#while turning around and telling us it was unintentional and we can interpret what we want but it's not what they're doing

[lovecolibri]

Everyone saying that Buck HAS to date a death doula to come to terms with almost dying. WTF??? He could, you know, go see Frank? Or Dr. Copeland, what happen to her? Or maybe talk again to Eddie, or Maddie, or Bobby, or Hen, or literally anyone???

People are twisting themselves into pretzels on here and on Twitter in order to justify the storyline as necessary for Buck processing his death. WHY.DOES.HE.NEED.TO.DATE.SOMEONE.TO.PROCESS.DEATH? And why does that someone need to be a woman if queer Buck/Buddie is actually in the cards?I've also seen people claiming a relationship would never work because of her profession, but he's in a profession that routinely sees death. These aren't convincing me.

Really, I'd bet any amount of money that the story is 100% just Kristen loathing the idea of Buddie and wanting to put Buck with another woman. And if/when the relationship doesn't work out, the general audience will still be like, "He's only ever liked women! He's straight!" Kristen's anti-Buddie mission will have been accomplished!

I'd love more than anything to be wrong, but I just don't see how people constantly spin these storylines as, "No wait, this means Buddie canon!" I already see many people who were positive that something would happen with Buck and Eddie in the finale backtracking while others are continuing on as if it would be totally normal to have Buck professing his feelings about Eddie one episode after he was with a woman.

Honestly, I know that I sound bitter towards fans, and while I'm...frustrated by people being willfully ignorant and then hurting themselves, I don't really blame them. Kristen is the one who is 100% responsible. But she'll continue to do this, and get away with it, if fans keep making excuses for these dumb storylines instead of rightfully complaining.

He could oh IDK, talk to CHIM who has nearly died twice?! A good, solid brother bonding moment? Look, I'm just...SO opposed to the idea (that a LOT of shows do) of dating someone just to work on yourself and figure things out so you can be ready for the ACTUAL person you want to be with. That's just....using people. Like,

So I'm side-eyeing TF out of people saying Buck needs to date this woman to figure out....whatever and that Eddie needs to date some new woman because...whatever reason so that they can become "better" for each other. Something something is that love? Shouldn't it be when you're at your worst and they're at their worst something something. They don't NEED to date these new women to make them "better ready" to date each other and it's kinda gross actually but ya know, I'M the misogynist because thought L was a terrible character and a waste of time. 🙄

I've never thought anything Buddie would happen this season, then I got a little hope at Ryan just absolutely slaying 6x10 and Buck's rescue but 6x11 and then knowing what all was coming up made it pretty clear to me where this season was headed. Do I think we could still get Buddie canon? Sure! Never say never until the show is over (and even then, they could still do a movie a few years later 🤣). I'm not currently planning to stop shouting about it or let the show off the hook just because they put Buck and/or Eddie with someone sufficiently pretty enough for other people to settle for that instead, and you know Timmy would just loooove to get the accolades for pulling off something "groundbreaking" like this (which is basically him stumbling into lightning in a bottle chemistry and then dicking around for 5 years which EYE wouldn't call groundbreaking but whatever). But even he has bosses and at this point it feels a bit like he got overruled so he fucked off to work on the other show and left OG to flounder it's way to it's end. I can WANT Buddie, and think the show still has done enough work to make it plausible, and still think it makes the most narrative sense, while still being skeptical of the show going through with it. Not even just regarding mlm ships, but 911 would NOT be the first show to undermine it's own narrative set up and logical character arcs for the sake of drama or just pure stubbornness by a showrunner that doesn't like how people are interpreting "their" show. It wouldn't be the first show to end leaving fans unsatisfied with the ending either. 911 used to be something different than you usually see with a procedural with more focus on found family and working dramatic things out in a logical and human way and it is still pretty much there, just with a lot more of the good stuff happening off screen, so I would hope it would treat it's storylines, cast, characters, and audience with a little more respect, but also, it's KR soooo not getting my hopes up on that.

Now if you'll excuse me, I gotta go read some fluffy fic before I scream myself horse or figure out how to molotov KR's office from my house with my brain.

[moonlitceleste]

timelines

Maribat Platonic November Day 2 - Timeline

@maribat-platonic-november​

Note: This was supposed to be platonic but there are some ~vibes~ there (which were completely unintentional), so this can be interpreted as a “pre-relationship” friendship if wanted.

“Second chance!”

The glow dissipated, and Marinette stood there, panting. A faint ticking noise sounded, which could be traced to the green ouroboros bracelet wrapping around her wrist. It was a stark contrast to her sleek maroon-and-black uniform and the darkness of another gloomy Gotham night.

“How many times?”

She dodged his concerned gaze, ponytail whipping with the movement.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. You’re going to exhau—”

A sharp hiss cut the boy’s words off.

“Second chance!”

Marinette would rather use the ability a million times than have to tell him that she had failed. Again.

She turned to meet Tim’s concerned face. Again.

“How many times?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

The lie was like lead on her tongue, but she had said it enough times that it didn’t matter anymore. She could see him open his mouth, probably to ask her if she was okay just like he had all the times before.

She decidedly ignored him and spouted out instructions instead.

“You take the right. Watch out overhead.”

The words were short and clipped as she prepared to leap onto the roof overhead. Before she could gather the momentum, a hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist, almost faster than her bracelet’s namesake.

It was warm and strong, the grip just loose enough that Marinette could break out of it if she wanted to.

“Talk to me.”

Sweat dripped down her forehead, a product of all the alternate timelines she had experienced.

“We don’t have time for this right now, Tim,” she growled. “Black Masks’s gang is on the move. Like we should be.” Her last words were biting, but he knew it was only out of frustration.

“You can’t keep doing this.”

There was a beat of silence, and he hoped his words had gotten through to her.

“I have to.”

Apparently not. Sometimes he forgot just how stubborn she could be.

“No, you don’t. Let me do it, let anyone else do it. You’re running yourself ragged, and you look like you’re going to collapse any second. I’m worried about you. ”

Something about his pleading eyes made Marinette snap.

“Do you think I’d still be doing this unless I had no other choice? You haven’t seen what I have, Tim. I’ve lived through these types of things enough to handle myself.”

The ongoing operation they had to stop was long forgotten by now.

His eyes widened for a second before his features softened. Marinette hated that look. It was pity.

She didn’t want to be pitied.

“I’m fine. It’s fine, now let’s go. We’ve already wasted enough time.”

She tried to shove past him, but he refused to budge.

“Tim, what are you doing?” she hissed.

His jaw was clenched in irritation, but anger was better than whatever pity there was before. She hadn’t expected what came out of his mouth next, though.

“Why won’t you just let me help you? You don’t have to do this alone. You’re not alone.”

The genuine worry in his voice made her stop and reconsider for a second. She took a deep breath while Tim waited in patient anticipation for her answer.

“I just… I don’t want you to see what I saw,” she started, glancing somewhere off to the side rather than looking at his face. “I’ve done this before—I should be able to handle it. But I keep messing up.” Her head snapped up, and Tim could see the anguish in her eyes. “Do you know how many times I’ve seen you die? It happened again and again, and every single time I couldn’t get to you in time.”

The next words were as quiet as a whisper, but Tim caught them anyways. “I can’t put you through that.”

He didn’t know how to respond, so he went with an attempt at humor. “Not even if I volunteer?”

She didn’t look amused.

Switching back to a more serious expression, he enveloped her hands in his, making sure she understood his next words. They were small and warm in his.

“I can handle it, Marinette. Gotham isn’t exactly a pretty place—look at where we are now. It’s not your fault it didn’t work before, but it doesn’t have to be your burden. I can help you. Let me help you. Trust me.”

Her brows furrowed, and she worriedly gnawed at her lip as she processed his words. The warmth in his palms suddenly left as she took her hands out of his. For a second Tim thought she was going to reach for her bracelet, but she set her arms at her side and closed her eyes.

“Sass, scales rest.”

The green light faded to reveal Marinette standing in a suit that looked identical to the one she had just been wearing. The only difference was that the previous was magically bulletproof, while this one was only normally bulletproof.

The kwami collapsed into her outstretched hands, and she transferred him over to one so she could rummage through her utility belt for food. She pulled out a granola bar from one of the pouches.

“Sorry, Sass. I can’t put eggs into my belt.”

Marinette broke off a small piece and fed it to the kwami, who gobbled up. Almost instantaneously, the tiny deity zipped into the air like new. It regarded Tim with scrutinizing eyes as Marinette handed the bracelet over to him.

He wasn’t intimidated by the tiny god, exactly, but the yellow eyes boring into him were a bit unsettling. He knew the kwamis were fiercely protective of Marinette—so was he, in a way.

“You have chosen a good one, Guardian.”

Marinette glanced over at him and smiled. “I know.”

She suddenly straightened up and nodded her head at him.

“You know the words.”

He inclined his head back at her. “Sass, scales slither!”

The glow faded and the two shared twin smiles, a new look of confidence on Marinette’s face.

“Let’s do this.”

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior  @enternalempires  @freesportspalacesalad

[mproductions7152]

Just one night

( Note: This was written before played P5: Strikers so keep that in mind, this is an old fic after all)

During their vacation, The Phantom Thieves decide to stay in a motel for the night. Unfortunately not all of them could stay in the same room which lead the group to separate in different rooms as they scheduled to meet up in the RV first thing tomorrow morning.

Ryuji looks around the small room, it was just like any other average dorm but there was something about it that felt...different acknowledging the double sized mattress.

“Uh, do you think that girl at the reception desk gave us the wrong dorm number?” Ryuji asked turning to Akira.

“No, this should be it..”

“Are you sure?, Because I don't want the both of us to be cramped in one bed"

“Hm...I’ll go check”

Akira left the room for a brief moment to talk to the receptionist as Ryuji hung over the end of the bed, lying on his front while checking his phone as he waited for Akira to come back.

