#dimension hopping rose

[gingerteaonthetardis]

the thing about me is... i will write little vignettes. putting rose tyler in situations and whatnot. via dimension hopper, naturally.

this takes place right before that ending scene in the garden in the giggle. rated g, gen. rose-centric, guest starring the best dad, shaun temple. to read on ao3:

the happy landing

The scrapes and aches of the warzone she left behind—a world falling out of orbit, a catastrophic end after eons of civilisation—are fresh, and so are the smudges around her eyes. Tears still mingle with days-old mascara. And yet, when she jumps again, it's into the most beautiful summer day she can imagine.

She doesn’t know where she is. She doesn’t even know where she expects to be. But the sky is scrubbed clean by recent rain, the forgiving soil dark beneath her boots. In her periphery, all is green.

Her first breath is dizzyingly rich, verdant and sultry with growth and flourishing. Not even the lingering taste of ash can taint its wholesomeness. As she sucks in oxygen like she's been starved of it, her legs give way with the force of her headrush, and she manages to catch herself against a nearby stone wall.

She is in a garden, somewhere.

Ivy tickles her fingertips, and she wants to dig her hands into it. Wants to fall to her knees and bury herself in this clean, perfect dirt. Instead, she takes several more measured breaths. She swipes away her tears and stands straight. And when she finally feels she must, Rose moves.

The garden is sprawling, bigger than the kinds she’s seen attached to posh city houses, so she can guess this must be the countryside. A countryside, anyway.

All her senses—even the ones she's only just begun to explore—tingle with the sense that this is right, this is Earth. This is home. But she pins down fledgling hopes before they can take flight. She’s been wrong before. Can’t be too careful.

Her nose pricks with the realisation that there's a fire somewhere close; she mistook it, at first, for the staleness of the world she's just left behind, but this is a warmer, more cheerful fire. It sizzles with a different kind of burning. A barbecue, her nose identifies before her brain can properly catch up. Someone is close, and cooking outside.

Her stomach pangs with hunger. The last thing she can clearly recall eating was a ration bar, guiltily nicked from a bunker on her way to the last human outpost. That was more than a day ago. Possibly longer.

As she walks through the expansive garden, following an emergent trail of smoke, she toys briefly with trying to identify the flowers she sees: there are so many, a vivid patchwork, and they'd certainly tell her something about where she's landed if she knew them. But she never had the chance to become a green thumb, in her past life or this one. She recognises the plants only vaguely, pausing at intervals to tip her nose toward one open bloom or other.

The sweet scents tickle her nose until she sneezes. It's loud, ricocheting all over the stone, echoing in the big open sky.

Rose goes perfectly still.

Over the garden wall, she hears a voice. “Hello?”

Wincing, she follows the curve of the wall for a few more steps, but the path has turned to gravel, and each crunch just makes her more aware of her own noise.

There's a scraping sound, probably tongs or something over a grill. “That you, Mel?” It sounds like a man. “If it is, you've come too early. Sylvia won't let me open the wine ‘til the brisket's done, and I can't get the brisket done ‘til I manage to scrape this infernal tofu off the rack. No idea how you’re s'posed to barbecue the stuff—it's like glue!”

By the time he's done talking, she's had time to round the bend more fully, where she comes upon an open wooden gate, waist high, looking in on another smaller garden.

It's a lovely, sequestered place, more tame and shaded than the relative wilderness she's wandered so far. There's a kind of pergola up overhead, laced through with vines. Grapes hang from them in bunches. And she's never been a particularly religious person, but she is imaginative, and this is not totally unlike how she used to picture the Garden of Eden.

Except for the barbecue, of course.

And the man in an apron that says Kiss the Cook, tongs in hand, staring blankly at her.

“Hello,” she says, giving a little wave. She tries and fails to imagine how she looks to this stranger, with tear tracks still down her face, coated in another planet’s dust.

“Hello.” He doesn't seem particularly suspicious of her. More like… curious. His eyes are dark brown, and kind, and observant, too. He looks like someone's father.

“Sorry, I was just… I was on a walk, and I got a bit turned around. What street is this?”

The man snorts. He looks less like someone's father and more like Mickey when she's bothering him now. “Oh, I dunno, probably la rue Something-or-Other. France, my wife says, she wants a little cottage holiday in the south of France. Mind you, none of us speak a word, and I need a map to find the nearest petrol station, it’s embarrassing! Would never happen to me in London.”

“France,” she repeats, smile blooming in wonder. “This is France?”

“Where exactly did you walk from?” His laugh is less baffled than she might have expected.

“Long way off,” she replies. “I'm on a sort of… journey.”

“Ah,” the man says wisely, with a shake of his tongs at her. “Gap year, is it? You're on walkabout. You lose your duffle?”

She nods. “Fell in the sea.” The lie comes easily, because it’s something she supposes she would do. Or something the Doctor would do, she thinks wistfully. Get caught up in an adventure and lose all his gadgets to the depths of the Mediterranean.

“Oh, that's rough luck. No offense, though, but don't say anything like that too loud near my daughter—it’s my worst fear, honestly, my Rose wandering off with nothing but a pack and a map.” He gives a visible parody of a shudder. “Not that she's exactly the type, you know, but kids change as they grow up, don’t they? You can never tell.”

Her smile only brightens further. So he is a father. And a good one, far as she can tell. She can tell by how his eyes crinkle up.

She asks, “Your daughter's called Rose?” He nods, and really, what are the odds? “So am I!”

The man isn't quite finished in his examination of her, that much is clear, but at the sound of her name, his eyes undergo a further softening. He sets his tongs aside and rubs his hands together.

“That's a funny coincidence,” he says. Then, in another moment, he seems to settle on something. “Look, why don't you join us for dinner? My family's all here, and I don't know how long you've been walking, but you're a pretty long way off from anywhere. I'm Shaun, by the way,” he adds with a self-deprecating smile at his own perceived rudeness. “Shaun Temple.”

Rose doesn't hesitate a bit. She is drawn by the scents of home, by a home more home than home. The effortless clarity of the sky, and the bees buzzing mildly... It’s like paradise.

