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#tenth prompt!
pearlypairings · 3 months
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I would love to see the 'being surprised with flowers' prompt for the birthday fic challenge! also happy birthday to you! I can't believe you are using your birthday to write gifts for us!? 💐 incredible 🩷
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clarke x kelley (extra-e club) || fluff, romantic, sweet || 351 words
A/N: ahhh anon!! thank you for this prompt! I took this opportunity to write about a lil rarepair that I've been crushing on the idea of for while. This is a lovely little snippet into how cute they could be together <3
yesterday's prompt
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Her office was a controlled mess—one of the secretaries called her desk “the forest fire that park rangers were still putting out.”
Whether habit or neuroticism, Wanda Kelley always left a workspace unkempt to the untrained eye, but she knew Stacy Harewood’s fourth visit note was in the middle stack exactly five folders down. It was not a pretty system, but it was her system, and it worked well despite its appearance. So unlocking her office, already tabulating her time for notes in between morning sessions and during lunch with her colleagues, she missed the new addition to her desk completely. It wasn’t until she unhooked her purse from her shoulder and tried to place it in its singular tidy corner that she realized something else filled that space entirely. A big, beautiful bouquet of golden daisies stuck out amongst the stacks of dreary paperwork, cluttered coffee mugs, and the sporadic lines of pens. The blooms were a lively yellow, full of life and without a sign of any wilting. In the center, the gift-giver had tucked a note amidst the blooms. Wanda sighed happily, picking up the note to read it and holding the bouquet to her chest. In dark, thick-lined cursive, it read: I finally found a bouquet as joyful as you. Thankful to see you shine bright for another year (you’re putting solar flares to shame). Happy birthday Wandapalooza, All my love, Scott What a lovable nerd, she mused to herself, breathing in the fresh, earthy scent of the flowers. She still wasn’t used to how sneakily sweet he was with these little surprises, and she hoped she’d never take them for granted in the future.  The day’s little stresses seemed to melt into the background as she took a moment to look forward to their planned dinner date to celebrate her birthday after work. Scott always made her feel special and that was something she wanted to make sure she remembered to toast to later. "Cheers to another year wiser and one more year in love with the best man in Hawkins," she’d say with sincerity in her heart as they clinked glasses.
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aq2003 · 4 months
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day 6 of doctordonna week: help/friends
he's doing so good you guys (x)
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denaliwrites · 5 months
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Dreams See Us Through
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Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader
Part 1: Don't Blink Part 2: Don't Turn Your Back Part 3: Don't Look Away
Catch and Release Prompt: "Solo"
Summary: Without the Doctor by your side, it's up to you to save yourself.
Soundtrack: If We Hold On Together by Diana Ross
Requests: Open!
Tag List: @nyxiethesimp, @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce -- If I could tag literally everyone who asked for a part 4, I would.
Warnings: Canon-Typical Peril.
"Doctor," the tinny voice of Jack Harkness piped up from the TARDIS intercom, sounding winded, "I found something I think you're gonna want to see."
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
When you opened your eyes, the Doctor was gone. In his place, a seemingly infinite field of flowers sprawled before you, with the sun shining brightly overhead. At first, you thought maybe you'd died and gone to Heaven, but as you looked around you saw that, to your right, nestled among some rolling hills, sat a pretty average-looking castle. You would've thought that, were this Heaven, the castle would've been grand and made of gold or something.
And, as you made your way through the meadow, you realized you recognized the flowers you brushed past.
So the angel hadn't killed you. And not only had it instead displaced you in time, it had also displaced you in space.
You were back on Earth.
Your next step was to find out when and where you were. Based on the castle overhead, your guess for location was a very broad "somewhere in Europe." That didn't help you much -- you needed more exact details.
You needed coordinates and a date.
You paused to look around, realizing that you never bothered to look behind you. Unfortunately, it didn't help much -- the castle was still your best bet for civilization. And from this distance, you couldn't tell what state it was in. If it was brand new or hundreds of years old.
Only time -- and a very long trek -- would tell.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
"Doctor," Jack greeted as the Time Lord swept into the room. His arms were held open as if for a hug.
The Doctor ignored the gesture and opted to instead stare at Jack from a distance, arms crossed over his chest. "Why am I here, Jack?" he asked, already tired of the man's antics.
"To look at this," Jack answered with an easy grin as he whipped out something from his coat pocket.
The Doctor stared at it in confusion.
"You called me all the way here for an Agatha Christie novel?"
"Really, Doctor. You think I'd resort to making up excuses to get you to come see me? Look at the cover," Jack told him, throwing the book over.
The Doctor caught it easily and did as Jack had told him. Up close, he could see the details and read the finer print. And a realization struck him.
"What's a hundred-year-old Vipiteran edition of the Mysterious Affair at Styles doing in a dingy apartment in 2008 London?" Jack asked aloud the question that had been forming in the Doctor's mind.
He didn't have an answer, so he shrugged and began flipping through the pages.
He was near the end when he stopped short, staring at something wedged between the pages. The Doctor pulled it out, staring dumbfoundedly at the old photograph he held between his fingers.
"Doctor, look at the back."
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
The biggest problem was avoiding the creation of a paradox -- difficult, but not impossible.
Luckily, you'd found a town on the other side of the castle, and with it your date and location. May 16, 1922 in Tureborg, Sweden. That definitely made things easier, though there was still the challenge of getting the Doctor's attention without creating a paradox. Or... at least, not a world-ending one. Hopefully.
You unfortunately had very little on you -- really, only the book you'd bought on Vipitera that you'd kept on you in case you found time to read (so much for that), and a credits chip that was virtually useless now.
You also couldn't speak Swedish. That was a bit of a problem.
You were there only a few days when your problems seemed to resolve themselves. An English artist had stumbled upon the town on his way through the country and had stopped to take in the sights and paint a pretty picture.