-

“So what did she say?”

“She told me that this isn’t a mix up, there's nothing we can do to change it"

“Seriously?....Well since there isn’t much we can do I might as well take the floor..” Ryuji sighs as Akira shrugged

“You do you I guess..”

“Why do you sound disappointed?, I’m perfectly comfortable here, I mean could you imagine us sharing one bed?..” Ryuji laughed at that awkward thought

“Not really to be honest..”

“Exactly..if anyone else found out we would never hear effin the end of it”

Akira rolled his eyes at him "You’re not wrong there"

“Anywaaays, It's getting late, we've got a big mission tomorrow!" Ryuji exclaimed excitedly while stretching his arms.

Akira nodded in response, Ryuji grabs one of the pillows from the bed and drop it on the floor. He laid on his back while looking at the ceiling while Akira laid down quietly in the bed.

During that night, Ryuji was at first fine with sleeping on the ground but as the hours went by, he suddenly woke up quietly and looked over at Akira who was asleep, there was something about seeing his best friend lying there looking peaceful, his breathing sounded rather calming from this angle. He suddenly felt a bit jealous that Akira looked cosy while he openly insisted on sleeping in the floor next to the mattress.

Ryuji was getting second thoughts a part of him was going to shrug it off and let his friend rest but a part of him starting finding the floor uncomfortable despite the carpet on top of it.

It was only for one night and yes it’s weird because when two people especially two teenagers are sharing a room together and sleeping in the same room together can be interpreted in many ways and so with hesitation, he stood up and lightly nudged Akira.

“Uh...Hey...”

“Hmm?..what is it?..” Akira mumbled tiredly turning to face Ryuji who pillow is tucked under his arm, averting his eyes from him with secondhand embarrassment.

“Is there...any room for one more?...”

“Uh...sure..why?”

“It’s just for night, just...don’t get the wrong idea....”

“But I thought-...”

Before Akira could finish his sentence, Ryuji suddenly flopped his head on his pillow as he laid next to him

“Don’t...tell anyone about this..okay?..” the blonde male mumbled at him.

“....I won’t"

While Akira was going to head back to sleep he then feels Ryuji holding onto him, his arms around his stomach and his head lightly resting into his chest. To Akira seeing this, he was unsure how to respond to this sudden embrace wether intentional or not but he reluctantly lies back down and turns his body a bit and puts his arms on Ryuji’s back and slowly dozed off.

The moment it was morning as the two slowly awaken from their slumber. The moment they exchanged looks, Ryuji screamed as they quickly sit up and slid an inch away from each other. Akira covered Ryuji's mouth with his hand shushing him before he could raise his voice. They went silent for a moment, they're was no sound of sudden knocking as Akira slowly let go of Ryuji as they quieted down while they were getting dressed.

“Dude, what the hell were you doing?!" Ryuji whispered loudly.

“Says the the one using me as a human sized stuffed animal” Akira responds with a deadpan expression

“It's...not a big deal" Ryuji sighed while rubbing the back of his head.

“Is it though?....you seemed pretty comfortable next to me last night” The trickster asked pulling a little smirk

“Huh?!- Hey, it's not like that!"

Akira laughed as Ryuji thrown a pillow at him playfully. “This may come as a shock to you...at first when you were...wrapping your arms around me...it caught me off guard...but then it didn’t feel as awkward as I thought it would be....”

“So you’re saying you were ok with it?...” Ryuji raises a brow a little confused.

Akira then blushes and glances down at the ground awkwardly “You could say that, what about you?”

Ryuji was pretty bewildered that Akira openly yet admittedly liked it even though it was unintentional. The blonde knew that he couldn’t cover up this one, it was out of his control, it was too late to make excuses.

“Well..It was only for one night but..when seeing you just resting there...I wasn't going to...but I gave in anyway even though that comment I made last night makes me sound like a hypocrite with that irony....but...it was...oddly nice..”

Ryuji sighed through a nervous laugh as his skin turned a light shade of pink.

Once the two were ready to prepare to hit the road again, they look at each other with a casual and quiet response as a little smile hit their faces while still looking rather a little embarrassed, they couldn't deny the content they felt when having each others' company that night.

[sweeterthankarma]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Druck | SKAM (Germany) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fatou Jallow/Kieu My Vu Characters: Fatou Jallow, Kieu My Vu Additional Tags: S6E10: Bis in die Unendlichkeit?, Post Mittwoch 18:31, more healthy communication between kieutou, aka what we deserved in canon Summary:

“I wanted you from the day I met you. Really,” Fatou tells her, and she wonders how many times she’s going to have to say it for Kieu My to get it, how many old texts between her the Cash Queens are going to have to be dug up, displayed as half-ashamed, half-victorious evidence of her infatuation. “You were the only one on my mind, all the time. From the very beginning.” “You were too, you know,” Kieu My says.

Title comes from the song "Worst Behavior" by Ariana Grande.

I adore these two so much! If you enjoyed this fic, please let me know, comments and kudos make my day!

     “I hated fighting with you,” Fatou says. It’s barely audible, just a murmur in a room robbed of sensory indicators— nearly pitch black, with a white noise fan to the left of the bed, a radiator pumping heat in the diagonal, perched between a bookshelf and a closet. Fatou wonders if it’s intentional, meant to drown out the sounds; if Kieu My’s parents are home, if they know anything about her. That’s a question for another time. 

     “I forgot what we were even fighting about after a while.”

Kieu My doesn’t react, not right away, but Fatou knows she hears her both times she speaks. Tonight, she’s heard her more than ever, perhaps more than anyone ever has, and Fatou is hoping, praying, willing with all of her might that that statement alone will remain true for a long time to come.

Kieu My’s heartbeat is steady against Fatou’s ear, slow; her chest smooth, heated, bare. When Fatou nods, mostly to herself, Kieu My feels it, her chin bobbing with the movement of Fatou’s head beneath it. 

     “But I think at the time, we needed to be on our own, to process things. A lot was happening, you know?”

Kieu My chews her lower lip, looks up at the ceiling. Fatou doesn’t have to look at her to know this. She sees it even when she closes her eyes, lets the darkness of the room blend into the blank shield her eyelids provide, so similar that when she opens them, there’s no way to even tell the difference. Kieu My is all new, rapturous, something to be discovered, but just the same, Fatou knows her well. She wonders, distantly, if Kieu My knows her tics and habits too, if she can predict minute reactions seconds before they happen, almost like second nature. A part of her doesn’t want to know the answer; another part of her wants Kieu My to know every single piece of her, every ounce of spirit and soul, chopped up and served for her observation alone, her entertainment.

     “But not anymore,” Fatou finishes, and it’s palpable: Kieu My’s exhale. Her relief. 

It takes some maneuvering, some twisting of blankets and bedsheets and a shove of a pillow that somehow got caught under her armpit, but then Fatou is on her stomach, a leg slung across Kieu My’s splayed thighs. She keeps her eyes on her, watching, and Kieu My is reluctant, wavering, when she responds, “I was afraid you didn’t want me anymore.”

Fatou frowns. Doesn’t know how to react, what to do, except spit out the only truth she knows: “I always wanted you.”

Fatou isn’t sure what time it is. Two AM, maybe, maybe earlier or maybe far later. Time is bending in Kieu My’s room, becoming a clandestine oasis, defying physics, shifting just for them. She’s thankful for it, knows it’s working in her favor either way, especially when Kieu My hums beside her. Fatou knows what that means, can interpret it like broken English that’s slowly finding its way into a pile of knowledge in her brain marked “I get this”: Kieu My is thankful, honored, a little bit indignantly disbelieving. 

     “It’s true,” Fatou says. She tightens the hook of her knee, her ankle around Kieu My’s legs. Irritation brews in the pit of her stomach, primarily directed at herself because Kieu My doesn’t get it, Kieu My doesn’t know—  

     “I wanted you from the day I met you.”

This time, from this position, Fatou can see it happen as Kieu My worries her lower lip, twists minutely under Fatou’s weight. Not protesting, not leaving, just reacting.

Fatou’s hand breaks away from its position, sandwiched between the two of them and now dangerously close to being encompassed by pins and needles, falling asleep. She finds Kieu My’s face, turns it toward her. Kieu My doesn’t protest, not this time.

     “Really,” Fatou tells her, and she wonders how many times she’s going to have to say it for Kieu My to get it, how many old texts between her the Cash Queens are going to have to be dug up, displayed as half-ashamed, half-victorious evidence of her infatuation. “You were the only one on my mind, all the time. From the very beginning.”

     “You were too, you know,” Kieu My says.

It surprises Fatou. It’s not the kind of conversational turn that she was expecting— Kieu My’s hand is pressed against the arch of her spine, snaking up the lower seam of her bralette— and suddenly the fan in the corner seems ten times louder, almost deafening.

Fatou doesn’t mean to sound so meek when she replies, “really?”

Kieu My laughs, full-on and vibrant, and Fatou can’t help it, she’s sitting upright, wide awake and giving Kieu My a glare she won’t be able to decipher. Damn the dark, Fatou thinks, why doesn’t Kieu My own a nightlight or something, because she wants to see this now, wants to see everything. She could before, back when the moon was lower in the sky and traffic passed by consistently. Now, she finds Kieu My’s knee under her clasped hands, an unintentional touch but certainly not one she’s going to pull away from under any circumstances, and uses her imagination to see everything she wants to, everything she knows is there. 

In the heavy seconds that follow— it can’t be more than six, but Fatou swears it feels like sixty— she’s almost expecting Kieu My to abandon the idea she’d brought up altogether, to give up talking and kiss Fatou until she’s dizzy instead.

(Or maybe rush off to the bathroom, come back with water and snacks— two things that she had done earlier when Fatou had asked, love-drunk, if Ismail had ever brought up the top or bottom discourse to her as well. To be fair, Kieu My had proved the question to be rather invalid moments before, so she’d giggled, skipped the whole way to the sink, almost tripping on the rug in her effervescent haste.)

