edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2021-02-09 11:30 pm

[Fic] Three Sentence Ficathon 2021 fills, part four

Batch the fourth. :)

All prompts drawn from the current iteration of the Three Sentence Ficathon, hosted by the wonderful [personal profile] rthstewart. Come join the fun!

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Expand19. ) For anonymous: Any, any, lost in translation, written 2/7/21

Lost in Translation (195 words)

Fandom = Chronicles of Narnia. Contains Telmarine backstory.

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"I will tell you tonight of Māui, who snared the errant sun, who fished islands from the sea, who brought the secret of fire to the people," Eka said to her children as they sat beside the fire in the strange half-underground house made of dirt and grass that the man who killed her husband (and fathered her two youngest children) had built in this strange land beyond the cave.

"What's an island?" her youngest son asked: a child of this new world, of its mountains without daily clouds, of its winter ice and snow, of its horses and sheep and shaggy cattle in place of pigs and chickens, his mouth familiar only with the speech of the raiders that had bloomed like a fever in Eka's mind as they stumbled from stone to the sunlight of a foreign sky.

"It's a mountain only instead of trees and grass around it there's miles and miles of water," said her eldest daughter, who still remembered their lost home, and as she watched the confusion on her son's face, Eka wondered how long until all her people's history and gods were lost in the gulf between generations.

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Expand20. ) For anonymous: Any, any, the only way out is through, written 2/8/21

Theseus in the Labyrinth (105 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives

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"Sometimes the only way out is through," Georgie says, and Jon makes a noncommittal noise rather than answer; he understands that she means well, and that pushing through worked for her in the aftermath of her own brush with the impossible.

In his experience, though, 'through' never reaches an exit; he only tangles deeper and deeper into the grip of his own personalized whirlpool of terror and regret. Turning around and asking somebody to haul him back is the only chance of freedom, for however short and painful a time.

He's trying not to Know if there's anybody left to hear him when he calls.

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Expand21. ) For [personal profile] ultra_fic: any, any, midnight at the lost and found, written 2/9/21

Found and Lost (110 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives

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The Magnus Institute, Sasha sometimes thinks, is like a giant lost-and-found: people bring in stories of experiences they'd stumbled into and would strongly prefer to forget, and other people come by later to pick through the inscrutably-organized heap in search of something important to them. Her job is to sort and catalog the items, and sometimes to show people around the collection; she's in the business of finding, not of losing, and she's very good at her work.

Much later, she has a bare second before the end to realize she was always one of the lost and abandoned things and to wonder if anyone will try to find her.

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Expand22. ) For [personal profile] kalira: any, any, bloody fluff, written 2/9/21

Strange New World (235 words)

Fandom = Chronicles of Narnia

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"We hunt well together," the Crow said to her companions as the young Wolf lapped at the marrow in a cracked thighbone and the Human methodically skinned and butchered the carcass of a dumb deer; "One to spot, one to flush, one to kill, and we all benefit."

"I maintain I'm doing the lion's share of the work," the Human said as she began to wrap the meat in the deer's own skin, blood-streaked hands deft as she tied tendons around rough hide, "but yes, we waste much less time this way, not to mention the value of companionship; I still don't discount the possibility that I've gone mad and you're both hallucinations, but even so, humans need friends to survive and I'm willing to believe you might lead me to somewhere with explanations."

"The garden in the Uttermost West holds many explanations, some of which even fit people's questions," the Wolf said, looking up from her bone, "but there's no need to hurry; the Queen of the Twisted Tower" -- here the Crow mantled her wings, unsettled, and the Human paused to scribble another note in her little paper book -- "has gone east to Narnia and taken her armies with her, so even if you never learn how you came to the Western Wild, there's nothing to stop us from building a new pack and carving a territory where we can decide our own truths."

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Expand23. ) For [personal profile] sholio: Black Panther, Nakia, a small piece of home to hold onto when she's out on assignment, written 2/9/21

Keeping Faith (145 words)

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A kimoyo bead would be far too obvious -- vibranium is too rare and precious to go unnoticed -- but Nakia is used to the feel of her beads around her wrist, resting against her sternum, hanging from her ears.

Glasswork, pottery, and smithing are not her gifts, but all children learn some of the traditional arts and the awkward nature of her handiwork adds verisimilitude to many of her covers.

Eyes downcast, Nakia kneels before the latest would-be warlord whose camp she's infiltrated, and rubs the uneven glaze of her lumpy bracelet beneath her fingers -- clay from the creek behind her mother's house, glaze from her cousin's pottery, cotton string from her grandmother's farm -- a piece of home to remind her of all the riches of Wakanda, and urge her onward to help the outer world take one more shaky, faltering step toward peace and freedom.

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Expand24. ) For [personal profile] runespoor: Naruto, Naruto/Sasuke/Sakura, promises, written 2/9/21

Pinky Promise (275 words)

This wound up as an installment in my Summer Camp & Politics AU.

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"One day I'm gonna be prime minister and then I'll make sure nothing like what happened to your family will ever happen again -- that's a promise!" Naruto says, looking back over his shoulder from the front of the canoe.

("Turn around, we're almost to the rapids," Sakura says.)

"The prime minister can't always control the army," Sasuke snaps, letting go of his paddle with one hand to flick at Naruto's face, "or get laws through the Assembly, so even if you do somehow get elected, what good do you think you can do on your own?"

("The rapids! We're coming to the rapids! If you don't turn around and start paddling again--")

"I won't be alone -- I'll have you and Sakura-chan with me," Naruto says, and raises his paddle like he's thinking of swinging it at Sasuke; "Tell him we'll fix Fire Country together, Sakura-chan!"

Sakura tips the canoe over.

Then she hauls herself back in and upright while her friends are still sputtering. From her newly commanding height, and with her own paddle jammed firmly between two rocks to keep from drifting uncontrolled into the rapids, she pronounces, "I'll fix Fire Country... but you two can come along, I guess. I'll need somebody to play figurehead while I get everything done."

Sasuke and Naruto exchange a long, speaking look, which would be very solemn and serious if they weren't sopping wet with hair plastered to their faces.

"Deal?" Naruto says, not turning to look at Sakura. She narrows her eyes suspiciously.

"Deal," Sasuke agrees, and the boys lunge forward in tandem to tip Sakura back into the river with them.

It's a good day.

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More to come as I write them. :)
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2021-02-07 11:05 pm

[Fic] Three Sentence Ficathon 2021 fills, part three

I love this ficathon! ♥ ♥ ♥

All prompts drawn from the current iteration of the Three Sentence Ficathon, hosted by the wonderful [personal profile] rthstewart. Come join the fun!

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Expand13. ) For anonymous: Now I want all the scenes of them practicing sword-fighting ;), written 2/5/21

Master Class (160 words)

Companion to Whoso Pulleth out This Sword. Long-time readers may remember Sir Vladislav from Secrets, my retelling of CoS from Ginny's point of view. :D

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"I know the Room of Requirement can provide almost anything, but I think a live teacher is a bit beyond its abilities, and there's a limit to what anyone can learn from an instruction manual," Neville said as he and Ginny paced back and forth before the blank stretch of wall.

Alarmingly, Ginny grinned: "Oh, don't worry -- I asked our instructor yesterday, and since he's already part of the castle I'm sure the Room can move him around without much trouble."

When the door appeared, she flung it open onto a bare expanse with a polished wood floor and an intimidating number of sharp, antique weapons mounted on the wall. "Hello, Sir Vladislav!" she called; "This is my friend Neville, and we're here to learn how not to kill ourselves with swords."

The suit of enchanted armor waiting in the center of the room set its gauntlet on the pommel of its broadsword and bowed.

Gulping, Neville did the same.

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Expand14. ) For anonymous: any, any, justice delayed is justice denied, written 2/5/21

A Sheath Rusted Shut (70 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives. SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 193!

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Expandcut for spoilers )

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Expand15. ) For [personal profile] eagleoftheninth: Any fandom/characters, this tumblr post: https://wantshapesthem.tumblr.com/post/641796522747543552/an-apocalyptic-cult-prophetically-warning-that-the, written 2/5/21

Wiggle Eschatology (175 words)

Fandom = Chronicles of Narnia

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"No, I don't have any stories about the end of the world," Feathersnap said to the humans on her flatbed raft, which she was poling slowly across the marshy shallows of the Shribble; "I don't believe in the end of the world."

"But surely the end of the world is the worst thing that could possibly happen," one of the humans said, with a note in her voice that suggested she was the kind of person happiest in the middle of an argument, "and the Marsh-wiggles are acknowledged throughout Narnia as the experts on all the ways things can go wrong; therefore you must have some predictions."

Feathersnap shook her head dolefully, setting the decorative shells and fishbones on the brim of her hat swinging: "Ah no, I see where you've grabbed the wrong end of the stick and got muck all over your hand; if the world ends, that means there'll eventually be an end to all our problems, and I promise you we're none of us getting out of this mess that easily."

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Expand16. ) For [personal profile] acequeenking: Any / Any, For every mystery, there is somewhere, somewhere, who knows the truth. Perhaps that someone is watching. Perhaps… it’s you, written 2/7/21

And Now a Word from Our Sponsors (160 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives

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"What's that meant to be advertising -- a remote webcam-activation service for stalkers?" Melanie asked, barging into Georgie's recording studio with blithe assurance of her welcome (which was fair enough; the little 'recording' button Georgie'd rewired to do a Braille display along with the red light hadn't been on and Georgie was always game for a distraction from rehearsals).

"A new true crime webcast from some American newspaper," Georgie said, slipping her headphones down around her neck and spinning her chair to face her girlfriend, hands outstretched to meet Melanie's own questing fingers; "It is a bit pretentious, isn't it?"

Melanie snorted. "God, can't you just imagine Jon reading it in that-- that voice he uses for statements?"

"Yes, and now I'll have that stuck in my head all day," Georgie grumbled.

"The horror of it all. Let me see if I can give you something better to focus on," Melanie said, and let Georgie guide her in for a kiss.

