Ten Little Chances to be Free (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tenlittlebullets) wrote2011-05-31 07:40 pm
tenlittlebullets) wrote2011-05-31 07:40 pm
Entry tags:
Good life choices.
Things I have done in the past couple of days:
1. Took my little brother to get his eyebrow pierced.
2. Saw Thor.
3. Gave myself a haircut, then decided it was Drag Tiemz and made myself fake sideburns out of the trimmed hair and glued them on with hair gel, then looked in the mirror and did a fucking spit-take and went to see if there was any way I could cobble together a Ten costume. Unfortunately if there are two colors underrepresented in my wardrobe, they are blue and brown, but it is good to know that my hair is getting long enough to pull off Tenth Doctor cosplay. And that drag sideburns help.
4. Watched more Life on Mars, remain baffled by own sexual orientation. Really adored the fourth episode, but was more interested in classic Smith alum thinky thoughts about the portrayal and reactions to male-on-female versus female-on-male rape than in John Simm handcuffed naked to a bed. There is something wrong with me. It has nothing to do with not being attracted to men and everything to do with only being attracted to John Simm when he is playing an unhinged, sadistic megalomaniac.
5. Wrote fic! A little bit of fic. Master/Doctor/Jack year-that-never-was fic with a premise that could easily go places (and hit just about all the Doctor/Master fandom's collective kinks) if I ever get off my ass and develop it into the twisted, fucked-up porn epic it's dying to be when it grows up. For the moment it is just ficlet length.
-
When Jack came to, he was naked. That was new, if not entirely unexpected. So far the Master had been content to kill him over and over, like a toddler with a new unbreakable toy, but Jack had figured it was only a matter of time before his entertainment value as a test subject for obscure laser screwdriver settings expired. And when it did, the Master would move on to... well, Jack was naked and strapped to some sort of table. He could guess what the Master was moving on to.
A rustle of cloth off to his left made him turn his head. The Master was already in the room, fully dressed in one of his immaculate black suits and slouching against the wall. A smile spread slowly across his face when he saw that Jack was awake. "Back with us, Captain?"
"Good as new. And with an interesting change of wardrobe, I see."
The smile widened into a trademark Saxon grin. "I thought it was only appropriate. Given what I've got planned for you."
Jack snorted. "I can't imagine what that might be."
"Probably not what you think." The Master walked slowly over to Jack and rested a black-gloved hand on his shoulder, his smile dissolving into an unreadable, faraway expression. "No, I don't think you'd be able to guess."
"Ah, so not the terribly obvious then. Shame, I've always had a thing for bondage. Does that mean you're finally getting your hands dirty? All that playing with the laser screwdriver, I was beginning to think you were too squeamish for a good old-fashioned evisceration."
"Ooh, that's tempting! But later. Right now I've got something else in mind, and it won't even hurt." The grip on his shoulder tightened, and the Master smiled unpleasantly. "Well, not you, at least."
Jack replied with nothing but a raised eyebrow, and the Master's fingers released his shoulder and began to trail over his torso, ghosting millimeters above his flesh and making the hairs on his chest prickle under the touch. "The fact is, Jack, that I couldn't help but overhear your little conversation with the Doctor back in the radiation chamber on Malcassairo, and I have to say he was astonishingly tactful. It's so sweet, isn't it? He's always so ready to spare other people's feelings at the expense of his own. But just between you and me, Jack—" The Master pressed a finger conspirationally to his lips and leaned in until his breath was cool on Jack's ear. "You're a bit more than all wrong. You're an abomination."
"Thanks."
"Do you have any idea what it's like to be in a room with you?" the Master continued. "Just looking at you makes my skin crawl, because I can see it. The wound in spacetime. You're a bullet lodged in the living flesh of the universe." He laughed a little unsteadily, his lips an inch from Jack's ear. "And that's just looking. Get too close to you and I can feel it, like an electric field. Or like the way every single little hair on your chest is standing up even though I haven't touched it yet. And to actually touch you, skin to skin..." The Master's tongue flicked against his earlobe and the hand on his chest was suddenly cruel, pinching and tugging. "Like ripping those hairs out. One. By. One."
"Why are you getting so up close and personal, then?" Jack growled.
"The same reason the Doctor ran away from you," the Master said, carefully patting Jack's head. "He could feel timelines twisting themselves into knots around you, the same as I can. He could feel the fabric of reality ripping itself apart and re-forming to accomodate your continued existence. That kind of power frightens him. Oh, and—" He drew the glove off, slowly, and cupped Jack's cheek in his bare hand, closing his eyes like a man savoring a fine wine. "And because it hurts. It hurts ever so much."
"You're crazy."
"Oh yes. And you're about to find out just how crazy I am."
1. Took my little brother to get his eyebrow pierced.
2. Saw Thor.
3. Gave myself a haircut, then decided it was Drag Tiemz and made myself fake sideburns out of the trimmed hair and glued them on with hair gel, then looked in the mirror and did a fucking spit-take and went to see if there was any way I could cobble together a Ten costume. Unfortunately if there are two colors underrepresented in my wardrobe, they are blue and brown, but it is good to know that my hair is getting long enough to pull off Tenth Doctor cosplay. And that drag sideburns help.
