A guessing post and some handay-danday links!
A handy dandy list to the stories posted so far in the TORCHWOOD SEKRIT SANTA (I just listed the characters who appear, and left out all pairings. I don't think any of us care het vs. gen vs. slash, etc):
ANON wrote The War at Home for amand_r (Jack, Gwen, Ianto, Rhys)
ANON wrote All The Best Stories Start With A Death for cruentum (Ianto, Jack)
ANON wrote ( Read more... )
ANON wrote The War at Home for amand_r (Jack, Gwen, Ianto, Rhys)
ANON wrote All The Best Stories Start With A Death for cruentum (Ianto, Jack)
ANON wrote ( Read more... )
The Santa had not prepared Dalek Beta for The New Year.
That, he learned, was what this time was. Dalek Beta did not understand the Earth’s lunar calendar; Skaro had adhered to the Calendar Of Davros, which tended to change with the moods of The Creator. One year was ninety days long; the next, one hundred weeks. It had sometimes left Dalek Beta’s circuitry in flux, but he was a Dalek, and Daleks did not complain about proper temporal arrangement. That was for Time Lords.
* * * *
Emma was just closing the shop up when she saw a flash through the windows. Cursing quietly (she could do that, now; she’d been in this new time long enough to pick up some pretty interesting vocabulary from the other girls in the shop), she unlocked the door and went back inside, expecting to see a fallen light or one of the displays acting tricky again.
What she didn’t expect to see was a giant pepperpot waving its eggbeater/plunger arms around in the middle of the lingerie section.
“Oh,” she said. There wasn’t really much else to say, standing with her eyes wide and her hand clutching a tangle of clothes hangers as some ridiculous defense against the - whatever it was.
“FELICITATE!” it shouted.
“Er.” She looked it up and down. “Hello?”
“FELICITATE! FELICITATE! FESTIVE DIRECTIVE UNCLEAR! WHAT IS THE DATE, HUMAN?”
She blinked. For some reason she wanted to say, Why, it’s Christmas day. “December 31st. New Year’s Eve.” The spirits have done it all in one night.
The pepperpot paused for a moment, seeming to mull this over. “EXPLAIN. EXPLAIN.”
“Explain - New Year’s Eve?”
“EXPLAIN! EXPLAIN!”
“All right, all right!” She backed up a little, watching as its flailing gestured tore undergarments off of the racks around it, bras and panties flying or hooked irretrievably to the sharp edges of the eggbeater arm. “The year ends tonight, after 365 days. People stay up until midnight to greet the new year and kiss when the clock strikes.”
Again, the pepperpot took a moment to digest this new directive. Finally, it asked. “WILL YOU KISS ME?”
Emma made a horrified face. “It - er - it isn’t midnight yet!”
“FINE,” the pepperpot intoned. “EMERGENCY TEMPORAL SHIFT. TO MIDNIGHT, TO MIDNIGHT. HAPPY 356 DAY CYCLE COMPLETION.” In a flash of light, it was gone.
Emma stared at the wreck of the store for a moment. Then she pulled out her mobile and dialed.
Gwen would probably want to hear about this.
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ILU, ANON. AND YOUR PEPPERPOT DALEKS!
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And how great that he wound up in the lingerie section? And wanted a little kissy-face? Sweet. You rock.
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I AM NOT GETTING EMOTIONAL. DALEKS DO NOT GET EMOTIONAL. THERE IS SOME CONDENSATION ON MY EYESTALK THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH EMOTION.
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