WIP Meme
For some reason, everything I write lately is super long, and my brain is jumping around from story to story, and there are words everywhere. So, here is a meme to assure the general public and myself there are stories in the works. Just long ones.
Post a fragment from each WIP you have (or as many as you want to pick).
Stories have not yet been edited, please forgive mistakes and grammar issues. Contents subject to change. Some restrictions apply. Void where prohibited and in Quebec.
That One Story that was Supposed to Be a Fun Thing About Steve and Howard Being Really Bad at Disguising Themselves, but has turned into Peggy and Howard Have War Adventures with the Commandos, Dear God, This is Really Long, and Now There Are Canadians, Please Send Help
Dugan and Jones came up; Dugan shooting Howard a contemptuous look before addressing Peggy. "I set up your bedroll, for you," he said. "You get a whole tent to yourself, lucky girl."
"I could have shared," Peggy said. "I hope someone isn't doubling up to save my honour."
"Don't worry, we double up all the time," Jones assured her. "We're an uneven number, so Falsworth usually gets the solo tent. He snores."
"As I'm sure you are aware, Agent Carter, a gentleman never snores," Falsworth declared, coming in with an arm full of twigs. "Don't believe these rumours meant to slight my character."
"I never listen to gossip, Lord Falsworth," Peggy said, nobly.
"We'll chuck His Majesty in with Stark," Dugan said, sounding satisfied at the prospect.
"Tell you what," Howard said, pulling himself up into a sitting position with great difficultly. "Why don't we all just skip the tents, and I'll book us into a nice hotel? My treat. I'll buy us dinner. We'll dance. We'll have a great time."
"That's the only reasonable thing you've said all day," Dugan said. "I mean, it's a damned stupid idea, but it's nice to think about."
"It's not that stupid," Howard said. "Apart from the bit where everyone wants to kill me in this country. But I could go in disguise."
"You should shave that mustache off," Falsworth said. "You'd be unrecognizable."
"That's not a bad idea," Peggy said, seriously considering it. Howard's most identifiable feature was that moustache. She couldn't picture him without it, perhaps the Germans wouldn't be able to, either. "It would throw the enemy off."
Howard had put a protective hand over his face. "Hey, let's not get ahead of ourselves," he said. "You remember what happened to Samson when he shaved?"
"Are you suggesting the secret to your genius is stored in your moustache?" Peggy asked.
"I'm just saying, let's not find out," Howard said. "I've had this since I was thirteen, I'm not letting it go now. Not when there's a war on. You girls get to keep your Black Market lipstick, I get to keep my moustache."
Peggy didn't think she'd be bereft without her lipstick, but she did confess she felt more ready to take on the world when she had it. "Desperate times," she said.
"I ain't that desperate yet," Howard said. He shooed at her. "Begone with your kooky ideas, woman."
"Hey, don't talk to her like that," Jones stepped in. "She's a lady."
"Yes, Agent Carter is no 'woman'," Falsworth said. He frowned. "That was not meant as it sounded."
"I understand," Peggy said. "And I appreciate the sentiment. But I don't need my honour defended, thank you, boys."
"What's going on?" Steve asked, looking around the group as he arrived with his arms full of branches.
"Stark's being rude to Peggy," Dugan said.
"Peggy wants to shave my moustache!" Howard said, pointing in accusation.
"Howard thinks we should announced our presence by renting a hotel out," Peggy said.
Steve looked between each party, his brow furrowed. "I'm going to go out on a limb and say you all need to settle down," he said.
"Yes, Captain," all the men said, obediently. Even Dernier, and Peggy wasn't sure if he had even followed most of the conversation.
It made Peggy smile, and Howard smiled back at her, and they nodded a peace. Howard patted his moustache, as though assuring it of its continued existence.
Fluffy Story for the Weird Parent Fic/Crossover Universe joonscribble and I Accidentally Created
[JJ is in the hospital with pneumonia]
Steve leaned over and tugged on the bell to call the night nurse, Lara. She arrived a few moments later. She was a nice girl; pretty young, but very good at her job.
