Welcome!

Most of the writing I do these days is fanfiction, which you can find here:

(Note: I'm still in the process of posting the best of my work on AO3, so you'll find more on my FFNet profile, but may also have to wade through more old, crappy writing as a result XD)

Please consider leaving reviews/comments on any fics you enjoy, and feel free to ask me anything here. Happy reading!

Main blog: @novelmonger

Comfyvember 15

Story: As My Own Soul (original) Prompts: Shopping trip — Storytelling — Laughing phone call

The card slipped from David's fingers. He snatched at it, but it just bounced off his fingers, fell to the gutter...and slipped through the bars into the drain.

David stared after it in horror. His subway pass...his only way of getting home....

Suddenly, the voices and footsteps echoing up the stairs towards him seemed to grow louder and louder, mingling with the cacophony of voices, cars swishing through puddles, honking horns, street musicians....

He hastily backed up to the nearest wall, pressing his back against it and trying to breathe. Was that man smoking on the corner looking at him? Were those laughing teenagers over there laughing at him for dropping his subway pass? Dozens and dozens of people rushed by, all of them with places to go, no attention to spare for a terrified boy who couldn't seem to breathe all of a sudden, too focused on their shopping trips or their phones....

Phone.

With shaking fingers, David fumbled his cellphone out of his pocket. It was Mom's ancient flip phone that she'd given him when she'd finally switched over to a smartphone. He was only supposed to use it in case of emergency, but...this was an emergency, wasn't it?

He looked at the two numbers saved in his phone. For a long moment, he stared at Mom's number. She would be in the middle of her day at work, but he knew she would drop everything if he told her he was stuck downtown. But...then he would have to tell her why he was downtown....

So he highlighted their home number and called that instead. He closed his eyes as he listened to the long tone sounding in his ear. “Come on,” he whispered, “pick up....”

Click. “Hello?”

“Jonathan!” he said, a little too loudly judging from how some passersby looked at him.

“David?”

“Jonathan, I-I dropped my pass down the drain, and-and-and now I can't get back home, and I...I....”

“Hey, slow down there, dude.” Jonathan's voice sounded so calm, so normal. David closed his eyes again and took a deep breath, trying to pretend his brother was right there next to him. “All you gotta do is go buy another one, right?”

“But...if I do that...I won't have enough left.”

“For what?”

Shame swirled in his gut as he pulled out the ad he'd ripped out of the paper. “For Mom's birthday present. I was gonna get her this necklace....” Looking at the crinkled bit of paper, it now seemed like a stupid idea. She probably wouldn't even like it...and when would she even wear it? She couldn't wear jewelry like this at work.

“Ah. And you can't buy it and then ask her to pick you up, because then she'll see it.”

“Couldn't you pick me up?” David asked hopefully, even though he knew what the answer would be.

“Duh, I don't have a license,” Jonathan laughed. “Just go buy a ticket, David, and get her something else for her birthday.”

“But I can't!” he protested. “That's all of my allowance.”

“Sooooo...make something.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, let me think.” Sarcasm dripped from Jonathan's voice. “What skill could I possibly be talking about that involves you coming up with something creative that costs zero money?”

“What, you mean like...telling a story?”

“Ding ding! Give the little man a prize!”

“But...I've never shown Mom any of my stories before....”

“See? It'll be the perfect surprise!”

“But what do I write about?”

“You're the creative one, not me. Look...just get your ticket, come home, and maybe we can brainstorm something. How's that sound?”

David took a deep breath, looking around himself again. The crowds had dissipated somewhat in between trains. There would be plenty of time for him to get another ticket, then get back home before Mom got off work. It would be fine.

“Thanks, Jonathan,” he mumbled.

“Hey, that's what I'm here for.”

Comfyvember 14

Story: bartender story (original) Prompts: After nightmare — Day together — Random gift

“Here you go, lad,” Bob said, handing over a steaming mug of tea. “Drink up, now.”

But Leon just sat cupping the little travel mug in both hands, staring into the tea as if considering drowning himself in its depths.

Bob returned to his task of scrubbing out the pot he'd cooked their morning porridge in. Leon's bowl lay untouched, growing cold and crusty on the ground next to him. His eyes were red and bloodshot, his hair tousled from another restless night.

“Would be better to talk about it, wouldn't it?” Bob said. “If you don't stir your thoughts and ladle them out every now and then, they stick to the bottom and burn black, that's what I always say.”

Leon just turned his mug around and around in his hands.

“Come, lad, Kesric and Maolie are off to market, and there's naught but old Bob and the birds to hear—“

“I'm a coward.” Leon's voice, hoarse from disuse, cracked around the clearing like a whiplash.

“Well, now, it was the Cave of Frights,” Bob pointed out, glancing over at Leon's haunted expression. “I think we all saw things that gave us a turn.” He himself didn't like thinking of that dark pit he'd looked down, strewn with the broken bodies of his friends....

Leon shook his head. “It's...not just that. Everyone else...you were all afraid, but you pressed on. But me? I froze up. I saw an image of the Dark Lord himself, and I just...stood there. Kesric had to grab me and throw me over his shoulder like a sack.”

So that was what he'd seen. None of them could see the terrifying sights that appeared to the others. That was the spell cast upon that cave—it showed each of them what they feared most.

“And now....” Leon clutched his tea even harder, his eyes staring bleakly at nothing. “Every night...it's the same thing, again and again. I face the Dark Lord...and I can't move....”

