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& you & me & time & space

the next chapter's this way

An Eleven Rec (no really)
default [trufflehog]
such_heights
I am looking at the final episodes of SGA. They are looking at me. I am not sure who will win. I am contemplating just watching Vegas now. I am contemplating just watching the finale now. I am contemplating speeding through all four of them this evening. Oh, show, what am I to do with you? Well, hopefully sit down and really write some fic about it at some point. ... which would sort of require me being caught up on all the canon first. Right then.

***

They are spreading like a disease around the internet at the moment, and I must ask, what is with the horrible, horrible Eleventh Doctor manips? (Well, that's a question for the ages: what is with horribly-done manipulated photography, at all, ever.) I say this with no bias against particular ships or anything, because sweet lord they are not limited to one ship, more is the pity. Personally I am not the greatest fan of manips in general, but hey, I'm often impressed with how well they're done and in those instances they do me the kindness of not burning my eyes. (Petty complaint is petty.)

Anyway, you know the times really are changing when there's an Eleventh Doctor section on Teaspoon, gosh. 'But wait!' I hear you say. 'How can there be Eleven fic? There can't be good Eleven fic, surely? How would you even write it?' And mostly I would be inclined to agree. But the last question is answered if you are paperclipbitch, and you write No Straight And Narrow, and then you win the internet. Thus, rec!

No Straight And Narrow by paperclipbitch
Eleven; Donna, Lucy, Sarah Jane, Martha, Jack ; PG ; 5000 words
The Doctor isn’t entirely sure who he is, but he does know who he was.

This wins both for the author's take on what Eleven might be like (to which my response is YES PLZ Moffat are you listening?) and also for his interactions with old acquaintances, which are thoughtful, apt, funny, and often a little heartbreaking.

FIC: Desperate Times, Desperate Measures
default [trufflehog]
such_heights
Desperate Times, Desperate Measures
Torchwood ; Jack, Gwen, Ianto ; G ; 700 words ; gen and silliness
"We tried everything, Jack," Gwen said mournfully. "I'm sorry."

written for redismycolour's day ten prompt

'Do you think it was a targeted attack?'Collapse )