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just-a-real-human · 4 years

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Stress

(heya! this is my first story and i’m still not that good, so keep that in mind as you read ‘^^ please give any constructive critisism you can give to help me improve! i’ll write in mostly metric to make it easier on myself, let’s chalk it up to the translator being extra nice today) (extra note, i’m Dutch and English is actually my second language, so keep that in mind as well)

The classroom was filled to the brim with all kinds of aliens, from the wonderful to the weird, speaking in all their exotic languages. all the conversations differed and the translators they had really started to prove their worth! the only thing that truly stayed constant was the subject of their conversations...Humans. That was because this was a special class all about Humans, given by the head of research on humans, or ‘anthropology’ as the humans call it, an alien called Kr’kn. Kr’kn was one of the first to spend an extended amount of time in the company of humans, going on to become a famous figure in the galaxy.

After a couple minutes of this exitement in the classroom, it all suddenly went silent as two figures walked onto the speaking platform. the first being Dr. Kr’kn himself, a Molusk-like creature having some resemblance to an earth octopus, but with about 12 tentacles, 4 for locomotion, which are place under his body, giving him an upright gait and making him stand about 1.4M tall and 8 tentacles for manipulating the environment. But perhaps even more exiting, behind him followed a Human! The human followed Kr’kn closely, fidgeting with something grey in his hands. when they reached the speaking platform, The human promptly took seat in a chair next to the speaking platform, continuing to play with the thing it was holding, yet hiding it from view, looking around the room, but never looking directly at any of the students. Dr. Kr’Kn looked over the room and took a deep breath before saying.

“Humans, strange creatures aren’t they? Very, very complicated ones as well, there is much more to them then any sensory organ could perceive. They are loud, but can be almost entirely silent. They are social, but they need privacy and alone time frequently. They are tall, yet can blend with many environments, even without technology. I could go on for HOURS about the uniqueness of humans, and i probably will sometime! But not now, because over the course of these months i will teach you all i know of humans, starting not with the very basics, but the more advanced things as through (their equivalent of internet), reading and lessons you’ve learned the basics of them. So let us start with a subject not often touched on in education, stress and, unavoidably, rage.”

The students sat, watching the doctor, and occasionally the human, with wide eyes. they had indeed learned the basics of human biology. they had briefly touched on hysterical strength and subjects like that, yet they still didn’t have a very good understanding of humans, simply because nobody had. Except of course them one teaching them.

Dr Kr’kn continued. “We all know stress, most species have it. But in humans it can be especially prevalent. Stress in humans can drastically affect their mood, emotion, sexual interest, concentration and even lifespan. It can induce depression and loss of interest and a whole managerie of different effect on humans, nearly none being benificial. Often stress quickly can lead to anger, and is oftened compared to a rubber band, each thing that stresses them out tightening the band and if they are too stressed, they get angry. Humans have dubbed this stress-overload as ‘snapping’, and it can range from shouting at someone to assault and even death, both for the human and the one who made them ‘snap’. Humans can be quite easily stressed, for instance my dear friend here gets stressed by crowds, eye contact and meeting strangers, as well as a looong list of other things. this is partially due to mental disorders, but mostly due to personal differences.”

Many of the class nervously eyed the human after he said this, the human did seem a bit uncomfortable, what if he ‘snapped’ here? This seemed to be a stressfull environment, why would he be here? Was he forced?

The Doctor looked around, noticing the nervous glances and chuckled. “No worries, my friend here is calm as can be. This actually leads very well into the next part, how do humans relieve stress? Well, there’s some ways, that you’ve probably already learnt, and seeing as that’d be a little embaressing to go over for my friend, i’ll go to the less well known ones. A very popular one, maybe even more popular then any other, is music. An immense amount of emotion can be transferred into music, ranging from happiness to sadness, even anger can be put into music! The best example of ‘angry’ music is probaly a kind of music humans dub ‘metal’. Anyone sensitive to rythms, loud noises or things like that, please cover your ears.” He said, swiping a few times on the tablet infont of him, a large hologram raising infont of them before saying once more “I repeat again, if you are sensitive to fast rythms or loud noises, please cover your ears!”

He then pressed the play button and the music started playing, and indeed, as he said, the pure rage put in that music was so overwhelming some students actually seemed afraid, as if the humans on the hologram could jump out and attack at any moment! The human accompanying Kr’kn seemed to enjoy it, moving his head up and down in the rythm of the music a little.

Dr. Kr’kn paused the music, swiping it away. “Well, i suppose you get what i mean about anger being conveyed in the music? And despite its seemingly simple nature, metal often has deep symbolism, especially compared to the simple first impression. It also happens to be one of the most difficult forms of music to play. Another good way to relieve stress for humans are video games, especially either calm and cute ones, or the most violent ones they can create!”

The class laughed a little, assuming the doctor was making a joke. As a reaction the doctor pulled up another hologram, showing the class a cute, calm game about finding many orb like creatures with (human) smiles on their faces. It seemed to be a good example of what the doctor meant.

“now, if you are bad with blood, violence or dismemberment, please look away, and if you are sensitive to rythms and loud noises, cover your ears again.”

He then pulled up a video as one specific game, one set in a red, fleshy cityscape, destroyed and overrun with the most disturbing creatures you could imagine. But worst of all, a human was running through! With more of that ‘metal’ in the background the man was running through the creatures, shooting them with ballistic weapons, energy weapons and cutting them apart! It even ripped them apart with its bare hands! Many students looked at it, horrified, some even needing to look away. Kr’kn laughed, swiping away the hologram. “that there is a favorite game among many humans, including my friend here, he is quite skilled at it, in fact, the footage there is my friend playing that game!”

The students looked at the human, terrified. Humans ENJOYED murder and destruction!? They liked such violence and that music?

Dr. Kr’kn laughed again. “Anyways, yet another way of relieving stress, or more accurately, prevent stress, is in the form of a mental support thing. Often that is an object, like in the case of my friend here! If you would please look to him, he will show what his emotional support object is.”

The human seemed a bit aprehensive before revealing the grey thing he was holding and had been playing with...it was a small, grey teddybear with a white scarf. it was clearly quite old, it was clear it used to be coloured something else then grey, but due to years of hugging and washing, it had lost it’s colour, only it’s snout being a little brighter grey with a brown nose.

“Yes, that little thing is one of the most important things in my friends life, so important, in fact, that he has once killed someone for taking it.“

The students gasped, looking at the human, who looked away a bit, now holding the bear closely, clearly regretting what happened back there, and speaking for the first time. “Not JUST for taking teddy...he was a pirate”

Kr’kn laughed, shaking his head “True, true, the fact remains that it is an incredibly important object to him, anything else and he would have waited to sneak up on him, but he instead took the pirate on without bothering to sneak, he shouted so loud the pirate was stunned for a moment before my friend here beat him with a glass and stabbed him to death with the shards! none of us would dare approach him for hours after that...well, the humans kept their distance claiming he needed time alone, but we all noticed even the humans were fearfull. He only truly calmed down when his chosen mate, or ‘girlfriend’ went to speak to him. And that brings me to the most important and effective ways for a human to relieve stress.

Kr’kn let the students stare at the human for a little bit, he knew how they must have felt, humans were terrifying when you learn such stories, and even more if you experience them!

“there are 4 most important ways for a humans to release stress. And they are: Screaming, crying, talking and love. Screaming lets them simply release all the rage in their system in a simple roar, it can be one scream or many, but they are almost always effective. Talking means to simply share their troubles with someone, be it human or not, even talking to a pet, friendly wild animal or book(by writing it down) will help them as they aren’t the only ones stuck with it anymore, and the other might be able to help in some way. And now the two most important ones, Crying and love. Crying is a strange thing, humans will leak water out of their eyes and make a repeating sound, often accompanying screaming, but even more often it is silent, and they usually cry when safe. It releases all their stress and sadness over a period of time and is a very clear way for others to see how they feel, and Love is often a result of it, or what causes it, which is good. For instance the previous story, my friend here told his Girlfriend everything, and a human often gets repetitive when telling something, which you should deal with if you truly care for them. He then simply got a hug, which is one of the most primally loving and caring things a human can do. You all know kissing is something that human mates do, but a hug can be done by any human they care about. Physical contact is important for a human, and a good hug will often make a human cry their worries away, which is an important part of bonding and caring. Now do not go about hugging humans every chance you get, it’s something special, and not every human likes it. For instance my friend is a bit sensitive, so there are few people he allows to hug him, and i just so happen to be one of them.” He said the last part with a certain pride, having his race’s version of a smile as he looked at the human.

“Anyways, this is where my job ends for today, and yours starts. I want you to write a simple list of stress-relieving things for a human, write it as accurately as you can. And even if it isn’t very accurate, as long as your tried, it’ll be good enough for me. Next time i will go over the dangers of a human and what you should do to avoid it. I hope you have a good day and enjoy your time, goodbye!”

The students wished him farewell and Kr’kn walked away, the human joining him, still holding the bear closely. The students exitedly started talking to one another, having learned many things about humans that they didn’t know before. After many minutes of conversation, they slowly started to leave, and after about an hour or so the classroom was entirely empty.

WELL! that was my first story, i hope you enjoy it! again, give your opinions and constructive critisism down there, any ideas and suggestions are welcome as well! have a nice day c:

Good news! I fixed the comments (i think). :D

#humans are space orcs #humans are space australians #humans are terrifying #aliens

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pl-panda · 4 years

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To Marry a Vigilante: Part 2

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

Disclaimer: Masterlist

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The day before Christmas… was a nightmare. Marinette had to admit that Damian was right. Her parents volunteered to help Alfred in the kitchen. The butler tried to argue, but his fighting with Sabine was an unstoppable force meeting an unmovable object. In the end, they got a compromise that the baker couple would help that day, but would be banned from the kitchen for the rest of Christmas.

The boys meanwhile were ordered to decorate the house and prepare the formal dining room. And it was a mess. First, Dick and Jason spent almost an hour arguing over the decorations, only to then see that Mari and Damian already decorated the room with the merchandise Damian somehow got imported from Paris without their knowledge. Jason tried to dismantle the decorations that were put up without a warning, but it ended with Damian chasing him with a sword… again. It didn’t help that Todd kept riling the youngest Wayne up. Technically second-youngest since he was older than Marinette by a few months, but that’s beyond the point.

Then, when Jason ended up with a slight limp after he crashed into a cupboard when trying to cut the corner and Damian’s bloodthirst got satisfied, it was time for decorating the Christmas tree. When Mari saw the tree, she almost toppled over. It was put in the hall before the stairway to the second floor. It was tall enough to almost reach the ceiling.

“That’s your tree?”

“In my defense, I tried to order a smaller one. It’s not my fault they gave size in the metric system.” Tim argued.

“If you cut on coffee and instead got some sleep once in a while, maybe you would’ve noticed.” Jason snickered.

Dick took the opportunity to climb upstairs and start decoration, only to be caught by Steph, who proceeded to decorate on the other side. Seeing the two already started, the three other boys also raced to start putting decorations. It was a mess, but somehow Marinette found it endearing. It felt… homey. Then she grabbed some decorations and joined Damian. Then she teamed up with Steph to make a large bat symbol on one side out of gold tinsel garland. Then she made a red ‘R’ inside it.

And this time nobody got hurt.

After that, Dick and Jason left for their respective homes. Tim and Steph left shortly after, leaving Damian and Mari alone with the adults. Technically, Cass also stayed at the manor, but unless she wanted to be seen, only Alfred (and now Sabine) could find her.

The teens decided to stay in the Manor. Marinette was dead set on making everyone their gifts by hand. She brought several unfinished designs that could be adjusted. Damian was kind enough to collect the measurements for each family member from Alfred.

And so Mari then spent all evening in her room, where she worked on adjusting and finishing everything. She was beyond grateful that her room was already equipped with a sewing machine and anything else she would need to make the gifts. The whole time Damian sat nearby to offer some advice. Mostly, he just enjoyed watching her work on the designs.

“Do you think putting a Red Robin logo on this tie would be too much?” She asked, showing a red tie with black accents. It had a meticulous black stitch going through the narrow part. It spelled MDC over and over.

“Maybe put it inside, so that it only shows when he put it upside-down,” Damian answered.

“But then nobody will see it.”

“There is a bigger chance someone sees it than if it’s on the front.” The boy deadpanned.

“Don’t be mean.” She scolded him, but her pearly laughter kinda ruined it. She put the tie away and reached for the sunglasses she was working on. They used to be black, but she tinted the glass deep-red and then added details at the side. Now, there was a small silver bullet-shaped decoration where they would fold. She had a case ready where she stitched the shape of a red handgun at the top of black leather.

“And this?”

“Habibti. They will definitely love your gifts.” He gave her a soft smile. “If not, I will introduce them to my sword” He muttered, hoping she would not hear it.

“Damian!” She shouted. His hopes went in flames. “No murdering people!”

“Can I at least maim?” He asked with a hopeful voice.

“Hm… only if you ask me before.” She giggled at his expression.

“I think it is high time I retreat to my bedroom. It’s almost midnight, Angel. Go to sleep.” He stood up and walked outside, only to be met with Sabine’s judging eyes. She watched him carefully before smiling slightly.

“Good. You can go. I will tuck her in.”

After she passed him, Damian let out a breath he didn’t know he held. That woman was scary.

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The next morning was still hectic, but no longer so chaotic. Mari spent half of it locked in her room giving the designs final touches. She did not let Damian or her parents in since she focused on their gifts and didn’t want to spoil the surprise. Alfred was the only one who got a peek inside and he didn’t even fear Sabine, so the chances he would tell anything to anyone were less than Joker genuinely apologizing to everyone he ever hurt.

Finally, around midday, Marinette finally revealed herself. The room was a mess of cut fabric, loose papers, and Kwami knows what else. There was also a bowl of water in the corner.

“That was a race.” She commented before grabbing Damian’s hand and dragging him into the living room to share a tea and cookies. All adults cooed.

“So, Habibti. Care to reveal what you made for me?” The boy asked hopefully once they were both sitting side-by-side on the two-people couch. She held a cup of steaming tea while Damian put his in a small cup holder while he was eating a cookie.

“Nope.” She grinned. “But I can tell you that you will like it.”

“From you? I will like any gift.” He answered smoothly.

“Stop it!” She squealed, blushing heavily. “You can’t say things like that out of the blue.”

“Why?” He asked, giving her a barely noticeable smile.

“I can’t go around blushing all the time!”

“But you look so cute with red cheeks.”

“You don’t look so bad either, Mi Amor,” she retorted. She wanted to get some reaction from him, but he only smiled slightly more.

They rested, cuddled together for a bit, enjoying the silence that surrounded them. It was interrupted when suddenly Cass dropped out of the blue. Or from the ceiling, but they would’ve sworn she was not there before.

“You… Cousin?” The girl asked.

“Oh! You must be Cassandra!” Mari recognized her. Cass was maybe her height. She was dressed in workout clothes. “Nice to meet you. I’m Marinette.”

“Marinette,” Cass repeated. “Call me Cass. Everyone does.”

“Um… Sure. You can call me Mari if you like?” Both Damian and Cass grinned at that, much to the french girl’s confusion. “Did I miss some joke?”

“No, Angel. It’s just that Grayson’s daughter is named Mar’i” Damian looked at his beloved’s expression.

“Oh. Oh…” The realization dawned on her. “Well, then what about… Nettie?”

“Nettie… Like it.” Cass responded.

“Cass doesn’t speak much.” The boy took it upon himself to explain. “She first learned to communicate through body gestures.”

“Maman told me. I can’t believe aunt Sandra left you with that monster. Maman told her some things though, so maybe next time you two meet she will apologize.”

“Mother… Apologize… Me?” The girl asked in disbelief.

“Maman is a very persuasive person.”

Cass didn’t speak about that, but a memory of the hug two of them shared yesterday surfaced at the top of her thoughts.

“Anyway, you wanted to get to know me? Well… um… I’m fifteen, soon to be sixteen. I love fashion and design and I make almost all of my clothes. I also practice some martial arts in my free time. I love sketching outdoors. There is this small park next to my parent’s bakery that I love to visit. In the past, I adored the works of Gabriel brand, but after the owner turned out to be a major bastard I kinda decided to just stick to my own stuff. What else… I prefer tea to coffee unless I need to pull an all-nighter, my favorite sweets are macarons and my uncle named his soup after me when he won the cooking competition.”

“Soup… good?” Cass decided to ask.

“Oh! It’s the best. Actually, maybe we could ask uncle Wang to cook for our wedding, Dami! Can we? He would be invited anyway but then people would get to…”

“Of course, Habibti.” Damian interrupted her.

“Wedding?” Cass had more questions.

“Oh… Um… You didn’t know?” Marinette doubled back. “Of course you didn’t know. Damian tried to keep it down and I ruined it. Please don’t tell anyone. I’m so sorry Dami! I forgot! I was just so…”

Damian, following the usual routine when Mari started to panic, pulled her to his chest, and hugged her. He whispered something low enough for Cassandra not to hear. She did notice the couple’s body language. Devotion and love.

When Marinette finally calmed, Damian let her out of his embrace. “Thanks. I still keep some of my… less desirable habits.”

“It’s no problem. At least I have an excuse to cuddle with you without my brothers’ merciless teasing.”

“Wedding.” Cass urged them. Her curiosity was peaking.

“Ah! Right. So basically Talia kidnapped me and decided I would marry her son and then we both woke up tied before the altar and she threatened to kill us and our families if we didn’t go through with it. And I was so scared back then. And T… And I had no way to do anything else.”

Cass saw her tense and stopped herself. There was more to it, but she didn’t drill. She would learn later. Or just get it out of Tim. He knew everything.

“Well, now we’re stuck and there is this weird spell on us that makes it impossible to cheat on one another. At least I assume it works both ways since Damian didn’t test it.” There was no doubt in her voice and her body showed complete trust. Cass was actually impressed.

“The bitch that my mother is,” Marinette wanted to scold Damian on the language he used, but then again, he spoke about Talia so he wasn’t lying, “used some old curse on us, probably from the time my grandfather was still young. We are tied together. But we made it work.”

“Magic… bad.” Cass scoffed.

“No!” Mari quickly protested. “I mean not all magic is bad. It all depends on who uses it! Besides, everything turned out better than I could’ve ever hoped.”

“Good. I… Like you.” Her cousin smiled. “Hug?” She asked.

“Sure.” Marinette nodded and before she knew it Cass tackled her into the couch, almost breaking her bones.

“Oooh!” a new voice cooed. Damian immediately whirled around with a small dagger that he pulled from wherever he kept it. Selina Kyle was standing there, watching everything.

“Tt. I don’t like being spied upon.” Damian scowled.

“Relax, lover-boy. I just came and I was curious where everyone went and who were the new people.”

“Oh. That’s probably my parents. Alfred kicked them out of the kitchen today. They will probably be relaxing in the garden since they rarely have a chance to just relax. They run a bakery in Paris.” Mari smiled at the newcomer.

“Really now? And you’re the unlucky girl that got stuck with the short, dark, and brooding?”

“Tt. I’m not short.”

“I don’t hear you arguing about the dark and brooding part.” Selina teased.

“Angel, meet my father’s fiancée, Selina Kyle. She is also Catwoman.”

“Oh. She is in on the family business then?”

“Tt. Yes. I don’t keep things hidden from my wife.” Damian kept scowling.

“Aren’t you a dutiful husband?”

“I’m not afraid to defend my wife’s honor with a sword, thief.” The boy threatened. Selina measured him for a moment.

“Good.” She turned to Marinette. “He will do. If he is causing you trouble, you can crash at my place.” She gave her a small square paper with an address before leaving.

“Um… What was that?”

“Tt. That was Selina for you.” Damian was still in a bad mood until Marinette snuggled closer to him.

