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lifetimeshipper · 1 year

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The Wolf-Con and the Cadet

Chapter 6

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The sound of the alarms blaring cut through the quietness of the scrapyard. "Brisk has broken into a concert hall and seems to be stealing some sound systems," Fixit announced.

"He's no doubt stealing this stuff for Steeljaw," says Bumblebee.

"Or it could be for someone else," Metalsound put in trying to take some of the blame off of the Wolf-Con.

"I doubt it, Steeljaw released him and made him part of his pack, he's working for him."

"If you say so, I think I'll sit this mission out," Metalsound replied as she slowly made her way to Strongarm. "Can you think of a way to get out of going on the mission?" She asked quietly, "Steeljaw's been asking to see you."

"Uh... sounds like fun, Lieutenant. But I still have some training to catch up on, you have fun at the concert."

"Oh come on, it's a great band."

"Still got training to do, sorry."

"Who's the band?" Metalsound asked.

When Bumblebee told her the name of the group she groaned with disappointment, "Thanks but no thanks."

"Aww, why not? I thought you loved music."

"I do but not incoherent music."

"Really?"

"You can't understand what they're saying."

"That's the whole point!"

"I think I'll help Strongarm with her training," she replied as she followed after Strongarm.

"Alright, suit yourself! Have fun with your training!"

Once Bumblebee was out of sight and Grimlock, Fixit, and Denny were doing their own thing, Metalsound leaned over to the cadet. "You ready?"

Strongarm was feeling a bit nervous about all this but she wanted to see Steeljaw again. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Then let's go," she grinned as she headed towards the scrapyard's gate. Strongarm followed her.

Metalsound was quiet while she kept an optic out for Steeljaw or any other Decepticon that would probably be lurking in the forest.

"So, you've been keeping in contact with Steeljaw this whole time you were with us?"

"Just a little bit. As I said before, he was worried about you."

"And I'm guessing he's been asking you to help me sneak away to see him."

"Yep," she replied as she came to a halt. Slowly turning her helm she kept an optic out for anything out of the ordinary, any scent that shouldn't be there. This was when she acted more like a Predacon, or an animal that lived in the wild.

"Is someone nearby?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure of who. I'm still getting used to their scents, it's hard to do so when there are so many other Decepticons around at the same time. There are two of them up ahead, just past the river," she explained quietly.

Strongarm gets out her Decepticon Hunter. Metalsound could hear branches snapping as whoever it was, was getting closer. She relaxed as she caught one familiar scent, and giggled when she saw the two mechs. "Thunderhoof came as well, Steeljaw?"

"Yeah, he wanted to make sure everything went well," Steeljaw says mostly keeping his optics on Strongarm, his tail was wagging as he was filled with joy to see her again.

Metalsound giggled as she pushed Strongarm closer to Steeljaw, "Have fun you two."

"Um, hi," Strongarm greeted as Metalsound walked over to Thunderhoof.

"How are you feeling?" Steeljaw asked a bit awkwardly, he really wanted to just grab her and kiss her but he didn't want to scare her.

"I'm better, thanks," Strongarm didn't know what to say or do. "So, what have you been up to?"

"Uh... do you really want to know?"

"Not really."

"Ask how his day was!"

Strongarm jumped at the sudden yell from the other femme, "Um, how was your day?"

"A bit dull until now," Steeljaw smiled at her.

"That's good, I wish she hadn't yelled like that though," Strongarm replied with a light blush.

Steeljaw chuckled a bit, "You've never done anything like this before, have you?"

"Not really. I mean this goes against everything that I learned, and it feels like I'm just throwing it away."

"Do you have any feelings for me?" Steeljaw asks with a saddened look.

"Um, I'm not really sure," Strongarm confessed.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Dummy, that's a good way to make her even more nervous," Metalsound hissed.

"Steel better do something fast or he's gonna lose her," Thunderhoof adds as they watch the pair from a distance.

"Do you think it's a little weird that we're watching them? I feel like we should leave them alone instead of watching them from the shadows like a couple of creepers."

"Yeah, I suppose, but I want to know how this plays out."

They see Steeljaw move in closer to Strongarm.

"I'm sure he will tell you, now come on." Metalsound walked deeper into the forest to give the two some privacy. She was going to ask Strongarm for the details later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Strongarm took a small step back when Steeljaw moved closer to her. Was he going to try to kiss her again? Part of her wanted him to but she was still unsure of what his motives were.

"Maybe this will help," Steeljaw tries to grab her and kiss her.

She had a small feeling he was going to try that again. Strongarm ducked out of the way before he could and she quickly moved behind him. "Is that all that you came here for, Steeljaw?"

He turns and looks at her, "What's wrong? Didn't you enjoy the kiss as much as I did the last time?"

"I did, but we don't really know each other all that well. We should get to know each other more before we do anything intimate."

"Right, would be best if we got to know each other before we started anything. Alright, what do you want to know?"

"What made you want to become a Decepticon?"

Steeljaw rubbed the back of his helm, "Um... I didn't... much care for the Autobots, due to something that happened when I was a pup."

"What happened?"

"It was while the war was still going on, an explosion happened near where we were hiding out and it killed my sire and carrier. I later found out the explosion was made by a group of Autobots and had a hatred for Autobots ever since. Then I started having dealings with the Autobots always trying to ruin my operations."

Strongarm stayed quiet while Steeljaw told his story, so he had a reason for being the Decepticon he is today. "I-I'm sorry about your parents, I grew up with one of the off-world colonies that had left a few months before the war started. I was really little so I don't really remember much about it, other than the stories they told us at the Academy."

"Now you tell me, what made you want to become an Autobot officer?"

"My sire, he was the second-in-command to Optimus Prime and I wanted to be just like him. So I studied as hard as I could to get in and make him proud."

"That explains why you're so by the book and think nothing can be right outside of the officer's book." Strongarm glares at him. "What? Just speaking the truth, but you have changed. I mean, you don't have to go all rogue but you could do with being on the wild side a bit."

"I'll try. What do you do when you're not busy?"

"Mostly just sit around and think of what I'm gonna do for my next mission. But lately, I've been thinking about when I'm gonna see you again."

Strongarm looked to the ground, hoping he wouldn't see her blush. "When did you realize that you liked me?"

"I think I liked you ever since I first saw you, then you really impressed me during our last fight and I started liking you more. I tried to deny it but quickly realized that there was no point in denying it. Do you have a special mech in your life?"

"No. Bumblebee is more like a mentor to me and Grimlock is like a brother. Sideswipe's more like a crazy cousin."

Steeljaw laughed, "He is crazy."

Strongarm laughed as well, "Not to mention he thinks he can do everything on his own, and he's a show-off."

"So I've noticed. So, um... have you ever had a boyfriend before? Just curious."

"No, I never really had the time between studying and the Academy, plus I don't think any bot would think that I'm good company."

"Why wouldn't they?"

"I think a part of me is worried that they might judge me because of Ultra Magnus, and they may feel threatened because I'm one of the few femmes that are trying to become a police officer."

"Not to mention a mech could be intimidated by a femme that can kick their aft," Steeljaw says with a chuckle.

"Yeah," Strongarm chuckled softly. "Did you always work alone, or did you have help?"

"Sometimes I worked alone sometimes I worked with others."

"Were any of them femmes?" She asked nervously.

"I've worked with a few, yes."

"Did you ever like any of them?" She felt a twinge of jealousy, unsure of why.

"No, none was really my type."

"Oh, well, what is your type?"

"A femme that is beautiful, not a backstabber, can really handle herself and doesn't rely on the mech to take care of her at all times. And there's a femme I know who meets all of that."

"And who would that be?" She knew who he was talking about, she just wanted to hear it for herself.

"You."

"You're serious, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am. The femmes I've encountered before, the femmes I worked with weren't all that pretty and just didn't do it for me. Honestly, I thought I would never find a femme who would be fit to be with me until I met you. Also, none of the other femmes really saw me as that type of mech, most of them were afraid of me or just didn't like me because of my features."

"It shouldn't matter how you look, who you are on the inside is what should matter," Strongarm told him as she slowly made her way to him. "And you helped me see that."

Steeljaw looks at her, his spark pulsing really fast. "I did?"

"Yeah, at first I thought you were a criminal, but not fully by choice. You had a reason."

"I did, glad you could see it, not many would see it."

With a little hesitation, she took his servo in hers, closing the distance between them. Steeljaw looks down at her, his spark pulsing as fast as a freight train. "You're so beautiful, and your optics put the moon to shame."

Strongarm's spark skipped a pulse when he said that, she had never gotten a compliment like that before. She couldn't think of anything else, she just got lost in his optics, something about them just drew her in.

"May I now kiss you, please?"

Strongarm closed the distance as her lips met with his. Steeljaw wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in tight as he kissed her back. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Strongarm had no regret seeing him again.

#fanfic #transformers fanfic #robots in disguise 2k15 #rid 2k15 #steeljaw #strongarm #thunderhoof #oc #rid steeljaw #rid strongarm #rid thunderhoof #steeljaw x strongarm #steelarm #slight thunderhoof x oc #romance

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wishiwasntstillhere · 3 years

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and when the world is crashing down on you, will you give me a call?

Kyouya makes a different decision, and does not end up threatening someone he cares about.

Kyouya-centric for his birthday!! Episode 8 fixit fic, no ships but also im clearly in love with all three of them so :) also on ao3!

Haruhi bursts into his room and goes straight for the bathroom, never even seeing him. Heaving noises ensue from within. He winces. Too much crab, then. He lays the towel down, grabbing his glasses so he can stand, but-

Should he go check on her?

For the hundredth time, the waves crash against that jagged rock and Haruhi plunges silent into dark water. He blinks it away.

Instead, he sits, toweling his hair, and wonders at her. Will she be awkward once she realizes he’s just finished showering? Hmm. Probably not. Oblivious or indifferent, Kyouya can never tell which, but Haruhi never seems flustered by that kind of thing.

That thought should be intriguing, but today there's only a churning in his gut.

“All done?” Kyouya asks, once his bathroom door opens again. He doesn't look up.

“I’m sorry for intruding into the room of a stranger-"

“How rude. It’s me.”

"Kyouya-senpai? Oh. I’m sorry, I seem to have gotten everyone worried about me.”

