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crack_van2008-04-01 09:23 pm
threerings.livejournal.com) wrote in crack_van2008-04-01 09:23 pm
Entry tags:
From This Day to the Ending of the World by Icebluenothing (G)
Welcome to April! My name is ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
threerings and I'll be your TARDIS driver this month. I'll try to land you all somewhere close to where we all began, I promise. I'm really excited to be bringing the Doctor Who recs this month. I just finished up a month doing Highlander recs for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
crack_van so now I feel like a pro. Fair warning, though. I'm a New Who fan, although I'm trying to see as much Classic Who as possible little by little. I'm also a Doctor/Rose shipper, so my recs will veer in that direction. I do enjoy threesomes and slash, though, so non D/R fans, do not lose heart. Let's get started, shall we?
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: None
Author on LJ:icebluenothing
Author Website: Doctor Who fanfic on LJ
Why this must be read: I'm starting with an older story, something that should rightly be considered a classic of the fandom. This story is set directly after (and during) the Time War. It deals with Nine's awakening and coming to terms with the aftermath of the Time War. So this is a story about grief. About finding the will and the strength to move on. As far as the writing, I can't say much more than that it is stunning. This is a story that feels right, that feels true, and that is reason enough to read it.
Excerpt: It was a moment of shock and madness. That was all. He tried to let go of it, to forgive himself for it, but he had done it -- knelt down by their sides and shaken them, shaken their broken and blackened bodies, screaming names into unseeing faces. It may have been days before he was willing to admit they were dead.
He wandered the halls blindly, bumping into walls and feeling his way along at times, calling out names. He was exhausted all the time, his clothes were torn and bloody, and his feet hurt, bound tight inside shoes that no longer fit perfectly.
He thought the silence might kill him. Millions of Time Lord voices murmuring in the back of his head, psychic white noise -- he'd barely been aware of it, no more than a fish was aware of water. And now the only voice left in his head was his.
On second thought, perhaps I should have started with something more cheerful. I promise to try and find something light. In the meantime, please read:
From This Day to the Ending of the World
threerings and I'll be your TARDIS driver this month. I'll try to land you all somewhere close to where we all began, I promise. I'm really excited to be bringing the Doctor Who recs this month. I just finished up a month doing Highlander recs for crack_van so now I feel like a pro. Fair warning, though. I'm a New Who fan, although I'm trying to see as much Classic Who as possible little by little. I'm also a Doctor/Rose shipper, so my recs will veer in that direction. I do enjoy threesomes and slash, though, so non D/R fans, do not lose heart. Let's get started, shall we?Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing: None
Author on LJ:
icebluenothingAuthor Website: Doctor Who fanfic on LJ
Why this must be read: I'm starting with an older story, something that should rightly be considered a classic of the fandom. This story is set directly after (and during) the Time War. It deals with Nine's awakening and coming to terms with the aftermath of the Time War. So this is a story about grief. About finding the will and the strength to move on. As far as the writing, I can't say much more than that it is stunning. This is a story that feels right, that feels true, and that is reason enough to read it.
Excerpt: It was a moment of shock and madness. That was all. He tried to let go of it, to forgive himself for it, but he had done it -- knelt down by their sides and shaken them, shaken their broken and blackened bodies, screaming names into unseeing faces. It may have been days before he was willing to admit they were dead.
He wandered the halls blindly, bumping into walls and feeling his way along at times, calling out names. He was exhausted all the time, his clothes were torn and bloody, and his feet hurt, bound tight inside shoes that no longer fit perfectly.
He thought the silence might kill him. Millions of Time Lord voices murmuring in the back of his head, psychic white noise -- he'd barely been aware of it, no more than a fish was aware of water. And now the only voice left in his head was his.
On second thought, perhaps I should have started with something more cheerful. I promise to try and find something light. In the meantime, please read:
From This Day to the Ending of the World