#hey I too would eat my own eggs during an apocalypse

[thankchaosforspellcheck]

Okay but the:

[18!Leo is transmasc] -> [18!Leo lays eggs for his period because turtles] -> [the resistance now has a 3rd food option besides rats & leaves. it's eggs.]

is the FUNNIEST queer headcanon pipeline I have ever seen. never change rise fans. never change.

[kbuggg3]

~U m b r e l l a       A c a d e m y~ FivexReader: “Stakeout” (Part 1)

IMAGINE: After discovering the apocalypse and getting transported back into the present, Five and (y/n) make it their mission to stop the doomsday clock and save not only their family, but the entirety of the world as they know it.

No ever thought anything like this would ever happen. Everyone assumed the other was content with the lives they were forced to live. Well, everyone except Five. He was very secretive or quiet with his hate for this lifestyle. It started off as a regular day in the Hargreeves residence.

Mother had just finished making breakfast as she rang the bell and all 8 of us raced down the stairs to see who could try and get to their assigned seat first. Of course we couldn’t sit down yet- we had to wait until our father sat down. He would then nod his head, giving us the green light.

Things were going as good as anything can get there. Breakfast was good. The usually smell of eggs and bacon was almost comforting. Until Five decided enough was enough. He slammed his knife into the table, causing the bottom of it to stick straight up.

All of our eyes went wide. Well, everyone’s except mine. I just slouched back in my chair and rolled my eyes. Even 15 year old me was fed up with Five’s shenanigans.

Me and Five were very close. Closer with each other than we were with anyone else in the family. Me, being Number 8, always got picked on for being the last number. But Five would always tell me I had the coolest powers to cheer me up. I had telekinetic powers.

There was this “unspoken thing” between me and Five as Klaus would call it- We were also pretty close with him.

Me and Five liked each other, as more than friends of course. But it was forbidden. It was our fathers rule to “keep it professional” even though we were only kids. That’s one reason why Allison and Luther’s relationship never went anywhere.

The other reason being they were both too shy to admit their feelings. Whereas Five, a person with no filter whatsoever, used to tell me all the time. He told me everything and anything. Five used to slip notes under my door, telling me to meet him after hours.

When everyone was asleep I would open his door to find him waiting for me on his bed, wearing a plain white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, just like the rest of us (Father picked those outfits out as well).

We would lay on our backs side by side on his decent sized mattress and talk about anything that came to mind. Sometimes he would say to me, “I wish we could be together,” as if telling someone you liked them was as simple as telling someone about their day.

But that’s what I liked about him. He was open. Honest. Because we told each other everything, he would always rant to me about how father won’t let him time travel.

So I knew the moment he stood in front of the upright knife with his fist clenched, he was angry about just that.

“Number Five?”

“I have a question.”

Father continued to eat his breakfast as if this were a normal, everyday thing. But it wasn’t. “Knowledge is an admirable goal, but you know the rules. No talking during mealtimes. You are interrupting Herr Carlson.” Five rolled his eyes and responded sternly, “I want to time travel.”

“No.”

“But I’m ready! I’ve been practicing my spatial jumps, just like you said!” Five then proceeded to teleport from his seat, over to the right side of fathers chair. “See?”

Father sighed and took the fork of eggs away from his mouth as he began to lecture Five. “A spatial jump is trivial when compared with the unknowns of time travel. One is like sliding along the ice, the other is akin to descending blindly into the depths of the freezing water and reappearing as an acorn.”

“Well I don’t get it.”

“Hence the reason you're not ready.” Father stated as he took a sip of his grape wine.

Five looked over to me, his angered look immediately going soft. I shook my head, trying to tell him not to go any further. He looked like he was actually considering it, but the moment he looked away, all considerations faded.

“I’m not afraid.”

“Fear isn’t the issue. The effects it might have on your body, even on your mind, are far too unpredictable.” Father then threw his utensils onto his plate making them clatter loudly and he faced Five and yelled, “Now I forbid you to talk about this anymore!”

Five gave me one last look, almost like he was apologizing for something, and then ran off, causing all heads to turn.

“Number Five! You haven’t been excused!”

Of course Five didn’t listen. Why would he listen to our so-called father who didn’t even bother to give us real names, only numbers? But maybe he’ll listen to me. Without thinking, or waiting for consent, I got up from my seat and ran after him.

“Number 8!”

After yelling his name over and over again, Five finally turned around, his cheeks red with anger. “Five, where are you going?”

“Away.”

“What do you mean ‘away’? You're just gonna leave everything?” Five didn’t answer.

“You-“ I began to try and speak again but my voice was breaking. I can’t let him see me like this. I cleared my throat and tried again. “You’re just going to leave me?”

Five’s eyes moved from his untied shoelace to my eyes. His gaze softened again and he slowly reached out for my hand.

“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve this.”

And then it happened. It’s kind of all a blur really. All I remember is him letting go of my hand and the blue light surrounding him.

I desperately reached out to grab his hand but all I could touch was the sleeve of his uniform. And before I knew it, I had time traveled into the future with him. Every building was crumbled and in ruins.

There were occasional fires here and there. After finding all of our family dead, the only evidence we found was an eye that Luther's dead corpse was holding in his hand. We spent 30 years together in that shithole.

At first it was hell. He was mad at me for being there because it “wasn’t safe” and “I should be at home”. I was just trying to stop him from making decisions that he insisted WEREN’T stupid. Look where that got us.

Eventually we met Dolores. She’s the only friend me and Five ever had. Especially when you grow up as a “baby superhero” as Diego would call us. We never went to school, birthday parties, play dates.

We lived a life that was far from normal, so we were very thankful for Dolores. Eventually me and Five made up, started dating even.

43 years later, Five then made an equation to help us time travel back home and even after Dolores told him a million times that his equation was inaccurate he still used it anyway, causing me and him to go back to recent times.... but in our 15 year old bodies.

After reuniting with our family and almost getting murdered by some of Five’s old co-workers, we are now trying to figure out who the eye belongs to so we can try to stop the apocalypse from destroying our world and everyone in it.

—————————————————————

“I knew this was a waste of time. I mean what did I expect her to do? Help us?” (y/n) and Five walked away from Vanya’s apartment complex.

They had tried telling her about the apocalypse and where the couple had been for the past 16 years, thinking she was the only one they could trust, but it was too much information for her to handle. She didn’t even know how to respond to them.

“Well, Five, how did you expect her to respond? Did you think she was going to understand everything immediately? We’ve been gone for the past, what, 16 years? For them at least. For us it was 43.”

“I understand that, but you’d think she would have something to say or questions at least!” (y/n) nodded in agreement. “Let’s just go to the laboratory and find out who this eye belongs to.”

Five nodded as well and grabbed her hand. He then teleported them to the front steps of the laboratory. (y/n) let go of his hand and began to walk up the steps, but he pulled her back and wrapped his hand around hers as he tried to keep his eyes forward and act normal.

Even though every touch, although some small, makes his heart beat 10 times faster and the heat to rise to his cheeks. (y/n) just giggled and kissed his cheek, that soon began to turn a slight shade of pink.

They walked through the doors, hand in hand, with hopeful smiles on their faces.

—————————————————————

“What. An. Idiot.” Five said angrily as he stomped down the steps. (y/n) and Five had attempted to ask the guy for the name of the owner of the eye, but he insisted that he could not give out that information. And when the man looked me up and down, Five got a little violent and they called security.

“Well maybe if you hadn't threatened to ram the guy's head into the wall, we probably would’ve actually gotten somewhere.” (y/n) stayed as she sat on the steps and watched as Five paced back and forth, attempting to think of another plan.

“Wha- i- He was looking at you in a way that no older man should be looking at a 15 year old!” Five shouted pointing toward the doors to the lab. He then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose instead. “Alright. Fine.

Let’s just... go with plan B.”

“Which is....?”

—————————————————————

“You want me to do what?”

“Klaus, please! This is important!” (y/n) said, folding her hands like she’s begging.

“So you want me... to go to this laboratory.... and pretend to be your dad so you can, what, find the name of the person who owns an eyeball that you found in the future?”

Five and (y/n) shared a look and shrugged. “Yes...?” After a moment of silence Klaus finally spoke up. “I’m too sober for this. I am NOT going to do this.”

—————————————————————

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Klaus said frustratedly as he, Five, and (y/n) walked down the familiar hallways of the laboratory. “You’ll do anything that involves you getting paid, won’t you?” Five snapped. “Hey 20 bucks is a great deal don’t you think?” Klaus turned to (y/n) and she shrugged then nodded her head.

They eventually made it to Mr. Big’s office, which was the same guy Five threatened. “I’m sorry but without the client’s consent, I simply can’t help you.” Five stood up and angrily responded, “Well we can’t get consent if you don’t give us a name.”

“Well that’s not my problem. Sorry now there’s really nothing I can do, so-“ Before the guy could finish, Klaus interrupted. “And what about my consent?”

“Excuse me?” My. Big’s replied confused. “Who gave you permission... to lay your hands... on my children?” He began to fake cry as me and Five looked at each other, and then at Klaus with a confused look. “Wha- I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.”

