silverwolfcc (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
silverwolfcc) wrote2017-11-22 01:47 pm
silverwolfcc) wrote2017-11-22 01:47 pm
Entry tags:
CHAOS THREAD
"Rules!"
Put in a prompt!
Fill out other prompts / Can be with OCs, based on RP, etc.
Try to keep it drabblicious so 300 words or less (note: CC breaks this 24/7)
HAVE FUN!!
= Put a rating in the header if it's over PG13 for the squishy chibi moeblobs
- Mention what fandom/characters you're doing somewhere in advance too lol
Put in a prompt!
Fill out other prompts / Can be with OCs, based on RP, etc.
Try to keep it drabblicious so 300 words or less (note: CC breaks this 24/7)
HAVE FUN!!
= Put a rating in the header if it's over PG13 for the squishy chibi moeblobs
- Mention what fandom/characters you're doing somewhere in advance too lol
PROMPT!
november rain
"What band?"
"The band on stage." He resisted the temptation to force the man's chin to look at it once more, but he felt he'd need a lug wrench to even get a fair shot of moving it. No one should have that much muscle in real life, he figured. It made everyone else look bad.
"That," Zoro Roronoa whose general thoughts on music narrowed down to: Have I heard it on the top 100 more than eighty times? Then I recognize it, said. "Is not a band." And he folded his arms as if that was the end of the conversation.
"It's an emo/trance/mumblecore fusion enhanced with understated dubstep in order to reflect on society's changing taste in music and reminiscent of the sixties ...Beatles something," said Usopp, having memorized Brook's thesis statement almost by heart. Zoro grunted. There was a moment of (relative) silence.
"It's Luffy manhandling a keyboard and Brook pulling on a rubber band."
"So...?"
Zoro sniffed and shifted his stance, shrugging his shoulders like massive earthquakes.
"Doesn't sound like rain at all." A beat. "Also it's June."
Usopp rolled his eyes and then ducked behind those earthquake shoulders as Franky rolled a canon on stage.
Some people just didn't understand music
no subject
Prompt
Re: Prompt
But it was never loud. Not louder than a super nova or the birth of a brand new world. That first sound of creation. He could stand there you know. Stand there with the universe at his doorstep. Everything moving and expanding into a newness that was louder than anything else. No shout nor motor could compare with the hum of a planet in orbit.
It wasn't the loudest moment he'd heard though. Nothing could be the magnitude of it actually. No matter how much he saw or heard or did, nothing came close. It was the loudest sound he ever heard. Deafening and terrible. It made his bones tremble and his ears ring for hours and hours and hours. Echoes cropping up in those moments when thoughts were caught in fluff and webs and he had nothing to blind his ears. It was the loudest sound in the universe. And he would never be used to it. No one could. Even now, it stuttered his heart and made his eyes burn with emotions he could not comprehend.
Because there really was nothing louder than the silence of an empty ship.
Re: Prompt
I was gonna ask for a sequel but I'll just say continue in vein!
-> Beauty and the [Insert Here] if a prompt is needed!
Re: Prompt
"I always have the upper hand, Miss Smith, no matter what you or the Doctor may think."
She grumbled and glared at the man, pointed black mustache not withstanding, she was far from impressed. Sarah recognized him of course, but being held by the Master was hardly something to write home about. Well, maybe being grabbed by him as she was coming back to the TARDIS with groceries was a bit new. Usually he'd at least wait for her to put the milk away.
A soft huff and she stuck her tongue out at him, "You owe me a gallon of milk you know. It'll go bad." Unless they materialized right after she dropped the bag in her rush to get away from whatever the strange creatures holding her were. She'd never seen them and she wondered if the Doctor had. They were...well, ugly. Even by the standards she'd seen! No doubt from some far off world where either Timelords had never been heard of or were considered a sort of bed time faerie tale. Pale skinned, flat lips and no teeth. Instead they had almost hard, beak like gums.
She struggled against the hold, managing to pull free. The creatures came after her, but she'd already managed to grab something off the table. And as she came around the table, aiming the object high she couldn't help but smile.
The sound of the TARDIS arriving melded perfectly with the sound of the vase crashing against the creature's skull.
Prompt!
Ace/Zoro Rated R-ish
Rating: R so not Mags & Chicklet safe sorry it's me
Word Count: 422
Some men should not be allowed to look so sexy while drinking, Zoro decided. One, it wasn't healthy, 2ndly, it wasn't fair, and 3rdly and worst of all, it was highly distracting.
Ace seemed to be playing with it more than drinking it. Performing fellatio on it if Zoro was being honest.
