Archive | January 31, 2014

Doot Doot pay no heed here..

Universe Wooing Happily alone “I love you” Meadow / Field
Writing on skin Domesticity Person & loved one(s) ailing simultaneously Cabin Space
Drinks Making someone smile WILD CARD Park Home
Inspiration Future Open Gifts Peace
Bed Dealing with the gross times when loving someone Crush / Infatuation Commitment Hands

[community profile] cottoncandy_bingo

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What was Lost

This is to [personal profile] clare_dragonfly‘s prompt to my December Bingo card for [community profile] origfic_bingo.

It fills the “Lost and Found” Square.

It comes after/concurrent with –
Toy Soldiers
With Friends Like These…,
Cleaning Up and
this scrap (
S for Shahin
E is For Emrys/Harder than Diamonds

and is part of my Addergoole sub-‘verse, with characters from my Addergoole webserial.

“You know your options. What are you going to do?”

Ty studied its mistress unhappily. “That’s not a fair question, and you know it… Mistress.”

“I know. And I apologize for that. This isn’t going to be easy on you, Tya, whichever route either of us take.”

“No.” Ty rolled its shoulders. “But… maybe that’s what I needed. Life was easy for a long time. And now…”

Shahin packed the last piece of bedding into her pack. “And now, you need to pack, or not.”

Ty winced. “And leave you, follow you, or wait for you.”

“Yes. I apologize. But…”

“I understand. If I had someone like Emrys…” The message had come back from Addergoole, not from Regine, but from Shira Pelletier. Tell the Rapier: What was lost might be found again; the fire has always been at home in the cold; the hills are not hills.

Shahin nodded crisply. “I do need your decision.”

“I’ll come with you.” It didn’t take long to pack up its gear; it had come with little and half of that had been confiscated. Ty was surprised, on filling its pack, to find that its mistress was adding things – another blanket, a hunting knife, a small mess kit.

“Tell me why?”

Ty sighed. “Because I can help you. Because this is going to be really dangerous, and you don’t even know exactly what you’re getting into.” It swallowed, but found it couldn’t stop. “Because I don’t want to be left behind. And… and because you’re making me somebody better.”

Her hand lingered on its cheek. Ty sighed. “I hope you found Emrys. I, um. I think I’m finding Ty.”

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For my next trick… a meme.

Stolen from [personal profile] recessional who stole it from [personal profile] kate

Pick a number and I’ll try to answer that question. Then you can do the meme or not as you choose.

1. Of the fic you’ve written, of which are you most proud?
2. Favorite tense
3. Favorite POV
4. What are some themes you love writing about?
5. What inspires you to write?
6. Thoughts on critique
7. Create a character on the spot… NOW!
8. Is there a character you love writing for the most? The least? Why?
9. A passage from a WIP
10. What are your strengths in writing?
11. What are your weaknesses in writing?
12. Anything else that you want to know… (otherwise known as Fill in the Blank)

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Bonus Round: Daily Prompt

[community profile] dailyprompt:

Today’s prompt is “I can’t fail.”

Now accepting up to three prompts for this theme. – Closed already!

Bonus points if they dovetail with a square of my Trope bingo card

Trying to fail: and failing

Locked in and can’t fail

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Exhaustion, a story of the Aunt Family for the Bonus Round/Bingo

This is to [personal profile] kelkyag‘s prompt to my [community profile] dailyprompt here.

This fills the “exhaustion” square in the January Bingo Card.

This is either a different branch of The Aunt Family or an earlier/later line.

Warning: death.

Olianda died.

This was not, generally, a quick process, and in her case, it was further complicated by any number of problems.

The first problem was, of course, the simple physical act of dying. The family to which the Aunts were adjunct was, by virtue of their nature, a particularly hearty lot, and they did not grow frail quickly or easily. Olianda’s spirit was tired – weak, one might say – long before her flesh stopped being willing.

At one hundred and seventeen, she was finally ready to die, body and soul.

Now, she had to convince the family to let her go, the house and its attached role to release her, and her successor to take up the mantle.

“Aunt Olianda.” The woman holding Olie’s hand was the daughter of her niece’s daughter, but in this family, ‘Aunt’ was always the appropriate honorific. “Please don’t go. I don’t know what we’ll do without you.”

“You’ll thrive, of course.” Her voice was barely a squeak anymore. “You’ll be fine. Enid – you are Enid, right?”

“Yes, yes, I’m Enid.” The girl blinked at her. “I only have brothers, you know.”

“And you’re pregnant, which was a swift move on your part. Child, tell your children this – they cannot make you take the role. No matter how long they push, how hard they complain, the role is the role.” She patted the girl’s arm. “You’re safe, besides. Brett will be my successor.”