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Around five, the guests started arriving. It was unanimously decided that the youngest couple would be the ones to greet their guests. And looking at the size of the table, there would be more guests than Mari assumed. Damian was now dressed in a flawless black suit with a matching bowtie and a white shirt. Mari chose to wear the red dress that she knew left Damian speechless every time he saw her. Her hair was let go and formed waves cascading down her back.

Jason was first. He came on his bike alone. While everyone dressed in something elegant, he opted for an oil-stained t-shirt and brown leather jacket, complete with black cargo pants and heavy boots. Marinette had to admit he gave a bad-boy vibe that told her to stay away. But she’s seen this with Ivan and she was pretty sure Jason was, in fact, a big softie once one got to know him.

Next to arrive were Tim and Stephanie. She wore a black and purple knee-length dress. It had no sleeves and hugged her form tightly. The design was several large squares of material sewn together so no two colors were the same. It was an interesting design. Tim wore a blue suit with black accents and a white shirt. They looked like a nice couple. And the boy looked almost awake, which was a success. Also, they were dragging a giant bag of gifts.

Shortly after, a small van pulled close and five people exited. There was an older couple, a joyful boy around their age jumping around them, and two people Marinette recognized instantly. You couldn’t hang around Alya and not recognize Clark Kent and Lois Lane-Kent.

“Tt. Jon.” Damian greeted the boy.

“Sup Dames? Hello fair lady.” He greeted them, happiness almost oozing from him. Jon went as far as kissing her hand.

“Could you stop with the flowers and rainbows?” Wayne growled.

“But it’s Christmas!”

“Tt. I know.” Damian was angry. Seeing it, his beloved grabbed his hand and squeezed it lightly.

“Hello Mr. Kent, Mrs. Lane-Kent.” Marinette greeted the adults, hoping to diffuse the situation before Damian gets too riled up.

“You must be Marinette. I remember Jon mentioning you when we talked about his trip to Paris.” Clark smiled. He then nodded toward the older couple. “These are my parents, Johnathan and Martha Kent.”

“It’s nice to meet ya, girl.” The man nodded toward her.

“Hi. I’m Marinette.” She gave them a smile. Just as the Kents went inside, another car pulled in.

This time, it was Dick with his wife, Kor’i, and daughter Mar’i. They all got out of the car.

“I still don’t understand why you insist on driving this thing. I could’ve flown us here twice as fast.” The woman had distinctively orange skin and her eyes were entirely green. Marinette instantly recognized her as Starfire. She wore a white shirt with bell-like sleeves that reached to her elbows and blue jeans that ended just above her ankles. Dick had a dark-gray shirt and jeans. She would classify their outfits as smart casual.

“Yeah, daddy! I can fly too!” To prove her point, the little girl rose a bit into the air. She was dressed in an oversized purple jumper that reached to the ground. She also wore white trainers. Her skin was less orange than her mother’s but the color was easily visible. And her eyes were also entirely green without any white. And she was flying. Her hair was black though, as opposed to her mother’s fiery red.

“Sweety. Come here.” Kor’i reached up and grabbed the floating daughter. The girl immediately nuzzled into her and smiled victoriously. She got exactly what she wanted. Marinette couldn’t help but giggle.

“Tt. I still find her annoying.” Damian scowled.

“I don’t know, she looks cute to me. And you already admitted that you love cute things.” To make things worse for her love, Marinette gave him puppy eyes and a bright smile. He tried to scowl, but couldn’t muster enough strength to oppose his wife.

Dick almost tripped over the car when he started laughing.

Since they were the last to arrive, Marinette and Damian returned inside to join everyone for festivities.

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Somewhere else, in a much darker place, a lone figure stood in an empty room. His clothes were dirty and torn. The light entered only through a small window.

“So you see? It was all a set-up!” He shouted.

From the shadows, another figure joined.

“But of course, sweetie. Of course.” They said in a patronizing tone. “I will of course help you.”

“You understand me. And what about… Marinette?”

“I don’t understand your obsession with her, but I can share.”

“Whatever. She will be mine!”

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Masterlist // Next

#damienette #Damian Wayne #Damian al Ghul #marinette dupain cheng #marinette x damian #maribat #maridami #arranged marriage AU #guardian!marinette #batman #maribat au #evil!adrien

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thatgamefromthatad · 4 years

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Games Like ‘Merge Mansion,’ Ranked

I noticed an ad for what seemed to be practically the same exact game as Merge Mansion, so instead of doing an individual review for it, I decided to find as many Merge Mansion dupes as I could and review and rank them all!

If you’ve never played Merge Mansion or similar games, the concept is basically merging together two of the same item to get higher-level items of the same category. The items spawn from other items (I don’t know if there’s a technical name but I call them spawners), which you usually need to tap in order to put more mergeable items on the board. You can usually create new spawners by merging special parts together too, and create more powerful spawners by merging together two of the same spawner. The objective is to fulfill tasks the game gives you to obtain certain items by making enough merges. I enjoy these games because it’s satisfying to merge things together and discover new items.

Here is a handy-dandy rubric I used to score and compare each game to the best of my ability. This way instead of going by which games I just liked overall, you can pick which game you’d like to play based on the aspects that are important to you! (All of these metrics and scores will be broken down and explained further below.)

See all seven games (including Merge Mansion itself) ranked from best to worst below:

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1. Travel Town

Developer: Magmatic Games Ltd

Release Date: Feb. 12, 2021

So this game is actually the one on the list that is the least like Merge Mansion, and I wouldn’t really call it a copycat unlike some of the other games on the list. However, the basic gameplay is the same as Merge Mansion and all the other games, so I think it’s fair to put it in the same category. (It also has the common thread of using energy, coins, diamonds and a level system, all using similar symbolism as the rest of the games.)

I really like this game’s vibrant colors and beautiful items, and the fact that all of your goals are shown right above you which is less frustrating than having to switch back and forth between your goals tab. I also like that you have a lot of goals at once so that you don’t feel like you’re wasting energy if you spawn and merge items that aren’t related to a current goal when the spawner you actually need is reloading.

Another thing that makes this game unique is that instead of just unlocking new renovations or parts of the story with each goal you fulfill, you get coins for fulfilling goals that you can then spend on the construction stages, that come with additional parts of the story in turn. I’m not sure if this is a better or worse system, but is the only game on this list that does it like that.

The best part of this game I think is the fact that there are event stages with completely different items and a cool way of unlocking new parts of the board (for example, you merge tools up to a chainsaw to cut down trees blocking part of the board). For a newer game, I think it’s pretty innovative and off to a strong start!

🐚 Art: 3/3 (It’s are very vibrant and shiny-looking and the character drawings are also very well done)

🐚 Story: 2/3 (the dialog between characters is fun and humorous at times but I don’t really see a solid plot going on throughout and I couldn’t tell you any of the characters’ names or most of their relationships to each other to be honest)

🐚 Gameplay: 5/5 (I haven’t run into the frustrating thing of constantly running out of space on the board, at least not yet, and completing the merges is very satisfying. I also like the goal system and the events)

🐚 Variety: 3/3 (There isn’t that much variety on the main board to begin with but this is the only game on the list to have a log book that tracks the items you’ve unlocked and I can see from the blank sections that there will be a lot more variety going forward. Plus there is extra variety in the event stages)

🐚 Playtime vs. Wait Time (without paying for more energy or to reload spawners): 2/4 (Like most of the games on this list you can only really play the main board in short sessions before needing to wait for your energy to reload. However being able to play the event stages when they’re available can lengthen your play session)

🐚 Overall Enjoyment: 5/5 (This is sort of subjective score based on the amount of fun I personally have playing each game. I found this game to be the most fun out of all of the games and I would give it an overall 5/5 if I were reviewing it individually like I do with my usual reviews)

🐚 Total: 20/23

2. Merge Design

Developer: Stonemobile Kft.

Release Date: Feb. 19, 2021

This is another newer game that is pretty unique from Merge Mansion and off to a strong start! it’s also the only game on this list with a landscape orientation so it’s nice to play on an iPad if you have one.

For this game you fulfill objectives to place furniture and decor inside a room you’re remodeling for a client. There are different clients throughout the game and several tasks for each client; you also get to choose between three styles for each item you place in the room. There are two main designer characters you follow throughout the game and there’s occasional dialog between the designers and clients.

I found this game to be more on the challenging side because you have to experiment a bit to find the items you need, and getting the spawners you need for some of those items does not come as easily and naturally as in most other games.

One of the things I didn’t like that much in this game were that the maximum level for most item categories is not that high so you can get a lot of maxed out items pretty easily, although there is a wide variety of different items. There’s also only a handful of slots to unlock in storage (where you can move items off the board when you’re running out of room) so it can be a lot easier to run out of room which is frustrating. However, the ability to play this game for longer stretches of time than the others is a big plus!

🛋 Art: 2/3 (the character art, item art and room/furniture/decor style are each nice enough of their own but they kind of clash in my opinion, like they’re from three different games)

🛋 Story: 2/3 (it’s cool to meet the different clients along the way and you can definitely start to see the personalities of the two main characters but it’s not all that exciting)

🛋 Gameplay: 4/5 (I like that this game is a little more challenging and that the objectives are more complicated, usually requiring more items, but it’s really frustrating when the board gets so cluttered)

🛋 Variety: 3/3 (lots of different item tracks corresponding to different types of furniture and household items, and new spawners that take work to obtain but it’s fun when you see the new kinds of items you can get)

🛋 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 4/4 (by far the best game for if you want to be able to play for long stretches of time. You get a ton of energy, almost to the point where it seems like a mistake by the developers lol, and the spawners reload pretty quickly too)

🛋 Overall Enjoyment: 5/5 (between the variety of items and ability to enjoy long play sessions I definitely enjoyed this game plenty!)

🛋 Total: 20/23 (same score as Travel Town but Travel Town gets the upper hand with its event stages and less of a problem with clogging the board)

3. Merge Friends

Developer: Skunkworks

Release Date: Nov. 6, 2020

This is the last game on the list that I wouldn’t consider an exact copycat of Merge Mansion but definitely seem like it’s influenced by it. It’s unique in its more cartoony art style which I think has some charm when it comes to the items on the board, although I was a little less fond of the character designs. This game also has parts of the board that unlock as you level up and getting new types of items takes a little time.

The objectives of these game are based on orders placed by different characters to complete certain tasks, and you get little pieces of the storyline with each task you complete. Each character has their own personality and role in the town that goes along with the items you have to give them to complete the objective. There are also some events in this game but they’re not exciting as the ones in Travel Time, they basically just seem like extra goals with extra chances for rewards.

🔨 Art: 2/3 (as mentioned I like the cartoony art style on the board but don’t like the character designs as much)

🔨 Story: 3/3 (this is one of the only games where I actually got kind of attached to the characters and wanted to know what would happen next)

🔨 Gameplay: 5/5 (merges are satisfying, didn’t have problems with the board getting clogged up and I liked that each objective went along with the story i.e. the character had a specific use for the items as explained through the dialog)

🔨 Variety: 3/3 (it takes a little longer to get more categories of items but once you unlock more of the board it’s fun to see the new categories you can come across, the items also level up pretty far)

🔨 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 1/4 (unfortunately you can only play this game in short spurts once you run out of energy)

🔨 Overall Enjoyment: 4/5 (solid game but not being able to play for longer sessions puts a bit of a damper on it)

🔨 Total: 18/23

4. Miss Merge

Developer: TrueMyth Games Ltd

Release Date: Feb. 2021

This game is probably the most blatant rip-off of Merge Mansion, but only based on the fact that they steal the fake plot from the Merge Mansion ads and actually do something with it lol. In fact it’s because of that that I actually ended up liking this game more than Merge Mansion - it gives you want you wanted from those ads that wasn’t in the actual game.

Other than the ripped ad plot and a similar grandma character design this game actually is pretty unique from the original Merge Mansion and is more similar to Merge Friends in its gameplay. It has a similar cartoony art style, similar form of objectives (except instead of orders it’s just personal requests from characters) and similar way of unlocking parts of the board along the way.

This game probably has the best storyline of all the games, with an actual mystery unfolding throughout the plot line.

🍪 Art: 2/3 (similar to Merge Friends, the cartoony board items are charming but the character designs are lacking)

🍪 Story: 3/3 (I genuinely want to know what happens next and each character has their own personality, motives and relationship with your character/the other characters)

🍪 Gameplay: 4/5 (gameplay is most similar to Merge Friends but objectives are more random and not directly tied to the plot, and this is the only game without storage space for your items, although I haven’t really needed it all that much anyway)

🍪 Variety: 2/3 (there is a little more variety in items as you go along but not as many interesting and unique categories, you’ll mostly just be giving people various foods and beverages for a while)

🍪 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 3/4 (you can’t really play for long sessions, however, extra energy is pretty easy to come by so you can often play for longer than most of the other games)

🍪 Overall Enjoyment: 4/5 (definitely delivers as far as storyline but doesn’t do much more than any of the other decent games on this list)

🍪 Total: 18/23 (same score as Merge Friends but has less item variety and clearly copies a lot from other games)

5. Merge Mansion

Developer: Metacore Games Oy

Release Date: Sept. 16, 2020

I’ve already thoroughly covered this game in my original review of it, which you can read here. This was my first experience with this kind of game and it’s the first of its kind as far as I know, so I definitely have a fondness for it, although it has its pitfalls.

💐 Art: 3/3 (I really like the art in this game, you can see the detail that went into each individual item and I like the main character designs too. The 3D models of the characters shown in the garden are a little wonky though)

💐 Story: 1/3 (Very generic and boring “adult child returns home to discover mansion is a mess” plot)

💐 Gameplay: 3/5 (Overcrowding the board is a huge problem and there are certain spawners that automatically spawn what I consider nuisance items without you even tapping them. They’re nuisance items because if you need them for an objective that’s not until much later in the game; I’ve never needed these useless items yet and all they do is take up space. The objectives also aren’t very satisfying to complete other than it getting rid of some of the items taking up space. However merging is very satisfying and the game deserves credit for introducing me to this whole genre of merge games to begin with)

💐 Variety: 3/3 (tons of different items and spawners to discover, almost too many)

💐 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 2/4 (you can only play in short sessions before running out of energy but the sessions do tend to last a bit longer than in some other games, and you can get extra energy pretty often)

💐 Overall Enjoyment: 4/5 (although the overcrowding issue is frustrating it is a very fun game and keeps me coming back to keep discovering new items; this is the rating I gave it in my original review)

💐 Total: 16/23

6. Merge Matters

Developer: GreenPixel Ltd

Release Date: Dec. 31, 2020

This game seems a lot like a direct copycat of Merge Mansion; the art style and categories of items are extremely similar. It basically hits all the same boxes as Merge Mansion but I liked it just slightly less.

🪴 Art: 3/3 (the colors are more vibrant than Merge Mansion and overall the items are very nice to look at, the character design of the main girl is very pretty but I noticed that she seems to have a different art style than the grandpa, or maybe that’s just me)

🪴 Story: 1/3 (same problem as Merge Mansion, very generic homecoming story)

🪴 Gameplay: 3/5 (satisfying merges but same overcrowding problem, maybe even a little worse than Merge Mansion)

🪴 Variety: 3/3 (about the same level of variety as Merge Mansion)

🪴 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 2/4 (about the same as Merge Mansion although I tend to get less extra energy in this game but maybe just by bad luck)

🪴 Overall Enjoyment: 3/5 (although it’s nearly identical to Merge Mansion, I give it a lesser score here because if I had to pick between the two I would definitely choose Merge Mansion. I can’t say exactly why, but a range of small factors make Merge Mansion the more satisfying game to play)

🪴 Total: 15/23

7. Merge Villa

Developer: 4Enjoy Games

Release Date: Feb. 2021

So this isn’t the worst game ever, but it is by far the most lackluster out of all the games I played for this project. It definitely feels like the dollar store version of Merge Mansion. The art here is frankly ugly and the gameplay is very simplistic with very little item variety. The merging here also doesn’t feel very satisfying for some reason, maybe because there isn’t any sort of animation or proper sound effect to go along with the merging. It’s definitely a playable game but nothing to write home about.

🪛 Art: 1/3 (like I said, it’s ugly)

🪛 Story: 2/3 (it actually has a little more plot going on than Merge Mansion or Merge Matters although it still follows the same trope)

🪛 Gameplay: 3/5 (although it’s definitely simplistic and the merges are less satisfying than in Merge Mansion/Merge Matters, I’ve never had to worry about running out of room on the board, plus it has the added feature of letting you choose between three styles for each renovation similar to Merge Design and other games like Homescapes, which makes completing the objectives more satisfying)

🪛 Variety: 1/3 (very little variety, I’ve only seen and handful of item categories so far)

🪛 Playtime vs. Wait Time: 1/4 (abysmal, the play sessions are short, the spawners run out quickly and the energy takes twice as long to recharge as in other games)

🪛 Overall Enjoyment: 2/5 (playable but barely worth playing)

🪛 Total: 10/23

If you got here to the end, even if you just skimmed through, thank you so much for reading 😍 Follow me for more reviews and articles about those mobile games you’re always getting ads for 🥳

#merge mansion #merge games #mobile games #casual games #free games #renovation games #garden games #remodeling games #knockoff games #travel town #merge design #miss merge #merge friends #merge matters #merge villa #full review #games ranked

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itmeansofthesea · 3 years

Text

Moving Day

Well this one got me all in my feelings. This was supposed to be lighter and funnier and somehow it got away from me. Instead it's this beautiful thing?? Maybe I'll try to write a funnier version later, but thanks to @dobega for reminding me of the domesticity conversation that led to the end. Any longer and I would have to make this a series, but if that's something you're interested in I think I could swing it. Enjoy, y'all.

Warnings: like one curse word? I think that's it... It's also overwhelmingly sweet imo so just be ready for that.

Had Charles Vane known that becoming ally/friends with James Flint would involve helping him, his boyfriend, and his boyfriend’s wife (his girlfriend?) move into their new house, he might have just gone ahead, taken the warship and let Peter Ashe hang Flint and be done with. Not really, but… maybe?

He honestly isn’t even really sure how he got roped into this. It was a couple of weeks ago when he, Jack, Anne, Max, Flint, Thomas, and Miranda were all sitting at a table upstairs in the brothel having dinner. Billy was out showing Abigail around Nassau and Mr.s Gates and De Groot were just trying to get a moment’s peace at some smaller tavern at the other end of town. Silver and Madi were out having some sort of alone dinner thing (Jack had called it a “date” and then called Charles a “heathen with no sense of romance”), and this all left the motley crew to sit around with whatever the brothel’s cook had dreamed up and a metric ton of ale to wash it down.

Charles didn’t fully understand the situation Flint had with the Hamiltons, but whatever it was clearly made Flint happier than Charles had ever seen him. He was all smiles and laughter and joy. It warmed Charles’s heart (just a bit) to see his friend so happy, because they certainly had become friends. He mentally joked about leaving Flint to hang, but to be honest it would be difficult to imagine his life without the people sitting around the table with him now. At least, it would be difficult to imagine something resembling a happy life.

They’d stopped to refuel in Savannah after Charlestown and somehow or another word got to Flint about a plantation full of the disgraced sons of London’s elite that were now more or less enslaved in the prison colony. If there was one thing Charles was always down to do (and there were many things he was always down to do), it was hunt down a slave master and free people from bondage. They’d split when they got to the plantation- Charles after the master of the house and James off to find Thomas. Finding Mr. Smith hadn’t been difficult and dispatching him was even easier. Once that was finished, Charles made his way outside to find Flint in the arms of another, taller man and both of them appeared to be weeping. He felt like an intruder watching them, so he busied himself with checking the plantation for anyone else who may need to be released. When they made it back to the ship, Miranda leapt on the man who Charles realized must be Thomas, and after a minute of holding on to him she grabbed Flint into their embrace.