"Well, look at that!" she said. "You must be feeling better, JJ. It's good to see you awake, kid. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything's fine, thanks," Steve said. "I was just wondering if it was all right if I took him out of the room for a bit? Not outside the hospital or the floor, just let him get a different view for a while. He's getting cabin fever, I think."
Lara came in, and looked at JJ's monitor, and listened to his lungs.
"I think we can arrange a bit of freedom," she said. "But doctor's orders still says he needs oxygen, so I'm going to switch him from the wall unit to a portable one. Do you think you can carry it? No, sorry, that's a stupid question, you're Captain America. Do you mind carrying it?"
"Not at all," Steve said.
She brought back a canister, and hooked JJ up to it. It had a strap, and Steve slung that over his shoulder, and put JJ on his hip, so he could push the IV pole with his other arm.
"No wild parties, boys" Lara said as they headed for the door.
"You hear that, JJ? We have to be good," Steve said. "Deal?"
JJ nodded, leaning his head on Steve's shoulder.
"Look at this stuff we have with us," Steve said, as he guided the IV pole around the doorway. "It's like the pack I carried in the army. You and me are off an adventure, huh?"
"Captain JJ," JJ muttered. "He's brave."
Steve grinned. "So brave," he said.
They took a wander down the hallway, and looked at the art on the walls.
"Hey, look, there's Uncle Tony's name," Steve pointed out, as they stopped by the donor plaque. "Do you see that? T-O-N-Y S-T-A-R-K. He must have given some money. That was nice of him, huh? Of course, you can't really go anywhere in New York any more without a Stark name on the wall. Me and Uncle Bucky are probably the only people left who remember New York before Howard Stark took it over."
They moved onwards down the hall. JJ perked up as they entered the family waiting room. It had a huge fish tank running down the centre, as a sort of dividing wall, and in the dimness of the room, it was lit up bright like a beacon.
"Fishies!" JJ said, pointing. "Let's see, please."
Steve took him over to a better vantage point. The waiting room was empty of people; the fish were the only ones there. JJ patted at the walls of the tank and smiled.
"Hi, fishies," he said. "I'm JJ. I'm just a friend."
"Oh, look, that one's saying 'hi' back," Steve noted, pointing to a fish that had been attracted by JJ's hand.
"What's him?" JJ wondered. "What fish is him?"
"I don't know," Steve said. "I don't know much about fish. Maybe JARVIS can help. JARVIS, are you awake?"
"Yes, sir. How might I be of assistance?" JARVIS said, from Steve's phone.
"JJ's wondering what kind of fish are in this tank," Steve said. "Do you know?"
"If you aim your camera toward it, I'll take a look," JARVIS said. "And may I say I'm pleased to hear that Master Joseph is asking questions again."
"Yeah," Steve said. "Me too."
He took his phone from his pocket, and held it up to the tank, letting it scan across. JARVIS soon had all the species identified and was giving JJ a toddler appropriate lecture about them. He even used a slightly higher pitched voice, like adults talking to kids did.
"Do fishies get sick?" JJ said.
"Fish are able to get sick, just like humans," JARVIS replied.
"I'm sick, JARVIS," JJ explained.
"Yes, I know," JARVIS said. "I'm sorry to hear that. I hope you feel better soon."
Clint's 'Tony Likes Giving Apartments to his Avenger Friends' Story
It turned out, as far as telling people stuff went, S.H.I.E.L.D was still as crappy at it as they were before Clint had to take his break. Monty had gotten the flashdrive, only it wasn't a flashdrive, it was a microchip, and gave it to Clint to take back to S.H.I.E.L.D, only it wasn't S.H.I.E.L.D that wanted it, it was Tony Stark.
"This was a test," Jasna told Clint. "If you'd gone nuts, you wouldn't have any any damning info. This was to see what you'd do in the field, and if you were really okay."
"I know," Clint said, and his anger over it made Jasna feel twitchy. "But I passed. For what that's worth."
Now, he was going home, only he wasn't going home, he was going to New York to give Stark the microchip in person. Fury had given specific orders for Clint to be the one to do it. There were a few agents there, in case anything went down, and Jasna had to wonder if this was still a test, to see if Clint really took it where he was supposed to. She wondered if the chip was anything special, or if it was just a prop to play with.
