#The story idea takes place in a mental hospital for (mostly) criminals! Let them have done genuinely bad things even if they’re improving!

[stars-obsession-pit]

Following an accident, Danny wakes up in Gotham City in a DC universe. Lacking any forms of ID or possessions beyond the clothes on his back, he’s forced to commit some crimes to survive. Minor crimes, but still.

And then he gets caught.

During the court proceedings, they come to the mistaken conclusion that he’s a Meta suffering from some psychiatric issues such as Cotard’s Syndrome (a real rare condition where a person holds the delusional belief that they’re dead/don’t exist/etc).

Thus, between his “need for mental treatment” and the concerns about housing someone with his unique physical traits, he is sentenced to spend time in Arkham Asylum. He’s under pretty low security aside from the anti-Meta stuff and with has more freedoms than some other inmates, but it’s still not a great experience. Even at the best of times, Arkham is hardly a nice place.

Some of his fellow residents are decently chill all things considered, but lots very much aren’t.

[uvobreakmylegs]

30 Seconds

This one might get a sequel but I’m not sure yet

Bodyswap Soulmate AU

Warnings: gore, graphic depictions of violence, threats of violence, kidnapping

It was like something out of a horror movie.

Several men lay before you in a darkened room, pieces of their bodies – their heads even – completely gone, the marks that were left around the gaping wounds that had an odd white glow to them, akin to something having taken a bite out of them.

Something like the fish that swam in the air above you.

A million questions flew through your mind, of what the hell this was; who these people were; how was there no blood despite the obvious carnage - you were literally just in the bathtub, how did you even get here?! Then you remembered that humans needed to breathe in order to live, and your lungs hadn't taken in anything since this nightmare scenario started.

You let out a breath, and along with it escaped a small, sad whimpering noise as you tried to process the scene in front of you. And then you froze again.

“What....”

You were speaking, but the words that were coming out of your mouth were not in your voice.

For the first time, you looked down at your body.

This was not your body.

You were in the body of a pale, bare-chested man wearing a long black trench-coat with fur on the lining, holding a book in one hand.

Your discovery was so jarring that you almost forgot about the men and the fish.

“Y-y-you..... Phantom Troupe monster!”

The words were just about screamed at you and you jumped back. The man laying closest was facing you, the entire top half of his head completely gone. He had to have been missing most, if not all of his brain. How the hell was he still talking? Glancing at the bodies of the other men, you saw that, to your horror, they were still alive as well. Groaning and moving as best as they could despite how the severity of their wounds meant that they should not still be alive. One of the fish came down close to your head and you flinched, stumbling backwards until you fell to the floor.

“Damn you, Chrollo!” the man from before yelled.

“Even if you don't die tonight, someone will get you someday! You'll pay for your crimes, you Meteor City piece of trash!”

His last words were spat out before one of the fish dipped down and bit off the remainder of his head, leaving behind the stump that was his neck and more of that white glow that came from the edges of his skin. His body began to flail, with what remained of his arms and legs banging against floor. Maybe in an attempt to crawl to you, or maybe it was simply all he could do at that point.

Your breath started coming out as short, harsh gasping as you began to hyperventilate, your eyes going back up to the monstrous fish that still moved about. They didn't seem to be paying attention to you, but you had no idea when that could change. Nothing about this made sense, but you did your best to reign in the terror that kept you immobile. The single rational thought of “get out of this room” pushed through your panic, and your eyes darted about the space as you tried to find an exit. But a glance at the large mirror on the wall that reached up to the ceiling made you pause once more.

The man who's body you inhabited sat next to you in the reflection, his eyes - your eyes? - wide as you took it all in. A smooth pale face, slicked back dark hair, an odd tattoo on the forehead and gray eyes that filled with tears before they began to trickle down your - his - cheeks. Breath came in harsher and you could hear a heartbeat thundering in your ears. You were in someone else's body and you had no clue what to do or why this was happening. And that didn't even factor in the deadly fish or the men currently being eaten alive by them.

In the mirror's reflection, you saw a door open behind you, a strip of artificial light coming from it that grew larger as it opened wider. You snapped your head back to see a a blonde woman in a purple suit standing at the door. The neutral expression she wore morphed into one of shock as she looked at you, as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

“Chrollo?” she asked.

And suddenly it was all gone.

You were standing by the hanger that held your purse, holding your wallet in one hand and your ID in the other. A shiver ran through you, and you realized that you were naked and dripping with water, like you'd gotten out of your bath without drying off first.

You stared ahead at the wall blankly for a few moments. And then, like a car smashing into a concrete slab, the utter shock and fear of what you had just experienced hit you, and you fell to the floor crying, holding yourself as you tried to understand what had just happened.

You didn't get any sleep that night. Every time you closed your eyes, all you could see were those men lying in pieces and the nightmare-fuel fish. Hours later, when you had finally calmed down, you took to the internet to try and figure out what had happened and what the hell you had just seen.

A Google search on “swapping bodies” brought up a few results, but they all seemed questionable to you. The most common claim was that it was how you found your “soulmate”. An enthusiastic blogger had detailed her experience with finding her current husband in this way, of how one day she and her husband unexpectedly swapped bodies for thirty seconds and later found each other. The blog post quickly devolved into the kind of romantic mush that was only fit for the most asinine of rom-coms that included how the blogger and her husband spent months trying to find each other on opposite ends of the continent because they knew they “were meant for each other”. Other posts that didn't appear outwardly fake told basically the same thing with much less flair, and the term “soulmate” came up several times. You weren't sure how willing you were to believe in such a concept. If everyone was supposed to have a soulmate, shouldn't such a phenomenon be reported on in the mainstream? Wouldn't there be people trying to figure out how such a thing was possible? If it was real, you wouldn't need to dig through personal online testimony from anonymous users to read about it.

And yet it had happened to you. Your consciousness had entered the body of a man who, if these posts were correct, was the person you were meant to be with. The only other option was that you were going crazy, and if you were really just having delusions that felt that real, then you needed to get yourself checked into a mental hospital.

Speaking of that man...

The words that had been yelled at you were still fresh in your mind. Phantom Troupe. Meteor City. Chrollo. The woman you saw near the end had also used the word “Chrollo” when referring to you, so it seemed likely that it was his name.

While looking up body-swapping had produced mostly questionable results, the next few terms brought up practically nothing.

Google didn't recognize the name “Chrollo” and kept trying to autocorrect it. “Phantom Troupe” brought up a few conspiracy forums talking about an underground criminal group that had allegedly slaughtered thousands, but the posters claimed that if you wanted any more information you would need to pay to get it on the “dark web”. The only one that gave you something of a lead was “Meteor City”. You found an article from a few years back reporting on some government official speaking out against the city's existence and announcing plans to have it destroyed, though the words he used to describe this process were a bit more diplomatic. But when you tried looking for a follow up to the article, you only found various reports of how the official and his entire team vanished overnight.

Meteor City: A place populated by undocumented inhabitants and a hub for criminal activity.

The Phantom Troupe: A group of criminals allegedly responsible for countless deaths but with no official record of any of their crimes.

Chrollo: A person who was somehow connected to these things and, if what you had read earlier was true, was also your “soulmate”.

The term still seemed ridiculous to you, but if that really was the case, and the Phantom Troupe really was as bad as the things you had read, then you were in danger. And you had no clue where to start to try and protect yourself.

The sky was tinted with the pink and yellow hues of sunrise when you finally fell into a dreamless sleep, exhaustion finally taking you. The laptop remained open in front of you, Google once more showing you no results for the name “Chrollo”.

The next few weeks passed by with you on constant high alert, always looking over your shoulder and triple checking the locks on your door at night. You were jumpy, and every time you came across someone who looked even remotely like the woman or “Chrollo”, you had a hard time breathing. The only upside had been that your fear left you exhausted most nights, and your subconscious was too tired to conjure up the images of those fish in your mind while you slept. Any time you did dream, that scene played again and you often woke up with a start.

Several of your friends had noticed the change in your behavior and had approached you privately to ask what was wrong. As much as you wanted to tell them everything, you doubted they would believe you. So you had made up a story that you were worried that you were being stalked, citing that you felt like you were being watched and that you had come back once to find items of yours displaced (which the second part wasn't technically untrue).

Most of them tried to insist that you go to the police, but begrudgingly backed down when you told them that there wasn't enough evidence for anything like that. Their plan B was then to stay around you as much as they could, at least one person escorting you from your apartment to you job, and several nights a week a few people would stay over. Having them around you and just hanging out with them calmed you. The time you spent with them were brief moments of levity that took your mind off of what you were actually afraid of, and when you were alone after, terrible thoughts of them being ripped apart and eaten plagued your mind.

The moments of peace you had with them lasted for about a month, where you had all agreed that the “stalker” wasn't an issue anymore since there had been no trace of such a person. As much as you wanted them to stay with you, you weren't about to try and push it for fear of them thinking you were lying (which you technically were). They all made it clear that you could go to any of them if something came up again, and one of them, Harrison, gave you a taser, just in case things took a turn for the worse. Carrying such a thing was nerve-wracking, but at least it wasn't a weapon that could do permanent damage to you if you somehow managed to accidentally use it on yourself, and it gave you some comfort that you were no longer walking around completely defenseless.

It had been over two months since that incident, and you had yet to see anything of that man. It wasn't lost on you that when you had returned to your body, you had been holding your ID with your full name and address. Given the state you had found yourself in, he'd wasted no time finding out who you were, having gone straight from the bathroom to where you kept your purse to find your identity. He was calm enough in that situation to know he had limited time to find out about you and had managed to do just that. He was planning on tracking you down, you were certain. And while you wanted to run as far away as possible, it wasn't so easy to just pack up and leave.

Your lease renewal had been coming up, and you needed time to find new housing in a different area. Somewhere away from here where he hopefully couldn't find you. It wasn't what you wanted, but you needed to get away. Whatever it was that Chrollo wanted, whether it actually because of a “soulmate” connection or if he just wanted to kill you, nothing good could come from meeting him. Of that you were sure.

As your final day in your apartment came closer and more and more of your belongings were packed into boxes, the weight of the anxiety that had been on you began to lift. There had been no sign of that man, and as that date approached you felt a sense of relief, that you really were going to leave and he wouldn't be able to find you after that. You'd deactivated all of your social media accounts and once again asked your friends for help, this time to just keep quiet about where you had gone to in fear of the “stalker”. If a random man approached them asking questions about you they would know better than to answer, and your landlord legally couldn't discuss the whereabouts of former tenants.

You paused in the middle of packing up some of your clothes.

Legally.

A man who fed people to monster fish probably didn't care about what was “legal” or not. And he probably wouldn't accept any stories your friends gave him if he was to go to them.

The fear that had been in the back of your mind since you'd opened up to your friends had been growing stronger. That Chrollo's response to you running would be to take it out on them. That they would deny knowing you when he asked and he would bring out those murder fish and make them pay for lying with their lives.

'I should warn them', was your initial thought, to tell them everything. But telling them the whole story would make things more difficult. They'd probably keep you from moving away and try to make you seek psychiatric help. Getting out of the area after that would likely be impossible. And it didn't help that you had no proof that he actually was coming after you; only a strong feeling that he definitely would be closing in on you sometime soon.

Your friends didn't deserve whatever horrible fate he could bring upon them, but you weren't going to stick around to see what happened to you if he found you. The best bet for them was that he would just leave them alone.

You continued with your packing, telling yourself over and over again that he wouldn't do anything to them and that there was no shame in running to save yourself, doing your absolute best to ignore the part of you that repeated that they wouldn't survive.

Maybe deep down you were just as terrible of a person as your soulmate and this connection to him was your punishment.

Everything that wasn't packed away in a moving truck had been stuffed into a suitcase that waited for you at your now empty apartment. Just one more night here and you would have successfully uprooted your life and moved on to one that was hopefully better.

You were walking back after your last shift at work, thinking of the things you might do after your move while also wondering how far you would need to go to protect your identity, maybe look into changing your name and dying your hair. The afternoon sun was beating down on you and the sidewalk was filled with other people who were likely also just getting off of work, the level of noise fairly high.

Being in a crowd of people had always made you feel safe. You had reasoned that there was no way anything would happen if you were surrounded by potential witnesses; no matter what sort of things your soulmate was capable of, there was no way he could do anything that could hurt dozens of people all at once. That was what you had told yourself all this time.

But the next time you glanced up, you froze.

He was there.

That man whose reflection you had seen in the mirror, whose body you had inhabited for that brief period of time, was standing in front of you, his hands in his pockets and his head tilting to the side with a small smile when the two of you made eye contact.

Your hands rigidly gripped the strap of your purse while your legs stayed stiff. You wanted to run, you desperately wanted to run away, but like that night when you had swapped bodies, your limbs felt like lead and you couldn't bring yourself to move more than a few inches.

He started to approach and you tensed. You'd only managed to take a single step back before he was on you, his hand firmly gripping your arm and pulling you with him to the side.

“It would be rude to stand in the way of all of these people, don't you agree?” he asked, motioning to the people who now passed the two of you by.

You didn't answer, and all you could do was hope that someone would notice that something was wrong with you two and raise some sort of alarm. Remembering the taser Harrison had given you, your free hand slipped down to your purse, trying your best to remove it without him noticing.

“It's very nice to meet you,” he continued, “I'm Chrollo.”

His hand stayed on your arm, and he clearly had no intention of letting go.

Words didn't want to leave you, instead blocking up in your throat. All you really wanted to do was scream and get away from him. The man you had been stressing out over for the past few months found you just as you were about to leave and had casually came up to introduce himself. As if the circumstances surrounding your swap weren't any issue.

Taking in a few deep breaths, you composed yourself enough to speak, all the while he waited for you patiently.

“This.... This isn't a very nice meeting for me,” you said, “actually, I really wish you didn't come to see me.”

Surprisingly he nodded, seemingly understanding why you didn't want to meet him.

“Our switch happened at a very unfortunate time; I can't blame you for being apprehensive.”

..... Apprehensive?

This man made you a witness to that horror show and he was brushing it off as just apprehension?

“That's kind of an understatement, don't you think?” you snapped, the fear that had kept you petrified breaking for a moment.

“I understand that you're afraid. But you shouldn't be. I'm not going to hurt you; I'm here to take you with me.”

“I don't want to go with you,” you said.

“I won't make you witness anything else like that. You'll be taken care of for the rest of your life,” Chrollo continued, ignoring your statement.

“You made me watch those men die.”

You then hissed in pain as his grip on your arm became tighter. Evidently your voice was raising too much for his liking.

“There isn't much that can be done about that now,” said Chrollo, “I'm sorry that you needed to see that, but in time I'm sure you'll forgive me for it.”

He remained nonchalant, that small smile still on his face while he spoke of those dead men and what you had experienced as if he was talking about the weather. Below, you found the taser in your purse and gripped it, readying yourself to bring it out.

“I want nothing to do with you.”

Chrollo sighed.

“I'm afraid you have no choice. Soulmates are meant to be together,” he answered. His other hand gripped your chin, raising you up as if to pull you into a kiss.

“You were meant to be with me,” Chrollo whispered.

He stopped suddenly, his expression changing to one mild surprise as he looked down to where you had jammed the taser beneath his ribs, your thumb hovering over the ON button.

“Get the fuck away from me or I'll turn this on. I'll scream for help and tell everyone here that you're trying to kidnap me,” you hissed.

With the way the two of you were positioned, none of the passersby could see the taser you held against him. So there was still a way to get out of this with nothing happening, which would be the best option for him. If he left you now, you would be able to escape and leave all of this behind in favor of your new life. Chrollo was bold, you would give him that, as you had been so sure he wouldn't approach you in public. But being in public gave you an advantage: a young woman yelling about a man attacking her would instantly draw attention, and Chrollo would have all sorts of scrutiny on him. A man who officially didn't exist wouldn't want dozens of witnesses to any sort of crime. He had to leave you alone.

Chrollo stared at the taser for a few moments, and then looked back to you, his expression neutral. Despite your threat, he wasn't letting go, though his grip had lessened.

“This is a surprise. With what Pakunoda said and what we saw on our observation of you, you seemed like a much more compliant type. Where exactly is this fight coming from?” he murmured.

The way those gray eyes seemed to look right through you made you more uncomfortable the longer you kept eye contact, and you glanced back to the people around you. No one had noticed what was going on between you two; even if they couldn't see the taser, you had been hopeful that at least one person would have seen that something was wrong and would have come up to investigate. You had broken out into a nervous sweat, and your anxiety only got worse the longer he stared at you.

“Do it.”

The words that he spoke so calmly caught you by surprise, and once more you couldn't speak.

“If you're that desperate to try and get away from me, then turn that thing on and call for help,” he said, “but know that if you do that, all of these people will die. And you won't be getting away from me.”

You looked again to the crowd of people.

“You.... You can't do that. There's too many..... You'd never be able to...”

That smile returned to his face.

“My dear, much like how you know very little of taking yourself off the grid, you also know very little of what I am capable of. I assure you, I can kill everyone here within a matter of minutes. Of course, I would rather you didn't drive me to that point; it would be much easier for all of us if you just came with me.”

The hand on your jaw slid downwards until it was gripping your own, and he pushed the taser harder against himself as if to encourage you to use it.

“Do it, but know that it won't change anything. All you'll be accomplishing is killing these people and making things unpleasant for yourself once I take you to your new home. Cooperate, and you won't be responsible for anyone dying.”

Despite his slight smile, his eyes were cold. He meant it when he said he would kill everyone. You recognized what he was doing with the way he worded it: that you would be responsible for the deaths of these bystanders, as if you were the one willing to murder just to make a point. But you also recognized that you had no way of stopping him – no, that wasn't correct. You had a way of stopping him, and that was to do as he said.

The crushing defeat you felt snuffed out the fight that had been sparked within you, and your head hung low when he pulled your hand away and slipped the taser out of your loosened grip.

“Smart girl,” he said, placing it in his coat pocket.

Chrollo wasted no time in taking you away, pulling you forward and placing an arm across your shoulders, ensuring that you couldn't pull away from him. The two of you walked in silence, making your way past the other men and women in the street. So many people around you, and not one of them was aware that you were being taken against your will.

“You don't need to hold me like this,” you mumbled.

Chrollo didn't answer, nor did he look at you, his eyes staring straight ahead as you turned a corner down a smaller side street. There weren't as many people down this way, and as you came towards the end, you saw two people standing next to a van waiting for you and Chrollo. One of them was a blonde man in light purple clothes that you had never seen before, but the other one you recognized: the woman in the suit who you had seen just before you left Chrollo's body that night. Their gazes were heavy on you as you got closer.

“No trouble then, boss?” the man asked Chrollo, his tone lighthearted.

“Not much,” Chrollo answered. He finally pulled away from you and, to your surprise, pulled out your taser that he had pocketed earlier, tossing it to the man.

“Get rid of that, will you?”