More importantly, though, he had a camera with him, and that was enough to spark an idea in your mind.
Befriending the artist was easy -- he was desperate for the companionship of someone who could understand him and you were desperate to get back to the Doctor.
You used each other, as God intended.
Fast friends that you were, it wasn't long before the artist offered to take your picture, and it was an offer you couldn't refuse. In fact, it was an offer you'd been banking on.
And that was how you got a Vipiteran copy of the Mysterious Affair at Styles, with a picture of you tucked into the back and a date a few days into the future and current coordinates scrawled on the back, to London.
Now all you could do was wait, and hope.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
The Doctor decided, as he set the TARDIS on course for the day and location you'd written on the back of that photograph, that the moment he saw you, he was going to tell you he loved you.
He was lucky, ultimately, that you'd found a way to leave breadcrumbs that were too small to upset the delicate balance of reality -- yet noticeable enough for him to pick up the trail.
He was lucky that you were smart, and bold, and courageous, and determined as hell. He was lucky that you wouldn't take death lying down. That you'd find some way to make it back to him.
He was lucky, he realized as he threw the switch that'd send him back to you, that you loved him enough to fight to get back to him.
--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---
Right on time, the sound of the TARDIS materializing filled the air. You moved to stand, waiting with bated breath and vibrating nerves as the blue box faded into view, and only a moment later the Doctor came bounding out, eyes scanning the scene for you.
He barely had a second to process the you-shaped missile heading his way before you were on him, arms thrown around his neck and holding on so tightly that he had to remind you that he needed to breathe.
"Shut up," you murmured into his neck, even as your arms loosened, "and fucking hug me back."
He obeyed without hesitation, his lips pressing to the top of your head as he pulled you tighter against him.
"I thought I lost you," he said into your hair. "I love you -- I promise I will never let anything happen to you again."
You believed him.
This experience had been enough to scare you both into being more careful. And even so, it wasn't over.
You pulled away from the Doctor, staring up at him with a determined gaze.
"Take me home. There's a Weeping Angel I need to take care of."
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ardentstars · 10 months
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TENROSE MONTH.
Day 1: First dates.
Traveling with you. I love it. Me too.
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kcchameleon17 · 2 months
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The Case of the Missing Coat - DoctorRose Bingo
Prompt: "Take My Jacket"
“I’m heading back to the flat. Joining me?” Rose asked. He could hear her voice grow closer as she spoke. Moving his chin toward his chest to take a peek, he could see her sneaker-clad feet standing close to his outstretched legs from where he worked under the console.  
“Mm, no. The old girl’s still showing-”  
“Yes, yes, save the technical talk. I know an excuse when I hear one,” she said, backing away from him and the console with an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll see ya in a bit, then. Unless you decide to grace Mum and me with your presence earlier than that.”  
“I’ll be by at some point. Someone’s gotta pry you from Jackie’s grip or we’d never leave twenty-first London again,” he replied, listening as she moved toward the door. “Take a jacket,” he muttered, remembering the snow drizzling outside—real, honest snow for once.  
“Now you sound like Mum,” she taunted. Stilling the sound of her steps for a second to presumably, hopefully, pick up one of her coats or sweaters she’d left tossed over a coral at one point or another recently.  
“You doing it?” he asked, cringing as he realized he was only further feeding the comparison. But he really didn’t want her to catch a cold.  
“Yes, snug as could be now,” she answered. “Bye.” And with a squeak of the door hinges she was gone.  
He resumed his tinkering and tried to get lost in the activity. But it wasn’t too long after that that he found his right leg start to shift about in impatience. He was becoming bored, painfully so. But it was more than that. There was a stillness in the Tardis without the soft sounds that come with having another person around. The comfort that was the faint smell of Rose’s perfume as she passed by him on her way to make tea or model a new outfit she’d discovered in the wardrobe was missing. He was itching to get up and head straight to the flat. He’d put up with any nagging or questions from Jackie just to keep close to Rose.  
He really should try to fight it. Create a little distance between them. He was a proper addict. A Rose Tyler addict. He never knew what to do with himself if she wasn’t with him. It had been getting bad before the regeneration, but now it was on a whole new level. Which wasn’t exactly surprising— he’d regenerated to save her and had been reformed with her as the first thing on his mind.  
Sighing, he slid out from his spot and stood up. Although he should be resisting, working to build up a tolerance to his inability to be without the presence of Rose for more than a few minutes, he wasn’t about to start that daunting journey today. Plus Jackie was probably making tea.  
He was almost out the door when the cold air hit him, making him remember his worrying over Rose. Turning to the side, he grabbed for his coat but found himself palming an empty coral. He always kept it right there by the door. He turned back towards the rest of the console room, still not seeing it.  
He tried to remember the last time he had had it on. They hadn’t left the Tardis much in the last few days. It hadn’t been long since Mickey had chosen to stay in that parallel world and Rose had found that she needed a bit of downtime to process that. They’d been back in London quite often recently, mostly because of that. Rose had felt even more guilty about telling Jackie about Mickey. She’d leaned on Mickey the last year more than Rose herself ever had.   
He’d tried his best to make her understand that it was Mickey who had decided to stay. But Rose still blamed herself for making him feel like there was nothing left for him here. That he’d be better off in a whole other universe than stay in the same one with her in it.  
The Doctor felt just as responsible on that front. Although he didn’t believe that Rose was responsible for Mickey or owed it to him to hang around London, he knew that he’d somewhat taken Mickey’s place in Rose’s life. Not that he could find it anywhere in himself to regret doing so.  
Coming back to the matter at hand, he thought back through their recent trips. The last place they had been was a beach. Not exactly a coat-wearing day.  
