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*crickets chirp*
Awright, lads, now I'm very conscious of the fact that this year I have no pre-prepared (is that a tautology?) mathoms to post, which is a bit of a break in tradition for me. And there's not really any way I'm going to get my epic crackfic finished, beta read and britpicked in the next 8 hours.
So! I would like to take some prompts in order to ramble ficcishly in comments.
My current fandom is Torchwood with a side of New Who, please prompt me in that direction. I may consider crossovers with other shows/books/texts I'm familiar with. Scenario prompts work best for me, the sillier the better. (And those who are familiar with the epic crackfic, you're not allowed to request anything you know is already going into that.)
Right! *rubs hands together* Let's see how that goes?
ETA:
All ficlets from this are now posted here.
So! I would like to take some prompts in order to ramble ficcishly in comments.
My current fandom is Torchwood with a side of New Who, please prompt me in that direction. I may consider crossovers with other shows/books/texts I'm familiar with. Scenario prompts work best for me, the sillier the better. (And those who are familiar with the epic crackfic, you're not allowed to request anything you know is already going into that.)
Right! *rubs hands together* Let's see how that goes?
ETA:
All ficlets from this are now posted here.
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Ianto stands a little more slowly as Gwen props a concerned shoulder under Jack's armpit to assist him the last few steps; it's quite clear that he doesn't need it, but he takes advantage nonetheless, beaming down at her as he wraps an arm around her shoulders, giving the fleshy part of her upper arm a squeeze. Tosh struggles up next to Ianto, Jack's greatcoat still draped about her shoulders. Ianto makes no move to transfer it back to its rightful owner, even though Jack's lips are blue - obvious, even in the dim light. Ianto's own arms are still folded tightly against his chest, though that's more from the lingering self-consciousness at being deemed the unwilling winner of Owen's impromptu wet teeshirt contest, hours earlier. Though his white shirt has dried well beyond its translucent stage, his jacket is still damp beyond repair.
As well as the blue tinge to his mouth, as Jack gets closer Ianto detects - sigh - that smile, and he scowls in the face of it as Jack gets close enough to relinquish Gwen's shoulders and stand before them with hands-on-hips, looking exceedingly pleased with himself. Almost like a long-distance swimmer presenting himself for his medal. Though swimming is most definitely not what he's been doing.
Owen finally deigns it time to rise as well, popping up to his feet on the other side of Ianto and flicking a ball of snot off into the darkness, signalling the end of what had been a marathon nose-picking session, during which Ianto had decided never to let Torchwood 3's medic touch him unless he was wearing latex gloves ever again.
"Are you quite done, then?" Owen asks boredly, and Jack fixes that unmistakable beam in Owen's direction.
"Oh yes," Jack says. "And let me tell you - I was right about that hand."
"It was alien-related?"
"And it had a body attached to it." Jack raises his eyebrows suggestively and Ianto tries not to think about Jack drowning and having sex at the same time. For the past four hours. At least it doesn't seem to have left any lasting damage. At least no more than usual. Jack looks around curiously. "Where's the boat?" His eyes narrow as he examines them all a little more closely. "And where are your shoes?"
As one, they all point back towards the lake. It shimmers innocently in a malevolent sort of way in the burgeoning moonlight.
"And there's more," Tosh says in a miserable kind of voice. "The keys to the SUV." She grimaces. "They were in my hand bag."
"And that's..." They all point to the lake again. "In the boat, right."
As if on cue, a pale, woman's hand emerges from the surface with barely a ripple. Ianto's shoulders slump involuntarily.
"Right then, so this is nothing more than an epic cock-up," Owen declares what they're all thinking, sending a withering glance in Jack's direction. "For some of us, literally. And we're left with no boat, no way to get home, and nothing else to show for this day of misery and boredom whatsoever."
"Oh, I don't know," Jack says, reaching behind him then withdrawing his hand again to produce a rather impressive-looking sword. "How about, 'I shagged an underwater lady and all I got was this lousy sword'?"
Ianto closes his eyes briefly. "I think," he announces. "That a large part of my childhood just died."
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Oh, JACK.
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He's magical.
PS I just watched Merlin and this TOTALLY FITS IN THE CANON!
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But Jack needs to remember that ultimate power is derived from a mandate from the masses, not shagging some watery tart who lobs a sword at him.
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