Ask Captain Jack

Captain Jack's Holiday Mail Bag!

2009-12-20T21:58:19Z

TWO GREAT PIECES OF HOLIDAY ADVICE IN MY MAIL BAG FOR YOU!

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Dear Captain Jack:

What is Christmas like in the future? Do you get presents?

- PrincessPea

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Do I get presents? Baby, I'm the kind of guy who gets presents just for existing! I should describe to you what Theresa brought me this morning: Brownish, slimy, mostly dead. I'd share piccies but Ianto binned it. :-(

Christmas in the 53rd century is still a major holiday. Don't worry. Your superstitious Earth traditions survive even after the polar ice caps melt (sorry for this inconvenient truth).

Of course, it's no longer known as Christmas where I'm from. When I first improved your century by being unjustly stranded in it, the holiday differences threw me for a loop (sexily)!

Our winter holiday is known as Grimmas. In honour of Grimace Claus, the terrifying purple monster who comes to our sleeping pods on Grimmas Eve. He brings cheeseburgers for good younglings and death for bad ones.

Did you know: The original It's A Wonderful Life does not end with an angel getting his onion rings? McDonald's Corporation will remake all the movies and improve them, but if you listened to Gwen and Martha's bawling on the topic you'd think this was a crime.

On December 24th I'm gathering my sexy team under my sexy arms as we all sit around the LED lights of the digital Yule Logs to sing Grimmas carols. I have a fabulous singing voice. If I had to choose one voice of all the voices in the universe that is my favourite to listen to, I'd choose my own.

Rhys is doing a huge Piggin dinner so he'll have to be in the kitchen all day monitoring the turbo-roaster and Hart's crate while I'm snuggling with the crew. Thanks for the sacrifice, buddy!

Hey, you're probably wondering: "Captain Jack, what's on your Grimmas list this year?"

I wrote it down on the whiteboard so everyone would know my thoughts on the matter:

What I (Jack) Want For Grimmas (P.L.O.)

- Functional time strap (Doctor, for fuck's sake, just one trip to Caprica!)

- Sexual Favours (!!! LET YOUR IMAGINATIONS SOAR)

- Diamonds

- Personal Jet Pack That Does Not Explode When Powered Up

- Red velvet bow on Ianto's cock (on Ianto?). Fucking hell. Can't choose. Surprise me, Grimace Claus!

- Extended-life battery for Gray's freezy-chamber (stocking stuffer)

- Lasers! (or Lazers)

Yrs helpfully,

Cpt. Jack Harkness

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Jack, is it wise to continue to ignore this transmission? The frequency looks familiar, but the Hub sensors are still working through the data.

- I.J.

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Dear Ianto,

First things first: You look hot today, soldier! I'm secretly looking at you with my eyes while I type this. I can tell you think I'm doing my year-end financials (but I'm not).

Second things second: In my experience (much vaster than yours), it's important to ignore mysterious or unpleasant stuff as long as possible. Especially if it can be abandoned in wartime, paid off with guilt money, frozen indefinitely, or sequestered on Freak Island.

An unidentified transmission might take hours to decipher! Those are hours best spent in holiday bliss, maybe in bed, or on a table where I'd be closer to food. If you'd been in command as long as I have, you'd understand this intimately.

Speaking of intimate understandings, I'm available to be yours helpfully,

Cpt. Jack Harkness

What do you want Captain Jack to leave under your tree this year?

Where the fuck is my egg nog?

2009-12-20T03:43:50Z

WAVE TRANSMISSION - STARDATE: 19.12.2225

------------

From: Captain Jack Harkness
To: All Staff
Priority: Very High to Extremely High
Subject: TWO THOUGHTS

Kids, I know you're all sexily shovelling the space-snow off the space-Plass, but pay attention to two things:

1) I need more egg nog, my mug is empty! Christ, don't make me nog my own eggs. :-(

2) Check out this weird reading! It blip-blooped up on the Rift monitor when you were struggling into your space-snowpants...

It came in with a transmission ... pretty garbled, though...

PS: If you're bringing me egg nog, don't forget the cinnamon. I'm on the couch with the dog!

CIVILIAN NOTICE !

2009-08-30T18:19:07Z

Contrary to crazy reports, Ianto Jones has not been "removed" from life. He's just been "removed" from the 21st century.

I know because I was there when he was "removed" and he was breathing just fine, for fuck's sake.

See this shrine? It's touching. But wrong-headed.

No need for this outpouring of love for my butler
So many weeping civilians...! Hell, I get it. I'd probably weep too if Ianto died. My nose would flow with grief and sadness. My baby blue eyeballs would be swollen with tears...I'd look gorgeous, but pained! But that's not what happened, folks.

I don't care what Mermaid Quay Management has to say about it.

(We had to put up a notice at the Tourist Office to explain what really happened...)

26 sexy spanks for my sexy Ianto

2009-08-19T22:35:32Z

LIVEJOURNAL TO ME:

ask_aboutcoffee's birthday is coming up!

Hi ask_captainjack,

ask_aboutcoffee's birthday is coming up on August 19!

----------

I know, for fuck's sake! I saw the whiteboard reminder.

And the note in my calendar. And the post-it on the mirror. And Gwen's email. And Martha's email.

And I got the "Countdown to Ianto's Birthday!" video from Miles. Ianto, how do you know Miles Vorkosigan?

Why does everyone think I can't remember important shit? I'm the most caring boss and husband I know.

Rhys elbowed me in the side when he picked up Gwen last night. "Don't forget--"

"I know about the fucking birthday," I snarled. "Somebody wrote August 19th on my hand!"

I showed him the note. It was written in permanent space-pen, so it wasn't smeared from all the sexy things I do with the palm of my hand.

Are you dying to know what gift I got Ianto? It wasn't my dick in a box. That's more an 'everyday' sort of surprise. What else do you use cardboard boxes for in the 53rd century but to put your dick in them?

I just need a great set-up line, like: "What's in the box, Jack?"

Then I snap back with: "It's my dick, Ianto! HA HA HA!"

You don't want to look silly holding your dick in a box for too long.

Good ways to prompt people to set-up a joke for you include:

- Coughing meaningfully
- Shaking your dick box loudly
- Hollering for Ianto to notice you

Ianto Jones and I understand each other so well that I only have to give that box a meaningful shake before he looks at me with that loving eye-roll...Jesus, that boy adores me and my dick and my dick box!

Don't think I don't love him right back just because I didn't announce it in the BBC documentary. This is Ianto's birthday post so a portion of this post should really be about him. His nose, his lies, his personality, all those good things. Ianto has had birthdays before, but his 26th is his first in the 53rd!

In the future, a birthday is called a BirthCycle and the spankings you get for every year of your life are much sexier, faster, more futuristic. The spanking paddle vibrates!

I knew for a long time that I wanted to cover the Hub in sparkles to honour Ianto and our love. When I think of "Jack and Ianto" I always think of glitter, deception, jazz hands, sexiness on office furniture, etc...But really, being knee-deep in sparkles is a present for everyone, just not Ianto.

I'm already the greatest gift of all.

It was a puzzle: What else should I get Ianto? Considering that he already has everything a boy could possibly want. He's alive, and he's married to me!

I said to Gwen, "Should I de-present Ianto? Take something AWAY from him and make him find it? His yogurts or the life-support system pump?"

Gwen frowned, deep in thought, "We need the life-support system pump to live."

"This is a nightmare!" I hollered. "I'm loaded with wealth and yet I can't use it to buy Ianto's happiness. He is already filled to the brim with happiness just knowing me!"

"It's the thought that counts, Jack," said Gwen.

She does have a point about hand-made gifts. Didn't my Mom love my macaroni artwork back in Boe? Didn't Dad wear the macaroni necklace I made him until the day he was torn to death by Creatures? Didn't John Hart cry when I made him a macaroni cock ring? How much dried macaroni would it take to make Ianto a waistcoat?

Dad loved his macaroni bling

I was on that project like PCandy on T. I sought Martha's medical advice. "How many arm-holes would I need to put in a waistcoat made for humans and constructed out of dried macaroni?"

"One for the left arm, and one for the right arm," Martha explained. "But Jack, this is really more a tunic you've got going here...And the glue is making me dizzy..."

If you ever want help with your arts & crafts projects, do NOT ask your doctor. Or the Doctor either. Both doctors were unhelpful bitches. How is telling me "this is the worst gift I've ever seen" constructive advice?

I stomped off to the Hub library to sulk. And that's where I had my second fabulous idea of the hour! Our Torchwood library is Ianto's special space. He has all books and files and hoarded secrets and notes and things all in one area.

Note how drab and dreary it is. Everything is organized by number instead of by feeling.

There's no place to sit. Look at Theresa, sitting on his little ass like an animal.

I knew this was the opportunity I was looking for to surprise Ianto for his birthday and I took it.

I transformed our old library into this:

It's gorgeous.

Notice the thoughtful shit I did:

- Put a sofa in there with pillows for Theresa
- Warm blanket for Ianto
- Snacks tray for me
- Books grouped by emotion, then by colour
- Painted the spines of the books if they were too drab!

I also stocked the shelves with the box set third seasons of television shows I thought Ianto would like.

Everyone knows my hallmark for a good third season is how alive the cast members seem at the end of it.

I bought Ianto some fabulous vintage holovids:

McMillan & Husband: The Complete Third Season
The Fucks of Life: The Complete Third Season
Merlin: The Complete Third Season
Degrassi Planet: The Complete Third Season
Stargate Universe: The Complete Third Season
Ms. Midshipwoman Harrington: The Complete Third Season

One of those television shows is porn and another one is total crap, but to find out which is which Ianto will have to snuggle up with me in front of the holoscreen!

When Ianto gets back from the space-shops we're going to all jump out and holler surprise.

ARE YOU KIDS WITH ME? I can see his hovercraft pulling up on the CCTV now! HIDE.

I'm giving you a "gift". Free use of Torchwood!

2009-07-11T16:45:51Z

I got a letter taped to my forehead this morning. It's funny how requests for advice follow me into the 53rd century!

Don't worry, I quickly shot this problem in the face.

-----------------
Dear Captain Jack,

I need your help!

Not long ago I was swept up in a technological mishap that moved me, my entire team of colleagues, and my husband to the 53rd century. Now don't get me wrong -- I love the 53rd century! The fashion is amazing, the food is good (piggin is kind of an acquired taste) and the blankets are just right for cocooning.

The problem is that there was supposed to be this documentary aired about us in the 21st Century, and I never got to see it. Well, this past week the "RetroBeeb" holochannel was playing a re-run, so I settled in to watch it with my husband, my dog Max, and a huge bowl of hyperpopcorn. Paradise, right?

WRONG.

( OH HEY. You watched CHILDREN OF EARTH! Guess what kids, I'm giving you a "gift"... )

Ready for Children of Earth?

2009-07-05T21:54:06Z

Ready for Children of Earth, you GQ muthafuckahs?

I'll be watching with you on my new fandom LJ snaxcident. (It's what you call a snack-related accident.)

I'd love to friend you so we can stay in touch!

So you know what you'd be getting into, the kinds of things I blog about tend to the LULZY. I also go to a bunch of movie festivals throughout the year and can give you a heads up on awesome films.

For ask_captainjack I'm going to clean up the links and sidebar to include all related materials. There are related fics being written that are so damn fine!

I'll also go and title some of the posts in the "Classic Advice" to get more on the sidebar. And of course, there's always the possibility of an Ask Captain Jack Christmas Special...

You might like to...
Check out PC Andy's amazing askverse_fic com.
Check out spiderine's smoking hot Martha/Hart porn "Night Watch"
Check out neifile7's Epic Poem of LOLZ: The love song of A. ROFLd Trusock
Check out amand_r's oddly touching Weevil POV (D)evolution
Download 51stcenturyfox 's Ask World Soundtrack (these songs are kick ass, everyone contributed)

THANK YOU SO MUCH for beating my charity challenge by giving £5 and £1 donations to Comic Relief. I was hoping for £50 but you raised over £80. In my homeland's Canadian bucks that's $150, holy shit. As copperbadge said, "We bought a guy a melon stall!".
www.myrednoseday.com/askcaptainjack

I was convinced Ask Captain Jack was...