He refuses to let it play again. Yet in crashes the sea, the fall, the silence of that terror. He just can't shake it.

And so, the Shadow King must act.

Kyouya glances past her to the lightswitch and draws up the words he needs.

“I wasn’t particularly worried.” He stands, then drinks out of his water bottle. Cool, casual. That’s the key to this ruse.

He lays out the bait, recounting Hikaru and Kaoru’s scuffle with her attackers. Pinning his focus on his destination across the room, he spins some nonsense about bouquets and apologies to the girls. Kyouya doesn’t look at her once, even as he positions himself for the catch. In a way, it’s hosting. A careful dance made to look careless, subtly guiding her to the right outcome.

“I’ll pay for those flowers myself,” Haruhi promises, of course.

And his timing is precise. In the exact moment he lays out her six-figure mistake, he flips the lights off, and finally, Kyouya can turn to face her.

Something about the ruffles on her dress sends cold water splashing frantic up his insides. He takes another breath. He reaches down, drawing up the calculated cruelty he needs. He doesn’t like playing the bad guy, but he is best equipped for it. And someone has to.

“Why did you turn the lights off?”

She’s stepped in the snare, the cold teeth of the trap must snap shut around her now. Now, or she’ll never see the danger as it should be.

But his eyes catch on her face, blurry in the dark but watching, open, patient—and the teeth don’t move. He doesn’t move.

“Senpai?”

She fidgets, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. Surely she senses the strangeness in the air.

“Senpai, you’re starting to worry me,” she starts cautiously.

Is he? Is he finally? He can hardly breathe, only he knows this isn’t enough. He grasps for his plan, the words that will make things right-

“Senpai, I’m sorry about the expense. Please don’t worry about it, I really will pay it off,” she tries, and he knows that she really means it. She gives him a look, gentler than a smile, something surreal and infuriatingly comforting in her very Haruhi way, and he chokes.

“Why didn’t you call for help, Haruhi?” he asks, relieved that his voice comes out so indifferent.

Haruhi sighs. “So you were worried.”

A Kyouya with the lights on would fill this space with words, flooding it with hurtful meaningless things. As a member of the host club, you are but an asset to me at best, commoner. Don’t presume your own importance. You are obligated to stay out of trouble until your debt is paid, at least.

There are yet other things he could have said in light, things that would have been kinder, truer, and yet just as deceptive. You scared Tamaki. You drove the twins to violence for you. Don't you see how they worry for you?

But they’re in the dark, and Haruhi’s not dumb, and his hand is already shown. Kyouya has an infinite capacity for unkindnesses––but for once, he’s willing to admit that he doesn’t want to go through with this plan.

“Why didn’t you?” he repeats.

She cocks her head, answering frankly. “It didn’t occur to me.”

And the cold inside him wails.

He clenches his jaw to keep from shouting at her, how completely unhelpful that would be. But still more iron leaches into his tone than intended.

“And just why didn’t it occur to you?”

Haruhi’s chin jerks, eyes sparking. Oh, no.

“Well, those guys weren’t listening, so I didn’t have time to worry about how my gender would impact things. I had to act.”

She’s not listening, and the water is growing more agitated. Careless. Disrespectful. She should be afraid, and he can make her fear him.

Stomach lurching, he holds that thought in place. No. He doesn’t want to hurt her. He doesn’t want her to fear him.

This isn’t about Kyouya. It’s about Haruhi, and her safety.

How can he make her understand? How can he understand?

“I don’t disagree that something had to be done,” he starts. “Those girls were in real, immediate danger, and your intervention allowed Kurakano-kun to get the rest of the club to help. And Tamaki was being unreasonable by making the issue about your gender.”

Even this much is exhausting, so he sits down on the floor.

When she follows suit, her shoulders have settled a little from their taut hunch. Progress. He searches the dark and blurry bedroom for the next right words. But Haruhi finds them first.

“I know that rushing in to fight those guys was reckless,” she murmurs. “But the girls were scared. If I didn’t act, right away, they were going to be hurt.”

Kyouya pauses. She won’t like his next question. But he holds her gaze, intending to understand.

“Had you considered that you could get hurt, by intervening?”

Haruhi frowns. “After I hit the one, I knew they would focus on me. That was sort of the point, to get him to let go of Momoka-chan. But…” Her tone shifts into something more contemplative now. “I suppose I didn’t guard myself well, but how were my actions any different from Tamaki-senpai’s? He dove straight off the cliff to get to me, wasn’t that just as dangerous?”

She does have a point there. However good a swimmer he is, Tamaki had dived off the cliff without even looking. And yet...

True, Tamaki rushes into many reckless things to help others, but it’s never quite filled Kyouya with the same cold dread as Haruhi’s tumble off the cliff. And Tamaki has taken many a tumble. Kyouya would know, after all.

Ah.

“Haruhi, if you were robbed in a foreign country and you didn’t speak the language and you had nothing on you but your cellphone and 1000 yen, what would you do?”

She startles. “Huh? I would… search for the embassy, I guess?”

“And if you had no idea where the embassy was?”

“I would... try to find a map?”

Hmm.

“And if you got locked out of your home at 3 AM in the morning?”

“Senpai, what is this about?” Her confusion has shifted into mild irritation.

“Humor me,” he says, unsmiling.

She throws her hands up in resignation. “I would… wait until my dad got home.”

“And if he was on a business trip? Or if it was storming?”

“I would break in somehow.”

“And if someone at school was stealing your books and writing slurs on your desk?”

Rolling her eyes, she sighs out, “I would let the teacher know I needed new books, and clean off my desk before school. Senpai, this isn’t very funny.”

There’s a knock at his door. “Kyouya?” And it opens. “Do you have any lotion? This sunburn is worse than I-”

Tamaki freezes in the doorway. Kyouya can’t see the look on his face, but he hardly needs to, with the perfect replica hissing steam in his mind. He has approximately three seconds to derail this explosion. Luckily, he has just the thing to reroute the wildly careening train that is Tamaki’s mind.

“What are you-”

“Tamaki, after you got scammed and you were stranded on your own in Taiwan, what did you do?”

Tamaki blinks, recalibrating.

“Uh, I think I went to the embassy?”

“And how did you get to the embassy?”

“Hmm... Oh! I called you to ask for directions.” Walking over, he drops down to sit with them. His eyebrows are pinched––he wants to ask why, but still he lets Kyouya lead on.

“Yes. In the middle of an investor meeting,” he adds to a perplexed Haruhi. “And what about that time when you tried to climb from your window to the roof and fell out of your bedroom, when you were too embarrassed to call for a maid to come unlock your own house at 3 AM?”

“I… called you and stayed over at your place.”

Haruhi makes a face at that, which is fair. Nonetheless.

This last one is a little more delicate. He softens his voice, and inclines his head toward Haruhi by way of explanation. “And when you were bullied by our xenophobic peers in middle school?”

“Ah,” Tamaki says, realization smoothing his brow. “I told you about it. And you blackmailed them within an inch of their lives, of course.” He grins at the memory, at Kyouya. It’s easy to smirk back, warm and wicked in equal measure. That plan he has no regrets about.

Haruhi looks back and forth between them. He knows she’s still turning it over in her own mind. She is certainly smart enough to get it herself. But Kyouya decides anyway to take a page out of her book and be blunt, lest a mistranslation lead to regret later.

“The difference,” he explains, “is that whenever Tamaki is in trouble, he calls.”

They sit in silence for a while, Haruhi with her face downturned, Kyouya watching, patient. Considering both of them with his own discerning gaze, Tamaki settles, too.

“I’m just not like that, though,” Haruhi concludes, at last. Her voice is a touch wistful.

Tamaki is very, very gentle with his next words, Kyouya notices. “You grew up pretty lonely, didn’t you, Haruhi? You had to deal with a lot on your own.”

She shrugs, though all three know it’s true. And then all at once, they’re thinking of mothers and childhoods lost, and the melancholy sets in heavily over them.

“You know, Kyouya grew up much the same,” he says.

Haruhi turns to look at a bewildered Kyouya, who pushes up his glasses on reflex. But Tamaki smiles, continuing.

“Yes, he’s someone I can always depend on. But he’s not very good at asking for help, either.”

Kyouya glowers at the sheer audacity, only to startle as they both look at him with eyes far too affectionate. He shifts in place and looks down instead.

“But he has the whole Host Club looking out for him. So that even though sometimes, he doesn’t ask out loud, we can see it. And we’ll help.”

Here’s a pause. Tamaki swallows, leans forward, and bows.

“Haruhi, I’m sorry I yelled. I was angry because I was scared. That was my own fault, and you have every right to be upset.”

She rocks a little in her seat. “I’m sorry, as well. I don’t want to worry you guys.”

An absurd feeling grows in Kyouya’s chest. Half mirth, half despair.

Because he realizes: he doesn’t want her to be sorry at all anymore. She shouldn’t have to be sorry, she did nothing wrong . She acted to help, because it was more important to her than any consequence.

And now it’s clear: Haruhi has somehow become someone he truly cares about. Like Tamaki. Haruhi is something precious. Completely an agent of her own, and so trusting, and so kind. She’s earnest. She’s inherently good. He just wants her to be safe.

And he will never have any control over that.

The hysteria swells, threatening the structural integrity of his ribcage. All of the understanding he’s earned still won’t stop the fear that’s been crashing through him this whole night. He chokes down the laughter bubbling up and in his sheer desperation, looks at Tamaki.

It takes only one moment for Tamaki to read Kyouya’s distress, and in the next, he’s grabbing his hand, squeezing tight. And then he extends one to Haruhi.

“Haruhi, you don’t ever have to face things alone again. Will you let us be there for you?”

Kyouya has no control over how hard he squeezes Tamaki’s hand as they wait. He watches Haruhi’s own hands curl on her lap.

"I won’t be very good at it.”

"We aren’t either,” he says. She huffs. “It’s about the trying. Together .”

When she looks up, he's ready. Her eyes are searching, so he makes sure his own gaze is steadfast. He almost missed ever having this opportunity, he's fully aware. He won't let her down again.

“Okay,” she whispers. And takes Tamaki’s hand.

Relief blooms tangibly in the air. Haruhi’s eyes crinkle at Tamaki's relieved laugh. She opens her mouth to say something else, and-

Thunder shatters the room. Haruhi squeaks, yanking on his hand and hunching.

