zeldathemes
Every beat of my hearts
For two centuries, he suffered, lost to the Time Lock, and it nearly destroyed him. He emerged from his prison a broken, vicious thing. He isn't healed, but he's found his life is not the ruin he expected.

((Singleverse Master roleplay blog. All new partners will be assumed to be mainverse. Please read the about page for any pertinent information. This blog will sometimes be NSFW. It will be tagged accordingly. If you wish to rp with me, please give some indication you have read at least this description and preferably my about page. It should help alleviate any confusion or incorrect assumptions, and I always read the pertinent info any potential partner puts out there. I'd just ask the same respect. Thanks!))

((In the interest of giving credit, the gorgeous artwork for the banner was done by the fantastic artist here))

andtheywillobeyme:

 

                          [He doesn’t press the issue of his guilt, it won’t help anyone now. It doesn’t matter in the face of what’s happened, nodding quietly at the Master’s plea. He doesn’t believe him—fine is far, far too much to ask after something so horrible, but he pulls back enough to steady himself before carefully clambering to his feet, helping the Master up, as well.]

                          [He’s careful, one arm carefully wound around his lover’s back to hold most of his weight. There’s a bathroom close by, he’s sure, trusting the TARDIS with that much, at least. Pressing close to his lover, he turns them both away from the blood and sick littering the floor ready to help him, or catch him, or carry him towards the shower. Whatever he needs.]

[The TARDIS does indeed provide a nearby bathroom. Regardless of what the Master asked for, she’s decided what he really needs is a bath to soak in, and she plans accordingly, setting a bathroom directly across the hall from them. It’s soft, low lights, and soothing colors, the only comfort she knows how to offer just now.]

[The Master shuffles along as best he can, leaning heavily on the Doctor, though that just makes him feel more ill. He desperately wants the contact, and yet it’s hard to bear touching anyone. The contradiction leaves him shuddering as he lets himself be guided along, hardly daring to speak.]

  #andtheywillobeyme  
Well that looked unpleasant. Are you okay?

Anonymous

*scrambles away from the grey face, fumbling for his laser* get the hell away from me!

andtheywillobeyme:

 

                                [He keeps a hold on his lover, holding him as steady as he can manage from their position on the floor, anything he might have said caught helplessly in his throat. He’d do anything to undo what his lover has been through, but that’s impossible, the only option he has left is to secure an arm around the Master’s shoulders when he tries to right himself, ready to support him if he tries to move.]

                               [The apology breaks his hearts, the explanation moreso, and he can’t help himself, wrapping both his arms around his lover as if to shield him from everything, even if it’s already too late.]

      “No, no, no. Master, no.”

                               [The words are a quiet, broken murmur, threaded through with grief. It’s not his lover’s fault—he’s had that same threat held over his head. If he’d been in the Master’s position, he’d have made the same choice to protect his family. If anyone’s to blame here, it’s the Doctor for provoking that creature, even if his only intent had been to protect his lover—he’d never dreamed…]

     ”Don’t—it’s not your fault. It’s not. It’s…it’s mine. I’m so sorry; I should’ve been there…I tried.

"You…your fault? You didn’t do this.”

[He whispers, unaware of the way the Doctor had provoked the creature. All that matters now is what it did to him, and the need to get cleaned up. Clinging to the Doctor’s shirt, he tries to pull himself up once more. Putting up with this awful, contaminated feeling for any longer is unthinkable and he doesn’t care if he has to get the Doctor’s help to hobble to a bathroom. He just needs to be clean.]

[He doesn’t argue with the insistence that this isn’t his fault, even though he’s certain it is. If he’d just been more clever. If he’d just… something, anything but what he did. That it could have cost him his family doesn’t matter right now, not when he’s so busy kicking himself. The creature might be dead, but its berating words have stuck with him, and even without that awful violation, he’d still feel like something… lesser.]

"Please. I just… I just need to get cleaned up. I’m fine. I’ll be fine."

[He’s insistent, but it’s clearly a lie.]

  #andtheywillobeyme  
I am
not
beautifully broken.
I was
ripped
to shreds
from the
inside out.
Michelle K., Beautifully Broken (via yoursuicidegirl)

andtheywillobeyme:

 

                          [He feels utterly helpless in the face of all of this, the only thing he can think to do is to stay close and hope something can be done. He knows the reality of that wish, though, and it tears at his hearts, but he lets go of the Master on his request, his hands hovering just over his skin, not wanting to force him to move as it is.]