2009-07-02T16:39:21Z

Wipe your tears and work my poll, why dontcha!

View Poll: My awesome poll

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THANK YOU FOR AN AWESOME SIX MONTHS!

Hi, I'm Claire from Toronto. I don't have a fandom LJ and I'm not a fan fiction writer.

I ripped some piccies from my facebook to share to prove I'm real -- as real as you can be without an LJ!

If you're in my city, let's be friends? Y/Y?

The first thing you should know about me is that I have a beagle.

He's pretty fucking cute!

I like beer

And karaoke

But I only sing GnR songs

I like cramming myself into military vehicles

Just like CJH!

I like boys

Don't want to get into it right now...

I'm bad at canoeing

Why am I in the stern?

I'm bad at bowling

I'm scared of clowns that sneak into your piccies when you don't notice!

:-(

I love Pimms but a vodka martini is also welcome

Empty :-(

I like travelling and old timey shit and ridiculous snowboots

I pretend like I'm sooo over Queen West and now I'm all "Parkdale" but NO, I'm lying just to fit in!

Tattoo 4ever

I host Dolly Parton Movie Night Sleepovers

I have the kind of hilarious job that gets me into dubious charitable events

I'll swim the fuck out of any ocean!

I wrote up a list of things I wanted to tell you in post-it notes, but Dave took the pic before I was ready!

Last summer I powered through all the Torchwood eps with my crew. We all agreed what a cracked-out, awesome, terrible, awful, wonderful tv show it is.

The thing that struck us the most was what a horrible boss Captain Jack is yet he's completely convinced that he's a great boss. We all agreed: If Captain Jack had an advice column, it would rock.

A few months later one of the girls lost her job in Worldwide Economic Fail 0809. I wrote up the first 4 "advice columns" for her to cheer her up. And that's the story.

Guys, this was so much fun. I LOLed insane amounts. Everyone who made a sock journal was so funny and great to interact with. Everyone who posted on this journal, sock or not, made me laugh. I can't say thank you enough! THANK YOU FOR SO MUCH FUN!

I never received a single negative email. I'm so sorry I couldn't work through all the questions in time. Unconditional Forgiveness for me? Like ACJ, no?

If you're wondering, I don't have a problem with what Who_Anon says about me. Anon memes exist so that people have some place to say the things they can't say in public and I think that's fair. EDIT for the Anons: These are my Facebook pics, public to all. I put them up to say 'hi!' and show I'm a real person. Are we cool? If you are in Toronto, email me and we'll be FB buddies. Thank you for your LOLs and picspams.

This post will be open for Q&A as long as you want to ask questions.

Charitable EDIT TO ADD...

Shit, almost forgot! If you liked the RP, why not consider a donation to Comic Relief on our official web page?
http://www.myrednoseday.com/askcaptainjack

Comic Relief supports projects in Africa and in the UK and is a really great charity. £1 is a meal for a homeless person. £5 pays for a child's school uniform. This year David Tennant and Catherine Tate participated in the funny. I would love to raise £50 in total.

Check my Awesome Friends List today, some of the other socks will be posting about themselves too - I'm excited to find out who you are!

CHECK IT OUT spiderine wrote HART(H)A!!! Check out her Martha/Hart fan fiction: READ IT NOW

The creativity keeps coming: 51stcenturyfox made a FAN MIX...Click to listen!

A POSTCARD FROM THE 53rd CENTURY!

2009-07-01T20:08:24Z

HELLO FROM THE FUTURE!

It's been about a week (our time), probably mere minutes (your time) since you last heard from Torchwood.

When the sub-etheric resonator exploded, we found ourselves vortexed into the future!

I'm well. The kids are okay. So, how are you?

The 53rd is brilliant. I'm going to answer your first two questions right away:

a) YES we have flying cars!

b) YES we have silver unitards!

As it turns out, there's plenty for us to do in the future. Interesting people to scream at. Genetically engineered coffee beans to grind....

...And the aliens. There are many deadly aliens that need to be shot in the face. The Borg, for instance. They're aliens that come in cubes. They're adorable. I'll try to send you pics, you'll LOL.

So what are we going to do with the rest of our awesome lives?

I have a lot of opinions. To everyone's surprise, Hart's ship turned out to be more space-worthy than it looks. He and Martha are zooming off on holidays to the "Pleasure Peninsulas". It probably sounds as gross to you as it does to me.

Rhys discovered he's amazing at driving a flying truck. He's doing long-distance hauls between the Medusa Cascade and Manchester. If you're wondering, do they have chip vans in the future? The answer is yeah, and it took Rhys and Andy ten minutes to find the first one.

As for me and the team, Torchwood is settling nicely into 53rd century Cardiff. When we found the Hub, it had a padlock on it and a note from the Doctor. "Dear Jack, the toaster still works. The key to the Hub is under the Matt."

We hunted around until we found the right Matt, pulled the key off the bottom of his shoe and re-opened the Hub!

Gwen is finding out that tearful compassion works on humans in the future just as well as it works on humans in her own time. The major difference is that the mascara is so much better here. Doesn't run at all. I could sleep with mascara on and wake up looking fabulous, that's how good the formula is.

Ianto was having trouble adjusting for the first few days. I fixed his homesickness with my cock. Technically I guess it was the first problem I solved in the 53rd. The first of many, I can tell by the cases of Rift-related trouble piling up on my desk.

By the way, in the future your "desk" has a powerful computer built into the surface. I was thrilled to see this piece of tech again. FINALLY, an interactive desk!

You know the Welsh, they're never impressed. "That's a flat-screen television with legs on," said Ianto to Gwen.

Another question you are bound to have, "Do they have croissanwiches where you are, Jack?" Uh, I have no clue.

All I know is Ianto and Gwen took Theresa for space-walkies and came back with space-grocery sacks. In the end I was served a croissanwich for lunch. How it got on the space-plate I have no idea!

Incidentally, for you fashion fiends, Ianto's enjoying the wealth of strange fabrics available from the Allied Worlds. He's made himself a waistcoat that sparkles when you think "sparkle!"

I've already bought 10 or 11 bolts of this magical cloth, and sent T & Jenny out to find more. I discovered that I'm as massively wealthy in the future as I am in the past. Huzzah!

Got to go, don't know how long this Rift pocket back to the 21st will last.

We've got important Torchwood business coming up today. We're taking the Torchwood Viper to Coruscant for a meeting with the Prime Minister and our own QEII. I'm excited to scream in his face about how he should follow my orders. I've got a royal decree on my side, after all.

It's going to be LULZY as he's ruled with an iron robot fist for centuries and probably remembers the last time I screamed in his face (the 51st).

If he was human, he'd piss himself with fear. Torchwood administrative work is never done!

Yrs helpfully from the future,
Cpt. Jack Harkness

PS: I'm letting Ianto fly the Viper. I'm too full of Pimms to steer.

What does love feel like?

2009-06-30T20:56:10Z

Dear Captain Jack

What does love feel like?

I guess this is a stupid question.

- Megan

--------------

There are many different types of love and I'm an expert in all of them! Wow, sometimes I think I'm a fool for love.

What Time Agent isn't? We have romantic jobs. We roam around the universe being heroic in period costume. Capes. Cravats. Spacesuits. Leather hoods. Rollerskates...

When we had a case in the 16th century, I wore a ruff. You can't avoid being poetic when you are wearing a ruff. Poetry just pours out of you! I was rhyming shit like nobody's business.

Do you know how many princesses I've rescued from towers? Probably four or five. If you count skyscrapers as "towers" and businessmen as "princesses", the number is more like eight or nine.

Of course, I grew up loving my Moms and Mums and Dad. That kind of love is like comfort food. If I were to pick a snack to describe that love that it would be Reconstituted Selenium Flakes.

"Flakes" is a brand that Earth won't have for ages, but trust me, every little boy loves to get flake paste in his lunch pod! Smoothing out the flakes with the little plastic paddle... Adding drops of salt water to get the right texture...Punching other kids who try to snatch your flakes... That's childhood in a paragraph, really.

Most special of all to Little Jack (the person, not the cock) was my younger brother Grey. I'm all sad face sitting here typing out my feelings. I love Grey a lot even though he is technically a psychopath and a murderer. It's not his fault. He was accidentally raised that way!

The best way to describe brotherly love is that when you feel it you want to chloroform your bro in the face instead of shoot your bro in the face. Then you want to freeze the whole problem and not think about it for decades. Maybe centuries, if your refrigeration unit is Torchwood-quality.

When I joined the Space Corps and went to war (the first time), I loved a lot of people. I don't think I want to list them all as it makes Ianto twitchy. It also makes Gwen's eyes widen. They don't need to be any bigger than they already are.

I'll skip to John Hart. What's it like to be in love with John Hart? I have to dredge up the memories because I'm so out of love with his broke-down ass. Which incidentally, left a trail of margarine on the Rift monitor this morning. I could see the division between crack and cheek. Disgusting.

Most of the words I would use to describe my relationship with Hart don't translate well into English. Fortunately, that's what images are for...

It was exactly what it looked like.

It's only a hop, skip and a warp over people I can't remember before I hit Rose and the Doctor!

That was a magical time. The feeling I got from loving the Doctor was like the feeling a hobo gets when he squishes his dirty, unloved face against a window and peers in at a happy family sitting by the fire.

So, a Christmas-y kind of feeling, really!

When I was abandoned on Earth, I was entirely without resources. I could only rely on my immortality and my good looks until Torchwood scooped me up.

Working with Alice and the gang opened up a new realm of possibilities in interacting with people. I found out there was more to a relationship than 'con-man and victim'. There was now 'rescuer and victim'!

Did you know I got married in 1912? Denise was awesome! Being in love with your wife is a lot like being in love with your girlfriend, except you have to pose for more daguerreotypes.

She used to tell me: "Just one more, Jack. Look stiffer, it's 1912 not 1908."

Unfortunately, love has bad moments. When your wife is trampled by a run-away fire engine (they were pulled by horses back then) it is so fucking depressing. I could barely love again! I wandered the streets for a week, distraught, having sex with nothing (practically).

Fortunately, wars are a fabulous distraction for the love-lorn. Is there anything cosier than resting your head on your best lieutenant's shoulder as the mortar shells rain down? A war is also a good excuse if you fall in love again "too soon" and need to skedaddle out of a situation. SORRY ESTELLE.

Same excuse applies when smooching a stranger on the floor of a WWII dance hall. I fall hard and fast, it's just my thing. I can't help it! SORRY REAL CAPTAIN JACK HARKNESS.

It wasn't until Alex put me in charge of Torchwood that I really discovered what it's like to love a hot sexy team of your very own. What kind of love is the love you have for your employees?

Sexual, definitely, but only on the surface. It's almost paternal. Not super-paternal like the love I have for the baby I carried for those lesbians. I guess I should just mark the feeling down as "Boss-type Affection".

Hey, Torchwood team-love can be summed up in an image too:

Care Bear stare!

Suzie, Owen, Toshiko --- Two/thirds of them were great kids. If they weren't dead I'd want to interview them for this piece in my column. I'd ask them to explain: "What does it feel like to love Captain Jack Harkness so much?"

That's a question I'd throw out to Dr. Martha Jones too. When you bond with a friend through shared trauma that's another kind of love. I call it "situational"!

It's super that we're both awesome people or else the morning after the year of trauma could be pretty awkward...My Martha doesn't know the meaning of the word awkward. Have you met her boyfriend?

Skip back to Gwen Cooper. I could tell she was special right away. If she was a vampire, she'd sparkle in the sunlight. There'd be sparkles all over the place!

Loving Gwen is a lot like loving myself. We both have amazing hair. We both want our way all the fucking time. It must be a joy for Ianto to work with Type-A personalities like ours.

Speaking of Ianto Jones, I had to leave him to last. When Ianto first joined us I didn't notice him unless he was feeding or fucking me. I sure noticed him when his cyberwoman tried to take over the world, though. That was hard to miss!