Bob tossed the last of the dirty water into the grass outside their circle of bedrolls, then set the pot on its side next to the fire to dry out. They would most likely be here all day, so no need to pack everything away.

“What if that happens for real?” Leon shuddered so hard a bit of tea slopped over the side of his mug and dripped, unnoticed, into the grass between his feet. “I'm supposed to be the Chosen One...but what if I get to the Dark Lord and I just...I can't? What if—“

“Then let's go home.” Bob shrugged when Leon looked up at him in consternation. “I'll need some help rebuilding my tavern. Maybe Maolie can gather up some funds...we can sell the gemstones from the Hero's Blade...and you can come and help me run my tavern. No need to worry about Dark Lords anymore.”

“But...But...no!” Leon spluttered, spilling tea everywhere as he gestured angrily. “The Dark Lord killed my parents and burned down my village! He has to be stopped! He has to, or there will be more children just like me, only they won't have prophecies about them that give them the power to face him, and he'll just continue razing the countryside, and...and...and how am I going to live with myself if that happened?”

“Hmm.” Bob got to his feet, crossed to the fire, and picked up the teapot. “Now that doesn't sound like something a coward would say.”

Leon stared at him while Bob refilled his mug with fresh tea, then fetched another for himself and sat down on the log next to him. “What...but...but I'm...scared.”

Bob blew on his tea to cool it. “As you should be, lad. You'd be a right fool otherwise. But maybe the next time you feel yourself freezing up like that, you just need to think about those children you mentioned. If you fear that more than the Dark Lord, I don't think you'll have any trouble defeating him.”

Leon sat staring into his tea for a moment more. Then, at last, he raised it to his lips and drank. “Oh, this is really good!” he said, staring at the tea in surprise before downing it in a few gulps.

“Naturally,” Bob chuckled. “I put a little powdered sleepwort root in, from that old coot we saved from the bandits. Won't affect me much, but to someone of your weight, on an empty stomach, who's hardy slept an hour the last two nights combined? You'll be out like a—“

He looked over, and sure enough, Leon was already nodding, the mug slipping from his hands. With a smile, Bob helped him slump down onto the ground and covered him with his blanket. With any luck, this time his sleep would be unhindered by the Dark Lord or anything else.

Comfyvember 13

Story: The Ambassadors (original) Prompts: Relearning a skill — Surprise compliment — Fresh laundry

Pronunciation note: Shynael = shuh-NIE-ell, Vannasai = VAH-nuh-sigh

“Oh, look!” Shynael called out with a trill of laughter. “The hatchling's finally learned how to walk!”

“Very funny,” Shard grumbled, using the haft of a spear as a walking stick as he hobbled out of his room. His wounds were healing, but he still felt unsteady on his feet as soon as he'd gotten out of bed.

When he looked up from carefully watching his feet as he eased himself down the steps to the main courtyard, he realized that what at first glance he'd taken to be dappled sunlight on the dragons' backs were actually articles of clothing. Shirts and vests and leggings stretched out over their scales. “What's all this?”

“Your clothes,” Shynael trilled, “what's it's look like?”

Vannasai let out a short, musical trill as well. “Did you never do this on your travels? It's always how Vesper used to dry out her clothes.”

“Legacy said we had servants for this sort of thing,” Vesper said softly, coming into view around Vannasai's shoulder, carrying a basket with laundry that she proceeded to spread across Vannasai's green scales warming in the sun.

“That's so smart,” Shard said, hobbling closer. “I always just used bushes on our travels. You have such practical ideas, Vesper.”

She glanced over in surprise, her cheeks coloring at this unexpected praise. She ducked her head, but for once, she wasn't wearing her hooded cloak, and her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, so nothing could fall down and hide her small, pleased smile.

Shard smiled back, even though she wasn't looking. She deserved the praise.

Vesper reached into the basket and pulled out a white sheet—probably the one she'd taken off his bed that morning and replaced. She struggled to drape it over Vannasai's broad side.

“Here,” Shard said, limping over as quickly as he could. “Let me help.”

“Oh—no, you're hurt—“

“It's fine. Look, I'll hold it; you climb up, and I'll pass one end to you.”

After another feeble protest that she could manage on her own, Vesper saw that he was determined, and clambered up onto her dragon's back, with a little nudge from Vannasai's nose. Reaching up over his head and passing a corner of the sheet to her pulled on Shard's sore muscles more painfully than he tried to let on, but finally Vesper caught hold of the sheet and shook it out, snapping smartly in the breeze like the sail of a ship and then draping it over an empty patch of green scales.

The breeze ruffled Shard's hair, refreshingly cool in the bright glare of the sun. With it came the scents of new greenery on the trees, the flowery smell of the soap Vesper had used, and the ever-present smoky odor of dragon. It had become the smell of home.

His knees were beginning to feel weak again, so Shard staggered over to Shynael's side. Seeming to guess exactly what Shard needed most, Shynael obligingly crooked his foreleg at just the right angle that Shard could lower himself onto it like it was a bench, leaning back against Shynael's shoulder.

Shynael curled his neck around to lay his head protectively across Shard's feet. He gave a great yawn, tongue curling back like a cat's, then settled in for a doze in the sun. Vannasai did the same, while Vesper slid down off her dragon's side and sat down with a basket of mending.

A peaceful silence, such as Shard hadn't known for far too long, settled over the courtyard. He closed his eyes and let himself savor it.

