#One of the authors’ bodyguards told me I shouldn’t say anything. Someone needs to check antis bcs why tf do they actually think they have a

[elainsgirl]

so basically a gwynriel wrote a fic about azriel pretty much abusing Elain, with no content warnings at all, put it in the elriel tag and then complained and cried victim when elriels were upset about it? it's such disgusting behaviour. it makes me so sick and tired of this fandom. That fic was just vile. Stuff like that NEEDS to be tagged. Had it been tagged properly and put not in the elriel tag but in the anti elriel tag, it would have been one thing, because writers should have the freedom to explore stuff. But this was not that, AT ALL. What she did was simply vile, disrespectful and very likely done to intentionally upset, and potentially trigger elriels who might have trauma tied to that specific content. It's so vile I have no words. i don't write, but if i did, there's no way on earth i'd write a fic of Azriel abusing gwyn, put no tags or warnings on it and then put it in the gwynriel tag, knowing I could have been the reason for triggering someones trauma. its not just basic etiquette, it's basic decency between human beings. But only elriels are held to that standard. I was sick to my stomach by that behavior.

Im not going to say I’m an aspiring writer cause quite frankly - i cannot string two coherent sentences together with the correct grammar but as someone who likes to dabble in writing, the only thing I disagree with is publically calling the writing bad, say it privately. I know how I would feel if I posted a fic and someone told me it was terribly written…I would not be writing ever again and thats the only part I feel bad about when it comes to the critique the author is receiving. I understand how disheartening it is to have something you wrote talked about badly in terms of writing style/spelling/grammar especially if it’s something you struggled with. So Yh, I just don’t agree with that aspect of this whole thing.

Now wtf were they thinking…idk. You’ve publically hated on elriel, said they had 0 chemistry as characters, then proceeded to make fun of elriels - and now want to write an elriel fic…for the same demographic you’ve basically antagonised? Its an interesting choice. If you’re claiming to be a multishipper, you ship multiple couples within the fandom…yet that person does not ship elriel. “Oh but I like the idea of them, just not in canon!” Okay but you’d still have to like elriel together which again, the author does not like them together and has said so. Im sorry, but you cannot write a fics of couples you hate. You just can’t. It will always lack passion which is noticeable to readers.

If you need to take elriel out of canon context, add “banter” to make them more enjoyable etc, you’re be better off writing for a ship you actually like such as Gwynriel which is full of banter as their stans claim or do it as your own characters. Create your own story which you can tailor to your preferences. Im also going to say this/ When writing for a couple thats within a book series, even if your fic is in another AU - the concept of the couple should remain the same. Every elriel fanfic has the same core elriel dynamic whilst being able to simultaneously explore them in different contexts. If I’m reading an elriel hogwarts inspired fic, Im not going into the story expecting a different elriel dynamic. Im expecting them to be the same elriel I know and love but in a different context. That fic wasn’t elriel, and if you’ve made the decision to write about elriel the least is understanding the beauty of the couple. What the ship is at its core. aka do some research. I understand wanting to explore characters but that just wasn’t azriel or elain. And the thing is - I understand the concept and where the author was coming from - elriel just did not suit that concept.

To the contents of the ship - Yes anon. You are right, with such a detailed snipped there should have been a warning. What its about, what to expect etc - thats the bare minimum. And what was written in that fic - I understand 100% that it came off as triggering bcs it did not seem consensual. I cannot agree more anon; authors NEEDS TO TAG when including or writing about very heavy topics straight away. Im not going to say the author had the intention to hurt or purposely trigger anyone, but yes. The fic came across as disrespectful and just bait even if that was not the intention. I don’t even know what would make anyone think that the same people you’ve trashed on would happily read your work on the topic you trashed them for 😭 The fic shouldn’t have been tagged elriel. No tags or just the general az/elain tags could’ve been used - alomg w the content tags

I agree anon. If an elriel had done that to gwynriel, they would’ve received the same horrified treatment and we would not have heard the end of it. If you’re writing DR and heavy topics for the love of basic decency- INCLUDE CONTENT TAGS, that should be common sense for anyone.

[padfootagain]

Balaenoptera Bonaerensis (I)

Chapter 1: Security Measures

 This is the first chapter for my fic with a Bodyguard AU for our dear Cap! Thank you so much to @marvelcapsicle, who is hosting the writing challenge this fic is made for.

I hope you like this fanfic, please, read the author's note on the masterlist for this series concerning any link with real events!

I did, however, spent more than 8 hours researching different elements for that story so far, and have no doubt it's just the beginning… being a writer is hard…

Word Count: 3400

"Have I ever told any of you how much I hate our job?"

"Just… twenty times today. And hundreds more if you count all the times we had to wake up early to get on a plane."

"Taking a flight at 4 am doesn't make you 'get up early', it makes you not sleep at all!"

"I'm sorry you couldn't get your baby sleep, Bucky. But there were no better flights available on such a short notice."

"Did we really have to take that job?"

By Natasha's side, on the two seats before Steve and Bucky, Sam snorted, waving the newspaper he was reading to make his point.

"In these days, you should consider yourself lucky to have a job at all," Sam replied, shaking his head. "Seven months since that mess happened in Wall Street, and it's not getting any better."

By the window, Steve took a look at the clouds they flew across, cotton-like forms drifting slowly against the blue sky. He didn't react at all as the plane shook with turbulences, too used to flying by now to even truly notice. And if his blue eyes rested on the white puffs of water outside, his mind was set on work already. The file where he had gathered the information he had found - in the little time he had had to prepare their new job - was set open on his laps. He had stopped listening to his colleagues somewhere above the Pacific Ocean. Now that they were en route towards Townsville, having changed their flight in Darwin, he had stopped to act like he was listening altogether. Maybe others would have taken it badly, but his three partners were too used to his working routine to think anything of his behaviour. And as they flew across a cloud, the world turning solely into shades of white and light grey, Steve wondered who could have sent the threats that had pushed the editor of the Townsville Bulletin to hire Steve and his team to protect one of his journalist and three scientists they worked with. Apparently, it had something to do with the scientists' study of whales, although Steve couldn’t possibly imagine why someone would want to kill anyone about a study of the population of whales in Antarctica. That was beyond him.

But the threats were real, and at the thought, his eyes travelled back to the printed letters that were sent in an attempt to stop the research, and he had no doubt that it was a threat to take seriously. The message was, after all, quite explicit. Besides, they were paying for his services, so even if the threat wasn't real, it didn't exactly matter. He wouldn't complain about an easy job for once.

However, he wasn't sure to find who could have sent the threat. In the week he had been given to prepare his departure, he couldn't really find any lead. He reckoned that talking with the people involved would help clarify the situation, or at least, he hoped so.

He went through the file again, memorizing the names and faces of the people he would have to protect for the coming months.

Sofia Longbrook – PhD student

Dr. Rosa Alvarez Santiago – Postdoctoral researcher

Dr. Y/N Y/L/N – Researcher

Luke Savoy – Journalist

Lucy McGreed – Lawyer

Joshua Alexander – Lawyer

If the threats had been pointed towards only the journalist and the research team, chances were that the two lawyers involved in this whale study might get threatened as well soon.

At least three locations for their professions were to be secured, even without taking into account the lawyers for now. Plus each of their homes. And having some of them working on a major campus that held thousands of students would be a challenge to say the least. Adding to that limited resources, So much work to be done…

The voice of the flight attendant cut Steve's thoughts, forcing him back to reality. They would soon be landing. While he folded his papers and fastened his seatbelt, the plane slowly descending under the clouds, he checked the address of the hotel he had booked one more time. After dropping by the hotel, they would meet with the people who had hired them to discuss how the security could be handled, and more importantly, what kind of threats they were truly facing.

In the seats before ad next to him, Sam and Bucky were bickering, as usual, and he chose to ignore them for now.

All he hoped for was a smooth, calm mission for a change.

 ----------------------------------------------------------------------

 "This whole ordeal is absolutely ridiculous, Mark."

"Look, for the last time, Y/N: you've received threats. I will not sit down and wait to see if they were serious or not. You don't want to stop your research, and for some unknown reason, my reporter also refuses to drop the story, so all we are left with as alternative is to hire professionals who will keep you safe."

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms before your chest.

"Look, we're talking about a trade. About something that involves money," Mark continued to argue. "And just like everything else that involves money, it is not so surprising to find people ready to go to extreme ways to deal with whatever goes in the way of their profit."

"I know, but…"

"No 'but'. By the way, Richard, I could use some help."

The director of your lab turned to you, but could only shrug.

"Honestly, I don't know what to say."

"You don't agree that it was the right decision to hire professional security?" the editor of Townsville newspaper asked with a frown.

"No, no, I think you were right to propose that," Richard replied, shaking his large moustache as he spoke. "All I'm saying is that Y/N is so stubborn, I really don't know what you want me to say."

You rolled your eyes again, but the ghost of a smile appeared on your lips this time.

"I just think that we're overreacting. Opinion with which you disagree, so I have to follow your and Richard's lead anyway."

"Exactly! Thank you!"

"I have to admit that I'll feel safer with a bodyguard around," Sofia, your PhD student, added. "Plus, if the one in charge of us at the lab could be a very sexy American wearing a tuxedo and dark sunglasses, that would be even better."

"They've hired bodyguards, Sofia," you replied. "Not Agent J."

"Aren't bodyguards supposed to dress up like that all the time? Kevin Costner was all dressed up too in that movie with the singer!"

"I don't know, honestly. I have to admit that I have never asked myself that question."

"I feel like the conversation has drifted…" Mark tried to bring your attention to the matter at hand, but he had already lost you and your colleagues.

"You have to admit that it's a rather good question!" Richard jumped in.

"Maybe they'll even have this kind of earpiece, you know, with the wire and everything," Sofia went on, a dreamy expression on her face as she tried to picture in her mind how her bodyguard would look like.

"They've hired only four of them," you replied. "I don't think they'll need any earpiece."

"Which, by the way, doesn't sound like much security," Joshua added. "I mean, shouldn't we all have one personal bodyguard?"

"There were no threats against you and Lucy, so…" Mark replied with a shrug.

"Of course, let the lawyers defenceless, as usual."

"What do you mean 'as usual'?"

