#they’ve seen a lot and there’s just an end of the rope somewhere

[impossible-rat-babies]

me grabbing eyrie by the scruff to hand them to their narrative foil like

[pinkierre]

detectives yukierre drabble | for my love @yukierres

Pierre is slumped over his desk as the Captain of the Police Department is doing his weekly ‘Monday morning’ update round. Normally, Pierre at least tries to fake attention to these talks, but he really couldn’t fall asleep last night. It was even more difficult than usual, seeing the clock hit 3am and then 3:30 until he finally left consciousness. It’s led to him being on his third cup of coffee even though it isn’t even 9am yet.

“And last but not least, we’re delighted to be joined by Detective Tsunoda, who has transferred all the way from Tokyo to join the Whitechapel PD.” Pierre hears his Captain say before his coworkers give a round of applause. The sudden wall of noise has definitely woken him up a bit, even if it’s just temporary.

“Off you go, let’s make London a better place than we left it yesterday.”

The people who’ve come into the office just for the update speech filter out of the room immediately, leaving Pierre lonely at his desk. He powers on his computer as he sinks back down in his chair. Coffee. He still needs coffee. A lot of it. He tries to justify walking to the Starbucks down the road, or if he’s just going to have a crappy cup at the office…

“Gasly.” The Cap says as he shakes Pierre from whatever sleep deprived train of thought was going on in his head.

“‘Morning, sir.” He croaks out as his gaze focuses on the figure hiding behind Captain Tost.

“Tsunoda is yours. I trust you can show him the ropes?” He says before walking off and revealing a brand new Detective Tsunoda to Pierre.

Pierre is frozen in his place, staring at an equally frozen Detective in front of him. The man looks… familiar. Very familiar, actually. As if they’ve met before, or even a couple of times.

“Hi.” The man in front of him croaks out, seemingly having recovered from being stumped a lot faster than Pierre.

“Hello.” Pierre stammers out, sitting up straighter as he’s taking in the appearance of his new colleague.

Where could I have seen him before? Pierre thinks to himself as the pair of them keeping staring at each other.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” Detective Tsunoda asks him. So it’s not just Pierre then, who has got this feeling that they know each other from somewhere.

Pierre stands up, extending his hand for the other man to shake.

When their hands connect, a jolt of electricity runs up his arm and ends up in his heart, making it skip a beat.

“Yeah, I think you do.”

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

My beloved <3 Happy birthday! You know how much Fantasy Fest is kicking both our asses, but I couldn’t go without at least writing you a little something something in our ‘detectives yukierre’ au. This might become a scene or we might end up deleting it all, who knows! Can’t wait to eventually work this out idea out with the plan we’ve got!

Darling, I love you <3 I’m so happy to call you a friend of mine. I hope you’re having the loveliest day! 

[sukunasbabygirl]

More random, out of order thoughts for the Uncle Philip AU because my brain can only work in specific thoughts right now rather than cohesive responses!

- Hunter doesn’t have the scar on his cheek for a while, not until the siblings’ first encounter with their uncle’s beast form. Hunter and Luz, against Eda’s warnings, attempt to get close to try and calm him down, but Hunter’s similar appearance to Caleb ends up blurring in Philip’s mind and well… there’s a lot of sobbing afterwards. Eda is very clear that, after he’s returned to his normal state, she doesn’t want Philip anywhere near Hunter. She’s understanding of his situation, and she’s pushing down a lot of her own personal feelings as well, but she also knows Hunter needs space to process what happened. When Philip is allowed to enter his room again, there are a lot of apologies. He’s hates that he feels compelled to apologise, and he hates that he’s this attached to a Grimwalker, but he never wanted to hurt his nephew, he swore to Camila he would never let any harm come to those kids. It’s a very awkward and quiet moment, with neither being sure what to say really. Philip does have a braincell sometimes though in this au and is quick to shut Hunter down when he tries to blame himself.

- Eda and Philip’s mini plotline in ‘Something Ventured, Someone Framed’ is one of my favourite things to think about sometimes. It’s a mix of silly and also genuine, being one of the first times the two really get to know each other without the pre-existing biases. Against his better judgement, Philip agrees to help Hunter and Luz get into magic school, only because Eda pointed out that if witches are as bad as he says, he should have no trouble in the kids learning about that first hand. He gets roped into helping Eda clean up her old messes all thanks to another bet they make. He comments frequently on all the trouble she got into throughout, very negatively too, and to a point she snaps back at him to be quiet and to leave if he’s not going to help, not something he quite expected really. He denies throughout the episode that he ever caused trouble at school, but after realising Eda maybe is doing this for Luz, he admits that perhaps he caused a little trouble himself - a lot actually. It’s another area they do connect in: two people that loved learning but didn’t thrive in the environment so lashed out, the complete opposites of their perfect student older siblings.

- Philip has his own Bad Girl Coven T-Shirt that he pretends not to wear, but it ends up becoming one of his go-to pyjama clothes when his usual nightshirt is being washed.

- Luz doesn’t want to admit it, because she’s happy for her brother, but the fact he was able to bond with a palisman and she wasn’t is something she’s envious of. It wears off a little when Eda gifts her the palistrom wood, but still she wonders that maybe if she just had a concrete goal, if she knew what she wanted, she wouldn’t have been rejected like that. She usually decides to just brush the feelings off with some Azura rereads. A good distraction always works in her eyes!

- Finally, somewhere in season two, I’m not sure when yet, Philip at last decides to fully open up about his brother. Not about how he killed him or anything, he very carefully leaves that detail out, but the kind of person he was. The Owl House deals with a lot of themes and grief is one of them. The idea of ‘can you miss someone you never even knew’ links a lot to Hunter and Luz here, who only know about Caleb from their uncle, and they’ve seen the effects Caleb’s death has had on him firsthand. The visual I have is the three of them all just sitting on the cliffside by The Owl House together as the sun sets, with the kids resting their heads against their Uncle, all as he talks about the father Hunter never got to meet, and the other uncle Luz never got to meet either. This is set before Hollow Mind obviously and possibly makes Hollow Mind hit even harder for those two but what’s this AU without a little family angst?

[metagalacticx]

“Would you stop stuffing your face with candy for one moment and listen???”

Fictober Day 3✨ ————

"You’re not going."

"What do you mean I’m not going?"

The chair scrapes gratingly against the hardwood floor as Valerie stands and stacks Hayden’s empty plate on top of hers.

"You heard me."

Hayden gapes at her retreating form, confusion quickly giving way to annoyance. "I wasn’t asking."

Valerie doesn’t respond. The clatter from the kitchen is loud in their apartment, this two-bedroom unit the cheapest they could get at the time. They’ve since saved enough to get a bigger place, both of them wishing to go anywhere away from downtown Sacramento, but with Hayden heading to college in four months they’ve decided to live out their lease until then. At least that’s what Valerie insists every time they have to run the shower for fifteen minutes before the water barely warms, or when they have to jiggle the key at an angle to unlock the door.

Hayden grimaces and grabs the spoons from the red, floral placemats and sticks them into their stacked cups.

"Thanks," Valerie says when Hayden sets them by her elbow at the sink. Like everything’s fine. Like they’re not fighting.

This isn’t new for them, tension and ire and the mutual anticipation for that moment when the rope breaks and somebody’s screaming about not being someone’s Mom, and they’re both crying about not being understood. But Hayden’s learned a lot in the last year. Control mostly. It’s been tough, without a present Alpha, or a pack. Valerie is enough, will always be enough. But Hayden can’t help the dull ache of loss she feels sometimes, especially during full moons. She’s learned to cope though. To control the urge to curl up and whine. To slash at anything that moves. To sink fangs into chapped lips until her tears dry. She’s learned control. So instead of stomping off to her room, she takes a breath and drops her shoulders.

"Why would you say I’m not going?"

"I don’t want you to go, so you’re not going."

"Do you have a reason?"

"It’s Beacon Hills. Do I need any more of a reason than that?"

"My friends are there," she attempts to laugh. It leaves her mouth dry, humorless.

"You have friends here."

"Val, I’m not saying I want to live there I just—"

Valerie’s hands grip the edge of the sink and she turns with a hard stare. "People died, Hayden. Not almost died. Not nearly died. I saw. People. Die."

Any response forming is cut off when Valerie pleads in a low voice, "And you did, too."

Somewhere in the back of her mind Hayden thinks she should let that be the end of this conversation. Listen to her older sister and choose not to go back to Beacon Hills for the summer. But she was excited about it, happy even. At the thought of seeing her friends. Liam. Scott.

"You’re a cop. You see people die everyday. That doesn’t stop you from going in."

The dishes clank together in the dish drainer. Valerie wipes her hand on the towel they keep over the handle of the oven. "Beacon Hills is different and you know that." 

Hayden follows her out of the kitchen and stops at the door to her bedroom. They’re fighting but she knows Valerie gets pissy about not asking permission to go in, open door or not. She waits as Valerie pulls her shirt over her head and rummages through on open drawer for a sweater. Even on her day off she invents work for herself. She changes three or four times, to make up for the days she can’t dress casually, Hayden guesses. It’s just another Val thing.

"I have a place to stay, I’d have a job. I would be with my friends." My pack. "Who I haven’t seen for a year." 

"I trust Melissa," she says even with a clear furrow of her brows. She goes silent and continues digging through a bag. "I trust her," she repeats, looking at Hayden this time. "But she can’t keep you safe, Dennie."

Hayden wants to scream that she doesn’t have to, because she can. Hayden can. She doesn’t need Melissa to look out for her. Doesn’t even need Valerie in that way anymore. She’s survived a whole year without Scott. But she’s never been brave enough to break the news to her sister, that she’s even less like her now. That the blood type incompatibility isn’t the only reason she still grapples with the alienation and isolation that took root at age seven on her worst days. She’s never wanted to be more like her sister than now, when she physiologically isn’t. She couldn’t bear to shatter that illusion of closeness.

But she wants to go.

She wants to go back to Beacon Hills.

"Val, I promise I’ll stay safe."

Valerie finally grabs something out of her bag and flops onto her bed. She looks over at Hayden and raises a brow.

"I’ll get Parrish to drive me around. I’ll stay inside on the weekends."

Valerie tosses a handful of candy corn into her mouth and chomps through the sweets, shaking her head.

"I’ll call and text you everyday," Hayden continues, eyes pleading from the doorway. "You won’t even know I’m gone."

Valerie refills her hand and tilts her head back to drop the load of sweets into her mouth.

"Would you stop stuffing your face with candy for one moment and listen?!"

The chewing stops instantly, and Valerie’s eyes widen at the outburst.

"Sorry," she mumbles, eyes downcast, discreetly digging claws out of the wood of the door jamb. "Sorry… I— You’re not listening and I… I just want to go. I really want to go. I need to see them."

The bed dips as Valerie pushes off it to stand at the entrance to her room, facing Hayden.

"You wanna go that bad?"

Hayden blinks until she’s sure her eyes won’t be anything but dark brown, then glances up through fanning lashes. "I need to…"

Their eyes lock for five, ten seconds before Valerie reaches out and grabs her by the shoulders. She squeezes with what feels like all her strength. And maybe if Hayden were more like her— physiologically— she’d be gasping for breath. But their difference allows her to sink into the embrace and let those arms, strong and parent-shaped, wrap around her like a vice, squeezing breath and all their love for each other out of them both.

"I’m gonna miss you."

"I’ll be back, I promise. I’ll make it back. I won’t leave you here." Not alone. Not again.

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Stare Enough

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Sam Wilson/Bucky Barnes Rating: T Word Count: 4034

Summary: Bucky's got a new stare. Sam spends all afternoon and most of the evening working up the courage to meet it.

Both Sam and the food are the main attraction at this party and the problem with that situation is that it takes so damn long for one main attraction to get a second to enjoy the other.

He’s grateful—god, is he grateful—for the turnout. Friends, neighbours, the kind of people he and Sarah call family without there being any actual relation by blood, they’ve all shown up. Since the Blip, Sam’s felt like he’s always around, but this feels like a real homecoming. No sadness, nothing bittersweet. It’s a celebration and he’s at the center of it. Him and the food.

At last, Sam’s done the circuit with his plate, spooning creamy salads and grilled vegetables, stacking shellfish pink as a sunrise. There’s a fresh-baked roll perched atop a scoop of sweet potatoes and caramelized onions that smells so fucking warm and mouth-watering he has to resist walking with his nose buried in it. He collects a set of utensils furled in the middle of a paper napkin (courtesy of an efficient assembly line of old ladies, chatting and twisting neat rolls of cutlery), plate bowing into the palm of his other hand, and that’s when his damn phone vibrates in his pocket.

Sam halts and makes a sound of frustration. Nobody’s come to this thing empty-handed, so there are dishes crowding the surface of the tables, no place to set his plate down. His phone vibrates again. A teenager comes up to peruse the spread in front of him and Sam sighs, knowing what he’s about to do.

“Here,” he says heavily, offering up his beautifully arranged and wonderfully fragrant meal. The cob of corn shining with the butter he lovingly smeared over it nearly rolls over the edge. “You’re the luckiest kid in the world.”

Quickly, Sam turns away, sliding out his phone and bringing it to his ear. He doesn’t want to witness the boy digging in. His stomach growls as he greets Joaquin Torres.

“Sam,” Torres says. “Uh, I mean, sir. Mr. Captain Am… Captain Wil—”

“Take it easy,” Sam laughs. “You know me, Torres. Don’t get starstruck now.”

“Honestly, I never really got over you being the Falcon. Now that you’re Captain America… Apologies if it takes me a little while to be cool about it.” After a pause—taken while Torres attempts to become cool with Sam being Captain America, Sam assumes—he asks, “You celebrating?”

Not far from where Sam’s standing, there are two little girls singing along to their clapping game. At a table behind them, a trio of elderly gentlemen are arguing over which one of them it was that caught that 50-pound snapper off the dock back in 1978. There’s a sear of meat and fish being rotated onto and off of the grill and, bouncing over everything, music from a speaker someplace.

“Yeah,” Sam says with a broad grin. “Yeah, we are. I’d save you a plate, but I can’t even manage to hang onto my own.”

He doesn’t mention that Torres is responsible for that situation; he’s aware that, besides being a fan, the Lieutenant is a little bit infatuated with him. Sam’s trying to be gentle until the day he can respond to Torres with friendly smack-talk, the way he would Steve or Scott or Bucky. Maybe not exactly like he does with Bucky.

“Don’t worry about it,” Torres cheerfully insists. “I wasn’t calling for that, I just wanted to give you a heads up about something.”

“Alright. Let me just…”

Sam strides away from the heart of the party towards the water, seeking quiet. Kids dart in front of him and that’s nothing unusual, but when he follows them with his gaze, he sees they’re running towards Bucky. Bucky, who has his Vibranium arm extended and two kids dangling off it already, one of whom might be Sam’s nephew. Of course, Mr. Casual, Mr. Smiles, Mr. Social Butterfly, is carrying on a conversation like his arm isn’t being used as a jungle gym. A conversation with Sarah.

For just a moment, Sam stops in his tracks, considering whether he should go over there and break up any potential flirting. But then he watches them. Bucky’s just talking to her, not flicking his gaze up and down while he checks her out. And Sarah, she’s relaxed and smiling, totally at ease, like Bucky’s another member of their community. That makes him a friend. Family.

That’s one thought too far and Sam jerks himself into motion again, walking until he’d be swimming with another step.

“What’ve you got for me?”

“Well, I’ve been trying to watch as much of the coverage of the fight outside the GRC vote as I can, trying to get a sense of how they’re spinning Walker’s reappearance, the legacy of the Flag-Smashers now that Karli and her inner circle are gone… Anyway, there’s a lot of footage and you’re at the center of most of it.”

“Guess the new suit draws the eye. And the cameras.” It’s no surprise to Sam. Part of the job of being Captain America.

“Yeah, but…”

“What is it, Torres?”

“Bucky’s in the background a lot,” he explains in a voice that tells Sam there’s more Torres isn’t saying.

“Makes sense. He was in the thick of it as much as I was.”

“He’s there at the end too. When you were talking to the Senator about power and the common struggle. Man, that was a great speech. Do you think—”

“Torres. Please. The point.”

“Right, for sure, man. Bucky never takes his eyes off you.”

That flusters Sam for a second. He wasn’t expecting the blunt delivery, especially of those words. He squints down at the water where it’s lapping the side of the dock. He knew Bucky was there; they spoke right after, when Bucky tried to feed him that bullshit (and he knew it was bullshit at the time) about texting and missing the exact speech Torres is apparently still hung up on.

“So Bucky was actually listening to me,” Sam says carefully. “That’s a surprise, but it isn’t really the kind of thing that’s significant enough for you to bother notifying me about, is it?”

“I’d say that depends on what you consider significant.”

“Torres.”

“I know, but he’s not just listening! It’s how he’s looking at you!”

“Like he’s wishing I would wrap it up?” Oh, Sam remembers Bucky’s miracle from their session with Dr. Raynor.

“Like he’s totally into you! Major heart eyes. Sir,” Torres hastily adds.

And Sam should reprimand him for this. Calling with a trivial piece of information when he must know Sam’s already being very selective about which of the hundreds of recent calls (and it’d be more if more people had this number) he chooses to pick up. Calling to speculate on how Bucky was staring at Sam that night in New York.

“I don’t need to tell you this is gonna be one of those investigations we keep between you and me,” Sam states.

“For sure. I just thought maybe you’d wanna know.”

“Uh huh. You get any real news, you pass it along.”

“I will.”

Sam ends the call and turns. He looks to his right: the sparkling river. His left: his people, all the way down to the squirt with the glasses who’s hanging off a metal arm, and the man that arm belongs to.

He’s felt it, the way that Bucky stares. It’s not like it used to be though, when it irked Dr. Raynor at the police station in Baltimore, or confused Walker and Hoskins in the back of that jeep in Germany. This new stare of Bucky’s isn’t one Sam’s ever caught him doing. Bucky hasn’t quite let him. That’s actually how Sam noticed it was happening—Bucky would immediately glance away instead of leaving that dead expression on his face when Sam met his eye. Now that he has proof of it, proof he’s certain Torres would send him footage of in an instant if he asked, he’s scared to look.

