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Escapades of an Askbox Fic Fairy

@escapadesofanaskboxficfairy / escapadesofanaskboxficfairy.tumblr.com

Just a place for this fic fairy to collect her writings and all the appreciation sent her way for rainy days.
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ciara-jane
Anonymous asked:

It's not the first time the TARDIS has moved the jacket to the front of his closet. He glares. "I know it's there." She huffs, and pokes him. "I'll give it to her, yeah? When —" He swallows. "When the time is right." Except that's the problem, isn't it? He never knows when the time is right, can't see her timelines much at all. He's not sure what that means. "I'll give Rose that leather jacket you made her." It's just a jacket, he tries to tell himself. Just a TARDIS-blue one that matches his.

Oh gosh, hello anon! I love this! This is precious and JUST GIVE IT TO HER, DOCTOR. Thank you, lovely anon

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fleurdeneuf

Sequel to this earlier fic:

The sirens rouse him from a half-doze, all the sleep he ever gets; he would ignore them, but these are different, more insistent, on every frequency on the spectrum, impossible to block out. His guards are gone; he’s almost too exhausted to even wonder about that. Almost. The door hisses open, the dim glow of backup lighting spilling into his cell from the doorway. Only one person, but he would know Rose blind in a crowd. Her gait, her breathing, he knows by heart, though they’re rushed now, nervous, quick, shallow. Swallowing, he turns his head towards her, mumbling through swollen lips. “Rose. What’s happening?” For her, the words are urgent. “Not sure. Think the planet’s about to blow up or somethin’. Can you run?” Her voice wavers as she reaches for his manacles. The locks release, and he slumps into her arms; she staggers back under his sudden weight, despite his malnourished state. “Did they say anything?” He sets a hand on her shoulder, slowly stands, sways. She wraps her arm around his waist, and he takes a first unsteady step towards the exit. “Did who say anything when?” She sounds distracted, and perhaps he should be preoccupied with escaping, but something about this irks him. “I don’t know,” he says, as he stares into the maze of corridors. “This way,” she directs him softly, and he lets her lead.

It hits him, later, in the infirmary, as the TARDIS fusses over him. Rose is applying a dermal regenerator and still won’t meet his eyes. “You did that,” he says quietly. “It was their bomb.” She concentrates harder, far beyond what the task at hand requires. An entire planet, an entire species, gone. Because one human girl had the gall to want to save him. “It was wrong.” These words feel wrong, as he bites them out, but he can’t help it. “You can’t do that, Rose, you can’t —” She cuts him off. “But I can.” Those words, so simple in all her human innocence, he feels echo in the marrow of the universe. “And I have.” She meets his eyes for a long moment. “I want you safe.” His wounds close, and he fears for every world there is.

Anonymous askbox fic fairy, why must you hurt me so??????????

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A Fic Fairy wrote:

This universe needs a Doctor. Rose needs a Doctor, because her half-human (far too human) Doctor is gone and she knows what it is to outlive everyone you love, her only company self-important naïve Torchwood personnel and the golden wolf dozing in some far corner of her mind, and she is so alone. She drowns herself in field work, despite protests about how valuable she is to the agency, far too valuable to risk like that — because if there is a Doctor to be found, it will be out among the stars, among the bizarre and dangerous and wonderful. Hope wears away at her, though, and so she tucks it beside the wolf, beside her past, beside a lonely beach in Norway and an even lonelier bedside in Torchwood’s intensive care wing, and focuses on saving the universe one more time.
It’s in a department store, a towering forty-third construct but a department store nonetheless, that she pulls a blond-haired woman away from a sparking console, and an all-too familiar current flashes up her fingers, and sudden tears prick her gaze. “Doctor,” Rose whispers, as the woman yanks her arm away from her, opening her mouth to ask, furiously, she knows, just what Rose thinks she’s doing, and who is she anyways? Shuddering, taking in the hoodie, the fingerless gloves, the sonic in her hand, the dark roots — like her own platinum-dyed hair, far too long ago — Rose reaches for her hand again, unable to stop herself. Rose needs her Doctor, and the Doctor needs Rose, he told her long ago. “Doctor, you don’t know me yet, but my name is Rose Tyler.” A tremor rocks the building, rocks both of them — Rose can see it in her eyes — as she laces their fingers together. “Run.”
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He knows Rose by sight: yellow hair and pink cheeks and a wide smile, bright eyes and soft curves (that he hasn’t spent several seconds too long staring at; admiring, possibly, but not drooling over…) He knows her by ear: the shrill force behind her tone when she’s angry, the firework melody of her laugh, the dropped “r” in his name (and he doesn’t miss it one bit). He knows her by touch: her shoulder against his side as they’re tossed about in a rough landing, her body warm and solid and delicate in his arms as she hugs him, her fingers laced with his (and he’ll never admit he lives for those moments, when she clasps his hand in hers and grins). He knows her by smell: strawberry shampoo and honey melon lip gloss, hot musk of adrenaline and sweat, and sometimes a hint of wild, savory, her arousal (but it’s not for him; it couldn’t be for him, no matter how much he might wish it were). All these he has catalogued, carefully, collecting memories of this precious girl any chance he can, for the time when her time is up (when her time is up and his isn’t, and he already hates that day with every fiber of his being). Only by taste does he not know her, yet, desperately wants to. He wants to slide his lips against hers (as he pulls her to him, wrapping his arms around her). He wants to feel her pulse under his tongue, on her wrist, on her neck (as she lets out a gasp, a whimper of pleasure). He wants to take her tendons between his teeth, leave crescents of red marks on her skin to shout “Mine!” (marks he hopes she’d trace later, a smile on her face, wanting to be his as much as he wants to be hers). And as much as he tries to push it away, as much as he tells himself to be content with what he has (so much of her already, far more than he deserves), the more desire rises up, strong, ravenous, and the more she seems to lick her lips when she looks at him. The TARDIS whispers that it’s really only a matter of time before he has new sense memories to cherish (to torture himself with, in a few decades), and he almost believes her.

