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bangtanbeforebitches · 3 years ago

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The Fall was a Trip - Prologue

An Original work written, produced, storyboarded, edited, agonized over and owned by: bangtanbeforebitches

Starring: Min Yoongi and Actor YN/Reader (from a purposely POC perspective) with guest appearances by everyone else you know and love.

Genre: Bangtan is Bangtan-verse AU, Rom-Com, Interracial Relationship Navigation, Strangers to Lovers, Quick but Slow Burn, Star-Crossed Lovers, Story within a Story, POC POV, K-Drama Indulgent on all fronts

Themes/Warnings: Heavy issues, Honest discussions, Things people probably don’t want to hear, Ridiculous run-ons for the fuck of it, 4th wall breaking, Inner monologue rants, YN is EXTRA AF, Mentions of racism, Childhood trauma resurfacing, Mentions of anxiety, Dangerous situations, a Shit-ton of swearing, Drinking, Probably smut at some point down the line, Some hopefully not so confusing script breakdowns, Usage of basic film and stage production terminology, Excessive flirtation (but Jimin doesn’t count), Fluff on Fluff on Fluff, Smooth moves, Lots of awkward moments, YN is a klutz, Sweetness to rot your teeth, Mood Swings, Denial of emotions, and at some point after therapy- Acceptance.

Format: Multi-chapter, ongoing WIP

Word count: currently 17k

Rating: Explicit, Minors are advised to not pass GO. 18+

---------- Prologue --

If I could describe the way his gaze makes me feel in one word it would probably be…

I’m going to have to go with "uncomfortable".

Yea.

I said it.

Uncomfortable.

In the absolute best way, sure, but let me just honestly say out loud (well, in my head) that it has been legit agony. To have all of these feelings drummed up so suddenly and at once for this one person. How people in relationships get over feeling this vulnerable all the time is beyond me.

From the moment we first locked eyes and through each encounter since then...

Every simple conversation,

Every plot to secretly meet,

Every unplanned moment that became a precious memory for me,

Every one of the countless, staged, 'casual run-ins' with one another,

Each of the covert missions we carried out,

Each of the lies we told and the omissions of the truth that our friends made for us,

All the sneaking around and all of the work was necessary just to have a basic date.

Just to have one night together.

And I’m not sorry for it because I would do it all again if I had to.

It was worth it so he could experience some semblance of normalcy for once in his life.

It’s amazing, really, how long we were able to keep it up.

What, with the many declarations of his affections for me that felt so obvious but Dispatch and the rest of the press missed…

We somehow still survived even after that stupid, impulsive and unprofessional profession he decided to make in front of both armies…

That one left me breathless. He was so smooth.

And, yes-- right now, as he gloats at me with his eyes from across this aisle.

He’s currently trying to get me riled up over a snack. A snack that I bought, mind you. His hand has been forever lost in my bag of shrimp crackers with that dumb-pretty, cocky smirk of his and flecks of golden crumbs dusting his lips.

The power of a single look from this man?

Even when he’s being obnoxiously cute like this?

Yea, even now.

What I see in his eyes when he looks at me can unsettle my entire being.

Back when we met, his stare was unnerving. He wasn’t just examining me like everyone else did, though. Holding his gaze for the first time felt like a test that I was unprepared for. I didn’t know what answers he wanted from me. I hadn’t properly studied. There was no time.

Never once did he judge me based on my appearance, which was so opposite of anyone around us. Nor did he judge me by my choice of handbag, which he once swore he notices first when meeting someone to get around actually answering the question.

His lack of prejudice was appreciated but it was a privilege I certainly was not accustomed to since moving to South Korea.

He didn’t and still doesn’t give half a fuck about my height,

-- only a few inches shorter than him and we’re eye level when I’m in heels.

My curves,

-- hips wider than his, chest ample and rear high, rounded and pronounced.

My natural hair,

-- which when free suffocates him if I lean on his shoulder.

He didn’t care about my skin tone, meanwhile, his entire country revolves around this standard idea of porcelain equaling perfection.

He didn’t make assumptions about me based on the way that I speak or the way I sometimes make very American mistakes.

Honestly, I could be standing before him, stripped down completely nude, and this guy would probably still keep his eyes locked on mine for as long as humanly possible before indulging.

He likes that we’re so different. He likes that I’m so different. He says all of my everything is exactly what he didn’t know he was looking for.

Each day I wake up and struggle to remind myself that he’s into this-- into me and my body, my thoughts, my dreams and my touch. It’s a lot for my brain to accept.

Until he rolls over, opens his eyes and looks at me.

Those searing orbs he houses in that perfectly sculpted face of his are dangerous, packed with the fervency of a meteor and the luster of a star.

He has the ability to make every drop of blood in my veins run hot. I could easily describe to you in detail the residual side effects that have been wracked upon my person since meeting Min Yoongi.

Damn him and that look.

It feels not as if he's looking at me or looking through me because, no. That much I would be able to handle. At least I think I could.

Well, I definitely can handle that kind of look from anyone except for him. I did all the time. I could take it when I was still capable of discernment which is a skill I now lack thanks to his presence in my life.

Back in the day, when our paths first crossed, I swear to you-- I had a thicker skin.

Ok, I should rephrase that.

“Back when we first stumbled upon one another” is more true to this story.

I was so used to either being gawked at like some newly discovered species in a zoo OR (on the flip side) being completely ignored altogether like I wasn’t worthy of existing.

But Yoongi?

His is a sincere, open and full-on stare that bores into me, birthed from somewhere deep within him.

Always so intense, his focus on me. It’s discomfiting, the way I’m left paralyzed by him. Helpless while he hacks into my hardware and memorizes every line of my code. It’s as if he knows things about me, my system and how I work that even I have yet to download and discover. He sees every pixel. He’s saved away each of my files “as is” and keeps searching for more.

He sees all of me.

And whenever our eyes connect, I’m able to see all of him too.

I want nothing more than for him to keep looking at me exactly the way he is right now.

Like he wants to keep what he’s found.

I would also like for him to stop being a fucking tease and pass back my damn shrimp crackers already.

This is going to be a long flight home.

#bts fanfic #bts #bts min yoongi #suga #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x yn #min yoongi fan fic #bts fan fiction #bts aus #romantic comedy #interracial couple #blackgirlmagic #quick fall #slow burn #star crossed lovers #story within a story #kdrama

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ollieologys · 5 years ago

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summertime (with you) | p. parker | prologue.

SUMMARY; In Queens, things have finally calmed down for Peter Parker - he’s more than content with the way life is going. In Brooklyn, Y/N struggles with her own identity. Out of nowhere, Spider-Man dies, and Y/N begins to stick to things. (into the spider-verse/multi-verse au)

PAIRING; peter parker x spider-woman!reader

WORDS; 2k

WARNING; mentions of death

BEING Spider-Man was never easy.

Those who knew the story knew the story. Those who didn’t have no idea. No matter what anyone knew, everyone was sure that Spider-Man protected New York no matter the cost. Peter Parker knew that, too.

Of course, he still was simply the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man and kept a mask on. He still went to school every weekday and even had a curfew (to which he broke constantly). Peter had some crushes here and there, never acted on them though - too nervous and he knew he wanted to focus on his duty. He tried his best to be engaged with his life, though. Ned was still frequently found on his bed with scattered legos waiting to be pieced together.

