April 11, 2012

arcadesandfire asked: Omg. Ok, sorry, but I feel like you are a good person to share music feelings with. But do you like the airborne toxic event? They are so great, if you haven't listened, you should ;p and if you have and you hate them, this is really awkward.

Oh, man, okay, yes, I definitely like The Airborne Toxic Event. Here is a thing I posted on livejournal in May of last year and it is still a thing I desperately want:

I really wanted a (10.5/Rose) fic the other day set to ‘Sometime Around Midnight’ because it’s the perfect narrative of seeing someone a little while after a break up, and it turns out that fic actually exists, but not the way I want it to, which was a huge exciting moment followed by an intense letdown when I realized it wasn’t what I thought it was.

I want: for some reason 10.5 and Rose break up, like a normal couple, but not for normal reasons, obviously. They probably made a good go of it for a little bit after Bad Wolf Bay, things were fine, they ate and drank and talked and fucked, but them, the relationship, the whole thing, it was never fixed, they never fixed it, it was always held together with tape and stardust and memories and it just crumbles one day. And so he’s working as a professor or something, mostly just Not at Torchwood, because she’s at Torchwood, and he has friends, he’s doing OK, he’s not a Time Lord anymore, he doesn’t have a TARDIS, but he has some stuff, some little things, and there’s this space carved out in his chest where time and space and Rose and his second fucking heart live and he just ignores it most days. And if sometimes he gets a pain right above his rib cage, and if sometimes it feels like he can’t breathe, well, then, that’s just going to have to be how it is.

He tries to go on a date, some friend at the university sets it up, and the girl is pretty, conventionally pretty, human-pretty, and he doesn’t even care. She’s fine to talk to, whatever, might have even made a good companion in a different life, but he doesn’t try to kiss her and he doesn’t call her and he decides he’s spent all this time on his own, no romance, no human romance, hundreds of years of it, and it what does it fucking matter for another 50 or 60 years?

If this human body has needs he can’t control anymore, he’ll sort them in the shower. Or he’ll sort them in his bed. Or whatever, he’ll fucking sort them, like he’s been doing, trying not to think of Rose, and the way she’d wrap her legs around him and the noises she made and just, fuck it. He’s going to die so much quicker. He’ll just be alone, and so he’s kind of a miserable bastard, but, then, slowly, some days he forgets that he’s supposed to be so miserable, and it doesn’t feel great, but it feel like a baseline, like a zero point and it’s fine.

So he builds a little from the zero, and he plays board games at some colleague’s house one night, and he subs on a football team one weekend, and he’s living, he’s living, he’s living (he’s existing) and then it’s a Friday night, and it was exam week, so there’s just so much grading ahead of him, ahead of all of them, so he and some of the other faculty members, they go drinking.

They’re at some noisy pub and then across the bar, Rose is there, and the whole fucking thing collapses. And it’s like this body, this stupid half-human body is too small to contain it all, he wants to be sick, he wants to shout, he wants to run, he wants to pin her against the wall next to the dartboard and shove his tongue into her mouth while she pulls his hair and bucks her hips into his. And when she comes over to talk to him, and he tries to adjust the tie he hasn’t worn in months and he curls his toes inside his Converse, it’s the most human he’s ever felt and it’s like he’s coming apart.

She asks him questions, or he asks her questions, he doesn’t know, he doesn’t remember any of it, even as it’s happening, just his single heart in his tiny windpipe and the way there’s sweat just above her collarbone and he can see himself, feel his tongue swipe just there. And then she’s leaving him, back to her friends, and his friends drag him back to their booth and this is being human, this is the worst he’s ever felt, this is is so painful and he wants wants wants and it’s not about Gallifrey or the TARDIS or anything but the way Rose used to look at him and the way he knows he looked back and how he’d do anything for that again.

And so he does.

OH MY GOD, it’s like I want it so bad I feel like I can wish it into existence, but I think we all know that isn’t true based on the lack of any number of fics I’ve tried to wish into existence in my life.

My birthday is May 26, so if the internet would like to get me a present, it could be that. Also, a damn Rushmore gif of “I wrote a hit play and directed it, so I’m not sweating it either,” because I don’t understand why neither of these things exist and I want them both an irrational amount.