"Ha… nevermind. I guess it's just my fate to die like this. You know, according to my astral theme I'm supposed to die a violent death."

"If you mention astrology again today, I can guarantee that you will die a violent death," you replied, pinching the sides of your nose.

"Sorry, but I'm nervous. And I always ask the stars when I'm nervous."

"Are they more talkative than Jesus? Or is the line busy for them as well?" Richard mocked, earning a kick from under the table.

Mark let himself fall down on a chair, heaving a dramatically tired sigh.

"You know, working with you guys, who are supposed to have brilliant minds and all that, kind of brought down my expectations on life."

None of you bothered to reply to his comment, too busy discussing the bodyguards who would soon arrive.

Indeed, you waited now for their arrival, all of you gathered in a meeting room in your lab. The Marine and Aquaculture labs at the James Cook University formed a large ensemble of buildings, from the tanks used for experiments and research to the offices where you were now. The buildings were often referred as MARFU for Marine and Aquaculture Research Facilities Units. They were not the most impressive buildings of the campus, and yet their research was among the most advanced in the world in terms of understanding marine life. The studied topics were vast, and your own little team was but a fraction of the people devoting their lives to understand and protect sea life.

On the north-east coast of Australia, Townsville held one of the four campuses of the James Cook University, one of the main institutions in the country. Hidden behind the large medical centre, on the south tip of the town, the university stretched to the edge of the wilder areas of Mount Stuart, the town stuck between its slope and the ocean. The white buildings for Marine Sciences research were all gathered on the eastern part of the campus, in an ensemble of about 20 separate buildings.

You were for now waiting in one of the meeting rooms on the first floor of the main building for Marine and Aquaculture, looking around you at the blank white walls and wooden tables and chairs. A poster for the defence of sharks was hung on one wall, the light of the sun falling partially on its dark blue shades, causing the colours to wane after years of exposure to the too bright rays of the Australian sun. In the corner of the room, up to the ceiling, a spider had threaded its web, but it was only a little one, and none of you could be bothered chasing the arachnid away.

While your colleagues kept on bickering, your own mind wandered off, drifting back towards the element that had caused all this to happen.

You remembered getting the letter at your office, opening it without worry, thinking it was merely linked to your research. You were expecting some documents for a field trip with your students after all.

Instead, you found a letter reading that if you didn't stop your surveys on whales, you would pay for the consequences of your actions. If the word 'killing' was not explicit, the meaning hiding behind their phrasing was evident, and whoever had sent you this letter was ready to use violent ends to shush your voice.

Clearly, whoever they were, they had never met you in person, or they would have known that threats would be far from enough to make you back down.

Nevertheless, Mark and Richard had decided that it was best to call professionals. Apparently, Richard had a friend in the security business, who had recommended the team he and Mark had hired. Why did they have to go to all the trouble to hire Americans, that was another mystery in this crazy story, but you simply accepted whoever they chose, as your complaints were dismissed.

You doubted heavily that anything would actually happen. You were a researcher, and none of your work was secret. If it had turned into a political stance over the past few years, it was still not a secret. All your colleagues in the lab knew about your research. You had asked for help from the press and a law firm when you realized that your research might have more impact that you had thought of on an international scale; yet, here again, you were not trying to keep any secret. What were they going to do? Destroy the entire university? If whaling held a lot of potential money, it was still no reason to make so much damage, at least, not in your mind.

When you started to investigate the migrations of whales in Antarctica, nothing could have made you think that you would come to discover that a Japanese research program was misused. If your accusation that it was merely a cover story for killing whales and selling their meat had always been denied by the Japanese authority, over the course of the past years, it had become your crusade to shut down the whole program. One could not, after all, excuse the killing of hundreds of animals and call it 'science', not in our day and age, at least.

You knew you had made enemies by taking a stand. You had never tried to hide your purpose. It didn't seem to you that it was a game people would play with death and threats. Maybe you were wrong, though.

And now you were up to get a bodyguard follow you everywhere. That was probably the most ridiculous position you had ever found yourself into.

Who would be your guardian angel though? Your mind started to play a game, trying to picture features and hair and clothes, and you found it funny to imagine a rather large sixty-year-old bald man wearing a cowboy hat and a heavy Texan accent as your protector for the coming weeks.

Just as you settled on an image, Richard was called by the reception as the four bodyguards had arrived. And when the four of them stepped into the room minutes later, Sofia gave you a look that meant I told you so.

And indeed, they were all wearing suits, which you imagined was not that comfortable considering it was a warm 27°C outside and quite humid after the strong rains of the day before.

And well, they were all pretty… attractive people, you guessed. As you introduced yourself to each of them, you kept on thinking about how much your two female colleagues would make your life annoying for the whole duration of this nonsense, gushing about their bodyguards.

Everyone took place around the circle of tables at the centre of the room. A little bit of small talk went on for a moment while they were all served coffee, about their flight, and their accommodation here in Townsville, but the man in charge, Steve, soon became more serious.

"We've started to research suspects, but for now I have to admit that we couldn't pinpoint any individual as being a threat in your direct acquaintances."

"To be completely honest, we highly doubt that it's coming from anyone we are close to," Richard answered.

"Not any colleagues, or a rival from another paper?"

"No, no one comes to mind. The only suspects for us would be someone linked to the whaling industry, as Dr. Y/L/N's research could have negative impact on their business, if we manage to give it a proper exposure."

"No one else is working on this project, you're all here?" Natasha asked, and you nodded.

"On the research side we are three active scientists on the project, plus our boss Richard. Luke here is our link with the press, and Mark his editor. Lucy and Joshua are advising us on legal issues."

"Why? Does your research break the law?" Bucky asked, lifting his eyes from the notebook where he had been taking notes.

"No, of course not. On the contrary, we think someone else is breaking the law."

"Our final goal is to bring the situation to an international court," Lucy added. "That's why we're helping them."

"And the two of you didn't receive any threat?"

"No, none."

"What about the police?" Sam inquired.

"They have no lead. They asked for the University to strengthen their security," Mark answered. "The investigation is still on-going, but for now they have nothing. And a simple letter is not enough for them to dispatch officers, which is why we called you."

"As we have discussed before, we have made arrangements to stay here for three months. We'll assess the situation again in a few weeks, to see if you would like to extend your contract or not."

Mark and Richard nodded in silent agreement.

"We're going to need to make an inspection of the facilities to determine which areas are the most dangerous. Same for your personal homes. We'll spend a couple of days adjusting to the situation. Do you all work in different buildings at the University?"

"No, all three of us share the same lab, and Sofia and Rosa have the same office, mine is next door to theirs," you answered. "But I teach, and the classes take place on the other side of the campus for the most part."

"Alright," Steve nodded, and he seemed to be thinking hard. "We're going to take a look around, and one of us will be assigned to each of you who has received direct threats. If you want, we can take a look at your workplace tomorrow as well, and give you a few advices on how to lower the risks," he added to the two lawyers, before focusing on the rest of the group again. "Ms. Romanov will be in charge of Mr. Savoy, Mr. Barnes and Wilson will protect Ms. Longbrook and Dr. Alvarez Santiago, and I'll be protecting you, Dr. Y/L/N. We're going to take a look at all the areas where you go here, in these facilities, and tonight we'll check your homes. We'll continue our investigation as well to find who has threatened you. Depending on how large the areas we have to cover are, we might have to use cameras as well."

"We'll show you around, if you want," Richard offered, and you were all soon leaving the meeting room.

Steve had already studied the map of the building, but he did find some interesting details that were worth writing down. Some areas difficult to see from afar, and other hidden corners. He would have thought that the lab would be a challenge, but it was tidy and ended up not being a problem at all. You showed him your office while Natasha was leaving for the newspaper headquarters, and Bucky and Sam were taking a look at your colleagues' office. Steve walked around, checked the windows and what was outside, looking for an angle from which a shooter could fire.

"It would be safer to move your desk a little closer to the door," he advised. "That way, there's no chance anyone outside can see you by the window."

"Okay," you nodded, hiding your annoyance, and helping him move your stuff around the room.

Luckily, none of the piles of files on your desk fell, and in a matter of minutes, Steve seemed satisfied.

You checked the time. It was quite late already, but you still had a couple of things to finish tonight, you hoped to keep on working at the office for a little longer.

Steve exited the room to talk with his colleagues for a moment, and when he came back, he asked you if you could stay at the office for a while, which matched your plans perfectly.

"I need to talk to the security on site, and take a look at the building where you give your classes. Please, don't go home without me, ma'am."

You gave him a smile.

"I was going to ask you if I could have more time before going home, I have still some work to do. And, please, call me Y/N. Anyway, you would have to call me doctor, not madam," you joked. "Let's keep it simple though."

Steve gave you a little, pinched smile, but shook his head.

"It wouldn't be very professional of me, doctor. I'll be back soon. Mr. Barnes will stay in the corridor, if you need anything."

"Alright, thank you then, sir."

He gave you a nod and exited the room, closing the door halfway behind him, probably so that his colleagues could keep an eye on you from the corridor.

You heaved a sigh and unlocked your laptop.

Of course, you had to fall on Mr. Serious out of all people, huh?

These were long, long three months awaiting you…

**********************************************************

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@marvelcapsicle​

[foxyotomelady]

Another love, Chapter X (JuminxReader)

Author’s notes:

When I start writing this story, it never crossed my mind that it would develop into something like that, lol.

Be aware of: strong language, angst, violence. Yes, this chapter is quite dark.

Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV | Chapter V | Chapter VI | Chapter VII | Chapter VIII | Chapter IX | Chapter X (You are here) | Chapter XI | Chapter XII | Chapter XIII | Chapter XIV |

Buy Me A Ko-Fi Have a nice reading!

You stood up, almost knocking off the chair and turned to face Yuwoon, "What are you doing here? Bodyguards shouldn't let you to the building!" Yuwoon just smiled widely and the one who answered you was Sarah, "I don't know if you noticed but there are no bodyguards nearby. We gold-diggers have our methods. I still have some money, and not every one of those bodyguards is as loyal as you think." You frowned, "You bribed them?"  "Haha, what a clever girl! So if you know that no one will help you, what's your answer? Will you leave Jumin or should we make you do it?" You moved away from Yuwoon wisely and they were both in your sight now. You ignored Sarah's question, "How do you both know each other?" 