Neither of them said anything: the man inspected it before laughing a little while the woman raised an eyebrow at you. You kept your gaze on your shoes, not saying anything as you were guided to an open back door of the van. You were sat in the middle of the back seat, in between the woman and Chrollo while the other man climbed into the front passenger's seat. Another woman was already sitting in the driver's seat, this one older, most likely middle-aged. She was staring ahead blankly, and you noticed a strange needle with a bat on the end sticking out of her neck.

“Don't worry about it,” said Chrollo, as if reading your mind.

“Let's get going. How far to the next town?”

“With this traffic, it'll likely be about fifteen minutes,” the woman said.

“Alright. Drop us off there; I'll find a car and take her the rest of the way myself. You two shouldn't have too hard of a time taking care of things here,” Chrollo replied. The man and the woman nodded, and a silence fell over all of you as the van began moving.

The man in front looked like he was playing on his phone while the woman in the driver's seat moved like a robot as she drove, and the woman on your left stared out of the window, occasionally glancing at you, as if anticipating an attempt to escape. As much as you wanted to, you weren't stupid enough to try that. The doors on either side of you were blocked off, and any attempt to get out through the back door would be stopped easily. You were trapped and there was nothing you could do.

You stared down at your hands while you gripped your knees, your fingernails slowly digging into your flesh while you silently berated yourself for getting caught, for not doing enough to prevent this, for not telling anyone the truth. Because of your preparations for your move, it would take your friends a long time to figure out you were missing, and by that point who knows where you would be. This was your fault and you were paying for it.

A hand suddenly covered one of yours, and you glanced over to Chrollo. He pulled your hand into his, lacing your fingers together while he smiled at you again, as if sensing your turmoil and trying to calm you down. It didn't feel genuine, however, and you wanted to pull your hand away from his.

It's a better idea not to, a voice inside you said, and you turned your gaze back downwards, leaving your hand in his and trying to ignore the way he chuckled at you.

[wondersofdreaming]

Lost Boys - TEN

Characters: August Walker / Captain Syverson / Walter Marshall

Word count: 2.605

Warnings: Guns. Lost brothers. Blood. Death. Shooting. The aftermath of the explosion.

Author’s note: The end. I know it's crap but thanks for reading anyways.

Divider by @firefly-graphics​!

Everything in this story is a figment of my imagination, with inspiration and snippets from the movies ‘Mission: Impossible - Fallout’, ‘Sand Castle’, ‘Nomis/Night Hunter’. This is pure fanfiction. If something doesn’t make sense, it’s not supposed to.

I do now own any of the characters from the movies that I write about in this story. Only the OFC’s are mine.

Feedback is appreciated.

MASTERLIST

[ONE] [TWO] [THREE] [FOUR] [FIVE] [SIX] [SEVEN] [EIGHT] [NINE]

Walter had a grim look on his face. He could see that Melanie was starting to panic. Her face contorted into a look of worry, also her eyes were searching for the big body of her brother underneath all the rubble.

“We’ll find him,” Walter assured her, “Are you hurt?”

Walter helped her sit up on the pavement.

“I’m feeling a little woozy, and my back hurts from colliding with the car. Else I think I’m good,” Melanie answered. Walter made a mental note to keep an eye on her, as she could have a concussion or may be bleeding internally.

“Lucas!” Melanie walked into what used to be the front garden, calling for her brother.

A high pitched tone was ringing in his ears. The blast had knocked Lucas off his feet and onto the nearest solid thing, the neighbouring house. His broken arm was throbbing with pain, while a burn was slowly spreading across his chest. He had tried breaking ribs before, so he wasn’t doubting that he might have cracked a few from the blast.

Lucas opened his eyes and watched burning paper dissipating in the wind. The scorching heat from the fire warmed his face, as he lay there watching the orange and red hues. It was quite beautiful to look at, while it destroyed the childhood home of this triplet brother.

Brother. Sister. MELANIE!

He scrambled to his feet, hissing as the jolting pain thundered through his body. His head was spinning as if he had just gotten off a wild carousel ride. He was feeling nauseous as he tried to move.

“LUCAS!”

It was a distant sound, but he heard his sister’s voice through the loud ringing.

“Mel!” he tried yelling back, but the tone was low. His throat was sore and felt raw like someone had tried scratching the flesh from the inside.

In the distance, he heard a fire truck's siren, but he didn’t care about the fire, he needed to get to his sister. He jumped over the broken fence between the neighbouring houses. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to walk, it hurt to even think, but he had to make sure that Melanie was safe. The adrenaline was pumping in his veins, making him move faster.

“Mel,” he said hoarsely as he saw her crying into his triplet brother’s shirt. They both turned their heads towards him. Melanie released Walter and ran towards her injured brother. He was prepared for the impact, as his sister collided with his cracked ribs, but let out a gasp anyways as she hugged him.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Melanie sobbed, “I wouldn’t even know how to tell mom if you had died. And what about dad? What about Josh? And your job?”

“Mel, stop talking. We’re okay,” Lucas shushed her. He hugged her close, even though it hurt, but he didn’t care.

The sirens grew louder, making the raging headache Walter was sporting even worse, but despite that, he moved towards the road and guided the fire truck and fire engine towards the burning building.

Soon the area was swarming with ambulances and police cars. The firefighters contained the towering flames, while medics were attending Lucas, Melanie, and even Walter, who had stubbornly told them that he was fine, was looking into a flashlight.

“Can you remember your name, sir?” the medic asked.

“Walter Matthew Marshall, detective at the Minneapolis PD,” he grumbled.

“Well, detective, you might have a concussion from your head hitting the pavement. You need observation for the next 24 hours.”

“I don’t have time…”

“Detective, it is not up for discussion.”

Walter was groaning the entire way to the hospital. He and Lucas were placed in the same room. Lucas’ injuries weren’t as bad as expected, with only a few broken ribs and a concussion. Melanie had escaped unharmed, except for a few bruises and a high tone ringing in her ears.

The brothers needed observation for the next 24 hours, and with a lot of stubbornness from all three, Melanie was allowed to stay in the room with them for the night.

The police arrived a few hours later to take their statement. If it wasn’t because the situation was quite serious and Walter rarely laughed, he would have been rolling on the floor after seeing the confused faces of the detectives, when they told them that Melanie was the sister of Lucas but not of Walter.

It didn’t take long before Melanie fell asleep on the pull-out bed the hospital had provided. Lucas watched as her chest rose and fell, feeling relieved that she was alive and breathing.

“How are you feeling?” Walter asked from the window. He was watching the people walking in and out of the hospital, as they had a clear view of the main entrance.

“I’m good, sore, and pissed,” Lucas answered, “What do you think happened?”

“My theory is someone planted that bomb to either set it off when we came back or to destroy any evidence that could be found in that house,” Walter mused.

Lucas nodded, having had the same thoughts.

“Do you think he had anything to do with this?” Walter asked after a silent moment, pulling Lucas out of his train of thoughts.

“I don’t know, brother. I have no clue what our brother is capable of. He is a wanted criminal all over the world.”

“Do you think he’s the mastermind behind this?”

“He could very much be, are you having second thoughts?”

Walter turned around and glared at Lucas, who stared back. Their equally blue eyes were sharp and alert.

“No. I just hope we can catch him, get him into a prison that can get the idea of world domination out of his head, and where I can keep an eye on him.”

August walked into his mother’s new house on the outskirts of the city. He had been transported in a cargo ship to get back into the states. His tech associate Marc had been furious at him for leaving the safe house in Thailand, but nothing could stop August, he always got what he wanted.

“Mother!” August’s voice echoed across the mostly empty house. He removed the hood of his jacket, revealing his identical face to Walter and Lucas, with the exception of the moustache.

“Auggie, my son,” he heard her soft voice coming from his left. She looked frail and thin as if she would crumble at any given moment.

“We had a clear agreement that my brothers were not to be harmed,” August growled. His patience was running low as he stared daggers at his adoptive mother.

“They were at the wrong place at the wrong time, my dear,” her voice was calm and as if she was talking to a toddler.

Since the death of her daughter, Amanda had toughened up and had started the hunt for revenge. First, her plan was to kill all of the abusive men in the world. Then her plan expanded as her organisation became bigger. August had stood by her side while she ordered people to be killed. She was merciless and cruel, not the astronomy-loving woman August had grown up with.

“You’re hiding something.”

“For the hundredth time, I am fine. Sign the damn release papers, you cannot hold me here against my will,” Lucas raised his voice at the young resident doctor standing before him. Lucas was a tall man, and from his time in the army had gotten quite muscular, which were straining against the moss-green T-shirt Melanie had helped him in.

“I must advise against it, Mr Syverson,” the resident said firmly, but still, he took a step back.

“It’s Captain Syverson.”

“Your release papers will be ready in 10 minutes, captain.”

The doctor left the room. Walter was standing by the windows, looking down at the people walking. One hooded figure caught his eye, but he blinked and the person was gone.

Two phones rang simultaneously, waking the trio who had all fallen asleep in their respective beds after they’d gotten back from the hospital. Lucas looked at his screen and was immediately wide awake.

“Aiden?” he grumbled.

“I heard about the explosion. How are you?”

“Got out of the hospital this morning. I had to take a nap. Me? Take a nap?”

Lucas heard his friend roar with laughter. He would have laughed at himself if he had the energy for it, but instead devoted said energy to concentrate on why Aiden was calling.

“I’ve found your missing brother,” Aiden’s voice was serious as he explained that August was back in the country. He had avoided getting in through flight but had been caught by a few security cameras at a harbour in Norfolk, two days earlier.

Lucas walked out of his room, needing to tell the others about the news. Walter stood by the windows, stoically listening to whoever was at the other end of his phone call. Melanie was in the kitchenette, pouring coffee into three mugs.

“Thanks, Charlie. Tell Faye that I’ll be home soon,” Walter ended the call. “That was Charlie. Raven got a hit on August’s whereabouts, he’s here.”

“Aiden told me the same thing.”

Walter frowned. His mind racing.

“Fuck,” he whispered, “I saw him earlier. He was at the hospital.”

“How do you know? You’ve never seen him before,” Melanie chimed in.

“Call in triplet-intuition or maybe it was the way he was standing. Still as a statue in the middle of a parking lot full of people walking by.”

“We have to go find him,” Lucas said. He fastened his gun to the holster in his belt and covered himself with a black zip-up hoodie.

Just as they’re about to head out, there was a knock on their door. Walter opened with caution, one hand on his gun behind his back.

It was one of the receptionists with a note that had been left for them. She handed Walter the black envelope, he thanked her and closed the door.

“Meet behind the library at midnight.”

“I can only be from August,” Lucas said. He paced around the room, wondering if it was a trap or not.

“Or maybe it’s a trap, you shouldn’t go,” Melanie told the two brothers.

“We have to. If we’re not back before 2 AM, call the police and say where we are.”

“No, I’m going too!”

“Over my dead body! If dad finds out, he’ll have my head. Mel, if this is a trap, someone needs to know where we are and can tell the police or FBI why it happened.”

Melanie sulked but agreed to stay back at the hotel.

Under the cover of a moonless night, the three siblings met for the first time. Lucas and Walter stood with their backs to the closed library, while they watched as their triplet brother walked down the pathway towards them.

August opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the sound of heels clicking on the pavement.

“You have always been such a soft boy, August.”

The three brothers saw Amanda Walker coming closer with a raised gun in her hands.

“And your two brothers are a big pain in my ass,” she continued. Before anyone could move, Amanda aimed for Walter, but August’s reflexes were faster and he jumped in front of his brothers.

Everything happened in slow motion. August turned around with a sad smile on his lips beneath the moustache. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as his body landed on the cold hard ground. Lucas ran towards August, while Walter set off after Amanda.

August whispered something in Lucas’ ear before he took his last breath. Lucas closed the blue eyes of his brother as Walter came back.

“I lost her,” he grunted. He kicked the grovel around him, cursing at the world.

“It’s not your fault, Walt. Come, help me carry him home.”

A year later the two remaining brothers stood side by side looking at the tombstone with their brother’s name on it. Oliver Thompson.

“We found her, brother. It took some time and a lot of travelling, but we found her, and she’s going to be in jail for the rest of her life.”

“And we went to a hypnotist who unlocked our forgotten memories. No clue how she did it, but we remember the good times, the bad times, the sad times when mom and dad…”

“Let’s not become all too sappy, bro. Walter is getting married. She’s a nurse. Wish you could meet her, a feisty one, I think even she could whoop your ass.”

“Lucas has also found a woman. She is a veterinarian with a short fuse, but she makes the sweetest apple pie I’ve ever tasted.”

The brothers kept on babbling about what was happening in their lives, not noticing the hooded figure standing in a grove of trees, listening to everything.

August smiled at his brothers. His moustache had been shaved and he was growing out his curls. Somehow he looked like a beardless Walter, which he had chuckled over as he shaved.

“I’m sorry, brother. I wanted to burn down the world for being such a cruel place, but I know now that no matter how much I make it suffer, it won’t take the hurt away from my heart. Please, take me to the docks. Warehouse 16. Leave me there and don’t look back.”

Those were the words August had whispered to his army brother.

He had realised that he loved the peaceful life of living in a village in Thailand. In the few weeks, he had resided in the faraway hut, he had gathered food and helped the villagers with their farming, even though he didn’t want to help. But a particular black haired woman had insisted on him helping since he had such big muscles.

The world looked different from before with the woman’s help, he saw beauty wherever he went. But when Marc stood at his doorstep, telling him that his mother wanted to see him, he refused, so Marc did the only thing he thought would persuade the moustached man, he held his black-haired beauty at gunpoint.

August promised to go with Marc and made another promise to his new lady that he would be back, which he sealed with a kiss to her soft lips.

She had waited for him to come back, even demanded to know his secrets. If she were to be his wife, she needed to know about all his demons. So he told her. He had been astonished that she hadn’t run away screaming. Instead, she had smacked his cheek and told him that the world was a beautiful place in the eye of the beholder and that he needed glasses.

He couldn’t wait to go back home, to the woman who was waiting for him, who loved him for him, and he hoped he would be back in time to meet his child, the miracle he had created and would protect.

But he had needed closure to see that his brothers were well and happy as he was.

“... And Faye keeps saying that I have to shave off my beard and keep the moustache, so she can see what you looked like. I said no, of course, telling her that she can go harass Lucas instead.”

“She is such a sweet angel, with a devilish charm. I hope to one day have my own kid, who’ll wrap me around their tiny fingers and I’ll be putty in their hands.”

“Well, we hope you’re happy, brother, wherever you are.”

[vasoula]

The Peepshow

Summary: Two months after his redemption journey, Sasuke is back to Konoha and Sakura couldn’t be more happy about them spending a lot of time together. However, things take a hard turn when Sakura is assigned a special mission and she has to hide it from the rest of Team 7. Everything comes spiraling down when Sasuke finds out exactly what she has to do.

Tags: hard rated m, blank period, kinda AU-ish

Author’s notes: Please read, thank you!

Hello sasusaku fandom, it’s me ya girl, back after so many years to join the fandom once more. I have been missing this couple dearly and after going through a lot of fanarts, I stumbled upon my favorite girl and biggest inspiration strawberrycreampiefluff. She had made a mini doujinshi years ago, and I wanted to create a story about it so badly. So, I contracted her, got her blessings and created this mini monster fic you will read below (which she will hopefully recreate into a full fanart comic when she finds time - love you girl! - please support my friend’s art, it’s amazing!). This is a collab between us sort of. The first chapter is like a prologue - introduction to get the gist of things. This takes place after the last, but before sasusaku travels, kind of an alternate way of how sasusaku got together. I tried to keep the characters as close to canon as possible and this my first official full chaptered fic, so please be kind and leave comments and likes to show your opinion and support.

You can also read it on fanfiction and Ao3.

Next chapter

“Act one: Different mission objectives”

Haruno Sakura walks briskly towards the Hokage tower, her high-heeled shinobi sandals clanking against the pavement as she makes her presence known to the people who pass by. A few heads turn around, mostly males, to stare at her. She is known as one of the most beautiful women – if not the most – in Konoha. As the Fifth’s apprentice, she is working at the hospital as the top chief and she is well respected by shinobi villages all around the world for her talent in medical jutsu.

Sakura is currently dressed her hospital clothes, because her shift at the hospital just ended. She is wearing a button up white shirt that’s left slightly unbuttoned when it reaches her chest, a short black skirt and her white medical robe on top. She is heading to meet Tsunade who just asked for her to be present at her office immediately. The pink haired girl already knows what that means and what it entails.

It is a new mission.

That has to be it. It has been months since the last one, and her working hard as a medical ninja limited her chances of being sent into one. She is more than ready for it. However, she has a feeling this is only the start of bad news. Knowing her teacher, it has to be a special kind of mission. Being called so suddenly like that also gives her the heads up to guess the genre of it.

It must be a flower mission.

Yes, flower, Sakura thinks and nods to herself after waving at some people who greet her.

Flower mission is a term for female ninjas only. It is a code for a seduction mission.

Going and especially accepting a seduction mission is a big step for shinobi women. It is a very sensitive topic and it needs to be handled delicately and in secrecy. It is a powerful weapon which when used correctly, the mission will be done easily or quickly depending on the execution.

The three-man team pattern has most young girls create bonds or worse falling in love and it makes them attached in one way or another to their male teammates. That is why most ninja women have a difficulty seducing another man. The life of a ninja is usually short; you never know what could happen and the kunoichis value the idea of love. Still though, a woman’s power is strong and every kunoichi succeeds efficiently in their own little style.

The moment Sakura comes into the office, Tsunade’s head snaps up. The two women hold eye-contact for a few seconds before the younger medic closes the door behind her with a soft thud.

No one else is in the room, so Sakura guesses that whatever the fifth Hokage is about to tell her must be something of importance. She makes her way into the room and with elegant movements sits down on the chair that is positioned right in front of the desk. There are no formalities between apprentice and teacher when no one is around to watch, and since Tsunade made no sign to stop her, she also speaks first.

“Tsunade-sama, you called me.” It is not a question, but it is not a mere observation either.

The older woman sighs and puts her folded hands beneath her chin. Her eyes close for a moment and then she lifts her head upwards, giving Sakura a fond and soft look like a proud mother would give to her grown up child. A blonde strand escapes from her well-made and low ponytail and her red manicured fingers come forth to tag it back to place. An elegant move, and there is no wonder where Sakura took her beautiful ways from.

“Yes, I did,” Tsunade pauses for a second and then hastily continues, going straight to the point. There is no time for pleasantries. “I have a new mission for you.”

There is no surprise on Sakura’s face and Tsunade cannot tell if she already knew what her intentions are or she has simply masked her face with a facade of indifference. A true kunoichi right there, but then again…it could be the influence of a certain brooding male.

Before Sakura could ask more, Tsunade beat her into it and answers to her unspoken question. “It is a seduction mission.”

This time the girl reacts instantly and she blinks profusely, pink eyelashes fanning rosy cheeks repeatedly. “A-ah,” Sakura lets out a squeaky response, knowing the consequences of such mission.  

So I was right! It is a flower mission, she thinks and curses mentally. Here come the arising problems and she has not even started yet.

“I know, but believe me, I have no choice,” Tsunade put her palms atop of the desk and she pushes her chair back slightly, “This mission is specifically made for you.”