He bit his cheek to bite back a moan and squeeze far too many mental images out of his head. Of Ace down on his knees, doing all the things to Zoro's cock he was to the bottle, of Zoro taking Ace by the scruff of the neck and then claiming the overly hot mouth for his own. Of Zoro himself, pinning Ace down and showing him how to REALLY put his own talented mouth (thank you very much) to use.
Bad Zoro. Bad swordsman. Focus on working out.
Zoro grabbed his own bottle of water and drank like a normal god damn human being, thank you very much! And didn't even pour it all over himself.
Ace just seemed oblivious, lost in his own thoughts, still playing with the water bottle like it was perfectly normal to keep it in one's mouth while lifting instead of setting it down! WHY?!
Why was a good question.
First of all, why was he in love with an idiot? Why was Ace so sexy? DID Ace even know? Actually that part didn't matter, if he DID know then he was winning, but if he didn't then Ace might actually get worse, so like hell was Zoro going to let him find out. Still, why couldn't Ace just drink his god damn water like a normal human being? And why couldn't Zoro just focus like he should because like hell was he going to be so weak as to let a minor thing distract him.
Minor.
Zoro blinked as Ace fell over sideways.
Then jumped up to check on the idiot, as the bottled water fell over, but luckily auto-capped. One of those special bottles Ace had jumped at, because of course he did.
"Oi, Portgas," Zoro growled, checking on Ace uncertainly.
"Oh thank god he fell asleep," Nami cracked up laughing. "He looked like a guinea pig with one of those dribble bottles you put in their cages!!"
Zoro smiled softly, brushing hair out of freckled cheeks and set the weights aside, moving Ace so he could lie next to Zoro and moving the water bottle into reach.
Stupid best friend. Sexy even on accident, but just for him.
Re: Ace/Zoro Rated R-ish
Prompt: Soft sails make for great _____! Attempting to fix a sail and instead shenanigans!
Prompt!
Re: Prompt!
Rating: G
Word Count: IDK 300 <
Rose stretched. Gymnastics and yoga were coming into play, even if it was just a warm up so she didn't pull any muscles. She'd spend weeks, months training. Running every day. The runner's high was the only burn that even felt right to her anymore. A Universe away, a place where no one knew her. Oh, they knew her name. Recognized her in tabloids. Would have been her friend if she was just more willing to try to be friends with them in return. Too bad, she wasn't.
It wasn't their fault. It was hers.
But they weren't the right fit.
Running a marathon was good for her. Good for Rose's health in more ways than just physical. It let her practice for real life. She'd never been good at patience, refraining from impulsivity, thinking so much longer and broader than enjoying the moment and wanting to rush. She was a sprinter. She always had been.
But this wasn't a cheetah dash. This was a long term race for miles and miles and miles. It was a test of endurance, not strength. It was a matter of thinking. It was a matter of adapting to the course as it changed, to keep going and going and going. Like the Energizer Bunny.
The goal was so far away. And most days Rose didn't know if she could make it. But Bad Wolf would show up somewhere, and she knew it'd be worth it. Just a little more. One more step after another, after another.
And as she continually got back up after bawling her eyes out at being too late to save the Doctor, at not knowing, not understanding why it was happening, just knowing she had to keep going, she slowed down, pacing each step a little better. She wasn't always running, needing to go slower so she could change course, or just conserve energy, but she never stopped the long marathon.
And at the end as she reached what she was sure was the finish line, she was more than happy to run the rest of the way. Nothing could have held her back.
Prompt!
no subject
Rating: PG
Word Count: IDK & IDC
Rose bit her cheek for what felt like the thousandth time.
Stupid petty sonnova--
Herself, not the girlfriend.
Girlfriend.
BLECH.
She was everything Rose wasn't. Pretty, classy, well-educated, posh, ~glamorous~, and so on and so forth.
But that wasn't always a good thing. She was also lazy to Rose's working harder, she didn't like running, didn't like sports, didn't like cheap dates--
Yeah, who was Rose kidding? Those weren't advantages.
She left without a word.
Leave them to each other. She was out.
Prompt
Prompt
"Doctor!"
"I'm not sure why. It's not as if anything particular goes along aside from all that shopping... Which I never do anyway."
"Doctor!"
"I just get a little pinchy tightness about the shoulders that I just can't shake."
"Doc~ tor!"
"What is it, Peri?" the Doctor said, turning to look at his companion who was being held aloft by what appeared to be a giant sentient robot bell with hands that was currently snoozing, it's great snores occasionally trembling along the platform on which they-- well mostly he, stood. "Can't you see I'm trying to have a conversation?"
She braced herself on the robotic hand and gave him a look as to where he could put said conversation.
