flopsy_cotton - where Jack Rabbits come to breed!

flopsy_cotton @ 2009-08-04T15:20:00

2009-08-04T05:36:31Z

So, I am going to this on September 5th, and you have no idea how excited I am, really.
Naturally, I have to ask, is anyone else going?
Alternately, if you aren't, we need a Sydney meetup anyway. We hosted the world premiere, so I know there must be plenty of GQMF's in our fair city. Surely we can come up with something, right?

EDIT: Yay for interest!

Okay, so as for ideas of actual things to do, I have a rough list. Feel free to tell me if my ideas suck and you can think of something infinitely more GQ.
I'd suggest meeting up somewhere in the city for coffee or some such, which means we can sit about/squee/od on caffeine before moving onto whatever else we choose to do.
A visit to the opera house is in order since it became the worlds most GQMF building as of April (and looks like the starfleet insignia, thanks C.Pine) and makes a nice background for fannish shenanigans. Also, Galaxy Books for Star Trek/other sci-fi things to spend money on.

I'm also putting forward Saturday the 22nd of August as a potential date, but I'm open to alternatives.

Resource List

2008-01-11T06:35:06Z

A (long!) list of those places I often find myself while writing.

General Fandom

Fan Fiction Dictionary - Your Guide to Fanspeak
Mary Sue - An Explaination
150 Years of Mary Sue
The Big List of Fanfic Peeves

Doctor Who

BBC - Official Doctor Who Website
List of Doctor Who Tie-In Websites
Myspace - Martha Jones
Doctor Who Wiki
Doctor Who Transcripts [2005+]
Doctor Who Manifesto's at ship_manifesto

Torchwood

BBC - Official Torchwood Website
Note official website not available outside the UK
Torchwood System Interface
Series One Transcripts
Torchpedia
Torchpedia.co.uk is a Torchwood database being built as a collaborative community project by members of various Torchwood fan sites.
tw_research
Torchwood.org.uk 2006-2007
- An extra not found on the text-only website. (Friends Only)
Still Got That Stopwatch at ship_manifesto

Britpicking, Americanisms, etc

The English to American Dictionary
American and British Speling Variations
British Slang Glossary
Horrid Americanisms
This mainly focuses on the Harry Potter fandom, but is equally useful in any british fandom.
An Introduction to Britain
Again, mainly focuses on the Harry Potter Fandom, but is equally useful in any british fandom.
Project Britain
An introduction to british life and culture.

Grammar, Punctuation and Other Things You Should Know

Characterizaton and Body Language
Anachronisms and Other Sins
Finding Unusual Ways to Describe Emotions
Rules for Writing Numbers
Common Errors in English

The Human Body and Sex

The Human Body Online
The Erotic Thesaurus
Sex Talk Archive
Sex Tips for Slash Writers
How to Write a Sex Scene
The Art of the Sex Scene

flopsy_cotton @ 2007-12-03T17:18:00

2007-12-03T06:29:49Z

Title: The Doctor Drinks (and Dances)
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Sadly enough, I will not be recieving the exclusive rights to the show come December 25th.
Summary: In which Martha discovers a thing or two about the Doctor and still comes up second best.
Prompts: 1) Pocobrita--the celebration of the dawning of a planet's littlest sun--it looks like the size of a tennis ball because it is so far away, but it rises every ten years and there is much rejoicing.
2) Reference to or contact with a well-known historic or public figure.
Authors Notes: For the lifeonmartha holiday ficafest. Crack with an alcoholic centre. Un-beta'd. All insanity completely my own!

‘What is it?’ Martha asked eyeing the glass suspiciously as the Doctor poured a large measure of violent pink liquid into it.

‘Hyper - er, something. Drink up!’ He grinned and downed his own glass in one, smacking his lips.

‘Sorry, explain this to me again?’ She stared at her still full glass and up at the Doctor who sighed and leant against the rail.

‘Martha, if you can’t enjoy a real proper alien party - just like you wanted mind you - then I’ve half a mind to take you straight back to the TARDIS and go somewhere I’ll enjoy’ He rolled his eyes and poured himself another measure of the pink liquid.

‘Oh, and where would you rather be?’ She retorted, feeling testy. He took a long sip of his drink and seemed to be thinking long and hard.

‘Jane Austen’ He announced finally. ‘And... and! I bet she’d love to come to the festival of Pocobrita and drink alcohol with me and dance and we could talk about literature or... or... or...’ He trailed off and took another sip.

Martha stared at him for a moment before she lifted the glass to her lips and drained the entire contents, shivering as the fumes filled her head and she felt herself speeding towards inebriation.

‘That’ She finally managed to say ‘tastes like bleach’ the Doctor grinned and filled her glass again..

‘Just you wait, what comes next is even funner-er...’ He hiccuped and giggled and tried say the sentence again, eventually giving in and pouring the last of the bottle into his glass.

‘You’re drunk!’ She squealed with delight, as he seemed to lose control of his legs and fell heavily onto the railing.

‘Course not! I don’t get drunk, me!’ He lifted his full glass to her empty one and clinked them hard, splashing most of the contents of his down his front. ‘Merry Christmas!’

‘S’not christmas’ She replied, smiling at his crestfallen face.

‘Oh, no. I s’pose it’s not’ He sighed sadly and finished the glass, setting it down on the tray of the closest waiter.

‘See that Martha!’ He pointed to a bright light in the sky which seemed to be the cause of much hysterical cheering from the crowds below.

‘It’s just a star...’ She trailed off at his stern look.

‘That star... is like... whoosh, bang... brilliant!’ He gestured wildly with his hands for some time before leaning back on the railing, apparently defeated.

‘More drink’ Martha said sternly, and quickly enough discovered a bottle in her hand, this time blue, and disturbingly enough, smoking.

‘Oh! Oh, I love this one!’ The Doctor grabbed her hand and pulled her on to the dance floor, where he engaged in a rather undignified rendition of the macarena, stopping only to laugh loudly and steal gulps from the smoking bottle still in her hand.

‘Doctor... Doctor, I can’t feel my legs’ She was well aware of the rising panic in her voice but seemed unable to engage her brain to feel any other kind of emotion besides pleasantly fuzzy. She supposed somewhere she must be worried, judging by the hysteria in her words.

‘Not to worry, Perfectly normal... uh, just wait a moment’ He spluttered and promptly fell over.

Holding his arms up in a gesture that suggested he needed no help, he eventually struggled to his feet again, swaying dangerously until Martha caught him and held his waist tightly.

She was just considering the the prickling in her toes and whether or not getting to the TARDIS was a foreseeable event in the near future when the Doctor planted a sloppy kiss on her mouth.

‘You taste like vomit’ She told him, in the kindest way possible. He smiled at her, eyes out of focus.

‘I threw up a little bit!’ This, he seemed to find hysterically funny and Martha was suddenly aware of just how much alcohol he must have ingested during the course of the night. She wasn’t what might be considered an expert on Gallifreyan biology, but he seemed to be blissfully unaware of anything, or indeed anyone around him besides herself.

‘Come-on you!’ She told him sternly and wobbly weaved her way back through the crowd towards the TARDIS, holding his hand tightly as he stumbled along beside her.

‘I love parties! Love love love em! Oooh! Nibblies! He launched himself at a nearby fountain, and before she could stop him, had dunked his head in the icy water.

‘Right’ He said pleasantly, after resurfacing. ‘Tea. just the thing to clear the synapses’ And with a wonky smile started towards the TARDIS.

They reached the door, and he pulled out his key, turning to her without putting it in the lock.

‘That much alcohol is not healthy. Bit of an embarrasment, to tell the truth’ Then, clearly ignoring her protests and artful impression of a goldfish, stepped inside.

‘Hey!’

Phone Call

2007-11-06T06:22:28Z

Title: Phone Call
Prompt: #37 - Are you really listening?
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Spoilers: Casting spoiler for S2.
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 468
Summary: Jack recieves a phonecall. Ianto answers. Naughtiness ensues.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never has been, never will be.
A/N: Ooh, she's going to hell for this one! No matter, as long as it means my horrible writers block has been broken, or at least shifted slightly.

Prompt Table o'Doom

‘Hello?’ There’s a voice on the other end of the line, tired and impatient sounding and definitely not Jack. Martha startles from her reverie.

‘Hello?’ They’re asking again. No, he. He’s asking again.

‘Oh, sorry, hello! Is- Is Jack about?’ He on the other end makes a tutting noise and there are some thumping sounds that sound a lot like footsteps.

‘Just a minute’ She wonders if Jack’s gone and given her the number for Torchwood’s head office or something. That would be like him. Then again, the voice does sound distinctly welsh.

There’s a long pause and he’s back on the phone.

‘I’m sorry, Jack isn’t available at the moment. Can I take a messa-’ The sentence is cut of in a high-pitched squeak and the clatter of the phone being dropped.

‘S-sorry about that’ He on the other end says and she can hear his breath is hitched slightly.