He found himself wandering through the rooms he visited on a frequent basis: the kitchen, galley, the library, his room, and Rose’s. He peeked into the wardrobe room and couldn’t spot it on any of the levels. Ultimately, he wrapped himself in his long-forgotten favorite— that chunky, colorful scarf he once wouldn’t have been caught dead without. Now he hated to be seen in it. He might have still been the same man, but fashion sense varied drastically throughout regenerations.  
Making his way back through the Tardis and back to the door, he made quick work of locking the door and shuffling quickly to Rose’s building. Once inside the main doors, he was ready for that nice hot cup of tea more than ever.  
When he arrived at the flat, he made quick work of rapping on the wooden door. He was close to peeking in the cat door when the door finally opened. Then he was face to face with Jackie.  
“Accessorizing for once in your life, I see,” she snorted, stepping aside to let him come in.  
“Have a laugh. I wouldn’t be wearing this if my coat, a gift from the Janis Joplin hadn’t mysteriously disappeared,” he huffed. “Please tell me you’ve made tea?”  
“Fresh pot in the kitchen,” she answered, a smirk on her lips as she watched him shiver. “Didn’t have a single other coat in that big box of yours?”  
“None that go with this outfit,” he deadpanned.  
“You really shouldn’t be running around like that, as skinny as you are. You’ll get sick,” he heard her continue as he made his way through the doorway.  
He just hadn’t wanted to take any more time to find one for the short trek. He missed Rose. Who he hoped was in the kitchen he was heading toward to pour himself a cuppa.  
He found that she was. And so was his missing coat. Rose was sitting in front of the table, nursing a cup of her own and typing on her mobile. “Mum, Shareen might run over a mo to show me her-” she stopped as she realized she wasn’t talking to Jackie. She gave him a smile, tugging his coat closer around her as she did so, unconsciously. She looked so cozy buried in his coat. In one of his favorite articles of clothing.  
“Sooner than I expected you to give in,” she smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Lost without me.”  
“You're in my coat,” he found himself stupidly stating.  
“Yes, I am,” she grinned. Then she looked him over. He was glad he’d abandoned the scarf on the hook by the door. “You look cold.”  
“Well, someone did steal my coat,” he pointed out.  
“I did not! You told me to take it! You went on and on. ‘Take my jacket, Rose. It’s so cold out there.’ ” she mimicked.  
“I told you to take a jacket, not my jacket. And that-that,” he pointed toward her, “Is not a jacket. That is a coat!”  
“Same thing,” she shrugged as he shook his head fondly. “So do you want it back? Because I’m rather comfy to tell you the truth. Like getting a never-ending hug from you,” she said, huddling deeper into the coat, all while giving him a cheeky grin that made him swallow. She knew how to play him. How to do him in.  
“You don’t play fair,” he said, pointing again as Jackie made her way back into the room.  
“She never has,” she murmured, smiling to herself as she poured the Doctor a cup of the tea he’d forgotten about the second he’d laid eyes on Rose. She seemed to always lead to him losing track of his mind.  
With his new cup of tea, he sat down next to Rose, watching her as she spoke about Shareen and Keisha and then stories from their recent adventures. He watched her walk around the flat in his coat and then watched her drag the back of it through the snow when they eventually made their way back to the Tardis— him shivering in his silly scarf and her toasty in his big brown coat.  
And if he leaned into her just a little more than strictly necessary on the walk back, wrapping an arm around her waist and shoving a hand into one of the pockets, then that was simply to try and stay warm as well.
AO3 account: kcchameleon
AO3 story link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54042067
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bronzeagepizzeria · 7 months
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prompt: "don't worry, i’ll keep you safe." + tenrose. 🩷
thank you for the prompt! here’s 700 words of word vomit, set after the age of steel
send me a prompt + pairing! read on ao3
The Doctor was missing.
If Rose were to be honest with herself, it wasn’t one hundred percent out of the blue. He hadn’t wanted to stay in the first place—but she’d sensed he felt like he had to make something up to her, after everything that’d happened with Mickey, so she’d taken the plunge.
“It’s Mum’s fortieth, next week,” she’d said casually, staring at her feet. “And I was thinking…well—since we’re here, already…”
“You want to stay,” he’d surmised.
His tone was measured too, had been since they’d returned to the prime universe, each word careful and infused with thought. Like one slip would be enough for her to call it quits.
“We could,” she’d said, ignoring that. “It’s bound to make her feel better about the whole thing. Less lonely.” She was, of course, talking not only of Jackie.
The Doctor was tactful enough to not mention this. “We?” he’d repeated instead. “Alright.” He’d rocked back and forth on his heels a little, thinking hard. “It’s just…it’s very domestic, isn’t it? An entire week?”
It’d made her laugh, despite everything, so Rose had dried her eyes, taken his hand in hers and squeezed. “Don’t worry, Doctor,” she’d said lightly. “I’ll keep you safe.”
She hadn't really expected him to stick around the entire week, but he had. He’d made himself scarce, evidently of the belief that she needed some alone time with her mum, but he hadn’t snuck off to the TARDIS —hadn’t complained once about boring, linear life on the slow path.
Which was why she could probably let him get off with this one afternoon to himself—even if it was the day of the party itself he’d chosen to finally tire of her.
He was the Doctor, and he didn’t do domestics, and Rose couldn’t honestly expect him to stick around and chat with old Mrs Evans, could she?
(She could. She did.)
The thing about being a full time companion to an alien from another planet, was that people tended to have questions. People, who were currently milling about her tiny flat now, little slices of pastry clutched in their hands, said questions on their tongues.
“We heard you’ve been travelling. With a man.”
“But where do you go all year? And leaving your poor mum by herself…we hardly see you anymore.”
“And where is this travelling companion?”