“I didn’t touch your children!”

“Oh really? Then how did my son get that swollen lip then?” Klaus stands up and faces Five. “He doesn’t have a swollen-“ Klaus brings his arm back and punches Five hard in the mouth. (y/n) gasps, but doesn’t move from her seat, trying her best to play along with whatever it was Klaus was doing.

Five touched his hand to his mouth, looking at the blood on it. He looked like he was going to kill Klaus right then and there. “And as for my daughter!” Klaus began to look at me with his arm pulled back, ready to hit, but before it reached her face (y/n) grabbed his fist and yanked it forward so his face was close to hers and she whispered, “Touch me, and I’ll kick your *ss.” Klaus just smiled and backed away.

“What about your daughter?” Klaus looked at me with a smirk and I began to fake cry. “H-He touched me! He tried to rape me!” Five smirked as well as he wrapped an arm around my waist and Klaus laughed with joy.

“You guys are crazy.”

“You have no idea.” (y/n) replied chuckling slightly. Everyone watched as Klaus picked up a snow globe that was sitting on the man's desk and he read it. “‘Peace on earth.’ That's so sweet.” He then smashed it onto his head causing it to shatter and his head to bleed. I jumped slightly at the noise and Five’s grip on my waist tightened as if to reassure me it’s ok.

“God that hurt.” Klaus groaned. When the guy reached for the phone on his desk and typed in a number, most likely security again, Klaus took it out of his hands and held it up to his ear. “There’s been an assault...” he “cried”, “in Mr. Bigs office and we need security, now. Schnell!” He yelled then threw the phone down and shook his head to try and make the blurry vision go away.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen Grant.”

“I-It’s Lance... actually.”

“In about 60 seconds, two security guards are gonna burst through that door, and they’re gonna see a whole lot of blood and a distraught little girl, and they’re gonna wonder ‘What the hell happened?’” Five looked me up and down, smirked, then looked over to the man. “And we’re gonna tell them that you... beat the shit out of us and RAPED our little girl!” Klaus continued to fake cry but it turned into a laugh when he saw the man's terrified expression.

“You're gonna do great in prison, Grant. Trust me, I’ve been there.” Lance just gave him a weird look but Klaus continued. “Little piece of chicken like you. Oh my god you're gonna get passed around like a......” he tried to think of something to say but couldn’t do he just brushed it off.

“You’re just- you're gonna do great. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Jesus, you’re a real sick bastard.” Lance replies.

Klaus’ face went stone cold as he responded, “Thank you.” And spit a piece of glass from his mouth. (y/n) walks over to his desk and leans down close to his face, to where her slightly unbuttoned uniform shows her cleavage. She reaches her hand past him, resting her arm on his shoulder, as she tries to reach the small drawer behind him to get a lollipop.

She can hear his unsteady breathing which makes her want to throw up, because he’s actually somewhat liking this 15 year old girl seducing him, but also smirk because her plan is working.

Her fingers finally wrap around a lollipop and she whispers with a smile, “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.” She pulls back, unwraps the lollipop and puts it in her mouth. She then throws the wrapper onto Lance and walks out of the room with a sway of her hips. Five stared at her in awe and Klaus winked at the guy.

Finally, Lance took them to where all of the files are. Five stood in front of the desk, Klaus sat on the other side, facing Lance and all the files, and (y/n) propped her elbows up on the end of the desk, her chin resting on one of her fists as she watched the man as he searched through the drawer.

“That’s strange.”

“What?” Five demands.

“Well, the eye hasn’t been purchased yet.”

“That is strange.” Klaus says standing up and circling Lance to make him nervous.

“This can't be right. It hasn’t even been manufactured yet. Where did you get that eye?” He asks looking up from his files and at Five.

He just shakes his head.

—————————————————————

“Well this is not good.” (y/n) says as the three of them walk back down the steps of the lab. “I was pretty good, though, right? ‘Oh ya? What about my consent bitch?’” Klaus laughed, trying to re-enact the scene from earlier.

“Klaus, it doesn’t matter.”

He just rolls his eyes and responds, “What’s the deal with this eye anyway? Why is it so important to you?”

“Someone out there is going to lose an eye in the next seven days.” (y/n) responds as Five finishes.

“Exactly. They’re gonna bring about the end of life on this earth as we know it.”

Klaus was listening, but didn't really understand what it meant. He didn’t try to understand because he doesn’t really care. He just wants his money.

“Yeah whatever. Hey, can I just get my 20 bucks, like, now?”

“Your 20 bucks?” (y/n) asked as Five rolls his eyes.

“Yeah my 20 bucks.”

“Unbelievable. I give up.” She throws up her arms and walks back to the steps and sits down. She rests her elbows on her knees and her chin rests on one hand while the other hand holds her unfinished lollipop.

“The apocalypse is coming, and all you can think about is getting high?” Five snaps. “Well I’m also quite hungry.” Klaus rubs his stomach then makes a growling noise. “You're useless.” Five shakes his head and walks over to (y/n), sitting next to her and stretching his legs out in front of him.

“Oh come on. You need to lighten up, old man.” Five signs and grabs (y/n)’s free hand, placing their intertwined hands in his lap and gently rubbing her hand with his other. “Hey you know, I’ve just realized why you're so uptight. You must be horny as hell!” Klaus laughs as if he’s just discovered a new scientific discovery.

(y/n) and Five just look at him and then continue on with what they’re doing. “All those years by yourself. It’s gotta screw with your head being alone.”

“I wasn’t alone. I had (y/n).” (y/n) smiles a little and stares down at their hands. “Perfect! Well why don’t y’all get together and... we’ll ya know!”

“You know what? Your right Klaus.”

“I-I am?”

“He is?” (y/n) asks, standing up with Klaus. “Of course he’s right. He’s always right. Well, we best be on our way then!” Five grabs (y/n)’s hand and pulls her towards the road, leaving Klaus there with a surprised look on his face. “Hope you don’t mind if we use your bed! Thanks!”

“Wait... what?!” But before Klaus could say anything else Five teleports himself and (y/n) into a taxi. “Wait no! Not my bed! Also I need my 20 bucks!” Klaus yells, running after the car. (y/n) just rolls up the window and waves as Five pulled her into his lap and kisses her jaw, then her neck, then her collar bone, and goes back up.

“Was it true what you said?” (y/n) asked, smirking. “Not entirely.”

“Oh? How so?”

“Well, for starters, I wouldn’t say that I’m not horny but....”

“Mhm. And...?”

“And that is NOT the reason why I’m ‘uptight’.” Five says pouting a little. (y/n) just laughed and they continued to kiss. When they were completely out of sight, Klaus ran his hands through his hair.

“Shit.”

[foxtophat]

here’s chapter 4!!! it’s been about a week and a half, two weeks since John Seed reappeared, and now nick is ready to take his vengence!  by... having john do basic tasks to repair the homestead.  hey, this isn’t eden’s gate -- what do you expect, skin flaying and long-winded religious diatribes?  (weird, that’s exactly what john expects, all the time, from everyone!)

i really love this story and am so thrilled that other people seem to enjoy it too!!! it’s fun to write, and since i know it’s just full on self-indulgent bullshit, i don’t feel guilty for not being ~~realistic~~ about the whole thing.  fuck it! nick is a pacifist now!!!

i’ve included today’s chapter under the cut so you don’t have to leave tumblr if you don’t want to.  if you’re enjoying this story, please consider reblogging so your friends can also enjoy my hellscape! or, you know, do what makes you happy, it’s not like i can force you to ruin your aesthetics blog on my behalf. stay frosty my dudes, i’ll see you in 2 weeks!

Well, John doesn't die. Despite that being the only good thing the man could possibly do, he manages to hang on through the first night, looking better before the week is out. It's a mixed blessing. On the one hand, Nick no longer feels like he's serving a skeleton its last meal; on the other, it means that John is more than likely here to stay. Every time Nick goes to give him food, he finds the room just a little bit more lived in, the tarp turning into a makeshift bed as John struggles to settle in. Just yesterday, Nick had noticed a short series of tally lines scratched in the wall, marking each day of his sentence as though he were confined to solitary.

Nick should probably be happy with how smoothly things are going. He should probably be glad that John is keeping quiet and politely recuperating without so much as a snide remark. It's what he wanted, after all — for John to wave a white flag and agree to an unconditional surrender. And yet Nick can't help but feel short-changed, as if John owes him at least one opportunity to punch him in the face for being an asshole. It used to be something Nick dreamed about doing; he'd fantasized about beating him to a bloody pulp even as John had ripped his skin from his chest. Now, he's not willing to deal with the guilt that would undoubtedly follow.

Nick wishes he could go back to his "fight everyone" thirties. Being a mature adult sucks.

It's bright and early one morning when Nick decides it's past time to do something about the ceiling, which is warped and sagging beneath the nursery. Nick suspects it's a cracked joist, but considering his lack of carpentry skills, he doubts he can do anything to repair it. Right now, all he can do is try to support the weight of the second floor with something other than a wish and a prayer. Thankfully, he saved some of the posts when he dismantled the back porch — now if only Kim weren't going to be busy all day with Carmina, they could actually get some work done.

