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thisonesatellite · 4 years

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The Sword and The Heart -- CH 6

SUMMARY: It started because love was a weapon.

Wait–this is how it started: Emma opened her mouth to scream, and the world went dark.

There was danger and Darkness, and words spoken into the void as she surrendered herself.

It started because Emma did not want to see anyone else she loved die. (He’d promised her he wouldn’t.)

Love was a weapon, and it was always used against her, to separate her from the people she loved. (From the person she loved.)

That’s how it started.

But now Emma Swan, Dark One, has to answer a question: How does it all end?

(Season 5 Canon Divergence - for @cssns )

| CH1 | CH2 | CH3 | CH4 | CH5 | AO3 |

A/N: Hello everyone! You survived 5A! Are you ready for 5B?

You may or may not recognize small bits of this chapter as a story I wrote called “All the Darkness in the World” for the @csrolereversal last October. It was actually that snippet of a story that started @ohmightydevviepuu and me down this epic road, because Devra said she could kind of picture season 5 looking like that (i am paraphrasing), and i was not averse to shamelessly stealing from myself. 🤣

All thanks as always to my co-conspirator @ohmightydevviepuu, and @profdanglaisstuff and @katie-dub for the neverending support and beta-ing. When this is done they each deserve a medal.

And most of all -- again and still -- here’s to all of you wonderful, amazing people reading this story. You are awesome. 💕💕💕

If you want on or off the tag list, let me know! (And seriously - if it’s ‘off’ - please don’t worry. Absolutely no hard feelings.)

@mariakov81 @stahlop @thejollyroger-writer @snowbellewells @captainsjedi @toomanyfandomstochoosefrom @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @mayquita @ohmightydevviepuu @sals86 @karenfrommisthaven @kmomof4 @kday426 @superchocovian @jennjenn615 @facesiousbutton82 @suwya @spartanguard @capnjay21 @shardminds @carpedzem @girl-in-a-tiny-box @ilovemesomekillianjones @lfh1226-linda @artistic-writer @teamhook @katie-dub @shireness-says @qualitycoffeethings @cluttermind @fragilebeautifulchaos @optomisticgirl @klynn-stormz @winterbaby89 @ethereal-madnesss @scientificapricot

CHAPTER 6: Salvation Comes Only In Dreams

Her ears pop and her eyelids flutter as Emma opens her eyes and looks around.

She’s in the driver’s seat of her Beetle.

Inside a decrepit, run-down amusement park.

Alone.

“Well.”

Emma flinches, half-expecting a hooded figure to pop up in the backseat--but the voice is coming through the open window and says, as the passenger door is yanked open, “That didn’t exactly go as planned.”

A man plunks down next to her--a hooded man, wearing ripped jeans and biker boots and as he slowly pushes the hood back from his forehead, Emma gasps.

It’s Merlin.

It’s Merlin .

“But I--” Emma starts and stops and has to force herself to try again. “But you--”

He smiles, and it’s open and genuine and relaxed and carefree and he looks younger , somehow.

“You look different,” is all she says, which seems a bit--well. It’s not like there’s a greeting card for when you’ve run into the man you’ve killed.

In the--afterlife?

“So do you,” he says, and Emma has to take a breath, to steel herself, before she looks down at her hands.

Her normal hands that don’t sparkle.

She aglances into the rearview mirror and sees her own reflection staring back at her. She’s back in her jeans and her boots and her red leather jacket, there’s the chain around her neck and she feels like--

Like she is remembering herself. Remembering Emma , stretching a muscle that is stiff and protesting from its disuse and she realizes she has no idea how long she has been here.

Or, more immediately, where here is.

She wants to giggle and cry at the same time as something inside of her begins to hurt , like a punch to the gut, and suddenly she is certain of one thing: The Darkness is gone.

Wait.

“What didn’t go as planned?” Emma asks, suddenly suspicious, and it’s not the dark, icky, crawling paranoia kind of suspicious, it’s the ordinary, baseline, “my superpower is acting up” kind of suspicious. Which is--good, right?

She destroyed the Darkness.

And its human vessel.

She’s dead, isn’t she? That was the plan.

“Where are we?”

Merlin’s eyes narrow as he looks her up and down. “Just another crossroads,” he says, and Emma hears the note of disdain there. “Apparently you just keep getting choices no matter how often you fuck them up.” Anger flares hot inside of her--how dare he? He didn’t just sacrifice himself instead of letting someone he loved die .

Then again.

She did kill him .

“Tell me, what is this place?” She asks instead. “Am I--is this hell?”

Tarps flap in a gusting wind, hinges that haven’t been oiled in years creak mournfully. A broken Ferris wheel carriage swings by one last tether.

Merlin laughs out loud. At her . He’s laughing at her and he says, “Not even close.” Then he bends forward. “Now you tell me, Emma--” and there’s a hint of an edge in his tone “--what exactly do you remember?”

Clang .

A swordfight by the lake.

Clang.

A choice--to defeat the Darkness. To become the Savior, after all.

Clang .

The right choice, this time.

Clang.

The eyes of her son--of her mother.

The blue of his eyes and the sword in her hands as she kissed him, as they fell together, and a burst of rainbow light.

A burst of rainbow light .

She’d freed Killian from the Darkness.

She’d freed both of them.

She’d fixed it, she can feel it, she can feel the person she used to be, and it’s--

“Wrong,” Merlin says. He raises a withering eyebrow. “Very interesting, but very wrong.”

Emma shifts in her seat and fucking hell she’s in that movie theater chair all over again, caught out by someone who knows more than he should, but she is not a child anymore.

She’s also not the Dark One.

“Look, I’m sorry I took your sword, okay? But you were cryptic as hell and I was obviously not in my right mind and what the fuck did you think was gonna happen, anyway, you with all of your ‘I foresaw this’ crap?”

“I thought you would do the right thing, Savior . But you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t try to bend the world to your will.” There’s more than a hint of an edge now. There’s an entire freaking knife. “I thought you would let him go.”

“Like you did?” she snarls. “Do you have any idea what Nimue did to me? What it felt like to have her in my head, watching me, watching Killian--”

It flashes before her eyes again, just like at the stone circle--the sword slicing through his abdomen, again, and again, and again. Emotions are pounding down on her, barbarians at the gates of hell, and for a brief moment she yearns for the numbness, because all she can think of is Killian.

Of this look in his eyes as they fell.

Of his lips on hers and a bright, blinding light.

“There’s no more Darkness,” she says, softly. “And I did let him go.”

“So you did,” Merlin nods. “In a manner of speaking.”

“Stop with your goddamn riddles,” Emma says, and she’s crying now, though it takes her a minute to notice, to register the feeling of the tears streaming down her face. She’s tired and frustrated and confused and she just--

She misses him.

So much.

And it hits her, suddenly, that she is never going to see him again, and she wishes again for the numbness.

Merlin sighs. “Emma, you have to choose between what is good, and what is right. That’s what you can’t seem to understand. You won’t survive this journey if you don’t do the right thing.”

“I don’t understand.” It’s a whisper. Her voice is not working.

“You never do,” he says. “It’s really annoying.”

Then he meets her gaze and his tone becomes earnest.

“You have to do what’s right . For once in your life, Savior--listen to me.”

“You sound like my kid,” Emma says, and if she closes her eyes she can hear Henry’s voice echoing the words.

He opens the car door and gets out, gesturing for her to follow him.

“Please,” he says, and it’s the ‘please’ that gets her, gets her to move when Merlin points toward a swinging door. It’s part of the weathered facade of a mock saloon called THE PIGS & THE WOLF. The paint is chipped and the words are faded; it is the opposite of welcoming.

“Right through there,” Merlin says.

“What’s through there?”

Merlin smiles. It’s once again open and genuine. “The rest of your story. Go on.”

But--her story is over.

That’s what happens when you die.

But there’s nothing else to do, so Emma opens her own door and climbs out. She pulls her shoulders back and straightens herself to her full height as she starts walking toward the unknown, and then Merlin calls her back.

“Emma!”

She turns, and he’s leaning against the bright yellow car, young and happy and without a care in the world. “About New York--”

She shudders.

“Don’t blame yourself too much,” he says, pulling up his hoodie. “I really did see it coming. You just changed the ending a bit.”

He disappears, and Emma stands there, watching the space where he used to be, for a long time before she finally gathers up enough courage to turn and walk past the saloon doors into the darkness beyond.

[[SB]]

He is not the person he remembers.

When he wakes up next to her in the middle of the night, shaking and filled with both rage and fear, he is different. When he walks down the street and people turn to avoid him, he is different. When he hears the whispers around him, words like darkness and sealed fate, he is different.

She is not.

She cups his cheek when he gets lost in his fury, and he finds himself again in the calm of her eyes. She makes them recede, the madness and the anger that have both come back to plague him now that he walks in space and time again. She says his name like it means something to her.

It means nothing to him.

But in a corner of his heart of darkness, a corner he protects with everything he has, he loves that she says his name like that. Or he would, if he still knew how to love.

[[UW]]

It was a tunnel--a familiar tunnel, and if everything wasn’t already so weird that would probably be at the top of her mind, the way the saloon doors had led to this tunnel that looked just like the ones the dwarves had carved out below Storybrooke. Everything was bathed in a strange red glow, and there was complete and utter silence.

No, not silence.

Absence of sound.

It was cold, cold enough she could see her breath--which, that was weird, because dead people didn’t breathe.

She followed the track as it twisted to her left and changed direction, rounded the bend that would take her farther under Storybrooke, if this was Storybrooke, and there stood a man. He was blonde with an impeccably tailored black suit and there was something vaguely manic about him, in the way that his expression was both wickedly joyous, like he was happy to see her, but also bored.

Then he smiled the kind of supercilious grin that would make Regina look friendly.

“Ah,” he said, his voice a mellifluous blend of sarcasm and fake sincerity. “Emma Swan. I’ve been waiting for you.”

For fuck’s sake.

If she never had to hear that phrase again--ever--it would be too soon.

But the man was still talking.

Of course he was.

“Now let’s see what kind of welcome we can offer a Dark One who stumbles into my land of lost souls but--” his mouth quirked “--never paid the price?”

“The price?” Emma almost didn’t recognize her own voice and the way it was laced with fear.

Real fear.

“Charon,” the man said. “You owe him some gold.”

The image enveloped her before she could stop it: Killian guiding her hand as they traced the stars, telling her the myths that named the constellations, and the stories of the gods and goddesses above and below.

He spoke Greek, because of course he did .

And thinking that, of the way his hand felt wrapped around hers as they lay on the deck of the Jolly Roger --it hurt .

“I didn’t come by way of the ferryman,” she said. “I--there was an amusement park. And an old, well--” she paused, shaking her head, because the word ‘friend’ just wouldn’t come out and didn’t really apply.

“Ah,” the man sighed. “Well.”

He was silent for a long while, just looking at Emma until her eyes watered from trying to look at him without blinking too much. Her fingertips fizzed, as if a current was running through them, but there was no sense of magic behind it.

Just unease.

Finally he said, “I suppose it doesn’t matter.” His voice was light and noncommittal and his smile was truly terrifying--all the more so because it seemed genuine. “You’re here now, Dark One. So we’d better get on with it.”

For a moment courage sparked inside of her. “I think your information is a bit out of date,” she said. “I’m not the Dark One anymore.”

“Forgive me.” He made a mocking bow. “ Savior .” It sounded as though he was tasting the syllables and it rolled through her body like something slimy and gross; the hope fizzled out just like the magic had.

“You’re Hades, aren’t you?” He was in the stories, too--though none of them had prepared her for this. Emma could feel the danger underneath the impeccable appearance of the man--of the place--danger and violence and evil at a simmer just below the surface and knew instinctively that this creature could crush her bones or blow her mind or invite her to a ridiculously proper high tea and they would all be the same thing to him.

“I am,” he said, and it was just like his smile, and his affect, laced with something manic and terrible as he suddenly growled, “You’re in my realm now.”

And with a wave of his hand--

There was a cemetery.

The sky was blood red, an ominous twilight that was bright and flat at the same time and she’d seen this before. She’d seen it in her dreams, but was unprepared for the tombstones, endless and stretching from horizon to horizon. Some of them were knocked over, some of them had no inscription, some were splintered apart. The grass was manicured, strangely well-kept, almost unnaturally perfect as though it was merely an extension of the god himself and, like him, it had a feeling of something terrible underneath its impeccable appearance.

He was still smiling at her when he said, “I have something to show you,” and stepped aside, and there was a tombstone.

Emma Swan , it said.

“Welcome to the Underworld, Savior.”

She blinked and the vision flickered--

“And I’m sorry to inform you that it’s your information that’s a bit out of date.”

The name on the tombstone was Killian Jones .

“No.” It wasn’t even a whisper, it was a breath of despair.

“Yes,” whispered Hades, a sound that was more like a hiss--like a giggle. She looked up at him and he rolled his eyes. “Your face,” he said, as if that was an explanation. “Your face, it’s just--it’s priceless . I couldn’t resist.”

Emma shook her head and squared her shoulders and turned to look back at the stone, at the letters that were jumbled, that were out of focus and fucking dancing before her eyes, because it couldn’t be,

it couldn’t be

She had not sacrificed herself for nothing.

She had not sacrificed herself for nothing .

“Oh,” Hades said, as though he had forgotten. He said it and smiled, brutality in a bespoke suit, and the way he was smiling was a claxon against her superpower, sirens for a five-alarm fire. “Before I forget--I think you might want this.”

He leaned forward and placed something on top of the tombstone--

A dulled, dirty metal hook.

Dripping blood.

[[SB]]

Sometimes the rage comes on like a tidal wave and swallows him whole. It explodes outward, seeping from every pore, and he finds himself walking the streets in retracing the footsteps of his own darkness, wayward spells shooting from his ravaged hand and doing damage.

Real damage.

Damage she has to fix.

“I can fix it,” she whispers, as though it is meant to soothe--and she does, but it doesn’t .

She finds him every time; no matter how lost he gets, she finds that corner of his heart where he is still human, and she brings him back. She kisses him gently and tells him that she loves him like that should mean something.

He wishes he could say it back.

(Wishes he could feel it back.)

[[UW]]

�� It was a trick, it was obviously a trick; it had to be a trick.

Killian wasn’t here.

Killian couldn’t be here.

She was crying as Hades again twisted his hand and disappeared into a cloud of smoke, sobbing , great heaving painful sounds that were ripped from her body as she sank down in front of the headstone and she just felt--

She felt .

It was as if the weight of everything she’d done was bearing down on her, squeezing her, wringing her out until she had nothing left inside of her, just the hook in her shaking hands that she sat and rubbed with her jacket, trying to get it clean, for what felt like hours.

But what was time in a place like this?

Eternity is a very long time .

In the end Emma got up simply because it was something to do, and because she could no longer sit and stare at the letters that spelled his name.

She picked a direction and started walking, her breath making little puffs in the cold, dry air as she followed the line of the cemetery toward--

Storybrooke.

It was broken, twisted, red-hued; the remains of the clock tower were splintered across Main Street and people shuffled along under hunched shoulders and bent backs as they watched her, shooting furtive glances in her direction. It was so very fitting somehow--that and the sense of hopelessness that pushed against her nerve endings like a dull ache--but where there was Storybrooke, there was a diner.

And where there was a diner, there was going to be coffee. Maybe even hot chocolate with fucking cinnamon and Emma was going to go and have some. She tucked the hook carefully into the waistband of her jeans so that it pressed against the small of her back just like his hand had done , and choked back a sob.

[[SB]]

He doesn’t remember her, not really.

But he misses her, somehow. Misses feeling her.

Misses feeling.

[[UW]]

“Would you like gingerbread or children?”

The blind woman behind the counter looked absolutely deranged as she asked it, and then looked almost affronted when Emma asked for coffee instead.

“I was just kidding,” she said. “But the gingerbread’s actually not bad.”

Emma opened her mouth to respond but was cut off when a voice from behind her rang out like a cracked bell.

“Savior!” There was rage and devious pleasure rolling off of it in waves. “Could it be? Is it really you? I’ve been waiting--”

No. Emma was done with that.

She turned and found herself face-to-face with Cruella deVil.

“You can’t have been waiting that long,” Emma said. “Your roots aren’t even showing yet.”

And she turned back to her coffee.

The blind witch behind the counter cackled.

“Is this the one who shafted you? The Savior?” She licked her lips and pointed her sightless eyes toward Cruella. Her voice became a stage whisper. “Isn’t she the one who killed you?”

Every person in the diner stopped speaking and perked up, and Emma felt the mood shift from merely sullen to outright antagonistic.

Emma’s fingers twitched and before she could stop herself there was the flick of her wrist and--nothing.

Which was, in its way, a relief; a reminder that the Darkness and its magic was gone. So she exhaled and breathed a little deeper and reached and felt--nothing.

Nothing came and nothing conjured, like the place inside of her where the magic was, it was empty.

And cold.

And--dead.

Which. Okay, so was she, but there was nothing , not even the echoing buzz in her fingertips she’d felt in the tunnel. It was like turning over a key in an ignition and hearing nothing but a click. Panic struck hard as she looked at her hands, her plain, calloused, human hands, and felt nothing--not the bottomless well of the Darkness and not the warm golden stream of Light--and looked up into Cruella’s grinning face.

“Ooops,” she said, her perfectly plucked eyebrows raised in mock consternation, “having a bit of trouble harnessing your power, Savior? Finding the Underworld not all it’s cracked up to be, are we?”

Emma couldn’t breathe for a moment, poised for fight or flight, but there was, again, nothing.

No fight.

Just the useless, empty core where the magic used to be inside of her.

“Yeah, it’s a nuisance ,” said the Blind Witch. “The way Light magic will get you nowhere down here.” She cackled again and Emma was already tired of the sound. “Should have brought someone a little more, well--”

“Evil.” Cruella smacked her lips. “Oh, what the Queen could have accomplished in your stead.”

Regina . Reflexively Emma clenched her hands into fists, that anger she remembered from the world Above still perilously close to the surface, and then it hit her.

Regina, her parents, her kid--she was never going to see them again.

It hit her, a fucking freight train of emotion, of regret.

Because she was alone. Again.

There was the metal pressed against her back but she was more alone than she had ever been in her life and--

Except she wasn’t. Alive. She’d given that up, done the right thing, even if she couldn’t seem to figure out why she was here, and--

“Laugh all you want, Doolittle.” Cruella’s mouth turned down as if she was tasting something extremely unpleasant and Emma smiled. “Do your worst.” She’d been run through the heart by the sword she should have left alone. What could they do to her?

Cruella’s eyes narrowed down to slits as she leaned forward, uncomfortably close. “I sense confusion,” she hissed. “Like you don’t think you belong here. When you put me here. That should be enough reason.”

“Oh, that should be reason for worse, kitten.” Emma had not noticed the witch come up behind her and she flinched at her closeness, at the timbre of the words in her ear, but there was no heat, no feeling of breath against her neck. The witch, when she wasn’t speaking or moving, stood completely--almost unnaturally--still.

“Oooooh,” she whispered. “I sense misapprehension .” The witch circled to face Emma. “ Do your worst, you said. Didn’t she, kitten?”

