Archive | February 3, 2014

Nightmares, a story for the January OrigFic Bingo

This is to [personal profile] ysabetwordsmith‘s prompt to this January card for [community profile] origfic_bingo.

It fills the “nightmares” slot, and is in no established verse.

Warning: nightmares.

Sleep falls. It’s not been something I greet as a friend in quite some time, but even out here, once in a while a body needs to sleep. So I give in to it – no drugs, the drugs only make it worse.

(The things back home helped more, but the things back home lost me my job and the house and got me on this ship. So now I do without.)

I let sleep overtake me, not fighting it, not trying to steer it. There was a guy here for a while, tried to teach me lucid dreaming. It just made it worse.

Seems like almost everything makes it worse. Wonder what that says about me.

The nightmares come first; they almost always do. The train is on fire again, and the Beasts are coming one way and the soldiers are coming the other way and I know, just know, that there are still people on the train, but I can’t move.

I struggle and fight against it but I know it won’t do any good. There’s this sense of horrible finality as I watch the face press against the glass of the train and then, only then, does whatever is holding me (not whatever I know what but dreams work in allegory, not memory) release me and I go running for the train, just in time for it to explode in my face.

And that is both allegory and real, I can still feel the scars.

I don’t wake. If I woke then I could stare at the ceiling until my heart stopped but instead, damnit, damn it by whatever gods still care, blast it into space, I fall into the other one.

The one where you’re alive, holding my hand. Where you sit with me in the hospital and tell me it’s okay.

I had that dream so many times, so long, while I was healing that when I woke up for real and they told me you were dead…

…well, that’s when the pills started.

But it won’t let me go. You won’t let me go. You’re there every night, tracing my scars and telling me it’s all right, it’s going to be okay.

And I wake, damnit, blast it out the airlock, once again I wake, alone in my bunk in this fragging ship and you’re dead again.

I’d rather have the nightmares.

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The Collar Job, Part IV

Part I (and on LJ)

Part II (and on LJ)

Part III (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.

This one is sort of a transition sequence; I had to get him back to the beginning…

Fade in from commercial: first sound, heels clicking on the floor, then a redheaded woman in an expensive business suit. She’s holding something in her hand – a smart phone? a remote control? Eliot’s vision is blurring in and out; he blinks a few times and we see a button right under her thumb.

“This is how this is going to work.” Her voice is faint; she opens a window in the front of Eliot’s box, maybe three feet wide by two feet tall. “You are going to do what I say. Everything I say, when I say it. And you are going to respond to anything I say with ‘yes, Lady Alessia.’ Do you understand?”

Eliot blinks again and his vision is clear. “Fuck you, Lady Alessia.” His voice comes out like a grunt, raw and pained. An electric zapping sound fills the room. Eliot grunts again, louder and clearly more pained. “The fuck?”

“It’s a training collar. You’re a difficult case, or so they’ve told me, but I have the perfect place for you. Now, come on out of that box, nice and slowly.”

“I’m cuffed – ow, fuck!”

“You’re cuffed, what?”

Eliot glares balefully at her. Her finger is lingering over the button, however. “I’m cuffed, Lady Alessia. Really?”

“Really. If you’re going to be a slave in Tír na Cali, you’re going to have to learn the rules… oh, dear.” She steps back delicately as Eliot slides out of the small opening, landing on his feet despite his bindings. “As I was saying. You’re going to have to learn the rules.”

“Fuck you… Lady Alessia.” This time, he doesn’t even grunt as the shock goes through him. She keeps shocking him until he falls unconscious.


“You are going to make a lovely gift for my sister.”

“I’m not anybody’s gift, not yours or your bitch sister.” Eliot has been in better moods.

She slaps him this time, instead of shocking him, her claws raking across his cheek, barely missing his eye and his mouth. A drop of blood trickles out.

“Now remember to behave until I hand you over.” He has pants on; that’s a start. Not much of a start, since they are so sheer as to nearly be see-through, but it’s something.

“Behave.” He snarls it, half an agreement, half a question, but does not move. The redhead still tut-tuts at him.

“I did say behave.” She pushes a button waiting in her hand. A buzzing zzap fills the air, brief but loud. Eliot clenches his jaw, refusing to shudder.

Cut to commercial.

Part V

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February is World Building Month. Day Three: Addergoole

[personal profile] piratekitten has declared February world-building month.

Every day in February, I will answer one question about any one of my settings.

The question post is here; feel free to add questions!

The third question comes from [personal profile] lilfluff and is for Addergoole

Do the Nedetakaei have anything even vaguely similar to the Addergoole school?

To be honest, the Nedetakaei are far less established in my head than the Shenera Endraae. That being said… here goes world-building.

The Shenera Oseraei do not have an overarching organizational structure even as much as the Shenera Endraae do; instead, the exist in small groupings – the Elf Queen, seen In the Hall of the Elf Queen, is one such.

Side track: some people go Nedetakaei, some are raised that way.

Second side track: thanks to [personal profile] rix_scaedu for much of this in terms of ideas and planning.

It is very likely that the Nedetakaei have several small "military schools" where they train their young; filial attachment or piety is not common among the Children of the First, as their primary and, indeed, only loyalty is supposed to be to their ruler, their King or Queen or Regent (until that ruler is overthrown, of course). Such schools would do well in indoctrinating the young in the mentality necessary to claw your way to the top of the pile and, of course, to ensure the next generation.

One caveat: while the Nedetakaei have halfbreeds, they also hate them. No school of theirs would involve a halfbreed breeding program.