Instead, he watches Bucky look at other people. Like Sarah. Like kids from the neighbourhood. His literal hangers-on disperse as Sam observes, scattered after Bucky leans towards them to say something. Sam sees half his smile and even that much has his heart swelling up in his chest. Bucky weaves through the tables and standing groups, the dancers and the kids who’ve broken out a skipping rope. (After eating from that buffet? Kids are crazy. Gonna make themselves sick.)

Without thinking too hard about it, Sam returns to the noise and the smells, trailing Bucky with a stealthy eye on his ass in those jeans. There’s no friction here between him and everybody else Sam cares about, he can see that in every short, friendly exchange someone engages Bucky in as he walks. Things flow as smoothly as the butter oozing off the corn Sam reluctantly gave up. Clearly, they remember Bucky from when he was here helping with the boat. They respect him. They like him. They’ve gotten to that last thing faster than Sam has, which makes Sam feel a little embarrassed as well as a little overwhelmed by how much the two of them have actually been through. He’s seen Bucky as a mindless killer and it almost brings a genuine tear to his eye—here on this glorious day in front of all these folks—to see the dork who rushed out to get his hands on a copy of The Hobbit in 1937 return in his current form as the dork who’ll take a fake punch from AJ and blush over brazen old women telling him how handsome he is.

Bucky stares different? Well. Sam feels different about the staring.

Sam keeps his distance until Bucky reaches the food, then his stomach gurgles a reminder than he hasn’t eaten yet. No ass is nice enough to distract him from his meal. He sidles up beside him and Bucky seems unsurprised, not even glancing over.

“Anything important?” he asks.

“What?”

“Your phone call,” Bucky clarifies, adding a heap of glossy green beans to his plate. Damn, those are some of Sam’s favourite. Bucky better not take all of them. “They need us somewhere?”

“Oh. No.”

Bucky shoots him a suspicious look after this stilted response, but he doesn’t say anything until Sam grabs a plate of his own, hungry eyes roving the feast that’s diminishing now that people have started coming back for second helpings.

“Put that down,” Bucky instructs. He doesn’t wait; he takes the plate out of Sam’s hand and tosses it back towards the pile. Thankfully, the plates are made of paper.

“Buzz off, man,” Sam tells him, reaching for the plate again. “I’m starving.”

“I figured.”

Wait.

“That’s for me?” he guesses, gazing longingly at the plate Bucky’s preparing.

“Yep.”

When Sam doesn’t reply, Bucky pauses with the plate in one hand and a serving spoon in the other and sighs.

“I didn’t want you to miss the good stuff. This party’s for you.”

“I think it might be for both of us.”

Bucky seems too self-conscious to say anything to that. He goes back to loading up Sam’s plate while Sam quietly feels his throat close up with emotion as he watches. He clears it gruffly.

“I woulda had to eat the cake you brought,” he jokes. “Pretty sure only the really little kids have eaten any. You know, people who don’t know better.”

“I was tryin’ to be a good guest.”

“I can’t believe you brought a store-bought cake,” Sam says, laughing as he grabs a set of cutlery for the second time and continuing to shuffle along next to Bucky.

“Have you ever seen me cook?”

“…No.”

“Exactly. Trust me, what I did was kinder.”

“If you say so.”

“You know what, Sam?” Bucky demands challengingly, turning to face him. “I do say so.”

Sam’s eyes go from the plate Bucky’s holding between them up to Bucky’s face. He’s close. And he’s got this look, this dancing look in his eyes that undercuts the shit out of the hard line of his eyebrows. Trying to seem all stern. All Sam can think for several seconds is that, if he just grabbed Bucky by the chain around his neck and hauled him forward, they’d never get the food stains out of their clothes. But their laundry would smell delicious.

He clears his throat.

“Then you better stay for a while.”

The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitches up and he hands Sam the plate he’s prepared for him.

“I plan to.”

When Sam picks a table to sit at, he makes sure there’s enough room for Bucky too. When Bucky sits next to him, he sits so close that their thighs press together and claims that’s all the space there is. Bucky talks and laughs when other people at the table talk to him. He’s easily drawn into conversation now and Sam feels weirdly proud of having brought this great guy home to meet everybody, even if he’s not here like that. People tells stories about last week and last century interchangeably, one old smartass making Bucky howl with laughter when they toss out a memory of Little Sam Wilson streaking from his house to the river for a naked swim. This is the danger of welcoming Bucky into the community. Sam, suppressing a smile, doesn’t really mind.

Elbows up on the table so he can eat, talk, and gesture emphatically with his fork, Sam feels Bucky’s stare creeping up on him. Slow, like the sun slides across the landscape when the clouds blow past. Bucky didn’t make this food, but Sam can feel his satisfaction as he watches Sam accept what he provided. Feels like there are grasshoppers springing around in his stomach. He still has a roll on his plate, one side soaked in family-secret barbecue sauce, and he tears it in half. While the rest of their table are caught up in some story being boisterously told by overlapping voices, Sam turns to Bucky and wordlessly offers the bread, edges dimpled where he gripped to split it. They watch each other chew and Sam’s closed mouth is smiling.

Inevitably, somebody pulls Sam back into the conversation and he does his best to laugh and heckle, covering the fact that he wasn’t listening, that he dropped the thread. The voices rise and rise and fall like water slopping over the side of a bucket.

In the next quiet moment, Bucky inclines toward him slightly and says, “You wanna talk later?”

And Sam says, “Sure.”

The day feels long, long, long, and Sam’s face gets sore from smiling, tired from talking. He does not confess that to Bucky, who’s almost always at his side. Lights go on overhead and beers come out of coolers, leftover food packed up and redistributed among neighbours, small children with drooping eyelids toted home. At first, Sam thinks Bucky’s leaning into his side because he’s drained from so much socializing too, but when he meets his eye, he just sees an invitation.

“Where are you two goin’?” Sarah asks when they slink past her carrying a too-big Cass in her arms.

“Just walkin’,” Sam tells her.

“Gotta stretch our legs,” Bucky contributes.

She looks from Sam to Bucky and back, smiling knowingly.

“Uh huh,” Sarah says.

Sam grabs Bucky by the shoulder to turn him forcibly away from his sister’s insinuations and just… forgets to let his hand fall as they wander along the water. Bucky’s steps angle towards his until his arm’s bumping Sam’s side, Sam’s arm slung around his shoulders. Is this still the body language of a couple buddies on a warm Delacroix night? Is it now, when Sam drops his arm and brushes the back of his hand across Bucky’s?

They leave the party lights on the horizon with the lazily setting sun, scrabbling off the end of the dock and onto the riverbank. Sam reaches up to give Bucky a hand down, so he won’t step in the soft mud and sink to his ankles. Bucky clasps his hand firmly and jumps.

The sound of people drops off down here and the sound of wind in grass, frogs hiding between reeds, rises.

“Are there alligators in here?” Bucky wonders, scanning the river’s edge.

Sam laughs.

“For sure.”

“And you swam here when you were a kid?”

“Even then,” Sam boasts, puffing his chest out, “my courage was legendary.”

“Yeah, and your nudity. Is there anyone within a mile of here who hasn’t seen your bare ass?”

Their eye contact holds. Oh right. Sam breaks away with an awkward, hiccupping laugh, directing his gaze at the dirt.

“The gators haven’t gathered too close to the dock in decades,” he promises Bucky. He stares out at the undisturbed water, enjoying the sun on his face. “Got skittish of the boats. Most of ’em, anyway.”

“Consider me not entirely reassured.”

“You scared of a little Louisiana lizard, man? Didn’t you grow up with Creature from the Black Lagoon?”

“Nah, that was after my time.”

“Damn, you’re old.”

Bucky snorts a laugh, refusing to look at him.

“You wanna take a dip?” Sam goads.

“No.”

But by the time Sam’s pulling his shirt over his head, Bucky’s peeling off his socks. Sam spares him a smile and keeps going, the ground soft underfoot. It could be like the few times they’ve changed in proximity to one another before, but it’s not. He senses Bucky’s eyes on him the whole time. Face hot, he takes a quick look in Bucky’s direction as he’s unzipping his jeans. His heart feels like his new suit—wings just waiting to unfurl.

When they’re down to their underwear, they wade in.

God, it feels nice. The water’s cool and the sun’s clinging to the horizon.

“Just don’t get any water in your mouth,” Sam instructs, then dunks his face and comes up squirting water at Bucky from between the gap in his front teeth, a trick he perfected as a kid. “That arm ain’t gonna rust, right?”

“You asked for this,” Bucky warns. He points a menacing finger and plunges below the surface.

Sam twists as he treads water, trying to see what’s going on down there, searching for a ripple or bubbles of released air. His legs move in twitchy kicks because that’s where he’s expecting Bucky to grab him. But the idiot is playing some kind of psychological game first, making Sam wait a full minute. Two minutes. Three.

He’s opening his mouth to call out Bucky’s name when he breaks the surface. Sam’s ready to swap the concern he was about to form into words into a taunt instead—did Bucky get down there and decide the scariest thing he could do was let Sam’s imagination take over?—until Bucky shakes his head and slicks his hair back. Then the words get caught in Sam’s throat and he just kinda stares.

“There was a really gross fish down there,” Bucky informs him. “Do you guys have eels there? Mighta been an eel. Maybe we should get out.”

“Alrighty, scaredy-cat, let’s get you to shore.”

Bucky propels himself out in front, arms moving in powerful strokes, and Sam’s hand darts out on instinct, fingers closing around Bucky’s hard calf muscle. Bucky jerks and Sam burst into loud laughter.

“Did you think that was an eel? Did you?”

“You’re lucky I…”

I’m lucky you what? Sam wants to ask when Bucky trails off, but he just swims after him.

During their game/possible eel panic (there’s no way it was an eel), they weren’t always fighting the current, so they’ve drifted downstream some. Bucky takes sloppy, sloshing steps out of the water, underwear that might’ve been light grey now dark and plastered to his ass. Sam feels like he’s choked on river water, though his mouth is dry. He lumbers out too and they begin the march back in the direction of the dock and their clothes. The water tickles as it runs down Sam’s legs; must be bugging Bucky too because he plucks his waistband away from his skin before letting it snap back. Clenching his jaw, Sam stops himself from trying to see too much.

This end of the dock is made of old boards before it transitions to pavement farther down, wood smooth on Sam’s feet when he and Bucky haul themselves up, dropping their collected clothes and shoes into a single pile. No point getting dressed until they’re dry, so they sit on the edge of the dock, feet swinging. Feels good. Feels home. They don’t speak until the sun’s set, the sky orange, then grey, then rich, velvety blue.

“You know, don’t you?” Bucky asks softly.

“Know?”

“Yeah, you know. Whenever you don’t know something, you talk and talk—”

“Sometimes I can work through a problem better if I vocalize,” Sam explains.

“But when you do know,” Bucky goes on, ignoring Sam’s input, “you’re quiet.” He looks at Sam. “You’re quiet.”

What else is Sam? Nervous. His skin’s prickling with it, and because even the warm air feels cold when he’s just climbed out of the river. There’s a wet patch spreading around him that he can barely see with evening rapidly deepening into night. He lifts a hand from the dock and sweeps it up his neck, brushing water droplets away.

Without glancing over, he says, “You’re doing that thing you do.”

“What?”

“Staring. That new stare you do.”

“Maybe,” Bucky acknowledges. A bird starts calling, the sound drifting in and away like the sway of a hypnotist’s watch and Bucky’s silent until it’s over. “Maybe I’m staring for the same reason you’re quiet.”

Sam waits. Bucky doesn’t add anything, so Sam turns to look at his face, hung with cool shadows.

“You’re not gonna say it, are you?”

“I thought you would say it,” Bucky argues defensively.

“You’re the one who’s been staring at me like that for a week. You should go first!”

“Please, you don’t even know how I’m staring at you, I only do it when you’re not looking.”

“Do it now then and see what happens,” Sam dares him.

“Fine.”

Just like that, Bucky locks in like Sam’s attention is the only handhold on a sheer cliffside. Vital and stable, a last chance, the one thing around him that wants to help him higher instead of watching him fall. A lot of that’s familiar from his regular hard stare, but then something opens up behind his eyes. Some fragile thing (that might be Bucky’s sense of caution) breaks. Suddenly, Sam’s seeing what Joaquin saw in the news footage and amateur cell phone video. Except he’s seeing it two feet in front of him. It’s intense. It makes the air a little harder to breathe.

Bucky’s lips curve into a smile, then part as he says, “I love—”

Hopefully, he wasn’t going to end that sentence with ‘store-bought cake,’ because Sam can’t really take back his reaction. The finger slipping behind Bucky’s ear as he cradles his face, the mouth sealed to his. Especially that. Thankfully, Bucky kisses him back, just as hard, and then harder.

“Thank god,” Sam pants when they break apart.

“You interrupted me.”

“I got you to stop talking? Guess we’re in my miracle.”

“I’d complain…” Bucky shrugs. “…but your miracle is pretty nice.”

“Not bad, right?”

He sighs and looks out over the water. Bucky pushes up on his fists and sits closer, offering his hand for Sam to interlace their fingers.

“Hey,” Sam prompts when it hits him that it’s super dark outside and they aren’t gonna dry much more like this, “did you book a hotel room again?”

“You kiddin’ me? I spent all my money on that cake.”

Sam laughs.

“Right, well, I guess you need a place to stay tonight then.”

“You know anything nearby?” Bucky asks with a soft smile.

Getting to his feet and bracing to pull Bucky up after him, Sam uses his free hand to motion towards their clothing pile.

“Put your pants on,” he says, “and I’ll see what I can do.”

[pocketfulofrogers]

To Outlive the Devil

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Summary: A good save and a case practically solved leads to intelligence almost losing one of their own. Can you get out before it’s too late?

Notes: Canon violence, nothing worse than a typically dark episode. This is a past and present cut together story and it’s just shy of 4k. 

Now

Your bleary eyes open up to a cold and damp bedroom. An abandoned… apartment? The peeling wallpaper had given way to yellow stained drywall. From the small window on your left, it appeared as if you were several stories in the air, but there were no distinguishable landmarks that told you if you were even still in Chicago.

As you begin to come to your senses more, you feel the thick rope tied around your wrists and ankles. The rough material burns against you skin and you notice you already have sores.

How long have I been here?

Your memory is fuzzy and your head throbbed violently. It isn’t until you shift uncomfortably that you realize it’s a heavy metal chair you’re tied to.

Slowly your body begins to pick up on the danger your muddled brain had managed to identify and your pulse begins to quicken. As much as you try, your heartbeat continues to pound in your head as you try to twist your arms free.

The pain that responds is only a small price to pay for even the chance of freedom. Desperately, you continue to twist and pull until one of the knots manages to loosen up enough for you to squeeze your hand out. It’s just a short sprint to the front door in front of you.

You will your frozen fingers to work faster as you pinch and tear at each knot and then internally scream at your stiff muscles to carry you forward just a little bit more.

When your hand reaches the doorknob and it isn’t locked, relief floods your system. But when you’re able to wrench the door open, the person behind the door barely registers in your mind before everything goes black once again.

Then

Jay leans against his fist on his desk and tries to keep his frustration at bay. They’d been at this for two days straight and had been on the case for the last three months. “That’s two bodies in as many weeks. Is no one else starting to think…”

“That maybe hunting Chicago’s very own Criminal Minds level serial killer couple is out of our depth?” You interrupt, tilting your head towards him. “Doubt it.”

In fact, over the last two weeks, it’s the only thing you could think about. A younger woman named Madison roped, at least you were hoping she wasn’t a willing participant, into a horrific and violent life by a man you had yet to learn the identity of. You’d spent many nights pacing your bedroom, ranting and theorizing to Jay when all he wanted was just a bit of sleep.

The further you dove into it, however, the less hopeful you became for a quick arrest.

Voight had about ripped your head off when you suggested passing the case to the FBI and got to hear the ‘this is our city’ speech once again. But the truth was you were running out of ideas, running out of leads to chase down the rabbit hole, and running out of time.

“I hate to say it, but Voight’s right.” Antonio almost looks pained, but he continues on before you can question him. “The first time these two surfaced five years ago, CPD went full force. They shut it all down, had every uniform pulling overtime, and tried to smoke them out. Instead, it scared them into hiding.”

“Five girls in three months, Dawson, they’re escalating.” You take a breath before looking him in the eyes. “I can’t keep notifying parents.” There’s a certain pang in your voice only those who have had to watch a parent’s life crumble around them can hear. Jay reaches out to squeeze your forearm for just a bit of comfort and you run your fingers over his.

It’s enough.

“Then we end this.” Voight’s eyeing you, sympathetic to where you’re coming from, but not willing to give up yet. “Let’s find these monsters and make them pay.”

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you nod and turn to Adam. “Ok, let’s go over everything together, see if we can find something we missed.”

“Since it’s all we have, let’s revisit the address on Madison’s unemployment file.” Jay suggests.

Adam looks confused. “The house was condemned last year, torn down in the spring.”

“I know, but what about the name on the house, did anyone look into it?”

“Figured it was a stolen identity.” Kevin pipes up. “Clara Knight, died in 2012 of a heart attack at 66. No other properties in her name.”

“Knight?” Mouse perks up and starts shifting through his files. “I found a few erased emails from a Robert Knight, but I couldn’t find any relation or connection.”

Adam is already typing ferociously. “Got a death certificate for a Robert Knight, 68, died a few months ago. Seems like the guy barely existed.”

“Any children?”

“A daughter.” His face is grim. “Murdered in 99, she was 16.”

The hairs on the back of your neck prickle. “Pull up a picture of her.” You don’t need to see it to confirm what you already feared, but still the image of her face churns your stomach. A beautiful blonde girl with the hope of the whole world in her smile. “He’s been at this a lot longer than anyone thought.”

“Any property still in his name?” Voight asks.

Anxiety rippling through your chest, it feels like an eternity before Mouse nods. “His nephew Isaac put his house in Roseland on a tax form.”

Now

When you come to, the first thing you notice is that your restraints have been changed to zip ties and for a moment you’re concerned about your circulation. You’re worry is cut short by the cup of water on a table to your right, the plastic straw close enough for you to reach it.

