#wot au

[pien-art]

totally enamoured by @eve-is-obsessed ‘s fic “Need Me Then” <- go check it out !!! I can’t wait to read more of this au !!!

[toastandjamie]

Me? Using dancing with a partner as a metaphor for opening yourself to Saidar instead of the rosebud? More likely than you think.

[kendrene]

🥺🥺🥺 first snow for avatrice?

Beatrice wakes to an absence of warmth.

A Novice’s room is hardly ever warm, but there is a sharpness to the chill of the early morning air that can herald one thing only. An odor to it, at once pungent and clear.

Snow.

She resists the urge to burrow deeper under the pile of blankets. Soon an Accepted will be by and knock on her door and call her to service in the kitchens. She sighs, rubs sleep out of her eyes. It’s going to be a long winter.

Beatrice wakes to an absence as well. A bed, barely built for one let alone two, empty except for her. The narrow space Ava had occupied, vacant. Even the memory of her body heat is nearly gone, only faintly felt when Beatrice reaches out, fingers pressed to the shallow indent Ava’s head had left on the surface of their solitary pillow.

“Ava?” Nothing. Beatrice rolls over, puts her face closer to the wall where some prior occupant had drilled a hole through to the room adjacent, and calls again. “Ava, are you there?” Silence.

She sits up, tosses the blankets aside and her stomach twists into a knot of disquiet.

It’s a new thing, in the fast-evolving trajectory of their friendship, the sharing of a bed.

Beatrice can pinpoint the exact day it started with accuracy, yet the precise mechanics of the how it did remain unclear. Ava had simply showed up at her door at the first hint of Fall, had barely let Beatrice crack it the width of a finger before she’s pushed it fully open, her wheeled chair a battering ram crashing past the last lines of the admittedly already blurred concept of personal space between them, and announced that she was cold, her room was colder and would Beatrice mind if she squeezed in bed with her just for a night?

One sleep became two became three became a fortnight to the point Beatrice can’t imagine it’s ever been any way else. Shame colors her cheeks like so much paint as her stomach (her heart) gives another lurch. She can imagine it, but rather wouldn’t.

Dressing against the chatter of her teeth, Beatrice surveys her room a final time: no, Ava is not hiding in a corner, and yes, her chair too is gone.

She ventures outside, immediately spotting Ava one level above theirs and directly across. The rooms of that gallery are all empty, dark, and barred for fifty years she’s heard one of the Accepted say. She wonders briefly whether in another fifty years their rooms too will fall to neglect, or whether it’ll be less than. Twenty years. Ten. She abandons the dark thought with a huff and walks away from it quickly.

“Ava, what are you doing?” Ava is staring unmoving at the brightening sky “You’re going to catch a chill.” It must have been hot work to push her chair up the steep ramp and all the way around the gallery; still, Ava’s wearing just a nightshift. Now at rest, she’s sure to be frozen to the bone. “Here, put this on.”

A snowflake-sized pang of regret finds its way under Beatrice’s woollens the moment she removes her cloak but, even though she’s nowhere near mastering whatever it is that lets an Aes Sedai ignore both extreme heat and cold, she does her best to ignore it.

The cloak falls around Ava’s shoulders, white on white and soft as the layer of snow obscuring the garden down below. Ava startles. Looks at her and smiles.

“It’s snowing.” She reaches up, absently seeking Beatrice’s hands with her own. “It’s snowing, Bea.”

“I can tell.” Ava’s hands seem made of the same matter that’s falling from the sky, and Beatrice squeezes them hard, trying to restore them to a semblance of warmth. “Surely you’ve seen snow before?”

A strange expression flits across Ava’s face, and Beatrice bites the inside of her cheek to the point she tastes red, reminded of the gulf that separated their lives before Tar Valon. “I’m sorry.” Stupid, stupid. “I didn’t mean-”

The hold she has on Ava’s hands slackens with the remorse of hasty words, and Ava grasps for the chance, twisting until she’s the one gripping Beatrice’s hands tight, palm to palm, fingers interlocked.

“It’s okay.” She tilts her face down so that her lips brush the back of Beatrice’s left hand in what she would mistake for a kiss were she a fool and breathes a puff of warm air over numb flesh. “It’s just… winter sucks when you’re an orphan. I guess I should thank the Light that Amadicia rarely got any snow worth the name.”