"Dear, do you know how many rumors are there about you and your rich boyfriend?" Yuwoon laughed. "But there were also rumors of his planned marriage to Sarah, I figured you'd be a stumbling block for them and I contacted Sarah, you know, we're both in the same boat." You looked around the cafe. People who were present in it looked away. There was no help from nowhere. You slowly lowered your hand to the pocket area where you held the phone.  "How will it be?" Sarah insisted.  You looked at her coldly, "You will not blackmail me, bitch." You quickly pulled the phone out of your pocket. To inform Yoon that something is happening, you just had to press one button! But before you could do it, Yuwoon was already by your side and twisted your arm. You moaned, the phone fell to the floor and Sarah crushed it with a heel. "No!" You shouted. People were hurrying out of the cafe. Yuwoon pulled you to himself, wrapped his arms around you, blocking your movements.  "Do whatever you want with her, just keep her away from Jumin," Sarah ordered him with a smile.

Jumin's POV 

He was buried in work. He did not notice how quickly time passed. The evening was already coming. Y/N promised to call more often but she didn't contact him for an hour. Jumin was about to call her, he already had a phone in his hand and then... the phone vibrated. To his surprise, it was Zen who was calling. He picked up and cleared his throat.

"This is Jumin Han."

"Dude, did Y/N is with you by any chance?"

He frozen, "What? Why?"

"So she isn't... Fuck. I had this strange feeling that something bad is happening to her, so I tried to contact her... but her line is constantly busy or something."

His heart was pounding in his chest. Without a word, he disconnected with Zen and immediately dialed the Y/N's number. Her line did not respond - as if she had a broken phone or turned it off. 

He called Yoon. 

"Sir?" He heard in bodyguard's voice that something is wrong. 

"Yoon, go and check why Ms. Y/N does not answer her phone." 

"I... Mr. Han, Ms. Y/N left the apartment about an hour ago." 

Jumin felt as if something hit his head, as if some invisible claws squeezed his lungs, "WHAT? Didn't I give a command to not let her out?! "

"Yes, but... She insisted." 

Jumin slammed the desk with his fist, he lost control over himself, "You should obey me, not her! Where did she leave?"

"She went to the cafe with Miss Sarah."

"With Sarah?" Jumin felt sick. He hid his face in his hand. "I was clearly saying that this woman has no right to approach her."

"I... Mr. Han-"

"I entrusted her to you and you failed my trust. I intend to fire you, but firstly, you must find her or the consequences for your insubordination will be even worse."

He hung up. When he dialed the security chef's number, his hands trembled. Just as the man answered, Jumin immediately issued further instructions, "Stand all units ready. We searching for Ms. Y/N. She was probably harmed or kidnapped. Search the whole building and check every café. If you find Sarah, stop her and tell me right away. Check the cameras. All recordings from the last hour, from every part of the building. "

Your POV 

An hour before. 

Yuwoon pulled you out of the building by force, even though you tried to struggle. You stepped on his foot and he almost let you go, but then caught you again. You called for help but people turned their heads, scared. Yuwoon covered your mouth with his hand. You bit him and he hissed. 

"You bitch!" After these words, he slapped you in the face with an open hand. It was whirring in your head, you felt blood on your lips, and tears came to your eyes. Yuwoon, the man you used to be in love with, just hit you brutally.

"Be obedient and nothing will happen to you," Yuwoon growled and pulled you toward the dark alleys. 

Current time. 

You barely remembered the way that Yuwoon brought you to a dirty and small concrete building. It was dark and you were in shock, which you have just shaken off. Yuwoon seated you against the wall, you had your legs and hands tied. In the dark, you saw the outlines of his figure sitting opposite.

"Why are you doing this, Yuwoon?" You asked. "What do you want? Do you think I'll come back to you?" 

Yuwoon snorted, "I just need money. Sarah promised me a lot of cash as soon as she got married to this rich man. I just have to keep you here until it happens."

"Are you really so stupid?" You sneered bravely. "Do you really think Sarah will keep her promise? Do you really think Jumin will marry her? All the more under these circumstances?"

"Did you just call me stupid?" 

"You're a bloody idiot! I can't believe I was so blind!"

Yuwoon jumped to you and hit you in the face so hard you fell to the floor. Then he kicked you in the stomach. The pain was almost unbearable, you ran out of breath.

"I told you to be a good girl!" Yuwoon growled. "Do you think I'm kidding? Let's see what you say tomorrow when you don't get food and water!"

Jumin's POV 

With shaking hands, a disheveled shirt, and no tie on his neck, Jumin watched the footage from the camera that the security chief showed him. The camera only recorded the surroundings of the cafe, but that was enough. Jumin's heart was pounding wildly when he watched how Sarah and Y/N enter the cafe. Moments later, Yuwoon followed them... It took some time, people left the cafe, and then Jumin saw something that took a breath out of him - Yuwoon pulling Y/N out of the cafe, she was struggling in vain.

"Mr. Han?" It took him a moment to realize that the security chief was asking him for instructions. 

"Begin your search outside the building immediately, start with Yuwoon's apartment, Assistant Kang will send you location, if you need to come in with force, do it and do not worry about the consequences - I'll take care of everything," He quickly grabbed the phone and called Jaehee - she, like everyone else from RFA, already knew what happened. 

"Mr. Han!" Jaehee's voice was full of panic, "Any new pieces of information?!"

Jumin swallowed, he could barely control his voice, "It was Yuwoon, he kidnapped her, inform the police and the media right away, give them his face image, send the location of the bastard's apartment to the head of security. Sarah was also involved. " 

"My god..." 

"Do you have her phone number? Contact her. We couldn't find her in the building, let her know that if she does not appear in front of me immediately, I will send someone for her. "

He hung up and sat down heavily in a chair in the security room. He buried his face in his hands and tried unsuccessfully to calm down. He heard conversations and orders given by the security chief, but he could hardly understand them. When all was silent and he looked up, he saw that the head of security was still in the room with him. 

"What are you still doing here?" 

"I thought it would be better if someone stays with you, sir."

"I'll be fine. We should use all of our units to search for Miss Y/N, including you."

"You really don't look well, Mr. Han. I insist on staying. At least until Miss Sarah appears."

"Fine," Jumin rubbed his eyelids, "After all of that, provide me with a list of all bodyguards who should be guarding the lowest floor. I want to know why they haven't done their duty."

"Yes, sir."

With a growing headache, he opened the chat room. 

[Jumin Han has entered the chat room]  Zen: Jumin! Yoosung: 

Yoosung: you still haven't found Y/N?  Jumin Han: I saw the recroding from the cameras  Jumin Han: recording Jumin Han: shit Zen: dude, calm down  Jumin Han: calm down?!  Zen: tell us what you saw on the recording!  Jumin Han: Yuwoon kidnapped her  Zen: 

Zen: 

Zen: I'm sick of it, I'll start looking for her too!  707: I will take Yoosung with me and we will also look for her!  Jumin Han: I'll join you all as soon as I talk to Sarah.  Zen: Why?  Jumin Han: she organized all this kidnapping Jumin Han: I'm sure of it  Zen: ... shit  707: Saeran is already working on finding the IP of Yuwoon's phone. Maybe we can track him down that way.  Jumin Han: Good. Keep me posted.

[Jumin Han has left the chat room]

After some time, through which Jumin struggled with images of what can be happening to Y/N right now, Sarah appeared. As soon as the security chief let her in, Jumin jumped up from the chair.  Sarah stepped back, terrified, "What? Why are you looking at me like that? You're scaring me!" "Where is she?" "What? Who?"  "Y/N! I know you are involved in her kidnapping." "That's absurd!"  "You took her to a cafe, from which she was later dragged out by Yuwoon." Sarah crossed her arms, "I took her to the cafe, but only to talk to her, I don’t know anything about any kidnapping."  "And you did not see how this man kidnaps her?" "No, I did not see anything."  Jumin approached her quickly and grabbed her by the shoulders, "Do you think I'm stupid? Tell me where she is or you will regret it!"  "Let me go, it hurts!"  "WHERE. IS. SHE?!"  "Mr. Han!" The security chief put his hand on his shoulder, "Please calm down." Jumin took a deep breath, let go of Sarah and looked down at her, "So you're going to insist that you do not know where Y/N is and that you have nothing to do with her kidnapping?"  Sarah smiled broadly, "That's the truth!" "Please provide the police with all evidence," Jumin said the security chief. "You can leave, Sarah."  "Remember, if this girl is not found, I'm still waiting."  "Leave immediately or I'll make you leave. And I won't be gentle."

[artificialqueens]

game of survival, chapter seven (branjie) - holtzmanns

AN: Just a heads up, this chapter has mentions of past domestic abuse and gun use. Thank you writ for being the best person to bounce ideas off of and a great cheerleader and beta <33

The congressman checks the burner phone every couple of minutes, trying to will the confirmation from the hitwoman to come through faster. He tosses it down onto his desk in disappointment and frustration each time, despite the fact that he had only given her the job earlier in the day.

He just needs Vanessa Mateo gone. Sooner, rather than later. She’s a fucking thorn in his side that just won’t shut up. If she has the chance to continue with her attacks on him and rile things up, he’s not going to be re-elected. And if he’s not re-elected to congress, he’ll bomb during the Republican primary. Which means he won’t reach the Oval Office, the place he deserves to be-

He’s getting ahead of himself.

Mateo needs to be taken out of the equation first.

He wonders how long it’ll take the hitwoman. He’s heard a lot about her – Hytes – from colleagues, how she’s good at getting rid of messes and anyone who dares to cause a little bit of trouble. She fucking cost a shit ton of money, but he needs the best to get it done. It can’t be traced back to him, not if he wants a smooth road to the White House. It’s good that his morals have become questionable, the higher that he’s climbed the political ladder.

He hopes that Mateo suffers a little bit, at least, when she dies. Women like her shouldn’t be able to get away with being as crass as she is. Not when it affects his congress re-election campaign. Especially when she’s not even in Congress yet. Just a woman who is getting way too ahead of herself – a small fish in a big pond.

He, on the other hand, runs the pond. It needs to stay that way.

There’s a series of bangs on his office door, making him clutch the phone tighter. Hytes couldn’t have killed her already. Could she have?

