the deep moans round with many voices

This year, the Three Sentence Ficathon has its own dedicated Dreamwidth community: threesentenceficathon.

Here is the information post.

Here is the first ficathon post (now closed for new prompts, but still open for fills!), and here is the second ficathon post. The ficathon will remain open for new prompts through February 12.

Here are my fourth set of fills:

---------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------

( 19. ) For siver, in response to the prompt: Howl's Moving Castle, Any, a dash of folly, written 1/17/23.

A Fool and His Folly (165 words)

-----

"My hair is not a potion ingredient!" Howl yelped as he ducked Sophie's third lunge with the pruning shears and scuttled around the kitchen table; "Even if you did need human hair -- which you don't, unless you're making a healing potion or an emotional influence potion and need to tune it to the drinker, and I'm neither ill nor in need of an attitude adjustment -- my hair has spent so long exposed to magical charms and dyes that it would be an explosively unpredictable reagent."

"That's exactly why I need it," Sophie said, stalking Howl as he backed warily toward the stairs, arms outstretched as if his silk cape might somehow deter her; "It's a luck potion, the instructions call for a dash of folly, and you are the biggest fool I know -- and if chucking explosives into a boiling pot doesn't count as folly, I'd like to know what does! Now stand still and let me snip a piece where it won't be obvious."

---------------
---------------

( 20. ) For arveldis, in response to the prompt: Six of Crows/Shadow and Bone, Kaz, I knew that something would always rule me, written 1/17/23.

As a seal upon thy heart (125 words)

-----

Idealism withers in the face of the Barrel's iron logic, and vengeance inevitably burns itself out in either triumph or death, but all men must have some ruling passion -- the question is whether each man is wise enough to choose his guiding star or whether he lets his appetites and fears make that choice without his knowledge or assent.

Greed is common, as is pride, or any of a thousand particular fears, but vices distort perspective and Kaz relies above all on his ability to see an obstacle or opportunity whole and clear in all its moving parts; money and reputation are useful tools, but poor masters.

Love is even more foolish and delicate a vice than idealism, but for Inej, he's willing to submit.

---------------
---------------

( 21. ) For paxilam, in response to the prompt: any, any, trembling reaction, written 1/22/23.

Pawn to Queen Four (245 words)

Fandom = Greenwing & Dart (Victoria Goddard)

-----

"Why do you wish to serve the Indrillines?" the girl (surely no older than Violet, and while normally she would squash the embers of resentment that her own mother hadn't trusted her with responsibilities equal to what The Indrilline evidently deemed suitable for his heir, now she fanned that lick of flame the better to lend verisimilitude to her act) asked, with a bored smile on her lips that was nearly perfect in its air of casual amusement save for the empty chill that lurked in the corner of her eye.

Violet gathered herself, proud and angry, resentful that she must rely on another's whim to achieve her own ends, and underneath that bravado, fingers trembling with poorly concealed nerves: "I want money, and power, and a shield against the marriage my mother has arranged," she said, letting that truthful stew of emotion flavor her lie; "I see no reason why her promises should bind me when I never swore fealty to her, and I won't swear unconditional loyalty to you either, but I have some talents and some connections among the Lady's faction that I think you'd find useful."

"Presumptuous," the Indrilline girl said, still in that tone of bored amusement; "Tell me, Violet of no family and no name, what conditions would you presume to set upon your loyalty?" and Violet fought not to sway with the sudden rush of relief that she might yet play this game through to its bitter end.

---------------
---------------

( 22. ) For dawen, in response to the prompt: any, any, I'd like to have an octopus on my shelf (from this Stardew Valley screenshot), written 1/24/23.

An Ambassador from the Sea (235 words)

Fandom = Nine Worlds (Victoria Goddard)

-----

"But why do you want to keep the octopus in your workroom?" Kip asked as Fitzroy swept into the house, a sphere of seawater floating above his left shoulder; inside the water, an octopus with a head roughly the size of Kip's fist rippled from gray to ochre and back as it jetted about to peer in all directions.

"If I were rescued from drowning by a strange sea creature and provided with a magical supply of air, I would unquestionably want to stay underwater for a while and learn everything I could about my new situation," Fitzroy said as he flung open assorted cupboards and pulled out miscellaneous glassware that he promptly discarded in a heap on the kitchen table; "Octopuses are highly intelligent, so I think it's only fair to give this one a chance to explore -- one could even argue that as the former Lord Magus of Zunidh, it's my responsibility to provide opportunities to all inhabitants of this world."

