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look i made covers for heartbeats instead of doing homework! you get to pick one depending on your mood

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sometimes practicing art is like “i’m going to sketch faces” but sometimes it’s like “i’m going to take random ideas and shove them together in whatever way possible with my limited skill”

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“I want more. More of the universe. More time with you.” 

anyway here’s a yaz i took literal months to finish drawing 

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Heartbeats: Chapter 14

“Rose?” asked Cleis’s sleepy voice behind her. Rose turned around to see Cleis slumped on the floor, raising her head to look at Rose. “What are you doing?”

“Hoping I don’t need a truck,” Rose said.

AO3 Chapter 1

Rose’s stomach dropped as she stared at Yaz. 

“How d’you mean, you’ve lost her?” she asked.

“The Daleks took her,” Yaz said.

“I can’t get the TARDIS to take me back,” Rose said. “It won’t do it. I—” 

And then she remembered what she had done the last time she had been in this situation.

“Hang on, Yaz,” she said. “I have an idea. I’ll be there soon, yeah?”

“Please hurry!” Yaz said.

Rose flipped the phone shut and slid out of bed. She didn’t even bother to change out of the pajama pants she was wearing, she didn’t stop to find Graham and Cleis— she just marched right to the console room and started trying to figure out where the console opened up.

“Rose?” asked Cleis’s sleepy voice behind her. Rose turned around to see Cleis slumped on the floor, raising her head to look at Rose. “What are you doing?”

“Hoping I don’t need a truck,” Rose said. She turned back to the console, looked at it for a second, and then dug her fingers underneath the grooved edge and pulled. To her surprise, it popped open easily, golden energy pouring out. She was sure there was some sort of reason, but she didn’t have time to care, so she just sent a silent thank you to the TARDIS.

“Stand back,” she warned Cleis, and then she turned towards the golden light.

It was easier, this time. Maybe because she’d done it once before, maybe because she was a Time Lord now. She wasn’t overwhelmed by it; she could control it. The heart of the TARDIS swirled in her head, and she molded it, shaped its flow, directed the ship through the vortex and right to the Doctor.

Rose was vaguely aware of Graham coming in, Cleis stepping back, but all that was background as she stepped forward, a creature of light, and the TARDIS doors opened, and she walked out.

She barely registered the room she was in— just that it was small, and there were no Daleks. Instead, she locked in on the Doctor, who was sitting in a corner of the room with her knees to her chest, looking breathlessly up at the TARDIS.

“Rose,” she said. “And my ghost monument. You came back for me.”

“We came back,” Rose said, her voice echoing across time and space. “Get in.”

“You’re— you did it again,” the Doctor said. “Rose, you can’t.”

“Too late,” Rose said. “Doctor.” She poured as much gentle power, as much love, into the name as she could, holding out her hand for the Doctor to take.

The Doctor took Rose’s hand. Rose pulled her to her feet. 

“This is going to kill you,” the Doctor said, close enough that Rose could see golden light reflected in her eyes.

“I don’t think it will,” Rose replied, and she knew, with the power of the TARDIS behind her, that it was true. “Come on, Doctor. We’ve got people to save.” She led the Doctor back into the TARDIS and locked onto Ryan’s and Yaz’s timelines. 

A moment later, she stepped out the TARDIS doors to see Ryan and Yaz, staring at the TARDIS like terrified mice being saved from a senate of cats. As Rose moved forward, the Daleks shrank away; Ryan and Yaz stayed put. 

“What’s happening?” Yaz asked. 

“Is this a Time Lord thing?” Ryan added.

“It is not,” Rose said. “I am the only one. The Bad Wolf.” She waved a hand, and the Daleks melted away, off in time and space. “I control time.” A scrape on Ryan’s forehead healed. Rose closed her eyes. She felt her self blurring away, blurring with the TARDIS, and she stumbled. The Doctor’s arm was around her in a millisecond, a firm pressure guiding her back to the TARDIS, and Rose was barely aware of anything else as she fell back into the console room.

“Is she all right?” Yaz was asking, but her voice was a million miles away, and Rose didn’t have an answer, she didn’t know, but then she could see all of time and space laid out before her, her timeline within it, and she knew yes she would be all right, and she lurched towards the console and let golden energy flow out of her, back into the TARDIS, flowing and flowing and flowing, and once every bit had left, the console shut, and Rose fell to the floor. The Doctor’s arm was immediately under her head, holding her up, and she opened her eyes to see the Doctor’s face, full of concern.

“’S okay,” she said. “I’m fine. Just need a rest.”

“That should’ve killed you,” the Doctor said. “You should be regenerating right now.”

“Suppose it should’ve,” Rose agreed, but she didn’t have the capacity to give it much more than a passing thought. She closed her eyes again, and she felt herself being lifted into the air in the Doctor’s arms. She curled into the Doctor’s chest, listening to her hearts, taking comfort in the fact that the Doctor was alive, and alive because of her. 

She blacked out.

It took her a moment when she woke up to fight past the fuzzy feeling in her head. She was warm, curled up underneath blankets with the soft curve of what she was sure was the Doctor’s body against her back, and when she opened her eyes, she realized she was in her room, her purple comforter tucked up around her shoulders. A moment later, she realized the Doctor was humming something, and she smiled and lifted her head.

The Doctor immediately stopped humming. 

“Rose,” she said, right next to Rose’s ear. 

Rose winced. “Got a headache,” she said.

“Sorry,” the Doctor said, quieter. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”

“Me, too,” Rose said. She turned her head, letting her body follow until she was facing the Doctor. It was harder than she expected; she was sorer than she realized, more exhausted, and the pain in her head was dull but constant. She wrapped an arm around the Doctor and curled closer. “Thought the Daleks were going to get you.”

“I thought so too,” the Doctor admitted, her breath warm on Rose’s hair. 

“What happened?” Rose asked. Her voice was muffled against the Doctor’s shirt.

“They wanted to take my genetic material,” the Doctor said. “Were going to keep me alive forever in that little room. I think they wanted to execute Yaz and Ryan. I never should’ve let them come.”

“Wasn’t your choice,” Rose reminded her.

“I know,” the Doctor said.

“And it was all right,” Rose added. “You’re not still in that room, and the others are okay.”

“Only ‘cause you came in,” the Doctor said. “Rose, you should never have done that.”

“I knew it’d be all right,” Rose said. “Instinct.”

The Doctor’s hand traced circles on her back. Rose smiled against the Doctor’s shirt.

“You shouldn’t still be you,” the Doctor said. “Scientifically, I mean. Should’ve killed you.”

Rose rolled onto her back.

“I’m not sure it should’ve,” she said. “I could sort of tell it wasn’t going to. And the TARDIS— she made it easier.”

“How do you mean?”

“Didn’t need a truck to open her,” Rose said.

“Can I run tests on you?” the Doctor asked. 

Rose laughed.

“What?” the Doctor asked.

“Later,” Rose said, turning her head to face the Doctor again. “Stay with me now, yeah?”

“’Course I will,” the Doctor said. “It’s brilliant, isn’t it? That we’re both still alive?”

“Brilliant,” Rose repeated, and she flopped onto her side again. She ran a hand over the Doctor’s face, tangled it in her hair, watched the Doctor’s mouth open ever so slightly. Love swelled in her chest, and she slid forward with a slow, sweet kiss. She was alive, after all, and the Doctor was alive, and they were together, and Rose couldn’t imagine a better way to be.

She drifted off to sleep again. 

When she woke up, her head hurt less, and the Doctor wasn’t next to her anymore. She sat up, blinking the sleep out of her eyes, and got out of bed. She took a shower, pulled on her favorite jeans, and ventured out into the TARDIS. 

She found the Doctor in the kitchen, making tea; Yaz and Ryan were there, too, making what looked like pancakes, and Graham seemed to be teaching Cleis how to play chess. Rose stood in the doorway, watching with a slight smile, until the Doctor looked up and saw her.

“Rose!” she exclaimed. “You’re up! I was just going to bring you tea!”

“Suppose you don’t have to now,” Rose said, weaving her way through the cramped space to stand next to the Doctor. “Good to see everyone’s in such high spirits.”

“How are you feeling?” the Doctor asked.

“Just a bit sore,” Rose said. “How long was I out?”

“Was just a night for us,” Yaz said. “If you slept in.”