She begins to feel every moment like the past few days of blood and loss and darkness are really going, gone, slipping off her shoulders, leaving her almost—very nearly—light.

“It's lovely to meet you, Shaun,” she says. It’s true. He is lovely to meet. She’s sure his wife will be just as lovely, and his daughter Rose, and whoever Mel is. “I'm Rose Tyler.”

And she steps into the garden.

#this is probably full of mistakes but idc i had to share my vision #i just think! shaun and rose would have a very good bond right away #and that he'd sort of become her adopted prime universe dad. but that's for later stories (if anyone wants to hear them) #dw fic #rose tyler #shaun temple #dimension hopping rose #fic and chips #doctor who #abbey writes #at this point my inability to think of tags is just becoming embarrassing

[xawkward-ariesx]

Because it hurts

“They’re people?” “They were, until they had all their humanity taken away… All emotions removed.” “Why no emotions?” “Because it hurts.”

She thinks about that sometimes over the years. After everything. After the walls have sealed them universes apart. After she sees the Doctor one last time but only to say goodbye, to tell her that this is the end, that she can never come back. After everyone moves on and carves a space for themselves in this new world that had left a gap just for them.

She thinks about the Doctor stood before a cyberman’s head as he told her, “An old friend of mine. Well, enemy.” She thinks about the way he couldn’t distinguish between the two for a moment. She thinks about the way he’d spilt about old monsters and the world he’d burned to destroy them. She thinks about Sarah-Jane, an old friend he’d never been able to speak of. 

She thinks she understands some of that now. She wonders if he keeps silent about her the way he did Sarah-Jane. Thinks she’d understand that too. She thinks about Sarah-Jane telling her the Doctor had been called home by the Timelords, how she’d never seen him again. She thinks about the way the Doctor never talks about them; talks about the beautiful planet, the trees, the grass and the two suns it used to orbit.

She thinks about the Doctor screaming at the Nestene, trying to bargain with it even after it’s shown itself to be hostile. She thinks about the Doctor and how his pity for the Gelth had made him blind to their intents. She thinks about the way he wears his scars and if she’s one of them now, or if he keeps her hidden away with his memories of people. She wonders if he still lets his pain and his anger fuel his need to save another planet, another people. She wonders if it still burns a hole through his hand the way there’s a burning in the back of her mind.

She thinks she understands him in a way she never could before as she fights to prove him wrong. Words and numbers falling from her lips in a way that reminds her of Jack, remind her of him. Things come to her easier these days, things she’d never understood before when they’d gotten lost in techno babble back before. Before she’d gotten stuck. Before Jack had stayed behind to fix the Earth. Before they’d left him alone, despite their best intentions.

Things slot into place for her now in a way that she doesn’t understand how but comes from the golden, burning place in the back of her mind that she knows shouldn’t exist. Should be locked behind fortified doors. Shouldn’t still be glittering, but hollow and cold. Shouldn’t leak secrets of the universe into her ears. Should leave her clueless and frustrated, grasping at dead ends in a way that’s expected of a girl off a council estate that never finished her A levels. A girl that had followed a stranger to the stars and picked up a few more along the way because she hadn’t understood then; but she’d seen the same lonely shadow in him that she’d felt in herself.

But she understands things now that she shouldn’t. She understands dimensional travel. Understands the cracks in the walls and the scars in the void that never completely heal if you press just right. Understands the physics and theory better than anyone of her time period should, let alone her. Understands why monsters are easier to face than the ones you’ve lost. Understands why there had been locked doors on the TARDIS in the same way she can’t bring herself to decorate the blank room she’s found herself occupying. 

And she wonders if the fire ever burns out for the Doctor in the way the universe feels a little too heavy for her sometimes. She wonders if he sees her in the way she hears his words in her mouth. And the shadows she’d seen him seem heavier in her own eyes these days. She thinks about her mum’s words on that fateful day.

“You even look like him.” “How do you mean? I suppose I do, yeah.” “You've changed so much.” “For the better.”

She thinks about how it had filled her with pride at the time. She thinks about how she’d thought she was fitting into this new world that he’d shown her. How she’d become more than just another nineteen-year-old girl from the Estates. She thinks about how she doesn’t bother to fit into this world. How she doesn’t try to force this world to make space for her where there is none. She thinks about how that sentiment has become even more true in his absence. She does look like him. From the way she carries herself to the way she carries her scars and her secrets, lets them make her someone else.

She thinks about the worlds she’s seen dying as the stars blink out of existence across reality as she fights her way back to him. She thinks about the way she’s let every single one of them harden her when she couldn’t save everyone. She thinks about the nonchalant way the Doctor had spoken of the empty Earth before the sun had swallowed it whole. She thinks she understands how he’d focused on the survival of the species of the planet living amongst the stars instead of fixating on the planet he couldn’t save. She thinks about the lone survivor of a planet with its twin suns and the little blue box that remains its planet’s only reminders of its existence after the universe moved on.

She thinks about all the people they hadn’t been able to save. About how every single one of them had burned deep inside of her, fueling a resolution to do better next time. She thinks about how the first few fires had burned her before she learned how to put up the appropriate armour up. She thinks about the Doctor and his own armour. She wonders what taught him to put walls up between himself and the fires.

But mostly she thinks about the ways the years slip by her unnoticed, despite her mortality and the way she feels as though she’s never getting any closer to what feels just out of reach. And she wonders if it’s the same for him. She wonders if his immortality weighs on him the way her humanity weighs on her. She thinks she understands now the adamant way he’d spoken of humanity and how it hurts, the way there’d been no room for argument. The conviction in his words as a man burned too many times.

#Ace writes #doctor who #doctor who drabble #DW drabble #Rose Tyler #Rose Tyler drabble #procrastination drabbles #this is unedited #dimension hopping rose #my favourite girlie is back <3 #rise of the cybermen my beloved #i havent written anything in forever and my dw inspo has been particularly absent so were taking the win #did i bash this out in one sitting immediately after seeing that gif set? yes. absolutely. thanks to the op for returning my inspo from war #im a lil scared to post this actually ive done a quick passover but i havent posted anything in forever #im supposed to be working on my lab portfolio but instead im here

[badwolfrise]

#rose tyler #dimension hopping rose #rtdedit #edit #rose tyler edit

[jr-entmt-mngr-starship-alaska]

The “when I’m stuck at home I’m useless” Rose Tyler from the Christmas Invasion, to season 4 dimension hopping Rose Tyler pipeline is so important

#rose tyler #Doctor who #ten rose #tenrose #the christmas invasion #tenth doctor #dimension hopping rose

[kelkat9]

Flailing!!!! I cannot wait!!!!

