#warrick lives au

[ilkkawhat]

saw your tags on an ask from a couple months back where you referenced an au/headcanon where actually, warrick's not dead, just in witness protection, & i wonder if you'd care to elaborate at all because that's also one of my fave (although self-indulgent) au/headcanons

so back in the day I honestly used to play around with the idea, often writing fics where nick and warrick got trapped but reunited, warrick explaining that he was put into witness protection and I think it was within the past two(?) years? maybe three or four now where I had a dream that I do want to turn into a fic of a similar thing happening, nick and warrick finding themselves in danger and then finding each other--idk if anybody has seen person of interest but warrick was basically pulling a john reese and walking down a street at night with a rocket launcher that he was firing at cars coming at him and in one of those cars was nick, tied up and both nick and warrick had beards and teased each other about it lol, and I think I had a larger fic-universe plan to kinda rewrite things, mostly to expand on ships a bit more but the big central point of the fic would be that warrick lives, and sage warns nick that with warrick living there's now a loss that needs to be fulfilled. i think I've also talked about/thought about nick being shot along warrick in for gedda and both of them living from it

and idk, while I do think they handled the death well and didn't just forget about it, constantly reminding us in seasons afterwards and one of the final flashes nick has in his final episode on his way out is that first moment we see of him and warrick in the pilot, and it was an easy way to allow some members of the team to leave when maybe they wouldn't have, and of course gives a lot of angsty fuel for fics BUT

it's just so much more fun and satisfying to imagine warrick being able to return, maybe not immediately but someday--hell another dream i've had is nick, sara, greg and warrick all reuniting for the revival series lol and it could offer up some good angst, with the team having mourned warrick's death and vice versa, warrick's been without friends, without family and even missed the early years of his son's life and having to cope with that, and all of them coping with each other and the changes that happened and the threat that while gone, is not forgotten and maybe adds to their drive as CSIs or maybe also questioning (like Nick often did with the corruptions)

that and well, warrick is one of the best characters on the show

[slackertherubycat]

Lady Warrick and Lord Rosfield

[cliji]

like ben is craazzzyyyy 😭😭

[azsazz]

Penance

Hockey Player!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel can't keep his hands to himself. A modern hockey AU.

Warnings: Fighting

Word Count: 970 (lol i wish it was way longer)

Notes: Welcome to the Hockey AU 😏

_________________________________________

You’ll never understand how your boyfriend gets into so many fights, but here you are again, watching him pummel another player into the ice.

The crowd screams wildly around you so loudly it’s nearly deafening. There’s a chill to the air only the ice emits, the rest of the atmosphere is filled with the heat of bodies, stench of beer and stadium popcorn, and a little bit like body odor. The mostly male fans around you clutch their drinks in their hands as they throw their arms up, egging on the brawl in the rink. You’re sure if you were sitting closer, you might be able to smell the blood splattering the pristine, white ice.

“Come on, Azriel,” you mutter, wringing your fingers together. It’s said a little in disappointment and a lot in encouragement. It’s tough to watch; a player on the Springview Wolves had checked him into the glass. It hadn’t been a nice check either, all but shoving Azriel’s face into the boards. His eyes had gone dark in a millisecond, spinning on his skate and chucking his stick to the ground, his gloves following.

The player had already turned away—Warrick, number 22, the back of his jersey reads—when Az had spun around to give him a taste of his own medicine, and the hit looked dirty on your boyfriend's side because of it, hitting a player who seemed unassuming. Tamlin, number 22’s name is, you know this because Azriel and a few of his teammates had been complaining about the blond haired player all week, saying how the coach only puts him in to start fights, the rest of the time he’s usually a duster, collecting cobwebs on the bench.

Gods, you hope Azriel doesn’t lose any teeth this time.

The pair seem to mostly be wrestling right now, trying to keep their balance as their skates slide against the slick ice and the referees try to tear them apart. But once players start tussling, there’s no breaking them up until one of them hits the ice.

The benches of both teams are going crazy, shouting and hitting their sticks against the partitions. You think you saw the team captain of the Velaris Bats, Rhysand, trying to jump onto the ice to join, but the coach had held him back by the scruff of his uniform.

Cassian had already been on the ice, a winger like Azriel. The pair were nearly untouchable on the ice. It’s as if they had twin telepathy, always scoring points off of one another. He shucked his own gloves off and started a fight with another player for the hell of it, living up to his nickname ‘bloodshed.’ It looks like he’s taking on one of the Vanserra brothers, the younger, Lucien. 

You don’t know what the hell their mother ate when she was pregnant with them, three of her seven sons in the NHL. Eris, the eldest, plays on the Auburn Foxes, while her second born, Pyrolas, has been with the Badgers. That is always a team you dread watching the Bats play. With the amount of fights Pyrolas starts and finishes, it’s a surprise the hot-headed player is still welcome on any team.

Azriel knocks one of Tamlin’s legs out from under him but his competitor doesn’t go down yet, keeping himself propped up on a knee. They’re punching wildly, hitting more helmets than skin, but crimson paints the ice from split knuckles.

You chew on your lip, praying that it ends soon. It’s gruesome, and now that Cassian has joined in, grinning feral with bloody teeth, other players have joined the fray. The referees are useless, and they can only watch the onslaught of Bats players fist-fighting with the Wolves.

The coaches are screaming their heads off from the benches, but there’s too much testosterone in the air for any of the players to hear, let alone take their threats seriously. You know Cassian’s going to be punished in practice for starting a team-wide brawl, and you hope Azriel won’t be added to that punishment.