The sudden realization of the searing pain in your throat and the cracked skin on your lips lets you know it’s probably been about two days. It’s the dryness of your tongue that overrides every single rational thought of concern that maybe the glass beside you isn’t safe to drink. But, fifteen minutes pass with no incident so whoever it is probably wants to keep you alive.

The thought sends ice down your back.

Alive for what?

“What do you want from me?” You scream into the empty apartment.

Then

“We need a vacation after this.” Jay declares as he leans the seat of the car back a little. “Somewhere warm with water so I can look at you in a tiny bathing suit all day.”

You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t miss the small smile you give before bringing the binoculars up again. “We’ll see what we can do about that.”

“Hey lovebirds.” Adam calls over the radio from the car down the street from yours. “Have you seen anything yet or are you too busy staring into each other’s eyes again?”

It’s Jay’s turn to roll his eyes. “Didn’t you just take your third piss break?”

“Hydration is very important.” He defends.

“I told him to wear the diapers.” Alvin adds. Adam tries to defend himself, but you can barely hear him over Kevin’s laughter next to him.

Just then, out of the corner of your eye, you see the movement of a curtain, the flash of blonde hair, and the air shifts. Jay immediately catches the tense set of your shoulders and starts asking questions.

“They’ve got a girl up there.” You tell him through gritted teeth.

“Are you sure? I didn’t see anything.”

You nod and get out of the car despite the hushed protests from Jay as he follows you. To do what? You weren’t sure yet but you had felt so powerless these last few months that maybe you weren’t being the most rational right now.

The curtain moves again and, rather than getting caught, you quickly spin around and push Jay against the car before crashing your lips to his. Other than a noise of shock sounding from the back of his throat, he doesn’t miss a beat.

“North corner window.” You mumble against his lips and slide your hands up his chest, tilting your head to the side to give him a better angle.

When he pulls away, he brings his phone up and looks you in the eye. “We’ve got confirmation on the nephew Isaac, but he’s got another girl up there. If we bust in, he might get spooked and hurt her.”

It’s quiet longer than either of you would like.

“What should we do, boss?” Adam asks for you.

“Do you think you can get in quietly?” Voight asks.

Jay waits for your nod. “We’re on it. Going silent.”

Picking the lock was nothing. Sneaking around a house you know nothing about except for a quick glance at a blueprint from 2005 was the difficult part. Jay splits the two of you up, sending you upstairs while he clears the lower level. Circumstance didn’t allow you the option to argue with him that splitting up in a situation like this is the worst thing to do.

He was your partner and it was your job to always have his back, as difficult as he makes it, but he’s rounded a corner into the living room before you get the chance to cuff him to you.

Your breath catches in your throat when a step on the stairs creak, but you keep moving until you find a girl in the second room you clear. She’s blind folded with on leg tied to the bed. She tenses when you approach, but relaxes once you’ve gotten close enough to whisper who you are.

“Tracey.” She says he name with a whimper and your heart breaks as you cut the rope and take off her blindfold.

When she sees you’re really who you say you are, she throws herself into your arms and begins to cry. There’s nothing more you want to do than to sit here and comfort her, but your ears picks up on a man’s voice you don’t recognize.

“Ok, Tracey, I know you’re so scared, and I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I need you to be brave a little longer.” You pull back and look her in the eyes. “My partner and I came in here alone. I need you to tell me where the man and woman who took you are.”

She nods. “I don’t know where she went, she left a while ago. He’s here, downstairs I think, in his office.”

There’s a crash downstairs, the sound of broken glass and your blood runs cold. Immediately, you look for any other way out, but there’s nothing. No balcony, no window, nothing. Voight’s on the radio already, but you silence him.

“Stay directly behind me.” There’s a kind of urgency in your voice that puts her even more on edge.

Creeping down the stairs, you can hear Jay struggling in the kitchen, but it sounds like he’s holding his own.

“Bringing the girl out.” You whisper into your radio and glance back at Tracey. “As soon as we get down, I want you to run to the door. Do not stop. When you get across the street there are people who will help you.” She nods but she looks terrified. “I swear I won’t let him get anywhere near you.”

It’s the door opening that alerts Isaac that something else is going on. You round the corner with your gun drawn and the scene before you makes your knees weak.

Jay is bruised and cut up, struggling against the man behind him, the arm around his neck, the gun pointed at his head.

“She said you were cops, but I told her she was paranoid.” Isaac snarls.

“Madison? Is she here?” You ask, your voice as level as your gun trained on his head. Voight is yelling over the radio, but you tune him out. “I’d love to meet her.”

He snickers and smiles wickedly. “Even if she could be caught, neither of you will be alive long enough to see it.”

He only manages a twitch before you pull the trigger and land a shot right between his eyes.

Jay falls forward, breathing heavy and you rush towards him. “Jay’s hurt!” You call out when the door is broken down. Adam kicks the gun away from the obviously dead suspect and you let them handle the scene.

“Where does it hurt? Did you get hit? I told you it was stupid to split us up! How’s your breathing?” Your hands are frantically searching every inch of his body. He has to grab your hand and grip it tight in his to stop the assault of questions rapid firing from your lips.

He sits up with a groan and kisses your knuckles when he sees the panic on your face. “I’m okay. Because of you it’s just a few cuts and bruises.” He manages a smile and you almost cry right there.

Voight places a hand on your shoulder. “Tracey is on her way to Med. Medics said she’s going to be okay. We’ve got another bus on the way for you. Nice work you two.”

Now

The creak from the front door opening pulls you from a daze and you wince at the sunlight flooding the room. A blonde woman stands before you with a duffle in her left hand and a gun in her right.

She tilts her head to the side. “You’re still alive. What a shame.”

You struggle to focus your eyes from the concussion you’re assuming she must’ve given you. “Maddison.” You croak out. “What are you doing?”

She drops the duffle next to you and grips your hair to pull your head back, pushing the barrel of the gun into your temple.

“I’m going to make you suffer.” She hisses and roughly lets you go. “I tried to warn him that you were watching us, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Isaac?”

“Don’t say his name!” She screams and the sound cracks through your skull. “He told me to get some supplies, but when I cam back, I watched from the back window as you murdered him.”

You shake your head and try to reason with her. “Maddison, he was hurting people. He was going to kill my partner.”

“Partner.” She repeats sarcastically. “You mean Jay Halstead, your boyfriend of 3 years?” Maddison moves in front of you to revel in the fear that has filled your eyes and smiles sinisterly. “Yeah, I know who he is.”

You start quickly, the panic in your voice betraying the training you were struggling to hold onto. “If you want to kill me fine, do it. But don’t hurt him, Maddison. Please, he’s done nothing.”

She tsks as she opens the duffle and begins to pull out long metal pieces until finally, a long-barreled shot gun. “Why would I kill you when the alternative is so much better?”

You begin to struggle against the restraints as your mind starts to put together scenario after scenario of awful images. Maddison pays no mind to you begging and pleading to see reason. Instead, she pauses from building some contraption to walk over to you and jam a needle in your neck.

When you come too again, she’s sat casually in front of you. “I thought hitting you in the head again might actually kill you, and that’s not what I’m going for, so… you’re welcome.”

You glance around again and notice the barrel of the shotgun behind you just to the left of your shoulder. “Yeah, thanks.” You deadpan looking back at her. “What’s with the ‘Saw’ set up?”

She raises a brow. “Hold onto that strength while you can.” She points out the wires and hooks running along the floor and ceiling to trace it back to the door in front of you. “I used to be a STEM major. Did you know that?” She doesn’t stop long enough for you to respond. “Turns out I still remember a few things.”

You stare past her towards the door and then look quickly back to the gun, beginning to piece together her plan.

“Yes.” She coos. “It’s exactly what you’re thinking. The first person that opens that door, if he happens to be the right height, will get a life ending shot to the face. And I’d like to ask you what the chances are that anyone other than your boyfriend will be the first through the door.”

None.

For the first time you feel utterly defeated, hopeless. Madison watches closely, soaking in every moment of your anguish.

“Now you’ll know what it feels like.”

Then

You phone buzzes for the fourth time in the last hour. “Yes?”

“He’s actually insufferable, where are you?” Will speaks quickly, his tone seeping in irritation.

You laugh. “April already sent me out to get him food because he was whining so much. I am in route with a burger and some other stuff from his favorite place. Should be there in 15.”

“Thank god.” He says quietly. “Would you give it a rest? She’s 15 out with enough food to hopefully put you in a coma so I don’t have to.” You laugh as Will continues to yell at his brother.

“I almost died! Where’s your compassion?” You hear Jay yell back and only laugh harder

“You have ONE bruised rib and a concussion. I’ve seen high school football players handle worse with less complaining!”

“If it’s not so bad, why won’t you let me leave?!”

“I’m stepping up the pace, be there soon.” You laugh and hang up.

The Chicago night was chilly, but something else causes the hairs on the back of your neck begin to prickle. You don’t stop walking, don’t even pause a single step. Instead, you glance in a shop window and catch the reflection of a woman, a flash of blonde, not too far behind you.

Casually, you switch the bag of food to your other hand, but before you’re able to grab your gun, there’s a pinch in your neck and everything goes black.

Now

Jay had forced his way back to work sooner than anyone recommended. You’d been missing for 5 days. Disappeared with no trace other than your cell phone and a bag of cold diner food spilt on the sidewalk. If it were up to him, he would’ve been at his desk the moment 30 minutes hit and you weren’t there.

Alvin called two hours later telling him what they found and Adam and Antonio had to physically restrain him, Will almost sedated him. Voight promised him that they’d find you, and Jay knew they’d do everything they could, but he needed to be a part of the search.

“Did she have any enemies?” Alvin asks and he doesn’t flinch when Jay begins to laugh sarcastically.

“Any enemies? Do you hear yourself? She had tons. We all do. But let’s stop pretending like her being taken the day we closed that case isn’t connected.”

Alvin tries to sympathize with him. “We have to ask. You know the drill.”

He throws his hands up in exasperation. “Are you seriously going to treat this like any other missing person? It’s Y/N, Al! Y/N!”

“We know.” Voight says from his office door. “I made a few calls, Jay, we know where she is.” For a fraction of a second, Jay is frozen, but the thought of what you could be going through right now moves him. He’s grabbed his jacket and is in the car before anyone else has moved.

“I thought only the CIA had access to things like that.” Adam whispers lowly in the car into Kevin’s ear.

He shrugs. “Do think it’s out of the question that he’d break several constitutional laws to save any one of us?”

Adam sits back in his seat with pursed lips, nodding.

You struggle against the restraints long after Madison leaves you with only a gag in your mouth. The multiple cars pulling up and all the people shouting told you that you were running out of time. As of this very moment, you were locked into your fate of watching the man you loved die.

This was not an option.

The hard plastic digs into your ankles and wrists, your movements quickening with each door you hear them break down. You try to scream, to warn whoever was on this floor that there was a danger they couldn’t possibly see, but your muffled cries wouldn’t carry.

Tears soak the bandana shoved in in your mouth and you try to scream again.

No! Stop! It isn’t safe!

You hear Voight’s voice a few doors down and begin to try and rock the chair back and forth. It was considered heavy for a good day, and today was not that. Having not eaten or really moved in so long had left you weak and foggy. The adrenaline coursing through you veins only aiding a little in your efforts.

The sound of the front door breaking down sends a jolt of energy through you and you send yourself flying in front of the gun just as the bedroom door opens.

Jay raises his weapon at the sound before his brain can register what has happened. His wide eyes find yours just before you’ve hit the ground.

“Y/N!” He screams and rushes towards you. Frantic, shaky hands move quickly to remove the bandana and zip ties before applying pressure to your shoulder. “I need a medic!” He calls franticly over his shoulder, but when he turns back to you, he has to shut down the thought that you might not make it that long.

“You found me.” You try to say, but instead sputter blood onto your cheek.

“Oh, God.” He gasps. “You’re okay, you’re going to be fine.” But the more he says, the less you hear him.

“I love you.” You try to reach out to his face and graze his cheek, but your fingers won’t cooperate and only leave smudges of blood across his skin.

When your breathing starts to quicken and become more raged, he knows time is running out. So, in defiance of the orders and suggestions coming in through his ear piece, he lifts you up to cradle you to him and runs.

**

An annoying, incessant beeping is the only thing you can hear, but when you move to reach for it, a shooting pain stops you cold. You groan softly and pry your eyes open only to see both Will and Antonio hovering too close to your face.

Will starts to wave a flashlight in your eyes and you push him away. “When was the last time you guys brushed your teeth?”

Antonio chuckles softly and places his hand atop your head, his thumb brushing softly. “We got her.” He says quietly. “She couldn’t help herself. She stayed close to the scene to see the fallout and Kim caught her.”

Will nods his head towards Jay who was sleeping soundly in what you had to imagine was a very uncomfortable position. “We’ve been keeping an eye on him as well as you. Do you want me to wake him?”

You look back over at him and smile before turning back. “Better not. These are the last few moments of peace I’ll get for the next year at least. You would think someone would be a little more grateful towards you for saving their life, but I can already hear how mad he’s going to be.” Only a small part of you is joking.

“Well, I’ll get shot next time and we’ll see how you feel.” Jay’s sleep riddled voice carries from the corner, but he hasn’t opened his eyes yet. “I’ll give you an hour.” He adds before settling back in.

Now that’s the love of my life.

[junowritings]

how about before being isekai'ed to NRC mc was a vigilante? like a mix of daredevil and batman or like deadpool and red hood? imagining mc using martial arts or macgyvering unassuming everyday objects into weapons to defeat overblots instead of magic seem cool, the funniest scenario, mc using a wooden spoon, a slipper or even if you watched icarly a butter sock to hit and defeat an opponent would be hilarious

Honestly I love the idea of this scenario! Part of me always kind of wished with the overblots is that the MC would get involved somehow - I know it’d be dangerous, but who doesn’t love going a lil feral at some overblot monsters lmao ------

It’s like something straight out of a comic book. Sure, the same thing could be said about your situation - a self-made vigilante fighting to protect those close to you from idiots who think they’re smart enough to cause anything other than trouble - but getting straight up isekai’ed into another universe full of magic and fairy tale rewrites really takes the cake of weird situations you’ve gotten roped into. Guys in masks? You’ve seen them in abundance back home, so while the ‘extravagant’ nature of the headmaster is weird, it doesn’t really phase you. Being surrounded by a bunch of confused boys with vividly bright hair (and do some of those guys have razor teeth? You really don’t wanna find out if they do) and having a talking cat ranting your ear off about becoming the greatest wizard of all time...that’s around the time you figure out this isn’t just some elaborate kidnapping plot.

Being shacked up in this new world isn’t as bad a deal as you thought it would be, though going from physical fights every other week to just having to worry about classes was...an experience, to say the least, and takes a bit of getting used to in terms of putting your guard down. It isn’t long during your stay at Night Raven college that you start garnering attention too, and not just because of the circumstances surrounding your enrollment. Your way of dealing with things is a lot more physical than many of them used to; when Ace had first come to Ramshackle after being collared by Riddle, instead of asking what it was or what he’d done, you’d instead just sat him down and spent the better part of half an hour picking the lock. Granted, it wasn’t enough to crack Riddle’s magic, but Ace is pretty sure he heard something click open while you fiddled with the keyhole - and that was just a speck of some of your skills. 

The physical prowess and litheness that comes from your ‘profession’ were valuable assets back in your homeworld, and while you’re not there anymore you’re still able to make use of them in this world, or you try to, at least. It makes for a hell of an entertaining sight during Ashton’s classes - you’ve just about knocked everyone in your class on their ass at least once (both intentionally and unintentionally). It’s been useful getting to lessons too, though you’ve spooked more than a few of your fellow classmates when they’ve caught you scaling the side of the building to skip the stairs and make it to class on time. You’ll never forget the shriek Ace let out when you dove through the window, skidded across the floor, and slid seamlessly into your seat right before the professor came through the door. Things like that have earned you more than a few skeptical looks, but it’s also led to more than a few people coming up to you to ask how you do it.

Just because you’re in a school setting doesn’t mean you slack off on your training. If anything, it means you have to train all the more to make sure you’re not growing rusty - you’re not about to get left in the dust just because all of these guys have wands and this ‘unique magic’ business at their disposal. That being said the lack of a fighting partner makes things difficult; when you first get settled into Ramshackle you find plenty of furniture beyond repair that you’ve been able to use, and with everything being such a cluttered mess it makes for the perfect obstacle course as you fight to clean it all up. But you’re missing your training buddies, and as much as Grim gets on your case about you being his subordinate, you’re not about to get expelled for fighting your magical feline housemate...not just yet, anyway. You do look around for some sparring partners though, and you find some pretty damn good ones in the process. Deuce is one of the first, being quite the fighter in the past, but given that it’s a skill he hasn’t actively trained it doesn’t take long for you to - quite literally - sweep his feet out from under him. Jack’s fairy competent too thanks to all of the muscle, so sparring with those two at once has given you something to bond over after school. As you got to know more students, you found a pretty good training buddy in Rook - you guess being a hunter has its perks, and isn’t that far off from being a vigilante, but it gives you one hell of a lesson to avoid getting on his bad side.

They’ve seen you make impromptu weapons out of things before - you just about took Floyd’s head off with a spatula when he’d rushed through the door unannounced, and Grim keeps finding the ends of the kitchen’s wooden utensils sharpened to a point when he sneaks down for late night snacks. You’re guessing old habits die hard, and it's tricky business completely stopping some of your more bizarre daily tasks. 

Looks like those same skills come in handy when the overblots happen however! It’s not as though anyone gives you a crash course on magic overuse and overblotting, so when you see Riddle transform and watch that huge, tank of a thing start forming up behind him you have what you’d like to call, a reasonable reaction. The boys are preparing to fight their overblotted friend when a tea cake stand comes sailing overhead and nails the being behind Riddle directly in the face - or pot, you guess. 

