Tentoo - Blog Posts

Rose and Tentoo 🥰

a step by step process of this will be available at my Patreon on april 1st

i like to think that, while he does enjoy the perks (ie. sexytiems with rose), the doctor has a bit of difficulty adjusting to his new human body.

Doctor Who️: S04E13 “Journey’s End”

“And how was that sentence gonna end?”

Packing

Pairing: Ten/Rose, unrequited!Tentoo/Rose

Rating: PG for strong angst

He pulled open a drawer.

Ties. This was where he kept the ties. Browns and blues mostly. Some in shades of red. He took a few of those, and one of his favorite brown silk ones.

He opened one of the cupboards.

Converse, stacked up high on the shelves. He took a pair of the reds, a pair of the whites, a pair of the blacks.

He walked to another part of the wardrobe and looked through a rack until he found what he was looking for. A long brown coat, not the same one, not perfect, but as close as he was going to get, and he didn't have time to be picky. He shoved it awkwardly into his pocket.

He left the wardrobe, feeling numb. Never in his long life had he been faced with this reality. Never would he have expected it. Now that he didn't have much time left here, he was starting to panic.

Not about not having a ship, he knew he would be taking a piece of the coral with him, even he couldn't be that cruel, so that wasn't gone forever. But about not having this ship.

He'd never see Susan's room again. Or Ace's. Or Sarah Jane's. He'd never see any of Romana's books again, or any of Adric's formula sheets. He'd never see Martha's extra jacket, or Donna's sketchbook full of shorthand notes, caricatures, and tic tak toe.

He skulked out, toward the console room, and stopped just before he entered.

He peeked in.

They were in there. And they were talking. And she was smiling.

Her smile was so beautiful. Her eyes crinkled at the edges, and her tongue poked cutely out between her teeth. How many times had he been temped to forget whatever little adventure they'd been on when he'd seen that smile, to just forget every limitation and kiss her, to tell her how much he loved her against that smile.

She laughed at something he said.

It hurt, physically, to see them talking, see her smile, hear her laugh. He knew he wouldn't be hearing it much longer. Why would she choose him? His hand snaked up to feel the single heartbeat in his chest, the constant reminder that he wasn't the real him. That no matter what his mind said, no matter what memories and feelings he had, no matter what he looked like, he was just a copy. A fake. A poor recreation. He was going to age, and die. And he'd be doing it alone.

But wasn't he used to alone? Wasn't he used to the universe teasing him with the chance of happiness and just when it seemed like he'd always have a hand to hold, taking it away from him? That didn't make it any easier.

He scowled in the empty corridor. Nine hundred years, all to end up dying as a human, in the wrong universe, alone. Maybe it was exactly what he deserved.

He said something, and she agreed, and they moved toward the hallway. He ducked quickly into an alcove and stayed there until they passed. Then he hurried out into the console room and over to a side panel on the central pillar. He flipped a few switches, tapped the screen a few times, and turned a few dials before pressing one last button and waiting. A few seconds of whirring later, a sonic screwdriver plopped into the little slot at the bottom of the panel, and he picked it up and tucked it into his pocket. He moved over to another panel and smacked it a little too violently. A drawer popped out, and he picked up the extra psychic paper and put it in his pocket as well. He spotted a picture of Susan, and, heart wrenching alienly, took that as well. Then he shut the drawer and looked up, just staring around the room he'd called home for seven hundred years.

His teeth clenched and his hands gripped the coral edging tightly as he suddenly fought back a sob.

It wasn't fair. Nothing was fair. He could be so much more than this. And maybe he would be. But this him, this counterfeit, never would. Was this his punishment for all that he'd done? By all rights, it hadn't even been him! Why make him conscious? Why make him share the same mind?

Why hadn't he just changed?

Someone coughed. He didn't need to look up.

The other him walked slowly back into the room. He stared at him for a minute with a look of mixed pity, sorrow, and guilty fascination. It was sickening.

He looked up, and their eyes met. By the way the Doctor winced, he could tell that he knew exactly how he felt. Something flashed in his eyes as well...regret? Pain?

Whatever it was, it felt almost perverse.

Then he coughed again, and spoke, softly.

"I haven't told her what you are yet. Not about..." he tapped his chest. "I'll leave that to you."

"Thanks," he said acidly.

The Doctor rubbed his neck awkwardly, almost ashamedly, then grabbed his jacket off the jumpseat and shuffled out of the room.

