Tally of CE titles

Tue, 18 Jul 2006 01:24:37 GMT

Soon after I became a CE fan, I started netflixing the work that was available here in the US. I started with Othello, Cracker, Let Him Have It, and Elizabeth. All good work, but Othello and Elizabeth were both more explicit than I expected (or remembered). Not that I mind, but then as I continued through his filmography, the same themes kept coming up. So, I started to keep track.

Major potential spoilers for everything I've seen him in follow.

"?" indicates either I haven't seen the work or I don't remember. If anyone else cares ;-), corrections, etc. are welcome.

Title:	Dies?	Nude scene?¹
Perfect Parents	?	?
Doctor Who	Y*	Y (Dalek)
The Second Coming	Y	Y
28 Days Later	Y	N?
The League of Gentlemen	N	N
Flesh and Blood	?	?
Revengers Tragedy	Y	N
The King and Us	?	?
I am Dina	Y	Y
24 Hour Party People	N	N**
Sunday	?	?
Othello	N	Y
Linda Green	N	Y
This Little Piggy	?	?
Strumpet	N	Y - shirt
The Others	You could say that***	N
The Invisible Circus	N	Y
Gone in 60 Seconds	Y	N
Clocking Off	N	Y
The Tyre	?	?
Wilderness Men	?	?
With or Without You	N Y	Y and Hell Yes (I'm not sure I did that right -P)
Heart	Y	Y
eXistenZ	N	N****
Elizabeth	Y	Y
A Price Above Rubies	N	N
Hillsborough	N	?*****
Jude	N	Y
Our Friends in the North	?	?
Hearts and Minds	N	Y
Cracker	Y	N
Shallow Grave	Y	Y
Anchoress	?	?
Business w/Friends	?	?
Death and the Compass	N	N
Friday on my Mind	?	?
Poirot	?	?
Rachel's Dream	?	?
Boon	?	?
Let Him Have It	Y	N
Chancer	?	?
Inspector Morse	?	?
Casualty	?	?
Blood Rights	?	?

¹ Defined for these purposes as at least shirt off.

* Death or Extreme makeover? Tho I think He should get his money back on the Nose job.

** not actually seen it, yet, but as he's only in one scene I go with no.

*** Snerk

**** Again not seen yet, but judging by the caps, Nope

***** gonna watch that in a bit, So I'll be able to confirm Nudeness, But the guys he's playing Is still alive.

EDITED: Updated info and additional footnotes from pheonix_iz_me.

*Sigh* So much of his earlier work isn't available in Region 1.
Anchoress, eXistenZ and Poirot are still in my netflix queue.
List of titles came from IMDB.

Icons and Screen Caps - Othello / Second Coming

Mon, 17 Jul 2006 00:45:59 GMT

Some icons and screencaps of Christopher Eccleston from "Othello" and "The Second Coming." (plus one of the Captains Jack for good measure).
Standard rules apply: No hotlinking, Please give credit, comments are love.

1. 2. 3.

4. 5. 6.

7. 8. 9.

10. 11. 12.

13. 14. 15.

Bases:

Some of the rest are from the screencaps below.

And a few screencaps.

Second Coming caps are here. Click on the thumbnail on photobucket to get the full sized picture.
Preview:

Othello caps are here. Click on the thumbnail on photobucket to get the full sized picture.
Preview:

Ashes of Time Lords

Wed, 12 Jul 2006 02:14:56 GMT

Fic Name: Ashes of Time Lords (1/1)
Summary: Eight's regeneration into Nine.
Ninth Doctor - PG (for violence, blood, and, yanno, genocide...) - General, Angst
Characters: The Doctor (ninth), the TARDIS.
Challenges: None
Spoilers: General for Nine/Rose season.
Series: None
Words: 1800
Chapters - 1 Completed - yes

Itching, crawling, burning. His skin shifted, glowed, changed and smoothed. Then the blackness returned.

#

Itching, sticky, tacky. Gritty. The taste of ashes and blood. Lines of pain criss-crossed his cheek, the scent of steel hovered in the background. Flooring grate, he thought. Not unusual, but the pain was. He tried to lift his head, then gasped as a cramp seized his body. Okay, wait a while.

He waited.

The pain subsided, slowly. While he waited, he took a mental inventory. Two heartbeats, check. Time Lord, check. The Doctor, check. He concentrated, listened. In the TARDIS, check. Flooring grate? He risked trying to open his eyes. Sticky. They were stuck mostly shut, a ream of red showed through his lashes. Blood? He shifted, to free a hand to rub his eyes, and the cramp returned. Oh. This one must have been bad.

