J.Crew October 2012

Alphonse is out with Flynn and I “hit a milestone,” so I was like, I WILL DO A VIDEO, THAT’S A THING THAT PEOPLE DO. Only no one explained that:

a.) the camera from my six year old MacBook was going to be the equivalent of line drawing this with my non-dominant hand.

and b.) that, for as much as I like talking to myself, talking to myself under the supposition that I’m talking to other people, that I cannot see, would make me feel ridiculous.

Here it is anyway.

londonphile:

Cap of The Spies of Warsaw (more here - thanks to @DTForum and eidesg)

But so they’re sitting on the jump seat, twin laptops on their laps, legs swinging underneath them, and the Doctor’s like, “What’s that you’re signing up for?”

And Rose is like, “Nothing, just a blogging site.”

And of course the Doctor’s going to sign up, too, and he brings it up and starts trying URLs, and someone’s got banana, bananas, bananadaquiri, bananasmoothie, really the whole arsenal of banana-related blog names, they’re all already in use and, “Look at this one, Rose! Not even a single banana to be found! All these posts about lupine American teenagers. That’s — that’s false advertising, is what that is.”

And Rose laughs and tells him he’s probably going to have to split from the banana blogs and the Doctor tuts at her for the horrible pun, but then he’s leaning over, trying to get a good look at her monitor.

“Well, what’d you get?” His voice is casual, but the more Rose angles her computer from him, the  more anxious he becomes and, aw, come on, Rose, let me see!

And then it escalates, laptops set aside and tickling and wrestling and his mouth pressed to hers as he inches her shirt up and she goes for his trousers. Tongues and teeth and, really, on the grating again? It always leaves a mark!

And when they finally get back to the computers, they sign up the same way, the Doctor and his Rose, and Rose and her Doctor.

They don’t update for two more hours.

She’s on top this time.

thirddeadlysin:

brittfaced:

Big bang Theory TV Guide Comic Con cover!!

it’s like the au that nobody wants

NO, NO, NO, WE CAN SAVE IT.

They’re the lowest-rated ghost hunting show on the entire Pasadena cable access network, which is saying something, because they’re the only ghost hunting show on the entire Pasadena cable access network.

Sheldon hadn’t been thrilled with the idea of bringing a girl into the group, but she does add something to the dynamic, namely that she’s the only one that packs the correct snacks when it’s her turn. Cheddar cheese and pretzel Combos. Not pizza. Not cracker. Pretzel.

So, sure, she’s good for that.

And the photo shoots, when they can convince Stuart to borrow his dad’s camera, well, they do look better when she’s in them, even if she hasn’t quite hit her stride in terms of standing in those boots of hers.

And she’s also the only one that even wanted to give the old Hampshire place a try. Leonard, Wolowitz, Raj, they’d said it was a dud, but Sheldon could feel something, or the meters could feel something, and Penny had backed him up. She’d trooped out with him that Thursday night, and even though she’d forgotten her own blanket, he’d felt just magnanimous enough to let her have some of his.

So, yeah, there’s that, too, plus she’d brought all that body heat, and there’s nothing a ghost hunter likes more than a heat reading.

somethingofthewolf:

#look  #all i’m saying is that there should be an rpf au in which david tennant and billie piper went to uni together  #and maybe he was kind of an asshole thespian who thought he was the shit  #and she was majoring in something she didn’t really care about until one day she said fuck it and signed up for an acting class  #and he’s the ta  #and ust ust ust sex sex sex drama sex ust sex 

He’s not even really anything to write home about, if she were the kind of daughter that wrote home.

He’s got big fish in a small pond written all over him, talented, sure, but it’s like — listen, if your options are a tall, skinny Scottish bloke who fancies Shakespeare or a roomful of spotty-faced twats trying to mount another production of Les Mis, you’re going to take the Scottish bloke every time.

And not only because he’s got these cheekbones she could cut herself on, or this hair that just — well, it’s good hair.

Still, he’s nice enough to her, which is to say, the looks he gives her breasts are slightly less obvious than what she usually gets in the halls.

David, though, that’s going to have to go. Maybe she could call him Dave, see how that flies. Dave could be a nice bloke, she could fancy a Dave.

She tries it out on her first day in drama class, stuck with an empty slot in her schedule and a scholarship requirement that means she has to fill it with something, even if there are no music classes left for her to take.

He’s sitting where she wants to sit — right on the end, closest to the door.

“Budge over, stage left, there, Dave.”

He arches his eyebrow at her, like that’s something people actually do in real life. Someone fucking save her, is she really going to spend the next hour with a room of actors?

“You want me to sit on the floor?” He says and there’s something about his tone she can’t nail down, like he’s stuck between genuine confusion at her request and amused condescension that she’d ask him to move.

“No, I want you to sit there,” she points at the empty desk next to him.

“That’d be stage right then, wouldn’t it?” He smiles at her and it’s another puzzle, right in the middle of a smirk and something more helpful.

“Depends on who’s the stage,” she says.

“Oh, ought to be me, don’t you think?” And there’s no mistaking his intent this time, he’s flirting with her.

“Dunno, never actually seen you in anything, you could be complete shit, for all I know,” she drops her books on his desk because, sure, she’ll flirt with him — after she gets the seat she wants.

He laughs, but stands anyway, making a grand gesture with his hand at the empty chair and bowing when she slides into it.

“Ta,” she says, and he sits down in the empty desk to stage right, or stage left, whichever.

Three weeks later he’s got her backstage at a workshop, hand up her shirt and tongue on her neck, and he’s mumbling against her skin.

“Oh, you’re the stage, you are definitely the stage.”

MY MOM. MADE A GIF. OF FLYNN.

MY MOM.

WHAT

episode613wasalie:

Julie Gardner: We’re on St. Mary’s Street in central Cardiff. And it’s a department store that was established in the very first episode of the series, series one - Rose’s department store, Henrick’s. 
David Tennant: Rose used to work there.

(The Runaway Bride episode commentary)

It’s one of those things that followed him right through regeneration — incredibly vivid dreams of Rose and Henrik’s.

Not the kind of vivid that usually haunts him, soundless and bright and painful. No, it’s a different kind of vivid.

A lewder kind of vivid.

Vivid like the way the wood of the fitting room would feel under his hands as he pressed her against it.

Vivid like the the way her moans would echo off the corridors in the basement.

Vivid like the way he would lift her up and set her next to the till, breaking in after hours and sonicing the security cameras out before he dropped to his knees in front of her.

It’s the kind of vivid that follows him through to this half-human body, too. This half-human body that does nothing else by half, excitement and grief and anger, all of it coursing through his veins — it’s this body that finally brings the dreams away from his sheets and into the light.

It’s not Henrik’s, not England, not even the universe he thought it would be, but as they rush out the doors of Saks, laughing and panting and blinking in the sun, trousers barely buttoned, Fifth Avenue seems to slow around them and it’s vivid in a way only life can be.

They stop following him then, the dreams of Rose and clothing shops and tongues and hips and teeth.

Instead, he chases them around the globe, Rose beside him, both of them awake.

And it’s this huge thing, wearing the Doctor’s clothes, walking with the Doctor’s companion, being the Doctor, and so he’s trying to take it all in, soak up every possible bit he can and really focus.

But what no one prepared him for is how Billie Piper smells.

And how Billie Piper smiles.

And how Billie Piper makes him want to forget the concept of personal space and propriety and professionalism.

And so he does, he does forget all that, until it’s just him and her and his trailer which still feels brand new and there’s another thing no one prepared him for, and even if they’d tried, it wouldn’t have mattered:

And how Billie Piper tastes.

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