1 - 20 of 28 Works by seekwill
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“Harry? Don’t come back. Stay where you are as long as you can. Do you understand me? Stay. Where. You. Are. I’m sorry, Love, I— hold on, one moment please. One moment. I’ll be with you in a second. I know. I know. Listen, I’m… I’m just finishing one call. Last one. Last one and I’ll be with you. Harry? I hope to God your machine hasn’t cut me off. It’s chaos here. You are to stay in the bush for as long as you can, and maybe you’ll miss it. If we don’t talk again, please, I— God. Oh, God… I love you. I love you. I love you so, sweetheart. I would do anything to be with you one more time. I’m thinking of you all the time. Every second. I— I know. I know! I’m coming! I’m so sorry, Harry. I love you. I hope we find each other again.”
A Station Eleven/Moon of the Crusted Snow AU for Medical Malpractice March
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When Henry Collins warns his new neighbour, Dr. Goodsir, about the unfortunate side effects of his nightmares (ie. screaming wildly in the middle of the night), the last thing he expects is to be invited in for tea. No, wait - the last thing he expects is for his entire sense of self to be upended.
or:
How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Prazosin
Series
- Part 1 of The Good City
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“What’s the worst of it, Collins, that you would be willing to share? It might help to say it out loud.”
He could feel the gentle pressure of Doctor Goodsir’s hand in the centre of his back. He couldn’t remember the last time someone touched him for any other reason than practicality and necessity, and Goodsir’s proximity was intoxicating for more than one reason.
“I’ve tried, Sir,” Henry responded, hands shaking. He had tried inasmuch as he had imagined it. He had whispered to himself, standing on deck at watch - Ever since I came back up from under the water I haven’t been right. Something down there rearranged me body and soul. I am so hungry, I am so hungry for things unspeakable and I cannot live with myself but I also fear I cannot die.
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This is what she remembers: that she had a friend.
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He second guesses himself then. What in the world will he say when he goes in? “I was just in the neighbourhood.” Ned is never just anywhere. Getting to any place that isn’t his living room has to be meticulously planned and strategized these days.
He’ll say that he wanted to see how John was doing. That’s it. Then upon hearing John is as well as he can be, Ned will turn around and go home to eat whatever happens to be in his fridge.
He takes a steadying breath, and opens the door.
When Henry died, Ned told himself he'd check in on John. Better late than never.
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I can only sing this song to someone who understands it by SeaCollectsRivers (Sailors_Delight), seekwill
Fandoms: The Terror (TV 2018)
21 Aug 2021
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His mistake was thinking that he could escape again. His mistake had been thinking that the north would forget. But instead he’d gotten off the plane in Iqaluit and found his personal history unexpectedly alive in the chest of another man.
Contract nurse John Bridgens has always found solace in Canada's northern territories, until, until, until.
For the 2021 Terror Big Bang, story by Seekwill, with art by SeaCollectsRivers.
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He has never known another person like this. No woman - and there have been plenty - no fellow sailor. There is the rest of the world, and there is Graham.
Before and after their ill-fated voyage, all Henry can think of is Graham, and the things he should have said.
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MacDonald carried on, and Harry found his attention slipping. He thought about John Bridgens. His careful hands, his perpetually concerned expression, his competence, his kindness. It was hard work, this, to be out here, to witness the most dark and horrible things the world could muster and try to fix it, just a little. Bridgens perhaps had seen the very worst of it, and still he stood.
It was some time after that, but before the day that began with delivering the baby, that Harry realized that he admired Bridgens. Then shortly after that, but before the day that began with delivering the baby, Harry realized that his feelings towards Bridgens had moved well beyond admiration.
Days in the camp are stressful, and when Dr. Goodsir feels himself on the edge, it's veteran nurse Bridgens who pulls him back.
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In a matter of seconds, MP Gabriel Winger's political ambitions begin to crumble before him, strangled in the small hands of MP Beezus Lorde. Assisted by communications guru Anthony Crowley, MP Lorde breaks away from the Centre Cross party taking the entire backbench with them, and leaving Aziraphale Fell, Winger's Policy Director, to pick up the pieces and save his boss's career.
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Aziraphale flushed slightly under the lights and his gaze shifted off to the side, a still-familiar anxious tic. “I’m so sorry that it took me a moment. It’s just that it’s-”
“-been a couple of decades, yeah.” Crowley smiled broadly to show there was no harm done, and extended his hand for Aziraphale to take. “Wouldn’t have surprised me if you didn’t recognize me at all.”
“I do, though. I do. Of course.” Aziraphale took his hand and Crowley nearly reeled at the softness of it. Dry and soft and--God. Pretty?--A pretty hand. “It feels like--my God--it feels like only yesterday.”
A chance encounter, reminiscing for times long past, and discovering the fire he thought had been put out long ago still burns bright? This might be Crowley’s best work Christmas party yet.
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Gabriel startled. He’d been staring at the river, descending into his warring daydreams when the lithe figure of Beelzebub had materialized beside him. Breath left him as their mouth curved into a smile. It felt authentic, like they were genuinely pleased to see him. He wanted to trust it.
