Round Three Reviews - Part 20

May 25, 2009 09:02

Today's Featured Stories Include:

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A Close Shave by dark_aegis or Gillian Taylor
Category: Humor
Fandom: New Who
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Rose
Rating: PG-13
Details: A one-shot that takes a cliché and turns it on its head.
Why it Rocks:
Why does it rock? Well - that's easy enough to define, this time around. It's funny.

No. I'm serious. It's funny. It's going to make you laugh out loud. Particularly if you've spent any length of time in fandom reading smut. “Shag or die” is a well-known cliché - it has its moments of being hot, but for the most part, it can be difficult to read because of the squicky consent issues. This fic takes care of all of that with a funny twist.

Rose narrates this story in first person, which might be a turn-off for some readers if you're not comfortable with that particular style. Rest assured, she sounds like herself, and I could clearly hear Billie Piper reading this story in my head.

Nine and Rose open the fic, puttering around the TARDIS - Rose clearly has the hots for the Doctor and would like to stay behind and take care of that, but the Doctor cheerfully points out that there's a planet right outside of the TARDIS doors. They are almost immediately seized (one assumes arrested) and taken to a room with only one piece of furniture:

A really, really big bed.

From there on out, it only gets funnier. Rose and the Doctor have been thrown into a show where the contestants must - get this … Shag or die.

The announcer didn’t seem to take notice of my reaction. “Now, Rose, you know how this works. You and the Doctor must shag…or the Doctor will die. You’ve got three hours from this time on to do the deed. We’ll be back with you for your reaction. If he pleases you, he lives. If he doesn’t, he dies. When we come back from these announcements, the main show!”

The rest of the plot is just funny - from the Doctor's reactions, to the very punchline of the fic I found myself chuckling out loud, which is something that happens only very rarely in fic anymore. Gillian Taylor has been nominated for several awards this round and it's easy to see why. She writes with a real affection for the characters and a willingness to poke fun at fandom and by extension, herself, that's really appealing.

Give A Close Shave the five minutes it will take you to read and I hope you get a good laugh out of it. If you do, consider it for your choice when you go to vote in the New Who Humor category.

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Worship the Trousers That Cling To Him by wildestranger
Category: Classic
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Ianto
Rating: R (for sexual situations - I'd say it's a very soft R)
Details: One-shot - the author doesn't say when it takes place, but my guess is toward the beginning of S2. Slash, but of the UST variety, and only mild sexual situations.
Why It Rocks:
No one ever likes it when Mommy and Daddy fight - but when Mommy and Daddy are Ianto and Jack, the fight is just generally too funny to ignore. As is the case in Worship the Trousers - which, despite the name, has very little to do with trousers, or exactly to whom they cling.

It is shortly after Jack's return from the Year that Never Was, and Ianto is upset with him. Really, Ianto has great many reasons to be upset with him, but primarily, there are two.

Jack doesn’t ask, Jack assumes, Jack crowds Ianto against a filing cabinet in the third level and licks his throat. That’s the point, really. Ianto feels he should be asked.

You can't imagine Jack asking, really. And why should he? He's got all those 51st century pheromones working overtime on a 21st century crowd that is unused to such things. I'd like to think that Jack was shocked the first time he walked into a 19th century bar and discovered every person in it salivating for him, but really, he was likely only thinking, "Well, it's about time."

So that Ianto pushes Jack away - as Ianto does - is probably somewhat disconcerting. That Ianto even thinks he should be asked certainly doesn't occur to Jack. Who asks?

The slightly glazed look on Jack’s face suggests that he has never come across a low-level employee in a bureaucratic establishment.

Speaking as a low-level employee in a bureaucratic establishment, I am totally taking notes. Ianto's methods are gold. Because, with just a little bit of office-speak and some self-control (not to mention a damn good-looking pair of trousers), Ianto has managed to trump Jack. And not just trump - Ianto has the power now. And with every attempt Jack makes to corner him, fondle him, compromise him or at the very least, bed him - a little power slips from Jack's control and lands squarely in Ianto's pocket.

This goes on for a while. Twenty-three attempts, to be precise, although considering Jack's libido that could be as little as three days. We get the impression it's much longer - at least two weeks, if not three. And in all this time - Jack hasn't asked. It's only now that Jack asks - and the answer is telling.