In time all of the introductions were made, and suddenly the Charles/Anne/Jack crew expanded to the Charles/Anne/Max/Jack crew and the Charles/James friendship expanded to include Charles/James/Thomas/Miranda. They also intercepted Abigail Ashe on the way, and James and the Hamiltons promptly adopted her on the spot. She and Charles had some reacquainting to do outside of Eleanor Guthrie’s influence, but he at least thought they were making progress. She didn’t seem nearly as terrified as she’d been of him when she followed Eleanor through the gate, so that was something.

Fast forward a few weeks and here they all were finishing their chicken and ale when Jack began asking about where the Flint/Hamilton/Ashe family intended to live. Miranda’s house was too small now that they had Abigail, and Billy had attached himself to Abigail as an older brother figure so usually where one of them was, the both of them were. Of course with Billy came Mr. Gates as his surrogate father, and while they’d made it work for the last couple of months, everyone was feeling a bit cramped.

Jack and Max volunteered to host them at the brothel, but they politely declined. Charles half considered offering to let them stay at the fort, but figured that may not be the best idea considering they also had Abigail to consider. Not that he couldn’t keep his men under control, but he also knew that she had memories of that fort that she may not want to be surrounded by all the time. He certainly knew that was the case for him, and yet he stayed… for some reason. Maybe he should take Jack up on the offer to move into the brothel…

Thomas mentioned that they’d been asking around and found a house a bit more inland from Miranda’s that had been abandoned for the last several years. It would take a bit of fixing up, but they planned to go ahead and move in and then work on it as they lived there. Before Charles fully knew what was happening, Jack had volunteered Charles, Anne, himself, and Max to all help them move with the added bonus that he and Max would help with the decorating if Miranda so desired their assistance. Max enthusiastically agreed and elbowed Anne in the side prompting her to shrug a shoulder in agreement. Jack looked at Charles with those wide puppy-dog eyes and before Charles even knew what he was saying he’d agreed to help. The look on the Flint/Hamilton’s faces almost made it worth it.

At the time.

That was then.

Now it’s moving day. What on earth had they gotten themselves into?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Charles and company arrived at Miranda’s house early the next day, one cart was packed and Thomas, Billy, and James were in the process of loading another one. It was decided that they would stay behind and the Ranger crew plus Max would go with Miranda and Abigail and get things unloaded. Mr. Gates was out helping Mr. De Groot careen the ship again since the last time was a bit of a disaster.

The moving crew pulled up to a slightly rundown looking two story house with columns on the porch and an overgrown garden to the side. Miranda smiled and squeezed Abigail around the shoulders before jumping off the cart to start unloading. Abigail took the key to the front door and unlocked it, but had a little trouble pushing it open since the summer heat made the wood swell in the jamb. Jack went to help her push it open while Charles and the others started getting things off the cart.

“Just put everything in the front for now, we’ll get it sorted later,” Miranda instructed as she pulled a crate of books from the back. She passed it to Charles who noticed the copy of Reflections by Marcus Aurelius on the top. He recognized it from a conversation he’d had with Flint on the way to the plantation. That was his and Thomas’s book, the one object that kept them tethered together to all this time. Flint’s book with Miranda was Don Quixote, which he also noticed on top of the stack. It’s not that Charles couldn’t read (Teach made sure he could), it had just never been particularly useful to him. You don’t have to know how to read to split logs, haul rope, navigate the stars, or fight the English Navy. Besides, he’d never really had the time to sit down and rest long enough to read. Maybe he should change that. He set the books down to the left of the open door and went back out for more stuff.

Max and Anne pulled down a trunk of clothes and carried it into the house together. Charles volunteered to switch with them, but he was told in no uncertain terms that they could handle it themselves thank you very much, so he left them to it. He passed Miranda and Abigail carrying small crates of what appeared to be dishes. Porcelain. Hadn’t he and Flint had that conversation just a few days ago? About how fragile porcelain and books were, and how fragile a civilized life was, and how it all came down to capitulation and letting society numb you into obedience? Now he was willingly helping Flint settle into that obedience. Is that something a real friend should do? Charles wasn’t sure, so he jumped into the back of the cart, pushed a trunk to the edge, and hauled it out of the back of the cart to take inside.

Miranda stood in the foyer with her hands on her hips trying to put together what each room should be when the furniture arrived. Charles motioned to the trunks on the floor and at Jack who was just standing there in slack jawed awe.

“Would you like us to move these upstairs?”

Miranda turned and smiled up at him. “Sure, thank you, Charles.”

“Jack, let’s go.” Charles barked and jerked his head toward the trunks.

“You can’t honestly expect me to be able to help you carry that upstairs.” Jack raised an eyebrow and looked at Charles like he’d lost his mind. Charles scowled and opened his mouth to reply when suddenly-

“Good thing we got here in time then,” Flint’s voice sounded amused coming from behind him, and he turned just in time to see Billy and Thomas carrying in a table. Miranda’s smile widened as she directed them to the right and Flint walked over to Charles to help with the trunk.

“My hero,” Jack cooed jokingly at Flint before catching Charles’s eye and backing away. “Yes, yes, I know. Fuck you, Jack. I’ll let you save your breath.” Jack raised his hands and walked away to follow Miranda and see if he could start setting the table or something.

Charles just rolled his eyes and grabbed his end of the trunk.

“On 3?” James asked. Charles nodded. “1, 2, 3,” James counted off and they both lifted at the same time. It was heavy, even for the two of them.

“The fuck’s in this thing?” Charles grunted as he started backwards up the stairs.

“I think these are Abigail’s… From what I understand, women’s clothes are far more complex than ours,” James laughed.

“Not here, they aren’t…” Charles thought back to Eleanor’s outfits, but also realized that Abigail and Miranda were nothing like Eleanor, therefore they would likely be dressed more like Max, in which case it made sense. Thank God they weren’t like Eleanor. Nassau couldn’t handle another one.

“So, if you can’t understand why a man would want domesticity, why are you helping four of them move into a house?” James looked amused, and Charles honestly wasn’t even sure he had an answer.

“I still don’t understand it. To the left,” Charles moved to get his back to the doorway and James moved with him. “However,” they set the trunk down inside the room and straightened. “I think I am starting to understand wanting peace.” He sighed. “And I don’t know, maybe I do understand it. I tried to tell Eleanor that we could take part of the gold and settle down, have a life, a couple of kids… but she would never have that. I told myself that wasn’t me wanting domesticity, that was wanting someone else to depend on me, but…” he took a deep breath and walked out onto the landing where he could see Jack and Anne below him. James wordlessly followed. “Maybe I’ve had other people depending on me for a long time. Actually, I know I have. It’s why Jack wouldn’t come with me when I left with Teach- he didn’t want to have to depend on me when he’d built something of his own here. I didn’t expect that to hurt as much as it did.”

“But it did,” James whispered beside him.

“It did. I guess because I was hoping that our friendship would be enough for him to come with me, but in the end his need for independence won out. I can’t blame him, especially after all the shit I put him through with Eleanor-”

“Excuse you, you both put us all through that,” James smirked and bumped Charles’s shoulder. He earned a grunt in response. James just chuckled and noted the small grin gracing Charles’s face out of the corner of his eye. James knew at one point that comment would likely have resulted at him having a knife in his face. He was thankful they’d progressed past that.

“Anyway,” Charles emphasized the word, “seeing you with Miranda and Thomas, and even adopting Abigail. It seems peaceful. Maybe that’s part of domesticity, maybe it isn’t, but either way, it looks nice. It’s not something I can have in that fort probably, but…” he trailed off.

James waited a beat before asking, “what?”

“I am happy that it’s working out this way for you,” Charles whispered. “If anyone deserves all of this, you do. You all do,” he ignored the water welling up in his eyes as he put a hand over Flint’s over the railing.

Flint didn’t even bother ignoring his tears. He just let them go as he watched his family make their home together for the first time in a way that included all of them from the very beginning. He whispered, “thank you. So do you, you know?”

Charles chuckled humorlessly and swiped a hand across his face.

“I’m serious,” James looked at Charles who turned his head in response. “They are my family, but you are now, too. You don’t show up to save my life from the man who ruined my life, help me blow a port city to hell, kill its governor, and then stop me from murdering Jack Rackham for taking the Urca gold I’d been after for years without earning the title of brother. Even if you did steal my ship first.” James smirked and bumped Charles’s shoulder again.

“Yeah… I’m not sorry about that.” Charles shook his head and laughed.

“Wouldn’t expect you to be,” James chuckled, “brother.”

Charles looked at his family and back at James. “Brother.”

#black sails #charles vane #ranger crew #anne bonny #jack rackham #bs max #james flint #flinthamilton #thomas hamilton #miranda hamilton

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thequibblah · 3 years

Note

directors cut for WTRF? 🥺👉👈 not biased at all obviously just objective third party asking for a directors cut hmmm hmmmmm

literally how could u do this every other word in that fic is an easter egg i can't shut up about..... bestie u are about to have regrets

one thing u should know is that 90% of things in this fic have real-world equivalents and its not even like....... hidden equivalents. serie primo = serie a, for instance. this trend is going to continue and i won't apologise <3

fun fact i named the bar the Bar and the drinks after shapes because i was too lazy to come up with something actually clever

this bit

I’m grinning to myself by the time she approaches my table.

was a very intentional fakeout and if you read this and thought "she" would be lily, feel free to sue me for emotional damages

the biggest conundrum of this AU was, how are jily not going to have met in school when magic exists? the solution was, of course, having multiple magic schools. but i couldn't let one of them have hogwarts, that didn't seem fair. i know i did sort of let lily have it..... but i felt more comfortable making hogwarts a university so there was a legit reason why james wasn't there and in gryffindor (if he'd gone he absolutely would have been)

once solved, i did the fun thing of naming them! ottaline gambol's was easy, i just scrolled through the list of ministers for magic and picked a progressive one. peverell hall was a whim, made all the funnier when lily's reaction is:

Much was made at Otty’s — one of the more progressive magical schools, named for one of the more progressive Ministers of Magic — of schools like Peverell Hall and St. George’s. The latter, I know, is chock-full of pureblooded elite. Peverell Hall is supposed to be slightly better, but still.

dang, it's gonna be funny if she ever finds out james is a descendant of the guy it's named after

fun fact, i included this because peter's question was a real thought i had when reading bond and free, your inspiring writing knows no limits:

The first thing you conjure in Walking Wombat is a yellow quill... “Why yellow?” Peter asked. Eddie gave him a strange look. “Why not?”

i realised i'd put jily in the same conundrum they had in tis the fucking season here:

It’s only then that I remember she’s just bought us drinks. I turn back to my triangle. “Oh, shit.” I suppose I can pawn it off on one of the others.

...but of course the resolution is rather different, and i do so enjoy a james with no filter (aka default james)

I briefly lose control of my brain and my tongue. “Is it too soon to say I’m in love with you?”

by the way, no-filter james will be a theme. wild things sure do run fast but not as fast as this boy runs his mouth!

also, another interesting challenge here was making sure james has a reason to be the way he is in AU. i love playing around with james's childhood/background and seeing how that affects his character while (hopefully!) staying true to who he is. i did that in ttfs by having him move around a lot and not meet the marauders until after the flashback timeline, which is why he's less of a git — he doesn't have the level of comfort in a social setting that canon james has with hogwarts, which is basically his playground from day 2 of first year lol

here, james was probably a fkn nightmare all through school, but of course he gets a big ego check when his quidditch career is derailed. i imagine his years in italy as a continuation of that humility lesson.

I will fully admit I used to be a cocky prick. This is what comes of being a kid who grew up with everything. But one useful thing that the whole fiasco four years ago taught me is humility. I’ve learned how to ask nicely for another chance.

and so much of writing him in wtrf is juggling that typical confidence with the insecurity/fear of losing something he's invested so much in (and has seen slip away before). it's really new to me, because typically i give lily uncertain life circumstances, but i suppose it's both of them in this AU.

the car thing was... i swear didn't start out as smutty, it was purely because i wanted a way to establish lily as muggleborn in a world where the connotations of not having magical parents is very different. more to come on that!

also, come to think of it, by this metric...

I’m now in dangerous territory, since that adds another impressive action to her running tally.

...i think james is already in love with her LOL

this bit:

The street is considered indecent and the downstairs hallway would have our landlady come running at once, so if it pleases Your Honour, we would recommend the sitting room sofa.

...was actually because in draft one lily was a lawyer, but then it was funny enough that i didn't want to take it out, but NOW i realise it makes it sound a little like she's addressing james as your honour, which.... hm. but anyway, we move on

Marc Bolan begs us to get it on through the stereo, vocalising my thoughts exactly.

the song here was initially "you shook me" (h/t @keepingupwithpotters) but i chickened out because zeppelin is SO horny dfjkhgkjs

also, it gave me so much joy to read everyone reacting to lily thinking about her ex (the general vibe was "who the fuck is this guy!!! ew!!!!") — rest assured (or, unassured??) that he has a part to play in all this. anyway, this is one of my fave lines:

He’s just a person, and there’s such a relief in sleeping with James and not the myth of a guy.

because as any come together reader knows....

Just James. Just James. It was never just James.

wtrf lily will learn!

literally the whole world knows i'm obsessed with needle drops that have no subtlety at all, but this one...

We just laugh, tangled together in a sweaty heap, as “Heaven Is in the Back Seat of My Cadillac” plays through the car’s speakers. “On the nose, isn’t it?” James says, sitting up.

...was pure luck, because i was looking up the top hits on the uk singles chart for the week(ish) this scene takes place in so that i could find a song that would realistically play on the radio, saw this, and was like omg the stars really do align

i feel like the thing i enjoy most about writing romance is the importance i get to place in noticing/looking/observing (and sometimes, not noticing!). it's just such a powerful but simple writerly tool, and god knows i am obsessed with pithy descriptions anyway, so this bit i am especially happy with:

James is already waiting, leaning against the car with his hands in his pockets. I feel as though I’m seeing him for the first time, the faint light of the flickering streetlamp catching him in profile: the strong slope of his nose, the hard line of his jaw, the curve of his smile. He studies the facade of our building with open curiosity, and I wonder what he’s looking for.

(one can only imagine james's train of thought in this moment. perhaps "ah. here lives the future love of my life"?)

“Thanks,” she tacks on at the end. I tip my head to one side in confusion. “For what?” “For, I don’t know. Being nice.” She laughs awkwardly. “I don’t do this very much.”

it wouldn't be a quibblah original tee em without some discourse to come about the nature of romantic/sexual relationships, would it? one thing i enjoy about this AU ("one thing" i say as if this isn't the billionth thing in a list) is that i get to write a romantic lily who's squaring that romanticism with what she perceives as the culture of the times. (this is a bit of a staple in all my characterisations of lily, but it is not often paired with casual sex, the complication of all complications!)

oh this bit literally wrote itself like i didn't even pause to think just vomited it out:

In the morning — and it must be early still — the sun streams through Lily’s sorry excuses for curtains with aggression that cannot be ignored. I crack open an eye to find myself sprawled out across her bed, quite literally spread-eagled. She’s attached to my side like a barnacle. Or a very pretty barnacle, anyway.

i'm especially proud of james's voice in this story. i don't often write first-person fic and i was worried how it'd turn out, but i think james as a character/narrator typically colours his own 3rd-person narration so strongly that it ended up a smoother transition than i'd feared!

also i just. i can't resist throwing in comic relief and i hope that this whole segment was a gentle enough preparation for the awkwardness that followed LOL

All of a sudden, the balcony door bursts open. I nearly drop the mug. “What the—” Mary pokes her head around the corner, sporting a righteous smile. “Morning, handsome.” Over her shoulder she shouts, “He’s on the balcony!” I blink. There’s a sound from inside the flat, as if something very large has just been dropped. Then a swear. “Oh, shit,” I say, realisation dawning, “you weren’t looking for me, were you? It’s so loud out here—” Mary cups a hand around her mouth and stage-whispers, “Lily was frantic.” She’s quite violently yanked back, and Lily herself appears in the doorway, slightly out of breath. “Should’ve checked the balcony first,” she says, and closes the door before Mary can insert herself into the space again. “Hi,” I say, which is agreed-upon best practice for greeting a woman you’ve just had fantastic sex with and ideally would like to have sex with again.

to this day i don't know what lily dropped. let's hope it wasn't expensive!

Captained the under-17 English squad at the World Cup some years back, Serie Primo’s lead goal-scorer of last year… Only an injury in what should’ve been his first season at Puddlemere mars his record. I wince reading about it and comparing it to a heap of press clippings. James Potter was hurt, and Puddlemere didn’t fancy paying for him not to play, so they shipped him off to Milan.

(you cannot imagine how much pointed interrogation of my brother it took to gather this intel.) i constantly worry that i've got dates or timelines wrong somehow — you might notice i tweaked under-17, which used to be under-19 until i realised that made no sense (even though in terms of its career importance i would much preferred it to have been u-19.... anyway). i also found out that u-17 football squads don't actually have captains but i said fuck it on that count.

but obviously i started writing this AU for the sports possibilities, only to discover i'm going to have to interfere a great deal with the Timeline (you shall see in future instalments).

god i really went through the whole fic. like i reread the whole thing to do this. here u go clare jfbghjfd

#this has no right to be this long #wtrf #clareee75 #ask me #director's cuts

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scapegrace74-blog · 4 years

Text

The Second First Christmas

A/N Despite the fact that I’m posting it after Boxing Day, this little fic is about Metric Jamie and Claire celebrating their first Christmas as a couple. It is unadulterated fluff, and in keeping with the season of giving, I’m going to give this an Explicit rating. You’re welcome.

With special thanks to @lady-o-ren, for Jamie’s gift idea!

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

December 24, 2018, Spitalfields, London, England

Claire could hear her phone vibrating loudly on the metal shelf inside her duty locker. Overcoming fatigue so severe it blurred her vision, she entered her combination and yanked open the door, thumbing the screen just before the call went to voicemail.

How did he do it? Jamie had an uncanny, and frankly slightly unsettling, ability to guess her whereabouts, even remotely. The past week he had found her in the massive Spitalfields Market merely on the hunch that she would be craving sushi after her Pilates class. At one point she’d found his prescience disturbing, but now it soothed her. Someone cared for her enough, knew her well enough, to plot the passage of her days on the virtual map of his mind. And that someone was on the line.

“You’ve reached the voicemail for Claire Beauchamp’s circadian rhythm. Press One if you’re a cortisol suppressant, Two if you’re an espresso machine, or Three if you’re Claire’s boyfriend, last seen in the flesh prior to the winter solstice.”

Jamie’s low rumbling chuckle filled her ear.

“Ye’re verra funny for a lass goin’ on twenty-four hours wi’out sleep, Sassenach. How was yer shift?”

Having worked most holidays in the A&E since graduating nursing school, Claire knew they went one of two ways: either complete bedlam, or utter boredom. This one had been the latter, for which she was thankful.

“Surprisingly calm, but that means no lovely adrenaline to keep me awake. I may sleepwalk into the Thames on my way home. Are you at the station already?”

“Aye, jus’ starting my shift. Can ye be at the main entrance of the hospital in five minutes? I’ll call ye an Uber.”

“Jamie, that’s really not necessary. I’m quite capable of walking...”

“Claire...” he interrupted, and needn’t say anything more. They’d had numerous conversations and minor confrontations since becoming a couple over what Jamie termed her “wee addiction to self-sufficiency”. She was trying to learn to accept help when it was offered, but it was an iterative process.

“Thank you. I’d appreciate that. Will I see you tomorrow morning before I go back on duty?”