Except, maybe not!

John has been looking a lot better these past two days, since all he's been doing is resting and regaining his strength. Nick's heard him rummaging around at night, and he's been making himself something of a nest out of the crap left with him. Nick's even heard him talking, although it's anyone's guess who he thinks is listening. Considering how quiet and withdrawn he is when Nick brings him his meals, he doesn't seem interested in what real people have to say.

Honestly, if Nick hadn't been an integral part of John's survival for the past week, he'd think the whole thing was some kind of ploy. Nick's not sure what John would be planning with this act for sympathy, but he isn't going to make the same mistake he did all those years ago and write him off as some rich, coked-out jackass with no thoughts to his name. He's not going to let John sit around and finalize whatever evil machinations he's got brewing in his mind. He's gonna work that sad-sack until the only thing John's thinking about is collapsing from exhaustion.

Nick doesn't reveal his plans until after breakfast. He doesn't want to ruin his favorite meal of the day, not when he can rest aimlessly beside his family around the table, eating ham and eggs while Kim brews coffee. It's the closest they'll ever get to the way life used to be, and Nick can pretend that everything is back to normal as long as he has a cup of coffee in hand. Hell, it's not like watching his eight-year-old daughter methodically clean the family rifle during breakfast is all that weird for Hope County, with or without the apocalypse.

It's probably a good thing that Carmina is distracted. If she realized today was the day John would be seeing sunlight, she'd refuse to go anywhere until her curiosity was satisfied. They've told her as little as they can get away with, given that they're keeping a man prisoner across the hall from them. Mostly that he's a very sick stranger who could make little girls very sick too. She'd bought it for the most part, but Nick's afraid that she won't be able to contain her curiosity for much longer.

"Think I'm gonna get some stuff done while you're gone," he tells Kim, glancing significantly towards the stairs while Carmina isn't looking. "We need to deal with the second floor sooner rather than later."

"Are you sure?" she asks, raising her eyebrows meaningfully back at him. "Is this something you can do on your own?"

"Better to not put it off anymore," Nick replies. "It'll be easier if I have the place to myself, anyway. Less, uh, confusion."

That said, he puts the chore off for almost half an hour after Kim and Carmina head out. He tries to prepare, but there's not much he can do to close off the exits, and it only takes a few minutes to drag all the necessary supplies into place. All he can do at this point is hope that John is only strong enough to help, and not strong enough to run at the first chance he gets. If he does that, Nick's going to have no choice but to shoot him.

Nick does his best to hide his nerves as he unlocks the door. It feels weird to knock so he doesn't, pushing the door open slowly enough for the hinges to creak. John should just be thankful Nick bothers to try giving him any sort of head's up.

John, ungrateful bastard that he is, sleeps through Nick's entrance. He's found the cheap wool guest blanket that Nick would never dream of actually offering to guests, which seems fitting. His shirt is crumpled next to him, leaving Nick with the unfortunate view of his bare torso.

Nick's seen John shirtless a few times now, but that doesn't make it any easier to stomach. His skin is stretched over his jutting shoulder blades, clinging to every sharp, bony angle of his spine. Nick knows there's not much else for it to cling to - he's seen the way John's stomach sags, too much skin with not enough meat to hang on to. It's all been eaten away from months, maybe even years , of malnutrition and inactivity. The only thing left of the man Nick remembers is a goddamn shadow. Looking down at John, Nick's left to wonder how he had survived at all.

Nick nudges John unkindly with his boot, ignoring the grunt of discomfort he gets in return. "Come on," he snaps, "It's morning. If the sun's up, you're up — this isn't the goddamn Hope County Hilton."

John groans, biting his tongue against whatever snide comment might come to mind. That's too bad — Nick would love to start today off with an ethically-sourced beat-down.

Even though he wants to, Nick refuses to look away as John sits up, revealing all of his tattoos and scars. The tattoos are nothing new, and some of the scars look pre-Collapse old, but John obviously didn't let the bunker curb his self-mutilating tendencies. Some of the tattoos have been ritualistically carved out, leaving flat slabs of scar tissue behind. Others have been scratched out less completely, seemingly at random. The worst part is seeing the ten deep, half-moon gouges in his shoulders, leaving behind raw, fresh scars. Nick can only imagine what led to their creation, but he would really rather not.

"Put your shirt on and eat quick," Nick tells him, setting the plate near enough to John before retreating to wait by the door. The more space he has between them, the better. If John is going to pull something, Nick wants to have room to grab his gun, or at least to brace for a fight. And anyway, John still eats like a mongrel and it's uncomfortable to watch.

"Time to put me to work?" John asks skeptically as he drags his shirt over his torso.

"You bet," Nick replies. Should he be a cagey dick about it? Part of him thinks so, out of spite, but realistically he should temper John's expectations. Nick isn't going to be capable of putting John through the kind of torture he's probably expecting. So, he points out the dipping corner and says, "This whole floor is gonna give out if we don't do something about it. Well, I say we , but I mean you ."

John regards the spot with more skepticism. "That's it?"

"You haven't even seen how much of the house you're going to be digging out of the dirt," Nick points out. "Come on, hurry up already, I don't have all day."

——

Despite being sick as a dog, John's strength is still something to be reckoned with. Nick watches uneasily at first as John makes short work of clearing space for the beam to stand, heaving shovelfuls of dirt out the open window without regard to his wasted muscles. If John decides to come at him with that shovel, it's going to be Nick's reflexes that save him, not his brute strength. Nick's reflexes aren't exactly the best these days, so Nick hopes it doesn't come to that.

It doesn't seem like John is interested in fighting, though. Nick sets him to work with the shovel and he takes it up without so much as a snide comment about Nick trying to order him around. He slings dirt silently, practically zoning out over the manual labor as Nick watches from his side of the room. It's almost like he's in a trance or something, and it's only broken when the shovel scrapes against the wooden floorboards. He comes to a sudden stop, staring at the floor in surprise. He looks up and around, fixing a sour glare at the wide-open back porch that Nick is standing guard in front of before finally looking at Nick himself.

"That's it?"

"Hell no, it isn't," Nick sighs, gesturing towards the beam that he'd dragged in from the woodpile outside. It doesn't rain much nowadays, so it hasn't gone to rot, and it should be just about level with the supports in the ceiling. Plus, it's already got the right hardware attached, and most of it even survived the nuclear blast.

"Come on," he tells John, "You're putting this up."

Still no backtalk, not even as Nick gets his own hands dirty and helps John prop the beam up. He remains silent as Nick fastens it in place with the only three-inch bolts left in America. It's a temporary solution, but Nick's proud of it anyway, and he steps back to admire the work. He has to admit, even if John is planning something, at least his plan involves actually being useful.

"That should work for now," he says. He scratches the back of his head as he regards John — what does he do with the guy now? It seems like a waste to just... jam him back up there. He's obviously capable of working, and that's what Nick said he'd do — break his back with manual labor, right?

"Well, now that we're done with that... I guess you can get to work shoveling the rest of this dirt outta here. It's been pretty low on the list, but it's not like you've got anything better to do."

"No, I suppose not."

"Hey now, what happened to just saying yes ?" Nick grins, feeling mean but still pretty funny for it. John scowls, but he's just not the right audience for the joke, so his opinion doesn't count.

" Yes, sir ," John replies. He's probably just being a dick, but the way he says it roils Nick's stomach on impact.

"Hey, none of that shit," Nick snaps, even though he probably should lean into the boss role while he can. "Just — don't be a fucking weirdo about this, okay?"

John frowns and doesn't respond. He doesn't need Nick to instruct him any further, returning to work with the shovel as though he's forgotten he ever stopped. Nick keeps an eye on him as he has lunch, waiting for John to drop the weird, quiet obedience act that he's been putting on. It has to be an act. John's just using their mercy for his own ends, using them for shelter and food while waiting for the opportunity to strike. To take the house and the guns, to take control of everything that he'd felt so obligated to eight years ago.

An hour goes by in silence. John works steadily, almost meditatively shoveling down to the floorboards, dumping shovelfuls of dirt out the nearest window to him. He's lost in his thoughts, so much so that he doesn't seem to notice as he clears out nearly half of the living room, the shovel scraping against wood like the beat of the drum that's distracting the poor motherfucker.

Eventually, Nick can't help but point out, "You don't talk as much as you used to."

John doesn't so much as look at him, which is more irritating than Nick wants to let on. What, is he supposed to shut up now, too? Forget that !

"I mean, you used to never shut the fuck up. Guess even you couldn't stand listening to yourself for eight years solid, huh?"

John grunts in response. He doesn't look so hot; his face is pale and drenched in sweat, and he seems to be relying on the shovel to steady himself. Nick squints, trying to figure out whether or not the guy is trying to pull a fast one on him — it's exactly the kind of thing Nick would do, if he were being held captive — but John doesn't seem to notice Nick's scrutiny at all. He seems miles away from the house, from himself.

Goddamn it. The more Nick watches, the less comfortable he becomes. "Alright, come on," Nick sighs, exasperation masking his discomfort at seeing John near-fainting. "That's enough for one day, now sit down before you fall down."

