#@kat-har @faeleverte

[lauramkaye]

The Milestones You Didn’t See Coming

So someone commented a really early story of mine today and it made me go back to try to find when I posted it. Thanks to the fact that my first posts were to alt.tv.xfiles.creative and were automatically archived by Gossamer, I was able to pin down the date of the first fic I ever posted.

Wednesday, December 8, 1999.

I have been writing and posting fanfic for more than more than 20 years. My first story is as old now as I was when I wrote it.

In my time in fandom I’ve hopped around, from X-Files to Sentinel to Due South to pop slash to MCU with so many shorter stops along the way and so many other fandoms I loved even when I didn’t write for them. I was accidentally a BNF for about five minutes, mostly because my fic was hosted on the same website as a couple of actual, much more important BNFs. I wrote stories I posted, started stories I never posted, and in one instance started posting a WIP that I eventually took down because I knew I was never going to finish it and I felt bad about leaving it incomplete to taunt people. (If you ever see this, Pat, I’m really sorry I never finished it. I know you liked it and your encouragement and enthusiasm for the project meant so much to me.)  

I made friends. So many dear, dear friends that I treasure to this day, even the ones that I’ve fallen out of touch with over the years. When I got married, one of my bridesmaids was my sister, one was my best friend since infancy, and the other two I met through fandom. Almost all of the close friends that I made in adulthood, I first met through fandom, including the one who introduced me to my spouse.

I was not prolific for all of those years, but even when I went for a while without writing anything new, I was still reading fic and engaging in fannish circles to some degree. In those years, I finally fulfilled a lifelong dream and wrote a novel. When I started, my output was purely fluffy romantic G-rated slice-of-life stories of the type that in the XF fandom of the 90s we called "Vignettes." I loved (and still love) long, meaty, plotty novel-length stories that would last me a long time, and I wanted to write that way, but never thought I could. But time and amazing mentoring from more established fans (shoutouts especially to @cesperanza, the writer that baby writer me wanted to be when I grew up, who was largely responsible for teaching me how to actually edit in a beta and not just proofread) and amazing writing and editing partners have helped me to not only become more prolific but to keep growing as a writer. Writing fanfic is a source of deep creative joy for me, and engaging with slash fandom was one way that I, who grew up in a deeply conservative religious southern family and didn’t even meet an out gay person until college, started the journey to realizing that I was myself bi and not straight like I’d always assumed. (Let me tell you, THAT realization made so much of my life make so much more sense in hindsight.)

Basically what I’m saying is that fanfic has made my life richer in so many ways, and I want to encourage anyone who might be worried that maybe their work isn’t good enough, or that nobody else will like what they like, or that maybe they should have outgrown their hobby by now, or that they’re wasting their time and should be writing “real” (ie, sold for money) stories: hang in there. Things that give you joy don’t have to make money to be valid uses of your time. You aren’t too old to still be reading and writing fanfic.

Here’s the the next 20 years.

[jhscdood]

WIP Game

Rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it! And then tag as many people as you have wips. (You can make your own post or reblog this one!)  I have deemed that this isn’t just for writing either. Sketch titles? Comics? Dnd campaigns? If you have an unfinished project, it counts!!

Willis lives (sheila vs cathy)

Nick Fury Ficlet

Harvey Dent fic

TIm fic - 1st Draft

Enby Maria Hill Ficlet

stucky on the nose 5+1

tagged by @eggmacguffin for which I’m very grateful because I totally forgot some of these existed...

tagging @lauramkaye @kat-har @faeleverte @frownyalfred @susiecarter @spookybeez @blueteehood @barbarawilson @aggressivewhenstartled because I do what I want 

[lauramkaye]

@kat-har @faeleverte

Daniel Gebhart de Koekkoek / “Better Living With Alpacas”

[the-feels-assassin]

Okay I have a knitting question. I’m trying to do this pattern on raverly:

http://www.ravelry.com/patterns/library/camlin

My confusion is thus: it says to cast on 48 stitches. So..we have 48 stitches.

Then it says:

Rounds 1 - 3: *k4, p1* repeat * to * to end.

Sooo Knit Four Purl one, repeat to the end of the row, and then start over the same pattern on Row 2 right?

Except knit four purl one is five stitches. 48 is not divisible by five? Sooooo

At the end of the row I don’t end on a p1. 

With 48 stitches I get

k1 k1 k1 k1 p1 k1 k1 k1 k1 p1  k1 k1 k1 k1 p1 k1 k1 k1 k1 p1 k1 k1 k1 k1 p1 k1 k1 k1 k1 p1 k1 k1 k1 k1 p1 k1 k1 k1 k1 p1 k1 k1 k1 k1 p1  k1 k1 k1....end row? Start back at the beginning, so I have seven knits in a row? Is that right????