The Ellehemaei fall into two political groups:

One call themselves the Shenera Oseraei, the Children of the First. They call the other group Ashanevai, which means monkey-fuckers.

The other group call themselves the Shenera Endraae , the Children of the Law. They call the other group Nedetakaei, those who have forsaken their Names, which also means those who have forsaken the Law.

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The last of the Kai/Rozen Drabbles

So a while ago I posted a meme, and I am slowly working my way through answering.

Kai/Rozen: AU (Where he does Keep her his first year) here

While this fic takes place in Mendosa’s office, it comes with the implied warning that it is, after all, a Keeping fic.

This entry was originally posted at You can comment here or there.

Question du Jour

If I was going to put together of new and previously-written stories about one character from the Addergoole ‘verse (or possible one pairing), who would you like to see?

As many options as you’d like, you don’t have to belimited to just one right now!

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Betting on It

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

This fills my “Bets/Wagers” square.

This is in my Space Accountant setting.

It comes before Accident and after Taking Chances.

Genique planted herself between two handsome young pirates sitting together at a table Quartermaster Marist Irio had identified as the “young bucks” table. She looked between the two of them – they were less fresh than Basi, but still shiny, new, and very handsome.

“Hello.” She offered the taller of the two her hand. “I’m Genique. I’m the new bookkeeper.”

He stared at her hand for a moment. Genique looked him over quickly. Ah, blue tattoos around each ear and down into his coverall. Trenciscot Tertius.

“My apologies.” She folded her hands into what, on her home planet, would be considered a “prayer” stance and nodded her head over her hands. “Genique Wadevier, from Maymonta. I’m the new bookkeeper.”

He folded his hands in a similar-but-different way, one curled over the other, and bowed a little bit deeper than she had. “Marsey Wilswoodronny. I’m a hitter and, more importantly, I do the tunnels and chutes. This is Darretchon; he does security systems and computers.”

Genique twisted to look at Darretchon; he was blonde where Marsey was brunette, his skin dark-tanned where Marsey’s was naturally chocolate, and he had a long, braided beard, where Marsey was smooth-shaven. More importantly for the moment, he had bone plugs in his earlobes and three silver rings in his left ear.

Bookkeeper did not out rank security systems, not on a pirate ship. Genique pressed the heels of both hands to her forehead and lowered her head. “Darretchon.” The Abrandell system was known for its rather stringent rules.

That did not, it appeared, apply to pirated. “Please, please.” He touched one hand to his forehead. “Genique. Miss – Miss? – Wadevier.”

She dropped her hands and smiled at him. “Definitely Miss. You?”

“Ah, still Misten. Wives aren’t really… well, it’s a pirate ship. And I’m a pirate.”

And the Abrandell did not look any better on piracy than anyone else (except perhaps Trenciscot Tertius, but they were, after all, founded by pirates of one sort and another). “Well. It appears that I am, too.” She lifted her glass. “To piracy.”

The young men seemed startled, but Marsey grinned at her wide enough to show two gold-covered teeth and lifted his glass, which got Darretchon to lift his glass, and then they were drinking.

“So.” Genique had been gifted with a deck of playing cards from the Pit Master (gifted or bribed, who was counting?); she pulled them out now. “I know they know the game Flotsam on Trenciscot Tertius, because it was a Trenciscotian who taught it to me. Do you know it as well, Darretchon?”

“Flotsam? Yes. But what are we wagering? You’re new, aren’t you, Miss Wadevier?”

“Please, call me Genique. And yes. I have very little more than what you see on me right now.” Which was true, so long as you had a broad definition of very little. Gifts and bribes were in not short supply around here.

“Flotsam doesn’t really work without wagers.” Marsey was already hooked, leaning forward. “What do you have in mind… Genique?”

She pulled out a set of chips from her pocket, the other half of the Pit Master’s gift. She watched their faces fall – nobody wanted to play for tokens. “Why don’t we say…” she pushed a white chip forward. “This is ten minutes.” A red chip: “a half hour.” Blue: “A night.” She’d skip green; she pushed forward one black chip: “A week.”

Darretchon swallowed. The Abrandell were sometimes prudish… “Are you saying what I think you’re saying, Miss… Genique?”

“I think she is.” Marsey was almost purring. “I’m game. Come on, Darret. It’ll be fun.”

Darret looked between the two of them and, finally, nodded. “I’m in.”

Betting Time

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February is World Building Month. Day Two (Yesterday): Aunt Family

[personal profile] piratekitten has declared February world-building month.

Every day in February, I will answer one question about any one of my settings.

The question post is here

The second question comes from [personal profile] lilfluff and is for The Aunt Family

How unique is the family? Are there other such families out there?

In the universe the Aunt Family exists in, there are other people who can manipulate power; it tends to run in lines and so there are definitely other bloodlines that exhibit power.

If you look at Estate, one of the founding stories of this ‘verse, Ruan is dealing with her Aunt Tansy:

Her Aunt Tansy hadn’t been, as they say, The Aunt – she was a paternal aunt, for one thing, totally not the right sort, and Ruan’s Aunt Elenora was still alive and well – but the family tradition seemed to hold anyway.

In addition, the family tree that includes Evangaline and Ruan goes back many, many generations, and it has not been uncommon for the family to split, especially if there are two young women with a great deal of power and both the inclination and ability to become an Aunt.

Is there another bloodline that carries the power through a single unmarried, childless woman in each generation? I find it unlikely, but possible. The reasons this particular family chose to carry the power that way are murky, lost in the annals of history and the books in the back of Evangaline’s attic, but it was a choice. There are likely lines who have chosen to carry it through, say *cough* Uncles.

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