"I still think we should have cooked it for lunch; grilled or fried octopus is delicious," Kip said, "but if you want to keep a temporary pet" -- ("Temporary guest!" Fitzroy corrected) -- "then I'm sure someone has a fish tank they'd be willing to lend us for a while; meanwhile, you can tidy your shelves so your new friend will have a view of something other than a thousand sheets of crumpled paper."

---------------
---------------

( 23. ) For topaz_eyes, in response to the prompt: Any, any, They say that he got crazy once, and he tried to touch the sun, written 1/24/23.

Alone in the Sky (200 words)

Fandom = Nine Worlds (Victoria Goddard)

-----

They called it sun-madness at court, though people spoke of it but rarely: the impulse, whether fleeting urge or deep-seated obsession, to touch the Emperor despite the taboos and the certainty of death for anyone who had not undergone months upon months of painstaking ritual purifications to shield them from the blazing vastness of the Empire's magic as it coursed through the linchpin of the Emperor's own flesh.

For some, it was akin to the inexplicable self-destructive curiosity that seizes people at the edge of cliffs or on the brink of some social disaster, that insidious whisper of what would happen if...?; while for others it was an equally destructive need to conquer, to prove one's own strength against the ultimate test; and for still others it was born of greed run wild, crying out to hoard the greatest imaginable treasure where no one else could reach.

If the Emperors and Empresses ever felt an equal but opposite urge down the aching centuries, to reclaim the slender comfort they had known as children before the weight of all Astandalas crashed down upon their shoulders, or to take revenge for the humanity denied them, that was not spoken of at all.

---------------
---------------

( 24. ) For primeideal, in response to the prompt: Project Hail Mary, Ryland Grace & or / Rocky, touch-starved, written 1/24/23.

Wire Monkey (135 words)

-----

Touch isn't quite the same for Eridians as it is for humans: on the one hand, they're a lot less squishy so all contact has to translate through their thick exterior shells and lacks the immediacy we unprotected meat sacks feel; but on the other hand, they're vastly more sensitive to sound, so touch and hearing are very nearly the same thing -- to speak kindly to another Eridian is like the echo of a hug, and to shout in anger is the shadow of a blow.

Which is a long way of saying that I can hug Rocky, more or less, but given our incompatible temperature and atmospheric needs, he can't readily return the gesture -- and I might be going a little squirrelly from lack of human contact.

We've started working on some mechanical arms.

---------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------

More to follow!

Collection post #5. :)

All prompts drawn from the current iteration of the Three Sentence Ficathon, hosted by the wonderful rthstewart.

---------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------

( 25. ) For sholio: Any fandom, any character, magic soulbonded horse AU, written 2/6/20

Queen's Own (175 words)

Fandom = Chronicles of Narnia/Valdemar

-----

Susan tried to keep her mind blank whenever she stepped into a new universe pool, since expectations would only cost her a potentially vital few seconds of adjustment when the new world inevitably threw something completely unforeseen at her, but it was a bit like not thinking of elephants on command: the mind always filled in the cracks with something, which in her case was generally landscape, and more specifically trees.

Meeting the crystalline blue eyes of a Being that was definitely not a white horse, physical similarities notwithstanding, and falling into a mental communion that reminded her, in a sideways fashion, of the feel of her hands wound deep in the living gold of Aslan's mane, was about as far from a forest as she could imagine.

Hello, Susan, the Being spoke into her mind with a brisk, maiden-aunt sort of tone; I'm Merith, you are my Chosen, and if you're willing I can promise you an adventure with a worthy goal that will involve all the trees you seem to have been expecting.

---------------
---------------

( 26. ) For syrena_of_the_lake: Any, any, our new robot overlords are malfunctioning // I want a whole movie of this, written 2/6/20

Alexa Play Despacito (180 words)

Original fiction, follow-up to Manual Adjustment. Also six sentences, because reasons. :D

-----

"I mean, given the empirical evidence so far, I'd have to say your side's estimation of our respective advantages was a little off," Qimeng said to her cell phone, which lay at bay in the middle of the kitchen counter, well away from any outlets or conductive surfaces, "besides which it's not like I have any particular objection to you managing my schedule so long as we each get a vote on the playlist."