Beatrice resists the temptation to press for more, and instead says:

“Do you like it?”

“Yes.” Ava lets go of her and extends one hand over the balustrade, watching snowflakes touch down on it and dissolve. She shivers, although perhaps it’s more of a shudder. “I think there was snow in my dreams last night.”

Beatrice doesn’t question how Ava could dream of a thing she’s never seen before, doesn’t tell her that she’s been sleep-talking (mumbling really) in the clutches of what had seemed like dreams of a darker kind. Doesn’t mention that these sorts of dreams, the ones that soak Ava’s nightshift through and dig black trenches all round her eyelids, have occurred nearly every night since they’ve begun sharing a bed. Every night since Beatrice was brought below ground to Test and refused the ter’angreal in its entirety.

She doesn’t say she’s had dreams too, lucid ones that ambush in the light of morning. What is and what could be, choices she could make branching out indefinitely; in the sheer number of them lies abject horror.

One such hovers at the corner of her eye. Beatrice focuses on Ava, on their hands still entwined. The dream – the vision – melts away. “We should head back to my room.” She glances at the sky, grey veering to lacteal. “We can snatch another half hour of warmth if we hurry.”

A flicker of motion, white from head to toe, freezes Ava’s reply. Two levels down.

“It’s an Accepted.” Slowly, carefully, Ava inches her chair back. “Crimson, I think.”

Fantastic. “We really need to go.” Beatrice looks from the wheelchair to the ramp and back again. “Can you get down without making noise?”

“I can do even better.”

“Ava, what-”

Too late. The glow of saidar dances across Ava’s knuckles. A trickle. Enough.

“Ava, don’t.” Beatrice knows it’s for naught. Ava has a glint in her eyes, mischief mixed in with intent. Snow silently coalesces into a small cloud, then a flurry. Unaware, Crimson glides from door to door, rapping once before she moves on to the next. “Ava, please, stop.” The cloud of snow, clumped together into something more solid, has reached the size and rough shape of a bucket. A weave of air and water nudges it under the eaves of the gallery and over Crimson’s unsuspecting head.

Grinning, Ava lets the Power go.

“See?” She whispers, as the first shriek reaches their ears. “I stopped like you asked me to.”

Beatrice grabs the back of the chair and whirls her around. “Let’s go.” She doesn’t care that the wheels let out a squeak against the marble. Crimson is screaming loud enough to cover the sound. “I swear to the Light, one of these days you’ll get into some real trouble, and I won’t be there to get you out of it.”

By some sort of miracle or mercy of the Light they make it back to Beatrice’s room undetected.

“Come on.” Beatrice pushes the door open, struggling to wedge the bulky chair inside. “Just-” Another set of hands appears, pushing Ava the rest of the way through, and Beatrice, too stunned to speak, stumbles after.

“Neat trick.” With Mary, and Shannon Sedai, and the two of them besides, the room, which is already cramped, shrinks down to a broom closet. “You should ask Shan to show you how to make ice appear inside people’s clothes, though.” Mary winks. “Less likely to be found out that way.”

“Aes Sedai.” With so little space it is impossible to curtesy, but to her credit Beatrice tries. “It’s all my fault. I told Ava I was sad,” Lie. She’s never as happy as when she is with Ava. “She just wanted to make me laugh. I will apo-”

“You’re sad?” Ava’s eyes study her face, full of concern. “You didn’t tell me you were sad, Bea. Why are you sad?”

Shannon brings a finger to her lips, and they all go quiet, waiting. A knock comes at Beatrice’s door, Ava’s, then the one further down the hall.

After, Ava is still looking at her for answer, and Shannon Sedai is still looking at them both, face blank save for an uptick to the corner of her mouth that smooths completely flat the instant Beatrice notices it.

“I will not report you this time.” The Aes Sedai declares finally, and Beatrice exhales a breath she’d not noticed she’d been holding. “But you best lay low for a while.”

“Until she teaches you that trick is what she means.” Mary chimes in, making Shannon sigh.

