Fic: Thin Air (Doctor Who)
Aug. 29th, 2014 03:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flowsoffireTitle: Thin Air
Author: flowsoffire
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing/characters: Twelfth Doctor
Genre: Drama/Angst
Rating: K+
Word count: c. 340 words, just narrowly over the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
who_contest minimum for this round ;P
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: The Doctor stands alone, suspended and pondering.
Author's note: And this is where I realize I hadn't posted fic for a month and a half. *facepalm*
Well. This was written for the prompt "Bad Guys" onwho_contest. I spent a while feeling hopelessly dry regarding that prompt (and writing in general); I figured I needed something that felt new to write, and can you get newer than Twelve? I don't think so ;P Hence the following scribblings. Spoilers for Deep Breath. If you haven't watched the ep, you probably won't be terribly spoiled, but rather confused.
The breeze drifts across his face, clean and deprived of scent.
He breathes. Deep. New lungs stretching out, old hearts rumbling.
The floor seems to be pitching beneath his feet. The restaurant is dismal and hollow, a farce. He is alone; he is aflight. His mere presence fills the room with quietness.
The Doctor walks, soft footsteps echoing. Away from the open door.
He could have closed it, should have perhaps. It is reckless, that rectangular window to the sky, calling. A call he denied was unnatural…
His lives are new, not just his face. A clean start, it seemed, yet furrowed with frowns unbidden. Lives are precious and he protects them… others’ lives that is, innocent lives. Everything has its end and everything dies, he knows; in some cases, the blind struggle of desperation merely leads down a senseless and grim path… In the end one must let go…
Not him, it appears, never him though he did attempt acceptance. Why? He walked to his death with open arms, at the hand of love and hate alike, and his sacrifice was refused; why? His days aren’t done. His journey isn’t complete. His dept remains unpaid.
This is what is left for him, it appears: the good old adventures, fighting the bad guys. The term makes him snort, a quiet sound in the silence. The monsters under the bed, the creepy creatures, and what is he in the face of those? What hero is it that holds death on the tip of his tongue, that leaves its imprint in his footsteps? The dinosaur coughed her own fate out of her throat, before she burned in the night. What else is there?
The wind bites now, and the world is grey…
What is he fighting? Not absurdity. Not selfishness. Not fear.
Perhaps instinct, in the name of what must be—if it is his place to decide of that.
He shivers, and he turns. The breeze is still cold upon his neck. He heads to the control panel.
He has work to do, and his own ship to find.
Author: flowsoffire
Fandom: Doctor Who
Pairing/characters: Twelfth Doctor
Genre: Drama/Angst
Rating: K+
Word count: c. 340 words, just narrowly over the
who_contest minimum for this round ;PDisclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: The Doctor stands alone, suspended and pondering.
Author's note: And this is where I realize I hadn't posted fic for a month and a half. *facepalm*
Well. This was written for the prompt "Bad Guys" on
who_contest. I spent a while feeling hopelessly dry regarding that prompt (and writing in general); I figured I needed something that felt new to write, and can you get newer than Twelve? I don't think so ;P Hence the following scribblings. Spoilers for Deep Breath. If you haven't watched the ep, you probably won't be terribly spoiled, but rather confused. The breeze drifts across his face, clean and deprived of scent.
He breathes. Deep. New lungs stretching out, old hearts rumbling.
The floor seems to be pitching beneath his feet. The restaurant is dismal and hollow, a farce. He is alone; he is aflight. His mere presence fills the room with quietness.
The Doctor walks, soft footsteps echoing. Away from the open door.
He could have closed it, should have perhaps. It is reckless, that rectangular window to the sky, calling. A call he denied was unnatural…
His lives are new, not just his face. A clean start, it seemed, yet furrowed with frowns unbidden. Lives are precious and he protects them… others’ lives that is, innocent lives. Everything has its end and everything dies, he knows; in some cases, the blind struggle of desperation merely leads down a senseless and grim path… In the end one must let go…
Not him, it appears, never him though he did attempt acceptance. Why? He walked to his death with open arms, at the hand of love and hate alike, and his sacrifice was refused; why? His days aren’t done. His journey isn’t complete. His dept remains unpaid.
This is what is left for him, it appears: the good old adventures, fighting the bad guys. The term makes him snort, a quiet sound in the silence. The monsters under the bed, the creepy creatures, and what is he in the face of those? What hero is it that holds death on the tip of his tongue, that leaves its imprint in his footsteps? The dinosaur coughed her own fate out of her throat, before she burned in the night. What else is there?
The wind bites now, and the world is grey…
What is he fighting? Not absurdity. Not selfishness. Not fear.
Perhaps instinct, in the name of what must be—if it is his place to decide of that.
He shivers, and he turns. The breeze is still cold upon his neck. He heads to the control panel.
He has work to do, and his own ship to find.
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Date: 2014-08-29 01:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-29 01:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-29 01:59 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2014-08-30 02:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-30 06:23 pm (UTC)(:
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Date: 2014-08-30 07:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-08-31 03:59 am (UTC)This had better take first place. This is fucking gorgeous and...how did you get so quickly into his mind. That's what it feels like. Newness overlaid with old and regret and freshness and joy and energy and at his heels the dark, ever the dark and blind instinct and he was tired and done and happily met his fate, but now there are others to protect and other fates to explore and it is scary and new and yet ever the same.
I love this.
I love you.
Thank you. I needed this...
*hugs you hard*
no subject
Date: 2014-08-31 06:50 am (UTC)Love you soooo much, too! ♥♥♥
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Date: 2014-09-02 01:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-02 06:08 am (UTC)(I saw you wrote One stuff and made a cartwheel btw.)
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Date: 2014-09-04 07:52 pm (UTC)Well done! ♥
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Date: 2014-09-05 06:14 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-09 09:01 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2014-09-23 08:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-24 06:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-09-25 12:56 am (UTC)Aww thank you! <3 Awww that's sweet. Into the Compliment bucket it goes! :P <33
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Date: 2014-09-25 06:05 am (UTC)Yup, Compliment Bucket material! :D ♥