“You left without saying anything, without telling us where you were going or why. That tells us how much we mean to you, and how much you care about the fact that we might worry. It also told me what I should expect if I continued to sleep with you. I decided that such an arrangement would be unsatisfactory in the future.”

I'm not sure which answer Ianto believes - that he's upset because Jack never asked, or that he's upset because Jack left him hanging. I think Ianto himself isn't entirely sure. It's easy to say you want to be asked. Goodness, we all want to be asked. I don't think there's many people who don't feel a ping of pleasure when they're tagged for a meme, or asked to help with a project, or given a role in the Christmas play. (Or a task to do when invited to dinner.)

But being asked is also part and parcel of Ianto's second reason to dispel Jack's advances. Being asked means that someone wants your help, specifically. Your input, specifically. They have taken the time to think about you, what you're capable of doing, and possibly even prepared something in anticipation of you saying yes.

Being asked is including others in your day. It's admitting that both parties - the asker and the askee - are part of a something larger. A couple. A group. A team

That Jack left the team without word, without explanation - that's individualism. And it was not just a slap in the face to Ianto, but a slap in the face to the rest of them. Ianto's complaint that he was never asked is entirely about him - but even he will admit that as part of the larger picture, Jack not only never asked - but never told.

He realises one morning that it’s been two months since Jack last tried to touch him. He hasn’t missed it, hasn’t really thought about being touched by anyone in so long, but now with Jack flashing him honest smiles every day and reminding him that he is being courted, that he is the focus of Jack’s attention, it’s getting difficult. Ianto spends the rest of the day trying desperately not to remember the feel of Jack’s mouth on his collarbone and Jack’s fingers on his hips.

Jack continues not to ask. Because you see, at the end of the day, this is still Jack. And Jack won't ask - and perhaps he won't say, but there's a difference between saying and telling.

Jack’s hands on him have never been insincere.

In short, vote for Worship the Trousers That Cling to Him. It has care bears and coffee and extremely appropriate workplace posters; UST of several varieties and an extremely funny bit in a glass-walled cell. It's an intriguing battle of the wills between Ianto and Jack, and while Ianto may always win when it comes to passive aggression...I think this one ended in a tie. Which the category will not, particularly if you agree that this fic entirely deserves your vote.

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The Silver Dollar Paradigm by ladychi
Category: WiP
Fandom: New Who
Characters: Ten, Rose, original characters
Rating: Teen for horror, violence
Details: WIP, but recently finished at 12 chapters. Implied sexual relationship between Rose & the Doctor, but it’s not the focus of the story.
Why It Rocks:
The Silver Dollar Paradigm is first and foremost a ghost story and it’s just spooky enough that I walked away from it firmly convinced that I did not want to meet the things that go bump in this particular night. In a breath of fresh, or slightly swampy, air the story is set in the American South, set in a post-Doomsday AU where Rose and the Doctor are still together and involved in a very new sexual relationship that is present, but surprisingly from such a magnificent writer of smut, pretty much background noise in this particular fic. Not that it needs it. Oh, no. This ghost story stands firmly on its own merits.

The Doctor aims for, and hits, the 1860s, but on exiting the TARDIS he and Rose are swept through a temporal rift to the strains of someone singing the song Molly Malone, a reoccurring signature note of the ghost’s approach in this story, and end up in period costumes on the streets of 2007 Silver Springs, North Carolina. Taking it in stride, as this duo is bound to do, they set out to find the cause of their peculiar new method of time travel and hopefully a successful way of getting back to the TARDIS. Their journey takes them to a seedy motel for the night and then to a nearby diner where they learn not only the local legend of a woman in white with an annual penchant for murder, but pick up a local young man named Nate who lost his love to the dreaded ghostie the year before, knows the lore, and is willing to help them solve the mystery of what’s killing the young ladies of the town year after year.

Nate is a clever and resourceful companion to bring along for the ride and he triggers a bit of the Doctor’s innate sense of jealousy when it comes to Rose.

“Pleased to meet you,” the Doctor said with a friendly grin, holding his hand out. “You can let go of Rose’s hand and shake mine now, if you please.”

He teases Rose about picking up another pretty boy and she tartly responds that he’s her pretty boy now, another indicator of their new romantic status.

