#but i'm 6k words in and it was ambitious for me to think i'd not put way too much effort into this

[chickenparm]

WIP uhhhhhhhhhhh MONDAY

@henbased @adelaidedrubman @euaveri show me what u got

i'm writing this for the sole purpose of tricking someone very specific in the Parm Palace to get into Genshin by enticing her with morally-bankrupt science guy. wish me luck.

Dottore/f!Reader this one most definitely will be NSFW but this preview is SFW (and also unedited so there's that)

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“Looks like it’s all functioning properly. How’s it feel?”

“Doesn’t feel like anything.”

“Yeah, deadening your pain receptors will do that, I suppose.” And for good measure, you pinch at the bone of his shoulder blade that sits far too close to the surface of his skin. The Balladeer winces, and that’s all the confirmation you need to understand he’s putting on a brave face.

Through grit teeth, he backtracks as he sits upright. It puts him closer to you, enough that you can feel the way his coldness saps your body heat. “They’re seated in my bones. They don’t feel good.”

Your palm presses to his back, fingers splayed in a way that one of the ports you’d installed sits snugly in the space between your thumb and forefinger. Subtly, he leans back into it. Against your usual antagonism when it comes to The Balladeer, you decline to goad him for something so ridiculous and instead let him leech whatever it is that he’s looking for from you right now.

As ill-equipped as you are to offer it, if this is his odd way of seeking out comfort, you’ll let him do something so harmless.

“Until you’re seated in the machine, it’s going to feel unnerving. If there’s pain, we can manage it further. Otherwise I’d be loading you with chemicals that would be superfluous.”

“You mean it’s better to just suffer.” Not a question - a statement.

Humming, you pull your hand away and push the knuckle of your forefinger into the space between his top vertebrae, then absently drag it down while counting. When you get to four, you pause and glance at the way his head has fallen forward, the hair at the nape of his neck shifting enough that you can see the electro symbol branded on his skin.

“Are you suffering?”

“…I’m not sure.”

“Well, let me know when you figure it out. In the meantime-” your Akasha buzzes. Dottore has arrived after days of absence. Not that you needed him around with how he’d send his orders through various Fatui agents. The singular entrance is behind you, and so is the Doctor with unnerving silence.

You’re unsure of exactly how far away he’s stopped, but it feels as if he’s pressing into your back. Dottore looms over you even from across the room, using only his presence and the eyes that you cannot see. Palm to The Balladeer’s back, you turn a half-step to look at Dottore and note that you weren’t too far off the mark. All it would take is for you to reach a hand out to touch him.

“Am I interrupting?”

“Would it matter if you were?” If your attitude phases him, it doesn’t show. Your thumb finds the space between spine and shoulder blade, pushing just enough that it eases the smallest bit of strain on The Balladeer’s muscles caused by the intrusions. “Get dressed. Come back if you need me, otherwise give it a few days and we’ll check again.”

His answer is to lean back enough for your thumb to dig in again before he’s sliding off the table and tugging his loose shirt over his head. The air is so stifling, it’s no wonder he doesn’t give you a single glance as he leaves the room. Leaves you - with Dottore. Alone.

“That’s unwise of you. I thought you were better than that.”

“Better than following your orders and doing exactly what you laid out to be done? What’s that say about you?”

Tense is the only way to describe the lull between your question and his answer. Reading Dottore is unlike anyone you’ve met before, and it’s next to impossible to understand what he might be feeling when you push him so callously. There are no tells, there is no tightening of muscles or straightening of posture. His head doesn’t even tilt as he simply regards you in the moment that hangs between.

Finally, he inhales, and you wonder if perhaps that should sound as much as it does to a headsman’s axe slicing through the air. There’s no mistaking that it’s aimed for your neck.

“Come with me.” Dottore’s hand comes from behind his back, palm up as if to beckon you to take it. A bit of derision seeps into your gaze as you stare at his offering, everything screaming inside of you that this must be a trap. The quick jerk of his fingers beckoning you is the final warning - and with hesitation, you heed it.

The gloves are impersonal, keeping your bare skin from his own and serving as a more than sufficient barrier between the two of you. If only they were thicker, if only the wall between was just a little higher. Dottore steps backward - once, twice, then turns and guides you to the table where the notes you’d been looking over for The Balladeer’s visit today are laid out.

The attempt you make to pull your hand away is thwarted with how his fingers lace with your own. Gently at first, almost tender, but that air of tranquility changes swiftly as he loses the calm he’d been wearing as a mask. Tighter and tighter, he grips until your knuckles ache and your teeth grind together to keep from crying out.

“Show me the instructions I left that detail how familiar you’re meant to become with Scaramouche. Take your time - I’ve cleared my schedule just now.”

[xthelastknownsurvivorx]

2023 Writing Roundup

Thanks @inexplicablymine for the tag! This was a lot of fun to do

January

Satisfied (Never Have Been, Never Will Be) — RWRB, T, 833

Or, a rewrite of the lyrics of "Satisfied" from Hamilton set at the beginning of Philip and Martha's wedding, except Alex is a little flirtier and a little less repressed, told from Henry's pov.

February

Some Element of Mystery — RWRB, M, 4k

Or, five times that Alex thought Henry was a stripper, plus one time Henry corrected him. Written for the informal stripper!Henry fest.

March

Was working on finishing my master's thesis instead of fic for the most part, though I did write a few drabbles and make progress on my reincarnation au (see November)

April

Burn (They're Watching Us/I Hope That They) — RWRB, T, 295

Or, a rewrite of the lyrics of "Burn" from Hamilton, set immediately after the email leak, told from Alex's pov.