BET YOU WEREN’T EXPECTING A THOUSAND-WORD REPLY :D :D :D

9:14am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z7hvWyJUBhDt
(Notes: 32)
  
Filed under: arcadesandfire 10.5 and rose and how much i love those crazy kids fic sort of 
March 20, 2012

bookishandi:

cyruspotnoodle:

Ten II - gifset 1

Donna: I kept hearing that noise. That heartbeat.
The Human/Doctor: Oh that was me. My single heart. ‘Cause I’m a complicated man of time and space. Must’ve rippled back. Converging on you.

Let’s be clear, this is 100% a thing he continues to say.

“Rose, I’m a complicated man of time and space, I can’t be expected to empty the bin.”

“Rose, if you wanted the toaster to stay as it was, you should not have put a complicated man of time and space in charge of breakfast.”

“Rose, I don’t care that we’re in public, you chose to wear that dress. I’m a complicated man of time and space and complications have arisen. Look, there’s an alley!”

(Source: orbitingasupernova)

1:52pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z7hvWyIIgcZ5
(Notes: 574)
  
Filed under: 10.5 and rose and how much i love those crazy kids 
March 9, 2012
notrudenotginger asked: Tentoo/Rose goldfish

It’s hard to say who’s more inconsolable about the loss of the goldfish, the Doctor or Tony.

It’s easy to say who’s the least inconsolable though — Rose Tyler.

Not that she wished any harm to the goldfish, just that Tony and the Doctor only wanted the fun parts of being a goldfish owner. Tank cleaning, feeding, inserting TARDIS-blue coral in just the right arrangement, that all fell to Rose.

So, again, no harm meant, but this burial at sea for Jojo, well, it’s also Rose burying hours of her life she never thought she’d spend on a fish.

The Doctor has a few words prepared, and he speaks them to the water, with Tony clinging to his leg, face buried in the wool of his trousers.

“Jojo was a fish who thought he was a loner, but he knew it couldn’t last. Jojo left his home at Pet World Emporium for Rose and the Doctor’s flat.”

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(Source: allrightfine)

4:20pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z7hvWyHk7qh8
(Notes: 27)
  
Filed under: does this count as cheating i rule no and i make the rules so notrudenotginger anon ask prompt fic 10.5 and rose and how much i love those crazy kids 
February 27, 2012
gallifreyburning: #THIS IS TOTALLY TENTOO AT THE ALTAR WAITING FOR ROSE #(shut up I know it’s ”Decoy Bride” but in my head everything is TenToo/Rose okay? Sssshhhhhhhh) YES, exactly! And then it’s like, the AU of that story in my head is a super elaborate Torchwood undercover thing, with wedding chapels and alien religious indoctrination. And the Doctor’s like, I really, really do not want to do this. You lot know I don’t work for you, right? And Pete’s like, Doctor, we wouldn’t ask if we weren’t desperate, but they’re extremely telepathic, more so than we can fight with training or technology, we need your help. And Rose is like, “Could be dangerous,” and she shrugs at him, and turns away to smirk because obviously he’s in now, obviously. And he’s stayed away from Jackie Tyler the whole prep week, through the fittings and everything, because he knows Jackie isn’t going to let it go, she’ll start nattering on about real weddings and human things and better just to stay away from her and rooms with large elephants, so he does. Because he doesn’t need a wedding. They don’t need a wedding. But then it’s Rose, and Rose is walking through the doors, all dressed in white and her hair’s up and the music’s playing and this, this is the moment he knows, he needs it, he really does, and he’s just completely wrecked. And then Rose is grinning at him behind her veil, just this firework of white teeth and pink lips and so much gold, and if this is what the real thing is like, oh god, he’s in. And then he’s kissing the bride, all pressed together, lips and tongues and hands and her mouth’s so warm, and soft, and wet, and they have a planet to save, they really do, but he’s taking this one thing, just this one practice run, and if this man he is now has learned anything, it’s that the world can hang on a second, he’s got a life to live.

gallifreyburning:

#THIS IS TOTALLY TENTOO AT THE ALTAR WAITING FOR ROSE #(shut up I know it’s ”Decoy Bride” but in my head everything is TenToo/Rose okay? Sssshhhhhhhh)

YES, exactly! And then it’s like, the AU of that story in my head is a super elaborate Torchwood undercover thing, with wedding chapels and alien religious indoctrination.

And the Doctor’s like, I really, really do not want to do this. You lot know I don’t work for you, right?

And Pete’s like, Doctor, we wouldn’t ask if we weren’t desperate, but they’re extremely telepathic, more so than we can fight with training or technology, we need your help.