The congressman exchanges a look with his bodyguard, whose expression of confusion on his features matches his. The guard creeps near the door, opening it slowly with a gun ready to fire if needed.

It’s not Hytes. The men who walk in are a bit too grimy for his taste, leather jackets that smell of cigarettes with bruises and scars that mar their faces. The congressman holds back judgment. God knows he’s dealt with shadier types during his time in politics. Following all the rules doesn’t exactly get you far.

The man at the front of the group regards the congressman with a tilt of his head. Staring him down. The congressman raises an eyebrow, waits. He’s not the type to play into theatrics, especially from those who enter his office unannounced.

When the man opens his mouth to speak, the voice that comes out is raspy, evident of lungs tainted by years of nicotine. “A little birdy told me you hired a blonde supermodel to kill for you.”

How did this man already know? The congressman only hired Hytes today-  

The man snorts at his expression, one that he knows is doing nothing to hide his surprise. “Word travels fast.”

“What exactly do you want?” He’s not going to put up with some lowlife traipsing into his office and wasting his time. Not when he has more important shit to do.

“Got a proposition for you, congressman.” The man’s hands come to rest on his desk as he leans forward. A bit too forward, into the congressman’s personal bubble. Why hasn’t his bodyguard pulled this man back yet?

Nonetheless, he wants to know. “Go on.”

“You want to get rid of a woman. So do I. What say you we team up?”

He scoffs at the man’s smirk. Who did he think he was? “Number one – too vague. Number two – what’s in it for me?”

The man leans forward, tapping his fingers on the desk. The congressman’s nose wrinkles. “Let me finish talking, first of all. You want Vanessa Mateo out of the picture. I want Brooke Lynn Hytes gone.”

Wait – “The assassin?”

“No, the famous journalist. Yes, the assassin. Who else?”

The congressman’s brow furrows. “She needs to get rid of Mateo for me.”

The man looks at him as if he’s five years old. The congressman wants to smack the condescending look off of his face. “Let me spell it out for you. We can kill her for half of the price that you’re paying Hytes. We’re gonna let Hytes take the blame for it, get caught. You get what you want for cheaper, we get what we want at the same time.”

“What do you have against Hytes?” The congressman can’t help his question. He’s curious.

“She gets her nose into places where she shouldn’t. Taken some of the hits that would normally come to us. Killed a few of ours under the guise of a job. A fucking annoying bitch that won’t go away.”

The congressman raises an eyebrow. “There’s politics in hitman circles too, huh?”

“We stay out of each other’s way. Except for her. She needs to go.”

So. The man and his crew are invested too. The congressman doesn’t really care to know much more about them, but having leverage? Knowing what they want out of the situation? Priceless.

“Half price, huh?”  

The man snorts. “Knew those would be the only words you’d care about. You’re all the fucking same.”

The congressman shrugs. “Would prefer not paying a shit ton of money to Hytes, that’s for sure. How do I know you won’t be able to link your killing back to me?”  

He has that assurance from Hytes, from her history. From testimonials from others about her…excellent performance on the job.  He doesn’t know shit about these people.

“What, you want a reference or some shit?”

The congressman ignores the tittering from the man and the people behind him, leans forward. “No. Just collateral.”

“Go on.”

“You get the money after you kill her. And after Hytes takes the blame for it. To ensure that it doesn’t come back to me.”

The man grins at him. Sticks out a hand to shake. “You have a deal.”

“There’s a couple of leads around the men – who they are, who hired them. None so far as to who killed them.” Yvie’s voice on the burner phone is scratchy, far away, the service at the cabin less than stellar.

Brooke lets out a sigh of relief. “No suspects?”

“Not as of yet. You’re good, girl.”

“Thank fuck.” Not that Brooke cares much about herself being pursued by police; she’d be able to outsmart them. She knows how they work. 

Brooke is more worried about the woman sitting across from her on the couch. The one who is feigning reading an old issue of Reader’s Digest from 1996 that she’s taken from the coffee table, but is most definitely listening in on her conversation. The one whose lips had brushed against hers moments before the phone had rang, a promise of activities to be resumed at a later time. 

Brooke doesn’t want Vanessa to be trapped in this mess. Sue her. 

“What’s their plan going forward?”

“Edwards is the main lead on the case, so my knowledge is just what I’ve overheard in the bullpen and around the tasks she’s relegated to me to do. I know they were trying to trace the bullets you shot with. No leads around that.” 

Brooke’s lip curls up. There never are any. Not when she scrapes manufacturer information off of the bullet casings herself before using them.

Yvie continues, the sound of her flipping through paper notes audible on the other end of the phone. “They have that congressman as a person of interest, but no luck linking him in a concrete manner to the case yet. Or to Vanessa Mateo’s office explosion. Any developments on your end?”

“None.” Brooke grits her teeth, running her fingers through her hair. “The only concrete evidence I have is that he fucking hired me. Not that that can be useful to anyone on the case in a way that doesn’t implicate me.”

“You’re really in it now, huh?” Yvie’s laugh on the other end is wry, though infectious.

“Am I ever not?”

“True. You’re a fucking mess, but I love you anyway.”

Brooke fights off a smile. “You better, after so many years of friendship. And so much grunt work as uniform cops.

“And me saving your ass time and time again.”

“That, you absolutely have.” Brooke can’t deny it. 

She’s lucky that she has Yvie. That she still has Yvie, after so many changes in her life. Someone who has stayed a ride or die friend for her, despite everything that she’s done. Someone who has tipped her off whenever police have been closing in on her. Someone who’s let her stay one step ahead of the authorities.

Sometimes she thinks she doesn’t deserve it, not really. A semi support system. Though she’d never want to give it up.

It’s not like she doesn’t help Yvie, giving her leads that she’s picked up from the circles that she runs in. She’s helped pull cases together from afar more than once.

She wonders, sometimes, what it would be like if she was still a detective. She hasn’t lost the aptitude for it, using the skills now still while researching targets. Police training doesn’t get scrubbed from the memory that quickly, not when it’s etched into the brain with what feels like a dull knife.

“So.” Yvie’s voice is all business again. “Vanessa Mateo still with you?”

Brooke looks over to the topic of their conversation, who has switched over to a National Geographic from the 1970s. One that Vanessa is absolutely holding upside down as she tries to listen in. Subtle.

“Yeah.” Still alive. Hopefully will remain alive, if Brooke has anything to do about it.

“God, you’re really something else. Always knew it would take just the right pretty girl to get you to fall over yourself.”

“Oh, shut up, Yvie.”

Yvie’s resulting cackle on the other end of the line makes her own face break out into a smile, even though she has to hold the phone away from her ear due to the volume. It’s not like she can even deny how Vanessa has completely fucked up her usual goals, usual demeanor and ability to get things done. How Vanessa has completely shifted Brooke’s priorities by just daring to exist in proximity to her.   

“Talked to her team a few days ago.“ 

“Yeah?” Brooke perks up. She wonders if it would be helpful to bring them onto the same page, have them work together.

“Her publicist still maintains that she has bronchitis, and I quote, has ‘absolutely no voice’ and is ‘incredibly contagious’ and that we’d‘really need a warrant to reach her, she’s really out of it, you wouldn’t want this bug anywhere near you, goodbye, Detective.’”

Brooke holds back a laugh. “A solid excuse.”

“Hey, as far as the captain knows, the bitch has bronchitis. I’m not gonna be the one to tell him that she’s sitting in a cabin in the middle of nowhere.”

“Thanks, Yvie.”

Brooke can picture Yvie shrugging on the other end of the phone. “Hey, do what you gotta do. We’ll sort this shit out, okay? Find out if that congressman can be linked to the explosion and those men after you. I’ll keep you updated on what we find here as long as you do the same.”

“You know I will.” It’s true. She’ll always have Yvie’s back.

Brooke hangs up, tosses the burner phone onto the couch beside her. Vanessa’s magazine drops from in front of her face almost comically as she turns to Brooke.

“You weren’t fooling anyone with those pretend reading skills.”

Vanessa sticks out her tongue at her. A professional, buttoned up politician. Absolutely. “I’ll have you know I learned a shit ton about commercial whaling in the 70s from this magazine.”

“Oh, have you now?” Brooke can’t help but grin in her direction, at the way that Vanessa is holding up the magazine like it’s a trophy.

“Forget this, now that you’re off the phone. You were talkin’ to someone named after an Eevee Pokémon or something?”

Brooke snorts. “Not Eevee. Yvie. Full name Yvangeline. Though once a coworker called her that and she broke his nose. Didn’t get in trouble for it, miraculously.”

Brooke can read Vanessa like an open book, and sees the hundreds of questions that flit across her face that she wants to ask but doesn’t know how.

She’s used to guarding both her past and present like they’re precious metals, ones that could be tarnished by exposure to any other person. Vanessa’s face, open and inquisitive and holding back while waiting for her to speak makes her want to take pity, give Vanessa a little bit to work with than she has in the past day.

How much would Vanessa be able to tarnish her heart, anyway?

“She’s a detective from my old district, still works there. Still Robbery-Homicide. We went through the academy together, got each other through the early years. We’ve stayed friends. She still helps me out from time to time now. ” Brooke thinks back to them partnered as uniformed cops, being the only two women in their department when they started at their precinct. How they worked their asses off to stand out amongst the men

Brooke almost misses that time of her life, with the stiff uniforms and the late night shifts. A time where guns were still an unfamiliar weight in her hands, where her practice with them was limited to shooting ranges and paper targets. When she was still green and optimistic and wanted to do good things, to make a difference.

“So you were a cop.” Vanessa’s shifted slightly close to her, cheek resting on her hand as she listens, but doesn’t push.

“Yeah. I was.” Not anymore. She’s not that person, hasn’t been for a long time.

“You and Yvie were close?”

“Still are. She had my back after things happened, even though I didn’t deserve it.”

Brooke doesn’t miss the burning curiosity on Vanessa’s face, as if she’s trying to figure out how to draw the information out of her without shutting her down. 

“What happened?”

The debate of whether she should tell Vanessa pulls back and forth in a tug of war in her head, a battle where she’s not sure which side is the one that she wants to win. It’s easier just to keep that sequence of events far, far away from ever reaching the surface. Stored deep enough in the recesses of her brain, where she can’t ruminate over them and get sucked into the black hole of ‘what ifs’ again.

