Wernicke’s Aphasia ('Accent' entry)
Oct. 13th, 2014 02:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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who_contestTitle: 'Wernicke's Aphasia'
Rating: G
Genre: Introspection
Word Count: 230
Pairings or Characters: Twelfth Doctor, mentions of other characters
Spoilers: Takes place during 'Deep Breath'
Warnings: None
Summary: Something must be wrong with them. That must be it. Damage to the left inferior frontal gyrus. Hampers the production of speech.
They want me to sleep. Don't want to sleep, can't sleep, mustn't sleep--don't have time to sleep. Need to think. There are things going on, and I need. To. Think.
Why don't they understand that? And why are they staring at me as though I'm daft? I can't concentrate with them staring like that.
Especially the green one. Oh, aren't you a fine one to be staring, lizard lady from the dawn of time. You, with your green, scaly skin. If I fall asleep, will you take the dinosaur home? Would you even know how to begin?
God, if only they'd stop staring! It's getting on my nerves. How's a man supposed to think?
And their voices. Their voices don't help. They bang against my eardrums like mallets on gongs. Talktalktalk, but they don't say anything. I can't understand them. They used to talk like me, but now they don't. It's like they've forgotten how. They don't even have proper accents anymore.
Something must be wrong with them. That must be it. Damage to the left inferior frontal gyrus. Hampers the production of speech.
Nononononowait. That can't be it. That doesn't make sense. Why would all of them suffer that specific kind of brain damage simultaneously?
Never mind. Doesn't matter. I can sort them out later. I'm busy right now.
If only they'd all shut up and let me think!
Rating: G
Genre: Introspection
Word Count: 230
Pairings or Characters: Twelfth Doctor, mentions of other characters
Spoilers: Takes place during 'Deep Breath'
Warnings: None
Summary: Something must be wrong with them. That must be it. Damage to the left inferior frontal gyrus. Hampers the production of speech.
They want me to sleep. Don't want to sleep, can't sleep, mustn't sleep--don't have time to sleep. Need to think. There are things going on, and I need. To. Think.
Why don't they understand that? And why are they staring at me as though I'm daft? I can't concentrate with them staring like that.
Especially the green one. Oh, aren't you a fine one to be staring, lizard lady from the dawn of time. You, with your green, scaly skin. If I fall asleep, will you take the dinosaur home? Would you even know how to begin?
God, if only they'd stop staring! It's getting on my nerves. How's a man supposed to think?
And their voices. Their voices don't help. They bang against my eardrums like mallets on gongs. Talktalktalk, but they don't say anything. I can't understand them. They used to talk like me, but now they don't. It's like they've forgotten how. They don't even have proper accents anymore.
Something must be wrong with them. That must be it. Damage to the left inferior frontal gyrus. Hampers the production of speech.
Nononononowait. That can't be it. That doesn't make sense. Why would all of them suffer that specific kind of brain damage simultaneously?
Never mind. Doesn't matter. I can sort them out later. I'm busy right now.
If only they'd all shut up and let me think!
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Date: 2014-10-14 12:03 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-10-14 12:22 am (UTC):)
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Date: 2014-10-14 01:37 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2014-10-14 01:40 am (UTC)♥