Both Jamie and Claire were working extra hours over the holidays to offset the cost of refurnishing their flat. Every minute spent together was therefore doubly precious.

“Aye, I’ll wake ye when I get in an’ we can celebrate our second first Christmas t’gether by tryin’ tae keep the other awake long enough tae open our presents.”

She smiled, but it morphed into a yawn.

“Get some rest, Sassenach. And Claire,” he added in a serious tone, “t’would be a fine gift tae find ye in my bed, preferably naked, when I come home on Christmas morn.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she husked, suddenly much more awake.

***

There was a puff of cool air and then the Earth moved. Straining to hold onto slumber, Claire rolled away from the disturbance, gripping the blanket beneath her chin. A low chuckle preceded a solid warmth radiating along the entire length of her spine. Something bristly abraded her shoulder and she flinched away.

“Has anyone told ye ye look like a wee hedgehog when ye sleep, Sassenach?”

“I’m fairly confident they haven’t,” she retorted, rolling onto her back and stretching before opening her eyes. The room was mostly dark, but Jamie’s auburn curls glowed in the dim lamplight escaping their living room. His bare shoulders were humid and pink from the shower. “What time is it?” she asked.

“Gone four. We have a few hours afore ye have tae be back at the A&E, aye?”

“Mmmm,” she hummed affirmatively, caught up in tracing the ligatures of Jamie’s upper arm.

“Good. That should leave us jus’ enough time.”

“Just how many presents are we exchanging?” Claire laughed, mesmerized by the eager passage of Jamie’s eyes over her face. The hand that wasn’t bracing his head aloft began a lazy exploration beneath the blankets, touching her naked skin so softly that it almost tickled.

“Only two. An’ the first one’s already unwrapped.”

“How fortuitous,” she teased before leaning upwards to capture his waggish lips in a warm introductory kiss. “Merry Christmas,” she murmured as they parted some time later.

“An’ tae ye as well, Sassenach. Ye canna imagine how many times I thought of ye t’night, yer beautiful skin warm against my sheets.” Jamie’s free hand was on the move again, firmer now along the contours of her body as it came alive to his touch.

“Slow night, then?” she gasped as his knuckle found her nipple, slackened with sleep.

“Painfully so.”

There was no further conversation for a time, mouths being employed far more enjoyably. Four months of intimacy had bridged the span from friends to lovers, replacing hesitation with ardour. They were still learning each other’s tells; when to lead and when to follow, how to ask and how to demand. It was a giddy education for them both.

Tonight, Jamie’s fatigue and drawn-out anticipation left him shaking with want, a sensation akin to sharing a bed with an earthquake. His broad torso was outlined in the light from the door as he knelt between her thighs, lust pinwheeling like sparklers in his eyes. Fortunately, condoms were no longer a necessity after they both produced clean blood tests and Claire had an IUD implanted. So when he slid into her body, there was nothing but the needy clasp of flesh on flesh. Her sigh of pleasure mingled with Jamie’s groan of relief as they began their dance.

“Yer breasts, mo nighean donn,” Jamie growled past the iron clench of his jaw. She dragged her pupils down from the back of her eyelids to observe the twin objects in question, undulating in time to their meeting and parting.

“Touch them for me,” Jamie commanded.

Aware that her every movement was being minutely observed, she made a show of arching her ribs and running her hands first beside, then below, and finally between her breasts.

“Seadh, mo ghaol.” The words snuck unbidden between Jamie’s strained lips. She didn’t have the Gaihldig, but his meaning was clear. Go on. So go on she did, dragging fingernails over the creased flesh of each areola before giving both nipples a sudden pinch. Whatever tectonic fluctuations her actions caused, Jamie felt them, for he let out an ecstatic whimper. A worried furrow now marred his brow. Her fluent eyes read the desperation written on his face. He didn’t have long, and he needed her to go before him.

Her right hand drifted down to where they were joined. His cock was thoroughly coated in her moisture as it emerged from her body. Wetting her fingertips, she began to trace the intricate geometry of self-pleasure against her flesh. Breathy moans filled the air. Jamie’s teeth were bared in a snarl of panicked concentration. She wasn’t going to overtake him in the wire sprint to the finish, she realized.

“Do it, Jamie.” His crazed glance snapped upward to meet her own certain one. Doubt clouded the seascape of his irises. “God, please,” she begged. They’d spoken of it. A fantasy. A mental titillation not yet brought to life.

Resolution came just in time. Slipping from her heat, he grasped himself and with two hard strokes erupted all over her skin with a hoarse cry, anointing the final acceleration of her fingers as she echoed his climax with a convulsion and a sob.

Minutes later, they lay side by side, still recovering their breath.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Claire warned. “We still need to exchange gifts.”

“Greedy wee thing,” Jamie groaned, already halfway to slumber.

***

A shared shower and two cups of strong coffee later, they sat on their new sofa. Claire’s carefully wrapped gift for Jamie lay on the coffee table before them.

“I can’t help but notice that there’s nothing under our tree for me, Fraser.”

“Och, ye mean ye expect me tae serve ye and give ye a wee present, Sassenach. Ye truly are greedy,” he groused dramatically. Standing, he extended his hand and confused, Claire allowed him to lead her towards her bedroom. For a moment she considered that he might actually be taking her back to bed. As he turned on the light she understood his intention.

As a lifelong wanderer, Claire could count on the fingers of one hand her precious material possessions. Her mother’s emerald earrings. Her father’s pocket watch. A jade fish from the Cat Street night market in Hong Kong, a lucky talisman she carried in her pocket for every test and exam. And a beautiful antique print of Persepolis left to her by her Uncle Lamb. All but this last had survived their apartment fire unscathed, but the water and smoke damage to its parchment had been irreparable. Or so she had believed.

“Jamie,” she gasped upon seeing the lithograph once again mounted in its frame on her wall. “But... how?”

“Well, I willna bore ye with the details, but suffice it tae say that there’s an antiquarian o’er in Bermondsey who can work miracles. There’s still a wee bit o’ smudging near the edges, but I reckon it adds to its character,” he explained.

“A palimpsest,” she said, taking his hand. At his questioning look, she explained, “when one story is written overtop of an older one. This print is a remembrance of my Uncle Lamb and his love for me. And now, when I look at it, I’ll be reminded of your love as well.”

“Aye, just so,” he agreed.

***

Claire was unaccountably nervous as Jamie began to unwrap her gift. She’d felt certain she’d picked just the right thing for him; personal without being sappy, meaningful without being extravagant. But with eyes still misty from the thoughtfulness of his present to her, she was having doubts.

“Tis rather heavy,” Jamie observed as he lifted the rectangular package onto his lap. His eyes were alight with childlike glee, which was a gift unto itself.

“A chess set!” His smile was genuine, but Claire’s heart plummeted. What kind of woman bought her lover a chess set? She began to stammer.

“I... ummm... I thought you could invite your friend John over to play. You mentioned missing the challenge, and ummm....” she broke off, floundering, but Jamie paid her no heed. He was lifting each wooden piece from its velvet resting place, inspecting its shape with a look of utter fascination.

“Where did ye find this, Claire?” he asked at last.

“Oh, uhh, online, actually. It’s from a store in Inverness, but of course I wasn’t able to...”

“It’s Culloden,” Jamie interrupted.

“Errr, yes. I thought, you know, a chessboard is a tactical battlefield. And with you being Scottish and your family’s Jacobite history...”

“Claire, this is the most amazing chess set I’ve e’er seen. Look here. See this wee knight? Tis a Scotch Hussar. An’ the white king is the Duke of Cumberland.” Jamie’s finger traced the words and images carved on the plinth of each piece, going on and on about the clans represented by the tacksmen pawns and his own grandsire, Lord Lovat, symbolized by a tiny strawberry carved on the base of an ebony rook. Claire’s ribs began to loosen their vice-grip on her lungs. Maybe she hadn’t horribly miscalculated after all.

“Sassenach, thank ye. Truly. Tis a grand gift.” The chess set had finally been set aside and they sat facing each other, hands gently caressing as the winter sun slowly warmed the room in tones of blush and grey.

“You’ve very welcome. I’m so relieved that you like it,” she replied with candour.

“I love it. But no’ half sae much as I love ye.”

“I love you too.” It was only after the words had taken flight from her lips that she realized she had never said them aloud before. Not to Jamie, whose sudden stillness indicated that he had heard her. It was too late, then, to pluck her soaring words from the air and cage them once again inside her heart. Too afraid to meet his gaze, she concentrated on smoothing her palms over the backs of his hands in a hypnotic rhythm.

His response, when it came, was whispered into the secret stronghold they had built together.

“There’s naught on Earth tae compare wi’ the gift of yer heart, mo nighean donn. I want ye tae ken that I shall treasure it, an’ ne’er give ye reason tae regret placing it with me for safekeeping.”

Jamie lifted her hands to his mouth and kissed them both sweetly. Still looking down, she nodded her acceptance of his pledge, a single tear escaping from the tip of her nose.

It was well past sunrise by the time Claire rose from their bed a second time, kissing her sleeping lover goodbye before creeping out of their flat and into the gemstone light of a perfect Christmas morning.

#my writing #outlander

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years

Text

But Once a Year (3/5)

This is a trick.

It has to be. Something Pan planned, or some nonsense only possible in Neverland, because one second Emma’s sitting outside the Echo Caves and wondering how exactly things could possibly get worse, and then the world decides to take her up on the challenge. She’s not where she was. Or when she was, either.

And the future isn’t entirely what Emma expects it to be, but that might not be entirely horrible and Christmas with a husband and a family that quite clearly loves her is only kind of messing with her head. God bless us, every one.

————

Rating: T Word Count: 9K and change, but also stuff happens AN: I cannot tell you guys how much I appreciate you continuing to appreciate this story. It’s exceptionally nice, and I think you’re wonderful. Here’s a whole slew of feelings and tradition and magic. Like, lots of magic.

Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll || Or start from the start

————

This is a problem.

Multiple problems, honestly. Like, at least seven different problems that Emma can think of off the top of her head, and obviously the most pressing is getting back to the right part of her timeline, but only marginally less distressing is the overall domesticity of her life at this point of her timeline.

It’s more than the pillows. Of which there are just an absolutely ridiculous amount, actually. They hover in couch corners and fall to the floor with alarming regularity because, between the two of them, Hope and Lucy are something akin to forces of nature, hopped up on Christmas-type sugar and the cookies that people apparently just hand out on the street in Storybrooke. Someone’s always got some sort of baked good, freshly out of the oven — and while Emma’s discovered she’s particularly partial to Granny’s snickerdoodles, she can’t imagine any of this is very efficient.

For Storybrooke’s economy, or whatever.

There’s no bank. Emma looked. And asked. Several dwarfs, actually. All of whom immediately bowed and narrowed their eyes at her like she’d totally lost her mind, which seems pretty accurate at this point. Five days after waking up on that couch, with all of its pillows and questionable comfort, and only a handful of people actually know what’s going on.

Not Hope.

And no one actually told her to do that, but Emma figures it’s kind of like deciding to take her boots off in the house. Polite. Plus, a growing determination not to traumatize a ridiculously cute four-year-old, even when that four-year-old appears to be far more adept at stealing cookies than anything else.

Crumbs line the counter in the morning, and there’s usually a bit of evidence directly outside Hope’s bedroom door, signs of a late-night theft that shouldn’t make Emma smile. She does anyway. Can’t seem to stop it, which might be problem number four. Three is definitely Killian’s consistent lack of jacket, which admittedly is a very surface problem, but the button-up shirts are all ridiculously patterned, and trying not to ask who initially took him shopping is like, problem, three sub-a.

So, no one tells Hope that her mom isn’t her mom. Technically speaking, at least. They go through the motions, and Emma smiles when she’s supposed to, and she eats what is undoubtedly the world record for snickerdoodle consumption by a wayward princess, but trying to be herself, while also not being herself continues to be a rather daunting prospect.

Particularly because whomever Regina believed would know more about Neverland vegetation and its ability to ruin everything is taking their sweet time responding or showing up in Storybrooke, and they’ve tried what feels like several thousand things to get Emma back, but magic beans were a no-go, and some very fancy wand didn’t do anything except infuriate Regina with it uselessness, and it’s still Christmas, so there are apparently a metric shit ton of traditions and expectations, and—

“Wait, what?” Emma asks, perched on the edge of her desk in the station because that’s at least something she’s used to. Less so to Killian’s presence at the only other desk, and she doesn’t remember the only other desk being quite so close to her’s, but it’s entirely possible that’s a trick of her not-quite coherent mind.

Might be problem six. Maybe seven. Making it six gives it power, and acknowledges how much the state of his tongue continues to affect her cognitive abilities. Of which there were already very few, especially while she was exhausted in Neverland, and Emma’s not willing to risk anymore.

“It’s something of a requirement,” Killian says, not for the first time. Princesses have a ridiculous number of requirements, Emma’s rather quickly learned. And he can’t seem to sit straight in any chair. Also ridiculous.

“Does that not hurt your spine?”

Shrugging, he smirks at her and that’s been happening more often. Not that she’s keeping track, or anything. She’s just—aware, that’s totally the right word. Of him, and what he does with his face and his patterned shirts, and there’s been no bare arm again, but Emma’s still not really his wife, and she knows the hours he’s spent holed up in one of the copious rooms in their quasi-mansion have been dedicated to research.

And getting his wife back.

That’s fine. It’s fine. Definitely not a problem. Hasn’t even crossed her mind.

Emma doesn’t want him to want her. Like, ever.

And they’re waiting for her dad, anyway. To report back on some magical failing in Wonderland. Seriously, everything is so fine that it's almost a problem as well. It’s too fine. Everything is—

Great.

“Are you concerned about the state of my spine, darling?”

Melting is not an option — so far as Emma is aware of, but it’s certainly very appealing in the moment. When that moment includes tilted lips and an angled neck seemingly designed to ensure Killian’s hair falls artfully across his forehead, as if the strands are there to frame his eyes and the hint of light in them.

She takes a deep breath.

The light brightens. Or she imagines.

“A tree lighting, though,” Emma says, not-so-subtly changing the subject. Killian’s brows jump. Up his forehead and past those strands of hair she’s only passably obsessed with. “Isn’t that kind of...I don’t know, it’s not very fairy tale.” “Regina lights the candles with magic, if that helps.” “So why do I have to be there?” “The monarchy usually stands on a platform, waves lovingly to their subjects and—” “—God, how is there more?” Emma balks, but that only gets her a more powerful smirk and eyes that are far too blue to be fair, and they still haven’t painted the dining room. She’s not going to ask about that.

She’s not.

“This is something of the central hub for the rest of the United Realms,” Killian explains, “and with Regina and the Charmings here, it makes sense that people...flock.” “Like birds.” “Not the ones your mother can commune with, but I suppose the metaphor is appropriate.”

“Who decided to hold Regina’s queen election?” Eyeing her speculatively, Emma does her very best not to wither under Killian’s expression. She’s not altogether confident it works, but they’ve almost come to something like an understanding, and it’s very easy. This, them. No, not them. There’s no them and while Emma’s done her fair share of staring, there can’t be a them now because that will undoubtedly fuck with the timeline and probably everything else, just to keep inspiring problematic lists, and her increasing desire to kiss him until he also has to deal with wobbly knees is just something she’s going to have to deal with.

“Maybe I won’t remember when I get back,” Emma reasons, but that one word comes out as wobbly as her knees have been and Killian purses his lips. “Ok, fine—tell me something totally random, then. A fun-fact, as it were.” “Random.” “Do you not know what that means?” He rolls his eyes. “I know at least three more languages than you do, so—” “—No you do not!”

Nodding, Killian smiles over the edge of his coffee mug, and neither one of them mention that his proclivity to drinking a gallon of coffee every morning could probably be this so-called fun fact. “English, obviously, and—” “—Ok, I can clearly speak English,” Emma argues. She nearly bites her tongue in half at the force of Killian’s answering look, part amusement and even more heat and that only circles her back around to the melting thing.

“Aye, but I definitely know more curses than you do, so that’s got to count for something. Also that’s simply my base language, as it were.” She sneers. He chuckles. Into the mug, but it feels like the emotion behind it sinks under Emma’s skin and times up with her pulse, less erratic than it had been those first few nights, and she’s actually started sleeping consistently. “Then of course, I’m rather familiar with Latin.” “Dead, it doesn’t count.” “Impressive, though.” “Sounds like you’re fishing for compliments, Captain.” “Unnecessary, when I know you’ll be all wide-eyed and amazed in a moment,” Killian promises, swinging his legs to prop his feet on the edge of her desk. “There’s also Greek, and—” Waving her hands, Emma doesn’t explicitly try to swat at his legs, but he’s just so goddamn close, and still exuding heat, and she’s starting to have some assumptions about that as well. Of the possibly magic and decidedly—no she’s not doing that. They’re not that. Not like this, anyway. And Killian doesn’t immediately move, but that only lulls her into a false sense of security, the metal of his hook is cold enough that she yelps when it circles both her wrists.

“Fairy,” he finishes, and Emma refuses to believe he leans forward on purpose.

“No.” “You keep objecting to my facts and you’ll give a man a complex, Swan.” “Why would you know Greek, you’re a—” “—Fairy tale character?”

Emma presses her lips together. So as not to make an undignified noise. She’s already whimpered enough, and cried more than she thought possible and the hitch in his voice threatens to shatter several things. Moving her hands is impossible, which is probably for the best, but all of her would very much like to cup his cheek, if only to see if he’ll kiss the inside of her wrist, and she’s like ninety-two percent positive he would. “Pirate prince,” she corrects lightly, and does get her a smile. “Do you have an official title here?” “Captain.” “That’s it?” “Not impressive enough, huh?”

There’s no music on in the station, but they’re clearly dancing all the same — around each other, and the maelstrom of feelings Emma is doing a God awful job of ignoring, and at some point one of them is going to have to pull away from the other. In more ways than one.

“I didn’t say that,” she shakes, “and don’t bother telling me it’s another argument, I don’t care. I’m just—curious, I guess.” “About me?”

Nodding is the least dangerous response when she’s so worried about tripping over her own feet in this metaphorical waltz, but it’s one of the more accurate things she’s said since she got here, and now she’s got an excuse. No repercussions, nothing exactly permanent about these conversations, or this information, and no one’s told her whether or not she’ll retain her memories once she gets back, but they also don’t know she’ll get back so—

Fuck it, honestly.

“Yeah,” Emma replies, not bothering to gloat when Killian’s the one whose eyes go wide first.

“Oh.” “Is that unexpected?” “Maybe at this point.”

Humming, she files that away, preening slightly under the not-quite-compliment. “Not an answer though. Habit of yours.” “Not really, you’re just very demanding in this incarnation.” “Product of my situation, I guess.” He laughs. It’s something that happens more often here than it did when Emma knew him — knows him, whatever tenses get confusing in time travel. Still, the sound consistently manages to catch her off guard. Free and easy, and the magic that rustles in the back of her brain might deserve its own list.

Or another conversation with Regina. “The Royal Navy,” Killian says, an answer Emma nearly forgot she wanted. Her eyes widen. He looks triumphant. “See, told you.” “Like an Enchanted Forest GI bill, huh? See new lands, learn new languages.” “Something like that, aye.” “How’d you get to fairy?” “Did you meet the Lady Bell before—” “—I got yanked out of Neverland?” Emma quips, and it might be a defense mechanism. Making jokes, but she also hasn’t gone into detail about the plant-thing yet, and that might be because she doesn’t want to freak him out.

Anymore than he already is. He spends at least an hour in that room every night.