Things were going relatively well for Peter. It was safe to say that he was happy. He even had personal contact with Mr. Stark now.

At the end of the day just before the weekend, Peter stuffed his unneeded books into his locker and slammed it shut.

“Are you going to see Tony Stark today?” Peter jumped and turned.

“Dude,” Peter started, glaring at Ned. “Don’t scare me like that.” Peter glanced around, but no one had seemed to overhear what Ned said. Not that it really mattered, he still had the whole “Stark Internship” scheme going.

Ned laughed nonetheless. “Sorry. I thought your, um, senses would have let you know I was here!” Peter shook his head, adjusted his backpack strap, and walked out of Midtown High with Ned beside him.

“Anyways, are you going to?” He asked again.

“I think so. Happy said he would meet me at my place after school.”

“Peter, that’s literally so cool. You have a chauffeur. Just remember me when you finally become famous.” Ned gushed. Peter smiled softly at his friend. He had no plans of telling the world his true identity anytime soon, and he certainly did not see Happy as anything close to a chauffeur. Even so, Peter felt pride flow through his chest. It was really cool that he was Spider-Man. Super cool, if you asked him.

Ned stopped walking when they reached the downward stairs into the subway. “I’ll catch you later. Betty and I are gonna go grab lunch in Manhattan.” Peter tilted his head to the side.

“I thought you guys broke up?” He questioned.

“Yeah, but she and I are still friends. Anyways, you’re gonna be late.” Ned stepped forward, and he and Peter exchanged their personalized handshake. As Ned disappeared down the stairs, Peter waved and put his earbuds in his ears. He walked with a skip in his step, a small yet genuine smile forming on his lips. Not only was he excited to see Mr. Stark, but he had a good day. He aced his Pre-Calc test, and they served his favorite school lunch. Even standing on the crowded bus, he felt happy.

His keys jangled as he struggled to find the right one. He noticed Happy’s car out front, but he needed to freshen up before he left. As he opened the door, he saw his Aunt May chatting with Happy.

“Oh, hey Peter,” May said. “Hungry?” She asked. Peter shook his head no.

“Hey, kid,” Happy greeted him with a wave. Peter nodded and looked between the two adults, suspicious as to their “summer-fling” as it wasn’t even Summer just yet. “Hey, Happy. I’ll be ready to go in just a sec.”

Peter headed into his room and fell backward onto his bed, thinking as to what he needed before he left to go to the compound for the weekend. As soon as he got his thoughts together, he packed his toothbrush, toothpaste, clothes, laptop (that he was gifted for his birthday by Mr. Stark), and of course, his suit. Not long after, he said farewell to May and hopped in the backseat of Happy’s car.

They didn’t make much conversation, though it wasn’t awkward. Peter looked out the window and listened to his music. Happy did the same, though his music was fainter.

When they arrived at the compound, Peter smiled to himself. He never failed to be impressed whenever he was in the presence of anything related to the real Avengers. Seeing them all in one place made him feel a different sense of familiarity and family that Peter cherished deeply.

Happy parked the car, and they walked inside together. Mr. Stark was kind enough the greet them at the door.

“Kid! Good to see you, how you been, huh?” His arm draped over Peter’s shoulder, and he couldn’t help but stutter while his eyes shied away. “I’ve been good, Mr. Stark,” Peter answered. Happy trailed behind, eventually breaking off to place Peter’s bags in the room designated for him.

“Good,” Tony responded. He looked to be enjoying his time, too. He was wearing his signature suit, but also had his high-tech, multi-billion-dollar sunglasses on. Peter wondered what compelled him to continuously create. “We got work to do,” Tony said, leading Peter into the elevator after waving at Betty, the receptionist.

“You’ll be staying next to Vision, alright. You won’t mind. He’s really working hard on not going through walls that are bedrooms. You can do some training - if you’d like, but we’re for sure gonna work on that little Spider-Man suit of yours.” Peter simply nodded as Tony waved his hands around as he spoke. When the doors opened, Peter was created to what seemed like the living space of the compound. Though he’s met them all before, this was really the first time he was staying with them all as though they were one big, happy family.

Tony grabbed the attention of all the Avengers. They all greeted Peter kindly. He knew they viewed him just as the kid he was, and appreciated the protection he gave the city of New York. Despite being relatively comfortable, Peter fumbled over his words as he greeted everyone. Steve just laughed and went back to reading his newspaper, and the rest didn’t pay much mind to his nervous attitude.

“Well!” Tony started as he looked at Peter, “I’ll catch you in my lab in say, ten minutes? Let you unpack and everything?” Peter nodded quietly and smiled as Tony gave him one last pat on the shoulder before walking off and saying something to Friday.

For the day, Peter spent the majority of his time with Mr. Stark. They listened to music they both enjoyed and tested out new prototypes for his new suit. Peter loved every second. He never thought he’d feel this connection once his Uncle Ben died, but Peter was grateful that he was wrong. At the end of the day, the Avengers joined together to have a meal and discuss amongst each other. By then, Peter had warmed up once more and laughed as Mr. Stark made jokes, and the rest of the team responded. Yes, he was most certainly happy.

After dinner, Mr. Stark wanted Peter to try out the changes in his suit.

“You go ahead and get changed and then go hang out in the living room. I’m gonna go grab some stuff from my lab.” Tony closed the door to Peter’s room, his footsteps fading. Peter looked around the room. It was somewhat bland, but Mr. Stark said that Peter could decorate however he wanted. He wasn’t planning on asking Mr. Stark to buy anything for him, of course. But he did plan on bringing in some of his Star Wars posters and other things of his. Peter shook his head and attempted to regain his focus. He stripped down to just his boxers and slipped on his suit. Though baggy at first, he pressed the center spider, and the suit lost all bagginess - hugging his form so that it became a spandex-like material.

When Peter entered the living room, he was alone. His phone buzzed, and he looked at the message. Ned texted him. “Send me cool pictures of the Avengers base!” it read. Peter laughed, sent him an eye-rolling emoji jokingly, and put his phone away. He looked back up at the tall, wide windows. It was dark outside. He looked at the clock and saw that it was just past nine. He took in the view of the sky. Clear and scattered with stars, he inhaled the sight. After all, it wasn’t every day he saw constellations and stars brighter than city lights. The city was much too polluted for that.

“Pretty, right?” Peter jumped and turned. He felt a sense of deja vu from earlier. Nonetheless, he nodded and walked towards Mr. Stark. “Yeah. Sucks we can’t see it in the city.” Tony shrugged. “It’s the little things that you don’t always have that make you love it so much more.” Peter smiled and agreed. “Yeah, you’re right, Mr. Stark.”

Tony smiled back. It was quiet for a moment. Peter opened his mouth to speak until suddenly, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. His eyes widened. Tony seemed oblivious, though. “What is it, kid?” He asked. Peter didn’t answer, but his senses were tingling. No, they were spazzing.

Tony, realized the dexterity of Peter’s anxiety, stepped forward. Suddenly, the floor began to rumble. Peter crouched slightly, bending his knees, preparing to fight. There was no enemy, though. His senses told him to look up, and Tony followed suit. In the middle of the ceiling was what seemed to be a forming black hole. Literally a black hole. Shades of blue and purple poked out from the sides, and it appeared as though it were glitching - but the crater continued to expand.