‘Just let him know Martha rang okay? It’s about the offer we we’re discussing’ There’s the sound of a pen scratching and the deep breathing.

‘Sorry, what was the name again?’ His voice is tight like he’s trying to resist something.

‘Martha. Martha Jones. He knows me’ She adds quickly, as if it were in any doubt.

‘I’m sure he does’ She can’t help but notice there definitely seems to be something wrong with his ability to speak. Or perhaps his ability to breathe. He’s having difficulty with both apparently.

‘Listen, I don’t mean to pry, but are you okay? Only you seem a little uncomfortable...’ He responds with a squeak that sounds something like the word “fine”.

‘Sorry, but you really don’t sound well...’ He gasps slightly and there’s another clatter as the phone falls yet again. Then there’s a noise rather like the water being sucked out of the bathtub and Jack’s on the phone. She can almost hear him smiling.

‘Martha love, I’m sure Ianto appreciates your concern but he’s just fine, I promise’ There’s a muffled groan in the background and what sounds too much like flesh hitting flesh for Martha’s liking.

‘Wait a second! He just told me you were unavailable’ She suspects she will regret this sentence.

‘It’s rude to talk with your mouth full. Didn't your mother ever teach you that?’ The realisation hits Martha like a ton of bricks.

‘I don’t think that’s quite what my mother had in mind’ Jack is silent for a long moment and then seems to be so close to the phone she can hear his breath echoing down the line.

‘Listen, I’m gonna have to call you back okay?’ The phone goes dead with a resounding clunk, but not before she hears both men break into hysterical laughter.

She stares at the phone a full minute before she hangs up and starts packing.

set2music prompt table

2007-07-13T10:32:17Z

She's completely out of her mind, this one.

001.	You’re beautiful. A beautiful fucked up man.	002.	How did it end up like this? It was only a kiss.	003.	I want to hurt you just to hear you screaming my name.	004.	Living with me must have damn near killed you.	005.	I don’t want to be your good time, I don’t want to be your fall-back crutch anymore.
006.	It’s a bitch convincing people to like you.	007.	And if you care, Don’t let them know, Don’t give yourself away.	008.	I can understand how you’d be so confused. I don’t envy you.	009.	I told myself I won’t miss you.	010.	I’m a slow motion accident, lost in coffee rings and fingerprints.
011.	I don’t think you really meant it when you said you couldn’t love me.	012.	Though your lips are tempting, they’re the wrong lips.	013.	Pain sets in and I don't cry.	014.	Can’t remember when I last saw you laughing.	015.	Thought of you, Where you’d gone, Let the world spin madly on.
016.	In a voice you save for strangers, you read loudly from your book of lies.	017.	If you’d like to have a taste, I’ll let you.	018.	You say good things come to those who wait, Well I can’t wait.	019.	If nothing here has changed when I wake up tomorrow, I’m taking off.	020.	All the people I was kissing. Some are here and some are missing.
021.	My weakness is that I care too much.	022.	I chose to feel it and you couldn’t choose.	023.	We can beat them. Just for one day we can be heroes.	024.	I turned around and there you were, standing in front of me.	025.	Everyone harbours a secret hatred for the prettiest girl in the room.
026.	Your secret kiss of confidence was my escape.	027.	This won’t mean a thing come tomorrow, and that’s exactly how I’ll make it seem.	028.	I don’t know him anymore, there’s nothing where he used to lie.	029.	I think I made you up inside my head.	030.	Que sera sera.
031.	I don’t mean to make you excited. Except secretly, I do.	032.	I say yes, I feel wonderful tonight.	033.	I want to kiss you on the mouth and tell you I’m your biggest fan.	034.	I love it when we fight. It makes me think at least you still care.	035.	My hearts a tart, your bodys rent.
036.	I don't want to be adored for what I merely represent to you.	037.	Are you really listening? Phone Call	038.	Well here’s a good man and a pretty young girl trying to play together somehow.	039.	Nobody knows it, but you’ve got a secret smile.	040.	I want you to want me. I need you to need me.
041.	You’re one with the echoes of conversation. You’re one with the strangers you overheard.	042.	I want a girl who’s too sad to give a fuck.	043.	She’s beautiful. Exceptional. She doesn’t care.	044.	You’re a bad-hearted boy-trap, babydoll, but you’re... you’re so damn hot	045.	I said “What kind of man makes cappuchino?”
046.	I hate the way you can’t say no.	047.	I got your love letters, corrected the grammar and sent them back.	048.	So what if I like pretty things?	049.	If the answer is no, can I change your mind?	050.	I promise I'm not trying to make your life harder.

Stolen

2007-06-24T05:57:18Z

Title: Stolen
Rating: Well, there is smut, so lets give it a nice M.
Disclaimer: Mr Saxon wants you to know it belongs to him. So don’t get any ideas.
Summary: Yes, it was a supremely stupid idea...
Authors Notes: Just because it isn’t Doctor/Master doesn’t make it accpetable. This is exactly the sort of filth I don’t want to see! (But I make no apologies for writing it!)

His hand grips her throat.

Yes, it was a supremely stupid idea, looking back on it.

‘If you scream, be sure you will not live to take another breath’

She answers only by stomping on his left foot, as hard as she can, her current position not allowing for any more substantial attack.

His hand tightens briefly then loosens again.

‘Oh Theta, full of fire this one’

He keeps addressing this Theta, whomever they are. A sick commentary for an invisible witness to this bizarre show.

‘You choose well my old friend. Eye for a pretty girl. Pity you favour such... primitive creatures’ His empty hand caresses her cheek and she flinches away, only to be pulled roughly back by the hand still clasped around her throat.

‘And I suppose my wife is dead by now. No matter... For what have I here? A girl, young and fresh, perfect for satisfying my... earthly desires’ Her heart races, and yet in her ears she hears not it’s steady beat but the sound of drums, louder and louder. Da da da-dum, Da da da-dum...

‘What shall you think when you hear I have stolen her?’ He presses to her back, and she feels his breath against her neck in short, sharp bursts.

‘Miss Jones... Martha, is it?’ He kisses her neck gently, his lips startlingly cool against her hot skin. She fights to suppress the shiver of pleasure that runs down her spine, but too late, he sighs softly as she shudders against him.

‘You cannot know how long I have desired this Theta. Oh, to take from you the things you most value. Your ship, your youth... your friend. Like candy from a baby, as they say’ He spins her roughly, pulling her into passionate embrace, his hand never faltering in it’s grasp on her neck.

He tastes like time and death and she feels her body relax into his, feels him drift over her consciousness. She throws up doors, as the Doctor once taught her, and as he pushes on one she pushes back against him.

He breaks away, dark eyes reflecting back into her own. She notices the little honey coloured flecks in his irises and something inside her says these cannot be the eyes of a killer.

‘Oh Theta. the human has fallen in love!’ Her heart pounds inside her chest, a great warmth is building within her and she can feel the dampness behind her knees.

‘The human girl, in love with the time lord. But what's this? He loves another, nothing more but a child, trapped where he cannot reach her. Oh how he aches for her.
And you, my dear, you who love him more than any other and he who cannot see you. Tell me, how does it feel? Does it hurt? Does it break your heart? Your little human heart?’ His voice is low and dangerous and those eyes glitter with malice.

‘You are not alone, Martha Jones. As a wise woman once said, some things are worth having your heart broken for. So must we all suffer... for your Doctor is irresistible’

His hand moves to her shirt and long fingers stroke the warm curve of her breasts. She inhales sharply and he smiles happily.

‘Shall I take her Theta? Shall I show her my power, my majesty?’ His hand is roaming again, down, down to the waistband of her jeans, which serve to halt his progress, if only for a moment.

The button slides open with a resounding ‘pop’. She feels the denim settle low on her hips and watches as he regards her lacy underwear.

‘Oh I approve Miss Jones! Very, Very nice. My poor Theta doesn’t know what he’s missing out on!’

He turns her roughly again, so she cannot see his face, and tugs at the jeans so they pool at her ankles. She feels a slight thrill race through her, and quickly suppresses it, for the shame of what she knows is about to happen.

Still, his hand grips her throat.

And then she feels him, behind her, hard against her thigh. God, he must see what that does to her, how her body reacts to him, how it fills with a sudden ache for him.

‘Make a sound, and it will be the last you ever make’ He whispers to her ear and pushes her forward, over the expensive mahogany desk.

Jesus, she’s being shagged in Downing Street. By the PM no less. There’s a story to tell Tish. Not that she’ll ever believe it.

She gasps loudly at the first thrust. For a moment his hand tightens around her windpipe and she feels certain he means to kill her, but he chuckles softly and his grasp relaxes again.

On the second and third thrusts she struggles to remain silent, but the fourth draws a high-pitched squeak from her, and at the fifth she hisses through her teeth and pushes back against him, hard.

‘Oh, how hot she is Theta...’ He’s whispering, his free hand digging into hers, holding her against the desk.