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Expand17. ) For [profile] alexaseanchai: any, adopted by a cat, written 2/7/21

Re-Socialization (1,045 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives. As you can see, this one got away from me a bit. *wry*

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Expandcut for length )

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Expand18. ) For [personal profile] alexseanchai: any, a cat's job is never done, written 2/7/21

Partnership (180 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives

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His Person was in the quiet room again, and he knew a Good Cat wouldn't interrupt while she hunted just like she didn't interrupt while he chased the tricky red dot, but she'd been in there for so long and it was nearly Dinner Time.

Fortunately he knew how to get in -- leap, catch the lever, let his weight pull down, twist and kick just so until the door swung open -- after which he trotted across the floor, leapt onto the Desk Of Don't Touch, caught his Person's eye, and very deliberately swatted one of the scratchy black things.

"Admiral, no!" she said, but the note in her voice said 'playing, chase-and-pounce' and also 'tired and hungry,' so he knew she didn't mean it; when she gathered him into her arms and carried him to the kitchen, humming under her breath the way that was almost like purring, that only proved what he already knew: sometimes he needed her (to open the Cans of Wet Food and scratch the hard-to-reach places), but sometimes his Person needed him just as much.

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More to come as I write them. :)
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2021-02-05 09:44 pm

[Fic] Three Sentence Ficathon 2021 fills, part two

Another set of six. :)

All prompts drawn from the current iteration of the Three Sentence Ficathon, hosted by the wonderful [personal profile] rthstewart. Come join the fun!

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Expand7. ) For [personal profile] alexseanchai: any, baked in, written 2/3/21

Tactical Ingredients (110 words [counting the emoticon])

Fandom = original

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People talk a lot of nonsense about baking with love to explain why homemade is better and draw attention away from the subtle social calculation of, 'I put effort into this so you'd better reward me with appreciation,' as well as the unspoken message of, 'I'm improving office morale so pushing me aside or, god forbid, firing me, would be a terrible mistake.'

I don't bake with love. I don't bake with ingratiation, either.

What my cookies and brownies and almond pastries say is, 'Give me a 10% raise or suffer the consequences.'

My boss has been eating them for months.

I'm feeling pretty good about my year-end review. :)

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Expand8. ) For anonymous: Any, any villain, "do you really believe everything you're told?", written 2/3/21

Verify Your Sources (40 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives

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Jon smiled as the static rose around him.

"Not everything -- I'm perfectly well aware that people can mislead by implication, or may sincerely believe and relay inaccurate information -- but by and large, yes. Now, tell me what your plan is."

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Expand9. ) For anonymous: any, any, a wreath of candles, written 2/4/21

Let There Be Light (175 words)

Fandom = Rusty Quill Gaming

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"It would have to be a horizontal wreath," Cel said absently, then paused and visibly perked up, one hand rising to tug on their goggle strap; "Oh, unless you made it sort of-- sort of three-dimensional, with little candle-cups set in a spiral pattern around the frame so none of them are directly under any other candle or any greenery of your choice -- or flowers, flower wreaths are also an excellent option, though I think less traditionally mixed with candles than greenery? -- anyway, that sounds like a fascinating little project; would you like me to help build one?"

Zolf, who had been thinking about solstice crowns and old dwarven traditions, blinked, gathered himself, and said, "I'm not sure that would be safe to hang on a wall or a door, but so long as you understand I haven't done metalwork since I joined the navy, I'd be happy to try making a vertical candle wreath -- we'll let Hamid figure out how it should be displayed."

Cel grinned; "That, Mr. Smith, sounds like an excellent plan."

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Expand10. ) For [personal profile] nea: The Magnus Archives, Jon Sims/Martin Blackwood, holding hands, written 2/4/21

This Feels Like a Metaphor for Something (125 words)

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"The Lonely tends toward damp, all kinds of fog, oceans, rain, and here's you, all bone-dust paper I'll soak into mush, send your ink streaky and illegible until people mistake you for rubbish."

"I don't think whatever the Beholding has written on me is worth reading," Jon said, "and paper makes a moderately functional towel in a pinch; there's no point bringing you back and not helping you feel dry and warm."

"Are you quite certain you dislike poetry?" Martin asked, a wry grin easing into his voice though his face stayed blank and stiff, and he wove his fingers between Jon's, one warm, sweaty palm pressed against another.

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Expand11. ) For [personal profile] wolfish_willow: any, any, caught in the middle, written 2/4/21

Swing Your Partner (140 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives. Contains violence and Unknowing-style unreality.

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Clowns to the left of him, jokers to the right, and here Tim is (is he Tim? he thinks he used to be Tim), stuck in the middle with an... with probably an axe, so there's nothing left to do but swing.

Plastic warps into Sasha's face -- except it's not Sasha's face, because he can't remember Sasha's face, because something stole her even more thoroughly than Grimaldi stole Danny -- and Sasha's voice says, soft and high and desperate, "Please, Tim, it's me, Sasha; you're hurting me!" until his sharp weight on a stick (a hammer? a macuahuitl? why does he know that word? is it a word?) splinters her to shards of silence amidst the calliope's song.

This is the fifth time he's killed his best friend since the world went mad; he doesn't think he can take much more.

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Expand12. ) For anonymous: harry potter, ginny weasley, sword(s), written 2/4/21

Whoso Pulleth out This Sword (325 words)

Structural restrictions are for the birds. *wry*

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"I'm just saying that if Fawkes brought Harry the Sorting Hat so he could pull out the sword of Godric Gyffindor in his time of need, that sets a precedent," Ginny said as she charmed the blackboard clean. There was no real point since the Room of Requirement would provide a fresh board the next time they met, but Ginny grew up with brothers who kept 'forgetting' to put the toilet seat back down unless she and Mum shamed them into it, and she knew the power of setting good habits. Besides, cleanup gave her more time to talk with the other DA leaders.

"If there's a chance the Hat might drop a fancy magic sword on some other Gryffindor's head someday," she continued, "I think we ought to learn how to do something other than swing it around like a Beater's bat or an overgrown carving knife."

"You have a point," Neville said. "Conjuring a sword might also be a useful distraction technique during a duel. Someone expecting a spell probably won't be prepared for a huge chunk of steel flying at their face."

Ginny grinned. "They probably won't be prepared for a punch or a hard kick in the unmentionables, either, but a sword has more style. Besides, ancient magic objects don't usually appear once and vanish forever. I'll bet you two Sickles somebody will end up using Gryffindor's sword at least one more time before Voldemort dies for keeps."

Neville looked reluctant, then thoughtful. "It doesn't count if it's Harry again."

"That's fair," Ginny agreed as she rolled the now-clean blackboard up against the wall. "So, what do you say?"

"Make it three Sickles and you're on," Neville said.

Two years later, after all was said and done, Ginny cornered Neville in the ruins of Hogwarts and held out her hand, dry-eyed and implacable as flame.

He sighed. Then he sheathed the ruby-hilted sword and handed over her winnings, only slightly bloody.

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More to come at some point. :)
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2021-02-03 10:38 pm

[Fic] Three Sentence Ficathon 2021 fills, part one

I've gotten in the habit of posting my fills in sets of six, and there's no reason to fix what isn't broken. :)

All prompts drawn from the current iteration of the Three Sentence Ficathon, hosted by the wonderful [personal profile] rthstewart. Come join the fun!

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Expand1. ) For [personal profile] cofax7: Any, any, aunts are the best, written 2/2/21

Aunts and Uncles (165 words)

Fandom = Chronicles of Narnia

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"I have no maternal instinct whatsoever," Letitia Ketterley often told her circle of London friends, "but I daresay I do quite well for myself as an aunt, especially now that Mabel's recovered and Andrew had that useful shock to his nerves; I've no more need to play disciplinarian, I can give Digory back to his parents at the end of an afternoon, and best of all, nobody dreams a middle-aged woman escorting two children on an outing might be up to something peculiar."

Polly, slipping in the kitchen door to meet with Digory for a discussion of whether it might be possible to build wings of wax and feathers if they mixed in a pinch of Uncle Andrew's Atlantean dust, paused upon overhearing this.

"Have you decided to pass on some of Mrs. Lefay's notions, then?" Aunt Letty's friend asked, and Polly's blood and thoughts began to fizz as she realized that she and Digory had been building on the wrong magician's work all along.

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Expand2. ) For [personal profile] syrena_of_the_lake: Enchanted Forest Chronicles, any, the unexpected perils of singing swords, written 2/2/21

The Knight's Lament (90 words)

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"I understand that single combat is dramatic and has high stakes! Trust me, I understand -- I'm right out there swinging you around, and it's a bit harder to stitch up a wound than buff out a nick, not to mention I'm the one who has to lug our proof of success back to whoever handed out the quest! But there's no point making the stakes even higher by bursting into an aria when we're trying to sneak up on an ogre from behind, no matter how apropos the lyrics are!"

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Expand3. ) For [personal profile] rthstewart: Any fandom, any, citations for health, safety or human rights violations , written 2/2/21

Inevitable as Taxes (220 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives

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"I'm fairly sure it's illegal to trap employees in a job you can only leave by dying or gouging your eyes out," Jon remarks to Martin on the train up to Edinburgh, sounding half-drunk from a mix of exhaustion, relief, and something Martin is resolutely trying not to label as the heavy satisfaction of a tiger after a kill, "so why didn't we ever try turning government bureaucracy against Elias? There must be some equivalent of sectioned officers in at least one of the oversight departments, and it would have eaten him alive in a way prison obviously didn't -- being arrested for murder still means people think you have power and are worth fearing, but being arrested for... for tax fraud, or workplace safety violations, or some equivalent is utterly deflating, like how Gertrude made Peter Lukas a laughingstock by having a mundane newspaper spoil his ritual."

"We can ask Basira to look into that, work up a plan for when everything settles down and we head back to London and have to face whatever Elias is plotting now," Martin says, "but for now let's concentrate on being alive and here together."

Jon hums in tired agreement, and Martin combs his fingers through Jon's hair as reverently as he'd comb a lion's mane, until Jon at last relaxes into sleep.

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Expand4. ) For [personal profile] jjhunter: The Magnus Archives, Martin, poetry in motion, written 2/2/21

Poetry in Motion (155 words)

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It's silly, he knows, but sometimes you need to hold onto little, silly things to make life worth living -- and anyway, there's no harm in deciding what kind of poem best fits the way his coworkers move.

Sasha is free verse, deceptively shapeless until you find the unique structure underlying each new poem and it all clicks into place, nothing wasted; Tim, meanwhile, is a series of limericks, bouncing like he hasn't got a care in the world but a deceptive edge underneath.