@kat-har @concertigrossi @faeleverte and any other knitting people who want to advise, please advise. I am confuzzled.

[jhscdood]

Hope you are doing alright!❤️ 18 and 20 for the fanfic asks? ^^

18. Do you have a fic reading/writing routine?

R..... routine?

What is this..... “routine” of which you speak??

All kidding aside -- I write whenever the mood strikes me. I read fanfic at night while I’m unwinding before bed. It quiets the mind.

20. Do you have a favorite fanfic or author? If so, tag them/post a link and share the love!

Oh gosh this is tough, because I’m friends with a lot of fic writers, and other writers have left the fic biz, and I myself have wandered out and through so many fandoms.... I guess right NOW in this exact moment I’ve been rereading @Lemonadegarden ‘s fic “Stargazer” for emotional reasons. 

I shall also tag @goldkirk @thepartyresponsible @captn-sara-holmes @kat-har @faeleverte @lauramkaye @praximeter because they’re all awesome as well. 

<3 <3 <3

[jhscdood]

please be advised that @kat-har and @faeleverte and @lauramkaye are really flippin great

[lauramkaye]

Fanfic Author Self-rec Meme!

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers (◠‿◠✿)

I think this is fun, and will add to the meme “and say why you like them especially” because I always love to hear writers talk about their work.

Give A Dog A Bone - a post-AoS season 2 fix-it story. Why it’s a favorite: this will always have a very special place in my heart because it was the first complete novel I ever wrote. Also, I worked really hard on the emotional arcs of it and I’m proud of how it turned out.

My Heart In Hiding - I almost feel like it’s cheating to include because it’s a work in progress, but I’ve been writing this story since 2014 and it’s the most ambitious thing I’ve ever attempted - the outline calls for three novels to tell the story I want to tell and I’m projecting a finished length close to that of The Lord of The Rings - and I LOVE IT with a deep and profound intensity.

For the last slot I wanted to give to my MCU fic, I had a hard time deciding between this story and A Guy Like You Should Wear A Warning, but I think that Thrown and Overflown wins out because of the theater group, which makes me crack up laughing every time, and because drugged!Phil was SO fun to write. 

Five Days In Padesca - From Eroica With Love is a Japanese manga from the 70s that is essentially the author’s Jimmy Page/Robert Plant AU fanfiction. Dorian is a gay British earl who is also secretly the international art thief Eroica: Klaus is a German of good family who is a major with NATO. Together, they fight crime. Dorian is in love with Klaus and Klaus protests a lot but doesn’t REALLY seem to mind all that much in the long run. There is some amazing fanfic in this tiny fandom, especially notable since until 2004 the only way non-Japanese-speaking fans could get hold of it was through fan scanlations. Five Days In Padesca is my favorite of my own works in this fandom because I feel like I really captured the characters, especially Dorian, who uses his flamboyant persona to distract people from the ruthlessly sharp mind he uses to plan his heists.

The Uses Of A Sandwich - This one has a special place in my heart because I abandoned it for a long time during a period when I wasn’t really writing at all, and then I came back and finished it and I’m still really proud that I managed to write a GEN FIC with a PLOT. Also, in my head canon, I will always be fond of my OC for Qui-Gon Jinn’s first apprentice and the relationship that she and Obi-Wan develop. This story is also the prequel to Fearless Diva’s big Phantom Menace story, and she and I got to be close friends over many long nights of spinning out the plot over AOL Instant Messager. Good times.

If you read this and would like to play, consider yourself tagged, but I’d especially like to hear from @jhscdood, @faeleverte, @kat-har, @jmathieson-fic, and @snowzapped if you feel like playing! (Especially for Snow, feel free to substitute art for fic!)

[jhscdood]

fics I want to write

As an FYI these are the ideas currently kicking around my brain:

The one where Phil is a kickass senior agent with dysgraphia/dyslexia and some kickass ADA accommodations

The one where Clint adopts Teenage-Assasin-Nat (erm, again) and then meets Laura, That’s the way they all became the Barton Bunch

A Stucky fic based on this post in which Steve learns mad massage skills to help ease Bucky’s pain from his arm. It sounds like it could get porny in a hurry. Or angsty. Or both.

