the tardis sees that the doctor is struggling with his new body

Rose x Ten, post GitF-au/fixit; angst, fluff, romance, more angst, and possibly some smut later, but this part (and all parts on ff.net) is sfw (minor exception for brief language).

(see the end of this part for notes and special thanks)

(full-size image)

Minuet, Part II

Part I | Part II | Part III

Twisting in his grasp, Rose cranes her neck to look at him, finally, and there he is, all furrowed brow and tight mouth and eyes glittering with anger, and god, if she wasn’t so irritated with him right now, she just might kiss him.

“That’s what you were going to do, isn’t it?” she asks instead.

***

Eyes widening, the Doctor only has a moment to let his mouth drop open in surprise before another gentleman steps in—time to change dance partners. Rose slips into position with the newcomer without so much as a blink or even a glance in the Doctor’s direction, never faltering in her rhythm; a quick peek at the Doctor moments later tells her that he has allowed himself to be swept up in the tide of dancers, sidling up to his new partner across the room.

Rose turns away, swirling in her partner’s arms, but she can feel the eyes of the Doctor boring into her. She shivers despite the summer heat.

“That’s beside the point,” he whispers when they meet again, touching palm-to-palm first with one hand, then the other. “I’m a Time Lord.”

“Really? First I’ve heard of it,” Rose replies drily.

“I’ve been doing this for a long time, Rose. A very long time. I understand the risks.”

Rose rolls her eyes. “And stupid apes don’t.”

At least the Doctor has the decency to flinch at those words. “That isn’t what I meant.”

“Of course it is,” Rose sighs, and they both step back, granting a berth for other dancers to flit gracefully between them. “After all,” Rose continues when they reconnect, hands clasped, “I’m hardly one of the most accomplished women who ever lived, am I?”

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@ddagent created this incredible edit and this fell out of my brain…


DOCTOR!

“Bill, no!” Kate grabbed the young companion by the shoulders, dragging her away from the Doctor’s crumpled form. Scanning the room for additional threats as Bill struggled in her arms. Only one Dalek, thank god, but one had been more than enough.

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2

Requested by multiple flubbles

The “Imagine getting used to Eleven after years of traveling with Ten” imagine sparked such a positive reaction that I even got requests to rewrite the fic for other regenerations - specifically, Eleven to Twelve. I have half a mind to write the Four to Five regeneration because I think that would be really interesting, but that all depends on how this one suit you all, I suppose.


There were a number of times that you had been unbelievably grateful that the Doctor taught you how to fly the TARDIS. Un-bel-iev-ab-ly grateful. You were about ninety-six percent sure that no one in the universe had ever been as grateful as you for the skill of driving. (And yeah, sure, you weren’t all that good, but you could soundly blame that on the fact that your teacher had barely passed the flight exam himself, so looking at it that way you were well on your way to surpassing the Doctor’s TARDIS-driving abilities.)

But never had you been as grateful as you were when the Doctor forgot how to drive the bloomin’ TARDIS.

You didn’t know what could have happened if you didn’t know how to fly the TARDIS. Perhaps you would have been fine, but alternatively, you could have landed in the Cretaceous Period and gotten eaten by a dinosaur. So-so. But you pulled the one move that you had practiced to the point of being even better at it than the Doctor: You maneuvered the TARDIS into the Time Vortex and put her in neutral.

That was five hours ago.

The Doctor was… different, definitely different. Older, which you didn’t mind, except that was going to throw you all the way back to when people thought that the Ninth was your father. Only they would mistake Twelve for your grandfather. Well… sure, you could pass him off as your father, you supposed, but you didn’t want to. Kissing Nine in public had gotten you plenty of dirty looks. Kissing this one… Um, did they still burn people at the stake, or..?

He’s gonna hate this, you thought.

He hadn’t gotten a look at himself yet. He’d pitched a bit of a senseless fit while you were driving the TARDIS (during which you had gathered that he didn’t remember who he was, or who you were, for that matter), but as soon as you got him into his bed, he had zonked out. This had left you with plenty of time to see… well, him. He was old. Wrinkled, grey, hollowed at the cheeks and paunch at his middle. After the chiseled muscle of Nine and the sinuous strength of Ten and the lean youth of Eleven, you somehow doubted that the Doctor would be pleased with this body. You couldn’t say that you minded it yourself (distinguished, your brain called him, mature), but the Doctor had such fickle self-esteem issues.

