raven: Karen Gillan as Amy Pond, wearing green and red and looking up (doctor who - amy)
Argh, so I sat down AGAIN to try and write some notes on the wedding, and this time wrote a story about someone else's wedding instead. Hurray for me.

Fic:: Apple (scenes from the wedding album of Jenny Flint and Madame Vastra)
by Raven
1000w, Doctor Who, Jenny/Vastra. "I understand it is not the custom of your people…"

pater noster )

Ficlets

Sep. 19th, 2012 10:15 am
raven: black and wite Kaylee, against the background of her parasol in colour (firefly - kaylee's parasol)
Yesterday I transposed two digits in a title number, lost a transfer, and kept almost dozing off on a stack of plans. Around five, when I had irritatedly roused the entire department to search for a deed that was, actually, exactly where I had left it a week earlier, the other trainee said, "Iona, do you think you could be coming down with something?"

Oddly, I actually feel better this morning but suspect the inevitable result of four hours' sleep is coming soon. I am staying home and resting and writing your ficlets. Here are the ones I've done already:

for [personal profile] philomytha, Aral and Simon and telepathy;

for [livejournal.com profile] ladymercury_10, Amy/Rory, huddling for warmth

for [personal profile] hedda62, Simon and Alys pretend to be married

for [livejournal.com profile] bibliotropic, the crew of Serenity and accidental-baby-acquisition

for [livejournal.com profile] littlered2, Doctor/River, huddling for warmth

They vary in length from drabble to 2000 words. More to come!
raven: Alex Kingston as River Song, holding up a gun (doctor who - river song)
Doctor Who - Let's Kill Hitler )

In other news: lovely Bank Holiday weekend thus far! Shim and I had a lovely day together having lunch and getting rained on, and soon there will be the carnival and darling [personal profile] gavagai. I am reading many trashy novels. Life at the moment is good.

(Although. I have a lot of friends in the path of Irene, especially now at the start of fall semester. There was an earthquake and now there's a hurricane, and I used to live there, you guys, or at least I used to live close enough to offer up my apartment to NYC evacuees. Thinking of you, my dears, and I wish I could do something of concrete assistance)

spotify

Jul. 18th, 2011 07:54 pm
raven: (misc - cherry)
I smile a winsome smile at y'all and ask if anyone has a Spotify invite going begging.

Otherwise life continues complicated, I am rewatching Doctor Who and after rewatching "The Impossible Astronaut" I really, I could not sleep and by the way I have a giant ridiculous bandage on my left hand excuse typoes. I shall return shortly to 'splain and offer the cautionary tale of one woman, a vacuum cleaner and a hand with less skin on than previously.
raven: Alex Kingston as River Song, holding up a gun (doctor who - river song)
[personal profile] macadamanaity asked for, quoting me after three cocktails, "River Song Explains It All. And Blows Shit Up."

Fic:: Pastoral Care
by Raven
1400w, Doctor Who, River Song. "I was dressed all in black, with a holster and a set of lockpicks. Did you think I was going to a fancy dress party?"

Professor Song, are you sure... )
raven: Alex Kingston as River Song, holding up a gun (doctor who - river song)
OH MY GOD DOCTOR WHO.

A Good Man Goes To War ) And basically I do not wish to be profound. I wish to SQUEE AT PEOPLE. And poss draw hearts around River Song. Many hearts. Lots of sparkly hearts. Hearts that are fucking awesome and save the universe. River! <3!
raven: (sapphire & steel - newspaper)
If you wanted to be charitable, you could say I spent this week doing grown-up, house-hunting assessing-relationship things - or you could just say I spent this week lying on Shim's bed watching Sapphire & Steel. (And occasionally taking a deep breath and closing the laptop and not watching it, especially just before bed.)

I am at a loss to explain why I have suddenly fallen in love with a faintly clunky British sci-fi show from the seventies. Because, okay, I have watched lots of classic Doctor Who and lots of Star Trek TOS. And I love them both - I do love them. I love them because you watch TOS and think, huh, this is pretty derivative. And then you think: no, actually, everything else is derived from this. I mean. I love "Amok Time" and "Mirror, Mirror" and "The City at the Edge of Forever". And I love old Who - I love, love, love that here is this show that people, not just sci-fi fans sort of people, watch, and it's full of warmth and sweetness and oh yeah it's been going since 1963. In both of them, I love the scale of imagination - the way they set out to draw on these huge canvasses, these layered and multi-layered plots (Caves of Androzani, anyone? Does everyone else understand it, or am I not the only one?) and quite often they don't have the budget or technical ability to match, but they have the vision.