It's a toss-up which of those options John takes, but moments later he's flopped backward into the mound of dirt. He leaves streaks of mud across his face where he wipes away the sweat. Nick watches, waiting for the asshole to spring his trap, but John looks sincerely too beat up to try wrestling the gun away or making a break for it. His hair, thick with dust, clumps over his face, dropping into his eyes no matter how many times he tries to smooth it back.

To his personal horror, he finds himself offering John his canteen. He should leave John to drink his own spit with their fresh water supply as low as it is. It's what the man deserves. But they've wasted too much time and supplies on John to be stingy with the water now.

"Don't get too comfortable lying in the dirt," Nick points out, "I'm gonna put you back before Kim and Carmina get home."

John nods without complaint. He takes careful sips of water, like he's trying to mind how much he's taking, which is a fucking riot coming from the guy who did nothing but take, take, take for years.

"It's the nursery, isn't it?"

Nick stares down at the dirty bastard in confusion. "What?"

"The room," John repeats with a suspicious lack of irritation. "It was going to be the nursery."

Nick scowls. "Yeah," he says. "Not that it ever panned out."

John holds the canteen out for Nick to take back, which he does. "No," he admits, "It certainly did not."

"No thanks to you." Nick takes a thirsty swig of water. "None of you got a chance to raid our bunker, but there were a lot of other people who weren't so lucky. Lots of people didn't even have a house to hide in."

"Yes," John sighs, "I know."

The nerve John has to brush aside the damage he's done momentarily overwhelms Nick, and before he realizes what he's doing, he's chucking the canteen at John's head in a vicious game of dodge-ball that John just barely wins. "No, you don't know. You managed to find somewhere to survive for eight years, while good, honest people were left to rot away on the surface and suffer through nuclear winter because you burned down their houses, you stole their supplies, you ruined their lives! You destroyed everything before the police ever showed up! You sorry assholes kept talking about the Collapse while all of us were already living through it! Because of you ! You know ? Fuck you!"

Nick reaches his hand out to grab John, to — to strangle him, to shake him , anything to stop him from sitting there and staring cow-eyed up at him. Waiting for Nick to exact a physical price for all the anguish that he's caused, waiting for the inevitable retribution that he deserves.

But eight years is a long time to carry so much righteous anger. Nick must've set it down somewhere along the way; now that it's time to resume that bitter loathing, he finds himself coming up short. Honestly, he's too goddamn old for it. He's too tired. Eight years of fatherhood and living past the end of mankind has run the rage right out of him. The idea of expending that much effort just exhausts him. What would even be the point? John isn't even worth it.

"Just — get up," Nick sighs at last. "Kim'll be back in a while and I... don't want to look at you anymore."

John slumps into himself as he stands, shoulders caving in as he avoids looking higher than Nick's boots. He proceeds without complaint or comment up the stairs; despite that, Nick still braces himself for a surprise attack, his hand clinging to the holster. He stops at the doorway behind John, waiting for some trap to spring and feeling oddly put out when nothing happens.

"I'll bring you dinner later," Nick tells him. "From now on, you're only getting a second meal on days you work."

John nods in response, falling into his makeshift bed with as much grace as he had the dirt pile downstairs. Nick's not sure he's gonna be awake the next time he checks in, but that's probably for the best. Nick doesn't like watching the guy eat, and he hates having to interact with him.

When John fails to say anything, Nick uses his silence as an exit and quickly locks John away. He'll probably sleep until dinner, which means he'll spend all night muttering to himself again. That's just what Nick needs.

There's still time before Kim gets back with Carmina. Nick drags the dining table into the living room, taking a minute to marvel at the amount of dirt John managed to clear out. Maybe tomorrow, Kim can take Carmina on a hike or something so that he can have John do the rest of the room. Once the dirt's all cleared out, they'll be able to build proper doors for the back porch, instead of leaving it open to the elements and potential prison breaks. After that, who knows? Maybe they'll be able to string lights up in here like they did back at the Spread Eagle. They could actually find a use for the generator. Hurk was on the radio recently, boasting about party liquor and gasoline — maybe they could barter for fuel?

Thinking more than a year ahead is jumping the gun a little, especially considering they have to get through another winter without heat, but this is the first time Nick's let himself imagine that far. Kim is already prepping for next year, of course, but Nick's still a little stuck on bunker time, where everything felt like a tightrope walk to survive and keep sane. But now, well — there's floor space, and Nick's even stacked plates and silverware on the kitchen counter for dinner. It's progress that he can't miss, and for once he breathes a sigh of relief and actually feels relieved.

Kim and Carmina come back before dusk with three rabbits and, in Carmina's case, a turkey so big that it nearly drags on the ground as she carries it on her back. "Shot it herself," Kim tells him, dropping the rabbits on the table. She does it almost without a second thought, wrapping her arms around Nick before realizing, "Oh, the table's back!"

Nick grins. "Figured we could use the extra space. Look at you, kiddo!" Nick turns his attention to Carmina, who still has the turkey slung triumphantly over her shoulder. "That is one big bird."

"Yeah," she says, trying to look as casually confident as her mom. She can't help but brag, "It was coming right at us. I had to do something. "

"That's my girl," Nick says, "I need somebody to protect your mom whenever I'm not around."

"Hey," Kim protests, playfully shoving out of her supposedly loving husband's grasp, "I can protect myself, you two. Carmina, take that thing into the kitchen and start plucking."

Heaving a very exasperated sigh she must have lifted off of her dad, Carmina drags the limp poultry away. Kim watches her go with a satisfied smile, telling Nick, "She's got great eyesight. I didn't even notice it in the grass."

"Thank God. Can you imagine if she needed glasses out here? We would be royally screwed. So! What do you think?"

Kim looks back at the clear floor and the table with four legs on solid ground. "I admit, I'm impressed," she says. "I expected to come back to a funeral pyre. But look, you even got the support in!" She furrows her brows at him. "Did you have any trouble?"

"Nah. Actually, it was... uh, painfully easy. He didn't put up a fight or anything."

"Hmm."

Nick's not sure what Kim's thinking as she eyes the progress that's been made. Maybe she's wondering what John's endgame is, the same way Nick wonders. She's probably worrying about how to explain it to anyone who might ask about it — Grace, mostly, maybe Jerome, if he'd ever come out this way. Nick's sure he can just take credit and leave it at that, but maybe she's seeing some hidden angle that he hasn't caught on to yet?

"If we string some lights up in here," Kim points out thoughtfully, "We might actually be able to use the bottom floor, instead of camping outside all day."

"Hey," Nick laughs, "That's exactly what I was thinking."

"Am I supposed to pluck this whole thing myself ?" Carmina exclaims in horror from the kitchen.

"I'll be right there, honey," Nick calls, offering Kim a chair at the table. She takes it with a grateful smile, leaning into his hand as he briefly strokes her hair. "Not bad for a day's worth of work, huh?"

"Not bad," Kim agrees. Nick heads for the kitchen, unable to keep from humming some old-world song he can't remember the words to, happy to put aside his doubts about John for a couple of hours yet.

[mittensmorgul]

Hi, sorry to bother you, but what do you make of all the biblical symbols. There's the snake (obviously the real life snake and there's one on the wall behind Cas in the diner), Jack even brought it into the bunker (not saying the bunker is paradise lol) and then the Judas Iscariot-ish poisonous kiss on the cheek. Does that mean something?

hey hi, you’re definitely not a bother. :D

I don’t know if I’m the best person to ask about religious symbolism, for several reasons. I usually try to avoid making “real world Religion” comparisons to Supernatural canon, because so much of their use of this symbolism is only tangentially related to real-world meanings and purposes for these symbols, you know? So I try to look at them in the context Supernatural is using them, rather than how we would look at them in reality.

I hope that makes sense, because this is such a potentially touchy topic. So I’ll do my best to attempt to explain my understanding within Supernatural canon, and not mix it up too heavily with actual real-world biblical lore, because that’s a big enough can of worms on its own. (cue biblical scholar fisticuffs in three, two...) :P

This entire episode seemed to have been framed around various snake-related mythologies, not just from the bible. The title Ouroboros is a depiction of a snake eating its own tail in a circle, and a quick scan of the wikipedia article on it shows the diverse origins of this mythological symbol: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ouroboros. There’s a lot going on here, but all of it is snakey.

Then we have a gorgon for our MotW. The most famous gorgon we know of is Medusa, but this gorgon didn’t have snakes for hair, but his pet Felix (which is the snake Jack brought back to the bunker). But again, the mythology is complicated and has shifted over time: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gorgon

The gorgon’s name was Noah Ophius, and Ophius means “snake.”

Dean references Clash of the Titans to explain his knowledge of the gorgon, but the knowledge he actually relates... doesn’t actually apply to a gorgon, but to a hydra. It’s not a gorgon that grows back more heads when it’s beheaded, but the hydra, which is also a snake-like creature, but definitely not a gorgon.

Also in this episode, Felix the snake shed his skin-- a reminder that this is how snakes grow, by sloughing off and discarding the old layer to reveal the new layer beneath. Kind of like Jack has been doing as he’s grown, in a metaphorical fashion.