“Brilliant,” Rose said. “Didn’t miss much, then.”

“And you’re just in time for pancakes,” Ryan added.

“Even better,” Rose replied. She snaked an arm around the Doctor’s waist. “Suppose we’re going to have to run tests on me today?”

“Tests?” Ryan asked. “What for?”

“I’m not meant to be here,” Rose said. “The thing I did with the TARDIS should’ve made me regenerate.”

“Metal,” Ryan said.

“I’ve got loads of theories,” the Doctor promised.

“’Course you do,” Rose said. “Pancakes first, then theories, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

And that’s what they did— sat around the table with the others, eating pancakes, joking around with the general sense of breathless relief that came with the sort of adventure they’d just had, and then left Graham and Cleis to their chess game and Ryan and Yaz to their heckling of the chess game and went off on their own to find one of the labs.

“Should be around here somewhere,” the Doctor said as they turned the fifth corner. “I swear, she does this on purpose.”

“She definitely does,” Rose agreed. “Joke’s on her, though, ‘cause we’re going to work it out no matter what.”

“I like your thinking,” the Doctor said. “What are your theories?”

“Well,” Rose said, still walking, “you told me once that Time Lords were made by looking into the time vortex, yeah? And the heart of the TARDIS has time vortex in it, but it’s got other, TARDIS-y stuff in it, too. So I was thinking it made me something a bit like a Time Lord, but maybe it also gave me some other powers.”

“So you’re a whole new thing,” the Doctor said. “Oh, brilliant. I love new things.”

Rose bumped her shoulder against the Doctor’s.

“You’d better keep loving me once the novelty wears off,” she said. 

“Oh, definitely,” the Doctor said. “I love new things and old things and medium-aged things and I love you too.”

Rose grinned and tried to kiss the Doctor on the cheek. She missed, but the Doctor grinned back anyway.

“Still better find the lab,” the Doctor said. “Got to make sure you’re all healthy.”

“How would you know if I’m not?” Rose asked. “Given I’m a whole new thing and all.”

“Oh, shut up,” the Doctor said. 

“You know I never will.”

They gave up on finding a lab after an hour of looking, deciding the TARDIS would give them one when she was ready, and went back to the kitchen, where now Yaz and Graham were playing chess, Cleis having been defeated. 

“It’s all right,” she said. “It’s only my first time.”

“I play winner!” the Doctor shouted. 

From there, a full tournament emerged, then evolved into a strange sort of RPG when Rose decided to add diplomacy to the mix and started having her pieces beg captors for their lives, which everyone joined and which was an excellent way to spend a day. 

“I was wondering,” Yaz said as everything was winding down, “could we go back to Sheffield? I’d like to see my family.”

“’Course we could,” the Doctor said. “Think we could all use a bit of a break. Pop in and say hello to Najia and all. D’you want to go right now?”

“Might be nice to sleep in our beds,” Ryan said. 

“Brilliant,” the Doctor said. “Sheffield it is.” She started off, and the others straggled behind. Rose brought up the rear, thinking. 

They arrived in Sheffield, too late for tea, but not quite too late to avoid Yaz’s mum’s glare. Yaz and Cleis went up to Yaz’s flat, Ryan and Graham went off to their place, and that left Rose and the Doctor, sitting in the doorway of the TARDIS, looking out at the sidewalk.

“I was thinking,” Rose said, her head on the Doctor’s shoulder, “we could talk to UNIT. I’ve got some contacts, you know, way off in the future where you found me. Bet you they could run some tests.”

“Think they’d find anything?”

Rose sighed. 

“Probably not,” she said. “We might find something with their machines, though.”

“Might be better to just wait for the TARDIS to let us into her labs,” the Doctor said. “You know, if you want to visit your friends, you can just say so.”

“Suppose I’ll just stay a mystery,” Rose said.

“Love a good mystery,” the Doctor said.

Rose laughed. 

“Come on,” she said, standing up. “Let’s go explore. The others shouldn’t get to have all the fun.”

She held out a hand. The Doctor took it, and they walked off, laughing and smiling together.

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Penelope

is it done yet?

every morning

she weaves the sky

beginning with pinks and oranges

and filling space with blue

and pockets of white

layered and mixed

with a million different dyes

is it done yet?

every evening

the sky unravels

from blue and white

to orange and pink

coming apart

to reveal the stars

is it done yet?

if she didn’t spend so much time

unraveling

there could be so much more

above us

is it done yet?

but what would happen to her

she who weaves the sky?

(patreon)

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Faith Lehane & I: broken glass

ooh i love this!!!

(fair warning this went kinda dark)

Keep reading

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Heartbeats: Chapter 13

“Let me check the monitors,” the Doctor said, standing up. Her hair was all in her face— it was sort of cute, really. She reached for the console and an image bloomed on the wall.

It was an image straight from Rose’s nightmares.

“Daleks,” she whispered.

AO3 Chapter 1

The Doctor was right: New Lesotho was brilliant. It was an artifical planet, created and launched into space in pieces, put together by the first wave of colonists in spacesuits. It was the first of its kind, although by the time they visited, there were a few others— Rose hadn’t been to any of them, though, and the whole concept was as novel to as her as it had been at its inception. It was their usual sort of adventure, traipsing through crowded streets, eating new sorts of food, seeing new sights. They stayed for a few days, saw some brilliant fireworks, and then jumped into the TARDIS the next morning, already talking about where to go next.

“How about the moon?” Graham asked. “We’ve never done the moon.”

“Moon’s boring,” Doctor said. “There’s nothing there, most of human history. Mind you, was quite a day when it hatched.”

“When it what?” Yaz asked.

“Come on, Yaz,” Ryan said. “You know nothing’s a surprise anymore.” He turned to the Doctor. “Anyway, I want to go someplace proper alien. Where they communicate with smells or something.” At Yaz’s look, he shrugged and said, “What? I read sci-fi.”

“Brilliant,” the Doctor said. “Proper alien. Million points to Ryan.”

“Oi!” Yaz exclaimed.

“Oh, shut up,” Ryan said.

“It’s okay,” Cleis said, a shy smile on her face. “You’ve got a million points from me, Yaz.”

Yaz grinned back.

“Good to know someone on this ship appreciates me,” she said.

“All right, then,” the Doctor said. “Now everyone’s got their points, what’s alien enough for you lot? What haven’t we seen? I’ll tell you what, let’s try and find someplace I haven’t been either. You ready?” Without waiting for an answer, she leapt to the console, saying, “Might have to do some hopping. Hold on tight, everyone!”

Rose did not hold on tight— instead, she rushed to the Doctor’s side as the TARDIS lurched, peering over her shoulder at the controls.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Just calibrating,” the Doctor said. “Sorry, everyone. Might be a bumpy ride.”

The TARDIS tilted to one side, then the other. Time and space swirled in Rose’s head, and she laughed, exhilarated, crashing into the Doctor, spinning back to the console, grinning at Yaz, Ryan, Cleis—

And then something changed.

Rose felt it like a headache, something pulling at the inside of her mind, a sharp sensation at the crest of her skull. Time. Something was wrong with time.

“What’s going on?” Cleis cried, and Rose looked up, but it hurt to look, and she closed her eyes and reached for the Doctor, clinging to the Doctor’s arm, the Doctor’s other hand squeezing her waist. The TARDIS lurched, Rose fell to the ground and the Doctor fell with her, the TARDIS screeching around them, the others yelling— Rose couldn’t tell their voices apart, couldn’t tell if hers had joined them, couldn’t focus on anything but the wrongness in her head—

And then it stopped.

The sudden shift echoed in her head, and for a moment, she just stayed flat on the floor, completely tangled with the Doctor. Slowly, she rolled over, pushed herself up, and got to her feet.

“What was that?” Yaz asked.

“Suppose we’re about to find out,” Rose said. She crept towards the door. “Doctor, any wisdom?”

“Let me check the monitors,” the Doctor said, standing up. Her hair was all in her face— it was sort of cute, really. She reached for the console and an image bloomed on the wall.

It was an image straight from Rose’s nightmares.

“Daleks,” she whispered.

“We’re going!” the Doctor announced, immediately back in action. “Hang on, everybody!”

Rose’s eyes were still trained on the image, the Daleks gathered around, yellow light bouncing off their copper shells.