The one where Steve has dysphoria and borderline ED

A fic where Clint and Phil can’t ever manage to both be single at the same time, it’s a friggin nightmare

God I shouldn’t even mention all the UKOUD-universe fics but there’s, like:

The Natasha POV-fic that I already have 900 words of written which takes place 10 minutes after Landslide ends

The fic taking place during Under Pressure chapter 8 showing what Paul, Debbie, Juan, etc get up to when Barney’s not present (it’s much angstier than it sounds)

Rosita/Lraaz wedding shenanigans

Some artsy thing where the squad all reflects on their first impressions of Clint at Ops. Yes, yes, you are right about Meredith.

@lauramkaye @kat-har @faeleverte am I missing any?

Edited to add: 

An archaeology AU that is accurate to actual archaeology digs I have gone on (i.e., very little adventuring, lots of dirt, alcohol, and ill-advised hook-ups).

[lauramkaye]

Passepartout Chapter 33: Forward the Manuelbago

Aaaaaaaaaand we’re back! Thank you for bearing with us. Sometimes life gets in the way of fandom--how dare it?--but please enjoy the next chapter of the epic Round Robin fic novel by myself, @kat-har, and @faeleverte.

Previously, the Passepartout gang runs full-tilt into AoS season 2: Phil finally comes clean to Skye about his carving, and they realize that it’s a 3D map (with a little help from Hawkeye); Clint, Yolanda, and Manuel tear down to Florida in the newly-restored Winnebago to help Yolanda’s cousin; and Zak and Joe manage to get away with the 084 and are saved from Hydra by the skin of their teeth.

So after Yolanda blew up the Whataburger, HYDRA and all, and after they had hauled ass out of the county as fast as the Manuelbago could go--which was pretty damn fast, now that Manuel had done some aftermarket tinkering, and Clint hadn’t even known you could put NOX boosters on an RV--they settled into a leisurely 45 miles an hour on a back road, running roughly parallel to I-95 toward Daytona Beach. Fortunately, nobody who had seen them with the missile launcher had lived to tell the tale, so their distinct vehicle, though it got a fair share of honks, wasn’t actually in danger of unwarranted attention for the time being. Manuel was settled into the driver’s seat with a giant muffin and a Big Gulp full of iced coffee, and Clint and Yolanda exchanged significant looks before moving into the back to talk to their new additions.

Clint knew Agent Rollette, of course, not only from Phil’s funeral but from before; a solid agent, just mellow enough to roll with the minor punches while still maintaining the ability to go deadly serious when the shit hit the fan. The other guy was apparently Yolanda’s cousin Zach--Zak--and when he got a minute, Clint was going to have to take a moment to really feel the swooping vertigo of relief that he was okay, that Yolanda hadn’t spent all that time helping Clint rescue agents while the one that mattered most to her was in trouble elsewhere.

Anyway, Zak had never worked with Delta that Clint could remember, but he seemed to know Rollette quite well, if the way he was hovering and the anxious pinch in his forehead were any sign.

“Agent Rollette,” Clint said. “Nice to see you again under happier circumstances.”

Rollette and Cousin Zak shot him identical side-eye, then looked down at the Trader Joe’s bag that Rollette had duct-taped around his forearm.

“Happier circumstances, sir?” Cousin Zak said. “Yolanda just blew up a Whataburger. With a missile launcher. I’m afraid to ask where you saw each other last time.”

Rollette sighed. “Agent Coulson’s funeral,” he said, and Cousin Zak winced.

“Ah,” he said. “Yeah.”

Clint was filled with the conflicting intense desires to a) tell Rollette the good news or b) take him straight back to the Playground as a present for Phil, maybe with a big bow on his head. There would probably be hugging. If he texted ahead, Skye would probably video it for him. Before he could decide what would be better, Yolanda broke in.

“There was nobody in the Whataburger except Hydra,” she pointed out. “And we got away and nobody got hurt. So I’d say, yeah, that’s pretty damn happy.” She fixed Cousin Zak with a gimlet stare. “So. What the fuck are you doing, getting yourself killed like that? Abuela is beside herself.”

[jhscdood]

many thanks to @lauramkaye, @westgateoh, @desert-neon, @shellumbo, @kat-har, @faeleverte, @simply-marvellous-1, and everyone else who has been a beta, cheerleader, commenter, and supporter for this crazy wacky universe I’ve found myself writing in. It means so, so much to me, seriously.

[lauramkaye]

Passepartout Chapter 31: Leading Practices in the Handling of Active Field Agents, Volume 2

Here begins chapter 31 of the round robin fic by me, @kat-har, and @faeleverte! Sections are posted on weekdays, and complete chapters go up on Ao3 when complete.

