(no subject)
Taken from elliptic_eye.
When you see this, post an excerpt from as many random works-in-progress as you can find lying around. Who knows? Maybe inspiration will burst forth and do something, um, inspiration-y.
For the lolitics meme...
They weren't all cross-party, and she was sure that other people were doing the same thing (Sally Bercow, for one, had shared all of her notes the moment that the subject was mentioned, with two small conditions: that her husband not be involved, and that Caroline do her utmost to make sure that Ed Balls, who she liked, ended up with someone nice; Harriet Harman had been helpful, but had asked her not to try to set her up with a Tory, and she'd assured Michael Gove's assistance with the promise that she wouldn't send him to any of the really left-wing Labourites -the term 'class traitor' came up repeatedly, as she recalled).
There had been mistakes.
In retrospect, while hilarious, putting Dennis Skinner and John Redwood together had just been asking for trouble. As had the unfortunate incident involving Andy Burnham and Chris Grayling (she now made sure to note down which football team, if any, people supported before trying to pair them up). She still, however, was firm in the belief that Charles Kennedy and Alan Duncan should have at least bonded over their shared love for HIGNFY, if nothing else.
Despite both of them attempting to teach him (after all, since the Doctor wasn't entirely sure how to reopen the gap between their universes without blowing up the TARDIS, Danny might as well stay here for a bit), he still had a habit of slipping and calling the Liberal Democrats the Alliance, or recoiling in terror if certain MP's or former MP's names were mentioned.
"No. I don't remember the original pact, but after the violent suppression of the rebellions at Newcastle, Sheffield and Liverpool, and the refusal of many places within the UK to hand over Labour, Alliance and, in a couple of cases, even a few dissenting Tory MP's; the MP's in question formed a pact. To stop his rule by any means necessary. In Scotland, that was mostly Labour-Alliance, although in our cell, we mainly forgot which party we'd originally come from. It just...ceased to be relevant."
David stared at his friend, not for the first time. As far as he could tell, in Danny's universe, there had been a revolution during the 1980's. Not a Marxist one, directed by the left and ostensibly in the interests of the people; but one formulated by the right. MP's were either allowed to remain in Parliament as puppet representatives or taken by the government's special enforcers.
Danny had become the second-in-command of his resistance cell seven years ago, after the brutal murder of Menzies Campbell. There had been a traitor in the cell, and, apart from Danny, they'd been captured and executed as terrorists.
If Ed was supposed to be the 'nice' Miliband, then Charles Kennedy really didn't want to know what David was like behind closed doors.
They'd had a drink together -as the only two politicians in the bar at the time, it would be ridiculous for them to ignore the other's existence- and then Ed smiled. It was a strange smile, but he took no notice of it at first (after all, two elections against Tony Blair and one against Michael Howard had taught him that looking vaguely sinister, like invading Iraq, was actually an advantage in an electoral campaign as long as you were leading a major party).
He wondered if it would help if he told his despondent party that they would eventually get in, Thatcher would leave and the Tories would be a beaten cowering mess for a decade. On the other hand, he wondered how much it would hurt if he told Gordon Brown (whom he had met briefly and rather liked, despite -or because of- George's complaints that the man was/had been/was going to be a vicious and brutal sociopath) or Tony Blair (whom he had avoided like the plague, but still seen at conferences) exactly where their desire for power would take the party.
So he didn't say anything.
He listened carefully and took notes (equally as carefully: he didn't want to draw too much attention to himself, after all).
Doctor Who/Torchwood
"Tosh...here." Owen passed her a stethoscope and she looked at it blankly.
"What do you expect me to do with that?" After all, dead or not, he was still the chief medical officer of Torchwood Three. She could probably use it to make a toaster, but that was about it.
"I need a second opinion on something. See, every piece of medical knowledge I can remember is telling me that this person should be dead, and I'm sure that he was, five minutes ago. But if that's true, why has his heart suddenly started beating? Why is he now breathing normally? Why does he have a pulse, Tosh?"
"So, please state the nature of the medical emergency? ...God, I forgot, you wouldn't even have Next Generation yet, never mind Voyager...you might as well just ignore that bit. What do you want?"
"...Just talking. Trying to find out exactly what I can or can't ask you about without it tearing a hole through reality."
"I wouldn't be able to tell you about certain parts of my job even if it wasn't going to end the universe. I basically signed a contract saying that if I tell anyone without Jack's explicit verbal or written authorisation, I might as well shoot myself in the head. I'm also not allowed to talk about the events of Canary Wharf, the end of the Cold War, the existence of Martha Jones, the ending of the Harry Potter novels or how much darker and edgier TV's become in the last twenty years. And I don't just mean because the picture's now much clearer either."
It never occurred to her that she'd met the Doctor one other time, before the Library.
She had been working as a model for a multi-species agency (she was embarrassed to say that she had both the qualifications they required; she was both pretty and an idiot), when a man in a frock coat with a rather unusual haircut walked past her. She turned to stare at the man and bumped into one of his two companions, who had equally strange tastes, apparently.
After all, she'd thought that kilts had been out of fashion for at least two millennia.
I do have other WIP's, but they're not even polished enough yet to even give extracts. Sorry.