Cruella gave her a distracted nod, still staring down Emma, when the witch smiled. “But I hear a heartbeat ,” she said, and she trembled like this fact pleasured her from the inside out and smiled her deranged smile. “Yes, lovelies,” she said, ignoring the way Emma’s and Cruella’s eyes both snapped to hers as she addressed the entire diner, “there is a heartbeat in the Underworld.”

And Emma, disbelieving, pressed her hand to her chest.

ThumpThump ThumpThump ThumpThump

There it was.

Emma couldn’t tell if it was hours or days later.

It could have been years, for all she knew, years spent running from the diner has if the hounds of hell had been after her--and there was a story about that, too, a story that he had told her--and it wasn’t impossible, not in the Underworld, and it was freaking Cruella --so she’d taken refuge in the only place she knew, the only place where she could be with him.

She’d run across the manicured grass and the broken tombstones, run until she’d found the one she was looking for and curled up at its base, and now she was on the grass, horizontal, the hook in her left hand and her right on her neck, index finger pressed into the pulse points, counting the beats as she stared at the sky.

She counted them and then counted again, over and over and over.

She was out of tears.

There was only silence and the beating of her own heart.

The clouds overhead didn’t even move here. Nothing did, that’s why the witch had felt so still, that’s why everything was so quiet--everything except her, with her heartbeat and her pulse and her warmth and her breath .

The blood-red twilight made telling time impossible.

Maybe time didn’t pass down here.

Maybe there was no time.

Emma turned her head and stared at the letters carved into the stone. Killian Jones .

She had no idea how long it had been since she’d seen him, since she’d touched him, since she’d kissed him and felt the press of him against her and the warmth that was him and the way that he loved her, unconditionally.

She shifted her right hand to the chain around her neck.

To the ring.

She remembered the feeling of him against her and the comfort of his presence, as it said without words everything that mattered. I am here. With you.

Always.

She was enough for him, and she had taken it for granted; the only thing he had ever asked of her was to let him go and instead she had bound them more tightly together.

“ We’ve already had more time together than we ever should have ,” he’d said.

This wasn’t right.

“You have to do what is right,” Merlin had said, only she had a heartbeat and something was terribly, terribly wrong.

A shadow stood over her and said, “Look at what we have here. A lost savior.”

There was a man standing above her, tall with close-cropped brown hair and a grim expression.

“Word travels fast down here,” he said. “And you can’t always believe what you hear, but then again, here you are.”

His voice was unmistakably angry.

“So tell me, Emma Swan. What is it you think you’re after? What more can you possibly want to do to him?”

Emma jumped to her feet, ignoring the protesting muscles of her back, clutching the hook like a talisman.

“Who are you?” she demanded. “How do you know who I am?”

“The witches at the diner, for one,” he said with a sneer. “Cruella has--quite a bone to pick with you, to coin a phrase. It seems she knew you, topside. In any case, she had a lot to say on the subject of one Emma Swan.” Liam looked at her for a beat and then his eyes flashed briefly. It could have been anger. It could have been sorrow. “And then there is the small matter of my brother.”

Everything inside Emma contracted into a pinpoint of pain at the center of her heart.

Her beating heart.

“Who is your brother?” she whispered, her fingers pulling at the chain she wore because she knew .

“Oh,” said the man. He spoke like he was indulging the whims of a small, spoiled child; his eyes followed the hand along her neck and locked on the ring. “Have you not yet guessed who I am? My name is Liam. Liam Jones.”

The hook in her had suddenly felt infinitely heavier as she looked up at Liam with his burning eyes, his mouth in a thin line, and said, “Is he here? Killian? Is he here?”

She was tired of this place and its goddamn riddles.

She needed a fucking answer .

Liam seemed determined not to give her one but his eyes narrowed a fraction and his tells were easier than his brother’s.

“Why is he here?” She couldn’t get her voice to work above a rasping whisper, but there was no ambient sound here, no birdsong or insect chirp; she should have noticed the silence before.

The stillness.

Liam shook his head. “You’re asking all of the wrong questions, Savior .” The way he said it made it sound like a curse. He put his hand briefly on the tombstone and nodded to himself. When he spoke, he did not look at her. “You have never been the hero of this story. Not for yourself, not for your family. And for my brother?”

He turned and fixed her with a withering glare.

“You’re nothing but a villain. And villains don’t get happy endings, do they?”

Emma closed her eyes, blinking back tears, and--

She saw him .

He looked at her, one eye swollen shut, blood dripping from fresh wounds. He his hand was tethered to the wall and she could taste iron in the air and despair on her tongue and for a second she was certain that he could see her, too; his lips moved, mouthing her name, cutting across time and space and life and death as Emma resonated deep within her chest.

The vision flickered out and Emma screamed.

She felt it echo, hanging in the air before it dissipated, absorbed into the stillness, and the air around her felt even quieter than it had before.

Liam stared at her, unimpressed. “Go home, Savior. Go home and let him go and move on. You are not welcome here.”

He pushed past her and before she could turn to follow him he was gone, vanished between the rows of stone monuments to lost souls. She was alone again.

She lifted the hook--her one small measure of connection--and held it against her cheek, imagined him and the way he used to pull her hair back with it.

I am here with you .

“I will find you,” she whispered into the steel. “I will find you and I will make this right.”

A stray streak of the blood-red twilight caught the curve of the hook and reflected a rainbow.

[[SB]]

Time has no meaning here.

It runs through his scarred fingers, racing along, endlessly stretching; it leaves nothing to hold on to but madness and anger. There is nothing to do in this grey without time, without purpose--it is a space without meaning, a pocket of empty.

It may have been centuries ago that he was trapped here.

It may have been hours.

There is no way to know.

[[UW]]

It was a small cottage, crooked and bowed, with peeling paint and a sagging wood frame that groaned under her weight when Emma walked up and pounded on the door hard enough to wake the dead.

Literally.

When Liam came to the door and opened it Emma said nothing. She just punched him squarely in the chin and watched him fold in half before she sidestepped him and entered the cottage’s single room with its makeshift kitchen that had never been used and its sofa that looked well-worn and mostly comfortable. Emma sat down at the table and waited for Liam to catch his breath.

“I suppose it’s too much to hope for coffee in this purgatory?”

He shook his head and wheezed as he sat down across from her, glaring.

“It’s interesting, don’t you think? How pain is still a thing--even though you’re all as dead as I should be.” She leaned forward. “I have no magic here, but I used to be very good at getting information out of people. And the tools of my trade do work down here.”

She left off the part about how it had felt wrong, the show of force, how it had felt too much like being the Dark One without actually being the Dark One. She left out how desperate it made her feel, and how twisted everything was.

She left out the part about how Liam was probably her best bet for finding Killian, even if she wasn’t above asking Cruella a pertinent question or two.

Or four.

She leaned back into the chair, affecting comfort and confidence she did not feel after their meeting in the cemetery--after the vision that still lingered--and waited for his breathing to even out. He straightened up, his own show of confidence that she ignored. “I am done with the riddles. Everyone here talks like a fucking oracle and I am not playing this game. Give me a few straight answers or I will make you very uncomfortable.”

And in that moment Emma felt the pressure of Merlin’s weight underneath her, his wrist in her hand, twisted--his face contorted in pain. She remembered the way that it felt to have him in her power, “ Trust me when I say that I take no pleasure in this .”

Emma shivered.

“Think you can get the drop on me twice?” His condescending sneer rode his anger like the surf of a hurricane.

“I know I can,” Emma snapped--and that, at least, was true. “I also know that something went horribly wrong, and that Killian should not be here. If this is all some horrible mistake, I have to fix it . No matter what.”

Her voice rang out into the silence while Liam looked at her. Just--stared, for a long time while her own words and her own hypocrisy echoed inside of her head.

“I can see why he likes you,” he said. “Gods know I despise what you have done to him, but I can see why he likes you. He’s always had a soft spot for strays, especially the ones who can give as good as they get.”

Emma stared back.

She was not a stray.

She was not nothing.

She was someone’s daughter, someone’s mother, someone’s friend, and the woman who loved his brother.

Home, warmth, family .

“He thinks you hung the moon,” she said, “but don’t kid yourself--you’re not the hero of this story, either. Be as angry at me as you want to be, but you bent him to your will so tightly that not even your death cut him free.”

Liam opened his mouth to reply but she held up her hand. “Save it,” she said. “Neither of us is going to win this fight. And I have more important things to do.”

Liam sank back into his chair, deflated, his shoulders hunched and his eyes hooded.

“Isn’t that what gets you into trouble, Savior?” he finally said. “Fixing things no matter what?”

His tells were easier than his brother’s but it seemed that both of the brothers Jones had a knack for reading people.

“I did the right thing,” Emma said. Her hand went automatically to her neck and the chain there as he watched her.

“Did you now?” Liam’s voice was quiet, and that, finally, broke her.

“YES!” Emma slammed her hand into the table, hard, but Liam didn’t flinch. “I fucked it all up before that, I took the sword and chose the Darkness, but the sacrifice, that I did right!” With her other hand, she pulled the hook from her waistband and held it up. “Why is he here? I saw him, he is being fucking tortured by the fucking God of Death and I need to know why.”

Emma watched Liam as he watched her, unmoving.

And then he slowly got up.

“I don’t have the answers you’re looking for, Savior,” he said. “But I do know this: He’s here. And he’s in a place I cannot go.” He sighed, and it sounded resigned, and no longer angry. “So if I were you, Savior, I would start looking in places the dead cannot enter.”

Emma’s voice was a whisper. “And where is that?”

“Ask the witch at the diner. She refused to tell me, but I get the feeling you can be--persuasive.”

He almost smiled.

Emma stood, tucked the hook back into her waistband, and walked out the door.

. .

#cs fic #cs fic rec #cssns20 #ohmightydevviepuu #thisonesatellite #the sword and the heart #5B canon divergence #here we go #Hades is waiting #and way down we go

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mosswillow · 3 years

Text

The People You Love Chapter 13

A/N: Hey, look at me not being lazy and adding the chapter to Tumblr too.

Warnings and Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe, Eventual Smut, Protective Ben Solo, Alpha Ben Solo, Omega Rey (Star Wars), Mating, Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bond, Knotting, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Emotional, Hurt/Comfort, Dubious Consent, unconscious medical procedure (chapter 6), Emotional Hurt, Suicidal thoughts (very mild no actual planning) ch 8, Did I already mention emotional hurt?, Emotional hurt (once more for good measure.) Slow Burn, Implied/referenced attempted suicide (not described in detail) (not Rey) (ch 15), some violence, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted assault (ch 14)

AO3 link

By clicking keep reading you confirm that you’re an adult over the age of 18

The seconds tick closer to midnight and Rey gets to work digging through her room. She finds a bag and fills it with some papers from her file, clothes, the money card Leia gave her, and toiletries. Minutes before it’s time to run the room becomes clear, like she put on a pair of glasses. It’s sharp and bright, every detail jumping out at her. The specs of dust in the air float around her and she stares at the room taking in every detail. Her head starts feeling light and she realizes she’s stopped breathing. There’s hesitation. Anxiety. Maybe it’s fear or maybe guilt, she doesn’t know. Her mind turns to what will happen to the Solo’s. She knows, even though she doesn’t want to admit it, that running away from them will fuck their lives up. The moment she leaves her room she’ll be doing something she can’t take back.

It takes several deep breaths and hyping herself up to cut the bracelet and climb out of the window. The climb down is easier this time. She hits the ground after a few short minutes and starts running, making it down the street before she has to stop to catch her breath. She feels elated, free and happy, the world is open to her.

Then the initial adrenaline rush dissipates and her heartrate settles. She’s left alone in a dark alleyway. It’s a sliver of freedom and she wonders if it will be worth it. She hopes so.

She makes her way to the closest bus stop and reads the map, running her hand over the spot where Finn and Poe’s house is. She knows it’s where she needs to go. It’s the only way she can think to get home.

“Where to honey?” A tired looking woman says.

Rey almost turns around and goes back. What if the letter says something she doesn’t want to hear? What if something terrible happens? She takes a deep breath and hands over her money card before climbing in a large bus to start her journey. The island was an illusion, it held a life that did not exist. The illusion is broken now and all that’s left is the reality that the facade was built around. Rey is tired of everyone knowing more about her than herself. Even if something horrible happens or if what she finds out breaks her heart she has to go. She can’t live her life knowing that there’s truth out there and she didn’t go find it when she got the chance.

-o-

It takes over twenty four hours to finally reach the charming little house she once knew. Rey was so focused on getting away that she hadn’t considered how it would feel to be back. As she stands outside hyping herself up she goes through a range of different emotions. Anger at first that they gave her away without even talking to her first. Then she feels a sense of loss thinking about how much she cared for them, how she felt loved and safe and like she was part of a family. She misses that feeling and it hits her that she may never feel that way again.

She waits until she’s sure they’re fast asleep before walking to the back door and trying the handle. It turns easily; they never did lock the doors. She tiptoes through the house and stops at a picture frame. It’s her, she doesn’t even know when it was taken. She picks it up and looks at it, almost feeling guilty about what she has to do.

“Your mate called, told us when you would be here. He wants you to call him.”

Rey jumps and looks over to see Finn and Poe standing across the room. She puts the photo down and makes eye contact.

“Are you going to call him now?”

“Do you want us to?”

“Does it matter?”

Finn slowly walks towards Rey and she backs up in response looking at Finn with distrust and heartbreak. He stops and slackens his shoulders.

“We should have told you before he showed up here, we were afraid you would run off.”

Rey crosses her arms and takes another step back.

“Why are you here Rey, are you ok?” Finn asks.

Rey looks back and forth between Finn and Poe before dropping her arms and giving up.

“My grandfather left me something on the island.”

There’s a pause and then Rey watches their eyebrows raise in unison as they understand.

“You need our boat.”

Rey nods.

“So you were just going to steal it?”

She nods again.

“I was going to bring it back after.”

“We could get in a lot of trouble for helping you, you know that right?” Poe says.

Rey walks over to the couch and plops down putting her face in her lap. Finn comes next to her and rubs small circles on her back.

“We’ll take you there,” He says quietly.

Rey pauses for a moment as his words wash through her. She feels a mix of relief and resignation. Even in the time she was on her own she still had to rely on others. She puts her arm around Finn and leans against him. Maybe relying on others isn’t a bad thing and fighting the instinct to form attachments only ends up leaving her hurt. She doesn’t trust Finn and Poe, at least not the way she did before but she also isn’t angry.

“Thank you.” She whispers

They don’t waste much time. Poe makes a sandwich for Rey and they hitch up the boat. It’s a long and cold ride to the island. Seeing land is a relief and yet Rey finds herself unable to move as they dock. The night she left was one the most difficult of her life. Flashbacks play in her head and she half expects a group of men to come running at her from the house.

“Do you want us to come with you?” Poe asks

“No,” She breathes before steadying herself and starting the walk to the house.

The island looks exactly the same and somehow wildly different than what she remembers. As she looks around at all the familiar rocks and trees she begins to understand that the island isn’t what’s different, She is. Her eyes have changed, giving her the ability to see the headache inducing complexity of shapes and colors that were blended and muddied before. Beautiful memories of her childhood sit beside the knowledge of lies and control. She can see it all and it overwhelms her.

It doesn’t take her long to find where the letter is hidden. She opens it with shaky hands and reads the last words her grandfather wrote to her.

-o-

Rey,

You probably have so many questions and I’ll do my best to answer them before I have to do what I have to do. I’m going to die now, I’ll make sure they kill me or I’ll shoot myself. I can’t be brought in and questioned. If they find you they’ll use you against me until I crack. There are people who count on me, what I know could bring down an entire organization.

You’re what’s called an Omega. The medication I give you suppresses it, but even with the medication it’s who you are. Omegas are kind and caring, meant to serve others. They’re also strong and resilient, I know you’ll escape this island. I’ve included directions to a safe house that I had set up just in case. Rey, I only have one month of medication for you. When it runs out you’ll go into what is called a heat. It will be painful but you’ll be ok. Do not leave the safehouse after you run out of suppressants. People will be able to tell you’re an Omega and you will be in danger. I have it arranged for someone to bring food and supplies to you for as long as you need it. You won’t have to worry about anything and can spend as much time as you need living there, even your whole life if you want.

There’s a family, the Solo’s. A man, Ben Solo, was assigned to be your mate when you were just a little girl. They’re a good family and one day when you're ready they’ll protect you and love you. There's a file about them at the safehouse. They’re the ones who are here now but their issue isn’t with you, it’s with me. They think that I’ve been hurting you for the past several years.

You’re probably wondering why, why didn’t I tell you about any of this.

Twenty years ago I made a decision that ended up haunting me forever. I gave the go ahead to kidnap the child of a politician, one who was my friend. My men tortured this child and sent him back to his parents broken. We needed to get a law passed that now feels so trivial. I lost my soul that day and five years later, in direct consequence to that choice I lost my son and his wife, your parents. They tried to take you too that night to return the favor, thankfully they didn’t succeed. That boy is now a man and what I didn’t consider 20 years ago is that I may have been creating a monster, and by monster I mean someone exactly like me. Be careful Rey, there are people in this world who want to hurt you. It’s not fair but life never is.

I brought you here after your parents died vowing to keep you safe, to raise you right and give you a childhood away from pain, one I hadn’t given your father. I was supposed to hand you off to the Solo’s when you turned eighteen but the day you presented as an Omega and I saw your pain I did something rash, I gave you my suppressants. I just wanted a little more time with you but as soon as my medication wore off all those feelings of inadequacy and failure to protect your father came crashing back. I let myself spiral into my Alpha biology. Even as I write this I feel a sense of intense need to protect you. I failed to protect my Omega and failed my child. I can’t fail you Rey. I kept telling myself that one day I would have to let you go but every time I thought about it I just couldn’t. It may be selfish but I couldn’t let go of you. It turns out that life isn’t worth much without the people you love, and I love you Rey.

I hope I did the right thing. I hope that when you come out of your hiding place and find this letter you’ll understand why I did everything I did.

I love you Rey

-Grandfather.

Rey lets the letter fall to the ground. She starts taking steps back until she hits the wall. She doesn’t know what she was expecting, for there to be some explanation that would make everything ok, that would refute everything she’s been told about him. It doesn’t.

What hurts her now is that she doesn’t feel anger. He was her captor, lied to her just as much as everyone else in her life. If he was standing in front of her now she would scream at him and lock herself away. She would run from the island and not look back. He’s not in front of her though, he’s dead, and she loved him. She feels deep and true love for someone who murdered, tortured, lied, a criminal. How can she love someone like that? Her chest tightens and she starts feeling lightheaded.

What if she had stayed hidden like she was supposed to that evening? What if she came out and found the letter, had time to process everything and decide when and if she wanted to call the Solo’s.

She feels tired and trapped. It doesn’t feel good to be back on the island, it feels just as much a prison as the Solo’s house and she wants to leave. She gathers the letter and directions to the safe house.

She has one more thing she has to see, hopefully she’s able to. Hopefully the cleverly hidden security system wasn't found during the ransacking of her home. She walks to the hidden cabinet and uses her thumb print hoping that it will let her in.

And it does.