“You’re going to be okay,” you whispered, leaning over give the Doctor a kiss on his forehead. His permanently-angry eyebrows twitched, but he was otherwise still. You sighed and rolled over onto your side so that you could watch him without propping yourself up on your elbows. The TARDIS dimmed the bedroom lights to about thirty percent.

You thought about going to sleep. You hadn’t slept for awhile and you were exhausted. The TARDIS was keeping tea warm for when the Doctor woke up, so you wouldn’t have to worry about that. He didn’t look strong enough to do anything harm, not even himself, and certainly not with regeneration sickness keeping him woozy for the next… oh, ten hours or so. The worst thing that could possibly happen at this point was him rolling over and falling out of bed.

Worse things have happened. You snuggled under the covers and reached out to grab his hand. The metal of his ring was reassuringly firm on his feeble bones, and you thanked Gallifrey for inventing rings that changed with regeneration.

Just as you were about to doze off, your phone rang.

Ignore it.

Can’t.

But SLEEP.

Excellent point, but still can’t.

You groaned scrambling to find where your phone had fallen in the folds of the red down comforter that covered your bed. It jingled insistently with some tune that the Tenth Doctor had customized so many years ago that you didn’t have the heart to change. You finally found it and hit the green accept button with far more aggression than necessary.

“Hello?” you rasped, voice thick with exhaustion and the clinging remnants of your almost-sleep.

“Hey. How’s my darling wife, eh? Sticking with me?”

The Eleventh Doctor’s voice jolted through you, squeezing your chest like a vice. You had done the regeneration thing enough times now that it didn’t really freak you out, not like the first time, but that didn’t mean that you had completely acclimated yourself to losing one part of the Doctor for another. You loved the Doctor, but you also loved Eleven just as Eleven, the same way you did all the other Doctors, even though you simultaneously loved them all as the same person. You hadn’t let yourself miss Eleven in the last five hours, not really, but hearing his voice made it all crash down on you.

“Yeah,” you croaked. Something in your chest cracked painfully.

You glanced down at the wedding ring that adorned your left hand. It glinted in the dim light, just like the Doctor’s.

“Sweetheart, I’m… How is everything?” The Doctor sounded a bit out of breath.

You looked over at the brand new Doctor and smiled faintly. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

“Oh, good. Good. I can feel it… coming. Regeneration. This is gonna be a big one, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, I know.” You carded your fingers through the new Doctor’s salt-and-pepper curls. He shifted, pushing his head into your touch. "It’ll turn out alright, though.“

"How is he- how am I doing?”

“Got a bit of amnesia,” you informed him, trying to keep your tone light. “You’re asleep now.”

“Am I handsome? Got t'be handsome for my beautiful wife.”

You were too tired to giggle, but your body made an admirable effort. “I think you’re handsome.”

“Oi! Bet that means I’m weird-looking.”

“You’ve always been weird-looking, dear,” you said blandly. The Doctor’s wrinkled old hand reached out shakily, searching, and you scooted yourself closer so that he could snake his arm around your middle.

Hey!” Eleven whined childishly.

You smiled. Your eyes watered, stinging. You felt the new Doctor shifting against you, his breaths beginning to come in upset little hiccups. He was waking up.

“Time’s up,” you whispered. You heard the Doctor’s breath hitch on the other end of the line.

“No,” he said, panicking. “No, no, not yet, I need- just another minute, please, I-”

“Can’t,” you said, roughly wiping away your tears with your sleeve. Twelve whimpered, pressing himself against you, clinging, as if he could sense his previous body’s distress. Maybe he could. “Can’t talk forever or we’ll never let go.”

You heard Eleven make a broken sound. “I love you!”

“I love you too.” There were so many things to say but you couldn’t, and everything hurt so badly. Why did it hurt so much, every time? Why did every inch of you ache with loneliness, missing him so desperately, even though you knew he will right next to you. "I’m here. I’m not leaving, I promise, Doctor. I’m here. I’m here.“

There was a sound that ran along the line, a sound you had never heard any living being make before, a sound like a soul crying out-

The TARDIS broke the connection.

You stifled a sob, angrily tossing your phone onto the nightstand next to your side of the bed. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It was supposed to get easier, not… not this.

The Doctor jerked, struggling through a few more breaths that weren’t coming clearly in his new lungs, and then he opened his eyes. You cringed at their paleness, their familiarity even though you had never seen them before. He locked eyes with you, and oh, those eyes. Sad, confused, frightened, blatantly showing off that hurt part of him that hadn’t been there before; that part that came with Eleven’s goodbye. You did your best to smile, pressing your hand against his soft cheek. He leaned into your touch, gaze steady.

