FIC: Ready

May. 25th, 2014 05:37 pm
ameliaponders: (Default)
Summary: “You’re sure about this?” Rose asks, and her voice is that of someone who is trying and failing not to sound too excited. The Doctor nods at her enthusiastically. “She’s ready.”

READY


Today is finally the day. We’ve waited so long for this moment and I am so excited that I want to crawl out of my skin. But seeing as I am half-human, half-Time Lord and not Vyndeplexian, I don’t actually have the ability to crawl out of my skin. So I do the next best thing.

I wake up Rose.

I walk into our bedroom and see her there, on the far side of the bed, a mess of honey hair splayed on the pillow and her arm thrown back like she hasn’t a care in this world. It’s so peaceful, so beautiful, that I almost don’t want to wake her. Almost.
I slide onto the bed and snuggle against her for a moment. I kiss the side of her face, then her neck, and…

No. Focus, Doctor. This is important. No time for distractions.

“Rose,” I murmur as I gently shake her shoulder. She groans, as usual. My interrupting her sleep has always been a mild source of contention between us, even back when I was a full Time Lord. Maybe that’s a little bit of the reason why I still do it – it’s a thing we’ve always had, and always will. I like those things. I smile as the brief furrow in her brow fades and she takes another deep, unconscious breath. Okay, fine. Maybe I should let her rest a bit more. I’ll just watch her sleep for a while…How is it that, even asleep, Rose Tyler manages to enchant me? You’d think it would fade after a while – but in the fourteen years since I first held her hand and told her to run, it never has. I like that, too. I stroke her arm as I watch the rise and fall of her chest and I let out my own contented sigh. I could stay like this forever.

Three minutes and forty-six seconds later…

Okay, that’s long enough. I’ve got to wake her up and tell her. This is going to change our lives forever, and sleep is not a reason to defer life-changing, amazing news.
“Rose. Rose, wake up.” The groan again. “Rose, come on, love, it’s important. I need you to wake up now.” This makes her stir, and she turns to me, still sleepy but somewhat on alert.
“What is it, Doctor? What’s the matter?”

I wish she didn’t always jump to the conclusion that something was wrong, but with all the things she’s seen at Torchwood, it’s probably something she’ll never shake. My quick smile reassures her, though, and she softens.

“It’s today! Get up! Get dressed! It’s finally time!” I’m practically jumping on the bed, which doesn’t amuse Rose, but I’m just so excited and really, she must get up because I can’t stand delaying this one more minute. Rose blinks a few times, shaking off the last cobwebs of unconsciousness, and looks me in the eye. “You’re sure about this?” she asks, and her voice is that of someone who is trying and failing not to sound too excited. I nod at her enthusiastically.
“Because if she’s not ready it could be really dangerous, and --”
“She’s ready.”
“But how do you --”
I cut her off again and squeeze her hand. “We both agreed we need this and that today would be the perfect day to do it if she’s ready. Well, she’s ready. I know she’s ready.” And I really do. It’s part of the special bond I have with her, one that Rose won’t ever totally understand. Thankfully, she isn’t jealous. Those two have their own kind of completely mystifying bond, anyway. And come to think of it, they’re sort of smug about the fact that I don’t get it, but I’ll let that go for now, because…“It’s time to go on an adventure!” I grin so wide that I’m sure I look like a daft idiot (as Rose would say). She returns my grin and once again, she’s radiant.

A few hours later, breakfast has been eaten and, I’m thrilled to report, suitcases have been packed. We’ve even had a little celebration since it’s such a special day. Rose putters around the house, gathering up the last few things we want to take on our adventure, and I step into the back garden.

There’s the TARDIS. All grown up. Gorgeous.

I walk around her, running my fingers over the wood of her Police Box façade (and oh, wasn’t it a proud day when I saw her take that form, just like the TARDIS from which she was grown). “Look at you,” I whisper affectionately. “You know what I think? I think you’re going make this the best adventure of our lives. I think you’re going be absolutely fantastic.”

“Just like always.” Rose walks over to me from the back door of the house. She pats the TARDIS affectionately before leaning forward into my chest so that I can wrap her in my arms. “I’m nervous,” she admits. “I mean, I’m excited, too, incredibly so, but I’m just a bit nervous. Is that weird?”