Of course it’s the anniversary of the first murder, of each murder really, and the creature locks itself in on Rose. Cue the Oncoming Storm who is not going to lose the love of his life to a vengeful ghost. Or is he? It’s touch and go as the creature’s ability to make an impact on the physical world becomes more and more obvious and Rose becomes a casualty, one the Doctor only just manages to rescue from certain death, only to have her vanish later into the ether. It’s a race against time to save her and Rose struggles desperately to save herself.

What I love best about this story is despite the intricate, well-thought out plot and the underlying horror and fear of the situation, the Doctor and Rose manage to so distinctly be themselves. There is banter galore during the lighter moments. My favorite exchange comes near the beginning when the Doctor wakes Rose up at six a.m. She responds much the same way I would to an unnecessarily early wake up call.

“You sleep for absurd lengths of time. Even for a human. You only need seven to eight hours, you know. You’ve been asleep for eight and a half. Absurd. I like that word. Wake up, Rose. C’mon, let’s go!”

“I want to kill you. Honest to God, I just want to murder you right where you stand,” Rose grumbled, throwing her hand over her eyes. “What time is it?”

“Quarter past six.”

“I’m going to light you on fire.” Rose pulled a pillow over her head.

“That’s not what you said last night,” the Doctor teased.

All the classic things of a good ghost story abound here. There are bodies that disappear, strange cold spots, reeking smells, a talisman in the silver dollar the story is named for, and ghostly singing. There is suspense and fear for the lives of our heroes. There is a perfectly logical explanation that doesn’t stop the events from being horrifying and frightful. In fact it only makes it scarier. And although the Doctor, because he is the Doctor, manages to win the day, save the girl, and get his TARDIS back, there is a lot of darkness in what he must do to achieve it. The story ends on a somewhat lighter note as they invite Nate along for one trip, but as the TARDIS vanishes the strains of Molly Malone once more drift unsettlingly through the air...leaving the reader with one last jolt of fear that maybe, just maybe nothing was tied up in that bright little bow after all.

Ladychi has achieved a tightly woven, frightening, well-paced action/adventure story that with a few tweaks to take out the more obvious romantic dialog could have been an actual episode. It leaves you ultimately satisfied but wanting more from this newly formed trio, a more that she has promised to deliver on as this newly finished fic is the first in a series and I, for one, can’t wait to see what she’s got up her sleeve next. Vote for this fic because it is beautifully crafted and places you firmly on the edge of your seat, never lets you down with sloppy plotting, and has elements that chapter after chapter keep you coming back for more.

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Masquerade by radiantbaby Link goes to Teaspoon
Category: Doctor/Martha
Fandom: New Who
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Martha Jones
Rating: All Ages
Details: Single-part ficlet, 5900 words approximately, complete
Why It Rocks:
We’ve all been there: we’ve said or done something we shouldn’t, and it’s left someone we care about believing that they’re less valued than they are. The challenge is always how to make up for it. Simply tell them face to face, and trust that the words will come out the right way? Or tell them some other way - in writing, perhaps, or through a demonstration?

Or, maybe, through something altogether more elaborate, such as a masquerade, and in doing so manage to say the words you could never voice under normal circumstances?

In Masquerade, the Doctor has promised Martha a treat, and hinted that it’s in recompense for their time in 1913:

it wasn’t like the Doctor to just say he is sorry, she gathered, he seemed to come up with elaborate stunts instead to hide his feelings behind

and he’s taken her to a masquerade ball. An alien masquerade ball. radiantbaby has done some clever world-building here: food that’s genetically sealed until visitors’ biology is detected, so that they can only eat things safe for them, and masks with nanobots that make the mask feel as if it’s part of the wearer’s own skin and that disguise voices, so that visitors have no idea who they’re talking to or dancing with. It’s all a bit alien for Martha at first; after her blue bird mask is fitted, she actually faints from dizziness caused by the nanobots:

“Do you want this to stop?” the Doctor asked, with sad surprise. “I just thought - “ he trailed off, biting his bottom lip nervously. “I just can’t stop making this evening a disaster, can I?” he asked softly after a deep sigh, his voice pained.

But Martha’s fine, and after a while he sends her off to enjoy herself, telling her that he has some business to conduct and that he’ll find her later. She’ll know him by his raven mask, he tells her.