     “You really didn’t notice?” Kieu My asks. She sounds small again. She’s shifting, ever-changing, maybe more like a chameleon than a turtle, and Fatou marvels, reaches out again. She strokes her thumb atop Kieu My’s shin and Kieu My finds her fingertips in the dark, holds on tight. 

     “It was always you for me, too,” she admits. “I was just…” she trails off, turning to look the other way— Fatou only knows because she hears the swish of her hair against her tank top, the creak of the bedframe beneath her— “...I wasn’t sure you’d ever go for someone like me.”

     “Serious?” Fatou replies. She can’t help the way it comes out a bit like a laugh, one that shatters the sanctity of the moment between them, or at least transforms it into something of a different breed. Something lighter, fuller, sanctified for the hundredth time in one evening. “You are so my type.”

Kieu My laughs then, too. Fatou feels herself breathe, relax again, become giddy in that way that she’s only ever known as love love oh scheiße I’m in love. This time, somehow it’s better, different, stronger than ever before. This time, it feels like it’ll last. 

     “Like, you’re completely my type. One hundred percent, in every way. How did you not get that?”

Kieu My gasps out another chuckle, slings her arm around Fatou’s neck. She finds her lips in the dark, Fatou’s eyes closed long before she gets there. “Well, I know that now.”

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness Chapter 92

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"Are you sure you won't come visit Blake in the hospital?" Ruby asked me.

"Nah. I'll leave up to your team. Might visit next time, sound fair?"

I took Adam Taurus's weapon. I added to my collection. It was in one corner next to Tyrian's wicked blades.

"I-um I guess," Ruby returned. "I really don't think she'd be bothered by it."

"But can you say that she'd be pleased by it?" I asked rhetorically.

"Well…" she hesitated. Her silver eyes flicked away from mine.

" Ahp , you had to think about it. Trust me. I'll just leave it to you girls for now. Next time. Mayhaps."

"What are you going to do around here?" Ruby asked. "If you're not coming with us, that is."

"I'm going to be with Oscar and Ozpin. Helping Winter Schnee get a handle on her new powers," I returned easily. "Don't worry. I won't get up to any trouble."

"Trouble has a way of finding you, Cloud." Ruby smiled at me good naturedly.

I laughed a little in a low chuckle. "Well if it finds me this time it won't be my fault."

"You don't get along with Winter very well," Weiss cut in.

"She actually doesn't get along with me. I do just fine with her."

"You escalate things with her," Weiss pointed out. "You don't ever try and get things to calm down. You try and rile her up. Stop it."

"Not my fault. She still wants to tango despite how bad it went for her the first time," I returned.

"Just try and not drive her crazy. She's the only real part of my family I get along with." I could sort of get that. I wanted to be on good terms with some of my family. Like my sisters. I wanted to be on good terms with them.

But Saphron… She wanted to fight me. She didn't want to try and resist Mother. She liked her servitude. That was unsettling. Was that all I had waiting for me? And my sisters had met my Mother face to face. The things Mother had done to me she'd done with half a world between us. I hadn't actually met her face to face like my sisters had.

It made me shudder. I had no idea what she could actually do to me in person. She'd been able to dominate my mind like it was nothing through that tentacled Grimm.

"I'll do what I can," I promised half-heartedly. "Give Blake my regards."

They walked out of my little Atlas Academy room with little waves goodbye. They were adorable, with Weiss pulling Ruby along by the hand.

I got up and put my sword on my back. I strode out of the tiny Academy place of stay and made my way to the training room. I found Winter inside already with Oscar leaning on his cane.

"Cloud, good of you to join us," Oscar said in a voice that made it unclear whether it was him or Ozpin talking. I stared at him long and hard for a moment. I desperately tried to decipher who I was talking to before eventually I gave up. It was probably impossible to tell at some points by the very nature of the way that they were becoming one.

I was merging in an odd way with my Mother but hey...At least I wasn't Oscar. He was really becoming one with the enormous alien mind. I could at a minimum divide myself between where I began and where my Mother ended. Oscar didn't have that. He just had a steady blurring of lines as he conjoined with the old wizard.

"It's no problem. Just not sure what light I can shed on the subject that you don't already know." I crossed my arms and stared at Oscar. I still wasn't sure who I was addressing.

"You've fought Cinder the most. You have more insights into her powers than anyone else. Some seasons tend to rhyme with one another. This summer with that other particular spring."

I supposed that made a certain amount of sense.

"Didn't you fight her too?" I asked.

"Yes, when she destroyed Ozpin's body, but her powers were only just settling in then. I fear that most of what she used was her semblance not her maiden powers."

"You know what her semblance is?" I wondered. That would be important information to have for those of us who were looking to kill her.

Like me.

"Pyrokinesis I suspect. But it's only a suspicion." He tapped his cane twice against the ground. His Hazel eyes glowed. "It blends rather well into the maiden powers, I suppose."

"What other powers does Cinder Fall possess?" Winter asked. She cut in for the first time. And it was the first time I'd seen her since she became the maiden. She didn't look or feel any different to my senses. She looked the same as ever, tall and in white.

Oscar stood in silence and seemed content for me to take the lead so I shrugged and answered, "she's got control over wind and lightning like you might with dust. And then she can fly, too. Hard to be sure which comes from which maiden part though. She could fly and control wind before she became spring. The lightning seemed new but it's impossible to tell."

"I understand. You believe my own powers will turn out similarly to Cinder's," Winter noted.

"Precisely," Oscar nodded. "We feel that seasons that take shape around the same time frame are a great deal like the others. This isn't always the case, however. Magic can take all forms. Cloud's powers are nothing like that of any maiden from recent memory."

"But I may have this power over the elements as well and flight," Winter interpreted. "Just like dust, then."

"Yes, why don't you give it a try now? Whatever feels most natural when you reach for the maiden powers," Oscar said.

Winter breathed in deeply and shut her eyes. When she opened them again there was a silvery flare to the sides of her eyes. The same color as her aura had been.

She stretched out a hand…

But nothing happened. Sort of anticlimactic.

"I am unsure where to start. I can feel my new powers but can't quite understand them."

"Why don't you try modifying your semblance. Casting a spell that normally requires dust to execute but just with the powers in hand and your semblance," I suggested. "It's pretty much what I do with my own magic."

Winter gave me an even look at my genuine helpfulness but she nodded. She extended a hand and an enormous glyph radiated to life behind her easily enough. Then lightning flared from it. It wasn't strong or very well directed. But there was a crackle of sparks across it that was vectorless.

Winter dropped panting. She'd been holding her breath as she did it.

"Oh and don't forget to breathe," I snarked. She managed a weak glare back up at me where I stood with my arms crossed.

"You know, Cloud ," she emphasized. "I hardly like you being around my little sister."

"Yeah well I hardly like being alive. We can't all get what we want," I bit back. "Why don't you try it again? With breathing this time, that's important."

She nodded and got back to her feet. She breathed deeply this attempt and her eyes flared with that magical sign of the maidens.

A glyph hovered to life above us and ice came raining down through it. A jagged shard bounced off my aura and I hopped back a step.

"Sorry. I didn't quite manage what I wanted," she snarked back at me.

"Did you want to impale me? Because any time you want to go, sister. Let's go, whenever you're ready."

"Now, now," Ozpin chided. "Ms. Schnee just lost control for a moment. I'm sure it was unintentional."

"See, unintentional," Winter agreed.

"Yeah of course, never would have you pegged for childish," I muttered.

"We are all often not as others expect." She smiled cheerfully.

"Why don't we give flight a shot?" Ozpin asked.

"I am unsure how to begin with that," Winter said. Which was fair enough. You give somebody a bunch of new powers and you couldn't suddenly expect them to know how to use them. Especially with something as vague as the maiden's powers which took different shapes naturally.

"I could just drop you from the roof and see what happens," I cut in. "Experiment."

"Any serious suggestions would be appreciated," she returned smoothly.

"Maybe I was serious," I murmured. "Come find out."

"Well Mr. Strife, how is it that you fly?" Ozpin asked. "It has been some time for me."

"Not really sure. It's sort of subconscious. I just did it while my semblance was active. Then I sort of just imagine moving around once I get up to speed to control it."

"Unhelpful," Winter decided. I felt like she wasn't being super fair on that one.

"Cinder can do it so you better be able to figure it out. Can't let her outperform you, she'll be gunning for you next," I shot. "Try to imagine yourself rising on a pocket of air. That helps me."

"What makes you think she'll come for me?"

"You were the obvious choice for Ironwood to pick as the new maiden. It's an open secret how close the two of you work. I was able to figure it out and there's no reason she won't be able to. You have gotta assume she knows that you're the new maiden or close to it."

She nodded, then she closed her eyes in focus and breathed hard. The wind might have picked up a little in the airtight room. A breeze bustling through but she didn't start to rise up off the ground or anything.

"We will keep at this. You've been more than helpful, Mr. Strife."

"That's exactly what I shoot for."

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"Blake’s going to be okay. She was especially happy with the news that Adam is dead," Weiss informed me later that night around the dinner table.

“Dead as a doorknob,” I agreed. “It’s just a shame that my sisters slipped away.”

“What would you even have done with them had you gotten them?” Weiss asked. “They seemed awfully determined to be on Salem’s side.”

“It’s not their fault. They’re brainwashed,” I defended them partially.

My sisters were a touchy subject. They were a shadow of what I could be. What I would otherwise have been. If Mother had her wicked way. It was hard to hate that. It was in a sense like hating my potential self. There but for a flip of a coin went I. I could still end up like them. I could still become a monster.

