#magnitt

[pleasureprose]

Don't miss your train!!

[agent-troi]

adam being on team teslen is honestly so funny to me considering that both nikola and john hate his guts lmao

[tinknevertalks]

"Oh my God, I'm back again!" *coughs* to ask you:

Do you wanna write a fanfic? As they say in the film, "The sky's awake, so I'm awake, so we have to play!" It's that brilliant time of year again where we all feel festive (or have festive feelings foist upon us). Fairy lights, foil decorations, foliage inside the house; it's all there waiting for us.

So, do you like writing fic? Do you like reading fic? Do you like going to various places and saying to other fandom peeps, "Omg I love your work!"*

Then this is the fic exchange for you! Today's post is the sign up post. Under the cut will be a list of questions. All you have to do is send me either a DM or an ask with your completed questionnaire then wait for your match!

Last year was a really good laugh. We all had fun, and there was a lovely bunch of new fics available to read (which is always a good thing in that dead time between Christmas and New Year's).

Schedule!

Sign up: 26th Nov - 5th Dec

Matches sent out by 7th Dec

Touching base post: 20th Dec**

Collection open for posting: 26th Dec

Collection reveal: 31st Dec

This is open to anyone in the Sanctuary fandom, regardless of character/shipping preferences. When it comes to fic length, the minimum is 300 words. I don't really wanna give a max (because I know how the muse can get sometimes), but if we cap it around the 2k words mark that should be cool.***

I'll be posting a link to this around the place (and reblogging again this evening for the later crew), and you are more than welcome to message/contact me with any questions, queries or concerns.

Under the cut: the questions!

Username on Tumblr/AO3: (I need a method of contacting you 😊. If you have neither, pop me your email or something? We'll figure it out.)

Things I am comfortable writing: (gen or shippy? Fluff writer or angst? Family feels?)

Things I would not want to write about: (all the things you don't wanna write - characters you dislike, pairings you don't vibe with etc. Also heads up on any triggers you might have - you don't need to explain the whys.)

What I'd like to receive: (go for gold! The more info you can give, the more tailored to you the fic will be.)

What I would not like to receive: (All the things that you do not vibe with, or squick you. Please please please again with any trigger warnings - I don't want a gift to upset you. 😊)

Any other info that doesn't fit in the other questions: (General vibes, could you be a pinch hitter, any thoughts, questions, etc)

--

And that's that. 😊 Thank you for joining in, and see you December 7th with your matches!

*I love when this happens. If this is something you do, keep doing it you sparkling diamond!

**If you find you can't finish, or something comes up that means you have to pull out, please let me know so I can arrange a pinch hitter. I won't be angry or disappointed or anything because this is for fun, and your health (mental and/or physical) is more important.

**Obviously, if you find you go over a bit, don't freak out or anything. This is just for fun, after all.

And that's it! I hope you'll message and join the fun, cause just think - more Sanctuary fanfic is never ever a bad thing!

[sarcasticsciencefictionwriter]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

My 100th Sanctuary fic on AO3!

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/M

Fandom: Sanctuary (Canada TV 2008)

Relationship: Montague John Druitt/Helen Magnus

Characters: Helen Magnus Montague John Druitt

Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Emotion, Radiation Sickness, Soft, Episode: s03e09 Vigilante, Between Episodes, Literal Sleeping Together, Tenderness, So many emotions

Summary:

With her rapidly approaching mortality looming over Helen, she needs one bloody moment where she isn't reminded of it, where she can be scared and tired and in pain.

John offers that, and more, to her.

[divorcedlizbartlet]

“Touch that and I will hit you with a spoon.” + 1880s John/Helen?

AU in which John isn't corrupted right away after the source blood. Here, he and Helen have been married for a few months, and Helen is about seven months pregnant with Ashley.

John is only awake at this hour because he'd had his sleep disturbed by the absence of his wife, but as he steps into the kitchen, he wonders if he isn't still dreaming. Because the sight before him is more than unlikely.

Helen stands by the counter, stirring something in a large glass bowl, her posture made awkward by the swell of her stomach. Whatever she's working on smells wonderful, delicious and chocolatey, but that's not the most intriguing part of this tableau.

He chuckles softly, not wanting to startle her. Her eyes sparkle as she looks up at him, but he can't help but tease a little. "Helen Magnus, baking? Never thought I'd see the day."

Even with what few lamps she's lit, he can see the pretty blush spread over her cheeks. "The baby wants sweets," she says. "I felt bad waking the staff. Besides, it's just chemistry, isn't it?"

"I suppose," he agrees, eyeing the sticky concoction in the bowl. Helen turns toward the stove, which he can tell is lit by the temperature of the room, and he reaches out for a taste, but--

"Touch that and I will hit you with a spoon," his wife threatens. "Haven't I explained foodborne illness to you enough times already? There's raw eggs in there, wait until it's baked."