“What is that?” Peter questioned, his voice reaching an octave higher in panic. Objects in the room began to levitate. “Peter!” Tony yelled. The couch, TV, TV stand, coffee table, and lamps were suddenly in the air - and so was Peter. He searched around in a panic, looking for anything to latch to. Tony reached out his hand, but Peter was scrambling, and no matter how hard Tony pulled, he wouldn’t come down. Tony himself was shaken to his core in fear. He had no idea what the hole was or where it came from, but he couldn’t lose Peter.

The vacuum of space pulled Peter faster. He shot his web-shooters in at the floor, trying to pull himself back to the ground. “Mr. Stark! I- I can’t pull myself - I can’t--!” He was cut off as he suddenly was sucked into the vacuum, his web snapping and his body vanishing.

The objects fell onto the floor, and Tony blinked with his mouth open in shock.

Meanwhile, Peter screamed as he felt his body misshaping itself. He opened his eyes for a split second and saw colors all around his glitching as though they were static. He had nothing to grab onto. It felt as though he were falling forward if that were even possible. Then, he felt his body, including his face, hit something hard - it felt like cement. He stopped screaming, his throat sore. He bounced between hitting the pavement and being in the air, but he couldn’t pull himself together quick enough to see where he could shoot his webs. Then, he slammed into a pole and stopped moving.

Peter groaned, slumped over for just a moment before trying to stand up properly. He rubbed his eyes. Looking down at himself, he was still in his Spider-Man suit. The new one, he and Mr. Stark, had been working on. Peter glanced around. Quickly, he realized he was in Manhattan. Times Square it seemed like. Only something felt different. He felt like he was in the wrong place. He was, to his knowledge. He was supposed to be in upstate New York at the Avengers Compound with Mr. Stark. Then, his eyes landed on the large monitor placed on the tall skyscraper. After seeing the screen, Peter was beyond confused.

On the monitor with a photo of what appeared to be Spider-Man, although it wasn’t Spider-Man. It was, but it couldn’t have been because he was Spider-Man. Next to the photo was a man similar-looking to Peter - yet he was blonde-haired and blue-eyed with a freshly growing back beard. Then, as he read the caption, Peter’s heart dropped.

“Peter Parker, also known as Spider-Man, dies at 26.”

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marzipan-lady-art · 6 years ago

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Your OG character designs are just abolsutely stunning! Where would you say your inspiration for them comes from?

Thank you so much! I’m glad you like them!

It’s a long story.

It all started almost 6 years ago - I was listening to Disney and french musicals songs. I imagined a story of two characters who came from two different worlds - one of them was royal the other was some kind of a forest creature.

They got their real shapes when I read The Darth Bane trilogy - there were two Jedi masters: Farfalla and Hoth. They were completely opposites - Farfalla was beautiful and lean while Hoth was strong and harsh - and because I’m a fan of contrast I decided to somehow use it.

I didn’t want to draw fanarts of them because even though I’m a fan of Star Wars I don’t feel very well in creating something in this universe - so I made my ocs based on these two. The songs from Romeo et Juliette really helped in creating their world as well as The Prince of Egypt story for the brothers’ feud and a little of greek mythology for this universe’s myths.

Because I really love Farfalla’s name (it’s Italian word for butterfly) I decided to choose Italian words for characters’ names - Uccello, Orso, Fata, Alba, Pavone, etc.

When it goes to the title The Golden Cages it comes from this verse ‘brûler nos prisons dorées‘ (burn our golden prisons) from one of the Mozart l’Opera Rock songs. I changed ‘Prisons’ for ‘Cages’ simply for symbolism - Uccello means ‘bird’ and everyone try to protect him and somehow close him in these ‘golden cages’.

They looks evolded through time of course as well as the main story, I still remember when it was so short it took 5 minutes to tell it, and when Uccello didn’t have depression.

The Golden Cages are still in progress but you can read the (unfinished) prologue here.

SORRY ITS SO LONG I WANTED TO EXPLAIN EVERYTHING BC ITS ALL IMPORTANT

#ask #anon #The Golden Cages

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jet-engine · 6 years ago

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I read the story “What You Are in the Dark” and I like it! I think Meta Knight is in character and the concept is interesting. I want to read more please.

I’m so glad you liked the prologue! It occurs to me that I may have been a little overly cautious when I posted all those trigger warnings, as some of them don’t actually happen to Meta Knight and others may not happen at all, but better safe than sorry.

While we’re on the topic, this may be a good time to discuss how I portray Meta Knight in my works. So, let’s talk about this crazy borb!

Childhood and Growing Up

I don’t want to say too much about this one since we’ll get into detail about this in the first chapter, but young Meta was raised by a single mother (his father died when he was a baby) on their family’s farm on the planet Light Star. I feel like Meta was probably a lot more laid-back and optimistic before the war. There’s a reason for that but…spoilers.

Going into the first few chapters, expect Meta’s character to be less “edge lord with a silly streak” and more “adventurer trapped in an introverted farm boy’s body.”

I also gave him a love of nursery rhymes and fairy tales - which was kind of an accident but I’m gonna roll with it - due to growing up with his mom telling him these stories and singing him these songs.

The Dark Wars

Again, can’t say much due to spoilers. If you’re familiar with Meta Knight’s backstory in the anime, specifically Garlude and Jecra, then you’ll at least have some idea of what’s to come.

Over the course of What You Are in the Dark, you’ll see Meta slowly turn into the stoic knight you’re familiar with. I feel like most of this transition will occur during the war. I mean, seeing all your closest friends die and there’s nothing you can do to save them? That would harden anyone, I think.

My Meta Knight is hard on himself. He always has been but it wasn’t that bad until the war and PTSD kicked in. At some point, he becomes so sick of bad things happening that when they do happen and he feels they could have been prevented, he blames himself. He’ll even lash out in more extreme cases.

Also, this story may be the anime-verse, but Meta Knight will have his crew from the video games. I don’t want to say too much, but Sailor Dee is the first one he meets and is also the one he is closest to.

Sword Knight and Blade Knight

In Japan, Sword and Blade are teenagers when they first meet Meta Knight. I kept this detail for my own works. I like to think that Meta Knight sort of raised them and considers them his sons but he refuses to acknowledge that he feels that way.

There was a little discussion here on Tumblr (might have to reblog it again if I can find it) about how crucial Sword and Blade are to Meta Knight’s character. Think about it. Meta lost canonically lost everyone he cared about. Then, those two try to rob him show up, and suddenly he’s no longer alone.

And, the relationship works both ways, because in my works Sword and Blade were orphaned at a young age. Now Meta Knight is there and they suddenly have someone they consider a father. They wouldn’t be so quick to tell him that, but he is their dad and they are his children and one couldn’t function without the other and God I love these dorks.

Present-Day

The Meta Knight we’re familiar with has PTSD, and doesn’t struggle as much as he used to but still struggles. After all the things he’s seen and done, the friends he’s lost, he has a hard time opening up to people and remembering that it’s okay to show weakness and that he’s only human (figuratively speaking).

He has a big heart. He’s not very good at showing it, but he’s trying his best. Mostly, though, he just wants to be left alone with his books and his small circle of friends.

And, remember the fairy tale and nursery rhyme thing? He still enjoys them. He has books about them and has seen every movie based on them. These stories help him relax, which he needs because he’s kind of a walking stress ball at times.

