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fandomweekly2025-02-02 03:56 pm
m_findlow) wrote in fandomweekly2025-02-02 03:56 pm
Entry tags:
[#248] SOMETHING FISHY (TORCHWOOD)
Theme Prompt: #248- Mermaids
Title: Something fishy
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: M(minor bad language)
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: Owen isn’t sure if he can trust his own eyes or if he’s just drunk.
Owen’s mind and body were hovering somewhere between blissful and disoriented. He’d been on one of his weeknight benders – the kind that broke up the monotony of a slow week, tempered by a lack of sex life. Tonight hadn’t provided any relief in the latter category. Wednesdays were only for the desperados, the kinds of women that were so undateable that even a completely intoxicated Owen wouldn’t take advantage. Of course, Owen never considered himself to be in the same category of Wednesday night drinkers; it was just everyone else that was sad and pathetic.
He tripped over his own feet and cursed the clumsy act as he teetered down the road. He wasn’t that drunk, or was he? How many beers had he had before turning to something stronger? He tried to do the math in his head and came up with a blurred recollection that would probably only be answered properly by counting what cash he had left in his wallet. He patted his pocket, making sure he actually still had his wallet. The firm bulge of credit cards and fake ID cards confirmed it, so that was something at least.
He stumbled a little way further along the road, wondering when the council were ever going to get around to putting in enough street lights so that someone could actually see where they were going. For now it was one murky pool of orange sodium glow flanked by a hundred yards of pitch black, on a road that ran alongside the River Taff. On a moonless night like tonight, it was a wonder more people didn’t end up straying from the road, towards the embankment and down into the water. He made sure to pick his way a little more carefully so that he didn’t become one of those statistics.
‘Ninety nine bottles of beer on the bar…’ Owen sang softly under his breath, still trying to recount the ones he'd drunk as he left the relative safety of the latest pool of streetlight. As he staggered along he heard a splashing sound coming from the river off to his right. At first he barely reacted to the sound. Bloody kids, he muttered. Probably stoned and chucking car tyres in the river for fun. That sort of thing was commonplace around these parts. There was another splash and he waited for the unintelligent giggles of young men, followed by “Nice one!”, “D’you see that , butt?” and “fucking mint, that was!” but there were no voices and no sounds of feet escaping the scene of their anarchy.
Another loud splashing noise made him squint to refocus on the dark patch of water ahead, risking leaving the road for the slippery grass embankment. Best guess was that some silly sod had gone and sipped all the way in. He didn't fancy joining them.
‘Hullo?’ he called out, trying to discern the ripples of a person trying to stay afloat from the ripples of a slow moving river making its way towards the bay. ‘D’you need help?’ he yelled out, still unable to figure out the exact spot where the noise was coming from.
His sneaker slid out from under him on a bit of damp grass and he landed hard on his backside, cursing the sudden pain, though grateful that was the extent of his slide. The landing changed the direction of his body, and there, not far away he finally spotted the swimmer. There were no failing arms or cries for help and Owen had to blink twice, unsure what to make of it.
It wasn’t human, at least as far as he could tell. It was more like a giant fish, with a long tail that slapped the water as it moved up and down against the current. It couldn't be a fish though. It had shoulders and arms and a head that surfaced briefly and then disappeared back into the water.
‘Oi!’ he called out, moving down the embankment on his buttocks to get as close to the water’s edge as he could. He couldn't be imagining he was seeing something that looked half human and half fish. He was inebriated but he still had wits enough to know it had to be alien, whatever it was. ‘Oi!’ he yelled again, unable to get any reaction to his presence.
‘Who’s there?’ A voice yelled back, loud and American and Owen groaned. He knew that voice anywhere.
‘Down ‘ere!’ Owen yelled back, searching the darkness above him as two silhouettes came into view.
‘Owen?’ Jack asked, seemingly confused by his presence. ‘What are you doing here?’
Owen pointed stupidly at the river. ‘Alien mermaid fish… thing,’ he said, wishing his words didn't sound so slurred.
‘God, he’s absolutely blotto,’ came Ianto’s clipped Welsh accent.
A disappointed grunt escaped Jack's lips. ‘Well, not much good to us then, is he? Anything on the scanner?’
‘Well, this is the right spot,’ Ianto replied. ‘It could very well be in the river.’
‘S’no use,’ Owen replied. ‘Been calling out but it ignored me.’
Jack smirked. ‘That’s only because you don’t know how to talk to it properly.’ Jack knelt on the grass and leaned forward, dunking his whole head straight into the river where it stayed for a disturbingly long time before he pulled it back out, water dripping from his hair into the collar of his coat. He looked ridiculously pleased with himself. ‘All sorted. It got confused by the tidal nature of the river. It’ll head back for open water.’
Owen felt his head spin at the insanity of it all. He couldn’t even fathom how Jack knew the language.
‘That's it?’ Ianto asked.
‘Well, they don’t make good pets. And they have a habit of seducing human men to breed with them. It's for the best.’ Jack shook himself off like a wet dog. ‘Another night’s good work. Now, go home and get some sleep, and don't you dare come to work tomorrow complaining of a hangover.’
