A Meme! It's A Meme!
Oct. 7th, 2011 04:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sariagrayTotally swiped from ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pocky_slash.
I will post the names of all the files in my WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Choose one (ish), and I will post a random line or two.
Aliens Didn't Really Make Them Do It
Books
Burn
Christmas in Cardiff
Cuddling Stuff Happens
Elizabethan Story
Elizabethan Story - Doublet Porn
Ellipses Device
Firefly Tw
Ianto Forgets
iTunes Drabbles
Jack Doesn't Get Any
Measure of a Man
Movie Night
Prequel
Rain
Scent
Sleeping Beauty
Snow
You've Burnt Me, Now Guide Me
pocky_slash.I will post the names of all the files in my WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Choose one (ish), and I will post a random line or two.
Aliens Didn't Really Make Them Do It
Books
Burn
Christmas in Cardiff
Cuddling Stuff Happens
Elizabethan Story
Elizabethan Story - Doublet Porn
Ellipses Device
Firefly Tw
Ianto Forgets
iTunes Drabbles
Jack Doesn't Get Any
Measure of a Man
Movie Night
Prequel
Rain
Scent
Sleeping Beauty
Snow
You've Burnt Me, Now Guide Me
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no subject
Date: 2011-10-07 08:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-07 08:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-07 11:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-07 11:26 pm (UTC)“It’s still freezing.”
“Huh?” Jack blinked a few times.
“Thermostat. The one you said you were going to turn up. Did you get lost?”
(I still don't know what this story is supposed to be about. It's one of those WIP pieces that I end up cannibalizing from. Ah, well.)
no subject
Date: 2011-10-07 11:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-08 05:20 am (UTC)(It was soooo hard to choose just one. Also, I may do this myself. ;) )
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Date: 2011-10-08 01:20 pm (UTC)“You’ve been set up nicely,” Jack mused suspiciously as he watched Ianto poke at the fire. The warm glow against his pale face complemented the burgundy and gold brocade doublet that accentuated his lean form. He felt slightly underdressed in his simple brown leather jerkin and woolen breeches.
Ianto chuckled and turned to catch Jack staring at him. He raised an eyebrow. “I still don’t know why, quite frankly. But I’m earning my keep.”
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Date: 2011-10-08 07:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-08 01:23 pm (UTC)Jack’s horse slows as they approach the tiny encampment. He thinks of naming his steed for the umpteenth time, but can’t ever settle on anything remotely suitable. There are grey-white tents that shiver in the breeze; they circle around a fire pit where something roasts over a flame. The air around it shimmers and waves.
Three men approach him cautiously. Their faces, though wary, are honest and welcoming and Jack dismounts. It is hardly a graceful motion – his legs are numb and his skin burns and he’s beyond dehydrated. Still, he lands on his two feet and, with all of the charm he can muster, doffs his shemagh. Which is entirely impossible to doff.
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Date: 2011-10-08 04:36 pm (UTC)Aliens Didn't Really Make Them Do It
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Date: 2011-10-08 04:52 pm (UTC)Jack sat down in his creaking leather chair, letting his muscles relax. It felt strange to sit behind his desk after spending so many days chained up, and he spent a solid few minutes absently tapping the polished surface as his eyes surveyed the dusted lamps, the smart stacks of paper, and the other detritus that had been collected over the years. Nothing looked touched, which means that great care had been taken to keep it so pristine.
He picked up a small, cylindrical device, turned it over in his hands, put it back down again. He repeated the process with what looked like a square crystal bottle, and a metal chalice, and an uncharged sonic blaster. He ran his hand through his hair, over his face, and leaned back in the chair.
Email was, perhaps, his easiest and safest option. He knew that the important messages would have been rerouted by either Toshiko or Ianto, and dealt with as needed, but at least he could sort the bits and pieces and have something to show Ianto for his efforts. Like a little child with handprint art. He snorted and booted up his PC.
It took him over fifteen minutes to remember his password.
All that was left unread, unanswered, in his inbox were the daily CCTV logs. He glanced through the list, a bit glassy-eyed, at the succinct, repetitive titles. “CCTV Log – Monday, 5 February 2007,” “CCTV Log – Tuesday, 6 February 2007,” “CCTV Log – Wednesday, 7 February 2007,” “CCTV Log – Thursday, 8 February 2007,” and so on. Each email was sent at exactly 2400 hours every day and he scrolled down, letting the data stream condemningly past his eyes.
He paused, scrolled back up and then down a bit, frowning. “CCTV Log – Wednesday, 9 May 2007,” “CCTV Log – Friday, 11 May 2007.” Jack’s frown deepened and he checked the other folders in his email program. Nothing. Thinking that perhaps the log had been deleted by mistake, he searched the archival history Toshiko had set up the seventh time he had accidentally deleted an important message. It had disturbed her greatly that he could take apart the most intricate of tech, but couldn’t figure out the Rules and Alerts feature.