“What are those?” Cleis asked. Rose heard it like she was at the end of a tunnel, with Cleis on the other side..

“Bad news,” Yaz said.

“It’s not working!” the Doctor exclaimed, and that was enough to snap Rose out of it.

“What’s not?” she asked.

“The TARDIS can’t leave,” the Doctor said. “She’s trying, and she can’t. There’s some sort of time beam keeping her in place.”

“So we’re trapped?” Ryan asked.

“What do we do?” Rose asked.

“I’m going to go out there and see what they want,” the Doctor said. “You lot stay in here. No reason they need to know about all of you.”

“Oh, no,” Rose said. “You’re not leaving us here.”

“It’s the safest place,” the Doctor said.

“Not always,” Rose replied, remembering the last time they had faced the Daleks together. She put a hand on the Doctor’s arm. “They’re going to try to destroy it, Doctor, you know they are. You can’t leave us here.” She paused. “Anyway, remember all the times we faced the Daleks? You didn’t do it alone.”

“I could do,” the Doctor said.

Rose raised her eyebrows.

“You want to absorb the time vortex this time, then?” she asked.

The Doctor sighed.

“Fine,” she said. “Everyone, you’ve got a choice. Come out with me and face the Daleks, or stay in here where you’re probably safe.”

“We’re safest with you,” Ryan said.

Rose could see the uncertainty in the Doctor’s eyes, but she wasn’t sure anyone else could.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said, quietly enough that the others might not hear. “We can take care of ourselves.”

“If these people die,” the Doctor replied, equally quiet, but with the intensity of a shout, “it’s my fault.”

“It’s not,” Rose said. “It’s the Daleks’ fault. And we’re not going to die. Come on, Doctor. We can do this.”

For another moment the Doctor didn’t look convinced, but then her facade went up and she was as confident as ever.

“We can do this,” she said. “All right, everyone. Let’s go.” She hopped like she was about to move, and then stopped, brow suddenly furrowed as she turned back to Rose. “Actually, Rose, we really might need you in the TARDIS. To fly it out of here if you have to. And, remember Torchwood? It always helps to have a surprise.”

Rose hesitated, but the Doctor was right— she could remember only too well watching helplessly while the TARDIS disappeared in a pit of lava, and she would rather miss out than have that happen again.

“All right, then,” she said. “But you’d better come back to me in one piece.”

��Promise,” the Doctor said, and Rose believed her. She turned to the others. “Right, everybody! Here’s what we’re going to do. Rose is staying here to defend the TARDIS. Stay if you like. I’m going to go out there to figure out why we’ve been brought here. If you come with me, remember that the Daleks are dangerous, and they will kill you without a second thought.”

“They don’t look dangerous,” Cleis said.

“Believe me,” Yaz said. “They are.”

“But you’re going to face them,” Cleis said.

“I can’t sit and wait,” Yaz said.

“I don’t think it’s any safer in here anyway,” Cleis admitted. “But I’m going to stay, if that’s all right.”

“Just stay safe,” Yaz said. “Remember we’ve got to get you back to your mother. Can’t have my teenage self’s favorite poet all mad at me.”

“That’s settled, then,” the Doctor said. “Ryan? Graham?”

Graham elected to stay, Ryan to go, and that was it. Rose kissed the Doctor goodbye, and then she, Ryan, and Yaz walked through the TARDIS doors, and all Rose could do was watch on the monitors as they faced the Daleks.

“Doc-tor,” one of the Daleks screeched, the sound crackling in the TARDIS speakers. “You took your time.”

“And who are these?” another Dalek asked. “Your friends? Another army you’ve brought together, Doctor?”

“Not an army,” Yaz said.

“Just friends,” Ryan added.

“Have you ever had a friend?” the Doctor asked. “Any of you? No wonder you always think I have an army. You don’t know what friends are.” She advanced, each step a warning. “Now what do you want? Where have you brought us?”

“One moment,” the first Dalek said, and then there was a horrible screeching noice. A moment later, the TARDIS engines started creaking, and Rose’s headache came back. She stumbled to the console, one hand on her forehead, one hand groping for the controls, trying to find something, anything, to stabilize.

“What is it?” Cleis asked, somewhere to Rose’s right.

“I can’t tell,” Rose said, eyes screwed shut. “It feels like— she’s hurting.”

“She?” Cleis asked.

Rose didn’t answer. Her head was in a strange constant pain, she only felt half in her body, the engines were screeching around her, everything seemed too bright even with her eyes closed—

And then it stopped, and her whole body felt lighter. She took two deep breaths, swallowed, and opened her eyes.

Everything looked the same, but— something was different. After a moment of adjustment, Rose realized what it was: they were in the time vortex now, with no idea of where or when they had left the Doctor.

“I meant the TARDIS,” she explained to Cleis. “We’re sort of linked.”

“Like the language thing,” Cleis said.

“Sort of,” Rose said, distracted. “We’re in the time vortex. They forced us out. Don’t think they knew we were here, though.” She looked around. Cleis was just next to her right shoulder; Graham was still by the door, catching his balance. The monitors had gone dark.

This was it, then. These people’s lives were in Rose’s hands.

And she was going to have to handle it.

“Right, then,” she said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “We’ve got to find a way to get back to the others.”

“So we have moved?” Graham asked.

Rose nodded.

“We’re just in the time vortex, near as I can tell,” she said. “I might be able to sort of feel out where we were, though, hang on.” She put her hands on the console and closed her eyes again. The TARDIS was there, in the back of her head.

Take us back, Rose thought.

She was immediately met with a complete block, the thought equivalent of asking someone a question and seeing their expression immediately close off.

Nearby, maybe? she tried.

No change.

She opened her eyes and surveyed the controls for a moment.

“All right, then,” she murmured to herself. She turned to Cleis and Graham. “This could take a while,” she said. “You two might want to get some rest.”

“What about the others?” Graham asked. “We can’t just leave them.”

“We’re in the time vortex,” Rose explained. “Doesn’t matter how long we take, we can still get there the day before we left if I can talk the TARDIS into it.”

“Is everyone going to be okay?” Cleis asked.

Rose took a breath. She looked Cleis in the eyes and tried to look reassuring.

“I can’t say,” she said. “But the Doctor’s good at what she does, yeah? And Yaz and Ryan have good heads on their shoulders. They’ll be all right.”

“I think I’m going to go try and catch some sleep, then,” Graham said. “Wake me if anything exciting starts to happen.”

“Can I stay here?” Cleis asked. “I don’t really want to be alone.”

“’Course you can,” Rose assured her.

They both said good night to Graham, and he retreated into the depths of the TARDIS.

“Right, then,” Rose said, mostly to herself, but also to Cleis. “Let’s try this.”

She put her hands back on the console and closed her eyes. She reached out for the TARDIS, but now she could only find the faintest glimmer of the TARDIS’s energy in the back of her mind.

Come on, she thought.

The glimmer flickered.

Rose focused on the coldness of the console against her hands, the solid metal beneath her feet, the glow of the central crystal against her closed eyelids.

Please, she thought.

Nothing happened.

She kept trying anyway, pushing and pulling at that glimmer of energy until finally, what might have been hours and might have been seconds later, she opened her eyes in defeat.

“I’m going to get some rest,” she said, turning back to where Cleis was sitting on the floor, watching. “Are you going to be all right?”

“I’ll be fine,” Cleis said.

“You sure?” Rose asked.

“Not much choice,” Cleis said. She held up her phone. “I’m just hoping Yaz’ll text me if she can.”

“Come find me if she does,” Rose said. “Night, Cleis.”

“Good night, Rose,” Cleis said.

Rose left the console room. Walking through the halls, she had a vague notion of finding her own bedroom, but the TARDIS led her through twists and turns until she was in front of the Doctor’s door. Lonely, sad, worried, Rose let the door open and walked into the Doctor’s room, pulled on a pair of the Doctor’s pajama pants, and climbed into the Doctor’s bed, tucking her phone under the pillow just in case. She pulled the covers close, pretending they were an adequate substitute for strong arms around her, for a chest that rose and fell.

She did not sleep.

Hours passed.

Finally, her phone began to ring.

She sat straight up and grabbed it, pressing “answer” before she could even check who it was.

“Doctor?” she asked.

But it was Yaz’s voice on the other end.

“Rose?” she was saying into the phone, heavy breaths on either end. “Rose, we’ve lost the Doctor.”