Title: Something fishy
Fandom: Torchwood
Rating/Warnings: M(minor bad language)
Bonus: Yes
Word Count: 1,000 words
Summary: Owen isn’t sure if he can trust his own eyes or if he’s just drunk.
Owen’s mind and body were hovering somewhere between blissful and disoriented. He’d been on one of his weeknight benders – the kind that broke up the monotony of a slow week, tempered by a lack of sex life. Tonight hadn’t provided any relief in the latter category. Wednesdays were only for the desperados, the kinds of women that were so undateable that even a completely intoxicated Owen wouldn’t take advantage. Of course, Owen never considered himself to be in the same category of Wednesday night drinkers; it was just everyone else that was sad and pathetic.
He tripped over his own feet and cursed the clumsy act as he teetered down the road. He wasn’t that drunk, or was he? How many beers had he had before turning to something stronger? He tried to do the math in his head and came up with a blurred recollection that would probably only be answered properly by counting what cash he had left in his wallet. He patted his pocket, making sure he actually still had his wallet. The firm bulge of credit cards and fake ID cards confirmed it, so that was something at least.
He stumbled a little way further along the road, wondering when the council were ever going to get around to putting in enough street lights so that someone could actually see where they were going. For now it was one murky pool of orange sodium glow flanked by a hundred yards of pitch black, on a road that ran alongside the River Taff. On a moonless night like tonight, it was a wonder more people didn’t end up straying from the road, towards the embankment and down into the water. He made sure to pick his way a little more carefully so that he didn’t become one of those statistics.
‘Ninety nine bottles of beer on the bar…’ Owen sang softly under his breath, still trying to recount the ones he'd drunk as he left the relative safety of the latest pool of streetlight. As he staggered along he heard a splashing sound coming from the river off to his right. At first he barely reacted to the sound. Bloody kids, he muttered. Probably stoned and chucking car tyres in the river for fun. That sort of thing was commonplace around these parts. There was another splash and he waited for the unintelligent giggles of young men, followed by “Nice one!”, “D’you see that , butt?” and “fucking mint, that was!” but there were no voices and no sounds of feet escaping the scene of their anarchy.
Another loud splashing noise made him squint to refocus on the dark patch of water ahead, risking leaving the road for the slippery grass embankment. Best guess was that some silly sod had gone and sipped all the way in. He didn't fancy joining them.
‘Hullo?’ he called out, trying to discern the ripples of a person trying to stay afloat from the ripples of a slow moving river making its way towards the bay. ‘D’you need help?’ he yelled out, still unable to figure out the exact spot where the noise was coming from.
His sneaker slid out from under him on a bit of damp grass and he landed hard on his backside, cursing the sudden pain, though grateful that was the extent of his slide. The landing changed the direction of his body, and there, not far away he finally spotted the swimmer. There were no failing arms or cries for help and Owen had to blink twice, unsure what to make of it.
It wasn’t human, at least as far as he could tell. It was more like a giant fish, with a long tail that slapped the water as it moved up and down against the current. It couldn't be a fish though. It had shoulders and arms and a head that surfaced briefly and then disappeared back into the water.
‘Oi!’ he called out, moving down the embankment on his buttocks to get as close to the water’s edge as he could. He couldn't be imagining he was seeing something that looked half human and half fish. He was inebriated but he still had wits enough to know it had to be alien, whatever it was. ‘Oi!’ he yelled again, unable to get any reaction to his presence.
‘Who’s there?’ A voice yelled back, loud and American and Owen groaned. He knew that voice anywhere.
‘Down ‘ere!’ Owen yelled back, searching the darkness above him as two silhouettes came into view.
‘Owen?’ Jack asked, seemingly confused by his presence. ‘What are you doing here?’
Owen pointed stupidly at the river. ‘Alien mermaid fish… thing,’ he said, wishing his words didn't sound so slurred.
‘God, he’s absolutely blotto,’ came Ianto’s clipped Welsh accent.
A disappointed grunt escaped Jack's lips. ‘Well, not much good to us then, is he? Anything on the scanner?’
‘Well, this is the right spot,’ Ianto replied. ‘It could very well be in the river.’
‘S’no use,’ Owen replied. ‘Been calling out but it ignored me.’
Jack smirked. ‘That’s only because you don’t know how to talk to it properly.’ Jack knelt on the grass and leaned forward, dunking his whole head straight into the river where it stayed for a disturbingly long time before he pulled it back out, water dripping from his hair into the collar of his coat. He looked ridiculously pleased with himself. ‘All sorted. It got confused by the tidal nature of the river. It’ll head back for open water.’
Owen felt his head spin at the insanity of it all. He couldn’t even fathom how Jack knew the language.
‘That's it?’ Ianto asked.
‘Well, they don’t make good pets. And they have a habit of seducing human men to breed with them. It's for the best.’ Jack shook himself off like a wet dog. ‘Another night’s good work. Now, go home and get some sleep, and don't you dare come to work tomorrow complaining of a hangover.’
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Thanks for sharing 💖💖💖
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