But... I'm a child of the nineties. Very sad and unfortunately true. Somehow my suspension of disbelief never quite works out when faced with matte-painting alien worlds and monsters made of bubble-wrap. And I think it's perfectly okay, actually, to love shows not just because they are of great cultural import but also because they are camp and fabulously endearing and sometimes the sets fall over. Red Dwarf would have been no fun at all if they'd not, you know, filmed on Crosby beach in the winter time and invited you to believe it was a tropical paradise.

But Sapphire & Steel is different. It didn't have the money or the technology for alien worlds or monsters, so it didn't have them. Instead it has.... well. It has whole serials against the background of one set, with three or four-member casts, with nearly no specical effects. It's entirely PG-rated. And somehow, through the writing and the acting, it's compelling and it's also seriously fucking scary. I mean. Okay, so in one episode there's some sort of evil presence moving things around. A coat drops off a peg, cushions fall off sofas. One of the characters gives voice what the audience is thinking and says, big deal, what harm can that even do?

Behind him, almost unnoticed, a pillow falls into the baby's crib.

That's it, that's what it does. It has a kind of deathless creepiness that I really, really like. And, okay, one of my issues with really getting into old Who is the veeeeeeery slow pacing. I know it was a serial, it's how it was done, but I just... I flag. And this is the same format, and someone on tvtropes describes Sapphire & Steel as having the pacing of "Star Trek The Motion Picture on thorazine", which is probably true - but it works. It really does work. It builds up the tension and foreboding that way until by the last episode you're properly jumpy.

And couple that with the fact it makes a religion of never telling you what the fuck is going on - who are Sapphire and Steel? Well, they wander the universe fixing stuff that's gone wrong. They are not futuristic detectives, as Amazon apparently thinks they are. They are not Time Lords. They are "medium atomic weights" - but no one ever seems to point out that neither sapphire nor steel is an element. They're telepathic between themselves, but not generally. They don't sleep and they don't age. They're very aware of and tied to time. And, while I'm at it, they're played by David McCallum and Joanna Lumley and it's 1979 and I am so grateful for my own bisexuality sometimes I can't even tell you. I mean. Come on. Just. How is this quantity of preternatural beauty even possible.

And they're not human. I really love how well that's done, too: through a mixture of good writing and acting, you're really made to believe that while they look human, they're not. They're alien and amoral and kind of sinister and the relationship between them definitely consists in something but not something you can understand. It's loving and alien and sexually charged and kinky as all-get-out in a lot of ways - okay, obscure, but even so I was amazed to discover that no has ever written it for [community profile] kink_bingo.

And, there is a fair bit of fic on the AO3 but no actual Sapphire/Steel, which baffles me. The funny thing is, I wanted to find a fic that gets at this whole kinky-sexually-charged-but-inhuman dynamic - and I didn't find it, but I did find a vid, of all things: Ground Beneath Your Feet (on youtube - couldn't find it anywhere else) and I totally love it and have watched a redacted number of times in the last couple of days. (And me, you know me, I'm vid-illiterate, there's a tiny handful of vids that have had enough of an effect on me for me to watch them more than once.) But it's amazing - gets at all that, the relationship between them, the way-creepy-cool vibe the show has, and gives it some actual pace and as a bonus it's very pretty to look at.

And yes. It's Britain in 1979. Sometimes the haircuts remind you of this fact. Sometimes the interior decor does. But, it impresses me by having a non-white character - Lead, who neatly subverts the stereotypes - and by doing interesting things with gender power dynamics. On first gloss, Steel is the dominant half of the pair... but it's not actually quite that simple. I like it.

On the whole this isn't an unreserved rec - if you're not me, for example, and thus maybe don't have a thing for deserted underground stations and urban ghost stories and understated creepiness and all of those things together, it might not be to your taste, and I should mention again that it can be really very disturbing - but. But, I like it better than old Who. Shush. Don't tell anyone.