But there’s Vanessa’s hand, resting over hers. Squeezing her fingers. Pulling her from the memories to the present, to the couch that they’re sitting on and the noise of crickets chirping outside the cabin window.

Vanessa’s thumb traces back and forth over the outside of Brooke’s hand, as she’s uncharacteristically quiet, and waits.

“It was six years ago. Homicide case, a 38 year old woman. Death by blunt force trauma. Left behind a 12 year old daughter.” She can feel the natural lapse back into her reporting mode from when she was a detective.

“Main suspect was always the husband, after previous run ins with the police over domestic abuse. Though his alibi was verified by his buddies. Not airtight by any means, but enough that we needed a warrant to needle him further.” She picks at a loose thread on the couch as she remembers his smug fucking face. “I knew it was him.”

Vanessa’s grip on her hand tightens as she takes a breath and continues, ignoring the thorns in her lungs that tear every time she pulls in oxygen to keep herself talking.

“The daughter had the signs, too. Classic bruises, flinching under any sort of gaze, but…the system is broken. CPS didn’t fucking do anything during the entire investigation, despite the many calls. I managed to finagle having the kid move in with her aunt during the investigation, at least. Kept her away from him for a little while. Left her my number if she needed anything.”

Brooke remembers the girl and the way that she would fold in on herself, how her rare smiles never seemed to meet her eyes. How she brought the girl a muffin one morning when she came in for the second round of questioning. How she wanted to keep her from ever getting hurt again, not that she had that power.

“She called me, absolutely hysterical on her aunt’s phone one night when I was working late. The banging on the door was fucking loud enough to come through on the other end of the line. His swearing, too.” Brooke bites her lip. “Took the cop car, siren blaring and all to get there and step in between him and the girl before he fucking killed her.”

The gun he waved around with the smell of alcohol on his breath. The way he had the girl and her aunt backed up against the kitchen counter. The way she dove in between them, not thinking straight and police procedure be damned.

“I shot him.”

Vanessa’s soft gasp pulls her out of the memory, one that threatens to cover her in a black ink stain that she’ll never be able to wash off.

The way the blood spread on the kitchen floor tiles. The way the aunt squeezed her shoulder, whispered a fucking thank you as her shaky hands lowered the precinct-issued gun onto the counter.

“I got to claim self defense. Had enough bruises forming on my arms to do so, hence the honourable discharge. Didn’t cover the fact that what I did was completely out of line as a public service officer.” Her voice is flat, matching the grey static that takes over her brain, makes her feel numb the way it had been in the aftermath. How the disciplinary hearings, the meetings, the eventual return of her gun and badge felt like it they were happening to someone else, making her feel like she was watching the events play out from afar.

Vanessa whistles, low and under her breath. “Holy shit. There wasn’t an appeal process, or anything?”

“The damage was done.” She shrugs, not looking at Vanessa, her eyes instead watching the specks of dust floating under the light of the lamp. “Higher ups don’t care about nuances. They care about who makes them look bad – and how to get rid of them.”

“I’m sorry.” Vanessa’s hand squeezes hers. Brooke finally looks at her and feels relief that her fucking eyes aren’t full of pity. She isn’t looking at Brooke as if she feels bad for her. Brooke doesn’t need that.

“How did you…” She watches Vanessa pause, brow furrowed as she tries to figure out how to word her next statement.

Brooke finishes it for her. “Start killing people for a living?”

Vanessa raises her hands up in mock surrender. “You said it, not me.”

Brooke thinks back to a few weeks after her discharge, when she was a bottle deep into shitty whiskey and sprawled on her kitchen floor. How the incessant ringing of her cellphone had dazed her, fingers struggling to answer the call from her old mentor from the academy. How she had met him for drinks in a dingy bar in her hungover state the next evening, head pounding as he told her there were still ways to make money if she wanted to, because she had the talent for it. They way she had clung onto his reassurance, the thread of possibilities that he had dangled in front of her, being so worn out, tired, needing something, anything to keep her going. How she hadn’t noticed how much he had changed since being a clean-cut instructor at the academy.

She remembers her first kill. Her first purposeful kill, that of a nightclub owner who had a penchant for abusing his employees and undercutting their pay. One that her old mentor had taken her out to celebrate for afterwards. How it seemed okay, sustainable, that she was doing somethinggood , maybe, by getting rid of terrible people. Before things got bad and her old mentor had gotten in too far over his head and dragged her in, only to die-

-she can’t.

“A story for another time.” Not today. Not when the memories are making her hands clench in fists and sweat form on her brow, her heart pumping the blood through her arteries and veins fast enough that she feels like she’s burning up.

Vanessa’s hands are on hers again, fingers gently opening up her fists and tracing soothing motions onto her palms. “Another time. Sorry. Didn’t mean to push.”

“It’s fine.” It’s not. She feels exposed, torn open, not quite sure how Vanessa has gotten her to fucking open up about shit that can’t surface. Not if she wants to keep her head on straight and in one piece.

“You’re…a good person, Brooke. You don’t fuckin’ look like you believe it with that facial expression you’re throwing at me, but you are.” Vanessa ignores her scoffs, continuing on. “I’m in politics, I’ve seen despicable people. You’re not one of them.”

The laugh that comes out of Brooke is bitter, stilted. “I kill people for money. Forget that fact?”

Vanessa shrugs, unperturbed. “So far, you seem to still be at a perfect score for only killing the shitty ones.” She nudges Brooke’s shoulder. “You haven’t killed me yet either, you fuckin’ softie.”

Softie? She’s a hitwoman, for Christ’s sake. She’s not soft.

Vanessa giggles at her offended expression. “I said what I said.”

“I’m not soft!”

“That growing smile on your face says otherwise.”

With that, Vanessa places a kiss on her cheek, moving closer and leaning into her side, the way she’s done so since they slept together for the first time the previous day (then a second time, then a third, then a fourth). Vanessa is tentative at first, as if she doesn’t want to spook her.  It isn’t long, though, until Brooke feels her own tense body begin to relax underneath Vanessa’s weight. 

She lifts up an arm as her breathing begins to regulate and lets Vanessa snuggle into her, before she wraps her arms around her, tugs her in close. She can feel the poisoned memories that have been seeping through her veins begin to pull away underneath Vanessa’s warmth, retreating back into her brain into the boxes that she keeps them in most of the time. She’s in control of them. For now.

[ohcaptaintarthister]

What's Mine and When Is It Yours?

I watched the first season of Game of Thrones along with everyone else. It wasn’t the kind of show you watched to chill back and turn off your brain. The intrigue, the violence, the insane plot twists and the general unpredictability kept me on the edge of my seat. Alas, with grad school giving me a final beatdown and plus a most unexpected job offer, I forgot about the show and spent more time at the desk than on any comfortable surface. It wasn’t until 2015 when there was finally time to catch up, from season two to four.

You know how it is. A binge lasts for only so long. In less than a week, I was done. Boobed out (hi, Season 2). Done with everything else an adult should be busy with–no deadlines because everything was turned in early, no more school for the moment. There was a sort-of beginning that surprisingly became a romance. I eagerly waited for the next season of Game of Thrones.

And found out it was gonna premiere later than usual.

I was a show watcher before reading the books. My introduction to Brienne of Tarth was by way of Gwendoline Christie trouncing Loras Tyrell. Her lines were few in that episode but the character had already made an impression. I looked up the character and ate more junk food than any human should eat in a year as Brienne sparred with Jaime Lannister, beating his ass and basically calling him scum right to his face. When his hand paid the price for defending her honor, my allegiance swung not only towards the Kingslayer but even more with Brienne. I would stop breathing every time they were together onscreen, wondering if this was when they would–you guessed it–kiss.

Having caught up and not having much to do (I was oddly productive in 2015), there was no choice but to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

I cruised online for anything about JB. That’s when I discovered fan fiction.

Aside from my day job, I also write. Newspapers, magazines, books–the only place where I haven’t been published was online. It never entered my mind to write fan fiction. No self-respecting PUBLISHED author would waste her time reading and writing fan fiction. No one. At least that’s what I thought until I read my first JB fan fiction, Beast and The Beast by SigilBroken.

It was fucking awesome!

It was Modern AU. Jaime an athlete with a hand injury. Brienne, a competitive swimmer. I loved every word of it. I was floored with how the author captured the relationship that at that time, I’ve only seen on TV. I was so gobsmacked that I read her other JB works, like In This Light and Honor Thy Regard. I discovered other JB fanfic writers like RoseHeart, Ellaria, Just A Girl and Lady In Red. To this day, they remain my favorite writers and wish so fervently they will write again.

Because of them, I had a new appreciation and respect for fan fiction. Yes, fan fiction is derivative, it builds on a canon world but also deviates from it too. It is also original even when the characters are not yours. The works of the authors I mentioned above told me that fan fiction was a different ball game but also the same with all writing: it’s hard work. Very hard work. Fan fiction is strangely freeing, in my experience but it is very hard work!

I lurked around AO3 reading whatever JB fanfic struck me. When I couldn’t find any more interesting stories, I plucked up the courage to write my first JB fan fiction, Loving Harder and More. I was anxious, excited, terrified. It my first time to publish online and not under my real name. How will my story fare against the others I’ve read and loved? Later, I realized I shouldn’t compare myself to SigilBroken and company.

Hand on heart, they really are the best writers in the fandom. Their stories taught me how to dive into the characters but also be able to extrapolate sensibly. I still look to their stories for inspiration, unbothered that no matter how much I write, I never be as good. What mattered was I was writing and challenging myself.

In my fan fics, Brienne has been a professor, a black ops agent, hairstylist, masseuse, bodyguard to royalty. She has is always loved and appreciated, but also went through the nightmare of a sexual assault and an emotionally abusive marriage. Jaime has been a scientist, a devoted husband and loving dad, a creative director, actor. He is loved and has a full life with Brienne despite having gone through several levels of hell too.

What strings my work together is the smut. I’m proud of that. And I’m glad when people comment on its quality because it’s hard to write! It really is.

Which finally (fucking finally!) brings me to the point of this long-ass (one of SeleneU’s favorite words) piece.