Tamlin gets in a good hit to the face, cutting the bridge of Azriel’s nose on his helmet. You sigh sadly. You love his nose, all straight and perfect. Something low in your stomach twists, thinking about a scar cutting across the bridge of it. 

Azriel retaliates not with words, but his fists. He tugs the back of Tamlin’s lavender jersey over his head and pummels him, hands moving so fast the blinded player can’t keep up. His fingers scrabble for purchase, clawing into Azriel’s black jersey, but it doesn’t seem to make the man falter at all. 

Finally, Tamlin takes the fall, sliding the rest of the way to the ice. Azriel has his hand pressed to Warrick’s back, keeping him pressed to the ice, his left hand cocked, ready to deliver another blow should he need to. 

A referee skates in, pulling your boyfriend away from the felled player. He ushers Azriel to the penalty box while someone else collects his stick and gloves. Miraculously, his helmet sits on his head, and he’s handed a towel to wipe the blood from his face and knuckles, and Azriel looks beyond pissed off.

Cassian’s ejected from the game, but it doesn’t look much like he cares, receiving pats on the back and friendly shoves from his teammates. He thrives on the bloodshed, Mother help whoever locks him down. They’ll be dealing with eternally busted knuckles and missing teeth. 

The few minutes Azriel has to spend in the sin-bin are long, but at least you can take a moment to calm your racing heart, knowing he can’t start a fight while he’s in time-out for his actions.

The only thing you have to worry about is the remaining period after he gets out of it.

[melpomenelamusa]

A different first meeting - Chimeras

~What if Warrick was a chimera instead of Elafi? AU~

CW: Mention of animal death, description of human death, mention of corpses, blood and wounds, grief.

Warrick was heading home, carrying his prey.

He walked at a relaxed pace, his bare feet crunching the carpet of leaves that covered the forest floor. That day, he had hunted something very good: a deer. He had been lucky enough to spot a young one walking alone among the tree trunks. It was an opportunity he had to seize, as they usually stayed in higher areas of the mountain.

First, he hid in the foliage with the skill of a predator, and then he leapt at his prey when it was distracted. The animal didn’t even have time to be scared before Warrick bit its neck with his enormous fangs and stabbed its heart with a dagger, giving it a swift death. He didn’t like it when his prey suffered or died slowly.

Satisfied with his hunt, he wiped the blood from his mouth with his shirt sleeve and began his walk home. The deer meat would provide him with food for quite a while, and he could even try selling the hooves and antlers at the market. That is, if he didn’t get into trouble this time with the poachers or those strange cultists. Warrick had plenty of enemies, gained simply for being what he was: a chimera.

Tired of the discrimination in the city, Warrick had bought that cabin in the woods from an acquaintance and moved in, leaving behind his family and everyone he knew. He had lived alone in nature for years, like a hermit, where no one would look at him with disgust because of his furry, rounded ears or gasp in fear whenever they noticed his long fangs and massive claws.

As he walked back home, he heard a loud screech, followed by the harsh clang of metal crashing into something else.

The road wasn’t far from where he was, so sometimes he could hear the distant hum of cars and trucks passing by. But that sharp sound made his sensitive ears twitch, and he could almost picture the accident in his mind.

People got into accidents all the time—it wasn’t his business. But he stopped when the strong scent of blood reached his nose.

It sent a chill down his spine. What if someone was injured and needed help?

It’s not your business, just go, said a voice in his head. No one wants to see something like you, especially if they’re hurt.

But the idea of being so close and not helping someone in need…

There didn’t seem to be any other vehicles around at the moment. He set down his prey and, using the foliage to conceal his large body, began walking toward the direction of that strong, metallic, and unpleasant smell.

What he found ahead was a vivid image of disaster: two cars were in the middle of the road. The first was a big truck with a completely destroyed bumper and shattered windshield. It was empty, with the driver’s door still open, only the inflated airbag in view. The driver was nowhere to be seen.

The second vehicle was a sedan, and it had taken the worst of the hit. The car had flipped over, with two tires sticking into the air. A pool of blood had started to form on the asphalt, beneath the shattered window. It wasn’t hard to guess what had happened.

Warrick peered inside and froze when he saw, still strapped to their seats by the seatbelts, the corpses of a man and a woman. The blood on their faces made it hard to estimate their exact age—perhaps close to his own. But that wasn’t what caught Warrick’s attention the most.

There was a third passenger in the back seat.

A boy.

Still alive.

A hissing breath told him there was still a survivor—and therefore, Warrick had to act.

Without hesitation, he used his incredible strength to remove the broken glass and force open the crushed door of the sedan to get the boy out of the car safely.

He was injured, with bleeding cuts from the broken glass. He had several forming bruises and a clearly broken leg, but the most alarming thing was the bleeding wound on his temple.

The boy could die if left there.

So Warrick made a hasty decision, without weighing the consequences, and carried the unconscious teenager in his arms back to his cabin.

There, he cleaned the blood from his skin, stitched and bandaged his wounds, and crafted an improvised cast with wooden splints to immobilize the broken leg.

The boy didn’t seem older than twenty. He had wavy brown hair and freckled cheeks.

Warrick knew that once the boy woke up, in addition to suffering a terrible concussion, he would have to offer some sort of explanation for what had happened—assuming the boy didn’t immediately flee screaming at the very sight of him. After all, seeing a man like Warrick, as tall and broad as a bear, with enormous fangs and clawed hands, wasn’t exactly comforting.

Yes, it was risky, but he simply couldn’t (didn’t want to) do nothing.

Accepting the consequences of his actions, Warrick stepped away and left the boy to rest.

*

Elafi drifted between consciousness and unconsciousness. He felt pain, but didn’t know why. He tried to open his eyelids, but the light blinded him, forcing him to close them again. The pain started to become more tangible. His head throbbed almost as hard as his pounding heart. His whole body felt sore and numb.

