(no subject)
I think, fingers crossed, that I may have found my prodigal muse. I've written more fic words in the last three days than I have in months. Or, maybe Will and Helen just inspire me. Either way, I'll take it.
* * *
ceilidh already finished her challenge fic and that's making me feel like a slacker. Plus, I feel we need a new challenge for her, since she finished it already and we'll all benefit. Callie, what should we do next. You finished first, so you decide!
* * *
The fic I'm working on instead of my challenge fic is apparently a tour of all episodes of Sanctuary through Will's memories juxtaposed against a present tense story possibly set after OOTB. I'm really pleased with it so far, except the fact that sheikah seems to like the Kate and Will friendship better than the rest of it. XD
Cheer me on?
Working Title: Curios
Fandom: Sanctuary
Length: currently 2343 words (and I'm only 2 episodes in, oh god help)
Pairing: Will/Helen, Declan/Kate, Kate/Henry
Rating: Weirdly, no smut I'm pretty sure, so PG
Her office was like her, normal at first glance, odd in an indefinable way at second, beautiful at third, and breathtaking at fourth, and that was before he started digging into the minutia. Up on the roof, with her in that wraparound thing, her chest bare and her neck barely covered against the wind in her hair, he’d thought she looked cold. He’d thought, maybe she was just a colleague, a woman with sad eyes who’d spent too much time alone. Maybe she wanted something simple, to get warm, to feel safe like he’d told Alexei everyone did, to share the view.
He’d been wrong. Sort of.
She had Big Foot for a butler, was one hundred and fifty-seven years old, had a daughter who looked like a younger sister but had been spawned by Jack the Ripper. Who by the way, yeah, was not only her patient, but also her lover, and who’d been here in Old City, tonight.
If a prostitute turned up dead, was he criminally negligent? Was she?
That didn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the weird, not even the surface of what he’d seen. She’d said look beyond, dare to believe, and he’d remembered.
She was there.
When his mother died saving him, Helen Magnus had been there. No teenage monster hunter, no brunette Buffy he might be able to reconcile, but this woman, one hundred and fifty-seven years young had lifted him from the ground, held him. The voice he’d heard over and over in his dreams.
It’s all right. You’re safe now.
Will wanted to scream, to laugh, to dance, to drown. In one day, she’d turned his life upside down, and it wasn’t even the first time.
Yet...
Looking back on it later, none of that was what he remembered. Oh, sure, he’d never forget his first look at Biggie, at Sally, at two-faced guy who still gave him a different name every time he talked to him (because I’m two-faced, dude, don’t you get it?). He’d never forget his first view of Old City from the Sanctuary roof or the first time Ashley said she might’ve underestimated him.
What stood out for him from that day, though, were her hands on her desk, manicured and elegant, and impossibly prim. Tight, restrained hands, pinched together, like they held everything in, held the purse of her secrets shut, Pandora’s box, closed to keep in the tiny flicker of hope in her eyes’ well of sorrows.
* * *
I have all the work and tags in the world and all I want to do is write fic. Oh help.
Oh, right. I finally posted that other fic last night. It's over here, if you missed it or you care.
* * *
ceilidh already finished her challenge fic and that's making me feel like a slacker. Plus, I feel we need a new challenge for her, since she finished it already and we'll all benefit. Callie, what should we do next. You finished first, so you decide!
* * *
The fic I'm working on instead of my challenge fic is apparently a tour of all episodes of Sanctuary through Will's memories juxtaposed against a present tense story possibly set after OOTB. I'm really pleased with it so far, except the fact that sheikah seems to like the Kate and Will friendship better than the rest of it. XD
Cheer me on?
Working Title: Curios
Fandom: Sanctuary
Length: currently 2343 words (and I'm only 2 episodes in, oh god help)
Pairing: Will/Helen, Declan/Kate, Kate/Henry
Rating: Weirdly, no smut I'm pretty sure, so PG
Her office was like her, normal at first glance, odd in an indefinable way at second, beautiful at third, and breathtaking at fourth, and that was before he started digging into the minutia. Up on the roof, with her in that wraparound thing, her chest bare and her neck barely covered against the wind in her hair, he’d thought she looked cold. He’d thought, maybe she was just a colleague, a woman with sad eyes who’d spent too much time alone. Maybe she wanted something simple, to get warm, to feel safe like he’d told Alexei everyone did, to share the view.
He’d been wrong. Sort of.
She had Big Foot for a butler, was one hundred and fifty-seven years old, had a daughter who looked like a younger sister but had been spawned by Jack the Ripper. Who by the way, yeah, was not only her patient, but also her lover, and who’d been here in Old City, tonight.
If a prostitute turned up dead, was he criminally negligent? Was she?
That didn’t even begin to scratch the surface of the weird, not even the surface of what he’d seen. She’d said look beyond, dare to believe, and he’d remembered.
She was there.
When his mother died saving him, Helen Magnus had been there. No teenage monster hunter, no brunette Buffy he might be able to reconcile, but this woman, one hundred and fifty-seven years young had lifted him from the ground, held him. The voice he’d heard over and over in his dreams.
It’s all right. You’re safe now.
Will wanted to scream, to laugh, to dance, to drown. In one day, she’d turned his life upside down, and it wasn’t even the first time.
Yet...
Looking back on it later, none of that was what he remembered. Oh, sure, he’d never forget his first look at Biggie, at Sally, at two-faced guy who still gave him a different name every time he talked to him (because I’m two-faced, dude, don’t you get it?). He’d never forget his first view of Old City from the Sanctuary roof or the first time Ashley said she might’ve underestimated him.
What stood out for him from that day, though, were her hands on her desk, manicured and elegant, and impossibly prim. Tight, restrained hands, pinched together, like they held everything in, held the purse of her secrets shut, Pandora’s box, closed to keep in the tiny flicker of hope in her eyes’ well of sorrows.
* * *
I have all the work and tags in the world and all I want to do is write fic. Oh help.
Oh, right. I finally posted that other fic last night. It's over here, if you missed it or you care.