Five Times Glitter Bothered the Doctor. And One Time It Didn't. (4/6)
Title - Five Times Glitter Bothered the Doctor. And One Time It Didn't. (4/6)
Author - earlgreytea68
Rating - General
Characters - Ten, Rose, OCs
Spoilers - Through the end of S2
Disclaimer - I don't own them and I don't make money off of them, but I don't like to dwell on that, so let's move on. (Except for the kids. They're all mine.)
Summary - His daughters like glitter.
Author's Notes - jlrpuckis still gallivanting in the UK, lucky cow, but before she took off she kindly beta'd this for me. Thanks also to Kristin, who suggested several of these scenarios, and to bouncy_castle79for the read-through. The lovely icon was created by swankkatfor me, commissioned by jlrpuckfor my birthday.
1 - 2 - 3
4
“It sparkles,” said Athena, jumping up and down.
“It’s pretty,” confirmed Fortuna, also bouncing about.
Rose had seen this phenomenon in the Doctor before. His daughters would fall in love with something, and he would pretend to be appalled-probably was appalled-but he bought it for them. He had done it with the terribly impractical unicorn-it had really been something that sounded like a hyxocoxocoxihyx, but “unicorn” was close enough for Rose-that she had had to play evil villain and refuse to allow to live on the TARDIS with them. And he did it now with this weird plant, with its sequin-y petals that glimmered as they undulated in the sun.
He sighed and said, “We’ll take one,” to the proprietor of the shop. And then he had to buy Brem a plant that shed all its leaves and then rebloomed in the span of forty hillipsis (which was about an Earth day, Brem confided to her).
The girls named their plant Dorothy. They loved it passionately. They set it on the console, where the TARDIS ratcheted up the light so it would play off the glitter-petals, and where it got endlessly in the Doctor’s way as he flew, so that he was always batting its petals out of his way and the girls were always saying, “Daddy! Apologize to Dorothy!” in affronted tones.
Then, one day, Dorothy released every bit of glitter on her petals into the air, in one giant whoosh.
“Pollonization,” said the Doctor, watching the bits of sparkle as they danced through the control room.
And, within three Earth hours, he was covered in enormous red splotches that he kept itching.
“You must be allergic to the glitter spores,” Rose said, as she kept him from itching at the splotches and put him to bed.
He was the universe’s worst patient. He complained incessantly. The kids, fascinated, stood by the side of the bed and stared at their father.
“Rose,” he said, staring back at them. “They are gaping at me. Like I am a yippodrea in a zoo.”
She studied her red, splotchy, swollen Doctor. “Well, you do look a sight.”
“No. More. Glitter-plants,” the Doctor told his daughters. “And you. Stop writing.”
“I’m not writing,” responded Brem. “I’m sketching what you look like.”
“Oh, bloody hell,” said the Doctor.
Next Part
Author - earlgreytea68
Rating - General
Characters - Ten, Rose, OCs
Spoilers - Through the end of S2
Disclaimer - I don't own them and I don't make money off of them, but I don't like to dwell on that, so let's move on. (Except for the kids. They're all mine.)
Summary - His daughters like glitter.
Author's Notes - jlrpuckis still gallivanting in the UK, lucky cow, but before she took off she kindly beta'd this for me. Thanks also to Kristin, who suggested several of these scenarios, and to bouncy_castle79for the read-through. The lovely icon was created by swankkatfor me, commissioned by jlrpuckfor my birthday.
1 - 2 - 3
4
“It sparkles,” said Athena, jumping up and down.
“It’s pretty,” confirmed Fortuna, also bouncing about.
Rose had seen this phenomenon in the Doctor before. His daughters would fall in love with something, and he would pretend to be appalled-probably was appalled-but he bought it for them. He had done it with the terribly impractical unicorn-it had really been something that sounded like a hyxocoxocoxihyx, but “unicorn” was close enough for Rose-that she had had to play evil villain and refuse to allow to live on the TARDIS with them. And he did it now with this weird plant, with its sequin-y petals that glimmered as they undulated in the sun.
He sighed and said, “We’ll take one,” to the proprietor of the shop. And then he had to buy Brem a plant that shed all its leaves and then rebloomed in the span of forty hillipsis (which was about an Earth day, Brem confided to her).
The girls named their plant Dorothy. They loved it passionately. They set it on the console, where the TARDIS ratcheted up the light so it would play off the glitter-petals, and where it got endlessly in the Doctor’s way as he flew, so that he was always batting its petals out of his way and the girls were always saying, “Daddy! Apologize to Dorothy!” in affronted tones.
Then, one day, Dorothy released every bit of glitter on her petals into the air, in one giant whoosh.
“Pollonization,” said the Doctor, watching the bits of sparkle as they danced through the control room.
And, within three Earth hours, he was covered in enormous red splotches that he kept itching.
“You must be allergic to the glitter spores,” Rose said, as she kept him from itching at the splotches and put him to bed.
He was the universe’s worst patient. He complained incessantly. The kids, fascinated, stood by the side of the bed and stared at their father.
“Rose,” he said, staring back at them. “They are gaping at me. Like I am a yippodrea in a zoo.”
She studied her red, splotchy, swollen Doctor. “Well, you do look a sight.”
“No. More. Glitter-plants,” the Doctor told his daughters. “And you. Stop writing.”
“I’m not writing,” responded Brem. “I’m sketching what you look like.”
“Oh, bloody hell,” said the Doctor.
Next Part