And when she’d successfully darted all that, (something she thought was quite laudable, actually), they flipped the script and began serenading her with everything she’d missed out on.
It was dreadful. It was boring. It was hard to pretend like she cared that Mrs Evans had finally had her grandson.
She was completely out of place among these people—a fish out of her bowl, a Rose out of the TARDIS. She realised with a jolt that this was probably what the Doctor felt like all the time. The thought made her feel oddly empty.
Almost as if it was that that’d done it, the Doctor ducked through their doorway, plastic bag in hand, shrugging off his coat. “Hello,” he said, eyes bright. “Haven’t missed too much, have I?”
Silence fell across the flat, everyone’s curiosity piqued at the much awaited arrival of Rose’s mystery man. The Doctor either didn’t notice or he ignored them. Rose wasn’t sure.
He waded through people, smiling and nodding politely, his eyes fixed on Rose. It was the strangest feeling—like someone had set the world back on its axis—and she felt the unease seeping out of her, bit by bit.
“Sorry,” he said once he reached her, squeezing her into a half hug. “Only I just noticed you were out of milk. Thought I’d pop over to the shops.”
“Oh,” she said. So he hadn’t run away. Mickey usually brought over groceries for her mum when she wasn’t home.
The Doctor bit his lip, and she realised she’d said that last bit out loud.
“It’s alright.” She offered him a smile. “Thanks.”
He glanced around, moving to deposit the bag on a nearby shelf, before drawing her head into his chest, arms wrapping around her back. She only hesitated for a second, before melting into him. He wasn’t warm; he never was. But somehow it didn’t matter that she was out of place anymore.
With him, she fit.
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deardiary17 · 4 months
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Does anybody want to prompt me a Victorian/Regency NineRose or TenRose story? I can't promise anything for sure but I'd love to have something to work on. I love historical AUs. The anonymous option in my askbox is on 💌
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freya-remy · 3 months
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"Do you always talk this much?"
"Talking is half the fun, the other half is seeing your reactions."
"Your idea of danger and mine are vastly different."
"Danger, excitement, adventure – they're all just parts of the same fantastic journey."
"Why do I even bother arguing with you?"
"Because deep down, you know life's more fun with a bit of debate."
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pigeonneaux · 2 years
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blorbos from my life
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gingerteaonthetardis · 6 months
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autumnal writing prompt:
fallen leaves but it has to take place inside the TARDIS. any doctor + companion and/or pairing
hiiiii thank you for your prompt and for your patience <3 tbh, i loved this concept and i spent a fair bit of time on the execution, trying to get the vibe close to what i was seeing in my head. not sure if i succeeded. but i hope you enjoy it anyway!
i went with the tenth doctor for this one, set post-runaway bride, reflecting on the loss of rose.
to read on ao3, click here!
-
When the time came, he let the TARDIS guide him there.
He never knew where it had been or would be. He never knew what it would be like either. That was part of the Solarium's charm: it was a place which could only be found when it wasn't sought. Its unpredictability made it what it was.
And it had been a night for unpredictability. But he'd delivered the bride safely home. Snow still sugared the shoulders of his suit when the halls began changing.
"I'm not ready," he felt himself say. The words echoed hollowly ahead of him, down funny sharp turns and looping passages. He was raw and exposed and though he was very alone, he didn't feel alone—he felt stifled by memories, ghosts crowding the edges of his vision.
He needed time. He needed more of it, reams of it, an endless fountain of it. He needed all the time there was, and more—because that's what it would take.
But he followed the lights anyway. What else could he do?
Down corridors and stairwells, he let the ship lead him. Up a spiral staircase. Behind a false wall. The TARDIS was rarely consistent, but she was kind: she let him take the long way 'round.
When the arched doorway finally presented itself, the weak light was already filtering out through the cracks. Dry, brown leaves skittered and hushed as he put his palm to the creaky wooden door and pushed.
Autumn.
Inside the Solarium, it was autumn.
Outside, too. The atmosphere beyond the high, domed glass and iron lattice work appeared blue—a pale, eggshell blue, verging on grey. Clouds melded seamlessly with sky. The chill of it was almost a visible thing.
Within the Solarium, everything was in its proper place: the sundial, made now of stone, though in the past it had been many things—wood, then ceramic, then glass, then gleaming quartz; the pond where nothing lived and nothing grew, but the water itself danced. The ivy still crept perpetually up the lattices.
And in the center of the room, the tree still stood.
The tree in the Solarium belonged to no particular genus, had no particular name, though he'd searched the TARDIS library to find one. The bark of its massive trunk was smooth and unobtrusive, marred only by the occasional scar of some long distant, unknown trauma. It never fruited, though he'd seen it in every season. Its leaves often changed shape or grew irregularly, patchy and strange.
And at present, it was an explosion of colour.
The Doctor said nothing.
Gold, gold. So many golden leaves hung from those broad branches. Shades varied from the palest sunrise to a hue so rich and dark as to be nearly orange. In some spots, clusters of browning, dead leaves hung, poised to fall.
His eyes avoided those patches, drawn instead to where the vibrant colour was thickest. It was the gold of hair, of puddled sunlight, of a young sun. In spite of himself, he began crossing the tiled floor.
The loose laces of his plimsolls disturbed the occasional fallen leaf, a crackling announcement of his presence. But he still approached slow, like he would meet a wild animal. He stepped cautiously over where thick roots had broken through the floor.
It was only when his hand began to lift, fingers extended, that he paused.
"I'm not ready," he whispered, scarcely a moment before a vibrant daisy-heart-yellow leaf broke free and fell—right into his waiting hand.
     "I'll never get used to this. Never. Different ground beneath my feet," and she's jumping, bouncing on her heels, and she's smiling, and it’s lovely, "different sky… What's that smell?"
     "Apple grass," he tells her, eager to share everything he knows.