“Not at all. We’ve never done this before, with her. It’s perfectly natural to feel that way. But before you ask again, she really is ready. I promise. Or we wouldn’t be doing this.”
“I know. I just can’t believe we’ve finally gotten to this day. I mean, we knew it would come, but a decade seemed like so much time. And here we are,” Rose says with a wistful look.

“You’re the one who decided we wouldn’t do this until now, even if she was ready earlier.”
“I know, and I don’t regret it. We needed to put down some roots, figure out life here. It was important for us to get that domestic time in,” she says with a wink. I smile and nod. “It does make me feel a bit old, though,” Rose admits with a sheepish grin.
“Oh, rubbish. You’re not old. Just wise. And beautiful as ever,” I say before gently touching my lips to hers.
“Yeah, yeah, Mr. Suckup,” she laughs, but then squeezes me a bit and I know she loves when I say things like that to her. I should say them more, I think. After a moment she lets go, takes a deep breath, and looks me in the eye. “All right. Let’s do this.”

***

“Okay, open your eyes!” I practically shout.

She looks around, confused. This isn’t what she was expecting. “But…it’s just Mummy standing next to the TARDIS. Oh, no! You guys aren’t going on a trip today are you? It’s my birthday!”
“Wellll, we are going on a trip today, yes. But we thought that this time, you could come with us. If you want.”
“Happy birthday, Hannah,” Rose says with a grin.

Our daughter looks at her, eyes wide. “Really? You mean it? I can go on the TARDIS with you?!”
“We said you could come along when you were ten,” Rose replies. “You’re ten now, aren’t you? Did we get your birthday wrong?”

“No, you didn’t! I’m ten years old!” Hannah squeals. She claps and jumps with glee, her sandy braids swishing against her freckled face, then runs to her mother and hugs her. Rose hugs Hannah tight, glancing at me with a wide smile and glassy eyes as happy tears threaten to spill. I walk over and hug them both, nearly overwhelmed myself.

Since it was ready five years ago, Rose and I have only used the TARDIS for Torchwood business and the rare grownups-only holiday. I’d wanted to travel with Hannah from the start, but Rose insisted that we wait. She wanted our daughter to have a “normal” early childhood with school, mates, trips to Gran’s, and most of all, family time with Mum and Dad in a proper house. A home base. I suspect it was important not just for Hannah, but for Rose, too, and even for me. I wouldn’t take back a minute of the time we’ve spent more or less “grounded” on Pete’s World. Rose was right, as always. Not that I will admit the “always” part. That being said, it was hard to say no all those times Hannah had begged us to take her traveling on the TARDIS. Finally, we won’t have to deny her adventures anymore.

“So, Hannah Tyler-Smith,” I say, opening the TARDIS door. “Where to?”

Hannah looks up at me and I can see the whole universe right there in her eyes. In that moment, I realize we’ve been on an adventure this entire time. I am almost consumed with love for this little girl – so bright, so curious, so strong. So her mother.

She leans towards my ear and whispers: “Everywhere.”

My daughter grabs my hand and pulls me into the TARDIS. Rose follows right behind.

Our adventure continues.
ameliaponders: (Default)
While I would like nothing more than to 1) not work 40 hours a week while in grad school and 2) just sit around and write fics and go for walks and daydream and be a generally non-productive member of society in some ways, none of this is possible because I exist in the real world. School is slowly consuming me and it makes me both wistful and incredibly overwhelmed. I VOLUNTARILY signed myself up for this?! And paid a LOT of money?! Yikes. But, I'm discovering, that just because it's hard doesn't mean I can't have at least a little fun.

8-10 page research paper. Proposal due today. Kat's topic: online fandom. In the words of 10, OH YES!

Not only is there an incredible amount of scholarship on this (fans are nothing if not thorough), but I think it's inspired me as far as a final thesis/project idea. My brain's a buzzin' and I'm trying to focus/nail it down but basically I want to do a communications project that brings together fandom and doin' good (aka relevant to my nonprofit day job/career). There's a bunch out there on this already but I'm trying to figure something out. I've got 2 years til it's due anyway, but they encourage you to get an idea of what you want to do ASAP so that you can make everything you do in your classes relevant to it so that you'll be better prepared when the time comes.

Once I play catch up with lots of school this weekend, hopefully I can get back to writing chapter 2 of the fic I've been working on. And also get going on my trope bingo card - yay!