And Rose is like, “Could be dangerous,” and she shrugs at him, and turns away to smirk because obviously he’s in now, obviously.

And he’s stayed away from Jackie Tyler the whole prep week, through the fittings and everything, because he knows Jackie isn’t going to let it go, she’ll start nattering on about real weddings and human things and better just to stay away from her and rooms with large elephants, so he does. Because he doesn’t need a wedding. They don’t need a wedding.

But then it’s Rose, and Rose is walking through the doors, all dressed in white and her hair’s up and the music’s playing and this, this is the moment he knows, he needs it, he really does, and he’s just completely wrecked.

And then Rose is grinning at him behind her veil, just this firework of white teeth and pink lips and so much gold, and if this is what the real thing is like, oh god, he’s in.

And then he’s kissing the bride, all pressed together, lips and tongues and hands and her mouth’s so warm, and soft, and wet, and they have a planet to save, they really do, but he’s taking this one thing, just this one practice run, and if this man he is now has learned anything, it’s that the world can hang on a second, he’s got a life to live.

(Source: notrudenotginger)

1:34pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z7hvWyH8UFOj
(Notes: 479)
  
Filed under: i just have so many feelings 10.5 and rose and how much i love those crazy kids fic 
February 27, 2012
The Conclusion: Fic Tennis

gallifreyburning:

gallifreyburning:

So allrightfine and I are taking a page from mostly10/dunderklumpen’s playbook, and we’re going to try Tumblr tennis, except instead of gifs, we’re writing fic. Please savior “fic tennis” if you want to be spared our shenanigans.  

image

allrightfine:

It’s the longest they’ve been separated since they arrived back in this world. Barely a week, but somehow it feels longer. Somehow it feels like ages since the morning she’d left, the Doctor chasing her around the kitchen in his boxers and pinning her to the counter with his hips.

Legs stretched in front of her as far as they’d go in cramped zeppelin seating, she’d fingered the foil edges of her packet of peanuts, decidedly not partaking. Who’d decided on garlic seasoning for a cramped cabin and the promise of reunion kisses? What she wouldn’t give for something honey-roasted.

She’d tried to imagine seeing him again, would it be in slow motion? Romantic comedies and indie rock? Or frantic and hurried and flashes from the paparazzi?

So, really, she’s not prepared at all for him to be in the passenger lounge, arm slung peculiarly over his head and for her first words to be about his clothes, but she can’t stop it, bubbling out and —

“What’s with the shoes?”

gallifreyburning:

Of course it isn’t just the lack of Chucks – it’s the t-shirt and jeans, too, and before he can answer her first question she jokingly babbles on, “Did the flat burn down with your blue suit inside or something?”

He bounds out of his chair — Arcade Fire plays in her head, definitely a romantic comedy — and he stoppers her questions with his mouth, tongue confident as it slides past her lips; he’s shameless and eager, all but taking her in a manly fashion on the cold tiles of the dirigible port. And as much as he doesn’t look like himself, he certainly tastes and feels and smells like her Doctor.

 

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(via gallifreyburning)

4:00am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z7hvWyH7J_0O
(Notes: 90)
  
Filed under: and so was the ending and the ending because allison is a delight fic tennis i clapped oh my god allison you guys this was so much fun 10.5 and rose and how much i love those crazy kids fic 
February 24, 2012

tardisalert:

♥♥

(this follows on from this fic/photo/universe, but i don’t know that it’s necessary to read it and indulge my lack of restraint.)

It’s crazy, is what it is. For her to feel jealous of the anonymous masses that still listen to the radio and not their iPods or CDs or the sound of their own breathing on the drive into work.

She knows there are people, aliens, the universe over that have heard the Doctor say all sorts of things, in all sorts of tones, in all sorts of times. There are even some that have heard the same things Rose has, low intimate rumbles and bitten-back groans.

(And it’s just as well they don’t have morning radio in 18th century France because some people maybe don’t need to hear any more of it, if Rose can be so bold.)

But she is — jealous, that is. Because the Doctor had lucked into this new side gig about, oh, 24 years after Rose had locked in her personality as one that decidedly did not belong to a morning person.

So while the Doctor rises before the sun, dropping a kiss on her forehead before dashing off to speak right to London for three hours, Rose waits until the last possible second (and sometimes beyond that) before dragging herself out of bed.

