firerose: (Default)
My Audio Recordings
Works are by Firerose, unless otherwise stated. Recorded for [community profile] amplificathon 2012 & *[community profile] podfic_bingo 2012

Dalemark
The End is Where We Start From - mp3 | zip | stream (6.6 MB; 7 min 02s)
The Three Ages of Mitt - mp3 (1.0 MB; 1 min 03s)*

Earthsea
The Daughters of Karekh - mp3 | zip (5.4 MB; 5 min 44s)
The Eaten One, by [personal profile] daegaer - mp3 | stream (5.6 MB; 6 min 01s)*
Elemental - mp3 | zip (3.6 MB; 3 min 58s)
Of Thistles and Fir Cones - mp3 | zip (9.1 MB; 9 min 43s)
The Veins of the Forest, by [personal profile] ellen_fremedon - mp3 | zip | stream (21.5 MB; 23 min 28s)

Crossovers
A Handful of Dust - mp3 | zip (2.0 MB; 2 min 12s) (Earthsea/Harry Potter)
On Boxes - mp3 | zip (1.1 MB; 1 min 12s) (Earthsea/Doctor Who)
On the Long Memory of Dragons - mp3 | zip (1.0 MB; 1 min 06s) (Earthsea/ The Hobbit)

Recordings by Others
The Dragon Year - mp3 - recorded by [personal profile] luzula (Earthsea)
firerose: (Default)
Parish's Progress
Leaf by Niggle by JRR Tolkien
Summary: To Parish it was like biting into a fruit still dewy from the garden when all you have ever tasted is syrupy chunks from a tin. Written for [community profile] yuletide 2015

There was once a young man called Parish, who had returned from a long journey. He had not wanted to go, indeed he had spent most of his time away wishing very hard to be home; and now he was. But home seemed to have changed while he had been away, and not for the better. Perhaps it was his gammy leg. It had not seemed so bad while he was away, when others had far worse, and still others (though Parish did not think about them very often) had not come back at all; but now that he was back he had to live with the wretched thing. Though he scarcely felt it, he was really very lucky. He had come back to a sweetheart, and she was not the sort of girl to be put off by a gammy leg. Soon they were married, and he and Mrs. Parish lived with her widowed mother in a house with a bit of garden, miles out in the country.
firerose: (Default)
Virtue & Virtuosity (ao3)
Mansfield Park & Northanger Abbey by Jane Austen
Summary: 'Fanny was the mute earth to Mary's leaping fire, the gnarled oak to her fluttering songbird, the mirror-bright millpond to her restless waves. If one could somehow, with propriety, squeeze both ladies into a single body, the resultant heroine would be beyond anything shewn by Mrs. Radcliffe! She might paddle down the Amazon, contest a knotty theological point with the Pope, battle venomous water snakes with a hat pin and a bottle of hartshorn, and sink into a dead faint at the villain’s merest glance, as if he were some species of basilisk!' Or, Mansfield Park meets Northanger Abbey. Written for [community profile] yuletide 2015

No one who had ever seen Mary Crawford in her youth, could have failed to have supposed her born to be an heroine. Her situation in life, the character of her nearest relations, her own temper and understanding, the disposition of her dearest friends; all were equally propitious. She had the fortune to be orphaned at an interesting age, and to have lost the care of a mother just when she was most in want of a mother’s guidance. Nor were these her only advantages. Her person lacked nothing an observer could desire; and her mind was quite as well developed as her figure. She had imbibed all the information that a select London seminary could offer—which is to say, she could cap a quotation; offer bon mots on any proper topic; discourse sweet nothings in French and Italian; berate the squalid in a landscape; beguile the ears with her performances upon the pianoforte and the harp; sketch portraits whose subjects could be made out after only a very few guesses; diagnose the exact season of an old gown, no matter how cleverly it had been refurbished; and if she had ever chanced to gain any knowledge upon a serious subject, she had the wisdom to conceal it. In short, no accomplishment was lacking that befitted a young lady with a fortune of twenty thousand pounds.
firerose: (Default)
First of all, a heartfelt thank you for writing for me. I'm sure I'll adore whatever you give me! This letter just gets longer every time I write it, so do cut loose now if detail makes you anxious. More information, if you're interested, under the cut )

Daniel Deronda )

Philip Marlowe )

Sharing Knife )
firerose: (Default)
Three Adventures Belladonna Took Never Went On (ao3)
The Hobbit by JRR Tolkien
Summary: ‘Not a tavern!’ the wizard muttered. ‘Iron arm, iron head more like. To think that I should have lived to be not-a-taverned by Gerontius Took’s son! I’ll not-a-tavern him!’ Seven decades of meetings between Gandalf and the Old Took's children. Written for [community profile] fic_corner 2015

‘This is Great Smials,’ announced the young hobbit, ‘not a tavern. I ask you, are you any sort of a Took? No? Then take yourself off, my good man! We don’t want any Gandalfs here, thank you! Go and find yourself a place that caters to Big Folk!’

