#wot fanfic prompt

[ladyalysoftheblueajah]

GIF set inspired by a WoT Ao3 I read and loved

[pillowfriends]

wheel of time drabble: september

Moiraine/Siuan, Moiraine & Lan & Siuan

Modern AU, 200 words

From prompt: "September started very badly"

-

September started very badly.

It was uncomfortably hot in Tar Valon. Siuan loved it. Moiraine and Lan glared at her and sweated irritably in front of the box fan.

Siuan’s father called. His disability payments were ending. After harried phone calls, budget spreadsheets, and frustrated tears, she took out another student loan.

The heat and start of term approaching made Lan sluggish, gloomy. He dragged himself out of bed at five am to run. Then five became six. Then seven. Then he stopped getting up until Moiraine threw an ice cube at him and dragged him to the pool.

Moiraine’s father called too. The family missed her – she hadn’t visited in so long – couldn’t she come back for the sponsor dinner her uncle was hosting next month, there were rumors. If you miss me, Moiraine said harshly, why do you only call when you need something? Then – I’ll visit if I can bring my girlfriend.

That killed the conversation fast. She cried for twenty minutes into Siuan’s hair.

Next week will be better, Siuan whispered into the night as Moiraine kissed her forehead, snuggled halfway in Lan’s lap. Part prayer, part demand, all fiery protectiveness and steadfast hope. It will.

[asha-mage]

Rand/Mat/Tuon, judicious

[Send me a character or pairing, and a one word prompt, and I'll write you a drabble!]

Fortuona Athaem Devi Paendrag stood at the edge of her chambers, luxuriating in the feel of silk curtains brushing against her bare skin. The faint salt twanged breeze that came up off the River Eldar had mostly dried her of the left over water from her bath, and she could at any time, retreat back into her chambers to be dressed and begin hearing the day’s reports. But for the moment she was content to simply stand, hidden by the fluttering of the curtains and observe the garden below.

Inarian laid sprawled out beside one of the ponds there, where she had left him the night before, a sheer silken blanket covering his naked form. His hat, coat, scarf and other effects she had ordered returned to his sleeping chambers, but his ashandarei and his medallion she had ordered to remain untouched. If he wanted to depart, he would do so inconvenienced but not seriously hindered. A fine line to walk, but a necessary one, now more then ever.

She had acknowledged him officially as Emperor Consort, which made him Lord of the Tower and, in theory, her most important councilor and ally, as it was supposed to be with every Empress and her consort, though it had rarely been so in truth. Even Lothair Paendrag had kept a Favorite to shower with his affection and love, while marrying for the good of his budding Empire, as was practical and necessary for a ruler.

Yet the common folk required some illusions and romantic notions to take away the sting of harsh truths. A nation existed as much because people believed in it, as for anything done with a soldier’s blade or an official's pen, and to believe required the sorts of stories that made children starry eyed. That the Seekers never erred in their quest for the truth. That the army was truly always victorious in the end. That the Empress loved the Emperor.

She had never expected to find truth in the illusion, anymore then she had expected to be stolen away by a dashing hero.

And yet…

A silvery slash of light appeared in the garden and lengthened till it was tall an archway. From where she was standing that slash seemed to widen and part, becoming a silvery haze in the shape of a solid rectangle, before snapping back into a slash again and winking out.

The man who had stepped out of the gateway walked with all the confidence of a member of the Deathwatch Guard, as if he where not an intruder in the heart of Seanchan power and violating so many laws by his mere presence that he could, at the least, expect to be condemned to the Tower of Ravens for the rest of his life.

If he where anyone else that was.

Fortuona watched the man cross the garden, the blades of grass seeming to visibly grow greener, the trees more full in branch and flower, by his mere presence alone, and stoop down to where Inarian was laying beneath his blanket. She knew he was pressing his mouth close to Inarian’s ear to whisper to him. Fortuona watched her husband stir, coaxed by his lover’s voice to wakefulness, and she did not need to be near enough to hear to know that there would be soft laughter in both their words, anymore then she needed to see them to know that smiles would be painting both their faces.

The name Inarian would not be muttered, nor would whatever name that man was using these days. To each other, like this, they would simply be Rand and Mat, nothing more or less, no titles or burdens or barriers between them.

Inarian insisted that Fortuona call him Mat as well- in private at least- and she no longer minded doing so, no matter how much her skin itched from the bad luck of it. (In her friskier moods she even went so far as to call him Toy again, which he seemed to not mind at all.) She saw it now as a symbol of their trust, their connection.

Yet it still rankled something in her, that he rejected the honors and accolades she so freely bestowed on him. He was not ungrateful, not really, and he had understood the import, once she explained it. Yet he still did not regard the name she had gifted him with anywhere near the reverence as the one he had as a mud footed farm boy. And a part of her, the part that was still the petulant angry girl who had needed more switchings then any Imperial Princess in memory, couldn’t help but wonder if it was because that was the name Rand al’Thor had known him by.

For a moment Fortuona considered retrieving one of the hidden crossbows she kept secreted about her room- the one inside the tea table would be closest, loaded already with a single short bolt and tipped in powdered peach core already for a fatal blow even if it missed any essential organ- and firing down at the man who presumed to make her husband laugh. With the curtains fluttering around her still she was the next thing to invisible, and it would be easy enough to explain away: Inarian and his lover had not been as discreet as they should. A Deathwatch guard had assumed the Emperor Consort was being threatened, and acted in zealous protectiveness. She could even offer the life of one of her Guards to Inarian’s satisfaction, knowing full well her soft hearted husband would never claim such, would be horrified the very idea. It would be clean, brutal, and final.

Fortuona let the thought roll about in her mind for a bit, as she always did, and then as she always did, she set it aside firmly. It would be a misstep in the long run she knew, cracking something between her and Inarian that would not be easily mended. Cracking him maybe, in his heart. And for what? Silly childish notions like affection and love? She was a woman grown, and arguably the most powerful woman on the planet at that. She could not afford the silly indulgences of children. Her world was bitter reality. It always would be.

