#i am putting this poor girl through the ringer in my fic man

[theangrypomeranian]

listening to the fruits by Paris Paloma on repeat while thinking about Courtney Wheeler make of that what you will

[tenroseforeverandever]

Dear Father Christmas Chapter 5: 24 December, 2020

MASTERPOST

Characters:  Tentoo; Rose Tyler; Jackie Tyler; Pete Tyler; Tony Tyler; OC Hope Tyler-Noble; OC Charlotte Tyler-Noble; OC Wilfred Tyler-Noble

Rated: Teen

Tags: Family!Fic; Kid!Fic; Pete’s World; Letters to Santa; Christmas Fic; Family; Fluff; Hurt/Comfort; Angst; Romance; Love

Summary: When Rose Tyler was little, she always wrote a Christmas wish list to Father Christmas. As she grew older, the wish list became more of a letter to someone she could confide in once a year, but she fell out of the habit somewhere along the way. Now, as a new mum, celebrating her daughter’s first Christmas, Rose takes up writing her Christmas letter to Father Christmas once again.

Rose’s Christmas letters are excerpts from her life with her beloved Tentoo and their children in Pete’s World, written once a year, for each of 31 years.

Chapter Summary: When Jackie won’t allow Tony to travel on the TARDIS, the Doctor finds a way to bring the stars to him.

Notes: Eternal gratitude to mrsbertucci and @rose--nebula_Nebula for being such great betas and sounding boards.

Thanks to @doctorroseprompts for their 31 Days of Ficmas prompts. A reminder that I am using the prompts very much out of order, but I intend to use them all. The prompt I used today was Scarf.

Also read at: AO3; FF.net; Teaspoon

December 24th, 2020

Dear Father Christmas,

My mum is driving us mental! Completely mental! We’ve wanted to take Tony with us on the TARDIS for a few years, now, and she’s digging her heels in… big time!

Toto’s a great kid, with a good head on his shoulders. He has a fantastic sense of adventure, without the rebellious streak I had. He doesn’t get into trouble, so he’s always had a pretty good relationship with his teachers. He does really well at school, and is desperate to learn as much about science as he possibly can. Mum must think she’s in heaven compared to everything I’ve put her through over the years.

One thing she doesn’t particularly appreciate is how he practically worships the Doctor; he has done since he was tiny, before the Doctor even met him. I was always telling him stories about our adventures on the TARDIS. I even made him his very own TARDIS for the garden when he was three, and then, when the Doctor came to stay, he made Tony his own light-up toy version of a sonic on the first Christmas he was here.

Dad’s grooming Tony to take over Torchwood eventually. He asked me, but I couldn’t do a job like that: I’m too full of wanderlust, yeah. And, let’s face it, even though I got those degrees in astro and temporal physics so I could help with the Dimension Cannon, science and desk work really isn’t my thing. Tony will be the perfect candidate, once he’s grown a good foot and gained a few stone. He seems keen to do it, as much as any kid knows what they want to do with their lives, at that age. Dad’s not pushy though. If Tony says no a few years down the road, he’ll be disappointed, but he’ll understand.

Anyroad, given the nature of the job, dealing with extraterrestrial beings and such, and their technologies on a daily basis, me and the Doctor had been thinking it would be a sensible idea to start taking him along on a few trips with us on the TARDIS.

We made the huge mistake of suggesting it to him and getting his hopes up, at the beginning of the summer, before we consulted Mum. We really botched things up. Neither he nor Mum would talk to us for weeks. And he wasn’t talking to Mum, either. Thank goodness little Wilfred came along at the end of June, else Mum probably still wouldn’t be talking; but where her first grandson was concerned, she softened up a fair bit.

But she still wouldn’t budge about Toto going for field trips in the TARDIS. She reckoned she would lose him to the Doctor, the way she lost me. And I don’t think she’s ever forgiven the Doctor for that missing year when I first started traveling with him. She told us she wasn’t letting her son anywhere near “that bloody ship” of ours, or words to that effect. Then she said: “Just you watch. He’ll swan off with you, it’ll be a bit of a lark and, when he comes back, he’ll be fifty years old and I’ll have missed his whole life!” Blimey, a bit melodramatic there, Mum. I mean, she needs to consider how careful we are these days about keeping the timelines strictly in sync specifically so that kind of thing doesn’t happen. And we always triple-check navigation so we always know where and when we land, and we make sure it’s safe before we go blundering out the door. And as for Tony, he’s not quite like me: not so prone to wandering off.