The DVDs can be had for not that much, so I was going to get them, but on second thoughts, I think I will wait till the house-move is over and then get them delivered to a new address. It is a little ridiculous how exciitng I find this. Hi I am grown up honest.
raven: (politics - this shit)
As predicted, despite the last-minute dashing about, no polling card came for me. I am still kicking myself hard for having been stupid enough to disenfranchise myself; so, you know, could we hold off a little on if-you-didn't-vote-you-should-be-ashamed and you-lost-every-right-to-complain-for-the-next-ever, because it's not that I don't agree with you, but I'm there in that place already, okay? I tried.

In other news, I have one exam down. As usual, I couldn't sleep till four am the night before and went for it with the barrelling force of will that sleeplessness entails, and you know, it wasn't the worst thing. It was a surprisingly humane exam - in form, rather than substance, with a hour's reading time, no writing permitted, to begin with, which is a genius idea because it forces you to think about what you're doing. Eight questions, most of them okayish, I missed the point of one of them entirely and there was another one I think didn't have a point.

(Seriously. It was the first question on the paper and I was finding it baffling, so I left it till the end and came back to it with about eleven minutes to spare. For the first eight of those I wrote a paragraph about nothing in particular, and with three minutes to spare I had a genius idea and wrote "Overbreadth!" Just like that! With the exclamation mark! And didn't deign to explain how or why or in relation to what the statute was overbroad, but you can't have everything in life. Baby E later confessed to having done almost the exact same thing, which was cheering.

Also, the one where I missed the point was interesting to none but other people who care about constitutional law and the Establishment Clause, so I'm cutting it )

I could write here about how everything is making me cranky - I didn't get to vote! iTunes is refusing to let me listen to music I paid for, why didn't I just torrent it! USPS want to charge me $175 to ship my books home! migraine migraine MIGRAINE! - but maybe I just won't. The music I am trying and failing to listen to is "Sigh No More", the Mumford & Sons album, and I really, really like it. It's fabulous, affirming stuff - seriously, you can sing along and feel very definitive about everything - that sounds sort of like a cross between Dar Williams and the Gaslight Anthem. Like the Gaslight Anthem got on stage, anyway, with a trumpet and some string instruments, and tried to pretend they were an English folk band.

To alleviate the cranky, I have been reading aaaaaaall the Vorkosigan fic, as you've all probably guessed, so I will leave you with some recs so this isn't just a post about how I have a headache and my life is so unfair.

Aral Vorkosigan's Dog by [archiveofourown.org profile] philomytha
I mentioned this the other day, when I was still reading it, so this is the rec. I really, really enjoyed this. It's novel-length, about Illyan and Aral during the Escobaran war, and like I said the other day, it's sort of like a love story, only with a different kind of love at the centre of it: it's about how Illyan the neutral, human-computer observer finally takes a side, and why. It's about loyalty, and fidelity, and a kind of ownership. There's this scene in it, which I completely adore, where Illyan, exhausted, falls asleep on a chair and during the course of the night slips off it - and on waking, berates himself for literally sleeping on the floor by Aral Vorkosigan's feet. It's both hilarious and very poignant.

A Deeper Season / What Passing Bells by [archiveofourown.org profile] lightgetsin and [archiveofourown.org profile] sahiya.
Is there anyone left who hasn't read these by now? Regardless, they're great: both novel length, with many side-pieces and sequels. Miles/Gregor, going AU from Memory, and while they do wipe Laisa from existence they don't, to my delight, wipe out Ekaterin - she's there and her usual amazing self. My favourite of all the bits and bobs is A Place To Stand, a lovely, fascinating short story. (The funny thing is, these are all so good that I love them to pieces despite the fact I don't buy the major premise: Miles and Gregor are adorable, and no they're not that related, but I have trouble getting behind the pairing when the two of them are foster-brothers; effectively, they have the same parents. I mention this only in case someone else has the same hang-up and isn't reading for that reason.)

