also, wips meme

[melannen]

which is also going around and I needed motivation to get back on writing treadmill:

(This is only things that are new stories since the last time I did the meme, which is...more than it should be, less than I'd like.)


So, this is what all the space questions are about, obvs. :P Bonus points if you remember the comment several years ago where I outlined the plot of this. (I am rubbing out the serial numbers as I go on this but it's totally Les Mis fic).

"It's carrots," Casi told her. "Stop making that face. It's a root vegetable. We have a small hydroponic garden up closer to the surface; I can show you when you're better."

Nina grunted and started eating. The soup was warm and salty and at least better than the pap an EVA suit would feed you - and she'd mostly run out of that half a day ago. If the girl or her bosses wanted to drug Nina, it wasn't like Nina could do anything about it anyway. Casi had swung into a hammock a few yards away from hers and was rocking gently back and forth, calmly watching-not-watching as Nina ate, like someone trying to lure a feral cuy out of a ventilation shaft.

AKA, "No Pie For You, Kent Parson", the prequel/sequel/whatever to my other check please! fic. This fic is growing a damn PLAYLIST which so far consists of Frank Sinatra, Barbra Streisand, and Avril Lavigne, because Kent Parson is terrible for me.

He blamed Sinatra for why he blew back into the hotel room and announced, "And making his entrance with his usual flair, it's Kent Parson, captain of the Las Vegas Aces, playing the part of Desiree Armfeldt."

"Jesus fucking Christ, Parse," his roommate, Swoops, said, looking up from his 3DS. "Sondheim? You're kidding me. There are seriously people out there who don't know you're gay?"

Swoops got the reference because his brother and brother-in-law were both Broadway choreographers, and even gayer than Kent. He'd gone to their wedding and been congratulated by management for showing willing to get some good publicity by standing with the gays, even though management knew fucking well that Kent was gay himself.

"Don't stereotype me," Kent told him.

"Don't be a fucking stereotype then, bro," Swoops told him.

"I'll be a fucking stereotype if I want to," Kent said. "Also, I want my cat, I need snuggles."

Aka "you thought I was done with the crossovers that should not be, did you?":

Eponine, Cosette, and Musichetta sat draped over various pieces of decorative stonework above Musichetta's top-floor apartment window. Musichetta had made Chuunin during the last exam, in Stone Country, but since neither of the boys on her team had passed, she was still mostly hanging around Hikarigakure doing D and C ranks with them.

Eponine and Cosette's team hadn't been nominated for that exam. Eponine was quite sure Valjean-sensei would never think they were ready.

"Eponine, I know he's frustrating, but you need to show more respect for Valjean-Sensei," Cosette said, inspecting the nail polish that Musichetta had passed her.

"I know, I know," Eponine said. "He knows better than us what we're ready for. Maybe we shouldn't do this B-rank."

Musichetta and Cosette looked at her, shocked. "Are you ill?" Musichetta asked. "Have you been spending time with any genjutsu users? You've been lobbying to go on high-ranked missions for literally years.

Eponine rolled her eyes. "No. I just have a bad feeling about this mission, that's all. Maybe we aren't ready."

"Don't say that!" Cosette demanded. "Of course we're ready! You and I are ready, anyway," she added disloyally.

"Marius will be fine." Eponine frowned. "Probably."

Because nobody has yet written the fanfic where Leia Organa spent most of her Imperial Senate career fantasizing about hatesex with Mr. Tall, Dark, Evil and Mysterious and I don't know why; I can't be the only one in that fandom who a) watched their interactions in ANH and b) enjoys traumatizing Leia with accidental almost-incest.

Once upon a time there was a Princess, and she was eighteen years old, and she had just been elected as the youngest Senator in the history of the Imperial Senate. (Which, by coincidence, was also exactly eighteen years old.) Everybody she knew wanted to give her advice on being a Senator.

"Listen, sweetheart," said her Father, the King, who had also been a Senator once, "We both know that the Senate itself doesn't have any power anymore. I'm not sending you there to make law, or to be a politician, I'm sending you there to be our visible contact on Coruscant, to keep the lines of communication open. In the Senate, you need to keep your head down, and stay out of trouble. Don't do anything that would make the Imperial leadership think you were worth noticing. And if they notice you anyway--" He stopped, shook his head. "Don't make them notice you."

"You shouldn't ever have to deal with the Emperor," said her father's old friend, the General, who was visiting from even longer ago and farther away. "You'll swear allegiance to him, but he prefers to rule from the shadows, and use other do do his will. The others-- they're men, mostly. Human men. Like other men. Gorged fat on power or lean on ambition and all of them living on fear. But they're still men, all of them with their own weaknesses and little compassions, and I think you know how to live among men."

"And what about Lord Vader?" Leia asked, fearless. "Is he also a man?"

Comments

[marginaliana]

I am definitely excited about the one that is causing all the space questions!

[melannen]

I realised while looking at a pull quote that the ratio in that, so far, of "story" to "author thinks it would be REALLY COOL to live in an asteroid" is, possibly, smaller than would be ideal for modern publishing standards.

...however I suspect I will have to get out all of the IT WOULD BE SO COOL TO LIVE IN AN ASTEROID before I can do anything about that problem.