Tentoo: This is my ex-girlfriend, Rose.

Rose: You’ve got to stop introducing me like that.

Rose: I’m his wife.

a cup of sugar, a pinch of magic (2/?)

At ten forty-five, John slipped back into his kitchen to finish off the savory puff pastry parcels he had for the afternoon and get them baking. He wanted them in the cases before people came to the shop during their lunch breaks. He about tripped over his own feet when the door swung open and revealed the blonde, Rose, sitting at the end of his work table, hands wrapped around a mug of steaming tea.

“Figured you’d still be asleep,” he said as he got the puff pastry and his fillings out of the fridge.

He stole glances at his guest out of the corner of his eye. She’d filched one of his jumpers, a green one that was was worn thin at the elbows because he wore it so often, but had put the pair of trousers she’d worn yesterday back on. Her hair was damp and the ends of it were making little dark water marks on the jumper.

“Can’t sleep for long these days,” Rose said with a grimace. “But the bit I got was more than I’ve managed in ages.”

John nodded. He recognized the look in her eyes, had seen it on the faces of fellow soldiers, had seen it in the mirror most mornings when he bothered to look. Nightmares were a plague that had no cure, no end date, and showed no discrimination.

“You hungry? I can grab you something from the shop.”

“Maybe later,” she said with a small smile. “Busy enjoying my tea right now.”

They fell into silence as John rolled out the pastry dough and cut it into squares. He put a scoop of filling into the center of each square and then started forming them into parcels. The chicken, cheese, and veg ones went on one tray and were set aside awaiting an egg wash while he worked on finishing the spinach artichoke parcels and the pork parcels.

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The Last Daughter of Alderaan. My tribute piece to our favorite princess. 

Print available at Bottleneck Gallery ONLY UNTIL THIS SUNDAY, January 28th midnight EST. Officially licensed by Lucasfilm! $1 from each sale goes to Alzheimer’s Association, a charity that Carrie supported in her lifetime.

weird old forgotten tumblr things that I never see included in this sort of list:

add more help me relive the past 6 years i’ve wasted on this garbage website

All right. Both of you, answer me this.

You’re a really good fake soulmate.

Captain Raymond Holt: an Icon™

Don't Get it Twisted

Prompt: Rising to a challenge.

Ten x Rose. Rated: K, maybe slight teen?

……….

This had been a bad idea. A very bad idea. An incredibly, undoubtedly bad idea. Of all the bad ideas he’d ever had, this one was probably the worst.

It had started innocently enough, as most of his bad ideas did. Merely spending a lazy day inside the TARDIS as the ship spun leisurely through the vortex. The Doctor had spent the morning tinkering beneath the console while Rose did…Rose things. She slept.

And slept.

And slept.

By the time she was finally awake and showered, he was a jumbled ball of pent up energy and excitement. He was ready to agree to anything she wanted to do, as long as it was something they could do together. Which wasn’t really outside of the norm, but that wasn’t the point. This time he was desperate. Humans spent entirely too much time sleeping and Rose seemed to be no exception to the rule. If anything, she over indulged.

Rose had suggested a game day and he had happily obliged. Together they had gathered snacks to take to the library, where the TARDIS had already provided an impressive supply of games.

They played Sorry, UNO, Chutes and Ladders, War, and a few non-human invented ones. He had stopped keeping track of who won. He was having entirely too much fun watching Rose smile and laugh to care, but he knew they were roughly even.

Then it had happened.

The next box Rose had pulled from the pile was white and covered in red, blue, yellow, and green dots. The title was written in bold, threatening red letters.

Twister.

His stomach dropped to the floor and his hearts lodged in his throat. His palms became suspiciously warm and slightly sweaty. Curse this stupid body and its stupid bloody reactions to any and every thing his companion did. There was no way they’d be able to play this game without it ending in disaster and embarrassment.

Rose ran her fingers gingerly over the top of the box. “I’ve always wanted to play this game,” she said wistfully. She looked up from the box, all perfect smiles and innocence. “What do you say, Doctor?”

He tugged on his ear, trying to come up with a reasonable argument as to why they should very much not play the game in question. A reason that did not involve discussing the necessary close proximity of their bodies that the game would facilitate.

“It’s really not that fun,” he replied with a frown, hoping he sounded just enough unimpressed to deter her, but not overly so as to hurt her feelings.

“So you’ve played it before?”

“Once. In my fourth body. The game actually lasted a good while.” He shrugged his shoulders. “The scarf won in the end. Always meant to try for a rematch.”

Rose shook her head, laughing softly.

“What?”

“To anyone else, you sound completely mad. You know that?”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not talking to anyone else, isn’t it?” He waggled his eyebrows at her and hoped she would let the whole thing go.

“You know,” she began. “If you’re afraid of losing…you can tell me. I won’t tease.”

He blinked. “I’m sorry. Afraid of losing?”

“Yeah. You know…the opposite of winning.”

“You’re mighty confident for someone who has never played the game before.”

“Beginners’ luck is on my side.”

“Even with beginner’s luck, which is a myth by the way,” he retorted, pointing his finger at her, “You wouldn’t win.”

“Prove it.”

He floundered, opened his jaw once then snapped it shut. There was a challenging fire in her eyes and if he didn’t know any better he’d say that Rose Tyler knew exactly what she was getting herself into.

He should have tucked tail and graciously accepted defeat.

Instead he found himself shucking his jacket and staring her down with misplaced determination. “Challenge accepted.”

That was how he had gotten himself into his current position. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his tie hung loosely about his neck from being repeatedly tugged on in nervousness.

However, the real problem, as he knew it would be, was Rose.