     "Apple grass… It's beautiful. Oh, I love this. Can I just say, travelling with you, I love—"
"No."
The Doctor's hand spasmed, and the leaf fell, taking with it the scent of a different world. Apple grass. Such a crisp, fresh smell. He could never smell it again without thinking of her.
His throat felt tight. He wasn't ready.
Yet how many times had he stood just like this and let the memories wash over him?
Often they were green—hopeful springtimes of gentle past, a balm when he needed it most. Reminders of the goodness which existed in pockets of the universe, waiting to be discovered.
Sometimes, they came frost-fanged and bitter, serrated edges cutting him to the bone. Regret was grey. Steel grey.
All his companions had bloomed and withered here, on these unreal branches.
But this—the season the tree offered him was too cool and serene for what he felt. This… gentle giving-way. There was a storm inside him.
She had not passed gracefully into another season; she had been torn from his world, and her world, and the TARDIS, and him. How could that be beautiful?
How could that be golden?
He moved in a rush, grasping suddenly at the nearest withered clutch of leaves. He was only just tall enough to reach, and when he closed his fist, he came away with—
     Pleading. "Help her."
     But he isn't moved. "Everything has its time," he says, "and everything dies."
—and,
     "No." Sarah Jane stands firm. Sure in herself. "The universe has to move forward. Pain and loss, they define us as much as happiness or love. Whether it's a world, or a relationship," and the guilt cuts him open as he thinks of her, the leaves on her tree; then he thinks of Rose. "Everything has its time—"
—and,
     "Why don't you ever just say what you mean?"
     "Rose—"
     "It's always talking with you, but you never…" She shakes her head, hair catching the light of the console. He wants to hold her so badly he can barely speak. "Just tell me this, Doctor: you and me, is it ever gonna change? Will we ever…?" She drifts off, uncertain.
     "Everything changes." It's not really an answer, but it's the best he can do. "I promise."
—and in a blink, his fist closed. The brittle memories crushed to dust in his hand.
They were still there, of course: in him, in the TARDIS herself, and they always would be. They would grow anew, changing shape over time. Even at the topmost parts of the tree, people who were long gone lived forever: his granddaughter, with her untameable smile; an old historian who loved cocoa and cake and driving him spare; a young boy who was so brave, and so clever, and so very foolish; an Edwardian adventuress who followed him into madness.
The companions of his many lives.
They crowded their way up into the highest branches. One day, Rose would live among them, a golden crown to this ancient tree.
But even that knowledge held no comfort.
"No more," he said, "please."
Around him, the room gave a faint, irritated huff—like a creaky groan and a hum at once. And from somewhere else, a wind stirred. Focused and strong. Pay attention, it seemed to say, or else did say, in its own language.
A leaf the colour of liquid gold wriggled and broke loose, and he knew better than to run from it. All he could manage was to stand his ground as it smacked, with unusual force, into his chest.
The image burst over him.
     "Anything else?"
     "Why don't you ask her yourself?"
     He sees where the woman—the bride—is looking. Over his shoulder. His gaze follows her, and he feels all the air leave his lungs. There is an infinite space between one heartsbeat and the next. But it’s real. It’s really her. No hologram or vision or ghost. No memory.
     In the darkness, a light. Blonde hair glinting, her eyes holding his. And then he's running. Running flat out.
     She's all he can see.
     The feeling inside him is like nothing else. Like being reborn.
     Her smile crosses the distance, gilded and lovely, meeting him before his arms can reach her. But even before his touch lands, he knows he’s already home.
The Doctor blinked. A hand rose to wipe down his own face, smearing the tears he hadn't felt fall. His from another time.
His feet stumbled forward, and he caught himself against the tree's giant trunk.
"Not a memory," he whispered to the silence, in all its enormity, its electric potential. "Not yet."
Prescience, passed down to him by the brush of a leaf. This had never happened before.
But then, there had never been anybody like Rose before, had there? She'd left her mark on the TARDIS, on the vortex itself, every bit as much as she'd left her mark on him.
The pads of his fingers felt out a scar in the wood. One he hadn't seen before. It had an odd shape to it, an asymmetry that reminded him a little of an animal in profile: a jagged protrusion, and the swell of a haunch.
Something with its nose to the sky.
He traced it twice before he understood. The muzzle. The howling. His chest felt weightless, for a moment. Uncompressed by longing and grief, his hearts beat freely.
The Doctor, with his hand to the wolf, wheezed out a shocked laugh as he suddenly remembered that these leaves were also the colour of flame. Of timeless, endless burning, searing and rewriting.
     "I bring life."
From its bark and its branches, from its roots and its high crown, the tree seemed to shiver out a very long sigh as he finally grasped its message. Everything has its time, it breathed. Its hope was golden.
The shades of it all swirled together and tangle, an infinite vortex, laden and dripping with life still to come, and it was beautiful.
The Doctor smiled, removed his hand, and turned from the tree.
Her time—and his—and theirs—was not yet over.
There was more to be done. And he was ready.
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yeehawbrothers · 5 months
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Request Prompts <3
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REQUESTS-Open! :)
Please read my request rules here before requesting.
Obviously these aren't required for requests, but I think it's fun to use them.
I've gathered these throughtout the internet, so if you see one you've written, let me know and I'll tag you!
Feel free to mix and match, change wording, or anything of the like!
Please make sure to be as specific as possible if you have a certain storyline you'd like me to follow.
Angst prompts:
"Leave. Leave right now."
"Can you just fuck off already?"
"I can't do this anymore. Not with you."
"Pack your shit and go. Get the hell out of my sight"
"You ruined everything."
"I'm going to leave now, before I say something I regret later."
"This wouldn't even be a problem if you didn't make one out of it"
"You were supposed to be my safe place. But all you've brought me is pain. How great is that?"
