Wolves of the Apocalypse by issaro (PG-13)
May. 3rd, 2016 11:32 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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stargateficrecShow: SGA
Rec Category: Alternate Universe
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay
Pairings: McKay/Sheppard
Categories: Slash, Apocafic, Angst
Warnings: Violence, Widespread Death, PTSD
Author on LJ: Unknown
Author's Website: AO3 profile
Link: Werewolves of the Apocalypse
Why This Must Be Read: It's an apocalypse fic with werewolves. How can anything possibly get more awesome than that? (I say this even though I'm not generally much of an apocafic fan.)
So, Werewolves of the Apocalypse is actually a series of two stories which the author had clearly intended to continue on at some point and didn't for whatever reason. Don't be scared by its unfinished status, though, because the open ending of the second story does make for a satisfying conclusion. In the first story, Travelling with Wolves, issaro does an amazing job of showing us our two characters meeting as well as their individual experiences of the end of the world, which were vastly different. The second story shows them getting to know each other better as they reach their destination, while tip-toeing around each other's idiosyncrasies and neurosis. Up until the end, issaro does a great job keeping the reader guessing as to what exactly happened to create the fever that killed the majority of the world's population. It's definitely well worth the read!
“Fucking trees,” Rodney snarled at nothing in particular.
Why did Pennsylvania have so many trees? You'd think they had missed the industrial revolution in its entirety. Although maybe he was in Ohio now. It’s not like they posted signs along the border through the woods to warn people when they crossed from one arbitrary geographical location to the next.
“Ohio.” He decided for himself. It’s Ohio. And if it wasn’t, well, it was now - prerogative of being the last to care. Maybe he should just call it all Canada and be done with it. Rodney chuckled to himself. The War of 1812 revisited and won without a shot fired.
Topping another of the ubiquitous small rises that had punctuated his last few days of travel, Rodney hitched his shoulder to resettle his pack in a more comfortable position. He picked a new reference point along the western horizon, calculating degrees of distance from the sun, and trudged on. If he was sitting in a car right now, not only would he be out of the seemingly endless monotony of the trees and much closer to the beacon but he’d be less sweaty. He didn't even want to contemplate how he smelled at this point.
For all that he was warm now, he knew tonight he’d be worrying about the cold and how much body heat he was losing. The past few mornings he’d woken to frost on the ground. He’d grabbed a hat and thin gloves from the last roadside store he'd passed but he didn't see that it was helping after dark.
The American military had once done a study that found that as much as half of a person’s body heat could be lost through the head. “Of course, if you stick people in a freezer, covered from neck to toe, they’re going to lose body heat from their head!” he snapped at no one in particular. “Where else would someone lose it from? Their nicely insulated ass?”
The ragged growl seemed to agree with him.
“You’d think someone somewhere would have mentioned that flaw in their testing," he continued as he stomped through the underbrush, crunching leaves and sticks and other forest ground things that he didn't want to name. "Maybe we’re expecting too much of the military.”
This time, the answering snarl brought him up short and the world around him snapped into focus again like falling out of hyperspace. Or at least, the George Lucas and Gene Roddenberry-indoctrinated version of falling out of hyperspace. One moment, monotonous streak of forest brown and red and orange and the steady thud of his feet, and the next, clear three dimensional surround sound including the growling, which seemed to be coming from just over the small ridge in front of him.
Rodney froze, trying to decide between making a run for it and desperately trying to climb the nearest tree. He doubted he was any better at tree climbing then orienteering but he had enough adrenaline flooding his system that he might surprise himself. Except that as he frantically ran through options another part of his brain noted that the sound didn't seem to actually be getting any closer and nothing lethal was currently in sight.
Rec Category: Alternate Universe
Characters: John Sheppard, Rodney McKay
Pairings: McKay/Sheppard
Categories: Slash, Apocafic, Angst
Warnings: Violence, Widespread Death, PTSD
Author on LJ: Unknown
Author's Website: AO3 profile
Link: Werewolves of the Apocalypse
Why This Must Be Read: It's an apocalypse fic with werewolves. How can anything possibly get more awesome than that? (I say this even though I'm not generally much of an apocafic fan.)
So, Werewolves of the Apocalypse is actually a series of two stories which the author had clearly intended to continue on at some point and didn't for whatever reason. Don't be scared by its unfinished status, though, because the open ending of the second story does make for a satisfying conclusion. In the first story, Travelling with Wolves, issaro does an amazing job of showing us our two characters meeting as well as their individual experiences of the end of the world, which were vastly different. The second story shows them getting to know each other better as they reach their destination, while tip-toeing around each other's idiosyncrasies and neurosis. Up until the end, issaro does a great job keeping the reader guessing as to what exactly happened to create the fever that killed the majority of the world's population. It's definitely well worth the read!
“Fucking trees,” Rodney snarled at nothing in particular.
Why did Pennsylvania have so many trees? You'd think they had missed the industrial revolution in its entirety. Although maybe he was in Ohio now. It’s not like they posted signs along the border through the woods to warn people when they crossed from one arbitrary geographical location to the next.
“Ohio.” He decided for himself. It’s Ohio. And if it wasn’t, well, it was now - prerogative of being the last to care. Maybe he should just call it all Canada and be done with it. Rodney chuckled to himself. The War of 1812 revisited and won without a shot fired.
Topping another of the ubiquitous small rises that had punctuated his last few days of travel, Rodney hitched his shoulder to resettle his pack in a more comfortable position. He picked a new reference point along the western horizon, calculating degrees of distance from the sun, and trudged on. If he was sitting in a car right now, not only would he be out of the seemingly endless monotony of the trees and much closer to the beacon but he’d be less sweaty. He didn't even want to contemplate how he smelled at this point.
For all that he was warm now, he knew tonight he’d be worrying about the cold and how much body heat he was losing. The past few mornings he’d woken to frost on the ground. He’d grabbed a hat and thin gloves from the last roadside store he'd passed but he didn't see that it was helping after dark.
The American military had once done a study that found that as much as half of a person’s body heat could be lost through the head. “Of course, if you stick people in a freezer, covered from neck to toe, they’re going to lose body heat from their head!” he snapped at no one in particular. “Where else would someone lose it from? Their nicely insulated ass?”
The ragged growl seemed to agree with him.
“You’d think someone somewhere would have mentioned that flaw in their testing," he continued as he stomped through the underbrush, crunching leaves and sticks and other forest ground things that he didn't want to name. "Maybe we’re expecting too much of the military.”
This time, the answering snarl brought him up short and the world around him snapped into focus again like falling out of hyperspace. Or at least, the George Lucas and Gene Roddenberry-indoctrinated version of falling out of hyperspace. One moment, monotonous streak of forest brown and red and orange and the steady thud of his feet, and the next, clear three dimensional surround sound including the growling, which seemed to be coming from just over the small ridge in front of him.
Rodney froze, trying to decide between making a run for it and desperately trying to climb the nearest tree. He doubted he was any better at tree climbing then orienteering but he had enough adrenaline flooding his system that he might surprise himself. Except that as he frantically ran through options another part of his brain noted that the sound didn't seem to actually be getting any closer and nothing lethal was currently in sight.
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Date: 2016-05-04 04:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-05 01:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-05 02:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-05 05:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-04 01:26 pm (UTC)I've read & enjoyed both fics several times now. I'll probably never give up the wistful hope for more in the series, but you're right: it does stop in a good place, at the end of the story arc.
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Date: 2016-05-05 01:56 am (UTC)It's a very hopeful ending too.