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jazzforthecaptain:

merindab replied to your post: merindab replied to your post “I shouldn’t have…
Okay,now see, that I *really* want to read. So I guess I’m predictable too…

I’ll just put this out there: Gwen in the tie-down roping competition. Gwen Cooper in a cowboy hat and chaps, quick and efficient and possibly the nicest to the calves of all the contestants. I just see her go flying off the horse and flipping the calf over on its side with a litany of “Sorry, sorry, sorry!” in that gorgeous Welsh way she does.

image

I know there’s a picture of Eve in a cowboy hat too, but this was the first one I found and I *really* need to go to bed…

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jazzforthecaptain reblogged your post and added:

SuperWood godparent? I’m trying to imagine what sort of responsibilities that would entail and all I can come up with are things involving sex toys and proper weapons handling.

…that sounds about right though….lol.

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So, after all the happy fluffy johnlock, I wrote a dark little fic:

Night Dark Like Bruises: John’s been rescued, but he’s badly beaten. Sherlock comforts him, then seeks to release his anger in the night.

Stuck a graphic depiction of violence tag on there, I don’t think it’s that bad, but if you’re sensitive, you might want to skip this one.

Teaser below the cut

Sherlock stopped in the doorway to Johns room. He lay in just his pants, mercifully asleep after the night he’d had.  A gash showed along his temple and his bare back and shoulders were covered in bruises, trailing down to his thighs and even a couple on his calves. The wrists were still raw from where he’d been bound. Sherlocks fists clenched as he remembered finding John

All the evidence showed John had been beaten after he was bound. Lestrade made no comment when Sherlock had quietly broken the kneecap of one of the men. He’d insisted on taking John home to rest, deducing most of the wounds were superficial.

Raising his head, John regarded Sherlock. “Just going to stare?”

Sherlock dropped his dressing gown and crossed the room. Crawling across the bed he nudged John’s legs apart and leaned over his battered back to kiss his neck. John groaned, then whimpered as the kiss turned into a bite.

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In case you didn’t click the buzfeed link earlier, this is 4 fantastic minutes of John Barrowman talking about how important marriage equality is to himself and Scott. 

(now someone make a gif of him saying “I didn’t wake up one morning and go I think I’ll have eggs, bacon, coffee and I think I’ll be gay”?)

(Source: https://www.youtube.com/)
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So I’ve written my first Superwood Fic!

Ghosts and Demons: When Torchwood came into the warehouse the last thing they expected was a demon hunter that looked like a ghost from the past.

Much thanks to awabubbles for reading it over and jazzforthecaptain for reblogging the gifset that sparked this idea. And really they’re both like my superwood godparents or something, if you’re interested in superwood at all you should look at them both.

(and if you don’t know what superwood is, it’s Supernatural and Torchwood)

Teaser below the cut

The warehouse was like virtually any other from the outside, gray, slightly dilapidated and windowless. The sky was threatening rain later. Tosh checked her device again as they approached it. “The reading definitely came from inside.”

“Okay,” said Jack, “you know the drill. Let’s move.”

The team spread out. Ianto stayed close by Jack as they took the main entrance and stepped carefully into the warehouse, gun in his hands. He frowned at the strange markings on the concrete floor. Jagged lines and strange whorls hinted at some ancient mysticism. At least he was fairly certain that was paint.

Jack stepped next to him, taking in the symbols as well. “There,” he said, nodding deeper into the cavernous building, dotted here and there with large shipping containers. The rest of the team moved around the warehouse and Ianto could hear a woman’s voice, chanting in what sounded like Latin.

They moved closer, cautiously. A large container blocked their path, so Jack nodded him to one side. Ianto took the right, letting Jack take the lead. They could hear another voice now, begging, and then a heart wrenching scream.

The team rushed forward just as a cloud of smoke hit the ceiling and dissipated. “Drop your weapon!” shouted Jack at the woman standing in front of a bound man in a chair.

With her back still to them, the woman raised her hands, showing she was unarmed. Ianto was aware he was kicking something on the floor.Salt? Owen was already moving to check the man while Jack quickly patted the woman down. “What the hell is going on here?” He demanded, turning the woman to face him. She looked just like Lisa.