Imitation is the best form of flattery–to an extent. I see no harm when someone compliments me on my shoes and goes out to buy the same pair. It’s hilarious and make plans to wear the same pair with the person. But see, in this kind of imitation, at least the other person makes the effort to go to the store and buy the shoes. He or she also has the right to get those fucking shoes.

It’s not imitation at all when scenes and even plots from stories I worked hard on are copied word-for-word. It might be buried under all the other paragraphs of another’s work but I find it. And it is always distressing because someone is getting praise over something that’s blatantly and even proudly copied from mine. That’s not right. There’s no effort at all no, you SHOULDN’T FUCKING DO IT.

It’s not the kudos and hits that concern me. It’s the copying. Word-for-word. It’s not even done subtly. How hard is it to come up with your own plot? Writing is difficult but it’s never a justification to copy someone else’s work. It’s like taking a dagger in the back when someone comments on my work and then…takes the thing she precisely commented on and presents it as her own! Holy hell. That takes a huge pair of really entitled balls!

How do you get out of bed? Don’t they snag or graze across the ground when you walk? Don’t they fucking hurt?

I write for myself and am thankful when people love my stories enough to leave encouragement and kudos. I’m happy whenever I finish another one and still get excited after posting it, waiting for when it gets its first comment. And people who love them, in a way the stories are theirs too, isn’t? Theirs to read and read, to download and read again. But it never becomes theirs that they have the right to copy and post it as their own.

It’s fan fiction so there’s no way to nail these cheating asses by any legal means. But as someone who would rather believe that decency still triumphs in the era of Trump, if you are of right mind, you don’t have to be told it’s not nice to copy other people’s work. Right?

If you like an author’s work so much, gestures of appreciation that do not involve copying will go a long, long way–possibly as far as Sothoryos. Say your work was inspired by a favorite author. Or at least give a shoutout. If you want to build on a story by a different author, please ask for her permission. But never, never, absolutely never copy another’s work.

I realize how easy it is to copy but it is not going to help the current situation of the fanfic in the JB fandom. Personal opinion, but there’s only one way of peeling a fucking banana and what’s been done is the fruit and the skin have been diced and spliced to death but there’s no denying it’s still the same fucking banana. That’s the kind of stories crowding AO3 quite often (I’m being conservative).

Nowadays, there’s hardly an author who tries to do something different and writes so well, except for isavedlatin (A Star Within the Mere), SeleneU (Pieces of You and A Story Without End), LuxEvergreen (A Walk with Frost and Fire), ShirleyAnn66 (Jaime Lannister Investigations). Off the top of my head, they’re the writers I follow and whose work are original and a pleasure to read. I’m reading some new fan fics but it’s still too early to tell how they’ll turn out. They are promising, that I can say.

I suppose prompts can help with creativity. It depends on the writer. But from what I’ve been seeing, a strong dependence on them will be a hindrance to the good writer you can become. Yes, they’re fun but you’re writing a story that’s not really what you want to tell. I don’t know. Its not helping the writers I used to follow and are now stuck in prompt rut. Still, despite prompts, there’s copying…of my work. Nearly word-for-word.

Which really sucks.

When someone says, “Hey, this person writes like you!” I see come similarities but the story is still different from mine. That’s nice. But when I’m told, “I swear this was your story until I saw the name and it wasn’t,” I check and holy shit, it really reads like I wrote it because it’s practically a scene from one of my stories. Word-for-fucking-word!

Sad, isn’t it? Never thought I’d rather be slammed for writing a threesome story of Jaime, Brienne and Tormund. Being copied is a lot worse.

I’ve calmed down a bit since making the discovery but my resolve to limit access to my fan fics remains just as strong. It’s hard, you know. Aside from it being a slow process, this step means my work won’t appear in public unless one logs in on AO3. On the heels of this, I realized that people who like my work aren’t part of any group. That tells me I don’t need to be a part of anything to be read–and it’s stupendous knowing that people legitimately like what I write instead of being liked just because I’m part of a group.

With the audience most definitely fewer, I’m encouraged more than ever to write. It means less snark and hateful comments when I experiment. It may also lessen the possibility of being copied. My fan fics are my babies and I make the time to write them as well as I can. If restricting access makes me a better writer, I’m still taking it! I will never pass up any chance to improve just as long as I never run out of my OWN ideas and keep writing. Because I the end, that’s all that matters, right?

Also, if you claim to love the story of Jaime and Brienne, don’t you think they deserve original stories? I don’t believe they’ll end up together in the books but in fan fiction they have, over and over. And as fans, it’s our responsibility to explore the different ways we can bring them there–through our own imagination and creativity.

[phoenixsavant]

Vengeance

Part 3: Following Saeran’s First Christmas

Saeran, MC and Saeyoung are joined in the hideout by Vanderwood.  Together they go after The Agency, but The Agency still finds them! 

               Saeran woke to someone cursing loudly and a crash from the top of the stairs.  He vaulted from the bunk, leaving Toby behind.  Saeyoung was a few steps ahead of him and they moved toward the stairs silently.  

               “Seven!  God damn it! Call off your fucking cat!” Vanderwood shouted.

               “Intruder!” Elly called out, followed by some noise Saeran couldn’t make out.  

               “Seven!  I know you hear me!” Vanderwood shouted again.  

               Saeyoung looked like he wanted to laugh, but instead he called up the stairs, “Elly, stand down.”  

               “Standby mode engaging” Elly said.

               Vanderwood stomped down the stairs.  “Fire?  You seriously made it breathe fire?  You dumbass!”

               Saeyoung shrugged as Vanderwood reached the bottom of the stairs.  “It works to keep people out,” he said.  

               “I saw that,” Vanderwood replied, dropping a bag on the small table.  He looked around.  “You two look alright.  Where’s MC? Is she hurt?”  

               “I’m fine,” she said, coming to stand next to Saeyoung.

               “Good,” Vanderwood said, nodding.  To Saeyoung he asked, “The Agency?”  

               “I believe it was, yes.  They got into the security system and hacked the cameras, but set off the alarm.  It was closer than I like to admit,” Saeyoung frowned.  “I had to blow the bunker.  It’s gone.”

               “Better it than all of you,” Vanderwood said somberly. “I can’t believe they did that. We warned them to leave us alone.”

               Saeyoung nodded.  “I thought it was enough.”  His face was drawn and pale.

               “Well, I didn’t know what you wanted to do, so I brought everything,” Vanderwood said, gesturing to the bag he’d carried in. “There’s cash, ID’s, tickets, and all the rest.  I say we burn the bastards to the ground.  I’m sick of waiting for them.”  

               “IDs?” Saeran asked.  “You mean, so we could just disappear?”

               “We can,” Saeyoung confirmed.  “That was always the plan, before.  If they’re not afraid though, they’ll just hunt us down anywhere we go.  We can change names and hair color, but their facial recognition software is good enough to see through that.  I know, I built it.”  

               “So what, we just live down here in a hole forever?”

               “No,” Saeyoung said, his voice taking on an edge. “No, but we’re going to be here for a few days.”  He looked at Vanderwood and the darkness in his eyes made Saeran step back involuntarily. “Bring me my machines,” he said. “They’re never going to threaten my family again.”  

               Vanderwood smiled proudly at Saeyoung.  “That’s my boy.”  He turned and reached into the bag, pulling out a laptop and a series of other boxes and cables.  “I didn’t think you’d let them walk away.  Start setting this up.  I have the rest in the car.”  Motioning to Saeran he said, “Come on, I need an extra pair of hands.”  

               Saeran followed Vanderwood up the narrow stairs and out of the shed.  In the parking lot, Vanderwood had parked a beaten up van next to Saeyoung’s dilapidated car.  He opened the back and pulled a box over.

               “See if you can lift that,” Vanderwood directed.

               The box was heavy, but Saeran managed to get an arm under it.  Vanderwood pulled another box out and shouldered the doors of the van shut.  Together they returned to the hidden room under the storage shed.  Vanderwood went back up and locked the doors as Saeyoung directed MC and Saeran in unpacking and positioning equipment.  Apparently Saeyoung had set up a satellite link to this location that ran alongside the satellite for the TV in the motel.  They would have their own connection to the internet in no time.

               “Vanderwood?” MC asked, as he came back down the stairs. “Do you have your phone?”  

               “I do, why?”  

               “I was just thinking, and shouldn’t someone call Jumin or someone?  If anyone from the RFA goes to the bunker, they’d think we’re all dead,” she worried.

               “Already done,” Vanderwood said.  “And thinking you three were dead would be the least of their worries.  I wouldn’t be surprised if The Agency is watching the place still.”  

               Saeran felt the strength run out of his body. The RFA was warned, but what about Nina? She wouldn’t have known anything. She was supposed to call him, but if he didn’t answer his phone, she might go to the bunker.  

               “Saeyoung,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper.

               “Hmm?” his brother responded, not looking up from the cables he was connecting to the computers.  

               “Who will warn Nina?” Saeran asked, his voice quavering.

               “Oh!” MC exclaimed, sharing Saeran’s realization.

               “Damn!” Saeyoung exclaimed.  “Vanderwood, could you call Jumin and …”

               “On  it,” Vanderwood said, scrambling back up the stairs.  

               Saeran followed him up, his heart pounding in fear. Nina couldn’t be a part of this. She couldn’t be left in danger. His mind was filled with images of her seeing the bunker, of Nina being kidnapped and tortured.

               “Jumin, it’s Vanderwood.”  A pause followed.  “Yes, everyone is safe, no injuries.  We’re going to be in hiding for a few days.  The news is about to get interesting, you’ll want to watch.  … We missed someone.  I need you to make a call.   …. That painter, Nina, can you get in touch with her at her shop?  She can’t go to the bunker.  … Bodyguards might draw attention, can you do it without anyone realizing they’re around?  …. Yeah, until we call again.  …. I will. Watch yourselves out there.”  

               Vanderwood ended the call and turned to Saeran. “Jumin will go to her shop right now. He’ll give her the message in person. Also, he’s going to set up a couple of guards to keep an eye on her at a safe distance, just to be sure.”  He rested his hand on Saeran’s shoulder. “She’s safe.  She’s going to stay safe.  She won’t know anything unless you tell her about it later.”  

               “Thank you,” Saeran said, his voice still shaking.

               Vanderwood shook his head, dismissing the thanks. “Why don’t you hang out here for a few minutes, dry your face a bit?  MC is already stressed and she hasn’t had the kind of life we’ve all had. No need to upset her more, right?”

