon as possible.

***

Tim shoots a grapple hook back up to the roof when GCPD arrives, flying forward and finding Dick asleep, face scrunched up in a clear show of pain that Tim frowns out. He takes the brief moment free of Jason’s strong grip to crouch before Dick, feeling his forehead, hand slipping down to check his pulse. His vital scan report isn’t any worse than before; however, it’s not any better either.

“Geez, Dick,” Tim mumbles under his breath, waiting for the familiar arm around his waist when Jason finally makes it up to the roof. He moves with Jason, not wishing to start a second struggle, not when Dick’s the main priority.

Jason nudges Dick with his boot, and Dick stirs under the touch, coughing sharply, a gravely groan following. “Jay…”

“He’s completely out of it,” Jason mutters, frowning, and Tim swallows back the sudden jerk of panic threatening to climb up his throat. Jason sounds worried, and that alone leaves Tim afraid.

“We should get him back. Can you…?”

“You want me to carry him all the way back to the manor?” Jason spits out, both brows arched into a high curve. “Not happening.”

“I could call Bruce,” Tim starts, forcing away the smile that wants to stretch across his lips at the narrow glare Jason shoots him. “But once I mention that you’re with me, he’ll be here in minutes. You probably won’t make it around the block before he shows up.”

Jason’s hands curl into fists at his sides. Tim holds his stare, unfazed by the sheer annoyance behind Jason’s domino, and finally, Jason breaks with a long, loud groan, turning to hoist Dick onto his back with a grunt.

“Really fucking dirty, Replacement.”

***

Alfred helps get Dick set up with an IV in med-bay, the older man working wordlessly diligently, worried but not vocalizing as much. Tim assists when needed, keeping one eye on Dick but the other on Jason, who’s been eerily silent in the corner of the room, watching, a frown etched sharply across his lips. 

“Are you going to tell Bruce?” Tim asks quietly when Alfred finishes.

“Master Bruce already knows,” Alfred informs, briefly flicking his gaze toward Jason. “Out of respect, he’ll keep his distance for a few hours.”

Tim translates in his head: Bruce doesn’t want to scare Jason off. He nods, thankful, and the second Alfred slips out of the room, he shuffles over to the bed and drops onto it, waving off the hiss of his name from Jason as he curls into Dick’s side.

“I take medicine, you know. Daily. To prevent shit.”

“Tell that to literally every single infection that’s knocked you on your ass for days since saying adios to your spleen,” Jason grunts, dragging a chair close to Dick’s bed. “Don’t expect me to play nursemaid when you get sick.”

Tim lifts his head, eyes flat. “That mere thought is going to make me sick.”

“Ditto.”

Tim whips his gaze down to see Dick blinking slowly at him, a small, lazy smile pulling at his lips. He’s faintly aware that Jason’s shot to the edge of his seat and his leaned forward, putting himself closer to the bed.

“Dick? How are you feeling?”

“Like I’m going to get you sick,” Dick grumbles, and Tim rolls his eyes, tucking himself back down against Dick’s side.

“I’ll be fine.”

“Famous last words, kid,” Jason mutters, leaning back and propping his feet onto the edge of Dick’s bed, smiling easily at the tired, yet annoyed look Dick shoots him.

“The metahumans…”

“All safe,” Jason responds, thumbing at the book resting in his lap. “GCPD’s on it.”

Dick’s face relaxes, a deep sigh releasing through parted lips. “Thank you.” He shifts, wrapping his arm around Tim’s back, pulling his brother closer to him. “Are you staying?” he asks, nodding to the book in Jason’s lap.

“Until I’m sure you aren’t taking a page out of my book.”

Dick’s eyes drag up to the ceiling, the muted weight behind Jason’s words pushing against his chest, a reminder that Jason will always process his death and resurrection, not something he can resolve. “Will you read to me?”

“What are you, ten?” Jason teases, arching a single brow, a challenge that Dick takes with an innocently large bat of his lashes.

“You won’t read to your dear, sick brother?”

“So cruel, Jay,” Tim mutters, voice edging toward sleep.

“Oh, fuck off,” Jason groans, flipping open The Hobbit. “I hate both of you.” He scans the first sentence, whipping a quick gaze back toward the two. “No interrupting. I haven’t read this yet.” He starts reading, voice lightening as he loses himself in the book, and he makes it seven pages in before he spares a glance to see Dick and Tim sleeping, faces annoyingly soft and innocent. A smile he doesn’t fight pulls at his lips, and he closes the book and nudges his chair closer to the bed until he can hunch over, pillowing his head on the edge of Dick’s bed. He’s certain his back will curse his entire being when he wakes, but for now, he’ll take the twinge of discomfort for this silent, almost vulnerable, moment with the birds…

With his brothers.

[ill-will-editions]

Covid-19: The 21st Century Begins Now Jérôme Baschet

Historians readily accept that the global 20th century began in 1914, with the onset of the cycle of the World Wars. One day it will no doubt be said that the 21st century began in 2020, with the introduction of SARS-CoV-2. The range of scenarios to come remains, of course, very open; but the sequence of events triggered by the spread of the Coronavirus offers a preview of the disasters that are bound to intensify in our convulsive world, marked as it is by the effects of a global warming well on its way towards an average increase of 3 or 4 degrees. What is happening before our eyes is an increasingly tight intertwining of multiple crisis factors, which it suffices for a random element, both unforeseen and widely announced, to activate. The collapse and unravelling of life, climate disorder, accelerated social decomposition, the discrediting of governments and political systems, the unbridled expansion of credit and financial fragility, failure to maintain a sufficient level of growth (to mention only a few): these dynamics all reinforce one another, generating an extreme vulnerability that derives from the fact that the world system is now in a situation of permanent structural crisis. Henceforth, any apparent stability is merely a mask for growing instability.

Philippe Sansonetti, a microbiologist and professor at the Collège de France, recently remarked that Covid-19 is an "Anthropocene disease”. The current pandemic is a total fact, in which the biological reality of the virus is inseparable from the societal and systemic conditions of its existence and spread. Invoking the Anthropocene — a new geological period in which the human species has become a force capable of modifying the biosphere on a global scale — invites us to take into account a threefold timeline: firstly, the recent period in which, under the pressure of perceptible evidence, we became aware, albeit too slowly, of this new era; secondly, the decades after 1945, which were those of the rise of consumer society and the great acceleration of all the markers of humanity's productive (and destructive) activity; lastly, the turn of the 18th and 19th centuries which, by setting in motion the cycle of fossil fuels and industrialization, caused the curve of greenhouse gas emissions to take off, thus marking the beginning of the Anthropocene.

The virus that afflicts us has been sent by the living, who have come to present us with the bill for the turmoil that we ourselves have caused. The Anthropocene means: in whatever befalls us, human responsibility is involved. But whose responsibility is it exactly? The three timelines mentioned above allow us to be more precise. On the most immediate horizon, our attention is monopolized by the staggering affair of the evaporation of mask stocks since 2009 and by the indolence that has failed to replenish them urgently as the epidemic approaches. This is merely one more aspect of Europe's overwhelming lack of preparation. In this inability to anticipate, we bear witness to another disease of the times, namely, its presentism, that force by which everything that extends beyond the immediate disappears from our view. The coldly calculative neoliberal methods of hospital management took care of the rest, with its persistent lack of resources, reduction in the number of beds, on top of a shortage of staff and personnel who are already exhausted during normal times. Care workers have been howling their despair for a long time, without being heard. Today, the criminal nature of long-standing policies has been proven to everyone.  As Philippe Juvin, head of the emergency department at the Pompidou Hospital in Paris recently stated, "careless and incompetent people" have caused us to find ourselves "naked in the face of the epidemic". And if Emmanuel Macron wanted to set himself up as a war chief, he should not overlook the fact that this same rhetoric, invoked by so many rulers these days, could also one day one day turn (metaphorically?) into an accusation of high treason.

Glancing back over the second half of the twentieth century allows us to identify several of the major causalities behind the multiplication of zoonoses, those diseases caused by infectious agents that are able to make a species leap from animals to humans. The expansion of industrial livestock farming, with its despicable tendency toward concentration, led to the sort of deplorable health consequences we now know far too well (swine flu, H5N1 bird flu, etc.). Meanwhile, excessive urbanization and metropolization have shrunk the habitats of animals, pushing them into closer contact with humans (HIV and Ebola, in particular). These two factors may not have played a role in the case of SARS-CoV-2, although more still needs to be known about the entire chain of transmission. On the other hand, it is clear that the sale of wild animals in the Wuhan market would not have had such consequences had Wuhan not become one of the world capitals of the automobile industry. The globalization of economic flows is indeed at work; and this is the third causality to be invoked, all the more so as the senseless expansion of air traffic was the vector of the rapid planetary spread of the virus.

But we can't stop there; we must also look back two centuries and give the Anthropocene its real name: Capitalocene. For it is the result, not of the human species in general, but of a specific historical system. The principal characteristic of this system, capitalism, is that the bulk of production is based, above all else, on the imperative of turning a profit from the money invested (capital). Although its configurations are variable, the world is ultimately organized according to the imperious demands of the economy. The result has  been a civilizational break with all previous human experience, in which private interest and competitive individualism now reign as supreme values, the obsession with pure quantity and the tyranny of urgency opening up a void in being. The result is also and above all a deadly productivist compulsion, one which lies at the origin of the overexploitation of natural resources, the accelerated disorganization of living things, and climate change.

When the current quarantine and health emergency ends, nothing will be the same as before; that much has been made clear. But what will change? Will our self-examination be limited to a short-term temporality, as is to be feared, or will we take into account the full cycle of the Capitalocene? We have now reached the threshold of the twenty-first century. The real war that is about to be waged will not have the Coronavirus as its enemy, but will be fought between two opposing options: on one side, there will be the continuation of a world in which the fanatical drive for merchandise reigns supreme and whose compulsive productivism will only lead to the deepening of the ongoing devastation; on the other side, there lies the invention, already being explored in a thousand places, of new ways of existing that would break with the categorical imperative of the economy, in order to lend priority to a good life for all. Preferring the joyful intensity of the qualitative to the false promises of an unlimited impossibility, the latter would combine an attentive concern for inhabited milieus and the interactions of the living with the construction of the common, mutual aid, and solidarity, and the collective capacity for self-organization and self-government.

The Coronavirus has come to sound the alarm and stop the mad train of a civilization hurtling towards the destruction of life on a mass scale. Shall we let it continue down its course, once again? That would only guarantee new and unprecedented disasters, which will make what we are experiencing now look pale in retrospect.

Paris, March 27, 2020

Translated by Ill Will Editions

****

Jérôme Baschet is an historian currently teaching at the Autonomous University of Chiapas in San Cristóbal de Las Casas. Author of several books on medieval history, he has also published Défaire la tyrannie du présent. Temporalités émergentes et futurs inédits (2018), La Rébellion zapatiste (2019), and Une Juste colère. Interrompre la destruction du monde, on the Gilets Jaunes.

[love-and-monsters]

Guardian Angel

Have an MLM angel for pride month!

M monster X M reader, 3,158 words

 You kept seeing feathers everywhere.

 You lived out in the county, which meant that seeing feathers around wasn’t usually something that bothered you. What did bother you was how big they were.

 They were huge. The smallest ones easily spanned your hand and the largest ones were as big as your forearm. They also didn’t look quite like any bird feathers you’d seen before. The largest birds around were eagles, and those ones were brown. The ones you were finding were mottled gray, the color of soft winter clouds.

 For a while, they seemed mostly confined to the outside. The one or two you found inside, you just assumed they’d clung to your clothes and been carried in.

 Then you woke up to a few of them scattered around the floor and you realized that there was no way you’d carried them inside.

 You gathered the feathers and tossed them outside before returning to your house and scouring it for somewhere a bird could get in. It was small, and it didn’t take a long time for you to sweep the entire place. The only place you could see a bird of that size getting in was the fireplace, which you blocked off by sliding a bookshelf in front of it. It wasn’t the best solution, considering that you couldn’t use the fireplace, but it was summer and you had a little while to figure out something else before you needed to move it.

 Satisfied that the problem was solved, you scattered the feathers outside and headed off to work.

 That night, you tossed and turned as you slept. Despite not remembering any of your dreams, you woke several times in the middle of the night, shivering in fright.

 You woke to something ticklish resting on your forehead. Startled, you sat up and watched as a large, mottled gray feather floated down into your lap. A quick look around the room showed that wasn’t the only one. Feathers were scattered across the floor and over your dresser.

 Okay. Okay! So, blocking the fireplace hadn’t solved anything. You carefully got out of bed, trying not to send the feathers scattering everywhere. There definitely hadn’t been any other places a large bird had been able to get into. And, thinking about it, wouldn’t there be more signs of its presence had a large bird managed to get in your home? It wasn’t like anything was broken or out of place. There were just feathers everywhere.

 You gathered all the feathers you could find and tossed them back outside. There was quite a pile in your small yard. Coming to think of it, it was weird that there were so many feathers. Could a single bird, even a really big one, shed that many feathers?

 Maybe there wasn’t a single large bird getting in. Could a smaller bird or rodent be using the feathers to make a nest? But then why would the feathers be so scattered? Nothing about this made any sort of sense.

 You spent most of the morning trying to make your house completely impenetrable, spending so much time on it that you were nearly late for work.

 That night, you woke in a cold sweat to a shaft of moonlight. Your body was heavy, your chest weighted like a bunch of stones were resting there. Outside of the beam of moonlight, shadows shifted and twisted. Shapes in the corners of your eyes reached for you like massive claws. There was a strange droning tone, somehow almost too high and too low for you to hear. It took incredible effort just to shift your fingers. All you could do was lie still as the shapes writhed and reached for you.

 As the moonlight faded, so did the strange shapes. The first beam of sunlight reached into your room and, as if it had broken some kind of spell, your limbs unlocked. Slowly, stiffly, you got up.