-o-

“Where is she?” Ben asks.

“Don’t worry Solo, we’ll find your little Omega after we deal with him.”

Knight. She didn’t know he was there. She didn’t notice any of them that night, only Ben, only her Alpha.

“You can come nicely.” Knight gives a sly smile as he pulls out a gun

“Or not.”

Sheev pulls out a pistol in turn and Ben looks back and forth between the men.

“You have three seconds to leave before I start shooting… Three,” Sheev starts.

Knight smiles and Ben's eyes widen.

“Two,” He continues.

“Don’t,” Ben cries but it’s too late. The shot is firing off and Ben is standing there shocked, looking at the blood pouring out of sheev.

“One,” Knight finishes.

“You weren’t supposed to kill him.” Ben says.

“He was torturing your girl wasn’t he?”

“I wanted but… This is not… You aimed for his head… You murdered him.” Ben says. He looks away from the scene and his eyes land on something.

“Rey.” He breathes “Don’t you fucking go near her Knight.” He yells before running out of frame.

-o-

Rey doesn't even react, her mind won’t let her. She slowly turns off the monitor and walks to her old bedroom, looking around at the mess all over the floor. She finds her little stuffed stingray and stands there with it for a few minutes before walking all the way to the ocean.

She wades in, holds the stuffed animal to her chest, and lets herself feel. She feels everything all at once, from her parents death to the moment she stepped out of that window, the good and bad. There's use in objects that comfort, that remind someone of their past and where they came from. There’s also use in letting go. In realizing that there’s no going back and the only way forward is to say goodbye. In taking a quiet moment to thank an object before letting it go. It’s symbolic but sometimes symbolism can be so strong that it becomes reality.

“I love you,” She whispers.

Rey lets the little stingray fall into the ocean and be carried away and with it goes a weight she’s held in her for as long as she can remember.

She makes her way back to the boat, stopping when she sees a little flower. She leans over and picks it wavering with it for several moments before putting it in her bag.

“Did it go well?”

Rey settles in the boat and gives a small smile.

“Yes, I think so at least.”

-o-

Rey is exhausted by the time they arrive back. She doesn’t feel safe there though. The safe house isn’t far, a few hours to walk. She can make it, she knows she can. She may fall over from exhaustion by the time she arrives but she has to go.

“we can give you a ride wherever you need.”

“It’s better you don’t know where I’m going, safer that way for all of us.”

Poe disappears inside of the hose and Finn pulls Rey into a hug. Poe comes back and stuffs some food in her bag before joining them in the hug. He looks at her awkwardly.

“He wasn’t coming after you. He knew where you were. You used a money card Rey, they can be tracked.”

Rey bites her lip and looks down feeling dumb for not knowing that.

“I think he genuinely just wanted to know you’re safe. There was something he wasn’t saying, I don’t know.”

“Thank you.” Rey says as she pulls away.

It’s bittersweet, seeing them and now leaving. Rey takes a step back and then turns away.

“Stay safe Rey,” Finn calls out as she walks slowly down the driveway.

She turns back and gives one last smile and wave before turning on the road.

#alpha ben solo #ben solo x rey #reylo #Omega Rey #abo #starwars abo

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atasteforsuicidal · 3 years

Text

WIP Challenge

Thank you @irolltwenties for the tag ♥

WIP Challenge 😁❤🧡💛💚💙💜🤎🖤🤍❤😁🤩🤩

Rules: tell us the titles of all the WIPs you are currently working on right now and a little about them. Then tag five other writers.

I am... only going to include WIPs I've actively worked on in recent memory or that are supposed to be coming up soon, because otherwise, we'll be here all day. Also, what are titles before posting? You can have the GDoc titles XD

[Warning for rape mentions and incest mentions]

JayTimWeek Fic - Day 2

A BDSM AU, with Dom!Tim and sub!Jay.

Tim has been Jason's most stable and preferred partner for being regularly put down, but it's always been platonic. In fact, Jason hasn't done a sexual scene in years and years, and the ones he has done haven't really been consensual. But his feelings for Tim have been changing, and he's been thinking about taking that step... only he has no idea how Tim feels about him.

JayDickWeek Day 1: Jealousy/Protectiveness

One of two installments that I'm hoping to get out for my dna verse between this event and OJTW (if I don't finish them in time for JDW). This one is set probably a month or two into the pregnancy, and Dick has gotten weird about letting Jason leave the apartment "because Bludhaven is so unsafe, and I just can’t stand you going out like this, Jay. I’m sorry, my instincts are just going haywire with wanting to keep you both safe." Finally, he caves and agrees to a weekend at the Manor to appease Jason.

But then he gets jealous when Jason lets Damian nurse from him, which kind of sets up the second story I want to write.

JayDickWeek Day 4: A/O/B

The second dna verse fic I'm working on. This one is likely to be much longer, so I'm worried about time constraints. It follows probably less than a month after the one I just talked about, and is essentially just Dick's not-so-slow descent into being That Kind of Alpha. You know, the kind he promised he'd never be? Yeah.

JayDickWeek Day 5: Never Adopted

Jason is a college-aged Omega, who was attacked by a serial killer who has been raping and murdering male Omegas. He manages to kill the Alpha in self-defense before he's murdered (but after he's been raped), and it's Nightwing who finds him. Dick finds out it's not the first time he's saved Jason and that Jason grew up in a boys' home run by the Martha Wayne Foundation. He takes an interest, initially as Nightwing, checking in and making sure Jason's okay, etc.

Then he starts showing up as Dick, and I'm looking forward to playing with identity issues. Can't wait for Jason to go to Nightwing and confide how he's scared that he has a stalker and that that stalker is Dick Grayson. Also thinking about making him a med student and having him be friendly with Steph/having Dick ask Steph to befriend him because he’s just so worried about this poor, traumatized, packless Omega.

JayDicksequel

The mythical sequel to my JayDick pet play fic that I've been insisting will exist for far too long now. Theoretically, it's supposed to be their first attempt at a 24-hour scene. Or, well. 24-hours, less vigilante time.

OJTW Day 2: Ra'sJay Sequel

A follow-up to the Ra'sJay thing I wrote during kinkmas. It's a 4 + 1 of Jason's heats, with the +1 being the truth about the heat where Ra's claimed him.

OJTW Day 7: Incest Kink

Probably going to use this to write a JayDick thing that's been Haunting me. It's pretty heavy on both breeding and incest kink. Hopefully I can keep this one on the shorter side, because it should just be a single sex scene. I just want to write Dick talking about breeding Jason until his womb breaks and then keeping him around to be their pups' practice omega 🥺

ra'sjaytim aob thing

Something I've been picking at for a while and am now hoping to finish in time for Day 6 of Ra'sBat Week. Basically, it's set post RHATO 25, except Roy never saved Jason and, instead, Batman left him on the streets, outside city limits, while he was going into a critical heat from the beating/breaking pack bonds. Jay chose calling in the League over death or being raped and mated by whatever random Alpha(s) caught his scent or stumbled across him, even though he knew what it likely meant for him.

That's the backstory, though. The fic itself is the Batfam finding out about all this after Tim is assigned to look into rumours about there being a new Heir to The Demon. Tim, in particular, is livid, because Bruce had led him to believe that he was keeping tabs on Jason when he wasn't. Naturally, Bruce insists on showing up to take the child so Ra's can't abuse it like he did Damian, and Jason makes a counter-offer to Tim, half-inviting/half-begging Tim to stay, to be his and Ra's' beta. To help Jay raise his pups, to help Jay /protect/ his pups...

sounds so sweet, ch. 2

More JayKyle smut. Moving to the bedroom. Rough sex. Paddling. Probably some lantern constructs as sex toys. Putting Jay down deeply enough for him to rest well, and then Kyle staying awake to watch over him and wait up for Roy to confront him, which will be chapter 3.

edge of a knife, ch. 4

The final chapter of my fem!Dick kinkmeme fill. I know for sure that it starts with Dick going back to Gotham so she can go to Leslie's clinic for the morning after pill, but there are two very different ways that I've considered ending it, and I can't decide which way I want it to go - either she goes to Bruce and confides in him about what happened... or she goes back to the Tower.

Just tagging whoever feels like doing it, tbh. If you have wips, pls do it. I'm nosy 🤣

#wip meme #fanfic*#cw incest #cw rape #cw abuse #and then ofc i'm overdo on updates to if i should/sure as a wave/broken smile #and then i do have plans for dc dark week and another ra'sbat week fic #and this convoluted af red robin au #and a dozen other things that are more vague plans than anything concrete yet #writing*

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the-cookie-of-doom · 4 years

Note

Hi! Can I be nosey? I saw your post on outlining Liar, Liar, Foxfire, could you explain your process a little more? Especially the EVEN DUMBER VERSION? Please and thank you and love your blog! Especially the little snippets of what you're working on!

Dear nonny you can always be nosy, I love it <3

I usually put the Title: DUMBEST VERSION at the top of my docs to remind myself that it’s the first draft and it doesn’t have to be perfect. It started out as a joke with Estranged back in the end of 2018 I think, when I started the fic. Then it kind of became a thing between myself and my then beta (she thought it was cute lol) I don’t really use it for its intended purpose, since I heavily edit as I write. You’re not technically supposed to do that, but I can’t write any other way if my work is unsatisfactory; it seriously kills my motivation when I know I can do better.

Which is where the EVEN DUMBER VERSION comes in! I’ve never used that one before this, I was just frustrated because I couldn’t get my plot to work in a way that I liked lol, so I decided to go through and outline literally every scene in season 3b. (Essentially: 3b for Dummies.)

In the case of this fic, I didn’t actually use an outlining method, really, and I usually don’t. I’m notoriously bad at outlines, and any time I’ve had to do them for school, I would write the project first, then write the outline based on that. The few times I do use an outline, I typically end up veering very far off track.

So what I initially ended up doing here was sitting down with a notebook and rewatching 3b, writing down the general ideas of each scene. Mostly I intended to use it just to jog my memory while I wrote the fic. It... did not work out that way.

After struggling for a few days, I decided to type everything up into a document, splitting each section by episode. I didn’t have every scene detailed, since it wasn’t an outline for the show itself, just for the main context I needed for my fic.

Then I used the blue text for the changes I intended to make/scenes I wanted to add. That way I had a visual representation of what was my original work, and what was the canon framework, which is what I was struggling with the most. It’s difficult for me to work within the constraints of canon like that, which I why I don’t write “missing scene” fics. (RIP)

At that point, it was a matter of adding in the scenes I knew I wanted, and then fleshing out some more where I felt like I needed more original content to balance out the canon. My goal is to have only as much canon context as necessary, because I didn’t want to write out episodes we’ve all already scene.

... And that still didn’t really help. I mean it was super useful in giving me somewhere to start but it wasn’t quite what I needed yet. So I started searching around for the scripts. (Fun fact: i used to be a film major, and I still have a thing for collecting scripts). I found the scripts only up to the end of 3a so that was a bust T_T But then I found the Teenwolfwiki which has scene-by-scene synopsis and it’s amazing. Way more effective than my outline in terms of laying everything out clearly for me.

So now I’ve got my outline as a sort of guide for where my missing scenes fit in, but then I’m going through the wiki to work my way through each episode, and decide which scenes I do/don’t want to keep. Since the fic is about Mitch and Stiles, I’m focusing on scenes with a heavy focus on Stiles and Mitch (who’s Allison’s cousin here, and thus follows the Argent’s storyline). I was also unsure how mush of Malia’s storyline to include, since the person who commissioned the fic didn’t want her in, but also there was some important context she gives to the plot... but then I realized I could just... not write her scenes. That leaves it up to the reader whether that part of canon still happened or not xD (For the record, I like to think it did, but her arc ends after they get her back to her dad, He never sends her to Eichen and that’s the end of her involvement.)

Like I said, I don’t outline very often, if at all, and I tend to get off track when I do (LLF has already changed drastically from the original ideas and outline, and a lot of scenes have been cut), the way I prefer to do it is to write essentially a very long summary. I like to jokingly call them “not-fics” because they can easily end up several thousand words long. It lays out the fic in a shorter retelling, but it’s less structured and leaves me more room for deviation. I usually don’t end up with an actual bullet-pointed outline until I’m pretty far into the fic and need to organize the remaining scenes. Estranged didn’t get an outline until I was...40k into it, maybe? It was a long time.

But if you want an ACTUAL outline method, one I’ve found and liked is the 3 ACT, 9 BLOCK, 27 CHAPTER Method, which somewhat follows the Hero’s Journey, but more in depth::

Act 1

Block 1: Introductions/Inciting Incident/Immediate Fallout (Exposition)

Block 2: Reaction/Action/Consequences

Block 3: Plot Twist/Break into Second Act

Act 2

Block 4: New World/Fun & Games/Old World Juxtaposition (Time for worldbuilding, everything is still fun; Harry Potter comes to Hogwarts)

Block 5: Build Up/Midpoint/Reversal (Growing paints. The character is changing for the better, lots of character development, etc. Pivotal moment)

Block 6: Reaction/Trials/Dedication (Character has potential, but still has work to do. Yennefer during the lightning in a bottle scene.)

Act 3

Block 7: Calm Before the Storm/Plot Twist/Darkest Moment (The whump chapter; Character reaches their breaking point.)

Block 8: Power Within/Action/Converge (Stiles in Ch. 16, to plug my own fic xD)

Block 9: Final Battle/Climax/Resolution

This is a super condensed version, but if you look it up, you’ll be able to see the full explanation on byomentor.com. I found it through Kate Cavanaugh on YouTube in one of her outlining methods videos.

I’m thinking of using this outlining method for this year’s NaNo when I finally, finally write Neverland, but we’ll see. It’s pretty flexible since you don’t have to exactly follow all 27 chapters; you can follow the general vibe and idea of each blog and still have a really sound story, which I like.

Another method I used forever ago for my fic Tree of Life (and I can’t remember the name of the method, but it’s pretty basic) was to have 5 points per chapter:

Inciting Incident

Progressive Complication

Crisis

Climax

Resolution

Now it didn’t work exactly that way because ToL is a pretty drawn out fic, even despite the action, but it’s a good thing to consider. If you have an action heavy or fast-paced chapter (or if a chapter feels slow to you but you don’t know why), it’s a good thing to keep in mind to help speed things up.

But yeah, despite my research in many different outline methods, my favorite is still to write my not-fics and then outline later, if I do at all xD

I hope this was informative! Please feel free to come back if you have any thoughts or questions : 3

#cookie speaks #cookie writes #long post #sorry this got so long...#I haven't really talked to anyone in a while #lol #i like to Talk about my writing/process #it makes me v happy when people are interested in how i do htings

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artistic-writer · 6 years

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Love Finds a Way : CS Jurassic World AU : Ch 2

Title: Love Finds a Way by @artistic-writer

Summary: Emma Swan is the Head of Operations for David Nolan’s exotic adventure park, Jurassic World. She has a son, Henry, and is loved and respected by her colleagues. Her life was perfect until a new dinosaur the park created, Indominus Rex, decided to escape. Oh, and her one night stand, Killian Jones - he’s there to help contain the asset. Just to complicate things even more. Jurassic World AU.

Rating: M (for people getting eaten)

Also on: AO3 - FF

A/N: Chapter two - you may have noticed I am arting this also. And so I was watching it and made an off-handed comment post about how it would make a great CS AU and @kmomof4 and @wordsmith-storyweaver have enabled me enough that I feel like this could actually be a thing. I made art first, then I wrote some words, then I made some more art. NOTE: I have no writing schedule for this, so whilst I do not anticipate it longer than 6 chapters or so, I have only a few written right now, and they are very out of order. My doc is a hot mess. Beta’d by the lovely @resident-of-storybrooke because @kmomof4 can’t see everything first ;)

Taglist: @hollyethecurious @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @cocohook38 @sherlockianwhovian @searchingwardrobes @wordsmith-storyweaver @winterbaby89 @kymbersmith-90 @wellhellotragic @killianmesmalls @killian-whump

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The mid morning sun shone brightly, the rays broken into tinier beams as they dispersed through the trees overhead. Light barely filled the ground below the canopy, the call of a tropical bird the only sound that could be heard in the remote part of the island. There was no wind, not a single leaf was moving, and the near silence was broken up by the sound of a pig squealing as it tore through the detritus along a narrow track.

The piglet rushed through the vibrant green grass, each blade swaying over his rounded, pink back as it scuttled through them. It squealed again, almost a call for help, as it willed its tiny, hooven feet to move faster. It was being chased, the thud of huge, reptilian feet pounding the ground behind it sending it into a higher state of panic. It cried out again as it rounded a corner, skidding into an open area where the track had opened out. It didn’t stop, rushing for the safety it knew was nearby; a small doorway less than twenty yards ahead.

“Hold!” A man called out, his British accent bellowing out from the platform he was currently walking on.

One of the beasts that had been chasing the piglet slid to a stop, her huge, curved claw tapping the ground where she stood impatiently. Her powerful legs held her weight, her glowing eyes scanning the area for the man that she, and her sisters, saw as a parent figure. She had a distinctive blue streak of scales down both sides of her body that began around her eye sockets and much lighter skin than the three other Raptors that joined her shortly afterward. They erupted through the trees, stopping behind her, all of them clutching at nothing as they flexed their forefingers and communicated with low growls and rumbling purr like sounds.

“Hey!” The man shouted, his voice assertive but with an air of kindness. He stood on the metal platform over them, one hand held out to halt them, the sun behind him almost obstructing his figure from them, but in unison the four Raptors looks up, falling silent. “Okay,” he said slowly, his words that of praise as he pressed the button of his training aid with an audible click. “Eyes on me,” he told the dinosaurs in his charge, his eyes flicking between each of them in turn to assess their readiness to follow orders.

That was his assignment after all. Research into the trainability of dinosaurs. If someone had told Killian Jones he would be training Raptors twenty years ago, he would have laughed in their face and politely told them that they had maybe consumed too much rum, but after leaving the Navy, he had been snapped up by the corporate giant In-Gen to lead their research programme. Killian had since learned that his work was for the practical application of Raptors in combat, so had, of late, been stalling his bosses with progress.

Unfortunately for him, today there was a representative watching and, for once, the pack of Raptors was behaving. Except for one.

“Blue?” Killian scolded gently when her gaze fell from him. She was searching the compound in front of her, trying to scan the area for the escaped piglet she had been so hot on the heels of. She was also the beta of the pack, in charge of the others who generally followed her lead. Killian knew training the others would be easy, if Blue would just focus. “Blue!”

The Raptor growled in her throat, frustrated with her loss, but lifted her head at her alpha. Since they had hatched, Killian had asserted himself as the alpha so that when they had become large enough to eat him, like they were now, they wouldn’t have. Killian clicked his training aid as soon as she looked up to him to reward her, but gave her a scowl.

“Behave,” he warned her, pointing in her direction. Blue yipped a high pitched sound and her frustrated sister, Charlie, began hissing at her.

“Hey, Charlie!” Killian called down to the darker coloured dinosaur, holding his hand out to halt her behaviour. Charlie gave one more hiss at her sister, testing for dominance, before looking up to Killian once more. “Don’t start with that, lass!”

