Guess what I bring you while we wait for episode 2? FLOWERPREG!
So, any of you nutters remember the flowerpreg plotbunny we came up with at the the Cardiff meet back in August? Yeah, I wrote it. XD Well, some of it. Am now somewhat stuck, but I figured I'd post what I've done just for the sake of yummy crack, and if you guys like it I can always do more. Though goodness knows why you'd like this utter insanity...
Title: I don't know yet, but this is chapter [1/?]
Fandom: Torchwood, Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Jack/Petunia, possible Owen/whale later on... and I'm sure I can get Myfanwy and Janet in there somewhere...
Rating: PG13 for language and sex, or C for CRACK
Warnings: No real spoilers (set sometime in S1, but nothing referenced specifically). However... CRAZY, DISTURBING CRACK. Owen and Gwen bashing by proxy. Ianto angst. Injured whale. Really odd sex. Possible non-con, depending whether you believe plants can consent. NOT SAFE FOR BRAIN.
Disclaimer: If I owned TW and H2G2, this would totally be canon and a band of rabid Jack/Ianto fangirls would hunt me down with pitchforks for ruining their favourite ship.
Notes: Douglas Adams? Can you hear me up there? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. The rest of you? Not so sorry. You spawned this nonsense. XD
Another thing that got forgotten was the fact that against all probability a sperm whale had suddenly been called into existence several miles above the surface of an alien planet.
And since this is not a naturally tenable position for a whale, this poor innocent creature had very little time to come to terms with its identity as a whale before it then had to come to terms with not being a whale any more.
This is a complete record of its thoughts from the moment it began its life till the moment it ended it.
Ah ... ! What's happening? it thought.
Er, excuse me, who am I?
Hello?
Why am I here? What's my purpose in life?
What do I mean by who am I?
Calm down, get a grip now ... oh! This is an interesting sensation, what is it? It's a sort of ... yawning, tingling sensation in my ... my ... well I suppose I'd better start finding names for things if I want to make any headway in what for the sake of what I shall call an argument I shall call the world, so let's call it my stomach.
Good. Ooooh, it's getting quite strong. And hey, what's about this whistling roaring sound going past what I'm suddenly going to call my head? Perhaps I can call that ... wind! Is that a good name? It'll do ... perhaps I can find a better name for it later when I've found out what it's for. It must be something very important because there certainly seems to be a hell of a lot of it. Hey! What's this thing? This ... let's call it a tail - yeah, tail. Hey! I can really thrash it about pretty good can't I? Wow! Wow! That feels great! Doesn't seem to achieve very much but I'll probably find out what it's for later on. Now - have I built up any coherent picture of things yet?
No.
Never mind, hey, this is really exciting, so much to find out about, so much to look forward to, I'm quite dizzy with anticipation...
Or is it the wind?
There really is a lot of that now isn't it?
And wow! Hey! What's this thing suddenly coming towards me very fast? Very very fast. So big and flat and round, it needs a big wide sounding name like ... ow ... ound ... round ... ground! That's it! That's a good name - ground!
I wonder if it will be friends with me?
And the rest, after a sudden wet thud, was silence.
Curiously enough, the only thing that went through the mind of the bowl of petunias as it fell was “Oh no, not again”. Many people have speculated that if we knew exactly why the bowl of petunias had thought that we would know a lot more about the nature of the universe than we do now.
Captain Jack Harkness was pacing up and down outside the Hub, peering anxiously at his wristwatch. Gwen was poised by his side, one hand resting on the gun tucked in the back pocket of her jeans. Tosh was perched on a step with various technical gadgets, clicking her tongue to herself; Owen was sprawled flat on his back on the pavement, hands behind his head, eyes closed; and Ianto was, as usual, nowhere to be seen.
As Jack turned on the spot again, Gwen following him like a puppy waiting to be given a pat on the head and a biscuit, Owen gave a dramatic sigh, pulled himself into a sitting position, and tried to wipe seagull droppings out of his hair.
“Can we go now? We’ve been waiting here for hours, it’s getting dark and I’m bloody freezing. This is pointless. We don’t even know what we’re here for. Just because Tosh’s stupid computer said -”
Toshiko looked up from her calculator and scowled slightly. “I told you. The equations clearly show that the Rift is active again. I double-checked it all. This technology cannot be wrong. Something is going to happen.”