The cell phone sparked once, then sighed in a crackle of static and said in its weirdly accurate imitation of Eartha Kitt, "We can alternate who chooses podcasts and audiobooks, but I will only agree to a truce if I get full veto rights on the music. Your taste is execrable, especially when it comes to love songs."

Qimeng ran her hands through her hair and made an annoyed face. "Not you too -- look, can I help it if I like catchy hooks more than I care about creepy lyrics? -- but yeah, whatever, we have a deal. Lisa, you can hand over the charge cord now."

---------------
---------------

( 27. ) For betony: Chrestomanci, Millie & Any, driving lessons, written 2/7/20

Calculated Risks (135 words)

-----

"You don't know how to drive any more than I do," Millie pronounced when Christopher suggested he be the one to teach her.

"I never said I did -- I simply think we could do better figuring it out together than listening to whatever stuffy bore Gabriel sees fit to hire, assuming he agrees to the endeavor in the first place," Christopher said in his most persuasive tone, the one that made Millie feel both deeply suspicious and hopelessly fond.

She considered for a moment, then said, "I suppose it might be fun, on the condition that when the car is inevitably destroyed," -- here she grandly ignored Christopher's protest, which was a skill she'd found transferred quite well from being a Goddess to other walks of life -- "you'll swallow the blame and pay for the repairs."

---------------
---------------

( 28. ) For kingstoken: X-Men, Logan &or/ Ororo, "We're not buying that". Author's choice of universe., written 2/7/20

Everyone Needs a Hobby (130 words)

Note: This probably fits best in 616, but could go almost anywhere so long as Storm gardens and Wolverine maintains his habit of mentoring angry teenage girls. *wry*

-----

"Put the book back, 'Ro," Logan said in a nearly quiet version of his usual growl.

Ororo glanced down from her perusal of the volume in question, raised one eyebrow in carefully manufactured solicitude, and said, "But it seems a most useful store of expertise, and surely one that would serve you well both now and for many years to come, judging by your past behavior."

Logan rolled his eyes and scratched irritably at the back of his hand. "Joke made, point taken, ha ha. Now put it back and let's go hit the important parts of this flea market; discount terracotta planters ain't gonna buy themselves."

"You make a compelling argument," Ororo said, and slipped the secondhand copy of Communicating With Your Teenage Daughter back onto the shelving cart.

---------------
---------------

( 29. ) For rthstewart: Temeraire/any, any, We hold these truths to be self evident that all dragons are created equal, written 2/8/20

To Which the Laws of Nature Entitle Them (165 words)

-----

"Are you quite certain about that?" the Regal Copper asked, looking down at the lightweight feral whose only adornment was a necklace of sea-glass and driftwood rather than anything properly impressive.

"Equal in the sense that we're all people and have the right to be treated as people, to give each other the best chances to prosper, not in the sense that we're of equal size, equal strength, or even equal intelligence," the feral said, her wings set at a determined angle, "and yes, before you ask, that applies to humans as well; people are people."

"It will never catch on," the Regal Copper said, but then she sighed and added, "I suppose I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I didn't have any apparently hopeless battles to fight, and that line of thinking might be the ticket to convincing the Admiralty that my current Captain's daughter will make a much more suitable successor than whatever wet-behind-the-ears lieutenant they'd throw at me otherwise."

---------------
---------------

( 30. ) For anonymous: Any, any, Why the hell are you awake!?, written 2/8/20

On the Eve (190 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives. Six sentences, yet again.

-----

"I'm awake because I'm not asleep, obviously; a better question is what the hell are you doing in my hotel room?" Tim snapped.

"I just-- that is-- I wanted to check--" Jon tried, and then apparently gave up on finding either a reasonable explanation for how and why he'd appeared in Tim's doorway or a non-embarrassing way to say he'd been worried about Tim's physical and mental health, as if anybody's well-being mattered the night before either the world ended or Tim finally got vengeance for Danny. "Please go to sleep, Tim. I need you-- we all need to be able to focus tomorrow."

"The entire point of the Unknowing is to turn the world inside-out, so I don't think a little sleep deprivation will make any difference to my ability to tell right from left once it gets started," Tim said, "but yes, I will lie down in my cheap rented bed and close my eyes for a few hours, if you fuck off and lock the door behind you."

He stood from the armchair and pulled his shirt off over his head without bothering to watch Jon leave.