Mother's influence on me was still there. It was always pressing. And that was without having ever seen her face to face. The sort of mind magic she could bring to bear against me must be unreal in person. How was I ever going to kill her? Or at least cut her fucking head off and bring her as close to death as she could be brought. I didn't have a clue.

“But how are you going to change that?” Yang wondered. “It’s one thing if somebody wants to fight it like you do but they just want to give in.”

“I… I don’t know. But I can’t exactly abandon them or kill them. It wasn’t their fault that this happened to them and besides they're still my… still my family,” I murmured. “You know what I mean? I can’t leave them to that.”

“But if they don’t want to be saved then there’s nothing we can do for them, Cloud.” Yang pointed her fork at me. “You’re different but your sisters seem to want it.”

“I can’t just give up on them,” I protested. “I have… I have so many memories of time spent with them. They matter to me.”

I could remember so much. So much time spent with them. It was all fake but it still made me feel something. Weiss said my feelings were valid it was hard to agree when there was so much fake pressure from Salem.

“But those memories aren’t real. They’re an illusion,” Blake cut in. “The only times you’ve met them they attacked you.”

“Maybe…” I muttered. "It seemed mostly playful though. Like they weren't trying to kill me."

"Playful murder?" Yang asked. "Are you serious or…?"

“Cloud you can’t save people who don’t want to be saved.” Weiss patted my hand. “You need to come up with a real plan to deal with them.”

“I suppose we’ll have to fight them,” I said. “I suppose… that I’ll have to… I’ll have to kill them, if they can’t be saved they can only be put down. It’s what I would want if I fell to my Mother.”

“Do you really mean that, Cloud?” Ruby asked. “That you would want to… you know…”

“Die?” I asked. “Probably, yeah. It's better than being a puppet, you know?”

“I do,” Weiss whispered. “It won’t come to that, we’ll keep you from falling to her.”

"Yeah. I suppose."

"Cloud. We will keep you safe from her. You have to believe in that," Ruby murmured.

"I'm starting to, a little."

And I was. Things had been better with Weiss's and Ruby's help. I'd heard fewer whisperings from my Mother. I'd had fewer command auditory hallucinations. I had a wall erected in my mind between my Mother and I so that less of her spilled over into me. She was like ink in water, spreading out and getting into every gap. Under currents carried her influence every which way only it was inside of me.

It was hard to imagine I'd ever be totally free of her. Her tendrils reached deeply into my mind. I couldn't help but imagine it was the same for my sisters. Only they met her face to face and experienced the kind of magic she could hurt us with for real. It must have been terrible. It must have been beautiful. I imagined giving in for a moment. What it would feel like.

My Mother's influence was unbelievable. It was always present in me but there was a sort of stopping point I'd managed to create that halted her from having total rule over me.

It would feel like nothing else to give into her wishes and do what she wanted. I wasn't sure that sex would be able to compare. And Saphron had made it sound so good. She made it seem so sweet. The way her voice had purred when she talked about submitting. I got that. I really did. I just didn't want it for me. It would me losing everything that I had built up here.

It would mean sacrificing all my friendships and relationships and more. It would cost me my soul. I just couldn't give in even though every day Mother inflicted some new horror onto me. It was agony but I wouldn't have it any other way.

I'd have to immolate all my wishes and desires and dreams to become something else. Something with a new and different and terrible purpose. I'd be a weapon in her hands and nothing more.

I liked having the 'more' it was what made me feel. It made me feel Cetra. I wasn't sure what I'd be without it. So I couldn't give in. But my sisters, they had already slipped under.  

They'd bowed their heads under the surface and they drank from those dark waters deeply. They became something less than Cetra. Saphron had said so herself. It was that which separated me from them and the Grimm too. The Grimm was a part of me but I didn't have to acknowledge it. I didn't have to let it rule me.

Maybe it was nothing and just maybe that was everything. Maybe it was all I needed to resist. I wasn't sure. I couldn't be sure until I ran into her again. It was a trial by fire and nothing else. There was no middle ground.

It meant that I couldn't afford any mistakes when I was next in her presence. It meant I could just collapse and become nothing again like I had before.

I just couldn't tell until next I saw her.  

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-WG

[frospino]

The Best Song Yet

Jaskier x fem!reader (she/her pronouns)

Request: I combined two requests for this one which were somewhat similar - both asked for fluffy Jaskier x reader where they are oblivious to their feelings. Geralt, of all people, intervenes. I hope this is what you were looking for, anon and a-stumpsexuals-world!

Summary: Romantic Comedy/Fluff. Geralt would not admit it to anyone, but he cares for you and Jaskier. Since both of you refuse to make the first step, he is forced to intervene.

Warnings: There are thoughts of canon-typical violence, but no actual descriptions of violence.

Word Count: 1.858

A/N: This was supposed to be a drabble. Look what Jaskier made me do!! I also read a story that would have fit the two requests not too long ago, so I tried to make this a little different by writing from Geralt’s POV.

Geralt thought to himself, if he heard one more person proclaim “You make such a cute couple!”, followed by a high pitched giggle or an “Oh stop it, we’re not a couple,” or whatever the fuck his travel companions decided to answer that day, he would not hesitate to pull out his sword and decapitate whoever had the insolence to ask that question. Wait. Maybe he could draw both swords at the same time and perform a circular motion, striking down the enquirer, the bard and the woman in one go.

Yes. That would indeed be best.

The two people—couple, but still refusing to call each other that—in question were completely oblivious to his plans. They were, in fact, oblivious to most things. Jaskier would probably trip over his own feet while staring at her. Maybe he would manage to turn just so and fall on his lute, silencing the bard forever? She, on the other hand, at least had the decency to stare only when she thought no one was looking. Not that it was working. Geralt saw, every moment of every day that he was forced to travel with them, for he could not seem to shake them off.

The myths said Witchers had no feelings. If only, Geralt thought. The one feeling they certainly didn’t take from him was annoyance.

“Geralt.” A long, overly dramatic almost-moan of his name. “Geraaalt. I can’t walk anymore. Can we make camp?” It would forever remain a mystery how Jaskier, who had been at the Witcher’s side for years now, and should be used to a day’s walk, possessed all the patience and endurance of a five-year-old. Geralt had long given up on ignoring the bard’s whining. For all the patience and endurance he lacked when it came to physical activities, Jaskier had a very, very long breath when it came to forcing his needs on other people.

Geralt could see her hiding a smile behind one hand, her eyes crinkling, watching Jaskier with so much admiration that it almost made the Witcher sick. This was one of the few moments when he was sure it was not the djinn who made him wish for Yennefer’s presence. Her abrasive nature would make such a welcome contrast to the two love-sick idiots following his every step.

The sun was slowly approaching the horizon. If they stopped now, it would have to be for the night. Geralt considered for a short time, weighing his sanity against the few extra miles they could make. With a meaningful “Hmm,” the Witcher tied Roach to a tree at the side of the road and motioned for his companions to set up camp. Jaskier cheered, and she started clapping and cheering along.

Surely, these two had someone else they could torture with their presence?

When night fell, she was quick to hide in her tent. Geralt’s sharpened senses picked up how her breathing evened out, and he knew her to be asleep within moments. Which meant his least favourite time of the day started now.

“Oh Geralt.” No one but Jaskier could make his name sound quite so mournful and demanding at the same time. “Do you think she will ever look at me as more than a friend?” The Witcher almost lectured his friend on the way she looked at him, and how everyone but them could so easily see the love between them, and how they should finally address their feelings for one another in more than jest.

But he was Geralt of Rivia, a Witcher of few words, so he said nothing.

Now, this did not stop Jaskier from further lamenting his fate; he had never needed another person to uphold a conversation, and no matter how much Geralt wished he had asked the djinn for the ability to take the bard’s voice whenever he pleased, Jaskier would not change now. “Geralt. She is the fairest maiden I have ever laid eyes on. No, make that the fairest person. She is perfect. Such beauty, such grace. Oh Geralt, I think I need to write another song about her.”

“Do what you need to do,” was all the answer Jaskier received, as Geralt set up his bedroll. The Witcher fell asleep to a myriad of rhymes on her name, one more ridiculous than the last.

---

As much as he did not care for their romance, it still pained Geralt to see her face when she watched Jaskier flirt with other people. (The truth was: Geralt did care, but it would need the spell of the mightiest sorceress to make him admit this.) He knew the bard did not mean anything by it; it was, simply put, Jaskier’s nature to make compliments, to wink, to dance with other people. Sometimes, they mistook his natural charm for more. (Geralt had been told that Jaskier possessed such a thing. He was not so sure what made people mistake presumptuousness with charm.)

But she was oblivious to the bard’s feelings for her, and while she tried hard to put on a brave face, Geralt could see her smile crumpling a little more with every hand kiss, every carefully placed ‘unintentional’ touch.

“You should tell him,” Geralt remarked. Her eyes widened for the shortest of moments, before she regained her composure. “I would not dare interrupt Jaskier on his routines. And anyway, there is nothing to tell.”

Geralt grunted, but said nothing else. It was not his business, he told himself. If they wanted to torture each other, that was their choice. 

When she excused herself after a particularly heated dance between Jaskier and one of the patrons, and Geralt saw tears forming at the corner of her eyes, he knew he could not stand by any longer. He told himself it was because he could not possibly endure these displays of drama and youthful emotions any longer. Only Yennefer would have had the courage to point out that the Witcher wanted his friends to be happy.

It was easy to grab Jaskier, who was drunk on applause and praise, by the arm and drag him upstairs. Geralt ignored the bard’s protests as he—somewhat unruly, but with the best intentions—shoved him into the room the three of them rented and locked the door behind him.

“Figure it out,” was all Geralt said, before he left downstairs for another round of ale and cards.

---

You were startled when someone—was that Geralt?—shoved Jaskier into the room. You heard a key turn, and quickly tried to dry your tears with a handkerchief as Jaskier beat his fists against the door, shouting “Geralt! Hey, what was that for? Let me out!”