Comfyvember 12

Story: The Last of Us Prompts: Hand on shoulder — Practical gift — Movie night

Jackson really was an amazing place. Joel hadn't bothered with Christmas in twenty years—no point, no time, no desire. Too many memories, too much pain. And no one else seemed to care much about mistletoe and tinsel either, not when one wrong move could spell the end for you and everyone around you.

But here in this one small pocket of sanity in a world of chaos, they had Christmas trees. Lights, both electric and candles. Red berries that he didn't think were actually holly, but something close enough. People sang Christmas carols. The chapel had a little hand-carved Nativity set in one corner, a menorah in another, and at certain times of the day, there was story time for the children, where someone would tell traditional winter tales from a multitude of cultures.

And then there were the movie nights. Every Friday night, the whole town—except for a few on guard duty—would crowd into the meeting house, where an ancient projector would be carefully set up with one of their treasured Christmas movies, and everyone would pass around treats while they watched. They didn't have much in the way of cinnamon or vanilla, and chocolate had to be carefully rationed, but there was plenty of corn to pop. They drank steaming mugs of apple cider and something kind of like eggnog. There were cookies sweetened with honey, and candy made from maple syrup. And children's eyes shone with just as much wonder and excitement as he remembered seeing decades ago.

Tonight, the movie was Home Alone. Joel had been reluctant to go to this one; even just hearing the name dredged up memories of Sarah watching it incessantly when she was a kid. But Ellie was enamored with every movie they showed, so she dragged Joel out to see this one too. They sat together and watched the woes of a boy whose cushy life in a big house with a family who could afford a vacation to Paris couldn't have been further from their own experiences.

When they introduced the old neighbor shoveling snow that the kids were afraid of for some reason, Ellie leaned over and nudged Joel in the ribs. “He's just like you,” she whispered. “'Cause he's old.”

For that, Joel nudged Ellie back and reached over to snag a handful of her popcorn. She stuck her tongue out at him, then turned back to the movie and laughed at the next joke.

He kept glancing back at her through the movie. He'd thought it would be painful to revisit this old favorite of Sarah's, but somehow everything was different with Ellie at his side. He watched the way her eyes crinkled up with laughter, the way she contentedly munched on her popcorn, the way the light from the projector reflected on her eyes thrown wide in surprise at Kevin's crazy attempts to keep robbers away from his house.

He saw the movie through Ellie's eyes, and it became new. Just like the rest of the world did.

Later that night, they stood outside the meeting house along with several other huddles of people lingering to say goodnight. Ellie enthusiastically recounted every last one of Kevin's traps, as if they hadn't both just finished watching the same movie. “And then he set his head on fire!” she crowed, throwing her own head back and laughing. “Man, that kid would've been great against the infected!”

“Yeah, he probably would have,” Joel said, glancing around and noticing that they were the last ones there. He clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Come on, let's go home.”

They set off down the snow-covered streets, occasionally waving to fellow townsfolk they passed. They walked in silence until they turned down a side street off the main, well-lit road. Down this way, they saw few lights, since there weren't many people who lived in these houses.

“Is this what it was like?” Ellie's words sounded close, muffled by the snow surrounding them. “Before, I mean. Is this what Christmas was like?”

Joel nodded. “More or less, I guess. Though there were more people trying to get you to buy expensive crap for Christmas presents. Can't say I miss all the commercials and crowds in the mall.”

“I wish I could see a mall at Christmastime,” Ellie sighed wistfully. “Just imagine—you can walk around and just pick something brand new to give somebody for Christmas.”

“Nah, you're much better off here,” Joel said. “Speaking of which,” he added, coming to a stop outside his little cabin, “come on inside. Got something for you.”

Ellie's eyes opened wide with that same wonder he'd seen while watching the movie with her. “Wait, you mean like a Christmas present? But it's not till next week!”

Joel shrugged, leading the way up the steps to his house. “I'm on rotation for patrols next week. Don't know what time I'll make it back on Christmas Day. But it's ready, so I might as well....”

“Okay, so what is it?” Ellie charged up the steps after him, brimming over with smiles and energy.

“All right, all right,” Joel laughed, flipping the lights on and heading over to the cupboard where he'd been keeping her gift. “I didn't wrap it or nothin' yet.”

“I'm guessing it's not another trip to a....” Ellie's voice trailed away as he turned back towards her.

Joel crossed the room and placed in her hands a brand-new leather holster. “Merry Christmas, Ellie.”

For a moment, Ellie just rubbed her thumb back and forth over the soft leather, and Joel wondered if she were disappointed. It was a practical gift, sure, but after her birthday present, maybe she'd been hoping for....

Ellie looked up at him, eyes sparkling. “This is so cool! Where'd you get this?” She immediately buckled it on, pulling an imaginary pistol out and blowing nonexistent smoke away.

“Made it.”

“You made this?”

Joel ran a hand through his hair, feeling a little sheepish now. “Uh...yeah. Hank showed me how. Made a few others didn't look so good before I really got the hang of it....”

“Aw man, now I feel bad that all I got for you was a new coat.” Ellie clapped her hand over her mouth.

Joel grinned. “You got me a coat?”

“Yeah, I traded for it....” Ellie swore. “It was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Well, I promise to look surprised when you give it to me.” He pulled her into a hug.

Ellie squeezed extra tight for a moment. “Thanks, Joel.”

“Merry Christmas.” And it was—a merrier Christmas than he'd had in twenty years.

Comfyvember 11

Story: superhero siblings (original) Prompts: Verbal affirmation — Couch cuddles — Nose kiss

“Jack!” Sophie cried in alarm when she looked up and saw the way her brother staggered through the door.