"How much longer do I have to stay like this?" She said, struggling once more. "I can't feel my feet!"
"Oh I'm sure they're fine. Anyway, like I said, just a few more hours and then it will be Christmas Day and the Bellarian will awaken on instinct. So just hang in there, Peri. You're doing fine."
If looks could kill, he would have regenerated on the spot. After a moment she sagged with a great sigh, chin on her hands. He smiled sympathetically. This had not been in any of their plans. Well-- when was anything?
He reached up as much as he could and patted the air near her shoe.
"Don't worry, once you're free; Christmas in Paris in the Roaring Twenties."
"I thought you said we were near Cardiff."
"Which is even better!" the Doctor said, spreading his hands. "A Welsh Christmas! We could go to the Cardiff Christmas Market... if it's been invented yet." He was pretty sure it had. The '90s were a terrible mix of things and it was hard to get straight at the best of times.
Only..., he thought, as he stared out on the soft blanketed white land, the sky thinning and lightening with the glinting morning, the stars shifting into hazy focus... the quaint cottages, the stone buildings, the lack of industry... he was starting to think this was more the 1820s.
"Doctor..." said Peri suddenly, the faint seed of alarm in her voice. Though that's something she seemed to carry around with her always so he didn't give it more than a faint:
"Hmm?"
"Is this... Bell thing..."
"Bellarian."
"Bellarian... What is it going to do when it wakes up?"
"Well...ring I suppose. I shan't like to be anywhere near it in this old church. It'll shake it to pieces."
He smiled. Then stared. Then frowned.
"Doctor!" Peri said, now with considerable more alarm. He whirled to the giant thing, the robotic eyes starting to open, glinting with golden joy.
"Hang tight, Peri!" He said, searching for his sonic screwdriver. "I've got just the --"
"Doctor! Look out!" she screamed, but too late and he soon found himself in the Bellarian's other giant hand, his own trapped at his sides by a rather strong metal grip.
"Oh no," Peri moaned.
"Christmas," the Doctor said to the bemused gargoyle. "Not a fan."
Re: Prompt
Prompt!
no subject
Rating: PG / Violent/language
Word count: 219
Fortune favors the rich.
Fortune favors the damned.
Fortune favors the lucky, but --
As Ace spat out blood from the most recent beating (and he'd never been much of one for counting them in the first place) -- he noted that fortune did not favor Ds.
Oh, everyone said it did.
People said a lot of stupid things.
They said that fortune favored the righteous. That if you walked the right path and obeyed the right laws, if you were kind and generous and some other bullshit, then everything would work out for you. That people would be nice to you on account of it.
They said that fortune favored the blessed. Those born into it.
And that Ace was a demon.
Maybe he was.
The son of Roger, a blight on the world that wasn't meant to exist, shouldn't have been born. Didn't deserve luck.
But as Ace got back up, flames glowing in the back of his eyes, a fire unquenchable as sin, and as he took down the prison guards in his out of control rage, Ace knew one thing for damned sure.
Maybe fortune didn't favor the determined.
But that was just one more reason to get back up and keep fighting. Because fuck fortune. He was going to burn it all down.
Prompt!
Re: Prompt!
Rating: ? PG-13 ish?
Word Count: :T how does I bother putting it into a word count with my 50 tabs open oops I should get rid of some my bad.
Zenigata scowled at his desk. Who would steal office supplies from an officer's desk? It was beyond petty, it was beyond foolhardy, it was beyond--
"LUPIN!!!!!!!!!" he roared, slamming on the desk, and fervently looking around the thief.
Everyone else had gone home, since it was just a daytime office for InterPol only, rather than a normal police office. He was grateful to have his own office.... until now.
"Guess again, Koichi-kun~!" a voice purred, slinking out from behind the doorway snapping the stapler a couple of times in her hand.
"Fujiko..." his eyes flattened.
There were a few ways to play this. Throwing her out on her arse was the first one that jumped to mind, but she'd be back, if she was determined enough. She always was. He could just sit back in his chair and ignore her, hoping she'd go away if she didn't get what she wanted, but there were good odds she'd escalate if he did. He could also just ask but it was 50/50 whether she'd lie and obfuscate to distract him, or actually tell him.
He settled for leaning back in his chair, kicking his feet up, and checking to see if she'd disabled the cameras or not. Careful, not reckless. "There's easier ways to get my attention," he rumbled quietly, checking his service revolver in the desk.
Fujiko slinked up behind him, sliding deft fingers down the back of his ear and neck, over his chest, playing with the tie, hugging him, and nuzzling an ear.
The most dangerous of all.