[burclay]

Signs

i am sitting protected by leaves while water flows past

nothing can hurt me here. not the sun or the rain not the earth solid beneath me  

certainly not you.  

if there is peace in the world this is where it is with a riverbed and rocks that have been shaped for years and still aren't done.

i don't know what type of tree is above me but i know it's a sign: beauty exists and She exists in everything.  

i think someday if the world doesn't end i will take my children here and their children and show them the river, the rocks, the grooves in wet sand where people and animals alike have walked. i will show them peace and beauty and hope, yes i will show them love

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When the Music Stops

The Corsair and the Doctor have been dancing for centuries.

This time, the music changes.

AO3

Written for @thetransgirlwhoneverwas as part of @doctorwhoficexchange2019! Hope you like it!

It’s always been a dance, between the Doctor and the Corsair. 

They come together, then spin apart, through time and space, and pull together again. And in those moments, the times when they’re together, they never crash, never fall. It’s just the same exhilarating dance, spanning hundreds of years.

But the dance is over.

It’s been over for years.

But the Doctor still thinks about it. Thinks about what it’s like to dance. What it’s like to have someone on her level, on her side, running with her. 

She doesn’t really miss the Time Lords, but she does miss that dance.

And she doesn’t expect to be spun back into it a thousand years later.

It’s when she’s with the fam, trying to find a stolen relic. She’s grown accustomed to a new dance in the last thousand years, a clumsier one, with new steps and new partners and different music, and she’s going through its motions, stepping into another adventure, when the planet’s police show up and the music abruptly changes. 

It takes her a moment to recognize the tune. 

When she does, she almost cries.

Not on the outside, of course. On the outside, she slips into the steps effortlessly. It’s only after the adventure, once the relic has been returned to its original owners and the fam is trooping back into the TARDIS, that the Doctor breaks from the rhythm. She does it by saying, “Don’t suppose you’d like to have dinner with me?”

“Doctor,” the Corsair purrs. “Are you asking me on a date?”

The Doctor immediately flusters. She can’t help it— this regeneration has turned out to be much more embarrassed, on a fundamental level, than she’s ever let herself be before.

“Just want to catch up with an old friend,” she says. “Really, we can just pop into the TARDIS, have a cup of tea, and after that you can be on your way, if you like.”

“Already inviting me in,” the Corsair says.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” the Doctor replies, and she leads the Corsair inside.

And the music changes.

Yaz is in the kitchen when they get there, but she finishes making her food and clears out with the bowl pretty fast.

“I think I’ve scared her,” the Corsair says.

“What, Yaz?” the Doctor asks. “She’ll be all right. Tougher than she looks and all. Probably off to play games with Ryan or read in the library or something.”

“Doesn’t matter,” the Corsair says.

The Doctor looks at her. There’s still the same edge in her eyes, even though the eyes themselves are a new shape. 

“It does matter,” she says. “You know, if you’re trying to do what I do, that’s what you have to learn. Everything matters. Everyone matters. Even when they’re human and barely last five years in the TARDIS.”

“I thought humans lived almost a century,” the Corsair says.

“Some of them do,” the Doctor says. “They just always go back to a normal life after a while. Or they get hurt and have to leave. One got stuck in another universe. I could list ‘em all off if you wanted.”

“And you attached yourself to every single one,” the Corsair says. Her voice is soft, and suddenly the Doctor realizes what it means to have another Time Lord, someone else who is capable of understanding. She’s never thought she’d have this again, River notwithstanding, and it’s overwhelming, the difference it makes.

She shrugs.

“Suppose I did.” They’re still standing in the doorway to the kitchen, and the Doctor starts for the counter. “Tea,” she adds. “We were going to have a cup of tea. Maybe some sandwiches? I love a good sandwich. Say what you like about humans, they’ve perfected the sandwich.”

The Corsair follows her to the stove, and while the Doctor’s putting the kettle on, the Corsair rests a hand on her shoulder.

“Doctor,” she says. “You really haven’t been able to talk about yourself much, have you?”

“Well, have you?” the Doctor retorts, turning to give the Corsair a look. 

“Not since leaving Gallifrey,” the Corsair admits. 

“How long’s it been for you?” the Doctor asks, carefully. “Since you left?”

The Corsair’s composure slips, her mouth falling from its smirk. It’s like the music has stopped, and now she has to think of something to fill the silence.

“I’m not sure,” she says. “I wound up in some strange places.”

“A pocket universe?” the Doctor asks. She still has the cube with the Corsair’s message on it, tucked away in a closet. She still has all the cubes. 

“How did you know?” the Corsair asks.

“I was there after. Just for a bit,” the Doctor said. “It was your cube that lured me there, actually. How’d you get out?”

“If we’re being honest,” the Corsair says, “I’m still not sure. I was being torn apart, and then a moment later, I was back in this universe. I’m sure time passed in between, but I try not to concern myself with that.” Her composure has come back, her tone suddenly distant, and the Doctor feels the music start again, but now she doesn’t recognize the tune.

“What do you concern yourself with?” she asks. 

“I’m still deciding,” the Corsair says. “Didn’t mind kindness, though.”

“It gets harder,” the Doctor says.

The kettle whistles, and the Doctor takes down two cups.

“How do you like it?” she asks. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Don’t know yet,” the Corsair says. “Haven’t had tea in this body.”

The Doctor turns back to look at her. Her hair is long and shiny, her skin, unmarred. 

“How long have you been this way?” the Doctor asks.

“Fifty years, give or take,” the Corsair says. “But not a lot of cultures like tea nearly as much as you seem to, Doctor.”

The Doctor shrugs.

“Yeah, well,” she says, “that’s what I get for focusing in on just the one country, I suppose. Made lots of friends, though.” She puts a teabag in each cup, pours hot water over them. Hands the Corsair one, pours milk and sugar into the other for herself. 

“Your human friends,” the Corsair says, sitting down at the kitchen table. “How strange.”

“I quite like them,” the Doctor says. “They’re kind. Keep me honest.”

“Are you?” the Corsair asks. 

The Doctor freezes halfway to the table. “What?”

“Honest,” the Corsair says. She takes a sip of tea and makes a face. “Needs milk,” she says.

The Doctor picks the milk up off the counter and brings it over as she sits down.

“I try to be,” she says. “It’s hard. I’ve got a lot to lie about.”

“Do you?” the Corsair asks.

“They wouldn’t like me anymore,” the Doctor says. “If they knew everything.”

“Like what?” the Corsair asks, and suddenly the Doctor remembers that her message cube had mentioned the Time Lords, that she had entered that pocket universe before the Time War and been ejected after it was all over, and the Corsair doesn’t know yet what has happened to her people.

“Lots of things,” she says vaguely. “You weren’t there for most of them.”

“Enlighten me, then,” the Corsair says. And then, when the Doctor hesitates, she adds, “Or are you afraid I won’t like you either?”

As she says it, a sinking feeling in the Doctor’s chest tells her that the Corsair is right, she is afraid, but— 

But the Time Lords are the Corsair’s people too.

And if the Doctor is trying to be honest, to be kind, if she’s trying to do what’s right, well— 

It’s her duty. 

“I am,” she says. “A lot happened while you were gone. The sort of thing you can’t just go back and fix. The sort of thing you can’t ever go back to, really.”

And this isn’t a dance anymore. It’s not for fun. It’s not exhilarating. It’s just a hard conversation that needs to be had.

“What do you mean?” the Corsair asks, and she’s always been good at hiding her emotions, but now the Doctor can hear the tremor in her voice, see the fear on her face. It’s the look of someone who’s spent fifty years in denial, who doesn’t know what happened because she didn’t ask.

“A Time War,” the Doctor says. “The Last Great Time War. Thought it wiped out the Time Lords, except for me. Turns out it just sort of trapped them in a time lock, and then they all got stuck at the end of the universe.”

“So they were gone,” the Corsair says, “and now they’re back.”

“Sort of,” the Doctor says. “They’re stuck. Gone for all intents and purposes. And a lot died anyway. You know. People do, when it comes to war.”

“Anyone I know?” the Corsair asks. 

“I don’t know,” the Doctor says. “Yes, probably. I’m sorry. We can find out.”

The Corsair nods slowly.

“I knew something had happened,” she says. “I tried to reach out. No one answered.”