Oh fandom...you're overwhelming and interesting and tiring and awesome. Allons-y!

PS. Someone please explain to me how to get more friends or whatever you call them on this thing! The random search bar thing where I type in an interest seems overwhelming and ineffective.
ameliaponders: (Default)
I'm really psyched to try my hand at trope bingo. Hopefully I can get writing at a decent pace despite grad school stuff picking up! Muse, please be kind. Also if you could maybe get on the 2nd chapter of the story that's currently sitting alone and scared in my dropbox, that would be great, too.

Anyway, here's my bingo card! The wheels are turning...

au: crossover snowed in marriage against all odds coming out (of the closet)
au: supernatural trust and vows presumed dead au: royalty / aristocracy / feudal au: fantasy
curtainfic sex pollen FREE

SPACE
au: fusion mind games
huddle for warmth immortality / reincarnation secret twin / doppelganger indecent proposal au: fairy tale / myth
reunion kidfic au: alternate professions trapped in a dream power dynamics
ameliaponders: (Default)
Summary: Rose has a big, long, exhausting report to read and the Doctor suggests how she should study it. Fluffy PWP TenToo/Rose domesticity. This fic is what happens when a Whovian goes to grad school and wants to avoid doing her homework! Also inspired by the Wedding of River Song quote “I could help Rose Tyler with her homework" that was posted as a fic prompt on the Doctor Who Fic Prompt Tumblr.Even though I don't understand Tumblr, that one is pretty straightforward.

THE BEST WAY TO STUDY



“I could do A-Levels,” Rose had said once. The memory echoed through her mind as she stared at the paper in front of her, the completely dense, tiny type blurring together now that she’d been staring at it for more than two hours. A small smile crept across her face at the memory of telling the Doctor about A-Levels, and she couldn’t help but chuckle when she recalled why she hadn’t done them in the first place. Jimmy Stone was the first man (okay, he was a boy, but still) she’d chased after, starting something of a trend in Rose Tyler’s life.

“What’s so funny?” Rose looked up to see the last man she’d chased – the one she’d finally, finally caught. Well, it was the man she chased less one extra heart and a respiratory bypass system, but a year into this life together, she knew this half-human Doctor was, in fact, the man she’d always loved.

“Oh, just remembering something,” she answered as the Doctor sat next to her at their dining room table. “A silly boy I swooned over.”

“Oi! You said you like when I’m silly!” The Doctor said, mock-offended.

“Not you,” Rose replied, and the Doctor looked momentarily hurt. “This grungy bloke named Jimmy Stone. Remember? The reason I didn’t do my A-Levels?”

“Oh yes. The juvenile delinquent. Well, joke’s on him, look at you now. Successful career woman, rising to the top of her field, and looking sexy as ever while doing it, too.” He hugged her from behind her chair and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Rose sighed. “We’ll see about top of the field. I swear, I’m never getting through this program.” For the last few months, Rose had been in Torchwood’s Executive Training Program. It was extremely rigorous, and half the recruits had dropped out after only a week. Rose was one of five that remained in what amounted to a PhD program in alien hunting. “I mean, I identified and arrested an entire council house full of Zygons last month. I know what I’m doing…why am I reading what amounts to academic papers on it? Is this a test to see how well we deal with boredom?”

The Doctor cocked his eyebrow. “It’s possible. After all, the Petsonians actually use boredom as a weapon. They scan your brain to figure out what you find uninteresting, then telepathically bombard you with it so it’s all you see, feel, and think about until your heart stops and you die!” The Doctor clapped his hands together excitedly; he found trivia – even slightly morbid trivia – utterly delightful.

“Well, they might’ve invaded Torchwood via white papers instead of telepathy, because reading this is just deadly. I mean, listen to this: ‘Raxacoricofallapatorian intergroup conflict mediation protocol standards, practices, and deviations when faced with Desivon System planetoid populations: a detailed history.’ That’s just the title! And I have one night to read the entire 300 pages on this, and talk about it tomorrow. It’s absolutely dreadful.”

“That is a pretty terrible title,” the Doctor agreed. “Who wrote that?” He squinted at the paper. “Dr. Silas Brix. Is he that purple suckery creature on the eleventh floor?” Rose nodded. “Oh, he’s never any fun. Once he came to my lab to deliver something and stayed for an hour explaining how and why I should rearrange my shelves. It’s no wonder he makes you read his stuffy papers. Tomorrow he can tell you all about what the paper actually means and why what you think about it is wrong. He just likes to hear himself talk.”