"Are there?" she purred quietly in his ear, managing to get just the right amount of pout into his tone, that even as he closed his eyes, he couldn't shake the mental image of.
"You've been so hard to get a hold of lately!"
Prompt!
Prompt
Prompt
Re: Prompt
Then. then he had met one Captain Jack Sparrow.
An insipid, annoying and brilliant man who seemed to walk in the opposite way that the world tilted. His own drum, as Will had heard once. A pirate who had used Will's blood connections to get back his ship. He was a drunkard and a skirt chaser, and who knows what other crimes the man had committed. Some were read at the hanging but Will felt those were but the start of them.
But Jack Sparrow was also a good man.
A man who had risked his freedom and soul in order to save the Naval men and pirates who would rather see him dead. A man who told Will stories about his mother and his father. A man that Will eagerly called friend.
The panic and fear that had rushed through him when he'd seen Jack step into the moonlight, flesh and bone torn and decayed away. Human and pirate all in one. It had changed something in him. Something viral and ugly had been cast away, scraped off like unwanted barnacles. And Will had hated himself.
They were all men. Pirate, officer or simple blacksmith. All men under God and Queen. Bad men and good ones mixed about in any length of society. Barbossa and his crew were the bad lot, and while Will knew that the crew of the Pearl were just as ornery and willing to fight, they fought for freedom and to keep it.
He dropped the hot iron into the water, listening to the hiss as he wiped the sweat off his brow. Jack Sparrow was a pirate, and a good man. His father had been a good man, and a pirate. Just as his mother was an honest woman, and a pirate.
So then, good he, William Turner, do the same?
Prompt
no subject
no subject
Cheer and misery should not go hand in hand, there should be no singing; no one should strike up the band. There should be no yowling like cats on a fence, there should only be screaming and howling for recompense! Day in and night out, every moment and hour, she sat there and listened, mood growing sour. Her chambers were dark and dank as they should, but even those voices could pierce through the wood, of her walls and her doors and the endless, dark halls.
They cackled and sneered and made jokes that were quite old, and story after story after story they told. Her seances required thought, patience and finesse, oh but those blocks heads around everything turned out a mess! Her Fool was a Moon and the Empress a Mage! She'd call for a King and only get a Page. It was enough to turn her white hair grey, and so she made use of her magic oh in quite a different way.
The ghosts of the mansion could flit and flutter, past closed door and well locked shutter. But for the very longest time, her four walls had been her tomb, and for far, far too long she'd been in the same room. Watching face go by and wave and smile, as they would stop by, but only for a while. But not with that ridiculous noise grinding at her ear, it was certainly time to instill a new type of fear.
"Serpents, spiders and ghastly delights! It's time now for a few new heights! From the ceiling to floor, and room to room! Like a bird on the wing or a witch on a broom! Gather around me you wonderful ghouls! I ask fro new fight, to terrorize those fools!"
A sparkle of lightning and rumble of thunder and now, now she start over yonder. Her crystal ball floated, delicately so, out of the room and away she could go. To the source of those horrible, screeching, loud sounds, out of the house and out on the grounds. Past statues of granite and pillars of brick, the crystal ball floated adn flew, well rather quick.
Towards a graveyard party that had been decades too long, and that horrible, repetitive, cheerful ghost song. Busts of stone that shrieked and sung, though they hadn't any air, not even a lung. She stopped right before them, her eyes flashing bright and the music awkardly stopped in the dark, warm night.
"I've had quite enough!" The medium said, "All day and all night that song rings through my head! Grim and ghastly, and knelling bells! Creeping crypts where spirits dwell! For decades I've heard it, evening morn and noon. It wouldn't be bad is you could carry a tune! So I demand that you rock heads desist and cease! So tat at least someone in this house can rest in peace!"
The ghosts in the graves and the crows in the trees, stood there with shaking and trembling knees. Her eyes turned to the singing busts, whose eyes were quite wide, even the one who had fallen to his side.
"One day is what I demand! So that I might see what future is at hand. It's that time of year if you really must know, when we're boarded up for quite a new show. I need a night to read the cards and I've no need for stone headed bards!"
Anger spent she turned in the air, the moonlight catching in her ghostly white hair. The ghosts, for the moment, only looked on and stared. Not a single noise did any of them dare, to make as the Madam went back to the house. It seemed tonight, they would be as quiet as a mouse.
So the evening passed quietly, Leota was pleased,
Prompt
Prompt!
Re: Prompt!
But she wasn't just a girl from the Estates anymore, as Mickey pointed out. She was Rose Tyler: Vitex heiress.