After I fixed his traumas with my cock it turns out he has this minxy little personality all his own. Then I started noticing when he wasn't around. That's when you know you're really gone for someone, Megan. When you get pissed off because your significant other isn't there.

It was late one night when I had this revelation. Am I in love (again)? It woke me from my sexy slumber.

I shot straight-up in bed, dislodging the tray of cheese and crackers on my lap.

"Ianto, I love you!" I hollered in his direction. "Hey, are you awake?"

"Please don't holler," said Ianto. His voice was muffled by his blanket burrito.

As I sank back into the pillows, chewing on a cracker thoughtfully, I knew I had to trap that boy in a lasting marriage...And here we are: Mission Accomplished!

Did this help, Megan? I must say, I highly recommend love.

If I had to rate love overall I'd give it ****1/2 to ***** stars!

Yrs helpfully,

Cpt. Jack Harkness

PS: PC Andy Davidson, before you fucking start...Of course I love you too. In a vague, "Do I know that guy?" kind of way.

I just don't want to lead you on. It will break T's heart if you think you've got a shot with me.

(You don't have a shot with me.)

Fan fiction: The Adventure of the Wild, Wild West

2009-06-29T19:47:03Z

Ever since I showed you my bitchin' beta work I've been getting requests for more of my bitchin' fan fictions. I don't like to disappoint the Internets, so please enjoy the following!

Title: The Adventure of the Wild, Wild West
Author: ask_captainjack
Beta: ask_captainjack
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Gwen is also in the story but not sexually active
Warnings: Face-shooting, hurt/comfort, time-travel, awesomeness
Summary: Torchwood travels into the American Wild West to save the day!
Timeline: This story takes place after The Adventure of the Three Gay Unicorns because Toshiko and Owen are dead. :-(
Author Note: Still grieving the loss of Toshiko and Owen so am only accepting positive criticism. By that I mean compliments.

---------------

It was a sexy Tuesday afternoon in 1893 when the Rift burst open and l leaped through onto the steamy tropical marshland of Oklahoma state.

I landed feet first in a pose that could only be described as heroic and breathtaking. You know the one. It's on my promotional posters.

My team tumbled out after me, generating the weird "plop" noise you always hear with Rift travel. Although Ianto and Gwen were time travel newbies, they still looked fantastic in their period-appropriate cowboy and cowgirl outfits.

We'd zoomed awesomely into Earth's wild west past to track down fleeing alien criminals we'd first encountered in our own time. I made the wise and decisive decision to risk changing the timeline in order to save all your human lives!

You might be asking, "Didn't the Doctor break your wriststrap, Jack?" Well, for the purposes of this story, that didn't happen. And if he's reading my story now I hope he feels fucking awful about what he did.

I squinted into the hot Oklahomian sun, looking delicious, like John Wayne in The Searchers. I was wearing a waistcoat made of pinto horse hide, a plaid flannel shirt, unbuttoned to the waist, and loads of shiny Gay Pride parade beads. The strings on my cowboy hat were tied under my chin in a jaunty knot. I threw my greatcoat on over my costume so everyone we met would automatically know I was in charge.

While we'd all stuck meticulously to period costume after thorough research on Wikipedia and Usenet, I did cave in the end and let Gwen wear jeans, and Ianto carry two tazers.

"Jack! Look!" Ianto wept, pointing frantically at the stranger on horseback appearing on the horizon.

His skin was a gleaming pasty white, like a marble coffee table recently polished for visitors. A bow and quiver were slung on his naked back. The single pigeon feather in his glittering headband of square-cut emeralds signified his noble tribe of origin: The Welsh.

I'd skimmed magazine articles and fantasy literature about his people, and knew myself to be an expert in their ancient and mystical ways.

"Careful," I cautioned my team. "The ancient Welsh eat strangers' toes, then they string their victim's credit and debit cards on twine and make wind chimes for their children."

"How do they do that without a hole punch?" Ianto wondered. I scoffed at his 21st century office supplies perspective.

"They gnaw holes in the plastic with their incisors, Ianto."

As the stranger rode towards us, I eyed him appreciatively, wishing I'd taken the time to research what kind of lip gloss cowboys wore in the 19th century. I was wearing strawberry. Was that a good decision? My lips felt historically accurate.

I saw Gwen's hand hovering over her handbag, protecting her credit cards. And since when had she been allowed to bring a purse? For fuck's sake, Gwen.

Doesn't anybody follow my instructions in the field any more?

"Good morning!" The Welsh scout announced, in his language (which was English).

I speak all the languages, so communication is never a problem for me. If it ever gets to words that is. I let my left eyebrow arch sexily, setting the tone of our congress. "Hey yourself buddy," I hollered into his face. Face to face communication is another skill of mine. "Have you seen any aliens that look like this lately?"

In the 19th century they don't have useful things like 3D holograms, so I pulled up Ianto's shirt and drew in felt pen what the alien looked like.

Meanwhile, Gwen silently regarded our new friend with those huge monstrous eyes of hers. "I would have thought that we'd encounter some native Irish here in the wild west. Like Daniel Day-Lewis in The Last of the Mohicans."

I had to agree. "Shit yes, Daniel Day-Lewis was fit." I immediately understood the problem.

"This is probably one of those alternate universes where natives didn't get written into the story, Gwen. It might have been inconvenient for the author to deal with all the Irish."

I addressed my next question to our new friend. "What's your name, feller? I'm Captain Jack Harkness. I can't tell you how I came to your land. It's classified. We're not here to steal your coal if you're worried about that. But if you can find us these aliens, I'll pay you in coal. Well actually, a promissory note for coal."

"They call me Yellow Fang," said the scout. "Because I drink so much tea."

Ianto and I recoiled at the mention of tea. Well, strange aboriginal customs suited this strange land!

"Take us to your leader," I commanded. "Can we all fit in your vehicle?"

"It's kind of a horse, not really a vehicle," said Yellow Fang. "And of course we can all fit. We'll just be squished together."

Being squished together is one of my favourite things. I swung my sexy team up on the "horse", gathered them close in the folds of my awesome coat, tapped Yellow Fang on the shoulder, and off we trotted.

As we entered the Welsh settlement, we caused quite a stir. I waved from the boot of the horse.

"TORCHWOOD! Listen, have you seen these aliens?"

It wasn't easy to pull Ianto's shirt apart with one hand to display my drawing, but lots of things aren't easy... It wasn't easy for me to reprogram that spaceship to send Toshiko's lover into the heart of the sun but I didn't complain about all the math I had to do. Not complaining is another attractive trait of mine.

"What's all this about then?" asked an elderly man in a coal miner's helmet. I figured he was in charge because he had five large pigeon feathers attached to the safety strap. He slammed the door on his teepee and strode out to meet us as we rode into camp.

"Don't worry sir," I gave him the Harkness grin. "I'm here to track down some aliens and save your people!"

"Save us? We want for nothing. Perhaps we could use a baritone in the choir..." The Welsh Elder looked thoughtful. As well he should. He could probably tell from the timbre of my hollering that I'm amazing at baritone. (All the tones, actually.)

"The civilians are okay?" Gwen bit her lip as we all slid off Yellow Fang's horse. She wasn't used to people being okay without her intense personal involvement. "If they're fine, maybe we should leave? What are we supposed to do when people are okay, Jack?"

"How about a cultural exchange?" I suggested. "You provision us for our alien search in the wilderness and in turn we'll show you how to make fire."

"I think they've already got fire," Ianto pointed out, gesturing towards the 30-chicken rotisserie in the middle of the settlement. Oh, good point. And that rotisserie was bigger than the one we have at the Hub!

"Well, we'll show them how to put out fires," I bargained.

Gwen and Ianto looked dubious. LOL, the kids caught me. I have no fucking clue how to put out a fire. Hey, the kitchen is just not my thing.

I felt a bit low. "Guess there's no reason for Torchwood to stick around," I said to Yellow Fang. "I didn't mean to disrupt your day." Everyone knows a Welsh scout's afternoon is devoted to panther hunts and tearing the bodices off spirited women. "I'll leave you to your bodice-ripping."

Before Yellow Fang could open his mouth to beg me not to go, there was an explosion.

KA-BOOM! was the sound.

"Something exploded!" Gwen shrieked. She and Ianto clutched each other tightly, writhing their hot bodies against each other. (If you think this counts as frottage, please leave me a note in the comments so I can warn for it in the header.)

"We're under alien attack!" I deduced, glancing at my arm. My wriststrap isn't just good at dimming the lights and closing drawers. It also flashes red if you've just been attacked by aliens.

Suddenly, the settlement was swarming with gross, slimy, tentacled aliens firing heat-ray guns at our faces. I knew that logically I should be respectful of their right to be disgusting, but sometimes it's difficult to be tolerant.

I know I'm not Xenophobic. I voted for Obama, several times. And Obama II. And even the wildly corrupt Emperor Obama III.

While I was thinking all these complex thoughts, my team sprung into action. Ianto pulled out his tazers and began tazing aliens in the face. That boy is something else. He can leap through the air with two tazers in his hands, screaming with bloodlust, and not appear ridiculous at all.

I turned to Gwen. "This is why you shouldn't have wasted your one free historical inaccuracy token on jeans." I eyed her ass. "Although those are great jeans."

Gwen paused while stomping aliens in the face. "Thanks Jack! " She adores me and my opinions. Green gooey alien innards sprayed into the air each time her heel slammed down on an alien's screaming maw.

Blasting aliens in the face with my Webley was no problem. But I could tell we had a volume issue. Too many fucking aliens, not enough Torchwood firepower.

Here's where I turned to the locals for help.

"HELP," I hollered to the Welsh as they ran past sobbing in terror, their arms waving in the air like Kermit the Frog. "Do you have any extra weapons? The killing kind, not the decorative kind. Don't bring me your Grandpappy's duelling pistols. Jesus christ."

"We've got some tomahawks," said Yellow Fang. Oh bless his heart. What luck!

"I can fly the fuck out of a tomahawk," I announced, thrilled to find something useful in Oklahoma. "Wait, do you mean the missile or the plane?"

"Both," said Yellow Fang. "We've mounted tomahawks on our tomahawks. Let's go!"

AW SHIT. YES! <-- These were my thoughts at the time.

We ran for the aircraft hanger, dodging heat-ray blasts as we ran. I am fabulous at zigging and zagging out of the way of danger, but suddenly, Yellow Fang took a blast full in the back and fell.

I turned at the "Zzzz" sound of the zap. My coat whipped out behind me in slo-motion. My eyebrows crawled to the top of my brow and perched there, waiting for the horror to reach the rest of my face...

"NO!" I wailed stoically, dropping to my knees beside his body. I was filled with rage at the unfairness of the universe. "Yellow Faaaaang!"

I felt a touch at my shoulder. Ianto was there. He looked at me with sad, wet eyes. "He's gone Jack," Ianto whispered. "You can tell by the way his head has detached from his neck. And his legs have detached from his torso."

Ianto was right. There was no field dressing that could fix this. I lowered Yellow Fang's torso to the ground. I found myself snapping out of slo-motion. I was in fast, awesome motion again.

"I'll avenge you, Yellow Fang." I told the piece of him closest to my knee. "...The way Torchwood does best. With outrageous violence. Let's go get in the air, Ianto!"

The tomahawk teepee was a short jog down the round. Six beautiful planes were gassed up and ready to go. I wanted to stroke them all but there really wasn't time for that.

I flung myself into the pilot's seat and started my pre-flight checklist. "Toggle, toggle, toggle," I muttered under my breath. "Green light, green light, green light!"

Ianto tied the hanger flap open and barrelled in beside me. He was already on the CB Radio, poking at knobs, pulling out knobs. Being methodical and gorgeous. "GWEN, can you hear us?"

I could hear Gwen's voice crackle over the radio. "ROGER! I'm kung fu-ing all these fuckers, Ianto."

Ianto and I shared a chuckle. Oh Gwen and her kung-fu. We'd definitely have to rescue her ass!