"Let's not get too paranoid," Clint said. "Starting in on conspiracy theories is the first step to the madhouse. I don't think even SHIELD would set up that elaborate a scenario just to test me. The microchip must be important for something."
"You have entered restricted airspace," a British voice informed them, over the radio on the quinjet. "Please state your business, or alter your course."
"I think that's Stark's robot buddy guy," Jasna said. "The one who lives in his suit."
"I'm on official SHIELD business," Clint said. "Agent Barton requesting permission to land at Stark Tower."
"Please wait a moment," robot buddy guy said. Then, "Permission enthusiastically granted, Agent Barton, you may follow your current course."
"Is it just me, or did Stark repair his tower to make it even more ostentatious than before?" Clint said.
"Maybe you should ask him about the wallpaper [for Laura]," Jasna said. "He's got some design skills."
Clint chuckled as he landed the quinjet on the pad.
"You should see if Nat wants to hang out while you're here," Jasna said.
"She's in Washington," Clint said.
"That's not far away," Jasna said. "You could go there, no problem. Just ask her if she wants to get lunch and shoot things."
"I'll text her about it," Clint said.
He pulled out his phone, and Jasna looked over to see what he was saying. He told her he was in New York, and could hang out if she wanted, and he'd come to her if need be.
"Smiley face?" Clint wondered.
"Smiley face," Jasna agreed.
Trio Verse Holiday Daemon Fic I Didn't Get Done Last Year
Efi took the ticket from his hand and held it up to her face. "Is that the seat you booked?" she asked. "I thought you chose Row K."
"I don't remember," Trevelyan said. "What seat number is it?"
"43," Efi said.
"No, that must be right," Trevelyan said. "I remember choosing that one because it's on the end."
"Hmm," Efi said. She handed the ticket back. "Oh well, perhaps I'm wrong."
Trevelyan grabbed a programme to look at as they waited and took a seat on a bench by one of the walls. Efi came down to his lap so she could read with him. The selections looked promising, though Trevelyan wasn't overly fond of this conductor. Efi was excited about the soloist, who they'd seen before, but not live. Through a hacked video feed.
Someone's bird daemon came in for a landing beside Trevelyan on the bench, and he slid over reluctantly to allow whoever was claiming it to have room. He didn't bother to look over, nor did Efi, so when the gruff, "give me my ticket" came, it was rather a surprise.
"I beg your--" Trevelyan began, raising his head. "Sherlock?" He glanced to the side and found Tzophiya looking cross on the bench next to him. "Wha--what's...what?"
"You have my ticket," Sherlock said. He waved one in his own hand. "This isn't my seat. You must have my ticket."
Nearly five months in London without one word from his brother for the length of it, and Trevelyan had managed to bump into him at a New Year's Eve concert of all places. He blinked stupidly. Sherlock reached into the pocket of Trevelyan's waistcoat and pulled out his ticket, putting his own in there instead.
"There, that's--" he said, glancing over the ticket. "Not my ticket either." He flashed it to Tzophiya, who raised her wings in exasperation. "The clerk must have been stupider than I thought. I could quite easily see mixing the two of us up, S and T are right next to each other in the alphabet, but if you had this ticket and I had your ticket, who has my ticket?"
"I believe that would be me," Mycroft said, appearing out of the crowd behind Sherlock.
"It's a family reunion," Efi murmured. She flicked her tail. "I don't want a family reunion."
"What are you doing here?" Sherlock demanded.
"This is a concert in a concert hall, Sherlock, surely you could take a guess," Mycroft said. He held out a ticket and Sherlock took it from him. Mycroft's held remained held out and, after a moment, Sherlock put the other ticket in it. "Thank you. Hello, Trevelyan."
Hisoka hopped up onto the bench near Tzophiya, who ruffled her feathers and moved away. Efi climbed over Trevelyan's arm to jump down to the bench and greet them, putting herself in the middle.
"Hello," Trevelyan said. "What a sort of horrifying surprise this is."
"Since when do you come to concerts?" Sherlock demanded.
