[ THE MINDFUCK MEME ]
taken from
memekingdomWarning: Explicit Themes Contained
Rules:
1. Post a character! It'd sure be nice if you put their name, canon, and any prefs you might have in the subject line.
2. When other characters tag in, they'll be using ye olde
RNG (1-13) to figure out just how they'll be fucking your character's mind and probably their
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Good enough to eat, in fact. And wouldn't you now it, I haven't eaten all day!
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[Then raises eyebrow] Why do I get the feeling you're definition of 'eat' is a little more literal than I'm used to?
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You have heard about my nice new body, right? *He holds up a sparking hand.*
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[Looks confused] Huh. That's... supposed to happen?
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I'm an energy being of sorts now. And it's draining, food makes me feel better. *He licks his lips.* How would you like to be cooked, Jack?
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Oh. Perfect. And me, being made of an un-ending life force... I must be a feast to you, huh? [Sighs, preparing himself for a tiring death of having his life-force sucked out as has previously happened to him a couple years back. Then pauses and raises an eyebrow at the final comment. Would he ever learn to not underestimate the Master's capability to think of truly terrible ways to die?]
You mean you can't just drain me to power yourself without the common violence? Aren't Time Lords supposed to be above that whole gore thing? [Is trying to not sound nervous as he attempts to keep him talking]
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Speaking of which, the Doctor and I found out what they are a while ago. *He grins savagely* They're the key to the Time Lock. The High Council destroyed my life, broke my mind and rewrote my history just to keep fighting a pointless and unwinnable war!
*He runs one finger down Jack's chest.* So what'll it be? Spit-roast, oven roast, stew, hamburger . . . I could cook you whole or butcher you. Not to mention marinades and seasonings and garnishes. If you have any preferences do speak up now, I'm absolutely famished. If you keep me waiting for too long I'll just cut your belly open and stick my face in.
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If all that's true, why hasn't the lock been broken?
[Swallows as the finger goes down his chest, annoyed with himself at the small flickers of pleasure that accompany it. Then any pleasure is promptly squashed by the words. Would he rather die horribly or be eaten alive?]
I couldn't tempt you by flash-freezing me first, then going the popsickle route?
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Meat popsicles don't exactly sound appetizing. *He sighs* I could break your back first, you wouldn't feel it that way.
Choose a dish and I'll do that. If I have to choose for you then you get to feel yourself cook.
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You'd be surprised. On Gremnar Four they make a pretty tasty meat popsicle. You just have to season it well... and tenderize it. [Raises an eyebrow, trying to see if he's managing to convince him or not.]
Or... how do you feel about soup? I know a couple blood soup recipes?
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You're just looking for a quick death, aren't you? *He grins a nasty grin* Quick deaths aren't as fun, Jack. Not when there are so many painful ways of cooking a meal. There are places where they only take the meat halfway off the bones, then drop the poor creature into boiling oil so the flaps of meat cook nicely but the main body is still alive. And then they eat it while it struggles. A decadent meal, but quite delicious.
But don't worry, I won't do that. You've been polite, all things considered, even helpful. So I think a roast will do. Pot roast or spit roast?
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It's all relative... [Really doesn't want to get into a what death is best conversation with a man planning on killing him. He tests his bonds, checking to make sure there really is no possibility of escape.]
I've heard of that actually. In fact I'm certain that the reason I heard of it was because a man choked to death while trying to eat the poor thing...
[Considers being put in a hot box and boiled alive or having a stick rammed all the way through him. Realizes he's going to be a wreck mentally by the time he lives through this.] If I say spit roast, can I request lube at least?
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Maybe I could use some marinade?
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And like I said, fun is relative.
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*Without waiting to respond, he takes out a roasting spit and a glaze brush. There's some marinade in a jar on hand--orange flavor by the smell--and he slowly, carefully starts coating the spit.* Don't worry, it's pretty wet.
This will still hurt, though, the intestines aren't straight after all. I'll have to punch a hole out the large intestine and into the stomach. *He smirks* Don't worry, I cleaned you pretty well while you were out. Nothing will spill in there.
Once it's in the stomach it'll go up your throat. Don't worry, I'll be careful to keep you from choking. It will be slow going, though, and I may have to massage it a bit to keep it straight. When you feel it at the back of your mouth you'll have to put your head back so it slides out between your teeth. After that you can just relax and let yourself cook.
*By this point the whole spit is covered in sauce.* Spread your legs now, Jack, or this will get even more unpleasant.
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