“Haruhi?” Tamaki leans forward, but-

Lightning strikes again, closer this time, and Kyouya feels the thunder slam into his eardrums. Haruhi yelps, trembling violently. She looks around the room, spots his dresser, and stands.

“Sorry! I- I uh- have to go now!”

“Don’t hide in the dresser,” Kyouya says, then feels foolish. Where had that thought come from? Why would she-?

But then she actually starts climbing into his dresser, and he and Tamaki have to hold the doors open.

“What- why would-? Haruhi, are you afraid of thunder?”

“It’s fine, I’ll be fine, this is how I always get through it,” she stammers, curling up inside.

“Not anymore,” says Tamaki, fiercely, and pulls her out into a hug.

“We have an American-style basement. It should be soundproof there, and there won’t be any flashing. Let’s head down now,” Kyouya decides. She’s trembling, clutching hard at Tamaki.

“I can’t- I’m not going to make it.”

“Close your eyes and cover your ears. We’ll get you there safe,” promises the Host Club prince, holding her even tighter.

“Okay,” she whispers.

Somehow they make it, the three of them hobbling to the basement. And somehow, the others find them, and they play games and music until they're almost all asleep on the various couches.

Kyouya’s turned off the lights and is just throwing a blanket over the twins when he hears her.

He’d thought she was asleep when he’d passed to drape a blanket over her on her own couch. Maybe she’s sleep talking, or maybe she woke up again. Either way, he stills, hoping she won’t spot him.

“You guys are even nicer than I thought,” she murmurs to the dark room. “Thank you, Kyouya-senpai.”

Despite himself, he smiles.

#kyouya ootori #kyoya ootori #haruhi fujioka #tamaki suoh #ouran #ohshc #fixit fic #episode 8 fixit #ouran au anybody #the bisexual in me rly came out writing this #man episode 8 screws up haruhi AND kyouyas characterization im just so glad fanfiction exists :)#lai is out here

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talesfantastic · 4 years

Text

Mun Things and Fandom Notes

about the mun. fill this out & tag a few people you’d like to get to know better !

tagged by the lovely @vetlanwrites tysm tagging some people I haven’t tagged before: @amalgammuses, @animus-inspire, @kychchc, @rotinthedark, @warofthebeasts & YOU!

name: my name is [ loud music interrupts ] nickname: you can call me Kat or KF! preferred pronouns: she/her age range: 30+ favorite animal: cats pets: cat and a dog tattoos/piercings: I had my ears pierced several times and they won’t stay pierced so I gave up on anything -shrug- star sign: virgo! I’m an August bby how long have you been in this fandom?: doing just the ones I currently have muses for, and not the ones I’ve only talked about -

Dragonball(Z) - I’ve been writing in DBZ since... oh geez, the late 90′s? I think the first fic I ever posted was DBZ and it was around that time. I didn’t start rping it until like, early 00′s though.

Final Fantasy - I actually dabbled in 9 a little bit around the time it came out in ‘00 (my friend had it!) but I wouldn’t say I really did much until I really got into 7, and that was around... geez, ‘05? I rped it a little with a friend around then but I didn’t really start writing it much until nearly ‘10. #latetotheparty Yet I do consider it my “home” fandom - I always come back to it.

Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons - early ‘00s! My first HM/SoS game was Friends of Mineral Town on my trusty GBA and I love it so much to this day. SO excited for the remake!

Legend of Zelda - I really, really loved Ocarina of Time from the get-go when I got it on the N64 in ‘98 (I got it again for the GameCube and the 3DS and would totally buy it for the Switch, just sayin.) Majora’s Mask creeped me out a bit and was stressful but I liked it, too. And then of course later titles like Twilight Princess were just... -chef’s kiss- but I didn’t really dig into the fandom until ‘10-’11 when I started rping Link with a friend and briefly tried joining a forum rp group (shoutout to ZRPG!) with an OC

Marvel Cinematic Universe - I want to say around ‘12, when Avengers came out? Like, I’d seen Iron Man but I didn’t really dig into it until then.

Pokémon - late 90′s / early 00′s because I first started my Pkmn journey playing Gold and Crystal. While I didn’t write fanfic or rp it, I definitely had headcanons and a lot of feels.

Sailor Moon - early 90′s! I first watched the anime as it came out, though I’ve since forgotten most of that and only have the manga/crystal in my head to run interpretations off of. It was so pretty tho.

Stardew Valley - a newer fandom for me, I really only started getting “into” it about a year ago, but man... I love it, I really do

Star Wars - despite early access to the OT as a kidlet, I didn’t actually get “into” Star Wars until the Prequels in ‘99 (fite me) when I fell in love with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan and promptly, voraciously, dove into fixit and timetravel fanfic. By the time KOTOR came out in ‘03 I was hooked.

Threads of Fate - I think I got into this one on the ground floor, so to speak. My friend had just gotten it and I borrowed it from her and my brother’s PS1 in ‘00 and that was it, I was in love.

why did you choose this specific character/s?: under a cut bc I have like... nearly 30 muses now

I’m doing alphabetical order (by fandom / first name) bc it’s just easier to go down my list:

tl;dr I picked them all because I love them. Read on to find out why. Click their names to read their bios!

Dragonball Z

Vegeta - oh man, actually one of the first characters I ever rp’d or wrote in fic, and that’s saying something. I picked him because I love him. He’s an absolute ass, but he grows so much throughout Z. (I have yet to see Super, hoping to one day remedy that but we’ll see!) I guess I picked him up for nostalgia’s sake? I really love the character and think there’s a lot of growth yet to see buried under that pride and ego. If you can unearth it.

Final Fantasy

Angeal Hewley (FF7) - actually my first muse on Tumblr, back in... oh, 2013? The blog has been deleted, but he was the first muse I ever played seriously out of FF7. There’s parts of Angeal that really resonate with me, enough that - when I was a less experienced writer - I got tangled up in him a bit too much, made him a bit too personal, and I realized I had to take a step back from writing him. But I love Angeal, and after some time had passed, having written him in various fics, I’ve felt confident adding him... even if I haven’t done anything with him here yet.

Cait Sith (FF7) - I know a lot of people see Cait Sith as all sorts of negative things, but frankly I adore the little guy. And I guess I took him on partially because I couldn’t take Reeve on and not take Cait on, but partially because I see so much in him that could be interesting to explore and would really, really love to. (Any Reeve’s or AVALANCHE - or Turks! - come at me!)

Chaos (FF7) - I picked Chaos up on a whim, as far as Tumblr goes. I really enjoy rping him/Vincent off Tumblr and writing him in fics, and I suppose I just wanted to present a different side of him than I usually see. I’ve even had a thread that has a great deal of promise so I think it was worth it.

Genesis Rhapsodos (FF7) - my third FF7 blog, I think? It’s still up, though obviously not in use, just because I’d put so much work into it. I really adore Genesis, and love writing him. I love his sass and flare, but I love that he’s deeper than all the fire and flamboyance, if you’re willing to look past that. I’m lucky that I’ve had some lovely partners to explore him with, though I’d still kill for an Angeal to throw him at. XD Or a Sephiroth, for that matter.

Lazard Deusericus (FF7) - Lazard, my second FF7 blog and an unexpected love. I picked him up because I had recently started writing him in earnest with an off-Tumblr rp partner ( @thegeeksqueaks ) and was really enjoying him, and hadn’t seen him on Tumblr yet so thought I might get more partners that way. (It turned out there were a couple but they were inactive.) His first blog was accidentally deleted - over five years worth of character development and relationships - so after briefly working him up again solo I brought him over here. He’s not getting the same level of attention but it’s worth it not to be juggling blogs.

Reeve Tuesti (FF7) - pre-Remake, most of the Reeve rpers had gone inactive (shoutout to the fabulous @engineering-robotics and @animus-inspire for coming back!) and just... I love the character too much not to see him in the RPC. Of course, I love to write him period myself so I’d love more threads there but regardless he’s so much fun.

Tristan Pierce (FF7 OC) - Triiiiiiiiiis. Tristan was actually born as an NPC off of Lazard’s blog, who took a life on his own because he was just... so full of life. He actually had his own blog, too! I’ve barely done anything with him here, but I still keep him just because he gives me feels and he’s just neat. (He does still appear in the background of Lazard’s threads though.)

Harvest Moon / Story of Seasons

Iris (SoS) - I actually picked up Iris as a muse first for a fantastic HM/SoS/SDV/etc rp group I’m in a couple years ago, and liked playing her so much I thought I’d bring her here. Elegant lady novelist? Yes please.

Neil (ANB) - unlike Iris and Trent, I haven’t written Neil anywhere else, but he’s my love from A New Beginning and just... he seems like he’d be fun to write? I’d love to flesh him out.

Doctor/Trent (FoMT/MFoMT; DS/CUTE) - Trent, like Iris, is one I write for the rp group and I legit picked him up because of the opportunity for h/c I am not sorry. But seriously though, he’s grown on me so much and I love my awkward doctor.

Legend of Zelda

Midna (Twilight Princess) - TP is one of my absolute favorite Zelda games, and Midna a favorite character. There’s just so much to her you don’t get to see that I was really hoping to get to dig into, still hope one day to. We’ll see. Worth keeping on roster.

Revali (Breath of the Wild) - my newest addition! I keep saying in complete seriousness “Genesis with more feathers” but seriously, I may have a type? I love him so much and wanted to see more of him, and by god if I have to do it myself so be it. (I have been playing a ton of BOTW lately which probably has a lot to do with it. XD)

Sheik (Ocarina of Time) - I love them so much. OoT didn’t have a ton of character building, but the sheer implications of the character speaks volumes that I want to explore. I’m lucky enough to be getting the chance to, too.

Marvel Cinematic Universe

Tony Stark - did I mention I have a type? I feel he makes a good argument for it. I originally picked Tony up because I just fell head over heels for the character in the first couple Iron Man movies + Avengers. I... am less in love with him in the later movies, not gonna lie, and am so far behind on lore that I’m considering dropping him. But yeah, originally picked him up just because he had so much potential. Thx Disney, great job there.

Pokémon (gameverse)

Lily Hart (HG/SS OC) - another OC of mine, this time for a fandom that... I only really know through the games, as opposed to manga/anime. I picked her up because I really liked the idea of doing events or little ask things with her, and still may try to initiate some more of those. We’ll see?