“I’m not really in favor there right about now,” the Doctor says, “or I’d offer to take you. Think they might execute me. ‘Course, that was a regeneration ago.”

“How many has it been for you?” the Corsair asks. “Regenerations, I mean. Since we last met.”

The Doctor can’t remember. 

“Enough,” she says. “I had to get a whole new cycle.”

“Lucky you,” the Corsair says.

“Lucky,” the Doctor repeats. “Suppose so.”

They’ve both forgotten their tea.

The Corsair reaches out, puts a hand on the Doctor’s wrist. It reminds the Doctor of River, and of Rose, both long-gone, but echoed in the care she sees in the Corsair’s eyes.

“How long has it been since you’ve rested, Doctor?” the Corsair asks. “Properly rested, not just fallen asleep on your feet.” She laughs, almost to herself. “You never did take care of yourself.”

“Oi, I’m fine,” the Doctor says.

The Corsair raises an eyebrow.

“Fine enough,” the Doctor amends.

The Corsair doesn’t break eye contact. The Doctor looks down at the spot where the Corsair’s hand meets her wrist.

“’S been a while,” she admits. When she thinks about it, she doesn’t think she’s had a proper rest since last time she saw River. That twenty-four-year-long night. 

The Corsair stands up. Her hand trails from the Doctor’s wrist to her hand.

“What are you doing?” the Doctor asks, even as she lets the Corsair pull her to her feet.

“Making sure you get some sleep,” the Corsair says. “Where’s your room?”

“Different every day,” the Doctor says. “If we start walking, the TARDIS’ll direct us.”

Sure enough, it only takes a few moments for the door to the Doctor’s room to show up. It slides open and the Corsair pulls her inside.

“Wow,” she says, looking around at the books, clothes, and unfinished projects spread across the floor. “You haven’t changed.” Her eyes go to the bed, which is shoved into one corner of the room, blankets tossed in every direction, and is mostly covered by a crawling ivy (the Doctor picked it up a while back and has been trying to tend it, but she’s never been the greatest green thumb).

“Oh, and I’m sure your room is perfectly tended,” the Doctor retorts, although the Corsair has always been organized and deliberate underneath her rough-and-tumble facade, the exact sort of person to keep her spaces neat.

“It’s called a cabin, actually,” the Corsair says.

“Forgot you had a pirate ship,” the Doctor says. “Drama queen.”

The Corsair lets go of the Doctor’s hand and marches right to her bed. She starts pulling at the ivy, twisting it away from the mattress, moving the leaves over and resting them on one of the Doctor’s other projects (a microwave from the ‘50’s that she’s been trying to upgrade, just for fun). She’s gentle about it, careful in a way the Doctor hasn’t seen from her before. The Doctor, for her part, just stands and watches, too blindsided to do much else.

Finally, the bed is relatively clear, and the Corsair moves back to the Doctor. 

“Come on, then,” she says, and takes the Doctor’s hand again. She backs up, and the Doctor follows until they’re both right up against the bed. The Corsair sits down, and the Doctor sits next to her. 

“I don’t think I know how,” she says, looking straight ahead.

“What do you mean?” the Corsair asks, her voice low.

“To rest,” the Doctor admits. “Don’t think I can do it.”

“Of course you can,” the Corsair says. She reaches over and, with a gentle hand to the Doctor’s cheek, turns the Doctor’s head to look at her. “I know don’t like to slow down, Doctor.”

“I can’t slow down,” the Doctor says, trying her absolute hardest to avoid the Corsair’s eyes. “There’s always things to do.”

“You’re outside of time,” the Corsair says. “There’s no rush.”

“I know,” the Doctor says, her voice quiet. 

“So why can’t you rest?” the Corsair asks.

The Doctor shrugs, a lump suddenly in her throat. The Corsair wraps an arm around the Doctor’s waist and lies down, pulling at the Doctor until she lies down too, nestled against the Corsair. Like this, facing away from the Corsair, eyes wide open, she feels a little safer.

“I don’t deserve this,” she blurts out.

“Is that what you think?” the Corsair asks. The Doctor can feel her mouth moving against the top of her head.

“I don’t know,” the Doctor says. “Sort of. And if I slow down I start thinking too much.”

“What’s wrong with thinking?” the Corsair asks.

“There’s too much to think about,” the Doctor says. “And not enough of it is good.”

The Corsair’s arms tighten around her, and the Doctor smiles despite herself.

“This is good, though,” she adds. Even though she’s still in her clothes, on top of the covers, with her shoes on.

“I know,” the Corsair purrs, her voice low in the Doctor’s ear.

If this is a dance, then it’s a slow dance, the sort of thing you do because you want to be close to the other person more than you want to dance. It’s careful, graceful, and the Doctor can feel her eyes closing, her hearts slowing down…

She wakes up some time later, only half-aware of where she is. For a moment she’s scared, but then she feels the Corsair’s arm on her waist, and soft breath on her neck, and she suddenly feels warmer than she’s felt in a long time. She wiggles around until she manages to roll over to face the Corsair, who is looking at her with half-open eyes.

“Did you sleep?” the Doctor asks. “Can’t go ‘round telling me to rest and then not sleep yourself.”

“A little,” the Corsair says. Her hair is still perfect, somehow. “But I sleep every night, Doctor.”

“Why?” the Doctor asks. “You don’t have to.”

“It’s time for myself,” the Corsair says. “Time to relax.”

“Don’t like relaxing,” the Doctor grumbles.

“Seemed all right with it a moment ago,” the Corsair says.

“That’s just ‘cause you’re here,” the Doctor admits, and immediately turns red. “I mean— just— it’s harder when I’m alone.”

“Guess I’d better stick around, then,” the Corsair teases.

“Nah,” the Doctor says. “I know you. You’re too much a free spirit to ever come with me.”

“I said I wanted to change,” the Corsair says. “Remember?”

And, slowly, the Doctor allows herself a glimmer of hope.

“All right, then,” she says. “Couldn’t hurt for you to try out a trip with us, at least. See how it goes.” And before she knows it, she’s rolling out of bed, getting back on her feet, reaching to pull the Corsair in the same direction. 

“Knew I couldn’t get you to stay still for long,” the Corsair says, but the spark is back in her eyes. They’re dancing again, a new, old, familiar, terrifying sort of dance, and the Doctor is thrilled.

[burclay]

concept: one of those “live laugh love” house decorations with a fancy font but it says “veni vidi vici”

[burclay]

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quick sketch of yaz from series eleven of doctor who! from a reference image in the doctor who art server so thanks for that art server

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look i sang one (1) song 

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medusa but instead of snakes it’s a single octopus

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i drew a sketch of faith from buffy the vampire slayer... i’m trying to learn to do like. casual art that doesn’t take literal days to complete so i’m pretty happy with this! 

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Attachments

Yaz runs into what she thinks is a cabin for shelter when a beast is chasing her and the fam.

It's not a cabin.

A story prompted by the idea that Rose and Yaz are similar in a lot of ways and should be friends.

AO3

Yaz is running.

This is a common occurrence, these days— she’s been traveling with the Doctor, after all, and the Doctor’s always running somewhere. Or from something.

Right now, it’s the latter. She’s in a forest, the Doctor and Ryan and Graham somewhere nearby, racing to get away from some giant creature that just jumped out of the underbrush and started chasing them.

“Sorry!” the Doctor is exclaiming from somewhere to Yaz’s left. “I forgot the animals here aren’t used to people!”

“Blimey, Doc!” Graham replies. “Didn’t think we were in for the big bad wolf today.”

“What did you say?” the Doctor asks, and Yaz thinks the Doctor might have stopped in her tracks, but that would be silly, they’re in danger, they’re running, but Yaz can still hear the monster crashing through the underbrush, and she isn’t about to stop just to hear whatever the Doctor’s going on about.

She runs, and she runs, scratching herself on thorns and branches as she pushes through bushes and between trees, straining her ears to try and hear whether the others are safe. Finally, just as she’s sure she’s about to collapse and get caught and killed, she sees a little log cabin through the trees. She puts on a burst of speed, not daring to think what might happen if the door is locked.

It’s not locked.

She crashes through, landing on the floor, panting. Seconds pass before she can even look up, but when she does, she is surprised at what she sees.

It’s not a cabin.