John decides his wisest move right now is to stand back and watch as Helen transfers the substance into a shallow pan and slides it into the oven. "And do you... know how long that will be?"

"I'm going to check it every ten minutes," she decides. "If I'm right, we should end up with something between a fudge and a cake."

That does sound appealing. "I don't suppose I could convince you to rest a bit more while we wait?"

She kisses his cheek, scratching her fingers through her hair. "You know how I feel about you distracting me from my experiments."

John grins, feeling a little dastardly tonight. He wraps his arms around her, stroking the curve of her abdomen in a way that makes her sigh. "As I recall, you seem to enjoy it more often than not."

Helen gives a huff of laughter, but then winces, and he can feel why-- the child is kicking hard enough that he can feel the tiny blows even against his own hand. She rubs her side, her mouth pursing in a displeased moue. "Sorry, my love, but these days, it appears there are limits to that sort of enjoyment."

Privately, John thinks he could expand those limits with a little creativity, but this isn't the hour for that. "No need to apologize," he assures her. "I don't suppose you were planning on sharing your new form of confectionery?"

Helen's eyes twinkle. "Only because I love you very much."

Twenty minutes later, they're seated on top of the duvet on their shared bed, a plate of delightful and chocolatey square between them. Helen gasps around her mouthful and takes his hand, laying it on the rise of her belly. "She likes them," she tells him, and he feels more of the kicks from earlier.

He quite enjoys this new invention too, but at least he manages to finish chewing before he speaks. "Does it hurt?"

She shrugs. "Only when she catches my ribs. Or kidneys. Or lungs."

John shakes his head in disbelief. "I don't really understand how it all... fits in their. Especially seeing as the child has weeks yet to go."

"Most men don't," Helen teases, taking another bite. "You lot get to be blissfully unaware... you'll disappear to the wine cellar with Nikola while I do all the work, and then when you return there will be a baby, and you don't even spare a thought for how it gets out." She huffs and cradles her stomach, making him suspect the child is getting rough again.

Quite honestly, John loathes the thought of abandoning her. But that, too, is too daring a proposition for the wee hours of the morning, so all he says is, "I am well aware of how indebted to you I am, my love." He moves closer to her on the bed and kisses her cheek. "For all eternity."

She turns to kiss him properly then, and she tastes of luxurious chocolate. "And don't you forget it."

John stretches out in the bed, and Helen sets the plate aside before joining him. "Your daughter is pleased."

"Or son?"

"No." Her voice is thick with sleep now as she nestles against him. "Daughter."

"Regardless," John sighs, "I would say your first foray into the kitchen is a resounding success."

"Enjoy it," she tells him, yawning. "I can't say it'll happen again."

John strokes her hair as she succumbs to sleep, and decides that all he's hoping for is more nights like these somewhere down the line.

They've got years and years ahead of them, after all.

[thestorieswesay]

10, 10, and 10: A Writing Game

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your ten most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don't be shy and share anyway! 

Tagged a long time ago on a tumblr wherever @sarcasticsciencefictionwriter lives... I have written very little recently and I published a lot of original work this year but it says fanfic and fanfic you shall have. Thanks, Sarcastic, for thinking of me even when I was gone!

After copying all the lines, I have discovered many things. 1) I love some of these stories more than anything and I'm so proud of them. 2) I need to finish these series/stories because it's been too long. 3) I can't count/flubbed to 11 lines like twice because it was at the end of a paragraph and just read better with that last extra line (sue me). 4) I use WAAAAAY too many run-ons, like this should be a CRIME. It IS a crime. I swear the stories are good if you can overlook that major flaw in the design.

Spoilers through Season Three of Sanctuary. Some of the excerpts have implied noncon and major character death, but nothing actually happens in the posted excerpts. 'Excerpts' no longer looks like a word.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

She is surprised to see him here. He's been gone more than he's been in these days. She hasn't slept in 46 hours and when those fleeting strands find her these days, she is not in her own bed. She is in Ashley's. Her beautiful girl - their beautiful girl. All blonde curls and sparkling laughter, her mother's bright blue eyes and her father's sense of absolute justice. It had been bad enough to lose James. To lose Clara. But Ashley? "A parent should never have to bury their child," he says quietly, coming to sit beside her on their lost child's bed.