She would do her part in the dance instead. Inarian would listen to the sweet whispers to the man who had once been the Dragon and vanish for a few days, and she would hold back his hat and his coat, his scarf and his bag of oddities and keepsakes, to keep a tie to him that he would neither feel nor be able to break. She might burn something, perhaps the coat, to punish him in the meantime (she liked the hat and the scarf on him to much to destroy them) but when he returned she would act as if he never been away. She would not acknowledge his dalliance with his lover in any way, and instead let his guilt and anxiety prick him for her.

Inarian was suspended she knew, between her and the man who had once been the Dragon, each of them holding him by equal force, and with equal gentleness. He was like a fox between two dens. He would run this way, then that, as he willed, answering her call and then his lover’s, divided always between two masters, each playing the game to keep him enticed and entranced, each tempting the attention of dark glittering eyes. Fortuona knew not how the game would end, only that the surest way to loose would be to try and trap him, bind him in some way where he could feel the cord. He would bolt against which ever hand, hers or anyone else’s that tried to do that, and be lost forever.

The only thing worse would be letting him know how much of a claim on her heart he had. He would never take advantage of such- that was not her Inarian, in character or nature. Yet it would frighten him she was sure, if he guessed even half of the depths of her affection for him. The love that burned in her breast for her clever trickster of a husband.

An Empress was not supposed to love anything but her people. Love for an individual was a dangerous madness, a sickness of hot passion that had broken a thousand kingdoms. It made people value one life above the lives of the masses, one person’s opinion over the well being of an Empire. She had not believed it to be real for most of her life. What could one person’s opinions matter more then the fate of nations? The blood of thousands? It was a thing for stories, not bitter realities. Not her reality.

And then she had been stolen away by a fox that made the ravens fly.

So now she walked her fine line, of gentle push and pull and twist and turn. Never showing her hand, never letting the mask break. Never letting her fingers quite leave Inarian’s neck, while never pressing down so hard as to make him bolt.

She kept the secrets of Rand al’Thor, once the Dragon, and she said nothing when Inarian vanished from her life for days or weeks or months, smothered the ache in her rib cage as surely as she smothered the pain from knife wounds and cross bow bolts. The alternative was to loose him forever, or else reveal her weakness, her childishness, the defect within her that should disqualify her from sitting on the Crystal Throne. Neither outcome could ever born.

Better, more prudent, more judicious, to keep her cards to chest, and to play the game for as long as she could manage.

The Empress of Seanchan loved her husband, and their was maybe no greater danger to the Empire in all the world then that.

[askshivanulegacy]

Finland are you ok

Finnish Christmas song topics

your brother died (Varpunen jouluaamuna)

your mother died (Konsta Jylhän joululaulu)

you are locked in a cage in a foreign country (Sylvian joululaulu)

life sucks and then you die, hi-ho (Hei tonttu-ukot hyppikää)

Baby Jesus freezes to death in the snow while humans stuff their faces indoors (Me käymme joulunviettohon)

Mary looks at Baby Jesus and has a vision of him crucified (Rauhaa, vain rauhaa)

Baby Jesus looks so peaceful on the manger, you know what, soon he will be executed (Heinillä härkien kaukalon)

Christmas elf has an existential crisis (Tonttu)

Bubbling under:

the whole family is drunk at Christmas dinner (Jouluaattona kännissä)

it snowed, it's beautiful, the homeless freeze to death under the bridges (Jos Helsinki on kaunis)

your friend went to war and promised to come back for Christmas, guess what, he's dead (Herra Melperin sotaanlähtö)

it snowed, it's beautiful, well you know what the black rotten leaves are still there waiting for the snow to melt (Musta, niljaisten lehtien kaupunki)

burglars dress up as Santas and rob the house when everyone is visiting relatives (Joulu on juhlista pahin)

[witchingshcdows]

Some kids pulled the fire alarm in our building and it’s 3 am and I’m standing on the street, shivering in my MARVEL PJ’s and this is so not funny!

This prompt but for Siuanraine and you can modify the type of PJs as you wish^^

Not sure if this is what you were expecting, but I hope it's good enough <3

Never have I ever... Expected this (II)

[justlookatthosesausages]

Prompt based on the headcanon that Gerda knows Anna is pregnant first

Anna wiped her mouth, and frowned with disgust.

“Ugh, I shouldn’t have eaten those shrimps yesterday… Must have been rotten or something.”

Gerda chuckled as she was holding Anna’s hair. “The shrimps were perfectly fresh. That’s not it.”

The redhead groaned and heavily sat on the side of the toilet, rubbing the sweat on her forehead. “What is it then? I feel like the whole world is spinning.”

She blinked and finally looked at the servant, recovering her normal sight, only to notice that she was smiling.

“What’s so funny?” Frowned Anna. “This is a nightm—”

At the second she said that, her eyes widened and her face got paler, a new retch making her body shiver as her heart swelled. She quickly stood up from the floor she was sitting on and turned to vomit in the toilet, couching in the process.

Gerda was gently holding her untied hair, passing a soft and caring hand along her back. It instantly made Anna feel better, and she wondered how the hell it was possible given the actual state she was in. Even her posture was ridiculous. How did Gerda know the perfect spot to sooth her as she was spitting her lungs out?

Anna used the napkin the servant gave her and cleaned herself with it. There was a moment of silence, only broken by Anna’s trembled breathing. She didn’t know if it was because of time passing or Gerda’s warm care, but she felt better already. Once she retrieved her normal state and some colors on her cheeks, she stared at Gerda.

“How did you know that I needed… I feel better, how did you guess?”

The lady giggled a bit, and looked at her with a deep gaze.

“Anna… You’re pregnant.”

There was a silence. Both awkward and emotional.

“Wait, what?”

Okay, maybe it was just awkward.

Gerda smiled and coughed, about to make herself clear.

“You are pregnant. Those are the symptoms of pregnancy. You are with child.”

Anna stared at her with big turquoise eyes, and something shifted, from surprise to emotional shock, then from emotional shock to pure beaming joy.

“…I am? I’m… I’m pregnant?”

Everything clicked in her head. It all made sense now. The way she had been sick those past days, and the way she felt.

“I’M PREGNANT!” Exclaimed Anna.

She grabbed Gerda’s hands, crushing them with delight. The servant giggled again, Anna’s enthusiasm being contagious.

“This is such amazing news! This is so awesome! Oh gosh, oh gosh, OH GOSH! I have to tell Elsa. I HAVE TO TELL ELSA!” Jolted the redhead.