“And we have to be here to stop it! To protect the people!” interjected Jack, flashing a brilliantly white toothy smile that he saved for those moments when he felt particularly pleased with himself.
Gwen swooned.
Owen sighed emphatically again. “Yeah, yeah, for queen and country, blah blah blah,” he said exasperatedly, “but we’ve been here hours and seriously, nothing is happening. Look at the sky. Big fat fucking nothing. And what could we do, anyway? Four of us against god knows what would fall through that rift? I don’t fancy our chances. When are you gonna give it up, Jack? This has got to be the most pointless thing we’ve ever-”
“Quit your whining, you’re here to do your job,” snapped Jack.
Gwen swooned.
“I want a biscuit,” muttered Owen.
At that precise moment, a fifth figure appeared in front of the water tower. Ianto had stepped off the invisible lift, carrying a flowery tray laden with steaming mugs of coffee and a plate of Digestives.
Everyone crowded around and smiled gratefully as he shared the caffeine amongst them. Everyone except Jack. Jack was frowning at his coffee cup, lips pursed.
“Is something wrong, Sir?” enquired Ianto, eyebrow raised as if to say is there something wrong with my coffee, you ungrateful twat?, or perhaps come inside, you’ve been out here for hours and I need a shag.
Jack shook his head, and flashed Ianto that dazzling grin. “Oh, no. Well… not really. The coffee’s great, I should snog you senseless for that, but… it’s just… this isn’t my mug.”
Ianto looked down at the plain, pale blue ceramic cup clasped between Jack’s large, manly hands. Oh, how tightly those fingers curled around the handle, how the hairs on the back of his knuckles prickled in the cold winter air…
He shook his head slightly, trying to clear his thoughts. “Ah, yes, sorry Jack, I couldn’t find yours. I think Myfanwy might have broken it last time he got really horny and trashed the place…” he trailed off.
Jack’s eyes filled with tears. His lip quivered. “You… you… lost my Pingu mug?! My special mug with the little orange feet? My Pingy-wingy?!”
“Uh… I’m sorry Jack, I did look for it… I’ll buy you a new one?”
“That’s not the point! I want that one!” Jack wailed, stamping his foot.
“Awww snookums, I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you! I’ll kiss it all better!” Ianto launched himself toward Jack, puckering his lips, but Jack shook him off, knocking over Tosh’s laptop case in the process.
“NO! Get off me! I’M NOT TALKING TO YOU!”
Gwen swooned; Ianto looked like a kicked puppy; Jack only pouted more. Tosh scurried to move all her equipment to a safe 5 metre radius. Owen took another biscuit.
And it was at that precise moment that a startled-looking sperm whale and a bowl of petunias fell from the sky and landed in the bay with a deafening THUD.
Back inside the hub, Jack and Tosh were hunched over a workbench, trying to piece together a shattered ceramic bowl. Jack had enlisted Tosh’s help in this task, hoping that, as the resident mathematician, she might be good at puzzles. Besides, Owen and Gwen were busy driving the whale to the nearest veterinary hospital (Gwen had pointed out that a sperm whale would not fit in the SUV, but Jack had told them to improvise, and that if that meant strapping a whale to the roof of the car like large, writhing top-box trailing blood spatters down the motorway, then so be it), and Ianto was frantically tearing the Hub apart, searching for his lover’s treasured Pingu mug and sobbing rather hysterically.
Jack, however, had completely forgotten about his missing coffee cup; he was too busy marvelling at the stunning creature before him. It was a beautiful colour of peacock blue, with smooth curves (in all the right places) and a pleasingly rounded but sturdy bottom. It had a delicate, pouting lip around its rim; Jack wanted to press it against his own. He reached out to touch it, tenderly running his fingers across the cold, hard surface of the shattered pieces. Jack could tell that the glossy ceramic surface would be silky-smooth if not plagued with cracks and scars where it had been glued back together. It was unfair, Jack thought, that of all the ridiculous alien tech they had collected - including a machine that turned toast back into bread, a clock with 27 hands, and, yes, sex pollen (boy, that had been a good day at the office) - they had never found any superglue that didn’t leave a mark.
“Don’t worry, baby. You’re still beautiful to me,” Jack whispered to the bowl.