                         [He can smell the blood as strongly and clearly as he can see it, and his stomach heaves just thinking about what his lover has had to suffer. Regardless of his reasons, letting go seems to have been the better choice with the way his lover begins to heave and oh, oh no. The mess itself doesn’t matter—that’s the least of his worries, it can be cleaned up. The reason it’s there, however…]

                         [Unable to keep himself away, he lays a gentle hand on the Master’s back, between his shoulder blades in a silent reassurance, rubbing soothing circles as he waits for the urge to either leave his system, or for his stomach to run out of contents, but whatever the case, he has no desire to leave his lover here, stuck in his own blood; not when that might only make it work. He’ll carry him if he has to.]

[He wants to pull away. Well, he doesn’t want to, but he feels like he should lest he somehow infect the Doctor with all this. His skin crawls at the memory, and there’s nothing left in his stomach, but the muscles still spasm until he moans miserably, trying to hold himself up with one hand while he wipes his mouth with the other. He can still smell that… that thing all over him, sweat and saliva and his own blood, and it makes him cringe as he tries to get up again, anything to put some distance between himself and what happened.]

"Sorry. I… sorry.]

[He whispers, and he simply hasn’t the willpower to move away from the Doctor, even if he keeps touching places claws and teeth have been and it makes him squirm. The Doctor is all he has, something to lean on when he needs it most, but he doesn’t remotely feel that he deserves that right now.]

"I… I couldn’t… It was going to kill the baby.

[The words come out on a grieving sort of wail, a frantic explanation as to why he’d just allow something so devastating to them both to happen. After all, there is nothing he loves more than the Doctor. He’d never be unfaithful, least of all like that.]

  #andtheywillobeyme  

One Scene Per Episode - Doctor Who.
3x13 “Last of the Time Lords”.

((Okay, so I can’t look at this photoset and non giggle, despite that being a completely inappropriate reaction. My six year old daughter was just getting into Doctor Who with me when she saw this set on my personal blog, and because she couldn’t read yet, she came up with this story about what was going on. Apparently, the “Doctor with the cute hair” (which is what she calls Ten), got a new haircut and the Master didn’t like it, and that’s why Ten is crying.))

  #((ooc))    #((because of that    #I can never see this photoset and not reblog it))  

andtheywillobeyme:

 

                          [The sharpness might be expected if it had been someone else, or rather had he not been so impacted himself by the aftermath. There’s not much else he can do but let the Master scramble away from him, and if the baby blocks the Master’s view of what was done, it does nothing for the Doctor. To see his lover so horribly devastated…there aren’t words for this, and a palm flies up, clamping tightly over his mouth to stifle his grief as he forces himself to his feet, watching his lover collapse just outside the room.]

                          [He knows the instinct to flee, knows objectively the physical pain his lover is in, but what can he do? Swallowing the lump in his throat, he’s immediately again at his side, apologies caught in his throat as his hands tremble over his lover, trying to help, and wishing desperately that he’d just kept his mouth shut before when he’d spoken to the creature—this might not have happened.]

"Don’t touch me…"

[It’s meant to be blindly threatening, but the words don’t come out that way. They’re high and agonized, punctuated by a whimper as he shudders and hunches in on himself. He tries again, but he doesn’t know how to convey how terrible this all is, or how to express the way his life feels like it’s been turned upside down. That the Doctor saved him in the end is a bitter ending because it didn’t truly save him from anything, only adding to his shame that he couldn’t defend himself, that the Doctor saw him in that state. He can’t look at his lover, and his voice shakes, thready and uneven.]

"Please…"

[It’s a useless thing to ask. He tries to stand, but it’s as if his entire body has simply given up on the idea of going on right now. He wobbles futilely, and though he can’t see it on himself, there’s no missing the red stains smeared across the floor when he moves. It’s the last straw, the detail that unravels him entirely, and his stomach turns viciously as his mind cruelly replays how that got there. He heaves miserably, and while it might be a mess, it’s hardly the worst one he’s made today.]

  #andtheywillobeyme  

andtheywillobeyme:

 

                               [He doesn’t move, doesn’t let go while the Master falls apart, only pressing as close as he can, offering proximity where nothing else seems to fit. He’s been through this before, and yet he hasn’t. When it was done to him, it had been violent and impersonal, but it held purpose, twisted though it was; he’d felt he deserved it, and maybe that was what made it easier to let go, to forget in the end. This is so much different. So much worse.]