Warrant For A Day's Leave by [archiveofourown.org profile] jetta_e_rus.
Aral/Simon set shortly after the latter gets out of prison. Ridiculously sweet and heartwarming and in no way ignores Cordelia. I really liked it.

The Earring by [archiveofourown.org profile] philomytha
I read this and immediately recced it to [personal profile] gavagai, because omgyes. The author's summary is "Aral and Cordelia on a state visit to Beta Colony", which is true as far as it goes, but. Yes. Much love.

Oh, and while I'm here, I got three stories from Remix! Home (the don't look back remix), a remix of my story Pomegranate, which is about Uhura, and Amanda, and tells me things I didn't know about them.It's short and lovely.

And from Remix Madness: The Gardener (the Singing TARDIS Overdub), a remix of Sweetpeas, and I love this SO MUCH, it's about Rory and it's about the TARDIS, oh, so much love; and Be My Love (the first and last time remix), a remix of will you stay with me, will you be my love, and it's Doctor/River and again with the LOVE. I suspect these two are written by the same person. Time will tell.

Right. I need to go back to work sometime ever.
raven: young Amy sitting across the table from the Doctor (doctor who - small amy)
I watched "Day of the Moon" last night with [personal profile] thingswithwings and [personal profile] livrelibre (thank god - they can attest that I spent most of the time hiding behind nearest jumper/cushion/puppy) and we all really loved it and then they persuaded me to write the following.

[Spoilers, guys! Spoilers, spoilers.]

Fic:: Scenes From ... )
by Raven
800w, Doctor Who. Marriage is an esteemed institution, and the decision whether and whom to marry is among life's momentous acts of self-definition.

...an esteemed institution )
raven: Alex Kingston as River Song, holding up a gun (doctor who - river song)
Forward momentum, chaps! Do not even ask about the issues I had getting into the city this morning. Do not even ask. Luckily I have a fairy godmother in the shape of Shim. But I am in New York on [personal profile] macadamanaity's couch and I am blissed out on rum and wine and some other things.

Also DOCTOR WHO )

Tomorrow! Brunch, and probably another windswept grey New York day, and I'm cheerful. It feels good to be in the city; earlier in the day I got a Lindt bunny for the Siren and a cheap necklace from Forever 21 for myself, and I got a purple nail polish from somewhere on Madison and just felt the small-town itch lift. Feeling much better, and so so glad I didn't cancel this trip down. Back up north in the evening, but let's not talk about that.
raven: image of white Macbook computer with raven perching on it (misc - raven writes)
There is a meme going round where you post the filenames/titles of your WIPs without explanation.

I am not doing this, because my WIPs are apparently.... not like other people's. Other people have outlines and completed scenes or whatever; I, in contrast, just sent a fic off to beta that spent a significant amount of time as a WIP consisting of a named file and one line from a Weepies song (and everyone says this love will change you / and I asked, does anything ever stay the same). Like that. Yeah. They have filenames like "discworldfic2" and "ohgodwhy" and "ohgodwhy_pasttense".

More crucial to the meme, I don't keep them all in the same folder: they live in folders by fandom, not by state of completion, so they're all over the place.

Here are some of them, anyway.

Harry Potter, gen, 3000 words, hanging around half-written for, oh, dear, three years. In which Hermione is arrested, the summer after Voldemort is defeated, for doing magic in front of a Muggle, and is put on trial by the Wizengamot.

they had no choice but to let her keep talking )


Star Trek reboot, currently about 2000 words, I plotted out the entirety of this fic lying in bed one night and then forgot it all. I've been trying to remember it ever since. I know how it was supposed to end, and that it started on a dark night with the Enterprise in orbit around the new Vulcan colony world.

McCoy had the distinct impression he was walking into a domestic dispute )


Doctor Who, Rory. This is the entirety of the WIP. I don't have the slightest memory of writing this! Not the slightest. Oh dear.

after a year he remembers sunshine )


Firefly, an AU where a lot of things were different but I have of course forgotten precisely what.

Inara waits )



Also, not WIP-related, the meme I posted a couple of days ago:

Pick a paragraph (or any passage less than 500 words) from any story I've written, and comment to this post with that selection. I will then give you a DVD commentary on that snippet: what I was thinking when I wrote it, why I wrote it in the first place, what's going on in the character's heads, why I chose certain words, what this moment means in the context of the rest of the fic, lots of awful puns, and anything else that you'd expect to find on a DVD commentary track.

