I'm finally putting this together. Will update as new stories are written/completed
{C}

Captain America/Avengers:

His Mighty Shield*

Life Will Begin with the Color on My Skin

Mrs. America*

The Adventures of Larry Brown, Green Grocer*

To Chase a Beater

When the World Comes Crashing Down*

Boys' Night | Eating Plums on a Sunday | Hate You ( Read more... )

He did regret it sometimes, the fact that he had remained anonymous through it all. But there had been so many things to think of, so many people affected by the children, and he had to protect all of them. Yes, setting them up in a forest full of trolls probably hadn’t been the best move, but Zelda was tough, and she had said that it was all right ( Read more... )

She was still very young, and had notions about romance and children and her mother that couldn’t be entirely squashed by the snarky, cynical attitudes of her siblings. But growing up in such a family had made her wonder, had made her think about her mother and her father and their relationship.

Mori didn’t think it could be that great, if her ( Read more... )

Mosu didn’t talk much. She sang, and she drew pictures, but she told stories rarely and gossiped even less.

No, Mosu’s strength was in keeping secrets. She knew everything about the Secret Treehouse, and she kept the knowledge well. The others all knew they could turn to her if they wanted to tell something that no one else could know about, and ( Read more... )

Being a generally happy person, it always hit Songstress hard when others had problems. Oh, she’d be the first to admit that she didn’t always make everyone happy-her stories could be dark, as anyone’s could, and when the little ones cried, she knew that she had done her job well-but she usually wanted others to be happy in their lives outside of ( Read more... )

Of the ones who had come, Fuzzy was the eldest, not that it really made much difference. She didn’t have any more answers than her siblings, in spite of having a little longer to wheedle them out of their mother. And she knew as well as anyone that she wouldn’t get the answer she was seeking simply by asking for it. When they were done, Fuzzy ( Read more... )

They were all her children, the ones who lived in the house built in the trees and hidden from the world (or as hidden as it could be, with such a large extended family). They had different interests, different ideas about the world, different dreams. But they were all her children. And when they all gathered and told stories to each other, the ( Read more... )