“But she’s…”

“I know. Now be a dear and give me a hug. Your Aunty is tired and wants to rest.”

She waited until the girl was out of the room. ::You understand?:: she asked the house.

The house rumbled in reply. A cupboard creaked. A statue shifted.

::I have been training seven of them as long as they have been alive. You will not be alone.::

The house groaned again. It needed more reassurance.

::Besides… I will be here with you.:: And Brett would take the mantle gladly, once she understood.

The house settled. Olianda closed her eyes.

In the house, in the neighborhood, in the county, in the world, her family sighed, absorbed the loss, and shifted the power amgonst themselves. Seven heirs felt the strength touch them, and stretched, and took it in. The house cradled the consciousness, the family the power, the world her spirit, until all that had been Olianda was exhausted.

Olianda, having done what she must, died, and the era of a new Aunt began.

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What I’ve Been Up to, A Summary

Last Summary

My me-stuff:
Weight Loss – Week Two
Friday Show and Tell
Bamboo Flooring, Links and Thoughts

February is Coming (your attention requested):
February Long-Fic (Beta-Locked)
Giraffe Call Upcoming: Advance Notice Here
February World Building Month

And there’s Bingo
Trope Bingo Card ([community profile] trope_bingo)
Random Bingo Card
OrigFic January ([profile] origifc_bingo)

And some Stories:
Dream, a story of Vas’ World for Trope Bingo
Through the Glass, new world, OrigFic Bingo
A Handful of Kai/Rozen fics
For All Time, a parable of the Aunt Family, Random Bingo Card
Older Witches, a continuation of Aunt Family for the Dec. Bingo Card
Closing Up, a story for the Bonus Round (possibly Fairy Town)
Friends Do, a story of Dragons Next Door for OrigFic Bingo (Jin)
The First Step, a story for the Bonus Round (DailyPrompt) (magic/unknown)
Accident, a 100-word story for the Space Accountant Setting (random bingo)

Edally Academy is coming Soon!
Getting Ready: Tairiekie
Getting Ready: Saydry
New LJ for Edally

I’ve been writing some fan-fic/my-verse xovers…
The Collar Job (Tír na Cali/Leverage)
A href=””>Part I (and on LJ)
Part II (and on LJ)
Part III (and on LJ)

Addergoole/Criminal Minds


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Friday Show-and-Tell

Shamelessly copied from [personal profile] jjhunter:

Friday, every Friday, I invite you (yes, you!) to share with me key Dreamwidth (or LJ, or Tumblr, or anything else) posts from the last week. They can be one or more of your own posts, posts of others you’d recommend, interesting discussions, linkspams, tiny delights, whatever stands out to you from the last seven days that you’d like to highlight. Assume that I’ve been away and pining too true and catch me up on what matters to you.

In return, I will make a point of commenting on at least one post of those you share, and I encourage others to do the same.

Newcomers, lurkers and long-time commentators equally welcome

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Edally Academy: Getting Ready (Saydry)

“It’s almost time. Do you have everything?” The soldier was looming in the doorway to Saydry’s parents’ house. “Remember, the winters are much colder in the North. You’ll need warm clothes, mittens, boots.”

“He has everything.” Saydry’s mother stood watch over his valise and his trunk as if the soldier was going to steal them – which, in a sense, he was. “He has been well-prepared.”

“I doubt that.” The soldier had the typical Northern look: long nose, long black hair, sun-browned skin. He also had what Saydry was beginning to believe was a typically Northern disdain for everything Southern.

“Mother, what if…” Saydry swallowed.

His mother patted his shoulder. “Be brave, my son. I have faith in you.”

Edally Academy is coming soon!

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Dream, a story of Vas’ World for Trope Bingo

To [personal profile] rix_scaedu‘s prompt to this [community profile] trope_bingo card.

This fills my “trapped in a dream” square.

This is in my Vas’ World setting.

Um. This might need a warning?

There had been any number of things they could have done in the situation.

The official handbook listed five. The unofficial handbook listed another four methods of handling cases like this.

In none of those nine methods (or the three the team had penciled in themselves, House Rules), was “eat the berries and agree to be sent on a vision quest” anything but the stupidest of last resorts.

Which in no way explained why Malia was laying calmly on a camp bed, her hands folded on her chest, letting the soporific in the berries put her into a deep sleep.

What did explain it was: 1) the natives read as sufficiently human, if blue (purple, Paz insisted, purple), 2) the natives had managed to take them more-or-less hostage, and 3) the natives claimed to know where the missing member of their team was.

So they penciled a new House Rule into the unofficial handbook:
If the indigenous population of the world turns out to be biologically human, throw the rulebook out the window and use Anthropology 101 instead.