“Yeah, I did,” she adds,” after she kidnapped Regina and told us Greg and Tamara were dead, which...y’know—” “—Wasn’t the worst thing in the world?” “Does that make me a horrible person?” Killian shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” “Are you going to tell me you learned fairy language from an actual fairy?” “Not much else to do on a hellish island for several hundred years, and it’s a rather complicated tongue. Takes some practice.” “Oh, you’re doing that on purpose now.” The speed of his grin is like molasses. Emma assumes. She’s not sure she’s ever encountered molasses in real life. Even so, the whole thing is bordering on obscene and the opposite of the Christmas spirit and—“Alright,” she concedes, “learning fairy is actually pretty impressive.” “You flatter me, love.”

“What’s your favorite fairy curse word and do you think anyone would be totally scandalized if I used it during this super fancy, exceptionally royal tree lighting?”

Absolutely, goddamn obscene. The tip of his tongue finds the corner of his mouth, and his eyes get noticeably darker, Emma’s pulse picking up until she’s sure they can hear it on the other side of town, and there’s already barely any space between them, but that appears to be decreasing with every passing second. She’s got no idea who’s moving. She might be moving.

God, she hopes she’s moving.

Losing control of her limbs may send her off some ledge.

And she’s just about to throw caution to the seemingly ever-present wind that comes off the harbor, because the front of this patterned shirt looks particularly yankable, but the station door creaks, and a muscle in Killian’s jaw jumps and David clicks his teeth exactly once when he walks in.

“Interrupting something, am I?” “No, no,” Emma stammers at the same time Killian mumbles “absolutely not,” and neither of those things sound all that honest.

She’s never gone into cardiac arrest, but if this is what it feels like, it’s kind of disorienting.

“You hear about the tree lighting, Emma?” David asks, and that’s obviously where her inability to tactfully alter the course of a conversation comes from. Killian rolls his eyes towards the ceiling, slumping back into his chair.

Exhaling feels like an admission of guilt, but Emma can’t have anything to feel guilty about here, and she hopes Killian’s getting sleep. On the couch. He keeps sleeping on the couch.

Of course he does.

“Do I have to wear a gown or anything?” “It’s outside,” David says, “there are trees involved.”

Killian’s hook pokes at his chair arm. “Only one tree, as far as I knew.” “Why are you like this?” “You’re charmed by it, I know,” he chuckles, eyes flashing towards Emma. Coincidence, she’s sure. Her cheeks are very warm.

She’s very warm. Passably magical, maybe.

David sighs. “No, there are no gowns. It is in fact only one tree, and Em—you don’t have to say anything. Regina will thank people for coming, Snow will open up the meal and that’ll be that.” “Should I know what the meal is?” Emma asks, and her gaze doesn’t automatically drift towards Killian either. It just, sort of—meanders there, naturally. His tongue is still doing that thing.

“I was going to get to that part eventually.” “There’s kind of a reception,” David explains, “with cookies.” “Shit, how many cookies can one United Realm eat?” “An exceptional amount,” Killian mutters, and Emma might guffaw. While realizing why her other version had been baking so much before.

“You don’t have to do anything,” David adds, “just show up and smile, and you’ll get some cookies out of it.” “Will I not get cookies if I don’t smile?” Not able to stop whatever noise rumbles out of him, the force of Killian’s grin makes Emma glad she’s sitting down again. “I’ll swipe you some if you don’t.” “Very gallant.” “Happens from time to time.” Flirting in front of her father is wrong. That’s if this counts as flirting. As far as Emma knows, most of their banter has been a product of their mutually ridiculous lives, and whatever situation they’ve found themselves in at the moment, but this moment doesn’t hold any danger and it is so goddamn easy.

She smiles.

Killian beams.

David sighs again. “Anyone want to hear about Wonderland now? Or how the White Rabbit can’t draw any portals? Or—” “—This is a really extensive list,” Emma grumbles, and Killian’s smile is going to get stuck on his face. Permanently. She’s very charmed by the crinkles around his eyes.

“Tinker Bell is here.” Slamming his feet back onto the floor, Killian practically snaps to attention, and Emma’s body goes through another reaction she does not expect. What feels suspiciously like jealousy rattles down her spine, rooting her to the spot and drying out her mouth and David’s far too observant.

He clicks his teeth again. “When?” Killian asks, already standing and offering Emma his hand. She takes it, not thinking about what that means — or how it affects the half-green tint clouding her vision, and her heart misses a beat. As soon as his fingers lace through hers.

“Just now. Went to Regina’s, but I had to come here, so one of Snow’s birds told me.” “You can talk to the birds too?” Emma balks, stumbling while Killian all but yanks her towards the door.

“No, no, they carry messages now.” “Ah of course.” “Did Tink say anything yet?” Killian demands, David already shaking his head and they’re picking up speed. All but jogging down Main Street and towards Regina’s office, and the nickname probably isn’t important. It’s fine. Everything is fine. It’s all going to be good.

Even when the fairy in question snaps towards the office door as it swings open, practically lighting up when she notices Killian and Regina’s eyes go noticeably thin. Staring at Emma like she’s trying to read her mind.

Her fingers are still tied up with Killian’s. “Hook,” Tinker Bell exclaims, and she doesn’t have any visible wings so she can’t fly out of her chair. She tries all the same, arms that bump Emma as they hug her not-quite husband and he mutters a greeting. It takes a moment for Tinker Bell’s gaze to find Emma, trying and failing to keep her expression even, and Killian might chuckle.

She kicks his ankle.

“Emma,” Tink breathes, “it’s good to see you again, you have to get the hell out of this timeline.”

“So, that’s it,” Tinker Bell finishes, shrugging like Emma’s not dangerously close to fully breaking down and Killian’s thumb keeps tapping the side of her palm. Because he’s still holding her hand. Cool, it’s cool. She’s not totally preoccupied with that.

Regina’s totally staring, anyway.

“Will-o-wisps,” Killian says, “I thought that was a rumor.” More shrugging. There’s too much shrugging for Emma. “I’ve never heard of it in practice,” Tinker Bell reasons, “but can you think of another plant in Neverland that could do such a thing? That rumor you’re talking about always mentioned how it would draw a traveler in, bewitch them with lights and—were there lights, Emma?”

She nods. Swallows, or tries at least. But her tongue is expanding again, and her heart might be shrinking, and the whole thing feels like a very cruel trick.

“Pan would have known about all of that,” Tinker Bell continues, “and used it to his advantage. If he could get Emma to follow the light, then she wouldn’t be a problem anymore.” “But I didn’t actually move anywhere,” Emma argues. “There was no following the light.” Regina exhales. “Probably more metaphorical, giving into what the light offered.” “Which was?” “This, obviously. What we talked about, and what you thought you couldn’t ever have while you were stuck in Neverland, convinced of a whole slew of wholly negative things. So, there was no walking, but—” “—I wouldn’t have just run away!”

Voice cracking is a sign of impending mental breakdown, Emma’s sure. As are Killian’s tightening fingers, although she’s starting to depend on those fingers just a bit because sitting hadn’t even crossed her mind before and now that might be the only reason she’s still standing.

That keeps happening.

“Doesn’t sound like you had a choice,” Regina says, “if Pan wanted to tempt you, will-o-wisps seem like the perfect way to do it. See the light, get pulled into this future, he gets Henry, and everything he wants.” “But Henry is here. He’s—he’s a grown man, with a kid and—” “—None of that is set in stone,” Tinker Bell interrupts, magic roaring in Emma’s ears. Killian’s going to cut off the circulation to her hand. “With you out of the way, Pan’s got a straight shot at the heart of the truest believer, he can change what you would have eventually done. Make sure he gets the magic that’ll save Neverland. That’s why everything else is falling apart.” “I’m sorry, what?” “Magic,” David clarifies. “All of it acting strangely? Turns out that is because of you, kid.” Scoffing makes her lean forward awkwardly, but Killian doesn’t mention the strain it’s undoubtedly putting on his arm, and letting go of her hand is disappointing for about two seconds. Before it turns into his arm around waist.

Regina’s expression turns calculating.

“Again,” she says, “it’s what we talked about. Things falling apart because you got pulled off the board. Into this exceedingly tempting place.”

Widening her eyes at the unspoken judgement doesn’t do anything to alter Regina’s face, but Emma didn’t really expect it to and her eyes hurt. From not crying. She can’t possibly cry anymore. “I’ve never been to Wonderland, though. How could I fuck up its magic?” “You’ve been other places, love,” Killian murmurs, “and all of that has ripple effects. Savior saves one place, and other realms reap the benefits.” “Is Neverland in the United Realms?” “No.” “Just like that?” “Just like that,” he echoes, smile not quite reaching his eyes. “What do we do now, Your Majesty?”

Taking a deep breath, Regina lets it out almost immediately — staring at limbs and their out-of-place placement for a moment, before glancing at Tinker Bell. Who shrugs, again. Emma’s going to scream. Before she cries. Maybe then all the emotions will balance out. “We figure out a way to get Emma back to the right place, so she can save Henry and defeat Pan, then we hope that things haven’t been altered so much in the past that this version of the future crumbles entirely.” “What was that about no pressure before?” Emma huffs, David laughing under his breath and the feel of something on her hair is absolutely not Killian’s lips. “And honesty, what options do we have left? As far as time travel goes.” “Eh, we're far from exhausted on possibilities,” Regina says. “Just need to get creative.” Tinker Bell’s gasp is very loud. “Have you tried—” “—No,” Killian cuts in, sharper than anything else he’s said. “That’s not going to work.” “But you haven’t tried.” “Because it’s not an option.” “Oh, that’s very negative.” He hums, and Emma waits for the rest of the conversation. Another verbal volley, but it doesn’t come and Tinker Bell looks very disappointed. She’s got another migraine. “How long do you think we have until this future just—disintegrates?” Emma asks.

She counts to twenty-four before anyone replies. “Maybe a couple days,” Regina replies, “a week at most.” “So—Christmas, then?” “I bet he didn’t plan that on purpose, just one of those crazy happenstances.” “Yuh huh.” “Try and sound more convincing next time, that one sucked a bit.”

Hearing the so-called queen of these supposed United Realms utter the word sucked without a hint of irony is not what Emma expects to be the straw that breaks her back, but it is and her back hurts, and all of her aches, and saving people is her gig. She’s got to figure out a way to do that. No matter what.

She can’t do that while standing here. With three matching looks of concern, and one of absolute and total fear boring into the side of her head, and Emma’s also very good at running.

That would suggest she’s got control over her limbs, though. Stumbling down the stairs, she makes it about three-quarters of the way down before the whole thing is too challenging and her lungs appear to be disappearing, or possibly melting, and something in her spine cracks when she falls forward.

Hair brushes Emma’s knees, shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs and the volume of her breathing and the hand that lands on hers doesn’t surprise her as much as it should. “In through your nose, out through your mouth,” Killian instructs, only for Emma to flat out fail at that too.

Becoming a very frustrating theme. “Why are you so worried about my oxygen intake?” “It concerns me that you’re not, actually.”

Letting out a breath she definitely could have used, Emma’s head lolls. Towards his shoulder and the very solid nature of him, and he doesn’t try to roll her off. Just shifts his arm so it’s back around her waist and that does make it a bit easier to keep her lungs functioning.

“Was it all of reality collapsing, or Regina using that particular word?”

Emma groans. “Mind reading’s kind of a violation of privacy.” “Invoking my pirate excuse.” “That’s not a thing.” “Eh,” he says, and she hears the smile. That’s...nice. “Having no regard for laws is something of a requirement for piracy.” “This is not working as well as you think it is.” “I respectfully disagree. We’re going to fix this, you know that, right?” “I can’t imagine how.” “Sheer stubbornness hardwired into your personality.” Laughing hurts her very tight and anxiety-riddled chest, but Emma can’t help herself and she’d been right about the smile. Magic flutters under her skin, a steady pulse that’s slightly different than her normal pulse because it’s also more consistent and Killian’s nose is close enough to brush her cheek. If he wanted.

She wonders if he does. She’d like him to.

But that’s another problem, and more danger than anything Neverland could offer, and—“Fuck Peter Pan, honestly,” Emma proclaims, Killian’s response warm on her skin because it also includes a sound drifting close to a guffaw and she supposes his mouth is as close as his nose. What with the general structure of faces, and all.

He kisses her cheek.

Quick — barely there, really. Over before it has a chance to register, but Emma’s certain she’s been catapulted into the stratosphere, and he blinks almost hyperactively at her. She’s right about the palm thing too.

He turns into her hand as soon as it finds his cheek.

“Apologies,” Killian mumbles, retreating back into formalities and behind walls Emma had been clinging to only a few days before. Now they’re just kind of annoying. “Force of habit.”

“Was it the fuck Peter Pan that got you?” “You’ve always been something of a wordsmith.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Emma smiles. “Can I—can I ask you a question?” “No need to preface it, darling.” That’s something like the eighth time that’s happened. In the last two days. Second in the last hour or so. Emma’s not counting that either. “Do you remember this?” “Currently?” “Don’t be an ass,” she snarks, but his hook is around her wrists before she can even try to lift her hands. “The will-o-wisp attack. I—well, it was my turn to watch and I was kind of wallowing because of everything that had happened, and—” Telling him she wanted to kiss him then and now and possibly for the rest of time is also very appealing. And terrifying. Emma bites her tongue. Coward.

“No,” Killian shakes his head. “I don’t.” “Is that weird?” “Decidedly.” “So, then—wait, I’ve got another question.” He lifts his eyebrows. Smirks. Has the absolute cheek to lift his thumb and brush tears away from her skin, and Emma resolutely refuses to acknowledge the shiver that goes through her at that. “What was with your huh’s, then?” “Last night, you mean.” “I said Echo Caves and you totally froze. Is that—” “Quite a lot of things happen in Neverland,” Killian finishes, “and not all of them have happened for you yet.” “Menacing.” He hums again, takes a deep breath that clearly isn’t a sign he wants to kiss her again. When he does not actually kiss her again. Fine, fine, fine, super. “Not all of it,” he says, although the words sound suspiciously like a promise and neither one of them blink when a bird flies through the open window nearby.

“Are those birds flying in sync?” “Stop talking, you’re going to get us in trouble.” “What was that about pirate code, or whatever?” Grinning up at him and his scowl, Emma can’t help but be a little proud that she’s managed to distract the great and passably royal Captain Killian Jones during the United Realm’s annual tree lighting. Which in retrospect, does seem kind of strange since Emma can’t imagine they actually have Christmas in the Enchanted Forest.

That’s a conversation for a different time, though.

For now she’s willing to keep playing distraction, and it’s very fun to flirt. With Killian, specifically. She’ll consider the repercussions of that later, too.

“As far as I’m aware,” Killian whispers, trying to keep Hope from jumping into the nearest snowbank, “your mother has instructed them to appear at certain and integral points in the ceremony. For dramatic effect.” “Kind of gaudy, isn’t it?” “A requirement of royalty, so it would seem.”

The muscles in her cheeks are starting to ache. From overuse, and that’s—another problem. Being here a tease. That one strand of hair that always manages to fall towards Killian’s right eye is the worst.

“How long have you been holding onto that particular opinion?” They haven't turned the tree on yet, so whatever light reflects in his eyes is more theoretical than anything. Regina must have practiced this speech at some point. No way this is all improvised, not with the dramatic pauses and introductions and— “Oh shit,” Emma mutters, the ends of Killian’s ears going red because Regina is introducing them and Hope is nothing more than four uncoordinated limbs and Henry snickers very loudly.

Ella elbows him in the side.

Emma likes her daughter-in-law. She hasn’t allowed herself to think about that title, or the granddaughter it comes with, but she’s getting very good at putting thoughts in boxes and only partially acknowledging what they mean and Killian's hand finds her again.

Magic rushes from the top of her head to the very bottom of her feet, standing a bit straighter in another pair of boots, and Killian’s whole body moves towards her. So as to make it easier when he openly gapes at her.

That must happen a lot too, though. No one bats an eyelash. “If you’re all done,” Regina drawls, but Henry isn’t and Ella can’t contain her laugh either. Mary Margaret looks overjoyed. Even as her birds break formation.

Emma nods. “All good.” “Gods, the whole lot of you are annoying. You know—” Waving one hand, candles burst into flame without a word, multi-colored lights appearing on every branch, and it takes Emma a moment to realize that everyone in the crowd is holding an ornament.

“What are they for?” she asks Killian, not bothering to lower her face over the cheers. People are cheering for the tree. “They’re wishes, Mama,” Hope cries. “From everyone!”

He nods when the four-year-old doesn’t explain anymore — already rushing towards Mary Margaret and her ornament. “That’s why people come from all over. Aside from the festive nature, and the talented birds, it’s an old superstition. Place an ornament where the candle was, and you’ll get your wish.” “What happens to the candle?” “Supposed to bring it home, and light that space with the feeling of the solstice.”

In any other situation, exhaling as forcefully as she does would be embarrassing. As it is, Emma figures she’s got a thousand excuses and the hand in hers gives no indication of letting go any time soon. So, seems like a wash. “Gods, that’s nice.” “Aye, it is.”

Hope puts an ornament on the tree.

So does Henry.

And Lucy. The list goes on and on, but all Emma can do is stand at the end of Granny’s counters and eat her weight in Snickerdoodles.

She's the worst, frankly.

Snow starts to fall just as Emma’s wavering between that happy medium of pleasantly buzzed and legitimately drunk, and she’s got to ask someone who doles out the liquor licenses in this realm because it appears Granny’s hand has grown a bit heavy over the years.

Lucy scampers towards the far window as soon as she notices the storm, already talking a mile a minute and detailing plans with Hope and Neal — and this happy medium makes it impossible for Emma to be too frustrated by that, but she also hasn’t actually asked what happened to Neal or why he doesn’t appear in Storybrooke, so it seems it’s more difficult to rid herself of the self-imposed asshole moniker than she’d like.

And the bell over the door rattles like it’s the goddamn town crier, another familiar face stepping through the frame. With red highlights in her hair. “Are we doing this, then?” Ruby asks, flanked by a woman Emma doesn’t recognize and another redhead who is obviously not Ariel and it’s strange to see Mulan out of armor.

“Cap?” Ruby presses, when no one responds quickly enough, “this is happening, right?” Glancing at a wary Henry and back towards a clearly confused Emma, Killian grits his teeth. While she does her best to come to terms with nicknames, and another tradition and Hope tries very hard to climb up Emma’s side.

So as to yell in her ear easier.

“It’s snowing, Mama. We’ve got to play!” Emma blinks. “In the snow.” “It’s a...thing,” Killian explains. “Gets almost—” “—Bloodthirsty,” Mary Margaret says, which is not the most shocking thing that’s happened so far, but Emma’s buzz is starting to ebb slightly and someone’s knocking on the door. Another redhead, with her hair in braids and what looks like suspiciously like a crown on her head and David lets out a joyful noise when he notices the guy behind her.

Mary Margaret tugs at the edge of Emma’s sleeve. She might be nearly drunk too, actually. If her slight wobble is any indication. “In the past,” she starts, “there’s been some notably magical snowstorms here. It was quite an event when Elsa first arrived, but then well—you helped save her, and her sister.” The redhead waves, as if she knows she’s being talked about and Emma can’t fathom how she makes that connection, but she’s getting better at puzzles. “And now,” Mary Margaret continues, “it’s become something of a ritual.”

Ruby gags. “Oh Gods, don’t say it like that. Sounds ruthless.” “Isn’t it, though?” Henry challenges. “The gist is, that Elsa shows up after the tree lighting with her snow powers and we have a snowball fight.” She’s too drunk for this. Definitely well past buzzed at this point. “A snowball fight,” Emma repeats, half a dozen nodding heads replying with equally large smiles and the almost audible sense of anticipation hovering around them.

Hope widens her eyes. It’s a very good trick. “She practices that,” Killian mutters, more mind reading that Emma doesn’t bother to point out because the redhead is shouting "come on, let’s go'' and that sounds like a command. And bloodthirsty is a very appropriate adjective.