That’s when she meets a stranger in a wolf mask, a man who calls himself Ganymede. Martha recognises the Shakespeare allusion, though the astronomical reference might well be just as apt. They talk, and then dance, and when Martha asks if she should be Aliena - Ganymede’s companion - her dance partner suggests she should be Orlando instead. Apt, of course, as Ganymede and Aliena were Orlando and Rosalind’s alter egos; the masquerade theme continues.

And they talk, about friends and companions and things that make Martha sad. Ganymede’s flatteringly interested in her, calling the friend she mentions as the raven a trickster and cajoling this confession out of her:

“Sometimes both. Sometimes he…yes, the man is the raven…and sometimes he is so good to me and the things we do are absolutely amazing. And sometimes…he makes me feel like the least important or interesting person in the universe.”

Martha finally gets a confession in return:

“Yes. I have lost everyone I have ever loved and sometimes I think that I should never love again, but I do, I go on loving people.”

“Do you tell them - that you love them that is?”

“I’d like to say yes, but in all honesty, not as much as I should.”

Ganymede’s true identity shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone, and I don’t think it’s intended to be. This is a story about disguises, not about revelations. Is the Doctor using a disguise to gain a confession from Martha? Or because it’s easier to make his own confession when he’s behind a mask? But, actually, I can’t help wondering if perhaps the true explanation is deeper than that. The Doctor is a master at hiding his real emotions. Is his normal demeanour the real disguise? So who is the real masquerader here: the Doctor, or Ganymede?

Anyone who feels that Martha’s right, that the Doctor really did make her feel unimportant at times - and that can’t be denied - will love the fact that this story gives her a chance to say so, and to be heard. It’s a lovely missing scene, something that could easily have happened in canon, and a moment that Martha richly deserved. It’s definitely worth your time, and worth your vote.

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A Life Full of Compromises by paranoidangel Link goes to Teaspoon
Category: Multi-era
Fandom: Classic Who
Characters: Sarah Jane Smith, Harry Sullivan, Luke Smith
Rating: All Ages
Details: One-shot standalone, Het, Romance
Why It Rocks:
This story takes many of the contradictions in Sarah Jane's backstory and weaves them into a lovely romance between Sarah Jane and Harry.

Some background. Sarah Jane Smith has the most complicated and contradictory backstory - taken across the various spin-off media - of any companion to ever grace the TARDIS. This sparked 'The Many Lives of Sarah Jane' ficathon at sarahjane_fic, in which participants attempted to write stories that made sense of some of those contradictions - such as the fact that in the Sarah Jane Smith audio dramas from Big Finish, Sarah Jane continues to work as an investigative journalist, and is aided and abetted by two friends - Josh Townsend and Natalie Redfern. While in some of the Virgin New Adventures novels Sarah Jane marries a Paul Morley, but in one of Big Finish's Short Trips collections (Short Trips: A Christmas Treasury) Sarah Jane has a daughter and a granddaughter whom the Fifth Doctor meets, but her husband's name is Will. Also, in the Past Doctor Adventure Bullet Time, Sarah Jane sacrifices herself so that she can't be used as a hostage to prevent the Seventh Doctor from taking action to aid an escaping alien ship. Those aren't even all the contradictions to her backstory, but they're quite enough to give you a picture of what the ficathon participants were up against.

Harry Sullivan, the other main character in this story, also has an interesting (though considerably less complicated) backstory: canonically he travels with the Doctor and Sarah Jane for only a few stories after meeting the Doctor just after he's regenerated into Four (in Robot). The Doctor seems to merely tolerate him - referring to him as an 'imbecile' in one story, and 'only qualified to work on sailors' in another (Harry's actually a Royal Navy Lieutenant on secondment to UNIT as their Medical Officer - the same role that Martha Jones holds after she joins UNIT). After The Android Invasion we don't see Harry again, although the Brigadier mentions (in Mawdryn Undead) that Harry was 'seconded to NATO' and the last he'd heard Harry was 'doing something 'hush-hush' at Porton Down' (a UK government and military science park in Wiltshire which is also home to the Health Protection Agency's Centre for Emergency Preparedness and Response). In the Big Finish audio, UNIT: The Wasting, Commodore Sullivan (who is working with NATO) is called on by the Brigadier for a favour - although he does not have a speaking part (as actor Ian Marter had already passed away by that point). Meanwhile, in Big Finish's Sarah Jane Smith audio series, Harry has apparently disappeared while on a secret assignment for NATO.

