SO, you know that Superwood Rodeo AU idea? Yeah, here’s another fic. Oh and the title is utterly Kitty’s idea. I take no responsibility for that:

Save a Bull, Ride a Cowboy – Jack’s a new cowboy at this rodeo, and Castiel isn’t quite sure what to do with him, Dean is suspicious and Sam’s got problems of his own.

Yes, it’s going to be a chaptered fic. Because I have ideas. Probably terrible, awful ideas.

teaser below the cut

Castiel sighed as he stepped  into the bar, stretching his neck. Dean leaned on the bar, two empties already by his elbow while Sam sat just behind him, nose in a book while his own beer was going warm. The place was full of cowboys like usual, most of them riders or attached to the Rodeo in some way. Plenty of girls too, one of which Dean was chatting up already. Dark haired, big breasted and tight jeans that showed off every curve. Of course.

Making his way over, Castiel sat across from Sam. “What are you reading?”

“Nothing,” said Sam, closing the book and setting it so Castiel couldn’t easily see the title. He picked up his beer and sipped it as the waitress brought one for Cas.

“Thanks.” He sipped it, noticing Dean had moved closer to the girl. “Need to crash in my room tonight, Sam?”

“Probably.” He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back. They watched as Dean led the girl over to the pool tables. “You hear Jack Harkness joined our circuit?” asked Sam.

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah. I guess after what happened he had to get away.” Nobody really talked about it. 4-5-6 had been put down, but the damage was already done.

Raised voices pulled their attention to the pool tables. A big biker looking man was shouting at Dean while the smaller man just watched him. Sam was on his feet first, moving towards his brother before the first swing came.

Hey look, I did manage to get a new Salt in the Wounds chapter up!

July 1926 – An idyllic morning is shattered by a gunshot echoing across the bay.

Teaser below the cut

John woke early from habit. He stretched in his bed, glancing out the window. Dawn barely peeked over the horizon, a day promising to be warm and calm as the last two weeks. They could all use some rain, but July days like this weren’t bad at all.

Making his way to his dresser and the bowl of water there, John splashed his face and looked in the mirror. . Gray was starting to come into his temples now, just a few strands that told him his twenties were behind him. His body was still firm and strong though, tanned from the sun and hands roughened by work. There hadn’t been anyone in need of rescuing for a while, but of course they were always ready. Downstairs he could hear the kettle starting to boil, which told him Hamish was awake.

By the time he shaved and dressed, Hamish was setting the table. John had always been an early riser, but Hamish had him beat. He smiled at his son; eight years old, slender and strong for his age, dark hair always wild. There were always more rescues in the winter, so instead of attending the village school regularly, John taught him using lesson plans from the schoolmaster, bringing Hamish in once a month or so for the schoolmaster to test, depending on the weather. It was an arrangement that suited everyone, but currently he was free for the summer.

And Hamish already had breakfast and tea ready. John knew he was excited to be going fishing. He loved the water and being out on it. Unlike John, he’d even learned to swim a bit. John took his place at the table and sipped his tea. “Thank you.”

Hamish smiled and picked up his own fork. “You’re welcome.” He dug in with the sort of appetite a young boy could muster. John ate a bit slower, knowing they would still get out on the water before the day got too hot.

Hey look, I did manage to get a new Salt in the Wounds chapter up!

July 1926 – An idyllic morning is shattered by a gunshot echoing across the bay.

Teaser below the cut

John woke early from habit. He stretched in his bed, glancing out the window. Dawn barely peeked over the horizon, a day promising to be warm and calm as the last two weeks. They could all use some rain, but July days like this weren’t bad at all.

Making his way to his dresser and the bowl of water there, John splashed his face and looked in the mirror. . Gray was starting to come into his temples now, just a few strands that told him his twenties were behind him. His body was still firm and strong though, tanned from the sun and hands roughened by work. There hadn’t been anyone in need of rescuing for a while, but of course they were always ready. Downstairs he could hear the kettle starting to boil, which told him Hamish was awake.

By the time he shaved and dressed, Hamish was setting the table. John had always been an early riser, but Hamish had him beat. He smiled at his son; eight years old, slender and strong for his age, dark hair always wild. There were always more rescues in the winter, so instead of attending the village school regularly, John taught him using lesson plans from the schoolmaster, bringing Hamish in once a month or so for the schoolmaster to test, depending on the weather. It was an arrangement that suited everyone, but currently he was free for the summer.

And Hamish already had breakfast and tea ready. John knew he was excited to be going fishing. He loved the water and being out on it. Unlike John, he’d even learned to swim a bit. John took his place at the table and sipped his tea. “Thank you.”

Hamish smiled and picked up his own fork. “You’re welcome.” He dug in with the sort of appetite a young boy could muster. John ate a bit slower, knowing they would still get out on the water before the day got too hot.

Apparently the muse settled on selkie!Sherlock. So, another Salt in the Wounds chapter in progress.

Writing parentlock is so fluffy. But then there’s some bamf!John in this chapter too.

Writing the next chapters of salt in the wounds and taken toddler at work. Again.

Holy crap, I have a fic with 125 kudos. And another one is inching close to 2800 hits. That’s….incredible. 

You know what, even if it is smutty fanfiction…2000 people have looked at it, or at least a few people a bunch of times…And several fics are over the 2k mark.

That’s insane. And humbling.

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.

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.

So I wrote some fluffy/angsty Johnlock. Mostly it’s an argument about a marriage proposal. It’s short too.

A Proposal: When John’s proposal to Sherlock didn’t go as planned, taking a walk wouldn’t be enough, so he took a train instead. Of course Sherlock tracked him down anyway.

Teaser below the cut

John woke with a start as the train pulled into the station. He rubbed his eyes, trying to chase away the nightmares that haunted him even more when he was away from Baker Street. Even now, with a few minutes nap on a train. He rubbed his cheeks and thought about getting up for some tea, but the aisle was crowded with passengers. He fervently hoped nobody would open the door and ask if they could join him.

Just as the train pulled out of the station again and John thought he was safe, the door opened and a far too familiar coat plopped down in the seat across from him. John stared. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Sherlock looked over at him. “You’re taking a short vacation.”

“I thought you had a case.” John crossed his arms and looked out the window.

“Done. Tedious, really. The butler did it.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“What did I say?”

John shook his head and they lapsed into silence. The countryside quickly grew boring and Sherlock was watching him. There was no point in asking how he’d found him. “Did you think about what I said?” asked John when the silence grew to be too much.

I have three completely different short fics open in word, and none of them are either the next Taken or Selkie chapters. Ya’ll might get spammed with fics when I get home from work.

(One is romantic/angsty johnlock, one is smutty johnlock and the last one is superwood)