Knees trembling, hands shaking as he collapsed against the wall, Jack nevertheless tried to give his sisters a reassuring smile as the the door swung shut behind him and the lock quietly clicked. Sophie rushed forward, lending him a shoulder to lean on as she helped him to the couch. She hated how heavily he slumped against her.

“Did he hurt you?” Grace asked in a tiny voice.

Sophie looked over to where her sisters had been half-heartedly playing with the enormous dollhouse Dr. Clementine had given them. At first, they'd been overjoyed with its beautiful, intricate details, down to the working light switches and the little remote-controlled car. But all of Dr. Clementine's lavish gifts had lost their luster in the past few weeks.

“No, I'm fine,” Jack said, but he was so weak that he didn't seem able to lift his head from where it rested on the back of the couch. “He just had me...doing chores.”

“What kind of chores?” Sophie demanded, sitting down next to him.

For a moment, Jack just stared at the ceiling, like he could somehow avoid answering the question that way. But finally, he mumbled, “There was a truck with a flat tire, so I lifted it while the mechanic changed it.”

“Oh. But you've done that before, right?”

Jack wearily closed his eyes. “Not like a pickup truck. Like a delivery truck. Must've been completely full. And...he made me hold it over my head. He wanted all the tires to be checked. And I had to hold it steady the whole time.”

“What?” Anger burned in Sophie's chest. “Why would he need you to do that? You can check the air when they're on the ground, can't you?”

“Yeah,” Jack sighed. “I think he's testing me. I mean...obviously there's the tests in the lab. But he wants to see if I'll do what he says. There were way more guards than usual, and they all had guns. It's like...he wants to see if I'll go along with whatever he asks me to do, or if I'll rebel. As if I can do anything, when....”

Cold fingers of dread clutched around Sophie's throat as she looked around at her siblings. Every time she thought about Dr. Clementine's thinly veiled threats, the way he held each of their wellbeing hostage at different times, promising swift retribution if any of them acted out...she wanted to scream.

“Sorry.” Jack's voice was a harsh whisper that sounded loud in the silence. “I'm sorry I...I can't protect you....” He bit his lip, which had begun to tremble.

Glancing at each other, Rebecca and Grace set aside their dolls and crossed over to the couch. Rebecca leaned up against his side, hugging his arm. Grace climbed right into his lap, wrapping arms and legs koala-style around his torso. She kissed the tip of his nose and then buried her face in the crook of his neck.

Sophie caught a glimpse of tears in Jack's eyes, still pointed up at the ceiling, before she wrapped her arms around all of them in a big hug. “I know it doesn't feel like it right now,” she murmured, tears pricking her eyes, “but you are. You are protecting us. You're the strongest person we know—and I'm not just talking about your powers.”

“Yeah,” Rebecca said quietly. “I always feel like if you're strong, I can be strong too.”

When Jack spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “The only reason...I even try...is because of you guys.”

They were all crying now, in a big huddle on the couch just like that first awful night after their parents had died. But it helped, Sophie thought. It was always scary when Jack got weak like this, so weak he could barely move. It was terrifying to think about how they'd ended up here, in this helpless situation at the mercy of a man who'd turned out to be worse than a monster.

Even after they'd all sniffled themselves to silence, none of them seemed to want to let go. Sitting here like this, they could almost forget about their awful situation. It almost felt normal, like they would all open their eyes and find themselves somewhere else, somewhere safe, somewhere like....

“Let's go home,” Grace whispered.

“Think somebody else's living there now, Gracie,” Jack mumbled, patting her on the back.

“It wouldn't be home without Mom and Dad anyway,” Rebecca muttered, drying her eyes on Jack's sleeve.

“Not our old home,” Grace said, as if this should be obvious. “Dr. Clementine said this would be our home now, but it's not. So let's go find our real home.”

Could she dare to hope again? Sophie had believed Dr. Clementine's friendly smile, as had they all. She'd thought maybe they could build a new life here. It had all turned out to be a dreadful lie...but was it worth it to believe that their true home was still out there somewhere?

“You're right,” Jack said softly, breaking into her thoughts. “We can't just give up. We have to keep trying.”

Sophie straightened just enough to look at Jack's face. He looked a little stronger already, a little more like his old self. “Do you really think we can do it?”

Jack looked around at them all, catching each of their gazes and giving each of them a little smile. “If we all work together...yes.”

Comfyvember 10

Story: clone sister (original) Prompts: Overcoming fear — Sharing a bed — Lullaby

Lightning flashed. Thunder growled. Lily sighed and rolled over, squinting at the light from her phone as she checked the time. Four hours until she had to get up for work, and she couldn't sleep. Tomorrow was going to be just wonderful.

Another crash of thunder. It wasn't just how loud the storm was. She hadn't been able to sleep through a storm in five years.

With a defeated sigh, Lily sat up and turned on the lamp on her bedside table. High time she admitted defeat and just did something useful. She picked up her phone and scrolled through a few playlists before picking one filled with soft, soothing music. She just needed something to focus on instead of the rain pounding the windows.

Loving and fighting Accusing, denying I can't imagine a world with you gone

Hmm. Not her favorite, but....

Lightning flashed again, and beneath the sound of the thunder that shook the whole house, Lily heard the sound of a tiny squeak. Looking up, she found that the door to her room stood ajar, though it was hard to tell if the squeak had come from the hinges or the small girl peering through the gap.

“Ivy? What are you doing up?” Another roll of thunder answered her question. “Are you scared?”