When you see this, post an excerpt from as many random works-in-progress as you can find lying around. Who knows? Maybe inspiration will burst forth and do something, um, inspiration-y.
For the lolitics meme...
They weren't all cross-party, and she was sure that other people were doing the same thing (Sally Bercow, for one, had shared all of her notes the moment that the subject was mentioned, with two small conditions: that her husband not be involved, and that Caroline do her utmost to make sure that Ed Balls, who she liked, ended up with someone nice; Harriet Harman had been helpful, but had asked her not to try to set her up with a Tory, and she'd assured Michael Gove's assistance with the promise that she wouldn't send him to any of the really left-wing Labourites -the term 'class traitor' came up repeatedly, as she recalled).
There had been mistakes.
In retrospect, while hilarious, putting Dennis Skinner and John Redwood together had just been asking for trouble. As had the unfortunate incident involving Andy Burnham and Chris Grayling (she now made sure to note down which football team, if any, people supported before trying to pair them up). She still, however, was firm in the belief that Charles Kennedy and Alan Duncan should have at least bonded over their shared love for HIGNFY, if nothing else.
Despite both of them attempting to teach him (after all, since the Doctor wasn't entirely sure how to reopen the gap between their universes without blowing up the TARDIS, Danny might as well stay here for a bit), he still had a habit of slipping and calling the Liberal Democrats the Alliance, or recoiling in terror if certain MP's or former MP's names were mentioned.
"No. I don't remember the original pact, but after the violent suppression of the rebellions at Newcastle, Sheffield and Liverpool, and the refusal of many places within the UK to hand over Labour, Alliance and, in a couple of cases, even a few dissenting Tory MP's; the MP's in question formed a pact. To stop his rule by any means necessary. In Scotland, that was mostly Labour-Alliance, although in our cell, we mainly forgot which party we'd originally come from. It just...ceased to be relevant."
David stared at his friend, not for the first time. As far as he could tell, in Danny's universe, there had been a revolution during the 1980's. Not a Marxist one, directed by the left and ostensibly in the interests of the people; but one formulated by the right. MP's were either allowed to remain in Parliament as puppet representatives or taken by the government's special enforcers.
Danny had become the second-in-command of his resistance cell seven years ago, after the brutal murder of Menzies Campbell. There had been a traitor in the cell, and, apart from Danny, they'd been captured and executed as terrorists.
If Ed was supposed to be the 'nice' Miliband, then Charles Kennedy really didn't want to know what David was like behind closed doors.
They'd had a drink together -as the only two politicians in the bar at the time, it would be ridiculous for them to ignore the other's existence- and then Ed smiled. It was a strange smile, but he took no notice of it at first (after all, two elections against Tony Blair and one against Michael Howard had taught him that looking vaguely sinister, like invading Iraq, was actually an advantage in an electoral campaign as long as you were leading a major party).
He wondered if it would help if he told his despondent party that they would eventually get in, Thatcher would leave and the Tories would be a beaten cowering mess for a decade. On the other hand, he wondered how much it would hurt if he told Gordon Brown (whom he had met briefly and rather liked, despite -or because of- George's complaints that the man was/had been/was going to be a vicious and brutal sociopath) or Tony Blair (whom he had avoided like the plague, but still seen at conferences) exactly where their desire for power would take the party.
So he didn't say anything.
He listened carefully and took notes (equally as carefully: he didn't want to draw too much attention to himself, after all).
Doctor Who/Torchwood
"Tosh...here." Owen passed her a stethoscope and she looked at it blankly.
"What do you expect me to do with that?" After all, dead or not, he was still the chief medical officer of Torchwood Three. She could probably use it to make a toaster, but that was about it.
"I need a second opinion on something. See, every piece of medical knowledge I can remember is telling me that this person should be dead, and I'm sure that he was, five minutes ago. But if that's true, why has his heart suddenly started beating? Why is he now breathing normally? Why does he have a pulse, Tosh?"
"So, please state the nature of the medical emergency? ...God, I forgot, you wouldn't even have Next Generation yet, never mind Voyager...you might as well just ignore that bit. What do you want?"
"...Just talking. Trying to find out exactly what I can or can't ask you about without it tearing a hole through reality."
"I wouldn't be able to tell you about certain parts of my job even if it wasn't going to end the universe. I basically signed a contract saying that if I tell anyone without Jack's explicit verbal or written authorisation, I might as well shoot myself in the head. I'm also not allowed to talk about the events of Canary Wharf, the end of the Cold War, the existence of Martha Jones, the ending of the Harry Potter novels or how much darker and edgier TV's become in the last twenty years. And I don't just mean because the picture's now much clearer either."
It never occurred to her that she'd met the Doctor one other time, before the Library.
She had been working as a model for a multi-species agency (she was embarrassed to say that she had both the qualifications they required; she was both pretty and an idiot), when a man in a frock coat with a rather unusual haircut walked past her. She turned to stare at the man and bumped into one of his two companions, who had equally strange tastes, apparently.
After all, she'd thought that kilts had been out of fashion for at least two millennia.
I do have other WIP's, but they're not even polished enough yet to even give extracts. Sorry.