So yeah, that’s kind of all you folks need to know about Meta Knight at this point in time. Hope you liked my little rant!

#Kirby #Kirby Right Back at Ya #Meta Knight #Sword and Blade #fanfiction #headcanon #What You Are in the Dark #asks #could probably also mark this as #screenshots #other people's art

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anghraine · 6 years ago

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“whatever we deny or embrace” - part one

I just saw a screed about the evils of genderbending, which reminded me to update the final (“final”) version of the queer AU!

title: whatever we deny or embrace verse: queer Rogue One/f!Cassian AU (2/6) characters: Baze Malbus, Chirrut Îmwe, Cassian Andor, Jyn Erso, Kaytoo; Chirrut/Baze, Jyn/Cassian stuff that happens: Baze and Chirrut both love Jyn from the start. It’s Baze, though, who likes Cassia. After Eadu, that’s a problem. previous sections: prologue

PART ONE

“Does he look like a killer?”

“No. He has the face of a friend.”

If asked, Baze could not have explained what he saw in Cassia Andor’s face. It was sharp, hard, unsmiling, her gaze alternately suspicious or vacant. Not friendly by any stretch of the imagination. Nor was she friendly; at best, she snapped out commands without pausing to question whether they would be obeyed.

The face was attractive, but that had never been something to sway him. Certainly not in a woman. Her half-shy, wholly charmed looks at Jyn went further, snuck throughout the long week to Eadu.

Within those few days, he cared about Jyn as much as he had anyone but Chirrut. Baze made quick judgments and lived by them, and his snap judgment of Jyn was of a quiet firebrand fighting to survive without losing herself. He couldn’t have seen more of himself in her had she been his sister by blood. In Jyn’s circumstances, he would have been—Jyn. But in his own, he had Chirrut, and she had no one. Without thinking too much about it, he found himself sticking near her in silent solidarity.

Not quite as much as the captain did, however. The two girls constantly hovered together, amorphously concerned and not appearing to much notice.

(“Women,” Chirrut corrected, and Baze scoffed in the face of his evident amusement.

“Children, the lot of them.”)

From his supportive lurk, he couldn’t have missed Cassia’s stolen glances had he tried. He wasn’t sure how Jyn managed it, in fact. But in fairness, Cassia—who rarely missed anything—seemed no less oblivious to Jyn’s stares.

(“We’re watching a farce,” he grumbled.

“I’m not watching anything,” said Chirrut.)

Then, they reached the Imperial facility on Eadu, and … well. That happened. Baze sided with Jyn as far as he did anyone; she wasn’t right, exactly, but he remembered the bodies of the Temple’s dead too well to blame her. Cassia could spare some modicum of pity for a woman she had exploited, a woman whose father had just died in her arms. Still, it didn’t alter his opinion of Cassia, either. He remembered, too, those last years as a Guardian, clinging to unbending faith under the grip of the Empire. That kind of conviction was not a forgiving thing, and it burnt at both ends.

Captain Andor had not burned up yet, but she was well on her way. Baze knew the signs; he’d been there, and found only Chirrut on the other side. She would find what? The droid? More than Jyn had, to be sure—except Jyn had herself, stubbornly whole. Cassia, cool and clear-headed, seemed a creature of fragments.

“The face of a friend, eh?” Chirrut asked that night, because he always had to have the last word.

Baze thought of just agreeing—he was tired, long day, they only had three days more to the Rebellion, which he did not recall volunteering for—but his soul revolted.

“Yes,” he said firmly. “You’re the one who said she carries a prison with her.”

Chirrut sobered. “She does. I’m sorry for her. But this woman is more dangerous for that, not less. It doesn’t make her a friend.”

“She’s a nice girl,” insisted Baze, halfheartedly pretending that most of his attention lay with unwrapping his repeater cannon. He had space for it. On both ships, Cassia had consigned them to the one set of full quarters available—unnecessarily, but he wasn’t about to give it up to any of these twenty-something children. “They both are, underneath.”

“Far underneath,” Chirrut said. True enough. “The captain, anyway. That nice girl just about put a blaster bolt through an innocent man’s head.”

“So have I,” said Baze.

To his immense satisfaction, his husband had no answer to that. Baze, who could not care less about Galen Erso in himself, undressed and crawled into bed in an excellent mood. He closed his eyes, vaguely soothed by the clatter of Chirrut’s staff and the rustle of his robes as he tossed them aside. He’d always been incurably careless.

Baze was just drifting off when Chirrut spoke again.

“I hope you’re right.”

Longing for sleep, he grunted. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“They have choices waiting for them at the Rebel base, both of them.”

“Probably,” said Baze.

“Choices that could change the galaxy.”

He opened his eyes just so he could roll them. “Uh-huh. Go to sleep.”

All right, he didn’t believe Chirrut’s nonsense. Awake, though, he knew only too well that this Death Star business was galaxy-changing. They had to bring that thing down. That meant Jyn had to play nice with the Alliance, and Cassia had to back her up. He certainly didn’t pretend that his or Chirrut’s word would go far, much less an Imperial pilot’s. And the droid would tear out its own wiring if Cassia told it to.

Both women had choices to make, after a fashion. It didn’t require any Force delusion to see that. And both choices seemed somewhat uncertain prospects at the moment. Jyn and Cassia spent the two days after their fight sulking on opposite ends of the shuttle.

Not that they said so. Jyn sat in the quiet, meditating with her crystal. Cassia talked over hyperspace lanes with Bodhi and K-2SO, and calculated coordinates.

Sulking.

Chirrut mumbled some absurdity about them finding their own paths in their own ways. But nobody had time for that. Baze stalked around the shuttle, never eager for conversation, less eager for the one somebody needed to have with their fearless leaders. When he ran into Cassia’s droid, it was almost a relief.

“Baze Malbus,” K-2SO intoned. “You have walked the same route seven times in the last hour.”

Baze didn’t bother responding.

With a distinct note of irritation, it added, “Is this merely a pointless waste of time and energy, or do you expect to achieve something by it? I can tell you that the odds—”

Ignoring this, he said abruptly, “Can you tell me the odds of the captain apologizing?”

Its eyes flashed, recalibrating. “That depends on more factors than you could contemplate.”

“And?”

“Without additional input, nineteen percent in generic circumstances. That number does not incorporate data relating to espionage activities. I assumed you only referred to her present role.”

“That’s right,” Baze allowed.

“Of course.”

“And how likely is an apology to Jyn?”

The droid managed to infuse deep indignation into the slight shift of its head. “What for?”

Baze and K-2SO stared at each other for long seconds. Finally acknowledging that he was unlikely to outwait a droid, Baze said,

“Galen Erso’s death.”

“Cassia did not end his life,” said K-2SO. “In violation of a directive from the acting head of Rebel Intelligence, I might add. If Jyn Erso cannot grasp that fact, it is her failure, not Cassia’s. I rate the chance of the captain apologizing at four percent.”

“That’s your analysis? Or a hunch?”

“I am a strategic analysis droid,” K-2SO snapped, its usual slouch straightening up. “I do not have hunches. Not that you deserve the details, but three percent is the margin of error I allowed for unknown variables. The raw probability is one percent. Rounded up.”

Baze eyed it skeptically.

The droid said, “Apologies indicate regret.”

“The captain likes what she does?” From what he’d seen of her, he found that extremely unlikely. Even Chirrut knew better—well, particularly Chirrut.

