Something I've been writing...
Coulson-centric:
Strange things have been happening to Phil Coulson his entire life. As a child, if a noise in the dark was scary, a light would go on in his room. If he thought Shelby the cat was lonely, there was a litter of kittens a few months later, despite all claims of “-but she never leaves the house!” If he was given something he didn’t like for dinner, it would usually end up on the floor before ever reaching the table. And if he ever lost something he loved, it came back to him.
This came in especially handy whenever he lost his favourite stuffed penguin, Herbert. He would cry and scream and by the time his parents understood what was wrong, there he would be - stuffed in the corner behind the couch, wedged underneath the kitchen sink or sitting at the top of his backyard slide. It was never much of an issue, until the time they went to see his mother’s sister in Phoenix and he forgot Herbert on the plane. Phil was inconsolable for hours, crying himself to sleep that night. His aunt found Herbert on the front step the next morning, none the worse for wear, and in his absolute joy at being reunited with his best friend, didn’t notice the odd look on his mother’s face, or the narrowed eyes of his father, while his aunt mumbled about airline customer service being better than she remembered.
Comments? Good? Bad? WTH?
(FYI: I'm up to 4000 words, and am just hitting age 20. This is going to be looooong.)
Strange things have been happening to Phil Coulson his entire life. As a child, if a noise in the dark was scary, a light would go on in his room. If he thought Shelby the cat was lonely, there was a litter of kittens a few months later, despite all claims of “-but she never leaves the house!” If he was given something he didn’t like for dinner, it would usually end up on the floor before ever reaching the table. And if he ever lost something he loved, it came back to him.
This came in especially handy whenever he lost his favourite stuffed penguin, Herbert. He would cry and scream and by the time his parents understood what was wrong, there he would be - stuffed in the corner behind the couch, wedged underneath the kitchen sink or sitting at the top of his backyard slide. It was never much of an issue, until the time they went to see his mother’s sister in Phoenix and he forgot Herbert on the plane. Phil was inconsolable for hours, crying himself to sleep that night. His aunt found Herbert on the front step the next morning, none the worse for wear, and in his absolute joy at being reunited with his best friend, didn’t notice the odd look on his mother’s face, or the narrowed eyes of his father, while his aunt mumbled about airline customer service being better than she remembered.
Comments? Good? Bad? WTH?
(FYI: I'm up to 4000 words, and am just hitting age 20. This is going to be looooong.)