He waited, gritting his teeth. New teeth. He concentrated on the TARDIS again. There was concern, but for him, not for her own safety. He could sense they were in a neutral area. One less worry, anyway.

Okay, he didn't think he was dying. His body should have completely regenerated, so why the pain? He thought back, and groaned. Daleks. Wave after wave of Daleks, descending towards Gallifrey. An explosion that slammed him into the side of the TARDIS. That's all he remembered.

Time passed. He risked moving his head again. This time, he raised it a few inches, pulling out of the tacky blood sticking his cheek to the grate, and took a look around. He winced in the dim green light that flowed over everything. Definitely the control room, but configured as he'd never seen it before. And on emergency power. The room had shrunk, as far as he could tell from the floor. How long had he been unconscious?

He wedged himself up onto his knees, leaned against the console, and took a physical inventory. Small, careful movements. Felt like two broken ribs, a wrenched knee, maybe a broken wrist, and oh, his head. Cracked it proper, he had. His hand came away covered with flaking, dried blood. His fingers gingerly explored a gash running diagonally up his forehead and into his hair. Hair. Short, almost a buzz cut, caked in more blood and grit. As he lowered his arm, white dust shook off the green velvet sleeve. He took a closer look, smelled it, rubbed a bit between his fingers. Ash?

Ashes. Ashes of Time Lords. A sob caught him by surprise, and he lurched over to a small couch just off the console. He fell against it, and remembered:

Destabilizing the Eye of Harmony, and reflecting the connecting antimatter universe back through all of the remotely linked TARDISes. TARDESes that good Time Lords had seeded into the Dalek fleet, Skaro, and other conquered planets. Whipping streams of antimatter through the Vortex, backwards and forwards in time, to wipe the Daleks , and the Time Lords, out of time. And he was still alive. Bollocks.

The sharp ache of his ribs brought him back to the present, nose buried in his sleeve. A convulsive pain-induced gasp forced ash down his throat, causing him to choke and sputter. The ashes of his people. Get it off, get it off! He twisted and thrashed, trying to rip off the ash-saturated coat. The velvet bound, tangling up his arms, crunching his ribs. He slumped back against the couch, and took a careful breath. Slow down, before you do more damage...

Slow breaths, just deep enough to not twinge his ribs. There, calm again. He gently removed the coat, and laid it down on the couch. It was tattered and bloodstained, and more gray than green now. A glance at his shirt revealed that the coat had kept it mostly ash-free, but it was sweat-soaked and smeared in blood. He could live with that. Trousers next: knees ripped out, and more stains. He used the couch to carefully leverage himself up to his feet, and winced as the flooring grate dug into his bare feet. Where were his shoes? A worry for another time.

He took a hesitant step towards the corridor that led to the infirmary, and gratefully leaned against the corridor wall once he reached it. Slowly, often stopping to rest, injured arm braced against broken ribs, he made his way down the dimly lit corridor. Luckily the TARDIS rarely moved the infirmary, and always kept it close to the active console room.

Once there, he rested on a bench for a good while, just breathing, and waiting for the pain to subside a bit more, and for his eyes to adjust to the near darkness, broken only by a few dim spotlights. His whole body ached, felt bruised. The exposed skin, his hands, face and feet, felt tight and hot, as if were sunburned.

He waited.

After a time, his muscles started to stiffen, so he moved again. Denied TARDIS-powered healing gadgets, he removed his shirt, and found some tape to strap his ribs. It was hard alone, and with one hurt hand, but he felt a mild sense of accomplishment when they were finally braced sufficiently. He wrapped his wrist, removed his trousers and wrapped his knee and ankle. All very slowly. Where were his shoes?

Patched back together as well as he was able, he found a bottle of analgesics and downed a few, hoping to avoid what he could sense was going to be a vicious stiffness, and hopefully calm the pounding in his head. That done, he mixed up a large IV bag full of various nutrients and saline, plugged it in, laid down on the bench, pulled a blanket over himself and went to sleep.

#

He woke to a raging thirst. The IV bag was empty. He got up, mixed another one full of concentrated nutrients, plugged it in, and went back to sleep.

Stiffness woke him again. He couldn't stop a groan when his feet touched the floor, and his stomach muscles felt as if they'd been flensed. Even the bottoms of his feet ached. It was tough to tell in the shadows, but it looked as if his chest and thighs were covered in spectacular blue/brown bruises. But everything still seemed to work, so he tried to put that out of his mind.