The woman knows what she is doing to her student right now, but seriously the girl is one of the best out there. Her exotic looks and endless beauty draws men like magnets to her. Besides, with her alluring ways and witty personality, she can bend even iron willed males, for example, Sasuke Uchiha.

Sakura has already made a list of problems at the back of her mind and her inner self screams in horror.

This is her first official seduction mission. How the hell is she supposed to break the news to rest of Team 7? She cannot straight go up to them and tell them. Naruto will surely react instantly and whine about it until the next decade. She has a feeling Kakashi, being trained under Tsunade, might already know something about this mission and that leaves her with one last important person to tell.

The man her heart yearns for.

After coming back from his redemption journey, Sasuke was a changed man. He was everything she had hoped for. Some parts of his character still remained the same that go back to his genin days, but she saw a new side of him that has been hidden for years, buried deep within all the hatred he harbored for most of his life. The last Uchiha has always been a cool character with a calculating thought process. The difference now was that he was free from the hatred and sins that plagued most of his life.

That is where the healing took place – right at this heart.

While he was away he helped many people during his journey across all the lands. That in return helped him find himself. He learned to love himself again and he stopped being angry at the world. He saw life from a different perspective and by the time he returned the storm inside his mind was calm once more.

Sakura’s heart flourished when he came back two months ago.

The two have been spending time together more than ever. They hang out after Sakura’s shifts at the hospital during the day either alone or with the rest of Team 7, sometimes including Sai. Other days, when their schedules are not so busy, Naruto comes and collects each one of them so they can have dinner at Ichiraku just the three of them. On special occasions, when the Hokage in training feels extra giddy, he will bring Hinata along and they will have something akin to double dates as he likes to call them.

It is an unspoken secret that the relationship between Sasuke and Sakura is a complicated one. They are at the stage where sometimes they act like they are together or other times they are on the verge of being in a relationship. Sakura knows what she is feeling that is for sure. The pure, unwavering love she feels for him is rooted deep within her and grows everyday as she watches him be happier and calmer before her eyes. They have had their moments of intimacy together before. Instances where they became close -  she remembers those intense feelings they shared through eye contact and hushed whispers when they were left alone.

The first one was after the war when Sasuke was in prison. The first time he expressed his feelings towards what had happened between them all those years. All the wrong and the ugly parts of himself he wanted to distinguish himself from.

In those quiet moments in the dark where he could not see, his eyes sealed like the criminal he was, he told her the truth. He trusted her now to reveal the ugly truth of Konoha and its elders. He divulged all the hardships his brother, Itachi Uchiha, had to endure to bring peace to the world. In a whisper, he confessed all about his clan like a dirty secret -like he was the sinner and she was the priest. And like the true healer she was, Sakura helped him see the good in him that she knew was still there and gave him disclosure. He accepted her kind words once more with a simple nod and a quiet thank you. But for Sakura, at the current time, it was more than enough. She saw the change in him. It was a small start but she would accept it. The young woman had endured harder things in the past after all.

Later that night, when she cried angry tears at the unfairness of the world, because now she knew finally about the Uchiha massacre, she knew all of them had to endure something hard in their lives and learn to live with it. But god if it did not hurt her that he was the one left suffering the most. And she just wished, she hoped, her love was enough to heal that part of himself that was trying to recover.

The second one was when he left for his redemption journey. While they had spend a few moments together before he left, nothing compares to that single experience. She knew she had to wait for him again, but this time it was not a tear jerking moment with her heart lurching in her throat. No, this time, it was her mind buzzing with all the implications his fingers left on her forehead and the fond look he was giving her.

The third one was when the Konoha 12 had their first night all together again. Of course Naruto had a hand in organizing once again. That little rascal, Sakura had thought then fondly. This guy was always trying his best to bring people together and he was doing a damn good job at it. The fact that he was able to persuade Sasuke into an outing like that was a feat itself.

Everything was going smoothly until the drinks started pouring in. Shots after shots of sake had Sakura feeling pleasantly tipsy that night, but she was not the only with that effect of alcohol on her. Somehow everyone had more than a little in their system and that did not exclude the moody male of Team 7. He was acting normal alright, Sakura would have told you, she was sure of it. But then, Ino Yamanaka, her notorious best friend was dragging her along the dance floor and she could not help but feel a hot stare at the back of her head. Goosebumps arising on her skin had her on edge. She knew then he was blatantly staring at her and he was not trying to hide it in the slightest. It was like then everyone knew what going on and her axis had sifted on its head. She could not fathom this would be the place where Sasuke would lose all his inhibitions, much less with everyone watching in anticipation his next moves. Naruto on the other hand, unbeknownst to her, was throwing just the right comments here and there, making Sasuke see Sakura from a different perspective. About time, if you had asked Naruto; he watched Sasuke analyze Sakura dancing as if she was a riddle ready to be solved.

Sasuke, at the hot age of twenty, was now a young man and finding a woman attractive was the natural course of life. However, for him these new profound feelings confused him. He did not know what he was feeling and all he wanted to do now was stare at Sakura until his eyes tired themselves out. He was ready to activate his sharingan just so he could commit that image to his memory.

That feeling in his chest was starting to bother him though and suddenly he felt all the stares on him from the intense chakra he was producing. Looking around he felt second hand embarrassment for himself, his ears getting red. Getting a shot of sake from the nearby table, Sasuke gulped down its contents and got ready to leave his position at the bar. He could not handle to keep his emotions in check any longer and this was bad. He was not ready to admit to himself what he was feeling and trying to suppress it any longer could do more harm than good. Better he left the situation right now before he put him and Sakura in a compromising position he was not ready to handle yet.

Right at that moment, Sakura decided to turn around, her dress sticking to her like a vice from all the sweat her intense dancing had caused. One look at Sasuke had time freezing. They held an intense eye contact for a few seconds, and her heart fluttered in her chest. She saw the change in him, she has seen that look before when other men had stared her way in the past. It was then she knew, tonight had been something more to him even though nothing has transpired between them yet. Maybe Sasuke was not ready to acknowledge these feelings yet, but Sakura had hope that this was the start of something new between them.

Feeling bold she started to approach him, confident in herself and brave enough thanks to the alcohol she had consumed. The moment she moved, she saw him flatter in his steps. He was about to leave and escape. The fearless Sasuke Uchiha was scared of what was transpiring between them, but she was not about to let him have his chance to escape this time. Sakura saw his jaw clenching and his hand flattering at his side from its place at the bar stool. He stared at her unblinkingly, waiting for her next move like they were about to have a fight at the training grounds.

Sakura then approached the bar like she owned the place and opened her mouth to say the most simple words known to existence.

“Hey, Sasuke”, she greeted in a whoosh, a breathless exclamation. She leaned against the bar stool and waited for the inevitable dismissal of denial.

Sakura found herself surprised however when he went rigid and leaned forward his towering body over her like he was about to whisper a dirty secret in her ear.

“You are different from the last time I remember you,” He confessed hotly, his mouth near her neck. If it was not for the obvious fact that she knew him well, any other person would have thought he was drunkenly leaning on her, but Sakura is not anybody and she understands this the way of him hiding his emotions from showing on his face in the shadows her neck provides.

What a weird way of seeking comfort from his own shyness, Sakura thought.

She idly recalled then that they were not in fact alone and Naruto was right behind them. When he started making obscene signs with his hands Sakura felt herself flush from head to toe, but the murderous glint in her eyes was apparently enough to stop Naruto’s crudeness.

“Eh, Sasuke-kun, what do you mean?”, she asked hesitantly, her hand raising and resting on Sasuke’s back in a sense of comfort. The soft material of his black shirt damp against her palm.

They were almost approaching the stage of hugging right in front of everybody.

Before they could complete the hug though, Sasuke’s head turned to the left, his cheek almost brushing against Sakura’s. The pink haired girl shyly turned her head slightly towards his direction, their faces almost touching. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the effect he still had on her and damn him if he he did not thrive on it.

He could think of all the nice things he could say to her, now it was the perfect time to take a step closer to approaching the inevitable connection they have. But his mind had other plans when the words slipped out of his mouth. In a teasing manner he was only capable of, he smirked and said, “More annoying than ever.”

He was sure she must have caught on his teasing by now. Using bitter words of the past to heal their wounds by putting another meaning to it. She was a smart woman and she could understand his actions better than anyone.

Sasuke knew she had caught on when he felt her fist punch lightly his stomach as if to punish him for insulting her.

“That is not a very nice way of complimenting someone, Sasuke-kun,” she whispered angrily, facing him completely. Any traces of wonder were gone from her emerald eyes replaced with mirth and she continued, smiling menacingly at him, “I thought I taught you better than that.”

“Hm,” Sasuke hummed in response and stood straight once again, looking down at her.

By now they had become a spectacle to their friends, the black haired male could feel Naruto almost bristling with excitement from behind him and he was not about to disappoint his friend who has been pestering him to get on with his feelings already.

“I guess we should spend more time together so I can get better at it.”

The double meaning behind his words was evident.

Sasuke Uchiha then patted Sakura Haruno’s head like it was the most natural thing in the world to do and smiled down at her gently.

His female teammate took a big breath through her nose, rosy cheeks glowing, and crossed her arms across her chest. She had him where she wanted him.

“Damn right we should!”

That was one week ago from her current position at the Hokage office. Just when she was making a great progress with seducing Sasuke, she has to go and approach another man for a mission. Talk about making matters weird between them. The worst part is the fact that she has to tell him. She wonders what his reaction is going to be considering they are not together yet. Is he going to act jealous or indifferent?

Who is she kidding? He is just going to glare her with this stupid scary look he gives in assassination missions to terrify people off the moment the words come out of her mouth and that is it.

“I haven’t finished yet,” Tsunade literally saw the thoughts displayed across Sakura’s face. It is like her life passed before her eyes, and her skin got a tad paler.

“Of course there is more,” the pink haired girl mumbles sadly while looking down, but the Hokage lets it slide.

“You will have back-up,” Tsunade says and sees with the corner of her eye Sakura sucking in a breath, “the rest of Team 7 will be with you,” and then next thing she knows the girl is chocking on air.

“W-what?” Sakura coughed out, giving her teacher a desperate look.

She feels like she is the center of the world and it is slowly closing up on her. Life suddenly looks less appealing, because good old Team 7 is back on track again with Sakura’s first seduction mission as a head start.

“Tsunade-sama, please tell me you are joking.” The pink haired medic grabs the sides of the armchair and hopes it does not break and crumble along with her composure.

The young woman also hopes her teacher is having some kind of twisted pleasure out of this because she is certainly not feeling happy with the news.

Tsunade wants to reprimand her student for losing her temper, but she understands what the girl is going through and also knows she in no better position to talk when it comes to matters like this. Still though, ears and eyes are everywhere and they must keep a low profile when in the Hokage’s office.

“Sakura,” The curvy female looks at her seriously, “Team 7 will be the back-up of this mission and that’s final.”

I am doing it for your sake, Tsunade wants to say but keeps quiet instead.

Somehow, Sakura understands where her teacher is coming from. This will be a test for both sides. It is a test for her that is for sure. A test for patience, a test for her relationship, a test for her seduction abilities both on the target and Sasuke, because let’s be honest, who is going to calm down the last Uchiha other than her?

Sakura closes her eyes, takes a calming breath through her mouth and then controls the pattern as taught by Ino’s yoga lessons. She could do it this.

The young female opens her pretty green eyes once again and then stares at Tsunade straight in eye, a determined expression on her face. The will of fire is practically seeping through her and her fiery temper is burning up again but for another cause.

“That’s the spirit,” Tsunade says proudly and hands her the scroll that has been lying on the wooden desk the whole time. “This is your target, Misty Jade.”

The first thing Sakura does when she steps into the house is to check for a specific chakra signature around the area. Sasuke pays frequent visits to her house nowadays you would think he lived in there, having keys and all, but alas.

She lets out a long sigh of relief, glad that she did not detect Sasuke’s compelling presence. Thank heavens, cost is clear. The twenty year old girl suspects that the males of Team 7 had already been called to Tsunade’s office, the second she was out of the vicinity. She mentally praises her teacher and then she decides to prepare for battle. The kunoichi briefly wonders how the hell she is supposed to deal with this. She has no clue how to handle this.

Sakura runs upstairs, heading straight to the bedroom. She slams the door open, scroll still in hand, and starts rummaging through her things in order to pack. After a few minutes of checking everything, she put all the necessary items in her mission bag. From medical supplies to energy pills to scrolls to clothes to a sleeping bag and lastly to the money she will need for the seduction necessities she has to buy. Finally finished, she sits down on the bed, crumpling the blue silky sheets in the process. Then, Sakura unrolls the scroll and reads.

Mission #B039                     Type: B-rank               Specialist: F (female)  

Stage: Pre                             Place: Village hidden in the Waterfalls

Target: Misao Takashi

Gender: Male

Age: 25 years old

Characteristics: Red hair, blue eyes and relatively tall.

Efficiency: Messenger

Information: Misao Takashi is an important messenger between two feud lords that control and lead illegal product transportations. Your mission is to seduce said messenger that has in his possession a folder with contract papers which contain info for the next meet up and also a pair of keys. This is the part one of the main ANBU mission that will follow after you succeed. Mission includes back-up. Good luck.

The kunoichi falls back on the bed with a flop, thinking how she should approach the mission. She idly scratches her scalp and tosses her body around from side to side, her long pink locks sprawled across the bed sheets moving along with her. Sakura knows what the village hidden in the Waterfalls is known for.  And if her guesses are right, a guy like him would go to a special kind of place. The men of Team 7 will also go there.

“This is just great!” Sakura shouts even though no one is in the room.

She stares up at ceiling, her mind thinking of all the possibilities and scenarios. The pink haired girl knows what to do to succeed in this mission, however hiding from Sasuke is the main problem.

With huff she stands up and starts pacing around the room while babbling nonsense and muttering profanities out loud, until the idea hits her.

“Of course,” Sakura jumps on the bed, “Tsunade-shishou is the solution!”

She lies down, calm once again, and grabs a nearby pillow, squeezing it close to her chest. The warmth it provides calms her for a second, but she resists the urge to snuggle it closer. The girl can already imagine the Uchiha’s frown when she will tell him that she will be staying at Tsunade’s for a few days in order to work on some papers that have to do with the hospital.

Sakura just hopes he will believe it for her sake and for the sake of this mission.

                                                        ❤︎    

“It’s dirty and disgusting in here,” Sasuke mutters angrily, sitting uncomfortably on the animal print armchair, “Why do we even have to do this?”

The hot pink, soft and furry material irritates him even more as his elbow barely glides on it, making it difficult for him to nurse his drink. It is too warm, too velvety.

The last Uchiha almost growls out of sheer annoyance. This mission is far too low for his standards. He cannot believe he allowed himself to be dragged in here. His pride is hurt goddammit. Yes, he may be a man, but he has never set foot in a pleasure house. Or as his best friend and ex-sensei like to call it: a strip club.

The atmosphere is suffocating him, the lights are too dim. All kinds of different and hypnotizing aromas assault his senses, making his clear mind drunk and hazy. He cannot tell if it is his alcoholic beverage that is making him feel this way or it is the misty cloud of seduction and pleasure filled nights that surround this place.

The men of Team 7 have been assigned on a mission just yesterday as a backup to an ANBU specialist. Sasuke was definitely not pleased with the news, but he could not go against the fifth Hokage’s orders as much he wanted to, so he mildly complained until he was shushed by Tsunade. So, here they are today, in the place that their target and the other shinobi are supposed to be. Sasuke Uchiha, Naruto Uzumaki and Kakashi Hatake, being expert ninjas, have already detected the target sitting in the middle of the area, near the front. And now they have to wait. If something goes wrong, only then they are allowed to interfere.

“Focus, Sasuke.” Kakashi says calmly, a white hospital mask covering his face instead of his usual ninja attire. “A mission is a mission.”

The grey haired shinobi is collected as always, and Sasuke cannot help but scowl.

As if the ridiculous place is not enough problems, they were also forced to wear formal clothes. Supposedly, they are ordinary men looking for some fun and not ninjas who are capable of killing anyone in the room within seconds. Thus, the men of Team 7 have to make it believable by dressing up fancily to blend in with crowd and to stay undistinguished.

“Well, it’s not that bad in here.” Naruto tells them with a foxy grin on his face, clearly excited to be in a place like this. A slight blush is covering his cheeks since he has been consuming a few portions of alcohol for an hour now. The blond is pleasantly tipsy and happier than usual.

“Shut up Naruto,” Sasuke turns to his left and addresses his best friend, “If Hinata found out you’re here, she would dump you.”

Sasuke is very irritated, and that results to more insults and jibs than normal. He crosses his legs, right ankle meeting left knee, just to move and do something out of spite.

“T-That’s not true!” The man immediately tries to explain, “I told her it was a mission and she was okay with it!”

Naruto’s face visibly falls, and he looks at Sasuke with his puppy dog eyes. However, before the blonde could set off, being an emotional drunk and all, Sasuke just looks at other side, ready to ignore the impending whining.

Is he even allowed to be drinking on such mission? Kakashi better do something, Sasuke thinks, complaining inside his head instead.

“Don’t fight.” Their teacher interrupts, knowing how those two are and how bad they can get when Sakura is not around to stop them.

He has even given them just enough freedom, permitting them to drink, because he knows they are the back-up of this mission and not the main person. Kakashi strongly believes that intervention will not be needed, considering this an efficient ANBU specialist sent by the Hokage herself.

So, Kakashi just sits relaxed, waits and enjoys the show.

The oldest member of Team 7 is wearing a dark grey button-up shirt, the collar slightly open and a pair of black trousers. Naruto has a similar style, except he sports a nice pair of jeans with a light blue button-up shirt that makes his gorgeous eyes stand out more. Sasuke opts for a more classic style though, completing his look with black trousers, a white button-up shirt (with the first button undone) and an onyx suit jacket to top it off.

It is an extraordinary night today since the place is filled to the brim with men of all ages and from different villages, plus, the interior design of the club is full of pretty decorations. As the shining neon letters say outside on the wooden board above the club’s name, Hustler’s Ho, it promises a night of busty tricks and naughty chicks, and of course a special guest. Sasuke didn’t pay attention to the name, it is useless information anyways.

The waitresses are all beautiful women holding silver trays with glitter and fruity scented oils applied on their bodies and every time they move under the low dimmed lights to serve the customers, their smooth skins sparkle teasingly. The atmosphere is thick with cigarette smoke, but despite that, the room somehow smells good because of the enticing scents that come off from all the perfume the females of the club have put on.

Red velvet curtains hang from the ceiling at the left side of the club and make up for entrances to the changing rooms, while the bar and the bathrooms are at the right side of it. In the center of the room is the stage where the lights shine the most since the ceiling has a lot of spotlights in all kinds of colors there. The rest of the huge area is only provided with low dimmed lights and that makes the dancers at the stage stand out more. The walls are painted a dark pink color and it gives the room a sense of obscurity and raw sexuality.