And we know some snakes are venomous, like our gorgon monster, but poor lil Felix is just an innocent lil beauty of a corn snake. Not a drop of venom in him. I did find it hilarious that the show opened in Raton, New Mexico, because it vaguely looks like “Rat town,” and the snake monster is eating the residents, and rats are the standard fare for many snakes-- including Felix the corn snake (aka the red rat snake).

Strangely enough, a close relative of the red rat snake is the black rat snake, and the egg-eating black snakes of Africa from which the parable of the chicken and the black snake that the gorgon told Jack in this episode derived.

But I’d venture to suggest that all of them have brought potential danger into the bunker, you know?

They knowingly brought Dean into the bunker even though Michael was locked in his brain fridge and could’ve theoretically escaped at any time. They knowingly brought Michael himself, while possessing Dean, into the bunker in 14.10. They unwittingly brought some of Michael’s monsters into the bunker in the same episode. They brought Jack into the bunker back in the beginning of s13 not knowing if he was gonna go evil and explode at any moment. They brought all the AU hunters through the rift in s13, even knowing that doing so was incredibly dangerous to the Natural Order (Billie warned them not to mess with the AU’s because the cosmic house of cards was highly unstable), but again, it was supposed to be a temporary place of refuge for them to regroup and plan a more direct attack on Michael in their own world, before Michael himself came here instead.

So yeah, there’s a lot of circles closing, a lot of snake imagery (both positive and negative, thanks to Felix being a good bean and not an inherently evil thing like his former owner).

On to the Judas Kiss. Let’s look at Luke 22:47-48:

While he was still speaking a crowd came up, and the man who was called Judas, one of the Twelve, was leading them. He approached Jesus to kiss him, but Jesus asked him, "Judas, are you betraying the Son of Man with a kiss?"

This was how Judas “identified” Jesus to the Romans, so he could be captured. But some biblical scholars believe that this wasn’t a betrayal at all, but more of an understanding between the two that this was something that needed to be done. Essentially the ultimate act of “killing what you love” for the salvation of the rest of the world.

Remind you of anyone? Of Cas sacrificing himself to the Empty in Jack’s place? Of Dean wanting everyone to agree to let him go into the Ma’lak box to save them all from Michael? Of Sam back in 5.22 knowing the only way to stop the apocalypse was for him to say yes to Lucifer and fling himself into the cage, or even the trials he undertook in s8 to close the gates of Hell? Of Jack willing to burn up his own soul in order to kill Michael and thereby save the world?

It’s all fun and games until someone chokes on a boiled egg... or on the equivalent of all the souls in Purgatory... >.>

This theme of sacrifice is finally getting a blatantly toxic label here, I guess? I don’t know what it means going forward, but the show has been thematically denouncing this sort of “all in for death” play for a while now, and this is about as blatant a “Danger Poison” label as the act has been given yet.

And then we have one final bit of snakey imagery-- the vortex of Michael’s grace spinning in a circle above Jack’s head as he burned it off from an ouroboros of malice into a lil wispy snake that he eventually inhaled and apparently assimilated into his own being. I found it fascinating that he just burned off the vast majority of that grace cloud until he was left with what was apparently just the “power pack of grace” he needed for himself, and the rest had apparently been “the Persona of Michael.”

Heck I don’t even know what else to write about any of this, and I don’t think very much of it was actually biblical, and I didn’t even touch on the “letting the snake into the garden” thing, because I feel like the show already dealt with that during the Gadreel arc in s9. And heck if that wasn’t letting the serpent into the garden, right?

[a-strange-world]

I Lost My Grace - Chapter 2

Summary : When an angel becomes human, there’s a lot to learn and discover. For him, but for you too.

Pairing : Future Castiel x Reader ?

Word count : 2,140

Warnings : None.

[Note 1 : Okay, first of all, this is my first fanfic that I post on tumblr so pleaaase be indulgent. Also, I apologize if there are spelling mistakes or agreement errors or whatever else. I’m a french woman and I don’t have a perfect level in english, but I would love to improve it. So, if there is any mistake, just let me know and I’ll correct it :)

Note 2 : I wanted to try something in this chapter about the way of writing (check the italic and bold type text (some sentences are from the original script by the way, not mine)). The scene is very clear in my mind but I don’t know if I transcribed it well. I hope you’ll understand what I wanted to do. In any case, don’t hesitate to tell me if it’s comprehensible or not.

Note 3 : Okay, I stop the “blabla” now and let you read the chapter ! :) I hope you’ll enjoy it. I’ll try to post the next as soon as I can ! Oh and don’t hesitate to send a feedback ! I would be glad to know what you’re thinking about the chapter. I wish you a nice reading ❤ ]

Cas is human.

You couldn't realize it. Castiel, angel of the Lord, who had saved Dean from Hell and Sam from madness, who had fought by your side against demons, leviathans and even angels, was now human.

His face suddenly popped in your mind. Those eyes. Once again, you could see so many things in them.

Distress. Pain. Emptiness. Your own old demons.

You hated the fact that Castiel had to feel all these terrible feelings. He didn't deserve all this suffering and most of all he hadn't been prepared for that. You didn't know how he would react but you were sure about one thing : it wouldn't be good. You knew too well these feelings and their consequences. You had experienced them before and they hadn't been a good phase of your life. Not at all. You just hoped that Castiel would not live what you did.

At the thought, you instantly felt your eyes getting wet and you bit your bottom lip, trying to control yourself. Not now (Y/N).

You focused on your breathe, letting in and out the air in your lungs very slowly and finally managed to get back your composure.

That's better. You thought to yourself. I have to be strong. For him. He will need the three of us to overcome this situation.

You paused a moment, starting to remember all the hard times he went through. Lilith, the apocalypse, the civil war in heaven, the purgatory... He had survived to everything.

He is brave and strong and good. Being human will not change anything of that. He will survive to this too. And I'll be there for him, like I'm here for Sam and Dean. I'll pay attention to every single of his needs. I will do everything I can to help him and he will be ok. Everything will be o-

The sound of footsteps approaching suddenly cut your thoughts and you blinked a couple of times, knowing that it would help you to come back to reality. Then you looked down at your hands to see that without even realizing it, you had finished the batter's preparation.

"So, what are you cooking for us, little head chef ?" Dean asked while he rubbed his hand against the top of your head, causing your bun to get messy. You faked to grumble in frustration, hiding your smile from Dean. You didn't want him to know that you loved when he did that. That it conforted you and made you feel really part of their family, like a little sister.

You felt Sam coming closer to you and watching over your left shoulder. "Flour, eggs, milk..." He started to enumerate, noticing all the ingredients that were placed on the countertop. "Oh wait, I think I know." He started to say proudly. "Is that-"

"Salty pancakes !" You said joyfully, knowing well that the boys loved that recipe.

"Oh God bless you ! And pancakes too !" Dean exclaimed, raising his fist toward the sky after having kissed it.

"You. Are. The best." Sam stated with a big grin.

You chuckled at their reactions.

"I thought that it would be a good..." Your voice lowered. "first meal for Cas." You ended your sentence in a whisper, the words hurting your throat and the memories hurting your heart.

"Of course it is, (Y/N)."

You raised your head to look at Sam who was smiling at you. You perfectly knew this smile, this look, this face. He knew. And he knew you knew he knew. He always guessed your feelings. It was like this with Sam. He had this "super" empathy that made you feel naked but safe at the same time. And more you tried to hide your emotions, better he understood what was happening in your head. It was destabilizing at first but you were now used to be an open book to him. He wasn't your friend for nothing after all.

"So." Sam said, changing the subject on purpose. "Do you need help ?"

You faked to think about the proposition before answering. "Actually yes. Dean, can you take care of bacon's and egg's cooking ?" You asked him.

"Sir, yes sir !" He said abruptly, saluting you military way what made you smile.

"And Sam, what about making some salad with it ?" You suggested, exchanging a knowing look with him.

"Oh no !" Dean suddenly spoke before Sam could say anything. "Please, don't tell me that this meal will contain some green healthy things." The eldest brother said, looking desperate.

"Haha, I think it will !" Sam replied, winking at you.

"Compromises Dean. Compromises." You said with a laugh.

You perfectly knew that all of this was just an act. Smiling, joking like nothing had happened earlier. In fact, it had always been your way to escape the reality and its hard times. Sometimes the three of you simply needed to relax and think about anything else that the daily crap. And today you really needed that. Castiel really needed that.

You felt your heart clenching at the thought

"How is he going ?" You asked to Dean with sad eyes.

"I..." Dean sighed. "I don't know, it's hard to tell." He went to the fridge and opened it, searching for the bacon's box. "I explained him how to use the shower, how to regulate the water temperature, how much use shampoo etc. I think we'll have to do that with everything now." He suddenly straightened up, his head only poking out above the door fridge. "And before you too are saying anything, I tell you : I won't be the one who will explain how to flush the toilet !" He said, laughing a little while returning to his task.

A sad smile crossed your face, knowing that behind the joke, Dean was really concerned about his friend. Humor was his best defense against any emotional stuff.

