SPN - Destiel

(no subject)

Summary: All sorts of stuff comes through the rift -flotsam and jetsam- and it's Jack and Ianto's task to identify the latest devices spewed out by it.
Rating: Uh, Adult for naughty words and suggestions?
Author: Me, you idiot.
Paring: Jack/Ianto I suppose. ;)
Spoilers: None for TW, S4 of DW. If you're up to date with Who, you'll get it.

Just a little convo between the two of them... mostly.

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SPN - Destiel

(no subject)

Another Torchwood drabble thingie that's been sitting on my hard drive for months that no one will see haha.

set after Ghostmachine  - a parallel on the Gwen/Jack scene (which is so wrong to the obvious few people).
PG - nothing more than hints.

“I already know how to use this,” protested Ianto.   Jack ushered the younger man to stand in front of him despite the whining.   “I was fully trained well before I met you, Captain, there’s really n-” he trailed off sharply as Jack pressed himself against him.  “Then again, a little refresher wouldn’t hurt, I suppose,” he added tightly.
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SPN - Destiel

For lack of anywhere else to put it - Torchwood Fic intro/start

not beta'd, not remotely finished... just random.
why can't we type through thought?

No title (yet)
gen (atm)
evil time agency and messing with heads
spoilers? it's the past of Captain jack, joo bet'cha there are.  S1&3 DW and S1 TW

Two years of his life were gone; forgotten.  He knew that there was little chance of finding out what happened during that time while he was stuck in the 21st century.  Any memory trigger that should have been able to free his mind of the void wouldn’t happen for another thirty centuries.  Still, he thought with a bemused smile, if he’d done anything terrible during those years, he felt he’d suitably made up for it.  He convinced himself that he didn’t need to know.

Twenty-three years of his life had been messed with; manipulated -Augmented- was the term the Agency would use.  The Time Agency were the experts in mental manipulation in the 51st century, Retcon was child’s play in comparison.  They were able to create false memories so realistic and that only the most obscure of sensory prompts would break them.  He’d never know that the life he was living wasn’t really his own neither would the people, the family, he loved.
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(no subject)

I found a little snippit from a fic I’d planned to write a while ago.  And well, this is what I have so far. 1,920 words.  That’s a record for me.

Rated: Erm, ok for all. [NB. One swear word]

No spoilers for either show, and if you can’t figure out the two shows involved by the first paragraph, don’t bother reading.

In fact, don’t bother reading it at all!  Go!  Shoo!  Unless you’re gwyntastic who might want to read it…

Unbeta'd, as usual.

Tony cleared his throat for the third time, but neither the other occupant nor the elevator seemed to care.  In fact it continued its journey down the shaft completely oblivious to his feelings.  “So, how far down are we going, anyway?”  He asked the stiff looking airman again.  He knew the man wouldn’t reply – he hadn’t the other three times he’d asked something – but he was getting nervous.  He had to ask something. He stuffed his hands into his pocket to help prevent the fidgeting he knew he’d be doing soon.  “I bet you’re a blast at parties,” he mumbled, a little absently.  Was it getting warm in here?

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I wish part two would write it self.
SPN - Destiel

(no subject)

Dude, it's practically GEN!Fic...
Not my people, just as well; I can't write for peanuts.
Tony, Gibbs, and Cait are the only people in it.
Story went from an idea I had this morning to Tony's ability to multitask while sleeping/meditating.
Probably a bucket load of britishism in here.
I wish I didn't have to work.

He’d just sat down when the elevator dinged, indicating his bosses return.  He closed his eyes and propped his feet up on his desk, folding his arms behind his head as he leaned back in his chair.  He could practically feel the aura around Gibbs as he got out the carriage; he was pissed alright.  He didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Gibbs had a ‘try me and die’ face on him.
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    sfd - Baby, One More Time
SPN - Destiel

>Saying Sorry, pt 2, I guess...

Part one's there http://www.livejournal.com/community/gibbs_lj/1445.html

And uh... I'm not sure that I like this, I'll probably change it... eventually. Most likely full of mistakes. I'd apploogize, but I'm not gonna =P


Leaving Special Agent Owens, Gibbs and Cait at the elevator, Tony made his way over to his car, more than happy that the case was finally closed and that he could go home. The ‘Mummies Curse’ was ‘lifted’ and Lieutenant Mark Schilz’s honor was restored. They’d found his killer and cleared his name, meaning his family would at last get the money and entitlements that they should have had years ago. That fact had made Cait very happy. He’d be a lot happier after a nice long shower.
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    Dark Angel - Pull Over That Ass Is Too Fat
SPN - Destiel

>Saying Sorry

Ok, I had this thought after I watched The Curse the other day. Gibbs was quite mean to Tony at the beginning of the ep, and it wouldn't leave me alone.

Fandom: NCIS (Duh)
Rating: R(ish) for language
Genre: Wow, um... not sure if it's ER or Pre-slash, but there's some angst there I guess
Pairing: possible Gibbs / Tony (see above)
Sumary: see top
It's the first chapter, I wasn't sure if I could write it, so I gave it a whirl.
Spoilers for The Curse, duh.

“That’s touching Boss, remembering the day you hired me.”

“Yeah, well it seemed like a good idea at the time.”

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    Dark Angel - Killing Time - (hed) pe
Red Abs / Conflicted

Sometimes I hate not being able to sleep... then again...

It's usually when plot bunnys attack... if you believe in that sort of thing.
Here's a theory for you: Muses eat plot bunnies for dinner, that explains why my muses are so full, and I haven't written anything!

words so far: 658

Missing Scene: Bete Noire (the NCIS Hostage Ep), End of.

Gibbs/Tony... only slightly implied (though it ain't finished yet, sista.)

As Tony entered the house he heard it: two gun shots – a ‘double tap’. Making his way to the assumed location of the sound – the basement – and peering over the wooden steps railing, he wasn’t surprised to see Gibbs sitting at his workbench, gun in hand and still in hospital scrubs.

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