‘So hot, these humans, so hot on the inside...’ He thrusts again and she feels her climax building, yet strangely, she does not feel ashamed as the voice inside tells her she should.

No, her body aches, her mind screams and she gasps his name as he pushes her over the edge and she falls, shuddering back to Earth.

A moment later she hears her own name echoed back as he surges forwards and her hips crash painfully against the desk.

Then, to her surprise he pulls away gently, kisses her shoulder softly as he helps her with her clothing.

‘I’m feeling... generous. I will let your Doctor and the good captain free. No joy in destroying the world if my fellow time lord and his merry band of humans aren’t there to try and stop me. Though, I do expect a proper effort next time, don’t disappoint me’ He finally releases his grasp on her throat and steps back from her. His eyes are wide, and he looks rather like a naughty schoolboy.

He takes her hand as he guides her to the door.

‘Do tell my dear friend Theta I’m awfully sorry, but I’m just such a naughty, naughty boy...’ The pieces fall into place and Martha sees the man in front of her for what he really is. The slick, suave, nasty piece of work that threatens to destroy her world and everyone in it.

‘Oh, and be sure to give him my compliments on his most excellent choice of companion...’

Dear Sir (3/?)

2007-06-11T10:21:11Z

Ianto's back, and Torchwood has gone to hell in a handbasket.

Title: Dear Sir (3/?)
Rating: Call it a PG. For the moment it isn't really, but it'll get there (and possibly further)
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood. I do however own a lovely coat just like Jack's, which unfortunately, doesn't count.
Warnings: Spoilers abound. Anything we've seen so far is fair game in my books.
Summary: In a man's letters his soul lies naked - Samuel Johnson

Part One
Part Two

Dear Sir,

God I hate you sometimes.

There’s fourteen Weevil babies. They look just like the adults, but even uglier, if that’s possible. The absolute definition of ‘a face only a mother could love’. Except, apparently even the mothers don’t love it. There were twenty six.

Gwen though they were cute till one took a chunk out of her arm. Owen fixed her up pretty quickly though. He’s better at being a doctor than being a boss.

I’m trying to remember the last time I slept. Wasting my valuable time writing a letter that’s never going to be read, to a man that may well be dead by now.

Tosh stopped coming in a fortnight ago. But don’t worry, she’s okay, I checked.

She’s in Swansea, and she promised to come back next week, if she hasn’t found something better.

The sad thing is, I think anything would be better than this place, which means there's a pretty real probability that we won’t see her here again. Or ever, come to think of it.

The coffee ran out three days ago and I haven’t managed to actually leave to get anymore. Gwen's sitting in the conference room eating sugar sachets. (Yes, just sugar sachets) and Owen disappeared and hour ago with one of the bottles you had in the safe. I can’t decide if I care or not.

Where the hell are you? We’re failing Jack. We can’t do this anymore.

Come home.

Ianto

message received 21:47 06.05
TO: i_jones@3.torchwood.org.uk
FROM: j_harkness@3.torchwood.org.uk Address cannot be verified
SUBJECT: Re:

Sorry.

Musings on a Miss Martha Jones

2007-05-31T12:00:59Z

Title: Musings on a Miss Martha Jones
Rating: G
Disclaimer: It was mine once, but then I woke up.
Warnings: Vauge spoilers for Human Nature. Nothing that will ruin it for you though.
Summary: She likes Martha. Musings from someone who rarely gets a voice.
Authors Note This leapt on me and refused to let go until I'd written it. Un-beta'd. As such, any mistakes are completely my own.

“There is something you must always remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think”
-Christopher Robin to Winnie the Pooh

She likes Martha.

Sweet little, soft little, special little Martha Jones.

Martha Jones entrusted with the life of one grumpy, surly, angsty but somehow likeable time-lord who’s gone and done something inconceivably stupid.

Martha whom always says hello, and always, always says good-bye and never forgets to give the console a nice stroke of appreciation.

Martha who simply accepted ‘bigger on the inside’ and ‘translates things inside your head’ and understands some things just are and shouldn’t be questioned.

Martha, who made him talk, who always seems to make him talk, even about the things that hurt the most.

Martha, who is making herself a place, but isn’t replacing anyone.

Martha, who will be a doctor one day, but for now puts up with a man who simply claims to be one.

Martha, who is hanging around because it’s worth it, who’s going to catch him when he jumps and who won’t take no for an answer.

Martha, who is constantly forgetting her place in 1913, but somehow scrapes by anyway.

Martha, who is healing ‘her Doctor’, though he won’t ever really be ‘her Doctor’

Martha, who can’t hear the words she whispers in her ear, or the gentle stroke on her consciousness, who can’t quite believe that metal and wood can be alive, or that it was woven into her mind the moment she set foot inside, but tries to understand regardless.

Martha, who doesn’t know it yet, but will one day be the girl who came before, the one who can’t be replaced and the one spoken of in revered tones.

Oh yes, she likes Martha very much indeed.

Time Lord Sexual Repression or How Rose Tyler Got Her Groove Back

2007-03-24T11:42:21Z

On the third day, the lord created crack!fic, and it was ~~good~~ fantastic.

Title: Time Lord Sexual Repression or How Rose Tyler Got Her Groove Back
Rating: You can't spell smut without an M, and this is just not cracky enough for an R anyway.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to Aunty Beeb. I just took them and bent them to my will.
Warnings: Crack. Crack crack crack, crackity crack. If you read past this point you seriously endanger your health. I cannot be held personally responsible for anyone who reads this at work, or snorts beverages through their nose. You have been warned.
Summary: Not your average Doomsday fixer-upper. The Doctor might have found Rose again, but she's not exactly what he's been expecting.

Pine. Definitely pine.

Oh you stupid great moron.

He rests his head against the door and wonders just what he might say to her.

He’d like to tell her that he loves her and he would really like to shag her until she’s lost the ability to ever move again, and maybe if she learnt how to do that thing from Omega, he’d be willing to cuddle her afterwards.

Logic tells him it’s a bad idea. He settles on a ‘long time no see’ but is rudely interrupted by a squeal from inside. He quickly decides it’s not a Rose Tyler squeal of climax™ but more like a Rose Tyler squeal of slight surprise™

That stupid scottish git beat him to it. Bastard. He’ll castrate him if he ever gets the chance.

She even has a boyfriend, imagine that! He’s a gangly scottish bloke who laughs too much and plays the Proclaimers incessantly at high volume. The neighbours don’t seem to care.

Smarmy Git.

God I’m good. Knew I could talk you out of it!

Of course, just as his left foot begins to respond to the command to walk away, the door is pulled open and he falls forward.

His glasses crunch in his front pocket and he discovers Rose Tyler has incredibly soft carpet.

‘Doctor?’ She sounds just the slightest bit surprised. No gasping, no tears, not even a ‘what the hell are you doing here?’ Nothing.

Lying face down in her carpet, he’s just a little disappointed.

‘Get up’ A foot collides with his ribs. Hard. He’s still not getting up. Like he’ll give her the pleasure of it. He’s going to make her suffer, going to draw it out, going to make her beg...

You seriously need to get out more...

She sighs then. That’s more like it. He rolls onto his back, so as to observe this event.

Bloody hell, he can see right up her negligee. Lucky she’s wearing underwear tonight. Well, he can still the underside of her breasts, all milky and smooth, but he’s not sure it’s the best time to mention that.

The look on her face confirms it. On her face framed by brunette bangs. Her face framed by brunette bangs and a large purple hickey on her neck.

Kill him. Just kill him now and be over with it.

‘Enjoying the view?’ The look on her face might kid him into believing she’s actually annoyed with him, but she doesn’t sound annoyed at all. Not happy, but not annoyed.

It’s a start.

She turns and wanders off now, towards what careful observation has told him is the kitchen. She’s clicked the kettle, and he can hear her banging about looking for a mug. She’s got her own, and the scottish gits got his own, and god knows if she’s got another one.

Oh no. He hadn’t thought of that.

‘Who are you then?’ The gits standing over him, smiling down, and horrifyingly enough he can see up those things he calls shorts too.

That gives him incentive to stand up.

‘Spare mugs above the crockery luv’ he calls out, and the thumping stops. The Doctor swears in gallifreyan, and the scottish git smiles in a way that causes a desperate desire for face-punching.

Steady now...

It’s a sort of nice living room. Bit small, but he wouldn’t expect the scottish git to get her anything better on his measly pay. There are ten-thousand photos of the two of them smiling and hugging and kissing, and another thousand of Jackie and Pete and their 36 other children.

Also it smells like Pot Pourri.

He wonders briefly if the scottish git actually owns any kilts, and then remembers there's a couple in the TARDIS wardrobe. He might try them on when he gets back. Quite likes the idea of a healthy breeze about his privates.

You think that's gonna happen you got another thing coming!

the scottish git’s still smiling. It’s like his face is stuck that way.