Even in your current state, you could not stop the laugh that bubbled from your throat. This made the bard turn around, and you saw the surprise on his face as his lips formed into a tentative smile. Jaskier was so endearing, so beautiful, so… unreachable.

Tears swelled up in your eyes again, and you quickly hid your face in your hands. You wished to be a sorceress in that moment, to say a few magic words and make yourself invisible—or even better, to disappear into another dimension altogether. Why would Geralt do this! Why would he humiliate you so?

You felt a feather-light touch on your hands as Jaskier slowly, ever so slowly, pulled them away from your face.

“Darling, what is it? Why are you crying?”

You pressed your eyes shut, willing away the entire situation, and shook your head. “I can’t… I couldn’t… Oh Jaskier, surely it must be obvious?”

There was a small pause as Jaskier seemed to wait for you to explain what you meant. When he realized you would not give him more to go on, he asked, “What do you mean? I don’t… I don’t think I understand.”

It was as if a dam had been broken, and you could not stop the emotions spilling forth as you sobbed, “You sing, and you dance, and you pay attention to everyone but me! I have tried so hard to see you as a friend only, I have—Oh Jaskier, you must believe me, I have. But it hurts so much to see you fall in love over and over again, when all I wish is that it was me you would fall in love with.” You look into his face then, both scared of what he would say and daring to hope, without logical explanation, that he would say the words you so desperately needed to hear.

Jaskier blinked, once, twice, and then said: “I have not fallen in love for a long time.” Your heart breaks into a thousand little pieces then; you can feel them sailing through your blood stream, leaving burning sensations wherever they went. Your face, your hands, your stomach; everything felt like it was on fire, inflamed by the pain in your heart at Jaskier’s words.

It took Jaskier a moment to realize what he just said, and to interpret your reaction correctly. “I mean! I mean, I—I have not fallen in love since I. Since I met you.”

He was close enough that you could smell the faintest bit of ale on his breath—though Jaskier never drank much when he performed—and you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. You longed to touch him, to confirm what you believed he just said—could it be—?

Instinctually, you moved closer towards him, angling your face upwards, watching his lips, waiting for confirmation. Your heart had rearranged itself, not longer shattered but whole and beating and hoping again—

Jaskier captured your lips in a kiss, and you closed your eyes to revel in the feeling of his mouth moving against yours. In that moment, he was everywhere—his hands on your hips, roaming your body, his warmth engulfing you, both anchoring you in this room and sending you to a place far away, where all the pain and the longing of the last weeks and months was transformed into pure bliss instead.

You were the one who had to break the kiss to gulp for air, and you opened your eyes to see Jaskier looking at you with so much love and admiration—it was hard to believe you had missed this, or convinced yourself that he would never look at you as more than a friend. You felt foolish, but that was then, and this was now, and it was perfect just like this.

It was Jaskier’s turn to laugh now as he let his head fall back against the wooden wall of the room.

“What’s so funny?”, you asked.

“It’s just. I can’t believe… I can’t believe it took Geralt locking us into a room to admit our feelings.”

There was a moment of silence as you processed what Jaskier had just said. It was, indeed, ridiculous—that the Witcher should notice this before either of you did!

Jaskier smiled to himself, and with one last, shaky laugh that could almost pass for a sigh, he said: “This will make for my greatest song yet.”

[femreader]

I know you - 13th Doctor

Summary: Before Yaz, Ryan or Graham confronted her, Y/N was there first. 

Pairing: 13th Doctor x fem!reader

Warnings: ANGST, but also comfort 

A/N: Quarantine really making me bored

Y/N was one of her longest companions. She had been there since The Doctor was a child-like, energetic man whose eyebrows were almost nonexistent. She had been there when they met Amy for the first and the last time. She had been there when she had regenerated into a grumpy and white-haired Scotsman. She knew the stories of Martha and Rose and Donna. What they did, what they sacrificed so the earth could be saved. She knew about Gallifrey, she knew it was saved. Y/N had been there to see it when they closed it into its own small, time bubble. 

She had been with The Doctor for so long she knew how she acted in different situations. How she would talk if she was getting irritated or provoked. How her hands would slightly twitch when her friends were insulted or threatened. Y/N had seen the clam rage in her friend’s eyes countless times, how’d she look almost like a predator but eventually (and always) taking the high road. She didn’t get scared of her antics anymore, even though The Doctor liked to beg to differ. She was the oncoming storm, the nightmare of Daleks and Cybermen. Everyone feared her at least once in their lives. That’s how it always went. Because in the end, The Doctor was no hero. 

But it just seemed, that whatever she did. Whatever she said Y/N would not budge from her side. She was always there like a piece of gum stuck to your hair. She didn’t leave after finding out about Gallifrey, the screams The Doctor had caused. No, Y/N had done the exact opposite in fact. She had hugged her, told her it was alright. That’s why The Doctor needed her by her side. Like all the companions, she kept her grounded. Reminded her of her morals, reminded her why she loved the Earth so much. Y/N made her a better being, even if her previous incarnation never admitted it. 

Two years with new friends had gone by like in the speed of light. Yasmin, Ryan, and Graham were fun and Y/N loved having once more people closer to her age on board. They had a genuinely good time, and she even began to think their scars from Bill had begun to close. 

That was until they were faced with the Master once again. 

This time Y/N couldn’t hold in the string of cuss words and murmured them under her breath, earning a rather pointed look from the Doctor. She helped Ryan, Yasmin, and Graham to get to safety, assuring them they could leave her to deal with everything. 

“Ain’t happening kid,” Graham had been quick to disagree. 

“Yeah, we’re family now. We’re not leaving you or The Doctor alone,” Yasmin had backed him up. 

So they fought The Master off as a team, stopping yet another one of his evil plans to take over the world before it could happen. The three of them, still a bit confused about the mix up between O and The Master, tired to ask The Doctor what was going on with him. While The Doctor plainly ignored them, distracting them with her never-ending talking, Y/N told them to wait and let The Doctor tell them when she was ready. Yasmin had been the hardest to convince, Y/N knew she was just worried about The Doctor but she still did her best to assure her everything would be alright. 

“She just needs a little time,” She had smiled slightly at the unintentional joke. To be honest, Y/N knew The Doctor would need a little more time than just ‘little’. Meeting The Master had clearly thrown her dear partner haywire, and at first, even Y/N didn’t know just how badly The Doctor had taken it. 

At first, she thought it was seeing her old friend, now an enemy in her good friend’s body that made The Doctor snappy and distant. But when her mardy mood began to stain their adventures and The doctor started to genuinely be fed up with anyone’s questions, Y/N knew something else was up. 

She started to tread the waters carefully, asking her if she was fine when everyone else had gone to sleep. Casually offering the Doctor to talk with her if she needed to, Y/N had told her even tho she was over 1000 year old alien even she needed to talk sometime. It had ended with The Doctor almost ushering Y/N out of the control room, saying she had to concentrate on the landing. Y/N knew they weren’t flying in the first place. 

Those things being said, Y/N was absolutely furious with the Doctor right now.

Well, worried but also furious. She had known The Doctor for so long. They had shared so many laughs and cries but still, Y/N felt like it meant more to her than to The Doctor right now. 

What had gotten Y/N to walk around the Tardis to find the alien were the actions in their last adventure. They had split up to find clues on who could have murdered the king and why and once she and Yaz had found something she had snapped at them for losing the proof. In reality, the clue had been stolen or removed. Anyway, the wall graffiti that held a close meaning to the king had been destroyed while Y/N and Yasmin had gone back to get the others. 

“What did it look like?” The Doctor had asked after they had stared at the empty wall for several minutes. Yasmin blinked, trying to imagine the picture, but it was too complex, too many lines and symbols to remember. 

“I... it looked something like a lion. I’m not quite sure,” Y/N cut in, remembering the animal in the midst of the colors. The Doctor, like everyone else, was already on edge. If they didn’t find out the killer, they’d kill the princess. She had looked at Y/N, with abnormally dark eyes. 

“I’m not sure isn't enough right now! There are lives on the line Y/N,” She had exclaimed. “Were there colors? Symbols? Anything? ”

Y/N had reassured Yaz she was fine after they had saved the kingdom and were walking back to the Tardis. In reality, Y/N was pissed The Doctor didn’t even acknowledge her outburst in any way. Happily moving on with her life, she had offered to stop by Earth to “refill the tank” so to speak. 

So now Y/N was standing by the panel, The Doctor was flipping different switches and buttons to keep her mind busy. It was only after the third time /N had cleared her throat when The Doctor even glanced at her direction. Her eyes were red on the edges. 

“Y/N didn’t see you there,” Her response could have been interpreted as happy had it not been for her volume. Her sentence was almost only a murmur under her breath. 

Y/N pursed her lips, smiling slightly to ease the tension. “Doctor, can I be frank with you?” She asked carefully. The Doctor turned a knob and flipped yet another switch. 

“Always, you know that,” She said, but still didn’t completely direct her attention to the woman. Y/N cleared her throat and decided it would be easier to just drop the bomb rather than to try and place it down gently. As that hadn’t worked out before. 

“What’s wrong Doctor? You’ve been a little... distant lately?” Y/N tired to make her voice sound as nonjudgemental and comforting as she could. The Doctor stopped in her tracks for a moment before continuing to work on the panel. 

“’ S nothing,” She said, sending a tight smile to Y/N. Usually, if Y/N was tired of going on and on with this same conversation that smile would have been enough to give up and leave. But not this time. 

Y/N inhaled heavily, trying not to let the irritation make her say things she didn’t mean. 

“I know it’s not nothing,” She pressed on and walked a little closer to The Doctor. “There’s something going on, I’ve been with you long enough to see it,” Y/N ended her sentence with a small, dry chuckle. “C’mon Doctor, what is it?”