“Obviously.”

“And Kristoff! Oh, he’s going to be so happy! They’re going to be so happy!” Gasped Anna. “He’s gonna be the best father!! Elsa’s gonna be the best aunt ever!”

Gerda winced a bit at how Anna was practically yelling at her face in such a little space as the toilet, but nodded.

“And Olaf! And Sven! And…! Okay, but first I gotta tell Elsa. She’s still in a meeting, right? …I don’t care. I can’t wait. I’ve gotta go. First her, then I’ll rush to the mountain to find Kris—”

Anna had stood up completely during her sentence, and was reaching the door handle. Only, she was still weak from her fever, and her knees buckled. Her legs felt like cotton, and she nearly slammed her face on the floor.

“Ouch.”

“Maybe that first of all, you should calm down.” Advised Gerda, fascinated by her usual hyperactivity, and she shook her head from where she was.

“No, I have to go!!”

The servant smiled and gently folded the napkins and towels around, making sure the room was clean again. “You should rest a bit. You can’t even stand.”

“Gerda!”

The turquoise eyes staring at her had switched from absolute joy, to rare authority.

“It’s an order”, continued Anna. “Pick me up. Bring me to Elsa.”

The lady simply stared at her, wearing a sly smile. Anna started to beg.

“Please? Please please please pleaaaase?”

“Of course I’m going to bring you to her.” Assured Gerda.

She lifted Anna by the arm, and got out of the room by helping her walk.

“Wait, do I look presentable? Like, to I smell bad?”

Gerda laughed slightly. “You look really well, don’t worry. And smell nice. Also, I’m not sure that it’s the part Elsa will care about.”

“Oh gosh, she’s going to be so happy. I’m so happy.”

The servant smiled. She couldn’t wait for the upcoming scene either. They walked to the meeting room together, in silence, even if the elation was palpable in the air.

“Gerda?” Asked Anna.

“Yes?”

“How did you know? I mean, how could you tell? That I was pregnant? You’re the first one to have noticed.”

The lady looked at her with emotion in her eyes.

“Your late mother had the same symptoms.”

Anna’s heart missed a beat, and she almost forgot where and when she were. The whole corridor seemed to suddenly be blurred, and out of time.

“Really?”

Gerda nodded. Both had tight throats with the memory of her mother.

“That’s how you knew how to soothe me.” Understood Anna.

The lady nodded again and didn’t say anything. It was no use, and she could feel that the redhead’s hand, holding her shoulder, was tightening. She hugged Gerda a bit as they walked.

“Were you with her when she gave birth to me?” Asked Anna after a while.

“Of course.”

“Could you please be there, for my labor?”

Gerda turned her head and met Anna’s eyes. Both smiled.

“It would be an honor, Your Highness.”

[ladyalysoftheblueajah]

It’s the comments for me 🙃

sorry but while i'm thinking about periods why tf isn't the menstrual cycle discussed more in wheel of time. core theme of the work is about the possibilities and problems inherent to cycles and also rj was kinda a freak... how could he have missed this

[ghostieruv]

SNIPERSPY SHORT FIC

I was bored and decided to make a SniperSpy fanfic :D

Idk I'm not very good at writing, but oh well. Hope U enjoy

I used the prompt 'you're a killer dumping your latest victim into the river. Just as you're about to be done, you spot another person doing exactly the same thing, and they've just spotted you too.'

He delicately stepped over small rocks and dried grass, careful not to disturb the ground too much. He would dump this one in the river. Easy. He couldn't bear to dirty his pristine clean suit again, no, that time was a disaster. He sneered at the crumpled garbage bag he was dragging along the dirt. The kill was far too easy, a bit boring actually. There was no struggle, so he supposed it was for the better. But he did like a good challenge sometimes. Ah, there's the river. He made his way towards the flowing stream.

Crack.

Merde.

Shit.

Both snapped their heads up.

Damn it all to hell, he had stepped on a twig.

Damn it all to hell, he had to kill another person now.

They eyed each other carefully before noticing that they were both dragging...garbage bags. Sniper's eyes widened a bit, less visible due to his sunset tinted aviators.

Spy's eyes widened a bit, but only barely. He was a spy afterall.

After many awkward moments of silence, Sniper spoke.

"Uhh. Roight, um. We're just gonna forget this ever happened, alroight? I've had a rough day and I don't wanna have ta kill another person." Sniper finally cut the silence.

"But of course."

They both gave a short nod of agreement, hauling their baggage into the river. Spy hissed as water splashed and sunk into his suit.

"Pft, wots the matter? Afraid of water, eh?" Sniper snorted a little.

"Non, that would be absurd." Spy snapped as he frowned at the lanky, giant man.

Ah. That confirmed his suspicions. The man was French. And was obviously very irritable.

And then they kiss lmfaoo jk

[songbookff]

End of the years asks: 3, 11 & 30, 23 :D Happy new year!

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year:

There are so many, but I think the one that comes to mind is from Not with a bang, but a whisper (a Gunpowder Milkshake fic):

To kiss her goodbye seemed too finite, as if admitting defeat before it ever happened. Therefore, Florence settles for a whisper. A kiss would be for everyone to see. And that just wouldn’t be right. A kiss goodbye would be too real.

But a whisper is just for the two of them.

11. fandom you enjoyed writing for the most this year:

Well, for the first half of the year, it was probably still the LoK fandom. I did really enjoy meeting new people in the Gunpowder Milkshake fandom. So that was wonderful.

30. favorite fandom to read fic from this year:

Oh wow, this is difficult. So, like I said, I really loved the new Gunpowder Milkshake fandom and all the lovely works that everyone has contributed. I have just in the last week gotten to start reading from the WoT fandom and that's been pretty good. And for some reason, I returned to reading GoT fanfic and I'm always so impressed with what people create in that fandom.

23. fics you wanted to write but didn’t:

Oh, this list is sooooo soooo long. For multiple reasons, I was unable to write very much in the second half of the year. I had some GoT fics I wanted to write, as well as HP & SW. There were so many good prompts/requests that have come across my inbox and I wish I could have given them all the attention they deserved. Maybe 2022 will be more productive.