Rose comes back with three cups of tea and parks herself on the overly pouffy lounge. The scottish git sinks in next to her and wraps himself around her in a way that looks disturbingly like the act of sexual intercourse on a planet he distinctly remembers Jack enjoying far too much.

He sits down on the edge of the other lounge and is immediately sucked into it, his rear caught in the giant pouffy clutches of the maroon monster.

The tea tastes like shit too. One of those herbal things that’s supposedly 100% natural, but contains just enough crap within that you might be forced to spontaneously regurgitate your own stomach.

If you happened to be a time-lord anyway.

Still, he takes a sip and tries not to spit it on the amazingly soft cream carpet. It really is soft. He’d shag Rose on that carpet. Course, she probably thinks she has the Most Awesome Sex Ever™ with scottish git, so maybe not.

Do you ever think about anything besides shagging her?

‘This is ........... by the way’ He smiles to himself that the TARDIS manages to make it sound as if she’s saying ‘scottish git who can’t ever sexually satisfy me like you...’ He reminds himself to give the console an extra-hard stroke later.

‘So how’d you get back here then? You said it was impossible didn’t you?’ The scottish git nods enthusiastically. Probably she’s told him the whole story numerous times.

He wants to tell her how difficult it was, that it involved advanced quantum physics, two wormholes and a large amount of sweat blood and tears. (Which took some time to clean off the floor and the smell never really faded).

But instead he goes with ‘mumble.... ‘s complicated....mumble’ And although the scottish git looks terribly disappointed, Rose seems satisfied with that answer and takes another sip of her tea.

Time drags on forever in painful silence. He comes to the point where he thinks all hope may be lost, and his eyes slip out of focus slightly, so he might be forgiven if he was completely consumed by the chair.

Then Rose begins to giggle and scottish git begins to make ‘coo’ noises and the Doctor forces himself to look up at them.

Oh for the love of god no!

They’re snuggling. And embracing. And whatever else humans do when they’re in the painful and highly embarrassing state know as Love™.

He thinks he might be sick, but they notice when he starts choking on his own spittle, and scottish git takes it upon himself to perform the Heimlich Manoeuvre despite his shouts of ‘No! I’m fine, honestly!’

Rose sighs at her big strong manly scottish git and the Doctor once again avoids the desire to have face and fist relations.

But then they’re attached again, and Rose keeps making little sighing noises that he wishes he could make her make, and he really wants to leave as soon as possible, but things are preventing him from doing so.

Like Rose’s left nipple peeking out over its lace cage to wink at him.

Down boy. Just walk away, and it can all be over with

He makes an involuntary squeaking noise and almost simultaneously Rose makes an ‘ooooh’ noise and part of him literally blooms towards her.

He takes that as his cue to leave.

Later, he supposes, Rose must have heard the door slam or perhaps she noticed the cup of cold tea thrown at her as he fled the room. It doesn’t matter in the end, cause she follows him out onto the street and he tries to ignore her but she keeps calling his name and he can’t ignore that.

Plus it’s piss cold and she’s only wearing that negligee.

Of course, owing to the fact it’s piss cold not one part of him responds to her wearing only a negligee and not in the company of scottish git. Except his mind which screams ‘Yes! Yes! Oh god yes!’ and then promptly melts into a big puddle of timelord on the pavement.

‘Um, so you’re leaving then?’ She sounds disappointed now.

‘Well, yes, I didn’t really enjoy watching you and whatsisname there swap bodily fluids...’ Oh god, she’s coming closer, she’s smiling.

Serves you right, pining over her like that.

‘Oh but you’d really like him, honestly. He’s sweet and kind and...’ It doesn’t really matter how brilliant scottish git may be at that point since he rams his tongue down her throat in attempt to get her to shut up.

Almost works too. ‘Shmmmggg ttthhhhhrrrwwwwd’

His mind quickly makes a list of every place he’s ever wanted to shag her, and he finds that unfortunately, dewy front lawn with scottish git boyfriend watching through the window is not on the list.

Damn.

Lets go to Spain. Spain’s nice this time of year. Wouldn’t that be nice, a warm beach. New coat of paint for my panels perhaps...

Evidently, it is on Rose’s list however, as by the time he drifts back to reality she’s straddling him and making noises he’s not sure he’s ever heard on any planet before.

Then she groans and falls face-forward into his chest and he feels quite nice really, lying there on the grass all covered in Rose Tyler.

‘She’s good eh?’ Oh hell, Scottish gits back again. Strangely enough though, he doesn’t really care because the fact is that at this very moment scottish git isn’t inside Rose, so he thinks he’s got the better deal for the moment.

‘Erm, yes, she’s quite good’ Scottish git nods approvingly and the Doctor wonders if he’s accidentally killed her because she hasn’t moved and he’s a little worried it was all a horrible conspiracy to begin with.

‘I tell you what, I knew I’d found a keeper when I met ‘er. She’s a right looker and up for anythin really. Wasn’t sure I liked her screamin out your name evrytime, but it’s kinda kinky innit?’

Kinky does not begin to describe it you poor sad bastard

At this point he becomes very uncomfortable. Of course he knew she would be thoroughly miserable as a result of The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Ending That Must Not Be Named™ but he wasn’t sure becoming a sexually perverted tramp was the right way to ease her emo.

‘Hhhhrrmmpphllloogg’ She says quite clearly into his shoulder and then pops up, eyes sparkling, cleans up her mess and looks down with an odd expression on her face.

‘Oh sorry, didn’t you?’ She looks apologetic and she offers to help, but he shakes his head.

‘I think i’d like to go home now’ He squeaks in a rather unmanly fashion and she eases herself off him clumsily.

‘Sure you don’t want some more tea? Coffee maybe? Get out the percolator love, do it proper for him would you?’ The scottish git nods at her, grins at him and heads back into the house.

‘Ah... so...’ His attempts at conversation betray him and she stands with a look on her face that suggests she’s either thinking about ways to hurt him very, very, badly or she’s wondering how long exactly he’s spent utterly, utterly obsessed with her.

Hah! Far, far too long.

‘I’m not a total tramp you know. Not a chav neither’ She states this fact as if it isn’t blindingly obvious that she so clearly is.

‘It’s all your fault anyways. Two whole years without a shag. Two whole years! And did you ever say something? Not once! Not once did you ever say “hey Rose, I really think it would be rather smashing if we went at it hard and fast on the console and then on the floor” Not once! Oh you wanted to, but you didn’t because god forbid you may have wanted to shag a human!’

She stands perfectly still for a moment, eyes bulging slightly, the picture of everything he has come to hope he will never find painfully attractive in anyone else ever again.

‘You’ve still got an erection by the way’

God I’ve missed her.

‘Errr’ Dear god, what to say.

‘ReallywannashagyouRose’gainsttheconsolemebbewithJacknMarthatoo?’

She grins.

‘Good enough for me. Now lets go before he realises his girlfriend's leaving him for an intergalactic slut with sexual repression issues’

Later, as he lies in a tangle of limbs, and a pair of lips do things that should be seriously illegal to parts of his anatomy he wasn’t aware even existed, he realises with dread it’s all gone rather post-watershed and the funding’s sure to be pulled.

Ah bollocks.

At least we’ll have time to visit Spain eh?

Dear Sir (2/?)

2007-03-03T07:39:29Z

Title: Dear Sir (2/?)
Rating: Call it a PG. For the moment it isn't really, but it'll get there (and possibly further)
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood. I do however own a lovely coat just like Jack's, which unfortunately, doesn't count.
Warnings: Spoilers abound. Anything we've seen so far is fair game in my books.
Summary: In a man's letters his soul lies naked - Samuel Johnson

Part One

Dear Sir,

I wonder if you got my last letter? I don’t imagine so.

Things have been mad here without you. Sometimes I think the whole universe is against us, but then I think perhaps it’s just hoping to cause a big enough disaster to make you come back.

I’ve been keeping on with therapy. I don’t know if it’s doing me any good, but it’s nice to talk to someone. Someone who doesn’t know about Torchwood, or the rift, or you or anything like that. Owen quit a while back. Never his sort of thing to talk about his problems. I don’t know about Tosh. She has different ways of coping.

I’ve been giving them all decaf.

Remember what I said about the weevils? They’ve been doing it again. They somehow manage to get out, do this sort of wrestling/mating thing and then straight back into their cells, like it’s nothing.

You haven’t heard of weevils going on heat have you? Gwen got all maternal when I mentioned it. She’s trying for a baby you know. Owen pointed out weevil babies might be cute, but they could probably rip your head off too. I think I’d rather the weevils didn’t reproduce, if it’s all the same. I don’t fancy playing nanny to an alien that could disembowel me at any given moment.

I still don’t know about Tosh. I know she misses you, we all do. (Yes, even Owen, in his own strange way) But Tosh, she never shows it, never says anything. I’m worried about her. The other day, she came in practically in tears, sat down at her computer and just started typing. Not one word.