"Ianto, you're in charge of the missiles," I said as we taxied down the runway. "Hit aliens, not civilians. Like in training."

This sort of scenario is exactly why I forced my team to do practice drills on the Plass. In the drill we lob balls of clay at targets to simulate bombs, missiles or bullets.

The idea is to hit the orange cones I've set up on the boardwalk. I've written "ALIEN" on the side so you know which cones are aliens and which cones are for construction. Eventually the team becomes accustomed to shooting motionless cone-shaped aliens.

"HUZZAH," Ianto ejaculated into the radio. "Missile 1 is a hit. Missile 2 ....hit!"

I really couldn't resist the opportunity to show off a bit. I love being in the air, flying with my favourite fella. Just because you're in the middle of a battle doesn't mean you can't take time for each other. That's what being in a relationship is all about. I rested one arm on the rolled-down window and threw the other one around Ianto's shoulders.

"How are you flying this thing?" Ianto gasped, startled by the dip in altitude.

"Shhh, baby," I chuckled. "I'll pull up when we're closer to the ground."

Speaking of the ground, the tomahawk missiles had done the trick. The battlefield was littered with bomb craters and smoking piles of burnt alien flesh.

From 500 feet up we could see Gwen stomping on the last of the aliens who were trying to escape. I could see her lips moving as she shouted instructions to the civilians.

"Knock on flaps," she was saying. "Let everyone know that we're taking care of the situation. STAY CALM!"

"See that, Ianto? Gwen is taking compassionate charge of that situation down there. That's her Heddlu training showing."

Ianto wasn't listening. He was grabbing between my legs for the flight controls and was pulling the nose of the plane up...

"I was going to get to it, Ianto," I told him as we gently descended into a cornfield and burst into flames. "Hey, there's something else between my legs you might be interested in..."

I didn't get to finish my sentence with the impact of our landing, but as I dragged Ianto from the wreckage, I told him I was proud of his work today.

"I intend to hurt/comfort you when we get home," I warned him. "My hurt/comforting is pretty fucking spectacular."

Ianto smiled the special smug smile he uses in his smug livejournal icon. I was so turned on it was hard to walk. We hobbled the 3 kilometers back to the settlement, big sexy grins on our faces.

Gwen had already sorted everything out with Yellow Fang's people and was eating slices of gratitude pie that the village women had baked for her.

"Oh fuck, you got pie?" I complained heroically. "We worked harder."

I felt mildly annoyed that Gwen got the gratitude treats when the boys had worked just as hard to save the village from the aliens we sort of brought to the village in the first place.

As my battered but triumphant team assembled by my side in preparation for our plop back to our own time and universe, I had a sudden insightful thought...

I reflected that cultural differences between humans are unimportant. Be your skin a synthetic orange tan, like my own, or pearly pasty white, like the Welsh.

What truly matters is wiping out alien scum!

This is exactly what I wrote in my log at the end of the day. I underlined it, for remembrance!

THE END

Smart is Sexy

2009-06-26T20:57:33Z

Dear Captain Jack,

I am writing because I saw in your last advice column that you defended a thesis on the SPRAY THE MUTHAFUCKIN SCENE, MUTHFUCKAH! technique in Battle School. I'm working on my thesis right now. It's not about spraying the scene with bullets, though. Maybe that's why I'm having such a hard time with it.

I have never had such a hard time writing anything in my life. I go out of my way to procrastinate with long, hard sessions of house-cleaning in nothing but my lingerie, long periods of time surfing XTube online literary magazines, and midday naps (also nearly naked). When I get up the courage to write, it's like I have to fight for every sentence. This has gone on for months, and my thesis advisor is getting exasperated with me. Not to mention, I'm getting exasperated with myself.

I was hoping you could either heal my writer's block with your cock, or share your experiences thesis-defending in Battle School in order to help me realize what I'm doing wrong, and give me some tips on getting through this thesis so I emerge as the sexy academic superstar I know I can be. Help me, Captain Jack! Help me shoot this thesis in the face!

Love and titties,
Smart Is Sexy

-----------------------

It's easy to get distracted when you're so brainy! You need constant stimulation. I understand this intimately.

Once I was sitting in my office, trying to think about the mysterious "missing three days" we lost last year... What had happened in that time? What was the threat to my hot sexy team? What needed to be shot in the face?

I couldn't keep my mind on the topic at hand because somebody had left a box of sand on my desk.

You know me and boxes. You know me and sand. I'm a very tactile hero and boss.

I probably spent 3 or 4 hours running my fingers through sand...Tossing it over my shoulder, dumping it out, making little piles, dumping it back in, blowing it around the office, doing awesome soft shoe routines, etc.

Is that how you feel, Smart is Sexy? Like people keep bringing you boxes of sand?

There are a lot of great ways to knuckle down and finish your thesis work. The first and best way is: Graduate without defending your thesis in the first place!

For instance, remember how Captain Kirk spent so much time and effort beating the Kobayashi Maru? He was up for hours writing code to change the simulation program. Jesus christ, what a nerd.

I beat Kobayashi Maru the old-fashioned way. I fucked the Examiner!

"So, I rescued those ships in the neutral zone and didn't use up all my dilithium and stuff, right?" I said to him, as we were going at it. "Can we just mark this as pass?"

He agreed with my proposal.

Have you thought about just fucking your thesis advisor? That way you get the degree and he or she gets something nice out of it too.

If you absolutely have to write a thesis, that's okay. I'm sure you can be as amazing at writing things down as I am.

The best way to write anything is to pound out your (academic) thoughts in one go. If you have a sister you can sit in a car eating candy beans while she writes down your pearls of wisdom for you. A back-up option here would be a butler or someone else with a lot of patience and an interest in a share of your royalties.

If you don't have a sister, you have to record your words yourself. FINE, no problem. You already know what you want to argue, right?

I assume you have a topic. Now all you have to do is ramble towards your point in as many words as possible. Everyone knows that content is not important. Who is going to check your work? As long as you have a clean shirt and a fantastic smile when you have to "defend" your paper, you'll do just fine. Are you planning to wear a short skirt? I did!

As for doing the research notes, 21st technology has made this so much easier. I don't know how old you were when you started toiling uselessly towards a graduate degree, but a lot has happened in the last 15 years!

Social networking tools make verifying sources much faster. Speed is important. Accuracy is for the Germans. You should Twitter something like: "Modern Feminism, in transition? Y/Y?" and when you get back a bunch of "Y" tweets that means your argument is solid. Fucking solid! Similarly "Vaccines cause Autism - need anecdotes!" is going to send a lot of data your way.

I recommend a thesis be presented in Courier font. It looks old timey. Like you spent years banging away at a typewriter. That's how intelligent you are. You use a typewriter! You could be the kind of hipster who plays Scrabble in cafes. So, just give you the fucking degree already! <- All that is conveyed just by using Courier.

You know my love of Comic Sans, but that's really a "business" font. Use Comic Sans when you're applying for an internship at the Time Agency. LOL! I am kidding. The Agency doesn't want academics. They recruit poor kids from rural areas. Have you seen the posters?

"JOIN THE TIME AGENCY: A TWO YEAR TOUR PAYS FOR COLLEGE".

Of course, the "two years" is relative. REALLY relative.

Because I'm an expert in education, I thought I'd share some of my cover pages. I hope you will be inspired!

Everybody loved this paper. What's not to love about guns and planes? The only criticism I got was from some faculty members who didn't understand why I referenced "World War One" throughout my work. I explained about a billion fucking times that I didn't want readers to get it confused with the war coming up!

In the future, you submit all your work through tricorder. I enlarged the screen so you can see my thesis.

Everybody loved this download. What's not to love about canons and spaceships?

I was lauded for writing my thesis in the second person and for putting in so many hurt/comfort scenes. In case you're wondering, "Captain Jack, did you put warnings on your thesis?" Yes, of course I did. There was a lot of dub-con in the technical illustrations.

I think I've given you some awesome suggestions for how to complete your graduate work. Letters after your name are going to be sexy. Triple XXX sexy!

Yrs helpfully,
Cpt. Jack Harkness, PhD. Engineering 1930, PhD. Heretical Physics 5027

That's not my name-r

2009-06-22T21:55:01Z

Dear Captain Jack,

Okay. Here we go then. There's this guy, and I like him a lot. I'm not talking like I want to make the beast with two backs or nothing, but he's a nice dude and I value his bon mots, even though we are just online "friends". You couldn't see me make the air quotes, but imagine that I quoted the hell out of the air just then.

There's one problem. He doesn't know my name! I don't mean that he doesn't know who I am, I mean that he keeps getting it wrong! I don't get it. My name is right there in my livejournal replies. When he gets an email notification that I've replied to a comment, my name is right there in the box: "amand-r has replied to a comment in your livejournal entry!"

I've been called many things on the internet, and I understand that in the excitement that is the BLOGOSPHERE, there are bound to be miscommunications. It just makes me a sad panda to see that MY NAME IS REPEATEDLY INCORRECT.

Should I shoot this dude in the face? Or is that too harsh? I was thinking of writing a strongly-worded passive-aggressive email. Or maybe I could go to the secret organization where he works and like, make paper airplanes with the correct spelling of my name and just toss them down into the hole in the ground whenever the "invisible lift" opens. (Wow, I'm really slamming the air quotes today!)

What do you think? Would a fruit basket work? Baked goods? I see that there's a new bakery/delivery service called "Strumpets N' Crumpets." Perhaps he'd be more inclined to listen to me if I sent a stripper armed with traditional British tea fare. Or maybe I should send lube? I hear that lube often takes the friction out of uncomfortable situations.

Love, kisses and paper airplanes (smeared with lube),

Amand-r
--------------------

Darling, how many shekels of silver is it going to take to make this right?

It's not easy being trapped in the past. I make the occasional cultural faux-pas. Usually when these things happen to me I can smooth it over with a sexy wink...

The medium of livejournal is only so effective for conveying sexy winks.

Brace yourself, this wink is coming straight atcha!

So I have to describe mine in sentences:

Moved by his unintentional offense, Captain Jack Harkness poured on the sexy charm and blinked his awesome eyelashes. If Amand-r wasn't gay for Captain Jack before, she would certainly be gay for him now.

I didn't want to acerbate the situation so I did some research on your culture. I know you folks enjoy the Bible an awful lot, so I searched for some advice on what to do when you've offended someone.

This is from Chapter Genesis:

To Sarah he said, "I am giving your brother a thousand shekels of silver. This is to cover the offense against you before all who are with you; you are completely vindicated."

Shit, good advice King James, I can do that.

How many shekels should Torchwood provide you with to make up for my mistake? A sack? A pillowcase?

I want things to be cool between us, sweetheart. Like in the Before Times, when you weren't a sad panda.

In my defense, it's not a common name.

I thought the R was a prosthetic sort of R. There for balance, like a tail.

Yrs in contrition,
Cpt. Jack Harkness

the-wife-of-the-guy-whose-sperm-is-about-to-become-the-infant-of-a-lesbian

2009-06-21T21:18:59Z

Dear Captain Jack,

Here I was, living in the first few years of the twenty-first century, and feeling really good about how all-inclusive we were all being. I mean, men and women, men and men, women and women, dogs and cats, it all seemed so wonderful and idyllic.

But now I find I'm in a Miss Manners Etiquette Quandary from Hell. Only Captain Jack can answer this one for me.

My husband and I are very close friends with a lesbian couple (get your mind out of the gutter, Harkness -- this is an etiquette question). And he has donated his sperm to them for them to have a baby. The baby's about to be born. The two women are the baby's mothers, and clearly my husband is the father.

But what do I refer to myself as?

Surely by the 51st century, familial groupings have totally different names to them. Is there an appropriate title that I can use?

Questioningly yours,
the-wife-of-the-guy-whose-sperm-is-about-to-become-the-infant-of-a-lesbian

-------------------

The mention of lesbians isn't enough to put my mind in the gutter. What are the lesbians wearing?

As you pointed out, I'm a 51st century guy. Are these lesbians snogging in this mental picture or are they sitting around a kitchen table discussing interest rates? How big are their "assets"? Is a hot tub involved? That's the kind of detail that gets me going.