The thing is at least physical, which means you can hit it, and your friends are too preoccupied with Riddle to stop you from barging into the fray with just about every impromptu weapon you can get your hands on. Plates, cups, shoes, amongst other things shower the air as you close the distance, and at one point you end up hoisting up one of the garden chairs and swinging it up at the jar head until you have enough momentum to let go. The sound of shattering glass has you letting out a triumphant holler as you backtrack to avoid the spew of ink that spatters across the floor, cracks fanning out across the inkpot‘s surface as its hands fly up to its broken ‘face’ and it howls as though appalled by your audacity.

Whether that actually has a hand in finishing the fight or not, it isn’t long after that the overblot incident passes and Riddle collapses; however, that’s not before you get a couple more hits in, just about bringing the overblot to its knees by the time it finally dissipates for good. Once the Heartslabyul dorm leader is back on his feet and led away to rest and recover somewhere less demolished, that’s when the attention is focused back on you. 

There’s more than a few comments about you getting involved in the fight when you have no magic - some comments are admonishing, telling you to be more careful and to not be so reckless; others however are more than a little intrigued by the turnout. Ace just about knocks you over when he claps his hands onto your shoulders and demands to know how the hell you learned to move like that, and Grim is more than a little puffed up bragging about how of course his lackey would be so useful. It catches you off guard - you’re so used to just doing this in your day-to-day life that having someone admonish or praise you is...nice, in a way. It reminds you of when you first took up the vigilante mantle, and you find yourself brimming with excitement at the thought. If they think what you did then was neat, just wait till you tell them about all of your escapades in your home world! You’ve got enough to keep em hooked for days.

[pine-lark]

Ooh trap him somewhere either very hot or very cold?? :D

Oh.

Oh.

This is a perfect excuse to write an old daydream from my childhood. Well, there's two-- Arion on a grill and Arion in a box. I chose the box for this one but I may be tempted to write the grill at some point. I haven't written The Box before now because it doesn't exactly... fit with the plot of the actual story, but I mean...

Alternate Rescue AU, coming right up, Anon. (Also sorry I'm like, infinitely late haha. School threw me into a hell pit and I've been recovering. I'm back now ((though I'm not sure for how long, things might change in a week or two... we'll see.)) For now, I'm working on a lot of Arion stuff that will hopefully pop up within a few days! Cheers!)

CW: Tiny whumpee, some blood, cold/hypothermia symptoms (duh), cages/referenced captivity, briefly implied forced nudity from said captivity, brief reference to a past fever and resulting vomiting, referenced/implied physical abuse, water/rain/storms/being submerged in/splashed with water, thoughts of dying (of the "I might die" and "Am I dead?" and wishing to be put out of misery type), crying, (thinking about) needles, short (kind of) graphic description of a bird being run over, brief religion references

-

His legs still ache from running.

Arion sits in the cardboard box he found on the side of the road, huddled in the corner, shivering in the dark. Although he tries to clamp his jaw shut and stop it, his teeth chatter and his shoulders quiver. It feels like the frozen autumn air has grasped him entirely in icy claws that shake him violently in an inescapable grip. It reminds him of being trapped in Heston’s hand, shaken, body tossed in every direction until his head pounded and his eyes watered.

It’s colder outside than it used to be in the garage. But it’s better out here. No one can hurt him here.

As long as they don’t find him.

He rubs his hands over the goosebumps on his arms, hoping to warm them up and calm down the wild pain buried deep in his skin. As he does so, blood smears along the path he touches. It’s still gently creeping out of the series of cuts etched into his forearms. With it, the image of Heston’s glinting eyes surfaces in Arion’s memory. He buries his head in his shaking knees with a wet sniff. But he’s done it, he reminds himself. He’s escaped. Finally. Chewed through rope, slipped through an unlocked door. Heston's gone. For now.

Please, please don’t come looking for me.

A dog barks somewhere in the distance. He jumps. It sets off an echo of shivers all the way down his spine as his hair stands on end.

A raindrop falls on the cardboard roof. Then another, and another. Thunder claps harshly overhead.

Arion shuts his eyes tight, bites back the frustrated tears welling up at the corners of his eyes. He curls up tighter, hugging himself, doing all he can to keep any scrap of heat he has close to his body. A storm might just do it. Might just kill him. A storm means wind. Freezing wind. And freezing rain. The last thing he needs right now is rain. It can’t rain. He presses his body closer to the cardboard wall, knowing it might not be standing there much longer if it rains.

And it does. It pours.

He sees the rain splash into the road before him. The storm swiftly grows. It’s ferocious and feral and cruel. The temperature around Arion drops. His tiny body shakes uncontrollably, as if it weren’t his own. It reminds him of the terrifying fever he had, long ago, in the confines of his red cage just weeks after being taken from his home. He’d been throwing up and twitching and having the most horrible, vivid dreams (on the occasions that both Heston and the illness let him sleep). The fits of shivering drove him mad, the endless teeth-chattering and flashes of uncomfortable warmth and sticky sweat made him feel even worse. It's like that, he thinks. Except, now, as he shivers, he’s unbearably cold.

An involuntary whine fights its way out of him. When he swallows, his throat feels stiff and achy. Snot runs profusely down his lips and no amount of wiping it away with his bleeding arms is helping it slow. Water has thoroughly and entirely drenched the cardboard, at this point. Has crept through the floor and the walls, and, gradually and persistently, has started to drip through the sagging ceiling. For a moment, Arion remembers he has toes, and that they’ve been numb for awhile now. Actually, now that he’s thinking about it, his feet haven’t felt like anything either, and when he tries to move his fingers, they only twitch. They feel heavy and prickly. He feels prickly all over. Like Heston had shoved a thousand frozen needles into a thousand different places all over his body. It hurts to breathe. There’s no way to get warmer. Nothing to hide under, not even something as decent as clothing. No way to escape, nowhere to run to, even if he had the energy left to try. He lets out a miserable sob.

And then the ceiling falls through, in a blur of collapsing cardboard and splashing waves of water that crash over his head and the rest of his body.

Arion tumbles out of the box, drenched. He coughs up water through jittery movements. For a second, he chokes on a mouthful, and he briefly he thinks he'll never breathe again, before his chest jerks and with another cough, the water falls out of his mouth. He tries to get his arms and legs under him, to stand or even crawl, but his limbs fail him and he crumbles face-first back to the harsh surface below him. The rocks mixed in the road’s tar are sharp. They cut deeply through his nose and cheek and the shoulder that followed his face in the fall. Arion winces against the fresh, sharp pain and the beads of blood that begin to form where he’s been hurt. His breaths come in ragged heaves.

He sniffs. Tears drip from his eyes. He lays helpless in the middle of the little road, in his mind begging to no one that a car doesn’t come along and crush him. Under any other circumstance, he’d love to be put out of his misery. But he’s seen a bird been run over before. Under a truck’s tire. And the memory makes his stomach churn. Flattened face, open stomach, popped like a bubble in a stream.

Briefly, Arion thinks of himself in place of the bird. He thinks of the smear of red underneath his empty, open eyes. He thinks of the way the headlights might look as they would suddenly appear right in front of him. The horrid, mind-numbing honk of a horn. The image he creates in his mind of those headlights, his last moments, is vivid. It’s so vivid that he thinks it might be real, or maybe hypothermia is setting in and beginning to ruin his mind.

It’s just his imagination, he thinks.

And then he smells exhaust from a car.

And the screech of brakes.

And for a second, whilst his body is numb and bright white light is all he can see, he thinks he might be dead.

“I swear, if I keep stopping my car for every mouse that sits in front of it, I’m never going to get anywhere.”

That voice drifts from the car stopped in front of him.

Not dead, then.

Almost, he thinks.

“Can’t help it though. What else am I supposed to do, run them over? Just vet instincts, I guess. Huh, Jasper.” There’s a meow in response. Arion’s breath hitches. The voice says, “Me-ow. I know, I know. I’ll be right back.” A car door shuts. Then there’s heavy wet footsteps. Boots clopping over puddles and asphalt. Panic floods Arion’s chest as a shadow cuts through the blinding white light from the vehicle. The outline of a human lowers, kneels in front of him. His breath stops. His mind goes blank.

“What…”

A moment passes. Something touches him. He flinches hard, but trying to run isn’t an option. His body is completely, entirely, wholly exhausted and far too numb to move more than flailing back a couple inches.

“Oh, geez, that’s-- not a mouse. Okay.” Her head turns in a way that Arion can see her face. A young woman with red hair, watching him with a warm but frantic gaze. “Okay. Okay okay. Oh, God, you’re injured pretty bad, little buddy. Your arms are all… cut up. That’s not good. Um.”

Arion stares blankly ahead. Suddenly, freezing to death isn’t something he feels like putting too much effort into avoiding.

“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do,” the girl continues. “I’m gonna bring you into my car where I can see you better, alright? Then I can help you. It’s gonna be okay. Here. I’m picking you up now, ‘kay?”

The feeling of a warm hand washes over his body. It’s both terrifying and incredibly welcome. The sting of cold seems to seep out of his skin, albeit very slowly. Quickly, though, burning prickles replace whatever comfort the touch brought him.

“Oh, you’re freezing, little guy. You must have been out here for a long time. That can be really dangerous… I’m glad I found you. I’ll get you all warmed up in the car.”

Arion whimpers against the hands that carry him to somewhere warmer, where he hears the faint, deep sound of a large beating heart. For a second, he wonders if this is God. And then the car door opens and creaks, and the girl curses under her breath, and Arion remembers he’s an atheist.

Still, as the stinging in his warming skin subsides, the warmth of her hands starts to feel… nice. If his mind were still intact (instead of shattered into vague, useless fragments as it is now), Arion would have done anything and everything to get away from any human or other predatory beast in sight. But with his head swimming, he leans into her touch, and compliantly accepts the soft feeling of some kind of cloth being wrapped all around him.

Words are spoken to him, but he can’t listen. To him they sound broken up and blurry as the insistence of sleep becomes more desperate in the back of his mind. As he gets warmer, his muscles relax, and his eyes get droopy. His vision darkens, and the girl’s voice hushes.

Just before he drifts off into a far overdue, deep and restful sleep, he thinks to himself, vaguely, that he hopes this human is different. He hopes that when he wakes back up, it won’t be in another cage.

-

Tag list because this ended up being a full drabble:

(Also, let me know if you'd like to be removed from the tag list. No hurt feelings! I know it's been a long time and if you've lost interest that is A-Okay, friend)

(Also, if you'd like to be added or if your username's changed, let me know!)

@whumping-every-day, @deluxewhump, @sola-whumping, @haro-whumps, @inaridriscoll, @whatwasmyprevioususername, @kiretto-laorentze, @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @ahorriblebimess, @whump-me-all-night-long

[razorblade180-heated]

Yoimiya and Kazuha fluffy smut to celebrate you gettin her 😏

Festive reunion

[Warning, it’s smut, duh…]

Speechless, it was never a word in Yoimiya’s vocabulary. It also was the last word anyone would use to describe her. On a normal day she was the chatter box of any conversation bringing zest and joy to any topic. However, today was a bit different. The hot blooded extrovert was had prepared herself to meet tons of new people now that she had been summoned to fight alongside Aether and his companions. Yoimiya had failed to realize one of them was Kazuha. It wasn’t like she forgot him. Far from it. There wasn’t a day since his departure that Yoimiya didn’t think about him and his flowery words that contrasted yet complimented her straight forward thinking. Looks like the feelings were mutual, because the wandering samurai was showing a more direct side of himself she’d never seen. With her hand in his, Kazuha led her to his temporary home inside a magical teapot.

Yoimiya couldn’t help but blush. She had only just showed up! Not only that, but he had gotten permission to perform the wishing by himself, creating this alone time. What are the chances the others knew his intentions to begin with? Oh her poor heart couldn’t handle that level of embarrassment!

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“H-Huh? What’s up?”

“Your face, it’s bright red.”

Yeah no kidding! Anyone’s would be in this situation. Being swept into romance moments after showing up somewhere was a lot to process for her.

“I’m fine. Hehe Just a little hot outside and you know…stuff.” She smiled sheepishly, fidgeting a bit.

Kazuha gave his own gentle smile as he blushed lightly. “Guess I’m going a little fast huh? Sorry, we take things slo-”

“No! Uhh I mean…it’s okay, really. Actually I’m extremely flattered. I just never expected this as my welcome present. I was expecting more of a meet and greet.” She giggled, “but…this is nice too. Now I don’t have to wonder if you missed me.”

“Days didn’t feel nearly as bright without you.”

Great. Her face might as be as red as her vision. Her heart fluttered each step they took until they finally walked into the modest home Kazuha made form himself. It was obvious he had found interest in Liyue aesthetic, except a fireplace in the living room that felt slightly out of place, yet cozy nonetheless.

Yoimiya turned around to close the door behind her. The sudden feeling of Kazuha’s arms wrapping around her waist gave her a jolt. The young man held her close and Yoimiya could feel the heat from his face tickle her back as he pressed his head against it.

“Forgive me, but it’s hard to control myself. It’s…been quite some time, hasn’t it?

“Yeah, it has.” She could feel his lips kiss her nape, grazing her neck and nipping on pale flesh until a red mark was left behind. Yoimiya closed her eyes and exposed more of her neck for him to have, gasping from contact. She leaned forward slightly, pushing her butt against his pelvis for friction. Her left breast was soon claimed right after, his fingers slipping through the bindings.

“Mmmm Kazuha~” Another moan escaped her when Kazuha’s other hand made its way under her yukata, making short work of those bindings as well. The flustered pyro bit her lip when she felt two digits slip inside. Yoimiya braced her arms against the door while she let her lover take control.

Kazuha could feel her grip around his fingers and he ran them over her most sensitive spots. “To think you’re already this wet?”

“I missed you too ya know!?” She blurted out, blushing at her confession. “Please don’t tease me.”

“Bend over more for me.”

Yoimiya did just that. Straight forward Kazuha was something she didn’t know she needed in her life. He removed his fingers from her body and bunched up her clothes. Her face grew hotter feeling the bindings on her fall off her, exposing her body. Fingers gripped her plump rear and the chill of one running down her slit would’ve made her yelp if it wasn’t for what happened next. The heat of Kazuha’s breath.

“Kazuha? What- Aaah!”

He slipped his tongue inside her dripping core, lapping up her essence and getting lost in her scent. Both his hands help support her legs as they trembled from his assault. The sound of her moans only spurred him to completely devour her.

“KAZUHA!!” She yelled, moaning heavily. She could feel his tongue flatten out and swirl around to rake every spot. “I-I said no teasing!” His fingers dug into her damp thighs as he continued to eat her out. Yoimiya’s body instinctively bent over more to allow him deeper reach. Her moans turned to panting. Kazuha wasn’t gonna let her go. The sound of her own arousal and his dramatic slurping noises only turned her on more like he knew it would.

Yoimiya dropped her head and look to the floor. That’s when she caught sight of Kazuha’s position, on his knees and his length already freed. The member was already hard and dripping precum in anticipation. Was it always that big? In a few short moments, that was going to be…just thinking about it made her mind go blank and body tense.

Her first orgasm hit hard, making her scream as Kazuha continued tasting the wave of pleasure that came with her orgasm, until he licked up the majority. Kazuha stood up, wiping his face and catching his breath as he admired the sight of Yoimiya trembling and still bent over. Her skin had gotten redder and a thin layer of sweat had started.

“You’re so gorgeous…”

“Shut up. I don’t wanna hear that while I’m this.” She muttered. Yoimiya felt embarrassed enough to just die! They’ve been intimate before, but knowing Kazuha was seeing her like this was always going to be too much to handle.

“Do you wanna stay like that?”

She nodded, “looking at you right now would be too much.”

Kazuha could see the tips of her ears turn bright red. He wanted to listen, but found himself denying the mercy.

Yoimiya was ready for him to continue until she felt felt his hand on her chest raise her up enough for his face to come over her right shoulder. Yet again the girl was speechless upon staring into his eyes and seeing his playful smirk.

“I missed all of you. That includes your eyes.” Not holding back, Kazuha captured her lips.

Yoimiya felt her heart pound and head go into a haze. She openly invited his mouth to conquer her own. Not like she was really using it right now anyways. The heat of his member pressed against her entrance and with a few hip movements, slipped inside. Yoimiya whimpered from the feeling of being spread open so quickly. Kazuha’s hips begin smacking against her rear. Whimpers turned to yelps between the patient kiss. How long had it been since she felt full? Was Kazuha always this warm? Was his grasp on her this good? All these things made Yoimiya kiss him harder, wanting him to continue this assertiveness.

Kazuha was in no better shape. Distance had only strengthened their yearning. Kazuha added his own gasps and grown into the mix. Yoimiya had a grip on him that made his hips move on their own. The heat and wetness of her core made him ache in the best way. Their lips parted to only paint and whisper sweet nothings as their bodies gave into pleasure.

“Kazu~ more…more~”

“You’re everything when you beg like this.”

“Mmmph~ meanie. I-aahh…want another kiss.”

Kazuha obeyed, giving her what she craved without question. Yoimiya was always cute, but the blush across her face brought it to another level. Kazuha could only be weak to it.

“Yoi, I’m…”

“Me too.” She gasped, reaching the end of her rope. Yoimiya stole another, longer kiss; moaning heavily as she came.

Kazuha could only thrust a few more times before her tightness overwhelmed him. He gave one last thrust, cumming inside her. He pulled from the kiss to let her breathe while he peppered her ear with kisses.

Yoimiya’s entire body shuttered upon feeling his warmth shoot inside. The little nips and pecks Kazuha gave her made her giggle, putting a smile on het face as she continued to catch her breath.

“Kazu, that tickles hehe.”

“Now how am I supposed to stop with you calling me that, Yoi?” He teased, continued his kisses. He slowly lowered both of them down to the floor. Yoimiya held his face and the two were finally face to face properly. He smiled at the girl who smiled back with kind eyes and a pinkish red blush. “Your face is more beautiful than any sunset.”

Yoimiya couldn’t help but avert her gaze briefly before staring back. “It’s dangerous to spoil a girl with talk like that. Especially after what we just did.”

“Heh, I can’t name a moment more perfect to spoil someone than this.” Kazuha kissed her forehead. “I love you. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Glad to be here.” She put her arms over shoulders and around his neck. “More kisses please.” Her heart danced so much Yoimiya thought she was at a fireworks festival. “Let’s love each other here a little longer.”

xxxxx

“Hello everyone, I’m Yoimiya!” She said to her new teammates, placing her hands on her hips and glowing like the sun; her time with Kazuha only adding to her radiance.

