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fangrrl_squeesFor what it's worth, I really, really tried not to over-read it. I mean, I'm a filthy-minded beast and all, but I also believe that there can be too much of a good thing and rummaging for subtext can sometimes ruin a perfectly good bit of media that is, in fact, entirely innocent of any naughtiness.
But... having listened to an MP3 of that phone conversation in The Sound of Drums, I'm sorry, but I have to agree with the sentiments of several of my friends in the blogosphere: that dam' scene is slashier than a box of Elizabethan doublets.
There is no doubt, whatsoever. That's not to say I didn't try in the name of, y'know, fairness. I was willing to overlook the Master's quavery opening of the conversation - even when followed up with that so-intimate I like it when you use my name. I told myself I was just being filthier-minded than the situation warranted and of course I was over-reading matters. Really.
But it went seriously downhill from there, all the way until Tell me what that felt like... and the Doctor begging the Master to leave the Earth alone.
I almost fell off the sofa, but that would have meant taking my eyes off the telly and there was no way that was about to happen, short of a major earthquake.
Women in perilous hormonal states and prone to kink should not be exposed to cheerfully homoerotic d/s-ish scenes featuring hawt British men. Jaysis. Time lord phone sex, indeed!
(and let's not even mention how I'd never, ever thought I'd be writing the above about Doctor Who... Granted, I'm sure there's lots of bits from the classic show that went right over my head when I was a we'en, but nothing like this!)
Bloody hell, at least I can hope for a bit of a breather after the show ends and before Torchwood picks up again - assuming I can avoid the siren call of fanfic communities, that is...
But... having listened to an MP3 of that phone conversation in The Sound of Drums, I'm sorry, but I have to agree with the sentiments of several of my friends in the blogosphere: that dam' scene is slashier than a box of Elizabethan doublets.
There is no doubt, whatsoever. That's not to say I didn't try in the name of, y'know, fairness. I was willing to overlook the Master's quavery opening of the conversation - even when followed up with that so-intimate I like it when you use my name. I told myself I was just being filthier-minded than the situation warranted and of course I was over-reading matters. Really.
But it went seriously downhill from there, all the way until Tell me what that felt like... and the Doctor begging the Master to leave the Earth alone.
I almost fell off the sofa, but that would have meant taking my eyes off the telly and there was no way that was about to happen, short of a major earthquake.
Women in perilous hormonal states and prone to kink should not be exposed to cheerfully homoerotic d/s-ish scenes featuring hawt British men. Jaysis. Time lord phone sex, indeed!
(and let's not even mention how I'd never, ever thought I'd be writing the above about Doctor Who... Granted, I'm sure there's lots of bits from the classic show that went right over my head when I was a we'en, but nothing like this!)
Bloody hell, at least I can hope for a bit of a breather after the show ends and before Torchwood picks up again - assuming I can avoid the siren call of fanfic communities, that is...