[toas-tea]

Little late. Been a real rough year with me losing the drive to read/write anything. Regardless ty @salzrand the tag fam appreciate chu 🔥

Total number of completed stories

11

Total number of words

62,042

Fandoms written in

Game of Thrones

Person of Interest

Katekyo Hitman Reborn

(We don't talk about the other two or 2010'ish me attempting to write here 😂)

Top 5 by word count

dunamis

paradox

zalagon se nine(lie)

crimson flower

pragma

Top 5 kudos

paradox

pragma

dunamis

crimson flower

sun dance

Top fic overall

If we're going by statistics, paradox.

What's your own favorite story of the year?

Yes

Did you take any risks this year?

Yeah. I wrote from different POVs (Grey Worm & Yara) for the first time and was afraid it wouldn't turn out well because I'm show-verse based and had limited resources to pull from. But it turned out aight based on the feedback that I got.

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the new year?

Sit my ass down. Catch up on all fics. Write write write. Improve as a writer too hopefully.

Most popular story of the year

Prob torches. Special mention goes to zalagon se nine(lie), got a lot of kind words for that one. 🙏

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion

None. Blessed by all the love and support for every piece. 🙏🔥

Most fun story to write:

zalagon se nine(lie). Had fun experimenting with a slightly new format, writing for a fellow fandom member (squilf) and playing around with my favorite tropes/prompts - Nurse!Dany and bathleesi doe amirite? Ohh lala~ I'm weak 🤤🤤❤️❤️

Most unintentionally telling story

i can't recall specifically but I did have instances where people have pointed out themes and nuances I didn't notice until I read their comment. *Insert bruh noise*I mean wot-👀 (ngl kinda confused by this question)

Biggest disappointment?

I lost the drive to read and write fanfic halfway through the year. Living in the US during these times is something else and that's putting it lightly, among other personal shenanigans. 2021 is makeup year. The only direction from here is up. 💪

Biggest surprise?

Was able to successfully participate and read most of the fall equinox exchange fics. Still got some left but progress is progress 👌

Tagging @lodessa (sorry if you've been tagged already) and anyone else who wants to do this. Here's to 2021 💪🔥

[ladyalysoftheblueajah]

Where’s all the WoT fanfic writers that keep asking for prompts??

But imagine if there was ter'angreal that turned someone into a child when they went through it

Imagine Moiraine going through it and coming out 6 years old with her front teeth missing and a lisp

While Elayne and Egwene try to figure out how to fix what happened, Moiraine spends her time making Lan braid her hair and riding on his shoulders and figuring out fake-crying will bend Lan’s will into any shape she wants it and eventually ends up wearing Lan’s shirts because “dresses are itchy” and sleeping in his room 

Rand and Mat and Perrin being forced to babysit her when Lan escapes and being completely terrified and clueless as to what to do with her because she won’t stop crying when they refuse to give her hugs. Eventually they start taking turns at letting Moiraine sleep on their chests (Perrin hates it. She pulls at his beard)

Moiraine tugging on Nyaeve’s braid when she wants something or just wants to bother Nynaeve (“She isn’t Aes Sedai right now and maybe she won’t remember if I paddle her backside”)  

When Moiraine is back in her right body, she remembers everything. Nobody dares to even smile in her presence for months.  

[ambiengrey]

Mentally, I was like, someone write me a fic where Bruce didn’t become Batman, he became a doctor like his father instead. He still meets all the Batkids, but just under different circumstances. I am not qualified to write doctor things, but I got to thinking about what said circumstances might be, and I didn’t want it all to just be, kid got a broken limb must go to the hosital, gets treated by Bruce ~boring~ So, I’m doing this thing this week, where I’m trying to practice writing every day, and to make it even more challenging because I hate my face, I also decided I would double my word count from the previous day’s...every day. The problem with this, is that I’m really bad at short stories, and also really bad at having ideas. Especially, apparently, for original writing. So I’ve fallen back into writing some old fanfic ideas. Except for today, when I had the above mentioned *new* fanfic idea.

Disclaimer: I am not a doctor or psychiatrist and should not be writing doctor or psychiatrist characters. I am also not ten years old, and have not been ten for over a decade, and contrary to popular belief, working with ten year olds, has not prepared me to accurately portray ten year olds in fiction. Don’t judge me too harshly. I’ve mentally developed an entire back-story for Bruce, but details may be fuzzy in the actual piece. I reached the word count goal even though the story is not finished. In my head, I’m imagining one chapter per batkid’s first encounter with Bruce, but this encounter is not even over yet. It’s 4am and I should be sleeping. Will I be adding more to this? Potentially, though I’m sure it will be wildly inaccurate medically speaking, so everyone just be prepared for that. If I *do* add more to it, I’ll probably post it to AO3 rather than here. If I can come up with a title.

[I know I haven’t been on tumblr in literal Years, but didn’t there used to be the option of adding a line between paragraphs? did I dream that? is it still there? am I not seeing it? wot]

Bruce entered the room somewhat hesitantly. Richard Grayson was already seated in the armchair. He sat upright, with his hands clasped in his lap, literally twiddling his thumbs. He looked up, visibly swallowing, eyes wide as saucers, when Bruce came in.

Bruce smiled as disarmingly as he could. He cleared his throat, shutting the door tightly and crossing the floor, intensely aware of Richard’s eyes on him. The boy watched him sit down on the couch opposite, but waited no longer for Bruce to either collect himself or start the conversation. He shifted in his seat, leaning forward; demanding Bruce’s full attention. “They said I have to talk to you,” he started, shaking his head slightly. “But I don’t really need to – I’m fine.” He nodded once, firmly. “Honest.”

Bruce’s smile had slipped, a pensive expression replacing it as he eyed the child. He was nearly tempted to lean back in his seat, put a hand to his chin and squint intently at the ten year old as though he were an x-ray or a test result in need of careful examination. Bruce caught himself at the thought. It wouldn’t do. At best, he’d scare off the boy, at worse, Richard would think he wasn’t taking him seriously, and he didn’t want to be there any more than Richard supposedly did. ‘Supposedly,’ because, Bruce suspected, the boy very much wanted to speak to someone, he just didn’t know who to speak to. As far as Richard was concerned, he had no family left. The adults presently in his life were there by necessity, as the law dictated, and not because they cared for him or wanted to help him (even if some of them did). He did not trust them and could not make himself vulnerable in front of them by confiding his true feelings, or letting this carefully cultivated mask, slip.