[livejournal.com profile] gamesiplay already asked me for one of these:

"New life, new civilisations." He pauses. "They join the Federation and the diplomats sign the treaties, and then the scientists are sharing data and the cultural specialists are taking great dives into each other's libraries and the engineers are off doing, I don't know, whatever it is engineers do."

In his left hand, he holds a Sigman beacon. It activates in response to his touch, and McCoy throws back his hood, holds up the shining white light and brings it around in one long pendulum sweep. All's well, for settlements and satellites to see. Even Enterprise's sensors will make out the flare. It means the quarantine camp has made it through another day.

McCoy walks around the embers, carrying his light. "And they put me in my lab with the new humanoids and we compare notes on the traditional scourges – the old cancers, sexually transmitted wasting diseases, that kind of thing. And then we've been at it a couple of hours, and they turn to me and they tap their heads in a significant kind of way, and I stare back and shrug. No, we don't know what to do about that, either – and the look of disappointment? That's always the same, too."


note: mental health is the main theme )

Anyone wants one, just ask. (Fic here).
raven: TOS McCoy and Kirk frowning, text: "Well that's just maddeningly unhelpful" (st - MADDENINGLY UNHELPFUL)
Flist, I am having a terrible day, the law school is on its collective last marble and the weather forecast says that next week it will be minus sixteen degrees.

However, I wish to point out to the universe at large that "Spock's Brain" and "The Girl in the Fireplace" have the same plot. I think this is very profound.

Stop looking at me like that. Anyone want a drabble? 5000 words of this bloody paper left to go (out of, yes, 5000), I could do with the distraction.
raven: (doctor who - hello sarah jane)
Precisely three weeks from now I will be half-asleep above the mid-Atlantic. So close, so far. In the meantime I am subsisting entirely off peanut butter, whisky, gummy vitamins and battered Galaxy bars, and spending my time either working, failing to sleep, reading decade-old SG-1 fic or wailing on Shim down the phone. I have done approximately a quarter of my outlining and a quarter of my paper writing (my professor writes: "Nice start - why don't you write about due process?", to which my response has not so far been "DO I LOOK LIKE SOMEONE WHO KNOWS ANYTHING ABOUT CON LAW DO I" only through a magnificent quantity of self-control.

On Thursday morning I got up at twelve, stared at the ceiling, went back to sleep. Then hit said ceiling at a hundred miles per hour half an hour later, hit the shower, found clothes, managed to have earrings in and boots on, even, by the time the South African Siren wandered in, looked around and said, "...you just got up, didn't you."

We ran out to the car, which was stuffed with people. "I drove past them all at the bus stop waiting for buses that wouldn't come," the Siren explained, and the bleakness of the sky seemed particularly telling. "It's a day to be kind, I think."

I agreed, squished myself in, and was a model of togetherness and poise, until we got to where we going, and I jumped up and down and shouted, "Shit, I forgot my TICKET!" just in time to be introduced to the Siren's mother, who is looking more regretful by the moment at leaving a southern hemisphere summer. ("I'm so glad she's making friends," she told me gently, a little later, while I was desperately trying to give off the impression of being put-together young professional rather than half-asleep work-crazed caffiene-deprived woman.) The Siren, who is all kindness, really, clapped me on the back, refused to be intimidated by my sheer grey-weather incompetence, ran me home to get my ticket and brought me back again.

Explaining Thanksgiving to foreigners is difficult, as my adviser swiftly seems to have discovered ("We thought the Native Americans suffered," said YJ, an earnest chap of Chinese descent over dinner, and he gave up) but nevertheless, the law school took pity on us all and said they would pay for us to have lunch with the graduate-and-international-students' association. Lunch was, actually, surprisingly nice. Tobermory and Baby E had kept some room for us, and we went to get the food. It was informal - you had to serve yourself and eat off melamime tables - but the food was extortionate in quantity, and the sweet potato was sweet and the turkey wasn't dry and there was good coffee. The desserts were lacklustre, but you can't have everything in life.