Should I try and talk to her, or should I just leave it? Renee (that’s my therapist) says people grieve in different ways. She says it’s normal that Tosh doesn’t want to think about it. If she doesn’t think about it, than she doesn’t have to admit it’s true. Funny how the human mind works isn’t it? I still worry though. Perhaps it’s in my nature.

Well Jack, I’ll stop here. I imagine my waffling on about us is boring you no end.

I really do miss you.

Ianto

Dear Sir (1/?)

2007-03-03T07:31:42Z

Title: Dear Sir (1/?)
Rating: Call it a PG. For the moment it isn't really, but it'll get there (and possibly further)
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood. I do however own a lovely coat just like Jack's, which unfortunately, doesn't count.
Warnings: Spoilers abound. Anything we've seen so far is fair game in my books.
Summary: In a man's letters his soul lies naked - Samuel Johnson

A/N: - this is completely unbeta'd, because 1) I couldn't wait that long, and 2) I don't have a beta at the moment.

Dear Sir,

~~I miss you~~

It’s been three months since I saw you last, and things have changed a little around here.

Owen’s in charge now. He’s not as good as you, but so far we’ve managed to keep Cardiff in one piece, so I think that’s a definite nod towards the positive. Tosh is second in command now too, which means if something should happen to Owen she’ll become boss and i’ll be second. I rather hope that doesn’t happen. I don’t think i’d be much good in the leadership stakes.

We haven’t replaced you. The workload is massive, and the hours are ~~long~~ longer, but we couldn’t do it. We tried, but there's no-one to replace you Jack, no-one. I was practically handing out Retcon as dinner mints.

Gwen’s gone off the deep end. Completely obsessed with Rhys. Desperate to make it ‘work’ this time. It’s thanks to her we’ve all ended up in therapy. She said it would be ‘Good for our souls’ and ‘ Deeply healing in our time of great loss’. She scares the hell out of me.

Which is why I’m writing this. My therapist says it’ll help. Personally, i’m not sure how, but that's why she’s got the degree I suppose. Then again, the woman thinks I’m a receptionist at a government organisation, and I’m struggling to accept the death of my boss.

I know, lying to the therapist is about as low as you can get, but she’s not going to be much help if I have to Retcon her at the end of every appointment.

Besides, I have accepted it. No choice really. You left us.

I went to a concert with Tosh last week. Well, not really a concert. It was a free “gig” at the pub round the corner from her flat. I quite enjoyed it, all the people singing along and just having fun.

Owen just about killed us for turning off our mobiles. Well it would be the night the Weevils choose to create a disturbance. By the time we got there, they were doing something that was either wrestling or mating, I’m not certain. At any rate, they went right back into their cells when they were done. Tame as anything.

I told Tosh it might be nice to go out again sometime. It really was a nice night, just having a drink and a laugh and getting lost in the music. I wish you’d been there. You would have loved it.

Well Sir, I don’t know if this will ever reach you, but on the off-chance it should, perhaps you could come back to us? You wouldn’t have to stay of course, just let us know you’re okay.

We worry about you Jack. We miss you.

My best,

Ianto

Read part two here

The very sordid love life of Ianto Jones

2006-12-29T12:43:08Z

Title: The very sordid love life of Ianto Jones
Rating: M, though nothing worse than would be seen on the show, I think.
Disclaimer: If it was mine... well, lets not go there hey?
tw_exchange Prompt: #24 for gem_pinkeh. I may not have done justice to it though.
Authors Notes: Anything aired so far is fair game to be spoiled. Though I think it's only 1x04 really. Very much Ianto/everyone.

At twelve, Ianto Jones learns about love.

He finds the best way to pretend you aren’t crying is to hide. So he hides under the table, in his tux, in the mud, eating cake.

‘Ianto!’ His mother looks exasperated, as per usual. She’s been up since 4 a.m. today, and every minute of it shows on her face.

‘Gwên’ It comes out roughly, strained, since she isn’t smiling herself, or anything close to it. He knows his cheeks are tearstained, and he pouts and pokes out his tongue.

‘No’

‘Ianto, Cymraeg!’

‘No’

His mother is funny about such things and pulls her trump card.

‘Rwy'n dy garu di’

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Ianto crawls out from under the table and poses for the wedding pictures. His sister smiles broadly and hides him behind a bridesmaid. No getting mud on her white gown thank you very much.

//\\//\\//\\

At fourteen, Ianto Jones gets snogged.

Bronwyn from Science class has her tongue in his mouth and even though his mates are all cheering he really wishes they wouldn’t. His back is bent at an odd angle and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, and he’s hoping that he won’t get Meningitis or something from this thoroughly unhygienic experience.

A week later he kisses her back, and for the next three weeks they do a lot of kissing behind the bike sheds at lunch. He quite enjoys it too, and he’s started to notice how pretty Bronwyn is when she smiles, and how she giggles at all his mates jokes, even the really lame ones.

Five weeks after their first kiss, he catches her kissing his best mate Terry behind the bike shed after school, and suddenly she isn’t so pretty anymore. She cries a lot and Terry blushes and mumbles something about ‘just happened mate’.

The next week, Ianto starts at his new school. He sees Terry down the shop with his arm in plaster, and feels a surge of pride.

His mother signs him up for anger management courses.

//\\//\\//\\

At seventeen, Ianto Jones gets shagged.

He’s not entirely certain how it came to this, but Kate writhes underneath him, moaning and bucking and screaming his name to kingdom come, her nails digging into his back and her legs wrapped firmly around his waist.

He’s starting to wonder the point of all this when he surges forward and comes crashing down upon her chest in a wave of ecstasy. She giggles and kisses his earlobe.

Later, they agree this probably makes them a couple and she blushes and mumbles something into her cup of coffee.

‘Sorry?’ He doesn’t want to seem rude, but if she wants to be heard, she needs to speak up. She blushes deeper red and her words are barely a whisper.

‘ILoveYouIantoJones’

A week passes, and they break up.

Ianto can’t bear to drink coffee for six months.

//\\//\\//\\

At twenty, Ianto Jones falls in love.

Lisa hardly even notices him really. She’s in a higher position than him, but she walks past his desk numerous times every day and smiles when he brings her coffee for no reason.

Her boyfriend however, scares him shitless.

As such, he is rather surprised when she turns up on his doorstep and kisses him like her life depends on it.

‘He’s an idiot then’

‘You really think so?’

‘I know so’

‘And how would you know that?’

‘Because if you were my girlfriend, I’d give you the whole world, just to see you smile’

A month later Lisa moves into his tiny flat. She gets lots of brochures from travel agency and they go camping every weekend.

This, Ianto decides, is what love should really be like.

//\\//\\//\\

At twenty four Ianto Jones gets his heart broken.

Jack pours him a whiskey and watches him silently.

‘I’m sorry’ He says, like it makes one scrap of difference. Ianto swears loudly into his glass, and Jack just watches. Blood seeps slowly through his shirt.

After an hour or so, and 3 glasses of whiskey, the world has taken on a pleasant muted feeling, and Jack has long since passed out, his shirt now a dark crimson.

‘Ello Yan’ He mumbles quietly, shaking his head a little as he wakes. He pours himself a measure of whiskey and sips it quietly, his eyes still slightly unfocused from this latest death.

‘You wanted to watch me suffer and die. Happy?’

Ianto watches as his glass of whiskey trickles gently across Jack’s desk.

‘Fuck you Jack Harkness’

//\\//\\//\\

At twenty five, Ianto Jones pretends it doesn’t hurt.

Jack thrusts hard, and his hips slam into the wooden desk. It’s pleasure and pain all rolled into one, and he doesn’t even give a shit anymore. Nothing more than a hollow shell, useful for coffee and a shag and not much else.

When they’re done, Jack kisses him tenderly, and his blue eyes are soft to match his hands on Ianto’s cheeks.

That night Ianto dreams of soft kisses and gentle caresses, of love and lust and wild desire.

When he wakes up, he can think only of those tender blue eyes, and pushes away the hurt.

//\\//\\//\\

On the last day of twenty five, Ianto Jones realises.

Gwen Cooper is stronger than people give her credit for. She’s also quite a good kisser. Her tongue is like magic as it grazes against his teeth and he tries not to moan out loud.

Her hands rip at his shirt and he hopes there will be no confused tourists today. No tourists, no aliens, no killer gas, no strange objects, no rift activity...

The floor is cold and hard, but Gwen's mouth is soft and warm, and her eyes are like fire as she attacks his body with such ferocity he bears the bruises for weeks to come.

Later, when they’re cleaned up and Gwen is rid of the not-so-wonderful pheromone spray, Ianto makes coffee and tries to figure out how he really feels about her.

Except he knows that it’s not Gwen he’s found himself inexplicably attracted to for weeks now. Not Gwen’s touch he craves, or Gwen's kiss he still feels on his lips.

It’s not Gwen at all, in the end.

