Being entirely unable to sleep, I wrote a fill for Hold Me: A Comfort Fest: "The Dead, the Wide-Eyed and the Legless." Too much of the rest of this post was Tiny Wittgenstein, on account of being awake round the clock, and has been edited accordingly. I write fic on an average of once every year and change and had not written for Torchwood before. Either it takes place late in season two or I am ignoring the existence of the second-season finale; Owen is undead and Tosh is having a rough time in the aftermath of something I had to keep from turning into casefic. I can't believe "Mycology" is not an official tag on AO3.
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Active Entries
- 1: Can you see me? I'm waiting for the right time
- 2: There's nothing here but echoes
- 3: If I'm hoping, then I'm hoping for the frost
- 4: There's no boat to take me where all the stars go to cross the water
- 5: Once you know it's a dream, it can't hurt
- 6: All the ghosts, some old, some new
- 7: The wind is blowing the planes around
- 8: Let the lights run like rivers all over my skin
- 9: I am bound to these shores, I'll be bound till the end
- 10: Wish everyone could hear when she sings
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