"I’m still here, Doctor.”

Cupid’s Downfall

@timepetalsprompts winter fic bingo “Cupid” and “Ice”. Also I sneaked in a questionable response to the “Piercings” prompt.

Pairing: Ten x Rose

A/N: VERY AU! Utopian/Dystopian FIC!? Slight “Matched” (Ally Condie) / “The Giver” (Lois Lowry) Crossover? This idea was inspired by those and many more utopian/dystopian young adult series I read or read about years ago. I don’t know who did it first, they all blur together. I’m sure someone’s already done this in fanfiction too. I apologize if I’m not crediting any of those brilliant authors that might’ve gotten into my head.

*

He is a Time Lord. He does not have hormones, or desires, or any of those base human urges. They call him “Cupid” because of a legend from long ago about a cherub with arrows who wielded the power of love. He has weapons at his disposal and power, but they’re not tangible and it’s not love. On the first day of every year, any human who is twenty-one years of age is paired off with a companion that is genetically compatible. He does the final analyzation of the research, he makes the decisions, he signs off on the pairings, and he oversees the bonding ceremony.

Time Lords have ruled over humanity for over two hundred years; protecting and nurturing them until they can recover from the deadly plague that wiped out ninety percent of Earth’s population. The human race on Earth would’ve gone extinct if it hadn’t been for the Time Lords who took over in the midst of chaos. After two centuries, the human race has grown exponentially and into a people who are no longer shell-shocked, weak or afraid. And he’s noticed.

He’s taken an interest in them that goes well beyond their DNA. It’s abnormal and abhorrent for a Time Lord, but when he regenerates for the tenth time, something goes very wrong. He’s one of the most intelligent beings in the universe, and yet suddenly he finds himself distracted; obsessively studying and seeing these stupid apes in a very different light.

The humans are getting restless. They now outnumber their rulers and claim that they deserve the right to make their own decisions. Time Lords are not ruthlessly cruel tyrants, but they’re superior in every way. Those “unjust” laws are meant to save humans, and the Time Lords will stubbornly enforce them until their population goals are met, and humanity’s future is fully secured.

But one day, a Time Lord breaks the rules for one brave pink and yellow human.

And everything changes.

*

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Autistic headcanon for the 11th Doctor.

I’ll use past tense since this is not the Doctor’s current incarnation

The Doctor’s 11th incarnation had a lot of invisible struggles and he treated them as his version of normal.

He learned to live with a near total lack of proprioception, a hyposensitive sense of touch and a whole lot of dyspraxia. Getting his body to obey his brain used a lot of energy. His heightened Gallifreyan reflexes, which were far superior to a human’s, let him over-correct so much that his movements looked like intentionally grandiose exaggerations of a simple gesture rather than a lack of coordination. He turned his dyspraxia into a fine art because it was more fun that way.

This incarnation of the Doctor was a sensory seeker. Wearing the tweed, which created resistance to his movements, gave him a little sense of his body in space. He also liked the weight of it on his shoulders. 

He craved vestibular stimulation often, which he received whenever he did his little happy twirls or while traveling full speed through the time vortex in the TARDIS. Whatever it was, he liked it to go fast! 

Another way he stimmed was to fidget. Anything that kept his fingers, eyes and brain busy became his new favorite stim toy.

He only seemed to be still when he slept. Otherwise, move, move, move! Because if he sat still for too long, he lost track of his body parts due to weak proprioception. He didn’t like that sensation at all.

His trademark bow tie was a comfort object– something he could grab onto and straighten whether he felt nervous or lacking in body awareness. Feeling it hold his collar shut offered a reassurance that yes, his head was still firmly attached to his shoulders.

The Doctor’s hyposensitivity came with a somewhat embarrassing side effect– he didn’t recognize his body’s bathroom signals at all. There was no sense of “hey, I need to pee!” or “I’ve gotta poop!” to prompt him. He would describe it as the organs didn’t exist to his brain, but they existed in his body and they worked on their own schedule. It wasn’t an incontinence issue because he didn’t know he was “holding” anything until his body took care of itself. That was a shower he would rather forget. He resolved it by inventing a vibrating watch that buzzed every few hours as a prompt to go to the bathroom. This was something he never told anyone about, not even River.