Bruce had done much the same thing after—

His parents.

Only, he’d had Alfred, in addition. The mask was easy to slip on when he needed to go to school or return to a life of functions and public appearances. He still wore it even now, decades later; for work, social functions, interviews—the list went on. It was nearly without burden to wear, because, it could always come off. Richard, however, did not have an ‘Alfred’ or a home, anymore, where he could remove the mask and be himself for a little while without fearing the scrutiny of others, or his own frailty.

“Hm.” Bruce took a moment to shift into a more comfortable position, and gather his thoughts in the process. He hadn’t needed to be a psychiatrist in such a long time that he doubted for a moment where to begin in approaching this situation. “That’s good,” he said agreeably. “I was asked to speak with you, because Miss Lance is concerned about your well-being.”

“Well, she doesn’t need to be,” Richard replied, his movements still indicative of nervousness, but…also impatience. “Like I said, I’m fine. So I don’t need to be here. Sorry for wasting your time.” He looked about ready to jump out of his seat and bolt from the room, but…not, Bruce thought, because he was afraid of the conversation. He didn’t want to be confronted with his feelings, but, there was more to his eagerness to leave.

“It’s only an hour,” Bruce dismissed. “And, Miss Lance is a good friend I don’t mind doing a favour for. Not to mention, she cares very deeply for the children under her charge. You’re lucky to have her.”

Richard’s shoulders seemed to drop slightly. He huffed with impatience, but responded as meekly as he had been, “Yeah. She’s been real nice.” He paused briefly, before continuing more keenly, as though a new approach had made itself known to him in the moment. “Which is why I don’t want to be wasting her time. I should go.”

“I’m afraid you can’t,” Bruce said mildly. “Miss Lance had another appointment; she had to leave. She’ll be back when our hour is up.” Bruce smiled at the boy, whose timid demeanor had slowly crumbled into one of barely concealed annoyance.

“I’ll just wait for her downstairs, then,” Richard said, holding Bruce’s gaze with a much steadier look than when Bruce had arrived.

Bruce kept his smile as serene as possible, “That’s not how it works, Richard,” he said gently.

“Dick.”

Bruce recoiled, not having expected such a candid delivery of something so inappropriate. “Excuse me?” he asked, much more sternly than he’d spoken thus far.

It was Richard’s turn to look taken aback. “I mean – me – it’s, I’m—er—” he fumbled, flustered, and looked away as he cleared his throat to answer properly, “That’s just, what people call me. It’s ‘Dick,’ not…‘Richard.’”

“Ah,” Bruce said, enlightened. “I see. Miss Lance didn’t mention…”

“She insists on calling me ‘Richard,’” he said, crossing his arms, posture slumping.

“Well, if you insist,” Bruce said. “I’ll call you ‘Dick.’”

Dick glanced at him; nodded. “Okay.”

“Until Miss Lance gets back, you and I may as well chat a little,” Bruce continued. “To pass the time.”

Dick sighed, resigned to his fate, apparently. He leaned back in the armchair, eyes on the wall. “Sure.”

“Miss Lance has been treating you well?” Bruce began.

Dick eyed him, and nodded.

“The other staff…caretakers at the orphanage,” Bruce continued slowly. “They’ve taken good care of you?”

Dick nodded again, shrugging with one shoulder. “Yeah, sure. I…have a bed, and food. It’s fine.”

“What about the other boys? Have you made any friends yet?”

Dick frowned at the floor, his crossed arms pressing tighter to his chest, “They’re fine,” he lied.

“Hm,” Bruce was frowning himself, his thoughts already turning toward how he might confront Miss Lance and the orphanage Director – about visiting the institution, perhaps, so as to observe Dick’s social circumstances firsthand before stepping any further— Absently, Bruce shook his head free of the thought. He was getting carried away again. “I…” he began, in an effort to get himself back on track, but he didn’t actually know what to say even as he started speaking. He looked over at Dick, the boy watching him with a guarded, squint-eyed expression. “I’m sorry,” Bruce said. “I was just thinking of…” He shifted, and started over, “I used to speak to children all the time. It was my job. Children like you and I, sometimes,” he gestured between them, allowing himself to be as honest as possible. “Who…lost their families without warning, without…being able to do anything about it—”

“I didn’t lose my family,” Dick cut in, the young boy’s tone almost…scathing. Bruce had meant to steer the conversation into a specific direction, meaning to coax Dick into confiding in him the specifics of his relationships with the other boys at the orphanage, but, Dick had derailed his entire scheme with this interruption. “We weren’t in a crowd and I let go of their hands and couldn’t see them anymore.” Bruce’s head was clearer than it had been when he’d started on his tangent. Though thoughts of his own parents, his own loss, crept at the fringes of his mind, they were kept at bay by the need to listen to this young boy, whose loss was much more present, much more potent and all-consuming, even as he claimed fineness.

“Then?” Bruce prodded, when Dick’s gaze shifted from him almost abruptly, and affixed once more to the wall instead. As though the mask had shifted to reveal some bare skin for a moment, and the boy was determined to cover it once more as though nothing had happened. “What do you call it?” Bruce paused for a reply, but added, when none was immediately forthcoming, “What happened to your family, Dick?”

The boy pulled his legs up toward his chest, shoes on the seat cushion. He sunk impossibly lower into the chair. “They…” he began quietly, just when Bruce assumed there’d be no answer after all, “Were taken from me.”

“Hm,” Bruce said, which prompted Dick’s gaze back toward him.

“You don’t believe me either,” the boy accused with a glare.

“That’s not what I said,” Bruce replied quickly. “I’m only wondering what exactly you mean by that. ‘Taken’ from you? Your parents fall, Dick,” he said gently, “Was an accident.”

Dick clicked his tongue and looked resentfully away again, “No. It wasn’t.”

He said no more, and, for a moment, Bruce allowed the silence to linger. “If this is true, Dick…what you’re suggesting is – your parents were murdered.” Dick made no reply and didn’t look over to Bruce either. The boy was keeping his guard up. This was the moment, Bruce thought. This was the way to win Dick’s confidence and trust. Every adult he’d confided in with this belief had rejected him. Ascribed his suspicions to the insurmountable grief of a small child not mature enough to navigate it sensibly, thereby desperately needing an explanation that made his parents death seem less random, leading him to invent a fantasy with a villain some hero could fight against as in a cartoon or comic book, to help him cope. An all-consuming idea he’d started to believe in so passionately, the reality was no longer a palpable option for him and anyone who could not agree, was not on his side.