Sailor Moon (manga/Crystal)

Ami Mizuno/Sailor Mercury - I actually picked Ami up because of a plot with @magicalxgirlsxrp where we were splitting up the Inners and the Shitennou for some mega threads. XD But yeah, I do like her. Even if she’s a challenge to write sometimes because she’s very much not like me, and very much smarter.

Kunzite - Kunzite I have always loved, always, and I’ve had him on here because I really wanted to explore him more. I love him even more after the teasing in Crystal of what might have been, be still my shippy heart.

Mamoru Chiba/Endymion/Tuxedo Mask - super fond of Mamoru, too; I didn’t care for him so much in the 90′s anime, but in the manga and Crystal I really became more fond. I do a few things differently, I think, but don’t we all? I picked him up for that very reason, in fact.

Minako Aino/Sailor Venus - Minako is really interesting to me because there’s so much more to her than her airheaded, bubbly persona that fits her like a glove... but is just as superficial. I mean, she’s sunny and happy but she’s also the OG Senshi, the leader of the Inners, a powerful, commanding fighter - she’s complex, and I really wanted to explore that + getting to have fun with her bubbliness.

Nephrite - another picked up from @magicalxgirlsxrp‘s enabling. But I do find him really interesting so it works out well. Haven’t done a lot with him, but we have plans. Plans I’m looking forward to.

Stardew Valley

M. Rasmodius - I knew I really wanted to do something with SDV, once I got to playing it, but I wasn’t sure who. I thought about Sebastian and Elliot, but already had interacted with a couple who were just fantastic. So instead, I did a good fallback of mine - because I never, ever get tired of playing mages. Ever. XD

Star Wars

HK-47 (KOTOR) - the attitude. I wanted to write HK entirely because of the scorching levels of sass from this droid.

Liana Raine (SWTOR f!JC) - the Jedi Consular storyline is one of my favorites out of all of SWTOR (tied with the Inquisitor, but I’m revamping her) and I really just wanted to keep playing with it even once I’d done the dedicated storyline.

Revan (KOTOR LS!F) - give me female Revan you cowards. -ahem- I have feels about Revan, okay? I love her so, so much - she even had her own blog, I love her that much. I would absolutely love to do something more with her but I will hold on to her if for no other reason than to make sure at least one black, female Revan exists in the world. (I want all the timetravel and crossover threads, hit me up.)

Tharan Cedrax (SWTOR) - another for attitude, really, and also definitely my type. XD He’s charming, he’s snarky, he’s sassy, he’s brilliant... I very much like Tharan and really felt he, like most of the companions, deserved more screentime. So, I’m here to give it to him.

Threads of Fate (Dewprism)

Duke - he’s so cool. I mean, he’s a dork, but his powers are amazing and he’s just a fun, incredibly upbeat character to play. And well, anything to spread my love of that teeny fandom.

Fancy Mel - Mel hits all the sweet spots for a mage character. She’s got flavor, she’s got amazing powers, and she had room to create a fantastic backstory with amazing crossover potential. Is she a bit OP? Yes. But she has no intention of using it for anything but her amusement/whimsy.

Rod the Bladestar - I love Rod. I love his oddly genteel manners, I love how he’s unwittingly sexist but quickly cleans up his act when put straight, I love how driven and passionate he is. Could do without such a typically-Square-outfit, but you can’t have everything. (In the right artists’ hands, he might even be pretty amazing, actually.)

Did you read all of that? Amazing. Any of them strike your interest? Hmu and maybe we could plot a thread! :eyes:

Also I sincerely apologize to mobile users who had to read all that because Tumblr can’t get it’s act together.

#about the mun #roleplay notes #long post

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megabadbunny · 7 years

Text

if we let go (2/?)

(Is this what it means to share a heart with Donna? Compassion ramped up exponentially, emotions absorbed like a sponge, empathy flying off the charts and breaking the meters until mercury spills on the floor and poisons everyone in its proximity? Or is this just what it means to be human?)

I.e., Rose gets a choice, even if she has to carve it out for herself. In this chapter, the metacrisis Doctor makes a choice, as well.

***

a journey’s end fixit (of sorts), dedicated to @travelingrose , who asked some really good questions that reignited my love/hate relationship with this episode/storyline, and to @goingtothetardis , who kept me encouraged while writing (thank you dahling). (i believe this also fills some rose x tentoo / tentoo day prompts from @timepetalsprompts and @doctorroseprompts .) heavy angst, but also lots of flirting, fluff, romance, some adventure, and some smut; sfw versions on tumblr & ff.net, nsfw versions on ao3 and teaspoon.

***

prologue | chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3

chapter two: i was the one with the world at my feet

A thready beep-beep, beep-beep fills the medbay, and the room’s three conscious inhabitants can all breathe again.

“82 over 57,” says the Doctor, his fingers pressed to the pulse point bleating softly under the skin beneath Donna’s jaw. He may be a mere human now, but this, at least, he can still do; all those memories of studying humanoid bodies and memorizing how they work didn’t just vanish into the ether. That’s something, at least.

His original self sits atop a stool on the other side of the examination table, cutting through Donna’s jacket sleeve with a pair of medical scissors. The Doctor hides a smile at the thought of the fit Donna would throw if she knew. Afterward, his original self swabs the inside of Donna’s elbow with antiseptic, punctuating the air with a stench pungent and harsh and chemical, and before his original self has a chance to ask for it, the Doctor crosses the medbay in several long strides, fishing the supplies for an IV and saline drip out of the cabinets.

“Will she be all right?” asks Rose.

His original self doesn’t answer.

“Too early to tell at this juncture,” the Doctor says, honestly. “My—”

He silently curses himself. Personal pronouns right now are…confusing.

“His telepathic blocks should help for a while,” he says. “Keep her in stasis while we run some tests and look into extracting the stuff that shouldn’t be in her mind.”

Shouldn’t be in your mind, either, a small voice pipes up in the back of his mind. But then again, you shouldn’t be here at all.

“We’ll do everything we can,” the Doctor continues, rigging up the IV station. He sends Rose a reassuring smile. “We may actually have a small chance at keeping her original memories intact, thanks to you.”

He glances up to see Rose smiling just the littlest bit, and that shuts the voice in his head right down, because how could it not? She’s real, she’s in this universe again, she’s safe, she’s here. With him. (And on-purpose, as well; she could have left him on that beach in the other universe without a second thought, and maybe he even would have deserved it. But she took his hand anyway, and even if it doesn’t mean anything in the end, he’s deeply grateful.) His pitiful single heart swells almost painfully in his chest and the Doctor is suddenly very glad he’s not the one hooked up to the heartrate monitor, that no one can hear his galloping pulse ringing out through the room.

“Just the smallest chance, mind,” he says quickly, handing the IV tube and needle back to his original self. “But, y’know. Better than no chance at all.”

“Except that there’s no fallback here,” his original self mutters. Rose and the Doctor watch as he pushes the IV needle into Donna’s flesh, medical precision executed to perfection by well-practiced hands. “If I fail at this, if my telepathic blocks don’t hold up, if the scans are inconclusive or I can’t locate equipment sophisticated enough for the kind of extraction we need—which is highly likely, by the way, something I don’t expect her to know but you—” he says pointedly to the Doctor, voice hitching, “—you should have been well aware-of, even if your senses are irreparably compromised—if any of that falls through, Donna’s good as dead.”

“Well what else were we supposed to do?” Rose demands, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Just stand there?”

“Yes. Well, no, you shouldn’t have been there at all. But that aside, you should have listened to me—just once, you should have listened—and left Donna to my care, so I could remove the offending element without risking her life.”

“You mean remove her memories,” the Doctor replies. “Not just the ones she inherited from me. A huge chunk of hers as well.”

Rose barks out a short laugh in disbelief. “You’ve got to be joking.”

The Doctor shakes his head. “Everything she’s seen, everything she’s done, everything she’s become during our time together, it would all have to go.”

“Either that, or she dies,” says the original Doctor, taping the IV tube to Donna’s arm with perhaps a little more force than is necessary, though there’s no chance Donna can feel it right now. “Human minds aren’t built to store Time Lord memories. There’s nothing else to it. It’s a rubbish decision, but someone’s got to make it.”

“And that someone’s always you,” Rose replies bitterly.

The Doctor watches as his original self ignores Rose in favor of tidying up his materials, gathering antiseptic and medical tape and stray cotton balls onto a tray. A muscle twinges in his cheek and suddenly the Doctor can foresee just how quickly this conversation is going to speed downhill, careening on rickety wheels until it smashes into a ravine down below. He doesn’t need his dwindling time-sense to predict that.

“Well, I guess it’s some comfort that I’m not the only one you make life-altering decisions for,” Rose says under her breath.

The original Doctor rips off his medical gloves and throws them to the floor with a smack. “Maybe if you lot made better choices, I wouldn’t have to make them for you.”

“Right. So tell me, do you do this for all the important people in your life, or is it just the women you want to control?”

“I’m not the villain here,” the Doctor snaps, fixing Rose with a sharp glare. “And it’s wildly unfair to paint me as such. And it’s that sort of unyielding, myopic, ridiculously narrow-sighted tendency that renders you unable to accept that some things are just impossible, that blinds you so that you can’t see any of the surrounding forest for one small tree, that utterly strips you of the capability to process even the simplest—”

“You have no idea what I’m capable of!” Rose shouts, and the Doctor watches as she furiously blinks back tears, refusing to let them wet her cheeks. The other Doctor’s eyes widen in surprise, but Rose pushes on. “You don’t know, because you never asked. Did it even occur to you just how long it took me to get back, how hard I fought, everything I had to do? No, you don’t know anything about it, you’re just sitting there, just thinking, That’s Rose Tyler, just the way I left her. But that’s not me, Doctor. That isn’t who I am, not anymore.”

Gasping for breath, Rose combs her fingers through her hair, eyes clenching shut. “I’m not just some broken-hearted, addle-brained human child, I’m not just some unsophisticated ape who’s too stupid to consider things like consequences, and I’m not interested in the word impossible anymore. It sort of loses its meaning after you’ve seen the end of everything, after you’ve jumped from one universe to another to another to another, after you’ve seen dozens of other worlds and still, none of them is yours, none of them is what you’re looking for, no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try but you can’t stop, you can’t and you won’t. You stop caring about impossible after you’ve seen the stars go out and come right back, after you’ve witnessed humanity at its very worst and utter best all in the same damn day—after you’ve stopped a soldier from dying on the battlefield even after your team is telling you it’s useless, she’s good as gone, just leave her.