In the opposite direction, hunger and thirst could drive him into sensory overload. They were sensations he absolutely could not ignore. A hungry Doctor became a cranky Doctor. Eating was complicated by his being a supertaster. Most flavors were too strong to handle, but there were odd combinations of flavors that worked for him. Fish fingers and custard was his favorite combo, and one of few safe things that didn’t make him want to wash his mouth out right away.

The Doctor couldn’t make much sense of socially appropriate behavior. Facial expressions weren’t difficult for him to figure out, but he often got lost when people used turns of phrase he wasn’t familiar with. Sometimes he interpreted them too literally, though once he learned the difference he remembered next time.

His thinking patterns were extremely convoluted, yet simple at the same time. One idea was a single gear spinning, and a plan was that gear making others spin. Sometimes the gears didn’t spin in the right order and it took awhile to get all the gears turning to arrive at a conclusion. One could tell when he found it because he sprang immediately into action and it became a game of “keep up or be left in the dust.”

Speech was something else he worked hard for. His brain could generate single ideas at lightning speed, but stringing them together took time. Sometimes he moved his hands around as if grabbing words out of the air to keep up with his brain while verbally expressing a thought. Nobody knew he used 100% concentration to articulate every syllable, even when he spoke at a pace that made people wonder when he would take the next breath.

People said he came across extremely immature, and they would be right. All the pain and anguish of his previous incarnations were too hard for him to process at once, so he buried them under silliness, curiosity and the occasional indifference. He forcibly filtered all of his feelings as simply as possible because the rage he carried inside was too overwhelming. Just thinking of it too long caused shutdowns.

Nonverbal shutdowns were difficult for the Doctor to deal with. Much of his personality was wrapped around his ability to weave elaborate words and during a shutdown he couldn’t utter a sound. He tended to go off alone because he didn’t like people who knew him well seeing him as anything other than happy. He didn’t want anyone peeking through the cracks he worked so hard to calk over with a smile and playfulness.

The Doctor didn’t shy away from being autistic, but he liked to be in control when it came to how much he let it show.

The Substitute

Written for @timepetalsprompts this was written for the Eight/Rose prompt.  It’s a hurt/comfort fic that also has Nine involved.  Enjoy!

Eight x Rose (and Nine)

Hurt/Comfort

Word Count:  2308


The Substitute

Something had gone wrong. Rose staggered to a back alley, holding her side as she lurched along.  The female Wryntee had only been afraid.  She was trying to help her, to make her understand that the Doctor could help her get back to her planet.  Whether she didn’t comprehend or just didn’t trust Rose was unclear.  Almost in slow motion, the small grey-green alien extended her retractable claws and lashed out, slicing through Rose’s clothing and cutting through the soft flesh on her side.  

The alien, upon seeing Rose bleeding heavily, made a soft whining, groaning noise and ran the other direction, leaving Rose clutching her side, watching the crimson stain grow as it seeped through her clothing.  She let out a panicked whimper and started for the ship, desperately hoping the Doctor was already there.

How far away was it? She couldn’t remember and turned a corner, looking down the alleyway.  It couldn’t be this close, could it?  Her fingers were slick with the warm wetness of her own blood.  She wouldn’t be able to walk for much longer. Placing her hand against the side of a building for support, she turned another corner and there, at the end of the alley, it shone like a beacon.  The TARDIS stood alone, soft light coming from the sign on the roof.  Her vision started to grow dark in the corners, but she pressed on, dragging herself to the entrance.  She pulled out her key and slipped it into the lock.  

The door swung open and instantly, she knew something was very, very wrong.  Gone were the coral struts and metal grating.  Instead, an elegant study took up most of the space. The console sat off to the side, almost as if it were an afterthought and not the primary function of the room.

This wasn’t right at all. She moaned softly and tried to turn around to leave but everything was going dim around the edges.  The last thing she saw before collapsing was a startled man with wavy brown hair wearing a velvet jacket.  

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anonymous asked:

Hi, do you know of any good angst doctor/rose fics? I'm okay with character death :)

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hammyhammy24  asked:

Hi!! Can I have one where the 11th doctor has been bash fully in love with the reader (his companion) and one day she is on the verge of death. She falls unconscious and he confesses his love. Then she wakes up and knows that she loves him just as much :D BTW YOURE BRILLIANT xx

Awwwww, thanks. >///< I’m glad you think so. :3 Dang, I made this one really long. I hope you enjoy! :D

                                                  ~~~*~~~

“We’re almost there, Y/N!” The Doctor looked back to see if you were okay. You keep holding his hand no matter what and continue running though your legs felt they were on fire. The Doctor and you were running—as usual—from a crowd of soldiers that were out for your heads. The two of you had exploited some gruesome secrets that were detrimental to their reputation and were just trying to get back safely to the TARDIS.

