PX378942

So... working on... stuff. Stuffy stuff. Well, smutty stuff. ...When it doesn't involve the Master. And sometimes when it does involve the Master, which is a bit creepy because I'm writing future incarnations and... um, the Master is not legal in a physical sense till halfway through the second one, and I'm not there yet. So, slightly uncomfortable. Massively uncomfortable. Not the first time I've written a shamelessly flirty kid, but it is the first time a kid I've written kinda sorta almost kinda sorta rapes a few people. He's five. Well, he's in a body that looks five, I mean, he's still the Master, and has all his memories and such and that delightful sociopathic egotistical self-centeredness we all love in the Master, if you like that sort of thing. He's also really really five, and quite enjoying it, he always did like children's television.
Later, when the Master regenerates in the story it's into a teenage body; to which the Doctor says he did only to be annoying. And he's such an asshole about it, too, he might have.

The other story is just a romance. Of course, I'm writing it, so the characters are fighting every overture of Romantic Tension, and keep wandering off and commenting about the interesting architecture. For real. Which explains the crackilicious Doctor Who fanfiction, I mean a girl can only take her original characters fighting the Plot so long before she cracks. And 12 and Kiddy Master don't fight. Well, they fight each other across planets, but they don't fight me. So they can bicker all they like, the Doctor's still gonna pick him up and give him that smack he so richly deserves for trying to start a civil war in a palatial utopia that hasn't seen war in millenia. Even if it is a bit dull. It does truly suck ass to be five when your greatest enemy is in his late twenties and has no patience and can actually haul you off your feet easily and drag you away screaming. And just look like your dad, not some psycho childnapper. Luckily the female companion adds a bit of... softness to the cast, and is wont to comfort small sobbing children, even if they are homicidal maniacs.

Also working on drawings, as anything is actually better than cleaning my room properly. I can has procrastination! Fairly blah stuff, though, just... drawings. Nothing to write home about. Am fighting an urge to draw the Wood Clow Card. My sister returned my set of Clow Cards. Don't look at me like that. They are pretty. And stuff. I bought them when I was in eighth grade, okay? It was a long time ago. They're probably collectible, minus the whole 'hard wear' thing. I played with my toys, even the ones that were glorified pasteboard Japanese Tarot cards. In complex games that involved swords and killing and magic and chopping off people's heads. But then no one wanted to sword fight with me, and I was sad. Apparently boys don't like it when you actually swing a metal sword hard at their throat as if you were going to behead them a la Highlander. Minus the fancy lightning, we didn't have the budget for that. ...My mum should never have let me watch the Highlander movies, really. In gym class I wasn't allowed to play any sport that involved swinging things other than bats. I broke three lacrosse sticks and got a racquetball to bounce between the two walls for quite a long time, and I ended up throwing most badminton games just because you shouldn't put the birdie all the way through the net. But I couldn't hit a softball to save my life, and can only golf left handed. So strange.