Listen, congrats on your sperm generosity! You were right to come to me with your etiquette questions.

Where I'm from (the future!) we have a lot of formal terms to cover this situation. You might like one of the following titles:

What to Call A Wife Whose Husband Has Fathered a Child with Lesbians

Home Pod Co-Occupant

Third Best Mom

Dad's Contractual Bond-Mate

Keeper of the Family Jewels

Hetero Role Model

Not Legally Responsible

The Fifth Wheel

Loan Officer

HA HA HA! ... I'm yanking your chain, kids. In the 51st century we just call each other by our first names. I was "Jack" to my kid. The words for "Biological Father" are a lot of syllables when translated in Boeshan. The longer your mouth is open, the more sand that can fly in!

It was the same situation with us when I was a surrogate parent. I donated space in my manuterus to friends in need. I did it the one time and never again! Seriously. It wasn't just choosing John Hart for co-donor that fucked up the situation. Although in retrospect, that was a stupid fucking decision. The lesbians wanted his cheekbones. Lesbians are notorious for their love of high cheekbones. Fools!

Those of you hoping for Harkness-Jones babies will have to comfort yourself with your terrible fan fictions. I don't like this face on Ianto.

I don't fucking like it.
One of the things we learned early in our relationship is that we both have the same long-term goals for Ianto Jones, ie: "Don't die. Don't get pregnant."

I'm not saying YOU can't borrow my sperm if you need it. I tell everyone, don't go and get your jizz randomly off the street. It's not safe! That Ace of Base song gives me a sad face. Poor baby-crazy Swedish girl. She "leads a lonely life".

Hey, my door is always open to Swedes who need my sperm.

Swedish ladies, don't roam the streets. Come to Jack Harkness!

You know, the-wife-of, you shouldn't worry about what you're going to call yourself. What are you going to call the baby? I'm fabulous at naming babies. I've renamed babies that are already named.

When I stride through the local playground (on my way to a local crime scene) I often pause to point out some toddler on a swing-set.

I'll holler at the closest female: "That your kid?” I point my finger authoritatively. “What's his name?"

"His name is Ethan," she'll typically reply. "All my friends named their kid Ethan or Madison and I thought I would too."

Wow, poor woman. "Shit name! That kid is a Carl if I've ever seen one."

While they're gasping with gratitude, I stride off, job well done!

I have three great techniques for naming a baby. Happy to share...

How to Name Your Baby by Captain Jack Harkness, RAF

1) After a loved one

When you think of the people in your life that you love, I've got to be top of your list!

If you are worried that your spouse or lesbian friends might take offense to naming a baby "Jack", don't worry. I guarantee your spouse feels the exact same way about me and you probably didn't even know.

If you think "Jack" is too testosterony for a girl, you can always spell it "Jacké". Or, hyphenate it with "Madison" or "Olivia". That way your kid will really fit in, but still be awesome.

2) Take a normal name and misspell it.

Have you tried adding a "Y" where a "Y" does not belong? Krystyle is a hot name for any baby in the exotic dance industry. I don't know why everyone is naming their baby Olivia or Madison when Olyvya or Madyson is much more awesome.

Great misspellings you can try: Jax, Jak, Jahk, Jakk, Jyacyk, Yantoe

3) Put random shit together

Do you think things like "Jayden" just happen? No, it takes a creative person to put random shit together and be proud of it. My favourite names are the kind that could work for a pet or for a child. Sometimes you think you'll have kids, sometimes you end up buying a hamster.

Some examples: Kaydee, Bailey, Bronx, Ashton, Toshiko

The look of wonder and enlightenment on a mother's face when I point out the best name for her baby makes the trouble I take to holler my opinion at her worth it.

Yrs helpfully,
Cpt. Jack Harkness

Skeptical in California

2009-06-16T23:57:00Z

Dear Captain Jack, I was going to write you a much longer email begging for your help but outlook ATE IT while I was typing. *kicks microsoft*

I guess I'll get to the point...... Shoot this 21st century problem if you could!

I find my job boring. I'm good at what I do and it's reasonable hours (9-5) but it's not my passion. The economy isn't stable these days so I'm pleased just to be working and making really good money. When I think about it its probably the best salary I've ever had for the work I do in my field.

My girlfriend likes that I'm making money but since she's an artist she prefers that I have a cool job too as I did when we met. A friend of hers from school is a professional psychic - lets call her Mara - who reads auras for a living. My girlfriend (who is not crazy honestly) thinks Mara can look at my aura and give me career direction. I've been fighting going to see this woman with all my might. I don't think she can know what's best for me by holding my palm. You used to be a con man, what do you think?

- Skeptical in California -

------------------------

This may come as a shock to you, but I can read auras! It's something every 51st century human with an evolved temporal lobe can do. My temporal lobe is pretty fucking evolved.

My aura is a blazing hot butter yellow with a sprinkle of golden sparkles. Gwen's is a saucy shade of pink. Martha's is a calming green. Ianto's is pinstripe. Hart's is REDRUM.

Yours is sort of a wibbly wobbly brownish.

Save your secular humanism and facts for the laboratory, Skeptical. I'm going to shoot a great quote into your face:

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

That's a quote from The Da Vinci Code in case you don't read movies.

Not only can I sense auras, but I can also see people's Power Animals. "Whoa!" you're probably thinking, "That's a bad-ass New Age skill for a space traveller. What kind of animals do they have in the future, Captain Jack?"

Obviously I can't go into detail about space crabs because of spoilers, but I can tell you that you should say your goodbyes to all the manatees in your life before 2019. :-(

To really get the most out of a psychic experience you should get in touch with your Power Animal. My Power Animal is the tiger!

As in nature, the traits of the tiger include:

awesomeness
managerial skills
decisiveness
heroism
deadliness
attention to detail
navigation
being a team player

Now, if you are in a relationship you should always check to see if your Power Animals match. You don't want any of that Ostrich / Bat shit that Brangelina has to deal with.

For instance, Ianto Jones's Power Animal is the woeful dolphin.

As in nature, the traits of the woeful dolphin include:

sexual inventiveness
good-lookingness
loyalty
super speed
rock climbing
punctuality
knowledge of the sea
listening skills

Everybody knows that the tiger and the woeful dolphin are natural enemies. How many times have we seen tigers snatched from a rock face and crunched in two by the jaws of the woeful dolphin? Tigers are helpless in salt water! It fucks up their fur and makes it all poofy.

Woeful dolphins are also good at subterfuge...They are dirty, sexy liars who would distract their boyfriends with one flipper whilst slipping Gwen a GPS with the other.

How could we ever make a relationship work?

The answer was: BUY A REALLY BIG BED

I ordered it on the internet ages ago and it finally arrived. Check this out. There's room for any combination of Power Animals to roll around in. And it has a roof.

I had to bulldoze three walls in my hole to make enough space for this beauty. First we had to dynamite the floor in my office to get the bulldozer down there. Gwen is still wheezing up bits of plaster. I joke she's going to die of miner's lung like her grandpappy did. The effort was worth it, kids. We built a walk-in locker for my secret collection of photos of me. No more keeping them in a Quality Street tin!

I modified the bed myself. I bashed some holes in the headboard in case we need to thread a rope through there. And there's a ladder too, you know, in case any butlers feel like hanging off it. I was thinking about installing a slide but Ianto vetoed it on the grounds that it was "too exciting".

Speaking of exciting, Ianto built himself a panic room to protect his spare suits. I griped about this one --- why do the suits get three layers of reinforced steel protection and electronic monitoring systems but my bed-side table is an IKEA stool with a clock on it? Part of cohabiting with a woeful dolphin is knowing when to pick your battles.

And part of choosing a career as a practitioner of the New Age Arts is knowing how to pick your con. For some reason you don't seem to want to give poor Mara your business. If the psychic thing isn't pulling in suckers fast enough she's going to have to diversify.

I was amazing at this in my day. Did you know that you can take a small bottle of water, shake it hard, give to somebody with a cold and five to seven days later they'll be better? People will pay you for this! Write something mystical on the side in fancy font and you can double the price.

Skeptical, here's one more bit of insight (for free!), the name of your Power Animal starts with "J" . Does that sound like anybody you know?

Yrs helpfully,
Cpt. Jack Harkness

Torchwood scheduled you some time on the target range

2009-06-14T19:41:24Z

Dear darling Captain Jack, are you guys going to participate in Blog Like It's The End of the World Day next saturday? The way it works is that on June 13th you post on your blog (livejournal) that zombies are attacking. You describe what's going on in your spot in the world and link to other journals. You'll see people tagging 'bliteotw'.

CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP !!!

It's insanely fun, we all did it last year. I thought of you when I saw the emails for this year. By The Way I think of you A LOT (sexily maybe?).

I'm sending you some internet kisses xxxx P.C. MANDY
------
Sorry, I didn't have time to pretend zombies are attacking. I had to fight fucking zombies!

Okay, cute, I understand internet 'memes'. Don't get me wrong. I like to spend my mornings filling out questionnaires about myself and then forcing my friends to read them. Who doesn't?

Incidentally, my "Porn Star Name" is Nibbles 45th Row Theta Pod.

I'd be all over this latest fad too if we hadn't been distracted by the living fucking dead yesterday.

It was Martha who noticed there was something wrong with our corpses...Firstly, they were out of their drawers. Secondly, they were walking around and biting at people.

Fortunately Torchwood was there to take care of the problem. We shot that whole situation in the face pretty hard, Mandy.

If I tried to also make time for fantasy blogging when would I have time to play Settlers of Catan?

Zombies are messy whether they are the kind that moan and drag their stumps across the floor, or the kind that scream and run at you with super-speed. I had to scrub down the team. I'm talking the full nooks n' crannies treatment.

This brings me to an important topic: KIDS, what are they teaching you in your learning cubes these days?

I armed sevendayloan and sent her into the fray to shoot zombies in the face. She got zombies in the kneecaps, spleen, lungs -- ok, perfect if you were trying to slow your grandmother down but nothing is better than a bullet in the face.

I don't mind the SPRAY THE MUTHERFUCKIN SCENE, MUTHAFUCKAH! technique. Didn't I defend my thesis on that very topic in Battle School? It's perfect for crowded situations. Libraries, spaceports, basilisk nests, etc.

But there are only so many bullets you can carry in your pockets. Not everyone has a fabulous greatcoat with deep pockets for lube and ammo and snacks.

If you guys are walking home from the circus or planetarium and are attacked by highwaymen, you might only have time to get eight or twelve shots off before you are overwhelmed. At least one of those should hit the target! I worry about you, seriously. At least sevendayloan picked up a gun.

Some of you civilians just cry when Cardiff explodes. Or you crouch in the middle of the road wailing "DENNIS!" over your husband's corpse and I have to slowly drive around you while Gwen compassions at you through the rolled-down window.

The Captain Jack Harkness ExperienceEmergency Remedial Weapons Range Training for All

Aim for the middle for fuck's sake

Ok, step up everyone. Grab a weapon from the pile. Headphones and safety glasses are in the box under the table.

If you don't know how to load whatever you grabbed, listen, you don't need to wait for me. I encourage you to experiment by jamming things into slots. Exploration is the best way to learn!

I'm going to walk around to holler instructions and maybe give your ass a little tap to motivate you. I need to get right up in your personal space to help you, so if you smell something fantastic pressed against you just relax.

Remember, accuracy is different than precision. I can explain the difference if you roll up your sleeves so I can gently stroke your inner arm.

TORCHWOOD STAFF, I see you peering at me hauling out all these guns. You can't get out of this one either. Just because we shoot things in the face every week doesn't mean you don't need to be harder, better, faster, stronger.

GOT YOUR WEAPON?

OKAY. BE GUIDED BY MY VOICE. BANG! BANG IT HARD!

Yrs helpfully,
Cpt. Jack Harkness

A bitchin' cover for a bitchin' fic !

2009-06-11T23:45:16Z

Have you ever been to the WHSmith at the airport? I mean, deliberately?