Many waved happily upon her entrance, while I few people like Aether, Beidou, and even Hu Tao noticed the marks on Yoimiya’s neck. They looked at Kazuha with a cheeky grin he did his best to ignore, but even laid back samurai couldn’t help but smile sheepishly.

[thetorchwoodarchive]

Found family event masterpost

Thank you for all your submissions! Below the cut is the list of Torchwood fic recs focused on found family, as submitted by you, our followers!

we built a family (home) by myre ( JackIanto | Complete | 17844 | M )

When Jack gets back, things are different—he’s different—and he’s not sure where he fits anymore, but he should’ve known that there was a place reserved just for him.

Ianto Jones' thoughts on Life, Death, and Summer Squashes by Arnica ( JackIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 17762 | T )

The first thing he remembers afterward (and the rest of his life will always before and after Thames House now) is waking up to the sound of hospital machinery droning away, Gwen's head heavy on his legs as she drools on him with Rhys snoring away in the chair next to her, his hand spread wide across her back, head tipped back as he sleeps. Then there's Jack, sitting sideways in the window with his gun drawn and resting in his lap as he does something with the wrist straps in his hands.

Two of Us Are Hung From the Same Twisted Rope by ShastaFirecracker ( JackIanto, ToshOwen | Complete | 15799 | T )

An accident with some sort of brain-scanning alien device leaves Owen and Ianto sharing Ianto's body. Hijinks and nightmares ensue.

Does Africa Know a Song of Me? by etmuse ( JackIanto, MarthaTom, GwenRhys | Complete | 17618 | T )

Jack gets a call from UNIT. They need his help in Namibia. And when they arrive, Jack and Ianto (because Jack wouldn't leave him behind) discover the only communication they have with the team is letters.

Torchwood One Archive by james ( JackIanto | Complete | 11346 | M )

AU after season one. Jack has returned to Torchwood and to Ianto. Ianto is determined to make the best of it but he knows it won't last forever. Their time together threatens to get even shorter when the Doctor shows up unexpectedly.

In Bits and Pieces by reiley ( JackIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 83306 | M )

Sort of a fill-in-the-blanks story throughout the entire series: How they pull the pieces together after the world shatters, focusing mainly on Jack and Ianto, but all the others are there, too. Takes place between 'Exit Wounds' and 'The Stolen Earth', goes through all of series 1 and 2, and far back into the past.

Lost and Found by Kaneko ( JackIanto | Complete | 3642 | E )

Straddled over the rift, the Hub was a place where things were lost and found. Strange objects washed in like driftwood. Things went missing. There was never any sign of where they'd gone.

Personnel Issues by PinkFairy727 ( JackIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 41434 | T )

The Torchwood Three email newsletter: an excuse to gossip, bitch, plan dates, fight, and discuss squirrel rats. Co-authored with sparking_off.

Warnings: canon character death and swearing.

Just this once by Beleriandings ( JackIanto, ToshOwen, GwenRhys, LoisEsther | Complete | 239639 | T )

(Everybody lives.) (Or: when a certain Doctor arrives to save Owen Harper from a stricken nuclear power station, it begins a chain of events that will lead Torchwood Three down a very different path. From time locks and telepathy to tea and coffee, high-speed chases to unresolved sibling issues, their new lives (and new and old loves) may be different, but their bonds of friendship and family grow stronger every day. But when every child on earth starts speaking with one voice, the team are torn apart again as they’re forced to fight for their lives, and to confront monsters they’d thought they’d left behind in the past. But with all of them working together – along with some allies they’ve made along the way – Torchwood Three will stop at nothing to save their friends and set the world to rights. The consequences will ripple out across the universe and into the distant future. But they have to start somewhere, and the present is as good a place as any.)

Club Wales by pocky_slash ( Gwen&Ianto, GwenRhys, JackIanto | Complete | 19898 | T )

In the wake of Jack's disappearance, Gwen finds comfort in a new friendship with Ianto. Gossip, bonding, and other hijinks of understanding ensue.

Hell or High Water by aliciajazmin ( GwenJohnTosh | Complete | 3102 | T )

Toshiko, Gwen, and John have been married for a year now, beginning a life of adventure and crime (but only against those who deserve it). A mission going wrong results in the discovery of an orphan.

The three of them and the orphan must then decide what they want for their future.

A E I O Moo, I love Y O U by aliciajazmin ( GwenJackIantoRhys, GwenRhys, JackIanto | Complete | 627 | G )

Jack finds a new song to introduce to Anwen.

AKA Roses are red, violets are blue, Jack likes to sing: A E I O Moo.

Never Has He Ever by Jackdaw816 (JohnAndy | Complete | 1666 | T )

Hub lockdowns are great for juvenile drinking games and revelations of the self

Coping by innocent-until-proven-geeky (JackIanto, Gwen&Ianto, Gwen&Jack | Complete | 910 | G )

After the events of Exit Wounds, Jack, Ianto, and Gwen are exhausted.

Hug by innocent-until-proven-geeky ( Gwen&Ianto | Complete | 401 | G )

Not-wanting-to-let-go hugs.

March 31st in the Torchwood Family Household by innocent-until-proven-geeky ( JackIanto, GwenRhys, GwenJackIantoRhys | Complete | 117 | G )

Happy Trans Day of Visibility! Please enjoy this little ficlet of trans Torchwood polycule. In my headcanon, Ianto is a binary trans man using he/him pronouns, Jack is genderfluid using he/him pronouns, and Gwen is nonbinary using they/them pronouns with Torchwood and she/her pronouns in public.

Here For You (a friend's night out) by BookWerm ( Ianto&Tosh | Complete | 354 | T )

An answer to the prompt : “I’m their best friend” with Ianto and Gwen or Ianto and Tosh

The Lonely Cheryth by BookWerm ( Alice&Jack, Steven&Jack, Others | Complete | 6581 | G )

Steven's Uncle Jack is a mystery. One that he's determined to solve.

A fic through quite a bit of Steven's life (yes, he lives through Children of earth) that was quite a bit of fun

A Moment (An Eternity) by Clare_Hope ( JackIanto, ToshOwen, GwenRhys | WIP | 10923 | T )

Owen slid underneath the closing door just in time to escape the room about to be flooded with radioactive coolant. Tosh didn't die of her wounds because with Owen there, she got medical attention before it was too late. The entire Torchwood team made it through that terrible day. Everything should be alright now. But Jack is really, really not alright.

Below 20° Celsius by Clare_Hope ( JackIanto, Team | Complete | 5182 | T )

20° Celsius is generally considered to be the lowest a human's body temperature can be before dying. This is bad news for Jack, who is a bit colder than that when he's pulled out of Cardiff Bay after drowning continually for a couple hours. The good news is that he doesn't have to deal with it alone.

Work Friends by Clare_Hope (Ianto&Tosh | WIP | 3431 | T )

After everything that happened with Mary, Ianto is the only one who doesn't seem uncomfortable around Toshiko. She can't read his mind anymore, but pretty sure she knows what he's thinking: We've both seen someone we thought loved us killed by Jack. I understand. I might be the only one who understands.

Of Motion in Perpetuity by Beleriandings ( JackIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 106708 | M )

When Gwen, Jack and Ianto investigate a cold case from end of the nineteenth century, they find themselves pulled back in time against their will, fighting to protect each other and to get home.

Conditional Iteration by Beleriandings ( Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto, GwenRhys | WIP | 35431 | T )

Gwen can only watch, helpless and raging and grieving, as Jack and Ianto die in Thames House. The next moment though, she finds herself pulled out of time, back to the moment it all started to go wrong. Maybe second chances aren't in quite such short supply as she thought.

Coffee Break by firesnap ( Gwen&Ianto | Complete | 2069 | G )

Gwen and Ianto steal a few minutes to chat and make plans.

Another Rainy Day by SerenityJane ( Team | Complete | 3088 | T )

Tosh darted the occasional look at the closed door, curiousity warring with courtesy. So was Gwen, but she looked more like someone was dangling sweets in front of her nose and telling her she couldn’t have them. No prize for guessing who the candy was. Owen was watching the girls, and desperately trying not to think of pink elephants.

The Right Kind of Doctor by joonscribble ( Owen&Team | Complete | 2008 | R )

Three times Owen Harper was good at his job. Set between season 1 and 2.

Stargazing and Truth-Telling by earlybloomingparentheses ( JackIanto | Complete | 4632 | T )

A month after the events of "Exit Wounds," Jack Harkness heads off to an unknown galaxy on a mission for UNIT, and Ianto and Gwen are left behind to stare up at the stars and wonder when he's coming back. As a small act of rebellion against Jack's perpetual mysteriousness, they decide to play a game: they have to answer each other's questions with absolute honesty. There's a lot Ianto needs to get off his chest, his feelings about Jack Harkness not least, but the truth is tricky--it's never safe, and it's certainly never easy.

ghosts in my head by Sholio ( Team | Complete | 2637 | T )

Owen doesn't sleep, but he does dream. And the dreams he gets are mostly nightmares, because of course they are.

Facing Light in the Flow by engagemythrusters ( JackIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 3821 | T )

A slice of a life nobody had dreamt they would ever have.

The Door Wide Open by sherlockpond ( GwenRhys, JackIanto, ToshOwen | Complete | 5333 | G )

Torchwood incurs a tough life on its field operatives.  They deserve times where they feel like they need to be vulnerable in  front of each other. [6 times the team were emotionally honest with one another - set during various points of S1 and S2]

Flatpacked by Beleriandings ( Ianto&Rhys, JackIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 6946 | G )

Rhys has a day off, and decides to spend it peacefully looking at homeware in Ikea. He's not expecting to bump into one of his wife's coworkers there; much less, a shapeshifting alien that likes to eat batteries. But then again, that's Torchwood for you.

On saving the world, and what happens after by Beleriandings ( Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto | Complete | 2447 | G )

After the events of Journey's End, Gwen and Ianto wait for Jack to come home.

Domestic Disharmony by thirteeninafez ( Gwen&Ianto, Gwen&Jack, GwenRhys, JackIanto | Complete | 3163 | G )

In which Jack and Gwen get stuck in the Archives and discuss green milk, thermostats and Ianto Jones.

After the events of Journey's End, Gwen and Ianto wait for Jack to come home.

Pastries, Avoidance Tactics, and a Bottle of Scotch by pocky_slash ( Gwen&Ianto, JackIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 6220 | G )

In which Gwen said something she regrets, Ianto makes a poor dinner choice, Rhys offers sound advice, and Jack has a key. A different sort of "Meat" post-ep.

Respite by Beleriandings ( Gwen&Ianto, GwenRhys, JackIanto | Complete | 2591 | G )

Even by their usual standards, Gwen thought it was absolutely fair to say it had been a rough week.

Blood on Steel by Sholio (Owen&Ianto, Gwen&Jack&Owen&Tosh&Ianto | Complete | 12257 | T)

An alien booby trap turns the Hub into a deathtrap. Lucky thing it doesn't react to someone with no vital signs. Now Owen is their only hope. More specifically, he's Ianto's only hope.

The Cartography of Feeling by Sholio (Owen&Ianto | Complete | 20846 | T)

"We're sodding gladiators," Owen said. "Fuck this entire day and Jack Harkness too."

(Or: Owen and Ianto are abducted by aliens and forced to arena-fight. But the worst part might be the control device that connects them in an emotion and pain-sharing bond.)

Haul Out the Holly by Flamingbluepanda (JackIanto, GwenRhys | Complete | 1069 | G)

Sometimes you need a little magic in your christmas

with a lil’ help from my friends by Flamingbluepanda (JackIanto, GwenRhys, OwenTosh | complete | 1307 | G)

Everyone needs a Hug sometimes, Torchwood Included

(Or, five times Jack thought about hugs and the one time he thought of nothing at all)

I’ll think of you each time I watch from distant skies by Violetmessages (JackIanto, GwenRhys, Jack&Team | complete | 3749 | T)

In which Tosh makes a discovery and the team comes together to show Jack how much they love him.

Halfway Back by Sholio (Gwen&Jack&Owen&Ianto&Tosh | complete | 13953 | T)

Team Torchwood run a sanctuary for magical creatures, and this time they've got a basilisk on their hands.

Team Means Pack by Sholio (Gwen&Jack&Owen&Ianto&Tosh | complete | 2615 | G)

Post-Countrycide in a universe with werewolves.

Stormwrack by Sholio (Gen | complete | 2111 | T)

The last time Owen was in the Brecon Beacons, Welsh cannibals tried to eat him. This time, it was pouring buckets on him, and he was dead. At least the latter might help with the cannibal problem, although given his luck, probably not. They might just consider him well-aged, like a side of bacon.

Sky’s the Limit by Blackkat (JackIanto, SuzieTosh, Ianto&Suzie | series | 6,694 | T)

Ianto and Suzie meet as strangers on a rooftop, and bond over aborted suicide attempts, failed plans, bastard fathers, and the fact that they're batting for both teams. Friendship is a beautiful thing.

Forever and What Comes After by violetmessages (JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 10028 | T)

“Hm, imagine if they did,” Ianto said. “Torchwood would have to come out of retirement.”

In which Gwen and Ianto relax at a spa, Jack and Rhys attempt bad science, and Anwen is just along for the ride.

Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time by paycheckgurl (JackIanto, GwenRhys | complete | 3351 | T)

This wasn’t exactly how they planned their Christmas going, but they were going to make the best of it.

Remnants of a Forgotten Past by paycheckgurl (Gwen Cooper & Jack Harkness & Owen Harper & Ianto Jones & Toshiko Sato | complete | 7523 | T)

Torchwood's latest case hits close to home for Tosh when it seems to center on Lodmoor Research Facility's Newest project...of a destructive off world variety.

Written for Torchwood MiniBang

Midlife Crisis by Princessoftheworlds (JackIanto | complete | 371 | T)

"You do realize," begins Owen one day during their usual lunch meeting, chopsticks dangling from his hand, "that technically, Javic is your mid-life crisis?"

Found you made us a star by Princessoftheworlds (JackIanto, OwenTosh, GwenRhys | complete | 6477 | T)

Millennia after having lost their team, Jack and Ianto set about reuniting with old friends and crafting a Torchwood for a new future.

[actress4him]

In Irons 2 - The Dark Storm

(Prompt #6 for Summer of Whump)

Let me know if you’d like to be on the taglist!

Taglist: @a-series-of-whumpy-events , @darthsutrich

Previous | Next

Warnings: lady whumpee with male whumpers, brief (unrealized) fear of noncon, capture, mild blood, forced labor

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The smell of the ocean and the sun on her face is exactly like she had always imagined it. Adelaide leans onto the rail of the deck of The Golden Rose and breathes it all in, a smile playing on her lips.

She’d purchased passage on the ship using part of her own dowry. It seemed appropriate. The dowry came with her, after all, so why not leave with her? She didn’t take all of it, of course. Some of it had already been spent, and some she left as consolation for Charles.

Now they’re three days into a week long journey that will take her down the coast to a new port, hopefully far enough away that no one she knows will ever find her. She’ll start her life over there. It’s an intimidating thought, living as a single woman with no parents, but it will be far better than married life had been. It has to be.

Suddenly the ship bursts into a flurry of sound and activity. Adelaide whirls around, watching as the captain barks out orders and rushes to take the wheel for himself. Sailors practically fly around the ship, untying ropes and letting out sails and scurrying up and down stairs.

She looks out to sea again, searching the water for any sign of what’s happening. There’s nothing but choppy, deep blue as far as the eye can see.

The captain shouts another order and Adelaide darts across the deck, unable to fully appreciate her newfound range of motion past the pounding of her heart in her chest. Practically slamming into the rail, she grips it with both hands until her knuckles turn white, staring back behind them.

There’s a ship there. A large ship, easily twice the size of The Golden Rose, with a hull and sails that haven’t seen nearly as much care and attention. A black flag flies from the mast, its crest hard to make out in the harsh wind.

And it’s gaining on them, fast.

“Captain! What is that ship?” She barely remembers to drop her voice into a deeper register. But no one is paying her any mind, anyway, and her question goes unanswered.

A horrible scraping sound fills the air, and Adelaide is nearly knocked off her feet by the jolt that shakes the deck. Did they just...run into us? The expressions on the faces of the sailors are growing more frantic, sending her heart racing even faster.

Then the ship is pulling up beside them, huge and looming above her head, still bumping up against the side as it goes, and she stumbles backwards away from the railing. Just in time, too, because people are beginning to swing down onto The Rose’s deck, and they have weapons.

Adelaide scrambles further away until her back hits the railing on the other side, eyes wide as she stares at first the rough-looking men landing one by one, then the flag whose crest she can finally see.

It’s a skull over crossed swords.

Pirates.

They spread out quickly, some disappearing below deck to do who knows what while others immediately set upon the sailors. The men are strong, but they’re not fighters, not like the pirates. Thankfully there’s no bloodshed, but it’s not long before each sailor is either knocked down or pinned.

And another pirate is headed straight for her.

Part of her wants to cower, but she steels herself, clenches her fists, and stares him down. No fear. She can’t show fear. Fear is to these men like blood to a shark.

A hand hooks into her cravat and yanks her forward, and she tries her best not to flinch. He’s dirty, beard unkempt, missing teeth as he sneers at her. Everything she would expect a pirate to be.

“You look young and fit enough.” He looks her up and down as if to confirm it, and her skin crawls. For a moment she forgets she’s not a girl, and suddenly it’s Charles hovering over her again, and her heart lodges somewhere in her throat.

“‘Ey Marshall! You wanna keep this one? He looks like a good enough worker.”

He. Worker. Her throat feels slightly less constricted at the realization, but she still doesn’t want to be kept. Her eyes dart up to the dark-haired pirate that hangs over the rail of the upper deck.

“Sure. Take him back.”

Suddenly she’s being dragged by the neck across the ship, toward the pirate ship. “No, no, I don’t -” She doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say, or why she thinks it might do any good, but there’s no chance to complete the thought before the man wraps a strong arm around her waist and they’re being ripped upward, feet leaving the deck without warning. A yelp escapes her involuntarily, and it’s far from masculine. The pirate only guffaws at her.