“It seems that your ears are decaying with your brain cells,” said K-2SO. “I did not say that. But she does not regret anything that furthers the aims of the Rebellion. She certainly does not think she should waste our valuable time and power sources on useless guilt.” Unnecessarily, it added, “And neither do I.”

“Surprise,” Baze muttered. “So how, exactly, was Erso’s death going to further the aims of the Rebellion?”

K-2SO paused. “It wasn’t. That’s why she didn’t do it.”

And Jyn had nothing to do with it. Sure. But he didn’t feel the need to hear Jyn or himself insulted by a hunk of metal and grease, so he only replied,

“You’re telling me that she’s got nothing in that prison of hers that isn’t for the Rebellion?”

“I don’t know what you mean by prison,” said the droid, primly. “The Empire has never caught us. But she does not do anything that isn’t for the Rebellion.”

“Never?” asked Baze, out of purely disinterested motives that had nothing to do with another young woman on the shuttle. He cleared his throat. “She doesn’t watch out for anyone unless they’re useful?”

The droid tilted its head. “Why would she?”

“Then nobody’s going to be watching out for her when she isn’t,” he said.

It managed to draw itself up into further heights of indignation. “Cassia is always useful. And she has me. I am superior to any collection of organic matter.” Muttering to itself, K-2SO swivelled and stalked off.

A jealous droid. Wonderful.

Unfortunately, Baze suspected that its judgment of their captain could be trusted. Jyn, the injured party, had a much better chance of hearing good sense.

Hearing was perhaps an overstatement. He wandered to her end of the shuttle, and stationed himself in her general vicinity. Neither said anything for a good ten minutes, though the stiff line of Jyn’s shoulders relaxed. A little.

“He must have had all sorts of information,” she said at last.

Baze eyed her from his corner. “Eh?”

“My father,” said Jyn, quite conversationally. “Imagine all the things he could have passed onto the Rebellion. Do you suppose she ever thought of that?”

“Perhaps,” he replied. The Force couldn’t be real. If it were, surely he would not be having this conversation. “Maybe it’s why she didn’t take the shot.”

Jyn’s eyes settled on him, hard and focused. “Did she send you?”

“No,” said Baze. Then he scowled. “Nobody sends me anywhere.”

Though she remained impenetrably grave, the wariness in her face faded. “Someone should let Chirrut know.”

Baze snorted.

They fell silent again, more comfortable with quiet companionship than speech. Beyond that, no sure approach came to Baze’s mind. Another few minutes passed before either roused themselves to speech.

“So you believe her?” Jyn asked.

“Yes,” said Baze. He would have left it at that, would very much have liked to leave it at that, but at Jyn’s ambivalent scowl, forced himself on. “I’ve seen the captain upset before, in Gerrera’s cell. But she kept a cool head.” Until she realized Jyn might get crushed to death, anyway. “She didn’t at Eadu. She was angry, unreasonable. Something shook her.”

Jyn exhaled. Tucking the crystal away, she said, “I suppose so. It could have been what happened, though. It was chaos down there.”

“She’s an assassin, Jyn,” said Baze, as kindly as he knew how. “For a cause, but—a Rebel spy. For decades, if we can trust her that far.”

Her mouth twisted. “So what’s one more dead Imperial to her?”

“I didn’t say that,” he replied, though … yes. Pretty much. “Back in our cell, she told us that she’d never been in one before. If that’s true, she’s good at what she does. Very good. A raid on an Imperial facility wouldn’t rattle her. But she was rattled.”

“Orders,” muttered Jyn. “That’s what she said.” She sounded unimpressed, but not as uncompromising as before.

Maybe.

“She’s a good soldier girl,” Baze agreed dryly. It was true enough, though; Cassia seemed to receive and deliver orders with equal intention of seeing them carried out. “I don’t imagine they’d keep her in the field if she weren’t.”

Jyn flinched. But she said in her usual firm tone, “No place for rebels in the Rebellion?”

“They keep their secrets close, everyone knows that.” He folded his arms, knowing he stood on shaky ground and disliking it. “Their spies know enough to carry out orders, and I’d bet not a drop more, unless they run over it themselves. Rogue pilots, maybe. Rogue spies, no.”

“Cassia knew more,” she insisted. “She was the one with the intel this time.”

Baze, following his instincts, kept his mouth shut.

“If that’s why she didn’t shoot—” Jyn paused, hands and lips compressed.

He didn’t risk a direct answer. “For what it’s worth, the droid’s opinion is that she decided your father’s death wouldn’t help the Rebellion.”

Jyn, given the opportunity to deflect onto K-2SO’s many failings, ignored it. She stared up at him with pale cheeks and wide green eyes, looking impossibly young.

“That would mean that Cassia believed me. Believed that Father didn’t deserve to die. She didn’t … she … ”

“Captain Andor is the only one who can answer that,” said Baze.

Jyn didn’t seem to hear. “If she trusts me, then—they’ll listen if she backs me up. Her commanding officer’s a general, and the leader of the Rebellion introduced her to me. We have to get those plans.”

With some skepticism, Baze listened to the exact conclusion he’d hoped she would reach. “True.”

“And …”

Jyn seemed content to let the sentence trail into the infinity of space. He cleared his throat again.

“And?”

Colour flooded her cheeks. She tilted her chin up, hope and determination hardening over her face.

“Trust goes both ways.”

Baze had the good sense to leave Jyn to her epiphany. Considerably more doubtful about Cassia’s end of the business, he arrived in the cockpit to find Bodhi gone and Chirrut perched in the co-pilot’s seat, amidst various switches and signals and technological paraphernalia. He looked both ridiculous and smug, and Cassia more haunted than usual.

“What did you do to the pilot?”

“Nothing,” said Chirrut virtuously. “The poor man fell asleep.”

Cassia lifted her gaze to Baze. “Bodhi just about collapsed once he had nothing more to do. He’s had a long few weeks.”

“One way of putting it,” muttered Baze.

“I know these routes, anyway,” she went on, “so I can manage well enough from here.”

Remembering their escape from the Death Star’s destruction, he said, “Right. Where’d you stash him?”

“The captain carried him to a bunk,” said Chirrut. He tapped his staff against the floor, the familiar rhythm both irritating and soothing. “I didn’t see it.”

Baze rolled his eyes. Chirrut aside, he couldn’t envision it. Bodhi Rook might not be a large man, but neither was Cassia Andor a large woman. At most, she stood at the tallish end of average, a good few inches shorter than Baze. He suspected she’d lost muscle mass lately—all her regulation clothes hung on her—but her frame would never have been anything but narrow.

“Carried?”

“He was still conscious,” Cassia said. “More or less. I helped him.”

Unperturbed, Chirrut smiled. “The captain is stronger than she seems.”

Cassia slanted him a wary glance. Since Baze would have felt exactly the same in her position, and often did in his own, he let it pass.

Behind him, the door to the cockpit slid open. He half-expected the pilot had already woken, but no: it was Jyn. Good.

Maybe good.

Jyn slouched into the chamber. She didn’t seem to have thought beyond that; for one long and intensely uncomfortable moment, she and Cassia just stared at each other.

“Any news?” she said.

“No,” said Cassia, her gaze not so much as twitching from Jyn. She wet her lip. “There won’t be, barring a disaster.”