Ivy's round eyes glistened in the golden light of the lamp. “My heart is pounding very hard....”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that means you're scared. Why didn't you go get Mom and Dad?”

Ivy shrank back a little into the shadows. “Your light is on. They are asleep. I do not know why...but I did not want to be alone.”

Hold on, I still want you... Come back, I still need you...

“Well, come in, then,” Lily said impatiently. “No sense in just standing in the doorway.”

Ivy slipped inside and carefully pushed the door shut behind her. She didn't come any closer, just stared at Lily with that flat, unnerving stare. Not for the first time, Lily wished they'd had enough to afford some kind of personality conditioning before they brought her home, even if it wasn't Rose's personality.

The next blast of thunder came an instant after the flash of lightning, deafeningly close. Sounded like the storm was right overhead. Since Lily was already looking at Ivy's face, she saw the exact moment her face scrunched up with fear, eyes going wide, forehead furrowing, breath catching....

They pull you in to feel your heartbeat Can you hear me screaming, “Please don't leave me”?

Rose used to be scared of thunder. When she was Ivy's age, she would run crying into their parents' room on a night like this. She never went to Lily for comfort.

But...Ivy wasn't Rose.

Lily pulled the covers aside. “Come on. You can sleep with me tonight.”

Ivy darted forwards, vaulting up onto the bed and diving under the covers. Lily couldn't suppress a small smile as she tucked the blanket around the little bundle of warmth curling up against her side.

I don't wanna let go I know I'm not that strong I just wanna hear you Saying, "Baby, let's go home."

As she lay down beside Ivy, Lily wondered if she would get any sleep at all this night. But maybe at least Ivy would.

Comfyvember 9

Story: superhero siblings (original) Prompts: Scars — Passing smile — Baking cookies

“Who keeps cookbooks in their library?” Rebecca asked, wrinkling her nose as she flipped through the ancient Betty Crocker cookbook.

“Dr. Kartal, apparently,” Jack said, and the kitchen rang with their laughter.

“He probably just gets his recipes off the internet or something,” Sophie pointed out, wiggling her fingers at Rebecca until she handed over the cookbook. She found the tab for desserts, and flipped to that section of the thick book. “Now, what kind of cookies should we make?”

“Chocolate chip?” Jack suggested.

“Sprinkles!” Grace piped up.

“Peanut butter,” Rebecca said confidently.

“Maybe we should just go with sugar cookies,” Sophie said, biting her lip. “We don't know what kind he likes....”

“Isn't it the thought that counts?” Jack said. “I think he'll be happy no matter what we make for him.”

Rebecca scrunched up her nose again. “Yeah, but you know how awful it is to get a Christmas present you can't even enjoy? Like, what if he doesn't like chocolate or he's allergic to peanuts or something?”

Sophie turned another page in the cookbook and smiled for a moment before turning it around to show her siblings. “How about this one? Sugar cookies, but you can make paint with egg yolks and food coloring. Everybody likes sugar cookies!”

Watching her smile spread to all three of her siblings, Sophie sent them all off to scour the big old kitchen for everything they needed. They'd all helped Dr. Kartal cook on multiple occasions, but he wasn't big on baking, so it took some exploration to find things like baking powder and cookie sheets.

They never did manage to find any kind of mixer, but when Sophie fretted over how much more work it would be to mix it by hand, Grace just said, “You know me better than that!” Standing on a chair at the counter in the middle of the room, she grasped the big bowl with one arm while her other arm moved so fast it was just a blur, mixing together all the ingredients they measured out. In just a few minutes, the batter was smoother than they probably would have managed to achieve even with an electric mixer, though Grace was trembling all over by the end and had to sit at the table with a cup of apple juice and a plate of bread and butter to replenish her energy.

Next they had to roll out the dough and cut out a bunch of festive shapes. Though Rebecca spent the entire time they were mixing the dough scouring the kitchen for cookie cutters, she couldn't find any. At first, they thought they might have to just use the rim of a glass to cut circles or something.

“That's boring!” Rebecca scowled. “I wanted to make Christmas trees and stuff!”

Jack paused in the process of rolling out the dough. “Hey...Sophie, why don't you do it?”

Sophie looked up from the cookbook, where she was looking over the portion of the recipe that explained how to make the paint. “What do you mean?”

“You know, like....” Jack peeled off a bit of the dough in a lopsided triangular shape. “But better, obviously. And we wouldn't even waste any of the dough, because you could make them whatever shape and size we want!”

“Well...okay,” she said doubtfully. “But I have to do it sitting down, you know, or I'll fall over when I'm done. And I can't see the counter when I'm sitting down.”

“Then we'll do it on the table,” Jack said, unperturbed. “C'mon, Rebecca, put some flour down.”

“Wait!” Sophie said before Rebecca could dip her hand into the flour jar. “Make sure you wipe the table off first and then dry it.”

“Yes, Mom,” her siblings chorused.

In just a few minutes, the table was clean, and Rebecca dusted it with a thin layer of flour before Jack placed the mass of dough onto it and carefully rolled it out again. Then the others gathered around eagerly to watch. Sophie felt a little hot around the collar and wished for a moment that they would all turn away and pay no attention to her. In recent weeks, she'd only used her powers for big things. Rough things. Knocking things over or throwing things at their pursuers. It had been a long time since she'd done much precision work.