"Take whatever you need," he said over his shoulder as he went back to Rose.

He very nearly slammed his fist into the console. His hand was raised and clenched when Donna came in.

"Don't you dare, Spaceman."

His hand dropped limply to his side as he turned to look at her.

Without another word, she walked up and threw her arms tight around him. He hugged back.

Neither commented on the oddness of only two hearts beating between them.

After a minute, she pulled away from him, handing him a small book. He recognized it as her most recent sketchbook. Gripping it tightly, he met her eyes, and, almost ashamed of how desperate he sounded, blurted, "You can't come with me?"

"No," she sighed, patting his arm, "I've got to stay. For Mum and Gramps. You know that."

"I know."

She hugged him again, briefly, before walking off down the hall, presumably to find the other one and Rose. He almost smiled. Donna would have liked to get to know Rose. His almost smile turned into another almost sob, but he held his composure. He would not lose it until he was truly alone, he promised himself. He wouldn't let them see him break. He couldn't do that to Rose, or to Donna. He supposed he couldn't even do that to himself.

The TARDIS landed with a loud groan and a dull thud. He glanced at the screen. A beach appeared on it, the beach he hated more than almost anything in the entire universe.

His single heart was beating out the word that had started it all, and would end it all, for him.

Run.

Bedtime Story (drabble)

Pairing: Ten/Rose, Tentoo/Rose

Rating: G

"This is the story of a boy. A boy and his box, and the adventures he had, and the things he lost, but I'll wait to explain those.

This is also the story of a girl. A girl and a chance meeting,  and a choice made and ignored, but I won't break your little heart with that tonight.

Tonight I'm going to tell you a fairytale.

Once upon a time, a boy ran away. He was afraid of growing up, settling down, picking up the responsibilities of his home, getting bored. Well, he never had to. But there was a cost. The boy lost his home, and everyone there, and was cursed. He was cursed to roam the stars forever, in his little blue box, all alone.

Now far, far away, on a little blue and green planet, on a soggy little island, there was a girl. She was afraid of being stuck, standing still, being no one forever and ever. She worked somewhere unimportant, doing something unimportant, and feeling so very unimportant.

One day, a villain came to her little island. And it took over the shop window dummies where she worked. She was cornered, alone, and frightened in a basement. Then someone took her hand, and whispered, "Run."

The boy took her away from her unimportant little life, off into the stars. Slowly, he grew to trust her, and she trusted him. And they grew to be friends, and then more than friends. And she slowly learned all about his curse, and decided to end it by staying with him, always.

Once, he changed to save her life. She didn't know if he was still the same boy she'd fallen in love with, and she almost left. She almost gave up. But he proved himself to her again, by fighting off another villain from her soggy little island, and by showing her he still loved her. So they kept traveling together.

Once, she thought she'd lost him forever. A horrible white wall sprang up and pulled them apart. She thought she'd never see him again, but she never gave up. She searched for him for years and years, and finally found him again.

But then there were two of him, one a clone, the other the original boy. And the original boy left her on the other side of the wall with the clone. And he did it to keep her safe. She was mad at first, oh, she was very mad with him. She wouldn't accept that his clone was him. But then he told her things.

He told her he was free of the curse of living forever. He told her he could spend the rest of his life by her side.

He told her he loved her.

And she accepted him. It was slow, at first. But he grew his magic box again, and they traveled again, and he asked her to marry him. And she finally accepted him. She said yes.

And now they have a beautiful little girl. And her name is Donna Jackie Tyler. And she's finally fallen asleep."

Rose smiled at the little bundle in her arms, and gently set her in the little blue cradle. Her planet mobile swung above her, shining galaxies twirling beautifully around scaled-down planets. One of them was small and blue and green. Another was big and gold and red.

She ran a finger over the little girl's cheek, smiling when she turned her head toward it. "Goodnight, Donna," she whispered, and stepped back, out of the room, turning off the lights and leaving the little stars' glow in their place. She shut the door, and turned to her husband, who was leaning against the hallway wall, brown spikey hair and striped pajamas ruffled. She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

"She asleep?" "Yeah," Rose sighed, folding herself into his arms. He stroked a hand down her back and leaned his chin sleepily against her head. "You done fiddling with the controls?" "I'll just let the TARDIS decide where we go tomorrow." "How about no where? A family day in?" He smiled down at her. "Well, you do have a story to finish. I think I could help with that." She leaned up and kissed him softly, then pulled back. "C'mon, Doctor. It's time for bed." She led him down the hall.