“Good, then.” Utterly stoic, Jyn folded her arms. “Nothing from the Force either, Chirrut?”

The Force doesn’t work that way, Baze almost said, but closed his mouth on it. It wouldn’t work that way if it were real, which it wasn’t.

“No,” Chirrut said. With a tap of his staff, he rose to his feet, while choices that could change the galaxy ran through Baze’s head. Chirrut had his own concept of truth. “Thank you for your time, captain. I enjoyed our conversation.”

“I’m delighted,” said Cassia, dryly.

Chirrut beamed in her direction nevertheless, nodded in Jyn’s, and headed to the door. Without a word, Baze trailed after him, only pausing once to glance back.

Jyn had flung herself into the co-pilot’s seat, the rigid set of her shoulders just visible from the angle of the chair. Cassia remained in her own seat, her body stiffly upright, and the entirety of it tilted towards Jyn.

The girls might be all right, after all.

“You ‘enjoyed your conversation’ with the captain,” Baze said, once they accumulated a good distance from the cockpit. They’d never lost money underestimating Imperial craftsmanship.

Chirrut, graceful as ever, seated himself on the nearest bench.

“We had a nice talk.”

“I thought you didn’t like her,” said Baze.

“I never said that.” Chirrut leaned his head against the wall of the shuttle and smiled. Of course he did.

With nothing better to do, Baze sunk onto the bench beside him. It occurred to him that Bodhi was asleep somewhere, Jyn and Cassia busy brooding at each other in the cockpit, the droid off doing whatever it was that it did. There was nobody here to draw conclusions or scent vulnerability. Not that Jyn and Cassia … well, they’d see about Jyn and Cassia. If they all lived long enough.

Very casually, he slung his arm about Chirrut’s shoulders.

“You’re an old fool,” he said gruffly.

Chirrut, not bothering with subtlety, leaned against him. “You should know.”

#anghraine's fic #the queer rogue one fic #/#//#///#////#baze malbus #cassian andor #jyn erso #kaytoo #chirrut îmwe #chirrut x baze #otp: welcome home #star wars #genderbending #long post #whatever we deny or embrace

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winterbaby89 · 8 years ago

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As Destiny Has Its Eyes On You Chapter 3/?

Thank you to the lovely @hollyethecurious for making this collage for my birthday week reblogs.

Summary: Princess Emma Swan of Misthaven has been prophesied as the Savior since before her birth. Now with the help of a Lieutenant from her past she is going to take her destiny into her own hands, to defeat the Evil Queen.

A/N: This is a MC story inspired by ’Destiny has it’s eyes on you’ by the lovely @seriouslyhooked on Tumblr (EmilyBea on FF).

@ilovemesomekillianjones on Tumblr (AO3, and FF) has graciously agreed to be my beta on this entire project.

This story will eventually cross over into ‘M’ territory. I hope you enjoy, and if you haven’t read the works from these lovely ladies, I highly recommend you do so.

Line breaks indicate a change in POV or Scene

Chapters 1-4 are based on chapters 1&2 of ‘Destiny Has It’s Eyes on You’

**This chapter is a collaboration between EmilyBea and I.**

AO3 FF.net Prologue/Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chapter 3

The next morning Emma stands at the railing on deck looking out into the great blue beyond, deep in thought. She doesn't worry for her safety, her magic and training will always be enough to keep her safe, but she also feels that Killian's men can be trusted. If he allows them on his ship, they too must ascribe to his sense of honor.

She'd risen just before dawn, fresh and ready for a new day, and made her way to the upper deck. First thing this morning, she'd met Killian's first mate, a funny little man, if a bit nervous. It took a little prodding for him to say more than 'yes princess' or 'no princess,' but they'd gotten there.

He'd apologized for their lack of breakfast offerings, but they were missing a proper cook on this voyage since illness had seized their usual man in the last port. Emma in turn had convinced him to let her help with the meal, and while he'd first denied her, he eventually yielded. She’d also met their deck hand Pip, who’s really still just a boy, but had been assigned to preparing their food in the meantime. He'd been terrified to see her at first, and clearly confused by the fact that she wasn't regally dressed. He’d been grateful as she showed him all the little tricks she knew to making an easy but tasty meal with the means they had.

"Beg your pardon, princess, but how do you know how to cook?"

Emma laughed at his question. "I've always felt very strongly that those who delight in eating should understand how their food is made, titled or not. Besides, as far as rebellion goes, this was a pretty safe one in my parents’ eyes. At least I wasn't …" Emma trailed off, realizing that they might see this as the ultimate rebellion.

"Running off with a horde of pirates?"

Emma looked at Pip and gave a small smile, before setting him up with the rest of what he'd need and returned above deck.

Now she is here, coming to terms with the choice she's made. There’s no turning back now, even knowing her parents will be sick with worry.

"Hardly the ensemble I’d expect of a princess." Killian's voice, thick with tension and appreciation, pulls her from the remorseful thoughts, and when their eyes meet she feels the full force of her attraction to him. He is gorgeous, truly the most handsome man I’ve ever met, even if he's forsaken the clean crisp colors of his navy for the black of a pirate's life. In the light of day, she sees that his hair is shorter than it had been, and that he has bulked up from the lankiness of youth. In his eyes, she sees a heated sincerity so striking it steals her breath away, and she wants nothing more than to let herself succumb. Still she has to be strong, and keep her mission paramount. To break away from the pull he has over her, she looks down at her own outfit, smiling.

"Seemed more reasonable for what's to come. I can hardly help with a petticoat and fine silk dress on."

He is surprised by her answer and crosses his arms over his chest, one eyebrow climbing up his forehead. "I can't have a princess working on my ship, love."

The way he says the word, even if it is offhandedly, causes her pulse to quicken. She’s imagined him saying that word to her so many times, she can't deny the word’s power coming from his lips. Love is a dangerous word to my sanity, coming from the lips of Killian Jones, she thinks. "Sorry to disappoint you Captain, but you already have. Did you not like your breakfast?"

"Bloody hell. I should have known there was no way Pip got that good overnight!"

The way he seems actually angry makes Emma laugh, but she holds her ground putting a hand on her hip.

"I'll take that as a compliment. Trust me, you don't just want me as a passenger." His eyes flash with that heat again and she nearly steps closer, but she holds back. "I'm smarter than I look and I’m a fast learner."

At that he moves forward where she'd been afraid to before. Moving a bit of her hair out of her eyes, he speaks in a lower tone this time. "There is nothing about your looks that say you lack intelligence, Princess."

She expected seduction, but what she got was more than that. There, in those tones was the boy she'd known before, sweet and kind. "So you'll let me help?"

"I hardly think I have a choice. Correct me if I'm wrong, but you're still the same lass you once were, headstrong and determined, yes?"

She nods.

"Then there'll be no stopping you."

"There's no need to look so defeated, Killian. A couple months with me at your service won't be that much of a hardship." Too late she realizes she has said his first name out loud again, instead of calling him Captain. The connection between them is palpable, and his eyes search hers for something she doesn’t fully understand.

"It'll be a change, love, and not an easy one. I'm no longer the lad you once knew." She sees the pain he tries to hide under hard words, but she doesn't draw attention. She doesn't want him to feel exposed, knowing herself how mortifying that can be.

"Maybe, but I think under all the leather and the swagger he might still be in there."