“I said it’s nothing didn’t I?” The Doctor’s voice slightly raised by the end, she exhaled heavily. They both went silent, The Doctor was once again moving the switches, her foot went to the custard cream dispenser but she seemed to be in too bad of a mood to have a biscuit.

“You just wouldn’t understand, okay? So don’t bother your mind with it,” She eventually said, calmer and collected this time. Y/N scoffed silently shaking her head. 

“No, don’t even try doing that?”

“Doing what?” 

“Belittling me,” Y/N explained. “I’ve been here with you for a long time Doctor. Out of anyone else on this ship right now, I would be the one who could understand you the best.”

This time it was The Doctor who scoffed. She looked up at the ceiling, leaning to the panel with her slender arms. Y/N clenched her jaw a little, anticipating the final straw to break the camels back. It was always the same when fighting with the Doctor, she was older than her. She’d always have the last word, and it would always in someway imply to the fact she knew better. And even though most of the times she did know better (she was the one who had traveled over hundreds and hundreds of years) Y/N was sure this time was not one of those. 

“We’ve had this conversation already. You’re human, you cannot understand what’s going on inside here,” The Doctor motioned at her head. “You just cannot know what it feels- You just don’t, so please, now drop the subject.”

There it was. 

Y/N exhaled and rolled her lips together. Sure her brain was yelling for her to leave, but her body was stuck to the ground. Her heart screamed at her to make The Doctor see she wasn’t alone. 

“No, no I’m not leaving until you speak,” Y/N said, much more stern this time. She leaned to the panel, on the opposite side of where The doctor was now staring at her. With undivided attention. 

“All the other times yes, I would. But this is going way too far,” Y/N continued. “First you distant yourself from all of us, then you began to snap at me and Yaz when we are just trying to help you. Tell me, Doctor, please let me help you,” She was almost pleading. The Doctor’s mouth was in a straight line, the small crease a bit more visible between her brows. Y/N saw the oncoming storm brewing in her eyes but was only merely phased by it. 

“You want to help me?”

“Yes,” Y/N immediately answered. 

“How are you thinking about doing that?” The Doctor asked, almost sneering at her. “How do you think you can help me? I was serious I said this team is not flat, you out of all should know that. No matter how much you claim to know me, it doesn't change the fact that I’m up and alone. How do you exactly plan to even begin to phanthom-”

“By making you talk,” Y/N rudely cut her off before even thinking. She quickly closed her mouth, both of them surprised at her outburst. 

“By making you understand that you can open up,” She added, softly. The Doctor held in an eye roll and looked down at the panel. The Tardis had gone quiet long before their argument had begun. 

“I don’t need that.”

“Yes, you do! Why are you being so stubborn about this?” A bitter laugh left Y/N’s mouth. 

“Because for once, this is a thing you cannot help me with!”

“How can you know that?”

“Well for starters-”

“What’s this?” Y/N suddenly crouched down, holding a circular, shiny object in her hand she found fro under the panel by her foot. She looked at The Doctor, uncertainty in her eyes while The Doctor reached about her hand. 

“Give it to me,” She commanded, her voice neutral. Y/N squinted her eyes at her sudden change of demeanor and shook her head. 

“Not before you tell me what this is.”

“Y/N, I’m not playing around, give it to me,” The Doctor stressed each of her words. “Please.”

Y/N looked at her, not quite sure how to react. Here they were, talking to each other over the panel, both of them on the verge of tears when only minutes ago they had been almost screaming their lungs out. Something about this object, which reminded Y/n a lot like a recorder had made The Doctor land from the lone mountain she claimed to be on. 

“Is this it?” Y/N asked quietly, walking towards The Doctor. “Is this why you’re so hurt?”

The Doctor wasn’t sure whether it was her genuine caring expression or the fact she was still standing there, after all the things she had said that made her nod to Y/N’s question. She was strong, very strong and tough, but Y/N’s stubbornness and determination to help overrode those traits. The Doctor licked her lips anxiously, feeling her lower lip quiver slightly. As soon as this happened Y/N had wrapped her arms around her and placed the recorded on the panel. 

The Doctor squeezed her as tightly as he could. She had missed her hugs, before O, before The Master, before Gallifrey, hugs had been an everyday thing for her and Y/N. Then they had suddenly disappeared with her bubbly, energetic aura. 

“He killed them,” She whispered, a couple of tears which had been burning the back of her eyes for a while now rolled down her face. They made a couple of dark spots on Y/N’s t-shirt. “He killed them all. Destroyed everything.”

Y/N pulled back and cradled the Doctor’s face, with her eyebrows furrowed together and eyes glassy. Her hands were warm and soft against The Doctor’s cheeks. 

“We’ll be alright,” She said, rolling her lips together, wiping the tears from The Doctor’s face. “I know you. You’re so strong. You can get through this. We can get through this. Okay?” 

The Doctor looked at her while another set of tears left her eyes. She tasted the salt against her lips before it was replaced by a gentle, sweet kiss. The Doctor was a long way from healing but she knew if she had Y/N by her side, she could get through anything. 

Tag list: @morbid-gaymer @g00dl13 @spidey-charles @svmwinvhester @aspiring-bookcollector or @originofthedragonjim @charlotte-writes-blog @rosawright @pharaoh-of-time-and-space @wolfie-doggo @willow-days02 2 @fightuntilyoucan @probablypirates @thegayspunk @habitualworrierwarrior ior @the13teens-wife @gayforjodiewhittaker

[calenheniel]

Queen of the Ashes | extended author’s notes

In which I delve into the themes, symbolism, and creation of my latest fic.

Foreword

I’ve been writing in the Hans/Elsa fandom since 2014 now, and yet, to my surprise, had never delved into the world of the “Hans with fire powers” genre. I’d enjoyed the art and fics for it, but didn’t have a good idea of what to write on the topic myself, though the idea percolated in my mind that I should, at some point, contribute to it. After bandying ideas back and forth with a friend off-Tumblr, the first line of the story came to me: “They met as children.”

Fics about Hans and Elsa meeting pre-Frozen are also common in the fandom, and to my mind, the notion that they would have met before completely changed how they would interact during the coronation sequence (and “every moment after,” as Hans might say himself). Add to that the notion that Hans, like Elsa, had secret powers – in addition to all their other shared experiences, which the fans elucidate through fics and art and posts – and it creates a new and tantalizing dynamic to tease out over the course of many chapters. It also begged the question, to me at least: even if they had met when they were kids, and realized some of their likenesses, could they still have successfully overcome their individual traumas as adults?

I had promised, for some time, that I would explain in full the background behind this fic, including symbols and themes which readers may have missed along the way. In particular, I am aware that the Epilogue may have unsettled or taken unaware some of them who had enjoyed the quasi-happy ending of the preceding chapter—a phenomenon which I was well aware might happen from the very beginning. It is therefore my hope that the following notes elucidate some of the mystery of the story, and why it ended the way it did. (And I’m tagging @yumi-michiyo​, who helped me to summarize my thoughts more cleanly in discussing them with her.)

Theme: abuse (and its consequences)

There are many allusions in Queen of the Ashes to various types of abuse experienced by its main characters: parental and familial; physical and verbal; intentional and unintentional; organizational and relational. While some are described in an overt manner with little ambiguity, others are less obvious, but no less malicious in their impacts on the character. 

When reading into the various traumas of the characters, it is easier to ascribe value judgments to the actions of certain characters over others. It would be difficult for anyone to argue that Hans’s father and brothers, for example, weren’t terribly abusive towards Hans; likewise, it would be hard to ignore that the insistence of Elsa’s parents for her to “conceal, don’t feel” had tangibly negative psychological consequences on their daughter, regardless of their good intentions. The consequences of such abuse on both characters are obvious: towards themselves and their powers, they are taught to feel fear, anxiety, discomfort, denial, and confusion; towards others, they can be perceived as childlike and their decisions arbitrary and cruel, cynical of the outside world, unable to trust, and blaming all else but themselves for their troubles.

On the flip side, the abuse which Hans then inflicts on Elsa – pursuing her in spite of her telling him to leave (on multiple occasions), leveraging family connections (Anna) to pressure her into speaking and meeting with him, taking advantage of her self-doubt and fear to convince her to trust only him, lying to her about his true nature and his past misdeeds, pressuring her to continue hiding her powers up until and even after they are married – is in many ways subtler, disguised as him trying to help her accept her powers and herself (even as he tells her that no one else will accept or understand her, except him). They are also characteristic of the deceptions deployed by the character in canon to achieve his objectives, even if they were, originally, used on Anna (whom he also lies to in this story, for other reasons).

It is understandably harder to view Hans’s actions in the same light as those of his parents, or her parents, as we are led to believe that he truly does care about Elsa in this story, and feels a special kinship with her on account of their shared miseries and strengths. I am not here to say definitively, one way or the other, if he cares about her or doesn’t; that is always up to the readers to decide. The point is rather to illuminate how difficult it can be to tell deceptions from truth when the deceptions are told from a sympathetic perspective, and when the deceptions appear to be borne from circumstances so harrowing and tragic that the readers might be inclined to forgive them their trespasses against other characters.

When viewed in the context of their upbringings, we can more clearly see the full cycle of abuse: that which was perpetrated against our protagonists, and that which they, in turn, can and do perpetrate against each other. In attempting to break this cycle, and start a new life with Elsa, Hans ends up playing into similar patterns of manipulation and coercion with her, her family, and her people which he had internalized over many years of suffering the same. Whether he does this on purpose or inadvertently is up for interpretation, but still beside the point, which is: in trying to be the opposite of his family, and then in killing that family, he begins to resembles them.