Great amount of money gets thrown at the stage as the ladies entertain the crowd with their dancing skills either on the poles or on the floor. Excited shouts of more can be heard even from where the members of Team 7 are seated at the back of the club. The dancers are barely dressed in Sasuke’s opinion; too much skin is bared for the eyes to feast. He averts his eyes, a light blush dusting his cheeks.

A dark blonde girl is currently dancing, her back turned to the pole, her hands up in the air touching the steel above her head. She is moving her lower half sexily in fluid left and right motions, her hips rolling expertly. The girl is wearing purple lingerie with her hair up in a high ponytail, and money is stuck in all kind of places from the men who put it there. She keeps it professional, but her face still expresses the hidden erotic feelings she wants to convey.

Then, all of a sudden, the music slowly quiets down and a deep male voice comes from the speakers. “Thank you dear, you were amazing as always! Please, grab your money and clear the stage.”

Sasuke silently scoffs and rolls his eyes at this. He should really stop drinking, the alcohol is making him show his irritation and that is not a good thing when on a mission. He has to keep his face impassive, bring forth a cold facade. Especially when in that said mission, Sakura is not there to calm him down and Naruto only breathes to make it worse for him with his antics. Of course, Kakashi is nonchalant as always.

The crowd gets almost completely silent, only a few murmurs can be heard now, and the unknown voice continues. “Only today, we have a special guest dancing…”

Without warning, a swift sound gains the attention of everyone inside the room. It is a whoosh of air fluttering against hard yet soft and velvet material that signals that the curtains have just been opened. The whispers get a tad bit louder at this, but get lost when the raspy voice resonates through the room once again. “Now, gentlemen, prepare to meet tonight’s special guest, a beauty and an exotic flower among the ladies…”

The sound came from the left side of the club, near the back. Heels clanking against the floor in a steady rhythm and elegant manner are the only thing that can be heard. The steps are light and slow paced. It has a nice ring to it, the continuous clicking is pleasant to the ears and everyone is holding their breath in anticipation. The males of Team 7 hear loud gasps, watching as men are getting blown away by the mere sight of this special guest. Heads are turned, all the attention clearly diverted behind. The pace has a unique air of confidence that no one can quite put their finger on. The woman has a stealthy and powerful walking. A soft tune starts playing as an intro while the woman comes closer and closer to the stage.

The dancer narrows the distance between her and the stage as she takes painfully slow steps towards it or so it seems to the eager men. The shadow that still hovers near the area where Team 7 is –thanks to the somber and tricky lighting– hides her, until finally, a curvy form starts to appear as she comes forth to where the light is. Her silver, almost dark gray, stilettos are the first things that show. A few agonizingly and torturous seconds later, long legs and fair smooth skin come into view.

Naruto reacts first, an exclamation leaving his lips. It is not a sharp inhalation of amazement, but it is a loud gasp of shock. His blue eyes widen and there are hazy no more. Cold sweat forms on his forehead, and he is feeling like someone threw cold water on him to wake him up and bring him back to the harsh reality. It is definitely not an easy feat to astound the ninja who is known as the best at surprising people.

The voice resonates through the room once again and the male starts praising the newcomer dancer, “An exotic babe, outstanding with high class skills.” The announcement is over, and the music gets steadily louder while the special guest is one step away from the stage.

She just stands still with her back on the cheering crowd for a few seconds as if to bewitch the already elated men with her beauty. The young woman is posing sensually and it compliments her already perfect body. She is captivating in every sense. Her legs are long and toned while her tights are voluptuous and her rear is curvy. Her waist is slight bent and it makes her behind stand out even more. Her back sparkles teasingly thanks to the glittery substance that has been applied on her skin everywhere on her body. She lifts her left hand up to course it through her silky long locks while her right one is resting on her inner tight in a provocative pose.

That unmistakable pink hair belongs only to one person.

Kakashi feels his mouth hanging open inside his mask. This event took a very fast turn for the worst and he does not like the ending result at all. She is the last person he could think of going up there if you had asked him about it. He closes his eyes and hums quietly awaiting for the impeding doom waiting to happen.

Sasuke reacts not a second too late and his breath hitches. A flash of light blinds him and he blinks his eyes twice in response. The lighting must be playing tricks on him, because there is no fucking way this is Sakura ready to go up there. He freezes and his face goes rigid. His calculating yet beautiful onyx eyes widen and his naturally pouty lips part slightly in shock. A wave of cool air passes by him –probably someone activated a fan to create more special effects for such a unique guest– and it makes his soft black hair flutter in the wind. An intoxicating scent fills his senses and clouds every ounce of rationality within him.

The special guest goes up the stage, turns around and Sasuke can breathe no more.

“Please welcome, Misty Jade!”

Sasuke Uchiha, for the first time in years, sees red.

[thegc4life]

Do you any other Hawks fic ideas you'd like to write? Or is Hawks-sensei all you've got on your mind right now?

Wyv. You know not what you ask. I have to put them in categories, Wyv. Categories.

Kid!Hawks:

-Kid!Hawks growing up with the LOV (both as a permanent thing and various ridiculous drabbles) This involves Unwilling Big Brother Shigaraki, scarily willing Big SisterToga who knows all the coolest knife tricks, Best Uncle Twice who sometimes on his real good days doubles as temporary Dad, the Dad who teaches you how to hot wire cars and laugh people’s money straight out of their wallets Compress, mother-henning can-not-leave-you-alone-for-one-god-damn-minute Spinner, True Mom Kurogiri, Big Sis Mag who seems to be the only actual one that realizes that children need to sleep at some point for the love of god, extremely confused but horrifically soft Dabi who may or may not eventually turn his whole life around because of this feathered idiot that needs someone to make sure he lives a happy life whether it be a permanent shrinking or not. Oh, and Machia. The best Mountain Monster Dog brother (?) a boy could ask for.

-Kid!Hawks with UA (staff edition) also both in temporary and permanent circumstances. Temporary is already in progress. Permanent? Oh boy, permanent world. They raise him within UA so as to keep him from the Commission. Hawks often sits in on their classes with coloring books, picture books, or just to sit there and watch them. He is very smart. He picks up on things, but mostly he just likes being around all the staff. He picks a new person to sleep with every week because some of them have really shitty sleep schedules and even as a kid he knows they would feel bad keeping him up, thus forcing them to go to bed through good-person guilt so he tragets the sleepiest looking people for the week (hint: Aizawa gets picked a lot, and even if he’s not sleep deprived Hawks would pick him because he adores his grumpy cat Dad). Thirteen does crafts with him all the time. She watches every kid show and gets really into it with him. Hawks and Mic make the meals and they sing the entire time. They sing together throughout the day. Hawks will chirp out a line of notes and out of nowhere Hizashi will burst in to sing the lyrics. Midnight reads him bedtime stories cause her voices are the best. She does his nails and lets him do hers. He practices on the UA students to surprise her with new designs (the students fall over their own feet to offer to be his test subject). Snipe does little challenges with him. Things that, while technically helping him get used to controlling his quirk, are more fun than anything else because Hawks enjoys using his feathers in games. Hawks dresses up like a cowboy for an entire month, quoting old western movies and driving everyone but a very proud Snipe up the wall. Hound Dog and Hawks go on walks together ALL THE TIME. They explore the woods around UA and Hound Dog tells Cementoss to change up the geography every once in a while so they have something new to explore. He teaches Hawks how to go camping and Hawks fricken adores him and is always on his shoulders just kicking his feet or napping in Hound Dogs hair. Ectoplasm is Hawks favorite person to play any kind of tag based game because the others are too easy to catch with his feathers. But with Ectoplasm and all his clones? hawks goes nuts. Ectoplasm cried once when Hawks asked Aizawa for peg legs for Halloween and when someone asks him if he wants to be a pirate he says no because he wants to be a super cool hero like Ecto for Halloween. No one will be as cool as him. Hawks fricken loves Vlad. Like, adores him. Whenever Vlad is in the room Hawks will just go hang off his shoulders, or tuck under his arms with a book to read, or just lean against him. He has a little stuffed bull dog that has Vlad’s exact resting bitch face and carries it with him every time he leaves the dorm because he feels safer with it. He goes to Vlad when he’s injured because Vlad just takes care of it, gives him a hug, and doesn’t tell him to be more careful. Just asks if Hawks learned something and moves on. Hawks and Nezu are penpals. They see eachother every single day, but they are penpals. Hawks grows up with the most beautiful calligraphy handwriting because he keeps trying to out-do Nezu’s. He absolutely tattles on every single teacher in these letters, giving Nezu years worth of blackmail. Hawks thinks Nezu is a stuffed animal until he is fourteen because Nezu never fesses up. He just thinks the staff is even cooler for letting a stuffed animal run the place. He only ever cries around Nezu.

-Kid!Hawks UA(Student edition): So many. There’s lines I’ve written where they’re still in school when Hawks is kidified. When they’re already pros. In Canon, in Hawks-sensei, I even a small blurb sentence of Deku running a preschool that Hawks gets put into in an AU with quirks still. I can’t even... there’s too many students, cause I’d do all 1-A and 1-B. My favorite one to randomly wake up in a panick and write about though is the one where it’s Hawks-sensei verse based and Kid!Hawks gets taken in by the Monoma family. Rui and Eiko are older and Monoma is a pro-hero by then. The pure amount of fluff, sass, and Hawks spoiling that will happen. Big Brother Rui and Bigger Sister Eiko.  I think about this one a lot.

-I’m currently (slowly but progressing) writing a gift for @saltwater-sweets where Kid!Hawks is taken in by the Uraraka family. Like, he’s not even shrunk in this one. Uraraka’s newlywed parents were involved in the accident he first saved people in and they found him before the Commission. They realized his homelife situation and opened their home to him and now he is Uraraka’s big brother and that one line I threw out there? About him being a global superpower in household moving? Teaming up with Uraraka for that? Yeah.

-Kid!League of Villains and adult Hawks. Yeah, you heard me. They all get shrunk instead of him. And he can’t just... turn them in. They’re kids. They haven’t done any of the crimes their older counterparts have. And if it’s a permanent thing? They stay kids? Then he has a chance to really, truly save them. To give them the happy lives stolen from them. The Commission doesn’t like that. So Hawks takes them and runs. Dabi can be an adult too, I guess, if that’s the ship or something, but I just really wanna write Kid!LOV and Dad!Hawks.

-Kid!Aizawa. Dad!Hawks. Same concept. Beautiful dream. Need I say more.

-Kid!Hawks, Best Jeanist

-Kid!Hawks Gang Orca

-Kid!Hawks RUMI!!

Vigilante Hawks:

- Raven was born and I dived down that rabbit hole so fast I went back in time. Raven. But from a way earlier age. Those guys mugging Hawks when he was fifteen? The spark. Hawks stayed on the streets, he never went back, and he learned some things. He got some freedom, learned some shit, and realized that hero society was pretty fucked up. Shigaraki starts the LOV up and realizes there’s this whole underground community he was never aware of that Hawks has been building for years. It’s great.

-Hawks was never found by the Commission so he was never ‘Hawks’. His Dad raised him as a criminal but Hawks, with his little heart of gold, took every chance he could to make something good out of the bad deeds. Then he got old enough and he took full control. You ever seen the Levi OVA’s of Attack on Titan? Where he’s walking down the stairs and you realize every single person there is part of a huge ass gang of awesome with Levi at the head? That. THAT.

-Hawks loses his shit in Canon and goes completely AWOL. full Feral. He sees the problems, and he is prepared to do whatever it takes get rid of them. Whatever it takes.

AU Hawks

-Horribly injured, recently retired at the ripe old age of 23, and looking for something to save him from depression. Hawks meets Todoroki Fuyumi who gets him a job at her school. This one makes my brain happy.

-Takami Keigo and Todoroki Natsuo meet in college, graduate together, join the same hospital, and open one as partners as soon as they can. Ship or no ship, they go through their entire lives together. (I just... I really like the Todoroki sibs, okay?)

-Takami Keigo was born a lot earlier. So much, earlier, in fact that he is classmates with this overly optimistic ball of light named Yagi Toshinori and the grumpy ball of flame Todoroki Enji. Big Three anyone? Also, everyone needs a dumb smart birb to keep them sane. Hawks loves his friends, and he’ll kick anyone’s ass that tries to hurt them be it physically, mentally, or emotionally. Also, he meets Nana. 

-I LOVE THE IMAGINARY KAMAKIRI FAMILY DYNAMIC OKAY?! literally anything with Hawks involved in their lives, okay?! I did not expect to spiral so hard when I made up Hideo and his relationship with Kamakiri but my god did I spiral! I just really love them!

-I’m a sucker for the classics. Tattoo/flower. Coffee shop. College. Roommates. Love. 

- (she made me write this) a story surrounding the amazing love story of my sister and Iida Tenya with Aizawa crashes the wedding even though he was invited and Mirio is her maid of honor, with Eri as the ring bearer, and All Might is the flower girl. Twice is the officiator. Uraraka releases a flock of fake pigeons (not real ones cause they don’t deserve that). Oh, and everyone else is there too, I guess. Except for Mineta. Cause he’s in jail.

Right now, at this very moment, I can not for the life of me think of any others but I KNOW there’s at least seven more that I just can’t remember because my brain is work dead. Wyv. @wyvernspirit do you see what you’ve opened here? Close the box! Close it before it’s too late! There is always more! I am never without MORE ideas!

[mychemicalficrecs]

could i get a rec list of long (30k+) frank-centric any pairing fics? (preferably not in first person, and if there's smut with bottom frank)…weirdly specific but at least i know what i like?

Being specific is totally fine! Depending on what it is you’re looking for, it can even be super helpful :) I originally thought this would be difficult, but it turns out I already had all of these in my bookmarks. It didn’t specifically check for bottom!Frank though (sorry).

Frank-centric Longfic

Gerard Way's (Vampire) Detective Agency by jjtaylor, Pennyplainknits, mainly Frank/Gerard, 164k, Mature. Pete, in Decaydance Mansion, with a yarrow stake. Frank and Gerard, in the greenhouse, with a plant of questionable origin. Bob, everywhere you look, with a gang of assassins for justice. Vampires, valets, pamphlets, haunted furniture, dub-thrall, disembodied voices, zombie couriers, and sinister rituals.

Nightswimming by waxjism, Frank/Gerard, 141k, Not Rated. My Teenage Romance

Unholyverse by Bexless, Frank/Gerard, Ray/Mikey, 187k, Mature, Explicit. Religion! Horror! Exorcisms! Piercings! And Gerard is a priest.

Illyria (King and Country) by tabulaxrasa, Frank/Gerard, 57k, Explicit. Today, they'd woken up and Gerard was King of Illyria. Frank hasn't really been a stable boy since he ended up in the archduke's bed, but now Gerard's exile is over and he's king. Frank has to survive court, politics, and scheming nobles to figure out exactly what he is now.

Stunning Someone by morbid_beauty, Frank/Gerard, 82k, Explicit. Frankie, a tattoo artist living in Brooklyn, has basically everything ze wants...except, like, someone to cuddle with at night. As lame as that sounds. Gerard, an art student living in Manhattan, meets someone of questionable gender and starts a friendship with an unrequited crush. (Or: the one where Frankie is genderfluid, Gerard is kind of ignorant to much of the queer community, and sometimes you just fall for a stunning someone.)

Envision the Magic by innocent_wolves, Frank/Gerard, 69k, Teen And Up Audiences. Gerard is a talented magician, responsible for much of the success of the famous Envision Destiny cruise ship. He's also one of those people. You know, one of those people who just seem to take up all the space they come across with their arrogance and confidence. You wouldn't wanna touch their personality with a 10-foot pole, but still people admire them. That is beyond Frank. Working behind the cruise ship bars and seeing Gerard pretty much every day, he can't understand what's so great about him. Besides, everybody else doesn't have to deal with his snide remarks and rude comments. Because if there's one thing Gerard seems to love, it's the act of constantly pestering Frank.

Truths That He Learned by gala_apples, Frank/Mikey, Patrick/Mikey/Pete, Ashlee/Patrick/Pete, 37k, Explicit. It's Frank's senior year, and it seems like he's constantly having new experiences, at least half of which come as a complete surprise to him. He falls in love, comes out, and has sex, not necessarily in that order.

Fit to be tied by maryangel, Frank/Gerard, 56k, Explicit. Frank is a bartender. Gerard is an alcoholic. They were clearly made for each other. Also, Frank is a werewolf.

Only Going One Way by ataratah, jjtaylor, Frank/Gerard, 73k, Mature. Crossover with due South. Constable Gerard Way of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and Detective Frank Iero of the Chicago PD team up find Mikey Way in a city where bowling alley score cards hide secret codes, where the good guys are either lying or undercover (and sometimes lying about being undercover), and where criminal bakers make drug-laced frosting.

James Cameron Got It Wrong by ladyfoxxx, Frank/Fun Ghoul/Party Poison, 57k, Explicit. In which 2005!Frank and Fun Ghoul get it on. Then Frank accidentally winds up in 2019.

Rock and Roll Never Looked so Beautiful by corruptedkid, Frank/Gerard, 58k, Explicit. Gerard Way is a rising solo artist, set to become the next big thing in the alternative scene. Frank Iero is a trashy punk with a reputation of his own as the frontman of Pencey Prep. When their paths cross, a love story is born, only to come crashing down when Gerard hits it big. As Gerard ascends to the A-list, Frank adjusts to life on his own. He almost manages it - until two years later, when fate puts him face to face with Gerard once more. Everything has changed, but the connection between them is still there. Their story has ended once before, but if they're lucky, they just might make a new one.

I never told you what I do for a living. by not0-fuckin-kay, Frank/Gerard, 60k+, PG-13 to NC-17. Frank Iero, male nurse at Pete Wentz's private hospital and possibly more to one new patient he can't keep his eyes off of. When a new pateint is brought in with amnesia, just days before Christmas, and with nothing but the clothes on his back and a strange drawing, it's left to Frank to find out who he is and what happened to him. When he does, it changes Frank's life forever, as he's thrust into love and health scares he never thought would complicate his life. This is the story of how he tries to make it through, juggling his job and his love-life and just trying to make things better. With Patrick the doctor, Bob the ward supervisor, Travis the unlikely therapist, and Mikey, the sometimes wannabe homicidal geek.

and me here on the ground by ohnoktcsk, Frank/Gerard, 32k, Explicit. Frank's worked hard to build a life for himself in the city of Jersey, where dragons swoop and dive over the river, and every day is divided by the ringing of the city bells. He knows the streets of the city like he knows the the tattoos on the backs of his hands, and he's content with what he has: a job as a bike courier, friends who love to give him shit, and a crush on a professor of art history at the local university. But he's also got a secret—one he's been running from for a long time. But all it takes is one delivery to a mysterious, quite-probably-magical bookshop to show Frank that there are some things you can’t outrun. Especially since he’s finally found a place that he doesn’t want to leave.

Companion by onceuponamoon, Frank/Gerard, 34k, Explicit. A workplace AU. There’s a dude sitting in one of the high-backed chairs opposite the reception desk. Mostly obscured by a fake ficus plant between them, the guy probably wouldn’t have been noticeable save for the lazy sprawl of his legs, the Chucks contrasting against the floral rug.