“And then—” Rose says, her voice shaking, lips twisting with the effort of damming back emotions that the Doctor suspects she hasn’t let loose for a long, long time now, “—then you watch the man you love more than anything die, right in front of you. Twice.”

His original self looks away. But the Doctor doesn’t; he’s frozen, torn between the intense desire to run off and the burning need to cross the room and envelope Rose in his arms until he’s crushed away the memories of everything that ever hurt her. He can feel her pain like it’s his own, aching in his chest and stinging in his throat.

“Then,” Rose says quietly, “after all that, after he comes back to life and everything you worked for is so close you can almost touch it, you’ve practically got it in your hands—after all that, he says no.” She bites her lip to stop it from quivering. “Well, I say too bad.”

She falls silent, mouth pursed in a thin line. Shut tight like a trap so nothing else can escape.

(The quiet in the room is deafening; even the bleat of Donna’s pulse isn’t enough to cut through the sense of suffocation.)

Scrubbing a hand over his face, the original Doctor heaves a sigh. The Doctor swears the lines around his counterpart’s eyes have deepened in these last few minutes; in this moment, he looks every single one of his 900+ years.

“It was never an option, you staying,” he hears his original self say. “I’m sorry, Rose. There’s no place for you here.”

The Doctor feels sick at the words, and wonders if he’s ever hated himself as much as he does right now.

Rose’s eyelashes flutter once, twice, like her physiology is struggling against everything her ears just took in. But soon her features compose themselves, settling coolly into a perfectly neutral mask. Her face betrays nothing. Even her eyes have gone blank. It’s like looking at a smaller, blonder version of his ninth self, even down to the leather jacket. Battle-weary, cold, broken and willing to do anything, anything, to pull himself back together.

(Except he had Rose to pick up the pieces, stitch them up into a shape resembling a person once again. Surely it’s the least he can do, to repay the favor. He’s struck with the realization of just how badly he wants to.)

Wordlessly, Rose stalks past the two Doctors, leaving the medbay without so much as a glance behind.

Funny, the Doctor thinks. She’s only been back for a day, and already, the room feels empty without her in it.

“Don’t.”

The Doctor frowns at his original self. “Don’t what? I didn’t do anything.”

“You didn’t have to.” The original Doctor taps the side of his head. “I already know.”

“Well, someone’s got to talk to her.”

“What’s the point? She won’t understand.”

The Doctor watches the doorway where Rose vanished, as if maybe, if he looks hard enough, she’ll walk back through it. “Probably not,” he concedes. “But still—she’s right to be angry.”

His original self pushes back from Donna and the examination table, rifling through the medbay cabinets and drawers until he finds what he’s looking for—a medical transceiver. “Is she?” he asks, slapping the device on Donna’s wrist. “If she really knew what was best for her—”

“Best for her, or best for you?”

The original Doctor glares at him. The Doctor taps the side of his head.

I already know.

Shoulders slumping, his original self returns his attentions to Donna. “I’ve still got a lot of tests to run here,” he says, voice clipped. “And I think it would be best if I did it alone.”

Already the Doctor is on his way out.

***

Previous: Chapter One | Next: Chapter Three

#ficandchips #doctorrose #tenrose #tentoorose #tenxrose #timepetalsprompts #doctorroseprompts #travelingrose #goingtothetardis #angst #heavy angst #it gets worse before it gets better kids #sorry i don't make the rules #je fixit #(sort of)#rose x ten #rose x tentoo #otp of legend #mbb fic

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chocolatequeennk · 7 years

Text

The Same Old Story

This is for the kiss/hug meme. I used #32: a kiss to bruised skin.

This is part of As Time Goes By, my series following the canon progression between the Doctor and Rose in a series of hugs and kisses. It follows A Fight For Love and Glory, which was a Doomsday fixit.

This also is a prompt fill for @doctorroseprompts‘ physical hurt/comfort theme this week.

Together, the Doctor and Rose have defeated the Cybermen and Daleks. They’re ready to go home and celebrate their close call, but then Rose remembers that they still have a few things they need to tell her mum.

A03 | FF.NET | TSP

The Doctor tapped his fingers against his leg as the lift took them from the top of Torchwood Tower to the lower levels. He just wanted to be at home with Rose, preferably in bed as they celebrated their unlikely victory. It was easy to imagine how differently the day could have gone, and he was desperate to hold his wife until it sank in that she hadn’t fallen into the Void.

Finally the lift doors opened, and he darted out into the corridor. He took two more steps before he realised Rose wasn’t with him.

When he turned around, she was still in the lift, looking like she wanted to be sick. “Rose?” The Doctor strode back to her and pressed his hand to her forehead, but her skin was cool. The doors started to close, and he took her hand and pulled her into the corridor.

Rose sucked in a sharp breath and pulled her hand out of his grasp. The Doctor blinked a few times, then he remembered that until she’d managed to rescue herself, her hands been clinging to a lever against the powerful force of the Void.

She flinched when he reached for her hands, and he shook his head. “I’ll be careful,” he promised quietly. Then he gently took her wrists and turned so he could see her palms.

He winced sympathetically when he saw the angry, red abrasions on both hands. “I can fix this,” he promised, pulling the sonic screwdriver out of his pocket.

“Is there anything the sonic can’t do?” Rose asked as he adjusted the setting.

“It doesn’t do wood.” He pointed the device at her scraped hands and the familiar hum echoed in the empty corridor. “And even though I’ve tried, I haven’t managed to create a remote for the TARDIS. I’d love to be able to just press the button on the sonic and have her come to us, like the sonic is a homing beacon.”

“Oh, that would solve so many problems,” Rose agreed as the wounds on her hands healed.

When the last scratch disappeared, the Doctor put the sonic away, then lifted her hands and pressed kisses to the still-swollen flesh. “Better, at least?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Good.” He clasped her hand in his own, but Rose remained where she was when he took a step towards the TARDIS. “What’s wrong, love?”

Her weak smile made his stomach tighten unpleasantly. That was her “I’ve just realised something you won’t like” smile, and she was almost always right.

“My mum is in the TARDIS,” she muttered.

The Doctor raked his hand through his hair. Jackie was in the TARDIS. Jackie, who just twenty minutes ago had insisted they would talk about his intentions.

“Right. We could… go back to the flat instead?” he suggested. “The TARDIS is a time machine after all—we could spend the evening alone in the flat, then come back and get Jackie and only half an hour would have passed for her.”

Rose pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “The TARDIS is a time machine currently stuck in one time stream,” she pointed out patiently. “We’ve gotta go.”

The Doctor sighed, but let Rose take his hand and lead the way home. “So what’s this earlier conversation you had that she said you’d come back to?” To his surprise, she turned bright red and pressed her lips into a thin line. “Rose?”

“That was just Mum being Mum.”

The Doctor pulled Rose to a stop fifteen feet from the TARDIS. “Yes, and she’s waiting for us in there. I’d like to know what I’m about to walk into.”

Rose sighed, but she couldn’t deny the fairness in what he asked. “She was going on earlier, asking what I planned to do if you ever dropped me back at home.”

He frowned. “I told you, I’m never going to do that to you.” The muscle in his jaw twitched. “I thought… Senfina… I thought you understood.”

Rose groaned and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. Oh, I knew I’d muck this up somehow. She heard fabric rustle and reached for the Doctor’s hand before he could withdraw completely.

The lines around his eyes eased when she stroked her knuckles over his cheek before cupping his jaw in her hand. “I do, Doctor,” she promised. “But Mum doesn’t know we’re married.”

She held her breath after saying those words. Neither of them had ever verbalised what exactly the vows exchanged on Senfina had meant. Despite everything, there was still a tiny piece of Rose that worried the Doctor would panic in the face of such a… domestic label.

Instead, the hand she still held tightened convulsively. He whipped around to look at the TARDIS, and she saw his Adam’s apple bob. “Oh, this is bad,” he said, his voice squeaky. “This is very bad.” He looked back at Rose. “Are you sure we can’t just leave her there? We could try the domestic life. I was exiled in London once and survived… As long as I have you, I could do it again.”

The Doctor’s very typical fears eliminated Rose’s. She chuckled and squeezed his hand. “Nah, that would never work,” she said as she pulled him across the warehouse. “We just need to tell her we eloped and get it over with.”

“Oh, she’s going to slap me for this,” he muttered.

Rose shook her head as she reached for her key. “She’ll have to get through me first,” she promised. “I’m not gonna let her hit you because of a decision we made together.”

The Doctor pulled her close before she could fit her key into the lock. “Rose Tyler,” he murmured into her hair as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Rose pulled back and looked at him. It felt like there was something more he wanted to say, but when she looked into his eyes, he smiled and shook his head.

“Let’s talk to your mum first,” he told her, and Rose nodded and opened the door.

“Rose!” Jackie ran down the ramp and wrapped Rose in a fierce hug as soon as they stepped into the TARDIS. The Doctor closed the doors, then shifted around them to the console. While he set the coordinates for the Powell Estate, he listened Jackie’s sharp exclamations as she listed all her fears, and Rose’s softer voice calming her, reminding her that everything was okay.

He rested his hand on the dematerialisation lever, but didn’t move it for a moment. We need an easy trip, he told the TARDIS. The lights glowed brighter for a moment, and he threw the lever.

Were it not for the movement of the time rotor, the Doctor wouldn’t have known they were in flight. And when they landed, it was with the softest bump imaginable. He patted the console in thanks, then walked back to the door.

“We’re back in the flat, Jackie.”

Rose took his hand as Jackie opened the door, then sighed in relief and stepped into her lounge. “Hang on, what day is it?” she asked.

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “July 8, just like it was a few minutes ago.”

Jackie picked up the television remote and turned the news on. One shot of Cybermen marching through the streets was all they needed to confirm the date, and she quickly turned it off.

“Well, you got the landing right for once,” she said, and the shakiness in her voice removed any bite from the words. “Can you stay for tea?”

