master list ::: february the 24th
Tenth Doctor/Rose
La Veuve Noir.
Ten/Rose, Master. Teen. 1,397 words. AU.
Angst, angst, angst.
My father made one thing clear to me about the Doctor.
The harder they come, the harder they fall.
Falling Home.
Ten/Rose. Cliche PWP. 1,861 words.
Rated P for Pr0n.
"I'm going to push it," she whispers, mouth open and sucking on his shoulder through his shirt, leaving a darkened wet patch she notices with no small pride. He gulps audibly and her eyes snap to his adam's apple, new prey to follow and feast on.
"Push... ah. Push what, Rose?"
"The big. Red. Button."
Forever Begins Here.
Ten/Rose. Teen. 2,540 words.
“I know you’ve been protecting me from Satellite Five, but you should know… its okay. I’m alright, and I’ve done… a little bit more than remember,” she says, drawing the word 'little' from her mouth like thin strings of taffy.
Bugs in Amber.
Ten/Future!Rose. Teen. 973 words.
“Hullo,” she says, picking small irregular bits of gravel from the backs of her thighs. She bears lines, pink and running through her skin like pinstripes, from her weight on the concrete, and she is dirty. “I didn’t think you’d see me,” and she brushes flecks of earth warily from her knees.
Down to the Filter.
Tenth Doctor/Rose, 533 words. Light R. After Journey's End, here there be angst. Narrative poetry.
Pale smoke curls into the lungs of the pub,
tickling patrons with a whimsical dance
while tequila scrapes through the haze of people,
feeling like salt
where my hearts used to be.
The Earth That Shifts Where Flowers Grow.
Ten/Rose, completely AU. Adult. 2,380 words.
The glitter wafting from her hair sounds like bells, little tiny tinks beaten out into the air. She shivers and a rush of sparks flies off her, her tawny strands drift skyward. She's in my bed, but floats as if in water. Cries out while I work my fingers into her, and little goldfish swim around her ears and above her eyes. She says hello to them, I think; maybe her mouth only pops into that great O because she is breathless, and not because she is speaking fish.
Moirae.
Multi Doctor/Rose, R, 3127 words.
She is Lachesis. Clotho. Atropos. Once she was Rose and a valiant child.
a strange edge of air.
Ten/Rose, Ten/Hannah. All ages. 904 words. Directly after Doomsday.
Seventy eight point nine percent nitrogen, twenty point nine five percent oxygen. One percent water vapor.
How much of this air is Rose?
Circuitous.
Rose/Ten, Rose/TenII, Rose/Eleven, Adult. 3,291 words.
He pressed a kiss to her temple while they swayed, bought himself a few precious seconds to process her words. She felt so much like his companion. Thinner, maybe, but she was made of the same flesh that was Rose. She still smelled like ripe, red strawberries and the tea she made them both as she stumbled blearily around the TARDIS soon after waking. Her hair still caught around the tips of his fingers, made gently rough from so many uses of peroxide. Her cheeks flushed in the same angled pattern when she was pressed against him, and her hand fit his like there were no other hands in the world.
Aftermath.
Ten/Rose, R (major angst, violence). 1034 words
It was then she understood why the Doctor would look to the ground and run, instead of face his congregation in worship. Who can meet the eyes of those still alive and not be a conduit for guilt?
Turn Your Camera On.
Ten/Rose. Teen. All human AU.
"What people want don't matter." She came in close, lips a second from his and even fuller this close than he'd thought they'd be. Her eyes softened with something like wistfulness. She held him strong with those eyes. "What do you want?"
The Fabric of Your Flesh
Ten/Rose, adult. 2,535 words
Sequel to ( Turn Your Camera On )
"I want you to stay with me," he said, snapping a photo of her body (click, beep, the camera noted approvingly) arching towards him, a slippery, shining thing, a wild goddess of the kingdom of his bathtub. Of him. He smiled, warm and lopsided and sincere, and there was raw truth in his words.
"Forever?" she asked. And he knew, yes, forever.
Other Doctors/Rose
This World I Think I Know.
Young!First Doctor/Rose, Implied Nine/Rose. Teen. 1,376 words.
It was supposed to be her birthday, before everything went wrong at home. Now, it’s the day she finds a thieving nutter miles from home that only wants a sodding cherry pie.
Figures.
The World Shifts Between Us.
Young!First Doctor/Rose. Lightly adult. 1,544 words.
Follows This World I Think I Know. These are those drabbles I jabbered about, written for mylittlepwny for the stunning header she made me, and well timed to write around quotes.
He huffs as indignantly as his elders while he shucks his trousers and his losing poker hand.
She’s still got her bra, knickers, and purple left sock, but he’s only got his pants left to his (new) name. And a TARDIS key, which he will insist counts as an article of clothing when the time comes.
Let no one say Rose Tyler is not ferocious with her two queens high.
Tap, tap.
Doctor/Rose. Drabble, all ages. 100 words.
Once upon a time, a lonely man plucked a yellow girl from her home, put her in a jar, and kept her.
Metacrisis!Doctor/Rose
all this killing time.
Rose/Ten, Rose/TenII. Teen. 1,652 words.
She barely notices the blood but to think of how much warmer than his hands it feels. If his fingers held her insides in, kept them where they belong instead of spilling out into the cheerful sunlight, they’d feel so blissful, so like the sack of frozen peas on a scraped knee when she was six.
The Anniversary of Nothing.
TenII/Rose, all ages. Narrative poetry.
(Because I told myself I would write fluff, and because this is the only picture yet to be used. ;) Featuring audio, because I recently discovered how easy making recordings is, because poetry is beautiful spoken, and because that might be the kind of thing you're into.)