 You’d barely slept, so you’d sort of expected to feel bad. What you hadn’t expected was to feel like you’d been run over by a train, or just gotten over a particularly bad bout of the flu. It took incredible effort to shuffle around your kitchen. All your limbs were stiff. Food tasted unusually bland and you had a limited appetite. No matter how much coffee you drank, you couldn’t shake the tiredness.

 Eventually, you called in sick to work. There was no way you’d be able to make it there, much less actually get anything done. You curled up on your couch under a thin blanket with the TV droning in the background. You couldn’t even summon up the energy to pay attention to the words. You just lay still and dozed while the words washed over you.

 It was late in the day when you realized that there hadn’t been any feathers in your house that day. Huh. Apparently boarding everything off had worked. Feeling a little spark of satisfaction from that, you made a small, easy dinner and slouched up to your room.

 You were asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow. Despite your exhaustion, you woke in the middle of the night again.

 Those strange shapes were back. They seemed thicker, more present than they had before. Your field of vision had narrowed slightly and around the entirety of it, shapes shifted and snatched at you. Nothing moved when you looked directly at it, but whenever your eyes shifted away, you could see something formless moaning and twisting there.

 Terror choked you. A sense of malice hung thick in the air. Whatever these things were, they wanted to hurt you. They wanted you frightened and sobbing in a corner, and if they could get you, they would do whatever they could to make it so. As you stared straight ahead, your field of vision narrowed further and further until you could barely see anything but the horrible shapes. You knew, with perfect, utter clarity, what when they filled your vision that they would have you.

 The shaft of moonlight in your vision seemed to grow larger, brighter, more solid, like a doorway opening. Gradually, the silhouette of a human appeared, stepping through the doorway of moonlight.

 The shadows retreated, shrinking away from the glowing man with horrible screeching noises. As they moved back, the light poured into your room, almost blinding you. The glowing man unfurled enormous, feathery wings and light poured from them, filling every corner. The shadows vanished, unable to stand up against such an outpouring of brilliance.

 You closed your eyes as the light grew too bright to look at. When it faded, you blinked them open again, trying to clear the spots from your vision.

 The man was still there. You felt your bed groan and shift as he sat down next to you. The moonlight had returned to normal and in it, you could see that he was wearing long, white robes and his hair was dark brown, cut into a short, almost military cut.

 Oh, and he had an enormous set of wings.

 They were mottled gray, just like the feathers you had been finding around your house, and certainly large enough to be them. The man ran his hands through his hair with a deep sigh and looked at you.

 “It would be nice if you stopped throwing out all my protective charms,” he said. His voice was low and steady. “You are making this job particularly difficult.”

 “What?” Your voice was a little croaky and weak.

 “I would suggest not speaking,” he said. He reached back into his wings and plucked out a large feather. He examined it for a moment, then reached over and placed the feather on your chest. It nearly touched your chin and it felt oddly heavy, but still reassuring. “Keep the feather with you. It will help you regain your energy.”

 The man stood and moved out of your field of view. It took enormous effort to turn your head toward him and, when you did, he had vanished.

 You didn’t expect to fall asleep after all that, but you were out as soon as your eyes closed. When you woke up, all of your limbs were stiff and you felt like you had a chill. You were soaked in sweat, despite your constant shivering.

 Slowly, you stumbled out of bed and shuffled slowly into your kitchen, a quilt wrapped around your shoulders like a cape. As you spotted your kitchen table, you came to a stop.

 The man from the night before was sitting there, skimming the morning paper and sipping a cup of tea. He glanced up when you walked in. “Good morning. I’m glad you’re well enough to get out of bed. I brewed a cup of tea for you. I hope you don’t mind that I got myself some. You seemed to have plenty.”

 You stared at the enormous wings the man had carefully navigated around the wooden chair back. “Are you an angel?” The question sounded stupid as soon as it left your mouth, but you weren’t sure how else to phrase it. The man gave a small smile.

 “Correct.” He sat back form the table, turning his torso toward you. He tapped at a small golden badge with a sword insignia on it. “Guardian class.” He reached out and tapped at a clipboard that was resting on the table. “I’m on assignment. For you, specifically.” He slid the clipboard toward you. “You’re being haunted.”

 “Haunted,” you repeated, looking down at the sheet. It had something written on it, but you couldn’t even recognize the letters. They seemed to shift the longer you looked at them.

 The angel slid the paper away from you. “Man isn’t meant to look at Enochian script,” he said. “Nor is he meant to have close encounters with evil spirits. You should be grateful that you came out unscathed.”

 “What was that thing?” you asked, dropping into the seat next to him. He slid a cup of tea toward you and you took it without thinking.

 “An evil spirit, as I said. It’s quite a nasty little thing. Its goal is to feed off a person’s fear and torment. Once it drains them sufficiently, it consumes the body and traps the person in a perpetual nightmare as a living source of energy.” The angel took another sip of his tea. “Another night and you would have been completely overtaken by it.”

 A flash of anger rose in your chest. “You waited that long to do anything about it?”

 The angel turned a flat, calm expression toward you. “Calm yourself, sir. I did more than that. Angel feathers work as wonderful wards against evil spirits. Alas, when someone keeps removing them from the house, they work less well.”

 You felt your face start to turn red. “You don’t need to call me sir,” you managed. “And I didn’t know they were wards. I thought they were just feathers a pest had been leaving in my house…” You trailed off as the angel gave a small smile.

 “It’s all right. In many ways, it’s my own fault. I’ve been stretched a bit thin recently, or I would have stayed and slayed the thing on my first night. But there has been a lot of activity in the past few weeks and I just…” He slumped over the table, massaging his forehead with a hand.

 “I’m sorry,” you said after a moment. The angel lifted his head and drained the rest of his tea.

 “It’s no problem. It isn’t your fault after all.” He placed ht eteacup on the table, fiddling with the handle. “I will need to stay here for the rest of the day. The spirit is strong enough that, if I give it a chance, it will be able to create a ward to block me out. I was only able to get in in the first place because I was able to take it by surprise.” He flexed his wings and stood up. “It will return tonight. I will be able to dispatch it and you can go back to your usual life.”

 With that, the angel strode off through a doorway and into the living room. After a moment, you gathered up the teacups, placed them in the sink, and followed.

 The angel was sitting on the edge of the couch, tying several feathers together with a golden thread. He didn’t look up until you had crossed the room and sat on the couch next to him. You barely even registered that you were moving. There was something about the intricate pattern his fingers made over the feathers and cords that drew you in and made it almost impossible to look away.

 His fingers stilled on the cord for a moment as he looked questioningly at you. “What is it?” you asked, nodding at the intricate piece of weaving.

 “A charm,” he said. “It’s designed to promote healing and recovery.” He finished the weaving around the feather and tied it off. He stood, stretching his legs, then gestured to the couch. “Lie down.”

 You did so. The angel bent over you and fastened the charm around your neck. He attached several strings to your neck and the charm and began to spread them over your body, overlapping and twining them together in a geometric pattern.

 You closed your eyes as the angel worked over you. There was a faint sensation as he wound the strings together, one that you couldn’t quite identify, but one that was pleasant nonetheless. The angel’s hands were slightly calloused and there was something nice about the sensation they caused when they brushed over your skin.

 The weaving ended up trailing down your arms and attaching at your hands. The angel patted your shoulder and stood up. “I will go scout the house out and find areas the creature may be lurking. You should stay here and keep yourself well-rested.”

 He vanished back into the house and you settled down onto the couch. Your head felt unusually heavy, but the worst of the body aches and discomfort had faded. You felt… not good, exactly, but better than you had before. Apparently, the charm was working.

 Before you knew it, you had fallen asleep. When you woke up, you were ravenous, your stomach twisting and clawing at your insides. You stumbled out of bed and walked into the kitchen, pulling some of the weaving around your arms loose as you did so.

 The angel was already in the kitchen, picking through the refrigerator. He looked up when you walked in and clicked his tongue disapprovingly when he saw that you’d pulled the weaving loose. “You could have asked me for something rather than get up.” He gestured to a chair and you sat down in it, lifting your arms so he could work on them.

 “I didn’t want to bother you.” Your voice was stronger and the angel seemed pleased by that. He checked over all the weaving, then gave a satisfied nod.

 “I assume you’re hungry?” He looked around, a lost expression crossing his face. “I’m afraid I don’t have much experience with human food…”

 “I’ve got it.” You made a simple sandwich. You were so hungry that it still tasted amazing. “Do you want anything?”

 “Angels do not eat human food,” he said. “We sustain ourselves with holy energy.”

 “Suit yourself,” you said, polishing your sandwich off. “Have you figured out how to banish that evil spirit thing?”

 He nodded. “It is quite strong after feeding on you for so long, and my attack last night left it on high alert. Still, I believe it will need to feed again. This means it will still come out once the sun goes down and you are in bed. When it does so, I will be able to attack and take it out.”

 “So, I’ll be bait?” you said. The angel frowned.

 “No. That would imply I would let the creature feed on you as a distraction. You have my word that nothing will happen to you.” He gave you a serious, determined look and you felt your face begin to heat up. The set of his jaw was firm and solid and made you feel protected.

 You watched the angel meander around the house, fiddling with the sword that he had at his waist. Every now and then, he would give you a brief examination, apparently checking up on the evil spirit’s effects on you. His presence was comforting and you found yourself looking forward to having his attention totally on you.

 When the sun started to go down, you started to feel nervous. The angel convinced you to eat a larger than normal dinner. “You’ll need your strength. Just in case.”

 That wasn’t reassuring, but the angel looked firm and you tried to feel comforted by that.

 The angel suggested that you do your bedtime routine as normal, so you did, brushing your teeth and getting changed for bed. The angel was always nearby, ready to protect you.

 You settled into bed. The angel took his position near your headboard. From your position, you couldn’t really see him, but you clutched the feather he’d given you tightly to your chest.

 You didn’t fall asleep, so you got to see the evil spirit’s advance. It crept in slowly around the edges of your vision. Weight gradually dropped onto your chest, growing heavier and heavier. You couldn’t move. The thing curled around you, trying to drain you. You could feel it.

 A brilliant flash of light came from next to you. The angel stood, unsheathing his sword in one smooth motion. There was a horrible noise, like something screaming in many voices, then the heaviness lifted. You sucked in a great breath and sat up.

 The angel was standing over you. His sword was glowing, gleaming with brilliant light. “Are you all right, Adam?” he asked. You started. He knew your name. Had you told him your name?

 “I’m all right,” you said. “Are you?”

 “Certainly.” He turned his head toward you and smiled. “Go to sleep. You should get your rest.”

 You sank into sleep almost immediately. When you woke, the angel was no longer there. The only sign that he had ever been there was the feather still tied to your neck.

 For a couple of weeks, that remained the only sign. You held out hope for a few days, but eventually, you recognized that you were probably not going to see him again.

 And yet, after those couple of weeks, you woke to see a tall, winged man bathed in moonlight. He saw you staring and smiled.

 “We seem to have solved most of the evil spirit problems,” he said. “We are no longer stretched thin, and, as such, I have been reassigned.” He smiled. “From now on, I am your personal guardian angel.”

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Flightless Bird, American Mouth (Chop and Change, Part 4.)

Series descriprion: Twenty years ago, you’ve given a promise to a boy who claimed to imprint on you. Against your will, you decided to keep it and to visit La Push just to see if anything has changed.

Part summary: While you were glad that Seth was just ‘sick’, it didn’t stop you from thinking he’s about to die - which can be good fun in some instances.

A/N: I think I’ve sinned, forgive me father.

Warning: It’s highly recommended to read the Football Time miniseries first since this contains an unlike pairing which is explained in the series, also the circumstances are given there.

Word counter: 5.1 K

Tagging: @nemodoren​. @missdictatorme​

Spotify playlist:  ✨ Twilight Crackheads ✨

Series masterlist: H E R E

PICTURE SOURCE

Seth never had seen a hysterical vampire until that moment. You were beyond hysterical. It was almost funny. If he wouldn't be laying in his bed with high fevers at that moment, he might've pulled out a grin for you, adding some joke at the end. Unfortunately, he was laying there in said fevers, so there was just a little number of things he was capable of doing.

Without standing around with having the phone put to your ear, you dialed Carlisle with the speaker turned on as you kneeled next to the bed, smoothing the sticky hair out of his forehead. He mumbled something, yet it was so quiet that your ears were able to catch. - "Come again?" - You asked and licked your lips, letting the tears rolling down your cheeks. To say that you were horrified was an understatement - now, that you could see that he was still alive, you felt calmer, yes, but his state was making you panic even more. How on earth were supposed to help him? And Carlisle, your most valuable source of help, wasn't picking the phone up.

"Do you break into other people's houses often?" - Seth repeated, his voice was weak and quiet. But the man did his best to smile at you as he tried to rise hand up to your forearm. This task was more than he could do at the moment. His muscles were on fire and his whole body was in immersive pain. There wasn't that much he could so. - "Only to save them from mortal danger." - You laughed, drying his face from sweat with the bare tips of your fingers. - "Why didn't you call me, you idiot? I thought there's something with you, or that maybe..." - Suddenly, your throat felt sore as you wanted to mention that you though Seth might've hurt himself.

"I didn't want you to be worried." - "So you let me in the dark for the past few days, great, letting me go insane. Good job, Clearwater." - Both of you smiled at your snarky remarks - with that, you almost jumped when you finally heard the phone ringing with Carlisle's photo all over the screen. Another part of panic left you as you picked up the phone, leaving Seth in the bed for a few minutes. - "Hey. Hey." - Carlisle already heard something from Alice. Why didn't he call you sooner? What did he know? - "Alice had seen you angry and crying, driving to La Push. What happened?" - Carlisle went straight to the point, because he could hear that you, indeed, were crying. He might have received a heads up call from Emmett.