Teams are quickly formed, alliances announced and the guy Emma realizes is named Kristoff claims “honor must be defended” enough times that it appears to be a catchphrase. Laughter rings out around them, dancing on the magically-induced snowflakes and off the lights, and there aren’t as many candles on the tree anymore, but some flames continue to flicker, casting shadows across faces and snowballs.

As they fly past Emma’s ears.

“Your aim could use some work,” Killian says, breathing heavier as he ducks behind a snow drift they’re using as a blockade. Emma sneers. “Where’d the kid go?” “Ours?” She nods. Tries not to die. Only marginally succeeds. Killian doesn’t appear to notice. Force of habit is a very strong rationalization, it seems. “She’s allied herself with her much more impressive brother, who—” Lifting out of his crouch, Killian cups a hand to his mouth, like that will help the volume of his ensuing insult. “—Has clearly been practicing snowball creation in the Wish Realm and only knows how to win by cheating!” “I learned it from you,” Henry calls back.

David’s laugh is loud enough to disrupt a whole flock of birds. Perched on the branches above his and Mary Margaret’s head.

Goosebumps make a glorious return to Emma’s arm — and quite possibly her soul, which only seems like an exaggeration until she notices the spots of color on Killian’s cheeks and the bits of snow clinging to his hair. His eyes get bluer when she brushes the moisture away. Have to, if only to explain Emma’s fluttering magic and fledgling pulse and a snowball slams into her left shoulder blade. “Gotta hide better,” Anna calls, the blonde behind her, who is definitely Elsa, shaking with the force of her laughter. Everyone keeps laughing. Everyone is so happy. It’s—

A goddamn Christmas Utopia.

“You did offer yourself up a bit,” Killian reasons, Emma gasping at the betrayal. Pulling on the front of her now-damp jacket, he tugs her back against his side and they’re very close. Too close. Possibly not close enough.

“And what would you suggest o ye master strategist?” “Little wordy, don’t you think?”

“I retract my compliment, then.” “Ahaha,” he chuckles, “a compliment, was it? Well that’s totally different, then. Now, if you just stay here with—” The rest of the sentence gets caught up in his grunt and groan and Emma’s not particularly disappointed to see Hope’s return to this side of the snowball fight, but she’s also fairly certain there was a me looming on the tip of Killian’s very distracting tongue and she’d like to hear that. Selfishly. “Oh, switched allegiances again, have you, little love?” “Henry can’t enchant the snowballs,” Hope says, like that’s supposed to make sense and it almost does because Emma has magic, but she’s never tried to use it on snow. At least not yet.

“I don’t—” she starts, only to cut herself off. At the overall circumference of Hope’s eyes, and the color of Killian’s and there’s something to said for sheer force of will. “Gimme a snowball, baby.”

Excitement immediately colors her daughter’s face, smile wide enough that it’s probably a record and Killian doesn’t say anything. Watches without a single shift of his chest, which means Emma is staring at his chest, but he’s also obviously not breathing, and her lungs can’t stand up to much more of this.

An admittedly lackluster snowball gets plopped in Emma’s upturned palm, and she blinks away the cold like this is old hat. Or something less lame sounding. Snow packs together like—well, magic, she supposes, a perfect sphere that isn’t quite iced over, but won’t fall apart when one of them throws it and obviously Hope’s got to throw it.

“Ok,” she says, nodding encouragingly. “Who did you want to take down?” Killian’s lips disappear. Behind his teeth. To stop himself from grinning like a maniac, or so Emma very quickly convinces herself.

“Uncle Kris,” Hope announces, and this family’s apparently only grown in the last decade or so. Maybe Emma should be more concerned about her heart. And its ability to burst.

“We can do that. Just—toss it up, and…”

She’s got no idea, really. Just generic hope, and a surplus of feeling, but Emma’s always been told that magic is emotion and she’s not sure she’s ever been more emotional, which is a scathing commentary of her life, but this is also her life and— Killian scoops Hope up, an impressive act of balance and dodging incoming snowballs, and Emma will use that emotion as a reasonable excuse for what she does next. Reaching forward, her fingers curl around the brace at the end of his arm, not able to actually touch skin because he’s wearing a leather jacket, and that’s only sort of messing with her mind. But the motivation is the same, and she’s got all those suspicions and thoughts and—

The most powerful magic in the world.

“Throw it, love,” Killian directs, Hope’s arm pulling behind her like she’s a professional baseball player, and Emma squeezes her eyes shut. Warmth curls at the base of her spine, inching up her vertebrae until it takes root at the base of her skull, spreading out through her brain and the rest of her limbs and he definitely kisses her hair again.

She’d been counting on that, just a bit.

Muscles loosen under her skin, no sense of tension or that ever-present anxiety Emma’s always just assumed was part of her genetic makeup. Shouts echo around her, in addition to the snow, but she can’t quite hear any of it over the explosion of magic between her ears, and Hope’s cry of success will probably be branded on Emma for the rest of her life.

She hopes so, at least.

Opening her eyes to find Kristoff sputtering, and Anna as impressed as she is indignant, Emma only barely has a chance to catch her breath before there’s a kid flying into her arms. It’s harder to hold her when she doesn’t let go of Killian. And Killian doesn’t pull away.

He watches both of them. Traces over Emma’s face, the same way she had in the hallway, and something happens. Something important. Passing between them, and cementing itself in her gut and her soul and his lips twitch. At her magic, probably. “Thank you,” Killian mouths, Emma nodding against Hope’s hair. She kisses it. Out of habit, or whatever.

Strands of hair are damp against Emma's temple by the time they traipse back to the house, Hope asleep on Killian’s shoulder. Enchanted snowflakes linger on the back of her jacket, hovering on her eyelashes for maximum effect and peak cute, which didn’t need any help if Emma’s being honest and she might be willing to err on the side of that particular feeling right now. So as to keep the feeling, all year long and maybe even indefinitely.

Or whatever they said about Ebenezer Scrooge.

After he learned to love Christmas. And other humans.

Emma’s still not thinking too hard about that particular word, though. So, maybe complete honesty’s something of a stretch, but the kid is undeniably adorable and it’s admittedly difficult to think straight when Killian is—

Killian. In italicized and underlined lettering, meeting Emma snark for snark, and snowball for snowball, and she really wants to know his Monopoly cheating strategy, but that’s a problem for an entirely different list because that list has impossible words and improbable feelings and he’s staring at her.

Where she’s leaning against their front door.

Using possessive and collective pronouns isn’t helping her cause.

“Are you alright?” he asks softly. For the benefit of the sleeping kid, Emma figures. Not the state of her pulse, or the magic he could feel, and the cyclical nature of time is just toying with her at this point.

She nods. “Better than, somehow.” “Oh, that’s a little negative, Swan.” “Kind of my schtick, isn’t it.” “Not always,” Killian says, another pair of words that shouldn’t sound like a promise and clearly do not care. Emma feels her smile. Like, possibly in the very core of her being. At least between her ribs, where the growing sense of belonging has decided to linger, this feeling of home and possibility and staying here is not a possibility. Tinker Bell will figure something out.

Emma will — that’s how Savior’ing works, after all.

“You know,” Killian adds, Hope humming into his neck and there’s quite a lot of neck. Emma might be staring at his neck. “At some point we concoct this very impressive buttered rum recipe, that’s notoriously good at warding off chills.” Digging her teeth into her lips does not do anything to disperse the butterflies in Emma’s stomach, but she’s also not all that interested in them leaving. “Concerned about my breathing and my overall body temperature?” God, she’s an idiot.

Flirting isn't quite second nature, though — and Emma’s even less accustomed to flirting as a two-way street, but this feels as easy as it has and will and there’s those tense-based issues all over again. Killian grins. Slow, and measured and inching almost close to lecherous, sparking a handful of other other ideas that—

Immediately disappears when the four-year-old wakes up.

Brushed teeth take precedence, as do picking out pajamas and Hope is in possession of more pajama sets than Emma knew could exist in one set of drawers. Then there’s a bedding routine, lifting comforters and crawling under sheets and Emma doesn’t know the story requested of her.

She’s got no idea what happens after Prince Charles spun around with his sword.

It’s got to be impressive, though.

“Oh, Hope I—” she exhales, fear creeping back into the forefront of her mind. Until fingers find they’re way back into hers, and they’re just as warm as they always are and it takes Killian less than three minutes to promise a different story on another night.

No tears are shed, so that’s got to be a victory and Hope’s eyes are already fluttering closed when Killian flicks off the light. Lingering in the hallway, Emma’s not sure what she’s supposed to do or where she’s supposed to go, but there’s a hook pressed into the small of her back and buttered rum turns out to have a ridiculous amount of cinnamon in it. “Shit,” Emma mutters into her glass, and Killian looks far too satisfied. “This is really good.” “Took some trial and error, but we got there eventually. Or get there for you, I suppose.” Sipping instead of responding is another cowardly move, one Emma won’t ever admit to and it doesn’t matter because he can read her mind. At least her face. Open book, and all that.

“I’m sorry.” Killian blinks. “For what, exactly?” “God, throw a dart. Everything I—showing up in your life and making the right Emma disappear, maybe, and that’s got to be fucking with you, and—” “—You’re not the wrong Emma,” he interrupts, with enough force to pull her up short. Buttered rum drips on her chin. So, she’s a picture of romance and flirting potential. “Just a little early, that’s all.” “Not what you said when I got here.” “Aye, well that was the bastard version of me. He’s a—” “—Bastard?” “Absolutely,” Killian nods, “and maybe a little unsure of himself when it comes to you.”

It’s her turn to blink. More than once, only a little concerned the scene in front of her will change, but it doesn’t and it won’t and there’s got to be a limit on time travel. Emma’s reached her quota by now, she hopes. “Because I’m a mess now? I mean, this version of me. Not the wife one.” “You’re worried about Henry. And I understand that, did then as well. I just—you want to know why the Echo Caves gave me pause? Because if you got tugged right after that, then all you’re sure of is that I think I could move on from Milah, but nothing else has happened for you yet. No promises or—” Swallowing, he sets his glass down and there wasn’t much room between them, but there’s even less now and Emma’s got nowhere to put her hands. Except on his thigh. Where it bumps hers. “Leaving behind that bastard who wouldn’t give you the magic bean was always something of a challenge, but you made me want to. Made it easier to do just that. Because eventually you do trust me, and you believe in me, and—”

He exhales. Licks his lips. Emma can’t move. “The thought of losing that terrified me,” Killian finishes.

They’ve stopped dancing. Are standing stock-still in the middle of the floor, while other people twirl around and wait for them to get their rhythm back. And Killian doesn’t blink, which is equally frustrating and overwhelming and a much more positive adjective that Emma can’t be bothered with because she’s too busy saying, “I...like you?” “Was that a question?” “Maybe,” she admits, “it’s not really my forte, and I told Neal a bunch of shit in the Echo Caves too, so—is...did my parents name their kid after him?” “Yuh huh.” “Don’t sound particularly pleased.” “We’ll get to that,” Killian says, “Rehash the liking stuff, please.” Maybe laughing at inappropriate times is actually his greatest talent. Emma’s head drops, bumping Killian’s shoulder, but then there’s an arm back around her waist and there’s so much of him, and that’s always been the problem. Opposite of a problem, really.

“You just—” Emma mutters. “Came back, for us and me and I...that kind of terrifies me too, but you always make sure if I'm ok, and that’s—not a ton of people do that.” “Becomes something of a habit.” “I’m going to ask you a question.” “Still don’t need to preface it.” “Are you Prince Charles in the story?”

Surprise is a good look on him. All of them are, but Emma’s already crossed one emotional threshold and like wasn’t really the word she was thinking about before. “Aye,” Killian says, soft enough that it’s difficult to hear.

“Does that make me the princess?” “In almost every story I tell.”

The warmth moves to her cheeks, and the same skin Killian’s fingers graze, coming dangerously close to the edge of her mouth and barely parted lips. “So, uh,” Emma stammers, “not our first time travel adventure?” “Gets confusing when you haven’t done that other part yet.” “Time travel might be overrated, honestly. But we get back, right? That’s—I mean, you’re here.”

Nodding, his nose replaces his fingers and it’s oddly endearing. “If you remember this in the past, I refuse to be held accountable, alright?”

“Seems fair,” Emma laughs, and she thinks she hears him swallow before he responds. “You give up your magic, for me—which is something else I never entirely pay you back for, but then we get pulled into the portal, adventures ensue, including that very impressive spin move, and then your magic comes back.” “How?” “With that wand Regina used before, that’s why she thought it would work.” “You’re skipping over things,” she accuses, and flirting might not be the only two-way street. He’s getting easier to read. “Was that was it you? Helping with my magic?” Shrugging isn’t easy when they’re so tangled together, but Killian’s ears are as red as Ariel’s hair and Ruby’s highlights and—“The only reason I magic’ed that snowball was because I was holding onto you. Control’s not something I’ve got much of right now.” “You would have been able to figure it out.” “Not with a kid waiting, and all those people and—” Problems be damned. Lists be damned. Time itself, be goddamned. “Paying me back is a stupid thing to think.”

“Swan.” Shaking her head, Emma moves before she can reconsider how incredibly dumb this is and possibly even more dangerous, but he keeps staring at her and it’s so easy and normal, and if she were someone who breathed with any sort of regularity, that wold be an appropriate analogy. Killian shifts too, so that helps.

And she definitely mumbles kiss me like some harlequin romance heroine, but he doesn’t laugh and he doesn’t object and the fingers that find her hair help ground her. To this plane of reality. Nice exists for about half a second, before it rather quickly evolves into need and desire and there are hands everywhere. Emma’s and Killian’s — tracing each other like this is the first time all over again, and her back arches once she clamors into his lap.

Rocking down at the same time he rocks up draws out several sounds Emma’s never heard before, and would not mind hearing on loop. Fingers search out skin, pushing into the tuft of hair at the nape of his neck, and she can’t tilt her head enough. To get the right angle, or more of his tongue and his tongue’s already swiping at her lips.

He groans again. When she opens her mouth, lets him trace as much as he’d like, and Emma would like even more, but she’s always been kind of greedy when it comes to him and really oxygen is vastly overrated.

She can’t keep her eyes open.

Can’t imagine how anything gets better than this, or them and there’s that pronoun again.

Both of their shoulders heave when they finally have to pull apart, more black than blue in Killian’s eyes and— “We’re really good at that,” she mutters, working a laugh out of him. That he presses against her neck. And under her chin. Drags across her jaw, and up towards her temple, kissing whatever he can reach and everywhere he lands and it takes a power she did not know she possessed for Emma to keep herself from demanding he take his clothes off as well.

She opts for the next best thing. “Thoughts on sleeping in your own bed?”

The eyebrows, honestly. Flying up, and reacting quicker than he can respond and Killian kisses her. Soft and easy, and as normal as anything. “Vast,” he says, mostly into her mouth, “and it’s difficult to fall asleep without you, so it’d be nice to actually do that.” “Yeah, ok. That works.”

#cs ff #captain swan ff #cs fic #captain swan #captain swan fic #but once a year #festive fic a thon 2k20 #MAGIC SNOWBALL FIGHTS #making a united realms solely to bring back frozen characters???#more likely than you think!!

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phoenotopia · 4 years

Text

2020 October Update

So... we've launched. And our launch was... actually kind of... bad...

This is a dev blog, so I'll speak on it. But before that, we do have the game's steam page up. If you're anticipating the PC release, please do visit the steam page and add it to your wish list. It would help us a lot.

VISIT STEAM LINK

...

So what didn't go so well?

1. We launched in Nintendo's Americas and Europe territory. If you've been following the release, you'd know that America got the game first. We didn't move to launch in Europe at all since I thought the EFIGS languages (English, French, Italian, German, Spanish) were pre-requisites for Europe. By the time I learned that this wasn't necessarily the case, and attempted to course correct, the damage was done. We had half the allotment of keys to do outreach, and maybe some European outlets that would've covered us, did not.

2. When the game launched, rather than a victory lap, what we experienced was more of a public lashing. We did get some reviews that praised the game highly, but just as many reviews lampooned the game for its high difficulty or other failings. I've since released two patches (or 3, depending on how you count it) to address the difficulty. A lot of overnighters. If you recall in the last blog post, I thought it'd be a good start if we got 20 or so reviews on Open Critic. But we've only 8 as of this writing, and the aggregate score isn't so hot. So that's a fail by my metric.

3. A publisher reached out to us because they were interested in physically printing the game! Yay! But... to advance our talks, they wanted to see the game's sales numbers to ensure that there's a good chance their investment could be recouped. And unfortunately, the game's sales numbers are pretty low. They backed out :(

Some hard lessons were learned. The biggest lesson for me concerns how well we playtested the game. Looking at the original playtester list, it's a short list. You may recall from a previous blog post that our ability to test was severely hampered by technical limitations. Add to that, a lot of people on this list are objectively really achieved players. We're talking power ranked in Smash Bros, regular tournament goers, and people who've played and bested every Souls game. And as the maker of the game, I am most blind to the game's challenges.

Now, I'm definitely more of the opinion that you prioritize PC development first. I still have some reservations about some stages of PC development. But if you do PC/Steam first, you have the great benefit of being able to do Early Access, which gives you access to a greater testing pool. I now view it as an invaluable part of the equation. If we had been able to do Early Access for 1 or 2 months before release, we probably could have ironed out most of the game's difficulty and balance problems. Hard lessons, indeed.

There were a lot of other notable events that occurred over the past 2 months - the travails of press outreach, realizing my own limits as a developer, feeling defeated and getting back up again, etc. There's too much stuff to chronicle or go into detail. But it wasn't all bad.

Some good things did happen...

We got a publisher to publish for Japan! It came as a huge relief, because clearly, we don't know what the heck we're doing.

The publisher has been an invaluable source of information and feedback. They've recommended some changes to the game to improve user experience. Some of these changes I was hesitant to do at first because they concerned systems I thought integral to the identity of the game. But after trying it, I have to admit, they're good changes.

So a Japanese version of the game was moving ahead. And it looked like that'd be it. I wasn't planning to move forward with any other language translations due to the game's low sales and our funds being depleted.

But, I was approached by a translator who urged me to move ahead with translations. He told me he was willing to work for only a small price initially and then be paid the rest after from a percentage of the game's sales until the cost of the translation was paid in full.

I was surprised translators were willing to work under such a model since it's entirely likely the game's current low sales trajectory would continue and they wouldn't earn back the full cost of translation. But I was also flattered they were willing to take a risk with me. After that, I approached some others with the same hypothetical deal, and long story short, we're now moving forward with French, German, Spanish, Portuguese and Russian translations. As for why these languages in particular, they were languages for whom I had contacts (because they reached out to me at some point in the past). And also because they were deemed more likely to be profitable based on their home country's gaming market/buying habits. I'd be personally happy to have my native language be represented, but it's not expected to be a profitable territory. But if the game does better in the future, it may justify the costs of translation. There could be a chance!

The plan right now is to get the game supporting these first round of languages and then to patch that into the Switch version as well as launch the PC version with these languages - all in December. A lot of things need to align for this to occur, so a delay isn't out of the question. It'll be busy... I'll update the blog again in latter half of December, probably near the game's PC launch date... OR to announce a delay. Let's hope it doesn't come to that.

Fan Support

While the past two months have been grueling, one good thing remains constant - fan art! Thank you everyone who submitted. It means a lot to me and the team!

Big thanks to Pimez who's taken on watching over the reddit community as moderator. He also combs the other communities and makes sure I see every new art piece. Despite juggling his own life and all these tasks, he still found some time to draw.