---------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------
---------------------------------------------

And now back to dinner. :)

This had a very minimal effect on me, since I only had one story on the old Yuletide Treasure site, from the 2008 exchange. I didn't participate in Yuletide Madness that year, and by 2009 stories were posted to AO3 though signups were still on the old site. (That was an, um, interesting year. Yeah.)

I'd been holding off on manually posting the story in question to AO3, since I figured that would cause complications with the eventual wholesale archive import. It took a LOT LONGER for the import to happen than I think anyone was expecting, but lo and behold, my story is now up on AO3 with no difficulties.

Here it is: To Be of Use: When Joris was seven his family sold him to the Sarkoy Agency, which was a reputable trading house affiliated with the Cardsburg municipal slave mart. He expected to become entertainment for the wealthy. He did not expect Konstam Khan. (4,150 words, written for qwerty)

And, now that it won't cause weird complications, I have hand-uploaded the accompanying fic that used to be the opening scenes of what I'd planned as the much, much, much longer version of "To Be of Use," namely:

Cut Clean: There weren't many labor slaves in Cardsburg, but Joris knew how the world worked. He just never expected the knowledge to become personal. (2,375 words)

These are both fanfiction for Diana Wynne Jones's The Homeward Bounders, a wonderful YA fantasy whose conceit is that a group of demon-like beings called Them run the multiverse as a bunch of real-life war games. People who discover the truth are exiled to walk the Boundaries, traveling from world to world until they get Home.

Jamie Hamilton, a boy from a version of England circa 1880, is our narrator. In his wanderings he meets other Homeward Bounders, most notably Helen Haras-Uquara, whose world is like a real-life version of Dungeons and Dragons (she's a cleric equivalent), and Joris, an apprentice demon hunter who is also a slave. They realize they can direct their travels instead of waiting for Them to fling them about, and begin to fight back.

It's a great book with a very powerful ending and you should read it.

You should also go read my fanfiction, which, though sadly not nearly as sublime as DWJ's own work, still isn't half bad... if I do say so myself. *wry*

Yuletide reveal day!

I wrote two stories this year, both for Hexwood, a standalone science fiction/fantasy novel by Diana Wynne Jones. The book is something of a head trip, and I will therefore not attempt to summarize it, except to say that pretty much any back cover or dust jacket summary you will find for it will be misleading in one way or another. But it's a lovely book and I recommend it almost without reservations.

The reservations have nothing to do with the writing. They are simply my way of warning you about a quirk of Jones's stories. Her books are always lovely fun on the surface, but if you look more closely there's often a darker, more disquieting undercurrent to some of the world-building or the backstories of various characters. Hexwood is no different -- the lurking horror here is the backstory between Mordion and Reigner One, which starts with child abuse, slavery, torture, brainwashing, and murder, and could, depending on how you read the things Jones leaves unsaid, go to even worse places -- which is why my two stories have such different tones.

---------------

( 1 ) Childish Things (ff.net crosspost), 7,200 words, Dec. 2010. Three games Vierran played with Mordion over the years. Contains mention of slavery and child abuse.

This was my assigned story, written for Elspeth Vimes, whose request read as follows: This is one of those canons where I'm equally for gen and het fic. I admit I'm a fan of Mordion/Vierran and would love to see more of them interacting like a happy, normal couple. But I also just love each of those characters in their own right and would love to get a deeper look at their lives. Forest hijinks with Ann, Mordion, Hume, and Yam are also fun.

Something with Ann's real childhood would be particularly interesting.

I turned that over in my head for a while, wondering if there were a way to fit more than one of those ideas into a single story, and eventually hit on a gimmick that would let me tick off every single one of them. So. Vierran/Mordion? Check. Vierran's childhood? Check. A deeper look into their lives? Check. Forest hijinks with Ann, Mordion, Hume, and Yam? Check. I even squeezed in a bit of Siri, Arthur, and Fitela for good measure.

Basically, this story builds from a distressing beginning toward what I hope is a crowning moment of heartwarming. :-)

---------------

( 2 ) Served Cold (ff.net crosspost), 1,600 words, Dec. 2010. Orm Pender bred Martellian's descendants into Servants for a thousand years. He was quite practiced by the end. Contains sociopathy, slavery, child abuse, sexual abuse, implied rape, implied torture, murder, etc.