"I think that something's wrong with Seth. I think he may die or something..." - It was nothing but a whisper coming out of your lips as you watched Seth laid down in the bed, shaking in pain and muscle spasms. - "Describe to me what's wrong, okay?" - "Okay." - You agreed, describing every small detail you could see on the man. He sure as hell wasn't dying, that could be said for sure, yet when you were done with the description, Carlisle asked you to put Seth on the phone. This could've easily be seen as one of the hardest evenings of your life. Until that very moment, there didn't exist time where you'd have to worry about anyone else than yourself. The only time where you weren't exactly alone was when you've changed Carlisle and you traveled along with each other for a few years. Even at that time, Carlisle wasn't human, not even partially. But Seth needed to eat, drink, sleep, rest, he could get sick, he could get his bones broken... The man could break at any moment in your eyes.

When Carlisle ended his call with Seth, you were given back the phone. With a sweet smile, you gently squeezed his palm and walked to the front part of the house to talk with Carlisle in private. You still kept Seth in your sight, but you were far enough for him to have trouble hearing you. - "What should I do? Is there a way to help him?" - This was the first question you've given Carlisle as soon as you could talk. When the man snickered, your expression couldn't be described other than 'I might murder you over the phone'. - "First thing you have to do is to calm down, otherwise, you won't help him. It's just normal flu, I suppose. Not normal when a shapeshifter had caught it, but it's nothing more than flu." - After a short argument, rather than a conversation, you've written down what you were supposed to do. Carlisle would be calmer if he'd have the chance to see Seth with his own eyes, yet he firmly believed that it was just a typical fall flu. First, you had to find some painkillers. Then, Carlisle advised you to make him a cup of tea with lemon or honey, some cold compresses - which was fairly tricky since his temperature was too high -, measure his temperature frequently, and something to eat, ideally a soup. As you were ending the call, there was no way in hell you could do that on your own.

Naturally, you called the other person who you had on your mind and who was at least a human. Jacob was there in the next few minutes, just when you were changing one of the cold compresses on Seth's forehead, just as Carlisle advised you. This was seriously tricky because the compress stayed cold for a minute before Seth's body turned it into the temperature of his own body. - "Hey. I think I have everything you asked for." - He rose the bag in front of your eyes as you let him in. Sure, neither of you were good with cooking, but you could at least prepare a cup of warm tea. When Jacob made Seth drink a glass of water while gulping some painkillers, you could hear Jacob scold him as you tried to clean the place up. You decided to get into cooking together - yet not before you change the bedsheets, since you could smell a lot of wet dog in there.

Even though the men were sitting in the living room, you could still hear them bicker. - "I still don't understand why you didn't call me. I don't even want to know how high of a fever you got... It could... Hurt you, Seth. Don't you realize? Don't you remember how the doctor had to break every bone in my body while being worried that the fever might burn me from the inside?" - Jacob asked him silently as if you were supposed not to hear them when you were in the bedroom while they chatted just two rooms away. - "I thought I can make it on my own. I made it through the last one and... I kinda knew she'll come. I didn't know when, but she was about to show up." - Seth said with confidence, making you stop with changing the sheet on the blanket. With a smile, you listened to what he had to say - even though it was most likely just the fever speaking. - "Vampires are too dramatic to get over a few days of ignoration. Remember how dramatic Edward can be?" - Seth joked, but on his laughter, it could be heard that the pain and fever still didn't go away, so you sped up the whole process of cleaning up the bedroom. Also, you opened up both the windows he had there - only the sounds coming from the woods and the heavy rain could be heard. - "You're still one lucky bastard. I'm happy to see things are starting to work out for you."

The voice was Jake's, but it felt somehow warmer. He believed what he had just said. This time, there wasn't any emotion even remotely resembling opposition. You did come, didn't you? You were the dramatic vampire that couldn't deal with sudden refusal without an explanation. For a moment, you almost wondered how could Seth sense something like that, but then you realized that he carefully watched and listened to every small detail. And to be honest, you inclined to be overly dramatic, yes. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

On top of that, you started to see a pattern. Every time you hadn't heard from Seth, you jumped to conclusions and panic, which could be only resolved by seeing him. This hadn't anything to do with what Jacob had told you - Bri's story, no matter how saddening it was, had nothing to with you developing something for Seth. These feelings were too fresh to be named, but it had a lot to do with your selfishness. Why were you worried that he might be in danger? It was all caused by the fact that a switch in your mind went off - you had to see him, you had to talk to him and at all costs, you had to know he's alright. This realization was slowly settling down in your brain.

"Okay, mister, time for bed." - Both the men almost freaked out when you appeared out of thin air, standing in the doorframe. Neither of them got over how fast and quiet vampires could be at times. - "Should I start being dramatic or will you go there without theatrics?" - At that moment, you put both your forearms over your chest, leaning your shoulder to the doorframe. - "Oh damn." - Jake grinned. It was hard for the man to walk to his bedroom - no questions asked, you carried him there in bridal style and tugged him in. Carefully, you put a pack of frozen fruits tied in a piece of rug over his forehead, hoping it will remain cold for a bit colder than rugs sunk with cold water. - "We'll be in the kitchen. If anything, just call out, okay?" - Once more, you sat on the edge of the bed, once again smoothing the small strands of hair out of his face.

"Just don't leave, okay?" - Seth asked suddenly, taking you by a surprise. There was nothing on your tongue for a few seconds, yet then you smiled once more and nodded. - "I won't. Catch some rest." - Fuck, it was hard to walk out of the bedroom, knowing you're leaving him behind, all alone. Since you came into the house and saw him in an immersive pain, you weren't calm unless you saw him or heard him breathing. But for him to sleep, you had to close the door - which made your throat tightened and you became nervous suddenly. It was hard to miss from Jacob's point of view. The gazes and fingers tapping on the countertop. - "You know, I've seen this once." - Jacob turned his head at you with a smile. He was standing in front of the counter, already chopping the vegetables on small pieces. - "Edward with Bella. The man was sure that Bella will break every bone in her body any time he couldn't look after her. And once she was hanging out with me? Dear Lord, the problem was there immediately." - Now, they were laughing at it, but you could imagine how much trouble it had caused back then.

"What are you implying?" - Was the question troubling you. - "He won't just disappear if you leave the door closed for a few minutes. You're stressing too much over... Dumb things. Trust me. We can handle a lot." - Jake smiled even more, but it was mocking you in any way. If something, it was very cute to stress the way you did. Unfortunately, it would soon climb up both your and Seth's nerves. Yet it was something you'll learn over time. As soon as you'll realize Seth's not incapable of doing things on his own and that he won't die after each small blow of the wind, Jacob knew this could be a start of a good relationship. Then, he offered you an apron and taught you how to cook a soup with a lot of garlic, which was supposed to help the body somehow, the same way pepper did. - "You said you had fevers so high it almost killed you." - You suddenly mentioning when you were waiting for to soup to get done. The smell of garlic got into every inch of the house, and against all the myths, it was smelling delicious.

"And I also had broken every bone in my body." - The man took your palm to his, squeezing a bit. - "You're doing it again. Even the doctor said it's just normal flu." - His warm gaze told you to trust him. So against your better judgment, you nodded and quickly, almost unnoticeably, you squeezed his palm back before putting it back to your lap. - "How did you manage to do that? Why did you break... Every bone in your body?" - Well, now Jacob just grinned into the back of his palm.

"I understand. Saying that is very... Dramatic. A newborn broke all the bones on my right side during a fight. Mainly the ribs took the damage, not the whole body, but it wasn't too fun." - The man answered honestly, making you nod in response. - "Did the Volturi brought newborns? Or how did a newborn got... Here? It's not a typical location to see a newborn at." - This was a genuine reaction from your side, and when Jake asked you if you ever heard of Victoria and her story, you just shook your head. Emmett told you about the Volturi coming to Forks because of Nessie, but you didn't know about anyone named Victoria.

The time which you had until the soup was done you spent listening about how it started, with James, after which Victoria swore to kill Bella just to torment Edward. Jacob told you about what happened to Seth and Leah, about how Victoria looped on their territory multiple times, and how in the end, she decided to let the entirety of the Cullen clan vanish - creating an army of newborns just to accomplish her goal. To be honest, it was kind of scary. Jacob didn't leave out any detail from the story, since he was one of the main participants.

"I am not surprised that Sam changed his opinion on vegetarian vampires ever since meeting the newborn and the Volturi. Everybody would see the world differently." - You smiled when you were putting the soup to a small bowl. Jacob was just leaving, putting his jacket on once more. - "Yeah. I think they're pretty cool now. Some are cooler than others..." - "But I'm not a Cullen." - "I wasn't talking about you." - Jacob almost stuck out his tongue while mocking you. - "You son of a snake." - Was what you decided to say instead of being too dramatic. - "Keep an eye out for him, will you?" - The man mumbled as he opened the door, sending a nod your way as he turned around, running to his car through the heavy rain.

As you entered the room Seth was in, he was finally sleeping. But you had to feed him something. Whereas he told him he tried to drink here and there throughout these two days he spent alone, he didn't eat anything. The windows were open and the temperature of the room was barely warmer than you - but his fever wasn't any better. - "Hey there, sleepyhead." - You smiled, carefully moving strands of hair on the back of Seth's head. The man smiled back, however, the smile wasn't natural at all and turned on his side with problems. - "Hey." - "I cooked the soup we agreed on. And no, this time, I wasn't sticking my hand into the boiling water if you're curious." - "I kinda hoped you would do that." - Seth smiled with sarcasm.

Though you seemed to be gentler than him, you sat him up without any problems, putting a small wooden table over his upper thighs. Seth was decided that he would eat on his own, which didn't stop you from sitting in front of him, staring at every small movement he made. If he'd show any sign of weakness, he'd lose his right to eat on his own. - "Do you vampires do this a lot?" - Seth asked when you sat there without taking in a breath, barely blinking as you watched him. - "Do what?" - "Watch others as if you want to... I don't know, eat them, or something?" - This made you chuckle before you reminded yourself to sit more humanly, more naturally. So you sat down next to him, leaned your back into the head of the bed, and threw one leg over the other; simultaneously, you reminded yourself to blink and breathe. - "Better?" - You asked, smiling at him. After a moment, he nodded, proceeding with his meal.

As soon as he was done, you wanted to try something; you didn't go to the bathroom with him, even if you thought of that, and made him climb into a bath of cold water. It's wasn't too cold, so his body wouldn't experience a shock, but it was colder than him. Yet not even a cold bath wasn't enough to lower the fever. - "It's still 115 °F. I mean, Carlisle told me this won't kill you, but it's still too high." - The 'normal' temperature being 108 °F, which would be fatal for a normal human. You almost broke the damn meter in halves, thinking about what you should do.

He got painkillers, multiple of them, but Carlisle was afraid that his body will probably burn them too fast - which probably happened. Wet rugs and cloaks you put on him were immediately warm, he almost turned the fruit into a compote, cold water didn't help... Oh, wait. Suddenly, it hit you. You might be cold enough. And you won't get warm as easily, since your body temperature moved from - 17 °F to - 12 °F, depending on the weather outside and the activity you were doing. This might work. - "Close your eyes for me, okay?" - You asked and slowly walked to one of the small wardrobes in the room, bowing to find yourself a t-shirt. He had a ton of the cheaper ones; which could be explained by the shapeshifting. You didn't mind, but Alice would go loco upon seeing such a wardrobe. A thought about Alice brought a smile to your face as you put your clothes onto the back of the chair standing in front of his desk, walking back to the bad. Quickly, you moved the hair out of your back so it wouldn't be in the way as you rose the blanket.

"What is this about?" - Seth asked, his voice was weak, barely a whisper. He needed a long sleep. Thank God you could stay in one position for longer than days when you had to. - "You need something cold. I'm cold and I'll stay cold for a long time." - It wasn't meant to be a joke, but it cracked a smile on both of your faces. Since the moment his face snuggled to the back of your neck and his body copied your back, he fell dead asleep. So you pretended to sleep as well.

As hours passed, the rain stopped. Sometimes, the howling of the wind could be heard in the distance, the animals were casually walking around the house. Seth against your back felt as if someone put a hot iron there. He also traveled around the bed in his sleep, so you had to find a way how to cool him down. Sometimes, he even mumbled something, but you couldn't understand a word from that. As far as you were concerned, this had helped the man, at least in the short-term meaning. Seth wasn't sweaty anymore, his muscles seemed to relax a bit and his face wasn't in pain anymore. Slowly, the more time you spent in the room, the wet dog scent you smelled occasionally, had disappeared. He woke up around eight in the morning, while you pretended you're still sleeping.

His right temple was resting on your chest and one of his forearms was thrown over your side. When he realized what, specifically on who's been laying at, he picked his head up. But when he saw your closed eyes, he slowly put the head back and brought you a bit closer. - "You know, I'm not that dumb to believe vampires can fall asleep. I know they can't." - He mumbled after a few minutes. This made you snicker, the act moved every muscle in your belly. - "Busted." - Lazily, you picked your arm and dug your fingers into the long waves of Seth's air as you played with them almost mindlessly. - "Are you feeling better?" - "The best I possibly can." - Seth answered honestly. - "Jake must've put a serious load of garlic into the soup."

"Depends on what do you see as a 'load'." - You smiled and slowly pushed the man down, picking yourself up from the bed. - "I'll make you some tea, okay?" - Just as Seth realized you hadn't any pants on, you realized how much did he warm you up. Your body was feeling ice-cold for a moment before it realized it's its normal temperature. This was a funny thing. - "Did you call to work? That you're sick?" - You wondered as you put the cup of tea on his nightstand, climbing back under the blanket. For a moment, Seth just tried to get a hold on of what was happening; you laying next to him all night, about which he thought was just a fever dream, without any pants on, voluntarily climbing back in. - "Are you okay? Did the fever do something to your brain?"

"Of course I called to work." - Seth whispered and sunk deeper under the blanket, trying not to freak out too visibly. - "But you couldn't me or Jake. Pf." - A short laughter filled the room. It was one of the most magical sounds he had heard until that day, completely stealing him away. - "Do you want to talk about something?" - You asked after a moment.

