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The Master.
21 December 2009 @ 11:57 pm
Idiot. Imbecile. Ignoramus. Neanderthal. Person of Balderdash Religion.  
"Why'd you come?"
"You sounded like it was serious," he said, busying himself with an IV.
"You've let me die before."
"Yes. I've killed you before. The urges come and go depending on regeneration."
"In layman's terms, you like the cut of my jib."
"...You smoke Crystal Meth?"
He sighed.
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The Master.
21 December 2009 @ 11:49 pm
He jerked away as soon as he saw the inside of his head, sick in the same second.  
'They're going to destroy me.' He crumpled to the floor and backed up against the console, holding his head against his knees, hearing nothing but that deafening beat that made his entire form split open with pain, driving him mad.
-
He hadn't been intent on helping him, not wanting to step into one more trap, tired of chasing him across the galaxies, constantly watching his moves. He just wanted to travel, on his own time, not fear mass evil every other day. He hadn't been going to help him until he heard his name and turned, catching him as he crumpled against the floor and holding him to his chest. Sinking down with him he pulled his back to his chest and wrapped his legs around him, encasing his body as he set his hands against his head. 'Let me in, Koschei.'
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The Master.
21 December 2009 @ 11:43 pm
He ignored him, holding the phone out of the water as he tried to drown himself.  
He was making a luxurious bath for himself, horrible pop music on in the background as the giant tub filled with bubbles. Unnnf, bubbles. Sweet celebration of successfully transpired events! And then, of course, his phone rang. God fucking damnit. He answered the phone after he pulled off his hoodie. 'What!' / 'I would have preferred the ragoon but Jack likes explosions; guess you can't win them all.' In his pants. In his god damn pants he liked explosions. He scrubbed his face and then tried to scrub his brain of Jack's first reaction to his new body.
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The Master.
21 December 2009 @ 11:39 pm
This is going to hurt you more than it's going to hurt me.  
He yanked the knife out of his heart, standing up and moving back, tossing the knife aside as he wiped at the splatters of blood on his face with the back of his sleeve. Any way of denying him that one small comfort, that one comfort of not dying alone.
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The Master.
05 December 2009 @ 09:58 am
(no subject)  
Surprised he kissed him back, harder, practically shoving him into the wall before stopping himself, jerking away from him. "Where I was tortured and had to listen to you two go at it like rabbits."
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The Master.
05 December 2009 @ 09:55 am
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A part of him knew he should be disgusted with the entire thing, knew he shouldn't miss the Doctor at all, not to such a degree, but things had changed and even if he was less willing to make friends (not that he'd ever been exactly willing when it came to that) or grow close to anyone, he knew he was different.
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The Master.
05 December 2009 @ 09:50 am
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He knew what he was doing. It was so damn obvious and he wanted to strangle Theta for that; the fact it was obvious masked any hurt he could have felt and made him want to scold him on his ineptitude. But he was in a good mood for once. He could still feel Jamie's thumb pressed into the small of his hand and he leaned against the wall, tracing his fingertip over it to distract himself.
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The Master.
05 December 2009 @ 09:49 am
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"You knew you loved him and you still fucked him." / "Yes."
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The Master.
05 December 2009 @ 09:47 am
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"I didn't really... mean for it to happen."
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The Master.
05 December 2009 @ 09:44 am
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He was keeping himself easily accessible to Gallifrey - well, not necessarily. Mostly he was keeping himself accessible to Jamie, giving him cellphone numbers and swearing him into secrecy that he wouldn't share them with anyone else on Gallifrey. The phone for all of Gallifrey's emergencies was mostly kept shut off; whenever it rang he thought he could feel Theta's tiredness radiating off his skin.
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The Master.
21 August 2009 @ 07:17 am
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It's exciting, this rush of euphoria and the anxiety of patience. His veins are already pumping with adrenaline and when the Doctor steps out, wearing that poor, pathetic frown (oh, what wonderful things must have happened to make him look like that), the Master feels it in his bones, in his drums, in every fiber of his Timelord being. He wonders of the Doctor can sense him there, but he doesn't give him the chance.

His loud-mouthed companion envelops him into a hug (how touching, he thinks in disgust) and he steps out, lifting his screwdriver with a self-assured flick of the wrist and Donna Noble goes limp in the Doctor's arms.
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The Master.
21 August 2009 @ 07:08 am
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He excelled at everything else he attempted to do. Still, it wasn't a problem of not knowing - for instance, he knew when something was *bothering* Theta, sometimes he even knew what it was depending on just how sullen, silent or pissy he was acting. This bout of withdrawing in on himself, the type where he found him in a small room that was almost as small as the closet back at their old place, before he wanted to explore less domesticated avenues, usually signaled that Theta was upset about something not easily talked about. This list of things had become even more narrow now that he'd become even more like the Doctor, sealed and delivered with an ability to talk about things that Gareth had never been able to bring up.
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The Master.
21 August 2009 @ 07:04 am
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His eyes flickered over to 'John' - just a clone unworthy of his attention - and he fixed his eyes on Lucy. She didn't look so different. Not physically, anyway, but she seemed almost... "How are you?"
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The Master.
21 August 2009 @ 06:59 am
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He swallows thickly, shaking his head, aching to deny it – because this is coming from the Doctor with all of his memories back, every memory of everything they’ve ever done to each other, and it has the weight of 900+ years’ worth of denial pushing it.
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The Master.
21 August 2009 @ 06:58 am
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The question was asked in a low, almost threatening tone - he didn't need weapons to hurt her. Oh, he could hurt her with only his words and that, that was what having power over another meant. He touched sure fingertips to her waist, barely moving past the hem of her top to graze bare skin underneath it, and just as quickly he pulled his hand away.
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