As his senses began to wake up, he discovered more things—like that he was lying on a soft mattress. But when he opened his eyes again, he realized this wasn’t his room. Disoriented, he tried to get out of bed, but the agony in his left leg stopped him, making him cry out in pain and collapse back onto the mattress.

His body was covered in bandages and plasters, his leg was in a cast, and his clothes were stained with blood.

What had happened? Where was he? Where were his parents? They had been driving when…

He couldn’t remember clearly.

He remembered his mother’s scream. He remembered seeing the enormous truck speeding toward them on the wrong side of the road. The rest of his memories vanished the moment he lost consciousness after the impact.

That meant someone had brought him here—but who? And why?

Suddenly, he heard footsteps and a soft knock at the door.

“Are you awake?” asked a male voice from the other side.

Elafi couldn’t help but feel his heart skip a beat. Where was he? Who was this person? Should he answer or pretend to still be asleep? No, he had already screamed—it was clear he was awake.

“Y-yes,” he finally replied, unsure.

“I’m really glad,” said the voice on the other side of the door, calm and neutral. “I found you injured on the road and brought you here to treat you.”

“W-where are my parents?” Elafi asked, though a grim idea had already begun to form in his mind.

The stranger fell silent for a moment before letting out a sigh.

“I... I’m really sorry, kid. You were the only survivor.”

It was like being stabbed in the heart.

First came the shock, the disbelief.

Then came the tears, the uncontrollable sobbing.

Elafi hugged himself, his battered body, as he cried and screamed in pain. He cried and cried until his body had no energy left and he fell asleep.

The next time Elafi woke up, someone was changing the bandages on his wounds. The person who had saved him hadn’t shown themselves the first time, and was likely the one there now. Elafi kept his eyes closed, focusing on how a pair of large, rough hands gently placed gauze on the cuts on his arms and legs.

Overcome with curiosity, Elafi opened his eyes.

Beside his bed stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with tan skin, brown hair, and dark eyes. However, two rounded ears poked out from the top of his head. His forearms were covered in brown fur, and his hands ended in long, sharp black claws.

“A chimera,” Elafi murmured.

The chimera man looked at him suddenly, and his expression shifted from calm to sheer terror. He stood up abruptly, backing away until he was nearly at the far end of the small room.

“I’m sorry,” said Elafi, embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

That seemed to calm the man a little, who took a couple of steps forward.

“That should be my line,” he replied.

They were quiet for a moment.

"I'm not afraid of chimeras," Elafi added, trying to lighten the tension that had started to fill the room. "Did you save me?"

The man nodded.

"Thank you very much. My... my name is Elafi."

"I'm... Warrick," the man replied, still a little unsure.

"My parents really... they...?"

"Yes," said Warrick, straightforward but not harsh.

Elafi already knew the answer, but hearing it again was both relieving and painful. Soon, more tears were rolling down his cheeks. The pain of his wounds was nothing compared to the growing ache in his heart.

Warrick offered him a tissue to wipe his face and a bottle of water, which Elafi almost finished in one go.

"Where are we?" the teenager asked.

"This is my home. You were in very bad shape. I didn’t know where else to take you. I did everything I could to heal your wounds, and I don’t think you’re in any mortal danger... but I think you should go to a hospital. The nearest town is about five kilometers from here."

Elafi tried to think, but his head was spinning.

"I... I don’t know... I... I don’t have anywhere to go anymore..."

"You don’t have any other family?"

"No close ones... no family I’d want to be with."

Elafi felt so alone... so lost...

"Do you live in this forest?" he asked, trying to distract himself.

"Uh, yeah."

"Is it because you’re a chimera?"

Warrick looked at him for a few moments with sad eyes before answering plainly:

"Yes."

Elafi had heard about chimeras. He had never met one in person, but he found them incredibly fascinating. He didn’t understand why most people spoke so badly of them, as if they were a mistake or something wrong.

"Chimeras are wild and irrational, they might attack you when you least expect it, you can’t trust them," many adults had told him.

But weren’t humans the same? Weren’t the school kids who bullied him for years just as cruel? Wasn’t it the same with the driver who broke traffic laws trying to overtake and ended up taking his parents’ lives?

Life was truly so unfair sometimes.

"It’s okay," he said, settling into the mattress. "Like I said before, I’m not afraid of chimeras. Besides, you saved my life, and I’m really grateful for that."

The man ran a hand over his head, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"Well, I guess you can stay here until you’re fully recovered," he said. "Then you’re free to go wherever you want."

Warrick offered Elafi some food and then left him alone so he could rest. Elafi was thankful—he had a lot to process. In fact, every time he remembered his parents, he couldn’t help but cry again. Warrick helped him with everything he needed, and it was precisely his presence that kept Elafi from losing his mind after such a tragic event. The man was kind and considerate, extremely patient, nothing like his appearance might have suggested.

Life really isn’t fair sometimes, the boy thought. But even so, he had survived by a pure miracle. He had survived because Warrick, a chimera despised by other humans, had chosen to help him, a normal human.

It didn’t matter that he was a chimera—what mattered was that he had helped him stay alive. And that was the most valuable thing of all.

Taglist: @scoundrelwithboba@morning-star-whump@lancedoncrimsonwings@3-2-whump. @whumped-by-glitter @string-of-broken-hearts @alyscat @oddsconvert @what-if-i-just-did @bacillusinfection @writinglittlepains @washing---machine@bilightningwhumper@enasolos@inhurtandincomfort

I admit that Chimera!Warrick has a lot of interesting potential!!! I've always really liked the Non-human parental figure x Lost child dynamic.

