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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- 1: 'Cause living it up, it's a big deal, it's good for you
- 2: Cars and trips and maps we ripped
- 3: And the clock ticks faster every year
- 4: Are there some aces up your sleeve? Have you no idea that you're in deep?
- 5: Put your boots on, do they fit you comfortably?
- 6: Left you breathless in the brine
- 7: God knows what indiscretions I committed
- 8: One to sing and one to haul and one to heave me when I fall
- 9: This is what water, wind and time and toil reveal
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