Let’s talk about how the Master wants the Doctor to shoot Rassilon as much to have the fact that he was used and duped all his life, when he values his autonomy so much, validated by the Doctor.
Let’s talk about how “you never would, you coward” is a bluff of courageous defiance when really he is terrified and his expression, his eyes, plead for the Doctor to comply. His words command, but his face begs and his face pleads.
Let’s talk about how that little shake of his head in the second to last gif proves that.
This is the closest they ever came to reconciliation without any force involved, and it kills me. It kills me.
Softly he pressed a kiss to the Master’s temple, keeping his loving embrace. Closing his eyes he allowed a gentle brush against the telepathic connection they shared. There was no probing just gentle reassurance. The silence didn’t bother the Doctor he merely stayed there offering his love and comfort to the one he so dearly cared for.
The Master shoves his face into the Doctor’s neck, inhaling aftershave and windburn and all things mysterious and fugitive. Home, home.
“Don’t forget me, don’t doubt me, please, please, please, I’m here, I’m still here,” he all but chants through his teeth, clinging, making his fists full of shirt tremble.
“I am constantly surprised by the longing for you that never quiets. You are here and you are in my hearts, always. My thoughts often stray to you even when I don’t mean them to. Wondering how you are, what you’re doing, if you’d welcome my endless company. Endless because pulling myself from you is a pain I tire of enduring.”
The Doctor speaks softly, hands gingerly trailing up and down the man’s back. Having him so close is always lovely, it makes his hearts soar. Warm, fierce, beautiful, mine.
The longer the Doctor holds him, the more the Master stills; the quieter he grows, save for that tell-tale gentle thrum deep in the diaphragm of his psyche, just like the purring of a cat with its favorite human. His eyes fall closed and he says nothing, instead savoring the silent nearness of his beloved.
Softly he pressed a kiss to the Master’s temple, keeping his loving embrace. Closing his eyes he allowed a gentle brush against the telepathic connection they shared. There was no probing just gentle reassurance. The silence didn’t bother the Doctor he merely stayed there offering his love and comfort to the one he so dearly cared for.
The Master shoves his face into the Doctor’s neck, inhaling aftershave and windburn and all things mysterious and fugitive. Home, home.
“Don’t forget me, don’t doubt me, please, please, please, I’m here, I’m still here,” he all but chants through his teeth, clinging, making his fists full of shirt tremble.
Icarus 