sparkly crackly speculation on Doctor Who
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But I still believe that Rose is the TARDIS's babymama... I wrote this bit of fic right after watching Doomsday back a year and a half ago...
The Doctor had told Rose once, more than once, that the TARDIS was a living thing. What they had failed to remember, both of them, was that living things have a persistent tendency to reproduce, if given suitable circumstances and a possible place to gestate and develop. Life has a funny way of finding a way.
When the time vortex was unleashed from its home in the heart of the TARDIS, it did so like a hormone-crazed teenager at a high school house party with no supervision, and latched itself promiscuously. to the first person to devote all her attention to it: Rose Tyler. And though the Doctor drew out the time vortex and sent it, giddy and stupefied and possibly wearing underpants on its head, to its room, it was too late: it had already had its fun, and Rose wasn't using any protection.
The TARDIS had, in short, knocked Rose up.
This wasn't as dire as might first be assumed.
The developing baby TARDIS was quite content in its situation. It had its big daddy police box nearby, glowing warmly at it, and a mummy that traveled all through time and space, and brought it with her and showed it all the secret pathways in the universe.
And suddenly, the world went all wrong in a most distressing way. Mummy left Daddy, and went so far away the baby could barely sense the TARDIS at all, its energy just a faint glimmer that it pulled towards, just before even that glimmer gave out entirely.
Perhaps Rose should have wondered a little more about the way it felt like her heart was breaking, but it isn't surprising she didn't. Her own adolescent rebellion stage was still recent enough for her to have little distanced perspective on it, and after all, that was a human stage, not a time vortex. She thought nothing of always confusing directions that led her down wrong streets, because she saw all the streets that weren't there. She simply got a side job at a fashionable bar to fill the time between consulting for Torchwood, and it was there she discovered that humans, whether they be in normal or alternate universes, are always doing the same things and having the same problems, returning to the same places, and being extraordinarily dull.
The Doctor wouldn't have thought that way about humans. He would have stopped with 'extraordinary'.
It either proved that it takes one to know one, or that Rose, if she intended to live a fantastic life, would need to make some adjustments. (Prenatal vitamins were probably out of the question at this point.)
Rose Tyler doesn't remember her dreams of endless walking, whispering phrases in people's ears, or picking up the spay can herself. There is a message pounding away, but she must make the pieces that will be put together and tell her why she glows golden by accident, and why never needs a lamp to read by, and the time she spends with people is exactly the amount of time it should be.
It isn't unobtrusive, or at least it doesn't override her loneliness and depression, so she ignored the changes and blames them on her new universe. It works.
Up until she walks into her flat one day and discovered 1879 in her kitchen. "Hi," she says, "I'm to go change clothes and not do this one more time. "
There are bound be gloves somewhere here. They will hide back her touch which drops a few seconds or millenium on the object.
But I still believe that Rose is the TARDIS's babymama... I wrote this bit of fic right after watching Doomsday back a year and a half ago...
The Doctor had told Rose once, more than once, that the TARDIS was a living thing. What they had failed to remember, both of them, was that living things have a persistent tendency to reproduce, if given suitable circumstances and a possible place to gestate and develop. Life has a funny way of finding a way.
When the time vortex was unleashed from its home in the heart of the TARDIS, it did so like a hormone-crazed teenager at a high school house party with no supervision, and latched itself promiscuously. to the first person to devote all her attention to it: Rose Tyler. And though the Doctor drew out the time vortex and sent it, giddy and stupefied and possibly wearing underpants on its head, to its room, it was too late: it had already had its fun, and Rose wasn't using any protection.
The TARDIS had, in short, knocked Rose up.
This wasn't as dire as might first be assumed.
The developing baby TARDIS was quite content in its situation. It had its big daddy police box nearby, glowing warmly at it, and a mummy that traveled all through time and space, and brought it with her and showed it all the secret pathways in the universe.
And suddenly, the world went all wrong in a most distressing way. Mummy left Daddy, and went so far away the baby could barely sense the TARDIS at all, its energy just a faint glimmer that it pulled towards, just before even that glimmer gave out entirely.
Perhaps Rose should have wondered a little more about the way it felt like her heart was breaking, but it isn't surprising she didn't. Her own adolescent rebellion stage was still recent enough for her to have little distanced perspective on it, and after all, that was a human stage, not a time vortex. She thought nothing of always confusing directions that led her down wrong streets, because she saw all the streets that weren't there. She simply got a side job at a fashionable bar to fill the time between consulting for Torchwood, and it was there she discovered that humans, whether they be in normal or alternate universes, are always doing the same things and having the same problems, returning to the same places, and being extraordinarily dull.
The Doctor wouldn't have thought that way about humans. He would have stopped with 'extraordinary'.
It either proved that it takes one to know one, or that Rose, if she intended to live a fantastic life, would need to make some adjustments. (Prenatal vitamins were probably out of the question at this point.)
Rose Tyler doesn't remember her dreams of endless walking, whispering phrases in people's ears, or picking up the spay can herself. There is a message pounding away, but she must make the pieces that will be put together and tell her why she glows golden by accident, and why never needs a lamp to read by, and the time she spends with people is exactly the amount of time it should be.
It isn't unobtrusive, or at least it doesn't override her loneliness and depression, so she ignored the changes and blames them on her new universe. It works.
Up until she walks into her flat one day and discovered 1879 in her kitchen. "Hi," she says, "I'm to go change clothes and not do this one more time. "
There are bound be gloves somewhere here. They will hide back her touch which drops a few seconds or millenium on the object.