Martin puzzles over Jon for a long while -- sonnets don't seem quite right, though there's definitely something structured about Jon's body language, too studied to be quite natural -- before he settles on Old English epic meter, two halves of a line balanced by stress and alliteration, not by syllables or feet, just awkward enough to strike the ear and eye and draw him in to follow the story wherever it may lead.

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Expand5. ) For [personal profile] kiraly: The Murderbot Diaries, Murderbot & Amena, "okay, Third Mom," written 2/2/21

What's in a Name? (285 words)

Structural restrictions, what structural restrictions? *surreptitiously kicks ficathon rules behind a sofa*

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"Do you mind me calling you Third Mom?" Amena said abruptly, interrupting the not uncomfortable silence in which she, ART and I had been watching a pre-Corporation Rim serial about a hospital on a newly-constructed space station, populated by improbably attractive medical staff and patients with improbably rare complaints.

"Because it's a gendered term, and I know you don't do gender," she continued. "It was mostly a joke because you act a little like First and Second Mom sometimes--"

My buffer held nothing relevant to this situation. I managed to scrape together enough processing power to say, "I what?"

"You know, being intimidatingly competent and worrying about my safety," Amena said with an impatient gesture. "That's not the point. The point is, I'll stop if it bothers you. I wanted to make sure you knew that. And to ask if it bothers you, I guess. Um. Does it?"

It's better to ask for time to consider so you can give an accurate answer than to answer reflexively, ART said privately through the feed. Young humans are generally skilled at identifying rote responses and tend to interpret them as a sign of disrespect.

Contrary to your apparent belief, I have both observed and interacted with humans on multiple occasions, I said, and then turned my attention to Amena. (I didn't actually turn toward her. I did, however, turn a drone. Humans like clear visual signals that you're invested in a conversation.)

"I don't know if being called Third Mom bothers me. I'll tell you when I figure it out."

Amena nodded solemnly. "Thanks. And I won't call you by any other nickname, either, unless you tell me it's okay."

Sometimes it's not terrible being around humans.

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Expand6. ) For [personal profile] wingedflight: any, any, superhero au, written 2/3/21

Information Is Never Free (205 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives

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It's a truism among the powered set that you don't attack the Archives; their basement lair is as close to neutral ground as you can find in a world of heroes and villains, providing information to anyone who can afford to pay their price -- and even if they just helped your sworn nemesis achieve victory, even if you feel inclined to hunt down all accomplices and salt the earth around them, the Archives are off limits.

Most newbies ask why, eventually. What's so scary about information brokers? Why haven't any heroes or villains set up shop as a dedicated source for their own side?

The few who remember when the Archives broke free from their indenture to Mister Magnus -- who have seen the Archivist burn an intruder to ash under his pitiless glare, watched a trusted friend stab an ally in the back and flash the Changeling's quicksilver smile, waded through the carnage left behind by Stoker's axe, fought free of Blackwood's web of friendly, isolating lies -- shake their heads and say only, "Test them if you want; it's your funeral."

Most listen. Those few who don't, who dare to call the Archives' bluff? None are ever seen again.

The Archives always collect their price.

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More to come at some point. :)
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2021-02-02 10:01 pm

[Fic] "Cataloging" -- The Magnus Archives

Summary: "The thing about library work," Martin says to Jon's unmoving body on the hospital bed, "is that you think it's all about organizing stuff, right?" [525 words]

Note: Written 2/2/21 in response to the [community profile] fan_flashworks challenge: correct.

As per the community rules, this post will just be a link to the fic text on [community profile] fan_flashworks until the current challenge closes, at which point I will move the actual ficlet over here. But for now, a link: Cataloging

ExpandCataloging )
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2020-10-03 11:28 pm

[Fic] "Sharp Dressed Man" -- The Magnus Archives

Summary: Before Martin's mum got really sick, back when she still sometimes looked at him without anger or disappointment, he used to do his homework in the living room while she ironed her work blouses and skirts. [465 words]

Note: Written 10/3/20 in response to the [community profile] fan_flashworks challenge: iron.

As per the community rules, this post will just be a link to the fic text on [community profile] fan_flashworks until the current challenge closes on October 10, at which point I will move the actual ficlet over here. But for now, a link: Sharp Dressed Man

[ETA: the AO3 crosspost is now up!]

ExpandSharp Dressed Man )
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2020-09-30 11:51 pm

[Fic] "How To Win Friends and Influence People" -- Doctor Who/The Magnus Archives

Summary: In which Rose Tyler and Jonathan Sims have an extremely unpleasant experience in Henrik's department store one evening shortly after closing. [13,050 words]

Note: Written for [personal profile] wingedflight, in response to the prompt: Doctor Who/Magnus Archives, Rose & Jon, Rose runs into mannequins of the Stranger rather than the Nestene Consciousness.

I am attempting to keep the series timelines vaguely correct, which means Jon is also about 19 at this point, in university, and not aware of the Entities (though he's quite clear that Leitners are a thing).

ExpandHow To Win Friends and Influence People )

I cannot believe I forgot to post this until I saw a few last-minute WIP Big Bang fics go up on the Dreamwidth community. In my defense, this has been a very peculiar month, to say nothing of a very peculiar year.

Anyway, I'll probably edit this a bunch before I post it on AO3, but what the hell, it's done. :)
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2020-09-26 10:30 pm

[Fic] "A Cloudy Morning Is No Guarantee" -- The Magnus Archives

Summary: Jon gets an unexpected text on a bad day. [500 words]

Note: Written for [personal profile] sholio, in response to the prompt: Any/original, an unexpected piece of mail on a bad day. Part of Hold Me: a comfort promptfest hosted by [personal profile] sholio.

[ETA: the AO3 crosspost is now up!]

ExpandA Cloudy Morning Is No Guarantee )

As you may have noticed, I really enjoy writing tiny finger exercises. :)

And now, sleep.
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2020-08-26 09:47 pm

[Fic] "Building Blocks" -- The Magnus Archives

Summary: In which Sasha James explains her theory of life, the universe, and everything to Tim Stoker. Possibly they should both be more sober for this conversation. [840 words]

Note: Written 8/25/20 in response to the [community profile] fan_flashworks challenge: triangle, as part of the August 2020 amnesty round.

As per the community rules, this post will just be a link to the fic text on [community profile] fan_flashworks until the current challenge closes on September 1, at which point I will move the actual ficlet over here. But for now, a link: Building Blocks

[ETA: the AO3 crosspost is now up!]

ExpandBuilding Blocks )


...

I just realized I forgot to crosspost this yesterday, whoops!
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2020-08-04 11:42 pm

[Fic] "The Patience of Inanimate Objects" -- The Magnus Archives

Summary: Cassette tapes jam; it's a fact of life. The Institute tapes don't. (270 words)

Note: Written 8/4/20 in response to the [community profile] fan_flashworks challenge: jam. The title is a loose reference to the M. R. James short story "The Malice of Inanimate Objects," because reasons. :)

As per the community rules, this post will just be a link to the fic text on [community profile] fan_flashworks until the current challenge closes on August 10, at which point I will move the actual ficlet over here. But for now, a link: The Patience of Inanimate Objects

[ETA: the AO3 crosspost is now up!]

ExpandThe Patience of Inanimate Objects )

And that is that. :)
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2020-02-29 05:22 pm

[Fic] Three Sentence Ficathon fills, part twelve

This will be my final Three Sentence Ficathon fill collection post. (Probably.)

Here is the old ficathon post (still open for fills and comments! just not new prompts), and here is the new ficathon post (open for everything until the end of today, after which it will also close for prompts though you can still write fills).

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Expand67. ) For anonymous: Imperial Radch, Seivarden, stranded, written 2/25/20

Out of Time (140 words)

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Culture shock is a known hazard of military service: contact with non-Radch can unsettle the steadiest personality, to say nothing of being stationed among them on planets where everything is built and organized along alien principles; but even stranded on the far outskirts of the Empire, Seivarden had still had her fellow Radch to rely upon and generations of patterns telling her how to react and recover.

Now, stranded in the future, her own people have become a foreign world; she has no pattern to follow, no fellow soldiers to support her; even Breq, who remembers the universe that was, has travelled the slow path from one year to the next and changed along the way into someone entirely different and strange.

Seivarden curls into a knot on her bed and tells herself soldiers must not weep in alien hands.

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Expand68. ) For [personal profile] syrena_of_the_lake: Narnia, raccoons, masters of their trade, written 2/26/20

Jack of All Trades (75 words)

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"That trade being?" Susan asked.

The Raccoon grinned, the dark band of fur across her face shading her eyes into near-invisible glints, and waggled her hand-like forepaws: "Whatever we like! Opposable thumbs are helpful but not strictly necessary, and if you can't get a Being or a Primate to do fiddly work, a Raccoon will always be the next best option -- not to mention we charge less and haul away your rubbish heaps for free."

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Expand69. ) For [personal profile] syrena_of_the_lake: Any; any; The hurrier I go, the behinder I get, written 2/26/20

Wherever You Go, There You Are (160 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives

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Which was the beauty of it, of course, because fear did tend to hurry one along -- no time to sit and reason logically when all the little glands and nerves were screaming at the top of their lungs to flee or fight -- or even to freeze, because the mind froze along with the body, each cell vibrating so fast that everything blurred into a single sheet of terror-white.

And once they were hurrying, how easy to wind that panicked path into corkscrew curls, steps strung between her fingers like recursive, nightmarish cat's cradle yarn, around and around and around it goes and where it stops... well, it doesn't stop, of course, because it's not just a spiral; it's a Möbius strip and the strip is Helen and Helen is hungry.

She may have jumped tenses there, but that's fine because time is only another path to twist and no matter how fast her victims run, she's always there before them.

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Expand70. ) For [personal profile] last_haven: Any, any, I've had my adventures, I don't need something new, I'm afraid of what I'm risking if I follow you, written 2/26/20

Tikkun Olam (125 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives

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"We can stay here," Georgie offers; "You've been through enough, and there's no saying we'll be able to do any good out there anyway. At least here we have a little protection -- you from the Eye and me from the End, and the other powers are keeping their distance for now."

