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Oh, now, that's just unfair. And yet I'm amused anyway.
So there's that kissing drabble meme going around. Considering my track record with drabble memes the past few times with other pups, I'll opt out of this one (you don't want me writing kiss scenes anyway), but I will link to it! *is a chicken, yes*
It comes down to fourCollapse )
Based on relativespace play.

I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.

He questioned softly why I failed?
“For beauty,” I replied.
“And I for truth,—the two are one;
We brethren are,” he said.

And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.
--Emily Dickinson

Read more...Collapse )
There were protocols she put into place, just in case. There were plenty of cases she could think of that fell under 'just in case'. It wasn't that she was paranoid; any and all of the scenarios thought up had the chance of actually happening. Most procedures she put into place were under Jack's nose, and she wondered if she was the only one.

One of those 'just in case' procedures included Max. Poor Max, she thought one day after giving him another dose of retcon and driving him back home. Poor Max, a cog in the machine. Poor Max, one of the few people she could trust to listen to her ramble on about work and aliens and personal fears and loves, who would then be drugged to forget it all. Oh, she knew the dangers of retcon overdose--least of all death (that would require a huge dose in a short amount of time). That was what she was counting on.

There were suggestions planted in his head. Just in case. The psychology behind it wasn't all that hard. It was harmless, if things ran smoothly.

And the computer. Tosh would never find her program slipped in, even if she was looking for it--and why would she? Oh, it had a simple way of reversing the eventual process of putting the Hub into a total lockdown scenario--simple for her, at least.

And she really did like Max, and she really did like getting all of her thoughts and feelings and frustrations out in the open, even if they were to mean nothing in any sort of long run. But he needed to be used. She altered her original suggestions a few weeks later. Her plan wasn't quite right, her protocol flawed. He had a job to do if she was absent for too long--or even dead, in fact, and she knew death would be the fault of Torchwood. There were things he needed to do in order for it to work, perfectly, beautifully. Changing scenarios and changing information required, too, a change of plan. The violence behind her planted words struck no warning bells with her, no; it needed to be done. It wasn't like Torchwood wasn't used to a little bloodshed.

And if everyone in the Hub was too busy with Max and the lockdown, she could slip away, nobody to stop her from doing whatever she wanted, until it was all figured out, too late, too late. Her father, if he was still alive by then--and she was certain he would be; he was always alive; if he was braindead, he would probably still have air pumped into him and a heart yet beating--would have a visitor, and nobody to stop her. Torchwood would get theirs for everything done. And she, for some time afterward (she would probably run after that, however, so perhaps indefinitely), would vanish into thin air.

Just in case.

OOC notesCollapse )
a sign will eventually go upCollapse )
Took a wild stab at sprucing up the userinfo and journal slightly. Check it out if you'd like.

In case anyone cares, 1 year journal creation date is on the 24th. (As much for my referrence as yours, seeing how I missed Ten's. *shifty eyes*)
She--he, now, she supposed--still had to go to work. Which was complete bollocks in his opinion, but Torchwood was always one of those 'come hell, high water, or exploding pancreas' jobs. Maybe not the exploding pancreas bit, but it wouldn't surprise him if they weren't allowed off for that.

In any event, he really didn't want to go into work, but it wasn't just work--it was a possible answer to "WHAT THE FUCKING HELL DID YOUR STUPID LITTLE ALIEN DEVICE DO TO ME THIS TIME?"

The baritone voice didn't help his situation.

For the first five minutes of his arrival to the Hub, the others believed that they had an emergency security breach. An intense interrogation followed, and then a DNA test, which--surprisingly--confirmed that he was indeed Suzie Costello.

"I'm telling you, Sydney is a very good guys name."

He shot Owen a scathing look that ended up being not nearly as effective as it used to be. "I am not changing my name; this was probably all your fault anyway."

"My fault?!"

Toshiko glanced between them. "You did have that new bit of alien tech that you thought could be used for medical purposes yesterday," she pointed out, now the only female on the team.

"It never got near her! 'Sides, that's not what it does."

"Hey," interjected Jack with an easy smirk--it would be easy for him, wouldn't it?--"at least you're not a kid this time. Test-driven any of the new systems?" he added with a raise of the eyebrows, followed by ducking a flying coffee mug. "At least the constant PMS hasn't changed."

"Would you mind not making a mess of things?" sighed Ianto. "It could always be worse, you know. At least you own a few more androgynous articles of clothing."

"I don't remember my hips being quite so big," he grumbled in return. "Well, go on, do blood tests and whatever else you need to do to figure out what got me this way and fix it."

Owen grabbed the vial of blood they'd taken to check his DNA. "On it."

Jack still had that insufferable smirk on his face. "Think about all the insight it'll give you. In all the stuff I've done in my life, haven't been a woman. ...Yet."

"I don't know, sir, she seems to be in the same mental state as always."

Tosh sidled up beside him. "Jack's got a point, you know. New experiences or new ways of experiencing them. I doubt Owen's going to come up with some miracle cure in half an hour; you might want to use this to your advantage." He gazed at her warily. "Think of it as a sociological and psychological experiment."

"Are they talking about sex yet?" called Owen from the medlab area, and Ianto attempted to keep another mug from hurtling across the room.
They stared upward, still somehow entranced, at the beast flying near the ceiling and squawking loudly.

"...A pterodactyl."


I mean it's a bleedin' dinosaurCollapse )

The Seven Deadly Sins Quiz on 4degreez.com

Oh that's absolutely ridiculous.