#here's to more writing next year!!!!

[croquettish]

2024 Writing Roundup!!

words posted: 219,384 words

additional words written: 69,701

grand total of words: 289,085

fandoms: nancy drew, bg3, fe3h, persona 5, stardew valley

highest kudos: we'll find each other, my astarion/durge fic, at 192!!

highest hit oneshot: memories, souvenirs, some originals, aka the shuake proposal wars, at 2003!!

new things I tried: finishing ages-old wips???? also technically the thing I'm working on rn :D

fic I spent the most time on: in theory that would be I ate the world world to find you, my thancy fic, since I created that gdoc back on Oct 31st, 2016. but if we're going based on time spent writing and not how long it took me to write it, then that would be we'll find each other, the astarion fic

fic I spent the least time on: not too much, a little for her, my rugan/tav (boram) fic that I wrote for the exchange!! I wrote it in the middle of my phd work of trying to finish a chapter on a deadline (which I am actually still... working on rn...) knowing that I only had a little bit of time to do so, and somehow I found the inspiration to just... write it in a single go (after doing a lot of research reading bee's fics to make sure that I'd get everything right). and it came out so good!!!!

favorite thing I wrote: I know I said this before but I really have such trouble choosing a favorite. I love them all for wildly different reasons 🥹

favorite thing(s) I read: I went into more detail on these here, but here's the short list:

Focus - Kingdom Come: Deliverance - Hans Capon/Henry of Skalitz

Family Affair - Dragon Age II - Carver/F!Hawke

Crucible - Dragon Age II - Fenris/F!Hawke - sex pollen and a rescue. just a delicious and super ic well-written fic

Come What May - Resident Evil 2 Remake - Leon Kennedy/Claire Redfield

your name - Baldur’s Gate 3 - Durgetash

what is done in love is done well - Persona 5 - Yusuke Kitagawa/Ann Takamaki

writing goals for 2025:

Give myself the grace and room to work on my PhD more throughout the year instead of going full ADHD on it...

Gonna write that Stardew fic and then spend ten fucking years coding it and I will THRIVE

Write more of my old WIPs!!! There is at least one (two, really) more old Nancy Drew fic that I have on the backburner that I want to finish, especially for my sister's birthday!!

tagging: @hallowedlore @adamantineheart @unxpctedlygreat @frigid-arnica @voloslobotomyservice and any other writing friends of mine!! (I really wanted to tag @we-rule-the-kingdom-inside but I don't think lin would forgive me)

[lgbtlunaverse]

the wangxian + a-yuan "dads with an adopted son" thing is fine and enjoyable in fanfics honestly but I think we as a fandom are really not utilizing the idea of all of them in unconventional familial structures enough. Like, canonically it wasn't so much that wwx was a-yuan's guardian as that a-yuan was being raised collectively by the wens and wwx was adopted INTO the larger wen family. And lwj got attached to him through that. A-yuan just has these very attached weird uncles/older cousin figures that aren't related to him by blood at all but keep sticking around.

Just think of a modern AU with a lot less death where lwj does as he does in canon and keeps showering a-yuan in gifts as much as he can and when wwx is like "aiyah lan zhan you're gonna spoil him. Not everyone is as rich as you! What's his family supposed to say if they can't buy him all the stuff you do?" lwj just goes "Hm". And from then on out every year once a-yuan's birthday is near the extended Wen family members (well. the ones that are invited that is. No one wants wen chao at a birthday party) wakes up to a wechat payment from lwj.

Random wen cousin number 6 texts granny like

cousin 6: i just got 400 yuan????

granny: oh that's just wangji

cousin 6: i've never met this guy in my life???

granny: he wants you to buy a-yuan a nice birthday present!

cousin 6: how does he know my bank account???

[ominousvibez]

Okay I'm still thinking about the Amity Park in Ohio thing so here's my proposal for this idea:

Reasons That Amity Park Should Be in Ohio (By Someone Who's Lived In Ohio For 2+ Years)

#1 It's Definitely A Great Lake State

Amity Park has never been stated to be officially in one specific state, just vaguely central United States, possibly somewhere around the Great Lakes area. That specific area is often referenced by other characters in the show. Urban Jungle shows Undergrowth's roots stretching out from this general area, and the Lake Eerie mentioned in the show might just literally be Lake Erie.

