x_losfic: (Three)
[personal profile] x_losfic
The title's an obvious pun--the solution to their problem, a solution in the chemistry that causes their problem. This is also rather apt:

"a. A homogeneous mixture of two or more substances, which may be solids, liquids, gases, or a combination of these. b. The process of forming such a mixture".

As is:
8. the stage of a disease, following a crisis, resulting in its termination
9. law the payment, discharge, or satisfaction of a claim, debt, etc

And if a solution is 'a liquid containing substance', that's seminal enough for a PWP, and possibly a good descriptor of a meaty little PWP itself.


OMG I love a badfic porn cliche. Like, I adore them. Forced marriage, bonded for life, sex or die, it's all my crack. Redonk situations that force people to admit things they wouldn't normally (or to act on pressures they don't fully realize they feel), or license normally taboo forms of intimacy, and lead to escalations of painful vulnerability and cartoonishly-heightened desire? Bring it on. Thus this prompt like, called to me from the deeeeps. I wanted someone /else/ to write it. I prefer someone else's work to my own any day--even as I want to do particular prompts MYSELF!!, so, contradictory impulses there. But no dice, so I took it.

"I was doing only what I had to in order to extricate myself from captivity when you blundered in,"--so like Frontier. ...or a /lot/ of Delgado!Master serials, tbh.

"The Master’s suspicions crystallized into a creeping dread."--these sort of chemical or biological images of fluid substances crystallizing or ossifying seem to crop up a lot in my fiction--usually to describe thoughts. Interesting.

"“You, their prisoner?” the Doctor sneered. “That’s hardly likely.” His pupils were dilated, large and gleaming. He raised a hand to his overheated forehead. The Master’s suspicions crystallized into a creeping dread.

“You were planning on letting them do your dirty work for you, and carrying off their results when they’d finished,” the Doctor continued, his breathing shallower. “That’s usually your style, isn’t it? Pretending to be in the service of some deluded alien power, whilst you work towards your own ends?”"--attribution becomes slightly confused here by the split lines, but idk that there's a smoother way to do this, given that the Master's POV's crept in for a sentence.

"“Hold still.” The Master drew back the plunger, and the Doctor’s blood obediently swirled up the cylinder."--pathetic fallacy, with the blood. A portion of the love-object standing in for the whole, the perceived action an expression of the POV character's desire. That's pleasantly workable, in a Freudian sort of way.

" simple shapes the Master’s mouth moved in threatened to unravel him."--I like these alliterations on top of one another

I feel this whole fic's pretty influenced by Bagheera's "Mercy".

"It squeezed his lower lip against his teeth and was obscene."--I like the simplicity and directness of the phrasing here. Economical.

"He started searching the pockets of his discarded jacket, and came up with something vaguely suitable – his frantic fumbling had produced a small pot of raspberry jam. Desperate to proceed, he looked up at the Master with comic hope. The Master returned his look with one of absolute horror." NGL I love this joke still.

" The toxin was making the Doctor’s mind as simple and slippery and impossible to work with as any human’s. There was hardly anything to grasp onto now, so little substance with which to gain a telepathic purchase."--fanwanky bullshit for why the Master sucks at hypnosis!!

" the Master dropped their telepathic link. In the sudden chaos of heat and motion he was unable to find it again."--I like the MYSTICAL TELEPATHIC CONNECTION!! here, rendered like it's lost keys in a ratty purse.

"untried body around his own,"--I kind of have a habit of pointing out circumstances of physical virginity? Not dwelling, most of the time, just saying, in circs where I think it might be true. This seems weird, on reread, and maybe I should cut that out.

"An active, well-developed mind prevaricated: it diluted elemental certainties." This is sort of a decent point about the nature of education or intelligence, and how they can erode the luxury of feeling and deciding with easy confidence.

"slaked"--such a little-used, slatternly-sounding word!

"They slept heaped together, profoundly tired. In sleep their breath slipped into a shared rhythm."--internal rhyme here, with heaped and sleep. Repetition, with slept and sleep. Alliteration, with slept, sleep, slipped and shared. I think this is a decent way to close a section and make it feel *closed*. Maybe people respond to these marks of poetic transition, even if they don't consciously note them? There's a falling rhythm. Also something about alliteration strikes me as sexual. The lilting slip of tongue to teeth, the implied rhythm of the repetitions: I think it may be well-suited to porn.

"The Doctor rubbed his chin in an abstracted manner, cleared his throat and leaned forward, balancing his elbows on his thighs and his chin on his clasped hands. “Listen,” the Doctor met his eyes for the first time all morning, “I want you to fuck me.”"--strangely feminine position. I can't really see this for him. Hm.

"The Master raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture"--this feels quite Delgado, to me.

"over the Jasperware-blue silk shirt he wore."--adore this color. It comes up a lot in my fic, sometimes as 'Wedgewood blue', as it initially was here. But I think Jasperware is more exact. 'Wedgewood blue's vary, but they can be a bit more grey than I want.

“Who did you want it for, then?”--I really like turning around the responsibility here, and revealing a bit of information that perhaps readers could have suspected. But like--I don't think it's some cheap mystery-story 'reveal' where you couldn't have put it together and I look clever only because it's my game and I knew shit going in that you didn't, or that it's some dumbass puzzle in need of solving. It's just a story, and maybe you happened to suspect this, and maybe you didn't, but it takes an already complex situation that you feel you understand the emotional dynamics of and twists it in a different direction. I think that can be engaging and rewarding. I can do it here because I'm hewing closer to the Doctor's POV--I like the shifting omniscience I tend to use for this flexibility.

"I did suddenly reinterpret the point last night when you fleetingly thought ‘not like this,’ the Doctor admitted."--could be clearer.

"You can’t know that. The Doctor, underneath him still, thought it gently. Your better nature might well have prevailed. But we can’t deal in possibility."--I do feel like the Master WOULD go through this whole careful plan of obtaining this shit, and then maybe chicken out, or maybe just want it around as an option. He's that sort of guy. He also just gets into Process, in his planning, often at the expense of a scheme's totality. It's also an opportunity for the Doctor to trust the Master, display his own sanguine nature, or show that he knows him well.

"“I fear you’ll find it’s only brought out the very worst in me. I had a kind of dignity before you. I’d never have stooped so low.”"--the power to warp someone who loves you terribly, and the possibility of love dramatically changing someone for the worse, are still heady displays of influence, and central to the literary appeal or potency of love as a potential positive transformative force. Without that nastiness, the sweetness would be cloying/twee/impoverished.

" a kind of telepathy of the skin."--not borrowed from, but influenced by an Imhotep/Anuksunamun fic I read years ago on FF.net by someone who wrote strong Jareth/Sarah fic, who had some cool shit about the embodiment of hieroglyphics and a language and the attendant ways of thinking about language and the body.

"immovable feast"--term from Christian liturgical calendars. I like holidays, in this Bakhtin-carnivale or rhythm-of-a-year/life sort of way, and I think they come up in my thinking/writing a lot, and are a big presence in my life.

"He had waited for the Doctor with the arrogant faith and exquisite terror of a child—a feeling born in a boy, which retained its essential character in the man he had become."--pretentious, but I like this line

"The end of advent"--neat phrase for an end to waiting--even if it does awkwardly make the Doctor Jesus a bit.

On the whole, I think this fic holds up rather well. Simple but sturdy, not a lot of obvious loose ends.
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January 2013

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