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[public displays of thoschei with @timetreatment ]

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Donna started to reply, to tell him to take his opinion and shove it, but there was one big issue: He was right. She wouldn't last forever. Eventually, like all humans did, she would die and the Doctor would be left alone again. With only this bastard to comfort him.

"Maybe," she allotted. "But at least those forty years will be better. At least I can keep you away until I'm gone."

She smiled at him, more baring her teeth like a guard dog than actually smiling. She felt like she would snap if he came any closer to her. She could tell she was antagonizing him and he was this close to getting violent. It took her aback, a little bit, but she was too angry to back down.

"I'll spend the short time I've got being his friend. You're looking at eternity with him and all you can think to do with it is hurt him." She laughed derisively. "That's so pathetic it's beyond human. Congratulations. I ought to just--"

Just what? Take the Master out of the picture? How, or why? She was acting a bit possessive, wasn't she? Would the Doctor even like her being pushy like this? Men generally didn't. She stopped, caught up in her own insecurities for a moment.

"I ought to just leave you to your misery right now," she said, though she made no move to walk away. She crossed her arms. "He's my best friend, and I'm sure I'm his, too. From what I hear, that's more than you can manage these days."

Donna laughed, a bit too loudly. “Me? No. I’m not one of those silly young human girls clambering all over for a chance at his skinny arse. Not interested, thank you.” If she said it enough, it would make it true, wouldn’t it?

“I meant you were jealous of him. He’s everything you’re not. Kind and good. More importantly, beloved. He has friends who’d do anything for him, and your own wife shot you. Oh, but you’re fine with that, aren’t you? What’s that saying–If you can’t be loved, be feared? Not even managing that much, are you?”

She crossed her arms. She didn’t know what to do with her hands. Every instinct in her cried out to slap him, but that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? To provoke a reaction?

“The worst thing is that when he told me the story of how you died him his arms just to spite him, he got a little choked up.” It had happened many times in his many stories about the Master. It broke her heart every time. She’d held him and he’d cried. That was Donna’s place. To hold him when it hurt. “All you do is hurt him. Not anymore. I’m here to protect him now.”

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Donna laughed, a bit too loudly. "Me? No. I'm not one of those silly young human girls clambering all over for a chance at his skinny arse. Not interested, thank you." If she said it enough, it would make it true, wouldn't it?

"I meant you were jealous of him. He's everything you're not. Kind and good. More importantly, beloved. He has friends who'd do anything for him, and your own wife shot you. Oh, but you're fine with that, aren't you? What's that saying--If you can't be loved, be feared? Not even managing that much, are you?"

She crossed her arms. She didn't know what to do with her hands. Every instinct in her cried out to slap him, but that was what he wanted, wasn't it? To provoke a reaction?

"The worst thing is that when he told me the story of how you died him his arms just to spite him, he got a little choked up." It had happened many times in his many stories about the Master. It broke her heart every time. She'd held him and he'd cried. That was Donna's place. To hold him when it hurt. "All you do is hurt him. Not anymore. I'm here to protect him now."

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Donna bit her tongue, giving herself a minute to process the conversation. This “Master” (his name said everything about him) liked to choose his words specifically to hurt people. “Okay, fine,” she admitted. “He has told me about you. Like prying open a steel trap to get him to talk about his feelings, but don’t you worry, it’s all bad things. From what I gather, you’re his childhood best friend turned jealous stalker ex.”

The Master was one of the many tragedies in the Doctor’s life. What’s more, he kept willfully making things worse. It was taking everything Donna had to sock him in his smug little face for all the pain he’d caused her friend.

“I’ve known my fair share of bitchy gays, sunshine. Dated a few of them. I’m over it. You don’t scare me.”

A grin spreads on his lips at her admittance that the Doctor does talk about him. Best friend turned jealous stalker ex isn’t too far off, though he accepts the fact that it’s tainted by the human’s obvious biases and inability to see the intricacies of their relationship. Ex is a stretch. Jealous even more so.