[sara-sidles]

warrick lives au where greg is constantly offering to babysit eli. like ‘hey i have time after work, I could swing by?’. and warrick thinks it’s just some weird urge greg is having to be more of a grown-up, and he trusts greg to look after his kid, so he’s not complaining.

until eli’s first words are norwegian.

[leerswithwolves]

Dark Jayvik HC

SO.

HC with S2 Spoiler context Warning. This is basically a fic au outline at this point omg. What if survivor Jayce (who I affectionately referred to as dirty jayce while working on my painting) was sent back exactly after his younger self was shifted to the other reality, but he was just a bit more obsessed protective towards Viktor and decided they would be Defender of the Arcane Herald instead of the Defender of Tomorrow Jayce. Like maybe use an alternative means of persuasion than a hammer gun to the chest ya know?? Like your love for Viktor maybe? Use your penis, WORDS Jayce.

Remember in canon in S2E17 Ambessa tells Melthat they have to continue to fight because of her wariness of mages and the threat they pose. -> Regardless of the canon events, Ambessa still feels that way before the commune. She hates the Black Rose, she hates mages now. So what if, canon events play out but because our Defender Jayce is there to protect Viktor (and not shoot him to begin with) Warrick/Vander still is saved from Singed bs by the girls. Unfortunately, Vander has thrashed Rictus quite a bit and he dies after being thrown outside the greenhouse. Ambessa sees Rictus slain and they get into their huge fight and it's still a violent affair. The Noxian army ends up cutting down through most of the commune as a consequence which harms Viktor in the process (if we believe that the commune died because Viktor was shot, the opposite would likely effect in a similar way)

So they all retreat back to Piltover and the lab- Viktor's probably kissing deaths hand again and still refuses to absorb Vander. Jayce has alternative idea to harness a restorative power perhaps. Viktor is mage adjacent and I think Ambessa would go on a whole campaign to avenge Rictus. I even picture the scene where he evolves one of the fallen commune members in the same way he did in canon to try to talk Ambessa down, but she smashes the hell out of it. Mel comes by to try and convince her mom not to attack Piltover and to go after black rose instead in Noxus but Ambessa shows Mel Viktor's automaton and decides she has to cleans the city of mages altogether. This could go so many places... I'll just let this little world live here. Be kind to my little AU.

[addictedtostorytelling]

An Opposite of Echoes - addictedtostorytelling - CSI: Crime Scene Investigation [Archive of Our Own] ↘

Chapters: 26/27 Fandom: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Gil Grissom/Sara Sidle, Sara Sidle & Team Graveyard Characters: Sara Sidle, Gil Grissom, Catherine Willows, Warrick Brown, Nick Stokes, Greg Sanders, Hank the Dog Series: Part 3 of Happy Accidents Summary:

“Part of this reaction is the hormones. But part is also a realization, an understanding that despite having been alone for most of her life before meeting him, now she is so far from that state—from being so completely untethered, living without ties—she can’t remember what it was like.”

Geek Baby AU.

FYI, the story is fully posted and completed now, for anyone who was waiting to read it in its entirety.

Thank you to everyone who’s supported it. Hope you enjoy the final chapter (and epilogue)! 💕💕💕

[tsckcyomi-archived]

I'm cooking up a Son of the North AU for Sleipnir with @/glacierites aka a Jill and Sleipnir siblings AU and for anyone interested.... That's what it looks like so far....

Sleipnir was the firstborn child of Silvermane, a king of the Northern Territories, and he awoke as a Bearer. Four years later, his younger sister was born ━ Jill. When the raids were quelled by Rosaria with the aid of Sanbreque, Jill was given to duchy as a ward whereas Sleipnir was given to the empire. At the time, Sleipnir was ten and Jill was six years old.

Just like Jill, Sleipnir was considered a savage in the empire. However, unlike Jill, he never managed to adopt a mannerism that would somewhat appease most of the people handling him day to day, staying resistant to their political grooming. Roughly a year after his arrival in Sanbreque, Sleipnir was given to the military to become a Branded Soldier, no longer considered a suitable ward to the empire due to his behavior and open hostility. They began sending him to the battlefield shortly after his fifteenth nameday, and that's where he remained for the majority of his remaining life.

At the age of 23, Sleipnir fell in a battle against Odin and his forces, his aether/soul absorbed by Barnabas.

When years later his aether is used as a base for an egi to serve the king of Waloed as his new Lord Commander, Sleipnir's memories of his prior life are relatively muddled, although he does remember that he died in a battle against Barnabas and he was happy about it, that he holds disdain for Storm in some capacity, and that he used to live in cold and unforgiving lands with a family that was torn apart.

Notes:

Sleipnir used to have a different name in the Northern Territory given to him by his family on his first nameday ━ Dyfan Warrick. He was given yet another name in Sanbreque that fit their customs better, Elias Bitaud, although he was never called by either of his names after being forced into the army. It was Barnabas who gave him his third and last name, Sleipnir Harbard.

Perhaps the Northern Territories treated Bearers as people of their own considering how harsh and unforgiving their environment would be and how incredibly helpful a Bearer would be. It might add to their reputation as "savages" across the rest of Valisthea. Thus, at least in the Northern Territories, his status as a Bearer would have affected his childhood only very little.

The family he was placed with in Sanbreque did somewhat attempt to raise him according to imperial values since he was supposed to be their ward, but Sleipnir was an absolute menace and did not accept them in any capacity whatsoever. That is why they eventually sent him away to be an enslaved soldier, as befitting of "his station as a Bearer".