"Mummy claims she took me to see the BBC symphony orchestra at six months, so 1972, I believe would be the accurate answer," Mycroft said.
Post a fragment from each WIP you have (or as many as you want to pick).
Stories have not yet been edited, please forgive mistakes and grammar issues. Contents subject to change. Some restrictions apply. Void where prohibited and in Quebec.
That One Story that was Supposed to Be a Fun Thing About Steve and Howard Being Really Bad at Disguising Themselves, but has turned into Peggy and Howard Have War Adventures with the Commandos, Dear God, This is Really Long, and Now There Are Canadians, Please Send Help
Dugan and Jones came up; Dugan shooting Howard a contemptuous look before addressing Peggy. "I set up your bedroll, for you," he said. "You get a whole tent to yourself, lucky girl."
"I could have shared," Peggy said. "I hope someone isn't doubling up to save my honour."
"Don't worry, we double up all the time," Jones assured her. "We're an uneven number, so Falsworth usually gets the solo tent. He snores."
"As I'm sure you are aware, Agent Carter, a gentleman never snores," Falsworth declared, coming in with an arm full of twigs. "Don't believe these rumours meant to slight my character."
"I never listen to gossip, Lord Falsworth," Peggy said, nobly.
"We'll chuck His Majesty in with Stark," Dugan said, sounding satisfied at the prospect.
"Tell you what," Howard said, pulling himself up into a sitting position with great difficultly. "Why don't we all just skip the tents, and I'll book us into a nice hotel? My treat. I'll buy us dinner. We'll dance. We'll have a great time."
"That's the only reasonable thing you've said all day," Dugan said. "I mean, it's a damned stupid idea, but it's nice to think about."
"It's not that stupid," Howard said. "Apart from the bit where everyone wants to kill me in this country. But I could go in disguise."
"You should shave that mustache off," Falsworth said. "You'd be unrecognizable."
"That's not a bad idea," Peggy said, seriously considering it. Howard's most identifiable feature was that moustache. She couldn't picture him without it, perhaps the Germans wouldn't be able to, either. "It would throw the enemy off."
Howard had put a protective hand over his face. "Hey, let's not get ahead of ourselves," he said. "You remember what happened to Samson when he shaved?"
"Are you suggesting the secret to your genius is stored in your moustache?" Peggy asked.
"I'm just saying, let's not find out," Howard said. "I've had this since I was thirteen, I'm not letting it go now. Not when there's a war on. You girls get to keep your Black Market lipstick, I get to keep my moustache."
Peggy didn't think she'd be bereft without her lipstick, but she did confess she felt more ready to take on the world when she had it. "Desperate times," she said.
"I ain't that desperate yet," Howard said. He shooed at her. "Begone with your kooky ideas, woman."
"Hey, don't talk to her like that," Jones stepped in. "She's a lady."
"Yes, Agent Carter is no 'woman'," Falsworth said. He frowned. "That was not meant as it sounded."
"I understand," Peggy said. "And I appreciate the sentiment. But I don't need my honour defended, thank you, boys."
"What's going on?" Steve asked, looking around the group as he arrived with his arms full of branches.
"Stark's being rude to Peggy," Dugan said.
"Peggy wants to shave my moustache!" Howard said, pointing in accusation.
"Howard thinks we should announced our presence by renting a hotel out," Peggy said.
Steve looked between each party, his brow furrowed. "I'm going to go out on a limb and say you all need to settle down," he said.
"Yes, Captain," all the men said, obediently. Even Dernier, and Peggy wasn't sure if he had even followed most of the conversation.
It made Peggy smile, and Howard smiled back at her, and they nodded a peace. Howard patted his moustache, as though assuring it of its continued existence.
Fluffy Story for the Weird Parent Fic/Crossover Universe joonscribble and I Accidentally Created
[JJ is in the hospital with pneumonia]
Steve leaned over and tugged on the bell to call the night nurse, Lara. She arrived a few moments later. She was a nice girl; pretty young, but very good at her job.
"Well, look at that!" she said. "You must be feeling better, JJ. It's good to see you awake, kid. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah, everything's fine, thanks," Steve said. "I was just wondering if it was all right if I took him out of the room for a bit? Not outside the hospital or the floor, just let him get a different view for a while. He's getting cabin fever, I think."