The Doctor wanted to say no, but then he saw the lines around Jackie’s eyes and he remembered he wasn’t the only one who’d been terrified of losing Rose today. He tamped down his impatience to have Rose to himself and smiled at his mother-in-law. “Tea would be lovely, Jackie.”

“Only a cuppa and some biscuits,” Rose added. “Not an actual meal.”

Jackie’s face fell slightly, but she nodded. “All right, sweetheart. You sit down; I’ll have it out in a minute.”

Rose gave her mum another quick hug, then took the Doctor’s hand again and tugged him over to the couch. On the way, she spotted a small trinket sitting next to the TV, and she picked it up. “I can’t believe I only gave this to her eight hours ago.”

Her hand was shaking, and the Doctor plucked the bazoolium from her fingers and pulled her close. “We made it, love,” he whispered into her hair.

Rose took a few deep breaths to calm herself. She could smell the dust of battle that lingered on his suit, but beneath that was the soft scent of honey and cloves that always clung to him. After a moment, her breathing eased and she sat down, cuddling into his side as soon as he joined her.

“So we’ll have tea and tell her, and then go home,” she said quietly. “I just… I know Mum would like us to stay longer, but I want to be alone with you.”

The Doctor wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I’m in complete agreement with that plan.”

They heard the kitchen door swing open, and a moment later, Jackie joined them with the tea. “Here you go, just how you like it.” She frowned at the Doctor as he took his. “Mind, I’m not sure anyone needs four sugars in their tea. No wonder you’re so hyper all the time.”

Rose patted the Doctor’s knee. “Nah, that’s not a sugar high,” she said. “That’s just him.”

Her mum took a sip of her own tea and shook her head. “I guess you’d know, since you live with him.”

It was the perfect opening. Rose leaned forward and set her mug down on the coffee table, then clasped her hands together and looked at her mum. “We don’t just live together, Mum. You wanted to know earlier if I’m sure I’ll never want to leave him, or that he’s never gonna leave me. And… The thing is…” She took a deep breath, then finished the sentence in a rush. “We kind of eloped a few months ago.”

Jackie’s gaze sharpened. “What do you mean, you kind of eloped?” she pressed.

The Doctor cut in before Jackie could question the legitimacy of their wedding. “She means that while we both agree that the words we exchanged were vows, it was a very private, informal moment that you might not recognise as a wedding.” The hand resting on Rose’s shoulder absently combed through her hair. “But unique ceremony notwithstanding, we are very much married. “

Rose bit her lip and braced herself for the outburst from her mum about how alien ceremonies don’t count, and how could she have eloped when Jackie had been waiting twenty-one years to plan her wedding.

Instead, her mum nodded once. “I thought so, but I wanted to be sure.”

Rose’s back stiffened. “You… you knew?”

“Maybe not before today,” Jackie admitted. “I suspected you were keeping something from me during your last visit, though.” She rolled her eyes. “And you gave yourself away this afternoon, with the way you tried to dodge all my questions.”

“Hang on,” the Doctor said. “If you knew, what was all that about my intentions?”

Jackie took another sip of her tea. “I figured that might get you to come clean.” She raised her eyebrows. “Worked a treat, didn’t it?”

The Doctor and Rose looked at each other, mouths hanging open. Finally, they both laughed and turned back to Jackie, who had her lips pressed together in a smug smile.

“Yes, it did,” the Doctor admitted. “Well played, Jackie.”

Jackie leaned back in her chair. “I won’t say that I’m not disappointed I didn’t get to see you get married, Rose,” she said briskly. “But you’ve been travelling with this man for almost three years now, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that nothing about your life is the way I imagined it would be when you were a kid. I might have known you’d get married in some kind of alien way.” She bit her lip. “I just want to know that you’re happy, and it’s plain to see you are.”

Rose blinked back the tears in her eyes. “So happy, Mum. I promise.”

“Good.” Jackie turned to look at the Doctor. “So I need a promise from you that you’ll bring her back to visit regularly. Not just regularly for me—it’s important for Rose, too.”

“You have my word,” the Doctor promised. “We’ve been trying not to let more than six weeks go between visits.”

Rose stood up and pulled her mum to her feet. “Thank you,” she whispered as she hugged her.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

Jackie met the Doctor’s gaze over Rose’s shoulder, and he swallowed hard when he saw the silent request in her eyes. He nodded once, trying to give her all the reassurances he could that he would always love and cherish Rose, and keep her as safe as he, could given their life and Rose’s ability to find trouble.

Then Jackie pulled back from Rose and pushed her towards the TARDIS. “Now, I’d like to watch some telly if you don’t mind, so why don’t you move your box out of my lounge?”

The Doctor shook his head at the obvious dismissal and opened the door while Rose promised Jackie one more time that they’d visit soon. The emotions he’d managed to keep a tenuous hold on during the conversation with Jackie were unravelling, and as soon as Rose was inside and the TARDIS was on the way into the Vortex, he reached for her and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

Rose clung to him just as tightly, her hands fisted in his suit jacket. “Is this real?” she whispered. “Are we really here?”

“Yes,” the Doctor said, his voice raspy with tears. “We’ve still got our forever, Rose.”

She sniffed once, then pulled back and offered him a watery smile. “It’s the same old story, Doctor,” she said. “Travelling through space and time, stopping the villains who are trying to take over the planet… and then, home to the TARDIS, together. The Doctor and Rose Tyler—the stuff of legend.”

The Doctor tried to answer her, but the lump in his throat made speech impossible. Instead, he swept Rose up into his arms and carried her to their room.

#ficandchips #ten x rose #dwfic #doctorroseprompts #cq's fic: the same old story #series: as time goes by #kiss/hug meme #hurt/comfort #jackie tyler #so there will be one more to this series as i previously planned #i had thought i could combine the last two stories into one #but when i wrote this one i realised why i'd thought it needed to stand alone #fic by Nancy

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talesofsymphoniac · 7 years

Note

#4 & 13

@neodiji said: Writing Ask Meme: 1, 4, 6, and 9. :D

(these are both for this writing ask meme, answers below the read more)

1. of the fic you’ve written, which are you most proud of?

I’d probably have to say Click Away (Sormik online friends AU). It’s the longest fic I’ve ever written, the one that I’ve put the most time into, and probably also the one with the most response (which is always something to be proud of, imo)Honorable Mention goes to Unspoken Bond (Missing sormik moments during the game), because that was the first time I wrote a multi chapter fic, and even though I ran into some difficulties as I was writing it and posting it, I was able to go back, reevaluate, and end up finishing the thing!

4. what are some themes you love writing about?

Well, I feel like it’s probably a given that I love writing about relationships, and especially the trust between people in relationships, though that does spread to friendships and family relationships, too. In fact, I’d say some of my strongest fics are the ones that are just as much about family and friendships as they are about the romantic ships in them. Click Away is really about how the whole group comes together, Treading Water (Sormik lifeguard AU) is really built more on the character interactions than the Sormik, and then there are the fics I’ve written that are 100% about the family/friendship, like Most Precious, Colette (Raine and Colette) and What are Friends For? (the Cheria/Asbel break up as good friends fic)

Kind of related to that theme is sacrifice and resolve; that is, what are we willing to do for our loved ones (and for other things, like the world/our nation/etc). Guess that’s something I really like about Zesti (and the Tales series in general), how the idea of finding your answer and sticking to it is so important. Stories about characters willingly losing or risking something important to them, because they’re that determined to achieve their goal. Yeah. Most Precious, Colette has that (it would kind of have to, with Colette as a main character, haha) but also Fear and Resolve (Richass f arc fixit fic), Something to Hold On To (Sormik feat. Symmone’s illusions), and even After the Storm, with Alisha’s determination to help her people.

6. thoughts on critique

Hm, I mean, I’m a pretty sensitive person by nature, so the idea of getting critique (especially if it’s unsolicited critique) really freaks me out. But on the other hand, unsolicited critique on Unspoken Bond was the trigger for me to take down a few chapters and rewrite it (for the better). Granted, in that case I had already been considering doing that, and it was the critique that confirmed my decision for me– I don’t know how I would have reacted if I had felt good about what I’d written and then gotten that comment. So… I guess I can’t say one way or another, but those are some thoughts. Be kind, first and foremost.

9. a passage from a WIP

hoooooo boy. Remember that Death Gate Soul Mark AU that I mentioned was taking over my life???? Well… yeah I’m a few thousand words into it now *sweats*

Okay so basically in canon, Alfred finds out Haplo is a Patryn, a race that was Alfred’s race’s bitter enemy, by putting him to sleep, removing the bandages on his hands, and revealing the tattoos that identify him as a Patryn. In the Soul Mark AU, this is also where he discovers that he and Haplo share each other’s marks:

With shaking hands, he reached for the man’s right hand and unwound the bandages there. And there were the runes, just as he had known they would be, just as he had denied they would be.

There was no denial in Alfred’s mind, now. There was not much of anything: just a swirling storm of nameless horror. The runes he so feared began to blur from the tears that sprung, threatening to blind him.

It would have been all too easy for Alfred to take Haplo’s left hand instead of his right. It would have been easy for him to rewrap the hand without turning it over, and it would have been easy to miss the coin-sized mark on his palm in haste, his mind too overwhelmed and his eyes too clouded with tears to notice it. It would have been easy to dismiss the mark without a second thought; it had been so long since Alfred had given any kind of thought to such a mark, it would have been easy not to recognize it.

But Alfred’s life, it seemed, was plagued with all sorts of misfortune, and what should have been easy, like walking across a flat surface without falling all over himself, was never so. And in the same way his feet chose their stumbling paths, Alfred had picked up Haplo’s right hand, and turned it over to replace the bandages as swiftly as he could, and when he saw the mark, he was just distracted enough to wipe his tears away and examine it more closely.

And he recognized it.

Everything froze: every muscle in Alfred’s body was paralyzed along with the chaotic storm of his thoughts. Even his heart, pounding in his chest, seemed to have given out. He had been deathly afraid of finding the telltale runes beneath the bandages. He had not thought to worry about this.

Impossible, his mind echoed uselessly.

Alfred regained the use of his limbs. Gently, he set down Haplo’s hand, and in one deceptively steady movement, he removed the frilled glove on his right hand, staring down at the palm. A shattered, hopeless breath escaped him, a despairing parody of a laugh that caught in his throat as he took the other man’s hand again. It wasn’t long before his eyes were filled with tears again.