Since it's been such a long time since he last saw her and he's effectively been "rebirthed" since then, Sleipnir would not immediately recognize Jill ━ but it also wouldn't take much for him to do realize who she is.

The time in which Clive and Sleipnir were both Branded Soldiers forced to work for Sanbreque does overlap, although they'd likely have little to nothing to do with one another.

[timaeuslover001]

Warrick x Catherine Headcanon AU

Warrick lives and Catherine and him start dating , eventually marry and move to DC because Catherine is exhausted with CSI work emotionally ( canon), but works for the FBI and Warrick becomes head of the Crime Lab in DC , harder for him to adjust to living in a new state for the first time but since their an age gap couple and from Vegas they get a lot of gossip behind their backs and weird looks.

[ebonydraygon]

So the last year has had its ups and downs, learning to fully live with my miriade of autoimmune conditions, losses of long term gaming groups and friends with that... well lets jsut say I am going to take it easy on myself when it comes to reviewing my goals for the year.

Creatively

complete one large cross stitch project

I did achieve this!

It may not seem a 'big' project to those that do cross stitch regularly but it is for me!

Write something outside of Nanowrimo

Also completed! In fact, I finally finished and posted a fanfic that I was working on for the past three nanos.

Complete at least two digital art pieces

This one... less so. Mainly due to ill health, I haven't' done any big digital pieces. I have however done smaller projects, such as silly marshmallows and the ongoing Silly Sharks project

Personally

Keep on top of laundry

This was hampered by the fact our washing machine died again and it wasn't until late in the year that we finally got a working replacement. But now we have a washer-dryer so we are now starting to chip down the mountains much quicker!

post progress pics more often

haaa yeah. I didn't manage to do this on social media beyond my personal discord server, but that is still progress!

keep more consistent stream and shop schedule

I like to think, barring the extraneous circumstances like health and life events, I have managed this quite well!

General

Attend at least one nanobeans meeting outside of November

I didn't even manage to get to one in november! But hey, I have more free time now so maybe I'll manage...

sort spare room so it is a viable guest room

Due to the larp I was running suddenly imploding and then having all the props and kit from that to get rid of... this is still a work in progress.

Get to the stage where we can get a cat!

One day! I did get to go to a cat café and visit parents to see their two cats, so I have at least had some cat this year.

As mentioned above, this year has thrown me some nasty curveballs. The Larp I had been running suddenly imploded around May/June-ish when the other Narrator suddenly up and quit with no warning, causing half our meagre player base to also quit. So we had to fold the group, and then I was left to try and clean up the remains. IT was something that had been a staple of my life for the last six years, basically a volunteer job with how much work I did. So it has taken time to rebalance myself with its loss. Plus, there aren't really any non-com friendly larps in my immediate area that interest me. So it's not like I can easily replace it.

Highlights of the year were probably finally posting up Dark Waltz, a Gloryhammer AU fanfic as well as attending Kitacon at Warrick uni. I even ran my first convention event which was well attended, and I had people asking if I would run it again for longer next time! So that is something I will have to keep in mind!

Tune back January 1st for the new resolution list and the thank you list for those that kept me going through the previous year.

[thatndginger]

Happy STS! What would your OCs' (real world) dream holiday destination be and why?

Thanks for the ask <3

Hmmm, I’ll give this to the Shapeshifter crew today, since my brain is a little fried from this week and they live in a magical-au of our real world lol.

Jay - Paris. She doesn’t have a real reason other than the Aesthetic, and it sounds like a cool place to visit, but she’d have a lot of fun there. Between the catacombs, the cute little cafes, and (hopefully) the attractive women, there’s a lot there for Jay.

Warrick - New York City. It’s considered the art capital of the world, with a ton of galleries and art events going on at any given moment. He’d try to divide his time between art museums and lesser-known artist galleries, when he isn’t scoping out the graffiti and street art scenes.

Kerr - the western coast of Ireland. Kerr hasn’t been back to Ireland since he first left at 16, but it’s always on the back of his mind. Moressau can ease some of the homesickness with it’s perpetually overcast skies and stormy seas, but it’s not quite Ireland.

[fascinating-nightmares]

[moonstruckbucky]

Come Over (3/7)

Summary: You’re new to New York City. Fresh out of post-grad and wanting a change of pace, and this change comes in more ways than one.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader. Neighbor AU.

Warnings for Series: Fluff, angst, pining, the ush! Also, swearing, because nobody ever washed my mouth out with soap.

Notes: So I’ve daydreamed about a neighbor AU for an embarrassing amount of time, and I need something to get my creative juices flowing again. So, ta-da.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

A month into your new life in New York, you feel more settled in. Your apartment doesn’t look like a warehouse piled high with boxes, and you’ve even spent some of your signing bonus on artwork to hang on the walls and a few plants to bring some life to the space. You’re even considering getting a cat.

At work, you frequently eat your lunch with not only Wanda and Vis, but the three other women on your floor. Maria, Charlotte, and Sarah are all mothers, so they don’t usually attend the girls’ night out you and Wanda plan every week, but they’re still pleasant to sit and chat with regardless. It’s made you feel even more at home at Stark Industries.

Speaking of, Tony is a riot, you’ve learned. You’ve come out of your shell a little more with each day you work for him, and it’s mostly in thanks to Tony’s easy-going personality. Though he’s clearly a workaholic on top of being addicted to caffeine (for anyone else this might’ve been a destructive combination but Tony seems to wield both extremely well), he feels more like a weird brother/father figure than a boss. He keeps most projects secret from you, but occasionally he’ll show you a new update or ask for your opinion as a consumer. You’re honest with him without kissing his ass too much about it.