Your Heart The Only Place That I Call Home by dear_monday, Frank/Gerard, 30k, Explicit. When Frank and his crew of morally ambiguous ethernauts (pirates, as Imperial law would have it, but that's such an ugly word) fetch up on the doorstep of the fabled Sanctuary, they aren't expecting to find much - least of all a long-lost brother, a garden in a box and the key to an ancient riddle.

Give Me a Reason by mistresscurvy, Lindsey/Frank/Jamia/Gerard and most variants thereof, 38k, Explicit. July 2007. Frank is fucking stoked for the next tour. This one will be the best ever, because his wife's gonna be with him the entire time. They've been married for less than six months, and he still can't fucking believe he got to marry her. This summer is going to rock. But life never happens as he plans.

In Repair by autoschediastic, Frank/Gerard, 33k, Explicit. "Shit," Frank mutters, and shoves both hands through his hair. He looks around the kitchen like he's gonna find what he should do scratched into the old linoleum, then looks back at the bot. He gnaws on his lip. Fuck it. He already knows what he's gonna do. He's just gotta do it. Getting down on his knees, he braces a hand on the edge of the crate and leans over the bot. It's dressed in a plain white tee and matching drawstring pants like an escaped mental patient. Frank rolls his neck and cracks his knuckles, shaking the ache out of them before carefully laying his palm against its cheek. He's pretty sure his voice is steady when he says, "Activate." Nothing happens. Fucking shitty packaging-- the thing's busted. But Frank keeps his hand where it is, jumping a little when he feels the surge of energy beneath it. The robot's skin goes from room temperature to lukewarm, then warm. Frank watches it open its eyes, the light behind them adjusting until they're a pale sort of brown. It looks at him and asks, "Am I dead?"

Promises, Promises by silentdescant, Frank/Gerard, 31k, Explicit. "Sources on our investigative team say this was a bank robbery gone wrong, and that, when faced with a police task force surrounding the building, the suspect grabbed the nearest person and is now holding that young man at gunpoint as he makes his getaway."

Cover To Cover by silentdescant, Frank/Gerard, 32k, Explicit. You've Got Mail AU. Frank owns The Shop Around The Corner, which specializes in classic and rare books, and Gerard is opening up a large branch of Way Books & Café down the street. They meet online and fall in love.

Love: The Package Deal by jjtaylor, Frank/Gerard, Lindsey/Frank/Jamia/Gerard, 30k, Mature. Gerard gets a special kind of amnesia. Frank gets to reexamine his idea of acceptable relationship structures. Lots of people fail to communicate effectively, but they all sure remember how to kiss.

Let The Darkness Lead You Home by rivers_bend, Frank/Gerard, 49k, Explicit. Vampires are in charge and most of the humans on earth are prey, so Frank Iero's parents have him train as a cyber tech to protect him. Leaving the family he's born into may have saved his life, but his parents never could have expected the lengths he'd go to in order to find a new family to call home.

Gross roomies by turps, Frank/Mikey, 36k, Explicit. Frank loves living with Mikey. Sure, the apartment is a mess, the kitchen's a toxic wasteland, and there's something growing in the refrigerator that's just a day or two away from becoming sentient, but other than those minor inconveniences, it's all cool. Or it is until Mikey decides to embark on a journey of sexual discovery and adventure and Frank's left at home with nothing but the fridge monster for company. To make matters worse, Mikey insists on telling Frank everything he does with his new kinky friends, right down to the tiniest detail. And now suddenly Frank is best friends with his right hand and he can't stop thinking about Mikey in ways he never has before. The really big problem, other than suddenly being in lust with his best friend, is that Frank isn't sure why.

Of All The Hidden Corners by moneyes, Frank/Gerard, ~44k, PG-13. An epic, adventurous tale filled with alternate universes, lords, mischief, magical powers, snark, boyfriends, and luck of the bad kind.

Church of Hot Addiction by spleenjournal, 0nlymemories, Frank/Gerard, Frank/Mikey, 36k, Adult. When Gerard Way gets transferred to Our Lady of Peace in Arlington a few weeks into his Senior year, he thinks it's his chance to be cool. Too bad his idea of "cool" is no cooler than it was in 3rd grade, even if there aren't any green tights.

Paradox 'verse by stoplightglow, Frank/Gerard, 42k, Mature. You know the saying. The best part about hitting rock bottom is that you get to meet a hot psychic.

[moonstone-blues]

Fallout 4 AU: October 24th

If you guys remember, a while ago I quickly sketched up an idea of a modern/what if the bombs didn't drop Fallout AU for FOCCA (I'll get round to finishing the rest of the submissions eventually.)

Well, I've been doing some thinking and just wanted to share my notes on how the story would go. (This is my own personal interpretation.) 

For now, the name is October 24th. Although the main story takes place after that, the name is supposed to symbolise that we're after the day of reckoning and everything is fine… mostly.

Be warned: This is a long one. 

Story:

Okay so the story starts on the Morning of October 23 2077. Everything is the same as in game. River and Jack do their thing, joking around and making sure they look good. Shaun in this story is older, being around eight years old. (This is because I wanted to keep the 10 year old Shaun element and he can't be an old man in this version.) The television continues playing the usual news and… The bombs never fall. Not a single detonation. The McConnell family continue on with their day and attend the event at the Veteran's Hall. 

When they go home, that night as they're sleeping, Kellogg breaks in and attempts to kidnap Shaun. In the struggle, Jack is shot dead and River is attacked, being knocked into a coma. This coma lasts a year with nearly another year of physical and mental therapy to go through before she returns home. Upon realising they never found Shaun or Jack's killer, she sets up on her own, trying to find her son and avenge her husband. The story beats are obviously very similar but adapted to be more modern. Synths are now clones because I felt like synths would be too Sci fi for this story. 

Factions:

The Minutemen - A kind of neighbourhood watch organisation. Funded by the army, they were supposed to try and keep the peace, without using violence. Thus made sure the military had all of their soldiers back so they could fight. However, after some fighting within the organisation and the military suddenly cutting off funding, things quickly went downhill from there. 

The BOS - This is simply the army. After the shut down of the Minutemen, a new group was made, the Brotherhood of Steel. These were soldiers sent by the military to patrol Boston, much like how they did before the Minutemen. However, since the threat of war is now gone, they have the soldiers to spare and want to show off their muscle to intimidate the people. 

The Institute - I'm still not entirely sure about the synths being clones instead things so this one is really up for debate. My thoughts so far are that the Institute still kidnaps people. They harvest their organs and make a clone to send off to replace the original person. I know, not the best idea. But I was thinking about what they would do with the kidnapped people that seemed justified in their minds? Well, they still have the same belief that humanity is doomed with the way it's going. Rioting, corrupt governments and the rest. They replace people with clones of themselves, engineered to behave. And they kill and harvest the organs of the original person and send them to hospitals for people who can't get organ donations because they're too low on the list. In their minds, they're getting rid of corrupt people, replacing them with people who they see as being better for society and giving people who may not have one a chance at life. They're technically doing good, but they are killing people. They still work out of the CIT but in secret laboratories.

The Railroad - Very similar to their in game selves. A secretive organisation dedicated to setting clones free and stopping the Institute. 

Characters:

Dogmeat - A stray dog that kept turning up on River's doorsteps during the first couple of weeks she stays at home. She eventually takes him in, being reminded of her other dog that ran away. She calls him Biscuit. 

Codsworth - Mostly the same. A faithful robot butler mourning the loss of two of his masters and constantly worrying over River. He makes sure she takes all of her medicine and never let's her miss an appointment. 

Preston - An ex Minuteman who spends most of his free time handing out fliers that promote it and tries to get people to sign a petition to bring the Minutemen back. His efforts are mostly in vain until he meets River after being attacked in an alleyway. 

Piper - The same noisy reporter working for the Boston Bugle. Known for her sometimes controversial articles and her willingness to do anything for a story. She's very interested in River since the kidnapping of her son seemed to be the beginning of all of what she believes to be the Institute's kidnappings. At first River wants to stay away from her as Piper is particularly intruding in her life but accepts her help. 

Nick - After the original Nick Valentine went for his brain scan, he was disposed of. The new Nick was made with Nick's DNA but due to the fact that the cloning technology had only just started being put to use, it wasn't perfect. He wasn't a complete copy of the original Nick and he was more than aware that he wasn't actually the original. At first he was loved up, the scientists not knowing what to do with him, but eventually Nick was broken out with the help of DIMA. He tried explaining that to 'his' boss and coworkers but they said he was mad. Eventually, Nick quit the police, feeling like he hadn't deserved to be there in the first place. After all, a man was murdered so he could live. He roamed the streets, no clue of what to do. He eventually found his way at the original Nick's home, still covered in evidence against Eddie Winters. Eventually, people started knocking on his door. They knew Nick Valentine was a great cop and did his job damn well. So when the police started ignoring missing person cases they came to him. Nick would've refused but without a job, he had no money to live. He begrudgingly accepted a job from someone in high power. (The same missing person case he dealt with in the original game but without the hilarious beeping part.) When he succeeded, he was overcome with a passion to help people. He stopped feeling sorry for himself and officially turned his place into Valentine Detective Agency. With the knowledge of his big case, people came to him from all over for help and he continued to give it to them. He had his lower right arm, some of his face, some parts generally all over damaged when one of Eddie Winter's men planted a bomb in his mailbox. He only placed his hand in so it wasn't as bad as it could've been. He did need everything below his left elbow removed and he now has a prophetic arm and eye. River Meets Nick when she rescues him from Mafia boss, Skinny Malone. 

Hancock - John and his brother came from a poor family. Honest but poor. Living in a bad part of town, their parents tried to instill good values into them despite their circumstances. Unfortunately, neither really took it to heart. They were still a happy family, doing the best they could, even taking trips to museums as a treat. As they grew up, John found himself in a lot of trouble. Joining gangs, drinking, doing chems. However, his brother was going places. He worked hard, eventually becoming assistant to the mayor. However, once it was found out the mayor was using taxpayer's money to build his own luxurious vault, he was kicked out of office. With a position to fill, Hancock's brother worked hard. His campaign was brutal. His major promise was to move the poor people to the opposite side of Boston so they couldn't bother the more wealthy. This also meant they would be receiving less help from tax payers and left to fend for themselves. The people, after having plenty of money taken off them for years, loved this plan. He won at a landslide. John was furious. He thought with their situation, his brother wouldn't dream to hurt those who could barely afford to live. But his brother still carried it out. He left the promise of a cushy life with his brother and decided to live with the less fortunate. It wasn't the best situation but anywhere would've been better than with his brother. The particular section of Boston was horrible. Mostly lawless, police not even wanting to go near the place. It was a dog eat dog kind of town. Eventually, a mob boss named Vic overtook the town, making himself the leader. Forcing people to pay for protection or they would be beat. John watched every day. Despite wanting nothing to do with him, the mayor still gave John protection. He hated it. Being treated better than everyone else who was suffering. He got insanely wasted one night, feeling horrible for the protection he got and the way he ignored Vic's actions. He needed things to change. He couldn't stand the man he saw in the mirror. He poured his remaining bear over himself and set himself on fire. Most of the damage was on the left side of his body, mostly burning his face so that he was hardly recognisable. After putting the flames out, he broke into one of the museums he loved so much as a kid. He remembered learning about the men that built America. It was when he looked up at the coat of John Hancock that he decided enough was enough. After a very long trip to the ER with a very expensive medical bill his brother paid off, he went back to the town with a crew who hated Vic and challenged him directly. He managed to kill Vic, albeit not as barbaric as he does in the game, and took over the town. Vic's old crew feared John's strength and left the people alone. Hancock stepped up to be the leader, officially naming the town Goodneighbor. He even changed his name to John Hancock, fully separating himself from his brother and becoming his own person. He runs it mostly the same as he does in the game. River meets him after going into Goodneighbor with Nick following a lead on her case. 

MacCready - Grew up in an orphanage in DC. He was roped into criminal activity at a young age. When he met his wife, Lucy, he claimed he was military being deployed in many places when he was off committing crimes. When his son was a few years old, Lucy was killed by a pack of rabid wolves when he didn't check out a camping spot. Duncan eventually became sick so MacCready moved to Boston with him after hearing that Med Tek was working on a cure. Unfortunately, that meant that Duncan had to live in the Facility and the cost to keep him safe and quarantined was high. MacCready works odd jobs, even stooping to criminal activity to help his son. He meets River after she hires him to help with doing some shady things since he knows his way around a lock and he's good protection. 

Curie - Curie's 'father' Kenneth Collins works as a scientist in the CIT. While he isn't aware of the Institute, he had a friend in it who he confided in about how he was sad he could never have a child since he was alone and old. This friend wanted to surprise him one day and using his connections, managed to get the Institute to create a clone for him. They created an amalgamation of personalities, most intelligent and scientific and put it in a young woman. This became Curie. Collins quickly figured out that his friend must've been part of the Institute. After all, the rumours were largely spread around the CIT building. He kept Curie a secret, knowing how suspicious it would be for a random woman with no records of anything suddenly popping up. She stayed in mostly total isolation, learning everything she could about everything to do with science. While she did very rarely step outside her home only under the supervision of her father, she still didn't understand a lot and yearned to be outside to explore and study. Eventually, the Institute found out that their 'property' had been given away. Kenneth was killed and Curie remained trapped, locked in her room. River meets her after walking past her house, hearing her bang on her window. She eventually gets her out of the house and with nowhere else to go and no clue of what the outside world is like, River offers her guidance. 

Danse - A Brotherhood member who is very patriotic and eager to defend the people and his country. However, despite his love for his country, he hates how the country is run. Despite the threat of nuclear war disappearing, Danse believes that America has become too relaxed and lazy, expecting everyone else to do the work. He believes the military are the only people pulling their weight and the American people need to wake up. He was replaced with a clone shortly after being deployed in Boston. River meets him when she comes across a small riot going on in the street between Danse's small squad and some members of the Minutemen. She steps in and resolves the situation. Danse is, of course, mistrustful since they were her people and he doesn't know if the Minutemen are a threat yet. However, River offers her help, guilty that Minutemen were involved in riots and Danse finds her to be quite useful for his mission. 

Deacon - He was always a con man, weaseling his way into situations for his own benefit. However, he was also very troubled by the growing tensions between America and China. He joined a group that were against the Chinese and harassed any they met, even lynching a young man. Deacon left the group after this, being disgusted by his involvement and soon met the love of his life, Barbara. A Chinese-American woman. Despite some lingering feelings of fear and hatred, he eventually came to love her, growing out of his previous beliefs. They were happy together, even wanting to have a child together, however, before they had the chance, his old group found out about the pair and reported Barbara to be a Chinese spy, taking her away forever to what Deacon assumed to be her death for sure. Using his skills as a master of disguise and a con man, he managed to ruin every single one of their lives. The least someone got was being put in prison for life. He felt empty after he had his revenge. He didn't know what to do with himself. That's when he heard about the Railroad. A group dedicated to helping people. Deacon found his new cause. He may not be able to protect everyone but he could at least try to protect some. River meets him when she finds the Railroad, looking for their help. However, Deacon has had his eye on her for much longer than that. 

Cait - Her parents abused her much like in the game. After she turned 18, her parents made her work on the streets to get money for their drinking, drugs and debts. Cait was isolated most of her life with the abuse and didn't know what she could've done to escape. Eventually her parents revealed their debt was too great to be paid off by Cait being on the street. So, as part of a deal she wasn't aware of, she was forced into an underground cage fighting ring. The owner of the ring itself was Tommy who was sympathetic towards Cait but the real people in control were the gang that took over, the people Cait's parents owed money too. She was forced to stay there under a contract, her only option to fight. River Meets her accidently when she wanders into a bad part of town and uses her legal knowledge to get Cait out of her contract. 

Strong - Armstrong was the youngest out of six brothers. With his parents dying too young for him to remember, he was raised by his brothers, being abused and neglected by them. He was looked in his room most days and given the scraps of food. His brothers would fight them, knowing he was a weak target. Armstrong became stronger this way. Eventually, he escaped from his home. However, due to his lack of socialisation and education, he couldn't find work. Fortunately, he eventually found a free education program for adults. There, he was taught by radio personality Rex Goodman about literature. Macbeth stuck with him especially. Rex offered him work in his studio, hauling equipment but Armstrong still doesn't have the best socialisation and Rex doesn't get to spend as much time with him to teach him. River Meets Armstrong after she is invited on Rex's radio show to talk about her son. River feels bad for Armstrong and after some explanation about his life from Rex, River offers to help Armstrong and educate him in her free time. 

X6-88 - A clone working as security for the Institute scientists. During the times the Institute scientists are not working, he works as a security guard at the CIT. He also brings in any clones who figure out they're clones. River first meets him when she enters the CIT looking for answers after she gets clues that the CIT is where the Institute is.

DiMA - Dima was the Institute's first attempt at creating life without the use of cloning. He was put with Nick who was the first attempt at creating life with the use of cloning and the two formed a bond with their imprisonment. They even considered themselves brothers. However, with Dima's lack of an imported personality, he tended to be quite unemotional, something the Institute would take advantage of when making their security. However, Dima could tell how much Nick was suffering and wanted to freeze him. He himself wanted to be free too, of course, but he wanted his brother to be happy more than anything. He eventually helped him escape but something happened. Nick was injured in the escape, causing him to lose most of his memory of the Institute and Dima. Dima was scared, especially since his brother didn't recognise him anymore so he fled. He hoped to see him again some day but he would wait for Nick to find him. 

Obviously there's more characters and stuff but this is what I've thought of so far.

Feel free to ask questions or request something about this! 

[ladyseaheart1668]

Endless Summer Book 4 : Daughter of Vaanu (Chapter 30)

Description: Caleb plots his next move while Nicholas Montoya is reunited with his sister.

Tagging: @xo-endlessmayhem-xo ; @princesstopgun : @mysteli @endlesshero1122 ; @whatmcsaid

Note: In this chapter, I want to give special thanks to @endlesshero1122 , who not only gave me a great idea, but invented five characters and blessed me with full permission to use them. One of them, though not yet named, appears in this chapter, and he and the other four will continue to appear in the future.

Chapter 30: Shadowed Voices

Estela

I'm sure my vise-like grip is hurting Quinn's hand, but to her credit and my great relief, she doesn't ask me to loosen it. I don't know if I could just at this moment. The silence in the living room of my mother's apartment is deafening as she and her older brother stare at each other through a computer screen. I tremble violently as I watch my mother's eyes start to shimmer, until finally, she takes a shuddering breath and the tears spill over.

“...Nicholas...? Say something...”

“Livita...” My Tio's voice cracks with emotion. “...Livita, where have you been...?”

“Well...for the last five years, I have been in a fugue state in a mental hospital in Florida. Before that is...harder to explain. But I want you to know, Nicholas, because I don't want you to believe even for a moment that I could have left you or Estela without me by choice.”

“I could never...”