It took less than a second for him to know he wouldn’t be able to carry out his plan to tell them, now, here, that he couldn’t see them again. Their mere presence unmoored him from reality, and brought him closer to them.
Gabriel Bote gets wrecked.
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- Part 4 of Provenance
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A filing cabinet for ficlets spawned from conversations on the IB discord. Tags for each chapter to be added as we go.
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Thousands of tight, short strokes came together to form a whole. Just as the sun crested in the Eastern sky he looked on the face of his forbidden beloved. Slightly upturned nose, lips parted in a way he had seen only once. Their eyes looked not at him but off to the side, at some unanticipated interruption. There was something unsettling about what he had made. He wondered if he should paint over it, destroy the evidence, but he couldn’t. This was what he had been searching for, to see them the way they lived inside him.
Gabriel Bote leaves his position as a detective for the Art and Antiquities Unit and escapes London, but he cannot escape his adversary, Beelzebub Prince.
Series
- Part 3 of Provenance
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With a violent efficiency, he grabbed their shoulders and flipped them onto their back. They landed in the empty space in the bed next to where he had been sleeping. He could hear the air rush out of them and saw the surprise in their light blue eyes as he pinned them down. His leg crossed theirs to hold them in place and the wince that crossed their face was unpracticed and true. He looked down at them and swallowed. His heart was hammering so hard he thought it might crack his chest open.
"So,” Beelzebub started, breathless and grimacing. “Not happy to see me then?”
In the aftermath of his first intimate encounter with Beelzebub Prince, Detective Gabriel Bote struggles to move forward, each night plagued with the new and terrifying knowledge his body holds.
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- Part 2 of Provenance
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There was no slow burn. It was not an epic love story. There were no smouldering glances over lobster traps and the day’s catch. No weighted touches as hands passed over ropes over the course of a busy day - at least, no more than there had ever been.
Hastur cannot name the thing he feels for Ligur, not until he is gone.
The Fishermen AU no one asked for, as part of the Good AUmens Event.
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“Detective,” they said with a casual air, as if they were a colleague he was passing in a hallway at break.
But it wasn’t a colleague. Not, at least, in the traditional sense. Now that his eyes had adapted to the level of the light, he could see them clearly. Slim and small with ragged edges, clad in black, down to the tips of their gloved fingers.
Detective Gabriel Bote of the Met’s art and antiquities unit has been chasing Beelzebub Prince - master forger, cat burglar, art heist virtuoso - for years, and he’s finally got them exactly where he wants them.
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- Part 1 of Provenance
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l’esprit de l’escalier: that feeling you get when you leave a conversation and think of all the things you should have said
With his books and his clothes and other curiosities he’d collected since beginning his time in London, Aziraphale considered himself a curator of beautiful things. He found beauty in people too, in the way they moved and spoke and laughed.
This man, who was very nearly past him now, almost gone, shook him. He couldn’t understand why. There was an impulse to reach out, to wrap his blunt fingers around the man’s skinny wrist on his handlebars, say “Hello there, might you have a moment to explore why I’ve fallen in love with you just now?”
An adaptation of Jean-Pierre Jeunet's 2001 film Amélie, as part of the GO Romantic Comedy Event
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Dr. Aaron Gabriel and Dr. Beelzebub Prince are the chairs of rival departments at Tadfield College. Also, they're dating. Or, not. They're doing something. They don't even like one another. Or maybe they do. They're working on it, okay?
A continuation of the events of Golden Handcuffs.
Series
- Part 2 of Interdepartmental Cooperation
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brighter than the brightest stars by seekwill for TheKnittingJedi
Fandoms: Good Omens (TV)
04 Apr 2020
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“What,” said Crowley, the hinges of her jaw suddenly not quite working the way they should, “are you wearing?”
Aziraphale startled and immediately drew the open button up pyjama top around her. “Oh, you know. Nothing. Nothing of note. Pyjamas.”
It wasn’t bright enough to see it, but Crowley could hear the blush on Aziraphale’s voice. But what Crowley had seen in the dull moonlight wasn’t even in the same ballpark as nothing of note. She groped wildly for the lightswitch behind her, her mouth cracking into a grin.
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When 20-year-old Crowley sees Aziraphale for the very first time she's piss drunk, and backed by a chorus of absolute menaces who fancied themselves her friends. An inauspicious start grows into something miraculous. Years after their first meeting, Aziraphale still manages to surprise her. -
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When Robert Device, the Earl of Tadfield, dies without producing a son to inherit his title, his mother, Agnes Device (nee Nutter), and his daughter, Anathema, discover the next in line is nervous London-based bachelor and distant cousin, Aziraphale Device. In coming to Tadfield Manor to confront the realities of his new life, Aziraphale is immediately drawn to wry and aloof chauffeur, Crowley. As a new era begins, those living both upstairs and downstairs in the fine and storied country house plot a new way forward.