Since he lives closer, Sam comes over a couple times a week to hang out with you and catch up on your favorite shows. He tries to bring Clint with him most times, but being neck-deep in a new case makes it hard for him to get away to visit. You settle for FaceTiming him during the week even though it isn’t the same.

It’s one of your weekly nights with Sam, who reclines in your new armchair with his feet up and an open beer in his fist. You’re catching up on Mindhunter with him, relaxed on the couch under a big fluffy blanket with your own beer. In between episodes Sam has been telling you all about the girl he’s been seeing, to which you demand you meet her for approval.

He rolls his eyes and asks, “Isn’t that my job?”

You scoff. “You’re my best friend, Sam, and as my best friend, I’ve got to make you’re taken care of just as much as you’re taking care of her.”

He grumbles under his breath but you can see a slight pinkness to his dark skin that makes you smirk in victory. A few moments of silence and then:

“So what about you and Neighbor Boy then? What’s going on there?” While your smirk drops, his widens. You take a long pull from your beer.

“Absolutely nothing, Sam.”

He snorts and gestures with his beer. “You have coffee dates almost every week!”

“He helps me put furniture together! There’s absolutely nothing but friendship there, I assure you.”

A doubtful look characterized by lowering of his eyebrows and pursed lips. A responding eye roll and scrunched up face, a silent don’t give me that look.

“Want another?” you ask, needing to busy yourself in order to keep your unusually attractive neighbor out of your head. Throwing the blanket off your lap, you stand up and accept the empty bottle Sam holds out to you.

If he notices that you take a little longer to fetch two more beers, he doesn’t say anything when you get back to the couch. He presses ‘play’ on the remote and the topic of your neighbor is dropped.

For an hour.

“So, you’re coming next Sunday for our football party right?” Sam asks.

Once a month during football season, Sam and Clint co-host a party at your brother’s apartment. You make your five-layer chip dip and Sam brings a massive amount of wings while Clint provides endless beer and a giant wrap-around couch that seats eight. (You’re still not sure how he fit the damn thing in his apartment.) To antagonize Clint and to make the day a little more fun, you and Sam always show up in your matching Patriots jerseys representing the McCourty twins.

“Of course I’ll be there! I never miss it!” you reply with an incredulous look. Sam holds up his hands.

“Hey, just wanted to make sure you didn’t have any new furniture that needed assembling that day.” He chortles when you chuck the throw pillow under your hip at him and nail him in the chest. “I’m kidding. Mostly. But, uh, I was gonna say, if you wanted to invite him, you could. Not as a date, don’t you throw that bottle! Jesus. Crazy. Just, Clint and I think he’s cool and it’d be cool to have another dude around.”

You watch him for a few moments, see no trace of his earlier teasing, and sigh and relax back into the couch. “I’ll think about it, okay?”

“All I ask.”

Sam, bless him, leaves you be about Bucky for the remainder of your evening together. When he’s gone, your mind can’t rest just yet, so you open up a new beer and put on a rerun of CSI. You’ll regret staying up so late in the morning, but for now, you let your mind get sucked into the emotional episode of Warrick’s funeral.

Regret is a bitter bitch, and the next morning it comes in the form of a prominent headache paired with under-eye bags your makeup barely hides. A three-hour binge of CSI definitely wasn’t your smartest move considering you’ve a fairly important meeting with Tony in about two hours. Hair tied back in a ponytail and makeup...done but slightly unsatisfactory, you slip into a black pencil skirt with a mustard blouse tucked in. Your feet slide into a pair of black pumps and you throw on a jacket to combat the cool October morning.

You know your face shows your exhaustion as you give yourself a final once over, but there’s not much you can do short of downing copious amounts of coffee. Tote bag slung over your shoulder, you head out of your apartment with a sigh. As you’re locking your door, the one next to yours opens, and Bucky steps out looking ten kinds of delicious in his running gear, tattoos on full display thanks to his tight tank top.

You grunt when he tells you good morning, chuckles good-naturedly until he sees your eyes. Then he’s frowning in concern and you’re almost desperate to do anything to wipe it off. Such a man should not be frowning.

“Did you get any sleep last night?” he asks, falling into step with you towards the elevator. You resist the urge to rub your eyes in order to preserve your makeup.

“Not really. Sam stayed till about ten and then I stayed up a little while longer. Guess I just couldn’t fall asleep.” To punctuate your sentence, a long yawn escapes. Bucky stands next to you in the elevator, close enough you can feel the heat radiating from him and it’s wholly distracting. “And I have a meeting in a couple hours and I’m not really sure how I’m going to get through it without dozing a few hundred times. Know anyone who can hook me up with a caffeine IV?”

He laughs, the sound echoing in the small space, and despite the warmth and your jacket you still suppress a shiver.

“I’m afraid not. Hey, do you have a few minutes? We can go get a cup now, if you want,” he offers, blue eyes boring into yours, and you nod before you can really think about it. His smile brightens up the entire elevator, and then he’s leading you with a hand on your back out into the lobby and finally out onto the street.

He takes you to a place between your apartment building and the subway, stands with his hands in his pockets as you both wait in line. Sam’s invite bounces around in your head, your nerves expressing themselves in the form of tapping your fingers on your arms, which are crossed over your chest.

Bucky and you order your respective drinks and he reaches into his pocket for his wallet. Your hand on his arm stops him, has him looking down at you with those depthless blue eyes.

“I’ve got it,” you say softly with a small smile. He opens his mouth, no doubt to protest, but you merely hand over some cash to the cashier. “You’ve helped me a ton this past month. Let me at least start paying you back with coffee.”