"If you hate me so much, kill me. Kill me already. It's not like I've got much to live for anyways."
"They told me not to trust you, but I didn't listen."
"You...why did it have to be you?!"
"You lied to me! Over and over again!"
"Hey...Hey...stay with me."
"Oh my...what did they do to you?"
"It's okay, its just me."
"I didn't know where else to go."
Fluff prompts:
"Flea markets don't carry fleas you know?"
"Are you serious? Your getting blood all over my carpet!"
"I am not wearing a dress/tie!"
"It's a Texas thing"
"Not everyone is out to get you. Stop thinking that shit. It's getting annoying."
"What are we?" "A mess."
“I just woke up can you give me a minute before you start being weird.”
“It’s literally two am, shut up.”
"Let me be a mom for a second and tuck you in."
"If you can't sleep...we could have sex?"
"If you don't shut up, I'm going to punch you."
"Please put your penis away."
"Why are you on the table?" - "Better view of my life." - "Where's the spider?" - "By the door."
"Shut up and get in the closet."
"Listen, I don't mind cuddling. But if you wake me up again I'll whoop your ass."
"I'm an insomniac, this is normal."
"Listen...I didn't know it was illegal."
"Stop messing with your IV."
"I'm pretty sure this place in haunted."
"Hold my hand you asshole"
"Did...Did you just bark at that guy?"
"Awww yay what a nice reunion! Now come fucking help me"
"We are not picking up the free chair" - "Why not!!?" - "Because that shit is 100% haunted."
"Why are you so mean to me?" - "You cannot take the child home."
"I love you so much I'm gonna bite you."
Song prompts:
If you want me to write a story based on a song, send me the link in the request. Please keep in mind, like with anything, I'm not going to force myself to write something if I'm not feeling it.
All the love-A.
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thepromiseofsin · 7 months
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prompt: putting your hand on your lover's chest as they doze peacefully into the couch arm, focusing on the subtle beat of their heart on your hand. + tenrose, pretty please!!!!
this is more pre-relationship but also they are committed to one another soooooo....... basically canon <3 i do hope this fits what you were imagining though!
word count: 700
you can also read this on ao3 and if you would like to send me a prompt, here is the list for it!
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No matter how much time would pass, Rose would always be a little amazed over the differences between her and her—well, the Doctor. Outwardly they may appear the same species but there were quite a lot of things that they didn’t share. The main thing, besides his ability to regenerate, was definitely his two hearts. She could barely deal with the one and she wasn’t sure she could deal with another on top of it. 
She caressed his face gently and he leaned into her touch instinctively in his sleep. His face softened further until the barest hint of a smile graced his face. He didn’t need to sleep as much as a human did but occasionally after a trying adventure, he would succumb to it and she would allow herself a moment to take in the sight of him so calm and still. The first time she had seen him in such a state in this body had worried her deeply. It had terrified her, actually, but so much had been going through her mind during that time and all of her thoughts had been tinged by confusion. Now, there were none of those turbulent emotions, just a deep fondness. 
However, fondness wasn’t quite the right emotion. It wasn’t a strong enough word to describe what she felt for him. One day she would be brave enough to admit it to herself and then to him but for now they would continue to exist how they were despite the palpable tension between them. She could be patient for him, to a degree. 
Her hand slipped from his cheek down to his neck, her fingers lingering for a second at his pulse point, and then to the middle of his chest. She let herself focus on the feeling beneath her touch. She knew the beat of his hearts better than she knew the one of her own. She wished for a moment that his chest was bare so she could admire his cool skin along with her favorite sensation. Not for other reasons, of course; her intentions were completely innocent but for just this once.
It was a subtle thing, the beat of his hearts; faint but undeniably there. He was so very alive—in ways she could never comprehend but this—him—she knew well. While he was an expert in so many things, she was an expert on all things him, or so she liked to believe. She had spent so many hours, minutes, seconds, days, months, years cataloging every single one of his expressions, reactions, moods, words, his freckles, even, and everything in between. She couldn’t remember a single thing she learned while in school but every single smile he had ever given her was embedded in her mind, along with everything else about him. 
Never before had she felt this way and she knew she never would again. She was okay with that, more than because it was worth it—he was worth it. She’d tell him one day but her actions would have to be enough until then. Still, it was always there, what it was she felt for him, a myriad of emotions he evoked in her. It was the same for him, she knew, but they were both cowards unwilling to change the status quo and acknowledge what was so clearly between them. 
It would have to be enough.
Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away from him and clasped it with her other one, unwilling to trust her traitorous mind when she was so exhausted. 
“Sweet dreams, my Doctor.” She murmured, pressing the slightest of kisses to his temple. A thought lingering in her mind just for him like it always was. 
Rose stood up and left the library as quietly as she could, missing the way the Doctor’s eyes snapped open to stare at her retreating form, his hand rising to the spot her own had just been at. He could still feel the heat of her palm there, ever so slightly. 
“Sweet dreams, my Rose.” He whispered back when she was already long gone, the same thought floating around in his mind.
Oh, they knew, and what fools they were.
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aq2003 · 4 months
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day 1 of doctordonna week: fire/glow
i started drawing them as i think we're gonna have to kill this guy steven.png but then realized it should've been the other way around
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denaliwrites · 6 months
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Little Creepy House
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Tenth Doctor x GN!Reader
Catch and Release Prompt: "Attic"
Summary: The Doctor really doesn't like attics. Unfortunately, that's where the alien of the week is.
Soundtrack: Walking on Air by Kerli
Requests: Open!
Tag List: @nyxiethesimp
Warnings: Canon-Typical Peril.
"Oh, no," the Doctor groaned from behind you. "Why'd it have to be an attic?"