“Oh, I’m not trying to scare you. Trust me, if I were trying, you’d know. And jealous? Me?” He laughs at just how ridiculous the claim is.

“Who am I supposed to be jealous of? You? I don’t have competition.”

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Donna bit her tongue, giving herself a minute to process the conversation. This "Master" (his name said everything about him) liked to choose his words specifically to hurt people. "Okay, fine," she admitted. "He has told me about you. Like prying open a steel trap to get him to talk about his feelings, but don't you worry, it's all bad things. From what I gather, you're his childhood best friend turned jealous stalker ex."

The Master was one of the many tragedies in the Doctor's life. What's more, he kept willfully making things worse. It was taking everything Donna had to sock him in his smug little face for all the pain he'd caused her friend.

"I've known my fair share of bitchy gays, sunshine. Dated a few of them. I'm over it. You don't scare me."

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@timetakeover from here

“Watch it, mate. You think your little space laser is going to stop me knocking you on your ear, you’ve got another thing coming.” Donna got right in his space, jabbing her finger into his chest. “I’ll smack that goatee off your face if I have to.”

She stepped back, scoffing. “If you call yourself the Doctor’s arch-nemesis, it’s funny how he never talks about you. Don’t suppose that stings at all. How he’s spending all that time not thinking about you.”

She pokes her finger right into his chest and he knows the surprise shows on his face. She’s brave- or maybe just stupid. She fits in well with The Doctor, that much is clear.

“To you. Have you ever considered that he just doesn’t think of you as a close enough friend to let you in on his personal life? Can’t say I blame him, with that big mouth. You’d run and tell half the galaxy. He might as well just publish his diary and get it over with.”

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@timetakeover liked for a present

"Oh, Missy. I didn't know you wanted to exchange gifts! I'd have thought you hated Earth holidays. Except maybe Halloween, I'd rather think that's a bit more your style. Well, I have something I've been working on. Suppose I could show you a bit early."

When he reappears into the Vault with the gift, it's wrapped in newspaper. Looking closely, it's an article in a British journal from the 1971 about the Keller Machine. (Of course he'd saved newspaper clippings about the Master's evil schemes back then.)

Inside, it was further wrapped in one of the Doctor's old sweaters. He didn't often wear it in this incarnation, fond as he was of dressing up in suits, but it was comfy and soft and the Doctor knew Missy found the Vault cold.

If you shake out the sweater and find the actual gift, a thin silver chain with an pendant shaped like a teardrop. "A long time ago, you tried to track me, I think before I even left Gallifrey. Found it years back in one of Susan's old toys. Things like that are frowned upon, by the way."

He turned a bit red, running the back of his neck and looking away. "I, er, have the matching one. They two trackers are twinned. I keep mine in my pocket, so you can see wherever I am in time and space while you're in here. But I can see you, too."

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@feralverndari liked for a Christmas present

"I've got just the thing."

It's some sort of glass tube. Inside it is two long, thin wires, twined together, rotating gently in place. As you stare, it looks more and more like snakes coiled together, writhing.

"It's a relaxation tool invented in the famous therapeutic retreat of Gallagathul, that great time when the typically war-mongering Gallagathulians decided instead send their greatest minds to come together and come up with the best ways to improve the minds of their people. This is one of the devices they thought up. You just sort of fidget with it and it wiggles. See?"

The Doctor unstopped the metal tube and unceremoniously dumped the alien thing into his hand. It squirmed between and coiled along his fingers, like it was alive. "Essentially, it's just a high tech fidget toy. But it's cool, isn't it?"

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They're going to be something random he pulled out of his TARDIS, no prior interaction needed

Like for your muse to get a Christmas present from the Doctor!

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The Doctor often found himself returning to the Victorian era around Christmas. The era was the birthplace of Christmas as they knew it in the 21st century. This year, the Doctor had tried something different. He had been experimenting with shifting between dimensions using the TARDIS.