Of course it's kinda cartoony and I honestly have no idea if those mountains in the bottom right corner are meant to be the Appalachia area or not but it vaugely looks like the Great Lakes area

Because of this screenshot, I think most of the fandom headcanons Amity Park to be somewhere in Illinois, possibly close to Chicago, but we can basically point at any Great Lakes state and say "yeah that fits".

For my non-American friends, it's this general area of America (specifically Minnesota, Wisconsin, Illinois, Michigan, Indiana, and Ohio)

But I'd also like to say that cartoons do have a tendency to fudge some details about geography (or completely change the states a la Steven Universe) so the map might not be 100% accurate. But with the map, it could technically be any Great Lakes State, so why not OHIO?

Which btw I'm going to be counting as a Midwest state for this analysis. Some people can argue it isn't, but from my experience living here in Ohio there are a lot of Midwestern tendencies. It's more like Ohio is the border state between the Eastern states and the Midwest, so it gets a mix of both.

B*tch H*rtman (as much as we don't like to talk about him) was also born in Michigan, which is a state in the Midwest, so some of Amity Park could be based (consciously or not) on the towns he grew up in there. But because of him I'm ruling out Michigan the state as a whole and Wisconsin for states Amity Park could be in.

#2 It Takes Four Days To Get To Wisconsin, Apparently?

In Season 1, Episode 7, when they travel to Vlad's mansion in Wisconsin, Jazz says it will take "four days" to get from Amity Park to Vlad's Mansion (Somewhere in the middle of nowhere Wisconsin, basically). The geography is a little off for every midwestern/Great Lakes state except maybe New York if you're gonna count that but Amity Park does not feel like it'd be in New York state.

Ohio is the furthest Midwest Great Lakes state from Wisconsin. Case closed there. Of course, it doesn't take four days to get from Ohio to Wisconsin. It can roughly vary from 10 to 15 hours, depending on route options (such as avoiding highways and stuff), but still.

It's a road trip, so it makes more sense that they'd take longer to get there-- plus realistically people don't tend to drive 10 hours on a road trip, they probably stopped through the trip and spent the night in their RV.

#3 They Got Beaches?

Amity Park does exist near a body of water. It isn't clear if it's a lake, river, or ocean in the show. It could be a lake. There's also the area in Frightmare, where Nocturne literally takes up space in some sort of port building/factory that gives the audience the assumption that it's on a pier/port. So they're really next to a body of water.

There is also the summer camp that Danny and his friends attend in Claw of the Wild which is said to be on Lake "Eerie". Which could easily just be Lake Erie, the lake that Ohio is on.

Also Camp Skull and Crossbones?? What an iconic camp name. You could say the name is pretty,,,,,, camp (ba dum tss).

#4 Ohio's Just Like... Very Haunted

Ohio has kinda become a meme recently. Not just one specific part of Ohio, but the entire state. The memes are mostly good fun-- like how the state is mostly just corn -- but I think some of the ~vibes~ of Ohio just fit right.

Like, there's no definite way to say which U.S. State is the most haunted (I think either the New England area or maybe Louisiana could take the #1 spot) but Ohio is definitely something else. Of course, we have the baby bridges and the haunted penitentiaries like Ohio State Penitentiary, but there are some interesting places that could be played with, too.

For one, there's an entire abandoned town called Helltown, Ohio, where rumors are cultists perform Satantic rituals, mutant creatures roaming the city created by an oil spill, and even a giant snake? There's also a place literally called the Gateway to Hell, too, which is right behind a Tim Horton's (oddly fitting).

Bobby Mackey's is also in Ohio! If you've ever seen Buzzfeed Unsolved, you know what I'm talking about.

There are also less hell-related spooky things in Ohio. Like, Lake Erie has its own Monster! We call her Bessie. Danny could definitely befriend Bessie!!!

#5 It'd Be Funny

It'd be funny for Amity Park to be in Ohio. The Most Haunted Place in America to be in Ohio is just kinda funny. With how "cursed" of a reputation Ohio seems to have in a larger cultural context, doesn't it kinda just fit?

TLDR:

Ohio is a very cursed state, has a lot of supernatural lore to it, and I think Amity Park would fit in both thematically and almost geographically. Of course, other Midwestern States like Illinois do fit the bill, too, in this argument. But I am a firm "Amity Park is in Ohio" supporter.

[incomingalbatross]

hlrngh

[romance-rambles]

au - hogwarts+same age!cael | what if she's written mine on my upper thigh

A sixth year at Hogwarts, Cael and his classmates have just recently been exposed to the qualities of Amortentia, the potion of deep obsession. Somehow, it helps him win a kiss from his crush.

