it's this or sorting the NON-virtual filing cabinets...

[robling_t]

...Aaaaand have Yet Another Meme, to make it look as if I still have a life beyond the Great Houseclean of '12:

Post the first sentence(or 3) from every WIP you're currently working on, even if it's very short. Then invite people to ask questions about your WIPs. With any luck, the motivation to take that WIP one step closer to completion will appear as if by magic!

• Miscellaneous one-offs:
  

  
  

  It was working out, in its way. If he overlooked the demands for proper healthy meals, and the complaints about his research practices that usually followed attempts to assemble and cook same, and the inexplicable fondness for old films on late-night telly. John was a doctor, so an interest in nutrition (and attendant hygenic conditions) could be assumed, and he'd been an army doctor, so a certain predisposition to insomnia was also well within reasonable parameters.
  
  

  -- "A Study In Blues"
  
  
  

  The dirty little secret was that werewolves were vectors of disease. Just... not in the way one might think. "Gotta lay off the live poultry, George."
  
  

  -- "Zoonotic"
  
  
  

  "So, what was so important that you had to get me out of bed at first shift on a Sunday morning, then?"
  
  Andy was still blinking the sleep from his own eyes, come to that, yawning as he showed Gwen towards the cells. "After-match squad last night were chasing a d-and-d who headed down a sewer, so when they went in to look was he all right they found this other bloke, right?
  
  

  -- "Revenant"
  
  
  

  "And what am I supposed to do about this, Jack?" Owen protested, looking through the smeary perspex.
  
  Jack seemed agitated, well, moreso than usual, but not so much as some of the utterly mindless howling that Owen could hear coming from two of the nearby cells. "Use your imagination! That still works, right?
  
  

  -- [untitled dark sex-pollen fic]
  

  
  
  
• Several side-fics from the Yours, Mine, and ...Ours? continuity:
  

  
  

  3 July 1918
  God that looks funny to write. Not even sure that it is, we're too far out in the country to know how old the newspapers are. But at least that, anyway. If this is real.
  
  

  -- "The Constable's Tale"
  
  
  

  Right. Shit, that was a clever way of not telegraphing it to the whole damn team. Owen fled up the stairs to the catwalk, boots ringing like gunshots on the metal steps.
  
  

  -- "Second Chances" (AKA That Notoriously Unfinished Second-Date Fic)
  
  
  

  "It's been a year, Jack." Tosh's gaze darted sideways to where the medic sat apart at the end of the boardroom table, methodically vivisecting a hapless biscuit into its constituent atoms. "What if this is all we can ever do for him?"
  
  

  -- "Deliver Us From Weevil"
  
  
  

  Pain and blue light, landing hard on his side on concrete. Ianto curled around the pain, the pain and the device in his hand that had caused it. (Caused it?) Shouting, somewhere near him, unfamiliar accents in languages he almost understood calling out for security, and deities, and the medic.
  
  

  -- "Ianto Jones In The Twenty-Fourth-And-A-Half Century"
  
  
  

  Evelyn Jenkins was somewhat used by now to the goings-on at number seventeen, after all the man who styled himself some sort of bygone military officer and his extended household may have been eccentric in the extreme but at least they never seemed to be at home to cause a fuss so often as all that. She was surprised, however, when the Captain came sweeping up one evening in his anachronistic coat and informed her politely that he'd been reassigned and would she please be welcoming to his house-sitter, a newly widowed gentleman with his six small children. Oh, those poor dears, Evelyn said, and immediately agreed to do what she could to make the tragic family feel to home.
  
  

  -- "The Kids Are Alright"
  
  
  

  "The Sorting Hat," Owen Harper pronounced authoritatively, "has gone mental. First your Muggle-born Slytherin, and now this? Barking."
  
  "Thought that was obvious when it didn't sort you into Slytherin," Rhys Williams muttered.
  
  

  -- "Rhys Williams And The Philosopher's Secret"
  

  
  
  
• Two fics that would follow up on Ghost in the Machine:
  

  
  

  Gwen had to admit that it was nice to have a day like this once in a while, nothing to worry about but how badly her parents were spoiling their grandson whilst she was down the shops.
  
  

  -- "Keeping The Faith"
  
  
  

  People didn't point towards the bay anymore when you asked about Torchwood. Jack followed the least confused-sounding set of directions to a converted warehouse, familiar old hexagon logo unobtrusive on the directory board amidst screenprinters and woodworkers and a yoga studio.
  
  

  -- "All That You Can't Leave Behind"
  

  
  
  
• An entry in the Deus, Ex continuity:
  

  
  

  He'd been spending a lot of time tinkering with his sketch of that face. "Should I be jealous?"
  
  "Dunno yet. Depends if this works."
  
  

  -- "you don't take nothing with you but your soul"
  

  
  
  
  
• And a longer helping of the third part of Y Cnud, since somebody was just asking about it the other day...
  

  
  

  It was something, Ianto supposed, to know they'd found some measure of justice. Still, what had been his heart was leaden to see the great wound in the Plas, swarmed over now by builders rather than carefully swaddled retrieval teams picking over what was left of the facility beneath but no less raw in his memory. "Fucking waste," Owen said again, kicking at the construction barricade.
  
  "Thought I might find you here." Automatically, Ianto turned towards the voice, though it couldn't have been addressing them; a copper, tall, vaguely familiar in his hideous safety-yellow jacket --
  
  Staring straight at him in the empty midnight square, when no one had seen him in all these months since --
  
  A nod, as Owen did his own startled take, and Ianto placed him: Andy, Gwen's old partner, the one she'd gone with to... to notify Rhi. "Yeah, I can see you. I know you're dead, but I need your help with something."
  
  

  -- "Pack Ice"
  

(Note that RE a previously posted To-Do List these are only the ones that have first lines as-such, in case you were wondering where the rest went...)