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There is truly something wrong with my brain. I wrote half the first paragraph last night, and the rest in the past hour. If you read the answers to my pairings meme, you know where this is going...
(ETA over a year later to add a title...)
Title: Flight, Part 1 of WIP.
Author: Derien Nada
Pairing: Honoria Glossop/Chewbacca
Summary: Honoria (from Jeeves and Wooster - Wodehouse) meets stranded traveller Chewbacca (yes, dammit, the Wookie from Star Wars), who's doing trade runs by himself since Han settled down to have babies with Leia.
The nav-com was acting up again. Chewie grumbled in frustration as he corrected the coordinates by hand. Luckily, he knew this set almost instinctually, and could see the errors. They weren't that far off, but he didn't want to come out of hyperspace in the middle of a star. Not that there was a huge chance of that, but the controlling interest in the Falcon and most of the profit reaped by it's runs still belonged to Han, and, little as he cared about himself, with Han gone - off to raise children with the Princess - he didn't want to lose the ship and cargo, and those small profits. He groaned again, shifted into hyperspace, and went to make himself a cup of phautok.
The phautok was the cargo, packed in dense bricks. Reasoning that it was in the best interests of trade to know your cargo, he'd opened a brick to try it out. Only a very small amount was needed, to a cup of boiling water, and he'd thought at first this one brick would probably last him a year. Now, he wasn't so sure - he seemed to be going through it rather quickly. Although it was said to be addictive, it was a stimulant, and he was often feeling the need for one - the ship wasn't impossible to run, alone, but it was a little tiring, with everything breaking down all the time. Han had made him promise he would find another partner, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to do that, as yet. Phautok was his best friend, right now, and he could see why there was such a market for it on Galeh Dwata, where intertribal warfare was a tradition they hadn't given up with star travel.
He grabbed a snack on his way back to the cockpit with the steaming cup - a bag of tiny, spicy-sweet cakes - and sprawled in his seat. Although he couldn't do any real work on it until the ship came out of hyperspace, he idly began to unscrew the metal housing on the nav-com. Might as well take a look at it - it could run perfectly fine, uncovered, and if he could spot the problem it would make fixing it much quicker when the situation allowed. Inside, cables ran this way and that in a spaghetti profusion which would induce a brain aneurism of shear despair in any decent engineer; the result of a dozen previous kludge jobs on this out-dated equipment. He began to visually trace one that looked a little loose. Wait, was that a burn, there? He tugged on it, gently, to get a better look, and realized the cable didn't feel as though it was attached to anything. Teasing it out, he soon had a length of stiff cable with several raw-ended wires hanging out the end. Now, how was the nav-comp working at all? Did this go to something that really wasn't essential? If so, what? He cocked his head and sniffed at it. Hard to tell if it was really live. Gingerly sticking out his tongue, he tasted it - his roar reverberated through the ship, the cable lept from his hand and spun in a long, stiff arc down and directly into his steaming cup of phautok, there was a flash, and then everything went dark.
Why oh why am I inspired to do things like this when I could be working on original fic, or even doing a pairing someone might actually WANT to read?![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eor has been dying for me to write Susan/Angua for EVER, and he outlined all kinds of stuff that make it make sense, and yet I want to write Chewbacca/Honoria Glossop (one of Bertie's fiances, from Jeeves and Wooster). And Honoria's such a dyke! A het pairing, even with a wookie, just doesn't make sense for her!
(ETA over a year later to add a title...)
Title: Flight, Part 1 of WIP.
Author: Derien Nada
Pairing: Honoria Glossop/Chewbacca
Summary: Honoria (from Jeeves and Wooster - Wodehouse) meets stranded traveller Chewbacca (yes, dammit, the Wookie from Star Wars), who's doing trade runs by himself since Han settled down to have babies with Leia.
The nav-com was acting up again. Chewie grumbled in frustration as he corrected the coordinates by hand. Luckily, he knew this set almost instinctually, and could see the errors. They weren't that far off, but he didn't want to come out of hyperspace in the middle of a star. Not that there was a huge chance of that, but the controlling interest in the Falcon and most of the profit reaped by it's runs still belonged to Han, and, little as he cared about himself, with Han gone - off to raise children with the Princess - he didn't want to lose the ship and cargo, and those small profits. He groaned again, shifted into hyperspace, and went to make himself a cup of phautok.
The phautok was the cargo, packed in dense bricks. Reasoning that it was in the best interests of trade to know your cargo, he'd opened a brick to try it out. Only a very small amount was needed, to a cup of boiling water, and he'd thought at first this one brick would probably last him a year. Now, he wasn't so sure - he seemed to be going through it rather quickly. Although it was said to be addictive, it was a stimulant, and he was often feeling the need for one - the ship wasn't impossible to run, alone, but it was a little tiring, with everything breaking down all the time. Han had made him promise he would find another partner, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to do that, as yet. Phautok was his best friend, right now, and he could see why there was such a market for it on Galeh Dwata, where intertribal warfare was a tradition they hadn't given up with star travel.
He grabbed a snack on his way back to the cockpit with the steaming cup - a bag of tiny, spicy-sweet cakes - and sprawled in his seat. Although he couldn't do any real work on it until the ship came out of hyperspace, he idly began to unscrew the metal housing on the nav-com. Might as well take a look at it - it could run perfectly fine, uncovered, and if he could spot the problem it would make fixing it much quicker when the situation allowed. Inside, cables ran this way and that in a spaghetti profusion which would induce a brain aneurism of shear despair in any decent engineer; the result of a dozen previous kludge jobs on this out-dated equipment. He began to visually trace one that looked a little loose. Wait, was that a burn, there? He tugged on it, gently, to get a better look, and realized the cable didn't feel as though it was attached to anything. Teasing it out, he soon had a length of stiff cable with several raw-ended wires hanging out the end. Now, how was the nav-comp working at all? Did this go to something that really wasn't essential? If so, what? He cocked his head and sniffed at it. Hard to tell if it was really live. Gingerly sticking out his tongue, he tasted it - his roar reverberated through the ship, the cable lept from his hand and spun in a long, stiff arc down and directly into his steaming cup of phautok, there was a flash, and then everything went dark.
Why oh why am I inspired to do things like this when I could be working on original fic, or even doing a pairing someone might actually WANT to read?
eor has been dying for me to write Susan/Angua for EVER, and he outlined all kinds of stuff that make it make sense, and yet I want to write Chewbacca/Honoria Glossop (one of Bertie's fiances, from Jeeves and Wooster). And Honoria's such a dyke! A het pairing, even with a wookie, just doesn't make sense for her! ![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Tentatively, I'm going to say there isn't going to be any on-screen sex in this story, because... I think I've decided, after that J/W/G story I just posted on Indeedsir, that I'm really not that comfortable writing sex, and should really avoid it. That doesn't mean that I won't change my mind halfway through something and find myself forgetting to drop the curtain.