all you really need is a love of heat

Now possess: A television that actually works ($85), a gorgeous Victorian-style black wool skirt from the schmancy vintage clothing store in Dickson ($10), FREE TIME (priceless).

Have just: returned from Bell Shakespeare's production of The Tempest.

To do: Write sestina. Watch Doctor Who S1 finale. Write the Doctor Who fic that has been gradually simmering and building in my mind for the past week. Eat chicken nuggets and hot bread rolls. IGNORE ASSIGNMENTS.

Fuck, I'm so ready for this holiday, faux though it may be.

*collapses in pile of determined luxury, with hot chocolate*

obsession alert

The bottle smashes into pieces and they both jump. Not bad, as visual demonstrations go.

“It’s an unquantifiable amount of time. That’s huge,” you say, as intense as you can be. They have to understand how serious it is. “For a Doctor, that’s unspeakably dangerous.”

You don’t even have to look at Rose to see what her face will be saying: you’re honest, but evasive, and if you’re coming right out with words like 'unspeakably dangerous' then –

“So basically, we’re up shit creek and the only paddle we have may or may not exist in a different dimension half the time,” Jack puts in, with pitch-perfect snark. You could kiss him.

“Basically.”

~

I haven't felt this exhilerated by the creative potential inherent in a fandom since BSG. Did I mention I love writing for sci-fi? Omg. I'm flying.

I mean, up until 1x08 ('Father's Day') I was all oh yeah this is entertaining and British and colourful and funny but not much more than that and then everything WENT TO SHIT and got AWESOME and holy shit, you guys, this show is so fantastic. I can't even. And now I'm up to the episodes with David Tennant in them. THERE IS NO BAD HERE.