“Sorry, what did you say?” enquired Toshiko, emerging from behind the enormous graphical calculator that she had been absorbed in.
“Uh, nothing,” Jack said hastily, “now, help me get the petunias back in the bowl.”
The flowers were soon neatly arranged back in their bowl, only slightly wilted, with a reasonably minimal scattering of soil covering the Hub (“Let’s leave it, Ianto could do with something to clean, he needs cheering up,” Tosh had suggested). Ianto, however, was up in the boardroom, crawling around the floor - presumably still searching for the pingu mug - and swearing loudly in Welsh. Usually this would have been music to Jack’s ears, but now he had other things on his mind. Tosh had gone to join Gwen and Owen, who had called her from somewhere outside Cardiff, having realised that they had no idea where the nearest veterinary clinic was, and the whale had eaten their roadmap when Owen threw it out of the window in frustration. Jack was all alone with this mysterious creature.
He tenderly stroked a petal.
“Alone at last, huh? Well hey there, baby. How you doin’? Good, I should think, you’ve got me here, after all. I’m Captain Jack Harkness. And I suppose I shall call you Petunia, if that’s ok with you. Not that I’m saying you’re all girl; I’m sure you’ve got some fine stamen there. It’s just, well, you are a bowl of petunias; it seems fitting. Doesn’t matter anyway, I’m totally flexible when it comes to gender. Really. Just ask Ianto…”
At the mention of his woobie, Jack felt a stab of regret at the back of his mind, but quickly pushed the thought away. Ianto had betrayed him. Here, instead, was his beautiful, darling Petunia, ready and willing.
He unclipped his braces and dropped his pants. Pants in the American sense, of course; trousers to the rest of the team. Jack considered underpants wholly unnecessary. He couldn’t even recall having ever owned a pair, come to think of it.
“So, Petunia, here’s Little Jack. Except not little at all, as you can see. I prefer to call him Cockzilla, or Captain Orgasmatron.”
The bowl quivered slightly with excitement, dislodging more soil onto Tosh’s desk.
What followed was some of the most one-sided sex Jack had ever had, but he thoroughly enjoyed it, and was certain that Petunia did also. The flowers certainly seemed to benefit from the soil being ‘watered’ with Jack’s Magnificent Juice of Man-Love, becoming drastically less wilted over the following week.
Title: I don't know yet, but this is chapter [1/?]
Fandom: Torchwood, Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Jack/Petunia, possible Owen/whale later on... and I'm sure I can get Myfanwy and Janet in there somewhere...
Rating: PG13 for language and sex, or C for CRACK
Warnings: No real spoilers (set sometime in S1, but nothing referenced specifically). However... CRAZY, DISTURBING CRACK. Owen and Gwen bashing by proxy. Ianto angst. Injured whale. Really odd sex. Possible non-con, depending whether you believe plants can consent. NOT SAFE FOR BRAIN.
Disclaimer: If I owned TW and H2G2, this would totally be canon and a band of rabid Jack/Ianto fangirls would hunt me down with pitchforks for ruining their favourite ship.
Notes: Douglas Adams? Can you hear me up there? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. The rest of you? Not so sorry. You spawned this nonsense. XD
Another thing that got forgotten was the fact that against all probability a sperm whale had suddenly been called into existence several miles above the surface of an alien planet.
And since this is not a naturally tenable position for a whale, this poor innocent creature had very little time to come to terms with its identity as a whale before it then had to come to terms with not being a whale any more.
This is a complete record of its thoughts from the moment it began its life till the moment it ended it.
Ah ... ! What's happening? it thought.
Er, excuse me, who am I?
Hello?
Why am I here? What's my purpose in life?
What do I mean by who am I?
Calm down, get a grip now ... oh! This is an interesting sensation, what is it? It's a sort of ... yawning, tingling sensation in my ... my ... well I suppose I'd better start finding names for things if I want to make any headway in what for the sake of what I shall call an argument I shall call the world, so let's call it my stomach.