"Ah got it !" He suddenly exclaimed, finally finding the box. "Anyway. I think it won't be easy. When I left him, he seemed still in shock. I never saw him like that before."

"Yeah. Me neither." You replied quietly.

You saw Dean contorting himself as he was going deeper in the fridge. He muttered something inaudible - where you just heard the words "Damn it !" and "this shit" - then he finally get out of it with a bag in his hands, a disgusted expression on his face.

"Ew..." He said while putting the salad in Sam's hands.

You shook your head and smiled at his funny behavior while Sam rolled his eyes.

"You're really a lost cause, ya know." Sam said what made you giggle.

The three of you were going to focus on your respective task when you realized that something were missing for doing yours.

"Oh Sam, wait ! Just before you start, can you grab me the frying pan please ?" You didn't wait more of 4 seconds until he was handing it to you.

"Thank you." You said to him as you grasped the pot. But instead of letting go of the pan like he would have to, Sam had a tight hold on it. Slightly destabilizing by the unexpected force, you looked at him to discover that he was totally still, his gaze locked on something unmaterial in front of him.

"Sam ? You're okay ?" You asked, suddenly worried.

Dean moved in front of his brother. "Sammy ! Hey !" He said, starting to shake his left shoulder with one hand.

"Yes, Sam is fine." Sam finally answered with a neutral tone while putting the pan on the countertop.

There was one second of silence during time seemed suspended, before Sam's eyes moved again and fixed on you and Dean. His face wasn't reflected any emotion, it was just like a stone. Hard, cold and empty. That's when you understood what was going on. Ezekiel.

"Ezekiel." Dean repeated your thought out loud. "You know that we discussed about this, don't ever do it like tha-"

"Castiel cannot stay here." Ezekiel proclaimed, cutting Dean off.

The statement made you freeze. Your heart skipped a beat as you instinctively held your breathe, your body's reactions following the state of shock of your brain.

In the corner of your eyes, you saw Dean shaking his head then frowning. "Wait what ?" He said, not believing what he just heard, just like you.

"Castiel cannot stay here." The angel repeated patiently. "He will bring the angels down on all of us."

Your eyes fixed upon the angel again and all your suspicion about him came back to the point.

"No, no, he's got the Enochian tattoo. He's warded."

You never trusted him. You just couldn't.

"He was warded when some angels found him, and tried to kill him."

There was something in him that was bothering you.You didn't know what exactly.

"Yes, I know that, but this is Cas, okay, who vouched for you when I didn't know you from Jack. The bunker is safe."

Of course, Dean have had his own doubts when you first met Ezekiel. You two agreed about one thing : there was no coincidence. You couldn't believe that just when you needed it, an angel just presented himself right away with a solution, without any ulterior motive. It was way too good to be true.

"Bartholomew is massing a force. We cannot stand an incursion. Castiel is in danger, and if he is here, I am in danger."

But the strange situation wasn't really what setted you thinking. It was more a feeling. A terrible bad feeling that was eating you away since the first day.

"Wait, you're in danger? From who, the angels?"

You couldn't explain it but you were deeply convinced that there was something wrong with the angel.

"If he stays, I am afraid I will have no choice but to leave."

You couldn't explain it but you always felt that something were...

"Oh, no, you can't do that. Sam's not well enough. If you leave his body..."

... fake.

"I know. I am sorry."

The last words suddenly cut your thoughts and brought you back to reality. You felt your checks starting to burn red, anger flewing through your veins. Sorry ? He was sorry ?

“Okay, that's enough." You interrupted them. "Listen to me carefully, Zeke !” You said with a revolted face when your mouth prononced his name. “I don't know what's on your mind and what you're planning but let me tell you that." You made a pause to let some air filling your empty lungs. "YES, we need you to heal Sam and bring him back in one piece. YES, you are our last hope for this. But NO, this act doesn’t give you the right to order that Castiel has to leave. HE is our friend. Don’t forget that YOU are still alive only because we need you to keep SAM alive ! I could simply kill you right now !" You finally said, raising your blade from under your top and placing it on Sam's throat.

You detected a slight flinch coming from Ezekiel but he didn't let anything appear on his face. And as your gazes were silently fighting, you could feel your own eyes slowly getting wet due to the outpouring of emotions.

"Wow wow, (Y/N). Hey, calm down okay ?" Dean spoke to you quietly while grabbing carefully your hand to push it away from his brother's body.

"I am calm. I just want to be sure that this stupid and selfish angel understands well my thought." You replied, still holding the gaze of the angel.

You felt Dean's hand slowly pulling yours, forcing you to step back.

"Threatening me will not change anything (Y/N)." Ezekiel said, looking at you emotionless. He then turned toward the older brother and stated once again. "If Castiel stays, I will leave."

The ultimatum let Dean voiceless. You could read so easily his pain on his features as he didn't know what to do. Castiel, his best friend. Sam, his brother.

"Know what ? I'm done with it !" You intervened just as he was opening his mouth to speak. "We won't choose between the two of them. If Cas has to go, then I'll go with him ! I will not let him all alone, especially now. This is the time when he most needs us." You paused, looking at both of them. "I guess that everybody will agree with this." You concluded in a low voice.

You then turned toward the countertop to finish cooking the pancakes, not wanting to talk to the angel anymore.

"I suggest Sam should look after Cas to see if he's okay." Dean said to Ezekiel and you heard footsteps moving away from the kitchen.

Tag list : @thehoneybeecastielfollows

[themurphyzone]

Oneshot: Platypus Onesies For All

@shit-sara-murphy-does, @thebrilliantbean, @colderthancoldest. As well as everyone else who put some some great tags to this post!

“Zonian4life is online now! Finally!” Candace exclaimed, sinking into a mound of pillows as she prepared to chat with one of her favorite Internet friends. She opened a private message box. 

Canducky: Hello! What’s up 2day?

Zonian4life: Donating mom’s clothes. Said u had a platypus right?

Candace groaned at the reminder of the meatbrick. He wasn’t home at the moment, but he’d arrive soon and start shedding everywhere. 

And shedding season was annoying. She was still finding blue hairs in the carpet at the foot of her bed from the last time he’d snuck in her room. 

Canducky: Yes. Y????

Zonian4life: What do u think of this? 

A picture popped up. Candace tapped it and zoomed in, raising an eyebrow at the existence of teal platypus onesies. It was a perfect likeness of Perry, right down to the vacant stare. 

Canducky: OMG I can’t believe this exists....

Zonian4life: U likey?

Canducky: Short lived job at toy store and momming an egg kinda killed my interest for platypus suits. 

Zonian4life: Oh too bad....

However, this thing was right up Phineas’ alley. He’d love being able to match Perry! 

Candace couldn’t remember a time when she saw a perfect gift the moment she’d laid eyes on it. Phineas’ birthday was next week, and she had no intention of going through that whole last minute birthday thing with the left handed whatchamacallit again. 

Canducky: But I think my bro would like it. His bday next week. Where 2 buy?

Zonian4life: Animal Warehouse. Got my Time Ape tee there too. 

Canducky: Cool! Thank you so much!

Zonian4life: No prob. Gtg, fire on coffee table.

Canducky: kk!

Candace scrolled through the rest of the blog, giggling at the various memes Zonian4life had posted with her dog as the centerpiece. She made sure to send a few to Stacy, who would no doubt be annoyed at the meme spam and retaliate by photoshopping Candace and Jeremy’s faces into random pictures. 

This time, she didn’t have to second guess herself. 

Candace handed her gift to Phineas, the platypus pajamas neatly folded inside a box covered with platypus print wrapping paper (There was a high demand for everything platypi for some reason). 

Phineas tore one corner, tugging to gently unravel it. Candace rolled her eyes. “It’s just wrapping paper. It’s designed to be torn up.”

He gave her a guilty grin. “You always put a lot of effort into your gifts, Candace. And Perry likes it too. I’ve never seen him so happy!” 

Candace glanced down at Perry, whose vision was still as unfocused as ever. He didn’t move his tail or prance around so she couldn’t exactly tell what was ‘happy’ in platypus body language. 

He unwrapped the box with only minimal tearing to the paper, tossing it aside. Then he opened it. 

Candace snapped a photo on her phone the moment Phineas pulled the onesie out of the box. His face was frozen in a mixture of surprise and pent up excitement. 

Ferb counted down from three on his fingers. 

“This is the best birthday ever!” Phineas shouted. “We can match now, Perry! This is so cool!”

Isabella giggled. “Maybe I should get a chihuahua onesie so we’d match! What could possibly be cuter than a pair of pet owners dressing up as their loyal companions?” 

“If that happened, I think Ferb and I would need an entirely new processing system for the cuteness trackers. We’d never be able to track anything if the signal from your interference alone would contain the same amount of raw wavelengths as the sun’s light energy,” Phineas replied. 

Isabella relaxed, a serene expression crossing her face.

Baljeet waved his hand in front of her face. “She blanked on us!”

“Step aside, nerd,” Buford said, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. He shoved Baljeet out of the way, then snapped his fingers in front of Isabella’s face.

Nothing happened. 

Buford shrugged. “Well, I tried.”