You had thoroughly enjoyed your adventures with the Doctor. Ever since he swept you away from your normal life on Earth you’d yearn the adventures the Doctor took you on. You’d had your fair share of close calls, but nevertheless they were all memories you’d always keep. You’d also grown quite fond of the Doctor. Seeing that the two of you had been traveling together for awhile now, it was no surprise the two of you had shared a close bond.

Often times the Doctor would comfort you whenever you had close calls or something scared you senseless. He’d also hold your hand when guiding you around strange new cities and planets, acting as tour guide and tell you everything about anything. You’d hoped it would never end.

Then everything went wrong.

Right as you got sights of the exit, everything seemed to slow down. A loud explosion came from your right and you turned you head to see the wall that was once there crumbling apart. Debris was flying your way and you cried out “Doctor!” as your hand slipped from his, getting farther and farther away from him.

By the time he turned, it was too late. The explosion launched you towards the opposite wall and hurled the Doctor a few feet in the direction he was running. He struggled to get to his feet and half-walked half-crawled to the debris you were buried under.

Your head was pounding and was hurting beyond belief. You felt a thick liquid trickle down past your ear and knew that you were bleeding. When you shifted not even an inch, a sharp pain shot in your sides and on your whole right side from the neck to your fingertips. Whenever you tried to breathe, only dust was inhaled and you could feel it practically coat your lungs. Every time you inhaled, you coughed erratically and then felt the pain rush back to you.

You heard something disturbing the debris, but only barely. You finally opened your eyes and a light was starting to sneak its way into your trash-coffin.

“Y/N!" A voice called out, but it was very muffled, almost completely mute.

"Can you hear me?" You blinked and noticed all the debris was cleared from your face. The Doctor was hurtling pieces of wood and other materials everywhere away from you, trying to dig you out. "Y/N!” You looked over to your right, and was practically heartbroken by the Doctor’s face. “I’m going to get you out of here." He slipped his arm in the crooks of your knees and then around your back, getting ready to pick you up. When he barely moved you, you screamed. Your whole body felt it was on fire and shattered into a million pieces. "I’m sorry, Y/N! But I have to get you out of here!" He lifted you from the ground and you tried your hardest not to scream.

"We’re almost there!" Was the last three words you heard before your head laid limply over the Doctor’s arm and your vision blacked out…

                                                     ~*~

In your dreams—well, you hoped they were dreams—you kept hearing the Doctor’s voice. Over and over, all he said was:

          “I’ll save you, Y/N! You can’t die! I won’t allow it!”

Once you woke up, you looked down and realized you were in a hospital bed with white sheets, a white blanket, and a white gown. You lifted up your hand and was horrified at what came with it. Your whole right arm was wrinkled and charred. You knew it was severely burned. It didn’t hurt, though. Was it supposed to?

That’s when you noticed the Doctor sitting in a chair that was pulled up beside your bed with his head in his hands. By the wet spots on his pants, it looked like he’d been crying. “Doctor!” You greeted cheerfully, but he didn’t look up. “Doctor?” You tried again, and received the same result. "DOCTOR!" You screamed as loud as you could, but couldn’t muster a single acknowledgment out of him. “Doctor, why aren’t you listening?” You felt that you yourself were going to cry.

When you looked back forward, you noticed something… different. It wasn’t anything you could see, it was just something in your gut that was tugging at you. Your feet wanted to touch the floors, but you knew that wasn’t going to happen; you were in a hospital bed for a reason.

Then you reached for the remote that would move the bed. Your hand moved right through it. A sound of utter surprise escaped your lips. You hand just went through the remote. You tried again, hoping it was your stress playing mind games, but to no avail. Frustrated, you tried millions of times, only to have your hand slip through every time.

Am I… dead? You think this was the only explanation. The Doctor was crying, not looking at you, and your hand passed through that stupid remote like a ghost. I’m dead! You throw your hands in the air and sigh. As you did so, you noticed that your arms still lay on the bed. Maybe I can— You could. You stood up, and then saw your own body laying still on the sheets of white, with tubes coming from your mouth and arms.

You were breathing—So I’m not dead?—and your vitals were stable. Something about this whole scene horrified you, nevertheless; and it had something to do with the charred skin on your arm. Some of the (h/c) hair on your right side was singed off, and even some of the side of your face was slightly burnt, not as much as your arm, though. You looked horrible.