I FUCKING LOVE IT. The miserable feeling of solidarity with other trapped travellers. The shitty awesome books.

I like to wander around and poke at the paperbacks you can take with you (in your hands) when you travel. Torchwood never flies commercial. When folks ask, "When does your flight depart?" I just LOL and lean on something in a jaunty manner. "Whenever I say it does, sweetheart."

In the 51st we don't have spaceport book shops. We just have laminated transporter pad safety instructions. You're supposed to read the card on the wall before you beam out, but nobody does.

I've always been jealous of Stephen King. Do you know who I mean? He writes movies that used to be books. His paperbacks have bitchin' covers. EVEN THE BOOK ABOUT STEPHEN KING HAS A BITCHIN' COVER.

The spooky font is coming out of his head!

I have always felt that I deserve a fanfuckingtastic cover for my literature. But who would make one? Ianto is busy doing laundry. Martha is busy giving Ianto laundry. Hart only scrawls penises. Gwen can only draw men with fat noses :o) <-- WTF is that supposed to be? Rhys, I guess.

Fortunately, laurab1 came to my rescue!!!!

HOLY SHIT it's a cover for my bitchin' fanfic...

Illustrated with love by laurab1

FINALLY, I receive the recognition I deserve as an author. LOOK AT THE COLOURS. LOOK AT MY EYEBROWS! There's some sparkling going on in this scene too. Shit, yes! YES!

How can they deny me shelf space now?

The next time I storm into a book shop and ask for the latest "Harkness Hardcover" they can't give me that blank expression.

They can't say: "I don't know who you are, sir." or "We don't sell fan fiction, sir."

I'll be able to slam my laptop down on the counter and show them my published work!

Big sexy news for Torchwood Three

2009-06-06T16:44:50Z

It's my delight to inform you that MY FUCKING AWESOME BUTLER won a major award at the Children of Time Awards. He's a Best Site as voted by the Internet.

The Awards ceremony itself was epic. There was a red carpet. I brought the whole gang!

"So...Who was looking after the Rift, then?" you might ask. What a question! How about you and I go for some beer later and maybe you'll find yourself forgetting all about your burning inquiries.

Me at the COT buffet.

Shannon said we could all have seats in the audience and she was true to her word. Why Hart had to sit on Martha's lap, I have no clue. :-(

I applauded in all the right spots; even for categories that had nothing to do with me. I endured all the Classic Who and Sarah Jane Adventure stuff like a hero.

I even sat still for things like: "Genfic". What the fuck does that even mean?

When Ianto's site came up on the big screen I hollered my encouragement with some vintage 20th century Arsenio Hall WHOOP WHOOPs.

"IT'S YOU IANTO!"

When his win was announced I shrieked: "YES! GOOD CHOICE, INTERNET!" I thumped the seat in front of me. Sorry about that, ukcalico.

Later on that night I announced some more prize winners. Hey Ianto, you won Best. In Bed. You were the only nominee. But the qualification process was intensive.

Here's a list of what I powered through at the Children of Time Awards Buffet:

- Sausages
- Bacon
- Casserole
- Berries
- Teriyaki
- Chicken skewers (!!!)
- Pretzels
- Fried rice
- Pancakes
- Cream of Celery soup
- Salad Shrimps

Work my Celebration Poll hard!

View Poll: My awesome awards poll

A Quick Start Guide to Shooting Something in the Face

2009-06-05T20:21:25Z

TWO QUESTIONS MERGED INTO ONE SEXY POST TODAY!

-----
Dear Captain Jack: I'd be interested on some tips in the event of a alien infestation or swine flu or soviet attack. What's the best way to shoot something in the face? Is there a rule of thumb for this sort of thing?

With love from Bangerz n' Mash

-----
Dear Captain Jack, your instructions to solve problems by shooting them in the face intrigue me. I'm a Canadian and we are not very weaponized up here. My Dad has a crossbow for shooting targets at the cottage... that's not really the same thing as carrying a handgun....

Since I didn't learn how to solve problems with face shooting can you give me a lesson? I'd like a sexy lesson if you don't mind. I want to learn! I will pay for your time in kind. I bake & I do laundry!

-- Catherine (Thunder Bay, Ontario)

-----

Okay you two. I know what you are going through. In the whirlwind craziness of 21st century it's easy to feel out of control. Having a warm Webley in my hand always makes me feel more in control. I'm delighted to help you kids achieve the same zen!

Sit your ass down and I'll make things simple for you with a guide you can pin to your cubicle wall.

Catherine, I don't think it will help you on the mean streets of Thunder Bay, but if you have an American friend who is packing a weapon, you can pull out my notes and explain what to shoot and how!

Bangerz n' Mash, did you notice that Catherine offered me food and clean sheets in exchange for advice? I'm not saying you have to bribe me. I'm just putting it out there as a 'best practice'.

A Quick Start Guide to Shooting Something in the Face: With Explanations by Captain Jack Harkness

(If you don't know to work a printer, get your butler to take a photo of your computer screen and run it down to the Kodak Photo Hut for processing!)

Target: Fairy. Fucking fairies!

Shoot it in the face!

Location to aim for: Right eye.

Notes: You can't completely kill a fairy by shooting it in the face. If you try, you'll end up choking on rose petals. Poetic. If you're like me and can't be completely killed yourself, the most satisfying place to shoot a fairy is in the right eye. They say it's the window to a fairy's soul. I hope you weep hot steely tears of elfin distress, ho-bag! (is what you should holler as you unload your clip.)

Target: An Ex-lover

Shoot it in the face!

Location to aim for: Dead centre

Notes: One bullet to anywhere in the face is usually enough to kill your ex. Your human ex. Unless your ex is me, of course! HA HA HA. I can't stay dead no matter how hard John Hart tries. Since you don't have to be too precise when shooting your evil ex, you can look away or squeeze your eyes shut in feigned sorrow when you have to do the deed.

Target: An Employee

Shoot it in the face!

Location to aim for: Get some in the chest first

Notes: Sometimes your staff will want to discuss things with you before they are blown away. In that case you should start out with some bullets in the chest so they can wheeze out their last taunts. You can't be sure what they'll need to tell you. Is it a confession along the lines of "I've always loved you Jack!" I never get sick of hearing that one. Is it something more omnious? Will the death rattle mask the words? Will you wonder about it for hours until you hire a new girl to fill her place? Questions, huh!

Target: A Cyberwoman

Shoot it in the face!

Location to aim for: Everywhere

Notes: As hot as she may be, you don't want to take any chances with a Cyberwoman. She could take over the world. She could fling your butler across the room! A lot of people have noted the success of getting a pterodactyl to fight a Cyberwoman for you, but that's just a stop-gap measure. You'll only be sure it's dead once you've "downgraded" it with bullets in all the right ports. It's a myth that only somebody who loves a Cyberwoman can slay a Cyberwoman. Anybody can shoot a Cyberwoman in the face. (It is true that somebody who loves a Cyberwoman should do the cleaning-up, however.)

Target: Business Man

Shoot it in the face!

Location to aim for: Frontal lobe

Notes: You need to take out a corporate overlord quickly. No lingering. No opportunity for a final proclamation. These guys are the type of asshole to use their last breath to shout "Guards! Guards!" or shoot your doctor in a fucking parking lot. Where did he even get that gun? you'll be howling as you weep over your doctor's corpse. Take it from me. Draw quickly!

Target: Dalek

Shoot it in the face!

Location to aim for: Dome

Notes: A lot of people think it's hard to kill a Dalek. Well, it used to be, about 4 or 5 years ago. Fortunately we've developed some awesome guns since then. They're giant! And the Doctor doesn't seem to notice when I use them. It's very satisfying to unload your big fucking gun straight into a Dalek's face (dome). Our BFG is loaded with giant bullets coated with 24-karat gold and vengeance! We only have one weapon per Torchwood branch so if you are fighting a two-front Dalek war ...well, you shouldn't!

-----

Fold this into your wallets and trapper-keepers for safe-keeping.

Yrs helpfully,

Cpt. Jack Harkness

Summer Girl is Going Home This Weekend

2009-05-31T20:44:44Z

Dear Captain Jack! I love you. Thought you should know. My feelings are blazing hot! I wondered if you could share a story from your childhood with me. I'd feel so much closer to you and it would inspire me.

I'm spending ALL SUMMER WITH MY PARENTS!!!! Whenever I'm off term and home from school I think I regress into my younger self. I want to sit around with my mom and have her make me meatloaf and chicken fingers. Do you have a comfort food from Boe?

Is there macaroni and cheese in space? I HOPE SO.

Kisses and kisses, to you and your missus,

Summer Girl Is Going Home this Weekend!

-------------------
Have you ever made Piggin Pie? I guess that's a stupid question. Of course you haven't.

Comfort food back in Boe was the usual suspects you're already familiar with: Dim sum. Tacos. Deep-fried pizza in a bun.

My favourite meat back then was (will be) Piggin. It's a genetic cross between a pig and a chicken. It's just as smart as a pig, but with all the taste of a chicken!

I know what you're thinking... What kind of wine goes with that? I'll get to that later.

Of course, I lived on a farm as a kid so we had to slaughter our own animals.

As colonists we were pretty well-practiced at slaughtering things for food or survival. We also had to kill the local sand worms and sand gorillas...Not to mention all the fucking Megladons in the swimming cove!

Now, don't worry. I'm sure you're picturing poor Little Jack standing in front of a tree stump with a rusty axe. Whacking away at a Piggin neck.

That's your Inner Planet prejudice showing.

Typical Outer Systems stereotyping!

It was the 51st century even in the frontierland. We had slaughter machines, of course!

How you worked your household slaughter machine was very similar to the way Torchwood works its Clue Machine.

With the slaughter machine, you prepare a large glass slide, and then you put the struggling Piggin over your knee, whack it hard on the head with a rock until it is still, and use space twine to tie it to the slide.

Then, squish it as flat as you can get it (When I was very small I used a floorboard to press it down) and slot it into the slaughter tray. There's a satisfying "CLICK" noise and "MEAT ACCEPTED" message on the screen.

Inside the machine the blades will whip off all the feathers and plop everything out in nice neat cubes.

It was all very easy until you got a meat jam in one of the trays. At that point I'd holler for Mom because I'd get in shit if an adult caught me poking at the blades with a stick. Sticks are rare on Boeshane. You can't risk a stick getting ruined in your slaughter machine when you could have just used your fingers. Trees don't grow on Boe!

OKAY here's my Mom's recipe. I forgot a lot of things when the Time Agency fucked me over, but never things related to food!

Ingredients You Will Need

Filling:

1kg Piggin cubes
50ml So-Sweet® Monosaccharide Substitute
250ml Triffid milk
2ml Soma
100ml Rendered Piggin lard
Some raisins

Crust:
1 Pillsbury® Piggin-Ready® Frozen Pie Crust

I remember Mom mashing all the filling things together in a bowl and putting that into the pie shell. So do that first. At this point, your household Cooking Machine takes over.

Put your pie into the little Cooking Tray and press down to flatten it! Slot it into the Cooking Machine and wait for the "COOKING" green light. If the machine doesn't start or gives you an error message, pull out the tray in the back and make sure you have enough space coal in there. For a simple Piggin Pie you will probably only need 500g of coal.

By the way, the kind of wine that goes with Piggin is Riesling.

While you kids are assembling your delicious pies I have some serious shit to discuss with you. READ THIS CAREFULLY!

It's come to my attention that my Martha and John Hart are getting too close (physically). He's practically up in her vagina! :-(

I need to get my Martha a date with somebody who wasn't awarded a silver medal in the Evisceration Olympics.

Martha's profile pic does NOTHING for her

What would you do in this situation to find a sex partner? Unlike Martha I've never had a problem finding awesome people to fuck. I have natural way about me that is instantly attractive!

Work my poll hard up and down!

View Poll: My awesome poll to save Martha

Annoying Girl Seeking Her Annoyed Girl

2009-05-28T21:34:06Z

Dearest darling lovely Captain Jack,

I've got a problem! I'm a fairly normal female college student. I do normal college things like going to parties and getting so drunk I can't remember who I'm hitting on and reading gay porn on the internet. All of these are normal and expected and I feel no shame about them.