It looks— sort of like the Doctor’s TARDIS, really, except all in white, and without crystals— there’s a central console, and a column in the middle, and the room is circular, even though the outside was a rectangle. The room is deserted, but Yaz hears footsteps, and as she catches her breath, a strange woman walks into the room from a corridor on the other side.

“Thought I heard something,” the woman says. She doesn’t seem annoyed, or even all that confused. Yaz pushes herself to her feet.

“Sorry,” she says, still a little out of breath. “I was running— you— I thought this was a cabin.”

“Are you surprised it isn’t?” the woman asks.

“Not really,” Yaz admits. She’s not surprised by much anymore. “This is a TARDIS, isn’t it?”

“Right in one,” the woman says, coming closer. She puts a loving hand on the console, the same way the Doctor does, Yaz notices. “Not many of these around these days.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Yaz says. “Not exactly an expert.”

“Neither am I, really,” the woman says. “Stole this one, figured out how it works, more or less.”

“Who are you?” Yaz asks. The question is overdue, really.

“That’s a complicated question,” the woman says. Of course it is.

“Give me the short version, then,” Yaz replies. “It’s not like I need your life story.”

The woman pauses. She looks at Yaz with a critical eye.

“All right, then,” she says. “I’m the Bad Wolf.”

Yaz looks at the woman in front of her. She’s about Yaz’s age, white, hair dyed blonde and pushed behind her ears, a sort of kindness in her expression. The only thing that suggests “bad wolf” is the sharp look in her eye, and even then, Yaz suspects that look is more often turned upon strange bits of technology than an enemy.

“Really?” she asks. “Is that what they call you at home?”

“Don’t know,” the Bad Wolf says. “Been a while since I’ve had one.” Yaz realizes that this woman, even though she looks Yaz’s age, is old. It’s in her eyes, the same solemnity that the Doctor has, the same sort of sadness.

“Well,” Yaz answers, because she’s twenty and human and still has a family to go home to, “you’ll always be welcome for tea at mine.”

The Bad Wolf laughs.

“Thanks,” she says. “I’ll remember that.”

Yaz shifts awkwardly.

“I’d better go,” she says. “Got friends.”

“’Course,” the Bad Wolf says.

“Nice meeting you,” Yaz offers.

“You, too.”

Yaz smiles, and she turns, intending to walk out the door, but then she hears the sound of the TARDIS engines and turns back around, mouth half-open. She’s about to ask what’s happening, but the Bad Wolf has leapt to the console and is frantically pressing buttons, throwing levers, straight-up hitting the console.

“She won’t let me go back,” the Bad Wolf says, a desperate note in her voice. “I can’t— I’m sorry, I’ve only just got her, I’m not great at steering yet—”

Yaz is calmer than she expects from a situation like this. But she’s been traveling with the Doctor for a while, and she’s been in danger, and she’s gotten lost, or separated, and the Bad Wolf doesn’t seem particularly dangerous, and Yaz has grown accustomed to the ways a TARDIS malfunctions.

Usually the TARDIS is trying to tell them something.

“I don’t mind,” Yaz tells the Bad Wolf. “I’ll text my friends, let them know something’s come up.” As she takes out her phone, she remembers Graham’s comment— the big bad wolf— and looks back up. “You’re not related to that thing that was chasing us, are you?”

“What thing?” the Bad Wolf asks.

“Big forest thing,” Yaz says. “Don’t know what it was. Only my friend referred to it as a big bad wolf, and then I met you.”

“I’ve seen those,” the Bad Wolf says. “They’re not as dangerous as you think, once you get to know them. You were with friends?”

“We were traveling,” Yaz explains. “In my friend’s TARDIS.”

The Bad Wolf stiffens.

“Can I ask you a favor?” she asks.

“Depends what it is,” Yaz says.

“Just— when we get back, maybe don’t mention my name to the Doctor,” the Bad Wolf says. “I’m not supposed to be in his timeline anymore.”

“The Doctor’s a woman,” Yaz says. She remembers the Doctor, frenetic, just crashed through the roof of a train, saying she’d been a “white-haired scotsman,” and reconsiders. “She is now, I mean. How’d you know I was talking about her?”

“Only one left,” the Bad Wolf says. “Well. One of the only ones.”

I’m safe, Yaz writes in the groupchat she has with the Doctor, Ryan, and Graham. Trying to find a way back to the TARDIS. Made a new friend. Tell me where to meet you? Anywhere is good. New friend can time travel.

She hits send and slides her mobile back into her pocket.

“So,” she says. “You know the Doctor?”

Rose looks at the girl in front of her, her hair in two ponytails, her eyes wide and curious. If she’s being honest, Rose knew this girl was one of the Doctor’s before the word “TARDIS” passed her lips— a human, somewhere around age nineteen or twenty, panting like she’d just sprinted a marathon and still wide-eyed with wonder? That’s the exact sort of person the Doctor always took to the stars. She’s more surprised to hear the girl mention friends, plural, and she wonders who else the Doctor’s picked up. She remembers her time in the TARDIS with Jack, and with Mickey. It was a long time ago, now.

“You never told me your name,” she says when the girl asks about the Doctor. Evasion, deception, disguise: those things used to belong to the Doctor. Now, they are Rose’s.

“Yasmin Khan,” the girl says. “Yaz to my friends.”

“Well then, Yasmin Khan,” Rose says. “Suppose we’d better see if we can get you back.”

They can’t. The TARDIS refuses to go near the planet they just left. There’s some sort of block to it— they can go a year earlier or a year later, but not the time Yasmin Khan has left.

“That’s all right,” Yaz says. “Don’t know if I want to meet them back there, anyway.”

“This might get weird,” Rose warns Yaz. “Not sure the TARDIS is going to like me trying to find the Doctor.”

“Why not?” Yaz asks.

Rose shrugs.

“It’s complicated,” she says. She idly flicks a wheel on the console. She’s probably sending them to the end of the universe or something. “Sort of a timeline thing.” Another half-truth.

“Did you travel with her?” Yaz asks.

Rose turns to the console, letting her hair fall across her face. She scans a monitor.

“I used to,” she says. She wants to say more, but there’s a lump in her throat, and she changes the subject. “Where do you want me to drop you off?”

She can feel Yaz’s eyes on her, but mercifully, Yaz catches the hint.

“They haven’t texted me back,” Yaz says. Rose can see the worry in her eyes. “But if you take me home I’m sure they’ll find me.” She doesn’t add, if they’re still alive, and Rose doesn’t mention it.

“Where’s home?” she asks instead.

“Sheffield,” Yaz says. “Park Hill Estate. I think we left around January of 2019?”

The Bad Wolf fiddles with the dials and throws a few switches, but the TARDIS does not take them to Sheffield. Yaz half-expected it— she’s starting to think Sheffield is in some sort of complicated temporal disturbance or something.

Or maybe she just keeps winding up in TARDISes trying to get their lonely pilots to make some friends.

At any rate, the Bad Wolf pilots the TARDIS to six different places while Yaz opens the door at each one and shakes her head.

“Sorry,” she says, when after the sixth stop the Bad Wolf leans against the console in exhaustion. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your adventuring.”

“It’s not your fault,” the Bad Wolf says. ��I haven’t really figured out how to fly this yet.” She looks up at the spot where the central column meets the ceiling. “Feels like I’m a kid that won’t stop poking at an old dog. It’s being very tolerant, really.”

“Where are we now?” Yaz asks. She has opened the door to see an endless ocean— she slammed the door shut just as the TARDIS began to sink.

“New Mars,” the Bad Wolf says. “About three thousand years in our— your future.”

Yaz hears the slip. She doesn’t mention it.

“It’s okay if it takes a while,” she says. “Really. I don’t mind.”

Her phone buzzes. It’s the groupchat— a text from Ryan.

YAZ WHERE R U

She rolls her eyes and types her reply.

Trying to get back to Sheffield. But you know how time travel goes. Where/when are you lot?

Ryan’s return text comes fast.

sheffields good as anything… see u then

But the next text that comes in is the Doctor’s:

YASMIN KHAN!! !! !!!!!!!!!!! WE ARE WORRIED ABOUT YOU!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!! !! You’re not with Captain Jack, are you??? ? ?? Look out for him.

