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The Doctor Wearing Red Velvet

Technically not the doctor but it's David Tennant so

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Out of every single relationship in the Whoniverse, whatever the Doctor and the Master have going on just hits different. Like a rock. I’m sure everyone feels this way about their fave Doctor ship, but my experience is that once you go Thoschei, you cannot go back. Given the narrative symmetry, character foiling, interwoven parallels, tragically dramatic irony, frustratingly unspeakable ambiguous romance that defies traditional ship canonization in the true chaotic spirit of Doctor Who, and a unique backstory setup that allows the characters to have history that other individuals cannot match, while fate (and the format of the show) pushes them together over and over again indefinitely, without hope of lasting reconnection lest the setup break, the Doctor and Master’s codependent anti-soulmate life or death partnership arguably cheapens every other pairing beyond comparison. Their tragedy never leaves you. (And keeps you up at night)

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punktranstwissy.. .. give me a chance…

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her biggest fan and she didn’t even started playing

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Doctor Who Incorrect text

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Doctor who ships!

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I'm so depressed, I act like it's my birthday every day I'm so obsessed with him, but he avoids me like the plague I cry a lot, but I am so productive, it's an art You know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart

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The Tortured Poets Department is like if folklore and Reputation had a baby and I think that’s fantastic.

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My favorite thing to read at the moment is 12 being an absolute dick to Missy in the first years she spent in the Vault.

This is canon in my book.

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Does 12’s polycule have a ship name yet? Bc I’m loving Whouverussy

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Omg I will of course leave the final fic choice up to you, but doesn't "True hate’s kiss (only kissing your enemy can break a curse)" sound like the perfect setup to a Twissy fic 👀

Thank you, love!

~1.5 k words, so much for "let me just write 5 sentences for you real quick". But it's, of course, because you are right, this prompt was made for twissy 🥰

I have not actually read this again, so beware. But here you go :)

[ID: gif of Missy's face in close up, smiling down like she is pitying someone mockingly. end ID]

“Can't you move a bit faster?”

If silly little companion pulled on her sleeve any more roughly, he was going to lose that new hand of his. Or maybe his nose, she wasn't really picky. The nose might taste better, Missy mused. She was quite sure it was the original one and not some cyborg-technology the Doctor had partly scavenged, partly cooked up himself. But that reasoning implied she had paid attention to the egg-head's babblings and she had a general policy never to do that.

It was lucky, comic relief had paid closer attention to her, however, because she didn't even need to voice her threat. Breathing out her nose audibly and baring her teeth sufficed easily and he squeaked, jumped, dropped her hand and hurried on a few inches further away from her.

“I am a time lady, snickerdoodle” she drawled, making a point of walking a tad more measuredly instead of hurrying up. “I always walk at the exact right speed.”

The Doctor's snack had the audacity to huff but he wisely chose not to talk back.

“It- it is just” he stuttered instead, “the Doctor, he is -”

“-dying?” she finished, already bored. “That's his usual Thursday, pup.”

“He asked for you!” the idiot-in-training blurted out and despite herself, Missy stopped and blinked.

“He did?” Now that were exciting news for a change. A bright smile grew on her face, simultaneously with the rising panic in plucky assistant's eyes.

“He said you could save him” he whispered, somehow managing to have his voice creak when he wasn't even properly using it.

“He did?” Missy repeated and by now her smile was positively giddy. Eggy started whimpering softly.

Missy didn't give him time to gather his bearings, instead grabbing his arm forcefully in turn, making him jump again. She brought her face close to his for good measure, revelling at the terror in his expression.

“Why. Didn't. You. Say. So. Immediately?” she asked, her voice stuck on the same note throughout the words, too high, too cheerful to be anything but disconcerting. “Hurry up, pet: I've got a day to save!”

He shuddered away from her and picked up the pace again, not looking back. But this time she was right there with him, excitement surging through her veins. The Doctor was in actual danger, helpless, pathetic and he had asked for her. Because he loved her. Because he needed her. And – most importantly – she would get to gloat. Once she had saved him. Which she obviously would. No matter what idiotic thing he had done, her silly sausage, she would get him up and running in no-time. She was his best friend, after all. His very best friend.

They reached the Doctor's office only a few minutes later, and Missy immediately noticed how serious the situation was. The psychic waves coming from him were all over the place – and not in the fun, chaotic way they usually were – they usually were a lot subtler as well, some things he had learnt in his thousand years of spacetravel – they were hurtful almost, full of pain and distress. She knew he was lying on the ground before she saw him, knew he was still conscious, too, even though his other little munch was convinced of the opposite. Missy paid her little mind how she was sitting on the floor with him, crying and mumbling affirmations. She only got in the way, really, with the way she was cradling the Doctor's head in her lap, she couldn't help him after all.