               Saeran lifted a hand to his face.  He hadn’t even realized that he was crying.  Wiping the tears away, he nodded and stepped aside so Vanderwood could return.  After Vanderwood left, Saeran sat on the top step.  He folded his arms over his knees and rested his forehead against them.  How were his brother and Vanderwood going to make sure that everyone would be safe?  How were they going to be able to return to a regular life after this? What if they had to go into hiding? He’d never see her again.  The thought made his chest ache.

               Saeran hadn’t ever really taken an interest in anyone before.  He had just done as Rika told him to do.  MC was the first girl he’d ever liked, but she was with his brother.  Even Saeran knew that meant that they couldn’t be more than friends.  Nina was different.  That day, when he was shopping, Saeran had talked to a lot of different girls at the shops he visited.  The only one he had trouble talking to was Nina.

               At the party, she’d stayed close to him.  He’d caught her looking at him more than a few times.  Exchanging phone numbers had been her idea, probably because he’d been too afraid to ask. Nina was different because she had done everything to show that she was interested, too.  

               Saeran felt a strong desire to make sure that Nina stayed safe, and that he was able to see her again.  He didn’t know how to help, but maybe he could.  He was as good at hacking as his brother was, right? He’d hacked his brother’s security and the messenger!  He could help Saeyoung and Vanderwood.  

               He took a deep breath and made sure that the tears weren’t going to start up again.  Standing, he went back down the stairs.  Vanderwood and Saeyoung were firing up the computers and checking the security on them.  

               “I want to help,” Saeran said, standing at the foot of the stairs.  “I can hack, too.”  

               Vanderwood looked at Saeyoung with a raised eyebrow, leaving the choice to him.  

               “You don’t have to do this,” Saeyoung said. “You’re clear of that stuff now.”

               “I’m not clear, none of us are.  I want to be clear though.  I need to be clear if I’m going to see Nina again.”  There, it was out.  Now his brother could start teasing him about having a crush on someone.

               Saeyoung looked over at MC and smiled softly. “Yeah, that’ll make you do some things, won’t it?”  He turned back to Vanderwood.  “Do you have the stuff for another station?”  

               “Probably.  What do you need?”  

               Saeyoung shrugged.  “Monitor, keyboard, mouse, we can plug him in with those.”  

               “Yeah, I’ll go check,” Vanderwood said, going back up the stairs.  Halfway up, he turned back.  “This needs to be the last trip out today.  Does anyone need anything else?”  

               “PhD Pepper?” Saeyoung asked, looking hopeful.

               “This isn’t a grocery trip,” Vanderwood grumbled. “If you wanted your junk food, you should have stocked it.”  He turned and left the shed.  

               Saeyoung grinned.  “I miss playing with him.”  He walked over to the bunk beds and reached under, pulling out a long chest.  He dragged it back to the table and flipped the lid open.  Inside were bags of Honey Buddah chips and PhD. Pepper cans.  

               “Saeyoung, you are not serious!” MC admonished him. “You stocked your hideout with junk food?  What would you do if you had to be here for more than a day or two?”  

               “What?” he asked her innocently.  “There’s other food here.”  

               “You idiot,” Saeran muttered at him.

               Vanderwood returned and brought the things to set up a work station for Saeran.  Once everything was connected, Vanderwood sat at the far end.  Everyone looked at Saeyoung.

               “Alright, Vanderwood, you keep them off of us. You’re not bad, but Saeran and I are faster and better.  We’ll get into their systems and dump the data out to the press and the authorities. You make sure that they can’t find us while we do it.”  Saeyoung was in charge again, all business.  “Saeran, I want you to come over here and watch what I’m doing.  I’ll get us an opening and I want you to start pulling everything you can from their systems.  I’ll keep them from blocking you.  Let me know when it’s done.”  

               MC sat on the bunk beds, holding Toby and watching as the three men began chasing down The Agency.  She didn’t talk or even leave the bed.  Saeran’s focus became centered on the events at the table.  

               Once Saeyoung had gotten through The Agency’s security, Saeran switched to his station.  He started downloading data as quickly as possible.  He didn’t even know what parts of the data were going to be useful, he just started copying files over as fast as possible.  Time went by at a crawl, watching the files complete their downloads.  The room was silent except for the rattling of keyboards and an occasional, muttered curse word.  

               At some point, MC brought bowls of stew to everyone, insisting that they eat.  Saeran hadn’t realized he was hungry until he started shoveling food into his mouth. Bottles of water appeared on the table next to each of them as the bowls vanished.  When those emptied, new bottles took their places.  Around the edges of his focus, Saeran realized that MC was doing what she could to take care of all of them while they worked.

               “No!  Bring those back!” Saeyoung exclaimed.  

               “Not until later,” MC said, dragging the chest of soft drinks and chips away from Saeyoung.  “You’ve had eight cans of that stuff and two bags of chips.  You’ll make yourself sick,” she scolded him.  

               “But, Babe…” he whined at her.  

               “Saeyoung, no.  I’ll give you some after dinner.”  

               Vanderwood snickered.  “I like her,” he said.  

               Saeyoung sighed, defeated.  “Saeran, all I can say is you should really, really rethink this Nina thing.  Women are trouble.”  

               “You should be thankful there’s one that’s willing to put up with you,” Saeran quipped, starting another set of downloads.

               Saeyoung sighed heavily.  “There was a time when I was a god, you know.”  

               “Only in your own head,” Vanderwood clarified. “Work.  I still have the taser.”

               Saeyoung looked nervous, but fell silent again as Saeran snickered softly with Vanderwood.  

               Saeran watched the files loading across the system and realized how many were left to copy.  Even with the amped up satellite connection, this was taking far too long. The odds of being noticed and traced back grew exponentially the longer they were in the system.  

               “How many individual computers do we have here?” he asked.  

               “Five, why?” Saeyoung looked up at his brother.

               “This is taking too long.  Which machines are standalone?”  

               Saeyoung pointed at the three in the middle of the table, one of which Saeran was already connected to.  

               Checking the progress of the files he’d started pulling, Saeran unplugged the keyboard, monitor and mouse, and switched to another computer.  He started up another set of files to pull down, and then repeated the process on the third machine.

               “Are you sure you can keep up with which files you’re getting?” Saeyoung asked.  

               “Yeah, I can pull directories this way.  It’ll cut the time down.”  Saeran lined up the computers so that he had ready access to the ports to switch out the connections.  “Can you keep up with that many connections?”  

               Saeyoung looked at him dryly.  “Did you really just ask that?”

               “Hey, I’m not the one who thought to have one connection pulling files.”  

               “No fighting,” MC cautioned.  “There’s too much on the line.  You can play who’s better later.”  

               Saeran glanced at her.  She wasn’t even looking at them.  She was sitting in the floor, playing with Toby.  

               Still, time seemed to crawl by.  Vanderwood went up the stairs a few times for a smoke break. Saeran watched his machine while he went.  He bummed a cigarette once, just needing some way to get out of the cramped room and away from the computer.  He stood in the shed, not really smoking the cigarette, stretching to pull the tension from his back and shoulders.

               If the lighting outside was any indication, it was almost nightfall.  He figured that they needed about three more hours to finish pulling the information from The Agency.  Thank god his brother had installed terabytes of drive space in those computers.  There wouldn’t have been enough room any other way. Putting out the cigarette, he headed back down the shaky stairs.  

               “How’s it going over there?” he asked Saeyoung, settling back into his seat.  

               “If they’ve noticed anything, they haven’t reacted. Vanderwood?  Anything?”  

               “Nothing so far, no.  They’re not tracing at all, yet.”  

               “Good,” Saeran said.  “We’re almost through it.”  He switched machines again.  

The three men kept working.  MC brought food around again, stopping to hug Saeyoung as she did.  Saeran’s eyes were burning.  Finally, he started the last round of files.  

“This is it,” he said.  “What do you want me to do when I’ve got these?”  

“Kill the connections.  We’ll drop the satellite link.  We can organize it all offline.  It’ll buy us some time,” Saeyoung said.  His voice sounded tired.  

Saeran watched the files nervously.  He knew his brother was good, and he’d taught Saeyoung the trick he used to make his access unnoticeable.  Still, everything was going too smoothly.  He was afraid that the Agency was just waiting for a chance to strike.  It left a cold pit in his stomach.  He wondered if Saeyoung or Vanderwood felt the same sense of dread.

“Done!” he called out, as soon as the last file finished.  He killed the connections to the Agency servers as quickly as he could.  Saeyoung and Vanderwood did the same.  Vanderwood reached over and pulled the ethernet cables from every computer.

They all sat back, suddenly panting for air, looking at one another for confirmation that they’d been successful.  

“Ya-HOO!” Saeyoung shouted, startling Toby and Saeran both. “Alright, boys, we did it!  All we have to do now is organize this stuff and send it out!  After that, we’re just going to hijack a TV from the hotel and watch the news!”  

“You’re positive,” Saeran asked, “that they didn’t see us or trace the connections?”  

“There was zero activity,” Vanderwood confirmed.  “Even if they bugged the files, we’re offline.  They can’t find us if we’re not connected.”  

“That’s right,” Saeyoung said, his voice sounding cheerful again.  “When we send this out, we’ll leave here, just to be safe.  It won’t matter if they find this place.  It’s just a safehouse.  There’s others.”  

Saeran let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding since the alarm had gone off in the bunker.  “Well, let’s get organizing,” he said, turning back to his monitor.  “How do you want it done?”  

“First, we need to stop,” Saeyoung said.  “Not for long, but we’ve all been here long enough that our eyes are about to pop out.  Take a few minutes, go see your cat.  Your eyes will thank you and you’ll work better.”  

Vanderwood nodded in agreement.  “I’m going to go get a smoke.  I’ll be right back.”  He stood and went up the stairs.

Saeyoung pulled MC into his lap, resting his head against her shoulder and closing his eyes.  As he murmured to her affectionately, Saeran went to see Toby.  A half-eaten plate of stew showed him that MC had at least found a way to feed him.  That was so like her, to take care of things without disturbing anyone else.  