Indeed, the two of you, as well as the owner of the house (and the mother of the missing child you and the Doctor were looking for), were looking up into the dark hole in the ceiling that fed into the house's attic.
Even you had to admit that, staring into that deep dark shadowy black, you were a little nervous too.
Unlike the Doctor, though, you didn't hesitate to climb up the rickety set of wooden steps leading up. Your head popped up over the threshold, eyes scanning the dark quickly before you hauled the rest of you into the room.
"Bethy?" you called out into the dark. Everything sounded... strangely muffled, up here. Your voice didn't reach nearly as far as you expected, and when you heard the Doctor say your name, you swore it sounded like he was speaking through cotton.
"Bethy?" you tried again, louder, more alert now that you knew you had to really make an effort to hear things up here.
Which... was a little odd, wasn't it? You knew attics were sometimes creepy, full of dust and ancient furniture and vintage chests with skeletons in their wedding dresses stuck inside them.
But you'd never heard of a noise-canceling attic.
You were so busy thinking and listening that you forgot to keep an eye on your feet. Something in your path tripped you up and nearly sent you flying. Wheeling around, however, revealed that nothing was there.
Okay, but you knew the difference between tripping on an object and tripping on air -- there had definitely been something there a moment ago. You may not have seen it, but it had to exist somewhere in the vicinity.
A shiver cascaded down your spine in a way that reminded you of the time the Mean Girl in your class had dropped an ice cube down your shirt. In fact, you were pretty sure that the shiver even left behind a trail of cold sweat that only served to further mimic the memory.
"Doctor?" you called, turning back.
Wait, where was the entrance?
There should've been a glowing beacon of light emanating from behind you, but instead, just pure darkness greeted you. Enveloped you. Made you want to cry out for your mother.
"Oh, fuck this place," you growled to yourself, facing ahead and forging on, steps as determined as they were unsure.
"Bethy?" you shouted again after a minute or so, hoping that somehow it'd reach her this time.
Only silence greeted you at first, but then --
"Mom?" a tiny voice cried out, and you spun in place, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. "Mom?" the voice cried again. You swiftly turned to your left and all but ran ahead, not even caring what danger may lay in wait for you.
"Hey, hey, hey," you said comfortingly as you got nearer to where, to the best of your abilities, you'd calculated the voice was coming from. "I'm not your mom, but she sent me. I'm here to take you back to her, okay? You can come out, it's safe."
You thought maybe you'd been wrong, or that the girl had run away, or maybe that she was just considering her options, but only a moment later a small body launched at you like a missile and hit your body with force. Tiny arms circled your hips, and a scared voice whimpered into your shirt. You could hear sniffles, too.
Kneeling down to the girl's level, you pulled her into a hug and whispered comforting nothings for a moment. She needed a parent -- her mother, to be precise. But you were the best she had for now, so it was up to you to fill in the gap.
"Hey, it's okay," you told her, pulling away so that you could look her in the eyes, your hands gripping her shoulders firmly. "We're going to get out of here, and you're going to see your mom and give her a big hug. And I'm gonna see my friend and give him a big hug. Yeah?"
She nodded, trying to contain her sniffles while she wiped away her tears.
"Say it, Bethy. C'mon."
"Yeah."
"That's a girl. Okay. Let's get the hell out of here."
You stood and took her hand, then turned to face the direction you thought you'd maybe come from.
Well, that wasn't good, was it?
Unwilling to show your fear to the girl, you marched on ahead, gently tugging her along with you. For a while, the two of you were silent as you tried to navigate the dark. Then --
"Hide!"
And then Bethy was gone, quicker than you could even process what had happened. "Bethy?" you called, feeling panic rising in your chest. "Bethy? That's not funny -- where the fuck did you go!?"
There was no answer. At least, not from Bethy.
You could hear something, though, lurching closer. Each muffled, thunking step was accentuated by a rattling breath and a growing sense of dread. Suddenly, you understood why Bethy had told you to hide.
Instead of even trying to do that, though, your body stood frozen, eyes locked on a looming shape in the darkness.
A pathetic moan spilled from your lips as the thing moved closer, and you could finally see details -- though you wished you couldn't.
Its body was an ever-shifting mass of shadows, rippling and roiling. You could see limbs -- arms and legs of flesh, but they were unlike anything you'd ever seen before. The legs reminded you of Godzilla with how thick and heavy they seemed, while the arms -- well, if you had your wits properly about you, you would've compared them to a crab. One arm was massive and ended in a sickle-like claw, while the other was significantly smaller, and looked more like a proper arm -- though the fingers were also claws, just... smaller.
And its face was...
Well, you screamed when you saw it.
The scream was short-lived, cutting off as soon as its massive claw lifted menacingly into the air.
Oh, God, this is where I die, you thought. You weren't going to save Bethy, you were never going to see the Doctor again, or your parents, or anyone in your family, or your friends, or -- or anyone. Anything.
"Don't you fuckin' dare," a voice pierced through the darkness, the void, the hollow silence. It sounded dangerous. And it sounded an awful lot like the Doctor.
The claw froze in the air, no doubt only in hesitation, but a moment of hesitation was all you needed to move, to dive for cover somewhere far from that terrible, awful thing.
"That's better," the Doctor said from... somewhere. You weren't sure. Frankly, you kind of didn't even want to know. All you could say for sure was that, for this moment right now, you were safely hidden under a table, which just so happened to be covered with a white sheet, giving you an extra layer of security.
"Now, why are you in some poor single mother's attic, terrorizing her daughter?" the Doctor asked. All he received in response was the suffocating silence of this godforsaken room.
You heard the sound of the sonic screwdriver. The alien, or creature, or whatever it was, finally made a sound -- you thought it might've been a growl. It sounded... like rocks grinding together, but... garbled. Muffled. Like you were hearing it in impossibly deep water.
