ext_11928 (![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png)
drakyndra.livejournal.com) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
crack_van2006-10-28 11:08 pm
drakyndra.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2006-10-28 11:08 pm
Entry tags:
Don't Look Now, But Your Ways Have Parted by Red Scharlach (Teen)
Fandom: DOCTOR WHO
Pairing: None, really
Author on LJ:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
redscharlach
Author Website: Red Scharlach
Why this must be read:
Being what it is, the Doctor Who fandom has a fairly healthy proportion of good humour fics. Also, considering the nature of online fandom, it doesn't take long for certain sections of the fic scene (particular post-Finale for both series) to develop a few, well, cliches. Cliches which are ripe for parodies to exploit and play with.
One of my favourite Doctor Who parodies is this fic, gently mocking a lot of the post-Parting of the Ways fic concepts that showed up in the first few months of fandom. With some utterly hysterical concepts and lines (Hello, "The Oncoming Coat"!), and just some sheer outrageousness. I have a deep appreciation for good comedy writers, and this wonderful bit of parody and wit always makes me laugh.
Rose was sobbing again. She had now been sobbing continuously for 34 weeks, 5 days, 18 hours and 51 minutes. Being gut-wrenchingly miserable and riven with heart-shattering angst twenty-four hours a day wasn't easy, of course, (and neither was keeping such a precise count when you lived in a time machine) but she prided herself on the fact that she was getting the hang of it. She even had a "To Do" list pinned to the TARDIS fridge, which read as follows:
* Wake up in floods of tears.
* Toilet, wash, brush teeth through sporadic sobs.
* Weep bitterly into breakfast.
* Morning of continuous sobbing. Some hiccuping.
* Tea break.
* Start crying again.
* Guilt-trip the Bloke I Can't Think About Without Getting Really Upset into stopping off at Superdrug for another 47 boxes of tissues.
* More tea. More misery.
* Another stop-off to dump rubbish on the Clee'Nexya, the Planet of Used Tissues (the one that Jack was mysteriously familiar with).
* Remember that Jack is OMG LIEK TOTALLY DED and get all maudlin again.
* Protracted sobbing and wailing, some gnashing of teeth.
* Dinner.
* Cry self to sleep.
* Repeat until dead.
She had considered getting the Bloke She Couldn't Think About Without Getting Really Upset to take her home, but after some reflection, she had decided against it. On the one hand, there was a desperate half-life spent in soul-destroying torment that ate away at her very being, and on the other hand, there was the thought of living with her mum. She knew which one she preferred.
Don't Look Now, But Your Ways Have Parted
Pairing: None, really
Author on LJ:
redscharlachAuthor Website: Red Scharlach
Why this must be read:
Being what it is, the Doctor Who fandom has a fairly healthy proportion of good humour fics. Also, considering the nature of online fandom, it doesn't take long for certain sections of the fic scene (particular post-Finale for both series) to develop a few, well, cliches. Cliches which are ripe for parodies to exploit and play with.
One of my favourite Doctor Who parodies is this fic, gently mocking a lot of the post-Parting of the Ways fic concepts that showed up in the first few months of fandom. With some utterly hysterical concepts and lines (Hello, "The Oncoming Coat"!), and just some sheer outrageousness. I have a deep appreciation for good comedy writers, and this wonderful bit of parody and wit always makes me laugh.
Rose was sobbing again. She had now been sobbing continuously for 34 weeks, 5 days, 18 hours and 51 minutes. Being gut-wrenchingly miserable and riven with heart-shattering angst twenty-four hours a day wasn't easy, of course, (and neither was keeping such a precise count when you lived in a time machine) but she prided herself on the fact that she was getting the hang of it. She even had a "To Do" list pinned to the TARDIS fridge, which read as follows:
* Wake up in floods of tears.
* Toilet, wash, brush teeth through sporadic sobs.
* Weep bitterly into breakfast.
* Morning of continuous sobbing. Some hiccuping.
* Tea break.
* Start crying again.
* Guilt-trip the Bloke I Can't Think About Without Getting Really Upset into stopping off at Superdrug for another 47 boxes of tissues.
* More tea. More misery.
* Another stop-off to dump rubbish on the Clee'Nexya, the Planet of Used Tissues (the one that Jack was mysteriously familiar with).
* Remember that Jack is OMG LIEK TOTALLY DED and get all maudlin again.
* Protracted sobbing and wailing, some gnashing of teeth.
* Dinner.
* Cry self to sleep.
* Repeat until dead.
She had considered getting the Bloke She Couldn't Think About Without Getting Really Upset to take her home, but after some reflection, she had decided against it. On the one hand, there was a desperate half-life spent in soul-destroying torment that ate away at her very being, and on the other hand, there was the thought of living with her mum. She knew which one she preferred.
Don't Look Now, But Your Ways Have Parted