Apocalypse Meow: Fic (SPN, Gen) + Art :P
Title: Apocalypse Meow
Author: nevcolleil
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: God, Joshua, Death, kitten!Michael, kitten!Lucifer
Rating: G
Summary: Written for this prompt: SPN, kitten!Luci/kitten!Michael, apocalypse meow at comment_fic.
All things considered… He was really rather embarrassed that He hadn’t thought of it before.
Lucifer and Michael battled across the globe and back, just as they would have before. They moved at a speed the human eye could not see. They left damage and destruction in their wake.
But. This damage was considerably… less than it might have been. The white hot glow of angels’ wrath could once have scorched the earth; the fury of their fists could have leveled mountain ranges. Cities would have flattened as they tussled; whole continents would have been wiped clean of life.
Now, the occasional human was injured. But when small claws missed their mark light scratches were all that had to be repaired. Instead of razed buildings, flying pet dander was the cleanup concern at the fore. Thousands reported being shoved aside by a “furry, flying ball that meowed”. Pharmaceutical sales for allergy medications quadrupled.
God watched the carnage and smiled. An apocalypse is much more entertaining when carried out by kittens. God realized as much at that moment.
“You know… you can’t leave them that way,” Joshua cautioned.
God glanced at him askance. He knew. But He would let His sons not know it until they were appropriately contrite. And He would move them soon to a dimension in which they could pounce and scuffle and claw their hurt and anger out in the meantime. Human progress would not be impeded any further by this domestic spat.
“I don’t know,” Death said at God’s other shoulder. “I rather prefer them like this.”
“I’ve already told you, old friend,” God said, “I will not let you drown Lucifer, however naughty he’s been.”
Death scowled. God considered.
“…but. I’ll see what I can do about summoning some rain clouds. Perhaps a millennia of perpetually damp fur will chasten his spirit. You know how vain my Lucifer can get.”
It was, perhaps, a paltry offering as consolation for so many years of enslavement, but Death agreed to take what he got.
There was always the hope that Crowley would take his eyes off of that Hellhound of his at an opportune moment and then…
Well. Death could hardly be blamed for doing his job, could he?
[ end. ]
Author: nevcolleil
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: God, Joshua, Death, kitten!Michael, kitten!Lucifer
Rating: G
Summary: Written for this prompt: SPN, kitten!Luci/kitten!Michael, apocalypse meow at comment_fic.
All things considered… He was really rather embarrassed that He hadn’t thought of it before.
Lucifer and Michael battled across the globe and back, just as they would have before. They moved at a speed the human eye could not see. They left damage and destruction in their wake.
But. This damage was considerably… less than it might have been. The white hot glow of angels’ wrath could once have scorched the earth; the fury of their fists could have leveled mountain ranges. Cities would have flattened as they tussled; whole continents would have been wiped clean of life.
Now, the occasional human was injured. But when small claws missed their mark light scratches were all that had to be repaired. Instead of razed buildings, flying pet dander was the cleanup concern at the fore. Thousands reported being shoved aside by a “furry, flying ball that meowed”. Pharmaceutical sales for allergy medications quadrupled.
God watched the carnage and smiled. An apocalypse is much more entertaining when carried out by kittens. God realized as much at that moment.
“You know… you can’t leave them that way,” Joshua cautioned.
God glanced at him askance. He knew. But He would let His sons not know it until they were appropriately contrite. And He would move them soon to a dimension in which they could pounce and scuffle and claw their hurt and anger out in the meantime. Human progress would not be impeded any further by this domestic spat.
“I don’t know,” Death said at God’s other shoulder. “I rather prefer them like this.”
“I’ve already told you, old friend,” God said, “I will not let you drown Lucifer, however naughty he’s been.”
Death scowled. God considered.
“…but. I’ll see what I can do about summoning some rain clouds. Perhaps a millennia of perpetually damp fur will chasten his spirit. You know how vain my Lucifer can get.”
It was, perhaps, a paltry offering as consolation for so many years of enslavement, but Death agreed to take what he got.
There was always the hope that Crowley would take his eyes off of that Hellhound of his at an opportune moment and then…
Well. Death could hardly be blamed for doing his job, could he?
[ end. ]