“I am here, oh, apple of my eye” Missy exclaimed dramatically, dropping to the floor at his side with great flourish.

“I don't, I don't think, he can hear you” girl-companion hiccuped through her tears, but Missy waved her interjection away.

“Of course he can, silly-billy” she huffed, reaching for the Doctor's hand that had come to lie on his stomach. She pressed it to her chest, holding on tightly.

“I am here” she whispered. “Tell me, Doctor, what do you need?”

Oh, she liked playing the hero. Being the one who held the Doctor's life in their hands. Being the one everyone looked at with those worshippy, wide eyes. She thought, right now, she could fathom why he had gotten addicted to it.

“We think he got cursed” supplementary fuss said behind her back. “We were on Tigella, and there was this sceptre. The Doctor touched -”

The last of the words died in his throat when Missy whirled around to him.

“Do you know what you're talking about?” she asked sweetly, but didn't give him a chance to answer. “No, you don't. So shut up before I change my mind and make a nice soup out of the three of you instead of helping. - okay?”

She fluttered her eyelids to emphasize the point and his mouth snapped shot, his jaw tightening.

“Thank you, much appreciated.” Missy turned towards the Doctor again, nearing her ear to his mouth. “Doctor, what do you need?”

“I need -” he rasped and french-fries-friendywend gasped when she heard him speak, almost making Missy miss his next words. Did these bumbling humans ever learn? “- a kiss. From – my worst enemy.”

“Awww” Missy bit her lip, drawing back. He needed his arch-enemy! And he had thought of her. “How very touching! I am so honoured, I am not even gonna bargain.”

He didn't answer or open his eyes, but there was a pleased twitch around his mouth that made her press his hand.

“I have to say though, Doctor,” she purred, leaning in again, “if you wanted for me to kiss you, there would have been easier ways to ask than going through the trouble of getting cursed.”

Now he snorted and measured by the state he was in, this tiny bit of banter was the greatest love confessions out of all the ones he had bestowed upon her today already.

“Come on, now - “ he coughed, “Missy. You would – have never – been content with – any – thing less – elaborate.”

“True” she smirked. She was hovering right above him now. “And I appreciate the effort, darling.”

His lips moved, searching hers, and she waited just another second, savouring the moment. Then human-thingy coughed pointedly and she drew it out yet another second, simply to antagonise her. But his breath was getting visibly shallower and there was a slight tremble in his hand. Plus, his lips looked chapped like burnt Earth and just as inviting. So, finally, she led their mouths together, her hand slipping across the extra's leg to support his head.

The moment their lips touched, it was like the life flooded back into him, his mouth's movement becoming more purposeful and his tongue meeting hers cordially when she slipped it past his teeth. His free hand even twitched, like he was trying to grasp her frock.

Of their own accord, Missy's eyes closed and for a moment she lost herself in the feeling of their lips meeting, the familiar taste of his tongue, the desperate way his breath fanned her chin and cheek, reminiscent of many breathless nights spent together, oh so long ago.

But then, his movement slowed, a distressed sound escaping his throat. Before Missy could decide whether to draw back – finally killing the Doctor by kissing him to death would have been an end she could have deemed worthy of their friendship – a rough hand was on her shoulder, pulling her away from him. She hissed and whirled around, biting hard into the offending limp. So, the sniveller had decided he didn't need this body part, after all, it seemed.

He cried out, pulling his hand away from her mouth with a pathetic whine. Missy spat out some blood and fake skin with a huff. It tasted as horribly as she had expected.

“What did you do that for?” he sobbed.

“Don't touch me, crybaby” she huffed, turning back around to the Doctor.

He was still lying motionless, if possible even paler now.

“Why didn't this work?” his pillow croaked, close to tears again. Missy drew her eyebrows together in agreement. Indeed. Why hadn't it? It should have worked, she had been supposed to save the day!

For some reason, the Doctor was smiling. Mind, it was barely visible, frail as he was, but Missy could read his face like a book in every incarnation and that so was his satisfied smile.

“Seems like,” he mumbled, “we aren't – strictly – enemies anymore, love.”

“Of course, we are, don't be stupid” she pressed out. Only now she noticed how desperately she was clutching his hand, it was almost like she was trying to imitate spare-parts over at the door who was licking his own injured paw.

“Don't smile” she told the Doctor off, and she was sounding more serious than she had any right to be. “You are dying and I am your enemy. You don't get to smile at that.”

She was sure, if he had had any strength left, his smile would have grown now.

“I am – sorry, Missy” he breathed instead, “but I must – ask you – to fetch – Da – Davros.”

Missy felt her mouth drop open in shock and humiliation. Davros? Fucking Davros got to save her Doctor??

This was rock bottom.