Thus there they were, Malia eating the berries. She closed her eyes, her breathing leveled, and Paz settled himself into a waiting posture, monitoring her pulse.


Malia had volunteered-or-been-chosen for the Berry Mission because… well, lots of spurious reasons that came down to Low Woman on the Totem Pole. She didn’t mind, which probably had something to do with how she’d ended up here, too. She also had more experience with hallucinogens then any other three members of the team, but that wasn’t on her official dossier.

She let the berry juice flow through her. It was already knocking her out, but the fun part would come…

…there. She was running. Something had frightened her, although she wasn’t certain what, something big, something that seemed, still, a little ridiculous to be afraid of.

Ridiculous or not, she was still running, her feet pounding on the stone.

Wait, stone? She glanced down at the ground, noted pavers, ran into something – she could feel the punch in her gut, the air whooshing out, and then she was falling.

She could see the hole above her getting smaller and smaller. Her gut still hurt, worse than she thought possible. But she wasn’t landing. don’t land in a dream…

She was dreaming? She pinched herself, and felt a distant memory of pain. Dreaming. She had… above her, a large monster jumped into the hole. He was purple-blue, and fuzzy, like some sort of children’s-show monster, and her heart was pounding in terror.

Pounding. Pounding. The drums were loud in her ears. Her feet were loud on the stone. She was running, running, but she’d forgotten something. She turned around, only to find herself face to face with the monster.

The monster was sitting in a rocking chair, big, furry blue arms wrapped around something precious. She reached for it, only to find herself grasping fur and teeth.

Something was biting her, clawing on her, eating off her fingers – she was holding the large blue monster, only he was smaller, small enough to be held, and she kept cradling him, even though he was eating off her fingers, one by one, showing them to her as he devoured them. Finger, Finger; she started running again.

Her feet were pounding on stone and she was running, cradling the monster and running. Stone? She looked down, seeing pavers, and tripped, falling into a hole. She fell, the hole above her getting smaller and smaller but the ground getting no closer. Don’t land in a dream…

Dream? She was dreaming?

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The Collar Job, Part III

Part I (and on LJ)

Part II (and on LJ)

This is … what happens when you let me watch an entire season of Leverage in a week and a half. *cough* Tír na Cali/Leverage fanfiction crossover.

It’s written in an experimental style for me, and, well, it’s fanfic, so pls. be kind.

Fade in from commercial as a black-haired woman aims a rifle at Eliot.

She’s wearing the same outfit as the men on the floor – black fatigues, black tank top, black jacket. She’s too slender, too weedy, to be believable as a soldier, and her hair is loose, tangled black curls everywhere. She’s aiming the rifle with military precision, though.

“Shoot me.” Eliot grunts out the challenge. “Come on, shoot me. You can’t, can’t you? You need me alive.”

“Yep.” She pulls the trigger.

Location: Their Newest Office.
Time: The next morning

“So, this is what we have. Sophie and Parker cased the bar; the bartender remembers Eliot and King going out for a smoke; King was drunk enough that he was falling all over Eliot.”

The Last Call Bar

“I have to say, they weren’t the sort that I pegged for being a little bit swish, you know, but the way the older guy was all over the younger one…” The bartender sits down on one of his own stools. “Sorry, ma’am. You said the old guy was your husband?”

“Ex.” Sophie’s persona snips the word off. “My ex-husband. And his boyfriend, you say? Well, that certainly explains a lot about him and his poker games.”

Gambling debt explains a lot. The bartender nods. “Men do stupid things when they’re trying to hide things, ma’am. I’m awfully sorry. It’s just, he ran out on a tab…”

The Office.

“And Parker found in the back…”

Parker dumps a bag onto the table; cigarette butts and matches fall onto the table. “This isn’t the interesting part, unless you find it interesting how many cheap cigarettes people smoke. No, this is.” With thick gloves on, she extracts a single needle-tip from an envelope. She sets it down on top of the envelope and adds a spent cartridge.

“Tranq. He was tranqued.“ Hardison glares at the dart as if it’s offended him. “Shit.”

“And King?” Nate is staring at the needle, too. “Concrete facts, Hardison. King?”

“As far as we can tell, he’s missing, too.”

Somewhere in Tír na Cali

Eliot comes to in a glass box; the box is only big enough for him to sit in. His hands are shackled behind his back, his ankles cuffed together, and the metal collar he is wearing is thick and clunky-looking.

There is a man we haven’t seen before in the cell to his left; in the cell to his right sits an uncomfortable-looking Brendan King. Both are wearing the same sort of plastic collar that Eliot was earlier sporting; neither are handcuffed.

A gorgeous redhead strides into view, her heels clicking loudly on the floor.

Cut to Commercial.

Part IV (and on LJ)

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