Your instincts told you to keep quiet, to be silent as the grave. Even quieter, actually, if that was possible.
That deep, gurgling growl, though. It sent such an intense wave of fear through you that you couldn't help the pitiful moan that came out.
There was a shuffle, followed by one of those awful feet stamping the ground. The alien had turned around.
"Oh, I really wish you hadn't done that," the Doctor sighed. "Run!"
You didn't need to be told twice. Where you were running to was a problem for future you, all you knew for the moment was that you needed to get the fuck away from that thing.
You only stopped running when something in the path tripped you and sent you flying towards the floor. You braced for impact, but other than a sharp hiss, you didn't acknowledge the pain. Instead, you turned sharply and grabbed at the thing that had tripped you.
Your hand wrapped around something cool and smooth, and when you drew it closer you saw that it was the leg of an old ceramic doll. Creepy, but harmless. But that didn't explain how it had disappeared earlier.
The wail it released sure did, though.
You shrieked in return, throwing the doll away into the darkness in fright. "What the fuck," you sobbed, "what the fuck. What the fuck?"
Only silence answered you.
Apparently, you'd run far enough away in this impossibly infinite attic that the alien could no longer hear you. Or the silence was so oppressive that even at near distances sound still couldn't pierce through.
Neither option seemed great, to be honest.
Regardless, though, you had to press on.
Rounding a corner, you were suddenly confronted with Bethy. She was facing away from you, looking down a corridor formed from stacks of boxes and furniture. You said her name quietly to let her know you were near. Big, terrified eyes turned back to look at you and she quickly beckoned you to join her.
You obeyed, crouching once you reached her side and looking down the corridor with her.
"It's the dolls," she whispered, pointing. You could just make out small shapes shifting in the darkness. "They won't let us through."
You sucked in a deep breath and released it as a sigh. "Don't worry," you told her, moving to a stand. "I got this."
Acting blithely unaware of your surroundings as you neared where you'd seen the dolls was surprisingly easy as, for the most part, you were rather unaware. However, your ears were honed into any slight sound that could possibly arise from those creepy little fuckers.
So when, miraculously, you caught the scratching of their little porcelain feet on the attic floor, you froze, geared up, and sent a powerful kick in the direction of the sound.
And you were met with the satisfying shatter of its stupid porcelain head.
More sounds started up, no doubt the assault on one had sent the others into a panic. But you were keyed in, and out for blood. Stomping, smashing, and crushing them was like a sport, and at the end of the match you'd destroyed about eight of them, and silence surrounded you.
"Bethy?" you called. "It's safe to come out now."
There was a quiet shuffling, and then Bethy was beside you, clinging to your arm to the point that it hurt. But you said nothing -- you were scared, too, and would probably cling to the Doctor the same way if he were there.
The two of you made your way through the attic, desperate for... well, anything, really. You were sure Bethy wanted the exit, and while you wouldn't say no to that, you were more interested in finding the Doctor.
You felt like you'd been walking for hours when you finally stumbled on the man himself. He was breathless, no doubt from running, but he grinned when he saw you. "There you are!" he said by way of greeting, pulling you into a hug. Then his eyes caught on Bethy, and he knelt down to her level. "And there you are! Your mum is gonna be very happy to see you."
If you ever made it out of this attic, anyway.
The Doctor made a sound at the back of his throat, and when you redirected your attention to him, you saw that he was looking at you rather seriously. "Any ideas?" he asked, eyes flitting for a moment to look at something behind you.
You felt the overwhelming sense of dread growing, and the fear kept you locked in place, unable to look back.
"No," you whimpered.
The Doctor moved closer, taking your face in your hands and forcing you to look into his eyes. "Hey," he said soothingly, smiling. You moaned in response. "Oh, now, none of that. C'mon. Be brave for me, yeah?"
Fear clouded your mind, and you could feel the thing behind you, could sense that claw hovering over you, ready to strike. But as the Doctor spoke, as more and more words of encouragement washed over you, the feeling started to recede.
And with it, you felt the monster retreating.
"K-keep talking," you told the Doctor urgently.
And he did, and you took his every word in, believed every word. As he spoke, and you listened, not only was the monster retreating but the darkness and silence followed it. You were starting to hear things -- birds chirping, a car driving by. A plane overhead. And you could see light beginning to filter in from... somewhere. Anywhere. Everywhere?
All you really saw, though, was the Doctor.
He was grinning -- no, beaming at you.
"Look at you," he said, voice brimming with pride. "Defeating a monster that feeds off fear and isolation."
You released a relieved giggle. "No, that was all you."
"Oh, it wasn't," he told you, his eyes looking into yours. "My words would've meant nothing if you hadn't trusted me. If you hadn't believed me."
"Of course I trust you."
His grin broadened and he let out a breathy chuckle. "That's good, then. That you trust me. We would've been in a lot of trouble if you didn't."
You laughed. "I'd probably be dead."
"We can't have that," he said, suddenly serious again. For a moment you thought maybe the monster was back, but you blinked and when you opened your eyes, he was smiling again. "No dying on my watch, got it?"
"Trust me, I do not have any plans on doing that any time soon."
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doverstar · 6 days
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whew, this oneshot prompt list - otherwise known as the crowdfunded game of how many times can we make rose tyler cold and I must tell you, I am going to win the game
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kcchameleon17 · 2 months
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Fantasy Brought to Life - Doctor/Rose Bingo 1/2
First chapter of 2 of this out now!
DoctorRose Bingo Prompt: Accidently read the other's diary
TentooRose Fuckathon Prompts: Wall Sex, Makeup Sex, Edging, Adjusting to Human Biology
Summary: When the Doctor stumbles upon Rose's diary and its contents, it is precisely what he needs to finally push him into action.
Rating: Explicit
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