A scramble through a few cabinets later, he was struggling to get a pair of scrubs on despite his soreness, and taking bites of a biscuit between attempts. The crumbs tasted of ashes. He washed them down with more water, and pondered going in search of something stronger.

#

He rounded an unfamiliar corner and ran smack into a roman sculpture, badly stubbing his toe on the plinth. Bloody hell, he thought. Wardrobe. No more bare feet. He backtracked to familiar territory and entered what had often been one of his favorite rooms in the TARDIS. He leaned up against a column, gazing up at the multiple-story room, and wondered if he had the strength for this.

Not to sift through old clothes, old lives, old memories. He started along a row, pulling out some wacky blue frilly thing, a Hawaiian shirt (where did that come from? His sixth regeneration?), an old Napoleonic-era jacket. Something clattered to the ground, and he leaned over to pick it up. An umbrella with a question mark-shaped handle. He'd been holding that the first time a Dalek elevated up a staircase...

The memory came back full force: "exterminate, EXTERMINATE!" Something crashed, and pain rocketed up from his knees. He found himself kneeling on the floor, arms wrapped around his head. "Please..."

Most of the room went dark, and a small wardrobe on the far wall lit up. He shivered, got up, and stumbled over to open it. Inside hung an old, battered Kreigsmarine jacket and a couple of plain long-sleeved jumpers. The leather was warm and soft, and smelled of old dust, reminding him of sunbaked naps on the Portuguese coast. It fit perfectly, of course. He quickly stripped out of the scrubs, noticing that while he slept his injuries had healed to some extent. He replaced the scrubs with an old pair of black jeans, leather thick-soled shoes, a maroon jumper and the jacket. Simple, serviceable, basic. No nonsense this time 'round. Not when they're all...

He took a deep breath. Next, the console room. How badly was the TARDIS damaged? The console room startled him, caused him to lean against the door in surprise. The room was spare and organic, much smaller than the cluttered space his eighth incarnation had inhabited. The pillars were curved, lit from within, and the green light he noticed earlier flowed out of the console. Metal grating covered the floor instead of rugs. He closed his eyes and acknowledged the TARDIS' changes. Simple, serviceable, basic. She knew him almost too well, he thought sometimes.

Then he caught a glimpse of the stained velvet jacket on the couch where he'd left it. It looked plummy and out of place. He sighed and grabbed a spanner, and a new sonic screwdriver from a nearby drawer. Getting under the console was a slow and painful task, but once he was lying down, and had his hands buried in her circuitry, he felt better. Almost peaceful, with her hum embracing him.

With the destruction of the Eye of Harmony, he'd have to find a new source of power for her. Most of her systems still checked out. He fixed what he could, and made a mental inventory of what remained, and what parts he'd need. When he'd done all he could, he tried to shimmy back out from under the console, and gasped with pain as all his muscles protested. Okay, maybe lying prone on a cold floor for a few hours wasn't the best idea. He gritted his teeth, and felt the floor beneath him start to warm a bit. The TARDIS! She was so sweet, sometimes.

He lay there, letting his body absorb her warmth, and carefully flexing his sore muscles, stretching where he could in the cramped space. After a time, the TARDIS emitted a soft, apologetic bleep, so he hauled himself to his feet. The screen, in small letters, displayed a mauve alert. The Nestene consciousness was on its way to Earth. He checked the batteries. The TARDIS had soaked up enough energy from the local solar radiation to last a few trips. Well, while he figured out what to do from now on, as the last of the Time Lords, it wouldn't hurt to save the silly apes one last time. He set course for London, 2005.

-end-

Icons/Images - 9th Doctor / CE

Tue, 11 Jul 2006 01:57:21 GMT

A few icons, and some screenshots from Revengers Tragedy.
Preview:

Icons:

A sampling of the screen caps, all of which are available here:

---
All "Revengers Tragedy" and "Invisible Circus" (long hair, same doctor jacket) caps are by me. Doctor Who caps from one of the standard cap libraries, probably here.
I know, I need to work on brightening up some of those images. Babysteps!

Resources

Tue, 04 Jul 2006 03:47:18 GMT

Resources for this icon post:
"Pretty" screenshots by me, from Revengers Tragedy
Brush on the second "Pretty" is Soleil 04 from Deviant Art

Screencaps for "Contract" from Shallow Grave, Jude, Elizabeth, With or Without You, Invisible Circus, Strumpet and Second Coming. By me, and from Hidden Shallows and christophereccleston.com

Honestly, I don't remember where I go the screencaps for the "Mystery" one. That was before I took notes on icon sources.

Just joined

Fri, 09 Jun 2006 19:33:49 GMT