fic prompts

[raven]

So, hello, I'm sorry for the spam. But I have a bad case of Sunday night hyperactivity. If you want a ficlet, please say so: fandom, character(s), prompt - I like this list and this list, but anything. Won't promise to write them all, but will try. (forthwritten, this time I will try to do better.)

Comments

[raven]

Apropos of nothing, Geoffrey says: "They used to make me run corporate team-building seminars."

"I remember, Geoffrey," Anna tells him. "I was there, remember? There was that nice couple from Ottawa you made be Goneril and Regan." She pauses. "That worked pretty well, actually. The tall one really got into it, I thought I should let her go ahead of me in the line for the bathroom."

Geoffrey nods, although the firelight is very low and he's pretty sure she can't see him. "I bring it up," he says after a while, "because I think maybe we should have included other skills. Like, I don't know, navigating by the stars. Sending smoke signals. Telling edible plants from ones that will make you die horribly burbling about giant spiders."

"Geoffrey."

"Sorry," he says, quickly. He's flat on his back, eyes on the stars, crawling slowing around the North Star, but he reaches out blindly until he finds her hand to squeeze. "Sorry, Anna."

"That's okay." She sighs. "What do you suppose the others are doing now?"

"Hopefully" - Geoffrey looks at his watch, realises he can't make out the dial - "in between hissy fits about the forgeries of jealousy and torturing her understudy, my wife is starting to wonder where I am." He pauses. "Hopefully."

"She is," Anna says with unexpected forthrightness. "She doesn't do well without you, Geoffrey."

"Nor I, without her," Geoffrey says, comfortably. "I hope you're happy, being the only functionally sane person in my company, Anna. I hope... I hope you're happy."

"Yes," she says, instantly, and then, hesitantly: "But I would give a thousand furlongs of sea, for..."

"An acre of barren ground," Geoffrey says, still comfortably, "long heath, brown furze, green room, maybe that crappy coffee place down the street from the theatre, on soup day."

"They will find us, won't they," Anna says.

Geoffrey squeezes her hand again. "Take courage, dear heart. Ellen is likely weeping beautiful buckets over the provincial coastguard."

"Probably," Anna says, and louder: "¡No pasaran!"

"No pasaran," Geoffrey agrees, watching the sparks fly upwards, brightness into dark.

[hedda62]

Oh, lovely lovely! "long heath, brown furze, green room, maybe that crappy coffee place down the street from the theatre, on soup day." Yes. These two are among my favorite characters ever.

[thistlerose]

Oh, I love this! You captured them beautifully.