Killian scanned the four strong crowd in front of him again, an ear piercing shriek coming from another of the raptors who had grown impatient. “Delta!” He shouted at the one in the back, her colouring similar to Charlie but with a less pronounced stripe pattern. Delta snorted at him angrily, her deeper toned snarl accompanied with a shake of her head. Killian glared at her, giving her the same accusatory point he gave Blue a second ago. “None of that now!”

All four Raptors were now staring up at him, their sibling rivalry done with, and just a low, steady purr sound coming from their throats as they breathed. They swayed in place, their tails constantly moving for balance as they anticipated Killian’s next order. “Good!” He sang with a hint of glee in his voice. Finally, they were getting it. He clicked at the training aid once more, raising his hand above his head and waving it to the right. “And, we’re moving.”

He stepped sideways along the mesh platform, his boots making a dull sound against the criss cross pattern underneath his feet as he made his way to a bucket that hung nearby. The Raptors followed his hand, stepping sideways in the opposing direction as he turned them in the clearing. Blue hissed a snapped at the sister beside her, taking her eyes off of their alpha for just a second once her sibling knew her place and fell back into line.

“Hold!” Killian called out and the Raptors froze in place, four pairs of eyes on him, eager to receive the rewards they knew were coming next. At his words they all straightened up, their toes pushing into the dirt as they stretched to get closer to their treat source, softer, more emphatic chirps coming from each of them. “Very good, girls,” Killian said firmly, watching each of them stay still as he clicked to re-enforce their behaviour, his heart pounding in his chest. “That’s bloody brilliant,” he muttered to himself, reaching into the bucket in front of him.

Blue’s lips curled back into a snarl as she growled, a small dribble of spittle finding the gap in her teeth and falling to the paddock floor below. They had practised this tracking game a thousand times before, losing more than a few piglets in the process, but it had only been recently that the pack had become synchronised enough that they could work together. The raptors knew what was coming and as Killian pulled his hand out of the bucket and showed them a dead, freshly thawed rat, their eyes went wide with excitement.

“Charlie,” he called softly as he tossed the dead, white rodent at the Raptor furthest left. “If you behave, that’s what you get.” Charlie half growled and half snarled as she caught the dead animal and gobbled it up.

“Echo, here you go girl,” Killian called out to the runt, her bright orange stripes clearly visible down her body. He tossed her another dead rodent and she gulped it down quickly.

“Delta,” Killian shouted to the third, the Raptor’s mouth already wide open before he had thrown the carcass her way.

“Blue,” Killian called his favourite, the leader and most attuned one of the pack. They were all animals at the end of the day, capable of tearing a man apart, but Blue was different. She showed empathy, a calm, nurturing nature that made her easy to train and even easier to love. Killian held up a larger rat, and Blue gave him the purr like sound he had come to know as affection once more. “This one is for my girl.”

Killian tossed the rat and blue snapped at the air, catching it effortlessly and swallowing it down quickly. They had barely finished their pit stop meals when Killian balled a fist and raised it above his head again, but as usual, Blue was the only one watching. “Hold!” Killian called, his tone deeper and commanding. They all looked up at him, forgetting their interactions for a second and he could see their breathing shallow. “Eyes up!” Killian commanded and raised his hand higher, all four of the raptors stretching upright and awaiting his command.

Their training was over, they all knew it, but they still had to wait for their alpha to release them from the exercise. Tails began to swish again, each of them seeking balance as their toes fidgeted in the dirt and their feet danced impatiently. It was a good days training and Killian gave them one last look over, a visual inspection for health more than anything, before he gave them the release command to signal the end of their session. “Go!”

All four of the raptors took off, their screech bellowing through the trees as they disappeared into the dense forest of the paddock. The waist high grass had barely settled back into position when the sound of Liam’s laughter filled Killian’s ears as he wiped his hands on a rag, let out the huge, baited breath he had been holding and greeted his brother with a high five.

“You did it, Killian!” Liam declared proudly, pulling his brother into a tight hug. “You finally did it!” When they parted again, Killian’s heart was racing. Liam had also been in the Navy, both of the brother’s serving at the same time, but when Killian was hired by In-Gen, Liam thought the opportunity too good to pass up. How many people could say they were doing what the Brothers Jones were doing?

“They finally did it,” Killian smiled, proud of his raptor pack as if they were his own children.

“Bloody fantastic, brother!” Liam laughed excitedly, grabbing Killian’s hand and giving it a rough handshake on congratulations. Kilian was a modest man and the applause from their team make him blush a little as he gave each of the men a thankful nod in turn.

“Jones!” A voice called out, his name on the man’s tongue like poison from a snake. Walsh was the In-Gen representative sent to assess their research today, the disgusting man like a parasite on everything that was good, sucking it dry until there was nothing left. Both Liam and Killian turned at their name but quickly turned away with heavy sighs as Walsh fought to get through the crowd of men blocking his path. “I was starting to think we’d hired the wrong guys!”

Killian inhaled hard, inspecting his hands after another rub with the rag before looking over to Walsh. The gnarled, bright red scars that littered his limb were hot in the sun and Killian flexed his hand a little to ease the discomfort there. “You came on a good day, mate,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, it’s not normally a happy ending,” Liam clarified, feeling the need to defend his brother, even though Killian was his boss. Walsh finally reached them and Liam backed off a little with Walsh’s ignorance to his comment, beelining for Killian and offering his hand.

Killian looked down at the man’s hand before offering him his own, the scarred tissue covering most of his extremity a constant reminder of why Walsh was bad news. The man was money hungry, only thinking of how he could profit from their research whereas Liam and Killian had always just wanted to find out how trainable dinosaurs could be. That was their mission brief but somewhere along the line, Walsh was hired to replace their last boss, and the lines became blurred.

“Is that why you’re not sending in your reports?” Walsh asked bitterly, his smile fading. He shot a glance down to the thick scars on Killian’s hand when he felt them in his own, his eyes lingering for a little too long of the limb. He was aware of the accident but in his point of view, Killian still had two hands and so he was still useful.

“We’ve been busy,” Liam interjected, folding his arms over his chest defensively and looking down to his feet. He had to distract himself from the cretin in front of his, else he might do something he would regret.

“Not too busy to cash your paychecks,” Walsh countered with a sarcasm that made Killian wish he had never shook the man’s hand.

“What do you want, mate?” Killian said with a clenched jaw, stepping between Walsh and his brother. Walsh adjusted his stance, planting his hands on his hips and running his tongue over his bottom lip.

“You know what I want,” he told the brothers, so far unable to convince them. Killian rolled his eyes and Liam watched his brother’s frustration with a silent stare. “A field test,” Walsh confirmed. He had said the words on every visit so far, eager to get his money's worth out this research, but the Jones brothers had always, so far, stood in his way.

Killian sighed audibly and turned away from the tall, stick like man in front of him, huffing as he began to stalk away. Liam watched his brother go, concern etched onto his features but he was confident Killian could handle a weasel like Walsh.

“Hey!” Walsh called out to him, falling into step behind him. “I’ve just seen they can respond to commands. You need to take this research and get in moving forward.” Walsh’s words were quieter now, like he was pulling the authority card and Killian didn’t want to hear it again.

“Today,” Killian corrected him. “They responded today.”

“And they will respond tomorrow, just look at them!” Walsh grinned.

“They’re wild animals, Walsh, trust me, you don’t want them in the field.” Killian turned the corner at the edge of the platform, making his way towards the steps at the end of the walkway with Walsh hot on his heels like one of the islands ever persistent mosquitoes.

“What I just saw, that bond, that was real,” Walsh implored, stepping in front of Killian and stopping his escape. If he couldn’t be persuaded with practical application benefits, maybe Walsh could buy Killian with his love of the animals. “A bond between man and beast,” he smiled, his lips curving into a sinister smile as the words left his mouth.

“You’re in my way,” Killian told him darkly.

“Come on, Killian, we are the same, you and I,” Walsh almost pleaded, the sun beating down onto his face and making him sweat. “We are military men, dogs of war, we’ve seen the same things.” Killian ground his jaw again, trying to desperately not roll his eyes. He knew, as well as everyone else in the compound, on the whole island in fact, that Walsh had been discharged from the military way before he had seen any sort of combat. The man was delusional and to compare the two of them was insulting. “We know the military needs to reduce casualties, right? Some people think that robots are the future…”

Killian had heard enough, pushing past Walsh and continuing to the end of the walkway. He was tempted to reach behind himself and grab his knife, delighting in the way it would silence the squawking bird-like man beside him if he was to slit his throat and end his miserable existence. If only.

“Look, nature gave us the most efficient killing machines seventy five million years ago, and now we know they can take orders,” Walsh tried again, stopping when Liam came up from the other side of Killian and joined them.

“We finally make progress and the first thing you want to do is make a weapon?” Liam addressed Walsh, clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth in disgust. Killian raised an eyebrow, silent agreement with his brother.

“Come on, gents,” Walsh almost sulked. “You know as well as I do that drones can’t search tunnels, and they’re hackable. The minute a real war breaks out all the fancy tech we use now is going to go dark.”

Liam stifled a scoffing sound and Killian sighed again. “But that tech won’t eat them if they forget to feed it,” he said with a knowing nod.

They had paced around the entire walkway, right back to where they began in hopes of shaking Walsh loose, but it had been no use. The man was like a limpet. The roaring screech of a raptor echoed out through the air and Killian knew exactly what Blue was trying to say when she looked up at her alpha protectively.

“Look at these things,” Walsh said dismissively as he pointed to the raptors below. “Millions of years of instincts that we can program.”

“And what if they decide they’re in control?” Liam interrupted his ramble. “They are animals after all.”

“Well, then we terminate the rogues, breed only the most obedient bloodlines,” Walsh said confidently, having no single clue on how the dinosaurs were even made. None of the animals on Jurassic World were fertile. There would be no breeding of any bloodlines.

Killian gave Liam a knowing look, a smile tugging up at the corner of his lips. Walsh sounded crazier and crazier each time he visited, only now he had actually seen the raptors complete a successful command based training scenario, he was chomping at the bit to get the brother’s to agree to a field test. He might be in charge of the research, but Killian and Liam were in charge of the raptors, and without their say so, none were going anywhere. Finally, Liam couldn’t hold his laugh anymore and he chuckled, walking past both men and along the walkway amused.

“What? What’s so funny?” Walsh frowned.

“Nothing.” Killian shrugged and rested his hands on the rail in front of him, the sun burning into the scars on his left hand. “Just that you come here and you know nothing about these animals except what you want to know. You made them and now you think you own them.”

“We do own them,” Walsh said, aggravated by Liam’s laughing. “Extinct animals have no rights, Jones.”

Killian looked over the man before him one more time, Walsh’s bravado clearly a front for his insecurities. “But they’re not extinct anymore, are they, mate?”

“Exactly,” Walsh said in delusional agreement. “We have all these animals at our disposal and Nolan is using them to stock a petting zoo.”

“He’s teaching people some humility, Walsh, not making weapons.” Killian grabbed the now empty bucket from their training session and made his way down the step behind him, his feet falling heavily on the metal steps as he did so. Like a tick on a hound, Walsh was hot on his heels, another excuse on the tip of his tongue that made Killian fume.

“You think the eighth richest man in the world in just into oil, telecoms and family fun parks?” Walsh laughed as he descended the steps after Killian. “The man has so many companies he doesn’t even know what he is into.”

Killian huffed again, wishing he could let the raptors lose on Walsh. “Tell me, how long have you been practicing this little speech?” Killian tried to sound jovial, his tone jolly as he smiled to himself.

“Since we hired you,” Walsh said definitely and Killian let his anger surge to the surface once more. “You knew the end game, Jones. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

Killian reached the bottom of the steps and made his way through a huge, metal gate into a holding area between the outside of the paddock and the raptors. He spun on his heels, slamming his hand into a bright orange button that sent out a buzz alert and electronically locked the gate behind him, trapping Walsh on the other side. Walsh continued his tirade from the outside of the fence, ranting about Mother Nature and how without the military capabilities of raptors, the animals would be stuck in an amusement park where they charge seven bucks for a soda.

“Do you hear yourself when you talk?” Killian asked Walsh with a smirk and a tilt of his head. Walsh shifted his weight, stepping onto the other foot and gave Killian that shit eating grin he always had when he knew he would win. It unnerved Killian to no end and he wondered how long they could keep In-Gen from their raptors.

“This is going to happen, Jones. With or without you boys.” Walsh gave him a nod and Killian knew he was right, but before he had time to answer, the squeal of a pig rang out through the paddock and the voice of the new guy, panicked and strangled with fear, echoed overhead.

“Pig loose!” He cried. “Pig Loose!” Killian turned to the sound of footsteps slamming the overhead grated walkway, the new guy giving up on his alert to focus on his task as pig wrangler. He threw a long pole on the barrier, ready to catch the swine as it ran his way, but just as he pulled the corded rope to tighten the noose around the pig, Echo came out of nowhere and grabbed the pig, killing it instantly and pulling the pole away from the handler so far he fell forward and over the edge of the railing.

There were men shouting, feet pounding along the walkway but they were too late to grab him and the new guy landed flat on his back in the middle of the raptor paddock. All of the wind left him and he spluttered, dazed for a second and unaware where he had landed until the walkway over his head came into view and then the unmistakable communicative bark of the raptors filled his ears.

Without a second thought for his own safety, Killian rushed the gate, hitting the open button so quickly he cursed when it opened so slowly. The new kid had shuffled backward towards him, shaking to death at the advancing raptors in front of him, Blue leading the rest of the pack as they stalked their new prey. He smelled good, fresh and tender, and Killian was sure he saw their eyes change colour as they roared out, happy to have such a prize fall into their enclosure.

“Come on,” Killian growled at the gate as it rose, the painstakingly slow mechanism pulling the heavy barred door upwards.

“Killian! No!” Liam yelled from where he had appeared next to Walsh, his face paling at his brother’s selfless decision to enter the paddock. “Bloody hell!” He cursed, opening the gate and ignoring the look of glee on Walsh’s face as he let himself through the gate and rushed to his brother’s aid.

Killian ignored his brother’s pleas, falling onto his stomach and sliding under the door as it continued to rise, dragging himself into the enclosure and never taking his eyes off the raptors. He got under the door without incident, rushing forward and shooting a glance up to where two armed guards dressed in identical uniforms were arming stun guns ready to shoot his raptors. “No, no, no,” he chanted at them, waving his hand frantically. “Hold your fire!”

The new guy was almost at the gate when Killian put himself between him and the dinosaurs, their hissing of displeasure at losing their prize now directed at him. “Hold your fire,” Killian repeated to the men overhead, not taking his eyes off the dinosaurs surrounding him. “Do not bloody fire.”

“Killian!” Liam cried out to reason with him, the gate still rising painfully slowly but enough to allow the new boy to scuttle underneath it with a panicked expression and a relieved sigh. Liam grabbed his shoulders, dragging him backward with a grunt, tossing him aside and directing his attention back to his brother. “Killian, let them contain this.”

“If you shoot these animals, they’re never going to trust me again,” he growled at the men overhead, eyes darting between Blue and two of her sisters who had begun a hunting formation. They were slowly stepping sideways, Blue the center of Killian’s vision and the diversion that would secure them their meal. Liam watched, helpless to act, his blood pounding in his ears.

“Blue, stand down,” Killian called out to his beta, the six-foot dinosaur in front of him slowly advancing still. “Stand down, there’s a good lass,” he commanded her again and in protest, she snapped her jaws in his direction. “Hey!” He growled, straightening up to appear more dominant. “What the bloody hell did I just say?” Blue hissed but stood still, her advance halted by his command.

“Delta, don’t think I can’t see you,” Killian barked to the raptor on his left, his brain fighting with his body as he held out his hand to command her to stop too. The irony was not lost on Killian that Delta had been the one to inflict the scars that so colorfully decorated his hand, and when she flashed her eyes toward the limb, he knew she knew it too. “Get back,” he told her darkly and she stopped, letting him know her anger with a high pitched roar that showed him every single one of her razor-sharp teeth.

“Good girls,” Killian soothed, eyes flicking between each of the dinosaurs in turn. Delta followed Blue’s lead, flexing her claws as she closed in on the human before her. The pig Echo had killed and was eating has filled the paddock with the scent of blood and they were eager for more. Charlie made a sideways move that caught his attention and Killian widened his arms as if holding them at bay.

“Charlie, stay, there's a good lass,” he panted, his legs beginning to shake. Charlie let out a low rumbling growl followed by the trademark raptor roar before halting, her lips curling with a snarl. When Killian was sure all three Raptors were secured if only for a second, he refocused his attention back on Blue who had crouched in front of him ready to pounce. He stared her down, his blue eyes boring into her yellow, cat-like stare, and he held her at bay with their training sign for ‘hold’ - the flat upwards palm. Blue would challenge him, he knew it, and the others would follow his lead.

He was running out of time.

“Close the gate,” he said slowly to Liam behind him. He had to time this just right, but he knew he could.

“Are you bloody mad?” Liam yelled at his brother, the nerves getting the better of his voice as it shook.

“Just do it, Liam. Trust me,” Killian said gently as not to spark an attack. The sun had risen higher now and there were beads of sweat rolling down his face but Killian couldn’t wipe his brow for a second or he would be a dead man.

“Close the gate!” The new boy repeated in a trembling voice, his body frozen in pain and panic, unable to escape the dinosaurs who could easily get to him in no time.

“Fuck,” Liam growled to himself, tearing his eyes off his brother for just a second, long enough to slam his hand into the close button and hear the buzz ring out in the compound.

The door began moving, and it was always faster to close than open, Killian knew that. He counted in his head, one, two seconds, and then spun on his heels, rushing for the gate and rolling under the door with just enough room to spare. He had only rolled into a half crouched position when the three raptors slammed into the bars of the gate, the metal vibrations with an echo and the raptor pack growling in frustration at losing their quarry.

Liam was at his brother’s side instantly, grabbing his hand and hauling him to his feet. Killian’s legs were reluctant to lift his body at first, but he let Liam pull him and managed to stabilize himself quickly, clutching his brother’s hand in a silent gesture of thank you. Liam held onto his younger brother tightly, pulling him into an embrace quickly, giving Killian no time to object.

“I’m alright,” he whispered into the collar of Liam’s shirt. “I’m alright.”

“You had me scared to death, brother,” Liam whispered back, the threatening sting of tears in his eyes receding. “Try not to do that again, alright?” Liam exhaled hard, slapping Killian on the shoulder playfully when they parted.

“Yeah, alright,” Killian nodded, letting out his own breath. He spied the quivering boy beside them, the fresh faced, skinny, blue eyed kid barely out of his teens. The kid had no colour in his cheeks and was struggling to control his heaving breathing. “You alright?” Killian asked him gently, taking a step towards him.

The new boy nodded, open mouthed and still in shock.

“You’re the new guy, right?” Killian asked him and again, the boy nodded. “Did you ever wonder why there was a job opening?” The boy frowned, his brow knitting together in thought and then his eyes going wide as he realised what Killian was trying to say. He was about to answer when snarling caught his attention and he turned, the open jaws of Charlie poking through the bars as far as she could get them, her claws gently scraping against the metal like nails on a chalkboard. The kid scrambled backward out of reach with a yelp and the raptor lost interest in her unattainable prey, rising to her feet and giving Killian one last look before sauntering off into the grass.