There was movement in the corner of your eye, and you turned. The Doctor’s hands rested on his knees, and he sat forward. The tears had dried from his face, but his eyes were still slightly red. “Oh, Doctor…” You shook your head, and stood by him. Though you were convinced that he couldn’t feel your presence, but you placed your hand on his shoulder anyways.

"Y/N…” He muttered weakly. “I-I don’t know what to say. ‘Sorry’ can’t make up for what I’ve done right now, but it’s the only thing I can do right now.” He paused as if he were letting it sink in. “You’re probably thinking: ‘Can’t you just travel to when I recover?’ You’re right; I could—but I’d be abandoning you, not doing my job of protecting you.” His fists clenched on the fabric of his pants. “I’d never do that because— Because—” His knuckles were white-tight, and you squeezed his shoulder.

“Go on…" His grip loosened and you wondered if he heard you.

"Because I love you, Y/N.” He reached for your blackened right hand. If you had a heart in this “spirit form,” you were sure that it’d be jumping right now. “I-I really do. I know deep inside I’m not supposed to—you’ll grow old, and I’ll just have to live past you, it’s the old Time Lord Curse. Despite that, I still love you, I won’t deny that. I wish I could tell this to your face." 

Well… You think with a grin.

"Ever since you joined me in the TARDIS, I’ve always admired your thirst for adventure, your curiosity, and your companionship. It’s helped me realize what a wonderful woman you are, and you deserve someone you can live and die with. If I can’t have your love, then your friendship is the closest I can have. I won’t treat you differently once you come back, Y/N, don’t worry. I just want to make sure you’re always safe and happy, like I always have…”

With that the Doctor let go of your hand and sat back, staring at your peaceful looking face, then rested his head in his hand that was propped up on the arm of the chair. You stayed standing next to him, processing all he had just confessed, and smiled. You knew what you were going to do when you woke up.

Over the next couple days, you wandered out of your room and around the hospital. You noticed that it was different from hospitals you’d been to before. In fact, you could say it was more advanced than the one’s you’d been before. The hospital beds weren’t attached to the ground, they were floating, something you failed to notice back in your own room. Also, you revisited rooms after one day or so and there were new patients that replaced some of the old ones.

Once you returned to your own body, a wonderful sight met you; your arm was healed. Well, you could still tell it was burned, but the charring was gone, the skin was smoother, and it looked like you got a minor burn. There must have been some sort of procedure or something that caused your arm to heal like this. This hospital must’ve been in the future. The Doctor took you here instead of any old hospital so you could heal almost fully.

Suddenly, you felt a tug at your gut, and looked over at your body. Your arm was ever so slightly moving. Catching the hint, you hop up on the bed and lay in the same position as your real body and close your eyes with a smile.

                                                     ~*~

When your eyes shot open, you felt that you were in your real body and gasped at the tube in your mouth. “Y/N!” The Doctor exclaimed and called for a real doctor to come and help.

Soon the tubes were all out and you were finally able to move. The Doctor stood by your bed and smiled. Before he could get a word out, you pull him by the collar of his jacket and plant a kiss on his lips. After you two separate you smile widely and the first words to come out of your mouth are: “I love you too, Doctor.”

It should go without saying, but don’t repost. Just reblog it. I’d be very disappointed and mad that my work was uncredited.

side effects of domestic bliss

Originally posted by arthursowl

A mirror, a bedroom, and a conversation about beauty; the metacrisis Doctor and Rose have a little chat before a trip in the new TARDIS. Fluff. Rated a light teen. 

For anyone else who ever struggles with insecurity re: a spot of weight gain: this l’il guy’s for us. <3

***

Rose heaves a heavy sigh, examining her reflection from first this angle, then that. Turning to the side and then back to the front again, for good measure. The image doesn’t change, of course; the mirror still shows her exactly the same thing it did before, first and foremost her body, clad in naught but a tee shirt and pants, and behind her, the rest of the bedroom, rumpled bed and fresh coral walls and two sets of clothes strewn about the floor. But their bedroom isn’t the problem.

Maybe the mirror’s warped?

She tilts her head. Nope, mirror’s not warped. It’s all her.

The sight of the Doctor approaching from behind does not deter Rose, nor does his body brushing hers. He bumps past Rose on his way to the wardrobe without so much as a how-do-you-do.

“Am I in your way?” she grumbles.