She didn't care about that. Really, truly, one hundred percent didn't care about that. Not in the way her Mum insisted she didn't care because Peter mattered more, which was definitely true of her Mum, but the money and comfort would still take every worry and load off Jackie Tyler's mind that had ever been -- if anything... for Rose it brought about a different kind of worry.
These kind of worries.
Money, fame, titles, all of it felt like a rope around her neck.
She strung the pearls there hesitant, comparing them to the silver dress neckline, and took them down, feeling sick and uneasy. Her hand lingered on the plain steel-looking chain on her dresser that held her key to home. The TARDIS. The Doctor had been able to call her back during the paradox with that key, but it didn't work now. It'd been hot then, to remind him the TARDIS was alive and wanted to help when Rose and the Doctor had stopped fighting; but now it was cold. Nothing more than simple metal. A metal she didn't even know the name of, and that was virtually indestructible, but still... plain metal. Rose's eyes stung and she tore her gaze away so she wouldn't ruin her makeup.
Back to the stranger in the mirror. The stranger looked sad. And Rose reached her fingers out to the mirror, gently touching it to try to make her own visage feel better. It was supposed to be... well if not a happy day, certainly a big deal, not something to cry over, but inside part of Rose felt like she was drowning. She took a deep breath to pick herself up and sorted through the other jewelery for a necklace that didn't make her look as fake as she felt. She couldn't wear the key downstairs of course, oh no. Although she debated again putting it in her bra, because it was her safety net, and she never ever took it off. Not even in the shower. Until now.
But that was the point of it, wasn't it?
What good was holding onto the past, to everything she wished and dreamed if she was trying to move on, make her Mum happy in this bright new future she was building?
And Rose didn't want anyone to think she was ungrateful. She wasn't. She knew she'd been an absolute pill to be around the last half a year. And in spite of that, they kept trying. Kept reaching out hands for her to take... even when she was being a bit of a brat and the only hand she wanted was the Doctor's.
Big wolfish teeth bit the inside of her cheek, having broken the habit recently of biting her bottom lip and smudging lipstick. She missed the days of chapstick. And not having to worry about how she looked, just delighting in clothes of the past and the way the Doctor's face lit up when he saw her.
ENOUGH OF THAT! Rose growled, firmly scowling at herself in the mirror! She was not some lovesick puppy who broke without the person she loved most! Her parents, BOTH OF THEM, deserved better than that!
She stubbornly put on a silver chain and replaced the crescent moon (nothing to remind her of space, ta!) with a simple seashell. Perfect. Earth. Maybe not home, but where she needed to keep her head in the game. Rose Tyler: Defender of Earth. And it matched the lighter blue better than a night theme.
A deep breath and the woman in the mirror looked less sad, more determined, as she should.
Her hair was already done up like Audrey Hepburn, and she winced at the comparison, even in her own mind. It didn't help that she'd also spent 4 months in diction lessons, being taught constantly how to enunciate her r's and h's, Just You Wait ('Enry 'Iggins) from My Fair Lady had become a mental favorite. My Fair Lady indeed. She really had done the whole rags to riches thing. To a Tee.
This was to be her debut ball. A debutante affair. A coming out party or... whatever they called it. She'd been able to skip her sweet sixteen by virtue of living in a different universe, and having run away from home later that year, but in many respects it was her Mum's way of making up for it, and Peter Tyler's way too. And, as her father's PR manager constantly reminded her, it wasn't really about Rose. It was to make business connections. It was to let the public view what they wanted to and make... something of it. Whatever they wanted, really.
A year ago Rose would have rejected it for everything and anything.
A year ago she'd been happy, not borderline catatonic crying in her "bedroom" (the room designated her bedroom) and refusing to come out for three days. A year ago she'd been Dame Rose Tyler of Powell Estates.
Who the woman looking back at Rose from the mirror was? Rose hadn't the foggiest idea.
She looked impressive.
And the type of woman Rose wouldn't have bothered trying to chat up. Which was also the point. She had to be personable but aloof and unapproachable. She all but guaranteed she was going to break halfway through the party and do something outrageous like shove Mickey in the pool and jump in after him, but she closed her eyes and rested her hand on the key once more.
It was for her parents. It wasn't about her. It was for her baby brother or sister who hadn't even been born yet.
She couldn't lie to herself that it would just be one night. It wouldn't. This was just the start. That was why she wanted to linger there as long as she could. Cling to the past a little bit longer, while she could.
Mentally she could see Micks in his tux, looking... ridiculous and it gave her a little bit of breathing room at least. At least someone there would know how much she hated it.