But I guess I get it. She’s frightened. I’m a mum myself, now, so I have a good sense of how she must feel. Left out; left behind. There’s so little time you have with your kids before they’re grown up and moving on with their own lives. As much as you want them to experience everything they can in life, you can’t help also wanting to protect them and keep them by your side.

But Toto’s growing up! Eleven years old, this past April! I can hardly believe it! Though, he’s still young enough to love playing in his backyard TARDIS, especially when his little nieces come over to join in the fun. They had great summer hols together. But, once autumn rolled around and Wilfred was three months old, we took to the stars again. We’re only home on weekends now, and poor Tony really misses the playtime with the girls, even though they’re so little compared to him. I’m sure he’s jealous as all hell about the time they get to spend on the TARDIS, though he’s good enough to never let on to them.

The Doctor’s made a point of spending time with him on the weekends, tutoring him, expanding on the information he was getting in science at school, and letting him help with tinkering projects. He and Tony lie out in the back garden for hours and hours in the dark, stargazing, just the two of them.

He decided to make Tony his very own telescope for Christmas. He insisted if we couldn’t take him to the stars, we’d do everything we could to bring the stars to him. I suggested we could just buy one, order it from Amazon, but the Doctor said that was “a bit rubbish” and wouldn’t hear of it. His telescope was going to be infinitely better somehow (somehow that I couldn’t make heads or tails of.) We scoured the galaxy for just the right parts. It was a bit challenging since we’re still getting to know this universe, but we found some great shopping spots!

We found this brilliant 78th Century bazaar in the Frigenni Cluster. The Doctor was on the prowl for bits for the eyepiece of the telescope, and he suddenly took a detour right into a clothing store of all things! He found this ridiculously long, striped, multicoloured scarf, and insisted on buying it.

Of course I asked him what the fuck he was thinking, and he told me it was a dead ringer for a scarf he once wore several bodies back. Why was I not surprised? When I asked him if he hadn’t tripped over it all the time, he just said, “Nah, it was very well behaved.”  I offered to get him it for Christmas, or for his “birthday” which was coming up on December 14th. But it turns out he wanted it for Tony. He’d told him about that regeneration’s scarf once years ago and Tony’d been obsessed with the idea.

Santa, I won’t lie, I thought I was going to cry. I love that man more every day, for all he does for my family and for ours.

I can hardly wait to see that little boy’s face when he opens his gift this year! He’ll probably have to wrap that scarf around him twenty times so it doesn’t trail all over the place, and then he and the Doctor will disappear into the garden to set up the telescope. I hope it’s a clear night for them.

Father Christmas, I hope you and your North Pole family have as much love in your hearts this year as I do. Three healthy children, a brilliant brother, a great dad, an infuriating but loving mum, and the best husband ever: I’m blessed in every way. I couldn’t ask for more.

Safe travels,

love, Rose

[poweredbycoffeeandwine]

All a Blur

I was having all of the Liam feels. I love that guy! So, here, have a fic featuring him and my female Ryder Camille. Pre-relationship because that is my jam. Borrowed some in game dialogue, and ran with it. Teeny- tiny spoilers if you havent’ made it very far in the game. Thanks to my hubs for reading and making room for my fictional infatuations.

Trigger warnings: Survivor’s guilt

All a Blur

Camille Ryder never knew what to do with nervous energy. She hated the knots in her stomach that had developed so shortly after being made Pathfinder. There was so much to do and so many relying on her. During the day cycle she kept so busy there was no time to notice how lonely she felt. Since birth she had her brother Scott. With him on the Nexus it was like a piece of her was missing. She hated that she was angry at him for not being with her, to help her overcome the grief of losing their father. Her mother had only just been taken from them much too soon, and now she was the lone Ryder in a strange sea of stars.

Once the night crept in her emotions were hovering, all too ready to crash against the walls she had carefully constructed so she could cope and fake the confidence to lead during the day. That she had been assigned a room on the Tempest that rightfully belonged to her father only made matters worse. How she wished he hadn’t always been so damn noble. Of course he would gallantly throw away his life, so full of desperately needed experience, to save his child from death.