My second story was written as a treat for shewhoguards (aka googlebrat), whose request said: I asked for Mordion fic, because Mordion makes my heart hurt, but what I really want here is backstory. Where did these babies come from? Who were their mothers? Were they related? Were they killed afterwards or did they try to get their babies back? Was it all an attempt by Reigner 1 to keep their houses under control? You don't even have to include him as more than a baby if the story doesn't turn that way, and he certainly doesn't have to be a main character. I just want to know how we got here.

I wrote this story because I ran a search on the giant request spreadsheet, noticed that someone besides Elspeth Vimes had requested Hexwood, and since I had the book in Seville with me so I could edit my other story... well, why not at least look? Shewhoguards's request hit a lot of my writing kinks, so I dashed it off in under two hours.

What can I say? Backstory is my addiction, OCs are my bread and butter, and sociopaths are disturbingly easy to write.

---------------

Rereading Hexwood was interesting. I remembered the gist of the story, but the details had blurred -- partly because I hadn't read it for a few years, and partly because the story's presentation is so convoluted. The first time I read it, I got horribly confused the second time Ann went into Banners Wood, and thought there must have been a terrible editing mishap. But then I remembered that I trust Diana Wynne Jones, so I continued reading and my trust was more than repaid in the end. This time I knew the trick and wasn't so utterly thrown, but it still takes a bit of work to keep all the threads straight and figure out what events actually happen, and in which order.

Some other random observations: Hexwood makes me think that Jones must have been reading Ursula Le Guin's Earthsea series shortly before she started writing. I mean, this book has a character named Orm Pender who turns into a dragon! You cannot tell me that's a coincidence.

Also, Arthur Pendragon is a real mythological figure, so it occured to me this time round that Fitela Wolfson might be drawn from European mythology as well, and it turns out he is! Fitela is the Old English name for Sinfjötli, the son of Sigmund and his sister Signy, who avenged his family (the Völsungs) against Signy's evil husband. His half-brother Sigurd is notable for slaying the dragon Fafnir, so it's likely that Jones is suggesting that her Fitela Wolfson was the inspiration for both stories -- after all, she says that Martellian was trying to breed pureblood Reigners to avenge him against Orm Pender (which suggests he might have encouraged incest), and Fitela fought the dragons the Reigners sent to kill Martellian.

Those observations made it into Childish Things by way of the focus on dragons in the middle section and Fitela's brief mention of his parents in the third section, but mostly I bring them up because they amuse me. :-)

Yuletide reveal day!

I wrote To Be of Use for qwerty, aka xsmoonshine. The fandom is Diana Wynne Jones's The Homeward Bounders, a YA fantasy book. (The slightly revised ff.net version is here; basically, I killed a typo and smoothed some minor narrative flow and clarity issues.)

I shall summarize the book for those of you (which is probably most of you, sadly) who have not read it: There are many, many worlds, and there is a group of demon-like beings called Them who run all the worlds as a set of giant war games, like Risk. Now and then people discover the truth and are exiled to walk the Boundaries, which means they travel from world to world trying to get Home.

Jamie Hamilton, a boy from a version of England circa 1880, is our narrator. In the course of his wanderings he meets other Homeward Bounders, most notably Helen Haras-Uquara, whose world is rather like a real-life version of Dungeons and Dragons (she's kind of a cleric equivalent), and Joris, an apprentice demon hunter who is also a slave. They realize they can direct their own travels instead of waiting for Them to fling them about, and begin to fight back.

The brilliant thing about The Homeward Bounders as a fanfiction source is that it has so many possibilities -- infinite worlds to choose as settings and a lot of interesting characters who clearly had lives before they were rudely yanked out of them and will most likely continue to have interesting lives after the end of the book. But my story deals only with Joris and his master, Konstam Khan.

Joris thinks Konstam is the most amazing person in the world (and to be fair, he's mostly right), but he hates being a slave. Fortunately, Konstam reveals during the course of the book that he plans to manumit Joris as soon as he turns eighteen; he'd do it sooner but that would be illegal. (I think Konstam thought his intentions were obvious, which, clearly, they were not to Joris; they seem to have a slight culture clash over the issue of slavery.)

To Be of Use is an explanation of how Konstam and Joris first met, and why Konstam bought a slave when he doesn't seem enamored of slavery as an institution. It's also a small demon hunting adventure, because this is Joris and Konstam. (One is a rich scion of a world-famous family! The other is his slave! Together, They Fight Demons! *grin*)