Thank you for reading, I hope it is about what you envisioned <3

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Imagine you met the great love of your life, but in no shape or form could you ever make it work. The only way you could love each other is by moulding the other into something they're not. Imagine spending your entire life centered around this person because even though you know you're wrong for each other life feels empty without their presence. Imagine you've spent your entire life simultaneously loving and loathing this person to the point where your feelings are incomprehensible. Imagine they're your foil, every rotten part of you is reflected in them and they remind you of everything you hate about yourself.

THEN imagine finding out that this person is your God. They're your origin. No matter what you do they're always and forever inextricably woven into your body. You can never escape. Ever. They're going to haunt you until you die and even then they'll still linger in your bones. Imagine how crazy that would make you, imagine how much that would turn you insane 🤪🤪🤪🤪

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“Exactly what is 3W?” Clara was relieved that the Doctor was finally asking the important questions, she hoped that they would soon get answers and be able to rescue Danny and run as far away from this creepy mausoleum as they could. 

“Apologies. Clearly you have not received the official 3W greetings package.” It was so obviously a line that had been said a hundred times before and Clara was now even more convinced that the woman in front of them was a droid of some kind. 

The Doctor managed to blustere out a few excuses before he was cut off. “Well, you know, it's just an unexpected-”

The lady who was dressed in a purple victorian style gown stepped towards the Doctor, pushing him bodily against the wall behind him, smiled and, in a move that shocked both Clara and the Doctor, kissed him firmly on the mouth.

Clara didn’t know why she did it, and would maintain that until the day she died, but as the new arriva stepped towards the doctor and kissed him firmly on the mouth she reached for her hand and grasped hold of it tightly. 

The woman didn’t respond at first but after a moment she began to squeeze Clara’s hand just as firmly. Clara didn’t know where to look, at the rather intense kiss that was happening before her or at the conjoined hands of her and this strange woman.

The blue eyed beauty braced her hand against the wall by the Doctor’s head and seemed to lean even further into the kiss for a moment before she pulled back and placed three kisses to the Doctor’s nose, squeezing Clara’s hand in synchronization. As she stepped back from the Doctor she also dropped Clara’s hand.

With an overdramatic gasp of pleasure she continued as if nothing unusual had happened. “Welcome to the 3W Institute.”

The Doctor was still leaning against the glass of the tank, bracing himself against the walls in a state of shock. “Clara, is it over now?”

Clara, who was equally as shocked from watching the event occur, responded, nodding her head sympathetically. “I think it's over, yeah.” “You also have not received the official welcome package.” The woman spoke, before walking towards Clara with purpose. 

“Oh… er, no I-”

Clara found herself backed against the wall right alongside the Doctor, a predatory look crossed the woman's face as she advanced. As they reached the wall she lifted one hand to rest on Clara’s waist and the other came up to pin Clara’s wrist to the glass beside her head, the woman’s umbrella was digging into her hip uncomfortably but she couldn’t find it within herself to protest. 

With a smirk of victory the brunette's lips landed on Clara’s, Clara was surprised how lifelike the woman felt, not just her hands but her lips as well. She was so distracted by how lifelike the droid was that it took her a moment to even absorb that they were kissing.

Clara was surprised as she felt a tongue press against her lower lip, she gasped slightly and in that moment the woman took the opportunity to slip her tongue between Clara’s open lips. 

The human's heart beat raced in her ears and for a moment she seriously considered tangling her free hand into the strange woman's hair. Clara managed to banish that thought from her head, trying instead to focus on the mission at hand… rescuing Danny Pink. 

Still she didn't push her kissing partner away. Just relished in the feeling of the lips on hers and pondered if it was betrayal to be enjoying the kiss so soon after Danny's death, she supposed it wouldn’t really matter if they saved him.

After what felt like an eternity, the kiss ended and Clara opened her eyes to see the piercing blue of the woman in front of her glinting with mischief. Once Clara had opened her eyes, she too received three kisses to her nose, this time she felt squeezes against both her waist and her wrist from the woman’s hands. 

The doctor seemed to have recovered, or maybe just the shock of seeing it happen to Clara had shaken him from his trance.

“Who are you?” He asked indignantly.

“I am Missy.” 

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i think there’s an inherent sadness and pain about dhawan coming after gomez. like gomez’s master had finally became friends with the doctor again despite everything. she died for him (twice if we count simm’s). after so long they finally stood together on the same page with mutual understanding and a hope that their next lives would be kinder and perhaps they’d be standing together.

yet dhawan went home after regenerating. came to the understanding that he was nothing to the doctor but a speck in her past. just as small and tiny as her companions and the flood of insecurities that haunted him since the day he left came back. he was never an equal and never would be and the doctor knew it (had known it all along). so he had to make himself an equal and worthy enough to stand against the doctor (never with. for how can you stand with the sun. instead you have to eclipse it take away its warmth and life)

a post-gomez dhawan is just fun.

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that One stock image trend going around twitter rn + a follow up