“I’ve never met anyone like that before,” Rose giggled.

The Doctor playfully swatted her on the shoulder. “At least I talk about interesting things,” he muttered. Rose patted his hand affectionately and then got back to the paper in front of her with a deep, frustrated groan.

A moment later, the Doctor crouched down beside her. “You know there’s another way you can do this,” he said gently. “It doesn’t have to be this complicated.”

“No, Doctor, it’s cheating. I need to do this on my own.”

“But it’s not cheating! You’re still getting all the same information as everyone else. You’re still learning.”

“It just doesn’t feel right. Like I’m taking the easy way out.” She continued reading silently, head in hand, as the Doctor sat next to her.

“Rose, you’re one of the hardest working people at Torchwood, not to mention one of the smartest people I know. Look how far you’ve made it in this program that so many people quit! Hell, even Ty from Accounting quit and he literally has the biggest brain in Torchwood. The average Duzerid brain weighs 46 pounds, and Ty’s on the large side of his species! And you’re smarter than he is! So, isn’t it smart to just get your studying done more efficiently? Besides, then you could, you know, come play with me?” He looked at her with those irresistible puppy dog brown eyes, purposefully putting his glasses on so they seemed even bigger.

“Play with you? What, like at recess? Fancy a game of kickball, Doctor?” she teased.

“Well, sure, but not the Pete’s World way. You have to put on all that equipment, and sometimes the robots misfire… I just meant that you deserve a break. With me. And the TARDIS. I think she’s finally at intergalactic capability, and I’ve really wanted to show you this planet whose surface is basically a trampoline.”

He was practically whining like a kid now. Rose realized that all of her studying and long hours at the office were taxing not only for her, but the Doctor, too. Especially since she’d postponed their date night four times in a row, so it had been a while since they’d spent some quality time together. And when the Doctor had too much time to himself, he started to brood. The Oncoming Storm would relive every dark moment he’d seen, every awful moment of war…all while mulling over what it meant to be half-human and coming to terms with a mortality he never had to face before. His anguish over these things broke her heart. Sometimes, it would take days for Rose to pull the Doctor out of his funk, and the last thing she wanted was for him to find his way back into one just because she’d been so busy lately and he was lonely.

Rose glanced at the Doctor again. His eager, hopeful look made him that much sexier, and soon Rose was completely distracted by thoughts that definitely had nothing to do with studying Raxacoricofallapatorians. And besides, the part she’d read already confirmed what the Doctor had said – Brix was a windbag. Maybe, just maybe she could take a shortcut this once…

“You’re changing your mind!” The Doctor said excitedly.

“I might be,” she conceded.

“Come on, Rose! Please? I promise tomorrow I will write a paper about how this is most definitely not cheating, and you can read the whole thing in the same way you’re reading now.” He gave her the puppy eyes again, and actually stuck out his bottom lip. Rose’s resistance dissolved.

“Just this once. But…the trampoline planet will have to wait until tomorrow. After all, you wanted me to play with you tonight, right?” She smiled that tongue-between-teeth smile that she knew drove the Doctor crazy. “I have some, um, games in mind that we play right here at home.” She smirked suggestively.

The Doctor was at her side in the blink of an eye. He grabbed the paper and flipped through it for a few seconds, staring intently at it before redirecting his attention to Rose. “Okay, you know the drill. Deep breath, clear your mind. Close your eyes.”

Rose did as he asked as the Doctor followed the same procedure. He then gently, almost reverently, touched his fingers to her temples. Rose gasped. Even though they had done it many times, the feeling of the Doctor being inside of her mind and Rose being inside of his was still an overwhelming sensation. She felt the contents of the report she’d been reading fill her mind like water being poured into a glass. In an instant, she completely understood the entire document and felt little sparks of energy as her mind started analyzing and making her own insights on the material.

And then she noticed something else nudging at the corner of her consciousness. It wasn’t facts and figures this time – it was a feeling. A feeling of pride and confidence in her that she hadn’t been feeling lately. Clearly, the Doctor had, and he was sharing it with her now. Sensing a bit of resistance, the Doctor sent Rose another thought: this is how I feel about everything you do, everything you are. I love you, Rose Tyler, and I could not be more proud to know such an incredible person and call you mine.”