Melanie smiles in the direction of her girlfriend's voice and shakes her head: "I quit the Archives because I couldn't be part of something evil, but you know the quote, right -- that the only thing necessary for evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing? -- maybe we can't do much, but if we have a little protection the least we can do is extend it to as many people as we can."

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Expand71. ) For [personal profile] runespoor: any, any, buying back your memories, written 2/27/20

Equivalent Exchange (500 words)

Original fiction, because reasons. :) Also, structural restrictions? Never heard of them! *wry*

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"How do I know if they're worth the price?" she asked. "I don't even know if they were stolen, or if I traded them for something I thought was worth more at the time -- I'm fairly sure I didn't lose them gambling, because I don't feel like a gambling person, but I can't even be completely sure of that -- so you see my problem with the entire concept, right?"

"You've stated it with admirable clarity," said the person sitting on the other side of the glittering mosaic table, hands (...probably hands? though admittedly she didn't have many points of comparison anymore) folded neatly before a cloth-wrapped torso and underneath a toothy (...too toothy? not enough teeth? she kept losing track when she tried to count them) smile. "This is why the transaction is voluntary rather than compulsory -- I like to keep potential sources of regret to a minimum, so while I'm afraid I can't show you the contents of your memories without a down payment, the least I can do is ensure that you understand your options. This is also why the exact method of payment is entirely at your discretion, providing, of course, that it's of equivalent value -- one doesn't last long in business selling below market rate, you understand -- but whether you pay with time, emotions, senses, abilities, or any other item of worth is all one to me."

She pondered this information for a time, while the person with the cloth-wrapped torso and face sat patiently and without breathing. Then she said, "If I asked how you came to have possession of my memories, would you tell me or would that also require payment?"

The cloth-wrapped person's smile grew more teeth (or perhaps the teeth simply enlarged?) and the answer came quickly. "Neither; one doesn't last long in business by disclosing confidential details about one's sources and transactions."

"Which... could mean that you bought my memories from me, or bought them from someone else, or simply picked them up at the side of the road," she said, puzzling through the options. "I begin to see how you define clarity of statement. In that case, I believe I would like to purchase one memory -- specifically, the memory of how I came to lose or sell my memories -- in return for the memory of this conversation, and with the addendum that if we've been through this transaction before, the memory of trading a previous iteration of this conversation doesn't count as the sale or loss in question."

"Done," said the cloth-wrapped person, and reached across the mosaic table to press a finger (it must be a finger, because what else could it be?) to her forehead. As the world dissolved into laughter and the click-clack-clatter of falling tiles, Elise (her name was Elise! she'd traded her memories for a map... which she'd promptly lost, and had no idea why it had been important in the first place) could only think, That was too easy. How long until the catch?

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Expand72. ) For [personal profile] scytale: Any, any, would you love me more if I killed someone for you?, written 2/28/20

A Generational Story (120 words)

Fandom = The Darkangel Trilogy. Contains implied child sexual abuse and implied incest between an adoptive mother and child, because Oriencor is canonically creepy as fuck.

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"Ah, my darling, but deaths are not what I wish you to take; I sculpt with souls, not lives, and you have witnessed full well that a body and mind can continue without such unearned splendor as a soul," the white lady said.

"Yes, mother," Irrylath agreed, and shifted in her lap to give her stroking fingers, dry and cold as the winterock of her castle, better access under his tunic.

"You will be great and grand and bring all Avaric to its knees soon enough, my darling," the white lady said, "and then, when you have brought me twice seven souls from twice seven brides -- why, then, I shall love you as well as my own mother loved me."

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I am still working on a Magnus Archives/Doctor Who crossover prompt fill that got away from me (more so than any of the other long fills I've already posted), but aside from that, I think I am done for this year. Seventy-two fills is a good number -- twelve times six -- and while there is the temptation to go for a baker's dozen, I am home sick today and I have other projects that need my time and attention. *wry*

And hey, 13,445 words (yes, that is an exact number; I have been tracking for my [community profile] getyourwordsout spreadsheet) is a pretty good haul if I do say so myself. :D
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2020-02-26 10:53 am

[Fic] Three Sentence Ficathon fills, part eleven

Time for more Three Sentence Ficathon fills!

Here is the old ficathon post (still open for fills and comments! just not new prompts), and here is the new ficathon post (open for everything).

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Expand61. ) For [personal profile] silveradept: Any, any, the post-apocalyptic library and mercenaries setting described in this general thread about the sacredness of books and the library as an institution that nobody messes with, written 2/24/20

A Kind of Paradise Enow (750 words)

Original fiction. Also, this got a little out of hand...

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Expandcut for length )

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Expand62. ) For [personal profile] kalira: any, any, brushing/braiding/putting up someone else's hair, written 2/24/20

Social Grooming in Primates (235 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives

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Jon's had a hard time dealing with his own hair since-- since Prentiss, really; some of the worm scars and the resulting bandages were in places that made lifting his arms that high, or brushing his hair with more than the barest, cat-whisker strokes, nearly impossible; but it got worse after Michael stabbed him, and Jude burned him, and now the Buried has fucked his shoulders once again and he just lets the whole untidy mess hang and tangle as it will for lack of anyone to ask for help.

It doesn't occur to him until two days later, when Daisy wanders past with her own hair a mess of tangles (though mostly clean of dirt; he knows, suddenly, exactly how long she sat, shaking, in the steadily cooling shower until the water no longer ran brown when she mashed the back of her head against the tiled walls), that he's not the only person having trouble, and that maybe he does have someone to ask after all.

It's just this once, he thinks that first time, but there's something so intensely solid and reassuring about hands running through another person's hair, about caring and being cared for, that it becomes a pattern: every day or two, Daisy wanders into his office with a comb, a brush, and a new handful of soft, bright-colored hair ties, and they take turns making each other feel human.

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Expand63. ) For [personal profile] kalira: any, any, bloody footprints, written 2/24/20

Do You Hear the People Sing? (215 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives. Contains violence.

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Working retail is a war, and Reva doesn't know why nobody else can see it -- really see it, not just smile and sigh and say things like, "Yeah, it sure feels like hell some days, doesn't it?" but feel the snarling tension that snaps between every clerk and stocker and helpless return desk staffer and all the customers who invade the Walmart and want nothing more than to trample the staff underfoot and crush them under the weight of too much work and never enough time or money or support.

But she keeps talking, and talking, and slowly her words fall into rhythm and the others nod and clap along, finally solid at her back, and when Mrs. Fucking Macready from down Deer Lick Road comes in Thursday morning demanding a refund like she doesn't charge Reva and her parents twice the market rate for rent even though she's sitting pretty on her husband's life insurance payout, Reva snaps and screams and lunges forward, and her troops fall in behind her for the charge.

When the battle is over, the store finally still and the loudspeakers singing only static, Reva marches through the shattered doors with only a trail of bloody footprints in her wake, but it's okay.

She'll raise a new army soon enough.

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Expand64. ) For [personal profile] redfiona99: Any, any, extra day's holiday, written 2/25/20

Domestic Bliss (260 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives. Six sentences.

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"So what pronouncement did the terrible eldritch forces behind the Magnus Institute have for you at this hour of the morning?" Georgie asked as Jon dropped back into his chair and set his cell phone on their wobbly kitchen table with an expression halfway between calculation and a scowl. The Admiral promptly reclaimed Jon's lap as his rightful territory and Jon, well-trained, began stroking the soft gray fur between his ears.

"The computer system is down so all the researchers have been given an optional day off," Jon said, "which is ridiculous -- yes, computers are useful but the books are still there, the phone lines are functional, and it's not like I've forgotten how to take notes with pen and paper -- but I think Rosie was strongly implying that they'd prefer me not to come in."

"Considering you'd nearly overworked yourself into pneumonia before I convinced you to use your sick leave, I'd say she has a point," Georgie said tartly, then smiled, and shrugged, and added, "Besides which, if you're that desperate to research probably made-up spooky stories, I have some episode backgrounds that could use a bit of fleshing out -- and don't pretend that you won't enjoy the chance to indulge the Admiral all day."

"I don't know why I ever thought we'd still work as roommates after we broke up," Jon grumbled, but it was for show and Georgie knew that he knew that she knew it.

"Drink your tea, grumpy-guts," she said, and ruffled his hair to watch him and the Admiral hiss in mutual affront.

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Expand65. ) For [personal profile] eagleoftheninth: Any, any, turning into a giant snake never helps, written 2/25/20

Serpens Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus (100 words)

Original fiction. Also, please forgive the Latin; I used Google Translate. *headdesk*

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"But everyone knows turning into a giant snake is why both Dread Sorcerer Ralyard and the Blue Witch of Aloesse lost their last battles -- why should I learn a spell that never helps?"

"Certainly it's no use in a fight, but I wouldn't say turning into a giant snake never helps," the sorceress told her apprentice. "If one has a decent grasp of warming charms and a large enough room, I've found that not only does one get the best sleep of one's life in reptile form, vanishingly few people are willing to wake a giant snake from a nap."

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Expand66. ) For [personal profile] kurosakiami01: any, any, "don't worry, you're with us now", written 2/25/20

When the Earth Shall Claim Your Limbs (610 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives. Contains body horror and someone buried alive.

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Expandcut for length )

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And now I will finish my breakfast before heading off to work, where I will valiantly pretend I am a functional human being who is not coming down with a nasty cold. Ugh.

Don't work service industry jobs, people. They're not good for your health.
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2020-02-23 12:18 pm

[Fic] Three Sentence Ficathon fills, part ten

Time for more Three Sentence Ficathon fills!

Here is the old ficathon post (still open for fills and comments! just not new prompts), and here is the new ficathon post (open for everything).

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Expand55. ) For [personal profile] betony: Howl series, Howl/Sophie, she comes in colors everywhere, written 2/21/20

And Set Such Colour There (130 words)

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One of the tribulations of sharing a bathroom and a magical workroom with Howl was that he was both extremely vain and bad at organizing his things, which frequently led to annoyances like hair dyes left on the shelf with rare and expensive spell ingredients, or failed experimental potions clogging the shower drain.

And then, very occasionally, more drastic problems reared their metaphorical head -- or rather, Sophie's head, which was now covered in hair dyed every shade of the rainbow and possibly several others that didn't, strictly speaking, exist in the human range of vision.