A perfect match.

It was blindly that he rewrapped the bandages, shoved his own glove on, and stumbled to his corner. He felt himself slipping into futile unconsciousness, and he welcomed it.

*sweats* that was kind of long for a passage, sorry ‘bout that

13. who are your favorite writers?

I have A LOT OF THEM, and I don’t want to list them all for fear of excluding people but while you guys are listening I do want to shout out @eachainn (ao3 is spirithorse) here for their contributions to the Purple Prose AU because imo they’re seriously underrated???

But seriously, I find in general that every writer is going to have fics that I like more or less than others, so if you’re looking for good fic you can usually find something from most authors, if that makes sense? Like, to me it’s not necessarily always a question of “who’s the best writer” but “how can I find a fic I’m gonna like”… Granted, if an author interprets characters in the same way I do, I’m more likely to like it, but that’s less about their writing ability and more about their interpretation, lol. I don’t even know if that makes sense? But basically I have more favorite fics than I have favorite writers.

#thanks for the asks guys #this was fun :)#got kind of long though (it's me #were we expecting anything else?)#mine #ask meme #anonymous

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megabadbunny · 7 years

Text

Rose x Ten, post GitF-au/fixit; angst, fluff, romance, more angst, and possibly some smut later, but this part (and all parts on ff.net) is sfw (minor exception for brief language).

(full-size image)

Minuet, Part III

Stunned, Rose can’t summon the words to argue with him—Please don’t take me home, at least let me say goodbye to my friends first, please just talk to me, please—they all just drift around uselessly, unable to climb their way out of her throat. Silently, she follows after him.

***

The first thing Rose hears upon setting foot in the TARDIS is the sound of her own name, nearly lost amidst the full solid weight of Mickey barreling into her like a freight train.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe it, I thought you’d never make it back!” Mickey half-laughs, half-shouts into her ear. His arms wind snugly around her, a pair of friendly boa constrictors squeezing her in happiness. Rose hugs him back just as tightly, barely managing to blink back tears; she didn’t expect to cry right now, but god, it just feels so comfortable and warm, and it’s been so long since anyone hugged her.

“The Doctor said all the links were severed when you when through the mirror,” Mickey continues. “He said it was impossible, he said—”

Suddenly Mickey steps back, his nose scrunched in confusion. “Hang on,” he says, holding Rose at arms’ length while he looks her up and down, eyes traveling over her coiffed hair, her heavy silken gown. “Wow. You look different.”

“Wow,” Rose teases. “You don’t.”

“Well, it’s only been a few hours for me—what about you?”

“About six months.”

Mickey’s face darkens, his eyes flickering over to the Doctor. “Six months?”

“Yep, looks like my calculations were a bit off,” the Doctor says, his voice tight as he breezes past them up the ramp. He rounds the console, tossing a switch here, a lever there. “Well, to be fair, it’s less to do with my calculations, more to do with an unstable time window—difficult to predict, those, especially when they’re in such a sad state of disrepair. But luckily for us,” he says, and his gaze very carefully avoids Rose at that last word, “there was a loose connection.”

The TARDIS shudders around them as it dematerializes, and Rose closes her eyes at the sound of the time rotor grinding, the still-familiar vworp-vworp noise and the soft and gentle buzz-hum underneath. She places a hand against a coral strut, relishing the sandpaper-roughness beneath her fingers, and this time she doesn’t fight the tear that trickles down her cheek. It’s as if a hole was gnawing away in her chest over the last half-year, no matter how she tried to ignore it, but now it’s filling in again. Good grief, but she’s missed these sounds, this place.

“So that’s that,” the Doctor says, as if it’s final, somehow. Rose opens her eyes to find him galloping down the ramp, striding out of the console room. “End of one chapter, beginning of another. Welcome back to the TARDIS!” the Doctor shouts over his shoulder.

And just like that, he’s gone.

“Huh,” says Mickey, watching the Doctor’s retreating form. “That’s weird.”

“What’s weird?”

“I dunno. I guess I expected him to, like, run in here holding your hand and babbling about all your adventures or professing his eternal love or something.”

Rose laughs, and it’s only a little sarcastic. “Yeah, right. Me too.”

“I’m serious.” Mickey glances both ways before leaning in closer, his voice lower now, as if he fears being overheard. “He wasn’t half-mad while you were gone. He was downright manic. It was all sonic this and reverse the polarity that and maybe I’ll check some timey-wimey-whosie-whatsit and what if I could punch a hole in the local space-time continuum without compromising the fabric of reality and blah blah blah, just a bunch of muttering to himself while he ran around the TARDIS and pulled at his hair.”

Running a hand over his own hair, Mickey shudders. “It’s a wonder he didn’t yank it all out.”

“Yeah, well,” Rose replies, fidgeting uncomfortably. “Maintaining the timelines and all that’s sort of stressful, I guess.”

“It was almost scary, the look in his eyes,” Mickey continues, crossing his arms over his chest, protecting himself against the memory. “Like he was a wounded animal or something—you know how they get in the movies, like when they’re cornered, but they’ve got nothing to lose, nothing left in ‘em but the fight, and then everything goes to hell? It was just like that. He couldn’t see or hear anything in front of him, couldn’t think about anything that wasn’t you.”

Something sickly bubbles up in Rose’s stomach, weighing heavily at the pit of it, and she has a sinking suspicion it’s got nothing to do with the corset cinched around her waist. She can picture the Doctor just as Mickey described him, stalking about the console room, alternately muttering under his breath and shouting at the top of his lungs, his frame shaking with the effort to contain the desperate energy inside. She imagines the way his hands would fist in his hair and his mouth would contort in a grimace, his eyes scanning frantically over everything while his mind raced through nearly a thousand years’ worth of memories and facts and tricks and hints. Rose has seen it all before, when they’re trapped at the end of the line, no way out, the fate of a life or a town or a planet or a galaxy weighing on the Doctor’s shoulders.

(She has never seen him act this way because of her.)

“Anyway,” says Mickey, snapping out of his reverie, “Glad that’s done with. Bloody terrifying, that was. Not to mention exhausting. Feels like I haven’t slept in days.”

He punches Rose lightly in the arm. “What about you, though? How’ve you been? Six months, that’s impressive. Probably got a whole truckload of new stories to tell, yeah?”

Distantly, Rose hears everything coming out of Mickey’s mouth, but for some reason, she can’t seem to focus on it, much less discern any meaning. She can’t stop her gaze from wandering over to the corridor where the Doctor disappeared, twisting her hands together while her teeth sink into her lower lip.

“So, you gonna go after him, or what?”

Rose blinks. “Sorry?”

Mickey offers her a wistful grin. “You waited for him all that time, didn’t even know if he’d find you again—but you still love him, don’t you?”

Rose can’t find the words to reply, but really, she doesn’t need to; her silence seems to tell Mickey everything he needs to know.

“You know he’s not good enough for you, right?” Mickey chuckles. “You deserve better.”

Smiling, Rose wraps her arms around Mickey in a tight hug, pecking a kiss on his cheek afterward for good measure. “So do you.”

“Don’t I know it. Now run your arse over there so I can go get some sleep!”

Rose doesn’t try to find the Doctor straightaway. Instead, she takes her time, wandering through the halls of the TARDIS. She kicks off her heels and sighs in relief, delights in the coolness of the floor beneath her aching feet, one hand running along the wall as she walks. Its pebbly surface rasps against her fingertips until they’re pleasantly numb—she imagines it’s like a series of little kisses from the TARDIS, welcoming her back.

“Glad to have your wolf again, hmm?” she asks quietly, and maybe she’s just imagining things again, but she can almost feel the hum shifting in the back of her head, its pitch changing ever-so-briefly, like a little flash of golden happiness in her skull. Grinning, Rose pats the wall. “Missed you too,” she whispers.

She thinks of stopping by her room. This dress isn’t getting any more comfortable, after all, and a hot shower or relaxing bubble bath sounds absolutely divine. But that sick feeling still burbles in her stomach, and Rose knows that no amount of scalding water or fruity soaps will drive it away.

Rose could play dumb, if she wanted, checking the garden or the pool or the galley or any other room first, to buy herself some time, to rehearse her words in her head, but she knows exactly where the Doctor is, and she allows her feet to carry her there.

She finds him, of course, in the library.

Evidence strewn about the coffee table in front of the settee suggests that the Doctor must have been tinkering, books and papers and tools and sonic screwdriver all piled atop each other in a miniature mountainous landscape. Amidst everything else is a small globe of some sort—astrolabe is the word that comes to Rose’s mind, except that she doesn’t actually have a clue what an astrolabe is, or even how she heard of it in the first place—but it has been long-since abandoned, its mechanical guts spilled and forgotten. As for the Doctor, he leans back on the settee, his hands clenched over his face, pushing his specs up into his hair.

He doesn’t move when Rose steps into the room. She tries to remember the last time she was able to sneak up on him like this. She can’t.

Rose clears her throat and the Doctor snaps to, slipping his specs back down and reaching for the globe and the sonic as if he never let them go.

“Did you need something?” the Doctor asks. Rose can’t help but notice how tired he looks; she swears the lines around his eyes run deeper than they used to.

“Yeah,” she says. “I…”

She hesitates. Silently, she berates herself for her cowardice. Why can’t she just talk to him—why can’t she just say what’s on her mind? She’s never had this problem with anyone else, not ever, never had to stopper her words or tiptoe on a thousand invisible eggshell-thin rules the way she does around him. Squirming in her gown (god, but it’s absolutely murdering her ribcage), Rose casts about for the best words to open this discussion, because she absolutely is going to initiate this discussion, she’s not going to let him squirm away from her this time, she spent more than enough time putting up with pinching shoes and heavy underskirts and beyond-stupid 18th-century customs and she’s had enough of the bloody damn rules. She’s not going to let him close around her like a corset, cinching her closer and closer only to push her away when things get too tight; she’s going to put her foot down and they’re going to have a bloody talk because it’s ridiculous for them to keep brushing everything under the rug, and this dress is hot and scratchy, and he’s infuriating, and why didn’t she just go take her dress off before this, and wouldn’t it be so much better to have things out in the open instead?

Yes, she decides; yes, it would. Rose steels herself.

“I need help taking my dress off,” she blurts out.