Inside the starlit room, the little girl clutched happily to a small device, one that would seem out of place in any other crib. But the little sonic screwdriver was perfectly right for the little Doctor's Daughter.

Old (A Tentoo Drabble)

Pairing: Tentoo/Rose mentions

Rating: G

Old. It's amazing how odd that word sounded to him now.

Before, when he'd thought of old, he'd thought of centuries, of planetary histories and the births and deaths of stars and galaxies. He'd thought of an ancient, nearly extinct race, who could live for many thousands of years, each with thirteen faces. He'd thought of how many faces he had left, and how many centuries, and how alone he would be.Old used to terrify him. Now, though, old was different.

Now, he thought of years, of houses and cars, and pictures from a Polaroid camera. He thought of another race, who lived for less than a century on average, each with only one face. He thought of the fact that now he only had one face, and much less than a century left...and someone to spend that time with. Old doesn't scare him as much anymore. The Doctor touched his face. He touched the chin that was covered in morning stubble after not being shaved in three days. He touched the corners of brown eyes he'd grown so used to seeing, suddenly, it seemed, covered in small wrinkles. He touched brown, spikey hair that was just beginning to grey.And he marveled at it.

Fifty years ago, this hadn't even been a possibility for him. Thirty-five years ago, it'd been an aching, impossible fantasy. Thirty years ago, it'd become a terrifying and strange new reality. Now, he looked at himself in fond awe once again.He was getting old. He, the Doctor, Last of the Time Lords, 900 year old alien, was finally getting old. And he was happy about it.

Someone knocked on the open bathroom door. He looked over to see a brown haired woman leaning against its frame, arms crossed over a blue pajama top. She smiled at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Morning. Why're you starin' at yourself?"

He smiled and raised an eyebrow right back.

"Morning. I'm just appreciating how handsome I am."

"No you're not," she laughed, "You were touching your wrinkly eyes. You're thinkin' about how old you're getting."

He scowled playfully. "I am not!"

"Are too!" she grinned, walking over and hugging him. He sighed, looking back at the mirror and putting an arm around her. "Are to," he conceded.

The woman looked up at him thoughtfully."It still amazes you, doesn't it?"

"Oh, yes. I think it always will."

They stood there for a minute, looking in the mirror, before she finally patted his shoulder and gestured at his striped pajamas."C'mon, get dressed. You promised we could show Martha and David a new planet today."

He sighed again, smiling into it. "I did, didn't I? Alright." He stepped back from her and walked to the wardrobe in the adjacent bedroom, pulling out a familiar blue set of garments. "Old suit good enough for it, Deej?"

"Always, Dad," she said fondly, and with a last chuckle left the room to find her kids and make sure they were ready.

Another woman appeared at the door and smiled. This one was blonde, with little wrinkles around her eyes, too (that he of course never mentioned).

"Hello."

"Hello."

Rose came in and gave him a little kiss.

The Doctor took his wife's hand, like he always had, and always would, and went off to find the rest of his greatest adventure, and show them a new planet. Just like he'd promised.

Just like it should be.

A Letter to the Doctor

Pairing: Tentoo/Rose, Ten/Rose mentions

Rating: PG for very very mild angst

Dear Doctor,

That sounds so weird. I'm very used to hearing other people call you that, of course I am. People yell it at you, threaten you with it, insult you with it, thank you with it, laugh it out admiringly. It's just weird to say it myself.Well, this whole idea is weird, isn't it? Writing to you, I mean. I don't even really know that you're going to read this, just have the assurance of a madman and the tiniest little tear in the universe, like a crack in a wall, only big enough to send a small signal through. But we had to try, didn't we?I'm the one writing the letter because Dad thinks it would be pointless for him to do it, and Mum...well...let me explain.

They were stuck on Earth for five years, while the TARDIS was growing. It was helped along by everything Torchwood had. Dad won't even tell me what all was used. Even then, five years was impossibly fast. But it was enough time to get things started.Mum had trouble, at first, of course. For a long time, she says, she was so uncomfortable with it, with him. But he won her over. Little ways. He never acted very different, Mum says, a little moodier, a little darker, but all the same mannerisms, the same clothes (well, excepting of course the odd lazy day in jeans or sweats and a galaxy tshirt he appparently found and loved), the same smile. But he did do something a lot different.