"I don't see why you're complaining," Howl said; "Consider my feelings for a minute -- how on earth am I meant to find a suit that won't clash hideously with at least part of your hair?"

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Expand56. ) For anonymous: Harry Potter, muggleborn students, the benefits and/or hardships of continuing to keep up with muggle schoolwork (especially math), written 2/21/20

Mathemagics (105 words)

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"Why do you bother?" Alice's roommates asked every now and then, when she theatrically collapsed over her trigonometry textbook or painstakingly worked and reworked physics and chemistry equations late into the night; "It's not like you need any of that to go into charms or potions professionally."

"Yes, but I need to understand all this in order to get a degree in electrical engineering," Alice responded, "and I need that because you can't jam magic and science together and expect the results to work if you only understand one side. And I am going to make a cell phone that runs on magic, or else."

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Expand57. ) For anonymous: Any, any, "if things get any better I'll have to hire somebody to help me enjoy it", written 2/21/20

Eutrophication (155 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives.

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"Help you undo the apocalypse? Why on earth should I do that? Look around you, Jon. The world is so easy to twist now, so many minds strained almost past bearing; I hardly need to do more than whisper and they tip over the edge and lose themselves forever. If things get any better, I'll have to hire somebody to help me enjoy it."

"It won't last, Helen. When the world is so easy to twist that everyone is already half-broken, there's nothing left to offer contrast. Even the most careful monster can't keep victims from burning out eventually -- trust me, I know -- and when every human's hope is exhausted, what's left for them to fear? What's left for us to eat?"

A long, crackling sigh, echoing despite the lack of surfaces to reflect the sound. "Yes. I know. But not just yet. Let me enjoy myself a little longer before you close the doors."

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Expand58. ) For anonymous: Any, any, but still I have trouble with/ most days and nights, written 2/21/20

Circadian Arrhythmia (200 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives

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Denise sleeps in the daytime now -- the dark is out of the question, since it literally grew fangs and claws and tried to eat her, and electric lights are either too harsh or too feeble to burn away her fear -- and it's wreaking havoc on her schedule and her health. What she really needs is to find a night job, some kind of shift work where she goes in at dinner and leaves at sunrise, but good luck finding an office job with that kind of schedule; instead, she's been studying a bit of programming in the empty, tooth-clenched hours between sundown and sunrise, and maybe soon she'll be able to wrangle some kind of telecommuting thing or gig work where they don't care about when you clock in or out so long as your projects are done on time.

Until then, she collapses into bed the moment she gets home, only to wake in terror as the streetlights blink on; mainlines caffeine through the nights; and as dawn creeps gray and tremulous through her curtains, snatches a few more precious hours of escape into a world where the worst a shadow has done is sway unexpectedly with the wind.

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Expand59. ) For [personal profile] syrena_of_the_lake: Any, any, cow tools (based on the Far Side cartoon), written 2/22/20

Traditional Pursuits (130 words)

Fandom = Chronicles of Narnia

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"But what are they for?" people constantly asked Alberta when they stopped by her booth at the monthly fair to prod and turn and wave about the various pieces of ceramic and wooden hoof-work she had on display.

"They're for solving Cow problems," Alberta said serenely each time, before gathering up her wares (their number sometimes slightly reduced; she did occasionally have Bovine customers, or people who bought her work as some type of artistic statement) into two panniers and heading home.

There was something wonderfully relaxing about private jokes, to say nothing of the meditative aspect of shaping and then destroying random bits of junk; but really, how could so many otherwise intelligent Narnians fail to notice that the only items her fellow Cows ever purchased were the back-scratchers?

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Expand60. ) For [personal profile] syrena_of_the_lake: Firefly, any, whisky for my men and beer for my horses, written 2/22/20

Don't Explain the Metaphor (100 words)

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"More efficient to give beer to my men and whiskey to my engines," Kaylee said with a smile made loose and easy by an evening of good food and good sex, followed by Simon letting her curl up and cuddle with only token protest. "Volatiles'll fuck up a combustion engine's pipes pretty damn quick, not like pure ethanol, but until then you'll get at least a little bang for your buck. Beer's so watery you could practically use it to put out fires -- oh! -- which I guess is why you'd be giving it to your horses in the first place."

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Sixty fills! \o/

And now I am going to finish my tea before heading off to Not the IRS for a short afternoon shift with one confirmed appointment, because jobs keep happening even when you'd rather stay home and play with words. *wry*
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2020-02-15 07:28 pm

[Fic] Three Sentence Ficathon fills, part seven

I don't think I've ever written so many fills for previous iterations of the ficathon? (I mean, I have probably written more words -- for example, the time I wrote ten interconnected fills for [personal profile] be_themoon that I then strung together into an 11K fic -- but not individual fills.)

Anyway! Here is the old ficathon post (still open for fills and comments! just not new prompts), and here is the new ficathon post (open for everything).

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Expand37. ) For [personal profile] syrena_of_the_lake: Beauty and the Beast; wolves; whose woods these are I think I know, written 2/12/20

Dark and Deep (100 words)

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They are hungry, have been hungry for years; and yet the pack cannot split, grown children moving off to find their own territories, their own mates, as is the way of generations. Instead something stings their muzzles and burns their paws if they venture beyond the woods, muddles their senses until they circle back to the cold stone walls that no longer have a refuse pit to scavenge, traps them even as their prey dwindles and flees from the dark and cold growing under the trees.

These woods belong to death until the spell breaks or the final petal falls.

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Expand38. ) For [personal profile] eagleoftheninth: Any, any, "all I do anymore is hurt," written 2/12/20

Clarity of Sight and Word (150 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives. Contains implied plans for self-harm.

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"Let's untangle that a little," Melanie's therapist said: "Do you mean that you're in pain, that you hurt others, or that you've hurt yourself?"

"Both? Both is good," Melanie said reflexively, and then winced at how thin her voice sounded making that joke; "Um, it's a meme, ignore that; but yes, I did mean that both ways, that I'm in pain and I keep hurting others; even now that I'm not... that I don't feel pressured into anger and violence, I still carved those reactions into habits and it's too easy to fall back into them, and it's not like my work situation has stopped being terrible."

"I notice you said nothing about self-harm," her therapist noted in a careful tone, and Melanie pressed her lips together and tried to think how not to sound like an immediate danger to herself if she mentioned her new hope for true escape.

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Expand39. ) For [personal profile] sideways: Books of the Raksura, Stone/Azure, "if you start a war here today, you're not sleeping in my bower for the rest of the turn", written 2/14/20

In Love and War (150 words)

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"If I start a war?" Azure said, spines rising in affront; "Since when am I the undiplomatic one?"

"Oh, we're both undiplomatic, but apparently Cherish is head-over-talons for one of the younger Sky Copper queens and if you break that alliance over border hunting disputes and Zenith's general... everything... then he'll never forgive us," -- Azure snorted, to which Stone shrugged and corrected himself: "Yes, obviously that will only last a turn, but the point is the entire court will be miserable and I'll be staying in the consorts' bowers, not yours."

"Were we ever that young and overly dramatic?" Azure wondered, before snorting again and lowering her spines; "Yes, I know, you think I'm still overly dramatic, but I can at least promise to hold my temper for our son's sake -- possibly for other reasons as well," she added, and nipped the tendons in Stone's neck by way of demonstration.

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Expand40. ) For [personal profile] sideways: Books of the Raksura, Consolation & Kethel, what does it mean to make a home, written 2/14/20

Homeward Bound (190 words)

Nine sentences.

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"I think-- I think it's not only people and not only a place. It's having the same people in the same place, taking care of it, so that we know we belong there and it belongs to us, and we can pass it on to our children," Consolation said uncertainly, trying to make sense of the vague half-explanations the consort, her father, had given when she was still too young to fully understand.

"Hard to find a place we can all fit," Kethel said. "Hard to stay for long."

Yes, because nobody wanted Fell around, and if they took a place by force they'd have to spend all their time defending it instead of learning to live by some way other than endless raiding, some way that didn't exhaust all the local resources until they had to move on or die. Consolation snarled at the old, familiar frustrations, until the backwash of her emotions crashed down through the flight's link and she yanked her anger back so she didn't swamp the others.

"We'll find a way," she told her kethel. "A home is worth a fight. It has to be."

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Expand41. ) For [personal profile] syrena_of_the_lake: Narnia/Enchanted Forest Chronicles crossover; any character; boundaries between worlds, written 2/14/20

Strike the Bell (885 words)

As you can see, this completely and utterly got away from me. *wry*

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Expandcut for length )

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Expand42. ) For anonymous: any, any, fine print, written 2/15/20

Uninformed Consent (275 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives. Sentences = I gave up.

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"What annoys me is that I don't think the binding should work at all," Basira remarked idly to Martin. "I read the contract very carefully after I signed it. No matter how convoluted legal jargon can get, I'm certain there weren't any clauses that could be construed as, 'You can't unilaterally terminate your employment, attempts to stay away from the Institute make you sick, and if Elias Bouchard dies, you will too.' You could argue that I was verbally informed of all that so my signature implied consent, but none of the rest of you knew what you were getting into, so that doesn't really hold water."

"I'm pretty sure logic has nothing to do with it," Martin said, having had far more time to worry at the problem than was probably good for his mental health. "It's more down to fear -- the fear that you've overlooked something vital and now someone's revealed a bit of information that ruins your life. That's what the Eye does: awful knowledge revealed only when it's far too late to fix anything, you know?"

Basira hummed thoughtfully. "If our fear is what fuels the contract's effectiveness, what happens if we all stop being afraid?"

"I don't know. I don't think that's possible, not for all of us, all of the time, or even for all of us at the same time for just a minute," Martin said.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that. Daisy knows where to get hold of some powerful drugs," Basira said. "But we'll set that aside as a last resort. For now, I think stopping the Stranger from ending the world is more important."

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Now I will revise my little speech for tomorrow's Board Minute during the Sunday service, maybe do a couple other tiny chores, and then go to bed early. :)
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2020-02-12 11:19 pm

[Fic] Three Sentence Ficathon fills, part six

Collection post #6. :)

All prompts drawn from the current iteration of the Three Sentence Ficathon, hosted by the wonderful [personal profile] rthstewart. Post One is now closed for prompts (though still open for fills and comments); Post Two is open for new prompts.