In chapter 30, Clint Barton found out that Phil was suffering side effects from TAHITI, and decided that it was the perfect time to propose. And then Phil and Clint got picked up by Manuel and Yolanda in the freshly-repainted Winnebago, heading off on a mission of some urgency. 

In chapter 24, we saw a group of SHIELD agents that Phil Coulson mentored doing their best to live up to his memory in the chaos surrounding the fall of SHIELD. Reunited, they sought refuge on a farm in Iowa, determined to keep on fighting to save the world.

“Pizza and beer, as requested,” Joe said, closing the motel room door behind himself with his foot.

“Took you long enough,” Zak said, turning off the TV and tossing the remote onto the bed. “I was about ready to make a vending machine run.”

“Thanks for picking up our dinner, Joe,” Joe said, spreading out the food on top of the pressboard dresser. “I appreciate not having to walk on my probably-sprained ankle, Joe.”

“It’s not sprained, I just twisted it a little. Don’t be such a mother hen.”

“Because we can all just go to the hospital if we need to, because we aren’t fugitives from Hydra currently at all,” Joe said, putting a couple slices on a plate and handing them to Zak. “Also, I got you an Ace bandage and an ankle brace at the drugstore. You’re welcome.” He followed the pizza with a beer.

“Thanks,” Zak said, raising the beer in salute.

Joe opened his own beer, and toasted him back. “To a successful mission.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

They were quiet for a while, making their way steadily through the pizza; they hadn’t had much time to eat that day, and protein bars only went so far. They were down to crusts by the time Joe’s secure phone rang. He picked it up, exchanging concerned looks with Zak.

“Rolette.”

“Do you like omelettes?” Trinh’s voice was clipped and tense, not at all like her usual bubbly tone. Joe felt his shoulders tense at her question. The phones were as secure as they could make them, but Trinh was asking him to use a supplemental scrambler.

He got up and crossed to his bag, pulling out the little machine, which was disguised to look like an electric shaver. When he turned it on, there was a moment of high-pitched sound that made his teeth ache, and then his ears popped and the light went green. He flipped the phone to speaker so that Zak could hear too.

“Scrambler’s active. You’re on speaker, me and Zak in the room. What’s wrong, Trinh?”

“We just intercepted some Hydra comms traffic. They’re sending a team after a package in DC. Joe, it’s the 084.”

“What kind of 084?”

“The 084. The original one. The one that turns people to stone.”

[lauramkaye]

Posting Update: Passepartout

So just to let you guys know: @kat-har, @faeleverte and I are ALL SICK this week.

Daily Passepartout posts are temporarily suspended until the three of us are recovered enough to string words together in a way that makes sense! 

Send us get-well wishes in the Force!

(Or write some fic! That would make us better!)

[lauramkaye]

Passepartout Chapter 24: Leading Practices in the Handling of Active Field Agents, Volume 1

Here starts the next chapter in the Daily Phlint Round Robin I’m writing with @kat-har and @faeleverte. As always, new sections are posted each weekday and completed chapters are posted to the Ao3 the day after they complete on Tumblr, here. 

We’ve got some flashbacks happening, so pay attention to the date stamps.

17. Mentorship And You (You Don’t Have To Be Crazy To Work Here: We Offer On-The-Job Training)

Being a handler is rewarding, but it can also tax your emotional reserves. There will be times when you can recharge with nothing more than a couple of hours of cheap television and expensive liquor--or vice versa, whatever works for you--but the best thing to do is cultivate lasting relationships with other agents, from as many different clearance levels and organizational roles as you can.

May 8, 2012

Director Fury, to nobody’s surprise, turned out to be a very efficient will executor. They’d been summoned to his office and presented with Agent Coulson’s whisky and binder the very next work day after the funeral, even though Sarah was still technically on medical leave. It was only the fifth time Erisa had even met Director Fury; other than speeches at the Academy and the occasional SHIELD all-hands briefing, you usually didn’t interact much with agents more than a level or two above you.

At least, most people didn’t. Agent Coulson believed the organization had gotten too siloed (what he’d said was “we’re all too much up our own asses” but that was what he meant), so he’d made it a point to introduce them around to everyone from the weapons devs in R&D to the Level 8-cleared cleaners who worked for Agent Services.

They used the knowledge to go straight from the Director’s office to one of the least-used break rooms, the one on sub-basement four that still smelled faintly of marinara sauce ever since the Great Exploding Sandwich Incident of 2011. They settled in around the chipped table and looked at each other in silence over the whisky bottle and the binder.