“Only in the literal sense,” he says cheerfully.

Pulling a face, Rose steps away while he looks over all of his ties, ultimately settling on a little maroon number (which is in no way a special detail, considering that most of his ties are some shade of maroon or burgundy or red-brown and really why does he need so many neckties anyway?). She resumes her position as soon as he’s done, re-planting herself with a grump.

“Are you expecting it to change?” the Doctor asks from behind her.

“Huh?”

“The mirror,” the Doctor says. Rose shifts her gaze from her reflection to his, finds him sitting on the bed while he buttons up his shirt. “You keep staring at it. Are you expecting it to do something different?”

“No,” she says, and she knows she sounds petulant and she doesn’t care.

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Subject(s): Rose Tyler x Tenth Doctor (duplicate).

Words: ~2000

Notes: A little thing for Rose/Tentoo month. The start of their life together.

For the first time, Rose realises how damn inconvenient Norway is.

Her heart aches just being back. She’d fallen apart here only a few years earlier, clutching the sand, her mum’s cardigan, nails digging into her own palms – anything to provide her with a purchase and ease the dizzying sensation overtaking her whole body. It hadn’t helped, any of it – she’d been lightheaded and dazed as Pete and Mickey wrapped her up and drove her away. But at least she could barely remember the journey back.

On a more practical level, last time was easier. More painful, infinitely more painful, but they’d had Pete’s car, old and rattling but familiar. Now they’re stuck on a beach, the tide slowly washing in, and all they can do is wait for Pete’s phone to find them a taxi. It’s forty minutes before it arrives, forty minutes Rose spends craning her neck back to look at the spot where the TARDIS disappeared, but then she’s bundled into the back seat between her mum and …him, and Bad Wolf Bay disappears with a strange sense of finality.

Because she doesn’t know who he is, not really. He looks like the Doctor. His hand, clasped in hers, feels like the Doctor’s. His voice, whispering those words, finally those words, sounded like the Doctor’s.

But he’d left. Without a word or a glance, he’d left her, disappearing into thin air, into another universe.

And yet here he is. Next to her.

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5

Doctor Who: TARDIS [ENFJ]

Fe: TARDIS is so interconnected with the Doctor’s emotions that she can foresee his reactions before they happen. Her primary concern isn’t his own happiness so much as his usefulness to the world at large (“You never take me where I want to go!” “No, but I take you where you need to go!”). She anticipates his actions and emotional needs before he does, as well as struggles to articulate her own emotions (“Oh, what is that word? It’s so sad!”). She puts aside her own well-being to ensure that he survives. When she looks upon the junkyard, she sees “the bodies of my sisters,” but also understands what the Doctor sees (parts to make a new TARDIS).

Ni: She instinctively knows where they need to go and what will happen there. TARDIS can even predict statements people will make and questions they will ask. She provides Amy and Rory with information hours before they need it. She saw potential in the Doctor, knew he would have the ingenuity and spirit to steal her, and left her door unlocked so they could…

Se: … go off on an adventure. TARDIS believes she “stole” the Doctor! She can make split second decisions and get herself out of any mess. Her adventurous nature led her to abandon the known for the unknown, to take off on a wild, reckless adventure with the Time Lord she loves.

Ti: Her curiosity leads her to ask lots of questions and to want to explore knowledge for its own sake. TARDIS routinely analyzes the Doctor to better provide him with what he needs. She likes to understand how things work and is curious about her temporary human body.

Back to Home Again

This is a collaboration between myself and the ever-wonderful @dimensionhoppingrose. This was my first collaborative fic, and I’m so glad it could be with Sam! This fic came from this post Sam made earlier this week.

Tentoo x Rose, ~5800 words

Upon being left together on Bad Wolf Bay, the Doctor and Rose struggle to reconcile the reality of their new lives, as well as what it could mean for their relationship. Telepathic Bond UA.

AO3

“He’s not you.”

Oh, if that wasn’t a knife through the Metacrisis’ single heart. He tried very hard not to give any outward sign that what Rose had said had cut him so deeply.

“He needs you,” the Time Lord said quietly. “That’s very me.”

A single tear rolled down Rose’s cheek as she whipped around to look at the blue-suited Doctor, who was watching her with his heart almost literally on his sleeve, holding his breath as he waited for Rose to pass judgment. “Prove it,” she demanded, and he let out his breath in long swoosh of air.

“Prove it?”

“Prove you’re him. Go on.”