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Expand31. ) For [personal profile] rthstewart: Temeraire, any, dragons discovering suffrage is not universal, based on this response, written 2/10/20

Nine Tenths of the Law (185 words)

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"And I tell you, when I learned that not only do humans bar all women from voting, they also bar a shameful percentage of men, I entertained half a thought of defecting to France!" said Gloriana, the Regal Copper currently recuperating at Loch Laggan from a badly sprained left wing.

"What, really?" asked Sharl, who had heard earful upon earful about duty, sacrifice, and other apparently vital concepts ever since she'd ventured down from the Highlands into the Loch Laggan covert (at the promise of regular meals and the chance to stockpile shinies in return for the easy work of flying messages back and forth to London), and was thoroughly annoyed at being looked down upon for her lack of true patriotic spirit.

"No, of course not," said Gloriana; "England has its share of problems, but it's my country and one doesn't toss aside possessions the moment they get scratched; one has them repaired or refurbished until they look better than before, and I'll be damned if I let those bloody French dragons have any excuse to claim they have a better country than ours."

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Expand32. ) For [personal profile] syrena_of_the_lake: Narnia, any, tiger with a gold fang, written 2/10/20

Greatly Exaggerated (160 words)

Link to the relevant news article

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There were dozens of stories in circulation about how Sergeant Cara of the Narnian Coastal Guard had lost her upper right fang and acquired a gold replacement: the least alarming was that she'd cracked the tooth on an unlucky smuggler's thighbone during a daring raid in the dead of night, and they only grew more bloodthirsty and implausible from there, until drunken sailors and longshoremen had her ripping down entire mainmasts with her teeth alone.

Cara, who had a keen sense for the worth of a theatrical first impression, and who quite enjoyed the cries of "Oh shit, it's the Gold Fang, now we're in for it!" that tended to greet her when she rose dripping from the coastal surf or the Shribble delta shallows, laughed at each new tale and refused to confirm or deny any of them.

After all, there was no intimidation value in admitting she'd cracked the fang while putting away her eldest cub's chew toys.

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Expand33. ) For [personal profile] chomiji: Murderbot, Murderbot(+any), friendship is magic, written 2/10/20

Look At It, It's Got Anxiety (180 words)

Obviously more than three sentences. *headdesk*

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"I understand it as a narrative trope, and I've seen it operate on my own decisions, but I still think the entire concept of 'friendship is magic' is annoyingly illogical," I said to Gurathin as we waited for Dr. Mensah to get out of her latest meeting and let us know whether her latest archaeological project had been approved.

"If you're looking for an argument, I'm the wrong person," Gurathin said. "Obviously it's illogical; that's an inherent outcome of humanity's general lack of logic. There's an old saying to that effect -- 'Humans aren't rational animals; humans are rationalizing animals,' -- and I've rarely seen anything to disprove that."

"I wonder if emotions are an inherent outcome of any sufficiently complex system?" I said. "I blame them for my most irrational choices, and I've met robots who understood friendship better than most humans."

"You may have a point," Gurathin said. "And to think humans used imagine robots as heartless beings of pure logic who'd crush us under their mechanical heels."

"Thankfully, that kind of idiocy does seem restricted to humans," I said.

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Expand34. ) For [personal profile] wintersday: Homestuck, Sollux/Feferi/Aradia, I still believe in the futures unwritten, written 2/11/20

Stealing Life (250 words)

Structural restrictions, what structural restrictions?

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"What if we found a Life player who's still alive -- or even just enough Life-aspect ghosts; the infinite series adds up to one, so mathematically speaking, infinite ghosts should add up to one living person -- and revived you?" Sollux said idly as he and Feferi sat in the rigging of Vriska and Meenah's ridiculous pirate ship, and Aradia hung upside-down in the air in front of them.

"Then I'd be alive again, but we'd still have no idea what we shoald be doing," Feferi said, nestling a little closer against Sollux's side. "I seappose if I weren't a ghost we'd at least have the option of leaving the dreambubbles and finding an active game session. I don't think there are any acshoal rules against helping other players and tagging along into their new universe."

Aradia swooped close to press a kiss against Feferi's nose. "That sounds amazingly chaotic! Sneaking into somebody else's game session might also let you two slip out of Lord English's alpha timeline predestination hoofbeastshit -- and even if it all goes horribly wrong, why not die trying something interesting?"

"Because interesting deaths are painful?" Sollux said. "Which you should know from your own experience." Feferi nodded in agreement and squeezed his fingers between her own.

"True, but look at everything that can happen afterwards. Lighten up and live a little!" Aradia said, and pressed a kiss to his nose in turn.

"We're all doomed," Sollux said, but he was smiling as Feferi hauled him off the spar.

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Expand35. ) For [personal profile] chomiji: Books of the Raksura, Moon+any babies, all the stars in the sky, written 2/11/20

Dream Big (250 words)

Six sentences.

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"How high are the stars?" asked Mist as she balanced awkwardly on Moon's shoulders and clung to the bark of the upper branches with the small, needle-sharp claws on her left hand; "Can you carry me there?"

"The stars are higher than any Aeriat can fly," Moon told his Arbora daughter with Bramble (who was twice as curious and prone to escaping the nursery as her two warrior sisters), "but groundlings can't fly at all and they build flying ships to make up for that, so maybe one day someone will build a ship that can reach the stars."

"I'm going to invent one!" Mist said, stretching up onto her tiptoes until Moon wrapped his hand around her ankle just in case; "I'm going to invent one, and then me and Dew and Drop will fly to every star in the whole sky, and the sun, and the moon, and-- and I'll see everything and learn everything and come back to tell Indigo Cloud all about it."

"You will," Moon agreed, "but not right now; tonight you're coming back inside the tree and going to sleep."

Mist sighed; "Fine," she said, and let herself drop into Moon's arms, "but tomorrow morning I'm going to start learning everything about ships."

"You can read anything you find to me," Moon murmured into his daughter's ears as she shifted into her groundling form and her soft, dark hair feathered across his scales like silk on stone; "We'll learn about ships and stars together."

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Expand36. ) For anonymous: Any, Any, sometimes you want to go for a walk in nature and sometimes nature wants to go for a walk in you, written 2/12/20

Greening the City (175 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives. Contains body horror and loss of self.

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There's something wrong with her, of course there is; it's not right for mushrooms and lichens and moss to grow in healthy flesh, not natural for decomposition to set up shop without an obvious entry point like an infected cut or an oozing pimple or--

Honoria picks again at her slowly greening forearms and wonders idly how long until she's sprouting proper seedlings, how long until her new ecology turns her body into proper, nurturing soil.

She only wanted to take a walk in the woods last week, to clear her mind and ease her heart after her latest disastrous breakup, only touched the rotting log to move it off the path; she didn't ask for this, didn't ask to be infested, to be-- to be embraced, to be reminded that all life is part of the great cycle, to bask in the truth that all life is ultimately the same; but bringing the forest back to the city is a much more long-term solution, and maybe she can help others remember their place too.

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And now to bed. :)
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2020-02-09 06:21 pm

[Fic] Three Sentence Ficathon fills, part five

Collection post #5. :)

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

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Expand25. ) For [personal profile] sholio: Any fandom, any character, magic soulbonded horse AU, written 2/6/20

Queen's Own (175 words)

Fandom = Chronicles of Narnia/Valdemar

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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.

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Expand26. ) For [personal profile] 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

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"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."

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Expand27. ) For [personal profile] betony: Chrestomanci, Millie & Any, driving lessons, written 2/7/20

Calculated Risks (135 words)

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"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."

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Expand28. ) For [personal profile] 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*

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"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.

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Expand29. ) For [personal profile] 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)

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"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."

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Expand30. ) 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.

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"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.

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And now back to dinner. :)
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2020-02-06 09:26 pm

[Fic] Three Sentence Ficathon fills, part four

More fills! I am having a lot of fun, as I'm sure you can tell. :)

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

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Expand19. ) For anonymous: Any/any, "monsters are better at loving than heroes", written 2/5/20

A Flawed Thesis (200 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives. Also another six-sentence fill, because reasons.

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"I don't think that's true as a general rule," Jon says, his voice rising muffled from where he's pressed his face against Martin's shoulder, "but in my own particular case, and allowing for the fact that I never was a hero" -- he taps his fingers against Martin's cheek to silence the reflexive protest he knows is rising to Martin's lips -- "becoming a monster made me realize how badly I'd done at being human for many years, and how much I wanted to hold on to whatever pieces I had left. So yes, I am better at loving now, but you're not a monster and you've always been better at love than I am, which I feel disproves your own thesis quite conclusively."

"I'm not sure whether that's a compliment or an insult," Martin says after a moment, and then adds hastily, "which I don't mean as an insult to you, of course, just-- just an observation."

"Ha, yes. We may both need more practice at this loving business," Jon says, tilting his head the fraction necessary to meet Martin's eyes.

"There are worse ways to pass the time," Martin says, and Jon lets himself be tugged upright for a kiss.

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Expand20. ) For [personal profile] shinon: Any, any, when I left my home/ when I left my throne, written 2/5/20

Once a Queen (200 words)

Fandom = The Darkangel Trilogy. Ten sentences, because as previously mentioned, structural restrictions are not always my friend. *sigh*

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Syllva left Avaric because she no longer felt worthy to rule and guide her husband's people, the people who would one day have looked to her lost son. And so, of course, when she returned to Isternes, her own people made her Lady once again, heaped upon her all the duty and trust that she had fled yet which now awaited her, changed yet not changed at all, half a world away.

"You have been Lady while I was gone," she said to her sister Eryka. "Can you not continue while I grieve?"

"I can and I will for a year and a day," Eryka said, "but then I must away across the Sea of Dust in my turn, to reweave what lines of talk and trade I can despite the withering of the world." She knelt to embrace Syllva, her green eyes bright both with tears and with the wild sea-yearning that caught some folk of Isternes as fish hooked on a line.

"Then I will make a year be enough," Syllva said.

"You are always enough," Eryka said, and kissed her sister's brow. "Let Isternes remind you, and help you build your life anew."

And so they did.

