http://dark-tardis.livejournal.com/ (
dark-tardis.livejournal.com) wrote in
fracturedrp2010-10-25 10:32 pm
On a mission to cheer Rose up. (open to all recent companions on Rose's TARDIS )
The TARDIS had been worried about how much Rose had been drinking lately, she needed to cheer up a bit, or at least not drink herself stupid as much. So the firey redheaded projection, left the ship version of herself, and started to walk down the street. To those that weren't aware of what she was, she passed as a typical twenty year old woman. However if somebody were to bump into her, or touch her, they'd see she was nothing more then a hologram, at least for now.
She wasn't sure what to do to make the dark haired Rose cheer up, but she was determined to find something, well something other then liquor, and cigarettes.
She wasn't sure what to do to make the dark haired Rose cheer up, but she was determined to find something, well something other then liquor, and cigarettes.

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Which meant, essentially, that he was capable of flailing a good deal, and successfully pocketing his sonic screwdriver, before concluding that 1) Rose was only kissing him, and 2) Someone taught her how to transfer telepathic thoughts through physical contact.
The memories initially distracted him from the actual kiss. Terribly sad, horrible memories no Rose should have to suffer. Thus, he being who he was--and no stranger to being suddenly snogged by Rose--when the memories slowed, he used his position to offer the support and comfort that he could. Through said snog.
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She wanted a real reason to keep moving forward, to stop killing herself through drinking, to stop running carelessly into battles she knew she'd either get injured or killed, and try to find happiness again, and she felt at that moment he could give her just that.
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And that wouldn't have been dignified.
His alarm faded quickly to concern, however, and he brought up an arm to hold the dark haired Rose protectively. What had the Vortex done to this Rose? "Travel with you?"
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That was one of the ways he diverged--call it a shorter life, or call it the influence of Donna, or call it a really good reward-benefit learning system--he didn't like leaving words and sentiments unspoken.
So instead, he settled next to where she sat, and touched her shoulder. "Rose. Look at me."
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She let out a breathe exhaling smoke then looked at him, her expression seemed cold and distant at first, but after a moment it softened.
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Given a choice between two, he would almost always choose the sort of snogging that did not end with searing images of the vortex. Incidentally, that was another way he diverged from his other self. But one he didn't mind at all. He found he quite enjoyed snogging.
That said, he held no objections to pushing further than that. He remained very enthusiastic about tugging her shirt free enough to explore familiar-unfamiliar skin and return her favor with much shorter nails.
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Although, it had to be said, even if there were some shocking difference, it wouldn't matter to him. Rose simply was and that was enough for him, no further qualifications.
He returned her bites with nips of his own. It was a good deal more aggressive than Rose usually was, but it wasn't something he was unused to. His fingers, meanwhile, traced and mapped and memorized scars. They were a part of her, as much as her hair--whether peroxide or dark--and as much a part of this one as the smell of smoke and liquor and the crackling of the vortex permeating er skin.
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Rose was more dominant and showed it by how quickly and aggressively she fully undressed herself and him, before pushing him with full force back down onto her bed pinning his arms down next to his head, her grip was tight and she smirked some saying, "hope you like it ruff..." That was all she said before she allowed herself to truly, become close to him.
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He spared a brief grin, before leaning upward--easily enough despite the positioning of his arms--and kissed away any other remarks she might have been holding in reserve.
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After a moment, he proceeded to walk towards Rose's room, she had told him that when her door was unlocked they could just come in, especially when she was drunk because often times she either was listening to music to loud to hear anybody, or resting from another migraine and didn't want to leave the room. In this case however it was neither one, and when he opened the door he saw the woman naked on top of somebody his mind went completely blank and his only response "oh gross..." He wasn't actually grossed out by it, but rather it was a bit of a cold awkward joke.
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He gave a startled sound at the voice, though, and sat up quickly out of an effort to preserve Rose's modesty from...well, whoever that was.
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She moved over to him pissed off, "Somebody had better be dieing right now, otherwise I'm going to kill you!" She snapped at him.
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"Who are you?"
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When she was alone with the Doctor, she used some of that left over anger towards something a bit more fun.
Rose then spun him around slamming him against the door, before biting fairly hardly on his neck, then moving back towards his lips, nipping at them some as she kissed him.
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The man--who was he?!--vanished too quickly to recover from her attack and properly answer him, but that did not mean the Doctor wanted an answer any less.
Much as he liked Rose and kissing and kissing Rose, he liked answers, too. "Rose?" He flailed a bit to keep his words from being unrecognizably muffled. "Rose! Who is that? What's going on?"
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And he really did like the whole kissing thing. Well, the naked-bed-snogging thing. With Rose. Really, he did. He supposed, given her compelling argument, questioning what a military man was doing on the TARDIS--wandering into Rose's room like he belonged there--could wait until a bit later.
That said, he wriggled his hands free this time, and cupped them around her jaw instead. He liked the feel of her skin, and he was curious what her hair would feel like when it wasn't abused with so much peroxide.
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