Gretchen muttered something about ‘Phineasland’ and signaled the other Fireside Girls to grab a bucket of ice cold water. 

Phineas hugged Candace, the platypus onesie hanging off a shoulder. “Thanks! You know me so well!”

She ruffled his hair. “What kind of sister would I be if I didn’t?” 

They stayed that way for several moments, their parents ‘awwing’ at the display of sibling affection. Then Phineas broke away. “I’m gonna try these on. Be right back!”

He rushed inside the house, Perry padding in behind him. 

Ferb stared at her. 

“What?” Candace protested. 

His gaze didn’t waver. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll buy you one too. Happy?” 

Ferb gave her a thumbs up. 

Canducky: Operation Platypajamas a success!

Zonian4life: Little bros love onesies who knew?

Canducky: Awesome big sisters!

“Phineas and Ferb look really good in those onesies,” Vanessa said, swiping through Candace’s photos. “They look just platypi!”

Candace shrugged. “They look the part, but they can’t act it. Regular platypi don’t do much.” Vanessa frowned at that. “What? Ever met a platypus who does more than eat and sleep?” 

Vanessa shook her head. “No, that’s silly. I’ll meet a platypus that does more than the basics as soon as my life isn’t one big soap opera.” 

There was a knock on Vanessa’s door. “Vanessa! I made you and your friend some doonkleberry pie! I promise there isn’t a zombie apocalypse this time around!” 

“Speaking of my life being one big soap opera,” Vanessa muttered. Candace giggled, which earned her a pillow to the face. “You hungry?” 

“Sure. Bet it can’t beat my mom’s doonkleberry pie recipe though,” Candace said. 

Vanessa opened the door a hair, then groaned. “Dad, why did you pick that apron of all things?” 

“What, can’t a guy be hospitable to his guests?” Dr. Doofenshmirtz protested. “Besides, I happen to like this apron.”

“Can’t be any worse than my own dad’s Kiss the Brit apron he got at an antique show!” Candace called. “How bad can it-” 

Vanessa let the door swing all the way open, and Candace flinched at the sight of the bright pink frilly apron. “See what I mean?” Vanessa asked. 

Dr. Doofenshmirtz scowled as he set two slices of doonkleberry pie on a table. “Hey, you went through a pink phase too. I have pictures of that really poofy fairy princess lying around somewhere. I need to sort through those photos anyway. Maybe I can get into scrapbooking.” 

Vanessa buried her face into a pillow. “See what I mean?” 

Candace patted her back. “You did harp on him about the apron.” 

“You joined me!” Vanessa protested. “I’m going to crawl under a rock. Alert me during the next nuclear meltdown.”

“Boy, you have a penchant for drama,” Candace said. 

Dr. Doofenshmirtz laughed. “She gets it from me. Don’t give me that sour look, Vanessa. It’s true no matter how much you deny it. Wait, are those boys dressed in platypus onesies?” 

Candace nodded. “My brother’s birthday was a few days ago. He was really happy to match Perry.” 

He gasped. “You have a platypus named Perry?” 

“Um, yes? I think he’s in one of these photos. Ah, here.” Candace showed him one that had Phineas and Ferb in their new onesies while hugging Perry. “Why? Have you seen him? I mean, he wanders off all the time so he’s bound to meet some people around town.” 

He shook his head. “Must be thinking of a different platypus. The one I know doesn’t look that unfocused all the time. Strangely, his name is Perry too. Small world, right? Just out of curiosity, where did you get those onesies from?” 

“Animal Warehouse,” Candace replied. “Had some really great stuff there! A friend recommended it to me.”

Vanessa’s eyes widened. “No. Oh my goodness, no.”

Dr. Doofenshmirtz seemed confused. “What? I was just thinking about going there sometime to see if they had one in my size.” There was a crash from outside. He groaned. “I’d better go see what damage Norm did to the wall this time. You’d think he’d learn to use the door properly after a while. Anyway, enjoy your pie!”

Vanessa shut the door behind him, tapping her foot as she glared at Candace. “Thanks,” she drawled. 

Candace beamed at her. “You’re welcome!” 

Canducky: My friend is mad that I inspired her dad to go buy a platypus onesie.

Zonian4life: Wow this onesie thing is snowballing.

Canducky: Ikr congrats we accidentally started a fashion trend!

Zonian4life: Next could we try to ‘accidentally start a fashion trend’ for Dr. Zone?

Canducky: Help me for starting one with Ducky Momo?

Zonian4life: Deal.

Phineas had a platypus onesie. 

Ferb had a platypus onesie. 

Heinz had a platypus onesie. 

Candace didn’t have one, nor did she want one, but she inspired everyone to go purchase one so she still counted. 

OWCA owned Animal Warehouse so they could appeal to animal loving consumers in order to use them as a host family later if they chose to adopt a pet. 

Perry saved the pictures from the birthday party to his lair computer, looking through them one more time before heading home.

He really did have the greatest family and job in the world. 

[deactivated4179291]

The Cure - Part 4 (H.S AU) - “All Too Familiar”

Maverie’s POV

The morning in which I woke was oddly…for lack of a better word…peaceful. There was no yelling, nor arguing. I sat up on the couch, only to feel my arm being yanked sideways, and felt the sting of none other than the infamous handcuffs. With my right hand free, I rubbed my eyes to rid them of the blur of my sleep, and looked to the recliner in which Harry had stared me down last night only to find Mason… There was no Harry in sight, yet my duffel remained tossed aside within the small living room.

With a defeated huff, my back slumped into the plump couch cushions, as my left arm stuck out like some sort of scarecrow who’s arm was starting to fall off of its post. Though I was practically alone in the small space, and I felt entrapped by the silence in the room, I felt there were hundreds of eyes trained on me. Like this was some sort of test to see if I would try to break free and make way with all of their supplies as well as my own. Somehow, I managed to bypass my discomfort and let my tense muscles settle.

I hate to disappoint you Harry, but I’m not the maniacal villain you seem to like to make me out to be. Footsteps carrying into the space in front of me startle me. Mason stands above me, holding not only a plate of food and silverware in one hand, but a glass of what looked like some sort of juice in the other.

“If it’s any consolation – “ he broke me out of my thoughts, “I believe you,” he said with a shrug and a lopsided smile. I couldn’t help but smile at the compassionate gesture.

“Why’s that?” I ask, raising a curious eyebrow at him.

“Because it’s already been about 12 hours since that mutant had it’s teeth in you, and you haven’t broken a sweat or a fever. Not even for a moment…I think you and I both know mutant bites only take a matter of like four hours to swing into action.”

He was right – the difference between mutant walkers and your average run-of-the-mill walker was that when any old walker bit you it could take a matter of days to turn. However, because mutant walkers are the dead that have turned at the hand of another walker’s bite, the amount of time it takes for the next person to turn gets shorter and shorter. The longest it can take is about 4-5 hours, therefore if I wasn’t immune I’d be trying to eat the only friend I seem to have at the moment – Mason.

“So what’s happened to your fearless leader?” I roll my eyes at the thought of Harry.

“Everyone’s gone hunting. He left me to watch you, and tried to convince me that it’s not possible of course – that no one can be immune to a walker bite. To be honest, I think he’s testing me. Wants to know if I can be like him – if I can really handle shooting you if you turned.” He shakes his head in disagreement, “but I say fuck it. You’re the picture of health,” he shrugs nonchalantly. With that, he leans my shotgun against the side of his  

“None taken, but don’t forget this kid is holding your next meal, which Harry probably wouldn’t have given you,” he smirks playfully.

“Touché” I nod trying to hold in my laugh, thinking about what he’s just said – and he was right. He places the orange juice on the coffee table, and places the plate of eggs in my lap before slipping something out of his pocket, and walking over to the small table beside the couch.

“What are you doing?” I eye him cautiously.

“I’m letting you out, what the hell’s it look like I’m doing?” He says sarcastically, before clicking a small silver key into the hole of the handcuffs and turning it. As the restraints pop loose, the cool air hits the skin of my wrists sending relief throughout the aching flesh. He slides the cuffs off the table leg, and the other off of me before dropping down next to me on the couch.

Not knowing how Harry would react to Mason’s outspoken care and concern made me feel nervous on his behalf for him. Harry was mysterious, and certainly didn’t appreciate when his demands were either not met, or were disobeyed. The undisclosed information in regards to how Harry would react made me shift in my seat, as my throat suddenly felt dry. Mason looked at me warily, before placing a soft hand on my back.

“Are you okay?” he asked leaning a little closer to display his concern.

“Ya, my throats just a little dry is all…you know, stuffy room or whatever,” I laughed nervously. He nodded swiftly, before walking over to my duffel and retrieving my water bottle for me, returning with tin canister in hand, nudging it towards my own grasp.

