Texan. Whovian. Whedonite. Trekkie. 'Scaper. All-around geek.
In real life, I sometimes exchange words for money. Online, I sail many ships, and angst is my North Star.
Be warned: I write ficlets on gifs and I tag like it's the end of the world.
Burn, baby, burn.
Sidebar gif by tennantscookiejar
Doctor Who AU in which Rose is the Doctor and John Smith is her human companion. Part One ~ Part Two
They’re locked in a hospital supply cupboard, short on assets, and the atmosphere has taken a decided turn toward the stifling. The Doctor is pacing in front of the barred window like a caged cat, all tight movement and furrowed brow, the very picture of focused intensity.
Words are on the tip of John’s tongue, something to puncture her ego a bit, to lighten the mood, Oh, good, we’ll fight them off with mops, shall we? Going to sweep them to death? Always imagined you’d look sharp as a cleaning lady. But he swallows them, because as much as the Doctor seems to secretly enjoy his ribbing, the fact that the Baroness is in the room makes things … different.
The Baroness herself (“No need for formality, sweetheart. Just call me Jill,” she’d murmured in John’s ear as they danced half an hour ago, her hand slipping down to pinch his bum; he might’ve made a squeaking noise at that, but it was a dignified and manly one, she assured him) – Jill has plopped down into a wheelchair, an antique, made out of wood and wicker.
It’s remarkable how they’ve just been scrambling for their lives through a hospital full of gas-mask zombies and Jill still looks devastating. Like one of those classic Hollywood pin-up girls in a World War II-era uniform, dark curls and cupid’s bow lips, except with Jill there’s an undercurrent of danger, too – fifteen minutes in a room with her and John is sure anyone would find themselves seduced or dead.
All that, and he can’t stop wondering where exactly, in her tight uniform, she’d been hiding that sonic squareness blaster.
au meme - the doctor and john smith (doctor/rose swap inspired by allison’s fic eos in orbit)
happy birthday jamie!
AU MEME | Girl In The Fireplace - Where Rose goes back instead of the Doctor.
85/100 » David Tennant
AU Meme | The Satan Pit - Rose talks to the Doctor before the fall
Doctor Who AU in which Rose is the Doctor and John Smith is her companion. In case you missed it: PART ONE
In the TARDIS for the short trip from the London Eye to the Powell Estate, John is clinging to Michelle. She’s pretty, the Doctor supposes. Clingy and timid, too, because she’s cowering against John’s chest, trying to burrow her way into his pinstriped jacket, and making whimpering noises.
John, on the other hand, is soaking in every one of the scant seconds he gets to spend inside the TARDIS, looking at the coral-strutted ceiling and glowing walls and grated floors with a sense of wonder. As she stands beside the console flipping levers, it doesn’t escape the Doctor’s notice that he’s stealing furtive glances at her, too.
He’s curious, this one.
My OTPs - Doctor & Rose, Doctor Who
The story between the Doctor and Rose is basically a love story without the shagging.
- David Tennant
AU where Rose is the Doctor, and John Smith is her companion. This all started here, and kept sprawling in my brain. I’m going to write a few of these, I think, because I’m entertaining myself.
~~~~~
John Smith is fairly certain the shop dummies lumbering toward him right now aren’t a hallucination.
He’s also fairly certain that, at this point, he’s missed his job interview at the bank, and he’s wearing his nicest suit for nothing because he’s going to be working at the grocer’s the rest of his unremarkable life. Although at the moment, that life appears to be rather short, so perhaps his boring tragedy won’t be time-consuming.
Doomsday AU: In which Rose is the Doctor, and John Smith is trapped in the parallel universe.
John: Where are you?
Rose: Inside the TARDIS. There’s one tiny little gap in the universe left, just about to close. And it takes a lot of power to send this projection—I’m in orbit around a supernova. I’m burning up a sun just to say goodbye.
John: Can’t you come through properly?
Rose: The whole thing would fracture. The two universes would collapse.
Rose knows that if it was up to John, he would tear apart the fabric of reality to get back to her — that’s him, protective and loyal to the point of foolishness.
Her John.
The wind is wreaking havoc on his long, floppy hair and he’s hunched in his overcoat. He’s still wearing his pinstripes, and it’s bizarre because when she looks at him, she sees two different men. She sees the skinny grocery clerk dressed up in a suit and on his way to a job interview, trapped in the Underground by the Autons; and she also sees the man he’s become after traveling with her for two years, brave and confident, a rudder that keeps her steady when she gets lost, that steers her home every time.
His face is pinched into a frown, and he isn’t saying anything, just staring with those enormous brown eyes. There’s a world of emotion in them, longing and heartbreak and the tiniest spark of hope.
Of course he’d hope; she always manages to be impressive, doesn’t she? Impressive Time Lord, that’s her, fixing everything, somehow stumbling through and coming out all right?
This isn’t going to come out all right.
She doesn’t have the courage to tell him. He’s shivering. “Where are we? Where did the gap come out?”
“We’re in Norway,” he says.
She glances around, takes in the topography; she should’ve guessed, should’ve called up that information from somewhere in the infinite space between her ears, but she’s feeling out of sorts. “Norway, right.”
“About fifty miles out of Bergen. It’s called ‘Dårlig Ulv Stranden’.”
She blinks at that, cocks her head. Feels panic nipping at her stomach. Because if he’s alone, in another universe, stranded with them … she might just do it. She might just tear down the fabric of reality to get to him, to keep him safe. “Dalek?”
“Dårl-ig. It’s Norwegian for ‘bad’. This translates as ‘Bad Wolf Bay.’”
Her mouth curves up into a smile, but even though she’s standing in the warm console room of the TARDIS, her cheeks are numb. He smiles a little, too, and it’s the most melancholy thing she’s ever seen.
“How long have we got?” he asks.
Her enormous Time Lord brain calculates it automatically, down to the nanosecond, but she rounds up for his sake: “About two minutes.”
He looks down, shoves the toe of his Chuck into the sand, and she wonders how gritty it is, what it feels like on that beach, and whether he’s shivering because of the cold or because of the effort required to keep the tears in his eyes from spilling out.
“I can’t think of what to say!” he blurts out.
He isn’t speechless very often, her John. The only times he’s really quiet are in bed — skin against skin, sweat and small words between them. She blinks, and in that moment spends an eternity in her memories, in the puff of his breath and the touch of his lips, the feel of his need and her own that matches.
When she opens her eyes, she realizes she’s got one hand resting on her belly. He’s noticed, too, his gaze lingering just long enough for realization to dawn, just long enough for him to make a noise like he’s been punched in the chest.
He forces his eyes up to meet hers, steps toward her without conscious thought. “Rose. You’re not…?”
Because she can’t stand to imagine him living the rest of his life locked away in this universe, aching with the knowledge that he’s been separated not only from the Time Lord who loves him but also their child, she lies.
do you remember when we met?
feeling a little angst and a little love, and had this song in my head all day. thus.