“...What I want to tell you is sensitive information, Nicholas. As sensitive as any information you have ever dealt in. ...It was enough to get me killed once, and I would rather tell you in person. Estela and I can be in San Trobida in about six hours.”

“Yes...Dios mio...of course...but...Livita...” Tio gulps audibly. “Livita, are you real? I...surely must be dreaming...”

“In six hours, I will be in San Trobida with my daughter, and you will see that I am real. ...I love you, Nicholas.”

A sob escapes him. “Livita...I love you...I love you, my sister...please come home...”

Caleb

One thing I can say for Gigi's operation is that it pays well. It's part of how she keeps her squatters loyal. She runs her gang like the mafia, or a Golden Age pirate crew, where all the treasure is divided equally, after dues are collected for the maintaining of the abandoned houses where she's set up. I have enough in my pocket to hole up in a cheap motel for a couple days and eat cheap, greasy food for a few meals. I also get a couple decent showers out of the deal while I wrestle with Tahira's offer.

I could just walk away. She says she doesn't think I'm going to go crazy or get sick from exposure to the Prism Crystal, which is really all that I was worried about. ...But I just keep hearing her voice in my head saying it's bigger than Silas Prescott. It's bigger than Northbridge. It's bigger than all of us.

Fuck me, I shouldn't care. I'm not a hero. I don't care about the rest of the world. Just myself and my little corner of it. …But I can't deny that the whole world includes my own little corner of it, much as I would like to pretend otherwise. Besides, I'm not lacking in curiosity.

Still...having to earn Talos' trust does give the whole deal the bitter taste of impossibility. Maybe I should save myself the frustration and just walk away. The only thing that really stops me is knowing that if I do, I won't have another chance. Talos and Minuet are formidable enough on their own, but with Dragonness back on their side...well, I'm an anarchist, but I'm not suicidal. Plus, Dragonness is just...so...fuck me, she's intriguing. As Dragonness, as Tahira...there's something compelling about her. I don't know, but it makes me believe that she isn't a complete tool of the system. That maybe there's hope for her or something. There's hope with her. …Fuck me, I haven't believed in another human being in twenty years. So what the fuck is happening to me?

I buy a burrito, a can of generic beer, and a pack of Camels in a convenience store in Bayside. The cashier is a young, dark-haired guy who looks about sixteen, and who needs his grizzled biker manager to ring up the beer and smokes. I wander outside and lean against the wall of the building while I eat the burrito and guzzle the beer. I toss the empties in the trash and pull a cigarette from the pack. I snap my fingers to summon a small flame and light it. I take a drag and let the carcinogenic smoke fill my lungs.

The bell on the door dings as the teenage cashier slips outside, huddled up in a ratty windbreaker that might have been lime green once. He glances over at me.

“Hey, mister? Can you spare five bucks?”

I exhale a cloud of smoke, slipping him a sidelong glance. “You're the one with a job, kid.”

He grins ruefully. “I mostly don't spend my paycheck on myself. I support four kids and a dog on minimum wage. I just need a few bucks so I can get lunch. Otherwise, I don't eat until dinner.”

I'd say he's laying it on thick, but the hurried, tired way he explains it makes me think he gives this spiel a lot, and is in fact growing pretty tired of it. Still...

“Not a very convincing story, kid. Not unless you got some kind of super sperm and you knocked up a chick with quadruplets, only to have her abandon you with the kids and the dog.”

He sighs, rolling his eyes. “They're not my kids, they're my brother and three cousins. Can you spare a few bucks or not?”

I frown, taking a good look at the kid for the first time. Some kinda South Asian ancestry in him, I think. He's kinda scrawny and scruffy, like a stray animal. That windbreaker might as well be tissue paper in the biting early November chill. He says he isn't spending his paycheck on himself, and it kinda looks like no one else is, either.

“You support them? How old are you, anyway?”

His gaze suddenly gets hard. “Older than I look.”

“Yeah, but four kids...? No parents...? I mean, that's just asking for a visit from child services.” As I look of panic crosses his face, I pull a five dollar bill out of my pocket and hold it out to him. “Relax. I'm not looking to add you to the system. Though...If I were you, I'd be more careful who I tell about looking after four kids.”

A blush creeps to the surface of his tawny cheeks as he snatches the money from my hand, muttering his thanks. I watch him rush back into the store, my eyes lingering for a moment on the empty space where he was. Then, I shake my head to dislodge the vague concern that's creeping in on the edges of my thoughts. A bunch of kids trying to escape the foster system isn't a priority right now. Figuring out how to get Talos to trust me is the priority. Learning about what I am is the priority. I take a last drag on my cigarette and toss it to the ground to grind the butt under my heel.

...Talos isn't gonna be convinced if I just round up criminals and turn them over to the DA. No one is going to be convinced that way. ...But if I can figure out on my own what's so much fucking bigger than all of us, maybe I can figure out a way to help the superhero squad avert the apocolypse. And on that score, I think I know where to start.

...Everything begins with La Huerta.

Nicholas Montoya

It is nearly midnight by the time I reach the airport, where a charter flight carrying my niece and my little sister is supposed to be landing. I am terrified. I am terrified that I was dreaming Estela's call, my little sister's face beside her daughter. Even when I see her coming down the steps out of the plane, I and still sure that I am going to wake up any moment and she'll be gone again. She looks...barely altered from the last time I saw her. I have aged eleven years, and she has barely aged a day. I approach her cautiously, as if a sudden movement might cause her to vanish like a frightened deer. I don't speak as I place my hands on her shoulders, staring at her face, trying to memorize every detail. Finally, she smiles.

“...I'm real, Nicholas.” She wraps her arms around my neck, and I have the presence of mind to embrace her back. That's the moment when I realize that Olivia and Estela have not come alone. Over Olivia's shoulder, I can see that there is a red-haired young woman standing close to Estela. Apparently noticing where my gaze has landed, Estela clears her throat.

“Tio, this is my friend, Quinn. She was on La Huerta with me.”

So much said in so few words. This young woman was on La Huerta, where I thought my sister had died. Where for six months, I was sure my niece had died, too. Quinn was there. She was one of Rourke's prisoners. She knows same secrets Estela knows. I pull back, looking at my sister.

“...Let's go home. I want to know everything that you are willing to tell me.”

“And we would like for you to know everything.”

* * *

As the three women lay out the facts for me over coffee at our kitchen table, I realize very quickly that “everything” is...quite a lot. Quite a lot that I have never imagined possible. Time travel. Other dimensions. Alien beings from another world, and a conspiracy to use those aliens to achieve untold power.

“...Alodia said that ultimately, Rourke wanted to use her power to build himself an empire,” Estela concludes grimly. “It seems he has not entirely lost sight of that ambition.”

I am quiet for a moment, considering all I have heard.

“...I am honored that you trust me with this information.”

“Of course we trust you, Tio. Besides, you have experience with tyrants and dictators. We may end up needing your help.”

“Right now, though, Rourke is contained,” I point out.

“I know. ...But no prison is escape-proof. And Rourke is a slippery demon.”

“I believe your caution is wise,” I agree. “But right now, perhaps what we should think about is your mother...” I look up at my sister, “...and what she wants.”

“Right now,” Olivia replies, “What I want is to be with my family.”

Raj

With the camera crew following behind me, I stroll through Campagna Amica in Rome, carefully choosing ingredients for an authentic Italian pasta carbonara. I talk as I go, commenting on each ingredient, making sure I explain every choice. Lila follows well behind the camera, watching me curiously, silent until I've paid and headed back to the car with my supplies. When the cameras are off and we've climbed into the backseat, she looks over at me with fascination.

“...So...is this what you do for a living now?”

I grin. “Pretty much. Travel the world, cook delicious food, meet fans...it's a pretty sweet life.”

“...And Diego is a professor, Sean is a professional football player, Michelle is a doctor, Quinn is healthy and running a charity...”

“Yeah. We're all doing really well.” I hesitate a moment, before speaking again, but I decide to add, “Even Jake, now that he has Alodia back. He was...kind of touch-and-go for awhile after Lundgren's trial.”

“Raj...did he really put her in a stasis tube? Is that really where you found her? ...Or was it true what Rourke said about her? That she's one of the crystal people? That she was part of the Island's Heart?”

Again, I hesitate, but Lila's in this as much as any of us. And even if she turns on us, it's not like Rourke doesn't already know what Alodia's origins are.

“It's the latter. The stasis tube was the story we told to explain her return. The long and short of it is that she gave up her own existence to restore the world without turning it over to Rourke. But thanks to the Prism Crystal, she was able to come back, and a past was written for her. ...We lost five years with her, but now we've got her back for the rest of her life. And she's got a home and a family.”

Lila is quiet for a very long time. Finally, she says, “...Once I thought Rourke could give me back my home and my family.”

I put a hand on her shoulder. “...You lost them when you were little, right? A car accident?”

She frowns slightly. “...How did you...?”

“Alodia put together a few...puzzle pieces, so to speak. Some notes of Rourke's or something, plus a little of her crystal alien psychicness. She only told us recently, though. There was a lot she kept hidden on the island.”

“...Oh.” She goes quiet again for another long moment. “...I thought he could bring them back. And...maybe he could have. ...Clearly, she couldn't. ...Even if she could bring me back, she couldn't bring my family...”

“No...I think...she didn't have a lot of control over who she brought back, or she wouldn't have brought back Lundgren.”

“But she came back. She came back, and now she has a past and a home and a family. ...Just what Mr. Rourke was promising her. ...Except that he can't give me my home and my family anymore.”

I feel something cold seeping into my veins at the way she's talking. I carefully take hold of her hand, folding it between my palms. She glances at me with surprise, and I capture her gaze, holding it firmly.

“Lila, don't start thinking that way. ...The past and the family she has now...they aren't some sunny ideal. She's an orphan, too. She was adopted by an aunt and uncle who didn't really want her, and mostly raised by a nanny. Diego was the only person who unconditionally loved her all her life. Diego, and then the rest of us. ...She needs us, Lila, as much as we need her.”

Lila bites her lip, a guilty blush creeping into her cheeks. “...I...don't mean to sound...petty. She deserves what she has. ...She certainly deserves her family more than I deserve mine.”

I squeeze her hand. “...Family isn't really something you deserve. Like I said, the family she was given was hardly ideal. But the eleven of us are her family, too. ...And we can all be your family if you let us, Lila. The whole reason you're in Rome with me right now is so that we can protect you from someone who only wants to use you.”

“...I...you're right.” Her breath shakes as she exhales. “...Thank you, Raj. I needed to hear that.”

“Hey, no problem. Come on, we're almost at the studio. You can help me make the carbonara.”

Alodia

Jake has been clingy with me since the revelation that there is an Arachnid mook alive somewhere on the east coast. I can't really blame him. Of course, we're all concerned by the news, but it's different for him. I know what nightmares this has to be bringing up for him, what memories of being hunted in Kharzistan are surely lurking at the edges of his mind. And those are just the nightmares I didn't live through with him. I expect there are memories from La Huerta crowding in there as well, of Lundgren intercepting us in the mountains, being pursued by Fiddler and Tetra, Mike's dull, lifeless gaze under the influence of mind control...the fireball that consumed him and Lundgren in one terrible moment...the moment my hand slipped on the landing skid of the doomed chopper and sent me hurtling into the sea below...

… He's afraid for himself. Of course he is. ...But he is more afraid for me. For Mike. For our baby. For Diego, and Varyyn, and any Catalyst who gets caught in the crossfire. All in all, it adds up to the same thing. My husband is frightened, and there is little I can do to reassure him. For now, I can only let him cling to me whenever possible, check in with him throughout the day, and let him drive me to the studio and pick me up on Saturdays.

As my pregnancy advances, I have lightened my personal classload, but I can still teach if I keep the jumping to a minimum. I'm about nineteen weeks gone. Now that my bulge is starting to really look like a baby bump and not just some extra weight, I have opted today to start telling my students that I am expecting. I am pleased to find that the news perks up my twelve- and thirteen-year-old advanced ballet students, who at ten-thirty on a Saturday morning are typically still fighting off sleep and usually don't really wake up until halfway through the barre exercises. Once the initial excitement fades, though, they're all business.

One student does approach me as I sit on a bench just outside the studio with a bag of trail mix after class. She hesitates a moment, but I smile and pat the bench next to me.

Her name is Divya Gupta, and she's quickly become one of my favorite students. Extremely talented, but too friendly to make enemies for it, bright and curious. Not to mention that her parents are just two of the kindest people I have ever met. She started at the studio as a four-year-old shortly after I left for Hartfeld, and apparently her parents are well-known for helping out with costumes and shows when the studio needs a few extra hands.

Divya sits down next to me, placing her bag on the ground beside the bench. Over her black leotard and pink tights, she's pulled a pair of denim shorts and a sunset-colored sweatjacket with the studio logo on the back. The jacket hangs open and the convertible feet of her tights have been rolled up to her ankles to accommodate a pair of flip-flops.

“Aren't your toes cold?” I ask her. “I know we're in California, but it's still November.”

“Yeah, but we're in California,” she retorts, grinning. I chuckle.

“Fair enough. Maybe I'm just getting cold easier because of the baby.”

Divya leans over to eye my belly. “You don't look very big yet.”

“Not yet, but I will definitely get bigger.”

“...Are you married, Miss Alodia?”

“Yes, I am. Well, sort of. My husband and I got married in a ceremony overseas, but it wasn't really official. But we still think of ourselves as married.”

“Is he the one who dropped you off this morning? I saw you get out of the car when you got here because I got here at the same time. There was a man driving.”

I nod. “Yeah, that was Jake. He doesn't work today, so he decided to be nice and drive me.”

“That's a cool name. ...He looked cute, too, but I couldn't really see him very well.”

I grin. “He is cute. Very cute.”

“What does he do for a job?”

“He works for my uncle now, but he used to be a pilot in the navy.”

The sigh she gives is unmistakably dreamy and I can't help grinning a little. “That's soooo cool. How did you meet?”

For a moment, I'm a little thrown by the question. People knowing my name and Jake's is something I've just learned to get used to in the months since I've been back. The disappearance of eleven college students was international news, as was their return six months later with one of them missing. As was, for that matter, the trial of the two former navy pilots who were eventually cleared of three-year-old treason charges. But I suppose the media hasn't exactly been rigorous about keeping up with us. And at her age, I guess it isn't unlikely that Divya wouldn't have much interest in following the news to begin with.

“He was the pilot when my friends and I took a trip to the Caribbean five years ago. He sort of got stuck there with us.”

“In the Caribbean? That's soooo romantic...” She looks up at the clear blue sky. “...I can't wait until I'm in high school next year. Right now I'm in eighth grade, and all the boys at my school are my age, or they're younger. I like boys who are older than me, because they're more mature. When I was in sixth grade, all the eighth grade boys seemed so grown up. But now that I'm in eighth grade...”

“So are all the immature boys who were sixth graders with you?”

“Exactly,” she sighs.

“Well...eventually the boys your age will catch up to you in maturity.”

“Is Jake your age?”

“Well...no,” I admit. “He's five years older than me. But some of my best friends are guys my age, and they're pretty mature. Well...most of them. In their own way. ...Come to think of it, maybe guys just don't mature.”

Divya laughs, and so do I, but the truth is that I wouldn't change any of my friends for anything. I hope Diego never stops making pop culture references. I hope Jake and Mike never stop nicknaming. I hope Craig and Raj always find ways to startle me with their crazy ideas. I hope Aleister is always just a little bit pompous and Sean is always just a little overprotective. As long as they don't stop learning, or slip back into harmful patterns, I hope they never lose those little quirks that I love about them.

Divya sits up abruptly. “Oh! I see my dad coming. I'll see you next class, Miss Alodia!”

She grabs her bag and all but skips off to meet her dad as he pulls up at the curb, waving to me as she goes. I wave back, then gather my energy to return to the studio. I have one more class before I can take a long break for a proper meal, and then one more class in the afternoon.

My fifteen-year-old jazz/hip-hop students don't react to my news with much more than brief smiles. They are a dedicated group with very little time for much outside of dance. I confess that they often exhaust me with their dedication, but a good meal restores my energy, and by the time I get back, the four-year-old ballet students are starting to stream into the studio. At this studio, proper class attire is demanded of even the youngest students. The girls all wear tiny black leotards and pink tights with pink slippers of leather or canvas, and the boys come in fitted black shorts and white tops, with white or black shoes. Most of the girls also like to dress up their outfits with sheer ballet skirts and ribbons for their hair. When I get back to the studio, most of the parents have just about finished getting their little ones dressed and securing long hair off their faces. I stand at the dressing room door and clap my hands.

“Okay, is everyone all set? Come on out and let's sit in a circle in butterfly position. If you brought a doll for the dolly dance, let mommy or daddy hold onto it for now, okay?”

Fifteen little dancers rush less-than-gracefully out onto the dance floor, plopping down in a lopsided circle and obediently arranging their legs in a butterfly position, grasping their ankles. They leave a space for me at the head of the circle, and I accept it.

“Okay, everyone, before we start, I have an announcement to make: I am going to have a baby.” A chorus of excited gasps greets my news. “In the next few months, my tummy is going to get big and round, and I'm going to be eating a lot of extra snacks to help the baby grow before it's ready to be born. Also, after the baby is born, I will need to take some time off to rest, so Miss Vikki will be teaching everyone for awhile. You all know who Miss Vikki is, right?”

“Yeeeees,” everyone choruses.

“Good. Miss Vikki was my ballet teacher back when I was five years old, too, and I learned everything I know from her, so you'll all be in good hands.”

Martin Becskei puts up his hand, but doesn't wait for permission to speak before blurting out, “Miss Alodia, my mom told me where babies come from! If you're gonna have a baby, that means you made sex with a boy!”

Chloe Baudin gasps and swats Martin's shoulder. “Martin! That's a bad word!”

“No, it isn't! It's what happens when you're a grown up and you're in love with someone!”

I bite my cheek to keep from laughing. A few of the parents watching from the benches in the back aren't holding back. Martin's mother is actively beaming, apparently oblivious to the mortified looks from a couple of the more conservative parents in the room.

“Okay, Chloe, no hitting,” I say, my voice strained with the effort of holding back giggles. “Martin, your mom is very smart.”

“Miss Alodia?” Megan Radcliff calls. “Is it a girl baby or a boy baby?”

“I don't know yet, Megan. Right now the baby is too small to tell, but in a few weeks, I'll go to the doctor and have a picture taken of the baby inside me, and they should be able to tell me then.”

“When the baby is born, will you bring it to show us?”

“Of course, Ji-hu. Once the baby is strong enough, I promise I'll bring them in so they can meet everyone. But that's going to be a long time from now. For now, let's get started by warming up our bodies. Everyone shake out your hands and let's warm up our little ballerinas.”

I lead them in shaking out their wrists and fingers, then hold up my hand with my palm out and my fingers spread. In unison, we name the five ballerinas on each hand, just as I was taught when I was five years old: the thumb is “Daddy Ballerina”; the pointer finger is “Mommy Ballerina”; middle finger, “Skinny Ballerina”; ring finger, “Princess Ballerina”; and at the end of the line is “Baby Ballerina”.