Once they’ve safely landed on the second ship and the rope they were hanging from is put away, she’s mostly ignored for the next several minutes. She even wonders if she could make an escape, but there are so many men everywhere. Crates are being tossed from hand to hand, barrels rolled up planks from one ship to the other. The Golden Rose is being swiftly stripped of all the goods that she was carrying.

Three more men are brought onboard, members of The Rose’s crew. It seems in addition to taking her cargo, they plan to leave the ship with hardly enough men to sail it. The only other passengers besides Adelaide are an older man and his wife, and thankfully, they seem to have been left alone.

As the last of the crates is loaded on and the pirates unmoor from the cargo ship, moving much too quickly away from safety and freedom, Adelaide and the three sailors are lined up side by side. A man with a black and grey beard who - based on the relative finery of his burgundy coat - must be the captain approaches, looking them over one by one.

“Welcome aboard The Dark Storm,” he sneers. “The name’s Payne, but you lot can call me Captain.”

One of the sailors, a young man who can’t be much older than Adelaide, raises his voice. “What makes you think that we’ll work for the likes of you?”

In a flash, the gold-tipped cane in Captain Payne’s hand flies up and slams into the side of the sailor’s head. Adelaide gasps, hand flying to her mouth. The sailor is sent sprawling onto the deck, a bright red stream of blood trickling down onto its surface.

“Anyone else have any...objections?” The Captain smiles, gold teeth flashing in the sun. “No? Good.” Turning, he beckons with the cane to the same dark-haired man that she had seen earlier. “Marshall, get this man a bucket so that he can clean up his mess before it stains the wood.”

Moving on to the other two men, he asks their names and gives them an approving grunt, before finally coming to her. “And what is this?”

It isn’t the same way that he asked for names before, but she answers, anyway, too frightened not to. “Gray, sir. John Gray.”

His upper lip curls. “And whose idea was it to bring Mr. Gray onto my ship?”

Marshall steps up beside him. “I approved him, Captain. He probably doesn’t know a weaver’s knot from a bowline, but he can swab decks. And maybe if he does that for long enough, he’ll actually build enough muscles to be able to pull a line.”

The Captain stares her down for what seems like an eternity more. She isn’t sure whether she wants his approval or not, but has a feeling that failing to gain it will mean something much worse than swabbing decks.

Finally he cocks his head slightly to one side, face relaxing. “Fine, then. You heard the man. Our defiant friend here seems to be done with his bucket, so get busy.”

It isn’t until he walks away that she realizes she was barely breathing. She sucks in a shaky breath now, trying hard not to make eye contact with anyone around her as she collects the bucket and brush and finds an unoccupied corner to start in.

There’s a lot to think about while she scrubs. Her life has been turned upside down twice within a week, first by her own doing, and now by pirates. This isn’t just a bad dream. This isn’t something that’s going to last for a few more days until she arrives at the new life she’s been looking forward to. Unless she can somehow escape whenever they make port, she’s stuck here. As a...well, basically a slave. Certainly not the way she was hoping to start things over.

She can’t let them find out her secret.

If they find out that she’s actually a woman, there’s no telling how they will react. Badly. That’s all she knows for sure.

So she keeps to herself. Doesn’t speak to anyone unless required, tries to stay unnoticed as much as possible. Scrubs the deck. Hauls crates around. Occasionally helps pull a line. Her hands are constantly shriveled, the ends of her sleeves always wet, and there are permanent bruises on her knees. Blisters quickly form on her palms, then burst, then form all over again until they’ve turned into her first ever callouses.

But she keeps scrubbing, and she watches.

For the first week or two, she was determined not to be one of them. She may be working on a pirate ship, but she’s not a pirate. Eventually, though, she started thinking harder about what it might take to survive this whole ordeal, not just until the next port, but possibly for a very long time.

What if the Captain decides she’s not useful enough? What if he decides to get rid of her while they’re out in the middle of the open sea?

So she watches. She shadows Marshall, the first mate, whenever she can, and tries to learn knots and terms and the way things work. She doesn’t push to be included in the process, not yet, not until she’s certain that she’ll make a good impression.

Like it or not, Mr. John Gray is going to be a pirate.

[gallavictorious]

Outsider POV Gallavich Fic: Captive Look

For a while there this spring, I was mildly obsessed with the CO in 10x03: you know, the good-looking guy who seems so completely unfazed by finding two armed inmates stabbing an old man, and then for whatever reason doesn't report it? (He can't have; Ian's parole wouldn't have happened so soon after something like that.) I also really dig his beard... Anyway, IMDB identifies him as Raymond and I've had this short little piece about him and his interactions with two certain dumbasses sitting almost finished in my draft doc for months and months and months, so... you're welcome? 2882 words, to help pass the time until the new episode!

You can read it below or on AO3.

---

It's half past eight on a Thursday when Raymond catches sight of them across the bar at South Side Social. He’s there to celebrate his baby sister’s birthday, familial obligation overriding personal preference, but after an hour of politely chatting with her increasingly wasted college friends over obnoxiously rustic-only-because-it’s-trendy food, he’s ready for a break. Catching Tina’s eye, he mimes lightening a cigarette; she raises an eyebrow at him and smirks. She’s a clever kid, his sister – the first in their family to go to college – and she knows him only too well. Knows, for instance, that he gave up smoking years and years ago.

Offering her a rueful grin, he gets up and gets out and spends the next few minutes breathing in Chicago’s poisonous evening air. It’s December, but unusually warm for the season, and somewhere underneath the dusty stink of exhaust fumes and concrete there’s a faint trace of melting snow.

On the way back to the table Raymond stops at the bar to order another beer, and that’s when he spots them, just three feet away. Two men in their mid-twenties, casually dressed and apparently in the middle of a not-very-serious argument, complete with waving hands and mock-scoffs. It takes a moment for the vague feeling of familiarity to click into actual recognition, and when it's does it's not so much their faces as the way they pause to look at each other.

It's not the sort of look you see a lot, especially not in prison.

So, well, he’ll be damned. It’s Milkovich and Gallagher. Cellmates, lovers, and occasionally a goddamn pain in his ass. Released, as improbable as it sounded, within days of each other less than half a year ago, and now laughing over drinks in a half-way decent restaurant in downtown Chicago. It’s not the sort of place he’d expected to find them in – but then again, there’d been a lot of unexpected things about that pair.

Not them hooking up, necessarily, not once they’d ended up sharing a cell; trading sexual favors for protection (whether voluntarily or not) was common enough. Frowned upon in theory, of course, but in practice –

Well. You didn’t have to like it, but it was what it was. Idealism didn’t survive long at Beckham. Raymond himself had never harbored any grand notions about the redemptive potential of his work, but he’d seen his fair share of fresh-faced new CO:s have their illusions crushed after a week or two caught between the often violent offenders who despised them, the indifferent malice of many seasoned CO:s, and the stifling drudgery of the American penal system in general. Not Raymond, though: he did his job, did it well, and went home and didn't spend waste moment of thought on it. You did what you needed to do to pay the bills; no need to dwell on it.

So no, Gallager getting in bed, quite literally, with Milkovich hadn’t been a surprise. The nature of their relationship, though...

Sure, it wasn’t unheard of for inmates to fall for one another, or for established couples to end up in prison together. Didn’t happen a lot, and actual homosexuality was still more likely to get you beat up than laid, but yeah, it did happen. What, in Raymond’s experience, never happened was having to people look at each other the way Milkovich and Gallagher sometimes did, whenever they thought no one else was watching: there was a kind of wonder to it, both staring at the other like they’ve been handed a goddamn gift and couldn’t quite believe their luck.

Particularly on Milkovich’s face the look was baffling.

Ever since the young man arrived at Beckamn he'd moved down the gray corridors and among the yellow-clad crowds like a man born to it. Raymond supposed he was; his father Terry had spent much of his adult life in the very same prison, as had a great many brothers, cousins and assorted associates. Though Raymond didn't know any details, and didn't really care to know them, he'd bet dollars to donuts that Mickey Milkovich's criminal career had had both an early start and a sense of inevitability to it. Various stints in juvie, followed by a real prison sentence for... attempted murder, wasn't it?... followed by a widely publicized jailbreak and an eventual and far less publicized return to Beckman.

Milkovich was tough enough to make others back down when he had to but smart enough not to start any unnecessary fights, not with the other inmates and not with the ones set to watch over them. Knew how to work the system, too: how to get things in, get things done, which guards could be bribed. Raymond didn't play that game himself, but he wasn't getting paid enough not to turn a blind eye when others do. And Milkovich had been pretty smooth about it, especially since his return; careful not to cause a stir.

Gallagher, on the other hand... He'd been the kind of inmate Raymond would've been seriously worried for, had he been inclined to worry and had Milkovich not been there to watch his back and show him the ropes. Not because Gallagher struck Raymond as even remotely helpless, but he so very obviously did not belong in prison, and so very obviously did not really have a clue about what was what in here. The nastier inmates would have eaten him alive long before he'd had the chance to navigate the intricacies of prison politics and find the friends needed for protection. He'd have ended up someone's bitch, or ended up in the infirmary, or dead.

But he'd ended up with Milkovich, and as unlikely as it had seemed at the time, that had worked out. (There were moments when Raymond wondered about that, wondered about them: apart from the looks, there were little touches, too, casual things that spoke of a familiarity far beyond what they could possibly have developed in their short time in a shared cell.)

That wasn't to say that their relationship had been all rainbows and lollipops, and it sure as hell hadn't been fun for everybody. They’d driven half the cellblock insane sometimes, as well as occasionally one another. Other prisoners had complained about their bickering and their fucking (though never officially complained, because you didn't, not unless you wanted to go looking for your teeth in the shower drain), and Raymond recalled vividly the time when not one but both of them had gotten roped into Chester Russom’s endless quest to spend the rest of his life behind bars –

He'd been passing by the infirmary when he'd heard the screaming and come running. Hadn't been surprised, exactly, to find what he found, but that didn't lessen the urge to smack both Milkovich and Gallagher on the head for being so damned stupid.

Neither of them had seemed particularly concerned about getting caught stabbing another inmate. In fact, they'd fallen over themselves to take the blame, which Raymond might have taken as an unselfish attempt to save the other – if he'd been a complete idiot and if the two of them hadn't been sniping at each other all the way from the infirmary, to the point where he felt like his head would explode.

“Imma murder you two if you don't stop talking,” he said, glaring at them as they sat chained outside the small office. Thankfully, they did stop, looking neither at him nor at each other.

Raymond waited for a moment, deliberating.

“What did Chester promise you?” he eventually asked. Gallagher might have agreed to help the old man out of the goodness of his heart, but Milkovich sure as hell hadn't.

Neither man answered. They were studiously avoiding looking at each other.

“You're not going anywhere until you tell me,” Raymond warned them. “If I have to leave your sorry asses chained to this bench all night that's no skin off my back.”

“We needed a break,” Gallagher offered eventually, reluctantly. Milkovich gave a little snort at that, but – wisely – kept his mouth shut. “So we thought that if one of us got sent to solitary... “ He trailed off, shrugging half-heartedly.

Oh, for the love of God - ! “Why did both of you have to stab him if the goal was to get one of you to solitary?”

Again, there was a protracted silence, and somewhere in it – in their earlier insistence that each of them had been the first to stick the shiv into Chester – Raymond could just about make out the shape of it.

“You are both idiots,” he said, moving to uncuff them from the bench, making a decision. “Come on, let's go.”

“Wait,” Gallagher said, not rising. “You're not reporting us? What about solitary?””

“You don't get a damn reward for stabbing someone, so no, you're not going into solitary, you're going straight back to your cell – where you will hand over all contraband you've hidden there.”

“Now, wait a minute – “ Milkovich began, but he faltered when Raymond fixed him with a hard stare.

Raymond had no illusions about intimidating this particular inmate, but Milkovich really did know how this worked; knew better than to ever be friendly with a guard, not even the ones he bribed – but knew when not to push too.

He had kept their hands cuffed for the walk back to the cell, which was policy, but was him making a point too. While there were extenuating circumstances – primarily the fact that Chester had asked them to stab him – by all rights they should be going down for this, and Raymond wasn’t one hundred percent sure why he wasn't letting them. Save himself the paperwork? Yeah, sure. Why not? As good a reason as any.

“Now, am I going to have to search the cell or will you give it up voluntarily?” he asked once they'd made it to the cell. “You make me look, I won't be too careful with your shit.”

A lot of the guards would be deliberately careless when they tossd a cell, either to prove a point or just for the hell of it. Raymond usually didn't bother with that sort of power trip bullshit, but he was prepared to make an exception if these morons proved stupid enough to give him any more trouble. He was already cutting them considerable slack here, and neither of them have the brains to appreciate it.

They had shared a look, and then Milkovich gave an imperceptible nod. Without a word they set to bring forth an array of cigarettes and foodstuff, little things that would have been commonplace and unremarkable in the real world but was made precious by its scarcity on the inside.

Raymond wasn't naive enough to believe they actually gave him everything they'd got in there, but enough of it to inconvenience them, which would have to do. He grabbed the the items, then fixed them both with a firm look.

“Either of you cause me any more trouble, I'm taking your books,” – he pointed to Gallager, then to Milkovich – “and your pens and paper. You think you have it bad now? Imagine sharing a cell and having nothing else to occupy you.”

He had hoped to God he wouldn't have to make good on his threat, though. The other prisoners would probably riot if they have to put up with more of ´bickering from these two.

“I catch either of you with a shiv again, you'll be fucking sorry,” he continued. “Talk it out, or agree not to talk, or whatever. Split the cell into his and his, I don't give a damn. But sort your shit out.”

Maybe they had, maybe they hadn't; the point became moot just a few weeks later, when Gallagher was released. Milkovich had soon followed him – and how exactly that had happened, Raymond still didn't know, because there was no way in hell anyone actually thought releasing that one back into society was a great move – and that had been that. For now, at least; he fully expected to see Milkovich again. Guy like that wasn't going to quit, and sooner or later he'd get caught and find himself back behind bars. Rinse repeat, until he got himself killed or locked away for good.

Only now here Milkovich is, but in front of a bar rather than behind them, and with Gallagher right by his side, laughing like they'd never stabbed a man just to get away from each other.

Raymond hesitates. There's some small part of him that actually wants to step up and say hello, and that throws him a little. He's got a rule about never getting emotionally invested in the fates of the inmates; that way lies nothing but heartbreak, because most of those who find themselves at Beckman will find themselves there again and again, for longer and longer. Don't abuse the prisoners, but don't care too much either: it's been Raymond's private policy for the past five years, and it's worked out so far.

Except now he's actually considering chatting with a couple of convicts, just 'cause he really is a little bit curious about how this unlikely pair is doing.

But nah. Forget it. His rule aside, it'd be pretty uncool to intrude on their evening out. They're free men now – kind of – and having a CO check up on them can't be high on their list of wants. But before he can move away, they both look his way; sees him. Recognizes him, too, from the way they freeze.

Okay. Call it fate, then. “Hello,” Raymond says, going for neutral good and a little nod; I come in peace.

A beat. Milkovich is eyeing him with a wariness he doesn't bother to conceal and it's Gallagher who speaks first:

“Officer Reese,” he says, managing a polite smile. “Hi.”

Raymond notices the way they glance down at the beers they technically shouldn't be having.

“I'm not your PO,” he assures them. “I don't give a damn if you drink. Might want to take it easy, though,” he can’t help but add. “Getting shitfaced is a quick way to get into trouble.”

Milkovich opens his mouth, but after a quick glare from Gallagher he closes it again. Probably for the best; Raymond can’t imagine him playing even remotely nice now that he doesn’t have to.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt your evening,” he says. “Looks like you’re doing all right.”

“Yeah, yeah, we've got jobs and... “ Gallagher pauses to glance at Milkovich again, as if asking his permission. Milkovich rolls his eyes but says nothing, and Gallagher turns his gaze back to Raymond. There's a real smile on his face now, small, but filled with something akin to disbelieving delight: “We got married. Couple of weeks ago.”

“Oh, wow. Congratulations.” Raymond isn’t quite sure what surprises him more: the fact of their marriage, or the fact that he is genuinely happy for them. Maybe he’s getting soft in his old age… Or maybe it’s just that there’s so very few happy endings for those who find themselves at Beckman, whether as inmates or as guards, that they need to be treasured whenever you find them.

“Ian!” someone calls across the room, and Gallagher turns his head to look at a blonde woman gesturing wildly. “Where are those drinks?”

“Shit,” Gallagher mutters. “Better get this to Tami before she has a fit.”

Another smile, and Gallagher is gone. Milkovich, however, lingers, seemingly debating whether to say something more. Curious against his will, Raymond does his best to look approachable. Evidently, it works, because Milkovich clears his throat:

“You’d reported us when we stabbed that old fucker in the infirmary, Ian wouldn’t have gotten his release.” He pauses, looking uncomfortable, then forces out: “Appreciate it.”

Raymond merely nods. Maybe he should say something about being glad taking a chance on them had paid off, that he is glad to see them doing well – but he’s pretty sure Milkovich wouldn’t much appreciate the sentiment.

“Your boy doesn’t belong in prison,” he says instead.

Milkovich face immediately collapses into a scowl. “Well, I didn't fucking put him there,” he growls.

But Raymond isn’t intimated; just hold his gaze. “Gonna keep him out of trouble then?” Gonna stay out of trouble, he doesn’t ask, but Milkovich isn’t stupid, so he'll hear it all the same.

Milkovich still glares, but something in his eyes seem to soften ever so slightly. “You betcha. Won’t have anything on us ever again,” he promises ambiguously, with a cocky grin and one eyebrow raised.

When he walks away, swagger in every step, he is every bit the unrepentant gangster – but Raymond keeps his eyes on him and sees the way he relaxes as soon as he stops next to Gallagher. Reaches out to touch him lightly on the arm, catching his eye. That same wondering smile on both of their faces.

Raymond thinks that maybe he won't actually see either of them again.

He is glad of it.