The blush that overtakes his face has your insides fluttering with giddiness. You have to bite your lip to keep back your grin, your entire body warming over the fact you’ve made this beautiful giant of a man blush. As the two of you stand off to the side and wait for your orders, you feel a small boost in confidence.

“Hey Bucky, I was wondering—” You’re cut off by the shrill ringing of his phone. He sighs and pulls the device from his pocket, and if you hadn’t been eyeing him so closely, you’d miss the slight downward twitch of his mouth.

“Excuse me just one sec okay?” he says apologetically. When he looks up at you, you know he means it and you nod. He smiles tightly and walks off down the small hallway that leads to the bathrooms, accepting the call with a hushed “Hi”.

You wait patiently until the barista calls your name and Bucky’s, and you grab both cups and sip lightly from yours while Bucky’s on his call. You can see him in the hall, shoulders hunched and free hand swinging about as he gestures. That pinched look is on his face again and you feel a faint tug in your gut that has you wondering if you’re close enough friends to ask.

Before you can decide one way or another, he’s pulling his phone from his ear and shoving it back in his pocket.

“Sorry about that,” he sighs, accepting the coffee you hand to him with a close-lipped smile. He takes a long drink from it, wincing a little at the burn, and licks his top lip. It’s horribly distracting for a minute. “What were you going to ask me?”

“Oh, um, I was just wondering if you maybe—oh shit.” A quick glance down at your watch shows you’re going to be late if you wait any longer. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to get going otherwise Tony’s going to kill me with his newest project. Um, I’ll see you later?”

Bucky’s blue eyes are slightly widened in surprise at your sudden departure. “Y-Yeah, definitely. Maybe you can tell me about this new project.” It’s said with a wink that tickles your insides.

“Maybe. If I’m not sworn to secrecy. Bye, Bucky!”

“Have a good day at work. And thanks for the coffee!” he calls out as you fly out of the cafe.

Your exhaustion only worsens as the day goes on. The meeting you’d sat in on was nothing short of boring—even Tony dozed off a few times, but only you’d taken notice because you were seated beside him and heard the tiny little snores. Your planner had been filled with new doodles of suns, clouds, flowers, and a tiny little witch in the margins. You’re still unsure why you’d been required to attend this meeting; you have a pile of things on your desk that could have been done in the two hours you sat uncomfortably in your chair, listening to the other tech geniuses go back and forth on new design ideas.

By the time it’s time for you to leave, you feel dead on your feet, which are cramping in your shoes. Your neck, shoulders, and back are also killing you due to sitting in your chair and hunching over the screen built into your desk. The subway ride home has you almost falling asleep, lulled by the gentle swaying of the car and the four hours’ sleep you got the night before.

It’s a slow climb to your apartment, and as you pass Bucky’s door you hesitate. You never did get to ask him this morning and so, because you’re too damn tired to be shy, you turn and knock three times on his door. From behind the wood you can make out a scuffle, and then the door is yanked open and your mouth runs dry.

Bucky stands before you, shirtless and gleaming with sweat. He’s breathless, that broad chest heaving up and down. There’s a smattering of dark hair across his chest and beneath his navel that disappears into the band of his shorts. The hair on his head is mussed, as if he’d been sleeping or hand run his hands through it.

“Y/N,” he gasps. Crimson creeps up his neck and across his chest, stains his cheeks as well as he avoids looking at your eyes. He glances over his shoulder briefly before turning back to you, eyes cast down at the neckline of your blouse. “Wha-What are you, um, doing here?”

“I, uh, wanted to ask you if you wanted to come to my brother’s with me for the football game on Sunday?” you ask in an equally breathless rush.

Bucky seems surprised by the question and is about to answer when a second, female voice calls from behind him, “James?”

A blonde head appears over his shoulder and the slender woman tucks herself under Bucky’s arm, looking equally as disheveled. You feel the color drain from your face even though it warms under the implication that you've...interrupted. There’s no question of what they’d been, or had about to have been, doing because the blonde’s hair is ruffled just like Bucky’s, her full lips red and kiss-bitten. Her blouse is untucked and unbuttoned.

You can’t take your eyes off her, nor she you as she lays a manicured hand on Bucky’s chest, a universal female power move that says he’s mine.

Bucky looks as awkward as you feel, shifting from bare foot to bare foot even as his hand rests on the woman’s shoulder. He clears his throat and gestures with his free hand to the woman, whose eyes have not left your form and are currently on their third sweep of your entire figure.

“Uh, Y/N, this is Sharon.”

“His girlfriend,” Sharon interjects. A sideways tilt of her lips that you know means no good. She reaches out with that manicured hand for yours and you shake it quickly, dropping it as if it’s burned you.

In a way, it has. It’s burned you so badly on the inside that you want nothing more than to duck into your apartment with your tail between your legs. You can feel the flames licking at your gut, sliding up your esophagus to singe your throat. It’s bitter, the burn, and it puts a pressure in your throat and behind your eyes.

“Sharon, this is Y/N, our new neighbor I was telling you about.” He won’t look at you, focusing instead on the blank wall just over your shoulder.

His sudden refusal to look at you pairs badly with your embarrassment, from both interrupting and for ever thinking you might have a chance, and you wish the floor would open up and swallow you whole.

Chapter Four

[melpomenelamusa]

Mousetrap - Chimeras

~Special Chapter~

WoW´s Birthday Whump Event DAY 3: Using themselves as bait

CW: Using themselves as bait.

A/N: These stories are non-canon, take them as an AU if you want ;)

The truth was that Elafi didn't want to be there, standing in front of that house in the middle of the night.

Warrick had agreed to help with a special assignment from the Hunters’ Association, which involved stopping a couple of particularly dangerous poachers who had been causing trouble in that part of town. They had tracked down their residence, but they didn’t know how to find solid evidence to call the police and have them arrested. They needed to catch them red-handed.