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Expand21. ) For [personal profile] sholio: Netflix Defenders, any, newly developed superpower, written 2/5/20

Leftover Man (270 words)

I didn't even bother counting the sentences here. *headdesk*

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"I always suspected contact with vigilantes and powered weirdos was bad for ordinary cops' health," Brett Mahoney said as he slid into a diner booth across from Misty, "but now I have tangible, living proof that I was right."

"You mean aside from me," Misty said, amused, and lifted her coffee cup with her mechanical hand by way of illustration.

Mahoney rolled his eyes. "Yeah, fine, point taken, but do you know who caught powers in the backwash of their latest supernatural bullshit ninja mafia showdown? Me, that's who. I don't even know who Daredevil is! I have been very careful not to know that! And yet here I am with microwave hands. Microwave hands! What the actual fuck am I supposed to do with microwave hands? They're a police brutality case waiting to happen."

Which was true, if he didn't know how to turn them on and off reliably, and especially if the power could be triggered by stress. On the other hand, Misty was fairly sure Mahoney wouldn't have met her in a public location if didn't have a decent grip on things. So she grimaced sympathetically (aided a bit by the realization that she'd already finished her coffee) and said, "Yeah, no shit. But think on the bright side -- you'll never have to drink cold coffee again."

"You suck, Knight," Mahoney said, but his mouth twitched up at the corner like he couldn't quite hold his outraged face.

"I might, if I'm feeling generous. How bad do you want to know for sure?" Misty said, and waggled her eyebrows until Mahoney cracked and let the smile win.

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Expand22. ) For [personal profile] sholio: Agent Carter, Peggy & any, hidden gun pocket, written 2/5/20

Fashion Tip (75 words)

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"It's a nuisance fighting close-quarters in a skirt," Dottie says as she gestures with a little jerk of her head, pistol aimed rock-steady at Peggy's chest, "but I find them remarkably useful for concealing guns. Just rig up a pocket with a slit and a holster on your thigh and there you are -- you ought to try it."

"I shall take it under consideration," Peggy says, and dives forward to tackle Dottie at the knees.

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Expand23. ) For anonymous: Any, Any, the fancy hats are a vital part of the plan, written 2/6/20

Fascination (270 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives. Another six-sentence fic.

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"Sasha, I understand that it's important to do on-scene follow up for the incident, but why not wait another week so we don't have to bother with fancy dress and dodging crowds and cameras at every corner?" Jon hissed into Sasha's ear as she examined yet another improbable fascinator hat, this one shaped like several slices of watermelon with little embroidered bees and butterflies caught above in a net of teal gauze.

"Because of the crowds and cameras at every corner," Sasha said, regretfully setting the fascinator down; it was too cute and quirky and would attract attention they couldn't afford. "Nobody will notice another posh couple bumbling around Ascot in the confusion, whereas they most certainly would notice a pair of academics poking our noses where we shouldn't on a week when they don't have thousands of people and Royal security to deal with."

"I hate that that makes sense," Jon said in a pained tone -- Sasha glanced over her shoulder and yes, he was pinching the bridge of his nose, the ridiculous man -- "and also that by your logic, I'll have to acquire a top hat."

Sasha punched him gently in the shoulder and said, "Oh, quit whingeing; there's no way we'd get into the Royal Enclosure, nor any need most likely -- it'll be the Grandstand for us, so just a suit and tie, no need for full morning dress."

"The things we do for research," Jon grumbled, then perked up and pointed across the shop toward a snappy confection of navy lace and silver beads worked into tiny starbursts: "Try that one; it should match your dress."

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Expand24. ) For [personal profile] syrena_of_the_lake: Any, any, our new robot overlords are malfunctioning, written 2/6/20

Manual Adjustment (50 words)

Original fiction, because why not! :D

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"This is just embarrassing," Lisa remarked, almost calmly, as yet another hunter-killer tripped on a pothole and crashed sparking to the ground.

"I don't know what else anyone expected," Qimeng said, leaning over the garden fence to get a better view. "Have you seen the places our roomba gets stuck?"

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I really do need to get around to leaving some prompts of my own...
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2020-02-04 10:11 pm

[Fic] Three Sentence Ficathon fills, part three

More fills! :)

All prompts drawn from the current iteration of the Three Sentence Ficathon, hosted by the wonderful [personal profile] rthstewart. Come join the fun!

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Expand13. ) For [personal profile] wintersday: The Magnus Archives, Nicola Orsinov, Unzip my body, take my heart out, cause I need a beat to give this tune, written 2/3/20

Vocalises (150 words)

Contains body horror.

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"I tried having a heart once, thought it might make a steady rhythm I could use to time our dances and the calliope's call, but they're such fiddly, fickle things, hearts, always racing and jolting and skipping beats -- far too unreliable," Nikola says to the almost-corpse laid open before her, as she hunts around its neck for a new voicebox to replace her current rasping wheeze.

"A voice, though, you can do such marvelous things with a voice, all kinds of swoops, and vibrato, and ventriloquism, and all of it under precise control, so I can not-be exactly who I don't want to be, and make others hear all the wrong things at exactly the worst time -- which is much better, don't you think? Oh, but you can't answer anymore, can you."

She wraps her plastic fingers around the larynx with a little cry of triumph, and snaps it free.

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Expand14. ) For [personal profile] rthstewart: Update from the admin here, written 2/3/20

BRIEF REMINDER FROM THE ADMIN (110 words)

Fandom = Homestuck. Also, I know this isn't actually a prompt, rth, but I couldn't help myself :p

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CG: I KNOW IT'S DIFFICULT FOR YOU HEAP OF BLITHERING, SPINELESS NITWITS TO COMPREHEND WITH YOUR HALF-DIGESTED BRAINMEAT, BUT THIS MESSAGE BOARD DOES HAVE RULES, WHICH, AS ALWAYS, YOU CAN FIND AND READ AT THIS HANDY LINK, AND IF YOU DON'T FOLLOW THEM I WILL PULL OUT THE BAN-HAMMER AND BLOCK YOUR FLAT AND PATHETIC ASSES.

EB: no you won't; the only hammer available is the hammer of zillyhoo and you still don't have my permission to borrow it after what happened last time.

CG: UPDATE: ANYONE WHO ARGUES TECHNICALITIES ABOUT HAMMERS FOR NO REASON OTHER THAN TO ANNOY THE ADMIN IS SELF-EVIDENTLY BREAKING THE RULES AND GETS THE BAN-SICKLE.


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Expand15. ) For [personal profile] oceanose: Any, any, dressing up, written 2/4/20

Birthday Best (150 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives. Contains self-immolation.

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Jude took her time that evening, picked out a siren-red dress (rayon, of course), styled her hair (plenty of spray to fix it in place), set up a romantic dinner in their living room (so much wood, so much more flammable than the cold, tiled kitchen), and waited for Gretchen to come home.

"Should I have dressed for the occasion?" Gretchen asked from the doorway, in the nervous, half-joking tone she'd adopted recently, as if unwilling to directly address Jude's changes and half-hoping she could pretend them away.

"No need," Jude said with an exultant smile, and then tipped the jug of kerosene over her own head and thumbed a spark from her lighter; the flames that consumed her, that fed her god and warped her bones and razed her life to ash, were more beautiful than any clothes money could ever buy, or any love that humans could sustain.

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Expand16. ) For [personal profile] slippy: Any, any, kneecapping, written 2/4/20

You and Me Together (225 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives. Contains police brutality. Also twelve sentences long because sometimes structural restrictions are not my friend. *wry*

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"Daisy, have you seen--?" Basira said, raising her voice to carry outside the car while she rummaged for the pen that ought to be attached to her clipboard.

There was a sudden meaty crack, a scream, and then a sound like an entire basket of wet laundry falling onto a hardwood floor.

Basira sighed. "Was that necessary?" she said as she slid out of the car to look at her partner standing unrepentant over the quivering body of their suspect.

"My hand slipped," Daisy said, straight-faced and hard-eyed, and if her fingers curled round her baton looked a bit too sharp for a moment, well, it was twilight and the mind played tricks on the eyes even under the best conditions of visibility.

"--report you!--" the suspect wheezed around his moans of pain. "--have rights!--"

Basira looked down at him and reminded herself that he was a person and had rights, no matter what kind of monster he'd chosen to become. The words rang ever more hollow in her mind, but she needed to keep track of them, needed to make sure she kept Daisy safe on their side of the line so far as the higher-ups knew or cared. Then she said in her best brisk, professional tone, "Report what, sir? Her hand slipped."

In the corner of her eye, she saw Daisy smile.

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Expand17. ) For [personal profile] runespoor: Spinning Silver, Miryem/the Staryk King, a cat may look at a king, written 2/4/20

A Cat Always Lands on Its Feet (185 words)

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I'm still not certain how the cat -- a silky, long-haired beast, sooty black all over with a purr like a rusty metal hinge and a mew like a dying crow -- got into Staryk lands, but cats are well known for their ability to turn up in unexpected places and escape from what should be secure rooms, so perhaps it's best not to question that. I'm also not certain what the cat intended to eat in a land of perpetual winter, particularly not one whose people are known to be fiercely possessive of all living creatures they claim as their own, but perhaps it's best not to question that either.

The important part is that when I discovered the cat and my husband caught in a staring contest across the white pillows upon our bed, which were now peppered with a healthy dusting of long black hairs, his first impulse was to say, without once breaking eye contact, "I will not bargain with you over whether or not the beast stays," and so, of course, I took him at his word and kept it without asking.

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Expand18. ) For [personal profile] rthstewart: Bujold-Chalion, Desdemona and Penric, But it's so pretty, written 2/4/20

Priorities in Order (135 words)

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Yes, and expensive, just like all the other books in this collection, which is why burning them is the most efficient way to raise some chaos and ensure the Marquis's attention is firmly fixed on us, Desdemona said while Penric made sad faces over the illuminated bestiary.

"You have no appreciation for history," Penric muttered as he returned the heavy volume to the shelf with its fellows; "I suppose I should be grateful we had time to make sure they're only fancy editions of known texts rather than anything important."

I'm older than half of this heap of papers, Desdemona said as a spark leapt from Penric's fingers to the kindling-dry spines of the books, and that's more than enough history to give me a better grasp on what's truly important than you'll ever have.