1.9k, alternate universe - hogwarts (ft. young cael), fluff + getting together, slight jealousy, reader is mc, series: none

THOSE WALKING INTO THE SLYTHERIN'S common room have long since grown accustomed to the sight of you sprawled across the carpet, with a hefty textbook protecting your pretty face from the light that shoddily illuminates the area. They spare you no more than a glance before they disperse, readily seeking refuge in the comforts of their dorm room.

Certainly, despite wearing a Gryffindor's robe, most would consider you an honorary Slytherin. And no one in the history of Hogwarts has ever transferred houses, but that has not stopped some from their cohort from attempting to make you the first to do so.

Cael has, on occasion, been one of them.

Neatly, he folds the corner of the page, his gaze lingering briefly on the ingredients for Amortentia—the potion that had spurred most of his classmates into a frenzy. Every year, when the sixth years soon approached this particular subject, the result was the same.

Though ingesting the potion is quite dangerous, what most have a tendency to seek out is, instead, one of its unique characteristics. The scent reflects that which the person smelling it finds most attractive, and for a class consisting of mostly seventeen year olds, the prospect of being the lucky few who could find themselves a partner in this way is exciting.

That, or watching a relationship crash and burn, when the scents inevitably do not match.

Cael, for one, has no interest in the drama. Yet, for all his aloofness, even he isn't above such curiosity. The day the Potions Professor quizzed the class on the characteristics of potions they'd need to know for their NEWTs, you simply said:

"It smells nice."

Try as he might, he can't shake the image of your flushed cheeks and the pleased smile tugging at your lips. He was certain his own cheeks did not fare much better in that moment. It was a matter confirmed by your teasing, another unsubtle push to force him to confess first.

In yet another moment of pettiness, he responded in kind, leaving the both of them at a stalemate once again.

When did their habit begin? When had they come to notice the ways in which they could not live without the other person? When had they decided, quietly, that they would not be the first to take the fall?

There are times when Cael wonders if it would be worth it to lose. Then, you make his heart race faster than it has any right to on a Tuesday afternoon with only a smug grin—and he realizes, no, it would not be worth the lifetime of teasing.

Putting his Potions textbook atop the coffee table, he glances at his study partner for this evening—and for every evening after.

From the moment the two of you were introduced—by your mother, no less—you seemed to have decided he was the greatest setback you would ever face. So, he too had returned the favor. But had either of those second years ever considered a different nuance to the word "adversary"?

Cael nudges your shoulder gently with his foot. "I think that's enough of a break."

You roll over with a groan. The textbook in your hands slams shut, narrowly missing the chance to trap the tip of your nose in. Already, he's bribed you with food. With a trip into the nearby town, a denial of something more couched into his words. With a bet designed to stoke your competitive spirit, and more.

Nothing has stuck.

As his lips purse and a sigh threatens to escape from his lips, a thought strikes the young prefect. He bends over, one hand pushing up his bangs before the back of his hand gauges his temperature. The other repeats the same gesture on you.

"You're not sick," he says, the blandness of his tone masking his relief.

You hum. "No, just lazy."

In the absence of something to hold, your fingers take to doodling patterns on the stiff carpet. Each stroke disappears into the dark green surface and leaves nothing behind. Dimly lit as the carpet beneath is, Cael can still make out your words—written in cursive, the looping letters reconstructing your previous response.

With his hands clasped in front of him, he watches more of your doodles disappear into the green. NEWTs. Amortentia. The shape of a heart. The beginning of a phrase, starting with a cursive I. Its seamless stroke twists into an ever running spiral, up until you slice it cleanly through the middle.

"Move over," he soon finds himself saying.

Your hand stills. Then, as soon as you process his words, you erase your already blank canvas before pulling your hands closer to yourself. Cael settles down beside you, drawing his knees to his chest.

The edge of the coffee table sits dangerously close to his forehead. He pushes it away, back to its original position, before he moved it closer for his convenience. His other hand comes to rest on the ground.

Your fingers find a new canvas in it. As he curls his hand into a fist, the space afforded to you by the back of his hand shrinks. But it does not deter you from resuming your doodles.

A star. A flower. A bundle of leaves.

"Not going to study?" you ask absent-mindedly.

Cael snorts, combing through his hair with his free hand. "Hard to study when my partner is slacking off."

