"Escape from the End of the World" Part 11

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

( Links to parts 1-10 behind the cut )

WARNING: This chapter is gen-mature, though nothing explicit.

                               

April Dancer opened her eyes, though a groggy feeling filled her; still she knew she was no longer on the private jet.

Looking down at herself, she slowly raised her hands. They were free, but something was very wrong. She was not wearing the clothes she had dressed herself in that morning, instead she was wearing what looked like lingerie.  A long white gown of sorts, clinging and revealing, so much so that she might have just as well been naked.

She wondered for a minute if it was just a silly dream, and pinched her forearm. Where was Napoleon, was she dreaming about a rendezvous with him?

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Over in the Map Room… Please, Come Hither for Writers Choice

[glennagirl.livejournal.com]

You can find the story that goes with this picture HERE in the mfu_map_room

It's WRITER'S CHOICE! for Saturday February 21st!

[mrua7.livejournal.com]

Time to post your links to your gen stories or those of your favorite author on section7mfu, you can post het story links in mfu_map_room and slash stories in uncle_du_jour.

Looking forward to reading your stories! Time to toot your own horn or those of your fave writers!

                                                                        It's all good!
                                                                      
                                       

Writer's Choice: Miracles, Love and Promises

[alynwa.livejournal.com]

MIracles, Love and Promises

In this 3rd installment of my "Ludwig Bowler" series, former THRUSH Bowler, now living as Wolf Schmidt in upstate New York, is contacted by UNCLE regarding a medical breakthrough that may help his comatose sister.  Napoleon and Illya are dispatched to provide emotional support and Illya discovers something.  The link takes you to AO3.

The Yellowstone Affair Chapter 17

[pactnmmt.livejournal.com]

A twilight awareness. Noises sounding as if they were produced in an echo chamber then cast out through a cotton swathed fog. Gunshots. Shouts. Urgent voices ordering, Get these two on board now! Through slitted eyes that refused to open completely, Illya saw shadows of men bending close to him. He tried to turn his head. Where is Napoleon? His body, now weightless, floated! His eyelids surrendered, closing as he succumbed to the blackness again.

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