#dies a happy dance #dimension hopping rose #rose Tyler

[sunniebelle]

This is totally the perfect description of Rose!

https://pin.it/5MBOSKk

#i love this so much and mentally pictured Rose Tyler #aka the Bad Wolf #when i saw it! #doctor who #rose tyler #bad wolf #the tardis #dimension hopping rose #i think queue need a doctor

[saecookie]

mmkay, here's a prompt... rose (and/or doctorrose of your choice, if you want) + and a word from my Notebook Of Good Words... hm, let's see...

Dear Abbey ♥. I have no idea what this is, but I listened to Julee Cruise and Accoustic Eidolon the whole time, and voilà.

prompt me!

There’s a phantom in every one of her steps. There’s a phantom interlocking between her fingers, there’s a phantom brushing goosebumps across her arm.

(It’s every silhouette that’s ever crossed her path. It walks alongside her, on this long, thin road she’s chosen for herself.)

It’s not an easy one. It’s not even a pleasant one. She goes and she cruises and she never knows when she’ll stop or for how long. She knows now to not befriend, or at least not much, for those she does will join the silhouette. The one without shape or form, one that has no gender nor age. This one faithful companion that she knows she won’t lose.

Not to time. Not to age. Not to holes or to gaps, to universes or to stars.

It’s a lonely life. But she makes it work. She makes it work, for others mostly, because what else could she do? Walk through and past, not stopping? And then for what.

She would be just another phantom.

So Rose Tyler extract herself from her phantom lover, for that invitation into numbness, and she immerses herself into others, into acting, into helping, into not living just for the sake of it. That’s what she comes from, and she never wants to go back to a life of bare existence.

(Sometimes she wonders if she’s just an idea to them, as the phantom is hers.)

When she hears the voice of a little one somewhere behind her ears, in another place or another time, she tracks them down, because it’s a new friend to make. When the little one tells her of an underground gallery gone bad, she buckles up and goes down. When Rose Tyler comes back up with the lost cattle, she celebrates and cheers and smiles, she takes her parts in the festivities, drinks the beverages, wears their colors.

The phantom is smaller after that.

She never, ever listens to the gravelly voice that echoes back behind her skull, one from long ago, that speaks of pride and of beauty.

When the raw atmosphere goes bad far, far away from the void hosting her, she bids farewell and reinvents herself there, so she can breathe the mold away.

Rose Tyler never, ever listens to the manly voice that pouts somewhere behind her right ears, that tickles and never ends its mumblings.

When an elder asks her if she’ll ever be back in their city, she promises. She will be back; it’s not even a lie. She will be. At some point. She refuses it to be the end, to be all that her road is, a straight line, never looking back. She will look back. She promises.

She never ever listens to the childish voice who urges her, faster, always faster, whether she’s dancing or praying, the one that would forget how it sounds if it wasn’t stuck in her throat.

She won’t listen to the rogue voice, the angry one, the unforgiving one. She could, because she agrees, but she won’t, because it’s long gone.

She comes, she answers, to all calls.

She avoids the frantic one, the voice that makes too many pauses.

She’s here. She’s here. She lives. She takes every step. She won’t give in. She won’t give up. She will get there.

She will come back, and the phantom will shriek, and she won’t be one, and she will live. This path will meet its end, and she won’t have shun the voices away.

(The voices won’t be echoes.)

She doesn’t need the Doctor, or her Mom, or Jack, or anyone really. But it’d be damn nice to see them again.

#sae writes #doctor who #dw fic #fic and chips #rose tyler #dimension hopping rose #♥

[regenderate-fic]

Heartstrings

Fandom: Doctor Who Ships: Ruth!Doctor/Rose Tyler Characters: Ruth!Doctor, Rose Tyler Rating: General Series: DoctorRose Fic Marathon 2022 Word Count: 1,849 Other Tags: Dimension-Hopping Rose, Gallifreyan Culture

Read on AO3

Summary: Rose has found the Doctor-- but not the one she was looking for. But her dimension cannon is broken, and this Doctor is letting Rose crash in her TARDIS until it's fixed. One day, Rose hears singing drifting through the corridors…

(Written for DoctorRose Fic Marathon Day 9: Music)

Rose was wandering the corridors of a halfway-familiar TARDIS when she heard it. 

She'd been there about a week now: she'd hopped into the right universe but onto the wrong planet, looking for the Doctor, and then she'd seen the TARDIS and run inside only to immediately realize two things. First, the TARDIS was different, bordering on unrecognizable; second, her dimension cannon was broken. 

That was when the Doctor walked in. An unfamiliar Doctor, and one unfamiliar with Rose. She'd peered at Rose over orange-tinted glasses and said, “Welcome to my ship. I trust you're acquainted?” Her expression softened as she added, “Not just anybody can walk in here, you know.” She let a fond hand run over the console— just like Rose’s Doctor did. 

“Suppose ‘acquainted’ is as good a term as any,” Rose said. She glanced at the console, stark in its whiteness. “Although I seem to have lost track of time.”

“Ah.” The Doctor looked Rose up and down. “From my future, then?”

Rose nodded, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. “And I'm trying to get back to you,” she said, “except my cannon’s broken.” She held up the yellow button that hung around her neck.

The Doctor leaned in, adjusting her glasses again as she tried to get a look at the canon. Rose passed it to her, and before she knew it, the Doctor was looking at her over top of the cannon and saying, “This is impressive work.” She handed it back. “You'd better stay with me until you can fix it.”

“You’re sure?” Rose asked, her eyes trained on the Doctor’s. 

The Doctor gave her a smile— impersonal but warm, jarring from the Doctor but far and above the bare minimum from a stranger. “A friend of mine is, well—” She chuckled. “—a friend of mine.”

Rose smiled back. “Thanks.”