This is why Miss Lance had wanted Bruce to see Dick. This was the trouble he was having. Why he wasn’t allowing himself to be supported by the new people in his life. Why he refused to adjust to his present circumstances. His parents’ death had gone unavenged. He believed there was justice to be paid, but no one would pay it.

Bruce…could relate.

[featherxquill]

Fics Wot I Wrote in 2019 (and the 2010s in general!)

So it’s the end of a decade, and I wrote some fic this year! I am going to do the usual list, but I thought I might modify the end-of-year meme into an end-of-decade meme, and have a bit of a look back at the fandoms I’ve written in and the fics I wrote throughout the 2010s, because it’s certainly been a more diverse decade than the last!

So, here is the list of Stuff From This Year:

January 28: The Witch of South Kensington - The Infinite Bad - G - Cornelia and Sebastian and a weird, well, infinitely bad sort of domesticity

April 7: to beckon me in languages i’ve never learned - James Bond - Bond/M - E - M decides what bendings of her will she’s willing to forgive

October 18: If Not Me - Arc of a Scythe - Curie/Faraday - T - Faraday fishes Curie out of the water, and they make the long road-trip back to Conclave together

It’s been a bit of a transition year for me, but look! I have been writing! And there’s one more fic I have completed this year but not yet posted, and it’s a long bastard, so I am quite happy with myself.

And here is the little meme thing, though I’ve modified it a bit to reflect on the decade, because I thought that might be fun.

Fandoms I have written in during the 2010s: Harry Potter, Sanctuary, Scott & Bailey, The Infinite Bad, James Bond, Arc of a Scythe. There are few other things I wrote for Yuletides past, too, but I wouldn’t specifically call that participation in those fandoms, so I’ve left them off.

First fic of the decade: An Interesting and Difficut Woman (HP, Muriel/Ollivander, E)

Last fic of the decade: If Not Me (linked above) or, really, the unpublished monster-fic that is now awaiting beta

Longest fic of the decade: One Time Thing (S&B, Gill/Julie, E). This is my longest fic of all-time, actually, and will remain so even when I publish my new thing. 50K. How did I even. I had a full-time job in 2015, though I do remember starting it before that job happened.

Shortest fic of the decade: Was a Yuletide treat drabble thing about Robot Unicorn Attack, but I’m going to go with a thing I am actually still pretty proud of, Burning, which is 173 words of slightly dark Albus/Minerva, that it turns out I’m glad I posted to ao3, because the LJ comm it was originally written in a comment on has now been deleted and purged.

Something I learned while writing in the 2010s: That I am capable of moving on to new fandoms, though probably not being truly multi-fandom. I have learned that I am serially monogamous, fannishly. Apart from Yuletides past, which have always been a bit of a holiday deviation, I rarely go back to back to writing in a fandom once a new one takes hold of me, something that sometimes makes me sad, but the muse wants what it wants, I guess. I think I move on when I am ready to. I started the decade still firmly in HP, where I had been since roughly 2003, and by now I have cycled through several new interests, which can be happy or melancoly depending on the way I look at it (I am generally not sad to move on to new ideas, but I am sometimes sad that moving to new fandoms sometimes means losing touch with friends from old ones).

Something I’m surprised about when I look back at my fic over the decade: That I can look back at my first fic of the decade, and really most things I have written in the past ten years, and still be damn proud of them. I think part of it is age and maturity, but an even larger part of it is that in about 2008 I started regularly using a BETA, and ever since, I can look back at the things I have written and be proud rather than cringing. Seriously, a good beta is worth her weight in gold, and I have known a few. Hold onto your betas, peeps, and if you don’t have one, GET ONE. Your future self will thank you.

Something that I miss: The comment culture of LJ, and the general tight-knit-ness of my little corner of fandom there. Fandom is now definitely a diaspora, and I have made many wonderful connections in the years since I moved to tumblr/twitter, but god do I miss the comment culture of things like LJ fic exchanges in particular. That might also in part be me missing being a part of a fandom that was LARGE even within its niches. But the muse wants what it wants, lol.

Something that makes me happy: The friends that I have made in my fandoms of the decade - shit, I mean, @incandescent-justice and @girlonabridge and @aubrys and @little-brisk all became proper Real Life Friends of mine when I lived on their continent, and @picardcrusher and @sapphoshands and @moocowmoocow thanks for also screaming about lady detectives with me. And I am so, so pleased that being into Sanctuary helped me meet @troiings and audio drama fandom put me in touch with @lothiriel84 and @mifhortunach and just. yeah. There are probably more people I’m going to feel bad about forgetting but like, FADOM FAMS it means so much to me!

Strongest memories of writing from the decade: Writing ‘Scenes From a Very Special Friendship’ in a notebook in 2011 while on holiday attending DiaCon Alley in the UK, teasing it to the person I was writing it for and talking about it with @kiwi-collideoscope. Writing ‘A Sexual Awakening in Five Acts’ in the breaks at my retail job, sometimes skiving and taking hella long breaks on the steps outside the store and sometimes writing smut in the breakroom while trying to keep a straight face - I think that was the first fic I really wrote large chunks of on my phone, a practise that I have continued, and continues to make me happy. Writing a scene of ‘Be Here, By Me’ in which Julie Dodson smokes a cigarette with the sun on her face while doing exactly the same thing myself. Sitting in the restauarant/bar of my hotel in Berlin with my evening cup of tea (because German hotels don’t have a kettle in the room? idek) writing ‘Warrirors’, which was my first Infinite Bad fic, and the first fic I had written in two years. Starting to write ‘Tethers’ in the taxi in Manila on my way to the airport after my stopover on my way home to Sydney in 2018.

Something I wish I’d written: I wish I’d been able to get on the Berena train, fanfic-wise, but it was such a wild explosion that I couldn’t keep up with it, and the fact that canon never stopped really threw me, too. I really wish I’d managed to write that fucking Yuletide assignment in 2016, though, because none of the NYR prompts have grabbed me since.