However! I have been in love with my straight female best friend for going on three years. At one point when I was making fun of her for being a poor little straight girl and she went HEY I TOTALLY LIKED A GIRL ONE TIME IN HIGH SCHOOL. I thought it was kind of cute, but false hope isn't cool. Another good friend of ours (male) confessed to her recently and, after rejecting him, she went back to treating him like a best friend. I don't think she'd hold it against me too much if I told her, but I'm a chicken. I'm also very very obvious. I'm always buying her things and trying to be cuddly and other ridiculous stuff.

Jack! Should I confess? She probably already knows, it's mostly about getting it off my chest. Is it worth it? SHOULD I TAKE THE DIVE? Tell me!

-Annoying girl seeking her annoyed girl

-------------

I've been rejected by Time Lords. That's worse than being rejected by straight girls.

Trust me. If someone doesn't want to have sex with you, they also don't want to hear your pitch for why they should have sex with you. I know rejection seems strange. It's unfathomable to me. I'm rarely rejected. It's probably because I'm universally adored!

It took a while for me to get the hint.

I was hanging in chains in the Master's boiler room thinking about this for weeks. Since I was slowly bleeding out, there was nothing to do but reflect.

"I wonder if the Doctor was uncomfortable with my huge crush on him?"

Annoying Girl, if your girl-crush wanted to sex you up she's had three years to give you the signs. She could have put her hands down your trousers, that's a big sign of sexual interest in humans.

She could have lit you a cigarette by scraping a matchstick over her own stubble -- that's always sexy. I go nuts for that! She could have carved a potato in your likeness. She could have built you a rocket ship and named it after your penis.

She could have caught you a pterodactyl.

Did she catch you a pterodactyl? I'm guessing she didn't. I'm guessing she wouldn't notice if she left you behind on a Game Station either.

I understand your need to give out outrageous gifts and snuggles. I love buying people presents. I tried to make Torchwood for the Doctor but did he appear impressed? Barely. Yet, when I made a "snow butler" out of ice crystals in the corpse freezer, Ianto actually cracked a smile for me.

I brought all these issues up with Tish during our Year That Never Happened.

"I've been thinking about my butler," I told her. "I've been thinking about him a lot lately."

Tish was a really nice lady but not the best for relationship advice. I wanted to discuss important things but she was preoccupied plotting rebellion, stuffing my intestines back into place, etc.

Tish: Loved me.

"TISH, for fuck's sake," I would tell her affectionately. "It doesn't matter where they go!"

Another person who would probably understand your pain was our Toshiko. I don't mean because she was occasionally a lesbian. I mean because she also had a unrequited crush on a friend. By "friend" I mean a co-worker ... Yours truly!

I know, no surprise huh?

When I bought Toshiko from UNIT I knew that part of being an amazing boss was not sleeping with your indentured slaves. No matter how hot Tosh looked in a sweater-set, I knew I could not Go There!

I could still tell how Tosh was obsessed with me. She always sat beside Owen in meetings to avoid my animal magnetism at short range. She even turned down weapons training with me and scheduled it with him instead. That was a big give-away. Weapons training from Owen? It was hard to keep a straight face when I stamped that request APPROVED.

It was especially hard for her when Suzie and Owen were "on" vs. "off". She used to dart these jealous looks at the two of them. I felt horrible! Tosh was pining away for my cock while everyone else was getting some action. That could be me and Tosh getting soapy in the showers if I wasn't such an awesome guy.

Tosh: Loved me.

I understood what she was going through since I'd been there with the Doctor. I tried to talk to her about it once.

"Tosh," I hollered in her face. "I think you've got a crush on a hot guy and it's driving you crazy."

Tosh shouldn't have been so startled. I'm known for my perceptiveness.

"Is it that obvious?"

I LOLed in a supportive way. "It's okay, Toshiko. I'm cool with it. What you are feeling, emotionally, is totally normal."

It's important to validate a girl's feelings before you crush her dreams.

I went for a compromise. "We're all so close at Torchwood. Have you thought about asking Owen to sleep with you?"

Toshiko blushed bright red. "I can't just say something like that, Jack!" She looked so adorable that my manly resolve was tested. I guess in the end she never asked him. Probably for the best, right? Owen would have been a scraggly poor substitute for me!

Yrs helpfully,

Cpt. Jack Harkness

PS: If by "gay porn on the Internet" you mean fan fictions, you should ask Gwen about her epic cross-over!

Kathy wants to see my Kards

2009-05-24T20:15:09Z

Dear Captain Jack: I respectfully request to see your business cards, as they must be made of awesome!

Hope you got to shoot something in the face today.

You are sexy-ly yours, Kathy

------------------------

Kathy, you know that Psychic Paper the Doctor uses...?

Well, I don't have any of that.

I have to use regular paper. Like a regular fucking person! :-(

It's okay though, I bear it with grace. Just because some time lords can walk through a checkpoint by bouncing on their toes and waving a piece of paper in some plod's face is no reason I can't do the same...Only with a convincing Captain Jack business card and a shout of: "TORCHWOOD!"

In the 51st century we have an evolved approach to business cards.

Say you see somebody you want to "Business". And this person happens to be across a crowded nightclub on a sexy Saturday night...Should you use your 51st century legs to walk over there and hand them a piece of paper?

HA HA HA! If you did, everyone would know you are fresh off the moisture farm! No, what you would typically do would be to use your brain to access your subdermal social networking portal to send your target a "Business" request.

If it was me who wanted to Business you, you'd get my request and shit yourself: "CAPTAIN JACK? THE CAPTAIN JACK?!"

You'd think: "Accept Request" as quickly as possible. Then I'd see a bright red "BUSINESS ACCEPTED!!!" icon flash for 45 blinding painful seconds behind my eyeballs. We'd use our private message options to hook up for some Business later.

Pretty neat and clean huh?

You won't have anything awesome like that for ages. Even this 'Friend me on Facebook' thing only works so well. For instance, I have to be on a computer or on a phone. What if you are naked and you want to Business someone?

I put Toshiko on the "machine-free" social networking project as one of her special things to work on while she was my indentured slave for 5 wonderful years (miss you TOSH!!!).

She had the first part down: Invisible Bluetooths! But the next part: "subdermal networked computers" was a little bit harder. Her Weevil test subjects kept dying of electrical burns to the face.

Oh, if Ianto is reading this, for "Died" I put "Failed to live of natural causes" on the explanation paperwork.

There were a lot of years before I had a secretary on staff to do things like pick up after me and not ask questions. So you can see that my business cards have evolved quite a bit!

Here's the first version I created...

After a few months it was pointed out to me that I should have filled out all the blank spaces on the order form.

There are about a billion of these all over Cardiff. Sometimes when we find a body I will see this card in a vic's wallet and LOL at the good memories! Still, as awesome as Jack's Business Card was, it wasn't doing much for my social life.

For my next try, I decided to be more specific. Who am I? Where do I live? Where can you find me if you need to have business with me?

This card worked pretty awesomely except that at the time we didn't have front office personnel. So when the hotties came knocking on the door nobody would be around. I later discovered that Owen and Suzie would notice them on the CCTV...And then completely fail to inform me that hotties were on the Plass looking for a hero! Fuck that system. That system was shit!

So when I'd used up all 2500 cards in my order I thought: Time for a design change! What's the best way to direct somebody to Torchwood?

Of course, through the Heddlu. Heddlu loves me!

The best thing about this card is the logo. Mysterious. Sexy. Just like the handsome devil who slipped you his business card while winking at you in that thrilling, disturbing way...

I figured every cop would see the Torchwood logo and contact me to say a hottie was on the prowl for me, but it didn't work out that way. You'd think DCI Swanson would be all over this idea; she was all over me that late Tuesday night in the interrogation room!

"Isn't station house coffee terrible?" I muttered in her ear. "Fuck me harder!" she shrieked in my face.

After an intimate experience like that I hoped she'd dedicate a whole Heddlu switchboard to contacting Torchwood in the case of aliens or really tough crimes the Welsh can't solve...Instead all I get is hassle. Sometimes they'll send me a blank manila envelope FILLED with my business cards. Hey what's that about? How am I supposed to hook up with 100 anonymous people? Fucking jokers!

I got my revenge on them though, I recommended PC Andy for promotion. LOL.

In any case, those were only test run cards. The business cards I carry these days are basically perfect. Check these glossy babies out!

I always have some in my wallet, behind my belt buckle, or tucked into my sock. I've been imprisoned in a Sea Devil containment cell and STILL managed to give these out. You can always count on a Silurian to call you back when you scream: "CALL ME, HUH!"

I've been dragged to executions while throwing out business cards. You must take advantage of every strange situation if you want to meet interesting people.

So Kathy, if I see you on the streets of Cardiff, and I can't stop to chat because I'm shooting something in the face or am otherwise occupied, I'll make sure to slip you a card.

GET IN TOUCH WILL YOU? If you want to help make the process smoother, be sure to attach a picture and say something nice about butlers. You like butlers, don't you?

Yrs helpfully,

Cpt. Jack Harkness

Seepage, girls, and your safety!

2009-05-21T17:30:26Z

Are you kids noticing any timey-wimey nonsense in your vicinity? If you happen to see a bright gold sparkle-blob hovering in the air, that's the Rift.

We had advance warning from a sexy creditable source that today is a day Alternate Universes will bleed through into our reality's timeline!

Fucking potentiality devices and the potentiality stuff they do. In the "time" business this sort of shit is called "seepage".

If you experience some seepage today, don't panic. Take a polaroid on your phone, maybe? The Rift doesn't always deposit teens on the surface of a planet on fire.

Occasionally, something even funnier will go down!

For instance, one of our agents in New York caught this outside her house.

It's not Now Me, it's Past Me and there's Past Hart too. How gorgeous is my serious business face huh?

"Wow! I don't remember that at all," I hollered at our American friend through the webcam when I got the pics. Could this incident have happened during my missing two years?

Apparently we knocked a bird-feeder off a post and escaped with it through the Rift. Well, to our NY Agent I can only assure you that whatever we did was either for your own safety or our own profit.

Did you remember to scream your thanks to us as we left?

We're in lockdown at the Hub right now thanks to all the Potentiality about so I'll just warn you guys about Girl Me. Here's a pic!

Girl Me has been described as "the most beautiful woman in the universe". Can you doubt it? Look at those tits!

If you see her, she's on holiday from her own reality so you should probably buy her a shotglass with a flag on it and explain the local customs.

Since Boy Me is a total fucking gentleman, I'm expecting Girl Me to be a lady, so treat her right!

Having Hot Friends is Surprisingly Difficult

2009-05-18T17:18:37Z

Captain Jack, I need your help! I'm hoping you can turn this hot and sexy problem into a hot and sexy success! (So please use caution when shooting it in the face, ok?)

My problem is this: I have these two friends who are both really hot. They are ten years older than I am, and married (to each other). He's a tall buff tattoo artist. She's a tiny and adorable baby-wrangler. They say they're monogamous, but she's given me permission to hit on him and he's given me permission to hit on her, which sounds promising! Though it does confuse my already fuzzy understanding of how "monogamy" works.

What do I do from here? How do I encourage becoming a sexy loving threesome without screwing up our totally awesome friendship?

<3,
Having Hot Friends Is Surprisingly Difficult

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I need you to click on WILL SMITH right away! CLICK ON WILL SMITH! Big Willie is going to get us into the mood... EVERYBODY, TURN UP YOUR SPEAKERS! Turn them up hard!

Ok, I'm going to take you on a sexy journey with me.

I'd say close your eyes and listen to my voice, except you'll need to keep your eyes open to read my advice. You can close your eyes when you're thinking about me later.

HHFiSD, you have to leave confusing 21st century labels like "monogamous" and "baby-wrangler" behind.

The only thing that's relevant is that your friends are "both really hot."

It seems to me that you have no deal-breaking issues here. Your friends are up for it. You're into them. HEY, you know how to have sex, right?