And that was how she had ended up here. She’d spent a week in this TARDIS, filling a spare bedroom with machinery and tools as she tried to fix the dimension cannon, tiptoeing around the Doctor. 

Until, wandering the corridors, trying to find the library, she heard singing. 

She wasn't sure she was hearing it right at first. This was the TARDIS— there were all sorts of odd noises. And the singing was distant, soft enough to be disbelieved. But as Rose took tentative steps forward, the sound distinguished itself, solidified until it was clearly a voice, drifting through the halls, clear and low, singing a slow melody. 

Rose couldn't help herself. She stepped forward, closer to the sound, until she came to a stop outside a white door, identical to all the others in the TARDIS. She lifted a hand to touch the wall next to it, and the door slid open.

Rose had found the library. 

It looked just the same as she remembered— vaulted ceilings, walls of books, warm amber light. A crackling fireplace at the other side of the room, and sofas and armchairs arranged around little tables. It was one of Rose’s favorite rooms: cozy without being small, warm without being uncomfortable.

The only change was the Doctor.

She was sitting at the edge of one of the sofas, leaning over a table. When Rose looked closer, she realized the Doctor was playing some kind of instrument: she was plucking at something on the table, and the sound was echoing across the room. She was still singing, too, and Rose realized with a jolt that she couldn’t understand the words: the Doctor was singing in another language, and the TARDIS wasn’t translating.

Rose hesitated. Should she stay? This seemed like a private moment— but if it was really private, the TARDIS would never have led her here to begin with.

She stepped forward.

“Doctor?”

The Doctor jumped. She looked up, startled. Her hair was down, Rose realized, her locs falling around her face, and she was just wearing her brightly colored undershirt: no waistcoat. Rose hadn’t seen her without her waistcoat or with her hair down— more evidence that she was intruding.

But when the Doctor saw Rose, her expression relaxed. “Rose,” she said. “Should’ve known.”

Rose stepped closer. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you.” 

The Doctor shook her head. “You didn’t.” She hesitated. “Or, you did, but it’s welcome.” Extending an arm, she motioned for Rose to come closer. “I haven’t shared music in a long time.”

Rose circled the sofa, sitting down with a good few inches between her and the Doctor. She had a better view of the Doctor’s instrument now: it was laid flat on the table, a gorgeous dark wooden frame with two sets of strings. The Doctor plucked at both sets together, and chords leapt into the air.

“It’s a—” She paused, thinking. “I’m not sure it’ll translate. Suppose you could call it a sideways harp.” 

“Is it Gallifreyan?” Rose asked.

The Doctor nodded. She looked at the harp, pensive reverence in her eyes. “Sometimes I pretend it’s mine,” she said.

Rose frowned. “Isn’t it? It’s on your ship.”

The Doctor glanced at her. “If you know me, you know half the stuff on here is…” She tilted her head, ever so slightly, to the left. “Shall we say borrowed?”

“More than half, I’d say,” Rose laughed. She nodded at the harp, turning serious. “But if this is from Gallifrey—”

“It’s complicated,” the Doctor said. She gave Rose a cheeky smile.“I did steal it, for one thing.”

“It’s beautiful,” Rose said, smiling. “The song, too.”

“It’s a lullaby,” the Doctor said, her gaze turning back to the harp. “Back on Gallifrey. My mum used to sing it.”

Rose stared. “You’ve got a mum?” 

The Doctor looked at her again, her eyebrows raised. “Sorry. I shouldn’t say too much. Don’t know what my future self wants to share.”

“He never mentioned his family,” Rose murmured. “Or—” She looked out at the shelves, frowning. “Said he was a dad, once.”

“That must be in my future,” the Doctor said. She plucked at a couple of strings. “It’s a bit of a sore subject, family. He might not want to talk about it.”

“He doesn’t like to talk about his past,” Rose said. “‘Course, I know a little bit about why, but—”

“It’s in my future,” the Doctor finished.

“Right.” Rose glanced at her. Her hands were still on the harp, delicate in their movements. “Don’t want to mess with your timeline or anything.”

“I’d probably forget,” the Doctor said. She plucked out a few more notes: a melody was beginning to form. “Time doesn’t let you remember the important things. Not when it comes to your future.” 

“Suppose it wouldn’t.” Rose drew her knees to her chest, relaxing into the sofa, watching as the Doctor continued plucking at the harp. “Would be too easy that way.”

The Doctor paused her plucking long enough to give Rose an unreadable look. “Exactly.” She went back to the harp, and now she began to hum a melody.

“I know this one,” Rose said suddenly. 

The Doctor looked up. “Hm?”

“The Doctor—” Rose corrected herself. “My Doctor— the Doctor I traveled with, anyway. He sang it to me. Wouldn’t tell me what it meant.” It had been after Krop Tor, when Rose had fallen asleep in the library with her head on the Doctors’s shoulder, reluctant to leave him even for a second after being so sure she'd lost him forever. She'd woken up, still in the haze of sleep, to hear him singing to her, and when she raised her head to ask about it, he'd gotten flustered and refused to answer.

And now, this Doctor’s hands still hovered above the strings of her harp. Her eyes were still on Rose’s, searching for something.

“It’s a love song,” she said. “From Gallifrey. He must care about you.”

Rose felt the flush starting in her chest, traveling up her neck. She ducked her head. “Suppose I hope he does, or else I’ve wasted a lot of time trying to get back to him.”

One of the Doctor’s hands reached for one of Rose’s. Her hand enveloped Rose’s, a firm reassurance. 

“I really miss him,” Rose whispered. There were tears at the edge of her eyes— well, when weren’t there, these days?

“You must be close.” The Doctor’s voice was even, gentle. 

Rose nodded. “We are.” She looked down at their joined hands. “Or, we were. Don’t know what it’ll be like when I get back.”

To Rose’s surprise, the Doctor laughed.

“Give yourself more credit than that,” she said. “He’s lucky to have you.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

The Doctor let go of Rose’s hand in favor of wrapping her arm around Rose’s shoulders, pulling her in. Rose let herself relax into her, resting her head against the Doctor’s chest. It felt familiar— the Doctor was always the Doctor, no matter which body she was in. This Doctor was holding herself carefully, much more carefully than either of the regenerations Rose had known, but she was still the Doctor. Rose was surprised, really, at how safe she felt, even when this Doctor’s sole knowledge of her was whatever could be gained in a week spent tiptoeing nervously around each other in the TARDIS. 