'A Life Full of Compromises' opens with Harry proposing to Sarah Jane, and Sarah Jane (to his disappointment) saying she'll think about it. When she tries to make a list of pros and cons, though, she realises that there are no cons, and that while 'great sex' isn't a good enough reason on its own to marry Harry, there's also the fact that she can't imagine being in a relationship with anyone else.

So they marry and move into a new flat together - they couldn't agree on both of them living in either Sarah Jane's or Harry's, so they compromised and got themselves a new one. Harry's disappointed that Sarah Jane won't be calling herself 'Mrs Sullivan' now that she's married, but she reminds him that since she spends much of her life as an investigative journalist operating under one alias or another, remembering who she's meant to be on any given day is hard enough, without having to try to remember her own name too.

Their marriage isn't an easy one - Sarah Jane is far too independent to settle easily to married life, and Harry's very old-fashioned (in the TV show he often calls her 'old thing' and tries to protect her from danger). At one point in this story Sarah Jane says to him: "I bet you think all women are domestic goddesses who live to have children, don't you?", and he probably does think that. So they have an awkward conversation about Sarah Jane's lack of interest in having children (though she does have two names picked out: Luke and Maria). Harry suggests that he leave the Navy, but Sarah Jane's not that bothered if he does - she's hardly ever home anyway since she's frequently off somewhere chasing a story. However, after they miss their anniversary dinner (because Sarah Jane's going after a story, and Harry can't get leave from the Navy for the following week as she suggests), he tells her that he's joining MI5 because he's been doing intelligence work anyway. She feels hurt when he takes off his wedding ring, explaining that just as she doesn't wear hers so that her enemies won't go after him, so he doesn't want any enemies that he might make while working for MI5 coming after her. (She doesn't dare to tell him that she took her wedding ring off one day, but then simply forgot to put it back on again.)

Then Harry disappears out of Sarah Jane's life, apparently on a mission for NATO, and despite all her efforts, she's unable to find out what's happened to him. But it's not until she meets the tenth Doctor at Deffrey Vale School that she decides it's time to move on and behave as if Harry's actually dead, not merely missing for several years. So she moves into 13 Bannerman Road, and after her run in with the Bane (in SJA: Invasion of the Bane), adopts Luke, and allows Maria and Clyde to become her surrogate family.

When they met at Deffrey Vale, however, the Doctor didn't tell Sarah Jane that Harry wasn't dead - that he had, in fact, been on Gallifrey (we presume with the Eighth incarnation) because the Doctor needed a doctor during the Time War. And once Gallifrey's gone, the Doctor brings Harry back to Earth:

"How long has it been for you?"

"A few months. I don't know exactly, I lost track." He frowned. "Why?"

She bit her lip. From his perspective it was no longer than they were usually apart, although they usually managed to communicate during that time. "Harry, it's been more like a few years," she said, softly.

"Oh." She could see comprehension dawning on him. He pressed his palm to her cheek. "You haven't aged a bit."

She smiled at the flattery. "I thought you were dead." She put her hand up to her mouth to keep herself from crying.

"Oh, Sarah." He pulled her closer. "I'm so sorry."

They have quite a bit of catching up to do - and Harry will have to be introduced to Luke, Clyde and Maria (and her dad) - but that's a small price to pay for being back together again.

Vote for this fic because it's a clever interweaving of often contradictory parts of Sarah Jane's backstory, and it's a tender and sweet romance.

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The Love Philosophy of Oods by kayliemalinza
Categories: Genfic, Ficlet
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, Toshiko
Rating: PG-13
Details: One-shot, spoilers for DW S4 "Planet of the Ood", but obviously set sometime during TW s2. Vaguely Jack/Tosh, but very understated.
Why It Rocks:
It's not often that I can love a fic this much, when there isn't dialog. See, dialog is my favorite thing in fiction. What people say and what they mean are often two entirely different things - and what goes unspoken says so much.

Yet there isn't a single word said in Kaylie's extremely short fic - and what's more, I don't want there to be. What goes unspoken here is so much more powerful that what is described that it's difficult to imagine the story told any other way.