//\\//\\//\\

At twenty eight, Ianto Jones says good-bye.

The fountain gleams in the sunlight and he knows he won’t ever look at it the same way again.

Tosh holds his hand and gently presses a kiss to his lips.

‘Thanks for everything’ Then she’s gone. Swallowed in the crowd of people swarming through Roald Dahl Plas. Owen shakes his hand and disappears too.

Last is Gwen. She kisses him too, longer, with passion and unkempt desire. People snigger as they pass, but he decides he doesn’t care anymore.

Let them think what they like.

‘Good-bye Ianto’ she whispers, and though the tears shine on her cheeks, her eyes are bright as anything as she walks away from him.

There is no Jack to say good-bye. Jack has left for bigger adventures. Torchwood is no more.

Something squawks above him and Ianto feels his stomach flip, because this morning they buried Myfanwy and that tears him up in ways he never expected.

He loved this place, this city.

He wonders if there's anything else in the world left to love.

//\\//\\//\\

At thirty, Ianto Jones has a dysfunctional relationship.

He finds Gwen in a pub one night, a thankful escape from a job he hates and a tiny flat that seems almost inhuman to be living in.

Age is beginning to wear her down, he can see. He knows she must be in her late thirties by now and by the looks of it, life has not treated her kindly since Torchwood.

She smiles wearily as she drains her glass. He invites her back to his place and they drink coffee, which both agree is far better than a pint.

He invites her to stay the night, seeing as it’s getting late and all.

After two weeks, and eleven consecutive nights of shagging, he’s pretty sure this is not what he would call a normal relationship. Gwen just laughs and makes pancakes for breakfast.

After four months, Gwen suddenly leaves, and he doesn’t hear from her for some time. She eventually writes from London, saying she’s sorry but she can’t do this anymore.

Ianto settles back into routine and normality. He wonders if he’s fallen for Gwen, and even more so what Jack would think of him now.

In the end, it still isn’t Gwen at all.

//\\//\\//\\

At thirty three, Ianto Jones shags an alien.

To be fair, he doesn’t know he’s an alien until afterwards, when the double heartbeat tips him off.

The alien, who still looks very human, smiles and pulls his pinstripe trousers back on with a shrug.

‘I’m supposed to tell you Jack sent me, but the look on your face tells me you already know’ He grins widely and disappears out the door without another word.

Ianto follows all the way to Roald Dahl Plas where a familiar figure stands in his greatcoat next to a blue police box. He waves and climbs inside with the pinstriped alien.

Then the box disappears. Just fades out of sight, like it was never there in the first place.

Ianto decides he’s hallucinating from lack of caffeine.

//\\//\\//\\

At thirty five, Ianto Jones still can’t forget.

He’s sick of seeing Jack Harkness everywhere. Seeing him, but then it never really is him. He thinks he might be going mad, and he gladly welcomes it. Insanity sounds promising these days.

But then a voice brings him back, a hand pulls him up and he opens his eyes to the blinding sunlight and a pretty face.

‘What the hell did you think you were doing?’ She’s annoyed, this stranger, but god she’s gorgeous too. Her long hair is auburn, and he would guess her eyes are green but it’s hard to tell. She wears jeans and a grimace.

‘Come-on, you need coffee’

She makes a smashing cup of coffee too. When he finally explains that he hadn’t actually meant to jump in the fountain, and she’s stopped laughing at him, he finally thinks to ask her name.

‘Gwen’

For a moment he thinks he must be going mad, thinks this is all a nightmare, but when he opens his eyes, she’s still there, gorgeous as anything, asking if he’s okay.

So he tells her. Tells her of Torchwood and Lisa and Jack and Gwen, and she listens, and nods, and laughs in all the right places.

He asks her out, and she says yes.

She says yes to a lot of questions.

//\\//\\//\\

At thirty seven and eight months, Ianto Jones finds happiness.

Baby Jack (actually Jacob, but Ianto will always, always call him Jack) is a mewling, squirming pink lump with legs. Mostly he cries and makes a mess in his nappy.

Ianto thinks he’s perfect.

Gwen mumbles sleepily into his shoulder, her eyes half-lidded after the exhaustion of the day. Her hair is shorter than it was, but still a pool of red splays out over her shoulders and cascades down her front.

Baby Jack has brown hair, with the slightest hint of red. He has a snub nose and long fingers like his father, and smells like baby powder and honey. Sweet and warm and comforting.

Which is exactly what babies are made for, in the end.

//\\//\\//\\

At forty three, Ianto Jones attends a funeral.

He’s been to plenty in his lifetime, his grandparents when he was young, his father more recently, but this one is worst of all.

His older sister is the one being lowered into that cold, hard, unforgiving ground. Fifty-four and three months old. Cancer, and she never told anyone.

He wonders what made her keep it a secret. Why she would avoid telling her family and friends, even in the last weeks of her life. Why she would struggle through pain and anguish and the knowledge death was coming to her in utter silence.

Secretly he knows. She did it because she loved.

//\\//\\//\\

At fifty, Ianto Jones knows his children are growing up.

Jacob (Who now refuses to be called Jack) is nearly thirteen. His younger sister Bella is eleven.

Jacob no longer plays with matchbox cars. He wants to play with real ones. Bella no longer plays with dolls. She worships real ones.

He’s not sure he’s quite ready to let go, but Gwen seems sure enough that it’s time. She pats his hand and smiles softly and he decides she’s right.

She was always better at these things than he was.

//\\//\\//\\

At sixty seven, Ianto Jones never sees it coming.

One minute, he’s walking down a quiet street, the next, claws are tearing into his flesh and there’s screaming all around.

‘Ianto, Ianto!’ Someone yells his name as he crumples. His fingers are cold. He can see the blood seeping through his shirt and he knows this is it.

Warm hands seem to dance over his cold skin. A figure crouches over him, pulls him upright.

‘Ianto, it’s me’ His vision is losing focus, and he can’t be certain he isn’t hallucinating from blood loss, but he’s quite certain it’s one Captain Jack Harkness holding him.

‘Jack’ His voice sounds so old, so weary. Jack hasn’t aged one day. Jack doesn’t know that he’s married, that he has children. He won’t have enough time to tell him.

‘Stay here, it’ll be okay’ Jack’s lips are soft, and Ianto knows he’s doing his glowy thing.

The world blurs and goes dark. Jack is still speaking but Ianto doesn’t hear. The greatcoat is soft against his cheek, and as his mind begins to cloud he thinks how glad he is to have lived such a wonderful life.

Such a wonderful, exciting, bloody dangerous life.

Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

//\\//\\//\\

At approximately two hundred, give or take, and after 624 deaths, Jack Harkness learns you can’t save everyone.

1fandom - Theme set four.

2006-11-17T04:07:41Z

Took me ages, but I finally finished. I must do a Torchwood one of these someday... (Although I snuck in some Torchwood Jack)

Fandom: Doctor Who
Theme Set: Four
Rating: G to M.

01. Step
He saw it her eyes, that moment - she had stepped from the TARDIS into something bigger and more incredible than she could ever imagine.

02. Squeeze
And when the warm little hand squeezed his, for a moment he could forget he was alone, because just for a moment she was everything.

03. Dirt
Even without the dirt matted into its fur, the creature was unidentifiable; he could think of no reason why it would be found in a pet shop.

04. Late
He had come to realise that it didn’t matter how early he turned up, something would inevitably cause him to be late.

05. Money
“I don’t carry money. That means chips are on you m’dear”

06. Aid
Had he been in any state to respond, he would have declared that Jacks method of first aid was highly unorthodox and that his respiratory bypass meant that he didn’t really require mouth-to-mouth...

07. Myth
“But who are you to say I really exist at all? For all you know, it’s just a myth, and I’m nothing more than a dream...”

08. Piece
For every companion that came and left, a little piece of himself went with them, until he realised if he didn’t stop soon he’d be full of holes.

09. Child
It seemed that Rose Tyler was so brave, so loyal, so trusting, he often forgot she was still a child.

10. Confess
If he was honest with himself -brutally honest- he would have to confess there was something there, something that buzzed in the air like electricity and he quite liked it - he just didn’t know what it was.

11. Trick
Occasionally he might see her, on a street corner, in some dingy pub, but he’d cast it off always as a simple trick of the light.

12. Out
As the man took another deep sip of his drink, the doctor couldn’t help but suggest that perhaps he should get out more.

13. Best
“So, not the best plan eh? Still, I’m sure she’ll forgive us and unlock the door eventually...”

14. Mother
He would not delude himself that he could play any part in the child’s life - he gave her the joy of being a mother, and that was all he would ever give.

15. Book
There were thousands upon thousands of books in the library, the only problem was, he’d read them all already.

16. Victim
So this was to be his prison, his final resting place - would anyone ever think back and remember what he had done?

17. Power
“oh, now why’d you have to go and get all power-corrupted like that? Wasn’t it nicer when I didn’t have to destroy you and all your minions?”