Yaz rolls her eyes and sends a reply (Don’t know who that is. Woman who picked me up has been nothing but friendly. See you in Sheffield.) while saying to the Bad Wolf, “My friends are going to be in Sheffield when we get there.”

“If we ever get there,” the Bad Wolf muttered. She looks up at Yaz. There’s a profound exhaustion in her eyes. “Do you need anything? TARDIS can manage food, drinks, sleeping space. Swimming pool, if you’re willing to look hard enough.”

“I’m all right,” Yaz says. “But I don’t mind— if you’re tired, I mean. We can try again later.”

The Bad Wolf looks at the TARDIS console, then back at Yaz. She has an almost sly smile on her face.

“It won’t take us to Sheffield,” she says. “Might take us somewhere else, though. Nowhere dangerous, if we can manage it. You in?”

“I’ll take the risk,” Yaz says.

“Thought you might say that,” the Bad Wolf says, and her smile curls into a grin.

Rose doesn’t know what she’s doing. But she’s been doing it alone for a bit too long, and she can’t get Yaz back to Sheffield anyway, and she’s starting to feel a bit useless. She needs a break. It looks like Yaz needs a break. So they’re going to take a break.

“I’ll keep you safe,” she assures Yaz. “Can’t have the Doctor coming after me. Any requests?”

Yaz shakes her head. Her smile is huge— it’s like Rose is looking at herself, age nineteen, ready to explore the universe.

“I’ll go anywhere,” she says.

Rose has said the same thing, in almost the same circumstances.

“Right, then,” she says, trying to think of places she’s been. Places the TARDIS might take her to, if she asks nicely. “Could try New Earth. Or, er, ancient Greece. Kanstano? Upward tropics?”

“Saw that one,” Yaz says. “It was brilliant.”

A pang of sadness hits Rose. Of course the Doctor is taking Yaz to the same places he took her— she doesn’t fault them for it, and she didn’t really expect any different, but the part of her that’s always thought of those places as belonging to just the two of them feels a little betrayed.

“Well,” she says, “we don’t want any repeats, do we? How about Space Florida?”

“There’s a Florida in space?” Yaz asks.

Rose shrugs.

“There’s an everything in space,” she says. “It’s infinite. But yeah, Space Florida. The Doctor told me about it, but I haven’t been. It’s probably a horrific sort of tourist trap, but we’re tourists, aren’t we?”

“I’m happy as long as it’s not an actual trap,” Yaz says.

“Space Florida it is, then,” Rose replies, and turns to the TARDIS console. “Don’t suppose you want to help?”

Yaz is at the console in a second, hands poised above the levers, and Rose smiles. She’s clearly not the first person who’s asked Yaz for help with the TARDIS.

“Just get that one,” she says, pointing. “And when I say go, get the button over there with your other hand.”

Yaz nods, flipping the lever. The engines begin to grind, and Rose presses a few buttons.

“Go,” she says, and Yaz presses hers.

Time travel never used to make Rose dizzy, but it does now— she can feel everything, all of time and space swirling around her, the TARDIS cutting through. She can feel the TARDIS, too, in her head, working with her, sometimes against her. She doesn’t know where or when she is, but the TARDIS knows where she wants to go, and so she can only stand at the console while all of time and space flows around her and hope she winds up in the right place. It’s become frighteningly apparent in recent weeks that it never made much difference what levers were flipped or buttons were pressed, but Rose, like the Doctor, flips levers and presses buttons anyway, and she supposes it must work, because when the engines stop their grinding and Rose follows Yaz to the door, they’re on a glittering beach, blue waves stretching out before them, clumps of people scattered across the shore.

“We did it,” she breathes. She’s been flying this new TARDIS for weeks now, and it’s only just now warming to her. She can feel it in the spark of warmth at the back of her mind, in the gurgle from the console as she and Yaz step out the door.

They find swimsuits in a beachside gift shop— they’re tacky and bright, not quite Rose’s style, but she and Yaz have fun laughing about it as they stake out a spot and lay out towels. The sun is bright, the sand is automatic, the ocean glitters.

“We can leave as soon as you like,” Rose says once they’ve sat down. “I’ve got eternity to vacation, you know.”

“Are you like the Doctor?” Yaz asks. “Immortal, I mean?”

“I think so,” Rose says. “Truth is, I haven’t really figured it out yet. But I’ve still only got one heart, so I can’t be a Time Lord.”

“Time Lord?” Yaz asks.

“What he is,” Rose says. “Or, I mean she, sorry.”

“She never told us the name for it,” Yaz says. “Time Lord. Sounds pretentious.”

“It is, from what I gather,” Rose says. “The Doctor didn’t choose it.”

“That’s a relief,” Yaz says, and Rose laughs.

“Can see why she picked you,” she says.

“I was just in the right place at the right time,” Yaz says. “She wasn’t going to take us with her.”

“She might’ve said that,” Rose says. She can imagine a world in which the Doctor doesn’t want new friends. “But if she let you come, she must like you.”

Yaz shrugs, but Rose can see a hint of a blush. This, too, is like looking at herself when she’d started traveling. Yaz doesn’t have any of the arrogance Rose had then, though— none of the sense that she’s better for being someone the Doctor picked. Just a shy almost-blush. Maybe it does make a difference, that Yaz did the choosing.

They spend a day on the beach. Yaz usually doesn’t slow down for anything, especially not a vacation on the beach, but now she’s been pushed into it, she has to admit it’s nice. She likes the Bad Wolf, even if she’s strange, old but still Yaz’s age but not in same way as the Doctor. The Bad Wolf is softer than the Doctor, a little shyer, but she has the same steel in her, the same curiosity. At the end of the day, Yaz and the Bad Wolf agree that Yaz, at least, needs to sleep before they try for Sheffield again (Yaz suspects the Bad Wolf doesn’t sleep much at all, but she doesn’t ask, and the Bad Wolf doesn’t mention it). The TARDIS creates a room for her. It looks a lot like her room on the Doctor’s TARDIS: a double bed with a purple comforter, a fuzzy blue rug, star decals shining on the ceiling. The walls are plain white, unlike in the Doctor’s TARDIS, where small white flowers trail up a pale green wallpaper— jasmine, to match Yaz’s name. There’s no bookshelf, either, but the one on the Doctor’s TARDIS had only appeared after she’d been there a while and started taking things out of the library to read at night. She changes into the pajamas she finds in the closet and lies awake for a while, wondering where the Doctor and Ryan and Graham are, wondering where the Bad Wolf came from, wondering whether this new TARDIS will ever get her back to Sheffield.

Finally, she falls asleep, and wakes up hours later from a restless sleep, trying to shake herself out of her dreams. She finds a sweater in the closet and puts it on, and then she wanders around until she finds the kitchen, takes a granola bar, and goes back to the console room, where the Bad Wolf is frowning at a monitor.

“Morning,” Yaz says, and the Bad Wolf jumps and turns around.

“Morning,” she repeats. “Sleep well?”

“Not bad,” Yaz says, which is only sort of a lie. She starts to unwrap her granola bar.

“Ready to try again?” the Bad Wolf asks.

Yaz nods. The Bad Wolf turns back to the console, and Yaz takes a bite of her granola bar, suddenly worried. What if the TARDIS won’t take her back, ever? What if she never sees her friends again? Or her home?

She looks at the Bad Wolf, who’s looking up at the central column.

“Please,” the Bad Wolf whispers. It sounds like a prayer, and Yaz realizes that, for all the age in her eyes, the Bad Wolf is just as nervous as she is.

Moments later, the TARDIS lands, and Yaz goes to the door (which now resembles the sort of sliding door you’d see in the back of a minivan) and pulls it open. She’s almost not expecting success, so when she sees the gray-and-orange silhouette of the estate, she’s already halfway to turning back around for another try.

“This is it,” she says instead. She pulls her phone out of her pocket. No new messages. She looks back at the Bad Wolf, hesitates for a moment, then says, “Remember how I said you’d always be welcome for tea at mine?”

The Bad Wolf stares at her for a moment, then glances back at the console, then at the door.

“I can’t,” she says. “If the Doctor shows up—”

“I’ll get a text,” Yaz says. “I’ll sneak you out the back way.” She shrugs. “You’ll have to listen to my mum trying to figure out where we know each other from, though.”

“Not like that’s unfamiliar,” the Bad Wolf says with a laugh. “My mum was always the same way.”

“You’ll be right at home,” Yaz says.