They sat like that for a few moments, enjoying the comfort. And then the Doctor said, “Do you want to learn to play?”

Rose sat up. “Yeah, all right.”

The Doctor leaned forward. She spoke slowly, patiently.

“You’ve just got to hold your hands on the strings. Like this.” She demonstrated, and Rose mirrored her position, watching her closely. 

The Doctor hooked her finger around a string, pausing to show Rose the positioning. Rose copied her, and when the Doctor pulled her string back, Rose did the same. The two notes sounded together, a new chord. 

“It’s gorgeous,” Rose murmured. 

“Isn’t it?” The Doctor let her hand hover above Rose’s, asking a sort of permission. Rose nodded, and the Doctor positioned her fingers: her index finger hooked around one string, her thumb hooked around another. “It’s a sort of pinching motion,” she said. “To play them both together.” She demonstrated on the other side of the instrument, moving slowly so Rose could see.

Rose pinched, lifting her fingers away from the strings. The resulting chord echoed against the one the Doctor had just played, and Rose laughed, for no other reason than the delight at having put beauty into the universe. 

“Just wait,” she teased. “I’ll be playing all the big stages before you know it.”

“I’ll tell everyone I knew you before you were famous,” the Doctor said, a gentle smile on her lips. 

“Yeah, you’d better.” Rose grinned at the Doctor, tongue between her teeth. “It’s going to be a big deal, knowing me.” Her grin grew. “‘Course, I’ll have to give credit to the woman who taught me everything.”

The Doctor looked at her, soft surprise in her eyes.

“D’you know,” she said, “I can’t wait to meet you properly, Rose Tyler.”

Rose took her hand again, her brilliant grin turned shy. “It’s gonna be fantastic.” 

“And don’t I believe it.”

#doctor who #fanfiction #my fic #ruthrose #ruth!doctor x rose #doctorrose #doctor x rose #doctorrose fic marathon 2022 #dimension hopping rose #gallifreyan culture #short

[lenawin4]

“I wish we could, Rose,” said the Doctor. “But you’re not here.”

She swallowed dryly and bid herself to stay. The edges blurred; the sun paled and greyed like an ashen, sickly child. The Doctor closed his eyes, and the world washed away.

-

Rose is dreaming. But they're not her dreams.

-

for @doctorrosebingo , “projected dreams” prompt

#doctor who #doctorrosebingo #doctorrosebingor2 #doctor who fic #ten x rose #reunion fic #projected dreams #dimension-hopping rose #is a genre that can be so personal

[captainswan618]

recently had a very important realization

#yes I am counting planar systems as both other dimensions and alien worlds. shhh #also I know lup's not canonically blonde but she is in like 85% of fanart so it's fine #anyway I'm pretty sure these are the only two characters that I've ever had this level of obsession with #listen I just think that women #taz balance #taz #the adventure zone #lup #lup taaco #doctor who #dw #rose tyler #captainswan618 talks too much #the saga of my ipre backpack #not really but I want to show this post to her so #I wonder if she’ll guess how much I love lup before I tell her lol #from a sample size of 2 fictional characters that I’ve had big crushes on‚ my type seems to be badass principled world-hopping women lmao #pinned

[gingerteaonthetardis]

I am sorry for sending you an angst prompt but... I had a thought seeing this one: "I wish people came with a warning label about how exactly they'll fuck you up. And you know what's wrong with me? I would've read yours and still chosen to tag along." - Rose Tyler and a Doctor of your choice, mid argument. Bonus points if it's an argument because he tried to send her away for her own safety, Bonus bonus if he succeeded and she came back powerful and pissed off - just not in a canon situation.

@lotsofthinkythoughts, my dearest pal, thank you for your patience. i won't tax it further with a long disclaimer, lol. however, i will say that i fudged the quote a little bit, just to fit it in how i wanted. i also picked nine for my doctor, because i love him... aaaaand enjoy the angst! (if this can really qualify as angst...)

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Their cell was just like any other, unremarkable except maybe for the heat.

"Rose," he said.

"I don't want to hear it."

Sweat was darkening the hair at her nape, making it stick. She'd shed her jacket hours ago, and sat now with her back against the cinderblock wall, unsuccessfully attempting to cool herself down. In spite of her efforts, the concrete was as warm and muggy to the touch as everything else.

"But what—?"

Hair whipping, she turned to glare at him. "I'm not talking to you right now."

The Doctor scoffed. Slouched against the opposite wall, he looked irritably unaffected by the humidity. His leather coat still hung off him, and though his face had kind of a glow to it, he had no need to wipe away beading sweat like she did. She quietly resented him for this.

Or rather, she resented him for other reasons—mostly—but also for that. For how put-together he looked when she was falling apart. Her eyes fluttered closed; a golden afterimage asserted itself.

He'd tried to send her away. Again.

Of course, it wasn't "again" for him, not yet. He was still young—so young, possibly too young for her to be messing about with, in the grand scheme of her timeline—and wearing the first face she'd met. The one with that goofy, indescribable pride and those clear blue eyes with such gentle lines around them. The light and the dark in constant opposition over his heavy brow.

She couldn't say it didn't hurt, seeing him again. Knowing what was coming in their still-far-off future.

What she hadn't anticipated was being shoved back into the TARDIS on her own and sent flying—thankfully, not irreversibly—back in time, in a rescue attempt so pointlessly stupid and cosmically dangerous that she'd wanted to wring his neck upon return.

Did he even realise the danger that would've put them in? Put the whole multiverse in?

And then when she'd landed the TARDIS—safely, she might add—and come storming out, he'd gotten them both locked up in prison. Less than ten minutes, it took.

The Doctor sighed. "Rose, just—"

"Shut up."

What really hurt was that she'd tried to tell him, tried to explain herself, and he just wouldn't listen.

He never did, not when he thought he knew better. That hadn't changed over the years and bodies, but it was particularly bad with him—with the Doctor she'd met first.