Now Gandalf was a wizard, and a very important wizard at that, and he was not used to such treatment from anything short of a king, and there had been none of those in that neck of the woods for the best part of a thousand years. It goes without saying that Gandalf was a good wizard, which was a good thing because he’d had a very bad day and if he’d been a bad wizard, he might have been inclined to turn the young hobbit into a very small toad and then step on him.
firerose: (Default)
The Lion's Roar (ao3)
Earthsea by Ursula Le Guin
Summary: A slightly tongue-in-cheek look at the early days of Lebannen & Seserakh's marriage. Part of 'The Lion & the Rowan' series

The feasting was over, the last of the wedding guests had set sail and Lebannen felt a weight lift from his heart that he’d hardly known was there. The wedding of king and princess lay behind them: the joys of marriage, of being man and wife, stretched ahead. And joyful it was—for the first month or so. When his wife began to look tired in the mornings, and her cream skin faded to the colour of clouds, Lebannen put it down to her being with child. He waited for her to say something, and felt hurt, just a little, as the days passed and she said nothing. Not for the first time, he wished for the council of his mother, dead these two years now. Then he remembered the last piece of advice Tenar had given him before she’d gone back to Gont. ‘Never let shame spoil your happiness,’ she’d said.
firerose: (Default)
Hail fellow children's lit lover! Thank you for writing for me! This letter assumes you want to know more about my preferences -- if you'd rather work just from the assigned characters be assured that I'm fascinated by all of them.

General tastes )

Prompts for Dalemark, Earthsea, Power of Three )
firerose: (Default)
The Boy with Wolf's Eyes (ao3)
The Mark of the Horse Lord by Rosemary Sutcliff
Summary: She'd moulded the boy from a snowdrift, so they said, with a wolf's eyes and three drops of bull's blood. Written for [community profile] sutcliff_swap 2015

Gault was a late fruit from his father's tree: a frost-blighted plum barely worth the plucking. That was what the boy thought sometimes, beside the sun-gold giants that were his elder brothers. His father had been the old King’s general, back in the days when the skies shook with Lugh's laughter and his war cries echoed from the mountains to the sea; back in the days when their enemies fled before them, and the Tribe prospered in all their doings. And when the greybeard set his heart on a woman young enough to be his daughter's daughter, there was none who would gainsay him, not even though she were the sister-daughter of the new King himself.
firerose: (Default)
The Emerald Band (ao3)
'A Study in Emerald' by Neil Gaiman, 'The Speckled Band' by Arthur Conan Doyle & various works by HP Lovecraft

Summary How can I describe the sight that so unmanned my imperturbable friend? That caused the giant of a baronet to faint dead away? I could say Drago’s green-soaked body would no longer haunt my dreams—or if it did, it would be but a pleasant respite from the horror of that thing.

Rache & his faithful doctor investigate the murder of Julia Stoner in the 'Study in Emerald' universe, but the deeper they delve into the Roylott family history, the darker things become. Written for Yuletide 2014
~*~

We had done the right thing. We had struck a blow for freedom of our enslaved race. Once I believed that. Then the reprisals began. Her Victorious Majesty was terrible in her wrath. Week after week, The Star came out with thick black borders, and every issue carried lists of ‘traitors’ deemed to have Restorationist sympathies on no greater evidence than their failing to turn seawards before their evening chop.

We moved, my friend and I, from lodging to lodging, seldom staying above hours, never above a single night, Moriarty’s hounds ever running on our scent. But I had lived out of my pack before, in Afghanistan, in far less comfortable surroundings; had been hunted by a force far more awful than Her Majesty’s police. When one has walked through a valley choked with the writhing bodies of men turned witless as worms; when one has felt the Shadow pressing pressing—but I shall not think on that. Dwelling on the past is a weakness we can ill afford, as my friend daily reminds me. His nerves are steel, but even he cries out in his sleep some nights when the moon drips blood in the sky, red blood, not like—
firerose: (Default)
Hail fellow Sutcliff lover! This letter assumes you want to know more about my preferences -- if you'd rather work just from the assigned characters be assured that I'm fascinated by all three. For (a lot) more information on my general preferences see my last year's Yuletide letter. My Sutcliff recs might also give you an idea of my tastes.

The short version: gen, het & slash equally welcome, but I generally prefer to close the bedroom door; I love world building, OCs & fork-in-the-road AUs. I like historical accuracy but am woefully ignorant about this period, so don't feel constrained by historical detail, especially for Carausius, if it doesn't work for your story.