The Doctor’s eyes raise a little in surprise, and Rose furiously fights the blush rising in her cheeks—of all possible things, why, why was that the one that popped out of her mouth?

“It’s just, back in France, there were people to help with this sort of thing,” she rushes, stumbling over her words. “And Mickey’s already gone to bed, and, you know, it sort of seems like a bad idea to show up on the Estate wearing something out of the 1700’s.”

“The Estate?” the Doctor asks, frowning.

“Yeah.” She swallows. “You said you were gonna take me home, remember?”

“Right,” says the Doctor, diverting his attention back to the instruments in his hands.

Rose waits for him to speak again, but he’s strangely quiet. “You are still planning to take me home, right?”

“Well.” The Doctor fiddles with the globe, tapping the sonic against it in a rat-a-tat-tat. “Certainly, yes, I did say that. And. And I meant it. That was indeed a valid threat. No, not a threat—a promise. I am absolutely, positively, definitely taking you home.”

He sneaks a glance up at her. “Unless. You know. You’re not ready to go home yet.”

Relief washing over her, Rose hides a smile. “I think I can wait a bit.”

“Good,” replies the Doctor just a little too quickly. When Rose can no longer hide her smile, he points an accusatory finger at her. “I did mean it, though,” he insists.

“Sure.”

“I am taking you home. Just not right this instant.”

“Got it.”

“It wasn’t a bluff.”

“’Course not.”

“Just…no reason to rush, right?”

Rose beams at him. “No reason at all.”

“Excellent.” The Doctor brushes some nonexistent dirt off his trousers before standing up from the settee, placing his instruments back down on the table. “Glad that’s sorted. So, I’ll see you tomorrow bright and early, then? Tomorrow and early being relative terms, of course.”

“Sure, but, erm…”

The Doctor watches her expectantly, and Rose’s cheeks grow warm beneath his gaze again. “I still need help,” she admits, gesturing over her shoulder, to the laces on the back of her dress.

Eyes following the line of her hand, the Doctor’s face goes blank. Rose thinks she can pinpoint the very moment realization dawns on him, his eyebrows arching once again in surprise.

“Right,” he says, shaking his head. “Yes, of course.” Wordlessly, he spins his finger in a circle, a silent suggestion that Rose should do the same. Rose turns away, forces herself not to twitch at the coolness of his hand on her neck as he brushes a tendril of hair out of the way.

They both fall quiet, the silence only interrupted by the soft sounds of silk and linen whispering against each other while the Doctor works, deftly untying knots and unlacing laces. But for all that his fingers are talented, the Doctor isn’t quite as adept at this as the women at court, and more than once, Rose’s breath hitches as the corset tightens before loosening.

Rose stifles a laugh. She’d be lying if she said she had never fantasized about this at least a little bit, the Doctor slowly peeling a gorgeous gown off her body, unwrapping her like a delectably rich gift. But between the pinch at her waist and the anxiety in her tummy and the ache in her ribs, this just might be one of the single unsexiest things she has ever experienced.

“So, what did you two get up to while I was away?” Rose asks—she tells herself it’s an attempt at playfulness, just a distraction, and not related in any way to what Mickey told her in the console room. (It’s certainly not a quiet way to test him, definitely not a subtle way to see how far she can push.)

The Doctor pulls a lace a little too tight and Rose bites her tongue to stop herself from grunting. “Not much,” the Doctor replies, and Rose could almost believe him. “We mostly just did a bit of research, poked around until I figured out how to get back to y—how to sort things out.”

“Yeah, Mickey said it was only a few hours here.”

“Yeah,” the Doctor echoes, but something about the way he says it is flat, empty.

His fingers still at her back. “Rose, I’m sorry.”

Rose shrugs, squirming in her half-done corset. “Eh, you’re doing your best. Eighteenth-century underwear’s a right bitch.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner.”

Rose’s lips part in surprise. “Ah,” she says, softly.

The Doctor resumes his task, pulling at the laces once again. “It shouldn’t have taken me so long to figure it out, the loose connection in the fireplace,” he continues. “It’s ridiculous, really. I don’t know what came over me.”

At that, Mickey’s words resound in her ears. He wasn’t half-mad while you were gone.

“Don’t worry, it won’t happen again,” says the Doctor. “But still: I apologize. Six months is a long period for a human to be stranded anywhere, especially three hundred years out of their own time.”

“It was only five and a half months,” Rose mumbles halfheartedly.

“Still. I should have done better.”

“Eh,” says Rose. “It’s all right. I knew what I was getting into, crashing through that mirror. I mean, you were pretty explicit about what would happen.”

She drinks in a deep breath now that her ribcage has the room to expand. She can tell by the position of the Doctor’s hands at the small of her back that he’ll be done loosening the corset soon; she tells herself that if she’s going to talk to the Doctor, really properly talk to him, she needs to do it now, while neither of them can see the other’s face. She tells herself it will be easier that way, even if she can imagine exactly expression his eyes and mouth will make.

“I’m actually more upset about how you treated me afterward,” she admits, her pulse thundering at the confession.

The Doctor falls silent once again—doesn’t even emit an irritated sigh or let loose an explanatory bit of babble. He just works on pulling the last of the laces loose, his pace steady and never-changing. Lightheadedness suffuses Rose’s head, filling it like a dull fog, and she knows this time it’s got nothing to do with the corset.

“Look, I know you were just frustrated, and concerned about the timelines, and—and maybe a little worried about me, too,” Rose rushes. (A wounded animal, she remembers Mickey saying; Couldn’t see or hear anything in front of him.) God, she hopes the Doctor doesn’t notice the way the back of her neck flushes. “But you can talk to me about it, yeah? Just let me know those things are going through your head, instead of being all mean and angry at me.”

“I was never angry with you,” the Doctor murmurs.

Brow wrinkling in confusion, Rose glances over her shoulder. “What?”

At last, the gown and corset completely loosen around Rose, enough that she has to clutch her arms to herself to keep the garments from slumping to the floor. “All done,” says the Doctor, and Rose hears him step back, step away. “You’re good to go.”

Pulling together the last threads of her courage, Rose whirls around to face him.

“Doctor—”

He stops, hands shoved in pockets, mouth stretched thin. He waits.

“Just please tell me what’s going on,” Rose says, pushing the words out before she has a chance to overthink them.

Glancing around the room—at the books on the shelves, the other books scattered on the floor, the faded rugs and comfortable old afghans, the imitation Tiffany lamp (or a genuine Tiffany lamp, one never knows)—the Doctor plays for time. “I’m sorry I was so unpleasant to you earlier,” he tells her slowly. Carefully. “You’re right. It was unnecessary. I let my frustration get the better of me. And you didn’t deserve that. You…you only did what I would have done, after all.”

Shaking her head, Rose allows her corset and gown to fall to the floor, leaving her in nothing but a thin white shift. She steps out of the garments, toward him, watching him as he watches her. If the Doctor registers how bare she suddenly is, he doesn’t show it; somehow, despite being fully-clothed, despite the gates shuttering his face, he seems more naked than she does.

Rose approaches him slowly (gently, so she doesn’t scare him off). “Please.”

“What more could you possibly want from me?” the Doctor pleads tiredly.

“Doctor,” Rose breathes, her stocking-feet padding silently over the wood-paneled floor until they come to a stop opposite his plimsolls. She stands very close to him, now, close enough to count every single one of his eyelashes, chart a starfield out of his freckles.

(Rose wonders if Reinette noticed any of these things. Did she admire the shape of his mouth when he spoke excitedly of science and adventure and awe at the majesty of the universe and the turn of the earth—did she feel a warm glow in her chest when his eyes landed on her face, did she sense his double-heartsbeat when they drew close for a kiss?)

“When everything’s said and done, what do you think you’ll regret more?” Rose asks, her voice gone quiet and soft, and maybe just a little sad. “Everything you said and did—or everything you didn’t?”

The Doctor’s hands ball into fists in his pockets, and Rose fully expects him to turn and flee. But before Rose has a chance to react, his hands are no longer in his pockets—instead they’re cupping around her jaw, shocking her with their coolness as he draws her face upward for a harsh and bruising kiss.

A strange buzzing fills Rose’s head and her mind goes completely blank.

For a moment that stretches into eternity, she can’t hear anything but her pulse rushing and roaring in her ears, can’t feel anything but the cool pressure of the Doctor’s hands framing her face and the warmth of his breath on her lips. She stiffens, mouth parting in surprise as her brain races to catch up with everything that’s happening. She half-expects the Doctor to take advantage of the opening, invade her mouth with his tongue like any other bloke would do, pushing past the swell of her lower lip and tasting her like she’s a whole new world for him to explore, but he doesn’t; for all that the kiss is frantic and she can feel his teeth in it, it’s surprisingly chaste.

It’s still too much.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, by the Doctor’s closeness and the way he trembles as he clutches her, by the hormones fizzing up drunkenly in her head, raging a fierce battle with everything else crowding in there—the confusion, the hurt, the shock, and yes, the want, of course the want, the want that kept her going in France, kept her awake more nights on the TARDIS than she’d ever admit, the want that had burned so hot and so shamefully and so deep in her gut that it was easier to pretend it wasn’t there than to acknowledge its scorching existence, always the want—

(But the look on his face when he talked about Reinette, but the things she’d heard and seen back on that spaceship—)

Couldn’t think about anything that wasn’t you

—Rose shoves at the Doctor’s chest, pushing hard so she can break away with a ragged gasp. The Doctor staggers backward, panting a bit himself, his eyes blown as wide as Rose has ever seen them.

Chest heaving, Rose stammers incoherently, steadying herself against a bookshelf. Her mind fishes about for something to say (absolutely anything will do, anything, anything please), but her heart flutters madly in her chest and she can’t think of anything else but that and the taste of the Doctor on her lips.

The Doctor blinks the shock out of his eyes and pushes a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out.

Rose knows she should reply, but her vocal chords don’t seem to work at the moment.

“I’m so sorry,” the Doctor repeats breathlessly as he pushes past her out of the room.

Rose doesn’t turn to watch him leave; she’s stuck in place, her feet frozen and unmoving as if they were glued to the floor. The only thing she can do is shiver, and whether she should blame the cold or something else entirely is anyone’s guess.

Rose gulps.

***

Next Part

***

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