I lead them through the most basic warm-ups and barre exercises, never throwing enough at them to overwhelm them. At their age, they don't need to worry about knowing the proper French names for each step. For now, it's enough to do “tippy-toe turns” and “ballet leaps.” All I'm worried about now is that their bodies get used to moving. Proper technique will come later. I do lead them through the five positions for the feet and arms, though. That's basic enough to be necessary even at their age. For the next hour, I get lost in the magic of dancing with these children, tapping on cheap tamborines while we skip in circles, and watching them hop over a line of old discarded ballet slippers that I keep in a box and lay out on the middle of the floor for them. Just before the Dolly Dance, I notice Jake slipping into the studio. Quite unexpectedly, I find myself struck hy a sudden wave of shyness; a self-consciousness that swells in me for a moment as I instruct the students to collect the dolls and stuffed animals they've brought as props. I manage to swallow it as I start the music.

I keep a doll from my own personal collection on hand so that I can participate; Emma, a handmade rag doll with yellow yarn hair, wearing a blue paisley dress and a lace pinafore. I retrieve it and try not to look over at Jake as I call out directions to my students. We all take on the role of parents as we rock and kiss and admire our “babies.” But then we place our babies under the barre and pretend we can't find them. We plié right and left, shifting our weight and holding our hands over our eyes as if searching the horizon for what is right in front of us. We pretend to cry in despair at our inability to see our babies staring patiently at us from beneath the barre. We hop from first position to second as we weep, “Oh me, oh my, oh me, oh my!” and scrub at our eyes theatrically. Then, lo and behold, the clouds lift as suddenly we realize where our babies are and we run to gather them in our arms. We kiss our babies. We hug our babies. We rock them, chanting “Rock-a-bye Baby,” and gently twirling after each line. As the music fades, I have to push past a lump in my throat as I call out to the dancers to give their babies back to their parents and come line up in the center of the room again. It takes a little wrangling, as usual.

“Everyone, remember our ballet manners?” I call, my voice still hoarse with suppressed emotion. “It's time to say thank you to everyone for dancing with us and watching today!”

The class reluctantly gathers at the center of the room and settles down as I select the révérence track, and a slow, gentle piano piece trickles out from the speakers. I lead my students through a final port de bras, and tippy-toe turn. As I end facing them, I lead them to bow or curtsey to me, then to turn and face their parents at the back and acknowledge them as well. Then, on impulse, I hurry to the door and take Jake by the hand, leading him into the room. His eyes widen slightly.

“...What are you doing?” he whispers.

I grin, turning to face my class. “Everyone, this is Miss Alodia's husband, Jake. He came to watch the Dolly Dance, so everyone bow or curtsey to him, too.” My students do as I say, giggling a little, and Jake applauds obligingly. I can't help chuckling. “And Mister Jake even knows his ballet manners! Everyone, let's clap to say thank you for a good class today!”

The students clap, and I finally dismiss them. Jake turns to me, lacing his fingers together at the small of my back, and leaning in to plant a kiss on my mouth.

“I hope it's not bad ballet manners to kiss the teacher,” he murmurs.

“Not after class,” I reply. “But we should still save it for after the kids and parents are gone. They might have questions or something.”

“Questions about where babies come from?”

I laugh. “No, apparently, they know that already. I was talking ballet-related questions.”

“Very well then, Princess. Go see to your subjects.”

It doesn't take too long for the students and their parents to clear out. Most of them are hungry and tired and ready to go to dinner. I'm starting to feel it myself, honestly. I'm starting to feel a lot of things. As I close down the studio, I suddenly realize that the knot of tears in my throat has dissolved, and I've started crying. Jake winds an arm around my shoulders, drawing me back into his arms.

“You okay? Is something wrong, or is this a baby thing?”

I laugh weakly, clutching him and resting my head on his chest. “A baby thing, a hungry thing...it's a thing. ...That stupid Dolly Dance got to me. Especially when I saw you watching.”

“Sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.”

“It's not your fault. It was just...with this kid inside me, I was dancing out a story about losing my baby...”

“...Except the baby was right in front of you,” Jake points out. “And you found her again two minutes later.”

“I know. I didn't say I was being rational.”

I hear him exhale a short breath of laughter, and he kisses the top of my head. “I get it. I know I've been noticing dads and kids a lot more recently. Just today, I saw two men with their little two-year-old daughter in the grocery store and just couldn't stop watching them. I must have given the wrong impression because one of them finally turned to me and said very loudly, 'Yeah, we're married, and this is our daughter!'”

I giggle through my tears. “And did you tell him you were an equal-opportunity fornicator before you were married?”

“Well, no. There was a child present. I just said I was sorry for staring, but my wife and I were expecting our first and I was feeling dad-jitters.” He kisses the top of my head again. “We ended up having a very pleasant conversation. Anyway, I think the almost-parent jitters have to be ten times as bad when you've got pregnancy hormones coursing through your veins.”

I sigh a little, nuzzling his shoulder. “...Pregnancy hormones might make mine stronger than yours, but yours are stronger than the average parent's, too. ...I think it's all going to be harder for the two of us. ...Just think of everything you and I have gone through to even get to the point where we're standing here together with me growing a baby inside me...”

He tightens his grip. “...I never stop thinking about it, Alodia. ...I never stop thinking about T'kal nearly shredding you the first time we met him. Or looking down while I dangled over a cliff and seeing you under me. Or holding you while you cried for your best friend, knowing I couldn't say or do anything that would make it better. I remember how it much it killed me to see you in pain. I remember being terrified that if I didn't go with him, Lundgren would try to hurt you to get to me. ...Waking up when you cried out in your sleep because you were watching us die and couldn't bring yourself to say anything about it. Watching you almost going over a waterfall...watching you fall out of a chopper...finding you on the beach and realizing you weren't breathing...watching you disappear...”

“...I never stop thinking about it, either. ...Just in that last loop alone...when we snuck into MASADA and I saw Lundgren with your throat in his fist...Sean had to hold me back. Remind me that I was still dressed like an Arachnid. ...Every time one of them showed up, you got hurt. Physically or emotionally. ...You were lying in my arms, coughing blood and crying over Mike...and I couldn't make it better anymore than you could when Diego was missing. All I could do was hold you and make promises I didn't know if I could keep...”

He's started to sway with me now. “...But I also remember dancing like this on New Year's Eve. I think about that all the time, too.”

“...I think about that, too. ...I think about sitting beside the river with you...watching the sunset...windsurfing together...”

“Winning masks in quuk'tanoi...ice skating in the mountains...”

“...Our wedding...our honeymoon...the first time you called me Princess...” I pull back to look up at him. “...I meant it when I said you gave me a lifetime's worth of love in a matter of weeks. ...But don't imagine for a moment that I didn't always want more.”

“I never do, Princess.” He bends to kiss me gently, just tasting my mouth, lingering there for a moment. I savor the sensation, but then an aching quiver deep in my belly makes me pull back with a gasp. He looks up, concerned. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“I'm starving!” I groan. “I feel like my stomach's going to start dissolving itself if I don't get food soon.”

He laughs. “Fair enough. Watcha in the mood for?”

“Potatoes,” I answer promptly. “Don't care how they're prepared, as long as they're loaded with carbs and starch. Potatoes and pickles, and a garden salad with spinach leaves, tomatoes, cucumbers, bacon bits, blue cheese...”

“Wait, what? You hate blue cheese.”

“I know! It smells like feet! But apparently, River likes that in food, because I want it all over my salad. ...That and peanut butter.”

“...Our kid has a weird appetite. Also, cucumbers and pickles are the same thing, just one is salty.”

“I need both the salty and the unsalty.”

He snorts, winding an arm around my waist and bending to nuzzle my neck. “Let's see what we can rustle up.”

Diego

There is something in the air in Laguna Beach tonight. I'm not sure what it is, but it's made my little nuclear family of five feel giddy and affectionate. Maybe it's all of Allie's baby hormones permeating the air. When she and Jake got home an hour ago, the trunk of her car was loaded with a bizzare mix of groceries that she explained dismissively as being the result of cravings. Of course, Jake, Varyyn, Mike, and I all forbid her from trying to carry any of the bags in herself and loaded our arms up with them. Stubborn wench that she is, Allie defiantly grabbed one of the lighter bags and marched into the house, sticking her tongue out at us as she went. Looking at the bags on the counter, somehow, the four men in the room got the same thought in our heads that we were going to make dinner. Allie looked at us skeptically when we suggested it, but as I pointed out, even if none of us are Raj, we can still follow a recipe. So, she obligingly excused herself from the kitchen with a bag of potato skins, a jar of peanut butter, and a carton of orange juice, and settled in the rec room to watch TV.

Now, we're all gathered around the table on the deck, looking out over the Pacific as the sun goes down over the water, nibbling at the remains of a satisfying meal of potato soup, garlic bread, salad, and fresh fruit. Allie, who drenched her salad in Italian dressing and peanut butter, uses a thin slice of garlic bread to soak up the remaining puddle, sprinkling pieces of blue cheese on top before stuffing the abomination into her mouth. She grins as she notices us watching her with a mix of horror and fascination.  

“I know, I know,” she says around the mouthful. “When I'm back to normal, I'm going to realize just how disgusting these combinations are.”

“My mom says that whatever a woman craves most while pregnant usually ends up being the kid's favorite food,” Jake remarks. “Kinda makes sense to me. My mom hates seafood, but she says she had the worst cravings for it while she was pregnant with me, and I could basically live off anything that comes from the ocean.”

“Guess that means River's going to be a fiend for peanut butter,” I quip. “Seriously, how many jars of the stuff have you gone through this week?”

“At least one-and-a-half of the family size,” she admits. “I just hope they don't end up with peanut allergies. ...But anyway, how was everyone's day?”

Most of us were off today, but I spent the morning working on a lesson plan before Varyyn and I went for a little picnic on the beach. Mike applied to a few jobs in the area, and thinks he might have secured something for the holiday season at a warehouse. Meanwhile, Jake was making travel arrangements for himself and Allie for Thanksgiving.

“You also snuck in to watch the end of my last class,” Allie reminds him. “Got there just in time for the Dolly Dance.”

“Yes, I did, and it was too fucking adorable. All those little rugrats bouncing and tippy-toeing with a bunch of dolls and stuffed animals was cute enough, but add in my gorgeous wife leading them?” He dramatically clutches his chest. “My heart almost couldn't take it.”

“Wait...the Dolly Dance?” I feel my face scrunch as I search my memory. “That sounds really familiar...”

“Possibly because it's the same Dolly Dance that I did when I was four years old, and your mom was always the one driving me to dance classes, which meant you were usually dragged along, too.”

“Right! And I remember once your teacher let me join in!”

Varyyn turns to raise an eyebrow at me. “Did you dance, Diego?”

“Well, not like Allie, of course. My parents could never afford classes...and I'm not sure they would have wanted me to dance if they could...”

The mood is temporarily dampened, but quickly lifted again when Varyyn takes my hand. I turn to smile at him and notice his golden eyes dancing.

“...Dance with me, my darling.”

“Right now?”

He stands to take my other hand and pulls me to my feet, drawing me against his broad chest. “You are a beautiful dancer, my love. You have been as long as I have known you.” He starts to sway with me, and I lean into his embrace.

“Well, I am as long as I have your lead.”

He nuzzles my neck. “No...you are beautiful and graceful all on your own.” He winds his arm around my waist and lifts my hand into a waltz position, spinning me slowly across the deck.

“Careful, you two!” Mike calls. “Don't fall.”

I pull back and lock eyes with Varyyn. “We won't fall. He will never let me fall.”

“Never,” he agrees, not taking his eyes off my face. “You are always safe in my arms.”

I hear Allie mock-groan. “Well, we might as well all get up and leave. Those two are going to forget that there's anyone else here in like, two seconds.”

None of them move, though. She's right, but none of them move. The evening is pleasant, and the temperature hasn't dropped yet. It will after the sun's been down for awhile, but right now it's still warm. And I'll be warm awhile longer, in Varyyn's arms. And yes, the rest of the world does fade away when I'm looking into his golden eyes. Even after five years, there are moments when I cannot believe how in love I am with him. Or how much he loves me back. I can hardly believe how lucky I am to be living this moment, to be a part of this little nuclear family. My husband, my best friend and her husband, her husband's best friend, and in six months or so, my little godchild...

In the next moment, several things seem to happen at once. For the life of me, I'm not sure which happens first, whether I see the change in Varyyn's expression or hear Jake's voice asking, “You okay, Princess?”

I look sharply at Allie, who has brought a hand to her forehead. In the waning light, I can see that her skin has taken on an ashen cast. I break my embrace to step closer to the table, but I keep one hand in Varyyn's.

“I'm fine,” Allie mumbles. “Just...feeling a little lightheaded. I...think I'm gonna go inside and get horizontal for a moment.”

She starts to stand, but it's clear she's not feeling steady on her feet. Jake moves quickly to brace her, and she winds her arms around his neck, letting her head drop onto his shoulder. Her breath shudders audibly as she struggles to keep it slow and steady. Jake strokes her hair, looking at the rest of us with alarm in his eyes.

“Should we call the doctor?”

“I'm sure it's nothing,” Allie replies weakly. “Vertigo is common in pregnancy. They told me as much.” After a moment, she lifts her head to smile at him, still looking peaky. He frowns critically at her, studying her face. Finally, he pulls back enough to turn her toward the house, taking her gently by the arm to steady her.

“...I'm gonna call Michelle as soon as we've got you inside. Get her advice.”

“Let me help you with her.” Mike gets up to take her other arm. I start to follow them inside, but Varyyn tightens his grip on my hand, holding my back. I turn toward him. My concern immediately deepens at the look on his face.

“Varyyn? Sweetie, what is it?”

“...She was seeing something,” he murmurs in Vaanti.

“What? What do you mean?”

“A vision. She showed it to me. There was...a figure in shadow. Someone familiar to her.”

I am still for a moment, trying to process this. “...Familiar to her...I don't think there's anyone familiar to her who wouldn't be familiar to me...unless...it's someone we knew in another time loop that I don't remember...”

“I don't know if you know this person. ...But the figure was familiar to me, too.”

“Do you think this...vision has anything to do with her getting dizzy?”

Varyyn shrugs. “I don't know enough about child-carrying to guess.”

I step forward to cup his cheek and press my lips to his—both because I want to kiss him, and because I need a moment to gather my thoughts.

“Okay. Let's not get carried away here. Let's not say anything unless she does, okay? Jake's jumpy enough with the news of that Arachnid mook, and with Allie being pregnant. If she doesn't know who the figure is yet and neither do you, there's no telling whether they're actually significant. I mean...it might be Yvonne. Or Malatesta, or Kele. One of those people who went back to their own times after the timelines reset.”

Varyyn exhales slowly and nods. “You are right, my darling. Of course. There is no reason to get upset.” He kisses my forehead. “...You have been a voice of reason around here of late, do you know that?”

I sigh a little, raising myself to kiss his throat. “It's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it. ...But I guess I've grown up a lot from the kid I was when you first met me, huh?”

“We both have, my own sweet love. But you in particular have grown so strong.”

I feel heat rising to my cheeks at the praise, but I can't help smiling. “...Let's go inside, sweetheart. It's getting cold. And I do want to check on Allie.”

Allie is lying on the couch when we get inside, her phone on speaker beside her head, talking to Michelle. After a series of questions, Michelle concludes that there is probably no cause for alarm. At this point in her pregnancy, Allie is probably getting dizzy because the growing uterus is pressing on her nerves. But Michelle does insist that she make an appointment to see her doctor in the next few days, and Allie promises she will.

She seems to feel better after a few more minutes of rest. She doesn't mention the vision of the shadowy figure. And if she and Varyyn mind-talk about it, they don't say anything to the rest of us.

Silas Prescott

The call comes well after the night nurse has left, from a number that comes up on my phone as Unknown. I was expecting this, and I answer.

“This is Silas Prescott.”

The voice that answers is rough and masculine, pitched low, with a cadence that makes me think of the storytellers of the far away ancient tribes that Helena used to study with such wonder.

“Silas Prescott,” the voice murmurs. “A mutual friend has asked me to speak with you. Listen, and I will tell you the story of the Endless.”

[blacklister214]

Second Son (New Chapter): Uninspired

It had been nearly twenty years since Jacob had set foot inside a hospital, but one whiff of the bleach, sanitizer, Lysol and recirculated air and it all came rushing back. The fear. The anger. He felt like that foster child all over again, being escorted down sterile white halls by various hospital staff. He'd hated them. Hated the ones that believed the lies his foster parents had told. Hated the ones that hadn't and had called Social Services, patting themselves on the back, and not realized the consequence that inevitably befall Jacob because of them. Mostly though, he'd hated himself, for being so small. So weak. So helpless. He'd sworn after that last cast had removed only a few days shy of his thirteenth birthday that he'd never feel that way again.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Hartwell appeared at his elbow wearing a lightly flirtatious smile. Apparently her distemper with him had passed.

"I'm wondering where you left your primary." He took a long sip from his bottle of water, waiting for a response.

"She's in the bathroom down the hall. I presume you don't intend for me to follow her into the stall." He was half tempted to tell her to just that, but that was simply his bad mood taking the reins. He knew that nothing that had happened was Hartwell's fault. It was a situation neither of them could have anticipated and they both had reacted as best they could. He needed to put his own feelings aside and play the hand he'd been dealt.

"What have the doctors told Scott about Korpal's condition?"

"Broken bones, internal injuries. They'll know more when he gets out of surgery, but that will take a few more hours." Presuming the doctor didn't die on the table, he would be relatively safe until he was in recovery. By that time Dembe would be a position to ensure no one entered Korpal's room who wasn't meant to.

"Visiting hours will be over soon. Are they kicking Scott out?" Jacob had no idea how these places worked. He couldn't see the harm in letting family members linger in waiting rooms while their loved one were under the knife, but he wasn't a hospital administrator.

"I wish. Currently the woman is the reigning queen of this place. It seems like every member of staff has dropped by to offer prayers and sympathies." Hartwell's tone told Jacob she shared his opinion regarding the value of such sentiments. Empty words, signifying nothing. Social niceties people felt obliged to pay, lest they be thought insensitive. Still, not everyone thought like he did. Maybe Liz did take comfort in the platitudes offered by Korpal's co-workers.

"What more can you tell me about the incident?" The agent had to have something to offer him other than the license plate. Glen had promised to run the number, but it undoubted belonged to a stolen car that would ultimately be discovered torched somewhere. He needed some kind of lead to chase.

"Not much. I was following the target out of the restaurant. He kissed the blonde on the cheek and put her into a cab. The boyfriend then left on foot, in the direction of the hospital. He waited for the signal and just as the light turned, a grey sedan roared around the corner and mowed the guy down in the middle of crosswalk." Korpal put the blonde in a cab? Why hadn't he gotten in with her, back to her place, or to a hotel?

Jacob shook his head. How Korpal choose to conduct his affair wasn't the issue here. He needed to stay focused on the details that mattered.