With the limited space available on the ship, she felt so guilty that she couldn’t even bring herself to sleep on that beautiful, wonderfully soft bed since that first night. She had tossed and turned so long hating that she was in his place.  She really wanted to offer the bed to someone, but Cora would certainly spout protocol. PeeBee would get that panicked look on her face and run for good thinking she was attempting to trap her. She didn’t know Vetra well enough to presume she would bunk with her, and she doubted Lexi would be happy to hear that she had been sleeping on the cream colored sofa out of a warped sense of loyalty to her dead father. Drack would assume she was taking pity on him, and likely headbutt her instead of saying no. If she offered the spot to Jaal, how could she possibly know that she wasn’t treading on a custom of the Angara? What if it meant something crazy like marriage? Definitely best to save that sort of offer until she knew more about the Angara as she hadn’t gotten very far into the datapad she had picked up from the Arbiter.

She might be able to convince Kosta to sleep on the bed. He might feel bad at first, like he was taking advantage of her somehow, but she was certain he would get over it. Most likely after he saw it. Her mind made up, Camille sprung off the couch, set her data pad down, and pulled a hoodie over her Blasto tank. She had been the subject of ridicule the first time she left her quarters wearing the oversized Blasto shirt. She had taken it from Scott, and she wore it now mostly for a small measure of comfort. The doors to her cabin silently slid open, and she couldn’t help but focus on how eerie and oppressive the ship felt to her at night with hardly any sounds. She made her way to the small hold in the cargo bay that Kosta had taken for his own, but she hesitated outside the door. It was very late, and she had no reason to believe that he would be awake at this hour. Still, she had come, and it couldn’t hurt to try.

She gave a soft tap at his door, flinching as it broke the silence. On the other side of the barrier, she heard a series of grunts, and something that sounded like an invitation to enter. Taking cautious steps inside she started when she realized that Kosta was not only in the middle of what must have been an epic set of pushups, but he was doing them shirtless, pants riding low on his hips. The muscles on his back and his arms rippling with each movement. She tore her eyes away, feeling like a leacher. “Liam? Don’t I work you enough on the ground? How can you possibly still have enough energy to exercise?”

“All the time. Run us ragged you do. Got a lot on my mind, you know. Can’t seem to keep still.” He said as he stood picking up a towel to wipe at the sweat coating his face. “What has you up instead of taking advantage of the Pathfinder’s quarters?”

“Funny you should ask,” Ryder fired back. “It’s actually why I am here. I wanted to ask you something, but I need you to hear me out. No judgement or interrupting, ok?” She suddenly didn’t know where to look. Asking him to be her roommate had sounded like a good idea, but standing in front the idea was suddenly absurd. She didn’t want to be that girl, but the sweat beading down his neck, traveling over his clavicle, and down to his chest reminded her just how male he was.

She knew the pause in the conversation had to have been too long, so she looked up and noticed the concern in his eyes, “Sure, Ryder. Think I can manage. What do you need?”

“Well, like you said, the Pathfinder’s quarters are just so big. I hardly need all of that space to myself, and I know there isn’t quite enough space for everyone.” She knew she had begun to ramble, but she couldn’t begin to make herself come to the point. It would be much better to have stayed quiet rather than face his rejection. There was no way he would ever agree to such an arrangement. She didn’t even know why his pending refusal made her want to crawl into a hole and die. She forced herself to forge on adding, “So I was thinking that maybe you could take the bed, and I can keep sleeping on the sofa. Or possibly you and GIl or Kallo could have the room and I could take this one.”

Liam stayed quiet for a beat or two glancing from her face to the door. The waiting made her nervous and she began to shift in place. “Look, I didn’t mean to offend, and really I am not trying anything sneaky or underhanded. I really just can’t be in there alone anymore.” With a deep sigh she dropped the facade she was holding in place and let herself feel everything she had been fighting. Shoulders slumped, brows creased, she wandered to his ratty old couch and sat down hands over her face.

The weight of him caused the couch to dip, and her body to press against him, she felt the pressure of his hand on her shoulder. “Ryder,” he softly called to her, “what is going on in that head of yours? Not a bit put off, I swear it. Just shook is all. You have to know that sounds daft, right? We would be terrible flatmates, I would watch movies you hated, and you would eat all of my snacks. I bet you snore. Plus, I would have to pretend to hate your Blasto shirt, but really we would both know I was just jealous.”