I have been blessed with fic! This is so fantastic thank you thankyouthankyou <3 <3 <3 I read this as Ten but it would work so well for Nine too and oh, be still my shipper heart. Smut! Angst! It has it all!  This bit was especially heartbreaking tho: “collecting memories of this precious girl any chance he can, for the time when her time is up (when her time is up and his isn’t, and he already hates that day with every fiber of his being).” Just throw me into the sun. 

Thank you *so* much. I love it! And you! 

A m a z i n g 

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Love Writ on Skin

Slowly, her tongue covering her upper lip in concentration, Rose drew the tip of the pen over his skin. Her handwriting was neat anyways, her “i"s dotted carefully, but she wanted this to be perfect, and with one last flourish — “There. You can look now.”

The Doctor opened those lovely brown eyes and tilted his head down to see the letters on his chest, seeming to have no trouble reading upside down. “I’m never going to leave you.” He sucked in a breath. “Rose…”

She pulled on her lip with her teeth, trying to interpret the unreadable maelstrom in his eyes, and then set her jaw defiantly. “Well, I’m not.”

I love you, she wouldn’t say, not yet, but she traced it almost idly with a finger on his bare hip, pushing down the sheet to continue on his thigh, and she read his understanding in the flutter of his eyelashes.

Suddenly, he propped himself up on one elbow and reached for the pen. “It’s my turn.” A split second, he hesitated, before he set it to her skin, just above her bare right breast. Yet his strokes were quick, as if he wanted this over with as fast as possible — then he lingered on the last line, went over his previous ones again, almost wistful.

It was short, something in the geometric language she now recognized as Gallifreyan. “What does it say, Doctor?”

He swallowed, meeting her gaze, and his voice trembled ever-so-slightly as he said, “When we met, I took your hand —” he laced his fingers through hers— “and I one word, just one word. I said, ‘Run.’”

Thank you, Fic Fairy! This was lovely!!
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ciara-jane
Anonymous asked:

The Doctor's arms are wrapped around her, the back of his thumb just brushing the underside of her breast, as he holds her against him and she holds her breath, counting the bootsteps as they pass on the other side of the door, counting the seconds until it safe again. It's the third bloody tiny closet they've ducked into in this place, and by now this is almost routine; Rose wonders if he's doing it on purpose. (1/2)

(2/2) Carefully, she lets out her breath, leaning her head back against him, and musters her courage. “You know, Doctor,” she says softly, laying her hands over his, hoping she hits just the right tone of teasing, “If you wanted to cop a feel, all you had to do was say so.” The breath he sucks in, the way he stiffens (in every sense of the word) isn’t her imagination, and she grins and shifts his hands up, just a smidge.*squee* I read part of the first thing at work and got a bit worried it’d get flagged (have yet to figure out the work filters, and I’ve been there 14 years…). Naughty closet funtimes! Confined spaces? Sign me up! You’re a lovely anon, thank you for gracing me with this delight!

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fleurdeneuf
Anonymous asked:

They won't let him out of the manacles — he is The Doctor, intelligent and wily and dangerous, their precious alien specimen to poke and prod and ogle — but since he refuses to eat unless it's Rose feeding him, refuses to say a single word unless he sees her safe and sound and cared-for every single day, they allow this. (1/?)