If she’s feeling restless after he leaves, she sometimes turns the radio on the alarm clock on and lets herself be lulled back to sleep by the sound of the Doctor talking about that week’s movie releases and how he liked the new pizza place down the street from their flat. But those mornings are few and far between — the warmth of his pillow and the smell of him on the sheets usually does the trick.

A few of the stations still air his Vitex commercials sometimes, the ones Pete had begged him to do after the press interviews started going so well. And while Rose knows it’s those commercials and the way the demographic for Vitex switched to housewives nearly overnight that eventually landed him the morning DJ gig, it’s not the same as hearing him say something new over the airwaves every day. She can practically recite those adverts by heart as it is.

And anyway, it’s not like she doesn’t hear about what he says — about what he thinks is acceptable to tell the whole of the city. For his part, the Doctor barely brings it up, still a champion babbler that never needs to retread material, and certainly not for Rose.

No, she hears it from other people.

Todd in accounting will see her in the cafeteria and tell her to pass on to the Doctor that he, too, has been experimenting with boxer briefs. And that he, too, finds they drive his girlfriend wild.

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4:00am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z7hvWyGxuBG1
(Notes: 32)
  
Filed under: 10.5 and rose and how much i love those crazy kids i don't know what's wrong with me fic 
February 21, 2012

tardisalert:

♥♥

(I couldn’t, in good conscience, not cut this, because it’s more than 700 words. Clink on the link for the photo. With apologies to everyone and Pete Tyler, whose belly does not look like that.)

In Rose’s mind, there’s a little shop called Domestics, and she sometimes imagines the Doctor running through the aisles, pulling things off shelves and tossing them into his basket, picking and choosing as he goes.

Breakfast in bed? He’ll take it! Mopping the floors? No, thank you. Sex on a half-constructed IKEA table? Yes to the sex, pass on the actual table-shopping.

There appears to be no strategy or method to it — things she’d thought he would never want, he goes after with gusto, all crazy hair and bright eyes.

One of those things is Pete Tyler.

If Rose could get through this part of her daydream without laughing, she would picture the Doctor hefting Pete from a big display of fathers-in-law, his wiry arms wrapped around Pete’s waist as he struggled to get him out of the store, “SOLD” sticker on Pete’s forehead.

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8:55am  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z7hvWyGnml9a
(Notes: 36)
  
Filed under: 10.5 and rose and how much i love those crazy kids fic before work is a new personal low fic 
February 17, 2012
It’s the third outfit he’s put on since she’d sat down at the computer. He keeps trotting up and down the stairs to change, trying to get her attention away from work and on to him. “Look, Rose, a waistcoat! You know where one would wear a nice waistcoat like this?”She folds her book closed, glancing to check the progress of the download on her computer screen. Six minutes left. She takes him in, turning her head to the side and squinting.“The 19th century?”“No! Well, yes. But as the 19th century is no longer at our disposal, I was thinking more along the lines of that nice, new restaurant down the street. The one with all the desserts — the banana desserts — in the window. I think you can see where I’m going with this.”“Is it out to dinner alone? Is that where you’re going with it?”It’s not that she wants to spend her Friday night working — in fact, she’d much rather go out to dinner with the Doctor and his banana desserts. Or maybe get those desserts as takeaway and figure out who makes the best plate. But she had to get this done, or they’d be calling her all weekend. “Right, I can see you won’t be swayed by my handsome waistcoat, even if it does make me look quite dashing. Dapper. Devastating. I’ll just have to try again. You realize I’ll be on my fifth outfit of the day and you’re still in your work clothes? Poor form, Rose Tyler.”She sets her book aside and braces to stand, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you wanted me to change, I’ll just go put on something else — which could take ages, you know — and then come back and begin my work again.”“No, no, no, no, you work, get it done, top priority, fast as you please. I’ll just give this one more go,” and he takes off for the bedroom.Her download finishes while he’s upstairs, and she’s able to extract the file and make the necessary edits, sending it off again before she hears his feet on the stairs. She turns to see the Doctor, perched on the very last step, completely naked. “That — that’s not an outfit, Doctor.” But she’s more concerned with things like the soft smattering of hair on his chest, the lines and curves of his ribs, the jut of his hipbones. And, there, between them and lower, the clear evidence that he’d now be more than happy to skip going out. She’s out of her seat and across the living room before he even has time to say whatever quirky thing is parting his lips. They’re up the stairs in minutes, popping buttons from her blouse and tearing her stockings before tumbling to the bed. He’s just settling between her thighs when he stops to look down at her and wink.“Birthday suit! I should’ve known that one was your favorite.”