Jack and Tosh are...somewhere. It's not important where, but it's obviously the eye of the storm. Tosh is asleep, Jack is taking it all in, and there is a dead Ood on the floor.

If you've watched Doctor Who, you're familiar with the Ood. We've seen them twice, but we learned the most about them in the last season. Having seen the episode is helpful in understanding this fic - vital, in fact, because it centers very much on a single fact of the Ood - that the glowing balls they hold aren't just balls - they're a second brain. Wild Ood carry their brains, unprotected, in their hands.

Jack knew [Toshiko] was mapping her brain onto the Ood's, imagining her best asset exposed and able to be plucked, not stowed away inside her locked-up skull, not contained in her, unreachable, not the hard kernel of internal me that she is used to. She looked terrified but that means, Jack thinks, that she gets it. She understands that carrying your brain on the outside changes how you fit into the universe.

What is interesting, about the interaction of the Ood and of humans is that it's sort of a culture-shock reference, taken to the extreme. The first humans to meet the Ood considered them subservient - when really what the Ood were was trusting. You cannot fight back when you carry your mind in your hand. It's simply a different way of acting around others. Depending on your culture, you might have different actions in society. In Japan, you bow. In the Middle East, you don't show the bottom of your show. In some parts of Central America, you don't make eye contact.

For Oods, you are gentle, because one false move, and your brain is squashed.

What we don't realize, however, is that of the three beings in the room - only Tosh sees the world in the same way that we do. Jack might live among the humans of the 21st century - but it's not the culture he was born knowing.

Jack has adapted to the Earth philosophy of kissing better than he has the symbol of the heart, but where he is from they think romantically about the palms of people's hands. A hand is what you use to manipulate and reach, to push and pull along. You can't hold a person's hand without them holding yours, and you can crush or cut them with your nails, but the palm is helpless. It's at the center.

We've always known that Jack has a different past, a different childhood, a different view of the expansiveness of the universe. It's easier to think of Jack as bigger, somehow. To think of him centered on the palm of your hand -- stop for a moment, and examine yours. With your finger, gently circle the very center of your palm, the bit that's just slight indented. It's just a bit warmer than the rest of your hand - curve your fingers, and it folds in on itself, a bowl with a protective lid.

Humans of the 21st century don't walk around with our brains exposed for all to see. But we don't walk with our palms stretched out for all to touch either. We walk with our hands curled and hidden. Safe. We speak our words with protective layers, and let the unspoken remain unseen.

(One wonders, really, if this isn't how Jack saw the Doctor and Rose. After all, they were always holding hands, their palms pressed together. And Jack, still young and with his original culture imprinted so heavily on him, may have seen those gestures, and known that they were together, and not interfered.)

Knowing this about Jack, it kind of changes the way we see him. For an Ood to hand their brain to someone else is to exhibit absolute trust in that other person. For Jack to offer his palm to someone else is much the same - a show of trust. He isn't handing you his brain, but he is handing you his heart.

(Again, a reference to the Doctor, one wonders. If the Doctor takes the hands of his companions so freely - and Jack does not - does that make the Doctor a bigger man-whore than Jack, in Jack's estimation? One wonders.)

Kaylie tells us that the story is a rewrite, with bits added and removed. There isn't a link to the earlier version, but frankly, I wouldn't want to read it. This version to me is so perfect in its tone and phrasing that to see anything else I think would make me inordinately sad. The language is that gorgeous style that seems to flow without stopping, as though it was poured onto the page in a thin, lyrical stream. There is so much unspoken, really, I could go on for hours about the meanings behind the Ood, the philosophy of kissing, and the palm of your hand.

Already, I think I've written a review longer than the story, and it's not often I do that.

In short (ha! I think this review is longer than the story!), vote for The Love Philosophy of Oods. It's an absolutely gorgeous fic with a lovely image; it's love crammed into 740 words; it's breath-taking in its absolutely simplicity. It will make you love Jack, if you had not already, and it absolutely deserves your vote.

*

Today's Reviews were written by:
ladychi: A Close Shave
azriona: Worship the Trousers that Cling To Him; The Love Philosophy of Oods
amberfocus: Silver Dollar Paradigm
wendymr: Masquerade
persiflage_1: A Life Full of Compromises

round three

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