Pimez's piece reminds us that just because the new game's out doesn't mean we can't still celebrate the original flash game. The jail dog is a dog found only in jail and only in the flash game. I imagine Gail is just tossing a stick, and they're playing fetch.

A new artist to this scene æv draws both the Phoenix logo AND a super cute picture of Gail playing the flute. So precious, you want to pinch her cheek. Even the Sand Drake is enthralled!

Another new artist, beet4ppy arrives on the scene with two pictures! One features a no-nonsense battle-hardened Gail looking stoic and tough! Kinda reminds me of Vinland Saga actually. The other, a more cheerful group composition - I must say I'm a big fan of Fran's classic anime-style eye!

A returning artist, Cody G, returns with a picture depicting the tribulations of cooking. Gotta love Gail's frantic expression! I've heard the complaints, which is why we've added an option to slow the cooking mini-game down. An improved button font is also on the way.

Gamesing with two undertale x phoenotopia crossovers. Thomas being a robot builder makes sense taking a role similar to Alphys. But why is Alex dressed like a clown? Perhaps there is a hidden meaning here...

A new artist, Warotar, draws both a pooki wearing Gail's clothes and Gail wearing pooki clothes. Awww. The pooki is a bit scary - it kinda reminds me of a tragic event in a certain anime. But the Gail is adorable!

POL#5655 submitted this one to KM's discord which made its way to me. Here, a stylized Gail appears unnerved by the dark red eyes stalking her in the background. Are they bats or something more sinister?

A new artist, MilesCPW, arrives on the scene with three rare well-vectorized arts! Love it! One scene depicts Gail balancing a bomb on her head - that's a speedrunning trick I only learned about recently after someone emailed me a video O_O

The other drawing gives us new insight into Katash - he could actually look cute if he wasn't trying to kill you.

And the bees... Okay, this one got a chuckle from me :D

A returning artist roccy_chair draws this heart-warming scene from the beginning of the new game. Aww. Mika doesn't get much screen time for story reasons, so it's nice to see her represented.

UnrealWorld_32 returns with another drawing of Gail in Panselo, this time capturing a more idyllic time. I like the tranquil nature of this piece. And Gail does in fact play the guitar, denoted by the guitar in her room.

Returning artist shafiyahh draws a nice portrait of Prince Leo - looking regal and princely. I like the storybook art style of this piece. It made me immediately think of "the Little Prince" - one of my favorite books actually!

Negativus Core returns with a beautiful group composition of Gail and the gang - flying from a Switch shaped window - totally sensible considering the game is only Switch right now. As usual, I'm impressed by Negativus Core's use of challenging angles to frame a more dynamic shot of the characters. Great job!

And it wasn't only artists bearing the banner. I'd like to give a big shoutout to everyone in all the game's little communities (from the reddit to the discords to this tumblr). I've seen this community help newcomers with gameplay and walkthrough advice, discussions, updating the wiki, and so on. It does bring a smile to my face. Thank you everyone!

#phoenotopia

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sullustangin · 4 years

Note

Okay, strange question for Theron. I hat does he believe in. Beyond duty and doing things for the greater good.

That’s a good question! It’s going to get long, so some of this is beyond a cut.

Theron was raised as a Jedi until adolescence - his belief system is rooted in the existence of the Force. It exists in all living things, and some people can access and use it, while others cannot. The Jedi are the good guys. He was also raised as a citizen of the Republic. He believes in the Galactic Constitution, which bars slavery and grants all sentients certain rights. The Republic is a representative government with elections and enfranchised people choosing their leaders.

Duty and the Greater Good

“Duty” and "The Greater Good” concept have to be defined with Theron, because he is not a lawful character. He’s a neutral, leaning chaotic character in D&D terms. Lawful characters go by whatever society approves of; chaotic characters have their own internal compass. Neutral considers both. A great example of this is when Director Trant of SIS and Jace Malcom the Supreme Commander of Pub forces tell him to get the job done and basically ignore the fact that two planets full of people are going to be sacrificed to do it. Lawful characters do as the authority says.....and Theron decides to go rogue and disobey with a Jedi in order to at least save the second planet. His “greater good” is a lower death count, rather than guaranteed Republic victory. I would argue that Theron interprets his duty as belonging to a larger galaxy rather than exclusively the Republic and its political/military objectives; he is pro-Republic, no doubt about it, but there are limits. He’s also pro-Jedi, but there are limits -- some of them can be real asses. I discuss his alignment further here.

Going into Forged Alliances in SWTOR, we have a man who works for the Republic and endorses the ideals of the Galactic Constitution. He knows the Republic is not perfect. He does believe the Jedi are “right,” but he does have some issues with their attitudes toward non-Force users. They are not perfect. We get some very vehement statements in Annihilation about Theron’s experience with the Jedi after he was found not to be Force sensitive: the arrogance of the Jedi, how they looked down on non-Force users. He even applied this metric to Satele in their first real conversation with each other. I discuss this more here. This doesn’t make him anti-Jedi, but he doesn’t view them with the same rose-colored glasses he did as a youngling. Individuals aside, he follows the Light Side of the Force.

The Dark Side decisions that a Pub can make to please Theron in Forged Alliances/Shadow of Revan involve deceiving the Empire -- first, by destroying the Revanite cyborgs on Rakata Prime; second, by setting up perimeters around the Yavin base that track Imp movements just a little bit closer. The blowing up of cyborgs rather than fighting them is to prevent Lana and the Empire from scavenging them later. It’s not about killing them -- they as individuals are already dead. You have to kill them to get to the next room anyway. It’s just a matter of whether you give the Republic an edge by not permitting the Empire the opportunity. It’s a chess match. On Yavin, it’s about the Republic having more information than the Empire here as well. These aren’t traps or weapons that would hurt Imps -- it’s just about having more information. That is his duty to the Republic as an SIS agent while still supporting a cross-factional alliance to defeat a shared “Greater Bad.” So while dishonest and Dark Side and ‘anti-Jedi’, Theron still does things in support of a government that has the Galactic Constitution while doing no direct physical harm to the Sith Empire’s operatives (a rather Light Side-y solution).

What else does Theron believe in, besides all that?

Theron believes – most of all and with the most optimism -- in the future. We saw that at the end of Lost Suns. We see that when he chooses to save civilians on a planet he’s never met. We even see it in his Dark Side decisions in-game; he anticipates that the war will resume against the Empire, and he wants the Republic (and its Constitution) to have the best odds winning. I believe that Theron would rather have a rough life himself and save others in the future from the same work and suffering he’s gone through. Does he do it like a Jedi? Nope. He isn’t honest or honorable all the time, but he draws the line of sacrificing innocents or excessive for a cause. Does he do it like a traditional agent of the Republic, taking orders without question? Good Lord, no. Trant complains about that all the time in Lost Suns and Annihilation. Theron is Trant’s best agent, but half the time, Trant wants to throw him out a window or down a trash compactor because he doesn’t do things by the book.

I discuss in that alignment post how beat up Theron gets because he does things that are “right” in his mind, but not protocol. Theron fights for a brighter future. Based upon what he’s willing to do personally to ensure that happens, his life comes second to those yet to be born and a better galaxy for them. Call it Jedi virtue, call it a zealous belief in the Galactic Constitution -- Theron does it (and he meets his end that way in the Nathema Conspiracy, if the player chooses that path). This is also partially why he doesn’t have an SIS partner. Theron might be assigned to another agent, but he wants to do all the work himself, his own way. Trant has learned it is pointless to assign Theron a partner because the partner is left out and doesn’t even know when Theron gallivants off. His risk, his way.

So to be very specific, Theron believes in the future for others, not necessarily himself. Theron has a certain lack of selfishness paired with stubbornness that makes him put himself in danger because he believes there is some greater cause; he, the individual, doesn’t matter as much. We see this in other SIS agents -- they’d die in the line of duty without much of a second thought. I read about Lana’s early experience in the Talay initiative, and the SIS agents she encountered were particularly devout.

For Theron, that duty isn’t just to Republic or SIS -- it’s for the better future of the galaxy as well. We can also use this as part of an argument that suggests why Theron isn’t shown romantically involved with anyone unless he gets with the player. Theron thinks it would be nice if he survived to see this great future he wants for the galaxy and the Republic, but he understands he may not live to see it. That’s not fatalism or pessimism however. He knows what Jedi did during the Fall of Coruscant. He was always told by Ngani Zho that he was so loved by his mother that she had to give him up, so she wouldn’t have divided loyalties when it came to the good of the Republic. His personal happiness doesn’t rank very high here; it is virtuous and right for individuals to make choices that cost themselves something rather than others. Theron doesn’t like to be selfish.

During KotFE Theron leaves the Republic after they’ve accepted the political fiction that Saresh is out of office. Everyone knows she’s pulling the strings and promoting constant warfare against the Sith Empire, while bending the knee to Zakuul the entire time. They are oppressed, but she gets to have her little wars. Theron joins the Alliance because it is resisting an oppressive power that the Saresh doesn’t seem interested in throwing off and that the Empire can’t seem to throw off. In KotFE, you have Theron as a companion. He does NOT accept Republic memorabilia in order to raise influence -- I don’t think that’s an oversight, since Lana takes Imp memorabilia with enthusiasm. Theron believes in the Galactic Constitution and all of its principles – but the Republic is failing to do that right now by tolerating Zakuul and their systems of slavery. If you recruit Bowdaar, you do so by Fight Club or “Eternal Championship” or whatever, and it runs off slaves and people owned by others. This was what Theron worked against during his career in SIS prior to the whole Korriban thing….and now the Republic tolerates Zakuul’s use of it, as long as Saresh has her little wars with the Empire.

By KotFE, Theron no longer believes in his duty to the Republic, but in the Galactic Constitution. Now that the Jedi are gone, he doesn’t believe in them as much as the broader, greater good that the Republic never fully reached for due to its conflict with the Sith Empire.

This also brings us to the idea that Theron believes in the player. When all the things he valued in the Republic and SIS went to dust, he went to the Alliance, knowing that a key element was the rescue of the player from carbonite. Somehow, he thought this person – this key figure that he had worked with previously – would be able to head an Alliance that would save the galaxy one last time from the Sith Emperor.

With KotET, the player can decide whether they are a peacekeeper Alliance or a new Empire. Theron supports the player and doesn’t make any move to leave or go back to the Republic, regardless of the decision (a flaw in writing, in my personal opinion, but it is what it is). This is the game’s mechanic, but we may also interpret this as Theron’s belief in truth: we are what we say we are. A benevolent empire may not have elections, but it has a greater good in mind. The Republic claims to support all of these ideals in its constitution…but it doesn’t under Saresh. Even with a more brutal Eternal Empire, there is truth in advertising. We are doing this, that’s the way it is. We’re not hiding behind some Constitution that’s pushed to the wayside in favor of continued war with the Sith Empire. I know this is spinning the wheels hard to try to make it work, but Theron has to have rationale for staying, and it’s not provided in game. In Onslaught, we see a return of Theron’s temper; players who permitted high casualties on Corellia had Theron stomp out on them in anger. That is consistent with what we’ve seen previously, but the writing had made him somewhat of a sycophant to the player character for awhile; it was a good surprise for character development, bad if you were romancing Theron since you don’t get a smooch off him for that ending.

Now, if you go all Light Side for Theron, then it’s more easily explicable as to why he stays with the player – the Alliance does what the Republic will not, and he rather be in a place that does what the Republic should be doing, rather than be in a Republic that’s all talk and no action. He’s happy to return home to the Republic, if you make that choice in Onslaught. He’s also accepting of remaining independent. He only expresses concern with an Imperial alliance because he doesn’t want his home ground to dust....and all the people in it. All those little individual futures that we as Alliance commander can control -- and if we’re working to make them better, that coincides with Theron’s own beliefs.

Does Theron Shan believe in love?

The virtue of love, in the sense that one cares for the good of others and the galaxy, is approved of by Jedi. The idea of having someone, of bonding to someone and wanting to maintain that relationship – and the associated fear of losing that relationship – can lead to the Dark Side. Now, Theron may not buy into that as much as he did when he was a kid, but it might stick in the back of his mind, since unless the player romances him, he remains single. He’s also devoted to his ideals and his work, his duties. He’s a self-admitted workaholic -- that sort of kicks romance and personal love down the ladder of priorities.

On the other hand, Theron hasn’t been treated well by ‘love.’ Ngani Zho loved him… and left him without telling him the truth. Zho also told Theron all the time that his mother Satele loved him so much that she had to give him up….and we have yet to see her ever admit that to him, face-to-face. We can argue that the latest patch, Echoes of Oblivion, points toward that happening, but even then, she only indicates that to player, not to Theron himself. We saw Jace Malcom’s rejected paternal overtures in Annihilation and then alienation from Theron during Iokath. Player choices decide whether that relationship is recoverable or not.

In an unromanced game, Theron is alone, but not necessarily lonely. We can view this as sort of a holdover from his Jedi youth and as his adult life as a spy – love is a good thing in the galaxy but attachment is not, given the risks he takes. There is no suggestion that he’s romantically involved with another NPC, unlike other games or even the Lana/Koth thing -- which is ultimately left up to player interpretation as to what exactly that was.

This next bit is more subjective, because it’s how I’ve interpreted the Theron romance to this point on neutral/Light-leaning characters, specifically a smuggler. I think prior to the playable character, Theron believes in love, but once again, not for him personally. If the player romances him, it’s a whole different bantha wrangle.

Love is difficult. Being mutually attached is difficult for Theron, because most normal people want a certain back-and-forth, a certain amount of information sharing before they really commit. Theron can’t give as much as they can. Hook-ups are physically satisfying, but emotionally lacking.

I know some authors have him as a someone who slept around a lot, while others have him as a serial monogamist. Many just don’t discuss the idea of him being with anyone else besides their playable character. I’ve written him as someone who can get hook-ups, can do a relationship or two seriously, but also has long spats of celibacy mixed in because he’s busy working. The greater good isn’t going to happen by itself, so Theron works at the cost of his personal relationships. Because of being a spy and the issue of his parentage, he can’t disclose his work routine or why he’s come back with a new scar – it’s easier to let the relationship fall to the wayside than explain. Where are his parents? Who are his parents? Easier to let the relationship go than explain.

Theron is a consummate professional. Even in the era of KotFE/KotET, Miot and Koth refer to him as ‘stiff’ or ‘stuffy’ and not knowing when to “not work.” His duties come before his personal desires. This is why we have to get through all of Rishi before we even get to kiss Theron, plus another few weeks/months on Yavin before they playable character and Theron hook up. However, if we take a look at the player’s path from Korriban or Manaan (Pub and Imp side encounters with Theron), it’s a courtship over the course of a half-year or more. There are a lot of headcanon explanations for this, ranging from playable character inexperience, demisexuality, “behind the scenes” action that emphatically states that they were hooking up long before we saw them, and so on.

I took what I saw on screen to be a signal of Theron’s professionalism -- no time for lovin’ until the job is done -- but also his attachment issues. I’ll do another post on this later, but I’m writing him with the label “fearful avoidant attachment” in mind. Basically, Theron wants to be attached to someone, desperately, but he is terrified of it. I don’t blame Satele for this one – this is all about Theron not only being ditched by Ngani Zho, but also then being dismissed from the Jedi Order because he wasn’t even Force sensitive to begin with. Suddenly, the father he knew and the way of life he thought he was going to follow til the day he died – gone. Now he has to integrate with ‘normal people life’ where you’re supposed to do the personal life attachment stuff that Jedi frowned upon. In my fan fic, Theron confesses that SIS and his duty to the Republic – more accurately, to the future – take the place of the Jedi order. He attaches himself to that more readily than individuals.

The playable character changes Theron; he says that in his “I’m back at SIS” letter. He’s more open to teamwork and reaching out to Satele. Again, fans have run with this, including having Theron in a relationship with the player until the Eternal Fleet incident, having them just hook-up and leave it at that (particularly if Imperial), or something in between. Ziost marks a time where Theron is both relieved and embarrassed the player is there to catch him when he falls. The last we see of Theron in-game Pubside prior to Popsicle Time, he says he won’t hesitate to reach out (unlike what he did this time).

Then we get the “For When You Wake Up” letter. It reveals that Theron is in love, whether or not he wants to openly acknowledge it yet. He doesn’t send a letter to an unromanced player stating that the fact they’re still alive is “the thing that keeps [him] going.” And he’s also worried, nervous, or even scared that the feelings are not mutual -- “I don’t want to presume.”

The Theron romance starts in KotFE the night of his arrival. The kiss can be a tentative “let’s try this,” and then dating starts. I took it as “let’s go back to my place” and a full-blown committed relationship starts between Theron and my smuggler. There are other interpretation in between. Any way a person shakes it, Theron had been holding on to his Yavin hook-up for five years in his heart. Based upon letters you get throughout these two expansion pacs, Theron still has workaholic tendencies. He still struggles with the writing of words and expressing love publicly – but he is attached, and painfully so, as we see in Chapter 12, when the player goes on an impromptu camping trip with Marr and Satele. In my interpretation of all of that, love is still difficult – but not because of the reasons Theron had prior to Eternal Fleet, when he was fully committed to SIS and the Republic. It’s because in order to save the galaxy from the Sith Emperor, the player may have to be sacrificed for the greater good. Theron can’t step into their shoes on this one; he can’t take their place.

After the main KotET chapters, we see the Traitor arc and all of its flaws – but also the consistency of Theron’s character, if we remember how he believes in a better future, even if he doesn’t get to live to see it. That does include potentially sacrificing his romantic relationship with the player and possibly his life as well. If the player chooses to kick Theron out of the Alliance, the question of where he goes next is valid – he won’t go back to the Republic, and he’s not an Imperial. Where is Theron Shan, in those player universes?

If Theron (and his romance) survives to Echoes of Oblivion, we see a letter that is downright gleefully sweet. His mother isn’t dead, and it’s because of you that he has a chance to try to make something of that relationship…again. I’ve expressed my skepticism about this, since this is the exact set-up we had prior to Eternal Fleet, and then Satele ghosted Theron. We’ll see; I may be a bit of a cynic or an angstmonger. The point is, the way the romance is written to this point, Theron is happily in love with his partner/spouse. Love is for him, after all.

Even without the romance, a living Theron in the Alliance (or whatever it is now) in Echoes of Oblivion is one that has attachments to friends and potentially family again. There is a future -- and he’s in it. That may have been more than what Theron was anticipating when we first met him at 23, nearly 17(!) years ago.

#swtor #theron shan #headcanon #character analysis

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sciencenewsforstudents · 5 years

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The idea seemed so catchy, simple and can-do. There’s room to plant enough trees, albeit many, many, many trees, to counter a big chunk of the planet-warming carbon spewed by human activities.

A more realistic look at that feel-good estimate, however, might shrink it down to a useful idea, but no panacea. The proposed fabulous benefits of planting trees triggered a skeptical backlash within the climate science community.

“Dangerously misleading,” warned a critique from Pierre Friedlingstein, a mathematical modeler at the University of Exeter in England and four colleagues. They’re not the only ones to protest that the original estimate — that massive global tree-planting right now might eventually trap a total of some 205 metric gigatons of carbon — overestimates what’s really possible.

The debate started with a study in the July 5 Science. In it, Jean-François Bastin and Tom Crowther of ETH Zurich and their colleagues estimated that Earth has as much as 0.9 billion hectares of land suitable for planting new trees to soak up some of humankind’s excess carbon dioxide and thus slow climate change (SN: 7/17/19). That area is about the size of the United States.

Once mature, those trees could capture about one-third of the carbon released by human activities since the start of the Industrial Revolution, the team calculated. Extreme global tree planting could thus become a huge single stopgap for storing carbon, the researchers proposed.

That scenario caught the attention of a world starved for hopeful news about climate.