Except would he? Or would even Mickey think this was who Rose wanted to be? Well, she'd just tell him. But then what? Make him upset that she wasn't even trying to give this world her best go? Even though that's what this whole night was ABOUT, and why she was doing it at all?! Ugh, so not worth the fight. Maybe she'd just find some pretty -- honestly Rose didn't even know Mickey's type anymore. He wasn't into this debutante stuff either, only coming for Rose's sake. Maybe they could sneak off like skipping classes and trash talk anyone being too stuffy. Or no... that would defeat the point too.
She almost wanted to scream with frustration. Or break something.
Quiet rebellion for later. For now, stuffing and swallowing all of it. She'd be the picture perfect heiress. Except for maybe trashing her dress in a foodfight -- haha... no. She felt a quiet pang at the thought. The Doctor would have loved to do that with her. No matter how boring or stuffy the party got, the Doctor would have found a way to make it exciting, even if they weren't chasing down monsters or unmasking aliens. He'd have done something completely mad like trying to swing from the chandelier. Or tried to engineer the buffet table to self deliver the jello only to make it explode and coat all the guests. Even the idea of it now was enough to make her giggle. The real Rose Tyler under the James Bond disguise mask.
There was a lump in her throat and she had to quickly powder her eyes.
He'd been there for the cyberman party, the one that was now part of the story. The fake life. That Jackie found her daughter waitressing for her own birthday party and that Rose had rescued her from the party, and over the next three years they reconnected, and the soap opera amnesiac fugue wore off so Jackie brought her daughter back home. It was so melodramatic that the press ate it right up. And so began the process.
Rose gently rested a finger on the seashell with a small bemused frown. Seashell really was appropriate. She was using the disguise like a shell. To hide her real squishy self. Heh.
It wasn't Peter and Jackie Tyler's fault. They -- especially Jackie had been willing to fight for whatever Rose wanted or felt she needed most. It was Rose's decision to go ahead with this.
And it was for the best. And even better if she created a little bit of a stir. A little bit more Eliza Doolittle swearing at the dead quiet horsetrack. Nothing that would upset her parents of course. Not that big of a stir. Just something to keep it all... interesting.
It was a game. And the competitive streak in Rose refused to lose or ever give up. It was a game. All the socialites and people trying to break her seashell disguise on one side, her game of chess alone on the other. But she wasn't completely alone. She had her family, and Micks. She was just the Queen of her chess team. She hated chess. She was more of a poker fan. Okay then, she was a high stakes poker game like Casino Royale, only she had a lot of friends and family on her side, just to make the odds even more in her favor.
And the more heiress she looked, the better her poker face. Perfect for bluffing and it would make the surprise when she wasn't bluffing that much more delicious.
"Come on Rose Tyler," the real Rose said to the Rose in the mirror. "Time to give 'em your war face."
It was gonna be a long night wearing a stranger's shoes.
Manic Monday!
In time travel, it doesn't matter what day of the week it was. Monday, Christmas, morning, midnight, Saturnalia, or other weird alien days, it all blurred together into a big holiday of fun and the fantastic.
In Torchwood, there were no weekends. There was no way to schedule incidents, and for people like her father who had to run another business as a shelter (shell!!) corporation to disguise Torchwood's more secretive affairs on the side, the weekends were prime days for actually getting real work done.
Rose Tyler was unaware of how different things would have been for her and Torchwood if Pete's PR team had been less competent. How much more time she would have been forced to spend there creating and filling out paperwork, creating protocols beyond just the basics of fighting supernatural and otherwise mythical monsters and aliens. Instead, she had less to fill her days than she needed.
And that meant she fell into the heiress role even more, if a bit reluctantly at first.
It was good for business. Business connections, funding, using those connections to hide people and secrets that needed hiding. Sometimes she worried about the Streisand Effect having a rebound that the more you tried to hide something, the more people were bound to be curious about it and dig it up when they wouldn't have even cared normally, but that was why being an heiress, a corporate princess as she was called, was so useful. It was so much easier to hide something in plain sight where people wouldn't be looking for it. Like the TARDIS, even if the chameleon circuit had gotten stuck back in the '60s.
It was good for business in all angles, it made her Mum over the moon, and it was better than trying to refrain from groaning out loud and rolling her eyes while her mother went over the billion other ways to decorate the baby's room. Although Rose did enjoy spending time with Peter devising baby-safe toys. That was forever a highlight that didn't even make Rose jealous of all the attention the baby was getting before it was even born. It just made her proud to be able to call him her Dad -- as complicated as their connection to each other was.
But just because it was a highly specialized demand that only Rose Tyler could meet, didn't mean she liked it.