“And never turn your back to the cage,” he told the kid before turning back to the entrance and catching the sly smirk of Walsh.

“Nicely done,” Walsh commended him and Killian could practically see the dollar signs in his eyes.

Not only had Killian proved that raptors could follow commands, he had done it without the barriers of fences or gates, and no one had got killed. He had inadvertently given Walsh a green light and the snake of a man turned to head back to his truck with a gleeful smile.

“Shit,” Killian whispered to himself, his shoulders sagging.

#jurassic world au #cs au #cs fic #love finds a way #ch 2 #killian jones #emma swan #jw au

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pamphletstoinspire · 6 years

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THE BOOK OF JUDITH* - From The Douay-Rheims Bible - Latin Vulgate

Chapter 5

INTRODUCTION.

The sacred writer of this Book is generally believed to be the high priest Eliachim, (called also Joachim.) The transactions herein related, most probably happened in his days, and in the reign of Manasses, after his repentance and return from captivity. It takes its name from that illustrious woman, by whose virtue and fortitude, armed with prayer, the children of Israel were preserved from the destruction threatened them by Holofernes and his great army. It finishes with her canticle of thanksgiving to God. Ch. --- He was a chief officer at court, under Ezechias, (4 K. xviii. 18. H.) before he was high priest, assuming his father Helchias's name. Many suppose that he was the author of this Book, as Josephus informs us that the priests recorded the most remarkable transactions. But this would prove that they wrote all the histories of the Bible. S. Jerom (in Agg. i. 6.) seems to believe that Judith left these memoirs. Yet we have no certain proof of the author. Josephus passes over this history, as he professed to exhibit only the Heb. books. Ant. x. 11. Prol. &c. S. Jerom doubts not but this was written in Chaldee, from which language he translated it; unless he caused it to be first explained to him in Heb. as he did the Book of Tobias. C. --- He might, however, have attained sufficient knowledge of the former language, which is so like the Hebrew, before he undertook this work. H. --- He professes to give "the sense," rather than a verbal translation. The Greek must have been taken from another copy, and is followed by the Syriac, in which we find some passages more exact than in the present Greek copies. The original is entirely lost. It might have removed many difficulties. Those however which are started by our adversaries, are not unanswerable. Grotius would suppose that this work is only a parable, representing the state of the Jewish church under the persecution of Epiphanes. But this singular notion has no foundation; and if it had, the authenticity of the Book would not be endangered, as the parable both of the Old and New Testament are certainly true, and written by inspiration. C. --- Luther styles it a poetical comedy; (Pref. et Sympos. 29.) but both Jews and Christians have esteemed it as a true history: (W.) and this innovator (H.) allows, that "the Book is beautiful, and written by an inspired prophet." C. --- The Fathers have looked upon it with the utmost veneration; and S. Jerom, though he was at one time under some doubts, placed it on a level with the Books of Ruth, and Esther, &c. Ep. ad Principiam. --- It is admitted by Origen, Tertullian, S. Chrys. S. Hilary, V. Bede, &c. as the history of a most valiant matron, delivering God's people from a cruel tyrant. W. --- Some place this event under Cambyses, son of Cyrus; (Euseb. S. Aug.) others under Xerxex, (Torniel) or Darius Hystaspes, (E.) or Ochus: (Sulp. Severus) but the opinion which has been given above is more accurate; (C.) or rather Bethulia was saved, while Manasses was in captivity, (in the 10th year of his reign) and the high priest administered affairs in his absence. At this point, Judith might be thirty-five years old. She lived seventy years afterwards; and many days (perhaps eight years more) passed before the country was invaded by Pharao Nechao. C. xvi. 30. Thus Manasses survived 45 years, Amon 2, Josias 31; total 78. This chronology removes every difficulty. Houbig. Pref. --- If true, it seems probable that the work would be originally in Heb. as the Chaldee was used only after the captivity, (H.) which may be farther proved from C. i. 15. Greek. Houbigant. --- Protestants prefer to translate this and the other apocrypha from the Greek. M.

* One of the seven Deutero-Canonical books, missing from most non-Catholic Bibles.

The additional Notes in this Edition of the New Testament will be marked with the letter A. Such as are taken from various Interpreters and Commentators, will be marked as in the Old Testament. B. Bristow, C. Calmet, Ch. Challoner, D. Du Hamel, E. Estius, J. Jansenius, M. Menochius, Po. Polus, P. Pastorini, T. Tirinus, V. Bible de Vence, W. Worthington, Wi. Witham. — The names of other authors, who may be occasionally consulted, will be given at full length.

Verses are in English and Latin. HAYDOCK CATHOLIC BIBLE COMMENTARY

This Catholic commentary on the Old Testament, following the Douay-Rheims Bible text, was originally compiled by Catholic priest and biblical scholar Rev. George Leo Haydock (1774-1849). This transcription is based on Haydock's notes as they appear in the 1859 edition of Haydock's Catholic Family Bible and Commentary printed by Edward Dunigan and Brother, New York, New York.

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES

Changes made to the original text for this transcription include the following:

Greek letters. The original text sometimes includes Greek expressions spelled out in Greek letters. In this transcription, those expressions have been transliterated from Greek letters to English letters, put in italics, and underlined. The following substitution scheme has been used: A for Alpha; B for Beta; G for Gamma; D for Delta; E for Epsilon; Z for Zeta; E for Eta; Th for Theta; I for Iota; K for Kappa; L for Lamda; M for Mu; N for Nu; X for Xi; O for Omicron; P for Pi; R for Rho; S for Sigma; T for Tau; U for Upsilon; Ph for Phi; Ch for Chi; Ps for Psi; O for Omega. For example, where the name, Jesus, is spelled out in the original text in Greek letters, Iota-eta-sigma-omicron-upsilon-sigma, it is transliterated in this transcription as, Iesous. Greek diacritical marks have not been represented in this transcription.

Footnotes. The original text indicates footnotes with special characters, including the astrisk (*) and printers' marks, such as the dagger mark, the double dagger mark, the section mark, the parallels mark, and the paragraph mark. In this transcription all these special characters have been replaced by numbers in square brackets, such as [1], [2], [3], etc.

Accent marks. The original text contains some English letters represented with accent marks. In this transcription, those letters have been rendered in this transcription without their accent marks.

Other special characters.

Solid horizontal lines of various lengths that appear in the original text have been represented as a series of consecutive hyphens of approximately the same length, such as ---.

Ligatures, single characters containing two letters united, in the original text in some Latin expressions have been represented in this transcription as separate letters. The ligature formed by uniting A and E is represented as Ae, that of a and e as ae, that of O and E as Oe, and that of o and e as oe.

Monetary sums in the original text represented with a preceding British pound sterling symbol (a stylized L, transected by a short horizontal line) are represented in this transcription with a following pound symbol, l.

The half symbol (1/2) and three-quarters symbol (3/4) in the original text have been represented in this transcription with their decimal equivalent, (.5) and (.75) respectively.

Unreadable text. Places where the transcriber's copy of the original text is unreadable have been indicated in this transcription by an empty set of square brackets, [].

Chapter 5

Achior gives Holofernes an account of the people of Israel.

[1] And it was told Holofernes the general of the army of the Assyrians, that the children of Israel prepared themselves to resist, and had shut up the ways of the mountains.

Nuntiatumque est Holoferni principi militiae Assyriorum, quod filii Israel praepararent se ad resistendum, ac montium itinera conclusissent,

[2] And he was transported with exceeding great fury and indignation, and he called all the princes of Moab and the leaders of Amman.

et furore nimio exarsit in iracundia magna, vocavitque omnes principes Moab et duces Ammon,

[3] And he said to them: Tell me what is this people that besetteth the mountains: or what are their cities, and of what sort, and how great: also what is their power, or what is their multitude: or who is the king over their warfare:

et dixit eis : Dicite mihi quis sit populus iste, qui montana obsidet : aut quae, et quales, et quantae sint civitates eorum : quae etiam sit virtus eorum, aut quae sit multitudo eorum : vel quis rex militiae illorum :

[4] And why they above all that dwell in the east, have despised us, and have not come out to meet us, that they might receive us with peace?

et quare prae omnibus, qui habitant in oriente, isti contempserunt nos, et non exierunt obviam nobis ut susciperent nos cum pace?

[5] Then Achior captain of all the children of Ammon answering, said: If thou vouch safe, my lord, to hear, I will tell the truth in thy sight concerning this people, that dwelleth in the mountains, and there shall not a false word come out of my mouth.

Tunc Achior dux omnium filiorum Ammon respondens, ait : Si digneris audire, domine mi, dicam veritatem in conspectu tuo de populo isto, qui in montanis habitat, et non egredietur verbum falsum ex ore meo.

[6] This people is of the offspring of the Chaldeans.

Populus iste ex progenie Chaldaeorum est.

[7] They dwelt first in Mesopotamia, because they would not follow the gods of their fathers, who were in the land of the Chaldeans.

Hic primum in Mesopotamia habitavit, quoniam noluerunt sequi deos patrum suorum, qui erant in terra Chaldaeorum.

[8] Wherefore forsaking the ceremonies of their fathers, which consisted in the worship of many gods,

Deserentes itaque caeremonias patrum suorum, quae in multitudine deorum erant,

[9] They worshipped one God of heaven, who also commanded them to depart from thence, and to dwell in Charan. And when there was a famine over all the land, they went down into Egypt, and there for four hundred years were so multiplied, that the army of them could not be numbered.

unum Deum caeli coluerunt, qui et praecepit eis ut exirent inde et habitarent in Charan. Cumque operuisset omnem terram fames, descenderunt in Aegyptum, illicque per quadringentos annos sic multiplicati sunt, ut dinumerari eorum non posset exercitus.

[10] And when the king of Egypt oppressed them, and made slaves of them to labour in clay and brick, in the building of his cities, they cried to their Lord, and he struck the whole land of Egypt with divers plagues.

Cumque gravaret eos rex Aegypti, atque in aedificationibus urbium suarum in luto et latere subjugasset eos, clamaverunt ad Dominum suum, et percussit totam terram Aegypti plagis variis.

[11] And when the Egyptians had cast them out from them, and the plague had ceased from them, and they had a mind to take them again, and bring them back to their service,

Cumque ejecissent eos Aegyptii a se, et cessasset plaga ab eis, et iterum eos vellent capere, et ad suum servitium revocare,

[12] The God of heaven opened the sea to them in their flight, so that the waters were made to stand firm as a wall on either side, and they walked through the bottom of the sea and passed it dry foot.

fugientibus his, Deus caeli mare aperuit, ita ut hinc inde aquae quasi murus solidarentur, et isti pede sicco fundum maris perambulando transirent.

[13] And when an innumerable army of the Egyptians pursued after them in that place, they were so overwhelmed with the waters, that there was not one left, to tell what had happened to posterity.

In quo loco dum innumerabilis exercitus Aegyptiorum eos persequeretur, ita aquis coopertus est, ut non remaneret vel unus, qui factum posteris nuntiaret.

[14] And after they came out of the Red Sea, they abode in the deserts of mount Sina, in which never man could dwell, or son of man rested.

Egressi vero mare Rubrum, deserta Sina montis occupaverunt, in quibus numquam homo habitare potuit, vel filius hominis requievit.

[15] There bitter fountains were made sweet for them to drink, and for forty years they received food from heaven.

Illic fontes amari obdulcati sunt eis ad bibendum, et per annos quadraginta annonam de caelo consecuti sunt.

[16] Wheresoever they went in without bow and arrow, and without shield and sword, their God fought for them and overcame.

Ubicumque ingressi sunt sine arcu et sagitta, et absque scuto et gladio, Deus eorum pugnavit pro eis, et vicit.

[17] And there was no one that triumphed over this people, but when they departed from the worship of the Lord their God.

Et non fuit qui insultaret populo isti, nisi quando recessit a cultu Domini Dei sui.

[18] But as often as beside their own God, they worshipped any other, they were given to spoil, and to the sword, and to reproach.

Quotiescumque autem praeter ipsum Deum suum, alterum coluerunt, dati sunt in praedam, et in gladium, et in opprobrium.

[19] And as often as they were penitent for having revolted from the worship of their God, the God of heaven gave them power to resist.

Quotiescumque autem poenituerunt se recessisse a cultura Dei sui, dedit eis Deus caeli virtutem resistendi.

[20] So they overthrew the king of the Chanaanites, and of the Jebusites, and of the Pherezites, and of the Hethites, and of the Hevites, and of the Amorrhites, and all the mighty ones in Hesebon, and they possessed their lands, and their cities:

Denique Chananaeum regem, et Jebusaeum, et Pherezaeum, et Hethaeum, et Hevaeum, et Amorrhaeum, et omnes potentes in Hesebon prostraverunt, et terras eorum, et civitates eorum ipsi possederunt :

[21] And as long as they sinned not in the sight of their God, it was well with them: for their God hateth iniquity.

et usque dum non peccarent in conspectu Dei sui, erant cum illis bona : Deus enim illorum odit iniquitatem.

[22] And even some years ago when they had revolted from the way which God had given them to walk therein, they were destroyed in battles by many nations, and very many of them were led away captive into a strange land.

Nam et ante hos annos cum recessissent a via, quam dederat illis Deus, ut ambularent in ea, exterminati sunt praeliis a multis nationibus, et plurimi eorum captivi abducti sunt in terram non suam.

[23] But of late returning to the Lord their God, from the different places wherein they were scattered, they are come together and are gone up into all these mountains, and possess Jerusalem again, where their holies are.

Nuper autem reversi ad Dominum Deum suum, ex dispersione qua dispersi fuerant, adunati sunt, et ascenderunt montana haec omnia, et iterum possident Jerusalem, ubi sunt sancta eorum.

[24] Now therefore, my lord, search if there be any iniquity of theirs in the sight of their God: let us go up to them, because their God will surely deliver them to thee, and they shall be brought under the yoke of thy power:

Nunc ergo mi domine, perquire si est aliqua iniquitas eorum in conspectu Dei eorum : ascendamus ad illos, quoniam tradens tradet illos Deus eorum tibi, et subjugati erunt sub jugo potentiae tuae.

[25] But if there be no offense of this people in the sight of their God, we can not resist them, because their God will defend them: and we shall be a reproach to the whole earth.

Si vero non est offensio populi hujus coram Deo suo, non poterimus resistere illis, quoniam Deus eorum defendet illos : et erimus in opprobrium universae terrae.

[26] And it came to pass, when Achior had ceased to speak these words, all the great men of Holofernes were angry, and they had a mind to kill him, saying to each other:

Et factum est, cum cessasset loqui Achior verba haec, irati sunt omnes magnates Holofernis, et cogitabant interficere eum, dicentes ad alterutrum :

[27] Who is this, that saith the children of Israel can resist king Nabuchodonosor, and his armies, men unarmed, and without force, and without skill in the art of war?

Quis est iste, qui filios Israel posse dicat resistere regi Nabuchodonosor, et exercitibus ejus, homines inermes, et sine virtute, et sine peritia artis pugnae?

[28] That Achior therefore may know that he deceiveth us, let us go up into the mountains: and when the bravest of them shall be taken, then shall he with them be stabbed with the sword:

Ut ergo agnoscat Achior quoniam fallit nos, ascendamus in montana : et cum capti fuerint potentes eorum, tunc cum eisdem gladio transverberabitur :

[29] That every nation may know that Nabuchodonosor is god of the earth, and besides him there is no other.

ut sciat omnis gens quoniam Nabuchodonosor deus terrae est, et praeter ipsum alius non est.

Commentary:

Ver. 1. Mountains. Gr. adds, "and had fortified every summit of a high mountain, and had placed scandals in the plains," obstructing the passage (H.) with ditches, trees, (C.) and snares of every description. H.

Ver. 2. Ammon. Gr. adds, "and the satraps of the maritime country," (H.) the Philistines, who had submitted like the rest.

Ver. 3. Them. Gr. adds, "Ye sons of Chanaan tell." He was not acquainted with their origin: the title belonged only to the Phœnicians, (C.) who might also be present. H.

Ver. 4. East. Gr. "west," which seems more accurate, unless Holofernes was on the sea-coast, (C.) or that part of the country went by this name, as it does at present. H. --- He was not absolutely unacquainted with the Jews, but spoke in contempt, (v. 27. W. M.) and wished to know if they had formed a league with the Egyptians, &c. C.

Ver. 5. My. Gr. "the mouth of thy slave." H.

Ver. 6. Chaldeans. Abraham was a native of Ur. Gen. xii. C. --- This tended to conciliate the favour of the general, who as of the same country. M.

Ver. 9. Heaven. Gr. adds, "the God whom they had known, and they (the Chaldean idolaters) cast them out from the face of the gods, and they fled into Mesopotamia, and dwelt there many days: (H. that is, about two years. C.) and their God commanded them to leave their abode, and to go into the land of Chanaan; and they dwelt there, and were enriched;...and when," &c. --- There. Gr. "and where there till they returned; and there they became innumerable." H.

Ver. 10. Oppressed. Gr. "craftily inveigled them." Ex. i. 10.

Ver. 11. Plague. Gr. adds, "for which there was no remedy. And the Egyptians cast them out from among them. And God dried up the Red Sea before them, and conducted them to Mount Sinai and Cades-Barne, and cast out all the inhabitants of the desert; and they dwelt in the land of the Amorrhites, and exterminated all the Hesebon, by their power. Then crossing the Jordan, they took as their inheritance all the mountainous parts, and ejected the Chanaanite, Pherezite, Jebusite, Sichem, and all the Gergesites, and dwelt therein many days. And, " v. 21. H. --- The environs of Sichem belonged to the Hevites. C.

Ver. 14. Rested. This is attested, Deut. xxxii. 10. and Jer. ii. 6. M.

Ver. 16. Overcame, in the days of Josue, (M.) at Jericho, &c. H.

Ver. 22. Battles. He seems to speak of the captivity of Manasses, (W.) of the ten tribes, and of the loss sustained by Achaz. 2 Par. xxviii. 5. M. --- By many. Gr. "exceedingly; and they were led captive into a land which was not their own, and the temple of their God became as a pavement, and their cities were taken by the enemies. But now, returning to their God, they are come up from the places to which they had been scattered, and have possession of Jerusalem, where is their sanctuary; and they have inhabited the mountainous country, for it was a desert." H. --- Our adversaries would infer from this, and similar passages, that the siege of Bethulia could not have taken place till after the captivity of Babylon; and this many Catholics allow. But the proof is not conclusive, as all this might be verified under Manasses: (C.) "the temple was trampled on," (Syr. egennhqh eiV edafoV) and profaned. See C. iv. 2. and 1 Mac. iii. 51. and Luke xxi. 24. It had been pillaged by Sesac and the Assyrians, and had stood in need of great repairs under Ezechias, Josias, &c. Several of the Israelites had escaped from the hands of their oppressors, (2 Par. xxxiv. 9.) and the Jews had regained their strength after the captivity of Manasses, (C.) having retired before into their strong holds in the deserts. H.