Theme: perspective

As in several other of my fics released over the last few years, this story experiments with narrative and perspective, describing to the audience the events of the story through only one character per chapter. For the majority of the story, we are shown events from Elsa’s perspective (Chapters 2-8 and 10), and given special insight into her years of isolation and accompanying mental distress. No other character is allotted as much time and room to think and develop and reflect on everything that is happening to them, as Elsa is; and yet, at the same time, we are rarely allowed all the way in to see and know her thoughts in each moment beyond the whispers of “conceal, don’t feel, don’t let it show” that echo through her mind, in empty rooms, and from her own lips.

We are mostly shown her reactions to things that are happening to or around her, and given vague descriptions otherwise about “off-screen” moments like meetings or public hearings where her attention is not fully present. Upon a second reading, it might become more difficult to be certain about what exactly is going through her mind, especially towards the end in Chapter 10 and the Epilogue (in which we are removed from her perspective entirely, and see her only as Hans does).

In Chapters 1, 9, and the Epilogue, by contrast, we are shown events from Hans’s perspective: as a child, then chronologically from childhood through adulthood, and finally just after he is crowned King of Arendelle and married to Elsa. We first meet Elsa and Anna through his eyes and experience his pain, though the source of it is not confirmed until later in the story. When we finally learn about his powers through the confrontation with Elsa in Chapter 8, we are briefly allowed back into his perspective in Chapter 9 in order to experience his ordeals and better understand his motivations.

With so little “screen time,” however, it is difficult to know or understand Hans in the same way we think we do Elsa. We trust him when Elsa does (or perhaps before, if we are sympathetic to the child Hans from Chapter 1), and believe that his version of events as recounted in Chapter 9 must be true and accurate due to their disturbing nature. Even when we are presented with evidence which suggests that his actions aren’t as pure and good as they seem (see notes on the symbolism of roses, apples, and gloves below), we are unlikely to question the validity of his memories and intentions towards Elsa, since, as the victim of severe abuse, we cannot fathom that he would inflict the same on someone he appears and claims to deeply cares for.

It is easy to forget, in these switching perspectives, the complexity and development of the characters, and how certain aspects from earlier on in the story – such as Elsa’s initial suspicion of Hans and his motives – might return even after the “happy ending” of Chapter 10. A common critique of romantic comedies (and Disney movies) is that they end just as the relationship is about to begin—the relationship being the more difficult part of the story to explain and understand, with less romance and more compromise and bargaining.

The Epilogue therefore serves as an antidote to this trope in asking: what would actually happen after Hans and Elsa came together? How would he publicly court her, given his sour reputation? How would he help her to control her powers, while still keeping them (and his own) a secret, and convincing her to do the same? If they decided to get married, how could they continue to keep it a secret? Could Elsa ever truly forgive and forget Hans’s past misdeeds, and cover up his crimes in perpetuity? 

And, perhaps, the kicker: Did Hans ever really care for, or love, Elsa during the course of the story—or does he just see her as an extension of himself and his own trauma? Did Elsa love him in return? Can there be love without trust?

It is impossible to answer these questions wholly when the chapter is presented only from Hans’s perspective, as it is; and even if it were from Elsa’s, we would still be missing half the story. In place of seeing both points of view at once, we are left to put the pieces together ourselves of what happened in the year between Chapter 10 and the Epilogue, relying on our knowledge of both characters’ actions from earlier chapters in the story to make sense of their final decisions and feelings.

Symbolism: roses

Roses play an important symbolic role in the story, and feature both in Chapter 6, during Hans and Elsa’s conversation in the rose garden of the castle in Arendelle, as well as in the Epilogue, wherein Hans offers Elsa a rose made of flames during his proposal (which she then turns into ice).

Hans, comparing Elsa to a rose in Chapter 6, frames it thusly:

“You know, Elsa,” he began, “roses are actually rather difficult to grow. The conditions have to be just right, with plenty of sunshine, well-drained soil, and in areas free from pests, since they’re so susceptible to disease. Without regular attention, it’s unlikely they’d survive.” He eyed her pointedly as he added: “So it’s a wonder that these are still here, and blooming as beautifully as they are.”

The unspoken implication of this analogy is that Elsa, as a delicate and fragile flower, must be taken care of and tended to. Thus, the paternalistic warning underlying his speech is that she will decay without proper handling, and that he is the one who can handle her. Even when Elsa rejects this perspective and the analogy itself (“I’m not a rose, Hans. I don’t require sunlight, or pruning, or ‘regular attention’ to endure”), a feminist reading of this scene might say that he still forces her to take on the feminine duty of caring for him when he plucks the rose from the bush in order to make his point, reinforcing the dominance of the male gaze and viewpoint during this scene.

Likewise, his traditional proposal to her as described in the Epilogue, even with the untraditional aspect of his created rose of flame, could be interpreted as him delineating their roles in their future married life together—with Elsa’s ice solidifying this arrangement. In both chapters, Hans is literally leading Elsa “down the primrose path”: showing her what a world wherein she is free from fear and doubt would look like, but only if she puts her trust in him, and discards the memories of and attachment to her deceased parents. (The idiom itself refers to leading a life of leisure and sin in place of morality and good judgment, and so you can see its application here. You are all also more than entitled to feel that I, as the author, also led you down the “primrose path” in the sudden atmospheric shift between Chapter 10 and the Epilogue.)

Symbolism: apple  

Similar to the rose, the apple featured in Chapter 7 is an explicit nod not only to the temptation of Eve in the Garden of Eden – and the accompanying downfall of mankind – but also to many other stories of temptation leading to damnation, such as Snow White. 

As Hans points out in his speech to Elsa:

“Fine things, apples, when they’re ripe like this. Beautiful, even—your mouth waters just looking at it, thinking about how sweet or tart it might be. But then […] You see something like this, and even though you want to take a bite out of it, you think, ‘well, I’d better just check.’ So you take out a knife and cut it open,” he said, and dug both of his thumbs into the side where the hole was. “And what do you find? […] Nothing but a rotten, brown core,” he continued, a sigh escaping his lips as he gazed into the fruit’s ruined interior.

[…]

“I know that the memories of your parents are precious to you,” he murmured, his grasp soft, “and I don’t mean to deny you them. I only ask you to question what happened—to ask yourself what good it did you to be kept inside all these years, separated from your sister. And all because of what? You hurt her once, when you didn’t know any better,” he said, “and they made you pay for it, for every moment after. But you shouldn’t have to anymore.”

While he is making the analogy in order to imply that Elsa’s parents, though well-intentioned, still raised her within an immoral and abusive environment, the apple also serves to illustrate the darker side of Hans’s own behavior and speech. On the surface, he is trying to help Elsa remove the “rose-colored lenses” through which she still views her parents, and to see her powers as a gift and not a curse; but as he grabs her hand and pressures her to listen to him (“The juice from the putrid core of the apple oozed out from his fingers onto the back of her hand, and she grimaced, the sensation causing her skin to go cold”), the graphic description of the decay, corruption, and stench of the apple implies that he, too, may be acting from less than noble motives.

Symbolism: gloves

Perhaps the most obvious symbolism in any Frozen fanfic dealing extensively with Elsa’s and Hans’s emotional trauma relates to their gloves. What does it mean when the characters are wearing them, or when they’re not wearing them?

These questions have been analyzed pretty thoroughly in various Tumblr posts over the years, and I don’t want to belabor the point by adding on to them. In no uncertain terms, the wearing of the gloves relates to deception, manipulation, control, and fear, while not wearing them relates to the release of inhibitions, and being one’s true self. The former is evident in Elsa’s coronation sequence in the first film (as well as in this story), as well as during the original Hans villain reveal scene. The latter is evident in the most famous sequence and song from the film, “Let It Go.”

In this story, however, the roles are somewhat reversed: where in the original film Hans wore his gloves up until he was revealed to be the “big baddie,” he doesn’t wear them at all in this fic except for in flashbacks (Chapter 1 and Chapter 9, respectively), and in the Epilogue. Meanwhile, Elsa is gloved for almost the entirety of the story, with only short instances of being ungloved (in Chapters 1, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10). Until the Epilogue, almost all of these instances occur due to her interactions with Hans; whether from pressure or curiosity or affection, she reveals her hands to him and him only, deepening their connection and her confidence in him with each new physical encounter.

Unlike the film, moreover, this story does not tie honesty to being ungloved: Hans goes the majority of the fic without them, and is lying to Elsa about his powers up until Chapter 9. Instead, he uses the seemingly improper visage of his bare hands to his advantage in gaining Elsa’s trust, showing her that he trusts her by touching her skin directly—and that she can (and should) trust him.

When Hans’s deception is revealed in Chapter 9, rather than the gloves being an obvious marker of his villainy that the reader can point to, their absence reinforces his power over Elsa. It is a literal “sleight of hand” he performs by demonstrating the extent to which he has gained control over his own powers in comparison to her, as she still struggles to maintain the veneer of “normalcy” in her day to day life. He convinces Elsa, and therefore many readers who see themselves in her character, that he was dishonest for “good” reasons; his hands, bare as before, do not hide anything from her (and us, by extension).

This is turned on its head in the Epilogue, wherein we learn, thanks to Elsa’s observation, that he is wearing his gloves again:

“You’re wearing gloves,” she observes, ignoring his question.

He stifles a swallow. “It’s the least I could do, on such an auspicious day,” he replies, struggling to keep his smile in place. “It would look odd to have bare hands for our wedding, after all.”

Suspicion flashes across her gaze at the answer, but she says nothing, looking back at the dance floor. She watches her sister with something between longing and regret, though the emotions are so fleeting that the king cannot be sure if he saw them at all.

The implication is that by putting his gloves back on, Hans has committed himself – and Elsa, who shares similar abilities – to a future of continued deception and manipulation, never revealing the truth about himself and his powers to the public. In Hans’s weak reply and Elsa’s sharp and suspicious look at him (not to mention her own, bare hands) afterwards, we can surmise that she has already realized this. In her quoting back to him the lines he once told her (““I do. But love… isn’t always good”) and rejecting his overtures of affection, we can see that she will not accept such a fate for herself.