With three humans it's exactly the same stuff you are already used to but with more hands and feet. You just need to make sure you have enough room to fling out your cocks and get your knees up high enough, etc.

Even if you don't have room you can still have fun. Anyone ever tried to have a threesome in a pedal boat?

It can be done, you just have to accept the fact that one of you has to commit to the paddling. I'm too important to paddle. I supervise that shit!

So, all the potential stumbling blocks to this threeway have been shot in the face: What could still be stopping you?

21st Century Reserve, that's what, and here's where Captain Jack can help you.

If you want to do something that's out of character for you, you have to exclaim: "WHAT WOULD 'MIAMI ME' do?"

For those of you who don't know, Miami is an Earth city where everyone is the best and most awesome version of themselves. All the croissanwiches are made of pulled pork, and instead of Pimms they have mojitos with fancy garnishes.

Everyone is beautiful and you can actually swim in the oceans! If you don't believe me, listen to your Box Office god Will Smith:

I only came for two days of playin'
But every time I come I always wind up stayin'
-- Will Smith

Everyone needs to harness the power of "MIAMI ME" for those days when you want to be awesome but you're not sure how.

Just think to yourself, how would I handle this if I were in Miami instead of whatever podunk shit hole I'm trapped in today?

The next time your hot friends say: "Hey let's fuck!" and you think: "Um..."

Tell yourself: "I'm in Miami, bitch!" and tear your clothing from your body!

MIAMI YOU is afraid of nothing.

MIAMI YOU will wear white chinos with a thong.

MIAMI YOU will sleep with your married friends. Maybe all your married friends? Maybe repeatedly. MIAMI YOU will toss your hair with a sexy flick of your hand as if to say: "Consequences? No hay problema!"

Did you know that in Miami people gather on the beach to dance and drink?

Torchwood-branded beach front

In Cardiff when people gather on the 'beach' it's to pull drowning victims from the Bay. There are pebbles everywhere and they get in your flip flops.

And if you say anything funny or clever like: "Nice catch, boys!" people look at you like you're a monster.

Just checking my wriststrap it's 30°C in Miami right now. I have a macro for looking up Party Zones of the Galaxy with one finger punch. I don't need to punch my finger to tell you that in Cardiff it's 13°C with "light rain". To quote Gwen: :o(

MIAMI YOU doesn't have time to make a sad emoticon face. MIAMI YOU is too busy tapping that hot tattoo artist you mentioned in your letter. Ok, here are some visualisations for you to work on.

Concentrate on the piccies with your eyes!

I had to put myself in the montage because of my striking good looks.

You know, I've never considered what it must be like for my friends to have a hot friend like me. Is it "surprisingly difficult" like you claim?

Is my staff in constant anguish? Does the sight of me set fire to their loins? Colleagues, are your loins on fire?

Poor kids. Is this why Martha and Gwen back out of the room quickly if they come in when I'm naked? It's probably too painful to look at me in my natural state huh? You know, if they'd only ask, I'd be so up for it!

I also have an understanding of monogamy that goes in quotation marks like this: "monogamy" !

But if you want more details on that you have to put your sexy offer through my butler.

Yrs helpfully,

Cpt. Jack Harkness

T wants CJH to Twitter

2009-05-12T20:32:24Z

Dear Captain Jack,

I've been on Twitter for a couple of years now. I'm not sure why it's started to get so exciting to the rest of the world, since clearly they should've been following my lead all along (perhaps they thought they should be fashionably late?).

Anyway, you're the awesomest person I know, and I'm pretty sure you could use Twitter to shoot even more problems in the face. And then you'd have an honest-to-internet-gods (do we have those yet or are they a few centuries out?) set of your own "followers"!

It would be totally awesome to get your updates up-to-the-minute fresh and delivered to my phone. (Sordid details happily accepted, of course.)

<3 <3 <3 and cocks,
T

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Twitter? Do you really think 140 characters is enough for me?

First of all, thanks for noticing how awesome I am. Second of all, what recrimination or sexual exploit can be summed up in a Tweet? Trust me, I tried to cut down my chatter. I could never comply when Squadron Leader called for "Radio Silence".

I always have something interesting to add, like: "It's the Red Baron!" or "What do you mean the Red Baron was one war ago? It looks like him! Are you sure he's dead? HOLY SHIT I THINK MY ENGINE IS ON FIRE!"

Additionally, when Captain Jack is pissed you're going to hear about it! Or read about it, if you're on a computer.

When I'm angry at you in an email I have to put my facial expressions into emoticons.

Look at this furious emoticon:

>:-(

That's 4 precious characters right there and I didn't even tell a story or ask you to sleep with me!

If I started talking to people on Twitter, all my thoughts would have to come out in short sharp barks.

The last time I had to communicate in short sharp barks I was writing telegrams. You kids are too young to remember, but we used to "Tweet" through the Postal Service when we wanted to tell somebody something quickly.

That was 1933, homies!

How am I supposed to give you advice if I can't express myself with too many adjectives and exclamation marks? Would you really want me to help you like this...

Okay kids, let me tell you about the time I fucked Nicola Tesla. It was a dark, wet February night in Prague. I was strolling down the stree

SHIT. You'll never know how that story went now! Thanks a lot, Twitter.

Likewise it's useless for sending orders to my team in the field:

BRING THE BIG GUN WITH THE RAISED TORCHWOOD LOGO! YOU WILL ALSO NEED A CHEMICAL MIXTURE TO DISSOLVE THE ALIEN EGGS! FOUR PARTS SODIUM! FIVE

Five parts WHAT? Good luck dissolving that exoskeleton without this information. If Gwen is impregnated again it's your fault Twitter!

I hate social networking. It's not because I'm too stupid to work the buttons or because I'm into old things. Don't worry, the minute they roll a new SUV off the line I set our old one on fire and dump it in a pond.

It's because I'm a tactile, hands-on (your penis) type of gentleman.

Do you know what it's like to tag your friends' pics in Facebook, knowing they're dead and will never get the notification? It tears me up inside. Who am I supposed to invite to join my Groups now?

I know I should "remove tag". I just can't... I TAG YOU FOREVER TOSH AND OWEN!

Once Suzie said she was leaving the Fan page I created for The Cock of Captain Jack Harkness.

I said: "Are you joking?"

Suzie said: "I have too much shit listed on my profile."

I said: "GIRL ARE YOU SERIOUS?"

Suzie said: "Sorry. I removed it."

I left the computer and came straight over to confront her on this issue. I may have punched her in the nose a little bit.

You know, people shouldn't be allowed to abandon things once they join. Once you're in Torchwood you're in for life, you can't just "remove job" or whatever the fuck. You can't "defriend Captain Jack" in the real world. It should be the same for web sites and for timelords.

Yrs helpfully,

Cpt. Jack Harkness

So this digital communication thing is a hot topic. Want to work my hot poll?

View Poll: my awesome social networking poll

Pantsless Coed

2009-05-10T20:34:43Z

Dear Captain Jack,

I have a problem with my pants. Not in them (sadly), but with them. For some reason, they continue to fall apart. When I put them on the zipper will break and prove useless. I can't go walking around with my zipper down or my pants falling off.

I've gone through possible reasons why this is happening. The pants aren't old and shouldn't be reaching a breaking point. And I'm not too fat. In fact, my pants are usually at least half a size too big for me, so I know that isn't the issue.

I have no problem with pantslessness as a whole, but when I do want pants (like for going to class or because it's thirty degrees outside), it would be nice if they would function properly. What do you think? Should I just give up entirely and switch to skirts and dresses? Or is there another way to deal with this?

Help me, Captain Jack; you're my only hope!

Pantsless Coed

PS: I would also like to know when we get hovercars. A completely unrelated question, but one which has been on my mind for some time.

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Hey, are you okay? This thing with your pants. Is it masking bigger issues?

Sometimes when I feel frustrated, I project my "fear" feelings onto something smaller and more manageable. Like pants, maybe?

After I had to make the executive decision to 'give away' that kid to the fucking fairies, I had a major case of the blue meanies! All I wanted to do was throw myself on a chaise-lounge and pout.

It was awful, Pantsless Coed. I hate that fairies got one over on me yet again. And a woman who ADORED me died --- reducing the number of people on this Earth who love Captain Jack by one. :-(

I deserved hugs and renewed promises to love me forever. Gwen fucking Cooper acted like I was the one in the doghouse!

While I was pouting on the chaise-lounge Ianto came by with some new shirts. He'd spent all week measuring gussets and yokes for the tailor. Or stays? I don't know, I just stand still and leer while he crawls over me with pins.

Well, I was no fucking mood to try on shirts.

I may have gotten my left arm tangled in the cuff. I may have started screaming. This is just my recollection, so bear with me. I may have lost my shit entirely and accused the shirts of not fitting my wrists. I may have thrown a set of cufflinks into the water tower. I may have also ripped the sleeves off like the Hulk and retreated to the roof.

Is this how you feel when your pants don't fit? It's not the pants! It's you! You've got unresolved issues.

Is it that you didn't get into the academic program you wanted? Is it that you're still single? Are you a major bank, did you fail recently? Are you Bill Shatner? I'm sorry you weren't in the movie, Bill.

It doesn't matter what your problem is because I've got the solution: BUY YOURSELF A SPARKLY BELT BUCKLE.

SERIOUSLY. DO THIS NOW.

Here's yours truly wearing a buckle on my belt. It's the Guess union flag buckle, good for everyday, not even one of my fancy ones!

I know you can't see my face, but I'm pretty happy in this photo.

Nobody can be depressed with a sparkly buckle on. Plus, it gives you someplace to put your Webley. It looks weird to have a holster on your braces. Your coat won't hang right and you'll always be fiddling with it.

Let's take a journey into the closet of Captain Jack Harkness, RAF:

Okay here are some buckles that always cheer me up when I'm depressed about having to skip a meal because some fucking alien needed to be shot in the face.

I feel happier just looking at them or stroking them gently with my fingertips!

1. The Duke - How can anybody be sad with John Wayne on their crotch? Kids, I actually met him once. I was striding across the lot on the set of Stagecoach to pick up Claire Trevor and almost walked straight into him.

"JOHN WAYNE!" I shrieked. He winked at me (with his left eye). I chose to read a lot into that wink.

2. A heart made out of diamonds - This buckle is a little fancier. I like to wear mine with my tux if I can sneak the buckle past Ianto. If I can't, I can also wear it with jeans. It's like when a hot chick wears pearls and a white tshirt. BTW, I look amazing in pearls and a white tshirt.

3. 21st century semiotics - Apparently in your time this is a really potent sexy symbol! Whenever I'm out with this buckle on I always end-up somewhere with fabulous dance music. Once I tried to ask Ianto what he'd put in the centre of the interlocking circles, since he's so fond of Venn diagrams, but his mouth was full.

4. A gun with wings - How cool is this buckle? A silver pistol with a wing off the back! It's so much better than a eagle carrying a gun in its talons (a buckle I also have). This buckle references my love of badass guns and my love of pigeons.

5. OMG BUCKLE - HA HA HA! The best thing about this buckle is how many people will put their faces just a little bit closer to your crotch to make sure they're seeing it correctly. "Does your buckle say OMG?" they will ask. "YES!" I announce. "Because I'm so OMG!" This one is an instant mood-booster, Pantsless.

Hope this convinces you to run out to the nearest buckle shoppe and get yourself eight or nine right now for your pants!

Yrs helpfully,

Cpt. Jack Harkness

PS: HOVERCARS, 22nd century --- They come hand-in-hand with personal jet packs and silver unitards. The pleasant thing about hovercars is cruising on a Crongsday afternoon with the top down, hooting at the hotties in their silver 'tards.

The unpleasant thing about hovercars is how they battle for space with the hippies on their solar-powered personal jet packs. The jetters are SUPPOSED to stay in their stupid little lanes but they weave in and out. I'm always worried I'm going to hit one! Occasionally a jetter gets "doored" by a hovercar and then there are protests, petitions, etc. "Green Air Space" fuck that!