She wasn't even sure if he'd worked it out yet.

That she was a fixed point.

Because he wasn't listening. It was all blah-blah-blah, nattering and pretending and scheming and ignoring the reality right beneath his nose.

A sharp sigh boiled up in her chest. She was tired of feeling hurt—hurt, in turn, always seemed to make her angry.

A gate clanged somewhere down the line. Some other cell. She couldn't tell if an inmate was coming or going.

"You know what's funny?" she said, not strictly speaking to him.

"I thought you didn't want to talk."

She ignored him. It was easy with her eyes closed.

"What's funny is how you never learn."

It felt good to say. It felt good to be an authority on something—and if there was one thing she knew, it was him. In all his many shapes, accounting for every variable. She knew him.

And it was true: "You never do, no matter how many times I run into you. You try to push me away every single time."

She heard a little scuffing sound. His boot against stone. Even with her eyes closed, she could visualize that boot: black and scuffed and heavy.

"And that's all right, I've come to expect it," she pushed on. "You're the lonely god aboard your lonely ship. That's who you want to be, apparently."

He huffed like he meant to say something, but her eyes flared open, and he stopped.

Hurt made her angry, yes. And anger made her burn.

She got to her feet without really knowing how. "But sometimes, Doctor, I wish people came with a warning label—a nice, specific one with a list of every possible way they could fuck you up. And yours," —she laughed roughly at the way he stiffened and stood a little taller, unused to hearing her curse, "—oh, yours would be a mile long."

His forehead was doing something ominous. But it didn't much matter. She was burning, burning. She was always burning, had always been. Her irises felt molten around the black holes of her pupils. She pushed off the wall, abrading her palms.

"You have made me more afraid than anything else in my life. More than getting fucked over by Jimmy Stone, more than losing my dad. You."

Losing you, she didn't say.

"And yet you keep coming back." His words were practically a sneer. But there was a vulnerability to them—she wasn't sure if he was even aware of it, how the syllables lifted at the end. How the pain marked itself out in between his eyebrows, a little dimple she loved and mourned in equal measure. "From across universes, if your story's to be believed."

"We wouldn't be in this cell," she said, struggling to sound calm, "if you'd believed my story, Doctor. But instead you shut me out and made a scene and now we're shut up here. So while we're stuck together, you're gonna listen."

Her eyes shuttered themselves. She couldn't bear the burning anymore, not when her whole body was slicked with sweat already. A deep breath in, out… in again, and the afterimages—the future memories, the past potentialities—faded, leaving her vision clear.

It was only him, and only her.

Rose stood in the center of the room, on the invisible line which, in crossing, would bring her into his world, with its smells of leather and engine oil and sweet-sharp mint. It would carry her to the place where she could see the fine ring around his light eyes. A saturated blue, like the widest rings around Uranus.

She paused. She stepped.

"You're right," she admitted, "I do always find my way back, no matter how many times you insist I'll be happier somewhere else, or that you're better off alone, or that it's too dangerous. I keep coming back. Every time you shut me out and pack me off home and make decisions for me—I come back."

Her approach was slow, as if toward an animal she didn't want to spook. Her pink tank top had plastered itself to her back; her hair had long since come out of its clip. She didn't move to fix either. She just drew closer and closer, while the Doctor stared, his eyes narrowed and unreadable.

He was unsure of her, she could tell that much—and unsure in a way she'd never noticed, back then. Because he'd seemed so capable, so much larger-than-life, that it had never occurred to her what kind of shadow she might cast.

She took another step. "Truth is, I would've read all those warnings and I would've still chosen to tag along. D'you know why?"

She was close now. The dusty air sweltered. She wanted to touch him—was debating whether or not it was worth the risk—when she noticed his hand. At his side, it made a tight fist. He didn't shake his head, but he didn't have to.

Taking in a shallow breath, she forced the words out: "It's because you will always be worth it to me. And maybe that makes me an idiot, maybe there's something wrong with me, but it doesn't matter. The danger and the fear that comes with this life… will always be less important… than being with you."

His eyes jumped skittishly back and forth between hers, unsure where to land. She watched his Adam's apple bob in his throat.

"I'm saying this now, because I never got to say it when we traveled together. But you need to hear it." They were close enough now that one more step would put her squarely in his arms. "You can keep dodging and avoiding, that's fine; it might drive me spare, but it won't stop me coming back when the universe—or your own stubbornness—pulls us apart. You should know that, Doctor."

A memory seized her. Her own voice, screaming, "Take me back! Take me back!" Another memory overlaid itself.

If losing that life was what had defined her youth, finding it again was what defined her now.

Finding her way back, no matter what. To him, and to the life she knew she was meant to be living.

Her hand rose, both of them watching as if it belonged to neither of them, but was acting on its own volition. When it landed squarely in the middle of his chest, she felt his dual-pulse against both pinkie and thumb.

Spanning the space between his hearts.

Looking up, she said, "D'you understand?"

And for once, his magnificent gob seemed to have slowed to a near stop. He nodded. His eyes were vivid, burning, beautiful, no more or less than they always were. She remembered them brown, and green, and then in different shades of blue.

But he shone through those crowded memories and not-quites and maybes.

"I understand, Rose," he rasped.

"Good." She nodded. "Then stop fucking arguing with me about it," she said—forcefully, only about half a second before their lips collided.

His skin tasted like dust, and then in a moment like something sweeter and richer and more familiar. She reached for it, her hands scrabbling at his coat, and her tongue swiping at his soft inner lip. Everything she wanted was here. Everything was good. Everything was so clean and perfect and nothing else mattered.

And maybe because everything was so good and clean and perfect, it couldn't last. The universe felt like that sometimes, slowing and urging with rhyme or reason. It could stretch moments like taffy or cut them to the quick, cut them right out of existence.

In a blink, Rose was gone again. Back in the midst of a battle that was far, far from over.

But the Doctor—she couldn't know it, not then, but the Doctor had been listening.

And for once in his long and frequently foolish life, he grasped the heart of things. As he pressed his lips together, tasting gloss and the underlying hint of salt, he understood.

Finally and unmistakably.