So she began with something simple: a star. Focusing on the dough in front of her, she envisioned a star shape in the middle, then reached out with her mind and sliced apart the dough, pulling apart the bits of dough as cleanly as if she wielded a knife. Slowly but surely, the star shape lifted out of the dough and then sailed across to the cookie pan Jack held at the ready.

Rebecca and Grace clapped appreciatively, and Sophie blushed a little, but she couldn't suppress her satisfied grin. She could already feel the immobility tugging at her limbs, pulling everything from the neck down back into the chair. But she was perfectly situated to see the tabletop, so she kept going even though she knew it probably meant she'd be sitting here in the kitchen for a long time.

As she proceeded, she went for more and more intricate shapes with the dough. Not just the Christmas trees Rebecca wanted, but also gingerbread men (well, they weren't gingerbread), stockings, candy canes, presents with bows, even a series of Santa Claus in his sleigh with all his reindeer. With the last bits and pieces of dough, Sophie used her mind to squish together letters that spelled out THANK YOU DR KARTAL.

Each new design earned the cheers and applause of her siblings. As each cookie sheet grew full with Sophie's designs, Rebecca and Grace worked to paint them with the egg-yolk glaze they put together, and then Jack whisked the sheet off to the oven and watched the timer carefully.

The old, drafty kitchen was soon full of warmth, laughter, chatter, and the delectable smells of baking cookies. When Dr. Kartal opened the front door that evening and heard the happy hubbub in the kitchen, he paused in the entryway and smiled to himself. His strange little family, his children who had come to him bearing scars that could be felt but not seen, were really acting like children for once. And that was the best Christmas present he ever could have wished for.

Steve and Bucky send each other letters while Bucky is in solitary confinement.

TW: prison life

Comfyvember 8

Story: As My Own Soul (original) Prompts: Found — Thunder shower — Fresh fruit

David's stomach growled as he stared through the gap in the bleachers at the high school soccer team running laps. The coach had got upset at a couple of them for goofing off, and so they all had to run laps instead of actually playing ball.

Tentatively, he tested the split in his lip with his tongue. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth, and his stomach growled again. For some reason, he thought of those stewed tomatoes the cafeteria served sometimes. Straight from a can, not seasoned at all, just heated up and then slopped onto a tray. Everybody complained about it, but right now David actually thought he would have been grateful to have some. Not that he'd ever tried it, since Mom always packed him a lunch.

“David? What are you doing down here?”

With a start, David looked around to find his lanky brother peering in from the side. Of course it was Jonathan. He always knew exactly where to find him.

Bending down almost double, Jonathan squeezed through the opening to David's little hiding space and plopped down on the ground next to him, plucking at his soccer jersey to fan himself. His hair was a dark, sweaty mop, but somehow it still looked artfully messy, like those jerks who walked through the halls full of themselves because girls swooned whenever they passed. Teenagers were weird.

“Shouldn't you be running laps or something?” David mumbled.

“Nah, look.” Jonathan nodded towards the soccer field through the bleachers. “We're getting rained out.”

David peered out and saw the coach directing the team to jog back towards the school building. The light drizzle that had kept up all day was turning into a steady rain, and even as David watched, he saw a flash of lightning in the distance.

Jonathan sat cross-legged, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees to look David in the face. “So how come you're hiding out here? Isn't your lunch break over?”

David shrugged. His stomach growled loudly.

Jonathan's eyebrows suddenly pinched together in a fierce look. “Hang on. Did those idiots steal your lunch again?”

David didn't say anything, staring unseeing out at the empty field.

But Jonathan dove for David's backpack beside him, and David didn't have the energy to protest. After digging around between David's books and pencil case, Jonathan came up empty. No paper bag that Mom always carefully packed so his fruit wouldn't get bruised and his sandwich wouldn't get smushed. No brownie left over from the church bake sale, either. He'd been looking forward to that.

“David.” Jonathan's voice was low and dangerous—not dangerous to him, but to anyone who got in his way. It reminded David of the times Dad used to tell him to go to his room. “You have to tell somebody about this.”

“Told you,” David muttered, not looking at him.

Jonathan snorted. “Barely. And I meant a grown-up, genius. There's not a whole lot I can do.”

David knew he was right. Jonathan was always right. But.... “It's just easier to let them do it,” he sighed. “'Swhat Mom always says. 'Just ignore them, and they'll get bored when they see they can't get to you.'”

“Yeah. Looks like you're doing a great job of not letting them get to you.”

David shot him an annoyed look. “Yeah, well, you weren't there, okay? You don't know the kinda stuff they say. You don't know what it's like to have to sit there and listen to everybody laughing at you, and you have to just let them do it, because if you fight back you know you can't win. You don't know what it's like to just...to just sit there...and nobody ever sits next to you...and they're standing around talking about their birthday parties or whatever and nobody invites you, and...and it's like you're...invisible!”

“I don't know what it's like, huh?” Jonathan's voice was soft and sad. “Come on, dude. You know me better than that.”

David bit his lip—then winced, having forgotten the cut in the left corner.

“What's this?” Jonathan's voice suddenly sharpened again, and he reached out to grab David's chin, turning his face so he could see the cut. “Did they do that?”

David nodded, and when he blinked, he felt a tear roll down his cheek. For once, he didn't care.

Jonathan stared down at him with anger, frustration, and helplessness swirling in his eyes. Because what could he do? He couldn't go beat up a bunch of ten-year-olds. He couldn't march around the school as David's bodyguard to fend off the bullies. “David...please. Please tell the principal or a teacher or...or the lunch lady, for Pete's sake. If they run around thinking they can just steal anybody's lunch and get away with it, how d'you think they'll be when they grow up? Probably end up robbing a bank or something. So...think of this as helping them, if you're not gonna help yourself.”

