watch_is_me: (Default)
'Verse: Personal canon
Words: 81
Prompt: [livejournal.com profile] onapostcard, Quote: "A little sincerity is a dangerous thing, and a great deal of it is absolutely fatal," Oscar Wilde. Combined with the lyric prompt: "Hoping / Is out of style / So look happy /It's the end of the world," Matthew Good Band.




Dear...there are so many of you. River, Sally, Mickey, Sarah Jane, Tegan, Ian, Barbara, Jo, Nyssa, Peri, Grace, Mel, Turlough...you know who you are, all of you, I don't have time to go on.

I wanted you to know, Utopia is perfect. Just what the word implies. Peaceful, no conflict, everything and everyone in accord. There's never a voice raised here, except in praise of our true Lord and.

They tell me the weather is beautiful.

I wish you were here.

Waiting,
The Doctor
watch_is_me: (Default)
'Verse: Open!verse. Personal canon or 2Docs+1, depending on respondees, if any.
Words: 198.
Prompt: [livejournal.com profile] onapostcard, vaguely the Walt Disney quote "It's kind of fun to do the impossible." Very vaguely.


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Right! Don't know who I'm writing this to, really, but that's the point of writing, isn't it? The discovery. It's like travel, writing, never know where it'll take you.

Saw this film for the, what is it now? Tenth time, premier night every time, always get seats smack in the middle. Lovely. Treat watching them all file out afterward, not a dry eye in the house, ups the old faith in humanity. Brought my own nibblies, Pimm's Sugar-spinners. Had a job explaining to the woman next to me that they weren't actually spiders. Offered her one. It spun her up a gumdrop, and she couldn't keep her hands out of them after that. Ate half the box. Didn't get the queen. I'll put her in a vat of simple syrup, ought to have another batch in a few days.

Recipient, recipient. Oh, I'm not going to bother making up my mind. Limits the possibilities. Whoever gets this, there's a transmitter under the stamp, tap it four times fast six times slow, tell it your name—enunciate— and I'll send you along some of this next spawn of spinners. No more space. Wish cards were bigger on the inside. Cheers!
watch_is_me: (Default)
Verse: Personal canon.
Words: 3,687.
Prompt: [livejournal.com profile] oncoming_storms, Prompt 30.2.b, "Hope," and some personal research.


EDIT: Fixed my obvious historical error, go, me!

I know it's a lot of text, this piece, not broken up by dialogue, but I'd love feedback on it! I did quite a bit of research to get it put together, and I'd very much like to hear what people think. I'd like to believe it's worth the textiness, but that's me reading it. What are you folks' reactions? I shall give you Interweb virtual cookies for your thoughts!

Dear Mother and Father,

I know that you will wonder why I am writing again so soon. My last letter was only a week ago, so that this one may arrive right behind it. You’ll think that your son has all the time in the world here, to write and to stargaze. The war, I can hear you say, that must all be a sham in the papers, the dear boy’s down there larking about, writing us serial novels and learning the constellations. A Continental vacation, that’s what it is, government-paid!

It’s not like that. Paper’s hard to get, and time is harder, and a dry spot in the trenches, even harder still. So you’ll have to believe me when I tell you I’m writing again because I’ve got a story worth telling. Really worth telling, and I hope you put this on to the local paper, though I don’t doubt they’ll think I’m mad.

It’s a story about Christmas, Mum and Da, and about peace and the best parts of us English. Maybe the Germans, too, though I don’t know about that. )

Fic: FX

Sep. 21st, 2008 01:07 am
watch_is_me: (Default)
'Verse: Personal canon.
Words: 903.
Prompt: [livejournal.com profile] oncoming_storms, 59.3, "Caught in an embarrassing situation"—as well as a conversation with [livejournal.com profile] not_from_mars


“Doctor.”

“Mm?” The Doctor didn’t look up from the TARDIS’ scanner—ever since LoA had succeeded in breaking into her, back on Earth, he’d treated her with greater care, checking her condition between adventures. This particular adventure, she’d taken quite a beating—power reserves drained; masses of connections disconnected and buffers debuffed; and the Oct-III Metatemporal Heisenberg Particle Counter blown right offline. That’d need replacing. Where to find a new one? “Twenty-second century? No, nope, still uncertain about their particles. Fifty-third? Hm…”

“Doctor.” )

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