It’s the third outfit he’s put on since she’d sat down at the computer. He keeps trotting up and down the stairs to change, trying to get her attention away from work and on to him.

“Look, Rose, a waistcoat! You know where one would wear a nice waistcoat like this?”

She folds her book closed, glancing to check the progress of the download on her computer screen. Six minutes left.

She takes him in, turning her head to the side and squinting.

“The 19th century?”

“No! Well, yes. But as the 19th century is no longer at our disposal, I was thinking more along the lines of that nice, new restaurant down the street. The one with all the desserts — the banana desserts — in the window. I think you can see where I’m going with this.”

“Is it out to dinner alone? Is that where you’re going with it?”

It’s not that she wants to spend her Friday night working — in fact, she’d much rather go out to dinner with the Doctor and his banana desserts. Or maybe get those desserts as takeaway and figure out who makes the best plate. But she had to get this done, or they’d be calling her all weekend.

“Right, I can see you won’t be swayed by my handsome waistcoat, even if it does make me look quite dashing. Dapper. Devastating. I’ll just have to try again. You realize I’ll be on my fifth outfit of the day and you’re still in your work clothes? Poor form, Rose Tyler.”

She sets her book aside and braces to stand, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you wanted me to change, I’ll just go put on something else — which could take ages, you know — and then come back and begin my work again.”

“No, no, no, no, you work, get it done, top priority, fast as you please. I’ll just give this one more go,” and he takes off for the bedroom.

Her download finishes while he’s upstairs, and she’s able to extract the file and make the necessary edits, sending it off again before she hears his feet on the stairs.

She turns to see the Doctor, perched on the very last step, completely naked.

“That — that’s not an outfit, Doctor.” But she’s more concerned with things like the soft smattering of hair on his chest, the lines and curves of his ribs, the jut of his hipbones.

And, there, between them and lower, the clear evidence that he’d now be more than happy to skip going out. She’s out of her seat and across the living room before he even has time to say whatever quirky thing is parting his lips.

They’re up the stairs in minutes, popping buttons from her blouse and tearing her stockings before tumbling to the bed. He’s just settling between her thighs when he stops to look down at her and wink.

“Birthday suit! I should’ve known that one was your favorite.”

(Source: itsaidiwasgonnadieinbattle, via winterinthetardis)

3:40pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z7hvWyGaNTKj
(Notes: 141)
  
Filed under: that i can't make a cut on a photo is one of the great tragedies of my life someday i will learn restraint and that i don't need to write for everything that strikes me 10.5 and rose and how much i love those crazy kids fic 
February 12, 2012

Anonymous asked: The doctor and Rose listening to music

She should’ve known from the $83 in iTunes charges on her credit card statement. The ones he’d said were for “music to meta-crisis by.”

And it’s not like she really asked him what kind of music it was. She’d just assumed it was, like, experimental or out there or space-themed. Stuff like David Bowie and Pink Floyd or Animal Collective and Muse.

There was nothing to suggest, then, that he’d suddenly decided they needed to visit the west coast of America for any reason other than wanderlust. Nothing to suggest he meant anything by, “California, Rose! California knows how to party.”

And if he’d gleefully donned his Chucks, and noted, seemingly apropos of nothing, that they were not Bally’s, well, the Doctor says random things all the time. Rose can’t keep track of all of it.

They were in Compton before she figured it out.

When they get back home, the Doctor is greeted with balloons and hugs from several female members of the Torchwood staff.

He turns to Rose and she takes him in, hair sticking up, suit rumpled, and a serious look on his face.

He meets her eye and solemnly tells her, “I’m not a player, I just crush a lot.”

It’s not that bad, Rose assures herself. It’s good he’s found something he enjoys. It’s better than the way he lampoons every movie she makes him watch.

She is wrong.

“I would’ve thought this was an understood part of agency decorum, but the annual Torchwood paintball team-building exercise is not the appropriate place to ‘go HAM.’”

Pete is standing in front of the field teams, unsmiling, but he’s a little amused, Rose can see it.

“While I, and the other board members, appreciate enthusiasm, that kind of language will no longer be tolerated.”

The lesson sticks until the Doctor’s presentation to that same board about increased funding for the R&D labs.

Rose watches it happen in slow motion — the Doctor walks to the podium, shuffles his papers, clears his throat, and speaks.

