all the contraints, they are long gone

dark little oneshot- ten may or may not have gone off the rails, but it's not like he cares anymore
(besides if you did happen to care, you'd have been erased from time by now)

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

The Doctor only giggles as His fingers trace the Master's cheekbones.

The Laws of Time had bended to Him and they obeyed.

Oh, but he looked so cute trussed up like that, like a little Christmas turkey.

His mind flashes back to Christmas Eve, 2005. But He'd already had His fun with Rose. It didn't matter that His footsteps left unfixable gashes in Time, that His desperation had obliterated the delicate strings of Time because Time had already been His when He'd got there.

Rose couldn't complain. He'd made it so that she couldn't. The times when she'd refused, He'd removed. She loved Him. She always would.

~~But sometimes he had regrets~~

The space-time continuum His playground, the time vortex His sandbox.

His fingers move downwards a little and caress the glaringly open wounds all over the Master's torso.

A flick of the knife and a beautiful gape of red opens on the side, and a soft waterfall of crimson to accompany it. He could almost see the organs. It was thrilling, intoxicating.

The Master would have regenerated by now, long past anything other than pain, but in His playground time becomes a slow rivulet through a crack in a dam.

It has been years, centuries and millennia, and it has been minutes, seconds and no time at all.

His eyes are half-lidded, and His eyes are not. One scrawled through with pain and fear and anger and the other with a thick layer of insanity bought over because He had been the Last of the Time Lords and it had broken Him.

Both sets of hands are covered in blood, but one is doing its best to keep from painfully twitching and the other wields a scarlet knife.

The Master regrets it all now. And he wishes he had just stayed dead in his Doctor's arms, because the thing standing in front of him is not his Doctor, it is something else.

A name floats up from his subconscious and muscles its way into his waking mind, constant in every timeline because the thing had made it so. Its title. The one he'd wrenched from days of future past and paraded around like a crown.

The Time Lord Victorious.

Notes:

dont you just feel bad for the guy <3

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Comments

LizerdWizerd65 Sun 23 Feb 2025 03:18PM UTC

Ough this is so good

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1. thoscheii Sat 01 Mar 2025 06:56AM UTC
  
  thank you! <3
  
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Bakeme Thu 20 Mar 2025 11:17PM UTC

Omg, what a concept. I'd never considered what it'd be like if The Doctor went *too dark* for The Master. Much to think about.

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Bakeme Thu 20 Mar 2025 11:24PM UTC

Aaaaaaaah I'd love another chapter 🙏

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1. thoscheii Fri 21 Mar 2025 11:48AM UTC
  
  i actually am not going to be doing chapter fics, just a set of oneshots set in the same universe.
  there may or may not be another one coming out though (spoilers!)
  
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Arukir Fri 09 May 2025 01:09PM UTC

[But sometimes he had regrets]
— Again, is The Doctor still alive in there???
This is amazing, I hope you write more in this universe. The Master himself being horrified at what The Doctor's become is horrifying as much as it is FASCINATING.

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1. thoscheii Fri 09 May 2025 01:26PM UTC
  
  should be answered in your other comment (on the previous fic)!
  theres a rough idea of another minific in the series with several other doctors talking to the tlv but im prioritising a couple other works, plus i might rewrite a few more as i feel my writing style has changed somewhat
  
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pt_tucker Mon 27 Oct 2025 07:06PM UTC

The Doctor only giggles as His fingers trace the Master's cheekbones.

Never a good sign when you start the story with the villain caressing...the villain?

Just don't be creepily giggling and caressing people's faces, Ten, no matter who they are!

Oh, but he looked so cute trussed up like that, like a little Christmas turkey.

Oh man, I love how completely DERANGED he sounds in this in only a few lines. Yeah, sure, he was a horrible, twisted, delusional man in the last fic, but at least he sounded more or less THERE. This man does not. He does not at all.

(The Master would be very cute all tied up tho, ngl.)

His mind flashes back to Christmas Eve, 2005. But He'd already had His fun with Rose. It didn't matter that His footsteps left unfixable gashes in Time, that His desperation had obliterated the delicate strings of Time because Time had already been His when He'd got there.

Love the casualness of him being like "yeah I totally screwed up time itself but no biggie." Yeah...I think it very much IS a biggie that you will come to regret, my guy. Again, though, love how far gone he is that he's just not processing that he's OBLITERATING Time. That he's just so stuck on being Time Lord Victorius that clearly no repercussions will ever come to him.

Rose couldn't complain. He'd made it so that she couldn't. The times when she'd refused, He'd removed. She loved Him. She always would.

But sometimes he had regrets

Yessss. Love that even NOW he still admits in the deepest parts of himself that this isn't at all what he wanted, that he does regret things. And it's pretty freaking ironic to have regrets when you CONTROL TIME. What's that telling you, Doctor?

The space-time continuum His playground, the time vortex His sandbox.

His fingers move downwards a little and caress the glaringly open wounds all over the Master's torso.

Love how we go from something very childish in wording, "playground" "sandbox", to "glaringly open wounds." You have such a way of packing punches with the most minimal of phrasing. And I love that despite the contrast between the two sentences, it ALSO flows together perfectly in that he's not taking anything seriously, he's still being all playful while CARESSING HIS WOUNDS and he's just so arrogant too in seeing the universe as his playground, his sandbox.

A flick of the knife and a beautiful gape of red opens on the side, and a soft waterfall of crimson to accompany it. He could almost see the organs. It was thrilling, intoxicating.

Oh man and I love that he's STILL hurting him, oh so casually, and that again the wording is so minimal but yet it's actually even more effective than going into gorey detail. It FITS with how little he cares, how little he sees this as A PROBLEM, and we the readers can definitely use our imaginations to make everything all the more terrible rather than ten pages of torture. Writers than can do so much with so little are rare indeed.

The Master would have regenerated by now, long past anything other than pain, but in His playground time becomes a slow rivulet through a crack in a dam.

It has been years, centuries and millennia, and it has been minutes, seconds and no time at all.

Love how well you write "casual horror" with all these fics. I love the time travel shenanigans once again, and the pure horror of it being that he can make it so you never regenerate because you NEVER DIE. It's both forever and NOW at the same time. It's so good.

His eyes are half-lidded, and His eyes are not. One scrawled through with pain and fear and anger and the other with a thick layer of insanity bought over because He had been the Last of the Time Lords and it had broken Him.

Both sets of hands are covered in blood, but one is doing its best to keep from painfully twitching and the other wields a scarlet knife.

Love this implication that he too is in all timelines at once. And also possibly that "he" the original Doctor and "He" the new Doctor are also in there at once? Lots of vaguely confusing stuff going on in these fics but honestly I absolutely adore them for that. It's how a story like this SHOULD feel.

The Master regrets it all now. And he wishes he had just stayed dead in his Doctor's arms, because the thing standing in front of him is not his Doctor, it is something else.

LOOOOVE that we get BOTH the love interest and the enemy going "this is not my Doctor." (Though tbf, the Master is also a love interest too lol and I love the image evoked here of dying in his love's arms and wouldn't that have been the preferred way to go than whatever THIS THING is, this man parading around as the Doctor.) I always adore stories where the "villain" is like "this is not my hero." (At this point who is the villain and who is the hero? If the Master killed him somehow would that be so bad?)

A name floats up from his subconscious and muscles its way into his waking mind, constant in every timeline because the thing had made it so. Its title. The one he'd wrenched from days of future past and paraded around like a crown.

The Time Lord Victorious.

YESSSSSS.

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