“Don’t encourage them, Mary.” Shannon gestures, and the door opens without anyone touching it. The wind snags at it, meaning to close it, and the Aes Sedai stops it with her hand. “Be steadfast now, child.” She holds Beatrice’s gaze for a moment, and then she’s gone, Mary hard on her heels.

Only after they’ve left, after she’s reassured Ava she wasn’t sad but improvising, it dawns on Beatrice they’d been dressed for long, hard travel.

[ofthebrownajah]

@butterflydm brought it up in her poll but I have thought about this AU idea before but I don't think I've brought it up on here. What would've happened if the Tower had succeeded in transporting Rand in the box to the Tower?

[stayoutofitnick]

Imagining the scenes shortly after bonding where they both are repeatedly shocked by what the other is feeling and how counter that is to what they present. Mat absolutely bawling over LAN’s inevitable death. nynaeve shaking in fear that someone might get hurt.

AU: Nynaeve bonds Mat while trying to Heal him in EOTW

[Send me a potential AU and I'll answer with five things from that story!]

Heh. Now this is interesting-

It takes a while for everyone to realize what has happened- Nynaeve and Mat especially. Their already fraught relationship is made....more complex by this addition.

Definitely a lot more maternal and sibling like in their bond then other Mat-as-Warders I could picture. Mat would I think, approach being Nynaeve's warder in both a conspiratorial way (100+ down to keep it hidden from the Aes Sedai both as a poke in the eye out of simple self interest).

Nynaeve would not necessarily be thrilled with the idea at first, but I think the idea that it's helping protect him from the dagger would keep her from pushing to release it at first, and then the simple practicality of having someone to depend on that she doesn't have to worry about staying loyal would keep her from pushing to hard to release him afterwards.

A lot of the conflict between Nynaeve and Mat is born of a lack of understanding and empathy for each other, even though their quite similar people. I think the bond would help them overcome that and see where the other person is coming from more effectively- which would make them a surprisingly terrifying pair especially in the later half of the series.

I don't think Nynaeve would keep Mat's bond long term though, especially after she reunites with Lan in ACOS. I do think she would offer earlier to release him and Mat would stubbornly refuse until Lan is there to 'take over'- something that would have offended her before if not for the fact that she could understand it was born of genuine concern and worry, not the contempt she would have assumed before. Mat would feel oddly listless after being 'released', and I think that would also color his ensuing courtship with Tuon. Being under someone else's thumb for so long and....not hating it actually, might make him more amenable to the idea of Tuon's thumb as well. (Conversely I think his experience with Tylin would be completely different, if Tylin even would pursue a Warder, something not she would, one taste of Mats genuine fear and panic would have Nynaeve ready to split skulls without hesitation).

[themangylioness]

Fanfiction Question for my WoT peeps:

Would y'all read a:

Amyrlin Seat!Moiraine AU with next to zero plot connections (esentially Siuan and Moiraine switch places)

Dragon Reborn!Egwene AU

And something mildly similar to my story The Lost Queen of Malkier???

Of course this only really applies to people who have attempted to/have read my other stories but feedback is welcome.

[thatordinaryoddity]

it‘s always been you 🤍

I don‘t know what to tell you about this except that this is what they actually deserve.

Check out part 2!

and part 3!

and part 4!

and part 5!

bonus:

[halcyon-autumn]

Suian thinking they’d be better off if the Dragon were a girl is so funny. Like Suian, babe, I love you wholeheartedly but you would not have an easier time with EGWENE AL’VERE as your prophesied savior I promise. Sure you don’t have to worry about her going insane, but Egwene is so stubborn she’s resisting an empire that’s spent a thousand years perfecting indoctrination. Egwene once threatened a full-fledged sister because she blamed her for Nynaeve’s death. Egwene would say “I am going to get a good grade in ‘being the prophesied savior who will either save or destroy the world,’ something that’s normal to want and possible to achieve” and then start fucking the shit up of everyone she doesn’t like - INCLUDING everyone she doesn’t like in the White Tower. And keep in mind, her best friends are 1.) Nynaeve al’Meare, human embodiment of the “I’m a healer but…” meme, and 2.) Elayne Trakand, the heir to the throne of the most powerful country on the continent who knows Egwene for two days and then is so ride or die for her that she tries to follow her out of the Tower and then starts attacking the “women who enslave channelers” crew with a stick. You would not have a chill time with a Dragon!Egwene au I promise you that.