...a million little times

He ambushes Magnus in her office with a cup of tea (along with a stiff shot of whisky) before she heads back to her room for the evening. They sit on her sofa, side-by-side, and he asks her if she wants to talk. "I couldn't talk about Ashley just now, I'm afraid," she replies, a bit stiffly, and he gives her what he hopes is a disarming smile. "How about happier times?" He asks, bringing the delicate teacup to his mouth. He thinks of the way he'd swallowed Nikola down the night before and almost chokes on it at the heady memory. "Do you need to talk about James?" She guesses and he feels his heart sink a little at that. "James was very special to me," he remarks sadly. "I know that the two of you were... intimate," she offers gently. "Ah, that we were. We had mostly stopped the physical side of things as the years went on, the limitations of the suit, you know? But we were together emotionally even if we drifted a bit there at the end."

and I was catching my breath (and I was catching my death)

"So you're telling me that this was a big waste of time?" Nikola asks, tone clearly teasing, as they continue to rummage through the various items strewn across the moldering library. Helen is arms-deep in the ornate, wooden desk, sorting through stacks of hopelessly yellowed papers, peering at the ancient, spidery scrawl. She pauses to frown at the man pulling books out of the shelves, watching him flip through them. He is pulling a face at all the rot and mildew on the shelves. "Depends on how you feel about tenants' records dating up to 1873." "Terrible year for rents. Excellent year for burgundies," he replies, struggling to replace a book on the shelf and settling for tossing it into the floor instead. It hits the stone floor with a damp smack and falls open to a random page.

colours you know I can't see with anyone else

The back room is quiet, one small table and two chairs jammed into what might have been a closet off of the kitchen. The table is positively filled with every kind of cured Italian delight and a bottle of wine that Declan hopes is on the house because if that date is any indication, he simply does not get paid enough for this place. But they are alone and Nikola is playing with one of the many forks while Declan busies himself straightening the napkin across his lap for the hundredth time. He is wearing the nicest suit he owns, which is to say, his only proper three-piece. He'd brought it for Ashley Magnus' funeral but there had not been an open service. Nikola is wearing a suit Declan has never seen before, which is to say, the same as every time he sees him. He wonders if the man ever wears the same outfit twice. What a life to live, spending money on wine and clothes beyond Declan's imagination. But then, if he were immortal and eternally youthful, he thinks he would have developed a taste for the finer things in life as well. He studies the other man carefully, letting his eyes linger on that generous mouth, smiling so easily, and that long throat, accentuated by an elaborately-tied cravat instead of a tie.

Blood is Compulsory

It's the only thought in his mind, finally shutting out all of the noise, all the light, all the constant cacophony that has pursued and sustained him for over one hundred and fifty years. Helen is going to die. Soon she will begin to cough, begin to choke. Her organs will fail her, leaving her a damaged, collapsing body of lost and broken parts. Her magic, effervescent blood will fail her. There will be nothing left but a small, desiccated husk to finally put in the ground, beside Nigel and James and everyone else he has ever cared about. He pours over the blood samples, agonizes over his notes. Pours himself another glass of wine only to abandon it and drink straight from the bottle. He's not a medical doctor by any sort of formal training but he knows blood more than anyone perhaps ever will. He isn't a vampire anymore but above all else, he knows blood. 

Did I close my fist around something delicate?

It was never supposed to come to this. They had participated in the forbidden experiments with one goal in mind - unlocking knowledge of the mysterious creatures that shadowed their world, giving them insight, and perhaps something more. She is hale and healthy and her cells show a slower pattern of growth and degradation. John can change his location at the blink of an eye. James is more intelligent perhaps than anyone has ever been before. Nigel can become invisible at will. But Nikola... His change is the most violent, the most unpredictable. Unlike the others, he had screamed during the transformation - and it is a transformation in every sense of the word. Nikola is no longer human. And such a change has consequences.

a secret language I can't speak with anyone else

The assault on the London Sanctuary had not followed the same pattern as the other locations the super abnormal soldiers had hit. Instead of just a full-frontal assault, it had been more akin to a smash and grab. Declan had arrived in the lab assigned to Nikola Tesla in time to see the man in fierce combat with one of the super abnormals. It wasn't Ashley Magnus, thank God, but one of the other ones, a man. The man had Nikola bent backwards over the table he had been working on, claws extended, holding the scientist's wrists in both hands. Tesla's own claws had been out, his eyes dark red bordering on black. He had been hissing and snapping his jaws at the man holding him. "Tesla!" Declan had shouted, attracting the pair's attention. Nikola's eyes had faded back into blue as he looked over. The super abnormal, in turn, had hissed at Declan, but had not let go of Nikola.