                               [His hold loosens only a little when he hears the Master speak, staring almost blankly forward as his head turns, lips pressed against his lover’s temple. Not a kiss, only a shift in contact as he responds, just as quietly, his words wavering.] 

     ”…Can you walk?”

"Of course I can walk"

[He snarls because lashing out is all he has. He won’t hurt the Doctor, would never intentionally harm him, but he’s angry and aching, and he can still feel every time that monster touched him. What he does do is yank out of the Doctor’s grip, trying desperately to force himself to his feet. His legs tremble, and it’s probably for the best that the baby blocks his view of them, shaking and blood stained as they are. It’s bad enough to feel the aftermath, the way his whole body aches at the intrusion, the way the flesh covering his hip bones still burn at the way those claws dug in, tell tale scrapes etched out in red. To have to see the crime scene the creature made of his body would be more than he can take when his legs are already threatening to buckle.]

[It hurts. It hurts overwhelmingly, perhaps because the damage is so much more than physical. His hearts stutter and his mind is a war zone as he tries to flee again. The Master doesn’t get far before his legs give out, leaving him crumpled in the hall outside the door.]

  #andtheywillobeyme  

What you gave me, I know you gave me
You remind me all the time
And how you hurt me and you don’t see it
Again, I am the child
And though you tell me that you love me
I can’t feel it and I’m afraid to let you down
It’s all or nothing, I fear that something’s wrong

I’m tired of walking on eggshells, so terrified to fail
And in order to please you I’ve abandoned myself
And though it used to hurt me when you pushed me away
I’m stronger than ever, you made me this way

How I wish you, you suffered less too
It tears us both apart
And it’s not pretty, the way you criticize me
And how it breaks my heart

And though you tell me that you love me
I can’t feel it and I’m afraid to let you down
It’s all or nothing, I fear that something’s wrong

I’m tired of walking on eggshells, so terrified to fail
And in order to please you I’ve abandoned myself
And though it used to hurt me when you pushed me away
I’m stronger than ever, you made me this way

How I wish you knew, how much I need you
I feel like running but I can’t abandon you
You avoid my gaze, withdraw from me these days
You punish me for trying to be all that you wanted
What more can I do?

I’m tired of walking on eggshells, so terrified to fail
And in order to please you I’ve abandoned myself
And though it used to hurt me when you pushed me away
I’m stronger than ever, you made me this way

I’m tired of walking on eggshells, so terrified to fail
And in order to please you I’ve abandoned myself
And though it used to hurt me when you pushed me away
I’m stronger than ever, you made me this way



  #((Not exactly a Master PoV song but I feel like it applies to pretty much anyone unfortunate enough to fall in love with Valiant!Master))    #thetruththatshouldbe    #theonlylucysaxon  

anechooffour:

[Feeling it die, still inside him, had only made the whole thing more grievous. Every part of it, even the way things ended, had been out of his control. It’s dead and there is still no closure for what’s been done to him.]

[He doesn’t speak, not that he could get words out…

[He stays like that for some time, shaking in the Doctor’s arms. Our feels like hours before he’s calm enough to manage words, any words at all. He feels filthy and diseased, like he’ll never be clean again.]

"I need a shower."

[He finally says, the whispered words uneven with grief.]

andtheywillobeyme:

anechooffour:

[The Time Lock has put him through any number of terrible things, but violation has always been psychic rather than physical, and even after it’s over, it’s hard to compute what’s happened exactly. It’s his most base nature that drives him to disjointedly try to scramble away from both the Doctor and the body, though he doesn’t get very far. He’s breathing hard, panicking more now than he did in the moment, trembling as he backs himself into a corner.]

I…I… [It’s all he manages between the pain and the terror of it all, and oh does he hurt. There is still blood oozing from where it’s teeth scraped his neck, much like his more humiliating injuries. It feels like he’s been ripped open from the inside out, but there’s nothing for it except to wait for the pain to pass so he can slink off and get himself cleaned up. He doesn’t dare even look at his lover, burying his face in his hands with a hiccupped out sob.]

                           [He’s still in a state of shock himself—no matter what those creatures may have done in the past, a violation of this sort was beyond words. He’s frozen as the Master scrambles backwards, and oh, this is all his fault. He shouldn’t have—]

                           [Another few seconds pass before he’s able to move, and despite the way the Master fled, he moves over close enough to wrap his arms around his lover, hushing him gently as his eyes flick over the blood trickling from his neck, not quite yet able to speak, or wrap his mind around all the other damage that’s been done, mentally and physically.] 