Where I think the 2020s will take me: i honestly have no idea, but it might be fun to speculate for the future. Into new fandoms, I think is a safe bet - probably fandoms with Awesome Ladies. I hope this Arc of a Scythe thing can carry me a bit further, but after that, who knows? At the start of the decade, I had no idea that Scott & Bailey existed, or that I would fall for Sanctuary as hard as I did. I had no idea a wild and crazy RPG podcast would be the thing to pull me out of a two-year dry spell, or that I would finish a fic that had been sitting in my WIPs for two years (that’s ‘to beckon me’, btw, thanks, @tayryn, for helping me do a thing I never thought possible and take something OFF the backburner!). But yeah, whatever my 2020s fannish journey holds, I bet it has Awesome Ladies in it - particularly older ones.

[astrometriia]

the sappiest trope that always gets me going: a modern au middle of the night drive down the orange-lit highway, the simple tired joy of coming home after a long, long time away from it. rain optional

Perrindidn’t even bother stifling a yawn, settling back and tugging hiscoat tighter around him. Rain splattered against the windscreendespite the wipers, obscuring everything but the bright orange glowof the lamp posts beyond. They streaked past the car, leavingafter-images in Perrin’s eyes until he let them slide shut with asigh.

“Youshould sleep.” Faile’s words floated over from the driver’sseat. With his eyes closed, he wound up concentrating more on hervoice than he normally would have. It was soft, more flat thanmelodious, but not unpleasant. “You had a long flight.”

“Notsleepy,” he muttered, though he did not open his eyes. He justwanted to rest them a little, that was all. Finally being back home,after months of studying in another country, had left his brainbuzzing with excitement. If only his jet-lagged body could keep upwith his thoughts. Sighing, he straightened, trying to find a morecomfortable position.

“Yousound sleepy to me,” she remarked, but this time there wasamusement in her voice. Perrin imagined a smile on her face, her eyestwinkling. He even cracked open an eye briefly to see whether he’dgotten the mental image right. Faile’s eyes were fixed on the road,but she was smiling all right. Even after being apart for months, hecould still read her like an open book.

“Justtired.” He didn’t stifle his second yawn either, leaning hischeek against the window. Bad idea when the glass was so cold.Huffing, he flopped back against the seat again. “I’ll sleeplater, once we get home.” Silence stretched out between them,broken only by the rhythmic pitter-patter of rain. He cracked openhis eye again, grinning tiredly. “Much later.”

“We’llhave to see about that,” she laughed, but he thought hepicked up on something of a challenge in her tone. Even her eyesflickered towards him for a brief moment before returning to the roadahead of them. “That was more forward of you than usual. I’mstarting to think you’re already half-asleep.”

Perrinsnorted, but it came out like a grunt. “Well, I’ve missed you.”Video calls didn’t always cut it. He’d missed holding her,breathing in her unique scent. The little things, mostly. “MaybeMat’s rubbed off of me a little too.”

“Thatwould do it.” But Faile sounded amused, and that warmed him. Cometo think of it, he was pleasantly warm. Had Faile turned up the heat?Knowing her, she probably had.

“Mighttake that nap, after all,” he murmured sleepily, probably garblinghalf the words in the process. He was warm, comfortable, and he waswith Faile again. The buzzing excitement he’d been feeling all daywas finally ebbing away, leaving him feeling drained. “Just a nap.”

“Ofcourse, my heart,” Faile replied, her voice soft. He didn’tremember much else besides that, but he remembered feeling safe.Feeling like he was already home, as long as he was with her.

[cupressacea]

This is for the prompt: Nynaeve’s realisation that Siuan and Moiraine are together.

Sorry for the wait, but my life’s been crazy lately.

Definitely not cannon. This is just for fun. A bit cracky and out of character.

Nynaeve turned over to face Lan, who was breathing evenly with his eyes closed, but she knew he hadn’t fallen asleep just yet.

‘I can hear you thinking, Nynaeve.’

‘I thought you could only hear Moiraine’s thoughts.’

Lan opened his eyes and look at her through the dim light radiated from the embers in the fireplace. His stare was serene and calm as usual. Nynaeve grimaced before he even started to talk. ‘Sorry. That was uncalled for.’

Back at Fal Dara, Lan had been staying besides Moiraine ever since he brought her back from the blight. The only reason he was in Nynaeve’s chamber now was that Moiraine had been shutting him out even with his effort of hovering over his Aes Sedai for weeks. Moiraine had recovered enough—at least in her physical appearance—she more than once reassured Lan that she didn’t need his relentless care and insisted she would be fine for one night without him sleeping next to her.

‘It’s fine,’ Lan turned to lie on his back, ’I’m still not used to her being like this, too.’

Nynaeve had never thought it was possible to see the disparity in Moiraine for someone who seldom showed emotions other than amusement, hostility, annoyance, and… well, blank expression and who didn’t know what giving up meant.

‘It feels so wrong,’ Lan went on, ‘It’s almost like I have lost her.’

Nynaeve couldn’t begin to imagine what it must feel like. She still didn’t understand the bond between an Aes Sedai and her warder, but she imagined someday she would have a warder. Deep down, she knew she would go to the White Tower, even though she hadn’t announced her decision to anyone yet. Not even Lan. Again, even with Lan’s explanation and reassurance that Moiraine didn’t own him and her understanding, however intellectually, she still didn’t get the bond. Nevertheless, she could see the effect of being cut off from Moiraine on him. That she could feel. And it was not like she was heartless.

‘You haven’t,’ Nynaeve reached out to touch his face, ‘She’s still here, trying to live without the ability to touch the Source… and planning our next steps, too. She’s still the same person.’

A sad smile appeared on the usually harsh contour of Lan’s face, ‘She doesn’t see herself that way.’

They fell into a long silence after that.

Nynaeve’s thoughts wandered back to the time when they were at the Tower before all the madness had gone loose at Fal Dara and the Blight. The day when Moiraine got exiled from the Tower. Something didn’t add up. Something was nagging at the back of her head, and she didn’t know if initiating a conversation at that would lighten Lan’s mood or not, but she wanted to know.

‘Is that why the Amyrlin Seat is coming here with other Aes Sedai?’

That coaxed some reaction from Lan, who slowly turned his face towards her, a question in his dark eyes.