I turn to look at him with a quirked eyebrow and can’t help but ask him, “why are you being so nice to me?...I mean, Harry isn’t exactly the biggest fan of me, how do you know he won’t lash out at you? Or…lash out at me, even?” I unscrewed the cap of the canteen and swigged down some water before closing it and returning it and offering him some. I knew he wouldn’t accept my offer given I was bitten less than 24 hours ago, but I figured the gesture meant something at least, and I seemed to be correct by the way he stared at it in his hands with a soft smile.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

“Trust me, Harry’s mostly bark, and no bite…no pun intended.” He looks at me awkwardly before continuing as I smile at his wits, “but, Harry’s just…not the same person he used to be. Trust me, the Harry you met yesterday is very different than the Harry my family and I know and love. You have nothing to worry about though, Harry wouldn’t actually hurt a fly, especially not a cute girl like yourself.”

Heat rises abruptly to my cheeks and my eyes shoot wide at his statement. Don’t’ get me wrong, I had flirted with a boy before, and I even had a boyfriend for a small period of time. (Let’s just say my family and I had friends in our group of survivors a couple years back, and me and one of the boys near my age were a ‘thing’ for a while). I had even lost my virginity. Sure, I was drunk, and it was awful but, hey, I felt some sense of pride in the fact that once I reached D.C I at least wasn’t gonna die a virgin.

Somewhere between playing card games, and swapping survival stories even I was surprised by the extent to which I had opened up to Mason and just how well he knew me by now;

“So…you were born the day the world went to shit?”

“Yep.”

“And…your mom?”

“Women scream in pain when they give birth, Mason. Sound attracts the dead. You’re a smart boy, I think you get where this is going…” I said trying not to get choked up as he placed down his “two fours” during our game of BS. “Oh, and by the way – Peanut Butter,” I said with a playfully evil smile.

After I scrubbed every inch of skin to utter pristine cleanliness with the stocked up bottles of hygiene products found under the bathroom sink, I returned to the living room expecting to spend some more time with my new friend, but instead was met with none other than the devil himself. And he was anything but happy with the young man in front of him. I stopped just before rounding the corner – hidden where they couldn’t see me – and eavesdropped on them-

“Mason, if you don’t tell me where you put them so help me God-“

“Oh come on Harry,” I heard him snicker, “we all know you don’t believe in God.”

“Mason, do not push me. Where the fuck are they?!” Harry’s loud dark voice fills the room. With a groan, I sit up, rubbing my neck as I listen in on their wake up call.

“She’s been bitten but she’s still a person Harry, you don’t have to chain her like some animal. You fell asleep last night, if she really meant you or any of us harm for that matter, don’t you think she would have taken off with our shit by now?” Huh...I like you kid…you get me.

“Mason, I gave you a pass yesterday because your young and naïve, and you have a little crush on the pretty girl that claims to be the cure to the apocalypse. I get it, I was your age once – but news flash kid,  I’m not going to give you another one-“

“Oh come on, Harry,” I didn’t have to get a proper look whilst I rubbed my eyes to know that this time the voice that fought back was that of the only other woman in our midst, AKA Mason’s mom, Addilyn, “the kid’s got a point, I mean she has been the picture of health all night.”

“Don’t defend your son just because you think it’s cute he has a pathetic little crush, Addilyn,” Harry says with hostility. His arms folded over his chest made him appear all the more composed. He clearly wasn’t one to stand down from an argument. He was stubborn – that was probably the only thing we had in common.

Upon their lack of knowledge of my presence, I simply made myself known by strutting past the three of them and sitting obediently so that my back is propped against the end of the couch waiting for the cuffs to be placed back on my wrists, whilst I stared Harry down before he stormed out of the room in fury, muttering that everyone should “pack their shit up” because we were leaving tonight, after I would “inevitably turn and have to be put down.”

But it didn’t happen, of course, and a mere five hours later and my 24-hour waiting period had come to an end. Leaving the whole of the group sitting in front of me on the couch asking dozens of questions, as Harry just stared at me as if he could not believe the sight before him.

“I’ll answer anything you ask me,” I promised them. They all pondered for a few moments, developing their inquiries while Harry merely stared at me with that devilishly handsome brooding stare of his – most likely contemplating whether or not he even gave a damn what answers I had to offer. I concluded that he probably didn’t. He wasn’t exactly my biggest fan, and he liked making that known. The first to speak, not at all surprisingly, was Mason, who in the process earned a disapproving look from Harry.

“So…” he started, noting Harry’s fierce eyes and menacing glare before continuing as his curiosity overtook him after battling his judgment, whilst he turned back to me, “how exactly does the whole cure thing work – once the Embassy has you, I mean.”

“Well,” I sigh, thinking – lie, he can’t know it will kill me, it might upset him, just lie, “they’re going to give us all a place to stay, that I’m sure of –“ I said looking toward a dubious Harry who rolled his eyes in response, but had a hint of a smirk on his face, “and then they’ll start taking samples of my blood – and they’ll find out how to process a vaccine from the growth inside me.”

“Growth? What kind of growth?” Addilyn asks, but does so in a polite fashion. She was a properly kind woman once you looked past her silence last night when her son and their leader had a gun pointed to my head, but hey, by-gones am I right?

“Well,” I say, retrieving the sonogram images from my mess of a duffel of supplies, handing them to her, “there’s apparently a growth inside of my chest – just below my heart, really, that seems to pump something throughout my body that denies the virus a chance to infect me.”

“This is so cool,” Mason mutters, staring at the images over his mother’s shoulder. Mitch and Harry seem to be in their own little world as they’ve been silently slumped together on the couch without a single speck of regard towards the lot of us, expecting that their still staring eachother in the eye whilst they engage in their own conversation.

But when I peer over to Harry one final time, I notice he’s gone back to marveling at me in thought sitting casually next to his ‘brother,’ sprawled out across the cushions and looking at peace.

“Yeah…” I mutter flatly, “cool,” I say quietly, knowing damn well that I’ve just lied to my one ally. I’ve just lied to the one person amongst us all that actually cared to know who I really am – beyond the girl who’s blood seems to have some sorry of freakish magic resistance to the deadly infection. I’m sorry, Mase, I thought, It’s just safer if you don’t know…It’s safer if you don’t get too attached to me.

The next day, it was back to walking, and in my case, back to handcuffs. Which also mean that Harry had somehow convinced Mason to return them. I just hope he wasn’t too hard on the kid. I was trying adamantly to be patient with Harry, but his inability to see that I am not some sort of plague was kind of offensive to be honest. The rational side of my brain understood his choice – he didn’t know me. Some moments I didn’t understand why he was so intent on keeping it that way, and others, I realized he was playing the same old game on a different day. The same game I played last night when I lied to the only person who’s been willing to take a chance on me.

And so we trudged onward, from Richmond, California we headed towards exit 88 off of the California highway, marching through the ongoing road that cut through what used to be fields upon fields of produce farms. Through the tender ache of our feet, to the heat baring down on us, saying we were already tired after a strenuous eight hours on foot was an understatement. Our spirits dropped further, though, when we spotted the herd up ahead, and were pulled aside by our leading man. The group was small – only twenty or thirty, but still, that meant having to use ammunition because if we knifed them all one could sneak up on us and what that meant was a lot of ammunition to spend

“Shit,” Harry muttered lowly, with tired defeat. I watched a bead of sweat travel all the way from his forehead down to where it fell from his chin. Something about the way the sun made him glisten made him, dare I say it, even more attractive. We all huddled and revitalized with gulps of water as Harry thought.

“Now what?” Mason asks flatly.

“Now we fight through them – there’s a warehouse just outside the exit, and it seems like the safest bet for the night,” Harry says, dealing out small boxes of bullets. They create a formation, before we continue walking directly towards the dead. I watched as Harry pulled out his pistol from the back waistband of his skinny jeans, like he’d done it a million times as he walked direction in front of me, with Addilyn and Mitch on either side of him, followed by Mason and Martin next to them.

They had formed a semi circle around me as if I was some sort of precious cargo that they had to protect at all cost. I felt so useless just following Harry blindly. I trusted his judgment, but he clearly couldn’t find it in himself to trust mine.

"Ya know,” I say quietly so they all can hear me, but mostly Harry, “I'm just saying, I'm much safer myself when I have my 9 milimerer."

From Harry’s wing I hear Mitch scoff eyeing me as if to say, ‘we’re not stupid.’ I never implied you were, Mitchell.

"Yeah? And how do we know we're safe when you have one?" He asks cocking his head at me. All of a sudden, our small little army halts, as Addilyn freezes. “Addilyn,” Harry says warningly, sending her one of his looks. She brushes off his suggestive stare and reaches into her holster pulling out a spare gun, reaching out to hand it to me, but Harry’s fist wraps around her arm, as he glares at her. She sends him back a dark challenging look, and I am caught looking between the two, several times before Harry sighs, and takes the gun from her before completely turning to look me dead in the eye. He holds it directly in front of me, butt-first, and makes sure to remind me that he’s at full authority.

“You make every shot count, do you understand?” His tones is exasperated, like he’s given in to his biggest obstacle – trusting me. I nod once and pull the all too familiar piece of machinery, loading and cocking it knowingly before clicking it and holding it readily by my side. Harry stares down at my hand for a moment before sending me a peculiar look. I had impressed him…my gun capability had impressed the devil himself. Maverie – 1, Harry – 0. I send him a sly smirk before slipping past him and walking towards the herd with my head held high. If he wanted me to prove myself worthy, that’s exactly what I was going to do.