May

Graduated/finished my master's 🎉🎉 while also writing more of my reincarnation au (see November), including some major revisions

June

Got sick for part of the month, then spent the rest of it furiously working on my brownstone anniversary exchange fic (see July) doing tons of (probably unnecessary) research about Saturday Night Live and royal weddings.

July

SNL | Season 45 Episode 2 | HRH Prince Henry & FSOTUS Alex Claremont-Diaz — RWRB, M, 9k

Or, the fic in which I said bet and sent firstprince onto Saturday Night Live instead of having Alex go to London for a weekend. Written for the Brownstone Anniversary Fic Exchange.

August

Spent the month trying to make a lot of progress on reincarnation au (see November) and finally got some betas

September

Had a bad case of writer's block for most of the month, then went insane and wrote something for firstprince week (see October) despite promising myself I wasn't going to participate

October

Not a Day I Don't Miss (Those Rude Interruptions) — RWRB, T, 2k

Or, a Henry character study set during the week following Henry running from the lake house, loosely inspired by Taylor Swift's "Last Kiss". Written for firstprince week.

November

Red, White, and Royal Switcheroo — RWRB, T, 6k

Or, a body swap au set during Alex's "make nice" trip to England in which Alex and Henry have to play at being each other, and Alex discovers Henry's role is, in fact, very much not much easier to play. Written for Halloween, Huh?

Every Time My Heart Swings Back to You — RWRB, M, ~90k (ongoing)

Or, a reincarnation au set mostly in the modern era with college students Alex and Henry trying to piece together the story of their past lives as a knight and a prince through a series of non-linear flashbacks.

December

Trying my best to finish reincarnation au while also plotting out a very ambitious fic for a new fandom (mysterious lotus casebook) that I'll be trying to tackle in 2024. Also the month I got super into cdramas/c-ent.

--

Wow, compiling all this made me realize I wrote a whole lot more than I thought: posting 9 stories and writing around 50k new words! I also participated in a lot more fan events than ever before and finally begin sharing the story that's been living in my brain and docs only for almost three years. All in all, a very satisfying year for me while also looking forward to new projects in 2024~

I'm probably one of the last wants to get to this but tagging a few others who I don't think have done this (let me know though if you have) @14carrotghoul @formorewishes @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @celaestis1 @celeritas2997 @cricketnationrise, plus open tag because I'd love to see anyone else's writing year in review~

[the-gentleman-mermaid]

an assortment of aziraphale/crowley fic recs

Some fics I loved!

ask, and ye shall receive.  500 words.

Smite me, Crowley thinks one day, about three or four days into the Beginning of the World. He feels rather daring about it, especially when God doesn’t answer. Puts a bit of a swagger in his slither.

Crowley gets exactly what he asked for, kind of.  Excellent.

Recommended Reviews for A.Z. Fell and Co.  2k.  @itsclydebitches​ 

Yelp Reviews for Aziraphale’s bookshop.  Hilarious.  

untitled.  1k.  @thelibrarina​

An account of a visit to A.Z. Fell and Co. on a rare occasion that it’s open.  The place is run by a cryptid and his pet snake.

Someday I'll walk out of here again.  4k.

“You forget, we’re different.”

“I’ve never forgotten—”

“You forget people treat us differently.”

And for the first time, Aziraphale realized that perhaps Crowley’s sullen mood wasn’t just run-of-the-mill demon attitude.

(The boys get stuck in a cellar. Aziraphale has pleasant memories of the place, while Crowley does...not. Post Not-Pocalypse.)

Secrets from the past!  Feelings!  Very minor peril!

i'd like for you and i to go romancing.  7k.

In which people keep mistaking Crowley and Aziraphale for a couple, and Aziraphale starts to wonder if there might be something to it.

Excellent voices, and so sweet.

flightless bird (dumb, wild, and free).  14k.

There is a story that circulates among the Host. It is a whispered tale – not that there are mouths to whisper, here, at the beginning of creation, or if there are, there are too many. It is only the second story since creation.

It is said that, in the beginning, when God made the angels, She made some of them flawed. Aziraphale is beginning to suspect he may be one of them.

Not a fallen Aziraphale story, but one in which he wonders through the ages if something is wrong with him.  He likes associating with a demon, after all.

Bloom.  3k.  @aisalynn​

“Well, you are an ambitious gardener aren’t you?” The woman nodded down at the plant he had placed on the counter. “Not an easy one to take care of.  They require near perfect conditions. And they rarely bloom.”      

A full, toothy smile spread its way across the demon’s face. For the first time since he came into the shop the woman fell silent, an uneasy expression taking over her face as she looked up at his. It was not a nice smile.   “Oh,” Crowley purred, “it will bloom for me.”

Crowley acquires a new plant, Aziraphale moves in, and ineffable questions are asked.  Wonderful.

like champagne on my tongue.  2k.

"I'm sobering up."  

Aziraphale's face falters briefly from its soft, fond look into something that maybe most closely resembles panic. He rearranges it instantly, but it still happened. "No, no, don't bother, my dear."

Crowley sways, eyes narrowed. Aziraphale's hands don't move away after he steadies him. The suspicion that Aziraphale has sobered up at some point this evening without telling him gains another tally in favour.

"Aziraphale, I'm pickled," he complains, but he doesn't sober up quite yet anyway.

Crowley tries to bring up a particular subject a few times, but he begins to suspect Aziraphale already knows.  This one is just so quiet and intimate.

above us, only sky.  6k.  @stammiviktor

The worst part of Armageddon, Crowley estimates, won’t actually be the boiled dolphins. No, it’s the after. It’s the War.

“You know what will happen,” Aziraphale says in a very small voice.      

“…It doesn’t really bear thinking about.”

They have always had an unspoken fear about what could happen at the End.  At least until after the End, when they finally speak about it.  Feelings!

     (apologies if you’re on Tumblr and I didn’t tag you)