Rose opened her eyes then, looking directly into the Doctor’s as he moved his hands from her temples down to cup her face. Being so tired lately, and now with the Doctor’s outpouring of support and love, it was enough to make tears roll silently down Rose’s cheeks. The Doctor brushed them away with his thumb and smiled at her. “My brilliant pink and yellow human,” he whispered. “I think that’s enough studying for one night.” As he kissed her for the first of many times that evening, Rose decided that her new study technique might just be the best one after all.
ameliaponders: (Default)
Summary: Just a little one-shot vignette. Amy is suddenly overcome by a strange feeling during an everyday moment in her post-Angels '50s life.

LAUNDRY BASKET


It happens while she is holding a laundry basket, which is sort of unexpected. Not that you ever expect this sort of moment, but for it to come while you are holding a laundry basket just seems absurd. Maybe that’s why Amy promptly lets go of the basket, spilling clothes all over the staircase she is halfway down at the moment. Her bathing suit catches her eye as it falls, but she makes no move to pick up any of what she’s dropped, instead sucking in a sharp breath as a memory floods her being.

It was right after she and Rory had gotten married; so many years ago, but going by the calendar currently on their kitchen wall, still fifty-eight years away. The Doctor had finally gotten them to Rio, actual proper Earth Rio, and in the Seventies, no less. The three of them were on the beach, reveling in the sun, sea, and colorful mess of humans and human stuff that surrounded them. Amy was particularly excited that she had used the contraption they’d just picked up on Adonica Nine – a sort of scanner thing that provided flawless, 24-hour UV protection with the push of a button and no greasy lotion. “Finally,” she said, “I can enjoy a beach without worrying that I’ll become a human tomato.” This led to a twenty-minute monologue by the Doctor about a fascinating race of sentient tomatoes he’d met four hundred years before. Rory whispered a joke to her about tragic spaghetti sauce and they’d laughed. Then the Doctor got hit in the face with a thong that, they’d learn a moment later, belonged to someone a few umbrellas down and all three of them laughed, especially when the owner turned out to be a six-foot-five, eighty-year-old man.

Who knows why this was what she thought of now. It was a silly memory, really, paling in comparison to a thousand other more exciting adventures. But oh, how they had laughed. So much that she’d had tears streaming down her face…

“Amy?” Rory’s voice brings her back to the present as he rounds the corner and stops by the staircase. “I heard a noise… are you okay? What happened to the laundry? Why are you crying?”

She touches her cheek and discovers tears, but says nothing and keeps looking straight ahead, in a daze.

“What’s the matter? You’re starting to freak me out. Are you hurt or something?” Rory starts going into nurse mode, gently touching her arms, her face. “Talk to me.”

She still won’t look at him, is too overcome by this sudden and strange sense of loss that she feels with every part of her existence. Finally, words come out of her mouth in a whisper, but they, like her gaze, are not directed at her husband.

“Raggedy Man…goodnight.”

And with that, she snaps out of her sort-of trance, collapsing in a heap on the stairs and sobbing in earnest. Rory understands now, and goes to her. They hold each other and cry. A few minutes later, Rory helps her collect the laundry and put it back into the basket. And life goes on.
ameliaponders: (Default)
Hi! I'm Kat and I don't understand.

As obsessive fandom-y as I am (Doctor Who being my #1), I am only good with the words. That's about it. Making things that are pretty is scary and unknown to me including icons, gifs, and more. SO I'm going to use this journal to post my Doctor Who fics, and I suppose other writing if I'm feeling bold/crazy. I have the same username at AO3 and Teaspoon and an Open Mind, and I'm probably just going to post everything everywhere and uniformly. If I try to get creative and do different things on different sites, I'm gonna get overwhelmed. Also, I'll feel guilty when I inevitably neglect them.

So anyway, my neuroticism aside I will say hello, please enjoy things I write, and please feel free to help me, you know, learn the internet. I'm like Clara Oswald before the spoonheads got a hold of her.

It's nice to meet you! Feel free to (friend? follow? I don't know) keep in touch with me and I hope to meet a kind soul or two! And feedback on my writing is always appreciated!

Hugs,
Kat

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