4. Watched more Life on Mars, remain baffled by own sexual orientation. Really adored the fourth episode, but was more interested in classic Smith alum thinky thoughts about the portrayal and reactions to male-on-female versus female-on-male rape than in John Simm handcuffed naked to a bed. There is something wrong with me. It has nothing to do with not being attracted to men and everything to do with only being attracted to John Simm when he is playing an unhinged, sadistic megalomaniac.
5. Wrote fic! A little bit of fic. Master/Doctor/Jack year-that-never-was fic with a premise that could easily go places (and hit just about all the Doctor/Master fandom's collective kinks) if I ever get off my ass and develop it into the twisted, fucked-up porn epic it's dying to be when it grows up. For the moment it is just ficlet length.
-
When Jack came to, he was naked. That was new, if not entirely unexpected. So far the Master had been content to kill him over and over, like a toddler with a new unbreakable toy, but Jack had figured it was only a matter of time before his entertainment value as a test subject for obscure laser screwdriver settings expired. And when it did, the Master would move on to... well, Jack was naked and strapped to some sort of table. He could guess what the Master was moving on to.
A rustle of cloth off to his left made him turn his head. The Master was already in the room, fully dressed in one of his immaculate black suits and slouching against the wall. A smile spread slowly across his face when he saw that Jack was awake. "Back with us, Captain?"
"Good as new. And with an interesting change of wardrobe, I see."
The smile widened into a trademark Saxon grin. "I thought it was only appropriate. Given what I've got planned for you."
Jack snorted. "I can't imagine what that might be."
"Probably not what you think." The Master walked slowly over to Jack and rested a black-gloved hand on his shoulder, his smile dissolving into an unreadable, faraway expression. "No, I don't think you'd be able to guess."
"Ah, so not the terribly obvious then. Shame, I've always had a thing for bondage. Does that mean you're finally getting your hands dirty? All that playing with the laser screwdriver, I was beginning to think you were too squeamish for a good old-fashioned evisceration."
"Ooh, that's tempting! But later. Right now I've got something else in mind, and it won't even hurt." The grip on his shoulder tightened, and the Master smiled unpleasantly. "Well, not you, at least."
Jack replied with nothing but a raised eyebrow, and the Master's fingers released his shoulder and began to trail over his torso, ghosting millimeters above his flesh and making the hairs on his chest prickle under the touch. "The fact is, Jack, that I couldn't help but overhear your little conversation with the Doctor back in the radiation chamber on Malcassairo, and I have to say he was astonishingly tactful. It's so sweet, isn't it? He's always so ready to spare other people's feelings at the expense of his own. But just between you and me, Jack—" The Master pressed a finger conspirationally to his lips and leaned in until his breath was cool on Jack's ear. "You're a bit more than all wrong. You're an abomination."
"Thanks."
"Do you have any idea what it's like to be in a room with you?" the Master continued. "Just looking at you makes my skin crawl, because I can see it. The wound in spacetime. You're a bullet lodged in the living flesh of the universe." He laughed a little unsteadily, his lips an inch from Jack's ear. "And that's just looking. Get too close to you and I can feel it, like an electric field. Or like the way every single little hair on your chest is standing up even though I haven't touched it yet. And to actually touch you, skin to skin..." The Master's tongue flicked against his earlobe and the hand on his chest was suddenly cruel, pinching and tugging. "Like ripping those hairs out. One. By. One."
"Why are you getting so up close and personal, then?" Jack growled.
"The same reason the Doctor ran away from you," the Master said, carefully patting Jack's head. "He could feel timelines twisting themselves into knots around you, the same as I can. He could feel the fabric of reality ripping itself apart and re-forming to accomodate your continued existence. That kind of power frightens him. Oh, and—" He drew the glove off, slowly, and cupped Jack's cheek in his bare hand, closing his eyes like a man savoring a fine wine. "And because it hurts. It hurts ever so much."
"You're crazy."
"Oh yes. And you're about to find out just how crazy I am."
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I swear that blue and brown are all that I own (plus some black and gray), but sadly not in suits/pinstripes/ties/things with collars. Mind, the fact that I will never, ever be able to pull off any sort of convincing drag is one of the great tragedies of my existence.
...this Life on Mars thing sounds like it may well be worth checking out.
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And Life on Mars is excellent. John Simm plays a cop who gets hit by a car in 2006 and wakes up in 1973 completely unable to tell whether he's actually been flung back in time, is in a coma in 2006 hallucinating the whole thing, or is in 1973 having delusions about his past existence. And then he has to deal with the very, uh, different ways the police worked in the '70s. There is lots of angst and glorious acting and homoerotic subtext.
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Woop woop to all of that description.
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Of course, Jean Seberg is also a valid life choice.
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Now if only I could steal some of Jean Seberg's wardrobe, too :)
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