Lara came in, and looked at JJ's monitor, and listened to his lungs.
"I think we can arrange a bit of freedom," she said. "But doctor's orders still says he needs oxygen, so I'm going to switch him from the wall unit to a portable one. Do you think you can carry it? No, sorry, that's a stupid question, you're Captain America. Do you mind carrying it?"
"Not at all," Steve said.
She brought back a canister, and hooked JJ up to it. It had a strap, and Steve slung that over his shoulder, and put JJ on his hip, so he could push the IV pole with his other arm.
"No wild parties, boys" Lara said as they headed for the door.
"You hear that, JJ? We have to be good," Steve said. "Deal?"
JJ nodded, leaning his head on Steve's shoulder.
"Look at this stuff we have with us," Steve said, as he guided the IV pole around the doorway. "It's like the pack I carried in the army. You and me are off an adventure, huh?"
"Captain JJ," JJ muttered. "He's brave."
Steve grinned. "So brave," he said.
They took a wander down the hallway, and looked at the art on the walls.
"Hey, look, there's Uncle Tony's name," Steve pointed out, as they stopped by the donor plaque. "Do you see that? T-O-N-Y S-T-A-R-K. He must have given some money. That was nice of him, huh? Of course, you can't really go anywhere in New York any more without a Stark name on the wall. Me and Uncle Bucky are probably the only people left who remember New York before Howard Stark took it over."
They moved onwards down the hall. JJ perked up as they entered the family waiting room. It had a huge fish tank running down the centre, as a sort of dividing wall, and in the dimness of the room, it was lit up bright like a beacon.
"Fishies!" JJ said, pointing. "Let's see, please."
Steve took him over to a better vantage point. The waiting room was empty of people; the fish were the only ones there. JJ patted at the walls of the tank and smiled.
"Hi, fishies," he said. "I'm JJ. I'm just a friend."
"Oh, look, that one's saying 'hi' back," Steve noted, pointing to a fish that had been attracted by JJ's hand.
"What's him?" JJ wondered. "What fish is him?"
"I don't know," Steve said. "I don't know much about fish. Maybe JARVIS can help. JARVIS, are you awake?"
"Yes, sir. How might I be of assistance?" JARVIS said, from Steve's phone.
"JJ's wondering what kind of fish are in this tank," Steve said. "Do you know?"
"If you aim your camera toward it, I'll take a look," JARVIS said. "And may I say I'm pleased to hear that Master Joseph is asking questions again."
"Yeah," Steve said. "Me too."
He took his phone from his pocket, and held it up to the tank, letting it scan across. JARVIS soon had all the species identified and was giving JJ a toddler appropriate lecture about them. He even used a slightly higher pitched voice, like adults talking to kids did.
"Do fishies get sick?" JJ said.
"Fish are able to get sick, just like humans," JARVIS replied.
"I'm sick, JARVIS," JJ explained.
"Yes, I know," JARVIS said. "I'm sorry to hear that. I hope you feel better soon."
Clint's 'Tony Likes Giving Apartments to his Avenger Friends' Story
It turned out, as far as telling people stuff went, S.H.I.E.L.D was still as crappy at it as they were before Clint had to take his break. Monty had gotten the flashdrive, only it wasn't a flashdrive, it was a microchip, and gave it to Clint to take back to S.H.I.E.L.D, only it wasn't S.H.I.E.L.D that wanted it, it was Tony Stark.
"This was a test," Jasna told Clint. "If you'd gone nuts, you wouldn't have any any damning info. This was to see what you'd do in the field, and if you were really okay."
"I know," Clint said, and his anger over it made Jasna feel twitchy. "But I passed. For what that's worth."
Now, he was going home, only he wasn't going home, he was going to New York to give Stark the microchip in person. Fury had given specific orders for Clint to be the one to do it. There were a few agents there, in case anything went down, and Jasna had to wonder if this was still a test, to see if Clint really took it where he was supposed to. She wondered if the chip was anything special, or if it was just a prop to play with.