Strange Ambitions

When the time comes, it is Nikola who makes the call, both in votes and in voice. They need rapid transport to a remote Arctic village, where half of a previously peaceful tribe of abnormals have turned on their fellow villagers, reducing the small valley to a battlefield. Refuges are incoming and hot and John Druitt is being worked overtime to provide all this. He had come within moments of Nikola's telephone call. He had barely said a word to him during the call, as Nikola calmly explained what would be required of him if he should agree. He had merely said, "Lower the EM Shield," and then he had been in the main lab. Nikola is helping direct refuges to the supplies and beds lined up along the walls of the Infirmary when John teleports the rest of the unaffected villagers into the room. The smile Helen gives her former fiancé is both tight and grateful, as she hurries the last pair of villagers over towards Nikola and the beds. John watches her go with a pinched expression on his face, eyes boring into the two of them as they move to tend and fuss over the panicked guests. He feels a bolt of nervousness at the expression on the other man's face, but he smiles at Helen and the others warmly, trying to calm the woman who seems close to hyperventilating.

never found the answer (but we knew one thing)

If she is honest, it all starts the day she catches him baking. When it comes time to do more research on the time dilation field (day 34 of Dome Time), Nikola is nowhere to be found. Ravi directs her to his farmhouse's small kitchen, where Anna is working on some kind of project. What she finds inside surprises her. Nikola Tesla is standing at the kitchen counter, up to his elbows in flour, roughly and inexpertly working a mass of pale dough. He is dressed only in his undershirt and suspenders, flour covering his long, thin arms, smeared across his shirt and chest. She watches from the doorway as he frowns at the material in his hands, pumping his fists and rotating his wrists to knead and work the substance. At his left, Anna murmurs small words of approval and he lets go of it with one hand to wipe at his forehead, smudging a strong streak of flour across his hairline. Unable to watch silently anymore, Helen comes fully into the room, her surprise carried in her tone as she exclaims his name softly. "...Helen," he says, stopping dead to stare at her.

things that matter too much (to say any way but lightly)

He knew this moment would come but had hoped to put it off as long as humanly possible. But then, he isn't human, so there is always that. "Helen has asked me to leave," John says, standing still in the hallway, watching him look out into the courtyard from where he is perched on the plush window seat. Nikola sighs and touches the backs of his left knuckles to his lips, doing his best to pretend his silence has not been broken. "Nikola, please," John says softly, his voice losing his usual timber, sounding softer and quiet. Desperate, he thinks numbly. "You think you have the right to call me that, do you, Johnny?" He asks dismissively, unable to keep the bite of real heat out of his voice. He had planned to keep his tone flat and empty of any emotion. A flicker of memory ignites then, John's quiet, mocking voice from so long ago - "I love it when you call me that..." He blanches and the knuckles pressed to his mouth become white as he bites his still-human nails into his palm.

Tagging @m34gs, @aintgonnatakethis, ... my god, I suddenly can't remember a single other mutual who writes fanfiction who hasn't already done this one. dang. ANYONE WHO WANTS TO DO THIS, PLEASE DO AND TAG ME SO I CAN READ YOUR EXCERPTS!

[misscrazyfangirl321]

magnitt: librarian au.

"I've got you something, darling," she tells him, holding out a tattered paper package. He grins, taking it from her with one hand and pulling her close with the other.

"Could it possibly-" He presses his lips to hers briefly, like punctuation. "Be-" She smiles into this kiss, and they break apart with a grin. "A book?"

"I've spent the past three months trying to rehome the Loch Ness Monster, and you think your souvenir is a book?"

"Well, I can certainly hope."

She laughs, strong and clear, full of the sunshine she soaks in on her adventures (he wonders, sometimes, if he radiates the artificial lights he spends so much time under, if he smells of old books when they kiss; she does not seem to mind, in any case, and he loves her all the more for it). "Actually, I've brought two. I found one, and the other-" She hesitates, biting her lip, amusement dancing in her eyes. "Nikola found."

"I don't want that one," he says flatly, but it's hard to stay even the slightest bit annoyed when his wife is finally back in his arms.

"Really, John-" She starts with a sigh, then pauses. Considers. Gives him a smile that, historically, spells trouble for him (and oh, how he loves it). "Very well, then; I'll simply toss it."

He pauses. Considers. She watches him like she can see the tug of war in his head, his dislike of Nikola warring with his urge to protect every book from the bin. Finally, he exhales, shoulders sagging.

"It had better be riveting," he mutters.

"He assures me it is."

"And dare I ask what happened to the package?"

She draws back to study it. The paper is torn at the edges, and there's a rather odd stain across the front. She swallows. "There was a... Slight incident with an army of gremlins on the way back. Nothing to worry about; no one was injured."

Of course, coming from her, that might simply mean no one lost any limbs. Regardless... "I cannot wait to hear all about it." Then she presses her lips to his once more, this time firm and sure, and he mentally amends that: I can wait just a bit.

[findthenameofthewind]

Helen Magnus || Shall we begin?

“sanctuary for all” is not an empty motto

it’s been a while since i last made a sanctuary fanvid but i hope y’all enjoy this one!