18. Redeem
Looking back at the trail of destruction, he wondered if he’d ever redeem himself - and then decided he didn’t really care.

19. Bleak
“Yes, it’s bleak, and there's no shopping and very little entertainment value, but why would you want to leave?”

20. Shrapnel
Even when she thought she might pass out or throw up looking at the steady drip of blood from the wound, the doctor smiled and said “think of it as a really big metal splinter”

21. Humane
He didn’t tell her the way he did it, in the end; She only asked that it be humane, and he complied, the way he always, always would.

22. Anger
He tried to pretend he couldn’t feel her, feel all her emotion, all her excitement, her anger and sadness, but mostly her incredible love.

23. Team
He loathed to think of them as a ‘team’ - he was never much good at sports- besides, who ever heard of a team with only two players?

24. Terror
He might have been making it all up, she later thought - after all, how could anything be that terrifying?

25. Natural
And when she arched her back and moaned his name, he thought to himself that having Rose Tyler and was the most natural thing in the universe.

26. Never
Why she ever put up with Mickey is beyond him; from what he’s seen the guy never appreciated what he had when he had it, and he certainly doesn’t plan on giving it back.

27. Fidelity
Time was a little like the perfect woman, and he was a little like her unfaithful lover.

28. Neglect
Looking back, it wasn’t like he had kept it a secret, he’d just always neglected to tell them.

29. Face
He liked the new face, the extra height and the added quirks, although he approached this incarnations filthy mind with some trepidation.

30. Lurk
Tonight he found himself hoping that perhaps one of the figures lurking in the darkness would just leap out and kill him, and for once he wouldn’t wake up with a new face.

31. Grow
Mickey watched it disappear for the very last time, and for the very first time hoped he would grow to forget Rose Tyler.

32. Skin
She could simply reach out and stroke his skin, and be instantly rewarded when his eyes fluttered closed at her touch.

33. Sick
After a while the ache became less and he could bear to function again, but the thought of the blue-eyed alien would always make him feel slightly sick with want.

34. Dare
He looked her straight in the eyes, the screaming in his soul louder than ever and said quite calmly “Don’t you dare do that again”.

35. Worth
For what it was worth, he could always say he’d tried; Even though it broke his hearts, it was better than nothing.

36. Last
How terrible and great she thought, to be the very last of ones kind, how terrible and great indeed.

37. Year
It wasn’t like a year was terribly long, which might have been why it took him such a long time to realise why it was so important to them.

38. Prime
It was of prime importance that he get this good-bye, not just for her, but for every companion he’d left waiting for him to come back.

39. Taste
She tastes sweet and salty and sour all at the same time, and he decides that Rose is his favourite flavour in the whole universe.

40. Beyond
As his whole body succumbs to the heat and the flame, he looks at her face for the last time and wills her to know that he is beyond her reach now.

41. Final
It was in that moment she knew he must love her, if only for the fact he was saying good-bye.

42. Event
In the event the doctor ever did come back, Jack knew he’d have a hard time choosing between the whole universe and his little corner of Cardiff.

43. Secure
She wraps him in her arms, and frail though they are, he feels secure in the knowledge that for one night he can pretend the world doesn’t need him.

44. Ring
Every now and again, the phone will ring and he’ll hope it’s her on the other end, but it never is, and it never will be.

45. Settle
Even though his head is filled with horror at the thought of settling down, the little voice whispers, “perhaps it won’t be so bad with her...”

46. Energy
Suddenly, the universe tapped his shoulder and told him Rose had become a woman, a beautiful, wonderful, frightening woman with all the energy of the TARDIS flowing through her veins.

47. Center
He takes her to the centre of the galaxy and instantly regrets it as he watches the light of wonder go out in her eyes.

48. Ordinary
There was but one constant in the universe the doctor had learnt after many years; ordinary old tea.

49. Voice
It’s one thing to have a little voice in you head, but the doctor had nine, and that was getting a bit ridiculous.

50. Hang
For the rest of his life the image plays in his head, and he wonders why she could never hang on just a little longer.

Rose Tyler Ficathon Entry - Stockholm Syndrome

2006-10-31T02:42:39Z

Title: Stockholm Syndrome (1/4?)
Rating: PG-ish, for some potentially distressing situations.
Disclaimer: It isn't mine, yada yada. Doubt the Beeb would go to the effort of suing me anyway.
Summary: Stockholm syndrome n: The phenomenon in which a hostage begins to identify, and grow sympathetic to his or her captor.
Authors Notes: Written for the Rose Tyler ficathon for lilsisshotgun who wanted some kind of wild west chase on horses, The doctor having to heal Rose in some way - not showing her how worried he is, and Rose getting the giggles at a really inappropriate time. I do hope, i've done her justice. Much thanks to my wonderful Beta bohemianrose24.

Rose took refuge from the hot sun under a shop front at the side of the road. The Doctor followed, nose wrinkled, his left hand tangled in his hair as it often was when he was deep in thought. The place was packed and full of noise, reminding her of Covent Garden markets.

‘I think, we may have landed on the wrong planet’ he said slowly, enunciating every syllable, as if to make sure he were pronouncing it correctly. Rose raised her eyebrow.

If she hadn’t known better, she would have said they’d landed on Earth. The locals certainly looked human enough, with deep chocolate skin, they could easily have been in Namibia or some such place. However, the bright green unblinking eyes of the people passing her begged to differ. Their clothes were made out of some brightly coloured material that seemed to float around their bodies, and they moved in a way that could be mistaken for flying, except their feet stayed firmly on the ground.

They must be in a city she thought, the sheer amount of people made that clear enough. They didn’t seem to notice or indeed care about the presence of two pale skinned strangers, and Rose wondered how many people were packed into this place. ‘Probably millions.’ She thought. Talk about over-populating.

'Bordeaux' The Doctor said proudly, as if waiting for applause.

‘But that’s in France...’ She began, quickly silenced by his look of disbelief.

‘Do you never listen? Bordeaux the planet, not Bordeaux the city!’ He shook his head and she felt the blush rising to her cheeks.

‘Not much happening today though...’ He stood up on the tips of his toes to peer over the crowd and down the street, and Rose knew his attention span would not last long with this serious lack of action.

Then the screaming began. For a moment, she doubted she’d even heard the first scream, but then there was another, and another, and people appeared to be running about in a blind panic. There was utter chaos and pandemonium, the Doctor’s two favourite words.

She looked up at the Doctor and saw with a feeling of dread, his face had lit up.

‘Doctor, no...’ She began, but her sentence was cut off as he disappeared into the crowd and Rose found herself standing alone.

________________________________________

She stood very still in front of the shop and tried to stay calm. Whilst her instinct was to panic and run into the crowd after the Doctor, she didn’t think that a good idea, and she had no idea in which direction he’d run, let alone what she might find when she caught up with him.

Then again, no use in standing about waiting. It wasn’t the Doctor’s style, and certainly not hers either. Besides, more likely than not he’d need her help for something.

Pushing through the panicking crowd was easier than she expected, and she found after a while the noise volume was almost unbearable, which told her she was close to the action.

Except the screaming she could hear was not one she recognised. Not the screams of the beings around her, and not anything remotely human-esque, but rather another, different sort of scream. Almost a song, or a chant, it was hard to tell.

She was in a large open area that reminded her of the ancient Roman forums. There was a wooden platform built in the centre upon which were standing several figures, including a woman who looked like nothing she’d ever seen before and, surprise, surprise - the Doctor.

Except that he was behaving very strangely. The woman looked like she was speaking to him and he was staring straight ahead, glazed expression, as if lost inside his own head.

The other people around him also seemed to be lost in their own heads, all wearing a look of complete peace. Slight smiles dancing on their lips and eyes drooping as if they might be falling asleep.

The only one unaffected was the woman, if she could be called that. She didn’t look like the other people on the planet, though she also had dark skin. She seemed to radiate peace and calm, and her eyes were gold to match her long hair, tied in an elegant knot at the base of her neck.

She looked as if she were speaking to the people, but Rose knew suddenly that she was not speaking to them. The scream that wasn’t a scream was coming from her, and it seemed to be spreading, the people in front of Rose stopped pushing to get away and suddenly stood still, faces expressionless, lost inside their own heads.

She felt the wave pass over her, and the people around her fell still and quiet. The same feeling of calm did not hit her. She almost wished it might, but knew that she would have no such comfort.

A surge of pure fear sent Rose barreling towards the platform. She stumbled up the wooden steps and into the Doctor, knocking him sideways and into the railing.
‘Rose...’ He gasped, eyes rolling and his whole body shuddering as if he must be in terrible pain. He pitched forward, clinging onto her jacket and screaming wordlessly, his right hand tugging her sleeve helplessly.

‘What is it?’ She could feel the tears stinging behind her eyes, tried to speak again and failed.
‘Rose, Rose’ He kept repeating her name over and over, like a mantra. The sound of screaming rang in her ears, fogging her mind, and she could have sworn she heard singing. So soft and clear and beautiful, she might have fallen asleep if she cared to listen any longer.