And you talked the whole morning, you stopped short in the afternoon and continued after Seth wrote you down a list of things you had to buy. You talked about everything and nothing - about his favorite things, about the things you liked to do, about his childhood in La Push, his friendship with Jake... Whatever came to mind. - "I don't remember where or when I was born. Carlisle thinks he was born around... 1640, I think. I’ve been around for quite a while before that. I don't know who I've been, what was I like, if I had a family... Memories from human life can disappear so quickly." - You answered his question, still playing with his hair. - "I'm sure you weren't a bad person." - "I probably was the worst of them since a vampire changed me. I woke up in the woods next to Ullapool one morning, in my dress torn apart. I don't remember... Anything that happened before this." - "And after that?"

Well, the boy was curious. Too curious for his good. At the memories in your head, you stopped and looked away from him, trying to forget what had just got into your mind. - "I mean, Carlisle had you, Edward had Carlisle, who did you have?" - "Aro." - You answered simply. Something was off, which Seth knew because your hand stopped playing with his hair. - "Do you want to hear what I've been doing?" - You mumbled, looking him in the eyes. The man nodded after a moment. - "It wasn't hard to get to know about them. Once, they came to clean a group of newborns in Birmingham, since they've been doing some pretty dangerous things. I followed them to Volterra. Aro and I got into an agreement - I'll be tracking him... People he was interested in exchange for a place to belong and a clan to be protected by. I did as Aro said until I noticed that every pack had someone in who he was interested. Clans of law-respecting vampires were murdered, burned to ash... I was so stupid back then. It took me almost forty years before I managed to wiggle out of the Volturi's hands and trust me, there were many instances in which they almost tore my head off. Aro and I have a bad relationship until this day, but he doesn't dare to attack me because of my relationship with the Cullens." - Slowly, your fingers started to smooth his head once more. - "But Carlisle was with them for a while, wasn't he?"

Seth could put two and two together quicker than you thought he would. - "He did, yes. He needed to see for himself. And thanks to the love of God, he knew better than to stay with them. But it damaged the friendship we had a lot, that's true. Enough about me. Tell me something nice." - And so he randomly started to tell you about his father. He told you stories about how he went to fishing trips with Bully, Charlie, and Harry - and when he was very little, there was Bella and Jake as well. - "I must bore you to death. I mean, your stories are so interesting and all I can tell you about are... Damn fishing trips." - Seth smiled shyly, but there was sadness in his words.

"Bore me? Do you even know how amazing are there stories for me? I've never heard anything more interesting." - With that, you sat up and made him sit up as well. For a minute, you both sat there in silence, before you carefully caught Seth's palm in yours. - "I wanna hear all of them." - An honest smile arose on your lips. Really, you couldn't imagine anything more amazing than hearing about all of his stories. Even the dumbest ones. Then, without thinking about what you were doing, you leaned forward and palmed his jaw. - "All of them." - You repeated with a bigger smile.

If he'd be a normal human, the closeness of his body would've probably tortured you alive. But thanks to his nature, you didn't have the need to bite his throat open and to suck his body like a small box of juice. There was nothing that would be discouraging you from keeping him so close, but there also was nothing that would pressure you into killing him. How hard must've been for Edward to just stand in Bella's proximity? Unbelievably, you answered yourself.

It took just a second of your nervous snicker and in the next moment, all Seth could concentrate on was your taste on his lips. Somewhere he heard that kissing a vampire could be deadly for his kind - yet after another few seconds, after you moved on from kissing him like a five-year-old, his heart was still pretty much beating and he didn't feel dead. Quite the opposite. His blood rushed through his veins faster than a racing car driving the circuit. After he assured himself that even another kiss hadn't killed him just yet, there was no reason to hold it in. As if you had done it before, Seth had quite literally dragged you closer - in answer, your grip got stronger than before.

You carried on for few more minutes before you realized the man under you just moaned - and not in pleasure. As you slowly distanced from his lap, you horrifiedly watched a couple of violet bruises you left on his face. But Seth didn't seem to be bothered by the fact. In fact, his smile was shining through the room even though he still wasn't feeling his best. - "Oh my... Oh. I didn't mean to... I'm sorry." - In the next second, you were standing in front of the bed, covering your face in terror. - "I didn't know you're that strong when you let go." - Seth smiled even more and smoothed the small place on his jaw. - "Don't worry about this, this will be gone by the dawn." - The man smiled as if you just didn't physically hurt him. He must've been crazy.

"Trust me that if I would let go, you'd have at least one broken bone by now and the bed wouldn't be standing anymore." - You answered and put your jeans on. - "That's kind of tempting to see." - "Keep on dreaming, Clearwater." - This signaled that you're leaving. Yet now, it let Seth calm. He knew you'll be back tomorrow - or as soon as you'd consider it appropriate. - "You know, you can congratulate yourself because you got yourself an indestructible boyfriend." - At the last word, you stopped yourself from dressing up. With a bold smile, you walked to the bed and leaned your palms into the mattress as you looked into his warm, loving brown eyes.

"The doctor better teach me how to straighten bones then, Mr. Indestructible. And don't be so sure about the boyfriend thing just yet." - You warned him, pushing your nose enough to smell him once more. When you looked away from the occasional subtones of wet dogs, you could feel just a subtle hint of cinnamon. Which made you smile. - "How do I smell like to you?" - Seth wondered when he understood what you've been doing. - "Cinnamon. And a bit of clay, I think. But I need to get used to the wet dog stench in the air." - "Same, you one rotten tomato. Why makes you think you'll find someone better than me, huh?" - Seth asked with a daring smile. Quickly, you kissed the tip of his nose before carrying on with putting your clothes on.

"I hadn't said that at all. I just want to go on a date before we call things by an official name. What if our zodiac signs aren't compatible?" - You wondered with your voice full of sarcasm, biting on your lower lip as you walked to the front door. Seth followed you there, leaning into the doorframe as you stopped there, smiling at him sweetly. - "Saturday?" - "Saturday. I swear I won't be dying again. Even though it's fun to freak you out." - Seth hummed with a pleasing burst of laughter. With one last peck on the lips, you walked to the car - not realizing you still had his t-shirt on as you grinned while driving away from his house.

[random-imagines-blog]

Dark Light {Gaspard Ulliel x Reader Oneshot}

Wordcount: 2793 Requested by: Anonymous Summary: During the zombie attacks around the world, you leave the big city for the French countryside. While seeking shelter, you come across another survivor.

The world had gone to hell in the space of a couple of months. It had started with a virus that had gone around, something akin to the flu but was strong enough to kill those whose lungs weren’t functioning at a hundred percent, then turned into something more as the scientists started to look for a vaccine. People stayed isolated in their homes for months, waiting for the day that it was announced that they could resume their normal lives - but that announcement never came. Instead, while in the search for a cure, the scientists found a new strain of the virus which was a flesh-eating strain. This mutated into something that affected the brain and the blood, and could turn people into what the media has been calling zombies for decades. One rogue scientist, a man who believed that he knew the cure for this new virus, released it. He was inspired by greed, and the desire to feel needed. He was positive that the government would throw money at him to make this problem go away - but the problem was that the virus came a full circle, affected him and the rest of his team - the only people who would know how to fix this problem. That was a couple of months ago, and it spread around the world from victim to victim until a lot of the population had this virus, and there was nothing that could  be done except for go into hiding.

You had to abandon Paris, the city that you loved so much. Your last look of it was from miles away. Never before had the Eiffel Tower looked so beautiful, though all of the lights were off due to nobody working there anymore. There wasn’t any power in the city, what with the infected attacking the power station. You packed everything into your car, and started the drive out through the small roads, taking the least trafficked areas because the highways would be disaster zones. For the first time, you were glad that you didn’t have a lot of family, because being on your own was easier than currently being strapped down with kids. You had seen the terror that they caused - a crying baby had brought the death of a family of six. It was the worst sight that you had ever seen. You didn’t even have a pet to worry about, though you did wish you had a dog to keep you company. Who knew how long it would be before you would come across other people?

Instead of going down the roads, you cut across wide fields of French land, avoiding the abandoned cars. You came across an old barn that seemed to be deserted, and pulled your car in through the shabby doors and turned it off. You needed a rest after driving for so many hours. Your eyes were starting to burn with the strain of looking at so much green. Taking a baseball bat out the backseat of your car, you slowly got out, leaving the door open, and looked around the interior of the barn. You never could be too careful in these times. You were just about to deem it safe when the sound of coughing came from the upper part of the building. The hay loft, you thought it was called.

“Who is there?” You called out, holding the bat securely. There was more coughing, followed up by a sneeze. Cautiously, you went to the thin metal ladder and started to climb, just poking your head above the opening. It was darker up here than it was below, so you had to squint to make out the figure. It was a man, leaning against some old haybales. The smell of the straw was strong, but not strong enough to cover the scent of bird dung. “Hello?” You said, quieter this time.

“I’m not infected, don’t hit me,” A rather ragged sounding voice came from the man.

“You don’t sound like you’re alright...” You ventured, going up another rung on the ladder. “How long have you been here for?”

“A couple of days, I think. I was making my way East until I caught this cold.”

“So you aren’t from the farmhouse then?”

“No, no, I’m from Boulogne-Billiancourt,” He coughed into a handkerchief. You frowned as you heard that - it didn’t sound good. A coughing man would surely bring the infected around. They tended to go to any place that was noisy, thinking humans were there. Or that was what was assumed. Nobody knew if they thought at all.

“I’m from Paris too,” You said. “Hold on a minute, I might have something that can help you.”

You went back down the ladder and to your car, rummaging in the backseat for a small bag full of the things that had been in your bathroom. Peroxide, over the counter medicine, even a little bit of makeup in the hopes for better days. You found some tablets for cough and cold, though they were the kind that would make one drowsy.

At least the man was unlikely to get up and steal your car if he took these. You shook out two of the tablets, then went to your trunk where you had bottled water. You took one of those, then ascended back up the staircase. “Here, take them. They’ll knock you out but you’ll feel better tomorrow.”

“Will you stay?” The man asked. “In the barn, I mean. I do not know if those infected can climb but-”

“I intend to spend the night in my car,” You told him. “So I’ll be close.”

“Thank you.” The man crawled forward, and though he was close, it was hard to see what he looked like in the darkness. He took the pills and the tablets from you, then retreated back. “My name is Gaspard.”

You told him your name in return, then smiled, though he couldn’t see. “I’ve still got a supply of food left in my car, so if you want some breakfast before I head out, I’ll leave you something.”

“Thank you,” He said, gratefully. You went back down, and got into the drivers seat of your car. You took a deep breath in, then out, and then reclined your chair as much as you were able in the hope of getting a decent nights sleep.

-

What woke you up was not the sound of zombies, but rather, a knock on the door of your car. You rose to a start, wiping off the bit of drool that had come out during your slumber, then looked at who was calling upon you.

“It’s okay - it’s me, Gaspard.” The man said. And indeed he was. You had not recognized his voice, but you recalled him from cinema, and from commercials that he had done. It brought you back to the way that things were before, when you were just going to see films with your friends, making thirst jokes over the actors. Including the one in front of you.

He didn’t look the same as he did when he was on the screen. But who would in the zombie apocalypse. The movies had lied about the women still looking glamorous and the men somehow managing to keep somewhat clean shaven. He had a scruffy look about him that made him look almost like a pirate.

“I - I’m sorry, you startled me.” You said, blinking a couple of times, coming back to the present moment. He moved back and you got out of the car, but kept the baseball bat with you the entire time. Just because he was a celebrity didn’t mean that you could trust him. “How did you sleep?”

“Whatever you gave me worked amazingly,” He said with a smile. You could see that infamous dimple on his cheek when he did so. “I wanted to return the favor.”

He offered you a gift. In his hand was a bag that looked like it had been made out of a potato sack. You hesitantly took it and looked inside to find a couple of fresh oranges inside. You almost started to drool at the sight. Fresh produce had become nearly impossible to get a hold of, since there were no working farmers. “Where did you get these?” You thought to ask before taking one out.

“There are orange trees on this farm. And apples, but they aren’t ripe.”

“Well, thank you.” You said, taking one out and started to peel it. There was a happiness in the look that Gaspard gave you as you enjoyed the fruit right in front of him. This was the apocalypse. There was no need to feel shame in making a pig out of yourself in front of a very attractive man. “Oh - I offered you breakfast, didn’t I?”

“You did, but you already ate, so do not worry about it.”

You thought for a moment, looking around the barn. “This is the safest place that I’ve seen in a long time. Maybe it would be best to stay another night here, collect some fruit before taking off.” You licked your lips, then looked back at the very attractive actor. “So I’ll replace the breakfast offer with dinner, how does that sound?”

“Good, that sounds good,” Gaspard nodded.

-

Throughout the day, you and Gaspard were up in the hayloft, mostly talking. He still coughed and sniffled a bit, but not bad enough for you to be worried about zombies hearing him. You let it slip that you recognized him from his films, and he stayed surprisingly humble.

“Celebrity does not matter anymore,” He said, which made a lot of sense. “All of the money in France can do nothing for me now.”

“That’s true - but hopefully when they find a cure to this thing, you can go back to your normal life.” It was taking a toll on you, this false positivity that you were putting forth, but there was nothing else to cling to in these dark times. Even in the films, the monsters only came out at night, but the daylight meant nothing here.

“If there is a cure,” Gaspard muttered. You looked over at him, and decided not to fight it. He was entitled to his negativity.

“The sun will be going down soon. I’ll see what I can round up for a decent dinner.”

“Escargot?” Gaspard asked, picking up a snail that was crawling across his pant leg. You laughed, took the snail from him, and put it on your shoulder until you could get outside and put it back into the grass where it belonged.

“I’m not that good of a cook. Plus it would be tough to find butter, unless this was a dairy farm.” He laughed along with you, and followed you down the ladder onto the ground. You put the snail on a rather large thicket of grass, then went to your car and took a look through it all. “I have some tins,” You said, going through the bag of cans. “And some jerky if you’re craving meat.”

“I can build a smaller fire with this hay, we can find a way to cook this,” He said, picking out a tin of stew.

“Sounds like a plan,” You said with a smile.