"Let's not get too paranoid," Clint said. "Starting in on conspiracy theories is the first step to the madhouse. I don't think even SHIELD would set up that elaborate a scenario just to test me. The microchip must be important for something."
"You have entered restricted airspace," a British voice informed them, over the radio on the quinjet. "Please state your business, or alter your course."
"I think that's Stark's robot buddy guy," Jasna said. "The one who lives in his suit."
"I'm on official SHIELD business," Clint said. "Agent Barton requesting permission to land at Stark Tower."
"Please wait a moment," robot buddy guy said. Then, "Permission enthusiastically granted, Agent Barton, you may follow your current course."
"Is it just me, or did Stark repair his tower to make it even more ostentatious than before?" Clint said.
"Maybe you should ask him about the wallpaper [for Laura]," Jasna said. "He's got some design skills."
Clint chuckled as he landed the quinjet on the pad.
"You should see if Nat wants to hang out while you're here," Jasna said.
"She's in Washington," Clint said.
"That's not far away," Jasna said. "You could go there, no problem. Just ask her if she wants to get lunch and shoot things."
"I'll text her about it," Clint said.
He pulled out his phone, and Jasna looked over to see what he was saying. He told her he was in New York, and could hang out if she wanted, and he'd come to her if need be.
"Smiley face?" Clint wondered.
"Smiley face," Jasna agreed.
Trio Verse Holiday Daemon Fic I Didn't Get Done Last Year
Efi took the ticket from his hand and held it up to her face. "Is that the seat you booked?" she asked. "I thought you chose Row K."
"I don't remember," Trevelyan said. "What seat number is it?"
"43," Efi said.
"No, that must be right," Trevelyan said. "I remember choosing that one because it's on the end."
"Hmm," Efi said. She handed the ticket back. "Oh well, perhaps I'm wrong."
Trevelyan grabbed a programme to look at as they waited and took a seat on a bench by one of the walls. Efi came down to his lap so she could read with him. The selections looked promising, though Trevelyan wasn't overly fond of this conductor. Efi was excited about the soloist, who they'd seen before, but not live. Through a hacked video feed.
Someone's bird daemon came in for a landing beside Trevelyan on the bench, and he slid over reluctantly to allow whoever was claiming it to have room. He didn't bother to look over, nor did Efi, so when the gruff, "give me my ticket" came, it was rather a surprise.
"I beg your--" Trevelyan began, raising his head. "Sherlock?" He glanced to the side and found Tzophiya looking cross on the bench next to him. "Wha--what's...what?"
"You have my ticket," Sherlock said. He waved one in his own hand. "This isn't my seat. You must have my ticket."
Nearly five months in London without one word from his brother for the length of it, and Trevelyan had managed to bump into him at a New Year's Eve concert of all places. He blinked stupidly. Sherlock reached into the pocket of Trevelyan's waistcoat and pulled out his ticket, putting his own in there instead.
"There, that's--" he said, glancing over the ticket. "Not my ticket either." He flashed it to Tzophiya, who raised her wings in exasperation. "The clerk must have been stupider than I thought. I could quite easily see mixing the two of us up, S and T are right next to each other in the alphabet, but if you had this ticket and I had your ticket, who has my ticket?"
"I believe that would be me," Mycroft said, appearing out of the crowd behind Sherlock.
"It's a family reunion," Efi murmured. She flicked her tail. "I don't want a family reunion."
"What are you doing here?" Sherlock demanded.
"This is a concert in a concert hall, Sherlock, surely you could take a guess," Mycroft said. He held out a ticket and Sherlock took it from him. Mycroft's held remained held out and, after a moment, Sherlock put the other ticket in it. "Thank you. Hello, Trevelyan."
Hisoka hopped up onto the bench near Tzophiya, who ruffled her feathers and moved away. Efi climbed over Trevelyan's arm to jump down to the bench and greet them, putting herself in the middle.
"Hello," Trevelyan said. "What a sort of horrifying surprise this is."
"Since when do you come to concerts?" Sherlock demanded.
"Mummy claims she took me to see the BBC symphony orchestra at six months, so 1972, I believe would be the accurate answer," Mycroft said.