Prompts for Silver Branch, Mark of the Horse Lord )
firerose: (Default)
First of all, a heartfelt thank you for writing for me. I'm sure I'll adore whatever you give me! This letter just gets longer every time I write it, so do cut loose now if detail makes you anxious. More information, if you're interested, under the cut )

Prompts: Hinterland/Y Gwyll, Sharing Knife - Lois McMaster Bujold, Wives and Daughters - Elizabeth Gaskell )
firerose: (Default)
The Golden Apple (ao3)
The Silver Branch, by Rosemary Sutcliff
Summary: Paulinus met his father only once. It was a day he never forgot. Written for [community profile] sutcliff_swap 2014

I knew myself the apple of my mother’s eye before ever I’d seen an apple tree. Her love spilled out in honey cakes and honeyed words, and I grew into a plump child, content and carefree. In my earliest memories I’m learning to wind a length of blanket about me and tuck it just so, till the wash-softened folds fall like the marble ones in the frieze at the forum. My toga, she called it, pinching my cheek and telling me how proud my father would be of his proper little Roman man when he came for us. She spent hours each day with her pins and her pots and her mirror, coiling her bright hair, painting her face white as a statue and arranging her bracelets on her arms. Her arms were exquisite, truly exquisite, and her skin smelled as sweet as her cakes. Today was always the day he would come.
firerose: (Default)
Hail fellow Sutcliff lover! This letter assumes you want to know more about my preferences -- if you'd rather work just from the assigned characters be assured that I love all three. (There's a lot more here on Paulinus from Silver Branch than my other two requests simply because I've requested him unsuccessfully several times at Yuletide.) For (a lot) more information on my general preferences see my last year's Yuletide letter. The short version: gen, het & slash equally welcome, but I generally prefer to close the bedroom door; I love world building, OCs & fork-in-the-road AUs; my only absolute aversion is suicide.

Details on requests for Eagle of the Ninth & Silver Branch )
firerose: (Default)
I realise I never announced my 2012 Yuletide story here...

A Necklace of Acorns (ao3)
The Dispossessed & 'The Day Before the Revolution' by Ursula Le Guin
Summary 'Only cast pearls before swine if a necklace of acorns becomes you' (Sayings of Odo). Glimpses into the life of a revolutionary. Written for Yuletide 2012

Now the gods were jealous of Anarra, Moon Mother, for the Moon she had birthed from the pearls of her milk was more lustrous than anything they could craft with their seed. So they schemed together and Ra the trickster and Ur his brother accused her of outshining the All-father’s temple, the Sun. And so she was cast out from the Moon she loved. But her tears flooded the land of the two brothers, and made of it two lands. And so she was revenged.

—Traditional

The boy was Moon mad. He’d worked out how to scam the City Library entry code and read everything they had about rockets: not just the kids’ section, the adult books too. He cut pictures out of newspapers he picked up on the subway and stuck them up on the screen he’d made for his sleeping corner. So when rumour had it that His Oiliness Himself was coming to Rodarred to announce some lunar project or other, Briki rattled on about it non-stop till Tula got Katya to swap shifts with her so she could take him and his sister. He wanted to be a rocket engineer, or maybe a technician on the Lunar Base he swore A-Io would build before he graduated. Tula never had the heart to tell him no-one from Thuvietown was ever going to go to Technical College. No-one with a surname like Anokh was ever going to make it as more than a cleaner or a shelf-stacker or a tram conductor, maybe, if he could pass for Iotic.
firerose: (Default)
The Story of the Flying Rabbit (ao3)
Watership Down & Tales from Watership Down, by Richard Adams
Summary 'You know, he made me feel I could fly too'. Written for Yuletide 2013

It was November, late in the afternoon on a mild, clear day some eight weeks after the defeat of General Woundwort. The sun hung low, almost grazing the summit of Ladle Hill, and the air was so still that the beech leaves, which had faded to a pale fawn but still clung to the branches, made not a whisper. In the golden light, thick as butter, every blade of grass cast a crisp long shadow, even the short grass of the gallops atop the down where the rabbits were at silflay. Kehaar had flown in from the Big Water only the day before, bringing with him another black-headed gull named Lekkri, and the two strutted up and down in the rougher grass near the hedge, sometimes taking little hopping flights just for the joy of being in the air.

Bigwig had wandered a little apart from the other rabbits, and sat tall on his haunches, watching his friend. His distinctive shadow, one lop-ear hanging down, stretched along the expanse of smooth-mown turf halfway to the hedge. Catching sight of it, the big rabbit hunched down, flattened his other ear against his body, and began to nibble at a thin-looking tuft.

‘Give us a story, Dandelion,’ said Hazel. ‘Something new, if you can.’
firerose: (Default)
First of all, a heartfelt thank you for writing for me. I'm sure I'll adore whatever you give me! This letter just gets longer every time I write it, so do cut loose now if detail makes you anxious. More information, if you're interested, under the cut )

Prompts: Bleak House (TV 2005), Power of Three - Diana Wynne Jones, The Silver Branch - Rosemary Sutcliff, Wives and Daughters - Elizabeth Gaskell )
Fiction in a range of rare fandoms

January 2016

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