[Feeling it die, still inside him, had only made the whole thing more grievous. Every part of it, even the way things ended, had been out of his control. It’s dead and there is still no closure for what’s been done to him.]

[He doesn’t speak, not that he could get words out anyway, crying like he is. It’s not usual. It’s the sort of thing he’d hide, but naked and bleeding and violated in the worst of ways… there are so many things he’s ashamed of right now, an emotional outburst is the least of them. At first, he tries to pull out of the Doctor’s grip, but he gives up after a few seconds, curling in on the Doctor and himself.]

  #andtheywillobeyme    #tw:noncon  
Now, see this is more like it. It's too bad I can't see your face. I think I like it all screwed up and afraid. I'll just have to use my imagination. This is good though. From this angle, you almost look normal and not... ugh. *it wastes no time, claws curling around the Master's hips. There is no prep. There is no warning. It just shoves forward and takes what it wants*

Anonymous

andtheywillobeyme:

anechooffour:

[He’s been mostly quiet so far, not wanting to put the Doctor at risk by drawing attention, but he can’t help it now. The agony of being violated in such a way wrenches a scream from his throat, and he tries desperately to pull away, anything to get free. The sudden dry stretch of muscles makes him squeeze his eyes shut, a broken sob vibrating through his chest.] Get the hell off me.

                     [There’s a growl in his throat, terror seizing his hearts when he hears the scream down the hall, and it’s only a second before he’s peeling through the doorway, blaster at the ready and oh—he’d imagined some horrible situations but nothing was even remotely close to this.]

                     [There’s three shots immediately to kill the creature, knocking it away from his body and he’s at his lover’s side, looking him over, horrified, with no idea what to do.]

[The Time Lock has put him through any number of terrible things, but violation has always been psychic rather than physical, and even after it’s over, it’s hard to compute what’s happened exactly. It’s his most base nature that drives him to disjointedly try to scramble away from both the Doctor and the body, though he doesn’t get very far. He’s breathing hard, panicking more now than he did in the moment, trembling as he backs himself into a corner.]

I…I… [It’s all he manages between the pain and the terror of it all, and oh does he hurt. There is still blood oozing from where it’s teeth scraped his neck, much like his more humiliating injuries. It feels like he’s been ripped open from the inside out, but there’s nothing for it except to wait for the pain to pass so he can slink off and get himself cleaned up. He doesn’t dare even look at his lover, burying his face in his hands with a hiccupped out sob.]

  #andtheywillobeyme    #nsfw    #tw:noncon  
Now, see this is more like it. It's too bad I can't see your face. I think I like it all screwed up and afraid. I'll just have to use my imagination. This is good though. From this angle, you almost look normal and not... ugh. *it wastes no time, claws curling around the Master's hips. There is no prep. There is no warning. It just shoves forward and takes what it wants*

Anonymous

[He’s been mostly quiet so far, not wanting to put the Doctor at risk by drawing attention, but he can’t help it now. The agony of being violated in such a way wrenches a scream from his throat, and he tries desperately to pull away, anything to get free. The sudden dry stretch of muscles makes him squeeze his eyes shut, a broken sob vibrating through his chest.] Get the hell off me.

  #nsfw    #tw: noncon    #Anonymous  
Are you threatening me? That's precious. *violently shoves the Master to the ground, far away from anything he could use to fight back* Don't think I won't take everything away from you if you don't cooperate. That baby of yours will never take a breath. *It stalks closer, claws dragging down the Master's spine.* This should be much better, I think.

Anonymous

*It’s all he can do to catch himself, to keep from falling directly on his stomach. The minute he manages to get back up on his hands and knees properly, he tries to scramble away, not bothering to reply to the creature if only because he doesn’t have the breath to do it. It catches up quickly of course, and there’s a muffled whimper at the sensation of something sharp down his back.*

  #nsfw    #tw: noncon    #Anonymous  
Tell me. How does he do it? This angle seems terrible, but maybe... *a tendril of smoke tries for a second to force the Master's legs apart* No. Not like this I don't think. Really, you could be more helpful, Master.

Anonymous

[It’s purely instinctive to fight back, and it wins out over common sense as he struggles to get free. If he could just reach his laser, maybe that would be enough, but his hands are firmly fixed to the wall.] Get the hell off me and maybe I’ll let you live. [He growls viciously, trying to ignore the awful sensation of blood down his throat]

  #nsfw    #tw: noncon    #Anonymous