That’s when Elafi had the brilliant idea to offer himself as bait.

“No,” Warrick said firmly.

“I’ll be fine,” Elafi had tried to convince him. “If we don’t do anything, more forest animals will be in danger. Chimera children might even become victims too.”

It had been difficult, but in the end, Warrick agreed. Although at first, Elafi had felt excited and confident, the truth was that now he was terrified. He knew that Warrick, other members of the Hunters’ Association, and even the police were somewhere nearby, watching over him. They had placed a tiny microphone and a hidden mini-camera in his clothes, so they should be able to act immediately at the slightest sign of danger. At least, that was what Elafi hoped.

He walked nervously toward the house’s door, and the teen couldn’t help but feel like prey voluntarily stepping into the predator’s den. After a few moments of hesitation, he knocked on the door and mentally prepared himself to put all his acting skills to use.

Footsteps could be heard, and soon after, a man peeked through the small opening of the door, which was slightly ajar due to the chain lock.

“Please, help me!” Elafi cried, trying to appear as desperate and frightened as possible. “Someone is chasing me! They want to hurt me! Please, let me hide here!”

The man looked him up and down, from his hooves to his antlers. His previously indifferent gaze shifted to one of interest. He shut the door, unlatched the chain, and then opened it again.

“Come in, kid,” he said in a rough voice.

Every instinct in Elafi’s mind screamed at him to run away, but he forced himself to move forward. The door shut behind him. He felt his heart pounding against his chest and his breathing quicken. Good, he told himself, at least my fear will make this act more convincing.

They were in a small, minimalist living room with few pieces of furniture, all of them simple.

“You look shaken up, kid,” the man said, placing a hand on Elafi’s shoulder and guiding him toward the couch. “Sit down, I’ll get you a glass of water.”

Elafi obeyed. After a moment, the man returned with a woman. Both of them radiated an aura of complete distrust in the deer-boy’s eyes.

“Here,” the woman said, handing him a glass of water. Elafi held it with both hands but didn’t drink.

“Th-thank you,” he said, watching the suspicious pair in front of him.

“You’re a chimera child,” the woman said. “What are you doing out alone at this hour of the night?”

“I-I… S-some strange men broke into my house and tried to kidnap me. I’ve been running ever since, looking for a place to hide and lose them.”

“And your parents, kid?” the man asked.

Elafi frowned and pressed his lips together.

“They’re traveling. I was home alone. I-I think those men had been watching me!”

“Did you call the police?”

“I tried, but… there’s not much the police are willing to do for a chimera child.”

The couple listened intently, their eyes fixed on him. Elafi felt uncomfortable, as if their gazes were making his skin itch. Once he finished his fake story, the two exchanged glances.

“Poor thing,” the woman said, placing a hand on her chest. “Don’t worry, you can stay here as long as you need. Come, I’ll show you to a room where you can sleep.”

Elafi followed the woman down a small hallway to a simple, empty room, except for a wardrobe, a bed, and a nightstand with a lamp.

“Are you hungry?” she asked. The boy shook his head.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Drink your water, you must be dehydrated,” the woman said, gesturing to the glass in Elafi’s hands. “For now, just rest.”

And with those final words, she shut the door.

Elafi stayed in the room for a moment, trying to calm his nerves. He placed the glass of water on the nightstand and sat on the mattress. After a while, he stood up and began searching the room for any clues or evidence of the poachers’ illegal activities. The drawers in the furniture were empty, but inside the wardrobe, he found a metal cage for animals. He also checked under the mattress and found a bag filled with stacks of money.

Will this be enough evidence for Warrick and the Association? he wondered.

He walked back to the door and found that it was locked from the outside. The room had no windows, so he was trapped. He tried not to panic. He lay down on the bed, not knowing what else to do. At some point, he must have dozed off, because he woke up when he heard the creaking of wood, indicating that the door had opened.

The lights were off, making it impossible to see the silhouette approaching him. He sat up, rubbing his eyes.

“Warrick?” he said softly.

That was when a body lunged at him, pinning him against the mattress. Elafi tried to scream, but a hand with a damp cloth, carrying a strong sweet scent, pressed against his nose and mouth, silencing him. He struggled, unable to push his attacker off. The smell soon clouded his senses, and terror filled him just before he lost consciousness completely.

Taglist: @scoundrelwithboba @morning-star-whump @lancedoncrimsonwings @3-2-whump. @whumped-by-glitter @string-of-broken-hearts @alyscat @oddsconvert @what-if-i-just-did @bacillusinfection @writinglittlepains @washing---machine @bilightningwhumper @enasolos @inhurtandincomfort

Should I continue this? 🤔 Thanks for reading!!

[ilkkawhat]

wip game

tagged by @midwrites 💜 figured since I had a two day weekend and to remind myself of how much I still have in the tank, this might be a good idea--if anything just for my own organizational and reflective purposes

rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and interests you and i’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it! 

(and feel free to consider yourself tagged if you wanted to do this my lovely writer friends!)

A Dream

About the Same

Agony Part II

Augury

Avalanched Nick?

DaltonStokes

Dream Warrick Lived

First Flight

Fortunate Son

Found

Good Lesson

“Hey, Gil

CSI Western AU

Innocence is Gone

Karma

Laughter Lines

Macgyver AU

In the Woods Somewhere

Post Meat Jekyll Ficlet

Paralyzer

Serpentine

Sheltered Truths

SHOCK WAVES WORD VOMIT

Specimen Stokes

The Pancho Problem

Thunder Box

Post GD Reflections