He took her on dates. Very reserved things, picnics, beach walks, fancy dinners. Sometimes they just stayed in. Dad would play Mum music on the piano and the guitar, and sing with it, pretty Gallifreyan songs from his childhood, his favorites. He'd tell her stories he'd apparently planned to tell her before...you know. They'd talk all about where they'd go when the TARDIS was up and ready. And finally Mum just...accepted it. I think that's my favorite story.

So Dad tells it (and I do love when he does, what a storyteller my old dad is), he was meddling with some little bit of the TARDIS (which mysteriously has a broken chamelion circuit. Can you guess what the old girl looks like?) when she walked in and just hugged him from behind. And he just looked around and raised his eyebrows at her, all confused, and she asked "Can we go back to New Earth? The last time was a bit iffy, but..." And he knew, right then, that she was seeing him again. Really seeing just him and not that body he was in.

He did take her to New Earth, by the way. He proposed to her on the applegrass covered ridge, d'you remember that place?The ring's beautiful, a little blue band with a perfect (alright, almost) white diamond on top, cut over a nova pattern made of real stardust. Dad went all out on it, made it himself with help from our old girl. Mum still shows it to me everytime she tells the story.

The wedding was in a little church in London. There were some human things, Mum walked down the aisle and had the white dress and all, but the main part was a Time Lord ceremony. And only Gran, Gramps, and Tony were invited. That one's my second favorite story. They let me go watch it last month, from behind a door. Don't worry, no one saw me, no paradoxes. I cried.

I was born a year after they got the TARDIS working, as we were landing on Earth. Mum and Dad still call me Earth Girl all the time. That was eighteen years ago. I've grown up in the TARDIS, traveling, exploring. They took me to Barcelona for my last birthday, the planet not the city. And yes, we do keep track of birthdays, albeit a bit oddly. Mum's got the details, I just play along.I love every minute of this. I've even managed to keep in touch with a couple of kids on Earth, Rory, Amy, and Clara. Dad loves them, loves showing off around them. So do I, but don't tell him I said that. They've come with us once or twice. He keeps us away from too many life-or-death problems. Well, he tries...I asked Mum whether she had anything to say to you. She smiled and said she had one thing to say.

She's having a fantastic life with you, here.

Dad says that by the time you get this, you'll probably have regenerated once or twice. Are you ginger this time?

It's weird though, again, isn't it? I hope you still like how you look, and how you act, and that you still remember Mum and Dad. I hope you haven't worried too much about them, or missed her too badly. Who knows, maybe you'll see us at some point. It'd be fun to see how Dad reacts to what would have been future him.I guess the point I was trying to make was that we're happy here, all three of us (soon to be four!), and we hope that wherever you are, whatever's happened since, that you're still running. Because I think that if the Doctor ever stopped running, the stars would go out because they missed him so much. Keep going, Doctor. Have a fantastic life, for us.

All our love,

Donna Jackie (That's me, hello!)

Rose Tyler

The Doctor

PS: I have attempted to attach a picture of us on New Earth last week. I hope you like it, especially Dad's beard stubble and my hair. Blue tips on blonde, good, yeah? I'm thinking of going ginger next.

Step By New Step

Woo! So excited to be postin' my first prompt fic for @flashfictionfridayofficial!! What better way to start things off than with this particular prompt for these two as they work through the aftermath of everything that is Journey's End. [over on ao3] Fandom: Doctor Who Pairing: Metacrisis Doctor/Rose Tyler WC: 1000 “Still gettin’ used to sleeping like a regular person?” 

Jumping, the Doctor twirls around, forces a grin as he meets Rose’s cheeky smile. She’s leaning against the door-frame, shadows beneath her eyes. Looks a bit like he feels, all out of sorts.

“Regular? Who says I’m regular. Never stuck to regular, me.” 

“Like how you’re taking your coffee?” There’s a definite hint of laughter there now to her tone. “Irregular?”

Two days. It’s been two days in the wake of his original self leaving. Well, fifty-three hours and sixteen minutes, actually. But who’s counting?

Not him. Why’d he go and do something like that?

Okay, maybe it’s helping. Has been. Kind of. 

Fingers tapping against his thigh, he stares at the coffee machine. Listening to the water bubbling away. Optimal temperature. Tries not to count down the seconds in time with how long it’s been since he’d flipped the switch, destroyed the Dalek fleet, told Rose he—

“Still gettin’ used to sleeping like a regular person?” 