Prove I’m him? the Doctor thought desperately. How was he supposed to do that? Was it like when he’d first regenerated? Did she want to hear a story of an adventure they’d had together. Oh, he could recount so many, it was one of the benefits of a Time Lord memory. But it had also been a curse, recalling every single second he’d shared with Rose after having lost her had been torturous.

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Eros

A Ten x Rose one-shot inspired by part of the Greek myth of Eros and Psyche. “I close my eyes, then I drift away, into the magic night I softly say. A silent prayer, like dreamers do, then I fall asleep to dream my dreams of you”

The first time she notices him is the night after he regenerates. Well it’s not the exact night afterwards, seeing as he was unconscious for that period. But it feels like the night after.

After he changed. New face, new voice, new clothes, new everything.

But still the Doctor.

“Goodnight, Doctor.”

“Goodnight, Rose Tyler.”

She’s just gone back to the TARDIS, her home, and slips into bed. She tries to sleep–she’s exhausted, the Sycorax invasion and all the new changes taking a toll on her–but her mind just wanders.

She keeps thinking about him, old him. He… died.

No, no he didn’t. The Doctor was still alive, still here, with the same thoughts, memories.

But he’s still different.

Her Doctor, with his big ears, sassy nature, and full of so many secrets. He’s…

Gone.

She thinks she just imagines it first. Hearing her door open softly and then the feeling that someone was there.

Just thinks it’s her nerves acting up.

She doesn’t sleep well that night.

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Two Weeks In Norway {1/1}

Pairing: TenToo/Rose Tyler
Wordcount: 4842
Rating: Gen
Summary: Was this what human life was going to be? Pneumonia in a tiny hotel room, with Rose Tyler and her mother, stranded in a storm? Post-JE on a beach fic. You know the one.

THE UNIVERSE was greeting the Oncoming Storm with a howling maelstrom of it’s own, whipping sand and sea spray and cold wind across their backs and into Rose’s face.

They’d been trailing behind Jackie, who had spent nearly half an hour dialing and redialing the same number, trying to reach her husband. Rose gritted her teeth, ducking her head against the rain. She couldn’t see very well and it had become a task of effort to keep putting one foot in front of the other. The Doctor’s hand was clamped around her own, his grip solid and sure. Now and then he squeezed her fingers, as though testing to make sure she was still there.

“This is getting worse by the minute,” he said, speaking right into her ear to be heard over the storm.

She’d dreamed of that voice and was disconcerted to hear it now, as real as ever.

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Episode Review S8E01: Deep Breath - "I'm not your boyfriend."

Title: “Deep Breath”

Written by: Steven Moffat

Season: reboot Season 8

Episode: 1

Feminist grade: B

Overall grade: B+

“Everybody take five.”

Make no mistake, ladies, gentlemen, and variations thereupon, this new era of Doctor Who is being carried solidly on the shoulders of Peter Capaldi. Attack eyebrows or no attack eyebrows, the man can play complexity. It isn’t easy to simultaneously show intelligence and befuddlement, as this episode demands, but he has done it.

Warning: like all my reviews, here be spoilers!

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Buried Alive-TRIGGER WARNING- [Closed RP with @azalea-in-time]

The Doctor wasn’t expecting Azalea back in the TARDIS for a while.  He had left her in a shopping centre on New Earth because they’d been on a lot of stressful adventures as of late and he knew it would do her some good to just let loose and buy some clothes and goodies and whatever else she could come up with in exchange for an infinite credit stick.

Suddenly the mobile he had been accustomed to carrying went off and the Doctor answered.  It was a video message of Az…but she was tied up and in some sort of confined space.  No.  It couldn’t be.

Oh, Doctor, you should see how much she struggled…it was wonderful a distinctly female voice said in the background.  Whoever it was was holding the cameraphone.  I suggest that you start looking for your sweetheart, Doctor.  I’m afraid it doesn’t take long to cover a body with dirt.

The Doctor went pale and ran out the door, scanning wildly with his sonic.  Where was she?

dwsecretsanta present for dirty-hugo: DW AU where the Tenth Doctor is the first that Rose meets, and when he regenerates, he regenerates into some leather clad, Northern bloke…

Merry Christmas! I hope you have a good holiday :)

“Doctor!”

The scream pierced the Doctor’s ears and the pain it caused rivalled the slice he had just received across his chest. The Dalek, he assumed, had been destroyed as there was no second laser beam, and instead the Doctor felt small, shaking arms slip around his shoulders and hold him upright.

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