[the-fandom-fuckup]

Kirikacchako? Please

I'm not sure if this is referencing a specific prompt from like.. An older post or not, but I've been on a bit of an au kick lately so I'm gonna use this as a plug for some of the aus/ideas I've had, so I hope that's alright ^-^

(I'd offer a doodle for your troubles but... I don't have any to offer rn gjskfksjfkak)

One of the most recent ideas I've had is Kirichako sirens x hoh/ace pirate Baku, in which Kirichako are a mated pair of sirens that travel the seas together to prey on unsuspecting sailors and Baku is a pirate that spends a bit too much time around the cannons n explosives, resulting in hearing loss over time

Upon meeting Baku for the first time Kiri n Ochako are both fascninated and peeved. Fascinated bc no one's ever looked them in the eyes during their song and resisted them like he has, and peeved bc immediately after staring at them Baku tried killing them with explosives

Like sure, they've met people on the seas that have been resistent to either their song or bodies before, but never someone who was unaffected by both. They didn't know whether to be more interested or insulted honestly

((They go with interested, but tell themselves they're insulted bc it's easier to admit))

N honestly I don't have much here, but they end up following Baku's ship around bc it has some good benefits (provides them with protection from bigger sea creatures, food from all the ships they destroy/people they fuck up), and also they just like bothering Baku until they get a reaction from him

They don't sing to him anymore, but they chitter at him n throw pretty sea trinkets up against the ship/into open cannon flaps for him to find later

The last thing I have for this idea is the courting process probably starts bc Baku tripped on the sea trinkets one too many times while carrying out his duties n gets pissed, so he goes up to the main deck to get their attention before chucking some sparkly, garbage thing back at them hoping to distract them enough to get them to fuck off. But the sirens look at their new gift and go wait... Returned gift?? A courting gift?? Which goes to kickstarts a whole new wave of bullshit lmao, rip Baku's sanity

Another idea I wanna shoehorn these guys into is my EnjiRei/TodoDeku mafia bodyguard au, but I'm not too sure on how to go about it tbh like

One one hand, I could have Kiri in with the Todorokis n Ochako in with All Might's group, and have Baku be the unsuspecting civilian just trying to live his life but has attracted the attention of both gang members, who then treat it as a rivalry of who gets Baku first but end up seeing each other as more than just rival groups when the gangs actually start working together n they get paired to run jobs, and has everyone spiralling into a mess of feelings and highjinks before leveling out to smth manageable

On another hand I could have a similar idea with Kacchako as the rivaling gang members and Kiri as the unsuspecting civilian, or maybe even some other underground member like an underground ring fighter or a runner or whatever, who gets scouted by the groups bc his reputation in the ring gets him a gig as some extra muscle or smth for an outside job

And then on the last hand I could have pre-established Kiribaku as the gang members (in the same gang this time) and Ochako as the civilian making bad deals with shady people for extra cash to try and help her family out of their shitty finacial situation, taking jobs she has no business taking (probably from the rising group that's fucking up everything for everyone else tbh) n catching the boys' attention bc "what's a pretty little thing like you doing in the sleazy part of town? Don'tcha know shit gets dangerous around here?" And they're endeared by her spunk n unwillingness to crumble under pressure so they take her under their wing to show her the ropes but also gives them their kicks bc they get off on corrupting her innocent n naive moral compass, all while being hunted by the other group bc she ditched their jobs n now has to face the consequences or smth, Idk idk

It would help if I had any understanding of how mobs/organised crime shit worked or even watched those kinds of shows/movies lmaofnakfmdjs

I'll finish it off with the modern fantasy au I've been thinking about bc I love it dearly, staring alpha werewolf Baku, alpha dragon Kiri, and bamf witch Ochako

At some point or other Baku gets the entire Bakusquad + Deku, Tetsu, Camie, and Ochako living in his packhouse bc he takes a great deal of pride in caring for his pack members and it's actually really easy for his alpha to categorise people as pack, but you'd have to pull out all his teeth before he admits it

Some of them just decided they lived there now n didn't leave, but both Kiri (+Tetsu) and Ochako were brought in by Baku bc his alpha's love language is acts of service/providing and clearly they both benefitted from the move so "why tf are you making such a big deal about it?? Just pack your shit n get it moved in, you've got a week"

Kirikacchako dance around each other hardcore in this au, to the exasperation of everyone else. The alphas try to play off their urges to provide n scentmark as subtly as possible, and since Ochako isn't aware of the meaning it goes pretty well. But literally everyone else is rolling their eyes n making bets on how long it takes them to get their shit together lmaojdidudj

A scene I have pictured for them (and the first one I came up with for this au) is Ochako going out somewhere and Kiri n Baku both casually scent her before she heads out, thinking they're all slick n shit. But as soon as she leaves Deku levels them with the most deadpan expression he can make n says "that was the least subtle thing I've ever seen in my life", and as Baku snaps n goes "I dunno what you're talking about" Kiri replies with a smug "I wasn't trying to be😏"

And like. Realistically the alphas know Ochako isn't really an omega, but she does share some traditional omega qualities that have their alphas going wild (period cycle=heat cycle, round n squishy but will fight you=strength n size for providing healthy pups + the ability to protect them, etc.) so it's understandable that their alphas would slip up n refer to her as their omega, right? Right??

It also doesn't help that after taking Ochako with them on full moon runs, she's been chatting with some of the betas n omegas there and asking how to better communicate with the boys (to avoid miscommunication, she says). But they've both marked her so much that the betas n omegas think she's their courted omega, so they teach her vocal cues n what they mean coming from an alpha, and teach her how to purr and chirp in response.

They don't think to mention the significance behind some of the cues they teach her bc why would they? Smelling as strongly as she does, there's no way those alphas aren't going to give her their bite n bond with her. Why would they need to explain some of the more provocative noises they teach her? They're just helping her for when her alphas decide it's the right time to mate her, is all

I haven't gotten around to how their tension n dancing breaks, but it does eventually n they do get together n bond and all that good stuff, and eventually they have werewolf/dragon/magic hybrid babies bc I have quirkbabes design in another au n I'm obviously dropping them into every au I possibly can bc I love them n put a lot of work into them (and they're super pretty, so I'm showing them off where ever I can assuming I actually draw smth for this au eventually rip)

And wow, this is getting kinda long n rambly so I'm gonna end it here, but I hope that this was kinda what you were looking for landkwidjdkwbf

If you wanna know more about any of the aus just let me know, I could ramble forever

Or if you have any other kirikacchako ideas you wanna hear about feel free to drop them off, I don't mind!! ^-^

[faetxlity]

Here’s A Health To The Company

@save-a-witcher-bingo  Prompt: At Sea Characters: Witcher Gerd, Togeir the Red, Jerome Moreau

 Torgeir was looking up at the ruins of what had once been his home. What      was     his home.      Is.    The flames were spreading quickly, Fort Tuirseach was all but destroyed. Like the Jarl who had filled its halls with laughter and mead- ruined.

 At his side, stained in blood, sat the Witcher Gerd. His jaw was tight, his hands were fisted in the fabric of his own filthy shirt, but his eyes were clear. He did not watch the ruin of his adopted home, rather he watched the blood seep from the bandages that he had wrapped around Torgeir’s leg. Already they were in need of changing but they had no fabric with which to do so, his original job had been so hasty... Unless they ripped apart the sails there was nothing to be done. But to do such a thing as that was a death warrant.

 The little ship they had taken was not meant to go much further than around the cape but they had set out for sea with no choice. They had with them five men and a woman, of whom only two were well enough to take up oar, not counting the Witcher who had rowed them the first half hour from shore nearly on his own with eyes blacker than coal.

 The Witcher rested now though, so much as he could with his life burning on the shore.

 “We will die out here.” The Jarl said, voice was devoid of emotion. Gerd looked to his friend’s face then, to his lover’s eyes. The anger, the      grief    , all the emotions he had expected were nowhere to be found.

 “No.” Gerd replied, “we will live. We will see them pay for this and you      will     see it rebuilt.” He received no answer, no acknowledgement as the jarl’s hand did not return the gentle pressure that he put upon it. Gerd looked at the island they were sailing from, the land they may never get to set foot on again.

 They would live; he would accept no other outcome.

 ~seven days~

 For seven days the ship rocked, sailing for some imagined safe haven on the mainland but without hope or half a crew. One man had succumbed to his wounds on the first dawn and another had followed two evenings after. Torgeir had said nary a word since his ominous assertion of their fate, his leg had steadily grown worse over the days and it left him with little ability to do more than lay down and sleep. When awake he stared across the sea as if expecting death to appear to him with an outstretched hand.

 Gerd had taken over easily enough, tucked Torgeir into the captain's quarters and spent both days and nights looking for either a miracle or their end.

 On the seventh day it came to them in the form of a ship thrice their size. No man aboard their own was fit to fight but still Gerd drew his steel and braced himself. The dark hull of the incoming vessel felt like an omen and he was flanked by Andrea and Koll, the only two who remained in good health- though weak from hunger they would die on their feet. Of that they were sure.

 A figure leaned over the edge of the ship above, their back was to the sun and so Gerd could not discern any features.           “Are you in need of assistance?” The voice was, clearly, not Nilfgardian and that alone was enough for the man on Gerd’s left to sag. Andrea looked to the Witcher, her eyes wide and hopeful.

     Please, let this be a mercy.  

 “Yes!” He called up. “We are!”

 The ship called itself a merchant’s vessel though a pirate’s den is what it looked. They had been pulled aboard with canvas and rope, the men of the ship quick to provide them with fresh water and food while their medic checked each refugee for wounds. If the crew were upset to have a witcher in their midst they did not voice it. Their captain was nowhere to be seen.

 “Oh dear.” The medic said, in his hands were the bandages that Gerd had re-applied to Torgeir’s leg on the third day of their voyage, made from scraps of a shirt found in the captain’s chest.. The odor once they were removed turned even the Witcher’s stomach. “I need a knife.” Gerd tensed but produced his own blade, edging closer to see what was going on.

 Torgeir was sweating, his skin deathly pale and feverish as he had been for the last day. In that moment though the jarl’s eyes were wide open- “Where’s Gerd?” It was slow and slurred but clear enough.

 “I’m here, Torgeir.” He sank to his knees and took one scarred hand in his own. With his other hand he brushed the tangled mess of the jarl’s hair back from his forehead. The infection was nasty, but it hadn’t spread far. He smiled though surely it was more of a grimace, “Just here.” It took all his strength not to snatch the medic by his throat when the knife began to cut away flesh. It took nothing at all to blame himself for the state of the wound. He was a witcher, he should have known better.

     You had nothing on hand to help. You did what you could.    He reminded himself. It could have been much worse, the beam that had splintered and slashed the jarl’s thigh had nearly taken his head instead.

 Green eyes rolled back and the man’s labored breathing evened.          “Witcher?” The medic hedged, “I’ve patched what I can but he will need someone to keep an eye on the wound. We’re still some ways away from the next port but we’ll find a proper healer there.”

 “I’ll look after him. Thank you…” he pushed himself to his feet. “Where is your captain?” The men pointed him across the deck to where a slight man was coiling rope, seemingly unconcerned with the new arrivals. He was dressed in a loose fitting shirt and a pair of garish calico pants.

 “Cap’n.”

 The supposed captain turned and Gerd’s first impression of the man was ‘pretty’. He had light brown hair and blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when he smiled. He was handsome in a plain sort of way, surely a charmer in any tavern he wished. The bear’s second impression was      Witcher.    Which couldn’t have been right.

 There was no such thing as a blue eyed Witcher.

 “Jerome Moreau.” The man-maybe witcher introduced himself as he passed the rope off to a deckhand. At the silence he continued, “Maybe we should speak somewhere private.”  Gerd followed him across deck, listening to the slow beat of his heart. The captain’s quarters were decently large and Gerd had the ability to put space between himself and ‘Jerome’ once the door was closed and the lantern lit.

 “As I said, I’m Jerome School of the Griffin.”

 He wasn’t sure       why     he snapped. Perhaps it was the time at sea, trying to hold together men on the brink of death while the only one who he could have turned to for help laid on a cot in pain. Perhaps it was how long it had been since he’d seen another of his kind. Perhaps he simply needed to hit something to keep his meager sanity. Perhaps, it was because there were no witchers with blue eyes.

 It was a laughably short fight. An      embarrassingly    short fight that Arnaghaf himself would have thrown Gerd from the highest mountain peak should he have witnessed it in his youth. Seven days at sea with limited water and only small bites of food to stop the hunger pains had done him no favors: against a man he would have been fine, perhaps even against two or three by sheer luck of size. But against a witcher? He hadn’t stood a chance. The Griffin-turned-pirate ducked his blow and tripped him backwards, before he could hit the floor a strong hand pushed against his chest and slammed him against the wall, pinned him there on the floor while the stranger watched him with those      blue    eyes. Jerome bared his teeth and Gerd found himself far too close to fangs unlike any he’d seen before, a feral snarl tore from the other’s chest like a beast. It was a sound that the bear could do without hearing ever again. But, just as quickly as the anger came, it left and the Griffin spoke softly,

 “I am not your enemy. Do not bring such strife onto my ship or I will not hesitate to feed you to the first kraken that threatens us. You and your men have been through a lot; I can see that.” Jerome shifted back on his heels and eased the pressure on Gerd’s chest. “If I cared about having another Witcher on board I would have left you to die. We Griffins are not quite as fickle as your lot.” he smiled as if sharing a joke. “Well, you are here, so tell me your name.”

 “Gerd.”

 “And your friend is Torgeir the Red then.” The Griffin moved away so that they were both sitting on the floor, Jerome with crossed legs and Gerd with legs akimbo from his fall. “Don’t worry, your safety on this ship is assured so long as I’m alive. We’ll reach a port in a week’s time, you’re welcome to go ashore and we won’t expect any payment for our help; though we’ll discuss other options later. For now, I think it best if you have a meal and rest. You can answer my questions once things have settled.” It was a very one sided conversation but Gerd had both too many questions to begin with and not near enough energy to ask them. If most of them were about the captain himself? Well,

 He was a strange thing, even for a witcher.

 Gerd was given a water skin for himself and Torgeir and the captain put them in a private room that was used to store trade cargo. It was empty for the next weeks, as had been explained to him by a young lad, and therefore made for a good place to rest. An extra cot had been dragged within. Torgeir’s fever broke after some hours and in the darkness Gerd watched him crawl from his heavy slumber. He hadn’t allowed him to get a word out before pressing the water skin to his lips.

 “Drink.” He urged and the skin was nearly empty by the time Torgeir pushed his hand away.

 “Where are we?” The room was black as pitch once the sun went down.          “A ship came through to help us. We’re a week from port. Your leg… we’ll get you medicine for it soon.”          “What?” Torgeir asked.          “Fucking thing got infected. They’ve got a decent healer on board though. Stitched it up fairly nice.”

 “Fucking great-” the red head pushed himself up and Gerd was quick to move closer and support him. “The others?”          “We lost Ragnar and Beorn. The others are having dinner and resting. No sign of Nilfgaard chasing us so far.” With his lover awake and clear eyed Gerd felt the weight of the last week and a half hit him in full force. His eyes drooped and he began to list to the side like a sinking ship.

 Torgeir shifted and pressed their shoulders together more firmly. “Come on, y’ bastard. Lay down.”          “Can’t.”          “You said we’re as safe as we can get. When’s the last time you slept?” Torgeir’s hand squeezed his thigh, kitten weak compared to what it should have been. When Gerd didn’t have an answer for him the jarl sighed. “Tha’s what I thought.” Gerd let himself be poked and prodded until he was reclined against the hull of the ship with rags and old feed bags piled behind him as a comfort. One leg stretched out in front of his while the other hung over the side of the cot, Torgeir laid between them. It was a familiar enough position even if the environment around them was not.  He had planned to meditate again, afraid that if he slept then he would not wake for quite some time,  but the moment that he had Torgeir’s weight against his chest his eyes closed and sleep dragged him under.

 He woke when light spilled across his face, feeling only half as rested as he should have and mortified that he hadn’t been able to fight off the slumber.

 Jerome was standing in the doorway, a white shirt half open across his chest and a look on his face that was far too soft. “Your crew demanded that I bring you something to break fast with. Andrea, I believe? She said that if you didn’t take it, I should send her in here in my place.” Again, that smile graced his lips. “I can leave it here and let you sleep.” It sounded good, to be able to close his eyes once more and sink into slumber. Perhaps to wake only when they were docked. He extended a hand instead.

 “I’ll take it.” They were hunted men for all he knew. They would need their strength.

 “Good,” as witchers they did not need to light an oil lantern and Jerome closed the door behind himself, some sunlight crept in from above. “While none here should voice any judgement, I would advise you to keep any overtly forward displays within this room or in my study should you need it. My men are good but they have loose lips in port, drunkards are not half as lovely.”

 Gerd was handed bread and a bowl of thin porridge. It was meager for a man his size and even more so for two. But, they were a week from port and The Hawksea, as the Griffin’s ship was called, had not been prepared for five more bodies on board. Particularly not those of warriors and witchers.

 “Thank you.” The words were rough.

 “Don’t mention it. I’ll be putting you to work before long. Lots of things to do here that could use a witcher’s strength.” Jerome sat on a crate, one leg pulled up to his chest with his arm draped over it. “Can’t have any freeloading going on, might start talk of mutiny.” His eyes crinkled at the edges as if he’d spent a lifetime laughing rather than fighting monsters. Maybe he had, with a face like that.

 “I thought you Griffins were supposed to be chivalrous bastards.” Gerd grunted.

 “Chivalrous? Yes. Bastard? Most certainly.” Those fangs were flashed at him again. “I was under the impression you bears were the loner sorts.”

 “We are.” Gerd didn’t miss the way Jerome’s eyes lingered on the redhead asleep on his chest. Caught even longer on the scarred arm wrapped around the human like a shield.

 The Griffin hummed, “I see.”

 The witcher left them alone with their breakfast and somewhere above them a man began to sing.

