Doctor Who, Sherlock, Supernatural, Avenger, Doctor Who, Grimm, GoT, Hannibal, Harry Potter, Doctor Who, Thoschei... I said Doctor Who? I think not, well, Doctor Who! Yeah... So many fandoms, but I really obsessed with Doctor Who and the ship Doctor/Master ~ oh, and with RP!
Hunting demons, deducing things... Time Lord business
PLAYING TRACK THREE: Ten/Master music-inspired art (2/?) AU: The Doctor can hear the drums. The Master encourages him to embrace them.
“Panic Station” - Muse
Doubts will try to break you Unleash your heart and soul Trouble will surround you Start taking some control Stand up and deliver Your wildest fantasy Do what the fuck you want to There’s no one to appease
Ooh, 1, 2, 3, 4 fire’s in your eyes And this chaos, it defies imagination Ooh, 5, 6, 7 minus 9 lives You’ve arrived at panic station
1, 2, 3, 4 —> alludes to the drumming
“minus 9 lives” —> alludes to the fact that Ten has already used up 9 lives/regenerations
“Beautiful,” the Master breathed, though for a moment he wasn’t certain if the Doctor remained at all. For someone as clever as the Doctor claimed to be… for all their centuries of history, the other Time Lord was startlingly gullible, easily coerced exactly where the Master wanted him. The only thing better than a Time Lord in your pocket, after all, was something greater.
There he was, easily convinced to take all that energy, all that power off the Master’s hands. Anything to not be left the last Time Lord in existence again, and the Master reveled in the way the light echoed in his eyes, threatening to split through his skin entirely. Oh… Oh but his bucket of bolts loved him, and she protected the Doctor, their Doctor, where the Master could not.
What ought to have killed the Doctor was contained, quarantined as best as the TARDIS could manage. It should only have bought the Doctor time, except a funny thing happened. He adapted, slowly becoming something that could contain a power never intended for him.
The Master was so enamored, he hardly noticed the side effects. He eventually caught the twitch of the Doctor’s fingers from the corners of his eye… one, two, three, four in quick succession, again and again and again. Oh that… now that was interesting.
“Tell me, my pet… Can you hear them?” he asked, hardly daring to wait for the answer.
It came, not in words, but a whisper in his mind. It’s calling me. Over and over and over…
“I can see everything,” the Doctor whispered, in a voice the Master scarcely recognized. “All of time and space, and that sound. It leaves nothing untouched. It’s a plague.”
“It’s a calling,” the Master corrected, pushing the doors open so they might look out at the universe around them. He curled his fingers around the Doctor’s throat, as if to tether him there. The Doctor was quiet, his eyes glowing and vacant as his consciousness slowly adapted, not just to tolerate his new existence, but to embrace it. The Master’s voice was a lilting purr as he coaxed, “Think of all you could do.”
“I shouldn’t,” the Doctor protested weakly, lips parted in wonder at something the Master could not see.
“Says who?” the Master pressed, watching the Doctor drown. He was drenched in light and power and the incessant hammer of the drums, and though the Master couldn’t feel it, he knew. “There’s no one left to stop you now.”
“There is… there will be…no one left,” the Doctor quietly mouthed, obviously struggling with tenses as the time vortex coursed through his veins. There was something childlike and innocent in his face, as if all of time and space had stripped away the impurities and fear and reservation. His lips tilted up. “Things will be different now.”
“Yes, different,” the Master promised, leaning to press his lips to the Doctor, who tasted thickly of artron energy, his mouth hot to the touch. It was only a matter of time before he managed to coax the Doctor’s limitless power to his will. Oh, the universe would tremble when he was through.