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#sherlgrey.bingo
sherl-grey · 2 years
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one more time
“Hell is a cultural belief, not a place, Rose. To most humans of your time, it’s the Bad Place, a hypothetical afterlife filled with flames and misery and screams of torment. To people on Solaris Major, a planet orbiting a system of not one, not two, but three suns, Hell is, in fact, a place frozen over. To the people on Space Station J82 Iris IV, where a certain crew from Krop Tor is landing sometime in the 42nd century and telling their stories to everyone who will listen, Hell is a prison, Satan its prisoner, and it is falling into the depths of a black hole. 
“To Time Lords… well, most of them never concerned themselves with Hell. Regeneration and all that, plus we’ve got the Matrix, and people being brought back at the whims of political leaders, and… well, needless to say that as much as death could still scare the lot of ‘em, the afterlife wasn’t really much of a consideration. There are, of course, things that would be torturous… Telepathic dampening is always quite painful. Losing access to the time vortex would hurt. Some of the weapons brought out in the War…” the Doctor cleared his throat, shaking out the vacant expression that had taken over as he spoke.
“To me, though, well, my picture is quite clear. It’s not complicated and mythical and half-set on fire. Hell is as simple as life without you. I should know. I’ve been there a few times now.” 
Ever so gently, he ran his thumb over the letters on the memorial the way he used to brush over her cheekbone:
Rose Marion Tyler
“Funny thing though, like I mentioned,” he sighed softly. “Regeneration. It means, Rose, that there is no afterlife for me. Which means there should be no Hell for me,” he whispered, leaning forward and letting his forehead rest against the cool marble. “Well, not permanently. Well, not yet. And if that’s true, and if the universe is kind, then just…. Please. Please come back,” he begged, swallowing hard as a soft spasm wracked through him, golden light jumping from the tips of his fingers. It was starting. He had to get back to the TARDIS. 
“Please,” he breathed out in one last plea. “Just one more time.”
("grief" for @doctorrosebingo)
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sherl-grey · 2 years
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#sherlgrey.bingo masterpost
post submissions for @DoctorRoseBingo
grief - tumblr || sharing a bath - tumblr, AO3 || snowed in - tumblr || Narnia AU - tumblr, AO3 || fireworks - tumblr || K9 - tumblr || accidentally read the other’s diary - tumblr, AO3 || bonding - tumblr, AO3
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sherl-grey · 2 years
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affirmative, mistress
“Does it still count as dog-sitting if the dog is the one watching you?”
(”K9″ for @doctorrosebingo)
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sherl-grey · 2 years
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the less time that I spend with you, the less you need to heal
It’s probably not his first choice, in terms of how he’d imagined this finally happening. 
Not that he’d imagined this exact scenario, per se, only maybe he had in that he’d always imagined he and Rose as more. More than companions, more than partners in crime, more than friends. 
He’d imagined the kind of  more  that led to things like fighting for blanket space and casual kisses and, yes, sharing a bath. That right there was an action that was firmly planted on the “couples” side of the relationship divider, something that would define them as properly together and not leave them stuck in the weird sort of limbo they’d somehow fallen into. 
(It just wasn’t  done,  was it, to fall in love with your human companion? The other Time Lords would have ridiculed him for sure, but even his past incarnations–-save the last one–-would’ve scoffed at the idea of so carelessly giving his hearts away to someone so young, so innocent, so short-lived. And yet he’d gone ahead and done it anyways, thrown himself in with reckless abandon, letting Rose fill up all the empty space in his hearts and make herself at home there.)
At any rate, he’d like to believe that she’s imagined this, too. He’d admittedly not always been the best at reading people–-his ability to notice someone flirting with him often depended almost entirely on how directly they went about it. With Rose, though, he’d been looking for signs even in his last incarnation, gruff and grumpy though he was. 
He liked to think the signs have been in his favor lately, filled with lingering glances, intertwined fingers, and tongue-touched smiles. 
Still–-his imagination usually came up with something a bit more, well, romantic. Candles, music, bath oils, you name it. 
Naturally medicinal water to help heal Rose’s wounds was not exactly one of the potential plans, and she also tended to at least be  conscious  in most of his fantasies. (x)
(Sharing a Bath for @doctorrosebingo)
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sherl-grey · 2 years
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stuck in a moment
It looked like one of those quirky puzzle objects that clever, brainy people kept on their desks or their coffee tables.
And given that description of it, Rose supposed it wasn’t that much of a shock that such an object existed on the TARDIS. It was just that on balance, the box before her looked rather… ordinary.
It was a box that really could’ve been a prop to one of the best steampunk costumes she’d ever seen. It was expertly crafted, with silver metal reinforcements on each corner, and exquisitely decorated on every face. Despite the clean, sharp angles of the overall cubic shape, the patterns that covered the surface were all swirling circular embellishments, ones that Rose had seen displayed across the TARDIS viewscreen at times, or on the spines of some of the books in the library. The Doctor’s native language, then. She’d always wondered if the TARDIS couldn’t translate it due to complexity or whether she simply chose to afford the Doctor the privacy that he so clearly needed to fall back on whenever things got to be too much.
Each side was adorned differently. One was divided into a four by four grid, with the beautiful, looping language splayed chaotically across the background irrespective of the lines slicing through it. One side had gears that looked just like any gears she would’ve imagined back on Earth, and yet another had gears that looked just like the symbols that comprised the Doctor’s language. The whole thing rather reminded Rose of the inside of a clock, or the surface of a circuit board, or a spider’s web.
She wasn’t sure what it was, honestly, and she made a mental note to herself to ask the Doctor later, but for now, she was on the hunt for a very particular book or three, and the box was in the way.
The moment she reached out and touched it, the rest of the world fell away. (x)
(“Accidentally Read The Other’s Diary” for @doctorrosebingo)
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sherl-grey · 2 years
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where we belong is side by side
The whole thing sort of screamed Christmas anyway, didn’t it? Reunions. They were in all of those horrid, cheesy human holiday films that he’d watched with Rose back in his ninth and tenth bodies: messing up and then fixing it and then getting the girl, and that pretty much summed up his entire game plan, really. (x)
(”Narnia” for @doctorrosebingo)
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sherl-grey · 2 years
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but a girl like you could rip me out of my head
“Doctor, we’re snowed in.”
“Rose, the TARDIS dematerializes. She doesn’t need space for take-off. We don’t even need to be able to open the doors. We can’t be snowed in.”
“Right, except you flew her right through the heart of a plasma storm and got her hit with flaming bits of space--”
“Flaming bits of space?”
“I’d want to land myself in a patch of snow and sit for awhile, too. So you’ve gotta face it, Doctor, we’re snowed in.” 
(“snowed in” for @doctorrosebingo)
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sherl-grey · 2 years
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i'm a spark and you're a boom
“Tell me the truth. Did we just accidentally get married again?”
(“fireworks” for @doctorrosebingo)
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