You ignore his words entirely. Years of hearing his snark has granted you a layer of immunity to it—on what amounts to a good day for him, he can tear it down with ease, leaving you to huff and puff your way through conversations. Today is not one of those days.

"Guess what I'm writing," you say instead.

An L follows an E, which follows an A, which follows a C. He's written the name enough times over the years to recognize the strokes blindfolded.

"My name."

The next is one that's haunted him over the years.

It's on the corners of his notebooks' pages. It sits interchangeably with his own, between the first and second places, whenever their grades are posted. In the forest when he visits their pet dragon, it's the name that slips out of his mouth with a sigh—whether Beanie is well-behaved or not.

"…Yours." He leans back comfortably, eyes closed as he waits for his next trial. The next one is a drawing, in two parts. You've only finished your haphazardly-drawn strawberry when he asks, "Hungry?"

Humming, you sit up. "Not yet."

Sitting shoulder to shoulder like this, he can discern the faint, sweet scent of your shampoo from the smell of fresh paint that has a tendency to follow you wherever you go. Those were two of the scents that the Amortentia potion had adopted for his sake.

The third took the form of a freshly-baked vanilla cake, overlapping with a lavender-scented candle. A memory from two years prior, the first year neither of them returned home—to your home—for the holidays.

Cael could've gone away on his own. Your mother would've been happy to have at least one of them at home. But it was his own choice to stay.

For Beanie, he said out loud.

For you, he said, in the quiet of his mind, where his childish secrets resided.

He opens his eyes, craning his neck ever so slightly to watch you. You're gazing into the distance with a blank look in your pretty eyes. At some point in the silence, you had copied most parts of his sitting position—the difference lays in where your hands rest. They clasp tightly in front of your drawn-up legs, as if to keep them in place.

"I give up," you whisper, turning your head to look at him.

"That's been the state of affairs for a while," the young prefect says wryly.

In your eyes, he counts a multitude of shades of purple. Hidden among them, he realizes too late, is a vulnerable sort of honesty he's only seen once before. Annoyance replaces it briefly. You sigh and tuck the loose strands of your hair behind your ear.

"I'm not talking about studying."

Cael stares blankly in response. He's no better off when you close the distance between them and pull back just as quickly. What lingers on his lips is the taste of your lip balm—and when he wipes the sticky residue away, a pinky nude stains his thumb.

By now, a few of the Slytherins who had escaped to their dorm rooms earlier have started taking space up in the common room. Most hover at the edges, finding their seats on the sofas that line the walls. It is usually only Ambrum, from his fellow housemates, who sits in as their third wheel, but he has errands to run today.

Your lips twitch into a faint smile, oddly smug for having become the loser in their little war.

"You win," you say, but he thinks the flush creeping up his cheeks might tell a different story.

extra: a few hours ago - the reason why you confessed

FRESHLY-MADE STRAWBERRY TOAST, THE scent of broomstick handles, and lavender—those were the three aromas that the Amortentia potion presented you with in class. As it turns out, Natalie, one of the many admirers that Cael somehow has garnered over the years, happened to land two of the three herself.

You learn this while hiding in the bathroom stall, waiting for her and her friends to leave so you can too.

On an ordinary day, you wouldn't be so cowardly. But when her conversation with her friends begins with what is essentially a declaration of war, you think it might be just a little awkward to walk past her on your way out.

This is the story of why you decide to give in, a secret that stays with you until a random late night years later, when it slips out in the middle of a play argument.

"I can't believe you're going to confess," one of her friends repeats for the nth time. Frankly, you can't blame her. You'd be doing the same thing in her position. "Doesn't he have a thing with that Gryffindor girl?"

Your ears perk up at the mention of yourself. For the past few years, most of Cael's admirers have left him alone for that very reason. You have a claim, however implicit—one that rivals the kind a girlfriend might have.

For the reason that you will, one day, be his girlfriend, just as soon as he gives in and asks you out.

"It isn't official, though." Natalie digs through her pockets for something. From the crack in the stall, you realize it's lipgloss. "I've never seen them kiss or go on a date."

"Still…" Her other friend says, in a hushed tone. "What if he turns you down?"

"What if he doesn't?"

It isn't until Natalie speaks up again that you realize how fervently you hoped the question would deter her. Realistically, you have nothing to fear. Even so, the messy emotion known as jealousy burns away at your rationality, leaving you to gnaw at your lip in silence.