That gives Killian an out that he takes readily, grinning at her. "Noticed those changes too, did you love? Perhaps you also noticed my roguish charm and dashing good looks." His voice makes her hot, but she decides a retort is safer, and just so much more fun.

"Well I've certainly noticed that your ego is fitting for a fearsome pirate captain."

He laughs at that before stepping away, presumably to check on things elsewhere, but first he instructs Mr. Smee to keep his eye on her and find her some sort of occupation. With a final look at her, he takes his leave.

Emma feels a piece of her heart go with him.

A Couple Days Later

Life as a princess has never felt particularly genuine. Yes, there are amazing moments, opportunities that she would never give up for anything. But nothing has ever compared to how life on the open ocean feels, it is an awakening. The wind, the waves, and the vastness of the clear blue waters all around them… it is breathtaking and invigorating. Out here, thoughts of destiny and impending battle stay far away, as if this pirate ship is protected against the outside world. Yes, she is still 'the princess' to everyone aboard, but she also has room to breathe and prove that she can be more than her title. After a life in the spotlight, under the careful watch of everyone she’s ever known, this way of living is incredible.

"Are you sure you can …"

Before the sailor speaking can finish the question, Emma completes the intricate knot before her, securing the sail in its necessary place. The maneuver should have taken twice that time, but Emma is well versed in the technical workings of ships, despite not having much tangible experience. The man stares at her slack jawed, Emma only smiles in return. This has become a running theme on the ship over the last couple days.

"I think I can manage, thank you."

He nods shakily, giving her a half sort of bow and scurries off along the deck.

An airy chuckle behind her, more boyish than manly alerts her to Pip's appearance.

"You really showed him, Princess."

Emma tilts her head, proud of herself if that is the case, but she notices a bit of wonder in the young boy’s eyes, along with the humor. "Has anyone taught you how to do this yet?"

Pip looks around quickly before shaking his head ‘no’.

"Well, I could show you, if you'd like to learn."

He moves forward eagerly, stepping up to the ropes beside her as she demonstrates the intricate over and under maneuvers needed to make the sailor's star.

"Like this?" he asks a few minutes later.

Emma nods, excited that he’s learning so quickly. It had taken her so much longer to learn this knot’s intricate weaving especially with the coarseness of the rope on the weathered ship. Pip really is a natural born sailor if this is any indication. "That's it, you've got it!"

The younger boy's excitement matches her own, and Emma feels a sense of accomplishment at having taught someone else a useful skill. Usually she’s the one in lessons, but this is just as exciting as mastering a new spell.

"Quite the teacher you are, Princess."

That voice. Those silky tones filtering through the air shoot straight through Emma's chest. She doesn't even need to see Killian to feel this sizzling attraction to him, but when she does, the sensation is only amplified. That black leather, those intense blue eyes, and perpetually windswept hair. He is intoxicating, and it is all she can do to keep from giving that away. Instead she regards him with friendliness and banter. Maybe it will continue to work as it has the past couple days.

"Thank you Captain. I have very little practice with it, but I find I rather like it." It nearly takes her breath away when he grins at her. Where she’s trying to hide any feelings of heat and desire, Killian has taken the opposite approach. His charm and innuendo only increase, but the cockiness and grandeur make her question his sincerity. Is he feeling the pull between us as much as I am? Or is the man he's become simply predisposed to such flirtations?

"Give me a minute alone with the princess, lad."

Pip nods, leaving immediately. As soon as he’s gone, Emma watches the subtle change in Killian's features. He stands a little straighter, his eyes soften, and when he speaks it washes across her skin like a caress.

"So where does a princess learn so much about the sea? Perhaps another sailor in your acquaintance ..."

"And if there is?" She doesn’t expect her joke to cause tension in his jaw, and she hates the flash of sadness in his eyes. "No, there isn’t,” she amends quickly. “Honestly, I read about it. For a long time all I read were almanacs and sailor's guides and stories about the sea."

"An awful lot in the palace library on seafarers?"

Emma shakes her head. "Actually less than you might think. My family likes to keep their inquiries land bound. But a friend of mine in another kingdom loves reading and as soon as I showed any interest, she sent me dozens of titles that I simply 'had to read'."

"There's a big difference between reading about such things and doing them, though."

"True. I suspect it's the sheer volume of material I read. Some things were bound to stick." Like how most sailors stay out on the open seas for months at a time, and because of it they are less likely to marry and have children. Or how people at home can keep a sailor safe with different rituals. She had practiced a few of those herself since they'd parted years ago.

"You found a fascination for it, then?"

She nods, tearing her gaze away from him to look out at the ocean. She prays he can't hear her rapid heart rate or see the flush that she can feel sweeping across her cheeks. "Can you blame me? You spent so much time talking about it, making it seem like the most wonderful place in the world. You said this ship was your home. So you, more than anyone, should understand everything there is to love about it." When he hasn't responded after a few moments, she feels she can't look away any longer. When she returns her gaze to Killian, he isn't staring at the sea, his gaze is fixed on her. He seems about to say something, when a call from the bow tears their attention apart. The moment now stolen, she fears not ever knowing what that look was for, but she understands he has responsibilities.

Actually it is for the best, this isn't some sort of grand adventure. I’m here for a reason, a mission, one that is dangerous and more than a little reckless. I need to keep my head about me, and maybe put some distance between us. When the time comes to face the Evil Queen, I need a clear head and uncompromised heart. Emma tries to convince herself of these things, even as her heart is torn in a different direction.

Part of her parents’ downfall when it came to the Queen, at least according to speculation, is that their love blinded them. Emma could well believe it. At different times they'd had their chances to end the war, and remove Regina from power, but they were never willing to risk the other or their family for anything. She respects that fierce devotion of love, longs for that kind of love.

But I can't afford those kinds of ties, at least not until I am freed of this fate.

To distract herself from the flurry of feelings that swirl inside, Emma resumes her work about the ship. She slips below deck to the galley to find Pip and helps him with more of the meal preparation. She talks with the boy for hours, learning more about his life and his origins. He was an orphan, born in a kingdom she has heard of but never seen. Though his life had always been hard, he has fond memories, and to Emma, that is one of the most awe inspiring things about him – even in the face of a less than happy beginning, he has found the silver lining. That belief in the good makes Emma's attachment to Pip stronger, probably because it reminds her so much of her family's propensity for holding onto hope. She can't help but think that her mother and father especially would love the young boy. Perhaps that is why she answers one of his more intrusive questions with honesty.

"Do you like being a princess?" he asks, not sensing until too late that the question might be awkward.

Rather than make him feel bad, Emma offers him a smile and the honest truth. "I love being a member of my family, my parents and my brother mean everything to me. The people in my kingdom are good and kind, I don’t believe I could be prouder of any other place in the world. It is difficult to be what everyone wants and expects and stay true to myself. I think the simplest way to describe the plight of royalty is to say there are other things I want that don’t fit the expectation of the royal life."

Pip nods sympathetically, as if the words are understandable and not selfish complaining. "I think all anyone can do is follow their code. Captain always says a man without honor is not a man. Pirate or prince."

Emma smiles at that, liking the fact that Killian still believes in right and wrong, even if he now lives outside the constructs of traditional code. It is just another sign that the man she once knew is still there, and the man she is coming to know is one still worthy of her trust.

"Is it really true you have magic?" Pip asks. The words rush from him as though he is embarrassed to ask them.