“So,” Trinh said, her soft voice almost unrecognizable through the rasp of smoke inhalation and tears. “What do we do now?”

“We should read it,” Sarah said. She sounded harsh, almost angry, but behind the bruising on her face--she’d gotten hit with a falling girder when the helicarrier was attacked--her eyes were blurry with tears. She’d been crying every time Erisa had seen her since the funeral, just steady, silent tears that she didn’t even bother wiping away.

“We could scan it,” Joe suggested.

“Later,” Sarah said. “The first time, we ought to read it together. It’s what h-he would have wanted.”

Trinh scooted her chair a little closer to Sarah’s. “I don’t have anything else on my schedule today,” she said. “Does anyone else?”

Nobody did.

“You start, Cap,” Joe said. It wasn’t her title anymore--she’d given up being a Captain when she’d transferred out of the SRR--but the nickname had stuck.

Erisa pulled the binder closer and opened the front cover.

“Field Agent Handling For Dummies,” she read. “‘Dummies’ is crossed out and ‘busy people who don’t have time for bullshit’ is written in Sharpie.”

Trinh chuckled a little.

“By Ph--” Erisa had to stop and clear her throat. “Phillip J. Coulson. Introduction: The Most Important Thing.” She glanced around the table; the others were watching her with complete attention.

“The most important thing to remember is that one person can change the world…”

Casting Notes: My mental casting for these characters is as follows (although imagine them age-normalized so that they range from early 20s (Trinh) to mid-30s  (Erisa): 

Erisa Magambo (“Cap”) - Noma Dumezweni

Trinh Nguyen - Lana Condor

Sarah Reade - Gwendoline Christie

Joseph Rolette - Adam Beach

[lauramkaye]

Daily Phlint: Passepartout Chapter 3. The Chest.

Previously (http://kat-har.tumblr.com/post/149050185051/lauramkaye-lauramkaye-kat-har-the-latest): Phil’s will was read, leaving Clint three keys and a love letter. One of the keys opened a safe deposit vault, in which Clint found, among other things, a mysterious chest.  Read it on AO3 or at the tag.

They put the chest in their rental car and took it back to the Marriott. Clint felt a little weird hauling it into the elevator; it wasn't unmanageably heavy, but it was big enough that the easiest way to transport it was for them each to grab one of the handles and carry it between them. Fortunately, all the consultant assholes in the hotel seemed to already be gone for the day; the lobby was basically deserted except for a few idle staff gossiping in the corner and a bellhop playing with his phone.

They hauled it into the middle of the room and stood there looking at it for a minute. It looked more like a movie prop than something a real person would own, aged and battered but sturdy and well-made. If Clint had ever imagined Phil owning some sort of mysterious treasure chest, he would probably have imagined it looking like this.

"If you don't hurry up and open that thing, Clint, I will make you regret it,” Nat said.

"What do you think's in there?” Clint pulled out the skeleton key and fiddled with it, running his thumb over the fine lines of circuitry. “Pirate gold?”

“It’s not heavy enough,” she said, practical as always.

“Well, here goes nothing." He slid the key into the lock and turned it.The chest hummed, and he could hear a series of clicks and whirs as whatever mechanisms secured the lid came undone. Finally, the lid came open, springing up about an inch as some final latch released. Clint took a deep breath and opened the lid.

The first thing he saw, oddly enough, was a cocktail napkin. There was a blood-red lip print in one corner, and scribbled across the body of the napkin in what appeared to be eyeliner pencil were the words “IOU one distraction, anywhere within 50 miles of Strasbourg. 3 hours notice. Marie.”

"Huh,” Clint said.

“There’s another ledger,” Natasha pointed out. Clint handed her the book and started sifting through the chest. It was packed full of papers and small items, and nearly every one had some sort of IOU attached. He pulled another out at random; it was a receipt from a Denny’s in Knoxville, and scribbled on the back were the words “IOU 2 weeks at the beach house. -Fred”.

“Clint,” Natasha said. She sounded funny, and Clint looked over, alarmed. “This is his black book.”

“Like, the names of all the spies he knows?’’

“Names. Aliases. Contact information. Associates. And records of favors owed.”

Clint swallowed hard. “What kind of favors?”

She ran a finger down the page. “Every kind.” She handed him the ledger.

Clint started to scan the list, but the first entry at the top of the page stopped him cold. “That cannot be real.”

“I think it’s real, Clint. what possible reason would he have to fake something like that?”

"What the fuck could Phil have done that would earn him a private concert by Beyoncé? When the fuck did Phil even meet Beyoncé?”