David tried to imagine Ryan Bradshaw wearing a bandanna around his face and sneaking out of a bank with a huge sack of money. He snorted.

Smiling a little, Jonathan swiped the back of his fingers down each of David's cheeks, wiping away the tears. “That's better. Now, eat up before your stomach devours you from the inside.”

He tossed a bright red apple into David's hands. David gaped up at him. “Where did you...?”

“It was in your bag, silly,” Jonathan laughed. “Guess those bullies of yours like ham and cheese better than apples. Idiots.”

David opened his mouth to bite into the apple, then winced again when the movement pulled on his cut.

“Aw, here.” Jonathan took the apple back, then pulled out his pocket knife and started slicing into it.

“Isn't it against the rules to bring a knife to school?” David asked, accepting the first slice Jonathan handed over.

Jonathan grinned, slicing into the crisp white flesh of the apple with deft motions. “Just watch them try and stop me.”

David rolled his eyes, munching on the apple slices on the uninjured side of his mouth. The sweet yet tangy juice filled his mouth, tasting a million times better than it usually did after his PB&J sandwich.

Thunder rumbled overhead, louder this time, and cold drips of water kept falling on his head. “Hey, we should probably head inside pretty soon,” Jonathan said, glancing out at the rain. “But will you go to the principal's office or something? You've already missed the start of your class; you'll probably end up there anyway.”

He had a point. David accepted the last two apple slices, then took a deep breath. “If I do it...will you come with me?”

Jonathan grinned, tousling David's hair. “Sure thing, dude. But you have to do all the talking.”

Comfyvember 7

Story: bartender story (original) Prompts: Eye of the storm — Sleeping on shoulder — First hug

Bob looked up from the potatoes he was peeling. As usual, the others had scattered to collect firewood, scavenge for what they could find in the woods, maybe even see if they could catch a rabbit or pheasant or something. Fresh meat would be nice.

Also as usual, Maolie sat aloof from everyone else's bustling. Once she'd cast her fire spell in the ring of rocks, she considered her share of labor taken care of. While this irritated Leon to no end, Bob had grown used to it. No sense milking a cow when there's milk in the pot about to curdle, as he always said.

But there was something different about her tonight. Instead of sitting prim and proper with her nose in the air, as if looking down upon the whole world and finding it lacking, now Maolie sat on her bedroll with her knees tucked under her chin, staring morosely into her fire.

Ah. The eye of the storm. After the torrent of fury (and thunderbolts and fireballs) she'd poured out over the man who turned out not to be her father, it seemed she had completely spent herself. But he had a shrewd sense there was more of this storm to come.

“A copper for your cogitations,” Bob said, breaking the silence.

Maolie glanced over at him, then sighed and looked up into the sky turning rosy with the sunset. “I'm sure you can imagine.”

Bob shifted to a more comfortable position on his tree stump. “Oh, I learned long ago not to assume anything about what passes through a young maiden's mind,” he said mildly.

With a groan, Maolie ran a hand over her head, ending on the patch of newly shaven skin at the base of her skull. A few hairs were just beginning to cover the mark on her skin that had made her whole life a lie. “You must think me a complete fool now.”

He gave her a warm chuckle and a wink. “Just now?”

Her face fell, her chin trembled...and then all of her poise and restraint crumbled like a cracker in a bowl of soup. She buried her face in her knees again and let out a heartbroken sob.

Bob hesitated. Young women in general, and Maolie in particular, could be as temperamental as a poached egg. He didn't want to say or do the wrong thing, didn't want to hurt her further...but he was pretty sure that continuing to sit here in silence would only make things worse.

Setting down his knife and half-peeled potato, Bob wiped his hands on his apron and crossed over to her, settling himself down on the blanket beside her with a groan of effort. She looked up in surprise, her eyes red and her nose running—very far removed from the demeanor of the elegant princess she'd always thought she was.

With a kindly smile, Bob ducked his head so he could catch her eye. “I'm afraid I can't fix your problems for you, lass, but what I can do is give you a hug. Would you like that?”

Wiping her nose on her sleeve in a very unladylike fashion, Maolie stammered, “Oh, but I don't...I mean, I've never...yes. Yes...I would like that.”

Did she mean she'd never hugged anyone before? Sorrow pricked Bob's heart as he looked into her eyes—the eyes of a child, really. A lonely little girl, raised by servants and tutors in a great big mansion far away from whoever her family truly was, with no friends or father or mother to hold her close on days when she felt as wretched as this. No one but those who held her at arm's length, teaching her to act like a proper young lady...but not like a young girl who was loved.

“Here,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close against his side. For a moment, she stiffened, years of training and propriety warring against the very human need for comfort. But finally she slumped against him, resting her head on his shoulder and letting the tears flow again.

“I've...I've treated you terribly,” Maolie sniffled. “I-I thought...maybe you would say...this is what I d-deserve.”

He patted her gently on the back. “Come now, lass. You know me better than that. At least, I certainly hope you would after all this time.”

Maolie drew a great, shuddering breath. “Then...d-do you hate me?”

“Not even a bit.” Bob patted her head, gently smoothing down flyaway bits of her long, dark hair that had come out of her careful braids in their mad dash from her supposed father's castle.

It occurred to him that Maolie was of an age that it wouldn't be so strange to think that she was his daughter. Well, if there was any sort of resemblance between them, and if Bob had ever had a child before Bella had caught fever and died.