Among other scientists, however, concern erupted. These “overly hopeful figures” might “misguide the development of climate policy,” said one of a flurry of critiques from more than 80 scientists not involved in the original research. Their criticisms were published in the Oct. 18 Science (along with a response from Crowther’s team).

Here are five takeaways from the debate, and where that leaves us when it comes to tree planting.

1. Tree planting is not the one big solution for the climate crisis.

Both the critics and authors of the original paper agree on this point. The main solution to the climate crisis is to stop releasing greenhouse gases as much and as soon as possible. “Keeping fossil carbon in its original geological storage is self-evidently a more effective solution to climate change than releasing it and capturing it later in trees,” writes forest ecologist Simon Lewis of University College London and colleagues.

Crowther, Bastin and colleagues say they agree, and they acknowledge the paper’s “lack of clarity” on this point.

Some of the confusion comes from the paper’s enthusiasm in comparing theoretical big benefits of tree-planting, a way of storing carbon already emitted by any source, with smaller benefits of preventing specific kinds of emissions in the first place. Extreme tree planting might suck an estimated 205 metric gigatons of emissions out of the atmosphere, the original paper proposed. Replacing and better managing refrigeration compounds could reduce the emissions of greenhouse gases by 22 metric gigatons. That doesn’t sound big in comparison, but it’s ranked first in volume for carbon reduction projects listed by Project Drawdown, a nonprofit focused on finding solutions to global warming. Reducing emissions has the benefit of tackling the source of the menace and in perpetuity. Trees do the clean-up work, but only while they’re standing; they’re a bank account that needs steady deposits.

In their new response, Crowther and colleagues say that their tree-planting scheme “does not preclude the urgent need to reduce greenhouse gas emissions.”

2. Estimates of how much carbon trees can trap might be five times too high.

Capturing the estimated sum, 205 metric gigatons, “if accurate and achievable,” would be “an astounding accomplishment,” wrote Joseph Veldman, a plant ecologist at Texas A&M University in College Station and 45 other doubting coauthors. A more realistic look would shrink the 205 metric gigatons of carbon down to about a fifth of that amount, they argue. (More on why later.)

In a separate analysis, Lewis and colleagues explain some reasons why the estimate should be at least cut in half. Three other responses to the paper fretted that the 205 metric gigatons estimate was too big, but didn’t quantify a correction.

3. People will probably never choose to plant trees on all bits of “available” land.

Here’s one reason the estimate is too high: More trees might in theory grow in barely treed places, such as tundra or tropical grasslands. But in some places, planting trees could be a hard sell, or even counterproductive.

Trees don’t reflect as much solar energy as do snow, grasses or even bare ground. Trees thus absorb more energy, potentially contributing to warming. In the Far North, extending stretches of dark evergreen trees could undercut any carbon-storage benefits or even overwhelm them. The Veldman critique explicitly pruned 10.2 metric gigatons of estimated carbon storage from the original estimate to eliminate hypothetical trees from snowy high latitudes. Likewise, trees tweak landscapes in other ways, for instance affecting where and how often precipitation falls.

Attempting to plant trees in other “available” spots — such as Yellowstone National Park in the United States — could run into fierce opposition from those who see ecological and cultural value in keeping those areas as they are today. Veldman’s group, for instance, sliced the total by 53.5 metric gigatons of estimated carbon storage to leave tropical grasslands as they are. The iconic species in those ecosystems are “already gravely threatened,” the researchers say. Plus, changing these ancient ecosystems could disrupt the lives of people whose traditional livestock forage, game habitats and water sources are dwindling.

Maybe in theory more trees could grow in far northern landscapes. Here, musk oxen roam a wide-open region near the Igichuk Hills in Alaska.

CREDIT: WESTERN ARCTIC NATIONAL PARKLANDS/FLICKR (CC BY 2.0)

Details of tree physiology or societal choices about what to conserve were “beyond the scope” of the original survey, the Crowther group replies. The project focused on developing a computer-based way to take data on healthy forests and figure out where more trees could grow, not where they should grow.

4. Soil carbon and some other details of the comparisons could matter.

Critics also objected to specific parts of the assumptions and methods of the original analysis.

Trees trap carbon by using it to build their trunks, branches, leaves and other body parts. As long as the trees stand, its structural carbon stays out of the atmosphere. Other plants and living things store carbon at least for a while in the same way, and some geological processes can likewise trap excesses.

Crowther’s analysis did not account properly for carbon stored already in treeless soil, three critiques point out. That made adding trees seem as if it were making a bigger change than it really would. Just adjusting for carbon already in the soil would cut the estimated benefit to around 96 metric gigatons, less than half the original, cautions the Lewis critique. Commenters added that not accounting for carbon stored in the leaves and stems of nonwoody plants, such as grasses already growing on land to be reforested, had likewise inflated the Crowther estimate.

5. Planting trees could still be a good thing as long as it’s done thoughtfully.

Tree planting has long been recognized as valuable, say global change geographer Alan Grainger at the University of Leeds in England, and three coauthors. Now, at least, the furor over the Crowther paper is calling fresh attention to the idea, they write.

Perhaps epic tree planting won’t have impacts as big as hoped for. But even if that estimate is 90 percent too high, the result still compares well with the top choices in the Project Drawdown list.

A downsizing in expectations is appropriate, says Chris Field, a climate scientist at Stanford University who wasn’t involved in the estimate’s creation or critiques. There are other things missing from the discussions though, he says. Human motivations and interests get overlooked. What will make people more or less willing to plant trees or take other actions? In the puzzle of fighting climate change, the human heart is a big source of uncertainty.

#science #scied #sciblr #climate #climate change #global warming #trees

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muffinlance · 5 years

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Your recent ask about struggling with your serious writing projects really hit home, but was also super inspiring. And intimidating. I hope you know I think of you like a writing sensei now. Is sensei the right word? Writing big sibling? Anyway, how do you deal with the anxiety of all those projects? I want to be a Proper Writer too, and I have the ideas and the time, but I always get nerfed by anxiety whenever I try and write original fiction. Any tips on how to stop overthinking?

In light of our shared fandom, dear @captainkirkk, I will accept "Sifu".

Writing tips!

You are obviously solid on writing mechanics and short story arcs (maybe long form arcs too, but I've only had the pleasure of reading your short fics thus far.) So in your case, it is probably just a lack of experience causing most of this anxiety. 'Cause I have found that becoming comfortable with each new stage of writing is an exercise in exposure therapy.

If you're specifically worried about original characters/fics, consider working more OCs into your fanfics just to get more experience with/feedback on them. You'll know real fast if people are reacting well to your OCs, and can tweak things accordingly in the wonderfully low-stress world of fanfic.

As far as anxiety on writing in general, as far as I can tell it never goes away, but there are definitely strategies to lessen it. You'll have to experiment with what works for you. For me, going for long nighttime jogs and just turning ideas over in my head in a low-stress not-even-trying-to-write-right-now environment is super helpful. And if you haven't already, it's Real Big Important to learn to separate the "something is wrong with this story" anxiety from the "I am the worst writer ever and everything I touch becomes ash unto mine eyes" anxiety. I've gotten in the habit of literally trying to write out my anxiety causes. Mock example that's pretty much exactly like what I really do:

(I start with a clear statement of the problem:) Why do I hate this scene, it feels like the literal worst?

(Then I list potential causes:) are character interactions weak? Anything I can do to increase tension/character interplay? More background elements to add depth to scene? Is this supporting the plot enough? Do I even need this scene or can important elements be combined into future scenes? Etc.

Then I work my way through each question, allowing "no this is fine" to be an acceptable answer. And if everything is fine... I might just be in a grr mood where Everything Is Awful and I should take a break because I'm only going to do more harm than good here. Go for a jog, play with the cat, switch to another story for a bit if-I'm-not-grring-at-that-one-too. I actually ran into this with Little Zuko 31; I basically did exactly the above, and ended up scraping about 3k of perspectives-in-the-waiting-room because they were slowing the pacing and coming off as too Zuko-whumpy in a story that doesn't usually drag its heels in depressing bits. My solution was literally "this boy needs a goddamn coat earlier in the chapter so everyone can stop worrying about him and we can get back to the right tone", so I deleted a whole slew of scenes, inserted the early Yue POV, and had her bring him a goddamn coat. And suddenly the chapter was good, great, I-can-work-with-this. But it took a few hours to A) acknowledge that I was writing myself deeper into a pit of this-isn't-working, and B) put my finger on the cause enough to fix it. Sometimes it takes me days to figure that stuff out. Or months. Or years. I've got a novel I just took out of my Grrr Drawer that I hated hated hated, but now that I've got more experience with fixing things, I was able to spot what was wrong and figure out a roadmap for fixing it.

If you haven't already, make sure you've joined some sort of weekly-if-not-daily critique group where you can crit a metric ton of stories and read the crits others have written; it is notably easier to spot mistakes on someone else's work, and many times you'll walk to the fridge and go "...wait a sec, I'm doing that too". I have learned more about story structure from criting works that were almost-but-not-quite working than from reading all the perfectly edited novels in the world. (Critique Circle is an excellent site for this, best I've found, though as with all crit sites you need to know how to work the system so you're getting the most out of your time spent there. If anyone is interested in CC specific tips, shoot me an ask.)

Also, if you haven't already, figure out what stages of your projects you need what kind of feedback on. It took me a Real Long Time to figure out I worked best without input of any kind until I had a draft I personally couldn't improve upon further. When working on my original projects, I no longer show anyone anything until things are finished and polished. Then I invite the crit jackals in (I love my crit jackals, proper constructive criticism hurts so good). Fanfiction has been an interesting experience and a reminder of why I work that way: I am really easily influenced to change things based on reviews. I've now got enough experience writing full novels that I can (mostly) sort out "cool ideas" from "cool ideas that actually work in the broader context of this story", but I still find myself tweaking my outline after reviews. In ways that are hopefully good. But back when I was a less confident writer with terrible outlining skills, oh man I wrote myself down unworkable tangents just because "wouldn't it be cool if..."

So yep. In summary: experiment with anxiety relief strategies and self-care that work for you, acknowledge that the anxiety will always be there and that is normal there is nothing wrong with you, use the anxiety as a tool to address whatever your subconscious is trying to tell you about your story (stop and have a Real Talk with your anxieties--are they trying to tell you something, or do you just need to take a quick brain break?), and know that you're already an amazing writer you just need to practice more on original fics and get them out in the world. <3

Also: sometimes you will get to the end of a project and it... Just didn't work. It's unfixable, or would take more time to fix than just moving on to your next project with lessons learned. I see so many newer writers getting stuck on their "dream story". The one they've been editing and re-editing for years. And it's like, honey, you remember that first clay pot you made in kindergarten? That one that's lumpy and leaning to one side and objectively terrible and I'm pretty sure a mouse crawled inside, got lost, and died in it? Your novel is the equivalent of that. Don't try to fix this pot, go practice making more.

#I still have that pot #it is on the windowsill in my office #it is so terrible but I still love it #much like all these old stories No One Can Ever See #writing advice #ask #writing thoughts

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whitefangworldbuilding · 5 years

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The Strength of Sienna Khan

I find the subject of how to address where Sienna is on the power scaling of Remnant to be both an interesting question and rather pertinent if one ever wants to write a fic about her and so I have provided my own breakdown on the matter below.

Opening:

Now, I certainly don't mean it in a "How much Ki does she have" or "Does her Semblance make her an S Class threat" or "She can move at Mach 5". No, I more mean it in a general scaling of, who would she measure up well against in a fair fight sense.

& obviously the answer should be "Whatever doesn't break established canon too much" (Unless an AU or what have you)

However, I do feel there is a sort of bare minimum that needs to be cleared based on what we've seen, but even more, what we know.

So, time for some grounds keeping:

Now I could go into how I doubt one rises to a position like Sienna's and survives being functionally at war with something like the SDC and presumably wanted in every nation save Menagerie and likely Vacuo without being badass, but given she has allies that only means so much, Jac certainly didn't survive based on his personal strength after all, so lets move on.

Someone might argue that anything beyond what we saw in Sienna's trailer (Sorry Adam's, but I digress) to not be applicable, however we only saw her fight once and it seems anyone not at mook level didn't really struggle in that fight so it is hard to get a gauge.

We can infer a lot from the fact that despite having her presumably elite guards, and six other soldiers, plus himself and potentially Hazel on side, Adam still chose to kill Sienna by surprise before she realized he didn't intend for her to step down. This can certainly give the impression that Adam did not feel confident he could defeat her either with that back up, or at least not without severe risks, but that still only gives us so much, because we don't know what those risks were.

Still, I think as a starting point as strong, or more likely stronger/better than Adam seems like a fairly reasonable place to start from based on that and the trailer.

But we can go deeper.

One integral thing to think about when considering where Sienna might be on the overall metric and scale is this.

Cinder didn't try to recruit or intimidate her.

Now, some might argue that "Sienna didn't exist before V4" or that "Adam was High Leader before V3" or what have you. I say this.

But I don't think it matters; not just because Sienna is canon, but because as far back as V1 when Blake imagined the shadow figures who replaced the previous leader, there was not just 1. This means that even if Adam was meant to be higher up than he eventually turned out to be he still would not have been alone, eh wither would have had contemporaries or superiors right from V1 and them needing to recruit in V2 and having such a small pool of forces in V/3 really doesn't give any eight to the idea Adam had the full resources of the Fang at his command.

(Though why the boss of a massive organization would be messing about on a train blowing shit up for the lols is beyond me, hence why I don't think he was ever the leader)

This means that regardless of whether Sienna the character, her design or background, ETC, did to didn't exist specifically before V4 doesn't matter because someone always existed in the WF who wasn't submitting to Cinder as Adam was and held a great deal of power.

So what does that mean?

Well what this means is that to reach a final conclusion we need to look at Cinder Fall and her involvement with the White Fang to reach a final conclusion.

So, Cinder is someone with the training of a skilled Huntress (Seemingly), had an assassin and hallucinogenic thief and fighter on her side, and the resources provided to her by Salem, but rather than going for the High Leader of the White Fang and thus potentially netting the entire organization, she went to Adam.

And we know it was intentional because Cinder knew who Adam would be, seemingly that he had an ego given her degree of flattery and she placed great emphasis on choosing him, meaning that give her intelligence on the WF, means she determined him the best.most likely candidate to agree that would be useful. Now this info wasn't perfect because it either failed to communicate Adam's ego effectively or the political situation in the WF, IE, that they would not be willing to work for a human like this, or at least not with her plan.

But by all of this we can determine Cinder had some moderately good Intel on the White Fang, so the question becomes...

Why not Sienna Khan? (Or whoever pre her creation, but yes Sienna Khan)

This next segment will involve a slight digression down, but please bear with me.

Cinder is someone not against bribery, flattery or threats to get what she wants, we saw all of this in her recruitment of Adam, so her avoiding this route with the WF's High Leader means a few things. Firstly it means she likely knew Sienna would not agree to such a destructive plan because it served no purpose; this objection could be moralistic or pragmatic, but Cinder would likely assume the latter given her general disposition and attitude.

But would she, would anyone object if it meant not dying? Would someone actually fight a doomed battle and die just to avoid being forced to commit a terrible act, or being subjected to slavery via threat? I doubt Cinder would believe that possible at least for someone who operates at Sienna's level in the world.

Here's the digression.

This was based off Cinder's interactions with Raven but it still feels applicable here. When Raven said that she wanted to kill her own brother, Cinder did not for a second seemingly doubt her, not even assuming something sneaky like an alliance of pragmatism to deal with her (Likely because she knows they fear Salem). No, Cinder just accepts that Raven wants her own brother dead, cheerfully in fact.

Now, say what you will about Raven but given she still has a portal to him & hasn't slit his throat while he was asleep, I think we can agree she, while willing to endanger Qrow, doesn't actively 'want' him dead or to murder him.

But Cinder was willing to accept that she did, and I feel its for much the same reason as one tumblr post mentioned. Cinder assumes everyone else is as petty and evil as she is. That might not be 100% accurate, but I think she'd definitely assume that of people like Raven, Sienna & Adam, even if she likely regards it in degrees, IE, Adam was the most likely to go along with her plan hence seeking him out.

End of digression.

This to me means that Cinder would not be acting on the assumption Sienna would object to her plans morally, or assuming that Sienna would sacrifice herself to stop them, because she likely thinks Sienna is incapable of such things.

So why wouldn't she seek her out and try to force Sienna's hand once she had half the Maiden powers? Cinder seems rather confident in the ability of power and fear to command respect and yet she didn't aim any higher than Adam despite the potential benefits.

Well given Adam was able to blits through her former guards relatively easily -though be it with a bit of shock given they didn't expect him to go that off the hook- this means to m that Sienna would be the major deciding factor here, not her guards or mooks, especially given Cinder can control Grimm and so could likely organize a Grimm attack to keep the grunts busy while she and her allies go for Sienna.

Thus, to me, this means that as far as Cinder was concerned , even with half the Maiden powers, her wonder minions and potentially Adam...

She still did not feel confident in taking down Sienna.

Or at least she was not confident in being able to force Sienna to surrender or to kill her quickly and turn her into a martyr without it being very blatantly clear that she did it, that Adam was a traitor, and generally just turning the entire WF against her or causing it to fracture apart defeating the purpose of the battle.

Given Cinder's ego likely means she has a fairly high bar before she feels threatened or like she couldn't pull off a "just as planned"; the only conclusion I can reach is that even after gaining the Maiden powers and potentially/likely/certainly Adam as an asset, Cinder still did not think she could overpower Sienna easily enough to either win, or at the very least accomplish her goals.

Conclusion

So, when we put all this together what do we get?

Well, we know that Sienna was at least a skilled fighter and one of at least comparable strength to Adam in the trailer.

We know that despite having her guards, back up and Hazel, Adam did not feel confident in either winning or at least not in a quick fight and so resorted to a sneak attack.

We can deduce that despite her powers and connections, Cinder did not feel she had adequate resources to either defeat Sienna and force her to heel, or kill her quickly and frame it on Vale to make Adam High Leader.

Thus, I reason, that Sienna Khan would likely have at the very least be stronger and more skilled than Adam, and could have put up a good fight even against partial Fall Maiden Cinder, Emerald & Mercury, enough that trying it would not be deemed worth the risks involved.

Exactly where you want to put Sienna's strength is obviously up to your own discretion, even if you follow this analyse there's still a lot of room for interpretation or extrapolation.

But I hope that this breakdown has proven insightful and well reasoned, thank you for your time.

Notes:

I almost wish I had made a video of this :D

Brainstorming Semblances could also be fun.

My main one for Sienna is that she has a 'crest' that she can store her Aura in, storing up potentially days, weeks, months or even years that when activated means she can drastically multiply her strength, sorta like Adam, Yang or Nora, but its pre-stored and has a massive gauge, This is the one I give her in the War idea (and in general) hence her being able to vaporize that cruiser, though using said Semblance can be hard, slow and painful and take a long time to recoup.

Other idea include Nine Lives, IE self Resurrection.

One idea I had in a fun little snippet I wrote ages back involved Sienna being able to forge a psychic link with animals, awakening their Aura, extra intelligence & having them fight along side her as her familiars. She had tigers :D

Another had her able to make solid, independent duplicates, or at least one that operated as an e extension of her, dividing her power in half, but letting her be in two places at once.

Another was tat she operated a bit like Cortez from X-Men, but in this case she basically cleaved off a chunk of her own Aura and infused it into others to give them extra strength and energy but could also return said power to herself if she wished to, weakening the, especially if they'd become dependent on her enhancements.

There's probably a lot of other ideas and if you folks have any I'd love to hear-em, but those are some thoughts.

#RWBY #Sienna Khan #Faunus #The White Fang #White Fang #Please bring her back RT #Sienna The Hero Queen Khan

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