"If the assailant drove around the corner, there's no way he could have seen Korpal was in the street without a spotter. Did you see anyone?" Hartwell's lips thinned. The moment's pause was all it took to tell Jacob that the exemplary agent had slipped up in some way. He waited a beat, wondering if she would compound her error by lying to him about it.

"A waiter followed me out with a cell phone in his hand. He asked me if it was mine. I'd thought he was just hitting on me." He had to hand it to the kid, it was a good excuse. He probably sent the text the second he had eyes on Korpal, then covered his tracks by pretending the phone had been lost by one of the restaurant patrons.

"Description?"

"5' 10. Hispanic. 120-125 pounds. 17/18 years old. He took off after the accident." Jacob fixed Hartwell with his coldest stare.

"And you didn't think that was suspicious?" Hartwell returned the look with a scowl of her own.

"A teenage boy of color avoiding the police? No, I didn't think it was overly suspicious. This kid was no agent." Though Jacob didn't relish jumping to conclusions, he was inclined to agree. From his description and the way he'd fled the scene, the boy didn't sound like a professional. Odds were the kid was just as much a mark as Korpal, which meant he was likely in just as much danger.

"Doesn't have to be, just greedy and gullible." This was actually good news. The kid could be decent lead, assuming Jacob could find him before the hit-man did. Assassins tended not to leave loose ends. The question was, would he seek out Korpal first or this witness?

If it were Jacob, he'd target the boy. Korpal was unreachable at present, and even if the doctor did survived and regain consciousness, it wasn't as if he possessed any remotely damning information.

Jacob checked his watch. It had been about two hours since the attempted hit. That was more than enough time for the driver to destroy and ditch the car. The killer would already be looking for the boy. The fact the kid took off was promising. It told Jacob the teenager knew he life was in jeopardy. Whatever story the assassin had feed the kid to get him to cooperate, it probably hadn't included vehicular homicide. Hopefully after realizing he had been lied to by a murderer, the kid knew better than go home. If he didn't then the boy was likely already dead.

"Did you establish a cover story?" Hartwell rolled her eyes as if insulted by the question.

"I chatted up an old woman when I arrived. Her husband had a stroke and is in surgery. If anyone asks I'm his beloved niece. How about you? Do you intend stand here, holding up the wall all night?" Jacob considering telling her, but after her slip with the waiter, and the fact it took her two hours to share that piece of pertinent information, he wasn't interested in reading her in. He settled instead for one of his trademark enigmatic smiles.

"You should head back." Hartwell tilted her head to side, not doubt trying to gauge his mood.

"Not without what I came for." The operative stepped around him to the vending machine on his left. After feeding in the dollar, she bent at the waist, ostensibly to check the prices on the lower selections. Thanks to her swoop top, the action afforded an excellent view of her black lace bra, not to mention her perfect and prominently displayed ass. A quick scan of the hall told him he was not the only man, and in one case woman, to have noticed.

Hartwell glanced up at him and smiled seductively. A week ago he would have been more than willing to smile back, but now he merely raised an eyebrow. He was under no illusions about her motives for this little display. She was hoping to use sex to control him. If Hartwell thought fucking him would buy his silence about her screw-up, she had not read him well at all.

Whatever the operative saw in his face, it was clearly not the expression she'd anticipated. She straightened, her smile disappearing into a look of total indifference. Whether that was any more genuine than the flirtatious facade was anyone's guess. She entered in the code for a Snickers bar, collected her snack, and left without another word.

Jacob watched her retreating form with detached admiration. She was objectively stunning, but that fact mattered significantly less to him today than it had when he'd first met her. Jacob wasn't exactly a believer in monogamy or long term relationships, but it wasn't like him to lose interest so quickly, especially with someone as talented in bed as Hartwell was. Was his professional irritation with the woman that had left him suddenly uninspired by her? Or was it something else?

"Was that the St. Regis operative? You truly have the most unfortunate taste in women." A genuine smile stretched across Jacob's face as he turned toward the rich and familiar voice. Dembe stood before him, regaled in the blue shirt and black slacks of the DC police. A badge was clipped over heart, and a walkie attached at the shoulder. Jacob squinted at the pin that sat atop the right breast pocket of his brother's shirt.

"Well, well, 'Officer Lawrence', is it? The uniform suits you. I was a bit worried Sergeant Thomson wouldn't be able to find one in your size." He made a mental note to send the cop a bonus for setting Dembe up so another lesson from Reddington: Good work should be acknowledged and rewarded. That's what kept people loyal.

Dembe raised his eyes to the heavens. Jacob mentally congratulated himself. It usually took him much longer to exasperate his perpetually zen brother.

"You do remember I cut my visit with my daughter short to do this for you?" Jacob felt a rare pang of guilt. Since Dembe discovered the girl's existence, about six years ago, he'd make it a point to maintain regular contact, calling every few weeks, and visiting every six months. Jacob himself have been dragged along more than once. Watching his oldest friend with the girl had been a revelation. Dembe adored her. His whole face lit up in way Jacob had never seen before.

"What? I was paying you a compliment. If I was a criminal and I saw you running at me wearing that thing, you'd scare the hell out of me." Dembe's lips fought the smirk threatening to soften his expression, but Jacob could tell it was a losing battle.

"You are a criminal." Jacob waved him off.

"You know what I mean. So how is that niece of mine?" He'd never admit it, but every time his brother went to visit Isabella, he had nightmares that Dembe would never come back. Jacob knew he should want that for his best friend; the happiest Dembe felt went he was with his child. He should encourage Dembe to settle with her permanently, to give up the dangerous and rootless life he led with Jacob and Reddington. Unfortunately he was too selfish for that.

"Even more lovely than when you last saw her. Missing her uncle, of course." And the hits just kept on coming.

"Please send her my love." Jacob resolved to send his niece a large gift when all this was over. Not exactly an even exchange for stealing precious time with her father, but it was something.

"Of course." With Jacob's guilt slightly lightened, they could both get down to business.

"Check in with head the nurse. Korpal should be in surgery for a few more hours. Hartwell and the primary are in the waiting room on the other end of this floor." Jacob strode toward the elevator, confident Dembe could handle any issue that arose. His mind hummed with singular purpose, with no more thoughts of Dembe, Isabella, Hartwell, or Elizabeth Scott. He would find the waiter, with any luck while the kid still had a pulse.

[superqueerwritingfangirl-blog]

Cold Turkey

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Character Ship: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 1213

Request:  “ Hi, I would like a shot where Spencer is still using drugs and treats the reader very badly and in one case she throws him to the side but ends up taking a shot and he goes to the hospital with her and feels very bad” from anon

Author’s note: Sorry about the delay (life a bit crazy right now) I bleached my hair the other day and got some pretty good chemical burns, but after a trip to the doctors I’m mostly healed up and back!

Being an FBI agent you were supposed to be strong and able to manage your emotions well, but when you found out what had happened to Spencer during the Tobias Hankle case you cried. You were away at a conference, ironically to discuss mental health in relation to criminal activity specifically serial killers, when the Tobias Hankel case came up. After that you never let yourself leave during a case, you devoted yourself to Spencer even though he hardly spoke with you after the case.

Ever since that day, he began pushing you away, along with the rest of the team. Every idea that was remotely wrong he would berate you for it, ignore every side conversation you attempted to have with him, it even got to the point where he would push and bump into you. Your long nights watching movies and reading with Spencer were replaced with nights worrying about him and going to his apartment only to find he was missing.

Days like today were especially hard for you and Spencer. Spencer putting down every incorrect idea, you desperately trying to get through to him, though he just continued to push you away. Literally and figuratively as you pushed you to the back of the group as your team slowly climbed a 10 story building where your suspect was holding a six-year-old little boy hostage on the top floor.

You suspect has been stealing little boys from highly public areas, violating them, and then killing them and leaving his victims in very public places. Unknowingly your suspect had slipped up and took a local senator's son who, with news of the kidnappings, gave his son a GPS bracelet in case he was ever taken. Almost immediately you tracked the bracelet to this abandoned apartment building. The building was never finished due to a 3 decades old mine being discovered underneath, becoming a hazard for a potential pothole.

As your team, along with a team of unnamed SWAT members, ascended the stairs everyone grew more and more stressed. On the rest of the 5th floor, Spencer pushed you behind him and almost to the back of the line until Hotch berated him. You adjusted your bullet-proof vest and continued climbing the stairs and five floors later you reached the door. On the other side stood Theo, the little boy, and the suspect, his name Dug Bay.

Hotch signaled for the group to be quiet, pressing his ear to the door. The silent was painful, waiting for confirmation that the boy was ok. Suddenly the silence was shattered. “Dug Bay! Open up!” Hotch yelled, you heard a scuffle from behind the door, then silence again.

Hotch killed at the door, it flying open. He motioned for the SWAT to stay where they and for the rest of your team to follow.

Walking into the unfinished apartment you saw a gun pressed to the boy’s head, Dug’s arm wrapped around the child. “Come any closer and the boy die!” He yelled. Looking around Dug you couldn’t help but gasp. The walls covered in an eery red paint, messy, scribbled words circling around several photos’s of Dug’s father.

You subconsciously stood next to Spencer, his feud with you disappearing for just a bit. He unknowingly stood closer to Dug than you did, almost forcing himself in front of you. Dug’s eyes darted between each member of your team as he stepped back, with Theo, towards an open window. “Dug, don’t!” You yelled as he leaned against the window sill.

“You can come with me, I’ll make sure no one sees you leave.”

“Where is he?” Dug asked, playing the dreaded pronoun game.

“Your father?” You asked as he nodded in return. “He’s gone, he can’t hurt you anymore, Dug.”

“Are you sure?” He cried, suddenly becoming child-like

“I’m positive.” You said, feigning a smile. “Can you let Theo go now?”

He nodded quickly, moving his arms away from the boy, watching him sprint towards the team, then the SWAT team in the hall. Dug started stepping towards you, his gun hanging, forgotten, at his side, but suddenly he stopped in his tracks. His body did a complete 180, he stood straight up, stiff as could be. His childish face became that of an angry drill sergeant. “I don’t believe you.” He stated plainly. “He’s right outside, ain’t he?” He yelled just as a SWAT member peered in, making sure everyone was ok.

When Dug saw the SWAT member his brain distorted it into his father. “NO!” He screamed, lifting his gun into the air, mistakenly pointed at Reid. “You lied! I’m a good boy! I’m a good boy!” His finger twitched and a bang ran through the building.

You lunged at Reid, pushing him out of the way, immediately feeling a searing pain radiate out from the small gap of fabric under your armpit then suddenly everything went black.

You aren’t sure if it was the steady beeping or the pain that woke you up first. You kept your eyes closed, listening for a sense of safety. You found your ragged breathing, some voices and footsteps that sounded to be coming from behind a wall, and then a set of smooth breathing. One coming from directly beside you and the other seeming to come from a few feet away. Then you felt a dull pain your right side, just under your arm, just where a small gap in your bullet-proof vest would be if your arms were up.

You groaned, attempting to roll onto your side before you felt a sharp pain in your arm. Opening your eyes you saw an iv in your arm, confirming you were in a hospital. “(Y/N)?” You heard Spencer question, jolting from his spot right next to you. “Thank God, you’re awake!” He all but yelled.

“(Y/N)?!” Garcia, actually screamed, getting up from her chair across the room, her heels clicking towards you. “My little baby! Hun, you’re awake?! How’re you feeling? Should I get a doctor? I’ll go get the doctor!” She squealed, busting out of the room.

You couldn’t help but laugh at her kindness, the pain in your side quickly stopping your happiness. “(Y/N),” Spencer said, calling your attention, “you got yourself shot for me.”

“I did,” you stated, sadly, “I’d like to think you’d do it for me too. What day is it?”

“It’s Wednesday, you’ve been out since Friday. I haven’t had any Dilaudid since Friday morning, before… Anyway, I’ve been trying so hard to push you away - to make you hate me - so when I finally lose control you won’t get hurt, but you were always there. No matter how hard I tried you were always there.”

Tears streamed down your face, seeing how drained of life Spencer was, discovering how broken he truly was. “You’ve been sober the whole time I’ve been here? Four days cold turkey?” You asked, Spencer nodded.

“I think - with some help - I could stay sober,” Spencer said, thoughtfully. You looked into each other's eyes, bright smiles on your faces.

Suddenly the door swung open, “(Y/N)!” Hotch said happily, not seeing you with Spencer, “The doctor says everything will be ok.”

You looked back over to Spencer. “Yes, yes it will.” You said thoughtfully.

[spottersplace]

Dark Days in Western Mass.: A Review of Jon Boilard’s Settright Road

Dark Days in Western Mass.: A Review of Jon Boilard’s Settright Road

Settright Road, by Jon Boilard Dzanc Books Publication Date: January 2017 Paperback: 176 pages ISBN: 978–1–941088–62–3

Like Ray Carver’s What We Talk About When We Talk About Love, Jon Boilard’s Settright Road is a cohesive collection of stories about working class life that delivers an impact similar to a novel when read as a whole. Set mostly in dying mill towns in Western Massachusetts in the eighties, these sometimes interrelated stories, composed in taut yet often lush and lyrical sentences, present characters teetering on the edge of ruin and sometimes death. Children living in unstable households mismanaged by adults struggling with fading economic prospects, mental illness, alcoholism and drug abuse cope as best they can.

Go get my medicine you little shit, she said, and she told me which ones and I brought them and she tilted her head back to swallow each pill one at a time. Her room was dark. Her room smelled like fish. Now get away from me you little shit, she said. I went back to watch television.

Most of the protagonists are teenage and twenty-something townies who work at gas stations, package stores and diners, who pick vegetables or tobacco on local farms for low wages in the summer. They are glue-sniffing, gas-huffing, pot-smoking underage drinkers with pregnant underage girlfriends living in unstable situations. “I sniff paint thinner in Bobby the Killer’s garage,” is the first sentence in the collection. The narrator of the opening story, “Just the Thing,” goes on to tell us:

I’m supposed to be mowing the lawn, and he’ll be pissed. I’m only living with him because he’s banging my Aunt Haylie and she has custody. They met when he fixed the tranny on her car — a two-door, four-cylinder rice burner with a hatchback. She couldn’t get it out of first gear. He’s got a little shop in a barn behind the garage where I’m sitting on a stack of studded snow tires and looking out the busted window.

Aunt Haylie used to be a stripper at the Castaway Lounge, but the owner said she was getting too fat and fired her. Now she’s a bartender at the local VFW Hall. Many of the adults in these stories are bartenders, strippers, and waitresses who once had better-paying jobs in the mills, but those jobs were sent overseas and the mills were shut down. Those are the relatively lucky ones who are still hanging on. Others, not so lucky, are inmates at the Massachusetts Correctional Institution in Cedar Junction or the mental hospital in Tewksbury.

I was reminded at times of Bruce Springsteen’s autobiography, Born to Run.The characters in Settright Road are reeling from the same malaise, economic uncertainty and loss of identity that the inhabitants of Springsteen’s hometown, Freehold, New Jersey, experienced a decade earlier in the seventies. “They’re closing down the textile mill across the railroad tracks/foreman says those jobs are going, boys, and they ain’t coming back…” as he puts it in “My Hometown.”

While the lives these young characters lead may conjure up lines from Springsteen’s “The River,” Tom Waits’ “Kentucky Avenue,” and the Animals’ “We Gotta Get Out of This Place,” their own musical tastes tend toward hair metal. The songs these drunk, stoned, sometimes violent teens listen to as they drive around aimlessly in cars borrowed from their drunken fathers, single mothers or rowdy older brothers are by Van Halen, Bon Jovi, Billy Squier and Def Leppard. Two young brothers lounging in a junker car that’s up on cinder blocks in their yard in the title story listen to NRBQ playing a gig for college kids in a distant parking lot as if it’s music drifting in from some other world. And it is.

The divide between the townie kids living a paycheck away from ruin and the college kids who more or less have got it made is explored in the story “Watch Out, Townie Boy.” The narrator’s friend, Jabber, drives a limo for a living. Between gigs ferrying wealthy kids to the roller rink and aging mourners to funerals, they drive around aimlessly and drink beer.

The narrator hasn’t got much in the way of parental guidance at the moment because his mom is in jail for stabbing her boyfriend in the neck with a broken bottle and said boyfriend, due to the stabbing, is in the hospital. He and Jabber resent the poor blacks and Puerto Ricans who the local farmers bus in from out of town because they’ll work for low, low wages. They’ve taken the summer jobs he and Jabber and other local kids used to do picking strawberries, corn and tobacco. On the other hand, they resent the well-to-do white kids from out of town who attend the nearby colleges and look down on them as townies. There’s no college in the future for either of them.

Jabber almost went to college on a football scholarship but his knee blew out and he didn’t have the grades. Mom tells me I should think about the Army for when I get out of high school but that’s two years away.

Two years is like forever.

A lot can happen in two fucking years.

While there is no direct narrative through-line to the collection, there is an emotional one. The book is populated by characters stuck in a place that makes no sense for them to be anymore wondering how to get out and where to go. In “Dark Days” teenage Nick and his Uncle Eddy are hiding out in the woods planning to skip town to escape some unspecified trouble his criminal father and other uncles have brought down on the family. In “Sometimes There’s God” a local biker and backwoods brawler talks with his on again/off again stripper girlfriend about escaping to Vermont or maybe New Hampshire. But would things really be any different there, or would they simply have the same problems in a different location?

Richard, the teenage narrator of “Listen to That Train Whistle Blow,” talks endlessly of hopping a train to California even after a legendary local creep known as Raping Ray explains to him that the tracks he’s eying are the Boston and Maine line so only go north and south. No way in hell of getting to California on that. He can’t let the idea go, though, and raises it again near the end of the story while sitting on the roof of a local dive bar with a friend:

Yeah, I say, I’m a hop that fucking train tomorrow, boy. It feels good to say it aloud, but Bobcat doesn’t say anything back and he doesn’t even look at me. Fuck him. I know he thinks I’ll never do it. I spit over my shoulder and it lands on the ledge. The problem is that I already talked it to death. The idea. The concept of getting away. That’s what happens sometimes when you put things into words: you kill them.

Each of the stories in the book is just as long as it needs to be with the exception of the longest story, “Sometimes There’s God,” which feels entirely too short. While Boilard’s lean, mean, muscular prose delivers the goods in perfect measure in the other stories, here it comes across choppy, clipped and jagged. I found myself wanting to read the hundred-and-twenty page novella it might have become if it had been allowed to breathe and expand. Like a boxer who dropped too many pounds too fight in a lower weight class, the story winds up losing strength as well. It may have been better off bulking up and fighting heavy.

It is important that we have stories such as these now as globalization and the war on the working class grinds on, as the wealthiest of the wealthy rig the system to take more and more for themselves, as their paid-off politicians continue their quest to destroy Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid and SNAP and fight any attempt to increase the minimum wage to a living wage. Jon Boilard’s Settright Road is a story collection for our time which shows what happens to working class folks when the old work goes away and nothing new comes along to replace it.