With a full belly, Toby wasn’t interested in playing, but he was happy to lay in Saeran’s lap as he bathed himself.  Saeran realized that despite being in the small room all day, without a litter box, there was no smell of Toby having relieved himself anywhere.  He poked the kitten’s belly, but it didn’t seem overly distended.

“MC?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“Um, I just realized that we don’t have a litter box.  Has Toby… you know?”  

“Oh!”  MC giggled. “I didn’t have anything else to do but watch him, so I’ve just been putting him up on the toilet when he started looking like he needed to go.”  

Saeran blinked in surprise.  He wouldn’t have thought of doing that.  “Oh, okay. Thank you for watching him.”  

“It’s no trouble.  We’ve kept each other company.”  She smiled at him warmly.  

Vanderwood came back down the stairs.  “I checked around outside.  There’s no sign of anyone poking around.  Also, it’s starting to snow.  No one goes out until we’re ready to leave.”  

“Snow is good,” Saeyoung said.  “Any tracks we left will get covered.  That’s a relief.”  

“Are we ready to finish this mess?” Vanderwood asked.

“More than ready,” Saeyoung said, nudging MC to stand up.  “Saeran?”  

“Yeah, be right there.”  He nuzzled Toby before handing the kitten off to MC.  

The hours moved by slowly as each began organizing the information pulled from the servers.  A history of hits on political figures, international dealings, businesses sabotaged, and even falsified criminal evidence to jail people; all the data sorted into neatly referenced lists.  Saeran had to admit that he was impressed by the reach of The Agency, and also a little unnerved by it.  These were the men that they’d escaped, twice now?  His brother and Vanderwood must be better than they let on, Saeran decided. It was the only explanation for how any of them were still alive.  

In the very early hours of the morning, everything was ready.  They prepared the packages to send out to the media and to the authorities.  They were reaching out across international boundaries as well.  Every nation where The Agency had dealings was about to get copies of the information blanketing their media, police, and government agencies.  

“Okay,” Saeyoung said, once it was all set.  “Saeran, take Toby and MC upstairs.  MC, get Elly. The only thing staying behind is the computers.  Vanderwood and I will clear the place.  This will be the least secure place in the world when the news starts getting ahold of this stuff.”  He tugged MC’s coat close around her.  “Stay bundled up.  It’s going to be a few minutes.  We have to make sure that no one can tie us to this place.”  

MC nodded and turned to the stairs, wearing her backpack and carrying Saeyoung’s. Saeran followed her, carrying two of the bags they’d brought and Toby.  It was cold in the shed and his coat wasn’t holding the heat in very well.  His teeth clattered as they waited.  MC held Elly and danced from foot to foot.  Finally, Saeyoung and Vanderwood came up the stairs, hauling the trash and Vanderwood’s large bag with them.  

Saeran snickered at the sight of them.  They were dressed like they were going into surgery.  They wore paper scrubs, gloves, masks, and funny little paper hats.  All he could see was their eyes, and both shot him a look that killed his amusement.

“Everybody out,” Vanderwood said.  

Luciel led the way out to his car.  He slung Vanderwood’s bag into the back seat and opened the front door for MC.  “Time to go, babe,” he said to her.  

“What about Vanderwood?” she asked.

“He’ll be meeting us.  Don’t worry.” He grinned at her.  “I only half joked about him being my maid.”  

As they pulled out onto the street, Saeyoung shed the cap and mask.  He pulled the scrubs down as well.  

“Why were you two wearing all that, anyway?” Saeran asked.  

“Because the locals will be looking for evidence.  That means DNA evidence, too.  They’ll be looking for hair and anything else they can find.  So, we cleaned up.  There’s nothing left down there to lead anyone to us, now,” Saeyoung explained.  

“And yet you can’t clean your room?” Saeran teased.

“Hey, that’s a whole different kind of cleaning!” Saeyoung protested.  

“I think I may have to agree with Saeran on this one,” MC chuckled.  “If you can clean so well that not even a hair is left behind, I think you might have to start hitting the hamper with your laundry.”  

“Save the world, bring down the evil spy network, put your laundry in the hamper…” Saeyoung whined.  “Are you ever satisfied?” he grinned at MC.  

She didn’t say a word, but Saeran caught her meaningful grin as they passed under a streetlight.  He felt his face grow red and focused on Toby.  

MC fell asleep, leaning against Saeyoung’s arm as he drove them out of town and down to a dock.  When he pulled in, he sat her up gently and whispered to Saeran, “Keep an eye out?  I’m just going to make sure it’s clear.”  

“You own a boat?” Saeran asked in surprise.  

“No, Jumin does.  We’re borrowing one for a few days,” Saeyoung grinned.  “It’ll be great!  You should see the stars when you’re out at sea!”  He opened the door and stepped out.  “Be right back,” he said, closing the car up again.  

Saeran looked out the windows of the car.  The docks below were well-lit.  There would be no sneaking onto a boat with that much lighting.  On the flip side, it also meant that if anyone tried to sneak up on them, they’d be less likely to be able to hide.  

Suddenly Saeran saw headlights coming down the road.  He reached over the seat and shook MC awake.  “Someone’s coming.  Quickly, follow me and stay down.”  They slid out of the car on the side away from the approaching lights, following Saeyoung’s footsteps to the trail in the trees.  Toby was once again trapped in Saeran’s coat, and MC carried Elly in her arms.  Saeran led her off the trail and they crouched behind a low wall with trash bins in front of it.  As a person passed by, heading down the trail, Saeran signaled for her to stay still, and snuck around to see who was on the trail.

He sighed in relief.  “Vanderwood,” he called, standing slowly.  

Vanderwood stopped and turned.  “There you are!  I thought you’d all gone down to the boat.  I was going to hand Seven his head for not checking it out first!”  

“No, he left a few minutes ago.  Should he be back already?”  

Vanderwood frowned.  “How few?”

“Maybe five before you got here?” Saeran said as MC joined them on the trail.

“No, that’s fine.  He should be getting back here any minute though.  Can you two handle waiting where you were?  I know it’s cold.  I’ll go see if everything…”

Vanderwood was cut off as a roar filled the air and an explosion shook the area. A fireball rose from where the cars had been parked.  

“Run!” Vanderwood shouted, shoving MC in front of him and almost dragging her by her arm as he raced down the trail.  

Saeran ran after him.  In his mind all he could think was “not again, not again,”  

Saeyoung sprinted up the trail toward them, grabbing MC and running with her back the way he’d come.  He and Vanderwood shouted about whether the boat was secure or not, and that Saeyoung had made sure that it was.  Saeyoung pulled MC onto the boat at the end of the dock and Vanderwood untied the moorings, throwing the heavy ropes to Saeran.  Saeyoung started the motor and was pulling away from the docks when several men appeared at the other end of the dock.  

“Everyone down!” Vanderwood barked.  “Seven, move this tub!”  

Saeran looked up just in time to see one of the men on the dock pull out what looked like a rocket launcher.  He ducked, but when nothing happened, he looked up to see Jumin’s body guards swarming the men who had appeared.  One waved in their direction.  Saeyoung blew the horn on the boat and steered them away from the docks and out to the open ocean.  

As the lights faded, Vanderwood rose to his feet.  “Is everyone alright?” he asked.  “Did anyone get hurt?”

“No, I’m fine,” MC said.  

“Saeran?” he asked.

“I’m good.  What the hell happened?  How did they find us?”  Saeran asked.

“Who knows,” Vanderwood said.  “Maybe they knew about Jumin’s boat and were watching the area.  Thank god he knew we’d be heading this way and had backup ready. If they’d gotten that rocket launched…” He shook his head.  

“Seven!  Did you even plot a course for this thing?” he bellowed, stepping up the ladder to the bridge.

Saeran turned to MC.  “Let’s get inside,” he said.  “It’s too cold out here.”  

MC nodded, rising to her feet.  She shuffled down the stairs and opened the narrow door.  Inside, they fumbled around until they found the light switch.  

Saeran had never been on a boat before.  He saw a small kitchen area, a table, and a door at the far end of the space. Another door was directly behind the one they’d just come through.  He looked at MC, wondering what to do about sleeping space.

MC looked back and set Elly on the floor.  Sighing, she mumbled, “I don’t even care.”  She laid down on a bench by the table, pulling her coat close.

Saeyoung came through the door behind Saeran just then.  “Babe, no, come on, there’s a bed here,” he said, squeezing by his brother.  He got MC back up on her feet and guided her to the door at the far end.  Opening the door, he revealed a bed on the other side and helped her scoot into it.  He crawled in after her but emerged again a few minutes later.

“Thank you,” he said to Saeran, after he closed the door.  “I owe you her life.”  

“I wouldn’t have moved if I hadn’t seen Vanderwood driving up,” Saeran said, shaking his head.  “You really lived this way?” he asked Saeyoung.

“Well, usually I was the one doing the chasing, but yeah, this is about how it went.  Why?”  

“I couldn’t do it,” Saeran admitted, leaning against the wall behind him.

“You could, if you had to,” Saeyoung shrugged.  “Here, though, you’re probably tired, too.  If you open that door, there’s a small bunk in there.  You should find a storage above the bed with some blankets in it.  Get some rest.”  

“What about you?” Saeran asked.  “You can’t stand up there all night in the cold.  Neither can Vanderwood.”  

Saeyoung chuckled.  “Not to worry.  Jumin has this baby all set up for winter travel.  We have heat, blankets, coffee and even PhD Pepper!”  He laughed.  “I’ll get some sleep in a while.  First we have to get away from shore and away from the shipping lanes.  Go to bed little brother.  You’ve earned it.”  

“Saeyoung?” Saeran asked, as his brother climbed the stairs again.

“Yeah?”

“We’re going to be able to go home again, right?  I mean, I know the bunker is gone, but, we’ll have a home, somewhere?” Saeran couldn’t bring himself to ask the question he wanted to ask the most.

“Yeah, hang in there for me.  It’ll be a few days, but we’re going back.  You’ll get to see Nina again.  I promise.”

Saeran smiled his thanks.  He knew that his brother had known what was going on inside his head.  He hadn’t expected it to be recognized so clearly, but it made him feel better.  He crawled into the odd little bed, closing the door behind himself.  Finding the storage Saeyoung mentioned, he pulled out a couple of heavy blankets and wrapped himself and Toby in a cocoon.  As soon as he was warm enough to relax, he fell asleep.