Ver. 25. Cannot. Gr. "let my lord indeed pass by, lest their Lord should cover them with a shield, for their God is for them, and we," &c.

Ver. 26. All the. Gr. "all the people round the tent murmured; and the great men of Holofernes, and all who dwelt in the maritime country, and in Moab, threatened to cut him to pieces. For we shall not fear the children of Israel. Lo! a people without power, strength, or army in battle array! We shall then go up, and they shall be for food to all thy army, lord Holofernes. And," C. vi.

Ver. 27. Who. They speak thus through indignation, though they knew Achior well enough. W. - Their blasphemous presumption was soon punished. M.

Ver. 29. Other. This foolish attempt was not peculiar to this king. The great Nabuchodonosor was infected with the same vanity, (Dan. vi. 7.) and was imitated by many of the Persian monarchs, and by Alexander. Persas non piè tantum sed etiam prudenter Reges suos inter deos colere: Majestatem enim imperii salutis esse tutelam. Curtius viii. Yet most of the Greeks could not brook such flattery, though they were not influenced by religion, but by reason, and their own haughty temper. See Justin vi. Mart. x. 62.

#book of judith

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kingsofeverything · 6 years

Text

Annual Writing Self-Evaluation

*All answers should be about works published in 2017.

1. List of works published this year:

In the order that they were posted

Fall At My Door

Collide

Mercedes Boy

The Oldest Magic Word

With a Word (part 2 of FAMD)

Possessing All of Me (part 2 of MB)

It Had To Be You

One of Many

Stranded in a Dream

How Fast You Fall

Soft Wings

Has The Ocean Lost Its Way

Splish Splash

Don’t Want Shelter

Wasted Like A Memory (part 2 of DWS)

Just Around the Corner

Find You Home

Sweating ’Til My Clothes Come Off

Number 84

Let Me In (part 3 of DWS)

Admission

Intention

Resolution

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

Don’t Want Shelter, definitely. The idea for it came to me over a year ago, and that was basically exes to lovers stuck in a hurricane together. I tried to write it earlier in the year and scrapped it. It was a completely different story and they were actually exes, but it just wasn’t working. RIP those 10k words. But I set out to write something with more emotion and I wanted to write something different and I feel like I succeeded. I’m very emotionally attached to their characters in DWS too. It’s been hard to get my head out of that universe.

I’m putting the rest under a cut because this got really long.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

Soft Wings. It was soooo hard to write at that time. I was just struggling to write anything at all and every single word of that fic was a giant pain in my ass. It was a bday gift and I actually decided not to do gift fics anymore because of how hard it was to write. The last gift fic I wrote was DWS and it was like 2 months late-- sorry about that @justafatbirdonaboat <3

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

So, this was actually difficult and I would rather include the sex scene I mention below in question 7, but it’s long and... it’s smut and I feel like dropping it in here with nothing leading up to it or after it takes a lot away from it. This is from DWS:

If he keeps himself busy enough, which he’s fairly successful with, he doesn’t have time to think about Harry and how once again he practically laid himself bare for absolutely no reason. It’ll fade, he knows that, but at the same time he doesn’t want it to. It’s how he finds himself going out of his way to some specialty store to find Harry’s organic cinnamon toothpaste. It’s why he bought some fancy vanilla candle for his bedroom. He’s fighting with himself over trying to forget and wanting to remember, because he knows that eventually it’ll be gone no matter what he wants. The toothpaste will be empty and the candle will burn down, and it’ll all become a distant memory.

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

i got a super long and detailed comment on FAMD from one of my favorite drarry authors and bloggers that came at the perfect time when i was feeling really shitty about writing and also life in general. it was such a surreal thing for me because i was reading the comment and it was just super lovely and the whole time i was reading it i was like OMFG and fangirling lol

all of the comments on DWS from people who read it as a WIP. they were like some sort of super fuel for me. and it was... idk a special thing for me. i’ve never done a WIP before and idk if I ever will again. it just worked out with that fic because of the chapters and betaing etc. but every time i posted a chapter and people would comment on it, it was just... idk it meant a lot that anyone would follow along, i guess.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

Writing Soft Wings, so late May, and then again after I posted DWS, I struggled with Sweating ’Til My Clothes come off. That was Reason #14 and literally NO ONE wanted to write that prompt, so I took it. Mainly though, my struggles have been with fics that either I’ve abandoned (the old version of DWS) or my unfinished sci fic au.

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

i feel like everything i write surprises me. i’m constantly shocked that i write anything at all. i think that most of dws was surprising to me. i had a vague idea of what i wanted their personalities to be like, but the way they ended up was so much better than i thought they’d be. I MEAN, i legit thought that the entire fic would take place over 3 days and would end when the storm ended! and then the storm ended and i was like... wtf i’m not anywhere near finished with this. and then a scene specifically, umm... there’s a sex scene in ch 7 of dws that ended up being wayyyyyyyyyyy more emotional for me to write and it still makes me sad to read it. and i’m like 99.999999% sure if you’ve read that fic, you know what i’m talking about. i wrote that and immediately was messaging nic like “i’ve made myself sad with smut! what is wrong with me?”

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

i’m much less messy, though i’m still messy. i think i was easier on my beta this year. less cliche (unless i’m cliche on purpose) and better at getting the emotions across? I DON’T KNOW @louandhazaf is better at this stuff. she answered a different question about this earlier in the year actually.

wait. also. i think i’m better at conceptualizing a story BEFORE i start writing. i still suck at it, but not as badly as last year.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

i’d like to write another long fic. i’d like to get better at developing secondary characters. i’d like to write more emotion into my fics. i’d love to be better at outlining and planning fics, but idk if that’s who i am lol

tbh i’d like to be better at the part of writing that, up until this point, and to a certain point, come naturally to me. i don’t think about my character’s motivations or what they’re separate stories are or backgrounds and shit like that until i’m writing and sometimes i do it and don’t realize i’m doing it? i guess? I DON’T KNOW. coming from a math background and never having written or even taken a creative writing class or anything like that, like... some of the most important aspects of writing, i have no clue about them. at least that’s how i feel. a lot of what i do is just................. like me flying by the seat of my pants.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

this is my answer from last year and i’m just going to leave it because it’s still true.

NIC @louandhazaf my friend and forever beta. one day we’re going to take over the world. just depends which one of us is in charge of the brain that day as to whether it’s for good or evil.

however, i’ll add to this a bit. nic is the best cheerleader and beta and all of that. bouncing ideas around with her is always fun and always productive. we laughed so hard when we were talking about ideas for DWS. like... i think we both laughed so hard we cried.

having writer friends -- so all of you -- has been such a positive thing for me. knowing that we all sort of go through the same shit makes it easier when it’s my own lol.

specifically, i’ll say that @phd-mama influenced me with her fic ‘feels like coming home’ because i read that fic and when i finished i decided that i needed to write something with more emotion behind it, something with a really great (though not necessarily good) back story. the history between her characters in that fic..... idk a lot of it hit home for me. and because of that fic, i wrote DWS. so, thanks <3

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

ummmm... yes. let’s just say.......... yes.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

yes! write what makes you happy, even if that means writing something sad and depressing. but also try to challenge yourself to write things you’re not used to or things you haven’t done before. also, just write. you can edit later. put words down.

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

my near misses fic, which is what i’ll call it until i title it, that i am super excited about (this one just came to me yesterday)

moodboard fic - it’s anon, so i can’t say anything other than that. i started it, but i think i’m going to start over.

2 time stamps for ‘don’t want shelter’. one that takes place the summer they’re 13, and one that takes place between chapters 8 & 9, but before ‘let me in’

my sci fi au - it’s been kicking my ass for most of this year

i have a fic idea where they go from friends to lovers, but it’s a long long road to get there. idk if i’ll get to it. it would be loooong.

i want to do a valentines fic but idk if i’ll have time. i’d like my near misses fic to be for valentines, but that’s a lot of pressure on me and then on my beta.

28 proposals with jess @someonethatsfunny and if we want to do it for an advent fic for next year, i need to at least write a proposal per month.

i want to do the new relationship travel the world fic with nic @louandhazaf that we’ve talked about co-writing, but we both have so much going on.........

oh and the tiny penis fic series. which is 5 short fics that are not connected, but one of them has a tiny penis in each fic (it switches around and also maybe they both do in one fic)

14. Tag three writers/artists whose answers you’d like to read. ;)

I would like to tag all of my writer friends, sooo you’re all tagged. Also, this is more than 3, but idc

@dinosaursmate @allwaswell16 @letsjustsee @gaycousinlarry @goodmorningtoyouuniverse @assisreal (writing or art, saori! or both!) @prettytruthsandlies @someonethatsfunny @phd-mama ok i’ll stop tagging so that y’all will have people you can tag lol

#*#2017 writing self-evaluation

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emmaswanchoosesyou · 7 years

Text

CSBB: Part of the Narrative (10/17)

Emma Swan just wants to write the follow-up to her bestselling debut novel, that’s all. But when she gets off to a rough start with her new editor, Killian Jones, she knows it’s not going according to plan. Then, an unexpected figure from Emma’s past reappears and life begins to mirror the crime thriller she’s penning. Suspicion and secrets abound–but love might too. A writer/editor AU with a thriller twist.

Rated E. Includes sexual content, kidnapping, some gore, and minor character death–not to mention salty language! On Ao3 here.

Chapter warnings: Weeping, feelings, confrontations, and revelations.

Happy Halloweek, have some pain! And more revelations! Thank you for all the likes and kudos and reblogs that have been cherished and squealed over. Thank you to all the wonderful ladies at @captainswanbigbang for all you’ve done to make this possible, and all the support you’ve given. Sophie @shady-swan-jones made the delightful banner and another photoset that I adore. Kayla @bleebug did some incredible art for the first and sixth chapters, which you can check out here and here. And all the love and thanks to Kris @sambethe for beta-ing this and making it a ton better. Like seriously, she’s the best.

[Ch. 1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9]

Chapter 10

Emma confronts growing suspicions that Regina is hurting Henry. Killian thinks she might wrong and overreacting. When she doesn't handle his reaction well, she runs into Cleo, who has more news to share.

Emma

“Henry? Are you okay?” Emma asked, worried at how quiet the phone had gone.

They had talked three or four times in the past couple of weeks, about every imaginable topic they could--school, their respective interests, tentative things they wanted to do if they had a chance to see each other again. Emma got the impression Regina wasn’t thrilled, but she was just happy to have the opportunity to chat with her son.

The silence continued a few more moments before Henry finally said, “Yeah.”

“What’s wrong?”

He sighed. “Nothing, really. I just feel...weird.”

Emma’s brow furrowed and she paused, trying to decide how to get him to tell her more. “What kind of weird? Are you sick?”

“Cool it, okay?” Emma could practically hear his eyeroll. “I feel fine like that. But you know how I told you when we first met that I feel like somebody’s watching me? I feel like that, but more now.”

She bit her lip. “Is there a reason you think that?” She didn’t want him to be right, but she also really didn’t want him to be wrong either. Being right would be awful, and scary, and she didn’t know what they could do, or how she could protect him.

But if he was wrong, she worried Henry would be upset with her, would think she didn’t believe in him and trust him. Worse, Henry might decide he couldn’t trust her and would push her away. She couldn’t abide that.

“It’s mostly a feeling, but a couple of times I’ve seen the same person waiting outside my school. He never picks up a kid, and he is always gone when I turn to look back,” he said, his voice carefully neutral.

That was worrying, and he didn’t sound completely crazy. It bore looking into, even if there were plenty of explanations for the behavior he was describing.

“That makes sense,” Emma reassured him, “but is there a reason you think they’re watching you?”

“I mean, it makes sense, right? Between Mom’s job and you being famous? And sometimes I think I see them other places too.”

“Oh.” She couldn’t argue with that--she was well-known, even if she loved her privacy, and Regina was pretty damn well-off. Of course, it could be someone watching another kid--acrimonious custody battles were definitely a thing, she’d learned during her stint as a bail bondsperson. Not that it made this any better. “Hmm. Have you talked to Regina about this?”

Henry gave another long pause. “I did once. She told me I was probably imagining things.”

That was worrying.

“Yeah,” Henry said. She couldn’t tell much from his tone, but he seemed to be fishing for some kind of response from her.

If only she knew what that response should be.

“What does this person look like?”

“Well, I think it’s a man. They seem fairly tall, and they always wear a hat. They’re white? And not all that noticeable.”

“Hmm,” Emma muttered.

&&&

"Hey, can we talk?" Emma asked, stepping through the open door of Regina’s large, corner office, the nicest in the building, without waiting for an answer. The floor-to-ceiling windows let in plenty of natural light, which shone warmly on the ornate ash furniture. The room was decorated in whites, greys, and blacks with hints of red throughout, managing to make it look inviting and imposing at the same time. Emma was impressed all over again, even if it was her second time in the office.

Regina looked up from her computer, seemingly unperturbed at Emma’s unannounced intrusion. She was as poised as ever, clad in black and cobalt, not a single hair astray. "Do I have much of a choice? You're here, and you're talking, so...by all means, continue with this undoubtedly deeply important interruption."

Emma clenched her fists, willing herself not to respond to her baiting. "I'm here to talk about something that should interest you. Or someone, rather. Henry."

Taking her hands away from the keyboard and swiveling in her chair to face Emma directly, Regina leaned back in her chair. "Oh?"

"When I was on the phone with him last night, he mentioned something’s been bothering him. He feels like someone is watching him," she said, settling into the uncomfortable visitor's chair across the desk from Regina.

"A lot of people are watching him, Miss Swan. I'm in the running for mayor of the town, and I'm quite well-known. I'm a prominent member of the community, and Henry thus has a correspondingly large number of eyes on him."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." Emma gritted her teeth.

"No, I don't know what you mean."

Crossing her arms over her chest, Emma continued, "Then let me explain it. Henry feels like someone is watching him. In a hostile, spying-on-him, following-him-home-from-school kind of way."

Regina's lips tightened. "He brought this up to me a few weeks ago."

"I know. He said you brushed him off, telling him you thought he was imagining things."

Regina flipped her hair back over her shoulder. "And maybe that was a poor choice of words and a childish oversimplification on his part. Because he's a child, Ms. Swan. He sometimes sees things that aren't there, and children his age tend to think, on some level, that the world revolves around them. Something you might know if you had ever actually raised a child before."

Her smug tone had Emma's jaw clenching, her teeth grinding. Don't punch your boss, don't punch your boss, Emma silently repeated to herself. Taking a deep breath, she asked, "Did I offend you in some way? I can't think of any reason for you to be so hostile to me. We've made each other a ton of money, and I'm the person who gave birth to your son. I happen to think you've done a decent enough job raising him since he's a pretty polite, interesting kid. I just thought you’d want to hear about the concerning thing Henry told me."

Regina sat back in her chair, her shoulders relaxing as she thawed a little at the positive mention of Henry and her own hand in raising him. "I'm not offended. I have no reason to be offended."

"So it doesn't bother you at all that Henry sought me out?"

It was Regina's turn to clench her jaw. "I'm not thrilled about the manner in which he did so. I would have wholly supported him looking for his birth mother--you--had we done so together, had he not done it behind my back."

"Is there a reason he might have felt it necessary to do that, Ms. Mills?"

Regina narrowed her eyes at Emma’s change from her first name. "I don't like what you're implying."

Emma couldn't resist the taunt, her pride still smarting from Regina’s earlier words. "Oh, I'm not implying anything. I'm saying that I think there's a reason Henry didn't tell you," she said cockily, a smirk tugging at one corner of her mouth.

"Get out," Regina said coldly. Her volume was controlled, but there was no mistaking the fury in her voice. She stayed in her chair, gripping the corner of her desk tightly. "Get out of my office right now."

Emma stood leisurely, exiting the office without looking back.

&&&

“Jacob glanced back over his shoulder, hurrying through the alley. He prayed he could outpace the man following him, that maybe this time his foster parents and Raisa would believe him,” Killian read aloud from her draft on his screen. “But god, what if it was his foster mother? What if she were the one actually responsible for all of this chaos?”

He was sitting next to her on one of the stools at the kitchen island, pushing up the reading glasses that had fallen down his nose. They were working on her latest chapter and polishing off Chinese takeout while they did so. Emma’s heart clenched at the pleasant domesticity of it.

“I’ll never get over how weird it is to hear someone reading the words I wrote,” she said, taking a huge bite of her mapo tofu.

He smiled at her. “I can’t imagine that. Didn’t you read a good deal of it yourself at signings and readings with Bonds of the Past?”

“Sure, but that was just me reading it? Hearing someone else? That’s incredibly strange.”

“It can’t be that odd, especially in my melodious, accented voice,” he said, winking at her.

Emma rolled her eyes, biting back a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You like it Swan, admit it,” Killian teased, his emphasis on each of the “t” sounds getting her hotter than any elocution had the right to.

“I might,” she said, staring at the way his tongue waggled at the corner of his mouth. Seriously, it was unfair.

He took a long drink of his watered down old fashioned, the ice having long since melted. “Then I shouldn’t have to tell you that it’s probably mutual.”

Her face reddened, and she bit her lip. “Then it won’t be too forward of me to ask you to stay over tonight?”

The warmth in his eyes turned hotter, his eyes darkening. He cleared his throat and replied gruffly, “I’d be honored to.”

“Honored? What are you, three hundred?”

“What I am is a gentleman,” he said, waggling an eyebrow at her before he sighed and looked back at the document on his screen. “A gentleman who is probably going to regret saying this, but we should finish looking over this chapter.”

Emma grimaced but nodded. “Work first, play later? Fine, fine, be responsible like that.” She looked wistfully at the page count, realizing they were only halfway through the chapter.

She really wanted to take him to bed. They’d been dating for about a month and a half, and Emma couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this hard up. She definitely hadn’t waited this long since she was a teenager, and she half-regretted suggesting they take it slow.

It had been going slowly, all right. Too slowly. Honestly, she was shocked she hadn’t jumped him when he’d come in the door earlier, looking adorably earnest and unbearably attractive in his black jeans and black and muted purple floral button-up.

Killian took off his glasses and scratched behind his ear. “I’m probably going to hate myself for this later, but you might not want to extend that invitation once I say this.”

“Oh god, editorial bullshit I’m not going to like.” Her face remained impassive and her voice light, but her shoulders tightened at his words.

“Unfortunately.”

She sighed. “Well, let’s hear it, then. Let’s get this over with.”

He hesitated. “I…I don’t think you’ve really established a good motive for the foster parents’ culpability with Jacob. Why would they do it when they’re already acting as his guardians? It just seems unlikely to me.”

Okay, that’s annoying, she thought, trying to bring back the calm she’d felt a couple minutes before. “You don’t think I’ve established how shady they are?”

“You’ve talked about them being shady, but haven’t given much evidence or textual support for it beyond it being a feeling Jacob has,” Killian said, sounding apologetic. He was clearly feeling the pain of the tentative balance of their professional and personal relationships, and she might have felt badly, if he weren’t completely wrong. “But they are guilty of it. Can’t you just wait and see how it plays out over the next couple of chapters?”

