I'm really sorry, everyone, but I really cannot handle cumby right now. I'm sure you've noticed the super loud lack of me online. I'm dealing with... Way too much. I have coursework to catch up on, I have uni applications to send off, I have home issues, and my rapist works in my campus cafeteria because I never reported the rape so they can't fire him. My days mostly consist of having panic attacks, drawing desperately, sleeping, and eating if I remember to pack a lunch in the mornings.
Frankly, trying to keep up with this blog and the current plot just isn't going to work. I'm really really sorry to everyone involved, stupidly sorry, the tenth Doctor levels of regret. But I can't. I just can't.
So from this moment onwards, thecumbermaster is on indefinite hiatus, and the PM plot is either on hold with him or in your own hands to run with and develop depending on which you prefer.
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The dreams weren't getting any worse, but they certainly weren't helping Meredith's sleep. After her talk with the Master, or at least that was what she believed he was called, she didn't quite remember asking, she had decided upon finding others with the same problem she was suffering from. That was until she realized she had no real way of getting a hold of anyone else, but it seemed to be common. After a quick override of the systems, she made a post online, keeping it anonymous. It told them to call a special number, her private line, to be screened before finally getting through. It wasn't the best method, but being very new to the era had it's drawbacks.
There was a whistling in the darkness, and the Master opened his eyes to see white. White cloth in squares. He moved his arms to either side to assist him to situp.... or at least, he would have if he could have moved his arms. They seemed to be stuck to his chest. No, no they weren't stuck. His arms were simply bound back in a straight jacket. He sat up and looked down at his feet, which were also bound together.
He sat in silence for a few minutes, looking around to see what was really going on here. In the hall, there were two voices. Two very familiar voices. His Doctor, and the Doctor he had apparently been married to. He couldn't really make out what was being said, as everything seemed pulled and unfocused.
The Time Lord wiggled and rolled over to what looked like a door and laid there, listening to the two men discuss how this was best, and he was out of the way for good. They even mentioned something about a dosage of drugs, and laughed about how he was already addicted, so he'd adjust easily. The Master's hearts pounded in his chest as he fought to keep himself from screaming out. It was then that he noticed what was missing.
His drums were gone.
That was the final straw and the Time Lord let out a scream of sheer anger as he fought to get to his feet, only to end up toppling over onto the padded floor. This couldn't be his life, he refused this, it wasn't fair, it wasn't right. Panic and anger and betrayal and disbelief ran through him and circled back to run through him again. He let out a sob and felt himself start to give up, but he couldn't do that, could he?
It would be so much simpler to just stay here until he died, effectively giving up to let them win. He would have no pain, no wants, no cares, and even time would simply cease to exist. This tiny room could be his universe, and he its Master. 'Yes,' he thought, nodding as he let out a sigh. 'Yes, this is mine.'
The Time Lord opened his eyes and looked out onto library, a frown coming to his face. Hadn't his eyes already been opened? Yes, they had, and this most certainly wasn't his universe. Though, it was. This was his Doctor's TARDIS. He frowned and got up to find the man, deciding that he simply needed a break instead.
Stepping out into Earth's sunlight, he glanced between the TARDIS and the street. Theta wouldn't do that to him without his consent, would he? What if he had? What if this was all simply a thought? Conversely, his tiny padded realm might also be nearly a thought. The door was closed behind him and the Master moved onto the sidewalk, mingling with the Humans as his mind worked through what had just happened. It had felt so real....
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Daddy's proud of her, and saying it, and telling her she's beautiful and wonderful, and how she is his princess, his one and only child. He spends time with her every day, he picks her up from her school and helps her on her homework. He takes her out to movies and to stores and to his events, things she's had to learn to be polite at. He introduces her by name, and as his daughter. She is Meredith Weyland, and everything is wonderful for her.
As she grows, she blossoms forth, ready to challenge the world, or so she thinks. She's lived a protected life, and is expects it to keep being that way. She smiles and works where he father directs her, becoming a prominent force in the business world, until his health fails. She has to take over his job too, something she had tried to prepare for, only to be met with nothing... She works as hard as she can to at least help him and his dream.
He dies the day they finish the Prototype of what would have been their greatest accomplishment. She names it after him, changing the name from David, to Peter8.
She woke this time, not sure how to feel about the bizarre dream for tonight, having to pinch herself to see if it was real before checking her own ID. For a moment she swore it said Weyland, but when she looked again, it once again read Vickers. She shook her head, rolling over onto her stomach to bury her face into her pillows. "I hate that man."She commented dryly.