Halfway through lunch Tobermory stood up and said, "I'd like to say, I'm thankful for all my friends. Except Iona" - to laughter and applause and people making affectionate faces at me.

I waved a regal hand and ate more pie. A lot has changed in the last fifteen weeks of my life, but it certainly hasn't all been bad.

Afterwards the Siren dropped me off home, and I should add my apartment is a biohazard right now - it's full of discarded articles, sweet wrappers, unwashed dishes and laundry, and to add final insult I had a wee incident with a hole-punch and everything's covered in chads, so help me God - but it was looking suprisingly cosy against the backdrop of the bleakest day I've lived through recently. One oddity of the last week or so has been strange, sporadic power cuts: five- or ten-minute intervals heralded by nothing but a sub-audible whine. Because I spent a good deal of my formative years in Delhi, I have an instinct for a loss of power, even in daylight; it's like the world around you has taken a breath and not let it out, an unspoken question hanging on the suddenly charged air - and then you look up and there are no figures displaying on the microwave or whatever, but just for that second, you know, without being told. That's what Thanksgiving daytime was like, on a bigger scale - bleakly grey and freezing cold of course, a cold I associate with bad things coming, and that loss-of-power desertion; no one on the streets, something missing at the heart of things. It's a lonely place, sometimes, this.

So I got home to my tip of an apartment, and turned on all the lights, and all at once it was warm, and welcoming, and nice, despite the bleak feeling outside. I curled up on the couch and got an hour or two of work done, drinking tea sent in the post, feeling rather okay about things. And once I'd done that, I called a cab and went out again.

See, I had kind of had my doubts whether this was a good idea - whether having more than one Thanksgiving meal in a day was going to get a bit Vicar of Dibley - but then I thought, you know, what the hell, I will love seeing [profile] thingwithwings and [personal profile] eruthros and [personal profile] livrelibre, and they will totally not mind if I don't do their delicious spread the justice it deserves.

That.... was not an issue. Oh, food. More turkey, sweet potato, squash, delicious salad with walnuts in it, a kind of bombastic pinot noir and my subsequent re-realisation that I can eat more than anyone else I know, especially when I am living off a diet of peanut butter and whisky. We got tipsy, talked politics - somewhat depressingly; though we rounded it off with a solid conclusion that clearly the world would be better if we became pirates and went around dispensing loot and social justice - and watched "Dalek", the first new Who episode which features Daleks. (obv.) [personal profile] livrelibre is in the enviable position of just starting to watch Doctor Who and is being shown it in increments. (I cannot wait to show her "Blink".)

"Dalek", actually, holds up to the rewatch. I hadn't seen it since [livejournal.com profile] hathy_col and I were at a con in Milton Keynes back on the weekend it first aired (I remember now, we'd been wandering around all day with little badges marked "Dalek Virgin", and the second word handily came off for the second day of the con.) I was watching it, and there's a marvellous woman in it who is Van Staten's assistant, and gets him dumped by the roadside in the end, and I was watching it thinking "...is that? Yes, it is Osiris from SG-1!"

Of course, reading back my own review of the episode from 2005, I apparently had this exact same revelation in almost the same words when watching it with Colleen. I am so smart. So I wandered home, fell asleep on my couch - and managed to move myself to my bed during the night, which is, sincerely, an achievement - and have made it through the next couple of days without what one might call major crazy. Three weeks, three weeks.
raven: Alex Kingston as River Song, holding up a gun (doctor who - river song)
This is the story I was taking the break from the ficlets for, but I've just noticed that [livejournal.com profile] lauds actually did ask for the Doctor and River. (And fezzes. The fez alas does not appear.) But, anyway, this is on my account.


fic:: will you stay with me, will you be my love
by Raven
R, Doctor Who, Doctor/River, 2000 words. Some times and places the Doctor and River Song did and didn't have sex.
Warning: violence.

some times and places the Doctor and River did and didn't have sex )

catching up

Jul. 9th, 2010 11:24 pm
raven: young Amy sitting across the table from the Doctor (doctor who - small amy)
Oh, hey, scrubbing the bathroom for three hours is not guaranteed to leave you in a sunny mood, who knew. At least I have done it, and may get maybe a teeny weeny bit of my deposit back. Tomorrow, my bedroom, and the day after, the kitchen. Hello, domesticity. But my exams are over! Thank you, kind people who commented, it was good of you. I am feeling... well, not good, exactly, but a lot less stressed. When Cornell and my letting agent(s) and tutors send me emails about Things That Need Done, I do them rather than sitting in the corner to cry. It's refreshing.