He leaned back in his chair. “I’m just trying to make your book as good as it can be. I do have faith in your ability to get the reader there, just…this is the process.”

Emma felt a rush of irritation surge through her. “It might be the process, but I’m pretty damn sure it’s obvious they’re shitty parents. I would think you of all people would understand the need to trust the protagonist. Just because he’s a kid doesn’t mean the adults around him shouldn’t believe him. Or that the reader won’t.”

He paused, seeming to consider his words carefully. “Are you sure this is about the chapter? I’m starting to think this might be about something else, something closer to home.”

At that, she deflated, her burgeoning rage dissipating. Averting her eyes, she twiddled her chopsticks. After a few moments, she finally nodded. "I--well, there might be some stuff going on with Henry."

"What kind of stuff?" He reached out and took her hand, and her heart clenched.

"The kind of thing where he thinks someone is following him and has decent reasons to think so. But Regina doesn't believe him, and she blew me off when I tried to bring it up with her."

"Ah."

Chancing a peek at Killian, she saw he was avoiding her gaze. "What does 'ah' mean?"

He bit his lip before answering. "Keeping in mind that I don't know all the particulars and haven't had a good deal of time to think about it…I can think of several reasons that might be. And don't you think that--and this is me inferring from what I read from your chapter--that suspecting Regina of some kind of involvement in this is rather ludicrous? You might be overreacting."

She saw red. "Ludicrous?! Overreacting?!"

He didn't seem to notice, or at least acknowledge, her increased agitation. "Well, as I mentioned, why? Why would she do such a thing, Swan?"

"Oh, gee, maybe it could have something to do with my sudden appearance in Henry's life. If he was really happy with her, do you think he would have sought me out?" Emma bit out, unable to keep the sarcasm from her tone.

"Don't you think that's a bit…self-serving, love? I can think of plenty of reasons Henry might have sought you out even if he was 100% thrilled with his relationship with Regina. After all, you seem happy now, but wouldn't you like to at least know your parents?" Killian kept his tone even as he said this, but all it did was serve to further infuriate Emma.

"You were right, I don't want to hear this. And I don't want you to stay over tonight."

He looked at her, brow furrowed in worry. "Do you…are we okay?"

For the second time that night, she slumped back in her chair. "I…I think we will be. I'm just really fucking furious right now and don't want to look at you."

"You want me to leave."

"That's about the size of it."

Killian put his glasses away and closed his laptop, placing it into his messenger bag. He stood slowly and went over to where she was still seated, leaned over and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. "Very well, Emma. You know where to find me."

She sighed. "Yeah. I'll call you tomorrow?" Suddenly sounding unsure, she reached for his hand and squeezed it before pressing a kiss of her own to it.

"I'd love that," he said, smiling sadly as he walked to the door.

But Emma didn't respond. Lost in thought, she didn't acknowledge his departure.

&&&

Emma slowly dragged herself out of bed the next morning. She hadn’t slept well and now had a crick in her neck, the product of having spent most of the night tossing and turning.

And she was embarrassed. She had, in fact, overreacted the previous night. Slightly. As far as she was concerned, Killian was still mostly wrong, but he’d brought up the topic in as diplomatic and tactful way as he could. Like a reasonable adult in a grown-ass relationship…something she just wasn’t used to.

Once she fortified herself with caffeine--coffee, she didn’t deserve hot chocolate--and made herself presentable, she would go to Killian, and they could talk it over. She’d heard a rumor once that that’s what adults did when they disagreed with someone they cared about, and she was willing to give it a shot.

She stepped into the bathroom and grimaced at the reflection in the mirror of her snarled, disheveled hair and blotchy face. (So she might have cried a little after Killian left, what of it?) Okay, so maybe she’d have to push back the timeframe for the day a little, the whole “making herself presentable” portion was going to take longer than she’d like.

Emma was going to need breakfast. And, she could admit to herself, moral support. She brushed her teeth and took a quick shower, throwing on a simple outfit that was comfortable, reassuring, and still cute. The flowing material of the tunic was soft, and the leggings tucked into the boots provided that edge of familiarity she needed for what was sure to be a trying day.

Eggs, bacon, and humble pie were on the menu.

&&&

She slid into her favorite booth, the smell of coffee, grease, and breakfast food in general making her feel at home and soothing her anxiety. Granny’s may not be fancy, but it was as unmistakably her as a place could get.

That sense of well-being deepened when a small whirlwind moved across the diner and into the seat across from her with astonishing speed. The expensive perfume she wore was at odds with the casual environment, and the heels too high and the outfit a tad too tailored, but Belle’s presence was always a welcome one in Emma’s book.

The artfully arranged curls framed a small, delicately beautiful face, and her blue eyes peered at Emma with concern.

God, she wasn’t going to cry just from Belle giving her that caring, motherly look. She wasn’t.

“Ruby will be out in just a second. She had to check on some things with the dairy supplier,” Belle said, fiddling with the wedding ring that matched the one on Ruby’s hand. “But how are you?”

Despite her earlier admonition, Emma’s eyes welled with tears. “I’m fine.”

The only response she got was a doubtful glance and a raised eyebrow that challenged her to continue.

“Okay, maybe I’m not fine,” she admitted.

Ruby arrived then and silently poured three full mugs of coffee. “You’re obviously not fine, Emma. You’d never text me before ten in the morning if you were.”

Emma looked up at her blearily. “Point made,” she said, and Belle and Ruby exchanged a look.

“What can I get you, sweetie?” Ruby asked. “I could even do a grilled cheese if that'll help.”

“No, but thank you. Maybe some waffles? And some advice and a hug?”

“We can do that.”

In a startlingly short period of time, she was polishing off her plate of waffles. Ruby sat next to her, arm draped over her shoulders, while Belle sat across from them, listening intently as Emma filled them in on the previous day’s happenings.

“It sounds like you have a lot on your plate. Metaphorically, that is,” Belle commiserated.

Emma sighed. “Yeah. I just…did I mess things up with Killian? Am I totally off base with the whole Henry and Regina situation?”

Ruby tightened her grip on her. “No, I don’t think so. From what you said, Killian seemed fine last night. Sad, but okay with you needing a little space. And with Regina and Henry…you need to follow your instincts. You’ve always had good ones. Remember that doctor I went out with a couple times? You totally called it with how weird he turned out to be.”

“Rubes, no one could have guessed that he would be into experimenting on dead bodies.”

Belle turned to her wife, intrigued. Ruby just shrugged. “Sure, but not even Granny tried to stop me from dating him.”

“That’s because every time she told you not to do something, you just…intensified the thing,” Emma said.

“Still, points to you. Just take what you can get, Emma.”

“I will. For starters, another hug?”

Both Ruby and Belle obliged, embracing her tightly and packing her a large takeaway bag full of a pie Ruby had made for the diner along with cookies Belle had made that morning.

Heart and arms fuller, she made her way home. Arriving at her apartment she was startled to see a familiar face outside her door--Cleo.

&&&

Emma stared at Cleo, confused. She had rarely--if ever--seen her outside of work or work-related events, and she was a little puzzled to find her outside of her apartment. For starters, how did she even know where she lived?

Belatedly and somewhat superfluously, she realized that Cleo had access to her HR files, which was probably how she learned her address. But that still didn't answer why she was here.

Cleo met her eyes wordlessly, looking more torn and indecisive than Emma had ever seen her. Her hair wasn't in its usual orderly, business-like ponytail, and she wasn't wearing her usual carefully tailored leather or wool. She was wearing jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, her hair was wild and wavy, and she looked as exhausted as Emma felt.

Emma's stomach clenched, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Finally, she spoke, stepping towards her front door. "Uh, hi, Cleo. What's up…on a Saturday? Outside my apartment?"

Cleo grimaced. "We need to talk. Can we go inside?"

"Yikes, that phrase doesn't usually lead to good things," Emma said, motioning her inside and leading her to the couch. She sat at one end and Cleo at the other, neither looking at the other.

"I wish I could say this would be an exception, but I can't imagine this conversation will be fun. Or easy."

Emma tilted her head, considering. "Okay, well, would you like some coffee first? Or tea? I can get you a slice of pie, too."

"That…sounds good."

Emma carefully cut the pie while the coffee brewed, the gurgling of the percolator the only sound in the apartment. As soon as it was prepared, Emma brought out their mugs and pie and rejoined Cleo on the couch.

She cleared her throat, unsure of how to begin. "So..."

"August has been spying on you," Cleo blurted out.

"What?" Whatever she'd been expecting, that hadn't been it. She put down her mug, splashing some of the coffee on herself. She winced, but made no motion to get anything to clean it off her top.

"He's been digging for information on you, colluding with at least one other person. For reasons I can't entirely figure out."

"The fuck? What? Spying on me? With another person? And uh, how do you know this?" She stared at Cleo, her mouth gaping open.

Cleo's mouth twisted. "August has been giving all this information he's gotten about you to a woman. I'm not entirely sure who. I’ve heard them on the phone, her voice sounds familiar, but..."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

Emma sat there, stupefied. She didn't get it. August had brought her into the publishing house, making it possible for her to not have an agent. He'd essentially acted as one for her, providing a mutually beneficial professional relationship that been good for both of them. She would have probably answered any relevant questions he might have. So what the hell was he asking?

"I don't know what to say."

"I'm sorry, Emma. I didn't want to burst in on your Saturday, but I thought you needed to know. And I'm afraid that's not the worst of it," Cleo said, looking truly apologetic.

"What could be worse than that?"

"The person August was using to get a lot of that information, at least for a while, was Killian."

Fuck.

Emma wasn't sure how to process the information Cleo had just given her. She had sat motionless while Cleo told her how she'd gotten the information and what had tipped her off that something might be wrong with the entire scenario. It had seemed pretty clear.

She just didn't get why.

"Jones seems to have been involved initially because August expedited his immigration to the US. He could have gotten it done otherwise, but he seemed to want to get out of England fast, and August somehow made that possible," Cleo explained.

"How? I wouldn’t have thought August had much pull with any sort of governmental organization. He's good at marketing and making connections, but Regina is the one at Mills & Booth with the ties to deep pockets and the power players."

Cleo looked at her sympathetically, taking in the lost and confused expression on Emma's face. "Well, I can postulate he's made some connections that might help. And the money seems to have come from his silent--or rather, unseen--partner."

Emma sighed. "Who might actually be Regina."

"It could be, yes, but I don't know for sure," said Cleo.

"Jesus. Just...why? Wouldn't it have been easier to just ask me stuff?"

"Would you have told him? You're not the most forthcoming, and I'll be honest, I don't know whether August's motive is personal or professional. All I know is that he asked Jones for as much information as he could get about you, from personal stuff to what you were working on with your novel."

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Emma chewed on her thumbnail while she considered everything Cleo told her. "So Killian told him everything? Everything I've been telling him for the last few months?"

"I'm not sure," Cleo replied carefully. "What I can tell you is that Killian seems to have stopped providing any information about a month or so ago. At that point, he functionally ceased communication with August beyond the usual professional progress updates you'd expect." She hesitated before continuing. "I'm sorry. I know you two were getting closer."

"We've been dating for the last month and a half, basically," she said bluntly.

Cleo winced. "That…I don't really know how to say much beyond 'I’m sorry', but I can't help but think you'd want more of an explanation from Killian than from me."

"Yeah," Emma said, pushing aside her growing pain and swelling rage, "I do want to confront Killian. But what about August? Do I ask him? Do I tell him? Hell, can I sue him?"

Averting her eyes, Cleo shook her head. "I'd wait until I knew more, if I were you. I have to say that I might not have acquired all of my information through the most straightforward or, uh, legal methods."

Emma let out a startled laugh. "I never would have guessed, Cleo."

She smiled sadly. "There's a lot you don't know about me."

"I guess there's a lot all of us don't show each other," Emma mused, a storm raging inside her as she finally realized how much Killian had hidden from her.

#cs ff #csbb #captain swan #cs mc ff #cs au #did you know that emma chapters have more italics than the rest #she is very '!!!'#part of the narrative #amber writes

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blueeyedgrlwrites · 6 years

Text

Annual Writing Self-Evaluation

*All answers should be about works published in 2017.

1. List of works published this year:

All the Little Moments

Ship of Dreams (collab with @m-aleciseverything)

And You Have Always Been Mine Too

A Tiny Spark

2. Work you are most proud of (and why):

A Tiny Spark because it’s the first fic where I have actually known what is going to take place in each chapter, and it’s the first fic that has made me feel somewhat confident in my abilities as a writer.

3. Work you are least proud of (and why):

Renuion from the “All The Little Moments” series. It’s not that I hate the moment it’s based on, I think we need more Jace & Magnus centric moments. But it was told from Jace’s POV and that’s not a voice that I’m really totally comfortable with.

4. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

There’s a couple.

This moment between Alec and Izzy in ch. 1 of A Tiny Spark:

Alec looked down at his shoes as he rocked back on his heels. He didn’t see Isabelle dab at the corners of her eyes as tears threatened to fall. He didn’t see her set the folder on the coffee table and stand, crossing over to him. But he felt her arms slide around him, pulling him into a hug, and he held tightly to her in return, hoping to absorb some of her quiet strength because he wasn’t sure how much more fight he really had left in him. He clamped his eyes shut and pressed his lips together in an attempt at keeping his own tears from falling, and the paralyzing fear that this would all be for naught once more contained within him.

And this moment between Alec, Magnus, and Lydia in ch. 2 of A Tiny Spark:

“Do you think you’re stronger because of that adversity?” Lydia asked.

Alec knew without a doubt that they were, because they had fought to be—sometimes literally. He knew that there had been times he had wanted to give up. He was certain that there were times when Magnus likely had too. They had come out of it bruised, battered, and not quite the same as they had been, but they had made it out together.

Magnus nodded, tightening his fingers around Alec’s hand. “The steel that goes into the fire is always stronger when it’s taken from it. It’s not the same as it was when it went in. It becomes malleable with the heat and the flame, and can be changed and shaped into whatever it will eventually become. But it’s stronger. Alec and I are no different. We aren’t the same people that we were when our first adoption fell through ten months ago, and our marriage isn’t the same as it was then, either. I think it’s better, as strange as that may sound, because we both put forth the effort that was needed to make it work. It was never completely one-sided. And I know I love Alec more now than I ever have.”

5. Share or describe a favorite comment you received:

There’s no way to choose a favorite. I adore them all and am so grateful for every comment, every tweet, every message. I’m just grateful for all of you who read what I put out into the world, more so than I can ever truly say.

6. A time when writing was really, really hard:

The last six months of 2017 were hell for me personally. There were so many ups and downs emotionally that much of the time I didn’t have it in me to do any writing, or things happened that made the project I was working on something that triggered a negative reaction rather than a positive one.

7. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

Alec challenging Magnus to give his life direction in chapter 1 of And You Have Always Been Mine Too. It wasn’t in the original draft of the chapter, and it was more the intensity with which Alec challenged him than anything else.

8. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I’m learning not to give up and walk away when the muses go silent, or when writing gets difficult.

9. How do you hope to grow next year:

I hope to plot and start my first original novel inspired by my grandfather’s passing back in June. I’m not sure I’m quite ready for the emotional roller coaster that it’s going to take me on, but I also think it might be very cathartic to channel my grief over his loss into words.

10. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

@otppurefuckingmagic. There isn't even a question. I don’t know that I can put into words how much she’s meant to me this year, but here goes.

I honestly don’t know where I would be without Sam and her love, wisdom, guidance, encouragement, and ability to know exactly what I need when I need it. She’s the reason that I keep fighting when all I want to do is give up, whether that be with writing or with everything going on in this fucked up world. When something happens, good, bad, or ugly, she’s one of the very first--if not the very first--person I turn to.

She has been a mentor, a friend, a beta, an unbiological big sister. When she says ‘be someone’s champion’ it isn’t just empty words. She has been mine in so many ways, and is a major reason that I am becoming the writer I am and am fighting to become a better version of myself every day.

So thank you, Sam, from the bottom of my heart for being my rock. <3

11. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

Occupational hazard of being a writer is that you draw from real life experiences or base characters off people you know in literally everything you write.

12. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

Trust yourself. Trust your process. Trust the good times and the bad times because writing is hard. And never, ever, ever give up. Write for you. Publish your work and be proud of it regardless of how many comments or likes you get. If you are happy with it, that is all that matters.

13. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I’m looking forward to finishing A Tiny Spark in 2018 and am very excited for the fic I’ll be (hopefully) publishing around Christmas 2018 (even though I know we JUST HAD Christmas a week ago....)

Tag writers whose answers you’d like to read.

I don’t know who hasn’t been tagged in this, so tag! you’re it (if you want to do it, of course).

#tag game #about me #otppurefuckingmagic

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gottalovetheletos · 7 years

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Butterflies. Shannon Series. Ch 1.

Authors note: So guys. I am starting this series. I’m sorry this first chapter is just a little backstory and setting the scene.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,916.

Butterflies. Chapter 1.

Moving to London was a big step in the right direction for my career. I am a upcoming celebrity journalist, quite a successful one too. I get on with everyone I meet, I started out with local celebrities, like a winner of a charity race and now I’m interviewing people like Adele, Ed Sheeran etc. After 2 years of travelling back and forth to London from my parents house for my work, I had saved up enough money and am now moving into my newly built apartment. It was beautiful. I love the fact I can decorate it exactly how I want to. Plus I am only half an hours walk from the studio. The apartment consists of a large kitchen, which was fantastic because I also have a little cooking channel on YouTube and healthy living blog, just for a little extra income. I also have a large living room which fit my L-Shaped sofa perfectly. 3 bedrooms. Master with en-suite, guest and I turned the other one into an office/ make up room/ art studio. I had a gorgeous bathroom with a free standing bath and separate shower and a balcony for my dogs. Chihuahua Coco, my first dog and Hunter my blue eyed rescued Siberian husky. I also have a beta fish called Alpha-Beta.

It was our second night in our new fully furnished apartment. A couple of friends and I started yesterday and had unpacked and built most of the furniture. I just need to dress the place up a bit but there’s plenty of time for that, I did however manage to hang some of my own art work on the walls. I ordered take out as I haven’t been shopping but I’ll do that after work tomorrow. 5:30 pm and I’ve finished my dinner. I start running the bath manage to find a wrapped up bath bomb. Thankfully it was still okay, I dropped it in, the then clear water turned into a lush galaxy of pink, purple and blue. The steam filled the room and danced in the air. I sank deep into the oval freestanding bathtub and let all of my troubles drown in the water, my playlist of 30 seconds to mars playing in the background. After an hour soaking in the tub it was 7 pm. I picked out the clothes I was going to wear tomorrow and placed them on the hanger on the back of my bedroom door. After I walked into my office to finish writing up an article I’d been working on. Then started preparing things for the morning. I packed my bag and hung it on the hook by the door. 10 pm already. Well I should get an early night. The dogs joined me on the bed and we fell asleep.

* The Next Day *

I woke up at 6:30 am. Gave the dogs their breakfast and fed Alpha-Beta too. I started to get ready.