He had tried his best to explain it to her without giving too much away, but it was a lost cause.
There was nothing in the archives, either, which meant that no file had been sent. He tapped the desk a couple of times and then stopped when he recognized the beat. Shaking his head, he delved into the program he had set up himself, buried, to retrieve any footage that had been deleted.
It was as simple as typing in a date, really, so long as you knew all of the access codes. And also, the language they were written in, which wouldn’t be developed for another twenty two hundred years.
There it was. Jack was actually surprised that it was the only deleted footage, a lone video exactly twenty four hours in length.
“Alright, Gorgeous,” he muttered as he clicked the file open, “just what are you trying to hide from me?”
He arched his back, stretched, and watched for approximately five minutes before giving up. He typed a quick succession of numbers and the mosaic of images jumped to 0800. He watched, fascinated, as Ianto stepped off of the lift and deposited a lavender pastry box on Gwen’s workstation. Absently, Ianto straightened his tie and walked with purposeful strides to the kitchenette. Jack followed his progress from one tiny screen to the next, stared at Ianto’s back as he began to brew coffee. On another screen, Toshiko was bounding through the cogwheel door with her head bent over her PDA. She called something that sounded vaguely like a greeting, and in Ianto’s screen, he looked up and answered.
While it was interesting and certainly piqued Jack’s interest (and satisfied that ever-growing ache for normalcy), it was hardly informative. Jack flexed his fingers and typed in another code until the videos began jumping in fifteen minute intervals. He leaned back in his protesting chair and watched.
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Date: 2011-10-12 10:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-10-09 01:18 pm (UTC)As a library assistant it has to be 'Books' please.
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Date: 2011-10-09 02:38 pm (UTC)It had been ages since Ianto had actually read a book, sometime before work at Torchwood One had gotten particularly busy, before he’d met Lisa and began to devote all of his free time to her. Since then, he’d started a great deal of novels, but had rarely gotten through the first pages before some sort of crisis sprung up.
As it was, the beginnings of stories flooded his mind and coalesced into some sort of strange tale.
“Long ago, the sage Valmiki sat meditating in his hermitage on the banks of the Tamasa. The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer wind stirred amidst the trees of the garden, there came through the open door the heavy scent of lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pink-flowering thorn. There was me, that is Alex, and my three droogs, that is Pete, Georgie, and Dim, Dim being really dim, and we sat in the Korova Milkbar making up our rassoodocks what to do with the evening, a flip dark chill winter bastard though dry. It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen. They were living at le Grau de Roi then and the hotel was on a canal that ran from the walled city of Aigues Mortes straight down to the sea.”
But now, he had a whole day free and had every intention of starting and finishing something.
no subject
Date: 2011-10-10 11:27 am (UTC)Funny, loved it:)
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Date: 2011-10-12 10:10 pm (UTC)Oh, and I'll probably be "borrowing" this meme...
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Date: 2011-10-13 12:04 am (UTC)It was far too quiet.
When he had first strode into the Hub, coat billowing behind him, Jack had felt rejuvenated; the information he had garnered from UNIT was enough to solve the latest Rift puzzle and the predictor had indicated a bit of a break from the hectic onslaught of the past week. Now, the energy seemed to be sapped out of him. Completely and utterly drained as if someone had pulled a plug (flipped a switch, covered his cage with blackout material), he sputtered to a stop. His coat drifted and settled down around his calves, deflated.
The wind had been taken out of his sails and he had no idea what was wrong.
A quick glance indicated that nothing was actually out of place. A second, more thorough, glance revealed little more. Except….
Toshiko sat slumped in her chair, eyes closed and mouth opened a fraction as though she were about to speak. Gwen’s head rested on folded arms atop her desk, while Owen lay sprawled on the couch, one arm over his eyes. His other arm dangled off the side, his hand weakly clutching his mobile.
Almost dead center sat Ianto, head in his hands in guilt-ridden exasperation, his body stiff and stock still. Jack stared and tried to figure out how to proceed. The scene before him was eerily familiar and he caught himself scanning for a rapid-growing patch of briars. Not that he had a broadsword with which to hack them down. He wondered, fleetingly and without real thought, if he would find a spindle clutched in Ianto’s fist.
He approached what appeared to be ground zero with caution, and only made it five tiny, soft steps before Ianto stirred slightly. Freezing for a second, Jack hurried over and crouched next to Ianto,
no subject
Date: 2011-10-13 10:21 pm (UTC)