(2/?) Her eyes fill with sorrow and desperate promises the moment she walks into his cell, carrying his meal — a bowl of silfaberries today, a rare treat, so he must be low enough on vitamins for even them to notice — and, for her, he tries to seem in less pain than he is. (It seems their captors buy it, because afterwards the voltage is ramped up, or the dosage, or frequency. He can’t tell if she does.) Carefully, she plucks one berry from the dish, and sets it to his lips.
(3/?) Carefully, he takes it, letting it burst over his tongue — slightly fermented, old, a little spoiled — nonetheless savors it. Carefully, she watches until he’s swallowed, then feeds him the second, and the third.
(4/6) They’re not permitted to speak to one another, but they converse nonetheless, him looking her over, her shaking her head nearly imperceptibly — /No, I’m fine/ — her taking in the new color of his IV, the new incisions since yesterday and the old ones scarring over, him smiling at her — /I’m fine, we’ll be fine/ — if he can manage it.
(5/6) As she presses the last berry to his lips, she lingers, tracing the curve, the dried blood on them from where the Zarkovian scientists investigated his gums and teeth earlier. He meets her eyes, and something snaps, sparks — rage, in her, simmering, bursting into an inferno; fear, in him, of his own helplessness, of what she might feel forced to do, and something else, something shared, something he dare not try to name.
(6/6) Her shoulders straighten, and she deliberately brushes her fingers over his lips again, over the scabs, and brings them to her own lips, an indirect kiss. “Rose,” — the blow to the back of his head comes nearly immediately, but he continues, “don’t do it.” Her gaze only darkens, and he can sense the storm brewing, already nearly bursting, as she’s slapped across the cheek as well — another part of his punishment — and led away again.

(I couldn’t choose between them, so am going with both.)

Oh my goodness, thank you, anonymous askbox fic fairy!!!  You do know what I like ;) although my heart is breaking for the Doctor, and the angst has me rather compromised…..will we get a chance to see what happens next?  Will they escape???  Will they get back to the TARDIS and resolve this angsty UST?????

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Anonymous asked:

It's there, in the glint in Helen's eyes when she looks at him, in the way his fingers brush over her wrist as she hands him the thermometer, too delicately to be anything but deliberate. (James is surprised the instrument continues to show room temperature between their palms.) Magnetism, spark, all that Helen is (steel, sharp and strong) and all Nikola specializes in (can't keep away from). He doesn't know whether to hope no one else (John, the pair themselves) has noticed, or hope they have.

Ahh, this is so lovely!!!

I looooove Oxford Teslen being obviously in love and not quite realizing it (and drawn to each other like magnets, what a perfect analogy

Thank you fic anon!!!

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Anonymous asked:

The Doctor soon emerged from the room at full tilt, his shoes covered in slime. He tossed her an object the size and shape of a green football, heavier than it looked, and dragged her down the hallway with him. “What is it?” Rose had no choice but to gingerly cradle the slippery thing to her chest as they ran. “You’re doing the laundry for this, you know.” (1/2)

(2/2) “It’s her"—he tilted his head behind them—"egg.” A giant, snake-headed stork hissed as it caught sight of them. “And I can’t get to the mainframe with her in there.” He squeezed her hand, a brief apology, and Rose nodded, continuing down the hall as he ducked into an alcove and let them both pass. “Next time, though, Doctor,” she called, “you’re the bloody distraction, or else I’m telling the TARDIS to shrink all your socks!”

(dammit i dont know how to put the vertical line)

THANK YOU ASKBOX FAIRY! I adore the domestic banter and the animal-hybrid-ish alien! 

(ps bless you for sending it twice,shady. Ive been so lazy to get on a laptop and your 2nd send got my butt to one!)

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Anonymous asked:

There's a sort of click in his mind, when everything falls into place justl as it should, a potential timeline crystallizing and becoming reality, and the universe hums contentedly. He lives for those rare moments. He'd wished to feel it as he'd ended one of the most horrific wars of all time and space, obliterated his home and two entire races. But of course the universe was not so kind. And yet — then he grabbed a girl's hand in a department store basement, and in that moment the vortex sang.

Askbox fic? For me?

Thank you so much, Nonny! I’m honored

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ciara-jane
Anonymous asked:

When he reached for her, it was to save her life. It wasn't that he was in no danger, but she was in more, and what was his life worth, anyways? If he could rescue one human girl... When the Doctor clasped Rose's hand, he thought he was saving her. Yet in the end it was she who pulled him back from the abyss the horrors of the Time War had led him to; in the end it was she who saved him.

