(Source: doctorwhogifs, via allbritish)

abadplanwellexecuted:

Our Not So Conventional Fairy Tale

#But what if it’s some sort of situation like the movie Il Mare #And she’s a historian of some kind who uncovers a manuscript #and there are a few ancient notes scribbled in the margins #and she impulsively scribbles a reply to one of the questions (her faculty advisor would KILL her if she ever found out) #but the next day when she checks out the manuscript again #there’s a new ancient note #from the original question asker #responding to what she wrote the day before #and gradually this relationship unfolds between the two of them #the original author of the manuscript #a man of his time so learned he was known as the Doctor #a virtual hermit who has gone into seclusion because of the things he witnessed when he went to war for his country #and the woman working on her graduate thesis #a conversation spanning centuries #on this enchanted piece of paper #falling in love with each others’ minds #She finds a painting of him at one point #ancient and weathered and hanging in an unvisited basement of the National Gallery #and she draws him a picture of herself on the paper one day #and then the only thing that’s left #is to figure out how to span the centuries #so they can finally touch flesh to flesh #instead of flesh to paper and flesh to ink (via gallifreyburning)

(Source: doortotomorrow, via helplesslynerdy)

the-untempered-prism:

Post-GitF…

Rose has some ideas on how the Doctor can make it up to her…

(via littlewhomouse)

hyrenee:

THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN I LISTEN TO JAMES VINCENT MCMORROW SONGS AFTER HAVING A REALLY SAD ROSE/TEN DREAM I PAINT MY FEELINGS

(via oodlyenough)

jaxin88:

thedefenderoftheearth:

#that time in Doomsday when Jackie says there was never anyone else  #and the Doctor looks down and then to the right  #remembering how Rose tastes  #then remembering how she feels writhing on the bed as he tries in vain to still her hips with his manly forearm resting on her belly  #but no emotional memory  #that shit’s too repressed 

#he can’t help it   #he’s so used to loss that he puts memories in these sort of little boxes where they can be filed away out of sight   #and it’s useful but what it leaves him with are sensory memories that give him vague twinges of feeling   #the little sigh rose gives when she settles onto him   #the feel of her skin when she’s fresh out of the shower and still a little slick—all covered in droplets   #the way her mouth falls open and her eyes flutter shut when he finds the right angle inside of her   #and he is usually very good at knowing how to look at these memories objectively   #and enjoy them for what they are without feeling them too much   #but her smile sets his blood turning to champagne   #all light and bubbling   #and the very thought of her tugs at his hearts   #so it’s all the more important to keep her safe   #his rose—safe and happy   #because if he ever had to close those boxes   #to put her memory away   #he’s got the horrible feeling he wouldn’t know how (tags via neverwhyonlywho)

(Source: ssscuttlebuttt)

(Source: thedefenderoftheearth)

flypup:

First time we were speechless.

“Let’s start a family.” “Right now?” “That’s all I can think of.”

For I Bring Life Project: Week 3.

1.01 - Rose

(Source: doortotomorrow)

timelordcaps:

2.12 | army of ghosts

(via doctorwho)

This is an actual, official 50th anniversary image, and it’s going to be printed on greeting cards and framed collectors posters and drinking glasses and coffee mugs and my heart.

wandererofgallifrey:

Manips by redcirce

(via jaxin88)

(Source: awesomemccoolname, via littlewhomouse)

songfordecem:

TenToo/Rose drabble ficlet based off of this post:

Teen, 645.

He lays there, eyes drawing constellations on the ceiling, content next to her, in a bed. Their bed, now. Their sheets, their pillows, their scattered clothes on the floor, his Rose, and her Doctor. New, New, New Doctor.

“I nearly shat myself on that beach.”

Rose makes a noise half-way between a snort and a cackle, completely not ever expecting to hear the word ‘shat’ come from that man’s lips.

“What?”

He laughs, still staring at the ceiling. “Well, you were all beautiful with your windswept hair and…”

“I was freezing my ass off.”

“Well, it is a lovely ass,” he grins, cocking an eyebrow.

She thwacks him swiftly in the arm and he yelps.

Read More

(Source: paolettazza, via allrightfine)

fyeahdoctorwhofanart:

Rose Tyler by TheSpaceGypsy on deviantArt

(via soufflegirl)