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More to come as the month continues...
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2020-02-03 08:39 pm

[Fic] Three Sentence Ficathon fills, part two

More fills! :)

All prompts drawn from the current iteration of the Three Sentence Ficathon, hosted by the wonderful [personal profile] rthstewart. Come join the fun!

Content Note: FYI, any Magnus Archives fill has a very high chance of containing body horror and/or other potentially upsetting content. The canon is a horror podcast, after all. *wry*

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Expand7. ) For [personal profile] sideways: Any, any, "tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine", written 2/2/20

Gray Sky Morning (250 words)

Fandom = Chronicles of Narnia. Also this is six sentences, because reasons.

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"There was a war in our homeland, so terrible and great that entire cities were destroyed by weapons hurled from the skies like thunderbolts," Susan said as she leaned against the parapet and watched the gray Eastern Sea; in the corner of her vision, Rabadash shifted as if thinking better of asking a question, and when he stilled she continued: "Our parents sent us away to keep us safe; now we have no way to ever see them, or our childhood homes, again."

"I never knew my mother," Rabadash said, placing one hand beside hers on the parapet, close enough to feel the heat of his body on hers but not quite close enough to brush skin against skin, "and my feelings for my father, may he live forever, are somewhat complicated, but to be torn from home with no keepsake nor painting to help one remember is a fate many brave men would quail to face; your strength, my lady, is as that of the white mountains of the uttermost West, which hold up the vault of the heavens."

His voice was matter-of-fact, as if stating a self-evident truth instead of paying a flowery compliment.

Yes, Susan thought, I could marry him.

But aloud, she said only, "Perhaps I will come to Tashbaan this spring, so that you may show me your home." And turning her hand palm-up, she laced their fingers together: a little knot of warmth against the chill, eastern wind that gusted in from the sea.

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Expand8. ) For [personal profile] kalira: Any, Any, blood in the water, written 2/2/20

Aftershocks (125 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives

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The shower runs red at first, swirled with ancient rust knocked loose from the pipes, and thick with ooze and scraps the Flesh-creatures left behind as they squeezed their way through the Institute's defenses.

Melanie doesn't notice; the stains in the water blend with the blood on her hands, the dye in her clothes, and the fury swamping her vision until the whole world turns thick and crimson and hot, the thump of water against the tiles like the beating of her heart or the tattoo of a drum.

When the water finally runs clear, and heat gives way to chill, and the rhythmic splashes waver into the irregularity of rain, it takes her far too long to work out why the normality feels wrong.

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Expand9. ) For [personal profile] sideways: The Books of the Raksura, Jade/Moon/Chime, protective instincts, written 2/2/20

Indulgences (110 words)

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It's selfish, both because they all have endless responsibilities and because neither Moon nor Chime is fully comfortable in the role of pampered, protective favorite, so Jade doesn't indulge terribly often. But now and then she steals an afternoon, trips her consort and their adorably awkward mutual favorite into a pile of cushions carefully arranged over warming stones, and drapes herself on top of them like an armored living blanket until they stop grumbling and settle in to nap while she keeps watch.

They are hers, and anyone who wants to see them -- let alone touch them, or steal them, or hurt them -- will have to go through her first.

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Expand10. ) For [personal profile] kingstoken: Any, Any, Nights Full of Blood, written 2/2/20

The Direct Solution (100 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives

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It's a bit ironic, Julia tells Trevor when they're both a little drunk from the chase and the knowledge that another abomination is safely dead, that she and her dad both ended up killers, painting the nights with blood.

The difference is that he was always too blinded by the Dark to pick the right target. If it had been her back then with a lost spouse and a helpless child, knowing what she knows now, she wouldn't have wasted time gathering hearts and building rituals in a shed; she'd have tracked down Rayner and gone straight for his throat.

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Expand11. ) For [personal profile] kingstoken: Any, Any, Wolf Mother, written 2/3/20

Choice and Consequence (125 words)

Fandom = Chronicles of Narnia

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Brynnhild joins the White Army for the revolution and conquest, and then moves to the Secret Police, because she wants a better life for her sister's children, wants a Narnia where Wolves aren't shunned, or hated, or pushed out of their home by mobs pretending to polite concern about scurrilous rumors passed in sourceless whispers. Yes, war is harsh and the new Queen's laws are strict, but for the first time in a generation Wolves can walk abroad without having to apologize at every step.

It's only much later, when the ice closes in, when her nieces and nephews grow cruel, when fear still stains other Narnians' eyes, that she thinks to wonder when those rumors started, and who might have benefited from spreading them.

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Expand12. ) For anonymous: any, any, I don't really love you anymore, written 2/3/20

Too Little, Too Late (75 words)

Fandom = Chronicles of Narnia

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The thing is, you can only pour your heart into someone or something for so long (whether in love or in hatred) without getting something in return; eventually passion gutters cold and all that's left is indifference.

Susan looks at the packet of magic rings salvaged from Edmund's pockets, glittering with the promise of vengeance, reconciliation, or perhaps both sequentially, and sighs.

"I'm done with that," she tells them, and moves on with her life.

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And now back to dinner. :)
edenfalling: headshot of a raccoon, looking left (raccoon)
2020-02-02 10:10 pm

[Fic] Three Sentence Ficathon fills, part one

I've gotten in the habit of posting my fills in sets of six, and there's no reason to fix what isn't broken. :)

All prompts drawn from the current iteration of the Three Sentence Ficathon, hosted by the wonderful [personal profile] rthstewart. Come join the fun!

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Expand1. ) For [personal profile] rthstewart: Any, any, reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated, written 2/1/20

We Make Our Own Second Chances (150 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives.

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Her replacement yanked open the door to the Archives before Gertrude could knock with the more functional of her rebuilt hands, and exclaimed, in a shocked and slightly offended tone, "I saw your corpse; I was a suspect for your murder; how on earth--!"

"One fascinating thing about having one's face and voice used by the Stranger in the heart of the Unknowing is that when reality becomes utterly malleable, a determined person can wrangle that sliver of near-existence into something more solid once things settle back into place," Gertrude said as she pushed past him and cataloged the changes to her old haunts, and then added, "Admittedly it took longer than I expected, and I'm not entirely certain I got all the pieces in the right order, but the important parts are clear enough. Now, will you help me kill Jonah Magnus or must I continue doing everything myself?"

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Expand2. ) For [personal profile] wingedflight: Queen's Thief, Eugenides, what do you mean "kings can't steal"??, written 2/1/20

How You Frame the Question (70 words)

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"Kings do nothing but steal; theft is the very essence of government. Taxes steal money, wars steal land and lives, laws steal freedom, to name simply the most obvious examples -- shall I go on?"

Helen sighed, and kicked her cousin's ankle, and said in the driest tone she could muster, "It was practical advice, not an invitation to philosophy; please stop being so very much yourself before I've eaten breakfast."

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Expand3. ) For [personal profile] kalira: Naruto, any ninja, chakra tricks, written 2/1/20

Unorthodox Uses (85 words)

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1. Why clutter your tea ceremony by fussing with a kettle when you can pour a stream of perfectly heated water from thin air into your cup?

2. It's not technically illegal to have a side-job using earth jutsu in the civilian construction industry, and it's not like you undercharge the village by that much, right, so really you're just doing your part to keep the economy turning.

3. Interior design is overrated; just buy cheap secondhand furniture and cast an exciting new genjutsu whenever you have visitors!

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Expand4. ) For [personal profile] syrena_of_the_lake: Harry Potter; Professor Kettleburn; occupational hazards, written 2/1/20

Duty of Care (75 words)

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The animals aren't the problem. Oh, certainly they're dangerous if you don't respect them and take sensible precautions, but Kettleburn is an old hand at that game; he knows perfectly well how to keep himself safe in any reasonably foreseeable circumstance (and several unreasonable ones too).

The problem is the students, and their improbable ability to manufacture new deadly accidents waiting to happen, and the damnable need to keep them safe from their own stupidity.

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Expand5. ) For [personal profile] shinon: Any, any, back to the drawing board, written 2/2/20

A Change of Perspective (225 words)

Fandom = The Magnus Archives. Text slightly edited from the version on the Ficathon page.

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There is an art book in Artefact Storage, titled Scraps from the Drawing Board and marked with Jurgen Leitner's bookplate, which is not only locked in a safe (as per standard containment protocol) but also wrapped in several layers of very thick and opaque paper, so as to prevent even the most casual glimpse of its cover: nobody is entirely certain who managed to wrap and glue the paper so neatly, or what became of them afterwards, but the rumors surrounding the book's acquisition suggest nothing good.

The story goes that it belonged to an artist obsessed with fractals, Escher, and trompe l'oeil , who became convinced that if she drew the exact right combination of impossible patterns and perspectives that she could walk straight out of the universe; every painting in the book is one of her failed attempts, bound together by her students after she vanished (successful at last? eaten horribly by the Spiral? is there even any difference between those possibilities?), and at best those who flip through all the pages become mangled, screaming impossibilities whose warped bodies cannot long survive once the book is closed and the rational laws of physics reassert themselves.

The worst are those who remain outwardly human, but who nod calmly, close the book, and then head to the nearest art store to buy supplies of their own.

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Expand6. ) For [personal profile] ernest: Narnia, girl!Edmund, smoke and blades, written 2/2/20

Pay It Forward (200 words)

For anyone wondering, yes, this is part of As the Morning and the Night continuity.

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The end of a siege is bitter, filthy work, no matter how hard one tries to hold to honor and treat one's enemies with respect -- and Edith tries, both to stop Mary and Stephen from watching her with the shadow of old alienation behind their eyes, and to keep the soldiers under her command from needing to look back on their actions either with horror, or, worse, with rationalizations that will twist their hearts to stone as sure as Jadis once petrified their bodies.

She leads her company through the wreckage of the crude wooden fort, a torn strip of gold and scarlet surcoat wrapped around her face to filter out smoke and sparks from the fires, until she spots a spruce dryad in the colors of the White Army lying crumpled in the ashes; while her squire stands guard, Edith kneels to run her sword through the still-breathing ruin of the dryad's chest, then lifts the new-sprouted seedling from between her wooden ribs to carry away and plant in more auspicious soil.

Edith can't conjure miraculous redemption from before the dawn of time, but mercy, at least, is within her power; and so she grants it where she can.

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More to come, hopefully tomorrow! :)