Maolie was cantankerous and a handful to take care of on her best days—two handfuls on her worst—but as she settled deeper into his embrace, he only felt fondness for her. She almost looked like she might fall asleep right here on his shoulder, and even though a voice in the back of his mind nagged at him that those potatoes wouldn't peel themselves, Bob couldn't drag himself away.

Maolie needed this...and maybe he did too.

Comfyvember 6

Story: The Ambassadors (original) Prompts: Weak crying — Trusting — Slow hug

Pronunciation note: Shynael = shuh-NIE-ell

The rain pounded down, splashing into the puddle Shard lay in and sending flecks of mud onto his cheek. But Shard didn't care. The mud was swiftly washed away by the cold rain.

And, every now and then, by a warm trickle slipping from his closed eyelids and dripping down the side of his face.

Get away from me! This is all your fault! I hate you!

The words echoed in Shard's ears, the ghosts of his own cries haunting him from the shadows. He kept his eyes closed, but that did nothing to banish the memory of those golden eyes widening, staring at him with shock, hurt, betrayal....

“I'm sorry,” he whispered to the empty air. “Please...Please forgive me. I was wrong. I'm sorry, Shynael, I'm sorry....”

There was a hollow in his chest, a gaping cavity that he'd carved out with his own hands when he'd struck Shynael. When he'd raised his hand against the best friend he'd ever known. The only thing he had left in this wide, empty world.

Because what would he do without Shynael? Where could he go? Not back to the village, not after they'd seen him defending a baby dragon. And anyone anywhere else he ventured would look at him with suspicion. Why was he wandering alone in this world? And if anyone saw the scales covering his body like scars, the whole reason this stupid argument had begun in the first place....

They would flee in terror. They would hunt him down with pitchforks, treating him like the monster he was.

No one would laugh with him. No one would play games with him, or lie quietly and gaze up at the stars with him. No one would curl around him like a living blanket on the cold knights or drape a wing over his head to shelter him from the rain. No one would listen to his deepest thoughts or ramble on about every inane thing that entered his mind. No one would look up at him with eyes reflecting the flicker of firelight, settle his head into Shard's lap, and begin purring when Shard rubbed his nose.

“Shynael....” His throat ached, his chest ached, his eyes ached. He wanted to scream, but there was barely any breath left in his lungs. “Shynael, please...I just want you back...please....”

A rumble of thunder loud enough that he felt the ground tremble beneath him. Funny, he hadn't seen any lightning. Maybe a bolt from heaven would strike him where he lay, and then he wouldn't have to live in this desolate, empty world any longer....

“SHARD!”

The ear-splitting roar made Shard sit straight up, heart pounding. Towering far above him, barely visible in the darkness except for the rain glistening off a thousand black scales, Shynael loomed like an avenging angel with wings spread wide.

Then Shynael folded his wings against his body and his head drooped down lower than Shard's. His big golden eyes almost seemed to glow as he looked plaintively into Shard's. “I'm...I'm sorry, Shard, I'll go away again, I promise, I just...it was raining, and I thought maybe...maybe you were cold, and I just wanted to make sure...you were...okay....”

His voice trailed away as Shard heaved himself to his feet, staggering slightly as his legs took a moment to wake up, after lying on the ground for most of the day. More tears welled up in Shard's eyes, making it completely impossible to see Shynael in the darkness. So he just hung his head and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I'm sorry, Shynael. I'm so sorry. I was wrong. I-I never should have...it's n-not your fault....” He covered his face with one hand, trying to suppress a sob.

Shynael shuffled forward, and after a rustling sound, the sound of the rain took on a different quality as it suddenly stopped beating on top of Shard's head. Shard easily recognized the sound of rain pattering against Shynael's leathery wing. He also knew that hot breath brushing against the back of his neck, sending steam wafting up from his limbs after hours in the cold.

“Shard...does this mean...you don't hate me?” His voice was tiny, far too small for such a large creature. It was the voice of a little boy—a little black-haired boy with golden eyes staring up imploringly at his big brother....

With a choked sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob, Shard reached his hands into the darkness until his fingers found scales as smooth as obsidian. He moved slowly, not wanting to startle Shynael—not after what had happened. But Shynael just held still, waiting, trusting, hoping.

“You know me better than that,” Shard whispered, finding the curve of Shynael's neck and leaning forward until his cheek rested against warm flesh. “You know me better than I know myself.” He wrapped his arms around Shynael's neck. “Even when I'm angry...even when I'm being stupid and selfish...I could never hate you.”

He could feel the sob moving up Shynael's throat before it burst out into the air. Shynael curled his neck gently around Shard's whole body in his best approximation of a hug. “I...I was really, really really hoping you were gonna say that! I was scared, Shard. I was scared and sad and...and-and lonely!”

Tears stung his eyes again, and he squeezed Shynael even tighter. “Me too. I'm sorry...I'm sorry....”

Shynael gave a mighty sniff. “You just better not leave me ever again, okay?”

“Okay. I promise.”

Pick one of my characters that sounds interesting, and whichever one has the most votes will get a full description!

Feel free to do the same ;) Characters can be from fanfiction or original, they don't necessarily have to be a character you made up--the point is to have fun describing them.

I took this in a sort of "explain a character badly" direction, which I'm not sure was the point, but it was fun XD Also, I have way too many characters, so I'll be making several of these, picking randomly across my main fics and original stories, until they've all been picked, because I can >:D