She would come back again.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

#i am feeling stuck so i wanted to maybe do a prompt or two from my backlog (sorry beloveds<3) to maybe shake some words loose #i had more i wanted to put into the scene but it was getting a bit long so...i held off #ninerose #fic and chips #timepetals #nine x rose #dimension hopping rose #dw fic #abbey writes

[soulless-angel25]

Doctor Who Femslash February, Day 22 Prompt- Crossover @doctorwho-femslashfeb

Rose was stuck, stuck in a universe that was not her own. With a dimension canon that was taking longer to charge since the energy source was different here so the canon needed time to transfer the energy into something useable.

Sadly, she couldn't become a hermit in this universe. She needed a source of income and with her unique powerset it meant that joining a guild would probably be the best for her.

Enter; Fairy Tail. It was much easier to join than she would've initially thought. She just walked in, said she wanted join, they'd had her fill out a few papers, and then she got her guild mark in her chosen spot and color. (A deep blue on her collarbone.)

And it seemed that once more, she was in another universe where there wasn't another version of her. It was strange but a fact that she'd grown used to. There never was another version of her. Either because Pete and Jackie never had any children, they did but Jackie miscarried or the child died young, or they did have a version of her but it was a guy.

Rose was more then used to this fact. Just as she was used to people flirting with her, like Loke did. She knew he never meant any of it, could see it in his eyes which carried a weight of untold regrets. A weight that she was familiar with, after all, she saw it every time she looked in the mirror.

So she bantered with him, maybe flirted a little. She knew that in the end it would only lead to pain on one or both of their ends. After all, she could see the timelines of those who have lived a long time or will live a long time. Though Rose doesn't use this particular ability often, especially with those she chooses to interact with, too much knowledge of what will come can be dangerous.

And so it's easy to fall into a role, another mask to add to her ensemble. Because she is nothing if not adaptable. Act younger then she is, alter her appearance just a bit to make her look a bit older then what Bad Wolf made her look. Kind, but not naïve. There are a million and one things to make up this mask. The mask of Rose Prentice, 24 year old who has an unknown magic but is so incredibly sweet.

She's talented at making masks, it comes with living for hundreds of years and she wonders if the Doctor was like that too. If he's still like that, masking who he really is. But she knows he didn't do it with her, the TARDIS made sure to leave just a small enough link between her and the Doctor to know.

But that's not important. What is important is the fact that Natsu brought a new potential member in who looks so fascinated by the guild. Rose allows herself just the barest peek at the girl's timeline. Enough to gather how she should act around her and treat her.

She tilts the drink back in her hand, just a small bit of alcohol left in the cup as she stands. The girl- wait no, woman. The woman is talking with Mira about how to become part of the guild and Mira easily gives her the forms.

Rose casually sits next to her as she fills out the form. Neat handwriting a strike contrast to most of the guild's nearly illegible scrawl. She watches as the lasts of the forms are filled out. A neat swish that was clearly taught to her and had her memorize it until she could do it without thinking ending the paper.

Rose sipped on the remains of her drink casually as though she wasn't paying attention to the woman beside her. And yet she watches her out of the corner of her eye as she nervously waves down Mira and hands over the forms. Rose can practically see the thoughts running through her head as Mira takes the forms back.

And this is the perfect chance to introduce herself, "Hello."

Best to start simple, and yet the woman still jumps, it makes Rose furrow her brow as she quickly thinks back to what she'd seen. Until- ah.

She alters her voice to be softer, more kind. Rose lets part of her past self bleed into her voice, "Sorry, I uh- didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to let you know that Mira is just going back to archive the submission and make sure that most things check out. Oh! I'm Rose by the way, Rose Prentice. You are?"

It's a way for the woman to become comfortable and Rose can tell she's done a good job by the way her shoulders release the tension that was in them. The tension that seemed to be at home there, "I'm Lucy. Does she uh, have to check everything?"

Lucy's voice tilts up at the end- nervousness Rose realizes so she rushes to reassure her, "Nope. Say if you only put first name but no last, she won't ask. After all, we've got more then our fair share of people who don't want their past to find them.

A relieved sigh slips past Lucy's lips as she seems to become more energized, "So! What kind of magic do you use?"

Allowing a smirk to make itself on her face she says, "Don't know. My magic doesn't have a name, far as anyone can tell I'm the only one with this type." let a tinge of bitterness slip into her voice at the end, make it seem like that upsets her. Then change the subject, "What about you?"

Lucy, seeming to sense the fact that she wished to change the subject happily explains that she using Celestial Magic. How she makes contracts, and when Rose inquires about if the spirits are free to create a contract or can they refuse? Lucy seems to immediately know what she's asking and is in vehement protection of the fact that if a spirit does not wish to make a contract then they are more then free to refuse and people who force contracts are horrid.

Maybe this dimension won't be so bad after all.

#dwff24 #femslash february #rose tyler #lucy heartfilia #doctor who #dr who #fairy tail #crack ship #roselucy #lucyrose #luse #celestialpetals #dimension-hopping rose tyler #no. no not THAT dimension hopping- this is post s4 where rose is immortal and everyone else is dead #pre-relationship #i don't know how it got this long #it was not intentional #it was supposed to be silly-funny-haha #not... this #mentioned the doctor #minor mirajane strauss #minor loke (fairy tail)

[rtdont]

This is really mean and I feel kinda bad for saying it because I do like Rose a lot but it must be said:

Rose Tyler will always be dollar store Sam Jones with all the edges sanded off. She's a blonde teenage girl in love with the Doctor who has something paradoxically wrong with her, but. She will never be a short-haired 'unapologetically butch' bi dyke vegetarian with political slogan t-shirts and a Dykes to Watch Out For pin. In making Rose the everygirl the show took a complicated, controversial, frequently unpopular but honestly pretty damn revolutionary companion and stripped her skeleton to make a character who'd be palatable to a mass market. Which is...fine, I guess. But I'm (finally) finishing my Interference reread and my god Sam's ending is brilliant, Sam is brilliant, and she will never be known and loved the way Rose Tyler is loved, while wearing her bones. And that's kind of frustrating.