Victorian London looked as it always did, but there was a rush of excitement in knowing he was in unexplored territory. Anything could be different in this world. The Doctor wandered along the snowy streets with his eye out for anything unusual.

Soon enough, he found it. A business front that, in his world, should only have been possible inside a book.

He stared at it for a moment in shock. The sign read very clearly 'Scrooge & Marley.'

The Doctor opened the door and rushed inside. It was freezing, just like the book, with his breath coming out in puffs of white air. He was breathing quickly with excitement. The Doctor didn't even see the old man until he spoke, so poorly-lit was the place. As soon as he did, the Doctor grinned widely.

"Ebenezer Scrooge," he said. "Is that you? Oh, it's got to be, don't kid me. Old Scrooge himself, in the flesh! Don't try and deny it, everything is absolutely spot on to the story. Well, the dog, that's new, but she's lovely!" The Doctor patted his pockets, feeling unprepared for the dog element. "Wish I'd brought some biscuits or something."

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Ebenezer didn’t even bother to look up as the other entered his building. He was far, far too busy calculating payments and what was owed from new clients. It had been busy, frustrating work of speaking to dimwits who hadn’t the slightest idea of what they were doing. Investments for businesses they didn’t know how to run. While his canine companion did raise her head curiously to look at the newcomer, Scrooge remained stiff in his writings and processes.

“Unless you are here to provide payment, I am not interested in conversation.” He greeted bluntly.

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Like for your muse to get a Christmas present from the Doctor!

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It's so easy to write weird crossovers with my muses, especially on my Doctor @timetreatment . Give me all the obscure muses with no fandom. It's ok if you don't know my muses either. Never be afraid to interact with me with an OC or an obscure canon :D

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Like this to get something from the Doctor in your inbox I have a lot of muse for Ten

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@timetakeover from here

"Watch it, mate. You think your little space laser is going to stop me knocking you on your ear, you've got another thing coming." Donna got right in his space, jabbing her finger into his chest. "I'll smack that goatee off your face if I have to."

She stepped back, scoffing. "If you call yourself the Doctor's arch-nemesis, it's funny how he never talks about you. Don't suppose that stings at all. How he's spending all that time not thinking about you."

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I think I'm gonna add Donna Noble as a secondary muse on here. Also I'm much more active on my multimuse but I have lots of muse for ten so feel free to send me stuff!

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WHICH DND CLASS SUITS YOUR PERSONALITY?

Your Result: Wizard

You love to learn, whether in a traditional academic setting or on your own. You definitely look before you leap and you may spend so much time coming up with a plan (or five) that you never actually get around to leaping at all. You work best when you’ve had time to prepare. You love getting to the heart of something and really understanding it on a deeper level. You may not be the strongest physically, but few can match your sharp mind.

Order of Scribes

Among wizards, the Order of Scribes is the most bookish. It takes many forms in different worlds, but its primary mission is the same everywhere: recording magical discoveries so that wizardry can flourish. And while all wizards value spellbooks, a wizard in the Order of Scribes magically awakens their book, turning it into a trusted companion. You’re a curious person who highly values the preservation of knowledge. You probably have really strong feelings about the Library of Alexandria. You’re pretty resourceful and you’re good at using whatever tools are available to you to help you learn what you want to know or to accomplish a goal. You can happily spend a whole day absorbed by research or studying and you pour so much time and care into your work that you might start to see it as an extension of yourself

Tagged by: Stole it from my other blog

Tagging: You!

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Multimuse RP blog featuring Dwight Fairfield from Dead by Daylight, Doug “Cypher” Ramsey from X-Men comics, John Egbert from Homestuck, Arthur Hastings from We Happy Few, Tracer from Overwatch, Rookie from Sonic Forces, and more! 

rules | full muse list

written by sam, he/her, 28.