“Put the fucking mic on.”

They have to suspend him. Pete apologetically tells them that he has to make an example of someone, that they support field agents using unique methods to amp up for dangerous missions, but that it should be done in the training field house, not in the executive conference room.

When he reprograms the thermostat to just shy of boiling and looks at Rose pointedly for 10 minutes before she finally tells him it’s, “hot in here,” she almost draws the line. Then he giggles for another 10 minutes. So, clearly the target demo for rap music, her giggling Doctor.

She lets it continue. Lets it slide when he passes on a lucrative freelance job because, “more money creates more problems, Rose. Honestly, it’s like you haven’t even been listening to me.”

It takes two more weeks before it’s out of his system. The next day there are more iTunes charges on her credit card statement.

The Doctor buys four cans of hairspray and something leopard printed on lunch.

Rose hides his iPod.

6:07pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z7hvWyGKm1Xn
(Notes: 22)
  
Filed under: i apologize this whole thing was just built around that ham line 10.5 and rose and how much i love those crazy kids ask prompt fic 
February 10, 2012

Anonymous asked: Rose/TenToo in a car

I only enabled anonymous questions yesterday, so I’m not sure if this is a prompt or a sentence or an insight, Anon. But in the event it was a prompt (which is totally fine and welcome and delightful), here is something for it. The other option is I draw you stick figures wearing nametags, riding in a car, so.

“I love walking, Rose, I do. It’s my second-favorite gerund after running. Well, and after the sexual ones, kissing and shagging and licking and, oh, there are a lot of that type, aren’t there? Still, it’s definitely in my top 20.”

Rose is not going to be swayed by this, wherever this is going — the car is in the shop and they’re more than halfway there, but he keeps talking anyway.

“But did you have to pick such a windy night for it? And where am I supposed to steal off to when your mother gets to be too much to handle? You know she will. She’ll keep chasing me around with that ring, trying to get me to take it, like I can’t procure something as simple as a ring on my own.”

She steps neatly out of the way of a piece of gum stuck to the sidewalk, not missing a beat.

“It’s sentimental, Doctor. She wants her old ring to go to me, so I can pass it on to my daughter someday.”

“Well, then she should just give it over, shouldn’t she? Why insert a middle man into this? Seems entirely unnecessary.”

This is a well-worn conversation, one Rose has given up on trying to mediate. If she tells the Doctor to take it, it looks like she’s telling him she wants a proposal.

(Not that she’s opposed to that, on principle, just that she wants him to get there on his own. Well, mostly.)

If she tells her mum to stop pestering him, she’s left to deal with Jackie Tyler theatrics, of the “my only daughter is never getting married” variety.

Instead, she distracts him.

“You know, the car wouldn’t be in the shop if someone hadn’t tried to change the fuel system on their own.”

The Doctor stops walking, aghast,  looking every bit like she’d slapped him. Or maligned his hair.

“That fuel system was an insult to this planet and, as it’s the only one I’m living on presently, it’s in my best interest to preserve it.”

Admittedly, Rose knows the Land Rover was a gas guzzler. A gas monster — an Abzorbaloff, even. They’d picked it up for a song at an employee auction when Torchwood started its green initiative — a fact that went a long way in indicating how not-green it was. But changing over to something more eco-friendly should’ve been done by a mechanic, not by the Doctor and a malfunctioning sonic screwdriver.

Which is how it had found its way to a garage in the end anyway.

“I think it’s brilliant that you want to save the Earth and everything, Doctor, but maybe leave the car stuff to the car people.”

He starts muttering then, words like, “Bessie” and “insult” and “Time Lord,” but she lets it go. Mostly because they’re at their destination, but also because any implication that he — this human Doctor, that is — can’t do something, seems to lead to a frenzy where he concentrates only on mastering that skill for weeks at a time. This is how the entire Tyler family, and house staff, had ended up with hand-crotched afghans.

And bi-level birdhouses.

And macrame key chains.

(But it’s also how she’d ended up with consistent, multiple orgasms — although she may have played him on that one. Just a little bit.)

He’s still mumbling by the time they’ve passed the coat check. And he keeps it up all the way into the party, where her parents are waiting.

It takes her mum 10 minutes to start up with the ring.

It takes the Doctor 10 seconds to pull out his own.
 

6:22pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/Z7hvWyGDGpik
(Notes: 70)
  
Filed under: 10.5 and rose and how much i love those crazy kids ask prompt fic 
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