#rtdont original #not gonna tag this one for obvious reasons #but I'm in my Sam feels today #she's in love with the Doctor and some books do imply they return her feelings to an extent #but she doesn't need to be dragged away from the TARDIS - she walks away on her own #she's not a dimension-hopping superhero with a gun - she's a journalist #because she desperately needs to fix the world and fight injustice and smash the system #and her ending is her resolving to do that on earth with Sarah #to engage with the system she's got and dismantle it however she can - even when history won't be on her side #even tho the politics in a hundred years are no better than they are now it matters that she tries to make even a little bit of difference #and it matters imo that Sam is so very overtly political #Rose is kind and cares about treating people right - Sam chained herself to buildings and laid down in front of bulldozers #nu!who doesn't have either the guts or the beeb's permission to write a companion as openly radical as Sam Jones

[kelkat9]

Rose Tyler The Dimension Cannon Other Worlds.

a;alkdjlkajdfldkjlkadjfkdalj OMG that cliffie.

They are so working up to Turn Left and then there's Bad Wolf references...

I need Series 3 now.

#dimension hopping rose #Rose Tyler

[camellcat]

Summary: If it were the Doctor, she'd almost say he was absentmindedly playing with the chain of her dimension cannon — fingers gently sliding up and down, tugging lightly before letting it fall back into place, rinse and repeat — but she was viscerally aware that every move they made had more meaning than she could even comprehend at times. Rose swallowed hard and felt him bare his teeth, pleased.

----

Dropped straight in the middle of a conversation (or more accurate, argument), just a snapshot of the first time Rose says the Master's name aboard the Valiant

(full fic below if you'd rather read on tumblr! ↓)

She barked out an incredulous laugh. "If you really think he'd let you anywhere near his TARDIS then you really are crazy, M—"

Rose cut herself off and his face lit up in a twisted sort of glee. He pressed her harder against the wall, most definitely leaving bruises on her back and shoulders that she'd be feeling later.

"Say my name," he taunted. She tucked in her lips as feeble show of defiance. The smirk he was wearing disappeared and he leaned in, crowding her.

"Go on," he crooned, voice mockingly soft as he commanded her. Hot breath blew across her cheeks and she resisted the urge to squirm, refusing to give him the satisfaction of getting to see her nervous, even if she already knew that he could tell.

"Say it," his lip curled as he hissed the words. Her eyes squeezed shut without her permission, recoiling in the only way her body thought it safely could.

She had planned on keeping her mouth shut, ready to simply wait until it was time for her to be sent back, but then she felt one of his hands loosen their immobilizing grip on her shoulder and slide just beneath the collar of her shirt. If it were the Doctor, she'd almost say he was absentmindedly playing with the chain of her dimension cannon — fingers gently sliding up and down, tugging lightly before letting it fall back into place, rinse and repeat — but she was viscerally aware that every move they made had more meaning than she could even comprehend at times. Rose swallowed hard and felt him bare his teeth, pleased.

"Say my name."

Slowly, she opened hazel eyes and leveled a piercing glare back into his darker own, trying not to go cross from how close their faces were.

"Master," she choked out in disgust. Brown disappeared behind pale lids and he gave her an overdramatic shiver, one she fought hard not to replicate. Bumping his nose against hers in faux familiarity, he let go of the chain, as if rewarding her, and she had half a mind to see if she could bite him quick enough that he wouldn't be able to catch her.

He leaned away from her before she could follow through, as though he could sense what she had been contemplating, and she would've snickered if she wasn't palpably seething.

"Now then," the Master began with a lightheartedness neither of them possessed around each other, ever, "that wasn't so hard, was it, Rose Tyler?"

He rolled her name off his tongue with an amount of venom she'd never actually heard from him before, matching her one-for-one. As though he didn't really mean it. As though he really was just matching her.

Great. Another frustrating, power play game she didn't know the rules to.

When she didn't respond, he cocked his head and pitched up his voice in what, she supposed, was a poor imitation of her. "No, Master, not at all! H—"

A muffled beeping sounded off from around her chest and he stopped. She took an instinctual glance down toward the sudden noise, before snapping wide eyes back to him when she felt the pressure on her begin to let up.

"Well," he sighed, as if disappointed she would be leaving him, "I guess that's our time, up."

He took a few steps back and she carefully followed, just far enough to get her back off the wall. The Master raised an amused eyebrow at her caution and she scowled in return.

"Until we meet again?" He said. Though it was phrased like a question, they both knew there would be a next time, whether it was wanted or not.

"Not if I can help it," Rose spat furiously, pulling the cannon from her shirt and slamming the button right in front of him.

The air seemed to crackle from where she had disappeared, and he lingered a few moments longer.

"Oh, Rose." He really did try to say her name all low and menacing — aiming for that classic, villainous drawl — but he couldn't help the way manic giggles seemed to burst free from behind his lips. "You can't!"

Spinning on his heel, he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks and strolled down the corridor, away from the main bridge area and down. The methodical clacking of dress shoes on pristine, smooth floors morphed into echoed clangs of metal grating as he got to lower, less used parts of the ship. Reaching a seemingly innocuous hallway among the many that weaved around and about, he took a sharp turn into an almost unnoticeable offshoot. Swinging open a pair of plain, silver doors, he gazed upon the Doctor's groaning, mutilated TARDIS, and grinned.

That stupid ape of a girl didn't have a single, damn clue.

#UHMM I'VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE VERY NERVE WRACKING #not that I think many people will see this... or at least CARE considering it's both a fic and an unpopular ship #BUT STILL #y'all have seen my art but I've never posted like any of my writing #mainly bc I know it's not any good LOL #but as I was jotting down a little quick thing I wanted to draw later I just kept going until it turned into this #I just loveee when people have rose come across the master during her dimension hopping days and I couldn't help myself #also I like to think rose really would adapt to his stupid name wayyy to fast for her own liking #cause it really is like the “doctor” y'know #just another title for her to treat as a normal name #except it's WAYYY worse #master x rose #masterrose #rosesimm #the master #simm master #rose tyler #doctor who #doctor who fanfiction

[bingusbing]

#just curious on what you guys think of as cannon #doctor who #rose tyler #metacrisis doctor #tenth doctor #pete’s world #dimension hopping