"Well, good luck then." This time, it's the first friend who comments. She seems to adjust her hair before clasping her hands together. "We should get going. Lunch should be almost over."

They leave just as loudly as they came, the conversation easily shifting to the hows of Natalie's plan. You sit there in the bathroom stall, for longer than you should. Your knuckles turn pale; your long nails dig into the palms of your hand.

You wonder—if the only thing spurring her to confess is that the two of you haven't officially defined your relationship, then would doing so lead her to change her mind?

— happy birthday to my very awesome birthday twin, @xcerizex!

[o3o-lapd-o3o]

i promise, i am working on part 2 of this! =͟͟͞͞(꒪ᗜ꒪‧̣̥̇)

...i've just keep getting distracted either playing hades, or reading "the iliad" (*cough* its-actually-odydio-fics-on-ao3 *cough*) or just straight up listening/singing to the epic musical sagas while scrolling through tumblr...

i have the attention span of a gnat ok? and i'm very easily distracted...

[littlebvtterfly]

PETRA MÜLLER stars in BLOOD RED

Years ago, a little girl in a flannel dress and hiking boots went into the woods to climb trees and returned home to find her mother and father dead. Eight years later, a naked, bloody girl finds herself sprawled in front of the gates of Auradon Prepatory School. At the behest of Prince Ben, Petra Müller is allowed to attend the prestigious school. Two months later, Petra is still not fully comfortable in this new place. Students don't like her, and staff fear her. But there are little glimmers of hope in between. Like Ben, who still rallies around her constantly. And Greer, her new best friend who, similarly to her, doesn't exactly have the same royal blood as most kids at Auradon Prep. And then there's Willa Darling, the girl Petra has been mooning after since the very first day she woke up and found the girl tending to her. Things seem to head in the right direction, even with Ben inviting the children of villains to attend Auadon for a new chance at a better life. Petra finally feels like she is starting to fit in, and she can see a future in this place. That is, until a gruesome murder rocks this usually serene place. And suddenly, Petra realizes that friend and foe alike cannot be trusted.

READ HERE: WATTPAD - AO3 - FF.NET

TAGLIST: @eddysocs @ocs-supporting-ocs @foxesandmagic @veetlegeuse @decennia @hiddenqveendom @arrthurpendragon @luucypevensie @nikosasaki @noratilney @wordspin-shares @oneirataxia-girl @endless-oc-creations @stelstellakidd @andromedalestrange @far-shores @rose-of-oz @bibaybe

[psychhound]

how early is too early to start talking about a game youre developing? like if im working on a Big Project that is years away from an ashcan do i gotta keep that to myself for a while or can i stop chewing all my furniture and constantly bothering my loved ones

[2hoothoots]

i was having a chuckle to myself last night about Gristol, and how his plans are basically:

Restore Ford Cruller's memory

Find Maligula

???

Profit

but then... of course they are, right? this is Gristol we're talking about. Fatherland Follies drives home again and again that he's still operating on a child's logic, a warped and reductive version of the world that he never bothered to grow out of. both of his memory vaults center on the images of his childhood, this idealized version of the past that he clings to no matter what. and that's still how he remembers Maligula, too - as this saviour figure, who rushes in to help him when he's in trouble.

[ID: Two slides from Gristol's memory vault, Glory to Grulovia! Left: Gristol clings to Maligula's back as she summons waves to sweep away his assailants. Right: Gristol and Maligula waving from a balcony as the people cheer. Gzar Theodore brandishes a dagger in the background.]

like so much else, Maligula represents a return to this idyllic childhood - to the peace and simplicity of his youth, when he was free from worries and responsibilities. in his mind, he doesn't need to make any further plans - once Maligula's back, everything will go back to normal. Maligula will make everything better.