[peepspersonalperspective]

MY PICKS: Top 10 K-Dramas

Disclaimer: These are totally subjective choices and I've justified them as per my preferences. Consider them friendly recommendations and let me know if you disagree. Also, I've discovered the wonderful world of K-Dramas over the last couple of years and they've really evolved not just in storytelling but also production value so I personally prefer the more recent ones. So for example I haven't put a very popular pick like My Love from the Star simply because I've seen better stuff since (don't shoot me). Anyway, 가자!

MEMORIES OF ALAHAMBRA

This is my first recommendation for anyone who's just starting out watching Korean television content simply because it's so different from what new viewers expect it to be. It's so gripping and thrilling. I would expect nothing less from Song Jae Jung's writing.

So it's a sci-fi show, set in Spain, about an augmented reality game, that seems to have physical implications in the real world, sending the lead, Hyun Bin on a rollercoaster ride to find answers. Exo's Chanyeol has a recurring role as the game developer, so that's exciting too. I learnt that he was cast because of his love for PubG. Lol.

Every episode will leave you wanting more, and you'll find yourself as desperate to search for answers as Yoo Jin Woo (Hyun Bin).

Granted, mid season, it gets a little complicated, especially with newer nuances of the game unfolding, but fret not because the characters are discovering the secrets of the game with you. So they're as confused as you would be, and that's why this show is so good! More so because the graphics are excellent! You can tell they really spent money on ensuring high quality work. You will really feel like you're part of the game with Yoo Jin Woo.

Anyway, if you are an EXO-L, or you like gaming, sci-fi, thriller and Hyun Bin, this show is great!

2. W - Two Worlds

Another piece of awesome from Song Jae Jung. I would still rank this show a little below Alahambra, because I think the makers made improvements from this sci-fi drama in Alahambra, in the sense of storytelling. Still, W is just as intriguing.

Oh Yeon Joo (Han Hyo Joo) gets sucked into a comic book where she falls in love with the lead character of the comic book, Kang Chul (Lee Jeong Suk). Sounds like a typical romance drama right? Don't be fooled because there are many many twists and turns along the way.

I feel like there is metaphor in there somewhere about existentialism, the creation and destiny. But maybe that's just me reading into things.

Lee Jeong Suk is extremely desirable as Kang Chul, unsuspectingly charming and endearing, and Oh Yeon Joo is an absolutely relatable character, and how she deals as an ordinary girl thrown into extraordinary circumstances is genuine.

I would say this drama is wholesome, with sci-fi, suspense, thriller, action, romance, filial relationships, and more. And while it's usually difficult to jam pack all this into one show without screwing it up, W emerges exceptional.

3. Extraordinary You

This show is so cute! If you want just a light hearted, quirky show, this is the one for you.

It's about characters in a cartoon becoming aware of their existence in a cartoon. But don't worry this is NOTHING like W.

The best part about the show is that it's not about the main characters of the said cartoon. It's the story about the extras finding their way in that world, hence the pun intended in the title. The main characters (of the cartoon) are actually the most dull, because they are bound by the laws of stereotypical high school romance. But the real stuff is happening on the sidelines, with Kim Hye Yoon as Dan Oh and Rowoon as Haru.

Dan Oh is a hilarious character and Kim Hye Yoon does a fantastic job of switching emotions when she's in and out of a scene in the cartoon. One minute she goes into character mode, next minute she's bitching at the sorry fate of her character when she wakes up, to the astonishment of the characters surrounding her (who aren't aware of their reality yet).

Rowoon has a quiet charm about him that perfectly complements Hye Yoon. Check it out for a chuckle and a taste of something different.

4. Crash Landing on You

This show is hard not to like. Apart from the poorly picturized tornado carrying our leading lady over the border to North Korea, this show is a wonderful Netflix and Chill kind of show, I think.

The cultural disparity between the South and North is interesting to watch and also entertaining. Like when they mention buying mobile games at an App store (a literal application store in a Pyongyang market).

Ri Jung Hyuk (Hyun Bin again) and Yoon Seri (Son Yejin) are such a delight in comedic, romantic, and dramatic scenes. But the scene stealer for me was Yang Kyun Won as Pyo Chi Soo, and his unshakeable nationalism that he is ready to set aside for some shampoo and conditioner.

The interesting thing is going into the show, you have an idea of the longevity, so ofcourse, Seri's journey back to the South ain't going to be easy, also her relationship with Ri Jung Hyuk is doomed, and yet you find yourself rooting for them at each step, crying with them during their failures and crying with them even in their triumph. But the most tears were shed for the least expected character, who simply left us all heart broken.

5. Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo

In a world where women are expected to behave and look a certain way to be considered attractive by someone they're vying for, here's a food hogging, tomboy, weightlifting champ, with her first crush.

The premise may rope you into the show, but midway you realise that the heart of the show is in its characters, and without realising you become so invested in them that you feel their fears, insecurities, and cherish their victories with them.

This coming of age show really relishes on the quirks of each character, friendship, love and aspirations. It's not a very dramatic story which is probably why it didn't rate very high during its broadcast, but that's part of its charm, and that's why it's been able to gather a significant cult following since.

Lee Sung Kyung and Nam Joo Hyuk portray the most sincere friends and eventual couple. Their relationship blossoms in the most organic manner and it's so heartwarming. They're not cheesy or unrealistic; they even beat each other up! I don't think I've seen that level of comfort portrayed on screen so well before.

Watch out for guest appearances by Ji Soo and Lee Jeong Suk.

6. Strong Girl Do Bong Soon

I'll be honest, this recommendation is mainly for Park Hyung Sik. He's amazing in the show. And there could be no better supernaturally strong petite girl than Park Bo Young, either.

So there are actually a lot of things happening in the show, story wise, but I promise it all comes together in the end. There is quite a build up and I'm happy that it pays off adequately.

This is like a superhero show with all the spices and flavours of a Marvel movie, but K-Drama style. There's an invincible villain, some idiot gangsters for comedic value, romance (a love triangle infact), functional training, a point of lost hope for Bong Soon, and then her resurrection as a superhero.

It's all there, and more.

But Park Hyung Sik.....

7. Itaewon Class

This recommendation is simply for the refreshing change of representation on TV. I know a lot has already been spoken about it already, but I have to admit that that's what sets this revenge drama apart. That, and the music. Dayum, Start by Gaho is so catchy! And let's not forget V's Sweet Night.

This show starts off slow but give it 3 episodes before it gets to the real shit.

Park Saeroyi is almost too good to be true, and in that lies his shortcoming. His character is so strong that while watching him I forgot that Park Seo Joon was acting. And despite some unnerving moments I found myself rooting for him. He has some strong motivational lines too, like about his choice for a better life. His determination is almost unreal, as he goes on to take down his mortal enemy.

Some of the best scenes, though, are of Jo Yi Seo (Kim Dami), a sociopathic enterprising genius. She was the one who actually kept me hooked to the series. She added some much needed flair to the show, and as it appears to Park Saeroyi's establishment.

Actually, every character was strong, every character had a strong backstory and motivation for the action, and most importantly they never broke character.

Watch out for Park Bo Gum's special appearance.

8. Love In The Moonlight

Speaking of Park Bo Gum...

This show is all kinds of weird in the best way! A girl pretends to be a palace eunuch and falls in love with the crown Prince. That is so messed up!

But that's the fun part! And Park Bo Gum and Kim You Jung make it a wonderful ride. Full of quirky romance, political conflicts and hidden identity issues, this show is addictive af!

And even though this wasn't in the show and was just a promo, be sure to watch Park Bo Gum's Bombastic dance. It's adorable!

9. The Third Charm

I'm sure this is my least popular recommendation. But something about watching this show was so cathartic. I highly recommend it for those who may have gone through heartbreak ever in their lives.

This is probably one of those rare times when I was lost in the story instead of Seo Kang Jun's eyes. Hehe. This story is about an on again off again couple and their journey through life together and apart.

This was meant to be a healing drama, and it really does take you through the emotional evolution that comes with growing up. I think it's the perfect medicine for a healing heart.

10. It's Okay Not To Be Okay

This show! This is my current obsession. Kim Soo Hyun's comeback couldn't have been more perfect. Seo Yeji couldn't have been a more perfect casting. And the two leads couldn't have had a better chemistry.

This show is all kinds of whimsical and I love it. Also a healing drama, this show deals with.... Baggage....to put it simply. Some baggage may be bigger than other baggage, some even irrevocable. But seeing all the characters overcome this baggage is so fulfilling.

But the charm of this show is in Ko Moon Young's (Seo Yeji) craziness and the Tim Burton-esque setup, that really makes one perceive fairytales in a whole new way. I mean I always knew that fairytales were sanitized German folklore, but I never thought to find a very different messaging from the material. The parables are ingenious, and it really is a pleasure to watch each and every person on this show.

Special mentions: Goblin, Reply 1988, 30 but 17/ Still 17, My ID is Gangnam Beauty, Hotel Del Luna

[autistic-beshelar]

'm loving everyone venting about Molly! Thanks! And I want to ask you how you imagined the finale was gonna be? I have this whole fanfic in my head about Molly realising he had a four leaf clover stuck in his hair and upon noticing it he would give it to Yasha. Then the M9 would deal with Trent and Molly would finally know how terrible of a person the dude was. And then the M9 would introduce Molly to everyone else they met and visit every place they left better than they found it.

that's so sweet!

it's weird, because while like every other molly fan, i've had thoughts on his resurrection and a fic series i'm working on, but i'd never really... thought about the end of the campaign, or what it might be like?

(ETA this ended up so long im so sorry i have a lot to say apparently and this isn't even all of it)

my biggest and most important thing: they are a family. they belong together. maybe they'll go off on their own for a while, or stay with their families, but the nein belong together.

for fjord... he spent so long trying to be someone else, and while he's learning how to be his own person now, he deserves closure on that part of himself. he deserves a last conversation with vandren, and then to move on, to explore new places, to find new goals for himself. there is so much for him now, the open sea with so much life and promise. he buys a ship, a new ship, all his own, not one borrowed or stolen from another, and jester paints its name, decorates its quarters, makes it a home. he wrangles the nein (yes, even veth, yes, even essek) into joining him, and they set sail, all nine of them, the way it couldn't be the first time. he shows molly the ropes, teaches essek how to navigate, and watches his crew, his friends, his family, learning from him, placing so much trust in him, letting him guide them, and sees how truly happy they are to be here with him. usually, the crew is him, jester, beau, and often molly and yasha, but sometimes he will leave for a time, entrusting the boat to orly. sailing isn't all he has now, there is more to see, to do, there are things for him on land now too, but the sea will always be home to him.

for jester... she deserves her happy fairytale ending. i think for a while she stays with her family, seeing her parents happily together, finally properly introducing her boyfriend, and just spending time with her mum in a way that she didn't get to so much when she was young. and then i think she travels, just for the sake of exploring, with no defined goal other than to sow the seeds of joy and chaos everywhere she walks. and as she travels, she begins to write. stories were homes to her as a child, and they're homes even now, for someone with such a powerful imagination. she writes of her adventures, of her friends, she writes of mystical and fantastical things, half of them real. she writes and writes, words and illustrations filling so many books, she gives them to beau, to yasha, passes them off as silly little things, as though they aren't brilliant works of art. all of the nein read her stories - yasha out loud to molly as she plays with his hair, caduceus and calliope in the quiet of their garden, caleb and essek by the light of their bedside table. and in time the stories reach others, scattered journals are copied and bound into books, and one day jester wanders a quiet, nameless town, and in the window of a bookshop she's never seen, embossed on the cover of a novel, there is a brilliant green door.

for caleb... oh man, he is a teacher. that is so perfect for him, and i've been thinking about it ever since his talk with luc. i think there's something so powerful about being the person he deserved when he was younger, about stepping into that position of power and authority and being so kind with it. he's so passionate about magic, and i think it's beautiful to see him come so far - from someone burned and traumatised and so convinced he was irredeemable, to someone who can take comfort in soft things, someone who some days, almost, almost believes he can be good. i think out of everyone, except perhaps veth, he stays home the most. he still adventures with the nein of course, and if there is ever a whisper of artefacts or hidden knowledge or some expedition or other, the nein are with him in an instant to investigate it. but more often than not he is home, making the empire a better place, keeping the fire warm for them.

for veth... i want her to learn that she is enough as she is. i want her to learn that she doesn't have to choose between wife, adventurer, mother. she is all of these things. i want her to accept that her transformation was not a return to her old self but becoming someone new. i think she goes home, as she promised, and i do think she stays there for a long while, a few years perhaps, making up for lost time. and she'll pretend that she's fine with that life, with staying home, with being a wife and a mother. but that isn't all she is, and eventually, with yeza's help, with the nein's help, she will accept that. she'll no longer see it as two lives, two identities. she'll be able to kill fearsome beasts and explore strange new lands with her friends without guilt or fear, and at the end of the day she'll go home and regale her husband and son with extraordinary tales of her and her friends' heroics (that may or may not be exaggerated).

for yasha... i want her to be happy and loved. she's come SO far, from someone running from her past, drowning in guilt and so unsure of herself, to someone strong and bold. i love that ashley said she would do little odd jobs - i think she would do that, go around helping people as they explore. like most of the others, i don't think she would truly settle down. i like to imagine she does have a house somewhere - maybe inspired by the clays, she has a home somewhere green, surrounded by flowers, somewhere quiet and calm and peaceful. a little cottage maybe, for her and beau, just somewhere to return to and feel safe, somewhere she can rest. but i think most of her time would be spent travelling, seeing all the wonderful beautiful things the world has to offer, being with her friends who love her for exactly who she is, who showed her that she was someone worthy of being loved, who taught her that it's possible for her to love herself.

for caduceus... i think, for a time, he rests. he's tired. not done, far from done, but tired. i think he stays with his family at the grove, tending to all the things that are now so vibrant and alive, feeling the walls he was so sure would crumble. but after a time, he would feel that he is supposed to leave. the grove is wonderful, and will always be his home, somewhere he will always return to, and i think throughout his life - throughout the nein's life, and of course they will come to rest there, after everything - he will come home, to tend to the garden, to watch over the temple while his siblings roam. i think he travels, too, but not so much to adventure. after everything he's been through i think he deserves some peace, and quiet. he travels all the lonely winding roads, all the quiet humming spaces, sees all the life in all the hidden corners. while several members of the nein travel with him, it's yasha that walks with him the most, happy to go at his pace, eager to share in that peace and wonder.

for molly... there is so much for him now. he is no longer covered in eyes, no longer has that weight on him, even if he does hold memories of it, in darker moments. he is him but brand new, able to forge himself into whoever he wants to be, and the nein give him so much space and so much time for that. i think he stays with the clays for a little while - while the others deal with trent, yasha, so so scared to lose him again, places all her trust in caduceus to take care of him. and when they return (to find him with freshly cut hair the same colours as his coat, and a particularly proud looking clarabelle), they just spend time with him, all the time they missed and more. fjord tells him of their journey, jester showing him her journal, giving him meaning for it all, and all the time yasha holds his hand, unwilling to ever let him go. it's hard, being gone for so long, and while he is so, so (embarrassingly) proud of his friends for all that they've gone through, and how much they've grown, it's also glaringly obvious that he can't keep up. he almost has it in mind to leave - he doesn't want to hold them back, and he can't help but wonder if he's really the molly they want - it's hard to live up to a memory, after all. and there is so much he's missed. they tell him he's a moron, obviously. he is their friend, and there is nothing they won't do for friends, and waiting, staying, is such a small thing to ask. beau trains him, at his insistence - she thinks it's a joke at first, tells him that she'd be a terrible teacher, just as she was a terrible student. she's wrong, of course, and molly grows stronger by the day. he has so many adventures with them, sailing the seas on fjord's ship, sowing chaos with jester, fighting side by side with beau. there is not a single day that he isn't with his friends, yasha most of all. they are with him through everything, though good days, so many good days, and through bad ones too. molly has so much time - time the nein have given him, as he once gave to them - to live, to love, to wander, to form new memories and experiences. to be everything he never had the chance to the first time, and so much more.

for beau... she is so, so scared at first. they saved the world. they stopped trent. they've done... everything they've set out to do. what's left? what's keeping them together? when molly tries to run it reminds her so much of how she felt before, how she thought to run, to leave them before they could leave her. he returns the favour, reminds her that they are family, reminds her that she has worth, and the nein want her to stay, that they keep her, just as they kept him. (she almost believes him, and definitely doesn't cry). she does so many things - she goes home with yasha once in a while, somewhere tranquil, somewhere to study and research, she travels with caduceus, learning to appreciate a slower pace and all the quiet contemplation and companionship it can offer, she travels with fjord, his first mate, his best mate, allowing someone she trusts to take the helm and lead her on adventures. and she studies - long gone are the days of pretending to turn her nose up at books - she is one of professor widogast's best (and most irritating) students, learning magic not to weave it herself but just to understand it, just learning for the sake of learning. when she confronts her father, fjord and caleb are there as they should be - fjord to talk, to use his words and his charm to help, caleb in quiet solidarity, a hand on her shoulder, just standing with her as she tears down her mentor, her abuser, and comes out stronger for it, just as she had been there for him. finally, she can put that behind her, and she stays with the soul, as their greatest expositor (though maybe one who never does their paperwork), rooting out corruption, seeking the truth, exploring new horizons.

for essek... he spends a long time waiting for the past to catch up to him. it doesn't. it already has, in a way, if only in his own mind, the once unfamiliar guilt that weighs heavily on his shoulders. it never goes away, not entirely, but time heals, and so does the presence of the rest of the nein, always in his life, for as long as they can be. though he and caleb have different goals, they overlap so neatly, and though essek has a place in his own homeland, he spends far, far more time living with caleb. he continues with his research, caleb and beau poring over his notes, sharing his excitement and passion. he doesn't go on adventures near as much as the others, preferring to stay home, but he visits them, in all their different homes scattered across the land - jester in nicodranas, the clays at the blooming grove, veth and her family on the outskirts of zadash, beau and yasha's cottage in a little forest near felderwin. he has homes scattered across the land, so many places he is always welcome, and while guilt never entirely leaves, nor does the knowledge that one day, of course, all this will end, he finds peace.

i guess the reason i've never thought about the campaign ending is because for me.. it doesn't, not really. the mighty nein are family, chosen family. they stay together, they find homes in each other, and they leave every place better than they found it.