It does feel sort of like home, to Rose. Not the TARDIS, even though that’s home to her now— not even her home in the other universe with the human Doctor, the one who got older and older and eventually died. No, this feels like an older home, with just her and her mum fighting for each other. A home where if she went missing, people noticed, and not because they assumed she’d been kidnapped by aliens. Sitting at Yaz’s kitchen table while Yaz fusses with the teapot, looking around at the pictures on the walls of Yaz and another girl growing up, Rose feels both out-of-place and like she belongs.

“Didn’t know which kind you like,” Yaz says, bringing a mug to the table along with three different teabags. Rose chooses Earl Grey and unwraps it as Yaz brings a second mug and two little pitchers, somehow balanced in one hand, to the table. “Milk and sugar,” she adds.

Rose adds a bit of each to her mug.

“Thanks,” she says.

“Anytime,” Yaz says with a smile. She takes out her phone. “I’m going to tell the others we’re a couple hours later than we are,” she adds. “So you can get out before the Doctor comes.”

“Thanks,” Rose says again. She takes a sip of her tea, glancing around the room again.

Yaz is still tapping at her phone when Rose hears it.

An unmistakable sound.

Her favorite in the universe.

The sound she fears most.

TARDIS engines are wheezing and groaning right there by Yaz’s flat.

Panic seizes Rose’s movements, and her hand holding the tea jerks back to the table, some of the hot tea splashing onto her thumb. She ignores it and stands up.

“I have to go,” she says. Her voice is quiet and urgent. Yaz stands up as well.

“I can show you the back way,” she says.

“It’s all right,” Rose says. “Go find your friends. It was good meeting you, Yaz.”

“Thanks for getting me back,” Yaz says.

There’s an awkward moment during which Rose knows she should leave, she should run and never come back, but instead she hugs Yaz, once, quickly, and says, “Anytime.” And then she runs.

She goes out the door, looks over the railing outside to see the familiar blue box parked feet away from her own minivan-shaped TARDIS, backs up just as the blue box’s doors open, darts away from the stairwell. She watches from behind a pillar as Yaz comes outside and goes down the stairs.

Moments later, she hears voices.

“Yaz!” exclaims one. “We thought you might be dead!”

“Don’t be silly,” Yaz’s voice says. “I texted you.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re safe,” says another voice.

“Thanks,” says Yaz’s.

And then— the third voice is what does it. It’s unfamiliar, and yet, Rose knows it. It sinks deep into her in a way she’s longed for and feared for years now.

“Yaz!” it exclaims. “I was worried about you!”

Rose turns so her back is against the pillar and tilts her head back. It’s been years. Hundreds of years. Hundreds of years since her human Doctor died, since she started trying to figure out how to get back to this universe again. Since she told herself it wasn’t because she wanted to see the Doctor again, she just felt out-of-place in a universe she didn’t belong to, she just wanted to go home.

Hundreds of years, and she still hasn’t admitted to herself that maybe she’s a bit lonely.

But she can’t see the Doctor again. She can’t. The Doctor’s moved on, she’s different, Rose isn’t in her timeline anymore. And Rose has been repeating that to herself over and over. I’m not in his timeline anymore. I can’t see him. I’m not in his timeline anymore. And then, in the last day or so: I’m not in her timeline anymore.

The Doctor won’t love her anymore.

So Rose waits behind the pillar. She hears more conversation, Yaz inviting everyone for tea— “Sonya will be home from school soon, but if you’re willing to brave the beast you’re welcome to come up—” the Doctor accepts, to Rose’s surprise, and then she hears footsteps on the stairs, more chatter, the door to the flat opening and shutting, and then Rose thinks it’s safe. She steps out from behind the column. She’s going to have to walk past Yaz’s flat, or maybe poke around until she finds the back way Yaz mentioned.

She decides to rip the band-aid off and just walk past. She takes a deep breath and starts walking.

She’s almost to the stairs when she hears a voice behind her.

“Oi! Are you Yaz’s friend?”

Rose can’t breathe. She can’t turn around. She can’t speak. The Doctor will recognize her, and, well— she can’t have that. But she can’t ignore the Doctor, either, so she just stands, frozen, while the Doctor’s curious footsteps come closer and closer.

“Sorry,” the Doctor says, and Rose can feel her hovering just over Rose’s shoulder. “I don’t mean to scare you.”

And Rose knows the game is up.

Slowly, she turns around, pushing her hair behind her ear. The Doctor’s mouth falls open, and Rose doesn’t move, only stares at the Doctor— she’s blonde, she’s Rose’s height, she’s got a new coat and bold dark eyebrows and she’s staring at Rose with big eyes.

“Rose Tyler,” the Doctor says. “How in the universe did you get here?”

“Not in the universe, technically,” Rose answers. She looks at her feet. “Took me a couple hundred years,” she says. “Had to make sure it was safe.”

“Couple— hundred?” the Doctor asks. “How old—”

“I’m not sure,” Rose says. She shoves her hands into her pockets and bites her lip. “Few hundred years. The other you died, I started trying to get back here. I managed it, and then I was getting around with a homemade vortex manipulator until I ran across the Time Lords.” She smiles. “Think I’m banned from Gallifrey for life.”

All of a sudden the Doctor launches forward and wraps Rose up in a hug. For a moment, Rose is frozen stiff again, but then she lets herself relax, lets herself put her arms around the Doctor. She has tears in her eyes, tears that have been waiting maybe hundreds of years to fall, because she’s holding the Doctor again, her Doctor, and all of her fears seem ridiculous.

Over the Doctor’s shoulder, she sees Yaz emerge from the doorway to her flat. A moment later, two more heads pop around the doorframe, and Rose steps back and looks at the Doctor.

“Your friends are waiting for you,” she says with a smile. She looks at Yaz and the two others. “You going to introduce me?”

“Yaz!” the Doctor says. “Can Rose stay for tea?”

“I already invited her,” Yaz answers, with a grin at Rose.

“Oh, brilliant,” the Doctor says, and her hand slides into Rose’s like that’s where it’s always belonged. “You’ll love her.”

“So why didn’t you give me your real name?” Yaz asks Rose, once everyone’s settled with their tea and she’s had the chance to tell the others what happened.

“Didn’t want to get attached,” Rose says. “Should’ve known that wasn’t going to happen.”

“That’s what happens when you travel alone for hundreds of years,” Yaz says. “From what I gather, anyway.” She glances at the Doctor.

“Oh, yes,” the Doctor says. “You totally forget how much you want friends.”

“Suppose I’d better not travel alone anymore, then,” Rose says, a sly tone in her voice.

“Better not,” the Doctor says.

“Is that flirting?” Ryan asks. He elbows Yaz. “Yaz, is the Doctor flirting?”

“Better be,” Rose says. “Haven’t been bouncing around this universe for a hundred years just to be rejected.”

“Definitely not,” the Doctor agrees. She’s smiling— she looks happier than Yaz has seen her, all things considered.

They sit around and drink their tea, and through some miracle of nature, none of Yaz’s family shows up before everyone’s ready to go trooping out again. The Doctor leads the way, with Graham and Ryan following, so that it’s just Rose and Yaz left in Yaz’s kitchen, washing their mugs.

“You’ve still got a chance,” Rose says, completely unprompted.

Yaz stops scrubbing her mug.

“What?” she asks.

“I don’t mean to assume or anything,” Rose says. “It’s just— you have that look.”

“That look?”

“Like you’re in love with the stars.”

Yaz feels herself smile. “It’s that obvious?” she asks, wiping at her mug again.

“The stars have a lot of love to hold,” Rose says. “Don’t give up hope just ‘cause I’m here.”

“Thanks,” Yaz says. Her smile hasn’t gone away. “So you’re going to stay?”

“I think so, yeah,” Rose says. “For now, at least. Maybe forever. Always thought me and the Doctor’d be forever, you know. Never really worked out that way.”

“Maybe this time,” Yaz says.

“Maybe.” Rose sets her mug on the drying rack, and Yaz does the same. “You ready?”

“Always,” Yaz says, and she and Rose step out of the flat together.

[burclay]

it’s been a good day for me, creatively speaking

inspired by reviews for the movie elisa & marcela on netflix. i recommend the movie if you’re looking for some Lesbian Media (tm) but do not look up the reviews. men do not understand

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