...is what i thought, but then i remembered this line:

[Screenshot source. ID: Gristol, in Truman's body, bows on his hands and knees in front of the newly-awaked Maligula. The caption reads: "Yes, High Priestess! I am here to correct the mistakes made by my father!"]

and that's kind of interesting, right?

to be clear: this happens directly after Maligula sees Helmut-in-Gristol's-body, and recognises him. her line before this is:

"Little Gzesaravich! Have you come to pay for your father's sins?"

my first thought was that Gristol hadn't expected to still be in Truman's body by the time he managed to find Maligula, and this was him trying to placate her and buy some time until he could explain the situation. but watching the cutscene back, that's clearly not what's happening here. Gristol is answering as himself, and his response of throwing himself to his knees before her is, as far as i can tell, genuine.

so what is going on here?

in Fatherland Follies, there's this line in the ride narration that stuck out to me:

"Why didn't the Gzar help Maligula in her time of need? No one knows, but historians agree - it is Gzar Theodore's biggest failure."

other lines mention Gzar Theodore's "mistake", and it's wording Gristol himself echoes in the screencap above. evidently, he believes that his father abandoned Maligula, leaving her to her fate at the hands of the Psychonauts, and it was that mistake that lead to them being driven out of the country - that mistake which he seeks to correct. maybe he even feels like he has a debt to repay to her for his family turning their backs on her all those years ago.

the 'High Priestess' thing, though - that's kinda weird, and threw me for a loop the first time i played the game. it took me until my second playthrough to connect the dots, and remember how the room in the Lady Luctopus - Gristol's room - was full of Delugionist scribblings and symbols.

[Screenshot source. ID: left, the walls of the hidden backroom in Gristol's hotel suite, covered in scrawlings of eyeballs and Maligula's name. Right, the pinboard from the hidden backroom. On its surface are photographs and newspaper clippings connected by pieces of string.]

i mean, look at this stuff! he had a whole conspiracy board and everything!

we learn very little about the Delugionists and their beliefs as a whole during the game, but i think drawing the connection here suggests two important things. one: that Gristol was in deep with this stuff. i don't know how he linked up with them - maybe via old family connections, or just good old-fashioned digging (we know he's skilled at worming his way into peoples' good graces, after all) - but it seems likely that he's begun to internalise their ideas, maybe even warping his own memories of events. and two: the Delugionists themselves are, if you'll pardon the pun, pretty far off the deep end.

like... i understand why PN2 didn't go heavy on the "mass-murderer cult worship" aspect of things, in the end, but man this is such a tantalising glimpse into the wider mythos around Maligula. Gristol is proud and haughty and thinks himself above everyone else; the fact that his first reaction seeing Maligula is to throw himself to the ground at her feet says so much about the way he's come to see her. he's not just trying to bring back Maligula, his childhood bodyguard. he's trying to bring back Maligula, the High Priestess of the deluge, the semi-mythical figure whose supporters believe even death couldn't stop. he doesn't even flinch at the way she confronts him, and maybe it's because he's bought in so completely to this deified figurehead, this idea of Maligula; more a living force of nature than a person. and it all comes back to the same place: an abdication of responsibility, not just to the person who protected him when he was little but to this avatar of floods and destruction. Maligula will make everything better.

i'd write more about my thoughts on the Delugionists but that'd be taking a hard turn into speculation, and this is already kind of long and rambling so i'd better end it here. but what an unexpected and evocative line, right? it's some of the only stuff we have to go off of regarding the Delugionists as a whole, but i think it does such a good job of hinting at the wider story - at teasing another layer to the mythos surrounding Maligula, one whose ripples we see throughout the game but which never quite breaches the surface.

[afieldinengland]

think i need to actually ask my parents to use my preferred pronouns

[hana-no-seiiki]

apparently if i get summa cumlaude in premed i get full scholarship in the “best” med school here in the Philippines (75% scholarship if magna which i technically qualify for already but im not sure about the system of granting it yet)

and in order for me to qualify for such an honor i have to get straight 4.0s for every subject for the rest of my college years

in addition i have to be in the >90 percentile ranking for nmat

[hypmicdaydreams]

is anyone still in the mood for a hypmic imagines blog these days lol

[sammy431]

Actual footage of me trying to get through today while trying to be normal about EXU Downfall:

[anomaly-076]

♦ Oh hello, I know I've been gone U.U Things got busy around the holidays plus I did an event for the entirety of December on my other blog, so I didn't have time to write stuff for this one T-T (I have one post in my drafts, but it's not even half-way finished)

So I made a quiz to make it up a lil ^^ Ik it's a bit late, but better than nothing, right? (right?)

>>> ୨୧ Click here ୨୧ <<<

[doubleedgemode]

Here's a kind of experimental lineless A.B.A from memory to keep up the good habits of this blog. Then I got carried away and did some creative writing that you can read under the cut if you'd like. It can be interpreted as the picture's context, or as an unrelated scenario.