‘I need to go to the corner store to buy breakfast’ ,I reminded my self. I dressed myself and did my make up. I left a note on the kitchen counter for the dog sitter/walker letting her know our routine. I said good bye to my pups and locked the door behind me. As soon as I stepped out the door are started walking down the path, raindrops decorated the pavement in front of me. I opened my bright red umbrella to shield me from the speckles falling from the sky. I walked into the corner store shaking out my umbrella and picked up a salad, fruit pot and a drink. Once I had paid I made my way to work. I had arrived and made my way to my desk. There was a card and some flowers in a pretty vase. The card read ‘congratulation on your new home’. I moved them to one side and admired them as my computer was turning on and I took off my coat. The computer had turned on and I was now finishing off the article from last night. *Bzzz* the intercom on my phone sounded. “Y/N can you come into my office please?” My boss asked me. I walked in. “Tomorrow’s guests are 30 seconds to mars and you’re going to interview them. Do you research” she told me. I stood there in shock. “Like I need to do my research. They’re my favorite band” I replied making her laugh. “They’re touring and doing a show near here so we thought we’d bring them in” I giddily clapped my hands. “Thankyooooouuu!!!!” I shouted on my way out the door. I sat back down at my desk and began typing up questions for them to answer. My work friend Lyra came over and asked “Hey whatcha doing?” “Well, guess who is interviewing 30 seconds to mars tomorrow?” I smiled and pointed at me. “No way. They’re your favorite band too, ugh you’re so lucky” She exclaimed. “I know, thanks” I laughed. Ohh boss, I’ll see you at lunch” she pointed then quickly scuttled away. Once again I was back at my computer working on the interview questions and to make sure I had everything, I took my bosses advice and did a little research. I sent the questions to my boss who emailed me back straight away giving me the thumbs up. Lunch time was over with quickly. Lyra and I got to catch up, plus I managed to order my groceries online and organize for them to be delivered for when I got home. Soon after I was back to work. I’d emailed the article I’d been working on off to my boss so she could send it to the editor. Before I knew it it was 5 pm. Time to go home. I walked in and was greeted by my 2 lovely dogs and walked into the kitchen so I could see how Alpha-Beta was getting on. I was so excited for tomorrow I just had to pick out my outfit. It had to be good enough for camera and show a little sex appeal. “I got it” I called out, making the dogs raise their heads to see what was going on. I picked out a pink pant suit paired with a black bralet-crop top kind of thing. I looked the the wardrobe of the guest room where I kept my shoes and bags and found a beautiful pair of multi-colored heels, I loved this pair because I feel like they show off my creative side. I heard the door bell and answered the door. It was the delivery man with the groceries. He helped bring them in, I thanked him and he left. I started cooking dinner, the mouth watering aroma making it’s way around the kitchen. I fed the dogs and sat down for my meal at the table, day dreaming about different scenarios that could happen tomorrow. It was 7:30, I decided to have a shower and wash my hair. I was going to wear my hair straight . So after my shower I brought out my hair dryer and straighteners and got to it. After I went to bed. I needed an early night in order to look good for tomorrow.

*The Next Day*

I woke up feeling fresh and excited, I did what would become the normal routine of feeding the dogs and getting my breakfast. After I made a coffee and took it into the office where my make up table was situated. I decided on a fairly neutral eye and red lips. I put on my rings picked up my bag and left.

I took my time walking to work, I didn’t want to get all sweaty before I met the band. After my leisurely walk to work I walked into the office where in 2 hours I’d meet the band. This…This is the reason I became a celebrity journalist. I prepared myself and the interview room. While setting out the snacks on the table I dropped the bowl of grapes on the floor. “Shit” I said to myself. I bent down to pick up the grapes underneath the table that was opposite the door. I was on my hand and knees when I heard a “Wow we’ve got ourselves a show boys” I knew that voice all too well. It was Jared Leto. As I got up I began to feel my cheeks heating up. “Uh, hi I’m Y/N” I said as I got up. I shook all of their hands and offered them a seat on the sofa. We had a 2 hour slot for this room. We had to wait half an hour for the crew to set up the cameras. So in that time we got talking. I offered them a drink and left the room. Once I start walking back in their conversation ceases. “I hope you’re saying good things about me” I laugh. The crew are ready to start the interview.

“In 3,2,1″. The director says.

“Hello I am Y/N, Y/L/N and I have 30 seconds of mars with me here. Hello!” they cheered. After half an hour of general questions and chit chat I move onto more personal questions. “So Tomo obviously you’re married” He looked at me and flashed his wedding ring. “But how about you two? Any lucky ladies in your lives yet?”. “I like how you said yet, are you trying to get in on this?” Jared asked. I looked at Shannon who was smiling right at me making me blush. “Well a girl can try right?” I giggled. “So... are you both single?” “Well I am” Shannon piped up “me too” Jared added on. “You’ve heard it here first” I said looking at the camera. “What about you?” Jared asked me. “I am yeah” I said a bit taken aback “Nobody wants this” I joked. “Why not you’re gorgeous?” Shannon complemented me.

“Yeah beautiful” Jared said backing up his brother. “Wow thanks guys” I’m blushing once again. "Well that's all we have time for thank you Jared, Shannon and Tomo for joining us here and we hope to see you again. "Oh yeah" Jared shouted. "Wahoo" Tomo joined in too. Shannon just sat and smiled at me. . .

Once the interview had finished they stuck around for a little and while Jared and Tomo were talking Shannon came over to me and asked “So are you really single?” I looked at him then the floor trying to hide the smile on my face. “I am I’ve actually never been on a date before” I glanced up at him once again. He looked a little shocked. “Well we need to change that. We’re here for 3 nights. Let me take you out after our concert tonight please?” My face dropped at his question. I quickly reorganized myself. “Uh yeah, I’d like that. Thank you” He smiled at me. “I’ll pick you up at 10. If you could write down you address and cell phone number that’d be a big help”. I bent over without bending my knees and reached in my bag for my note book and pen. I could feel his eyes on me, more specifically on my ass. I got back up leaned on the table and wrote down my contact information. “I’ll see you later beautiful” He winked and kissed my cheek. ‘Oh my god, I’m going on a date with Shannon Leto, what will I wear?’ I thought.

CHAPTER 2.

#shannon leto #shannon leto imagine #shannon leto fanfiction #shannon leto fanfic #butterflies series #gottalovetheletos

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vivelamori · 7 years

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Donnie Yen Autobiography “All About Donnie (問丹心)” Translation Ch.1(pt 1-3)

Guess what... I have translated more of the content of Donnie’s autobiography. I’m planning to translate the first two chapters of his book, which are about his childhood and his experiences when he was early into the show business.

There are 5 parts in the first chapter “My Personal Development” and 4 parts in the second chapter “Into the Show Business”.

The previous post I made I had translated part 2 of chapter 2.

Once again, BIG THANK YOU to my dear beta Dream @evocating for her generosity and patience. My work looks legible because of you. Also thank my real life friend Asura for helping me to clear my mind and translating a few but important sentences for me.

Crappy photos of the original text taken by me are attached with this post below for reference. Baby Donnie is ADORABLE OKAY!???

Reminder: This post is so damn long with words and pictures.

Chapter 1: My Personal Development

Part 1: “The Mystery of Destiny”

In a life of a man, somehow what you do and face is destined and written by fate. For me to write a book published by Sing Tao News Corporation Limited seems to be heaven’s will as well. My father Klyster Yen had worked as an editor for the International Sing Tao Daily in Boston, USA for 30 years. With that in fact, it seems that my affinity with Sing Tao seems to have existed for a long time. Many people assume that since I grew up overseas, I would not be fluent in Chinese. Actually, when I was young, I would run over to my father’s workplace and read the Chinese newspaper published by the Sing Tao. In that way, I gradually acquired the language through such self-taught process. In recent years, I have a growing realization of the mystery of destiny. As if life has hidden the clue of who I am today, now the path unfolds and I must follow step-by-step to where destiny might lead.

“A Family Splitting Apart”

My father and mother met when they were both part of the Guangzhou Philharmonic Orchestra. My father was a violinist and my mother was a soprano. Life is however fickle. Later the family was forced to split apart during the turbulent times.

At that time, it was hard for a Mainlander to migrate to Hong Kong. At the age of two, I was approved but only one of my parents was allowed to accompany me to live in Hong Kong. Finally, my father brought me here. However, the family of three was divided: one in Guangzhou and the other two in Hong Kong. Only heaven knew the day of our reunion with my mother.

“My Favourite Show ‘Enjoy Yourself Tonight(EYT)’”

When we first arrived, my family condition was rather poor. I still remember that I lived in a squatter’s residence at King’s Park in Kowloon (a region in HK). My father and uncle shared a bunk bed. Grandmother also lived with us. And I would just sleep on the floor. I also remember that we had to share with the neighbours.

At that time, “EYT (1967-2002)”(a famous variety TV show in HK) just started broadcasting. Like many children of the time, I loved to crouch in front of the gate of my neighbour’s flats, peeking through the bars of the gate to watch the black-and-white television. Even though the signal of the TV was poor, it was the best entertainment for me as a kid. Later, my family condition was becoming better. After my uncle got married, together with my father and grandmother, we moved to a new flat in Yuet Wah Street in Kwuntong (a region in HK). Afterwards, when my father bought a flat near my uncle’s, we finally escaped the life of an over-crowded household.

“Mother Practicing Martial Arts to Combat Loneliness”

Very quickly, a few years passed. Although our living standards were improving, my mother was still staying in Guangzhou alone. I was too young to understand the bitterness of my separation from my mother. I could only remember I would receive a letter from her every few weeks. She wrote about how much she missed me, and she would use rhetoric words like “Ji Dan Chai (子丹仔)” and “Kiss you(吻您)”(*) to call me and express her love.

(*Translator’s notes: After a discussion between me and beta Dream at 3:30am, we concluded that “Ji Dan Chai (子丹仔)” was probably a Cantonese pun for “egglet/egg puff*(雞蛋仔)”, a famous traditional snack in HK. Furthermore, 吻 means “kiss” and 您 means “you” which is usually used as a polite form but his mom used it because she wanted to insert hearts to express her love towards her son.)

Can you imagine how a woman can withstand the loneliness of those long years separated from her husband and son? Due to this, she threw herself into practicing kung fu, strengthening her spirit through the movies to gain confidence and power, and also supporting herself and her mother’s family.

Later my mother told me that in those nine years, she would apply for coming to HK every now and then, only failing each time. My father knew that my mother missed me very much. When I was nine, he asked his brother-in-law(姨丈) to bring me back to Guangzhou to visit my mother. At last, I met her. As early as I can remember, that was the first time I met my mother.

My strongest memories of that one and a half weeks are of her hugging and kissing me every day. She also dragged me over to meet her master Fu Wing-fai (傳永輝) and her classmates. At that time, the mother of grand master Fu was a foot-bound lady (a cruel pedantic practice on women in old China). However, I could remember clearly that when she swung the spear, she looked very handsome and moved powerfully.

“First Experience of Real Martial Arts”

When I was young, my father loved to bring me to Yue-Man Square in Kwuntong to watch movies during weekends when I didn’t have to go to school. We watched the films produced by Shaw Brothers (HK) Limited like “The One-Armed Swordsman (獨臂刀)” (1967), “The Bloody Fists (蕩寇灘)” (1972) and “The Heroic Ones(十三太保)” (1970), etc. Though I watched them on the big screen, they really were the first time I witnessed real martial arts in action.

After those days of waiting and waiting, and then finally getting to meet my mother, everything seemed to fall back into normalcy again. My father was working behind the desk at a garment factory. Once, in the name of a business trip for the Chambers of Commerce and Industry, he went back to Guangzhou to visit his wife.

One day, the good news finally arrived after nine years of waiting. My father excitedly told us that mother’s approval of coming to HK was granted and there would be a new member of the family… It was because my father intentionally knocked my mother up during that trip, so that the first week my sister was born, she and our mother were permitted to enter and stay in Hong Kong. That’s also why my parents always regard my sister as the “lucky star”.

In life, there are times when we are together with our loved ones, and times when we are apart. During our separation, my mother became a master of Tai Chi. After the reunion, I followed her to practice martial arts. Everything seemed to be according to heaven’s will.

Part 2: “I am ‘Fong Sai-yuk’(方世玉)”

My mother had arrived in Hong Kong, so our family had reunited. During the time of waiting as she was waiting for her immigrant visa to the USA to be approved, she would go to the park located at the nearby Yuet Wah Street to teach students. In the beginning, she had only two to three students. Later, the number of students increased. At the age of ten, I was like the teaching assistant. Every early morning at 5 or 6, I would follow my mother and teach her students.

Some days before, Madame Helena Law Lan (羅蘭)(a famous actress in HK who was born in 1934) told me that her master Lee Yuen-king (李婉瓊), from whom she learned Tai Chi, was one of my mother’s students from that class. She joked that, in terms of hierarchy, I am kind of her grand master(師公/師伯)! Chinese kung fu came from China. The art belongs to everyone. It truly connects people around the world!

“The Heir of Kung Fu”

My mother Bow Sim Mak (麥寶嬋) practices martial arts. She values it highly and thus is determined to pass down her skill and techniques. Of course, she has great expectation on her son. She was like the “Miu Chui-fa” (苗翠花) and I was “Fong Sai-yuk” (方世玉)(*). Every morning before school, she would drag me off my bed at 5 and asked me to do splits, stretches and go through the forms. If I whinedo r complained or made any mistakes, she would scold me with her wooden sword immediately.

(*Translator’s note: Miu Chui-fa was a famous and highly skilled woman in martial arts in Qing Dynasty. Her son Fong Sai-yuk was also a talented kung fu master who was excelled in Shaolin boxing.)

My path to learning martial arts began after the reunion of my mother. My road towards the show business also began at that time.

My mother would teach Tai Chi in the morning and sing soprano at the Mira Hotel at night. Coincidently, people from the Yuen’s stunt team(袁家班) also performed Peking Opera there. Heroes are drawn to each other. Later, a few of them started taking lessons in kung fu from my mother. This had helped me to set the destiny of meeting my master Yuen Woo-ping in the future, getting into the show business through acting in his film “Drunken Tai Chi (笑太極)” (1984).

“Boycott by Other Schools of Martial Arts”

At the age of 11, our whole family migrated to Boston in USA. During the 60s and 70s, it was very common to open a school of martial arts in Chinatown. After settling down, my mother also opened one and named her school as “ Chinese Wushu Research Institute (中國功夫研究所)” because she took promoting Chinese martial arts to the world as her responsibility.

Nevertheless, there were a few people who were narrow-minded. They thought the name of the school was intended to include all the types of Chinese martial arts. Thus, my mother was boycotted by other schools. They even nitpicked her logo – a figure holding swords, posing and stepping on the Bagua Diagram. They said, “Bao Sim Mak, are you really that ‘good’? Able to step on the Bagua School? ” Even some meddlers came here and tried to make a fuss by throwing stones at my mother’s school.

However, it took some time, my mother’s hard work was not wasted. She proved her skills to other schools and earned their recognition. She was able to make the practice of martial arts become universal. Many Westerners came to her to learn. Her students included the undergraduates of the Universities of Boston and Harvard.

At that time, the largest and most popular martial arts school in Chinatown was opened by Master Kwong Tit-fu (鄺鐵夫) who taught Hung-styled boxing (洪拳). Every festival or celebration like the Chinese New Year, his most senior student, John Tsang (曾俊華), aka the current Financial Secretary of HKSAR, would carry a lion head and lead the kids from different martial arts schools to perform the lion dance on streets. I was about 12 or 13 at that time and I often followed the lion dancers led by this “big brother” around. I joined for fun and sometimes I would perform Chinese boxing to liven things up.

After many years, when I met the Financial Secretary again, he revealed to me that he already noticed me at that time. He said I was skilled in martial arts in a certain level with such a young age. To have received such high praise from someone like him, this Donnie really don’t deserve it!

Part 3: “Imitating Bruce Lee”

Overseas Chinese growing up in the foreign countries are often more aware of their racial and national identity than local Hong Kongers or Mainlanders. I, as a Chinese American citizen, was often belittled by others who called me names like “chink”. I thus strived to search for my identity of nationality.

“Learning Kung Fu through Watching Movies”

There were only two cinemas in Chinatown and they were smelly and filthy. There were always drunkards wandering around and they were stinky and dirty. Despite all that, I would still escape school and buy a ticket to watch the same movie again and again. After I finished watching the “Drunken Master (醉拳)”(1978) and “Snakes in the Eagle’s Shadow (蛇形刁手)” (1978), I would immediately rush back home to practice the drunken and snake moves. After watching “36th Chamber of Shaolin (少林三十六房)” (1978), I would practice the three-section cudgel immediately. I had watched the “Way of the Dragon (猛龍過江)” (1972) and “Enter the Dragon (龍爭虎鬥)” (1973) thousands of times. As a kid with some talent, my moves looked like those from the movies even though all I did was watch!

At around that time, I remember that my mother still had not found an official place for her school and so she rented the buildings of other martial arts schools to teach her classes. They had all kinds of tools and weapons. I loved to pick them up and practice.

Once, before my mother arrived, I naughtily picked up a nunchakus l to imitate the Bruce Lee’s moves. I was using it powerful enough that my every move made whirring sounds. Unexpectedly, the screw of the connecting joint of the nunchakus was loosened and one part of the pair flew across the room and hit one my mother’s female students. The girl wailed and a bruise appeared obviously on her head. I immediately knew that I was in huge trouble. Of course, my mother scolded and punished me so terribly.

“Carrying Nunchakus Everywhere”

In the 70s, Bruce Lee was very popular. I would wear his outfit – an orange sweatpants with sunglasses or black Chinese traditional clothes with kung fu shoes– to school every day. I would saw off the staff of a broomstick into two parts and connect the two with a rope to make my own nunchakus. I put it into my long socks along with me so that I could whip them out anytime, anywhere. At that time, no matter the Chinese or Western classmates, they loved to call me “Bruce”. I would sometimes perform nunchakus and show off footwork to entertain myself and others.

At that time, there was a black substitute teacher who got along with the students very well. He always asked me to show off, “Hey, Bruce, show me the kick!” Once, I joked that I could kick his face thrice and he would not be able to dodge. I hadn’t waited for the teacher’s reply, “Really?” and I kicked him. Ping! Ping! Ping! I had already left three footprints on his face. The black substitute teacher was tall and bulky. Having kicked on the face three times without warningmust have made him felt a little bit of embarrassment and anger. He threw and hanged me, who was small, onto a wall to warn me.

With regards to my relationships with the other students, I occasionally received letters daring to challenge me. Even though I was not the strongest, and both wins and losses were common in fighting, the swiftness of my body and movements meant that any opponents would have to endure my heavy punches and kicks.

My obsession towards kung fu grew to its peak as I worshipped and idolized Bruce Lee. I always focused on my footwork, wishing my movements to be as quick, fierce and precise. I would escape from school with my friends, hiding in the park practicing “sticking hands” of Wing Chun in the afternoon. Honestly, we were just messing around.

I was really obsessed with martial arts when I was younger. Looking back now, was I laughably naïve or cutely innocently?

#Donnie Yen #All about Donnie #his autobiography #my translation #his family is a legend #his parents are also the best #ragethirst #Chirrut imwe #Xiang #Ip man #問丹心

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