She giggled, and when she realized that he had turned her emotions around again, she couldn’t help but give him a playful punch on his arm. “I knew it! Blasto is the only reason you are nice you me. You’ll have to fight me for it.”

With a small cough he replied, “You’ve got me, Pathfinder. Now that you know my secret I’ll just have to let a Kett frag you in the back so I can get my mitts on your shirt. Been at your back watching you fight remember. No way I could take you.” After a moment he put a curled knuckle under her chin, lifted it and asked, “Really, what’s eating you, and what’s this about sleeping on a regular couch when you have a proper sized bed?”

She decided to tell him everything. How she felt abandoned by Scott and her father despite them not having a choice in the matter. Knowing full well they would both have literally done anything to be with her. Causing her to feel even worse that she was being unfair to them, and the deep pit in her stomach and ball in her throat at the sheer thought of enjoying the bed meant for someone who could actually lead them. “It would have been so much better for everyone if my dad had just made the right decision and let Habitat 7 claim my life. The Initiative doesn’t need a poor man’s Alec Ryder,” Camille said through small sniffles. She had already embarrassed herself, she wasn’t going to cry in front of him, too.

When he next spoke she couldn’t help but think he sounded angry, “What do you mean you should have died? Listen, I get you aren’t the old man. Nobody could be, and we never asked you to be. But you lead us. We found that facility on Voeld, kicked them in the teeth. Great. But the Kett steal what people are. Even with your dad we might not have pulled it off. You managed.” Liam huffed, and raked a hand through his hair, “Look, I get it. Survivor's guilt, I don’t completely understand, but you’ve been through the ringer. He chose you, and I believe you can do this.”

He activated his Omni-tool and put it between them. He told her about his family, and the project car they worked on together. The hours, time and love they poured into it for no reason at all other than that they could. Just something for them to spend time together doing. She marveled at his story, it should have occurred to him that he had a past. Parents that loved him, and he loved fiercely in return. She had been so selfish wallowing in her own misery, that she forgot that almost everyone else was suffering just as much or more. His car packed into a borrowed transport slowly passing through space being the only tangible link to his mom and dad so far away made her indescribably sad but also gave her hope. “I know I’ll never see it again, it will take two point three million years at standard light speed to even get close to Andromeda,” his voice took a shaky quality, “but the important thing is that it’s coming, and always will be.” He stopped shook his head and continued brokenly, “I don’t know what that means.”

He glanced down and Camille knew that defeated pose. It was one she mirrored too often, always alone. Her heart cried for him, and as much as she struggled to go forward each day, she understood that he was doing the same. To move past all the could-have-beens and just push for a better tomorrow. Up until this very moment he had done a much better job, he was always trying to bridge the gap, and make friends out of strangers. How much she had taken his insight and training for granted.

She leaned over to him cupping his cheek in her hand. The stubble on his face somehow feeling both prickly and soft, and strangely right. She pressed her forehead to his, and discovered his hand finding purchase in her hair at the back of her head. She closed her eyes after the blurring vision behind tears she had held in check for too long threatened to overwhelm her. LIam pulled her into a firm hug, hand stroking her back giving the comfort that she didn’t realize she had needed so badly. She returned the favor; he was just as lost. After a few moments, they leaned back into the sofa her head cradled against his shoulder and bicep, his hand still in her hair. Liam started rubbing circles on her scalp with his fingertips, and put his cheek against the top of her head.

Camille didn’t know how long they sat, but when she woke with a start, leg trapped between his, arm slung across his still naked chest, she couldn’t help but be pleased at actually getting uninterrupted sleep. She didn’t even care that it might get awkward in the morning, or that their crewmates might read more into the situation than there was. It had felt like ages since she woke with a clear head, and after all they had been through she deserved rest. Liam must have felt her stirring as he stretched a bit, and pulled her back in close. Before falling back asleep he whispered into her hair, “After tonight, you go back and face your quarters like a big girl. You are more than the ghost of the old man. I’ll help, if you need it, but you can’t give up your space. No more of this posh about giving the bed up, got it?” She nodded and couldn’t agree more, but right at that moment she didn’t care about anything else but finding a few more hours peace in the arms of her friend.