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timetakeover​:

He’s been ignoring the sandwich out of pure spite, despite how good it smells, despite the way his empty stomach grumbles. At some point, though, he decides two things: that he can’t stand to continue listening to the Doctor’s demands that he talk about his feelings on an empty stomach, and that if (when) he gets himself kicked out of the TARDIS, there’s no telling when he’ll have the opportunity to eat next.

He finally tears into the sandwich like he’s starving, bread crumbs scattering across his beard. He eats half of it in only a few enormous bites as he gathers his thoughts.

Strategy becomes to be as unpleasant as he can possibly manage. Remind the Doctor of why they can never be on the same side, of why it’s a waste of time and energy to try to help him, in an instant. Self preservation means saving himself the slow torture he endured as Missy; trying to live up to the Doctor’s expectations only to slowly let him down over time. Tear it off like a bandage. He’s irredeemable. He doesn’t claim to be anything else.

“You know why you regenerated, don’t you? I killed you. Not as Missy. Just now. Twenty minutes ago. A few days ago..? How long have I been out? Doesn’t matter. You died because I killed you because I hate you and there’s nothing to discuss. So, if you’d like to put me back on the ground, outside, alone, where you found me, that would be great. I’d appreciate it.”

"Ah. So you did."

What kind of shock and horror was the Master expecting? He'd tried to kill him many times. It seemed he'd finally succeeded. 

"That's unfortunate. I'd always sort of hoped you didn't really want to, in the end."

The Doctor wasn't keen to let his disappointment seep through his cherry demeanor. That meant losing control of the situation.

"Nonetheless, as much as you hate me, I don't hate you. Not at the moment, at least. So I can't in good conscience let you out into the wild world in that condition, and if it makes you feel any better it's because I'm holding you under arrest, too. I can't in good conscience unleash you on the world, either."

He cupped his ear. "Ah? What's that? You don't like it? Well, too bad. Prisoners aren't supposed to like being held captive. I'm going to be tough on you from here on out. It's my rules or nothing. First thing's first, once you finish eating, we're getting rid of that absolutely dreadful Rasputin beard." He touched his own cheeks, miming a beard as he made a face. "I'm not letting my oldest enemy die looking like that."

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timetakeover​:

Even as he speaks, she doesn’t make eye contact, can’t bring herself to. Fortunately, she’s perfected the thousand yard stare directed at the other side of the room by now. She chews at her bottom lip while he speaks, anxiously tearing off dry skin until she catches the faint taste of blood.

Idly, she pulls a tube of red lipstick from a hiding place tucked inside her bra, reapplies without really noticing that she’s doing it. Habit. Training. Her role has always been a decorative one, no room for a break in her full time job.

“I can’t help you. I want to, really. I wish I could.”

Lipstick is tucked away. She’s back to chewing at her lip, red paint staining her teeth. She used to bite her nails instead, when she was younger. That was trained out of her, too. ’You’ll never find a husband with a disgusting habit like that.’ Is this what her whole life was preparing her for? She doesn’t feel prepared.

“He doesn’t listen to me. Everyone always thinks I can just… put in a good word for them. I can’t.”

"No. No. I know. I know him."

 There's a tiny pang of frustration that the Master has gotten someone else involved. That the doctor always had to stop to comfort whoever the Master decided to throw down between them like caltrops.

 It was especially frustrating when he was like this, unable to do much of anything. Trapped inside his head, alone with the Archangel Network and its systems. His physical body was too weak to do much but sit there and breathe. He was out of breath already from trying to speak normally, like he would if he were still young-bodied. He'd have to choose his words more carefully, once he stopped coughing.

I'm… sorry." What else could he say? This was his fault. He was supposed to stop the Master before it ever got this far. What were Lucy and the rest of his victims supposed to do while he worked away at fixing it inside his head? 

 He couldn't really see her, but he could sort of tell she was fidgeting. He just wanted to know why she was here. Pretending to be his old self wasn't going to be possible like this.  "That's all. You? “