Jumping, the Doctor twirls around, forces a grin as he meets Rose’s cheeky smile. She’s leaning against the door-frame, shadows beneath her eyes. Looks a bit like he feels, all out of sorts.

“Regular? Who says I’m regular. Never stuck to regular, me.” 

“Like how you’re taking your coffee?” There’s a definite hint of laughter there now to her tone. “Irregular?” She pushes off from the frame, heading over to join him proper in this almond-expanse of a kitchen. “Didn’t think you even knew how to work one of these things.” ‘Or need to use it,’ is implied by the flicker of her gaze over his features—probably looks tired. And he is.

It’s awful feeling it. How do humans function like this from day to day? 

“Oh, there’s plenty you don’t know about me, Rose Tyler.” Like how her mascara’s smudged and he has the weirdest urge to fix it. While simultaneously wanting to go right back to bed this very instant, and what does that say about him? Him? The Doctor.

“Mm, so I’ve noticed.” There’s a hint of cheek there, but the way her gaze flicks away from him says it’s more than that.

Smoothing down his shirt, he focuses on the machine more than her. Oh, the water’s stopped boiling, he can… do the clicky thing now.

Fit the coffee grounds in. 

Though as he struggles with that, a sigh breaks through the open space. And Rose’s hands, gentle and still so kind, take the portafilter from his.

“Lemme do it,” she says. “Saves us a couple of minutes.” She flashes him a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and he shuffles back, letting her work the machine.

It feels… so wrong, this. Domestic. 

But also… 

Studying her profile, he chews on the inside of his mouth—probably picked it up from Donna, not his habit. It’s not just weariness, is it? Not with Rose. It’s… it’s probably him.

More than likely.

Most definitely.

‘But he’s not you.’ So heart-broken as she’d said it back then, with eyes only for his original self. Standing right there, beside the TARDIS.  “Sorry,” he blurts out.

She stills. Then she’s fitting a cup beneath the nozzle. “For what?” It’s casual, a little strained, her response.

“For… Just…” He flails a hand about for the answer. Can’t push any of what he really wants to say out into the open. Everything within him’s babbling about it too fast. “This,” he settles on. 

Me, he almost says. But doesn’t.

“S’ not your fault,” she says, cold, curt. Glaring at the coffee machine like it’s out to get her. Then she takes a breath in, releases it. “Just… need time to work through this, yeah?” She glances his way, the small smile’s back. But it’s a bit brighter, not meant to hurt. “An’ we got plenty of that now.” 

She’s saying it for him, not for herself. He can tell. 

He doesn’t know how, just does. In the inflection. In the way she looks at him, like she’s seeing someone else. Someone better.

Running a hand through his hair, fast and rough, he breathes out through his nose. Turns away. 

He hears the clink of the cup three seconds before arms wrap around his waist. “Don’t,” she says, then there's light pressure—she's pressing her forehead against his back. Warmth against his spine. “Don’t do that.”

He looks down at the tiled floor. “Do what?” 

“Go all distant, going somewhere I can’t follow.” Her arms tighten around him.  On automatic he rests a hand over hers, runs his thumb over the back of it. “I’m still here.” 

“Then stay here.”

His singular heart twists in his chest. And he turns, holding her close. The rapid beat of her own heart thrums against his ribcage, her floral perfume brushing past his nose. 

He kisses the crown of her head. It’s stiff, but his to do. For her sake. “All this time,” he murmurs, “I’ve been running. But when I was at my worst… you showed up.”

Something like a laugh breaks out of her, but it catches in her throat. “Just that one word: 'run', and it’s all we did,” she says, teasing. “Going from one place to the next, never stopping. All those different places we went to… People we met. An’ you could say what you like, but I could see how kind you were, even then.” “Couldn’t have asked for a better friend, pulling more of that out of me. Making me see it for myself.” Stepping back, the Doctor looks into her eyes. Hazel, flecked with hints of green. Lashes fluttering as she tries to fight back her tears. “Or who you’ve become to me now.”

She reaches up, cupping his face between her hands. And for a moment, just a moment, they stay like that. Seeing past everything they were and to what they’ll be able to have in the future—their future—together. Separate strands from their timeline weaving together in silver and gold. 

Then he kisses her. 

It’s an awkward thing, unlike the surge of emotions yanked out of them both on Bad Wolf Bay. Slow with hesitance, but she guides him, her lips soft against his own.    When they part, he presses his forehead to hers. Gentle, as she’d been with him. Trying to convey what he can’t in words.

And together they breathe into the quiet.