I come with Fic.
Jul. 10th, 2009 06:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
solitaryslothI'm not capable of approaching Day Four fic yet, so here's a post-Day One.
Regarding Four, I can only say how amazingly accurate much of fandom's interpretation of Jack and Ianto's relationship was, which I will try to talk about later, along with everything else.
In other news, I'm still living in denialville and am terrified for tonight's ep, which is downloading.
I should probably start posting to comms at some point.
Title: Repetitions on a Theme
Rating: PG
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Nothing really. Vague Jack/Ianto, past Ianto/Lisa
Disclaimer: Are these things really worth anything anyway? 1. I am not brilliant enough to come up with these characters and stories, and 2. Day Four.
Summary: Ianto's been through too much destruction.
Spoilers: Day One
Wordcount: 230
Author's Notes: I would have rather that the beginning of Day Two focused on Ianto instead of Gwen.
Feedback: Criticism please!
Ianto stumbled through the wreckage of the Hub, all shattered concrete and twisted metal and smoke and fire. He dug through the rubble, eyes searching frantically, trying to scream for Jack through raw throat and lungs on fire, his voice echoing faint in his ears. He blinked dry burning eyes rapidly, trying to see through the haze clouding them, pressed hard against the concrete he climbed over to steady his shaking hands.
Fire and ash, the building collapsing around him, blood blinding his eyes and making his hands slip over the burning metal he grabbed at to stay upright, screaming surrounding him mingling with his own hoarse, desperate screams for Lisa.
He fell to his knees, gasping, trembling, disoriented, then hauled himself back up. Jack. Not Jack, too. Ianto didn't think he could handle loosing him--again. How could even Jack survive this? He bowed his, taking unsteady steps forward.
Lisa, heavy in his arms, dragging him down through the flames.
He focused on the line of red, so bright against the haze and dull grey, for a few moments before realising what it meant. A sudden burst of energy and adrenaline pulled him away from Canary Wharf, out from the terror and despair. He ran forward, half falling, zig-zagging through mounds of steel and shrapnel and concrete. Lisa was dead--had died in those fires--but Jack would survive. He had to come back; he had promised Ianto he would.
Regarding Four, I can only say how amazingly accurate much of fandom's interpretation of Jack and Ianto's relationship was, which I will try to talk about later, along with everything else.
In other news, I'm still living in denialville and am terrified for tonight's ep, which is downloading.
I should probably start posting to comms at some point.
Title: Repetitions on a Theme
Rating: PG
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Nothing really. Vague Jack/Ianto, past Ianto/Lisa
Disclaimer: Are these things really worth anything anyway? 1. I am not brilliant enough to come up with these characters and stories, and 2. Day Four.
Summary: Ianto's been through too much destruction.
Spoilers: Day One
Wordcount: 230
Author's Notes: I would have rather that the beginning of Day Two focused on Ianto instead of Gwen.
Feedback: Criticism please!
Ianto stumbled through the wreckage of the Hub, all shattered concrete and twisted metal and smoke and fire. He dug through the rubble, eyes searching frantically, trying to scream for Jack through raw throat and lungs on fire, his voice echoing faint in his ears. He blinked dry burning eyes rapidly, trying to see through the haze clouding them, pressed hard against the concrete he climbed over to steady his shaking hands.
Fire and ash, the building collapsing around him, blood blinding his eyes and making his hands slip over the burning metal he grabbed at to stay upright, screaming surrounding him mingling with his own hoarse, desperate screams for Lisa.
He fell to his knees, gasping, trembling, disoriented, then hauled himself back up. Jack. Not Jack, too. Ianto didn't think he could handle loosing him--again. How could even Jack survive this? He bowed his, taking unsteady steps forward.
Lisa, heavy in his arms, dragging him down through the flames.
He focused on the line of red, so bright against the haze and dull grey, for a few moments before realising what it meant. A sudden burst of energy and adrenaline pulled him away from Canary Wharf, out from the terror and despair. He ran forward, half falling, zig-zagging through mounds of steel and shrapnel and concrete. Lisa was dead--had died in those fires--but Jack would survive. He had to come back; he had promised Ianto he would.