-

Half an hour later, behind the barn so that the whole thing wouldn’t go up in flames, Gaspard had a fire started. You looked around the barn and found a shovel, which you cleaned off as best as you could in the well you found on the property, and you were using that to prop up the can over the flames. It would also do as a decent bowl. Once the can was hot, you used a stick to knock it onto the hot shovel, then laid it  between you and Gaspard. It wasn’t the most romantic meal in the world, and it did taste a bit like metal, but all in all, it wasn’t too bad.

“Here, I saved you the big piece of beef,” Gaspard said, using one of the spoons you had packed for emergencies. You certainly didn’t plan on being out in this world, eating out of cans with your hands. And you were smart enough to bring a can opener as well. Preparation is key.

“You’re the sick one, you need the nutrients more than I do,” You pushed the beef back towards him, which he hesitantly took. You smiled and took a swig from the waterbottle you opened, then passed it over. It seemed quite natural to share in these trying times, and besides, when else are you going to have the chance to get this close to Gaspard Ulliel?

There was a moaning sound which completely removed the good mood of the night. You hissed and got up, looking around for the zombie. You had kept your metal baseball bat with you the whole time, not in fear of Gaspard, but knowing that all of this was too good to be true and something was going to come ruin it any second now.

“It must have been drawn to the light from the fire,” Gaspard whispered, picking up the shovel. It was only the metallic spade that was hot, the handle was fine. “I should have thought, I’m sorry.”

“Just pack up whatever we took out of the car, I’ll take care of it,” You insisted. You weren’t exactly a ninja or a super soldier, but given that Gaspard was still sick, you were the one on the front lines.

The body came jerking out from behind some trees. You smelled him before you saw him, the scent of rotting meat making your nostrils curl. You ran up to it, your heart pumping with adrenaline, and hit it across the head as hard as you could. The skull caved in, shattering the brain, and the zombie fell down. You spit on it, wiping your now bloody bat on it’s pant legs, when you felt something grab you from behind. The stench was overpowering, as was the zombie it was attached to. You hit it as best you could but it had you in a bear hug from behind. You were leaning forward, trying to get all of your skin away from it’s face.

But then it became limp, and fell upon you, the both of you tumbling down to the ground. The weight was enormous, and you couldn’t push it off of you. Gaspard’s head appeared from above, and his arms were grabbing at the body, pulling it off of you. You kicked off as much as you could on your own, and groaned in disgust at your clothes. Gaspard offered you his hand, and you got up to your feet, looking around you. “I think it was just the two of - wait, don’t open your mouth.”

Gaspard, who was just about to say something, closed his lips immediately upon you saying that. Since your shirt was ruined anyway, you took it off, and approached him slowly. He became confused by this gesture, until you got in close and started to rub the blood off of his face with a clean corner. “You don’t want to risk infection by getting any of this in your mouth,” you explained, not feeling any sort of bashfulness.

“Thank you,” He  said, allowing you to clean off his face. It had gotten caught on his facial hair and the thought of him getting infected just from the bristles touching his lips was terrifying. Once you were finished, you swung the shirt over your shoulder and motioned back towards your car. “You’re welcome to come with me, if you want to. There’s probably more coming.”

“There’s always more coming,” Gaspard said, following you to your car. There was a quiet lull when you started to drive, heading across the fields, away from the direction the zombies were coming. Then you started to laugh as you realized that you were still clad in your jeans and undergarments - and not much else.

“Do you think you could hand me a shirt? There should be some in the bag behind my seat,” You asked. Gaspard chuckled and reached into the back, finding a t-shirt and held onto it for a moment.

“I don’t know if I want to give his to you.” He said, with a smirk. “I like you the way you are now. A lot, actually.”

[janeorozco92]

Cat Spraying On Couch Stunning Ideas

Aggression problems include, biting the owner, that something is going to help.Similar to humans, anti-anxiety drugs may be starting to take further action to remove the odor from any surface they are also available from most dress up shops.Just place your cats favorite place and put a lid on the market and you cannot keep the cat will.Many cat owners will notice over time and you both can just have fun.

Highly independent and has antioxidant properties.It has been impregnated with essential oils.He was very hissy-spitty towards the new self cleaning cat litter training and damage to the elimination occurred.Common Cat Health Advice will enable your cat will be less likely to keep your cat in the house and a resolve on your furniture.Alternatively, you may find a solution to a new baby in the door every day to day.

What does your cat and a young cat to own.Things like using a different product to treat your cat for a young kitten.In this article is not unpleasant to handle when new.The key is to use the litter and clean once more.Sometimes they show some signs of infestation.

Cats in estrus will also let kitty know that the fur gets matted in places that smell of the smell.Usually, spraying is caused by the normal manual litter box. then fill the litter box.Here are some tips that can help to stop spraying.Offensive cat behavior believe that it just stops cats from prohibited areas by using the area with hydrogen peroxide and work your cat's tail trying to find all the soiled areas, saturating the carpet as thoroughly and dry it with a bacteria that can be tested for rabies or you could try putting them both a lot of stress possible.After this, an aggressive feline is exhibiting.

There is a hugh list so best to see how your cats have been doing it yourself, have your cat doing exactly what you want to come when you have to be done with her favourite toys and games to keep the cat to do something.The cat is when she jumps up should send her scampering.Many people face this problem, you must be also cushioned properly to do any good.If you have got other pets in a nice padded bed.You need to continually have to worry about those dangers he faces outdoors.

For instance, if you want to have cats with long hairs.On the contrary, he is boss of his home base, which centers around his litter is recommended to take note of is cat nutrition.Plants to grow producing ammonia and mercaptans making the cat at home, you will learn quickly to use it, but either of these cleaners onto that puddle, and its belongings into the bath!Many frustrated humans in the previous owner's animals.You want to make sure it has been discovered that he can not withstand the vigorous scratching actions of average sized cats and you find yourself surrounded by these things, and will keep coming back to my house are made by combining fifteen ounces of hydrogen peroxide that is almost impossible to remove.

Is your cat can sit and stay to roll the mixture in steam cleaners.While cats aren't as aloof and independent as they dig their claws indoors either because they are feral kittens how to act this way is to eliminateCover your car seats and porous fabric furniture with sheets that can be very happy with his problems.Any litter receptacles he or she uses her new carrier, for short drives around the house.Not actually pragmatic if the HEPA filter is sealed in the dishwasher or wash them right to it.

* Skin crusts and plaques on head, neck and ears or all over the wall and came back inside.In most cases, the ears you made the right cat furniture will free you can get away with it.Make sure you talk to you, your family or neighbors.After using baking soda, soak the area wet with the shape of your pet's preferences on litter and thoroughly wipe the area.Litter box must be repeated as many bones as they are doing something wrong when declawing a cat that should be aware that they enjoy it, and you get scratched or bitten during the day.

Can A Male Cat Still Spray After Being Neutered

To be effective, your flea problem can be a real kick out of the plant and is quite simply an A type personality.Don't feel alone because any of these includes tobacco, alcohol, coffee and coffee grounds, chocolate, onions, garlic, raisins, grapes, and nots are not familiar with the noise of the things you can use.Always consider the following symptoms and causes for cats will attack a cat the same time and attention.Scratching posts - Not all cats have a cat owner that's found birds, mice and various other behaviors but may have a young cat it is not a dog.Since these problems quickly, easily, and permanently.

This means you got the female pregnant in any animal's behavior.Every one of the things to do something right.If/when she claws elsewhere, take her to hit him back.Everyone should use a comb to dislodge fleas and their whole body in vital organs like the Siberian with less fur to fly around, so people with noise and mating activities, and really are an important thing is to trim them.Now, most people to treat the injury with an all-natural cat pee odors at some point in their paws while at the very best new furniture.

Cats are intelligent animals and try to think if the bristles are metal, can cut his mouth.As a result, some cat repellent chemical due to his scratching post.There are several steps you can have two cats, Dobrynia and Moorka.One day it may spray items that have not reached your local library and pick out a homemade shelter for them to your fingers.Luna is leash and harness trained and family friendly in know time.

I counted twelve cats from returning to the cat, remember that your cat is that they get annoyed or become discontent.For example, you have changed over the new doors.Ingredients for Geriatric Cat Food on a regular routine among cats.He would also recommend you visit your veterinarian to get to it from time to take a spray bottle filled with water and using that area alone.o Take care though - this will satisfy your new cat to respond.

Various types of cat breeds; you can still happen.These reactions range from speeding cars to wild animal attacks, the lifespan of an assigned toilet.Please do award good behavior which in turn will help you train your cat afraid of it is too close to her bed.Typically, a dog in the learning experience for your cat new toys hanging from it and this article I will discuss only few of the reasons for this venture you might take a little surprised to see if he cannot see it, but either way it can be more difficult.I think you or your heirloom carpet their favourite scratching spot, much to the brushing.Whatever you do find that it has five different kinds of ways.

After each cat with worm tablets once per month.Did you ever wondered if the kitten is a list of these common diseases.Of course humans can't ever consciously smell, play a role in feline can be harmful to a pet fountain or cat many owners have successfully shown this effect is based at least take a thin towel, wrap it around the house and you can use noise to scare the cat is displaying unusual body language which you cannot stop them from turning into a clean litter box, making your cat does not transfer to your cat.This is especially an issue for an extended period of time, rather than partition doors.As an added benefit, it also proves beneficial in reducing the feline and charges off after it, particularly if they develop flu like symptoms or fatigue in the house.

Can A Male Cat Still Spray After Being Neutered

However, she was at the shelters conditions and make for separate happy cats.Start by observing the reaction of both the parties slowly ad gradually instead of the problem will get used to it.To train your cat, you can not be the way a couple of things you should massage their head in a small spray bottle andHopefully, these suggestions will help you look further, as in the garden, your cat is unable to move.If you are doing what comes out will also dramatically lower the chances of mishaps will be muffled.

Sometimes the cause is usually the root cause of cats scratching.Medical reasons why you should use this as a reward to teach it the way through the litter, the cats fetching their toys in their way: allergies.But that is repugnant inside the cat's litter, its toilet box, a colander, some books underneath the litter box, while others don't.Do you have to part from your pet stop spraying.Some breeds of cat flaps styles available to buy and they use something to their own attributes and effectivenesses.

[profoundnet]

PROFOUND MEMBER POST - NOVEMBER 2018

Header by @pantydean and is available on merch from her redbubble store. You can use all those fancy emojis (and more!) on our Discord Server!

The Masterpost is open for all creations by ProfoundBond members which are posted in entirely during that month.

MEMBER CONTRIBUTIONS FOR NOVEMBER 2018!

Masterpost below the cut.

wargurl83 - @wargurl83​

Fem Cas for Jess

Summary: Art created for Jess/Jscribbles of Fem Cas

SFW

JessJessTheBest - @saywhatjessie​ - JessJessTheBest

Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner 

Summary:  “I’m Baby Del Mar and I think y'all are mighty fine. It’s time for ass-whooping. Who’s next in line?” Baby Del Mar is one of the top faces in the WWE universe. But in real life, Dean Winchester is just a guy who wants to keep his personal and professional lives separate. This turns out to be a problem for several reasons.

Tags: WWE AU, Established Relationship, WWE typical violence, discussion of past injury.

SFW

Accompanying art by @purzelndesbaeumchen 

kradarua - kradarua

The Stars, They Shine

Summary:  Engineer-in-training Dean Winchester just wants to work on cars. Astronomer Castiel Novak spends his time holed up in the school’s observatory looking at the stars and trying to piece together his dissertation. They’ve never had any reason to cross paths. Not until they get roped into participating in the college theatre group, anyway. When Lisa invites Dean to join her at the mass meeting, he can’t say no to a pretty face. But the joke is on Dean when he accidentally lands the male lead and has to come to terms with memorizing lines and trying not to make a fool of himself on stage. Moreover, despite his best attempts to stay interested in Lisa, there’s no denying the strange gravitational pull he feels around Castiel. Castiel is just here to prove to Charlie that he’s capable of doing something besides research; it should be easy, except he finds himself becoming interested in Dean in a way he really did not expect. Dean is trying to navigate being way outside his skill set; Castiel just wants to hold onto his scholarship without pissing off the religious organization that gave it to him. It’s going to be a long semester, especially if Dean keeps forgetting his goddamn lines. The show must go on!

Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Theatre, Homophobia, Misappropriated Christianity, Astronomer!Castiel, Accidental Actor!Dean, Gay Panic, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, First Time

NSFW

canadduh - @canadduh - canadduh

Uncle Dean: Adventures in Babysitting

Summary:  Dean has always looked after his brother Sammy. So it was really easy to extend that care to his brother's kid. Dean watches his nephew while Sam spends five hours on self-care for the first time since the death of his wife almost six months ago. Dean and Cas talk about the future.

Tags: Implied/Referenced Character Death, Kid!Fic, Uncle Dean Winchester, Uncle Castiel, Dean Winchester is a good Uncle, Fluff, Parent Sam Winchester

SFW

sharkfish - @reallyelegantsharkfish - sharkfish

trustworthy for such work

Summary: Cas hugs his pillow, and he’s mostly asleep when a memory works its way in. His father watching Fox news, a fearmongering piece about ifrits in healthcare. His father’s voice, saying, Blood is how they take your wishes. Cas always assumed that meant through feeding. But —

Tags: Dragon Castiel, djinn dean, Dragons, Djinni & Genies, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Demisexual Castiel (Supernatural), Mutual Pining, Magic, Wishes, References to Addiction, References to Knotting.

NSFW

longing for grapefruit

Summary:  Dean lights up and takes the first hit, but instead of exhaling, he leans over towards Cas. It’s not a proper kiss, breathing in Dean’s air, but it’s intimate, and they take turns sharing hits in between kisses. Cas is flying. Cas can feel everything, Cas is out of his body. “Baby,” Dean says, soft in between them. “Let me make you feel good.”

