Whee! Fic!
Okay, ficcing was so not on the agenda for today... But as you know, the best-laid plans et cetera.
And thus, I wrote fic. A short while ago, I asked for prompts for some quick teeny!fics. Basically, I hoped to write them during my holiday, but that obviously didn't happen. I also remember distinctly excluding telperion1's kind of "teeny"!fic that clocked in at over 2,000 words, but... well... ahem... 1,400 words is not quite the same, is it? *looks hopeful*
tanaquilotr was one of the people who responded and she asked for Supernatural: When/how did Ellen find out that Dean brought Sam back and what did she think/do about that?
Apparently, my muses are still firmly lodged in the SPN verse because today they came up with the answer.
Posted over at mooncross_fic, currently MembersOnly because it hasn't been beta'ed yet, and it's very likely that I'll find many things that could be improved when I look it over in a couple of days.
Look Beyond The Road We're Driving
Years of serving drinks to self-contained hunters or hearing their drunken confessions had honed Ellen's senses razor sharp, and every instinct told her something was just not right.
And thus, I wrote fic. A short while ago, I asked for prompts for some quick teeny!fics. Basically, I hoped to write them during my holiday, but that obviously didn't happen. I also remember distinctly excluding telperion1's kind of "teeny"!fic that clocked in at over 2,000 words, but... well... ahem... 1,400 words is not quite the same, is it? *looks hopeful*
tanaquilotr was one of the people who responded and she asked for Supernatural: When/how did Ellen find out that Dean brought Sam back and what did she think/do about that?
Apparently, my muses are still firmly lodged in the SPN verse because today they came up with the answer.
Posted over at mooncross_fic, currently MembersOnly because it hasn't been beta'ed yet, and it's very likely that I'll find many things that could be improved when I look it over in a couple of days.
Look Beyond The Road We're Driving
Years of serving drinks to self-contained hunters or hearing their drunken confessions had honed Ellen's senses razor sharp, and every instinct told her something was just not right.