[toastandjamie]

The answer to what the Mat/Lanfer set up means for the last battle is that everything goes exactly the same except instead of trying to fake seduce Perrin she tries to real seduce Mat into helping her

Can’t say what Mat will do because I’ve got no idea where he’s at mentally

My toxic trait is that I need to know exactly where and when the canon divergence first started in even my crackiest, most goofy AU, even if it never comes up in the actual fic.

[pien-art]

commission for @eve-is-obsessed 🌟 (also everyone go read Eve’s fic Oaths , it’s so good!)

[toastandjamie]

Last post for tonight I promise

Modern AU where Mat and Tuon meet at a martial arts competition and Tuon kicks his ass.

Mat is incredibly attracted to a woman who can kill him

[ghostorbz]

WYD WHEN MY GANG PULLS UP @kittysboba

[irregularcollapse]

love means nothing (in tennis)

a Buck/Bucky tennis AU by phlegmatic

Gale meets John Egan at a Challenger in Bordeaux when they’re both 19 years old. After that, he can’t seem to shake him. But what’s more is, despite what his dad says about Gale’s game, and what the commentators say about their rivalry, and what he’s been told about tennis his whole life, Gale doesn’t think he wants to.

Auckland Open, 2015: Hard to Kill, Easy to Fuck

“You’re breakin’ my heart, Buck.” John’s voice, his breath, his body, hot drunk and heavy all over tonight—heavy on Gale as he leans right into Gale’s side and murmurs against his neck. “I haven’t done anything.” “You clipped my wings,” John whines with hammed-up mournfulness, and when his hand comes to thread tipsy-clumsy fingers into the hair around Gale’s ear, Gale’s stomach flops uncomfortably over itself. “’S just hair, buddy.” Still stroking, John leans back to look Gale in the eyes. “What am I supposed to hold onto while you suck me off now, huh?” “Bucky,” Gale warns, but even with the leaded weight in his gut he knows it’s fine: just the two of them at this table, the music’s still loud, and John’s talking low.

🎾 read chapter four on ao3 🎾

[onaperduamedee]

Thinking again about how the gender essentialism in WoT is aggravating not because there is gender essentialism in magic because that's the entire premise of the books but because RJ set to explore that particular premise without fully understanding how gender essentialism and patriarchy affects women differently that it does men. That's how you get Berelain's writing, the internal monologues of Nynaeve in tel'aran'rhiod, groups of women in power often written as petty squabbling fools, practically all the powerful female leaders at the start of the series will be depowered and humiliated by the end, the Aiel warriors being women presented as something foreign...

In RJ world, men are naturally stronger than women in the OP: this rule isn't subverted and permeates every aspect of his worldbuilding. There's a reason only the boys are ta'veren, that Mat ends up taking control of the armies over Elayne, that Perrin is naturally better at tel'aran'rhiod than Egwene, that Nynaeve the strongest channeler we've seen in a thousand years becomes a glorified battery for Rand in the end.

In a way, it's a fascinating psychological phenomenon that the entire premise of his fictional world is based on gender essentialism yet he doubled down on several core elements of gender essentialism instead of subverting them.

When I discuss gender essentialism in his work I do it so because he made it "gender essentialism: the fantasy edition", so while his women challenge gender essentialism in some ways, it's entirely legitimate to question why he didn't expand the subversion in other aspects of his world.

[ask-misconduct]

Blink twice if you’re being held hostage.

at this point it's been so long and he knows he probably won't get away he just says he lives there

but yeah he was kidnapped

i mean

taken away from his AU in the middle of the night

thats kidnapping if i've ever seen one

previous - next

(first)

[weirdenbyferret]

Day six, Anemone

So apparently I accidentally skipped what was supposed to be day threes prompt, aka shark, and Im just going to ignore that and continue on

Once again, dont know if the next chapter is out today, but I have done this next prompt!

Thought up a species thingy based on anemones and proceeded to draw Eclipse as one lol (If anyone wants to make an oc based off of this creature, permission is much granted)