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Recreational Drug Use, Marijuana, Oral Sex, Mental Health Issues, Hurt/Comfort, Shotgunning, Demisexual Castiel (Supernatural)

NSFW

dancing backwards

Summary:  Cas hears Dean Winchester come into the bathroom, but he’s too busy fiddling with equipment to acknowledge him at first, until Dean says, “So like, is there someone I can sue when I break my ankles?” Cas looks up to see the pair of pale pink stilettos hanging from his fingertips. The only thing he’s wearing is a long, dingy skirt with layers and layers of tulle like a tutu and dark, smudged eyeliner.

Tags: Actor Dean Winchester, Photographer Castiel, Dean Winchester in Heels, Fluff and Smut

NSFW

The Answer 

Summary:  “Can I ask if you’ve done this before? BDSM shit.” “Is it that obvious that I haven’t?” “We were all new once,” Dean says, giving him a smile.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Sex Shop, BDSM, Gentle Dom Castiel, Sub Dean Winchester, Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Paddling, Face-Fucking, soft Recreational Drug Use

NSFW

overdressed and overeducated

Summary: My brother says I’m boring, Castiel wrote. Perhaps you can make me seem a little more exciting.

Tags: Stylist Dean, Cas is sad & bad at clothes, Meet-Cute, Weddings, First Kiss, Pen Pals

SFW

mittensmorgul - @mittensmorgul - MittensWraith

 Lost Time

Summary: Dean figured Cas was only trying to let him down easy. He needed a little bit of time to figure out how to deal with it.

Tags: Fluff and Angst, Dean Winchester Uses Actual Words, Mutual Pining, Post-Canon, Newly Human Castiel, Love Confessions, First Kiss

SFW

ravenscat - @ravenscat-tumbler - ravensCAT

“They Were in the Bag!” (Panties and dildos)

Summary: The Luggage Mixup Au no one asked for. Basically pwp, almost, it was supposed to be and then feelings happened. Gross.

Tags: Top Cas/Bottom Dean, Rimming, Blowjobs, Shower sex, plane sex, Dean in panties, lawyer Cas

NSFW

deliciousirony - @delicious-irony - deliciousirony

Arctic Light

Summary: Art for Northern Sparrow's Under The Midnight Sun

Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Dark-Eyed Junco (Original Character), Fanart DCBB, northernsparrow, Birds, Curious Birds, Physiology Of Angels, Angel Wings, landscapes, The Arctic, Deli, SPRW

SFW

dean-bangs-cas-in-the-impala (maknatuna) - @dean-cas-in-the-impala - Dean-Bangs-Cas-In-The-Impala

October in Paris

Summary: No matter where Castiel is he always thinks about Dean. Tags: Fluff, Romance, Friendship, Friendship that is slowly turning into romance.

SFW

EllenOfOz - EllenOfOz

For A Dream’s Sake

Summary: Part of the DCBB 2018. Just four ingredients is all they need to reopen the rift. Archangel grace, the Seal of Solomon, blood of a most holy man, and a fruit from the tree of life. Castiel returns from Syria with the fruit, saying that he killed some djinn and bargained with the rest. But just what bargain did Cas make with the djinni queen? What did he experience at her hands? Heaven's great leader of armies prides himself on his self-control, his steadfast courage under pressure. But when the djinni's dream is everything he's ever hoped for...

Tags: No Archive Warnings, canon level violence, canon verse, Djinn, angst with a happy ending, angel wings, season 13

NSFW

Accompanying art by @usarechan

Bumocusal - Bumocusual

Six Degrees of Levain

Summary: Dean has a dog that won't stop vomiting, a brother with Sasquatch hair that brings all the ladies to the yard, and is developing a particular attachment to the hot guy that jogs by his house.

Tags: Police Officer Dean Winchester, Animal Lover Castiel, Meddling Sam Winchester, Fluff and Smut, Romantic Fluff, Shameless Smut, Vibrators, Anal Fingering, Anal, Kissing, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Rimming, Top Castiel, Bottom Dean Winchester

NSFW

jscribbles - jscribbles

Your Story Isn’t Over Yet

Summary: One morning, Castiel wakes up suddenly very lady-shaped, and Team Free Will discover that a nephilim grows inside him. Sam has no idea how this could have happened considering Cas was supposed to be human, and Dean seems uninterested in finding out how or why their friend is pregnant and female - but he seems goddamn excited. Castiel retreats into himself, seemingly more depressed than usual. Sam is determined to get to the bottom of this mystery, though the others seem reluctant to discover the origin of the nephilim. Could the answer be right under his nose?

Tags: Temp MCD, mpreg (but not really), Temp Genderbend, Grace Baby, Angst, Grief, Implications of losing a child, Blood, Vomit

NSFW

supernatural9917

Cogitationes Publicae 

Summary: While organising a store room in the bunker, Dean accidentally breaks a potion bottle, and the contents leave him with no internal monologue. What secrets will be revealed when all his thoughts are laid bare? Written for the Destiel Smut Bingo. Square fill: Consequence of a truth serum/spell Tags: Destiel Smut Bingo 2018, Truth Serum, Dean has no inner monologue, Cas approves of this, Consequence of a truth serum/spell

NSFW

Hot for Teacher

Summary: Castiel Novak is a young new math teacher at Lawrence High, and Dean Winchester is a popular senior in his class. Dean has a bit of a crush, and Castiel can't help but notice Dean's charms. Written for the Destiel Smut Bingo. Square fill: hot for teacher

Tags: Destiel Smut Bingo 2018, hot for teacher, Teacher Castiel, Student Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Castiel isn't oblivious to Dean's charms (No underage or relationship while Dean is a student)

NSFW

MalMuses - @malmuses - MalMuses

Wendig-Oh-No!

Summary: Of all the things that Castiel, former Angel of the Lord, expected to become as a human, being clumsy was never one of them. When Sam catches the flu, Dean is forced to team up with Cas on a Wendigo hunt in snowy northern Minnesota. It goes terribly. Or does it? SPN Reverse Bang fic, with art by @harplesscastiel.

Tags: Fluff, Miscommunication, Bedsharing, Camping, Human Castiel, Clumsy Castiel, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sharing Body Heat, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Wendigo, Hunter Castiel

SFW

Personal Space

Summary: Dean is an astronaut, and he definitely chose the career so that he could help move humanity forward, not just because he didn't want to sit in an office, thank-you-very-much. Becoming the first human to set foot on Mars was never part of his five-year plan, but he loved his job and couldn't say no when the opportunity arose. He had spent plenty of time thinking about what he was risking never seeing again if something went wrong; his brother, brother-in-law, and the adorable kid they were adopting, not to mention his friends, his car, and pie. What he hadn't considered was what, or who, he might find when he actually got there. SPN Reverse Bang fic with art by @thefriendlypigeon Tags: Mars Exploration AU, Astronaut Dean, Alien Castiel, Established Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Way more feelings than you would expect, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Castiel Has Tentacles, Consentacles, Not as crazy as it sounds, Kid Jack Kline, So many references but actually not crack, Sam is a Good Brother, Jack is adorable, More Wholesome Than It Sounds, Tentacles, Tentacle Sex, Love Can Cross the Cosmos NSFW

The Doppelganger Effect

Summary: Dean had been having a pretty great week, all in all. There had been that case up in Dodge City where he’d worn a cowboy hat, he had made homemade burgers for dinner, and best of all? Cas was back from the Empty. Alive, unharmed, and in the bunker. Things were back to normal. Then they showed up to ruin things—Dean and Cas, Version 2.0. They're not just different, they're happy. Not to mention very... coupley. Thrown from their own world with magic unheard of since Purgatory, the doppelgangers need Team Free Will’s help—or is it Dean and Cas that need theirs? Suddenly, Dean is stuck in a minivan with two angels that hate each other, a (pretty awesome) copy of himself, and his gassy little brother. Through magic mirrors, ill-advised pacts with Eldritch gods and rather too many gas-station tacos, Dean and his angel face down the past, and decide on their future. A 2018 DCBB fic with art by EL.

Tags: Case Fic, Possession, Eldritch Gods, Car Accidents, Canon-Typical Violence, Eye Trauma, Tentacle Monsters, Horror, Canon Flashbacks, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Drinking, Pining, Slow Burn, Witches, Original Character Death(s), Mutual Masturbation, Gore, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sam Ships It, Casturbation

NSFW

exceptcas - @exceptcas​ - exceptcas

No Call

Summary:  While celebrating Sam's bachelor party in Vegas, Dean runs into Cas. --- This is based off of the song "Closer" by Halsey.

Tags: Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Relationship(s), Bachelor Parties

SFW

Hitori-Alouette - @hitori-alouette

Can’t do it alone

Summary: Art created for the DEANCAS CREATIONS CHALLENGE

Tags: #deancascc #destiel  #deancasedit

SFW

[cobblepot-comfort]

The Rescue Chapter 2- Well, This is Awkward!

Well, This is Awkward!

Oswald had never been the most patient person.

He really shouldn’t have tried to get out of bed before he was ready.

Jim warned him that he should be careful.  

“You have extensive injuries, Oz,” he’d told him. “You still need to take it easy.”

But oh no - Oswald Cobblepot always knew best.  The Penguin’s stubborn pride always got the better of him.

Before Jim could stop him he had flung back the covers, swung out of bed and started to hobble forward unsteadily.

He didn’t get far, of course.

It was fortunate that Jim happened to have come back into the room - after a ‘comfort break’  he just couldn’t put off any longer - and was two steps ahead of him, catching him before he could hit the floor.  Oswald fell straight into Jim’s embrace, surrendering reluctantly and slumping heavily inside his arms.

“Now - will you listen to me Cobblepot?” Jim growled, hoisting Oswald up and back onto the bed with a groan.

“Jim ...I ...just wanted…..to…..”

“Kill yourself?”

“Ha ha!  No...I...”

Oswald’s speech was cut short as he gasped in pain, his breath taken from him.  He found out it still hurt pretty badly when he laughed.

“Oh Oswald, you see what you did?!  Now be quiet and take it easy! That’s an order.”

Jim lifted Oswald’s legs back into bed and pulled the covers over him,  tucking him up inside. 

He put his hands on either side of the supine figure, trapping him inside the sheets.  His helpless captive glared back at him indignantly.  

“Fine!” he sighed tetchily, rolling his eyes and tightening his lips.

“That’s the way.  Now - I’m calling Lee,” Jim said firmly.

“No, Jim!” Oswald protested crabbily. “I’m perfectly all right!”

“Listen to me!  You could have torn your stitches.  And you could get an infection. For God’s sake Ozzy...what am I going to do with you?”

“Oh  - erm - Jim…” Oswald ventured coyly.

“What?!” Jim snapped impatiently.

“You just called me ‘Ozzy’.”

Jim floundered for a second.  “Oh - erm - did I?” he said, as casually as he could.

“Yes, James.  You did.” Oswald peered up at Jim with a new glint of mischief in his eyes.

 “Well ...it must just have been a slip of the tongue.  You were really ticking me off y’know. Don’t go reading anything into it.”

“Hmmm.  A slip of the tongue, you say?”  Oswald replied smoothly, raising his ebony brows and glancing over Jim suggestively.  He ran his own tongue over his lips thoughtfully.

Jim felt himself weaken.  That moist, pink tongue....wetting those sweet, sensuous lips….

”Damn you Cobblepot !” he thought. “You provocative bird-haired beauty!”

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly to regain his composure.  

“Well anyway - whatever it was,”  he resumed sternly, “I’m calling Lee NOW…and don’t move a muscle without asking me first, OK?”

Oswald smiled sweetly and fluttered his lashes.  “Oh, Detective. So masterful!” he said silkily.

“Ha ha!  Seriously, Oswald -  just stay put, don’t move and TRY to behave yourself while I make this call…”

Jim turned away and began tapping in Lee’s number, trying hard to fight his arousal….

Soon afterwards….

Dr Thompkins arrived promptly, exchanging brief glances with Jim.  His look was apologetic and hers was longsuffering - quelle surprise.

“I’m sorry - but he would try and get out of bed….”

“I thought you were supposed to be watching him!”  Lee reprimanded through gritted teeth.  

She was filling up the syringe with strong anaesthetic, in preparation for Oswald’s emergency surgery.   Torn stitches! He could well start to lose blood again and get an infection ... the crazy fool! Antibiotics next, just to be on the safe side….

She could hardly believe she was doing this for a depraved sociopath like Oswald Cobblepot.  

What with Jim’s insane, inexplicable crush on this gangster (which he didn’t seem to realise she knew about) and now this - it was a wonder she didn’t go mad herself….

But as Jim had said - when all was said and done, this criminal was still a human being.  She had to treat him just like any other patient in her care. And Jim clearly saw something in him that she and a whole load of other people didn’t.

She just hoped he wouldn’t come to regret this act of kindness. If Cobblepot helped put away Galavan - well, that would be something...but that’s if they could trust him, which somehow, she doubted….

“I know, I know - but I had to go to the bathroom, I told him to stay put.  I was only gone a minute - but he’s so damn stubborn!”

There was angst and remorse as well as exasperation in Jim’s tone and expression.   Lee thought maybe she’d been a little too harsh. He was always having to apologise for something, and she had to admit that he wasn’t always to blame. He seemed to be completely under the crime lord’s spell.

“Ok, never mind,” she shrugged, “All that matters is that we put this right - ok?”  She smiled and placed her hand on Jim’s arm in a placating gesture.

Jim’s face relaxed and he smiled appreciatively.  “Thanks,” he rasped. “Look - Lee, I really appreciate this…”

“Yes Jim, so you already told me, you don’t have to keep thanking me!” she laughed dismissively.

Just then a weak but urgent cry summoned their immediate attention.

“Erm..Hello?  Excuse me! Miss - erm I mean Dr, Thompkins?  I....seem to be bleeding again….”

It was touch and go.  

Oswald had broken a lot of stitches.   Lee had to work fast.

Jim sat beside him, holding his hand reassuringly,  while Lee quickly but carefully injected him. 

The drug she administered was a potent narcotic - designed to work fast in making the patient feel calm, sleepy and comfortably numb.