(It scares me a little, though, that I will be in the US by the time my results come out. C'est la vie.)

One of the things Cornell want me to do is to write a 250-word biographical description of myself for a little booklet they're going to distribute to the faculty, containing inter alia, "my educational background, work experience, academic areas of interest, family, hobbies, career goals, etc." The memo promises that "sample biographies are enclosed", but they're... not. Anyone ever done one of these? How do you begin? Do you just put, "My name is Iona [last name], and I read PPE at Oxford, and I like science fiction and travel"? (Gosh, how tedious.) Do you even do it in the first person? I'm not even sure.

Also, I know I have academic areas of interest, but am I the only person who feels oddly illegitimate about this sort of thing? I mean, who am I to have academic areas of interest? I have one joint-honours degree and two very-rapid diplomas, it's only five years since I left school. I feel like I'm going to be in a cohort with Real People, whereas I am... not. I'm just me, for heaven's sake. I just write stories. Don't take me too seriously, I want to put, because I certainly don't.

Anyway! Speaking of stories, I am still writing ficlets - I believe we're on four down, eight to go, because two of you helpfully requested the same story - but I'm taking a break this weekend, if no one minds, for a story of my own. [livejournal.com profile] tau_sigma was visiting today and yesterday, and we had a lovely time. We went wandering around the Botanical Garden - which I have somehow failed to visit in five years of living in Oxford - and spent the evening drinking pink wine and watching Doctor Who, and making happy noises.

about Doctor Who, series 5 [spoilers] )

Have two fic recs:

Vita Longa, by sam_storyteller.
Rufus Atius Ferox remembers two childhoods. This is great: long, sensitive and fabulous, and rich in the way it fills in Rory's life alongside the life of the Roman legatus.

Wondrous Strange by [livejournal.com profile] lixia84
Eleven/Rory, NC-17. I very rarely just delve for fic these days; I tend to stick to authors I know and reclists. But for some reason I clicked, and this was just a gem. The Doctor and Rory are out getting into trouble, and somehow they're being chased by aliens at the premiere of Puccini's Tosca, and then for some other reason there's a bathhouse, and then. Well, and then. I was impressed with the dialogue - the Doctor in particular really sounds like the Doctor - and the way the author has these two together but doesn't erase Amy at all.

What else, what else? For my leaving Oxford/the UK party, [livejournal.com profile] jacinthsong and I are dressing up as Kira and Dax. I have at least spent an entertaining half-hour looking at purple dresses on eBay, which has improved my mood greatly.

(Although, I've been writing this wondering why my hands feel strange - and then remembering why I remember the weird feeling. I have clear memories of Chemistry A-level and spilling NaOH on my hands, trying womanfully not to swear, while my marvellous chemistry teachers explained, meticulously, the lipid reaction going on under my skin and how it was turning my hands into soap.

Guess I know what the active ingredient in the bathroom cleaner was. Ewww.)

Back to writing, I think.
raven: young Amy sitting across the table from the Doctor (doctor who - small amy)
For [livejournal.com profile] macadamanaity, who wanted the Doctor and Rory having a conversation that wasn't about Amy. Minor spoilers for "The Big Bang", but blink and you'll miss 'em.

Ficlet:: Sweetpeas
by Raven
G, Doctor Who, gen, 1000 words. Amy's in the bath, Rory's in the wardrobe, the Doctor is nowhere in particular.

Amy's in the bath... )
raven: young Amy sitting across the table from the Doctor (doctor who - small amy)
Okay, you guys, SPOILERS. This whole story is one enormous spoiler for what happens at the end of "The Big Bang". Even the title is spoilerific. Don't say I didn't warn you.

I do love Doctor Who.

Fic:: Scenes From ... )
by Raven
G, Doctor Who, Amy/Rory and the Doctor. Just what it says.

Read more... )

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