Smiling and copying her Dad's pose to sell Vitex was funny the first few times. And waned very quickly when she got yelled at for getting it wrong, or not looking genuine enough, or not sporty enough, or TOO sporty -- or whatever other nonsense advertising said. Usually Pete's PR department had a sixth sense about such things and rescued her before she blew a gasket on anyone -- which was for their own good more than Rose's.
Still, Mondays actually became a day for Rose to look forward to. No one wanted to cover serious news on the weekends. So it was the best time for her to do something absolutely outrageous like dancing in the company fountain in public, or take a quick job dressed as a hot dog -- something a year ago she would had flat out refused, and now with no one knowing the real her, and everyone knowing her name and face, she jumped at instead. And in Monday mornings the print on the phones and papers was all about her latest stunts, letting little things like unexpected meteor showers in Dublin or missing cows near Leeds go unnoticed.
She was also noticing that someone (almost definitely Pete's PR team) was sabotaging her outrage efforts and catching her at honest more embarrassing moments. The genuine things. Hospital visits to bring toys and flowers. Buying random kids in the park ice cream. The one time she yelled at a mugger and kicked him for trying to mug an old lady and sat on him until the police arrived.
She had half a mind to tell 'em off for it too. But then it would have become a tug of war over the kind of attention she was drawing.
Rose didn't compromise. Not exactly. But she didn't hide the next time she went to an animal shelter, ostensibly looking for a pet for her new baby sibling to be to grow up alongside, but it became a much bigger project than she could have ever imagined. And so she wound up setting up another 3 events for Monday afternoons to get all the at-risk animals adopted and draw attention to the situation.
And it wasn't that she didn't want Pete's PR team not to stress out, not exactly.
But she was a little bemused when Monday became their least hectic day of the week. Some way or another.
PROMPT
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She didn't look up, already knowing who it was, and secretly grinning to herself. She kept tooling away on her cannon.
"Did you know space is actually pretty quiet?" she unscrewed pieces of the alien tech, cannibalizing it to see what she could do with it.
"It fucking is not," he growled derisively.
"It's true," Rose replied, not even looking up, just unfurling her blueprints. "It's a vacuum of course, so even though every star has its own signature sound, the space between is empty, it's very quiet."
He didn't say anything, and didn't move to block her light or move to her field of vision, so she pretended she didn't notice either.
She screwed some pieces back together, and held it up like a bazooka, one eye closed, as she pointed it at the light.
"In space, no one can hear you blow up your ex's planet," she drawled in deadpan.
He left without a word after that, much to Rose's eternal internal amusement.
Of course Gallifrey wasn't anywhere to be blown up, but then Rose hadn't been serious about any of it anyway.
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John, I am... your... mother!
Dear Fellow Traveler || Lyrics -> Not a drabble
Under the moon
I saw you standing in the shadows and your eyes were blue
You put your hand out
Opened the door
You said come with me boy, I want to show you something more
You spoke my language
And touched my limbs
It wasn't difficult
To pull me from myself again
And in our travels
We found our roads
You held it like a mirror, showing me the life I chose
And now we turn to my beautiful city
Black skies changed into blue
And my love is so wise and so pretty
But tonight I still dream of you
Dear fellow traveler
Under the moon
I think I'm growing weary and I'm hoping you'll come soon
And if I see you
In clean new clothes
I hope you hold the mirror up to show me what I chose
And I returned to my beautiful city
Black skies change into blue
And though my love is so wise and so pretty
Some nights I'll still dream of you
And I'll return to my beautiful city
Black skies change into blue
And though my love is so wise and so pretty
Some nights I'll still dream of you,
You
And I know you're out there, in the shadows
I know you're out there, in the shadows
I know you're out there, in the shadows
Dear fellow traveler, underneath the moon
Dear fellow traveler, underneath the moon
Dear fellow traveler, underneath the moon
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Before Pete's Universe, she always thought it was Powell Estates that was in her bones more than even being British. And this coming from the girl who got caught in the London blitz with a Union Jack across her chest, who witnessed the coronation of the Queen in the 1950s... on the telly like everyone else, but still. Then again maybe that was why it was London, not just the Estates anymore. Even as a child the Estates hadn't been as big as they seemed. Tall. Good for sitting on the roof and talking with the bloke she brought back home a year late from traveling, to be sure. But cramped flats, fire hazards, broken elevators, gated windows, and don't even get her started about that damn cat flap. Powell Estates was where she grew up. Even when she ran away and moved out the first time, she still came back to those bloody estates. It defined her more than she'd wanted to admit, and then she just embraced it.
But even Powell Estates had never been big enough for Rose. How many times had her Mum gone crazy from Rose running all over the rest of London? Taking doubledeckers sight seeing since she was old enough to board one alone. How many times had she gone out to the Thames and dreamed of crossing it?