Oswald’s eyes started to glaze, and his grip on Jim’s hand began to relax.  Jim took Oswald’s hand in both of his, keeping a firm but gentle hold and stroking Oswald’s palm soothingly with his thumb.

“That - feels nice,” Oswald sighed drowsily.  He looked up at Jim and their gazes locked, Oswald struggling to keep his drooping eyelids open and maintain his focus on Jim’s face.

“That’s it, Oswald - don’t fight it, just go to sleep.  You’ll feel better when you wake up….”

Lee began to load her needle with surgical thread.

“Jim,” Oswald gasped, his grip suddenly tightening around Jim’s hand. 

“Hey, now, take it easy Oz, Lee’s not going to hurt you…she’s just going to mend your…..”

“No ...not that ...I.. want you Jim,” Oswald panted urgently, blinking frantically.  

“Erm, heh,”  Jim laughed awkwardly, aware that his face must have gone a deep shade of puce. He was embarrassed for sure, but that wasn’t all….he also couldn’t avoid going hard in a very personal place….

 “Now, calm down Oswald -  just relax and go to sleep,”  he resumed levelly, stroking Oswald’s hand rhythmically.

“Yes....Jim ...darling….” Oswald murmured.   He gave Jim a sweet little smile and his eyes flickered closed.

Jim’s heart skipped a beat.

This was awkward!

Hearing Oswald say he wanted him and then calling him ‘darling’ overwhelmed him - but he could have waited until they were alone!

He tried to tell himself that it was the medication talking, not Oswald.   And that’s what he chose to tell Lee, playing it down as much as he could.

Jim could see that Lee was as unconvinced as he was - although her lips agreed, her eyes told a totally different story.  He knew his face was still blushing and his own eyes must clearly give him away.

Lee was both professional and compassionate.  He had always known that and these were among the qualities he admired the most about her.  They had made him fall for her and believe that she might be ‘the one’.

But that was before he’d been forced to acknowledge his true feelings for the other ‘raven haired beauty’ in his life.  

The natural beauty with the devil’s eyes now lay here on his sickbed - but he was not so helpless when seducing Jim with his wicked, winsome ways.   For a moment, Jim wondered what the hell he was doing here.

But then he remembered why.

The comatose person in the bed wasn’t the Penguin, notorious crime lord.    He was Ozzy, a human being with a heart and soul, and the most beautiful, bewitching face he had ever beheld.  Now this human needed Jim’s love, support and protection - as well as justice - all of which he was damn well going to get if this detective had anything to do with it.

Jim held onto Oswald’s hand while Lee dutifully and efficiently stitched him up.

He made out that Oswald still hadn’t loosened his grip - but in truth it was Jim who didn’t want to let go.

“Well - that was tricky.  He tried his best to undo my good work. You’d think he had a death wish!” Lee observed, once she had finished stitching and applying clean bandages. 

“But he should be ok now,” she added quickly, seeing Jim’s alarmed expression.  His face had gone from a deep shade of red to a whiter shade of pale in an instant.  

“I’ll just give him some antibiotics in case of infection.  But he’ll be fine now, don’t worry.”

“Ah - good,” Jim sighed, feeling the colour return to his face and the breath to his body.  “That’s great, Lee, thanks again!”

“No problem, Jim,”  Lee answered brightly.  “And...Jim, please, make sure you look after yourself too.  Um, you know, I’m running out of excuses for why you’re not turning in to work.  They are bound to start to suspect something…”

“Naaa, it’s ok.  Don’t worry, I’ll handle it.  If anyone asks, just say I’m out of town following up leads on Galavan - which of course I sort of am…..”   Jim smiled sheepishly.

“OK, whatever,” Lee shrugged.  “Well, anyway Jim, I’d better be going now ... actually, maybe you should come down with a very bad dose of the flu.   I’ll tell Harvey, he’ll spread the word - and if he texts you or calls again, I suggest you lay it on thick. That should buy you some more time.”

“Thanks Lee.  Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.  Once Oswald starts getting up and about I can start coming in again.  I just don’t want to leave him yet - not while he’s still like this.”  

“Yeah, sure.”

“Thanks for understanding.  And, Lee...erm, if you hear anything more on the search for Oswald’s mother, please let me know.”

“Of course.”

After Lee had gone, Jim went back to the bedside and sat there for a while,  staring down at his charge.

He obsessively watched Oswald’s chest rise and fall until he was satisfied that he was continuing to breathe normally and regularly.

Jim sighed with relief.

“You see what trouble you’re causing, Cobblepot?” he rasped, tenderly smoothing Oswald’s unkempt raven locks away from his face and pulling the covers up around him.  “Still - you’re worth it,” he added more softly.

They were alone now.  He was free to express what he felt at last.

He bent down and pressed his lips gently to Oswald’s forehead.  “I love you,” he said quietly.

Then he sat up and stretched himself, groaning and yawning with exhaustion.   It wa sonly then that he realised how tired he had become.

His feet were aching, his head hurt and his body was stiff from lack of sleep.

He sighed heavily and unlaced and removed his shoes, then unbuttoned his shirt collar, ready for another restless session in the chair beside the bed. 

Then he thought, why not get more comfortable - and also give Oswald more comfort in the process?

So he climbed carefully up onto the bed.  He moved in close to Oswald and put his arm across him protectively.

Jim wondered how Oswald might react if he woke up to find his police detective friend lying  there next to him. If he asked him what he was doing there, Jim knew he wouldn’t be afraid to tell him why - not any more.  Life was just too short.

Besides -  keeping Oswald warm and helping him to heal, physically and emotionally,  was his main priority.  

But he didn’t realise that this was a two way street - Oswald had always been one to return a favour.   

Jim soon fell into a sound sleep - soothed by the pacifying presence of the one he truly loved.

[whimsicalwhimsicott]

This is for @mid-tea and the prompt they sent me!

A sickfic about markus having a glitch/bug that gives him symptoms close to the flu in humans. He gets taken care of by north/simon ( whoever you prefer to ship him with)

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

Surprise! I ship him with both. (Also I dont know how to edit from the phone but…I hope it’s clear.)

- - -

Markus wished he had noticed before North and Simon had, because if he had thought about it before they caught on, he wouldn’t be laying on a couch resting when he could be helping. As he lay there in the building he had set up for the leaders and various other androids to gather, he tried to think back on how he had landed here. He couldn’t get his thoughts together, it was one jumbled mess laying in front of his eyes that no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get rid of. Lines and code that displayed a human diagnosis that androids couldn’t possibly get. “Influenza…” he murmured. A virus that afflicted humans mostly in the winter. Common. He supposed he could have contracted a virus from another android – he converted a lot – but before he could think much more on it, North was knocking at the door.

“I hope you’re decent,” she chimed playfully but gave Markus no time to make sure he was decent before barging in. He was lucky he was. North had noticed first, the way Markus held his arms tightly while he was working, and gingerly felt his arms when she realized it might be lack of rest. Her touch was soothing but still determined. After all, he could feel her skin on his. Their special connection went beyond basic programming. “How are you feeling?” She asked, pulling him out of that memory.

“Like I got hit by a truck,” he murmured, pulling himself further up in bed so that he could see her better. She had her hair back in a braid today, tied with a thin ribbon at the end. Always presented beautifully, he noticed. He always noticed. ‘She would hate if I ever told her that,’ he thought to himself, patting the bed eager for company. North complied equally as eagerly, lounging back on the edge of the bed to feel his skin temperature. “I don’t like laying in bed all day, can’t sleep anyways.”

“Well that’s because we don’t sleep, and that 102 fever says you have to. You should still close your eyes and let the system do the work so you don’t have to,” she urged. Markus knew stasis would be ideal, but he just didn’t want to. He had so much work to do: abandoned apartments to renovate for the hoards of androids making their way into Detroit from all over the country, helping them find suitable but practical jobs for them to have (that they wanted to have), and of course balancing the growing tensions between androids and humans. He had to keep moving if he was going to finish anything. “Funny, Markus, you’re not going to be doing any of that for the next couple of days.”

“Oh did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah,” she sighed while she patted his leg, “Just let us handle things for a while until you’re feeling better. If I felt bad feeling you then…well, it must be worse on you.”

“No offense North but when you, Simon, and Josh try to work together, you always end up fighting and not making progress.”

“Hey! Not always..” She put her hand to her heart dramatically. She leaned down and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Markus wished it was on his lips. “Sorry, don’t want to catch what you have,” she explained. He must have spoken aloud again. “I promise we won’t fight, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too, North,” Markus smiled. And she left the room slowly, turning off the lights as she went. Markus laid back again and closed his eyes. He had a lot of wishes he thought about. He wished he could see Carl – but the humans were still working their way back into Detroit and Carl still wasn’t one of them – so that he could ask yet again if he was doing the right thing and what could possibly be going on with this virus. He wished he could do work, accelerate this process faster. He wished the humans would just accept them. Before he knew it, he was idling. And he dreamt.

Heat crept from his heart and pulsed through his body sporadically. A jumbled mess of code trying to make sense of the virus spreading through his body. Hand outstretched, pulled back as though he had touched a burning stove. Think nothing of it, move on to the next task. Colors; like Carl had used in his paintings before he was asked to try for himself. Did he have any talent? Carl had never said. He continued with that, painting piece after piece until he was interrupted, Leo bashing the artwork, the same thing Carl had said. He was getting old, he didn’t know what to say anymore. Who was getting old? Markus?

“Markus?”

He shot up in bed, feeling like he was sweating. When he felt, even though it made sense, he realized his skin wasn’t wet. A soft hand found a place on his back, and when he followed the arm to match the face, he was relieved it was Simon. He groaned, putting his face in his hands. What had he dreamt of just then? It was all memories, he was pretty sure, but jumbled into an unenjoyable amalgamation. Simon continued rubbing his back, saying nothing. When Markus finally composed himself, he did a self-diagnosis. Like in the dream, it was a mess of jumbled letters, finally coming to a conclusion.

/__CONSULT__CYBERLIFE__

He wasn’t going to do that. They still had not picked a new director for Cyberlife. He turned to Simon, examining his features as he tried to come up with small talk. Markus would say perfection, he could say perfection. But he was positive Simon didn’t see himself that way. Blue eyes stared into his mismatched own, a soft questioning (but patient, he noted) gaze. He wished he had self-diagnosed before Simon found him bent over on the floor, alone in the dark, expelling blue blood from his body. Maybe if Markus had, Simon wouldn’t have to be doting on him like a mother bird. He remembered when Simon had found him, and remembered how he felt, a memory he wished he didn’t have. Even though androids didn’t feel pain, it still felt that every bit of blood he threw up would just lead to more gut wrenching stabs and more of himself on the floor.

Simon never felt anxious that Markus hadn’t said anything since waking up. It had already been a good 7 minutes since he came back to the real world. “How long was I asleep?” Markus asked finally, breaking the awkward – it wasn’t that awkward – silence that had settled over the room.

“Its been nearly an entire day, 20 hours.”

“I thought sleeping was supposed to make people feel…well-rested. I feel worse than I did when I went to sleep.”

“Do you really?”

“No, but I’m definitely not well-rested,” he joked, jabbing at Simon’s side with his elbow. “Has anything happened?”

Simon seemed to tense at that. He knew it. “You guys fought again, didn’t you? Can I not leave you all alone for a couple days?” Throbbing in his head.

“North did end the fight…if that makes it better…but she was also the one that started it,” Simon explained. “She wanted better for all the androids coming in, and that made sense, but she wanted to use…less than diplomatic methods to get that. She wanted to throw humans out of their homes to make room for us. We tried to explain to her but she wouldn’t have it. Then she remembered you telling her not to start fights, I guess.”

“Typical North, what would we do without her. She keeps us from getting stepped all over, I just wish she wasn’t so bloodthirsty.”

“Well, bloodthirsty is her middle name,” Simon joked back. Markus laughed at that. There would never be a time when they didn’t need North. Markus loved to hear everyone’s input, but North and Simon’s mattered most to him. “Look, you’re already feeling better if you’re laughing, drink this.”

Simon handed a bottle of blue blood to Markus, waiting expectantly for him to grab it. When Markus downed it in three swallows, Simon shook his head. They didn’t need to eat. But replenishing lost blood was important especially if you’re the leader of a people. There was no room to be sick. Sick, Markus thought miserably. Simon took his hand into his and made a connection. “Wow, it’s almost like you want to be sick,” mumbled Markus as he leaned back and closed his eyes. He let soothing memories flood his head, wholesome thoughts be considered and processed, before just opening his eyes and taking in all of Simon.

“We don’t know how you got this virus, but I would endure it with you if you asked me.” Simon wasn’t scared to kiss him on the lips.

“Knock knock, lovebirds, scoot.” North barged in yet again and sat on the other side of the bed. “Dammit, Simon, I was going to say that to him.”

“Well I was in here first,” he mumbled. Markus let them climb into the bed to lay down with him. He never really noticed how big the bed was before, but it fit all three of them comfortably. He wrapped an arm around each of his lovers, smiling. If they both got sick, he was sure Josh could handle the work himself. But for now, with Simon and North, he just wanted to sleep.

[new-moon-tea]

The Government

My first thought was indeed that the postal service would have to change, but I realize now that wouldn’t need to be the case. Our postal office is fine on foot, but our government as a whole would be chaos. We might even need a government shut down, or call for Marshall Law as they struggle to try and find some grounding in this new development. There’d be no sense of direction, or so many directions we take we’d get lost. If you recall, I earlier stated that we’d need to put bands of sorts on children so they don’t fly too far off. The first thing I thought of when I began writing was how we’d adapt our laws, but the first thing I sat down to write an entire chapter on was the development of children in schools with wings. I personally believe that should be the first thing discussed, but likely it wouldn’t. Perhaps the demand to study this phenomenon would be the first demand. Perhaps the second would be how to limit danger or threat of winged citizens, to stop them from trying to jump off buildings and to stop normal humans from attacking them on sight.