‘Rose...’ The Doctor was shaking her arm, whether by choice or the great shudders that perpetually passed over his body. She forced herself to look at him, to really look, and not at his deathly-white skin or his rolling eyes, but at him, to understand what it was he was trying to tell her.

‘Rose... Think...’ He gasped, his eyes shining with renewed hope, his hands clutching at her like a baby to its mother. Finally it seemed he stopped fighting, as his body slumped to the ground and he let out a loud shriek, his body twitching and writhing as if he were fighting invisible captors.

It was a long moment before he fell still and silent and Rose could bear to breathe again. She turned to the woman who stood silently, watching her with deep golden eyes.

‘Whatever you did, undo it,’ she hissed, the rage welling up inside her, dark and vicious and screaming to get out.

The woman threw back her head and laughed, a cold laugh that only served to increase Rose’s fury and make her want to hit and kick and hurt her in the most horrible ways imaginable.

‘Silly little earth-child,’ the woman spoke softly, with a hiss in her voice that chilled her to the bone. ‘He is mine now, as are they all,’ her eyes flashed and Rose felt the fogginess returning, white and thick, and not beautiful and peaceful as before but angry and suffocating. She pushed it away, even if only for a moment, and saw the woman's eyes flash with anger.

‘You resist earth-child. Forever fighting me away. I cannot take your mind; it burns like a thousand suns. No, no, you will not be tamed, not put to a purpose, not even I, strongest of them all can take it, and yet...He has taken it...’

Her gaze shifted from Rose to the lifeless figure of the Doctor and Rose saw he began to move, pulling himself upright and staring at the woman with adoration.

‘He will be first,’ the woman spat, her elegant face twisting and contorting. A strange sensation overcame Rose as if it were pushing its way into her mind, a pleasant, tickling sort of feeling. A wave of pleasure washed over her body and caused her knees to buckle.

‘What was that?’ She struggled out, still reeling from the sudden intensity. The woman laughed again, and another wave of pleasure rippled over Rose’s body, pushing her to her knees gasping and shaking.

‘Had enough earth-child? If you will not surrender to me, I have no use for you.’ Rose lifted her head slightly, enough to watch the crowds of people all succumb to the waves of euphoria washing over them.

She curled into herself, willing the sensation to leave her, but still it came. It hit her repeatedly like waves on the shore until she could take no more and collapsed on the warm wood.

Around her, the world went black.

__________________________________________________________________

When she woke, she immediately kicked out, her mind still struggling to catch up with the events around her. Her foot hit something very solid and she felt the tears of pain immediately spring to her eyes.

She carefully groped the very solid thing in front of her, and found it to be a cold piece of metal, smooth and probably shiny, if she could see it through the solid blackness.

‘Shut up and keep still.’ She fought the temptation to scream as a very clear voice sounded through her head, and the metal disappeared from in front of her. Light burst into the confined space and she immediately recoiled from it, feeling the heat as if it burned every inch of her flesh.

‘God you’d think you hadn’t seen sunlight before!’ The voice sounded unimpressed, and she wondered who or what exactly it was. She didn’t much like her mind being tampered with, as she had explicitly told the Doctor a time or two.

Oh God, the Doctor. No sooner had the thought come to mind, she had tumbled forward onto the warm ground, and immediately inhaled a mouthful of dirt. Coughing and spluttering, she sat upright and spat the mouthful of mud on the feet of someone.

‘Gee, thanks for that. I’ll treasure it always.’ The feet were not grateful. Neither, apparently, was the owner of the feet, a girl who looked younger than Rose herself.

‘What happened? Where’s the Doctor? Who...‘ The girl silenced her with a wave of her hand and a shake of her head. Rose heard muffled cries above her, although she couldn’t be sure if they were shouts of joy or pain.

She saw she was in a pit apparently underneath the wooden platform she remembered being on before she had passed out. Next to her was a metal box that evidently she had been stuffed inside. It gave her a horrible feeling she would have been left alone in the dark to die had it not been for this girl.

‘Follow me.’ The voice inside her head hissed and the girl next to her began to pick her way through the mess of wood and God knows what else. It was well lit by the rays of light between the wooden planks but it was still hot and stuffy and impossibly dirty.

They came to a door and Rose knew it must lead outside. The girl put a finger to her lips and gently opened it, slipping outside silently. Obediently, she followed and found herself standing behind the wooden platform, the sun impossibly hot on her back.

She turned to thank the girl and saw that she suddenly possessed a dazed look, her lips drooping in a sort of half-smile. The girl’s brilliant green, half-lidded gaze seemed to stare right through her as if she didn’t exist at all.

‘Thank you,’ Rose whispered, dropping to her knees and crawling through the crowds of people. She thought that in theory, if she stayed low, she might not be seen. The cobbles dug into her hands and knees but she continued to crawl forwards until the crowd thinned and she knew she must have reached the edge of the forum.

She quickly stood and ran.

Prompt 067. Snow

2006-07-19T03:55:20Z

Fic Name: Someday
Rating: G
Prompt: 067. Snow
Claim: Tenth Doctors Specs
Spoilers: The obligatory post-doomsday fic.
A.N: I’ve finally got around to starting, so here’s the first. Hoping there’s enough bespectacled goodness.
Summary: Someday, she could let go. She might even get glasses that suited her.

On that unusually cold July afternoon, the sky split open and snow fell from the heavens, covering the whole of London in a thick, white blanket.

And while Jackie Tyler took her son out to see the first snow of his life, her daughter Rose leant against the windowpane, and let her tears mingle with the condensation.
So many tears wasted. Wasted on what she knew she could not have, and yet she was not ready to admit was lost to her forever.
Hot tears that fogged up her glasses, wretched things. Jackie hated them, told her that if she had to wear them, she should at least get frames that suited her. But in her stubborn way, she refused, choosing the dark square ones. The ones that did not suit her face but gave her one last connection to the world from which she had been torn.

She did not think snow in July was strange. After all, it seemed the weather liked to mimic her emotions, and she was feeling particularly down today. July did that to her, hateful month.
So it would make sense that the snow would come, and blanket the world in which she had been forced to live out her days. The world which she had come to loathe and adore all at once.
She knew that someday it would not hurt so much. The blinding agony would soften to a dull ache, and she would be able to move on.

Perhaps she would get married even, Have children maybe, and buy a big house in the country. She might even get glasses that suited her. That would be nice.
But she wasn’t ready to let go just yet. It might take a few months, or a few years, but eventually it would come. The day when she knew she could finally live for herself again.

But for now, she was happy to let the tears drip down her nose and fog up her specs. After all, he would have told her that her tears were normal. He would have said it was a human thing to do, grieve for those whom she could no longer hold onto to.

She wondered if his glasses ever fogged up for her.

Prompt Table

2006-06-22T07:30:32Z

001.	Beginnings.	002.	Middles.	003.	Ends.	004.	Insides.	005.	Outsides.
006.	Hours.	007.	Days.	008.	Weeks.	009.	Months.	010.	Years.
011.	Yesterday.	012.	Today.	013.	Tomorrow.	014.	Regret.	015.	Fear.
016.	Red.	017.	Blue.	018.	Black.	019.	White.	020.	Colorless.
021.	Friends.	022.	Enemies.	023.	Lovers.	024.	Family.	025.	Strangers.
026.	Parents.	027.	Children.	028.	Mind.	029.	Body.	030.	Life.
031.	Death.	032.	Sunrise.	033.	Sunset.	034.	Too Much.	035.	Not Enough.
036.	Smell.	037.	Sound.	038.	Touch.	039.	Taste.	040.	Sight.
041.	Human.	042.	Alien.	043.	Heart.	044.	Sun.	045.	Moon.
046.	Star.	047.	Truth.	048.	Lie.	049.	History.	050.	Believe.
051.	Water.	052.	Fire.	053.	Earth.	054.	Air.	055.	Spirit.
056.	Want.	057.	Have.	058.	Hold.	059.	Pain.	060.	Relief.
061.	Winter.	062.	Spring.	063.	Summer.	064.	Fall.	065.	Passing.
066.	Rain.	067.	Snow	068.	Lightning.	069.	Thunder.	070.	Storm.
071.	Broken.	072.	Fixed.	073.	Light.	074.	Dark.	075.	Shade.
076.	Who?	077.	What?	078.	Where?	079.	When?	080.	Why?
081.	How?	082.	If.	083.	Never.	084.	He.	085.	She.
086.	Choices.	087.	Chaos.	088.	Control.	089.	Work.	090.	Home.
091.	Chase.	092.	Run.	093.	Hide.	094.	Celebrate.	095.	Grieve.
096.	Writer's Choice.	097.	Writer‘s Choice.	098.	Writer‘s Choice.	099.	Writer‘s Choice.	100.	Writer‘s Choice.