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: Many arms around the mast as your ship starts cracking
- 2: I do some of my best work in the British Museum
- 3: I made a deal with the devil, but I never got paid
- 4: How do you love? How do you solve the etiquette?
- 5: And I'm sorry that I forgot that binders don't go in the dryer
- 6: Trying my best to arrive
- 7: And where the arrow leads, you never know
- 8: The earth is too smart for us to break through
- 9: Cigarette, Alka-Seltzer, career to the back of the place
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