Today:
Overall:
I didn't take a nap today, so what the hell happened to my writing all the things, you ask? I have no idea. I got home around 3:30pm and went downstairs to suck on a vanilla milkshake and watch TV with my dad; we watching the better part of Back to the Future II (with commercials, ew) on Space, and then I came upstairs to quickly reschedule a guild run and grab Super Mario Sunshine. I played that for about twenty minutes and then dinner, and with dinner came two eps of Castle (S2, since I'm still catching up).
And now here I am, with dishes washed and nothing on the docket for the rest of the night, save go to bed.
So go to bed I will, as I start work at 11am every day this week, which gives me plenty of time to play catch-up. I did it back in November, I can do it now.
...you hear me, Brain? YOU WILL DO IT NOW.
In lieu of an excerpt I give you a fic from 2008. You can find all relevant header info
HERE. Hey. It's an SGA fic. Sorta. It TOTALLY counts.
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John Sheppard was fully expecting to wake up an infirmary, but this one wasn't quite the one he had been hoping for. He had been hoping to be home, on Atlantis, not in a tiny room, antiseptic and well-ordered though it was. The doctor that stood over him, checking vitals and administering drugs, was far too young, John thought, but then again, working with the genius brain-children of the Milky Way, it wasn't too alarming. And the sense of movement, the vibration of a ship's engine, was comforting, because it meant he was no longer wherever he had been previously.
John looked into the blue eyes that regarded him expertly and decided that it wasn't time to really wake up just yet. He closed his eyes and let whatever drugs he had been given take their course. He had been afraid of the dreams that would come; being kidnapped and tortured did that to a person, and no amount of drugs could eliminate the nightmares that came with such treatment. But the nightmares never came. Instead, his head was filled with sunshine and dancing in verdant fields surrounded by flowers. What the hell? Never, in a million years, would he ever dream these things. If he had to dream this idyllically, it'd be about flying. He'd either be flying a fighter jet back on Earth (and the exaltation at the thought of earth is really incongruous, too. He doesn't miss the place that damned much...), or flapping his arms as hard as he can and taking wing over the aforementioned fields. As soon as these thoughts crossed his mind, the dreams shifted, and essentially corrected themselves, and that unsettled him just a bit. But they weren't the nightmares he had been dreading, so he wasn't complaining.
When he awoke once more, it was to the sense of being watched. He had no idea who it was, or why they were watching him, but they were there just as surely as he was still lying on the table in the infirmary. He blinked slowly, trying to get the world back into focus, and turned his head to where the doc had been working previously. No one was there, so he turned to the other side, and there, perched on the sideboard, was a young girl, wearing a flimsy looking dress. Her knees were drawn up to her chin and her bare feet resting along the edge of her perch. Her hands rested idly at her ankles, and her keen gaze raked over him like a mother hen's.
John suddenly felt self-conscious, and turned away. His displacement from home hit him anew, and the only thing keeping him from giving into his fight or flight response was the fact that he still hurt too much, and the cords and wires attached to him kept him tied down. He forced himself to breath, to relax. He was okay. These folks couldn't have had anything to do with his capture, since they were going through great pains to fixing him up. No torturer, no matter how benevolent, would completely heal their prey.
"It's okay," the quite reassurance echoed softly. The words were so soft, that it took John a moment to realize that they came from the young girl. "You're safe now. With us. No one can hurt you. Dream of flying. Flying away."
He turned to look at her again, his mouth working to speak, though no words came out.
The girl shook her head. "No words. Know everything," she said, tapping her temple. "Helped you dream. Help you heal. Heal and go home. To Earth. Earth-that-was."
John blinked and sighed. The kid was in his head. He had no idea what he thought about that. She didn't seem to be trying to hurt him, and in fact admitted to helping him by dispelling the nightmares. He swallowed thickly and closed his eyes.
"S'all right. Not time to be human again. Not ready to be whole." John could almost hear the nod of approval in her words. Her voice trailed him into sleep, as she continued, "Be here. Watching you. Keep you safe. Keep you flying. Flying with River, this time, maybe?"
And fly with River, he did.
This entry was also posted at
http://obiwanken5.dreamwidth.org/415068.html.