Living in Pete's mansion the first few nights had been torture. Not because it wasn't the Estates, but because it wasn't the TARDIS.
But it was still London.
Same smell, same overcast skies that were bloody hard to see stars from. Same streets. WHich was kind of funny given the different Universe and all the zeppelins and things that should have been different.
It wasn't the Doctor's Universe, but it was still London. It was still the river they'd all but swum as ghost half-fish aliens for the feast.
Almost NONE of the bands were the same, but it was still the center of rock'n'roll, especially punk, and it was a comfort to know that somehow the Beatles were universal.
It was still the center of counter fashion, punk rock and jeans, dyed hair and mohawks, clashing Paris' attempts at elegance.
It was still the city of nightclubs and chippies and double-deckers, -- even if that latter also included a term for hot air balloons in this crazy world.
It was London, and she didn't love it, could never, would never be able to shake the feeling of being trapped in it, but it was beautiful.
She couldn't walk over the same streets she once ran hand in hand with the best friend she'd ever had, better even than Mickey, though she wouldn't tell him that and risk hurting him, even if she suspected he must have known by now. But she took the bridges and lanes at a jog, smiling to anyone who recognized her, and hiding the hurt when she hit places that reminded her of him. Two different faces, blue eyes that stopped her cold in her tracks, and fantastic fluffy hair just meant for fingers to get lost in. A corner here, a building of flats there. Fortunately London was just big enough to get lost in, and lose some memories to.
London was her city.
Now, more than ever. Because she could no longer travel those roads. No longer sail the stars. She remembered Sarah Jane's advice and complaint about returning to a normal Earth life after traveling with the Doctor. Nothing would ever be the same again. And Rose didn't want it to be! She wondered sometimes which part Sarah Jane missed most. What it would take for Rose to be willing to move on and settle in the city, her city the way she told her Mum she was trying -- and meant it too!
She needed London, but London needed her too.
She needed to be needed. To tell herself that there was something she could do no one else could, even if that was just existing. Once it had just been holding the Doctor's hand. And she desperately longed to do that again, and dreamed of it every night, flying in the stars, just holding his hand...
But she was making the world a better place. One day at a time. One mission at a time.
It was hard.
She missed him, she wanted to be selfish again. To go back to flying. She was grounded and it was difficult. He would hear him call her name in her sleep, but wake alone, trying to fight back the tears.
London had always watched over Rose. She wondered sometimes if it wasn't the Doctor going backwards to watch over her himself like the time he got her her favorite bike for Christmas. She could definitely imagine him watching her from the shadows. Like a skulking ghost. London was just big enough he would have blended in, though not around the Estates.
But now in Pete's Universe she was still be watched from the shadows. Not in a malevolent way. Instead the kind of way that no other planet in the universe held. Only London.
The lights of buildings reminded her of eyes and windows to the soul. The Doctor's blue eyes before regeneration had always seen straight to her core in a way that couldn't be replicated. London's eyes were like a wary animal, but just as gentle. Nowhere near as ancient as the Doctor's, but just as capable of being terrifying as the Oncoming Storm.
Most people's blue eyes she could look straight into, fearlessly, always moving onward.
Most people's.
And she could face London's eyes head on, they were like the Doctor's, and she wanted to heal the pain in them, hurting from more than just cybermen and wars. Like the Doctor's.
But there was something about Ian's that unsettled her in a way she couldn't put her finger on. A glint of something she either wanted to imagine, or thought wasn't there that should be. Like a window with shades drawn. She knew it wasn't polite to look when people made it clear they didn't want to be looked in on. It wasn't even just that it was rude. It filled her with an ache deep inside she was scared he would see if he looked back into her eyes.
The longing to travel.
Trying to substitute the roads for home.
She told herself over and over that the Doctor would be fine. He'd had friends before Rose like Sarah Jane, he would again after her -- a thought that didn't actually comfort her in the least.
She'd forogtten that she didn't just hold his hand for his sake, but hers as well.
London was a lot of things, bigger now, and the zeppelin lights at night were strange and wonderful enough she could almost trick herself into believing she was sleeping under some strange alien sky, not London again. But even if the strange eyes of London were watching over her, they weren't a hand to hold.
And so she couldn't go over the same bridges and roads she'd run while holding his hand.
She liked to think now the whole city was holding her hand, needing her as much as she needed them. And maybe it was true. Maybe it was.
But whether she jogged to promote Vitex or just for the feel of it again, the nights were the worst. Especially when she rolled over from a nightmare of losing him to grab his hand and go running with him, but he wasn't there.