Emma doesn't quite understand his embarrassment. Surely everyone knows I have magic by now, it is hardly a secret.

"Yes, it's true." Emma continues to work on cutting the last of the bread before her. When she looks back up, Pip is clearly biting back another inquiry, and in the end, curiosity wins out.

"Can you show me?"

Emma smirks, knowing that would be his next question, she already has her subject in mind. She instructs him to step back from his work, and she does the same. She waves her hands and light projects forth, seeping into each utensil. Now the pots stir themselves, the bread knives cut in perfectly even chunks, and the dirty dishes clean themselves. This is a tiny feat compared to the magic she can perform, but if the look on Pip's face is anything to go by, it is still an impressive showing. Before too long though, Emma resumes her station, and lets the magical influence fade. He’s seen her trick, but there’s still work to be done. In the face of her magic, Pip grows quiet, not out of fear like Emma knows people do when faced with the Evil Queen, but with wonder. This is often the case when Emma shows her powers to people who have never seen magic before, and she allows him time to think things through. Not until the food is ready to be brought up does Pip speak again. As they move about the deck distributing the meal they’ve prepared, Pip makes his final assessment known.

"You know, you probably can't take down the Evil Queen with a fork, but that was pretty impressive."

Emma laughs at that, a real laugh, one that she can feel all the way down in her bones and it feels good. "If I could I wouldn't be on this ship, would I?" The sad thought sends a pang through her chest, for even if it is under these troublesome circumstances, she cherishes the memories she's already made on this ship, and the chance to see Killian again.

As always, thank you @artistic-writer for making this lovely pic, and @kmomof4 for instigating it. :D

Chapter Four

Tagging some lovlies to enjoy: @ilovemesomekillianjones, @seriouslyhooked, @kmomof4, @laschatzi, @xhookswenchx, @flslp87, @jennjenn615

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged on future chapters.

#cs ff #cs ff au #cs fanfics #captain swan #lieutenant duckling #as destiny has its eyes on you #winterbaby89writes #cs smut #killian jones #emma swan

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travel-study · 8 years ago

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hey friends! this is the first post of a new series of masterposts i am going to do on shakespeare’s major works. i have a degree in history & english literature from one of the top unis in the uk and i’ve covered a hell of a lot of shakespeare in my time, so hopefully i can offer some help to you guys. please let me know if there’s anything you want different in future posts, feedback would be great. hope i can help, and happy new years!

themes

sex, if love be blind, it best agrees with night

romeo & juliet is absolutely chocked full of sexual overtones, it’s basically about two kids getting a bit carried away trying to get into each others pants

3.2.13-16 highlights this link between juliet’s sexual inexperience and her sexual eagerness. she is ‘unmann’d’ in that she has yet to take a husband, as well as in that an unmanned falcon would fly free if taken outdoors were a hood not pulled over its head

3.2.21-23 stresses the heartbeat rhythm, ‘come night, come romeo, come thou day in night’. it’s a fast rhythm, stressing her desire for him to come to her. her boldness is born in her desire and her separation from innocence, which could also form the base for a point about femininity and docility being tied to innocence and virginity if you fancied taking that route

mercutio has been described as ‘sex-obsessed’, but i’d say he’s a pretty archetypal teenage boy in this respect. he makes lewd references to rosaline’s ‘quivering thigh’, and mocks romeo’s ‘love’ 2.1.9-24 generally, setting up the argument that romeo can’t distinguish between love and lust. romeo also makes reference to juliet’s thighs on their wedding night, although saying that they’re ‘like jewels, the work of a master hand’ is rather nice compared to his remarks about rosaline and how she refused to ‘ope the gap’. i would say this repeated mention of thighs distinguishes the difference between the laddish chat between the boys and the conversations between a man and wife, another break from innocence and youth.

mercutio also reduces love to merely sex in 2.1.36-41, and his fruit based metaphor could easily be linked to the fruit of eden and sex being a product of the birth of sin if you wanted to go down that route

there is of course the famous pun on ‘maidenhead’, equating sword fighting with raping women, at the opening of the play, establishing and linking the consistent themes of sex and violence

essentially these two are horny teenagers and sex is a huge theme in the play. it is easy to tie to love, innocence, femininity etc.

useful articles on sex in r&j: 1. 2.(ctl+f sex for ease) 3.(partic. interesting commentary on rape in r&j) 4.

masculinity, thy beauty hath made me effeminate

this is, i think, one of the more interesting topics covered in r&j, and as a result there’s a shitload of useful sources for it

in romeo’s hypermasculine society he is expected to either violently defend his family and his name or master his own self-control and autonomy and love. he attempts to do both simultaneously and it doesn’t pan out so well for him.

all the deaths of the young men in the play stem from them trying to fulfil these expectations of them.

unlike benvolio, mercutio and tybalt, who maintain their masculinity in death, romeo’s suicide is seen as weak, even effeminate.

appelbaum’s article in shakespeare quarterly is particularly important, i think, in critically addressing this conflict of gender, and i would strongly recommend it if you’re hoping to cover this theme

1. 2. (this one covers the coming of age process in r&j, but i think it’s useful to tie this in with the development of masculine ideals and expectations)

love & death, thus with a kiss i die

one cannot write about one without writing about the other when covering romeo & juliet, i think

along with fate and society, love and death are pinpointed as key themes in the prologue, setting the audience up to tie the two ideas together

the paradoxical notion of love in death fuels these characters motives, and could potentially link to a religious theme if you wanted to take that angle (as a protip if you wanna study english or history just learn as much as you can about religion and it’ll cover you for 90% of your essays)

this article extensively covers the times in which death is mentioned in the context of love, or vice versa. it’s interesting if a bit oddly formatted

this article talks about the context of joint burial, a physical manifestation of these tied themes, in a sense

chapter 21 on shakespeare’s early tragedies in this book is useful, and there’s a whole subsection for romeo and juliet that’s a handy read

fate, i fear... some consequence yet hanging in the stars

the elizabethan world view was shaped by a common belief in fortune, fate and the power of the stars, astrology being considered a science amongst the nobility at the time

bertrand evans noted that in r&j ‘fate is the controlling practiser, and the entire action of the play represents her at work’ in shakespeare’s tragic practice, essentially arguing that every choice made by the plays characters is just chipping away their path to their predestined ends

this article is generally great, and the third angle focuses on r&j as a tragedy of fortune. i’d recommend reading the whole thing but i’ve linked straight to the third point so that it’s focused on the theme of fate and fortune.

i would also recommend this book, you can search for specific references to romeo and juliet, but there’s some good stuff about fate and predestination around p.55 and for the next 20 or so pages i think? i didn’t count oops

form

all of shakespeare’s plays are written in iambic pentameter. an iamb is a foot that consists of one unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable. pent means 5, so there’s 5 iambs in each line

as is pretty typical for shakespeare, he uses blank verse to indicate that a person of a lower social class is speaking, or to show informality. for instance, the nurse speaks in blank verse, and mercutio does when in the informal setting of hanging around with his friends. stricter rhyme tends to come into play with characters of a higher social standing, like capulet

the play is an early example of shakespearean tragic structure. this generally fits within the 5 act structure that’s been a playwrights favourite since horace built on aristotle’s 3 segment structure.

this is an interesting article that i’d recommend if you were hoping to look at tragic form in romeo and juliet