!!! The askbox fairy has blessed me with with fic! EEEEEE! My heart flutters at this. SHE DID SAVE HIM. YES YES YESSSSSSSS PREACH, YOU DELIGHTFUL ASKBOX FAIRY!

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Anonymous asked:

No one was allowed in Magnus' laboratory without her. Yet when this man raided her store of platinum and blew the newly-installed electrical wiring, she just shook her head, smiling, thanked Noru for informing her, dismissed xir apologies, and said, "It's fine. He'll fix it." No one was allowed to disturb the Doctor in her office after dinner outside of emergencies, but he insisted, and when xe attempted to keep the arrogant meatbag from barging past, Magnus cut through the commotion. (1/2)

(2/2) Dr. Magnus thanked Noru for xir vigilance, and invited the man inside, handing him a glass of wine. No one not associated with the Sanctuary was even supposed to set foot beyond the front area, but Magnus drew him with her, not only through the Abnormal housing area but back to her bedroom. One of the first things Noru learned as Helen Magnus’ blood-indebted bodyguard was that, for some reason, her rules didn’t apply to Nikola Tesla.

AHHHHHHH THANK YOU ANON ILY

This is ADORABLE. I love the idea of someone super loyal to Helen who just Does Not Get why she seems so fond of this ridiculous dork (arrogant meatbag lolololol omg beautiful XD).

And Helen trusting Nikola with her Science Things!

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fleurdeneuf
Anonymous asked:

"I am so impressive!" He wasn't insecure. He didn't care what anyone else thought; he did what he had to do, saved the bloody world, and he was paying the price. The universe could stuff its opinions. But this girl, this human with her bleached blond hair and breathtaking brown eyes, she merely looked at him, tongue tucked between the teeth of her skeptical, teasing grin, and suddenly what she thought of him was as important to him as air.

Squee!  Thank you, thank you @escapadesofanaskboxficfairy!!!  I couldn’t choose just one gif, so here, have three:

That’s it…that’s the episode.  (What do you mean there’s plot too?!)  ;)

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Anonymous asked:

"Is this okay? Doctor?" Rose's soft voice, accompanied by a gentle tug on the ropes around her wrists, draws her out of the quiet moment previously marked only by the beat of her hearts and deep breaths and the skim of Rose's fingers over her skin. "Yes." The word takes effort to form, and she closes her eyes. "Good." Rose wraps an arm around her from behind and settles herself down, her thighs straddling the kneeling Doctor's bound ankles. (1/2)

(2/2) Rose leans her head against her back, her breaths warm through the thin oxford, and then begins combing through the hair at the nape of her neck. The Doctor hums her appreciation. “You were fantastic, you know that?” Rose murmurs. “You did what you had to do. You saved so many people. It’s not your fault, do you hear me? You were brilliant. You always are.” The Doctor bows her head, blinking, her lashes wet as tears begin to form, and exhales slowly in relief.
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Anonymous asked:

Trixellians are not common sights on Earth, and Rose is more wary, now, after the other night, her gaze darting about as she strides through the city streets. Any shade of blue even close to the bounty hunters' neon scales sends her heart pounding and her hand reflexively darting to clutch the Doctor's fobwatch around her neck. She fights not to whirl around, forcing herself to examine it discreetly. It's always innocuous, someone's jacket or a shop sign, but that never puts her mind at rest.

oh, look, I’ve been visited by a fic fairy! :D thank you, this is wonderful!

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Anonymous asked:

"Doctor?" Rose gripped one of the coral struts, her skin suddenly ashen, and shuddered. "Something's wrong." The Doctor's eyes widened with alarm, but then she schooled her features and approached Rose, hand outstretched, voice even. "I need you to come here. Everything's going to be fine. Just come here." Rose took her hand, stumbling as a spasm wracked her. "Doctor, what's happening?" (1/2)

Why would you ever not finish this masterpiece you graced my ibox with

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Anonymous asked:

"It's done." He lingered in the doorway. "James and I have already started work on a second model, a longer-term cryostasis unit, but we can't wait any longer. The embryo may have already implanted —" "I know, Nikola." Helen glared at him, one hand splayed protectively over her abdomen, and inhaled. "I'm sure they're already preparing for the surgery. I'll be down a moment." He reached for her hand, gently pressed it. "I'm sorry, Helen." She nodded, offering him a ghost of a smile.

I’M IN PAIN

MY DARLINGS

also omg this fits perfectly with my headcanon that Nikola helped her freeze Ashley and was all supportive and there was Angst

and is that a continuity nod to Gregory because if so I love it

THANK YOU FIC ANON ILY

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