Warning for a homunculus with shitty bad mental health:

"A.B.A stood there, in the middle of the cold night, seen by... who cares? as she stared at the broken window of that room, which had once been her prison, her flask, so to speak.

Even though it had now been years since her great escape, the location could nowadays elicit the same strong feelings as it did on day one, though that wasn't shown in her outward expression: seemingly fully blank, aside from a flicker in her eyes.

That room was still invisibly asphyxiating, still like if its walls murmured to her again that, were anything to happen to her... No one would care. And that statement had something that broke her, and it wasn't just due to its cruel face-value.

Think about it; being the way she was created, her biggest virtue was being able to excel human limitations: she could come out unscathed from almost any wound if blood was abundant, and was effectively able to give senescence the middle finger.

But here she was, hurting from the sight of an empty room, that, logically speaking, posed no more chagrin or danger. So, she mentally wasn't able to completely excel humans, as from what she knew, even they must have surely thought of this behaviour as weak and deranged. If we were so kind, a mistake-a shortcoming of the mind.

If these sorts of shortcomings kept piling up... Then what was even that she excelled at?

[rainintheevening]

Not Dead

(A Saving Grant Ward AU)

"Come on, Hill." Grant's face hurts, and he's tired. "Why'd you pull me out of the field? I mean, it wasn't for a history lesson."

Maria Hill looks away for a moment, takes a deeper breath than maybe necessary, says quietly, "You'll have to ask Coulson."

Grant stiffens, the cold finger of her words tracing still-tender scars, and he thins his lips, answers sharp. "Phil Coulson is dead."

Her gaze drops, and so does his stomach. A breath, as if to speak, before she sighs, shakes her head.

"Actually, no."

It isn't Maria who speaks, no, it's a voice he knows, the voice of his conscience and his comfort, a voice he's not supposed to be hearing, and he's on his feet before his training takes hold, keeps him from backing away.

There's a ghost in this room, stepping out of the shadows, Coulson looking him in the eye.

"I'm... not dead."

For a moment the world turns upside down, he can't breathe, his vision greys... Before he catches himself, turns away sharply. "Don't," and no matter how dead he tries to keep his voice, he hears the tremor. "Don't do this to me."

Maria avoids his gaze, crosses her arms over her chest, glares at the man who can't be Coulson. "Coulson! You were supposed to let me ease him into it."

Coulson sighs, like he used to sigh when he'd forgotten to buy the right kind of hot sauce on wing night, and was about to go get the keys and drive to the store right then, because Grant wouldn't eat his wings without it. An apology. "Sorry, I just couldn't wait to see you again. Also I think there's a bulb out back there. I wasn't trying to be that dramatic."

Grant snorts, he can't help shaking his head as he looks back at the man whose response to finding out an angry customer had hit Grant over the head with her purse was show up at her house and tell her she'd go to jail if she ever shopped at Walmart again. "Even got someone who talks like him," he says, anger starting to smolder in his gut. He was done, done his grieving, he'd sworn to live and look forward, to honour his dad's Coulson's legacy.

Phil is worried. He's been worrying over how to tell Grant since... Tahiti, he thinks, but, no, it had been too peaceful there to be worrying. So, at least since Fury had lifted the lockdown on him.

He remembers the day Lady had been killed by a car, the limp body in Grant's arms, and how Grant had screamed for him, called him 'dad' for the first time.

"Try to go easy on him," Maria had said.

He'd raised an eyebrow. "How so?"

She'd stopped in the hallway, frowned at him. "Coulson, he had to bury you. The only person he cares about, and he had to bury you. He took two weeks' vacation after the funeral."

Phil had frowned then too. "He took time off?"

"Yes! Two. Weeks. Disappeared, off the radar. No one knows where he went, or what he was doing. He's never said."

So yes, Phil's worried, watching the tense line of Grant's shoulders, the way his eyes say he doesn't believe yet, and he's getting angry about it.

"Grant," he says, and the other man startles. "I'm sorry. But it is me. No tricks, no lies."

Phil moves forward slowly, as if trying not to frighten a skittish animal. Grant says nothing, watching him with those burning eyes, until he reaches out, grips Grant's upper arm gently but firmly. The other man flinches, hard enough to make Phil's hand slide down to his elbow, but just as quickly he's bringing his own hand up to grab Phil's sleeve. His grip is fierce.

"See?" Phil says, trying to smile. "Real."

"You're dead," Grant says, firm. He can feel the warmth in the hand on his arm, pain gathering in his throat. "You died." And his voice cracks.