Good. Ooooh, it's getting quite strong. And hey, what's about this whistling roaring sound going past what I'm suddenly going to call my head? Perhaps I can call that ... wind! Is that a good name? It'll do ... perhaps I can find a better name for it later when I've found out what it's for. It must be something very important because there certainly seems to be a hell of a lot of it. Hey! What's this thing? This ... let's call it a tail - yeah, tail. Hey! I can really thrash it about pretty good can't I? Wow! Wow! That feels great! Doesn't seem to achieve very much but I'll probably find out what it's for later on. Now - have I built up any coherent picture of things yet?
No.
Never mind, hey, this is really exciting, so much to find out about, so much to look forward to, I'm quite dizzy with anticipation...
Or is it the wind?
There really is a lot of that now isn't it?
And wow! Hey! What's this thing suddenly coming towards me very fast? Very very fast. So big and flat and round, it needs a big wide sounding name like ... ow ... ound ... round ... ground! That's it! That's a good name - ground!
I wonder if it will be friends with me?
And the rest, after a sudden wet thud, was silence.
Curiously enough, the only thing that went through the mind of the bowl of petunias as it fell was “Oh no, not again”. Many people have speculated that if we knew exactly why the bowl of petunias had thought that we would know a lot more about the nature of the universe than we do now.
Captain Jack Harkness was pacing up and down outside the Hub, peering anxiously at his wristwatch. Gwen was poised by his side, one hand resting on the gun tucked in the back pocket of her jeans. Tosh was perched on a step with various technical gadgets, clicking her tongue to herself; Owen was sprawled flat on his back on the pavement, hands behind his head, eyes closed; and Ianto was, as usual, nowhere to be seen.
As Jack turned on the spot again, Gwen following him like a puppy waiting to be given a pat on the head and a biscuit, Owen gave a dramatic sigh, pulled himself into a sitting position, and tried to wipe seagull droppings out of his hair.
“Can we go now? We’ve been waiting here for hours, it’s getting dark and I’m bloody freezing. This is pointless. We don’t even know what we’re here for. Just because Tosh’s stupid computer said -”
Toshiko looked up from her calculator and scowled slightly. “I told you. The equations clearly show that the Rift is active again. I double-checked it all. This technology cannot be wrong. Something is going to happen.”
“And we have to be here to stop it! To protect the people!” interjected Jack, flashing a brilliantly white toothy smile that he saved for those moments when he felt particularly pleased with himself.
Gwen swooned.
Owen sighed emphatically again. “Yeah, yeah, for queen and country, blah blah blah,” he said exasperatedly, “but we’ve been here hours and seriously, nothing is happening. Look at the sky. Big fat fucking nothing. And what could we do, anyway? Four of us against god knows what would fall through that rift? I don’t fancy our chances. When are you gonna give it up, Jack? This has got to be the most pointless thing we’ve ever-”
“Quit your whining, you’re here to do your job,” snapped Jack.
Gwen swooned.
“I want a biscuit,” muttered Owen.
At that precise moment, a fifth figure appeared in front of the water tower. Ianto had stepped off the invisible lift, carrying a flowery tray laden with steaming mugs of coffee and a plate of Digestives.
Everyone crowded around and smiled gratefully as he shared the caffeine amongst them. Everyone except Jack. Jack was frowning at his coffee cup, lips pursed.
“Is something wrong, Sir?” enquired Ianto, eyebrow raised as if to say is there something wrong with my coffee, you ungrateful twat?, or perhaps come inside, you’ve been out here for hours and I need a shag.
Jack shook his head, and flashed Ianto that dazzling grin. “Oh, no. Well… not really. The coffee’s great, I should snog you senseless for that, but… it’s just… this isn’t my mug.”
Ianto looked down at the plain, pale blue ceramic cup clasped between Jack’s large, manly hands. Oh, how tightly those fingers curled around the handle, how the hairs on the back of his knuckles prickled in the cold winter air…
He shook his head slightly, trying to clear his thoughts. “Ah, yes, sorry Jack, I couldn’t find yours. I think Myfanwy might have broken it last time he got really horny and trashed the place…” he trailed off.
Jack’s eyes filled with tears. His lip quivered. “You… you… lost my Pingu mug?! My special mug with the little orange feet? My Pingy-wingy?!”
“Uh… I’m sorry Jack, I did look for it… I’ll buy you a new one?”
“That’s not the point! I want that one!” Jack wailed, stamping his foot.
