Double Drabble: The Blob
Title: The Blob
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Owen, Ianto.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 541: Hero / Heroic at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Some aliens are more troublesome than others.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
“Don’t just stand there!” Owen squeaked. “Do something!”
Ianto frowned at his colleague. “I’d be happy to. Any suggestion what?”
“Get it off me! I’m gettin’ flattened!”
“I can see that. What I can’t see is how to get hold of something that doesn’t have any handholds.”
The alien was a smooth, shiny blob, its surface tough, resilient, and very flexible but impossible to grip. Ianto’s fingers poked dents in it but then simply slipped off. It seemed to be completely frictionless. It had also rolled right on top of Owen and appeared perfectly content to just sit there, like a bird brooding its chick.
“So help me, if you don’t get this thing off me right now…” Lungs constricted by the weight on his chest, Owen trailed off into shallow, wheezing breaths.
Pushing just made Ianto’s hands sink into its surface, but that gave him an idea. Bending down, he forced both hands under the creature and with a heroic effort, heaved upwards, creating a gap above Owen’s body. The medic gulped down air, and now he could use his hands, started to wriggle free.
“Finally!” Standing up, he glared at the alien. “Now what?”
Ianto shrugged. “No idea.”
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Owen, Ianto.
Rating: G
Written For: Challenge 541: Hero / Heroic at tw100.
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: Some aliens are more troublesome than others.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
“Don’t just stand there!” Owen squeaked. “Do something!”
Ianto frowned at his colleague. “I’d be happy to. Any suggestion what?”
“Get it off me! I’m gettin’ flattened!”
“I can see that. What I can’t see is how to get hold of something that doesn’t have any handholds.”
The alien was a smooth, shiny blob, its surface tough, resilient, and very flexible but impossible to grip. Ianto’s fingers poked dents in it but then simply slipped off. It seemed to be completely frictionless. It had also rolled right on top of Owen and appeared perfectly content to just sit there, like a bird brooding its chick.
“So help me, if you don’t get this thing off me right now…” Lungs constricted by the weight on his chest, Owen trailed off into shallow, wheezing breaths.
Pushing just made Ianto’s hands sink into its surface, but that gave him an idea. Bending down, he forced both hands under the creature and with a heroic effort, heaved upwards, creating a gap above Owen’s body. The medic gulped down air, and now he could use his hands, started to wriggle free.
“Finally!” Standing up, he glared at the alien. “Now what?”
Ianto shrugged. “No idea.”
The End