He wants to believe, he is believing.

"I was. I did. For seven minutes." Tiny uncomfortable shrug. "Didn't stick, I'm afraid."

Grant blinks in the face of a tombstone (PHILIP J COULSON) chiseled with words he'd agonized over, how to sum up the man who had saved him long before saving the world (A HERO GOING HOME). He'd run his fingers over sharp-edged epitaph (PSALM 91:4), glad when it cut, when cold stone drew warm blood.

He blinks again, stares into worried hazel eyes, grips flesh and bone, and oh...

"It's been seven months!" Anger, fresh pain erupting through the layers of cooled magma. "What the hell, Dad?!" He rips away, stalks across the room, turns back to glare. "You couldn't be bothered to call, to tell me?! In seven months? I thought– I thought I meant something to you!"

"Grant, you do, I swear." Guilt settles heavy on Phil's heart as he steps forward, reaching. "Fury had me on lockdown, and then you were in the field, and I didn't want to do this until I knew we'd have time."

"I buried you!"

Maria was right, Phil thinks. Grant stalks back toward him.

"And you wanna know what I did after? I put a gun in my mouth, because of you!"

Grant's in his face now, and Phil's stomach drops like he's just been pushed out of a plane.

"You know that place where we used to go fishing? That creek? Yeah, that's where I went. And I put a gun to my head. Because I couldn't– I couldn't– I didn't want to live without–"

There are tears in his eyes now, dampening the fire, and Phil reaches up, lays hand gentle on muscled shoulder.

"But you did," he says softly. "You did live. I'm proud of you, son." He puts special weight on the last word, deliberate. "And now we get another chance. I doubt I can make it up to you, but I want to be here for you. Will you let me at least have that?"

Grant's always been tall, chin up, spit blood, graceful in a cold sort of way. Phil thinks Rose is the only other who has seen that guard truly come down. It's falling now, Grant's head dropping to hide welling emotion, shoulders slumping under Phil's hands, and then it's as if Grant himself is falling, falling and reaching, but he's already caught, and Phil pulls him in, holds him tight as he crumbles.

Grant's grip on him is painfully fierce, but he takes it, he'll take anything for this man he'd watched grow up, from a messed up kid, to a hopeful young agent, to one of SHIELD's best.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm here."

Tall man, bent and bowed into his dad's embrace, Grant hides his face against Coulson's neck and sobs.

Maria slips out, leans back against the door, knuckles a few tears out of her eyes. She still thinks Coulson is making a mistake, selecting someone he's so close to for his new team; he's always avoided working with Grant for that reason. But any man would be changed by facing death, she figures. Not to mention facing things he didn't even remember. A wince at the thought of Grant finding out what had been done. Well, as long as all went according to plan, neither of them ever would.

Grant doesn't cry for long; that's never been his way. He lifts his head, eases back, takes Phil's offered handkerchief.

"You still carry these?" he asks hoarsely, blows his nose.

"What do you think I mop the blood up with?"

The same pointed humor, the way they always joked about close calls, and Grant's lungs feel like they have more room in his chest. He hands the crumpled cloth back, smirks at Coulson's little nose wrinkle. "And that's what saved you."

Coulson chuckles, the air in the room lifts. Grant's still unsteady, still taking it in. But he believes now.

"So how much time have we got?" he asks, sticks his hands in his pockets.

"Plenty." Phil smiles up at him, sun coming out to warm him again at last. "I'm putting together a long-term team, and Fury, well, he owes me plenty. So I get to pick anyone I want."

"Except her." Grant jerks his head toward the door, and he's grinning like an idiot, but he can't help it. On a team with Coulson? For the foreseeable future? Oh, he is so ready.

"Anyone I outrank," Phil corrects himself, eyes laughing back. "You'll be getting a promotion to Level Seven—already have actually since you know about me."

"I'm in."

A raised eyebrow, and Grant tries to settle, temper the excitement in his tone. He's supposed to be cool, after all. "Sure. Count me in. And don't worry," he adds, "I'll make sure not to call you 'dad' in front of the team. Don't want to ruin that cold-hearted reputation."

A full on chuckle from Coulson, and Grant can't help it, he steps back in for one more hug, to feel the solid flesh and bone and beating heart against him.

"Yes, that reputation," Coulson mutters, hugging him back.

When they emerge, all banter and business, Maria lets herself relax. Maybe some things can be normal again.