La Veuve Noir.
Ten/Rose, Master. Teen. 1,397 words. AU.
Angst, angst, angst.
My father made one thing clear to me about the Doctor.
The harder they come, the harder they fall.
Falling Home.
Ten/Rose. Cliche PWP. 1,861 words.
Rated P for Pr0n.
"I'm going to push it," she whispers, mouth open and sucking on his shoulder through his shirt, leaving a darkened wet patch she notices with no small pride. He gulps audibly and her eyes snap to his adam's apple, new prey to follow and feast on.
"Push... ah. Push what, Rose?"
"The big. Red. Button."
Forever Begins Here.
Ten/Rose. Teen. 2,540 words.
“I know you’ve been protecting me from Satellite Five, but you should know… its okay. I’m alright, and I’ve done… a little bit more than remember,” she says, drawing the word 'little' from her mouth like thin strings of taffy.
Bugs in Amber.
Ten/Future!Rose. Teen. 973 words.
“Hullo,” she says, picking small irregular bits of gravel from the backs of her thighs. She bears lines, pink and running through her skin like pinstripes, from her weight on the concrete, and she is dirty. “I didn’t think you’d see me,” and she brushes flecks of earth warily from her knees.
Down to the Filter.
Tenth Doctor/Rose, 533 words. Light R. After Journey's End, here there be angst. Narrative poetry.
Pale smoke curls into the lungs of the pub,
tickling patrons with a whimsical dance
while tequila scrapes through the haze of people,
feeling like salt
where my hearts used to be.
The Earth That Shifts Where Flowers Grow.
Ten/Rose, completely AU. Adult. 2,380 words.
The glitter wafting from her hair sounds like bells, little tiny tinks beaten out into the air. She shivers and a rush of sparks flies off her, her tawny strands drift skyward. She's in my bed, but floats as if in water. Cries out while I work my fingers into her, and little goldfish swim around her ears and above her eyes. She says hello to them, I think; maybe her mouth only pops into that great O because she is breathless, and not because she is speaking fish.
Moirae.
Multi Doctor/Rose, R, 3127 words.
She is Lachesis. Clotho. Atropos. Once she was Rose and a valiant child.
a strange edge of air.
Ten/Rose, Ten/Hannah. All ages. 904 words. Directly after Doomsday.
Seventy eight point nine percent nitrogen, twenty point nine five percent oxygen. One percent water vapor.
How much of this air is Rose?
Circuitous.
Rose/Ten, Rose/TenII, Rose/Eleven, Adult. 3,291 words.
He pressed a kiss to her temple while they swayed, bought himself a few precious seconds to process her words. She felt so much like his companion. Thinner, maybe, but she was made of the same flesh that was Rose. She still smelled like ripe, red strawberries and the tea she made them both as she stumbled blearily around the TARDIS soon after waking. Her hair still caught around the tips of his fingers, made gently rough from so many uses of peroxide. Her cheeks flushed in the same angled pattern when she was pressed against him, and her hand fit his like there were no other hands in the world.
Aftermath.
Ten/Rose, R (major angst, violence). 1034 words
It was then she understood why the Doctor would look to the ground and run, instead of face his congregation in worship. Who can meet the eyes of those still alive and not be a conduit for guilt?
Turn Your Camera On.
Ten/Rose. Teen. All human AU.
"What people want don't matter." She came in close, lips a second from his and even fuller this close than he'd thought they'd be. Her eyes softened with something like wistfulness. She held him strong with those eyes. "What do you want?"
The Fabric of Your Flesh
Ten/Rose, adult. 2,535 words
Sequel to ( Turn Your Camera On )
"I want you to stay with me," he said, snapping a photo of her body (click, beep, the camera noted approvingly) arching towards him, a slippery, shining thing, a wild goddess of the kingdom of his bathtub. Of him. He smiled, warm and lopsided and sincere, and there was raw truth in his words.
"Forever?" she asked. And he knew, yes, forever.
Other Doctors/Rose
This World I Think I Know.
Young!First Doctor/Rose, Implied Nine/Rose. Teen. 1,376 words.
It was supposed to be her birthday, before everything went wrong at home. Now, it’s the day she finds a thieving nutter miles from home that only wants a sodding cherry pie.
Figures.
The World Shifts Between Us.
Young!First Doctor/Rose. Lightly adult. 1,544 words.
Follows This World I Think I Know. These are those drabbles I jabbered about, written for mylittlepwny for the stunning header she made me, and well timed to write around quotes.
He huffs as indignantly as his elders while he shucks his trousers and his losing poker hand.
She’s still got her bra, knickers, and purple left sock, but he’s only got his pants left to his (new) name. And a TARDIS key, which he will insist counts as an article of clothing when the time comes.
Let no one say Rose Tyler is not ferocious with her two queens high.
Tap, tap.
Doctor/Rose. Drabble, all ages. 100 words.
Once upon a time, a lonely man plucked a yellow girl from her home, put her in a jar, and kept her.
Metacrisis!Doctor/Rose
all this killing time.
Rose/Ten, Rose/TenII. Teen. 1,652 words.
She barely notices the blood but to think of how much warmer than his hands it feels. If his fingers held her insides in, kept them where they belong instead of spilling out into the cheerful sunlight, they’d feel so blissful, so like the sack of frozen peas on a scraped knee when she was six.
The Anniversary of Nothing.
TenII/Rose, all ages. Narrative poetry.
(Because I told myself I would write fluff, and because this is the only picture yet to be used. ;) Featuring audio, because I recently discovered how easy making recordings is, because poetry is beautiful spoken, and because that might be the kind of thing you're into.)