“Awww snookums, I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you! I’ll kiss it all better!” Ianto launched himself toward Jack, puckering his lips, but Jack shook him off, knocking over Tosh’s laptop case in the process.
“NO! Get off me! I’M NOT TALKING TO YOU!”
Gwen swooned; Ianto looked like a kicked puppy; Jack only pouted more. Tosh scurried to move all her equipment to a safe 5 metre radius. Owen took another biscuit.
And it was at that precise moment that a startled-looking sperm whale and a bowl of petunias fell from the sky and landed in the bay with a deafening THUD.
Back inside the hub, Jack and Tosh were hunched over a workbench, trying to piece together a shattered ceramic bowl. Jack had enlisted Tosh’s help in this task, hoping that, as the resident mathematician, she might be good at puzzles. Besides, Owen and Gwen were busy driving the whale to the nearest veterinary hospital (Gwen had pointed out that a sperm whale would not fit in the SUV, but Jack had told them to improvise, and that if that meant strapping a whale to the roof of the car like large, writhing top-box trailing blood spatters down the motorway, then so be it), and Ianto was frantically tearing the Hub apart, searching for his lover’s treasured Pingu mug and sobbing rather hysterically.
Jack, however, had completely forgotten about his missing coffee cup; he was too busy marvelling at the stunning creature before him. It was a beautiful colour of peacock blue, with smooth curves (in all the right places) and a pleasingly rounded but sturdy bottom. It had a delicate, pouting lip around its rim; Jack wanted to press it against his own. He reached out to touch it, tenderly running his fingers across the cold, hard surface of the shattered pieces. Jack could tell that the glossy ceramic surface would be silky-smooth if not plagued with cracks and scars where it had been glued back together. It was unfair, Jack thought, that of all the ridiculous alien tech they had collected - including a machine that turned toast back into bread, a clock with 27 hands, and, yes, sex pollen (boy, that had been a good day at the office) - they had never found any superglue that didn’t leave a mark.
“Don’t worry, baby. You’re still beautiful to me,” Jack whispered to the bowl.
“Sorry, what did you say?” enquired Toshiko, emerging from behind the enormous graphical calculator that she had been absorbed in.
“Uh, nothing,” Jack said hastily, “now, help me get the petunias back in the bowl.”
The flowers were soon neatly arranged back in their bowl, only slightly wilted, with a reasonably minimal scattering of soil covering the Hub (“Let’s leave it, Ianto could do with something to clean, he needs cheering up,” Tosh had suggested). Ianto, however, was up in the boardroom, crawling around the floor - presumably still searching for the pingu mug - and swearing loudly in Welsh. Usually this would have been music to Jack’s ears, but now he had other things on his mind. Tosh had gone to join Gwen and Owen, who had called her from somewhere outside Cardiff, having realised that they had no idea where the nearest veterinary clinic was, and the whale had eaten their roadmap when Owen threw it out of the window in frustration. Jack was all alone with this mysterious creature.
He tenderly stroked a petal.
“Alone at last, huh? Well hey there, baby. How you doin’? Good, I should think, you’ve got me here, after all. I’m Captain Jack Harkness. And I suppose I shall call you Petunia, if that’s ok with you. Not that I’m saying you’re all girl; I’m sure you’ve got some fine stamen there. It’s just, well, you are a bowl of petunias; it seems fitting. Doesn’t matter anyway, I’m totally flexible when it comes to gender. Really. Just ask Ianto…”
At the mention of his woobie, Jack felt a stab of regret at the back of his mind, but quickly pushed the thought away. Ianto had betrayed him. Here, instead, was his beautiful, darling Petunia, ready and willing.
He unclipped his braces and dropped his pants. Pants in the American sense, of course; trousers to the rest of the team. Jack considered underpants wholly unnecessary. He couldn’t even recall having ever owned a pair, come to think of it.
“So, Petunia, here’s Little Jack. Except not little at all, as you can see. I prefer to call him Cockzilla, or Captain Orgasmatron.”
The bowl quivered slightly with excitement, dislodging more soil onto Tosh’s desk.
What followed was some of the most one-sided sex Jack had ever had, but he thoroughly enjoyed it, and was certain that Petunia did also. The flowers certainly seemed to benefit from the soil being ‘watered’ with Jack’s Magnificent Juice of Man-Love, becoming drastically less wilted over the following week.