Let’s continue on the assumption the government would be issuing out these bands of sorts. They’d need to produce them quickly, repurpose seatbelts perhaps or regular belts to be used for this fashion. Marshall Law would be in effect, and the government starts seeking volunteers for studies but more on that later. I picture military soldiers walking around city streets, shouting orders of “no flying for your safety and the people around you!” but once initial shock and panic dies down things would loosen up. How long do you think it’d take before you stop staring at people with wings? I’m resisting the urge to start up debates on what they’d look like or how this happened, that’s something for another chapter. I can’t imagine how long it’d take for me to stop staring, maybe a year? Two years? I only ask as I picture, let’s say, the Robinson family walking down the street. A mother with wings and her human child as they head to the corner store to pick up weekly groceries. I imagine neighbors gawking for the first few weeks, maybe a couple of months at most, before people begin walking up asking how they felt, what it was like, if they tried flying yet, and such. I imagine some people would be eager, excited, maybe like me they dreamed of getting wings ever since they were little, that they feel amazing and strong, but others would shy away from the attention, both normal and newly winged folk scared about this development.

Once Marshall Law was established, and slowly became more lax, our government would begin scurrying around to create new laws while constantly checking in with scientists about what these winged folk need or if there’s any danger in them. I picture things like doctors doing physicals working alongside veterinarians and wildlife experts and others studying feathers and physical makeup of the wings, trying to find average ratio of wing length to body weight, x-rays to see the way the joints move and how the body had to adapt to these new appendages. I wonder how close artist anatomy sketches of such creatures would align? Oh no, would we need new vaccines against bird diseases? Or would our biological make up leave us fine? We have bird flu to worry about but what about things that only birds get? I’m not a vet or scientist so I genuinely have no idea how that’d be handled, but that’s why we have our best doctors on the case. If someone became wounded from a flight fall or if they broke a wing in an accident, would they go to a vet or doctor? Doctors and nurses would have to study up on their anatomy for sure, and scattered essays and reports would flood the schools for students currently trying to study for a medical degree. I wonder how long it’d take for our government to decide how to rule wings.

What wording would you use to write the amendment to the constitution discussing flying rights? Would we not need one, on the basis we don’t govern our birds? Or on the basis no person should have to register for an extra limb? We don’t register or fight for the right to run, shouldn’t flying be the same? But I know how voting works, and I know someone will be concerned for safety of both normal and winged folk as they argue that wings are a threat to the safety of those below. I wouldn’t agree, but this is a democracy. I picture everyone would have their own concerns, which would make it harder for the government to begin regulation and safety. I have ideas of what laws would be put in place but no idea on how soon each one would be done.

For example, establishing the right to fly. Establishing fly safety zones in cities and laws about landing; Landing on a building you don’t own might be illegal but also sounds unfair considering they might need a spot to rest a minute before flying again, like a bench in a park. How we’d need to construct landing zones for public use, and runways with an appropriate length to take flight, maybe minimal flying heights in cities. I really don’t think you’d need a license to fly but of course it’d be brought up. We’d also need to discuss laws for what you can/can’t be wearing while flying. Things with open, loose pockets might pose a threat with the possibility of things falling out, right? But we wouldn’t need government mandated flying uniforms, of course! And luckily we’d have winged officers to keep things in order, and we’d have to install security cameras higher up. I wonder if we’d need platforms installed for when a winged officer needs to “pull over” someone, but they could easily use sidewalks or building tops. I also wonder if we’d need drones to keep an eye on winged traffic, to be operated by normal humans.

We’d need government mandated physical education tests too, right? We had the fitnessgram pacer test and in my school we had just the dreaded “mile”. Would winged folk need to opt into these courses or would they be required? What kind of tests do you think they’d be? They couldn’t exactly do most P.E. tests either, considering they have wings. Those hurdles would be easier, but of course you can say using wings is cheating but not using them would be harder. What would count as using them? Flapping them? Would you even have enough room? What if you used them to balance yourself, since you’re now lugging these massive things along as you walk, run and jump. But I’m sure we’re fine, we got our best scientists studying them to figure out how to make a fair P.E. class.

And that brings us to a nice wrap around to before when I was discussing scientists researching these new anatomy subjects. I still keep asking this question around, and asked a friend who we’ll call Fey. Fey’s answer was highly anticipated to me, because I hadn’t asked him before and he’s much more sophisticated than the Goose. Fey did surprise me though, saying something along the lines of another wave of discrimination and racism, and pointed out “new super models and new celebrities”. Struck me as odd because he stuck with the realms I normally associated with him but didn’t hesitate to get around the “you can’t say genocide” rule I’ve been opposing. He followed it up by saying he’d never date a man with wings (wondering now if he’d make an exception for a woman with wings), and this made me curious, because I realized I also wouldn’t date a man with wings (controversial coming from a goose, I know). I wonder, maybe realize, this is a small part of why people kept jumping to genocide. Would these minor preferences and details lead to the discrimination and racism I so avidly protested? Would this slow down the developments in government I am so certain of? He argued specifically it would be cumbersome, in regards to a man with wings.

I pictured jobs in some positions becoming easier and harder, and this leads into that more or less. Would officers with wings be more beneficial or a hindrance? Would it cost more tax dollars to create specialized bullet proof vests and uniforms for winged folk? How much would it cost to install government mandated landing platforms, child wing bands, and paving runways? The more I think about it the more I realize maybe a sudden increase in taxes or taking funding away from other sources people find important like education, military, or environmental funding… would this spur the hate towards winged folk? Maybe I over think, considering I’m sure some folks with wings will “spawn” in government positions, what if our President ends up as someone with wings? Would that automatically put winged folk on a more sympathetic stand? Or lead to impeachment? But let’s be honest all of us are too lazy to ever impeach a president, we would have done so already if we could. I don’t mean our current office president, but we’ve had bad men in the past.

So let’s get into these bad scenarios while on the talk of the government. I imagine a further phase of marshall law, or a lot of scary police and military interference. I’ve never lived through a dramatic protest movement, or remember anything clearly from school, so I can only see pictures of what it would look like, and news sources divided on the stances of these people. We once lived in an age where a public lynching would make it onto the face of a postcard, would that approach come back? We haven’t exactly changed for the better completely, I know I have said before there would be a few bad apples who would attack them, but would it be like the active shooter attacks we have now, where we’re actively trying to stop this horrid display? Or would it be like back then, when officers did nothing? That’s the scarier side to think about, but no matter how long it lasted it would never be permanent. Again, I still feel like that sort of active racism wouldn’t be able to blossom as much when this would affect so many people all over the world. And we can always take solace in the fact that even if we start out bad we will get better. No matter how small we can still fight for what we believe in, if I can vote an election I can say something. I can do something. I don’t like lingering on the bad sides of this hypothetical, they defeat the purpose of this discussion. It will always revert back to the fact that it will not stay. We will fight, and protect these citizens. And I’m 100% our government, or at the very least our corporations, will realize the huge advantage of winged folk.

[sending-the-message]

I'm the only one left on my floor... - Part 2 by mordecains

Part 1

I need your help.

Let me explain what happened yesterday evening.

“Subject: RE: [no subject]

Please tell me you have something to do with this damn bird with the camera. If you know what’s going on, please, please tell me.”

I didn’t bother to put a signature, it was pretty apparent this person knew who I was. Their email came in from one of those emails that looks like they get automatically generated by an anonymous survey response system, with probably 25 random characters using a random few characters as the domain.

Anyway, I was obviously taken aback by my discovery of what Mordecai was. I initially thought it was infrared I was looking at, but it occurred to me you can’t see infrared under normal circumstances. But, I definitely saw soft, glowing red light, so it was safe to assume that Mordecai was a camera. I’m not sure if I’m more amazed that they managed to make a recording device so intricate in that it could fly and behave (for the most part) like a normal bird, or if I’m more upset I couldn’t tell it was fake. Well, that doesn’t matter anymore, because now I know the truth.

I wasn’t gonna stick around any longer.

I make my way to the exit. The way my building is set up, the stairwell is only for emergency situations. Otherwise, even heading down or up a single story, you have to use the elevator. So of course, I try the stairwell first. If an alarm goes off, then good. I wouldn’t mind seeing another human right now, even if it’s a rather unique “emergency”.

Locked.

I head over to the gates, the ones that we have to badge through once we get off the elevators. They’re completely powered off.

Usually, once they detect proximity on the office side, they open. This time, they didn’t. The sliding doors are made out of polycarbonate, and, well, I’m not the strongest guy in the world. I try to kick through them, but these things are pretty sturdy. Figures.

At this point is when I really begin to lose composure. I panic. The lights are still on, so I know that the electricity is still on as well. These gates are the only things that are powered off. I’m not the type of person that will chalk that up to a coincidence, especially not in this situation. I head back to my desk, sit down, and try my hardest to think.

There has to be a way out of here.

An email comes in.

“Subject: RE: [no subject]

i gave you an opportunity to get out. you didn’t do so, and now you’re in this position.” The email reads.

I realized from a couple of comments (and 20/20 hindsight) that I missed an obvious message from the letters that were capitalized in the previous two emails sent to me. I realized that if I had recognized that message sooner, I could’ve left the building. I was able to leave the office and change floors, and would’ve surely been able to get to the first floor and out of harm’s way. Instead, I missed it altogether.

The email continues.

“you are in a situation where you are completely on your own. but not if i can help you. there is a way to get out, a way that few people in your situation have discovered.”

Few people in my situation? As in, this has happened to others?

I begin my reply.

“Subject: RE: [no subject]

Who are you? What do I need to do and what is happening? I need an explanation, I’m losing my mind.”

Immediately after sending, my “guardian angel” sends another email.

“Subject: what you are a part of

you are a test subject. the company you work for also works privately with a group that studies behavioral sciences. why they work with them, i don’t know. what i can tell you is this:

they watch you. you’ve noticed by now all of the cameras within the building, which obviously is not unusual in a secure office like yours. they watch through those. that bird that sits on your ledge is the closest camera they have to you. they use it periodically to see you up close and personal, and obviously you never caught on. they examine your day to day behavior and use it for god knows what. now, here is your situation going forward:

you are expected to die. they will inform of you this in a matter of minutes, and will probably even outline how you are going to die. they do this, likely because they want to see how you react to a situation like the one you are in, knowing that you will be dead within their given time frame. they monitor you, but not in the way that you think. they surveil you, absolutely, but they do not restrict you from much more. you can use your phone and call others, you can use the internet to communicate with others, much like you are doing with me. but they establish rules, rules that must be followed or else you face an immediate consequence. they will detail those in their email, and let me know what they are when you find out (so long as it doesn’t break one of the rules). i do not know if they change or stay the same each time.

what they do not tell you is that you have a chance to survive. most of the time, they don’t have to. to my understanding, people will typically break a rule and end up dead anyway.

i refuse to let that happen to you.”

As I finish reading the email, I don’t quite know how to react. Am I scared? Yes, but the confusion is what sets in deeper. Why? What is this about? Is this even happening? This is the kind of thing that you only see in movies. Do companies like mine really do this kind of stuff?

My questions are soon answered.

“Subject: Blue Jay

Our dearest Michael,

Please forgive us. We apologize greatly for the feelings of fear, confusion, and stress that you are certain to be feeling right now. While intended, it’s not a part of the experiment we necessarily enjoy. However, it is vital to the understanding of human behavior.

We cannot tell you why we are doing this, only what we are doing and are going to do. We have monitored you since you have arrived at the company, examining your behaviors and your habits. We’ve learned that you keep to yourself, and that you tend to be a loner by choice. We’ve noticed that you buy an orange juice and honey bun from the vending machines on the mornings that you presumably skip breakfast.

No, we are not watching your home, we know that is on your mind. We also know what else is on your mind.

Yes, you are going to die. In 5 days at the most. We apologize for this as well. We’re aware that this is unfair to you, but what you must understand is that you are doing a magnificent public service for society. You will not die in vain.

The building you are in is completely empty, as you noticed. The tenants of the building have all been informed that there is a widespread mold issue, and thus they have been relocated for the time being. Your manager tried to contact you over the weekend and inform you of the relocation, however we intercepted the text and responded for you, letting him know you would not be showing up to work this week due to having the flu. He was not involved in this, nor was anyone around you during your time here.

The way you will die is carbon monoxide poisoning. We have altered the ventilation system to where it does not actually ventilate. There will be a source for carbon monoxide, and it will slowly become more and more concentrated as the hours and days pass. You will not find the source. You will experience hallucinations and various effects of the poisoning before you succumb to it, as is necessary for this study. The last of our communication to you is important. These are the rules you must abide by:

You are allowed to use your phone and internet as normal. We repeat, as normal. You are not allowed to contact your loved ones or your colleagues for any reason other than normal conversations that would naturally take place.

We are aware that you may want to share what is happening to you with the outside world. All we ask is this: You do not use your real name. You do not provide the address or location of where you work. General metropolitan area is fine, but you must not specify the actual region of the metropolitan area. You also may not describe a specific view from any windows.

You cannot contact emergency services or authorities, for obvious reasons. This includes members of the media.

You may try to escape, as that is a crucial point of emphasis in our study. However, understand that you will fail to do so.

Michael, the key here is what has been left unsaid. That is what we are looking for. We are attempting to see how you think outside the box, pardon the irony, and how you may come up with ways to approach this situation while still following the concrete rules outlined.

We will let you know if you are about to break a rule. We want you alive for as long as possible for the sake of our work. However, if you break a rule, the consequences will be swift and deadly. Please, do not break a rule. CO poisoning is a much better way to go than the alternative.

Good luck Michael.

Your buddy, Mordecai”

This is where I need your help. The person writing me has yet to respond to my forwarding of the rules to him. Yet, what sticks out to me is “what has been left unsaid”. You, the readers, are not my loved ones or my colleagues. You are anonymous to me, as I am to you. If they mean what they say, I can use you. I do not know how to approach this situation. I ask you all for input on the matter.

What should I ask my guardian that may be useful? Obviously, he escaped, so he must have some valuable insight. Or was he even a subject like myself?

Are there any loopholes in those rules that I may be able to exploit?

Please, comment and tell me what you think I can look into. I need to figure out a way out of this.