‘They were here to investigate the events. It was a response to the message sent from Fal Dara.’

‘Yes, all that, but--’

‘But?’

‘Isn’t it too formal and excessive? I thought the Amyrlin only stayed in the Tower doing whatever she does there.’

‘The Amyrlin has duties out in the world as well. Do you remember when we arrived there, she was on her way back from Caemlyn?’

‘Right,’ Nynaeve didn’t give up, ‘But that doesn’t answer my question.’ Lan answered questions like Moiraine did, like an Aes Sedai. Nynaeve wondered if she had to become that, too. She could almost taste her bile with that thought.

‘Doesn’t it?’

‘Is the Amyrlin coming here for Moiraine?’

If Nynaeve didn’t know better, she would think Lan shook beside her.

‘I sent a message to her after we got back. I told her she is needed here.’

Nynaeve smirked. It was not the answer she sought, but close enough.

‘I have a theory. You don’t have to answer me. Just listen.’

Lan hummed, but that was his only reaction.

‘I heard her whisper in her sleep when you left her to my care. Most of them were non-sense. Some sounded like meaningful names or objects. I didn’t understand, and I didn’t care. However, when I met Egwene again at the Hall, Moiraine said something so bizarre like, “Siuan Sanche only waits for one woman, and it’s not you.” It was aimed at me as an insult, but she dropped the Amyrlin’s name out of nowhere, which sounded particularly informal as if she was entitled to do so.’ Nynaeve paused, gauging Lan’s expression. ‘Oh and the meeting afterwards? They obviously have had some kind of alliance against the public knowledge that they couldn’t stand each other. You were there when Moiraine warned me about the Tower politics, and she lead us to the centre of it just like that. They want to use us and take us on their side. But I found the final piece of the puzzle the night before we left the Tower. I remembered what she said when she was delirious. It was Siuan. For a person in the state of dying, repeating somebody’s name could only mean they were close to her heart. I’ve seen enough sick or wounded people to know that.’

Nynaeve finally stopped, looking at Lan with an expecting look despite what she said earlier. She found Lan’s eyes widened. After the longest seconds, he laughed.

Nynaeve couldn’t believe it, but she might well.

‘Do not say a word. You are one of us now.’

For the story summary thing: Nynaeve's realization that Siuan and Moiraine are together.

oh. OH, I can almost see the outline of the story now. thx anon! ʕ·͡ᴥ·ʔ

[redfivewritingby]

Projects in Progress: 12/29/2017

Doing a bit of year end tidying up and thought it might be helpful to make another one of things. I use my Projects in Progress posts as To Do Lists (and I really ought to be better about writing them because they do help). 

Been a while since my last update, which might explain why I’ve fallen so tragically behind editing. I know it’s been a quiet fall from me. Not because I haven’t been writing, but I’ve been too frantic at the job to edit much. 

Anyway, I hope this gives you something to look forward to.

NEW SINCE LAST UPDATE (in May *cough, cough*)

Maneater (COMPLETED): “Hannibal and Will are dispatched to a sleepy beach town in south Georgia where a killer shark is terrorizing the citizens. Smelling blood in the water, Hannibal sees an opportunity to draw Will further into his world.”

i sole e l'altre stelle: one-shot “After a night at the Opera, Hannibal destroys the sanctity of the bedroom by breaking his husband's #1 rule and Will is having none of it.”

Remember the Ravenstags: Becoming (COMPLETED):

A Christmas Exchange: one-shot for @menage-gay-trois for the @hannibalholiday “It's Christmas Eve and Will Graham is still searching for a Christmas present for his twin brother, Anthony.”

HANNIBAL - in progress

Cabin Fever - Part 3 of the Nothing Sweeter series (oh yes, Frose again) for @desperatelyseekingcannibals and to fulfill a promise I made to @damnslippyplanet a long, long time ago.  One-shot: sitting on my computer waiting to be uploaded to AO3

Through The Force You’ll Find Me: a Tristhad Star Wars AU Chapter 1: read now Chapter 2: read now Chapter 3: read now Chapter 4: final pass Chapter 5: final pass

Remember The Ravenstags: Evolution - Part 2 of Remember the Raventags, my football AU Chapter 1: first draft Chapter 2: first draft Chapter 3: annoying the piss out of me cause Will Graham is a brat Chapters 4+: outlinning

Identically Adorable: a HanniCat and WillPub adventure for @kkachi35 Chapter 1: third pass Chapter 2: third pass Chapter 3: third pass Chapter 4: third pass Chapter 5: writing

Hannibal Makes a Friend: written for @hotsauce418 who btws is amazing and gives the BEST prompts One-shot: sitting on my computer waiting to be uploaded to AO3

Daughter @radiance-anthology fic One-shot: sitting on my computer waiting to be uploaded to AO3

A Rare Gift: an egregiously belated birthday present for @cannibalhouse One-shot: second pass

Some Other Worlds Are Even Less Kind: Part 2 - WoT/Hannigram AU Chapter 1: writing part 1: read now  (No prior knowledge of the Wheel of Time necessary.)

Good grief. No wonder I feel so behind. I AM. XD Hopefully that translates to a lot of new stuff from me this January! Cause my goal is to get back down a manageable three projects: the one I’m writing, the one I’m outlining, the one I’m researching.

IN THE MEAT LOCKER: (On hiatus to be returned to, maybe, one day, hopefully. Curious about any of these? Drop me an ask and I’ll post something from the WiP. Who knows, maybe it’ll encourage me to go back to one of them sooner rather than later.)

Rowan: AU inspired by the Irish folk legend “The Adventures of Nera”, Ace Will The Firebird: the fluff filled aftermath to the smut filled  “Always Loved a Man in Uniform.” Closing Costs: Will and Hannibal go apartment hunting post-Fall. Will is a grumpy butthead. If You Could See Him Now: Carry On fanfic from Fiona’s perspective  Kittens and Things: Hannibal brings home a kitten for Will. Sex in a hammock occurs. Untitled sequel to Lost and Found: a series alternate season one moments--first dinner at Hannibal’s house Kentucky Downs: Brady/Welker/Edelman drama Farmtruck: a hannigram street racing story

Current Published Word Count for 2017: 136,235 Goal: 150k for 2017 (so close! grrrrrr)

Read more on A03.