The Doctor was in a sort of crab walk position; arms beneath him, right hand on yellow and left hand on blue. His body stretched down over the mat, left foot on blue, one empty dot between it and his left hand. His right leg strained a bit further, planted on a green blob. Rose’s left foot occupied the green dot directly above his left foot, followed by her left hand. This put her in a crouched position beside him. That wasn’t too bad.

Even with her right hand on the yellow spot beneath him, her fingertips barely brushing his…not awful. They’ve held hands enough for that small touch to not be awkward or an obvious cause for discomfort.

Her right leg was the problem. Her right foot was on yellow.

On the one yellow dot that provided his own legs a bit of space.

She could have put her foot on a different spot. Hell, she could have used the dot she was currently occupying but slid her leg under his to reach it.

Is that what she did?

No. Of course not.

She had bit her lip and stared directly at him as she swung her leg over his and planted her foot between his. Rose Tyler was partially straddling his leg.

The Doctor desperately tried to focus on anything else. Anything other than the heat radiating from her thigh. Other than the occasional shaky breath she took. Other than her increased heart rate he had detected two turns ago.

He swallowed hard. Since it was just the two of them, the had opted to take individual turns instead of both going for the same color and body part at the same time. It was his turn.

Left hand on red.

He swore under his breath. Not exactly what he was hoping for. He slid his hand over and down one, affording his torso the ability to ever so slightly arch away from her.

Her turn.

Right hand on red.

Oh, no. No. No. No.

Rose looked at him, a mix of uncertainty and excitement shining in her eyes. Her gaze flicked between him and the row of red dots to his left, far away from her. There was no way this was going to end in his favor. His limbs began to shake, not from strain but from nerves.

Picking her right hand up from the mat, she reached over him. There was a pause, her arm a mere inch above his torso, as she debated on which red spot she was going to aim for.

She pulled her arm back and bit her lip. The Doctor furrowed his brow, watching her carefully.

Maybe this had been a bad idea in more ways than one. Did she just now realize the possible awkward positions they could find themselves in? He wouldn’t deny that a small part of him had been thrilled about the prospect. Alright, maybe more than a small part, he admitted to himself. But she more than likely did not share in those feelings. Rose was, in his mind, either indifferent to the idea or completely opposed. He should offer her a way out, that would be the gentleman thing to do.

He opened his mouth to speak, catching her gaze just before she launched herself towards…he didn’t even know what.

Her weight and momentum caught him off guard. They collapsed in a heap, a loud smack echoing the room as her hand slapped down on the mat somewhere above his head.

“I made it,” she huffed, her breath tickling the side of his neck.

The Doctor twisted his head so he could see what she was talking about, using all his willpower to focus on this one small task so he could ignore the way her body was pinning him to the mat and the way their legs were tangled together.

Rose did indeed have her right hand on red. The red spot that was in the very corner, the red spot that had clearly been the farthest away from her and the hardest to reach.

“Rose,” he croaked out. “Why on earth would you do that? There was no way you could have reached that safely. Surely even you could see that?” A thought struck him and he broke out into a grin. “Ha! I won!”

Rose shifted so that she was staring down at him. A shudder ran through his body, from his head to his toes, every cell becoming hyper aware of just how close she was.

“Say that again,” she requested softly, a smile tugging at her lips.

“I won?” He knew he sounded unsure and breathless for no reason. He was trying to remember why he should care and why he should most definitely not try and kiss her.

“Hm,” she tilted her head, pretending to consider. She dipped her head so that their noses were practically touching, his breath caught in his throat. “From my point of view, I won,” she whispered.

“You…you…you caused the fall,” he stammered.

“Yes.”

“Wait, you did that on purpose?”

“You’re on the ground aren’t you? I would have preferred a role reversal but—“

The invoked thought of pinning Rose to the ground snapped the last of his restraint. Tilting his chin upward, he silenced her with a chaste kiss. It was nothing more than the soft touch of his lips against hers and the sharp intake of her breath through her nose. It was perfect.

The Doctor broke the kiss just as she began to relax into it. As much as he wanted to find out what a good snog with Rose Tyler was like, he needed to be sure that this was what she wanted.

“That alright,” he asked softly, closely watching her features for any trace of doubt or discomfort.

She smiled and nodded, “Yeah.”

A wave of giddiness swept through him and he allowed himself to wrap his arms around her.

No matter how she tried to spin what had happened in the game, he had definitely come out the winner.

a cup of sugar, a pinch of magic (1/?)

John pushed the heels of his hands into the dough, putting all his strength behind it as he worked to get it to the right consistency. Kneading bread dough was therapeutic in the way he could focus on doing just this one single thing, putting mind and body both towards a single goal and shutting out the rest of the world for a bit.

He was starting to get a reputation for his breads in the neighborhood, was starting to get people coming into the shop specifically looking for certain ones. No one had to know that the days he had the most variety were products of nights spent avoiding the nightmares that lived in his head.

Today there would be a lot of bread. Probably would be quite a few of the fussy little miniature cakes that sold well when he could find the time to make them. Detail work would be a good follow up to making bread.

He’d been working for a couple hours and his kitchen was covered in various breads and cakes and sweets in varying stages of baking, cooling, and being decorated when a sharp knocking cut through the quiet. John’s head whipped up, brows drawing together as he glanced at the clock. It was three in the morning on a Wednesday, not there weren’t usually many people wandering about looking for a bakery at this time.

John grabbed a towel to wipe his hands with and headed out into the bakery proper to see what the fuss was about. He had the lights in the shop low but it was just enough to make the glass cases shine and still leave the corners shadowed.

He turned his gaze to the front windows. A blonde woman was at the door, arms wrapped round her middle as she glanced up and down the dark, empty street. John frowned as he took in the fact that she was only wearing a vest top and jeans even though it was the middle of winter and the middle of the night on top of that.

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