The notion that she rejects his beliefs and worldview might have profound, if unseen, consequences for the story. Will she follow the path of her character in canon, freezing over Arendelle and retreating to her palace of ice and snow? Will she reveal her powers - and his - to the public? Will she tell Anna what really happened to them as children? The possibilities are endless, but the core message of the story is the same: the truth will always come out.

Concluding thoughts

It’s undeniable that I tend to write tragic or “angsty” stories compared to the rest of the fandom (and in particular the Hans/Elsa fandom), though I’d like to think my stories provide a space for those who are interested in exploring that darker side of the story. The purpose of the ending is not to upend what came before for the sake of “staying the course” in this genre, or playing to my strengths as a writer within it. Rather, it is to make the reader think more carefully about the nature of Hans and Elsa’s interactions, the nature of their relationship, and the nature of abuse itself, including all the insidious and subtle forms it might take. 

This is not to say that the ending implies anything one way or the other, in terms of their feelings for one another. One reader might see Hans as a true “knight in shining armor” saving Elsa from the gaslighting of her past, while another might see him as gaslighting Elsa. Another might still see how they lie to each other about their beliefs and pasts, and their feelings around both, and think the relationship is doomed to fail as a result. And that is the true purpose of this story: it is meant to leave us wondering how love can survive without truth, and if the characters would ever be able to overcome their past trauma individually, much less together.

[michelles-garden-of-evil]

Episode 36 Review: The Séance

{ YouTube: 1 | 2 | 3 }

{ Synopses/Recaps: Debby Graham | Bryan Gruszka }

Welcome back to my Garden of Evil and thank you for patiently waiting for me to return to reviewing Strange Paradise. It’s been a wild and chaotic past few weeks and I’ve just gotten around to returning to the course of events on Maljardin. And Great Serpent, this time we have one hell of a wild episode!

Because I already miss the bad puns in the earlier episodes.

Of all the episodes of this show, this one is my #1 favorite. It embodies everything I love about Maljardin-era SP: it stars Colin Fox as both Jean Paul and Jacques, features some delightful Jacques scenes, and is genuinely suspenseful and scary. There are also unintentional laughs as usual, but somehow none of them detract from the frightening moments. If I had to introduce SP to someone who had never seen it before (say, my mom, who only knows a little about it), I would use this episode, not the pilot which (IMO) is less scary and far more ridiculous. The magic of Ian Martin’s SP is on full display here. Although he doesn’t leave the show immediately after this episode, it feels like a last hurrah, and a spectacular one at that. You know you want to read about this episode, so what are you waiting for?

We open with Vangie napping on the couch shortly after the events of the previous episode. Over her, Jean Paul and Alison are arguing about whether to go through with the séance to contact Erica. Alison begs him not to because of the risk of death, but Jean Paul insists on pushing through with it anyway because, as Raxl recaps, “The Conjure Woman didn’t see her death, only [Jacques’].” Jean Paul interprets this as meaning that he himself might die, but it’s not clear if he truly believes this or if he’s trying to cover up his frequent possession by the handsome devil.

Vangie recovers and announces that she plans on going through with it, no matter what happens. Still angry from last episode, Matt protests and Jean Paul gives him this nasty smirk that reeks of passive aggression:

Either that, or Colin is trying hard not to laugh. I can’t tell.

“This is not your concern, Reverend,” Jean Paul spits, and Vangie agrees with him. Although she knows that she will one day die on the Island of Evil, she feels that the séance is her duty as the Conjure Woman.

Matt once again reveals his status as the Fool (or, rather, le Mat) when he remarks that Jean Paul and Jacques are indistinguishable “except by [their] manner of dress.” Evidently, he hasn’t considered the possibility that THE DEVIL JACQUES ELOI DES MONDES can possess Jean Paul and thus wear the exact same clothes as him. In fact, Padre, he’s worn that same extremely flattering blue suit before when talking to you, and you don’t even know it.

Jean Paul orders Vangie to begin the séance and we get a lovely overhead shot of the glass-top table. I’ve already posted high-quality photos of the table, but I love it so much that the laws of obsessive fandom require me to post it again:

Oh, how I love that table and those chairs. Actually, I love the whole Maljardin set.

Jean Paul volunteers to help Vangie, Raxl, and Quito set up, which seems to surprise them because otherwise he spends no time cleaning up after himself and all his time brooding, throwing glasses at priceless artifacts, and--of course--getting possessed. Elizabeth and Holly see them setting up, and the former heads down the stairs to watch.

Elizabeth is wearing this fabulous ensemble with a checkered dress and a red scarf pinned with a brooch in the shape of a dahlia. It most likely came from her actress Paisley Maxwell’s own wardrobe, as she mostly wore her own clothes on the show and even provided some costumes for the other actresses. (LINK CONTAINS SPOILERS THROUGH THE END OF MALJARDIN)

A shot with a better view of her brooch.

Vangie tells Jean Paul that the room needs to be dark, and that the only light in the room during the ceremony should be candlelight. Cue Jean Paul glancing up to the chandelier precariously suspended directly over the glass-top table:

If this isn’t painfully obvious foreshadowing, then I don't know what is.

The chandelier even sways ever so slightly as he stares at it!

Holly asks if she, her mother, Dan, and Tim can attend, and Vangie tells them no! According to her, they are all “disruptive influences” who will derail the séance, which will likely be too frightening for her anyway. Jean Paul tells Elizabeth to go, too, which she takes as a personal attack because Jacques has tricked her into believing that he’s in love with her.

LMAO

They are almost ready to begin the ceremony, but first, we need more blatant foreshadowing! We need Jean Paul to glance up at the swaying chandelier again, apparently without thinking of the slight chance that it might fall and cause an accident:

Seriously, Jean Paul? You have an IQ of 187. You should know better.

This is some heavy-handed foreshadowing, even for a show that constantly reminds us that Jacques Eloi des Mondes is THE DEVIL and cuts to close-ups of him every other time THE DEVIL is mentioned. I think you can guess what will happen about halfway through this episode. I normally try to avoid spoilers and to warn about any that I include or link to, but let’s face it. You know that chandelier is going to come crashing down at some point in the episode, because of all the emphasis that the script and the cinematography have already put on it. It’s a foregone conclusion. And I’m sorry, but Jean Paul with his alleged super-genius IQ has no excuse. Move the table! Have Quito tighten the chain! Replace the chandelier with a single candle or small candelabrum on the table! Do something to lower the chances of the accident that we all know is coming!

Vangie begins the séance to contact Erica.

After commercial break (hence the lack of the Drive-In Classics logo), the séance begins. We have Jean Paul, Vangie, Raxl, and Quito, plus Alison and Matt and an empty chair for Erica’s spirit. It’s a marvelous scene with just the right amount of eerie atmosphere, which Vangie’s hypnotic voice only enhances. They bridge the divide between the worlds of the living and the dead and all seems like it will succeed, but then

The third one is my favorite.

Jean Paul contorts his face again as he tries to resist Jacques’ possession of him, but ultimately his efforts are in vain:

Jacques’ beringed hand attacking Jean Paul. This also means that the chain created when the séance participants joined hands has been broken.

Matt asks Jean Paul what’s wrong and Jacques answers. “Everything is under control now,” he whispers with evil relish.

“No! Not now! NOT NOW!” Vangie screams, and then comes the inevitable:

Well, there goes one of Jean Paul’s astrological sign tables. Good thing he has another in storage.

I’m not going to lie: the first time I watched this scene, I shouted “No!” when the chandelier fell, even though I could see it coming. Somehow, despite the foregone conclusion and Jean Paul’s ridiculous headache faces, the scene creates enough suspense and horror to be effective. Plus, if you’re like me, you care about Vangie and don’t want to see anyone hurt her, even if that someone is 6′4″ with amazing cheekbones, a devilishly sexy smile, and the most beautiful hands on any man living or dead.

The power also goes out at the same time, and the handsome devil denies all responsibility for it despite his history of screwing with the electricity:

Classic Jacques sarcasm.

Conveniently, the lights come back on a moment later. They come just in time for Alison and Matt to tend to Vangie, whom the chandelier has knocked unconscious:

You can tell her injury is serious even before her close-up, because the Reverend is in shirtsleeves.

A close-up, showing the blood on Vangie’s forehead.

Jacques tells Holly that there was nothing seriously wrong with the electricity, and Dan flips out on him, insisting that “one day you’re going to blow us all up.” (Does he suspect that Jean Paul is somehow playing with the lights?) Jacques insists that even he can’t afford to buy a nuclear weapon. The fact that he knows what a nuclear weapon is serves as yet more evidence that he’s really the Devil and not a ghost from the 17th century (although, if he were a ghost, perhaps he would have overheard Jean Paul talking about nuclear weapons before).

I think that this is one of maybe two times that I ever envied Holly.

Vangie stands up, but doesn’t say a word to any of the characters, just stares blankly ahead of her. She doesn’t even react when Alison slaps her. Jacques cruelly snaps his fingers in front of her, which Alison demands he not do because it might cause her to be “destroyed, locked into a world of darkness, less living than dead.” She adds that “[she] can’t help but thinking that what happened to her is so like [Quito],” and turns to face the zombie who is watching the now cataleptic Conjure Woman, horrified:

It makes you wonder what sort of traumatic memories from Quito’s human life the sight of Jacques turning Vangie into a zombie evoked. Also, we never learn who turned Quito into a zombie in the show canon, but this scene shows that Jacques knows how and is therefore a possible candidate.

This is yet another point where the plot of the aired episodes differs from the original story as indicated in the Lost Episode summaries. In the original Episode 36, Vangie would have revealed Jacques’ possession of Jean Paul to all the participants at the séance, thus confirming for Raxl that Jean Paul is two different men. I suspect that Matt would refuse to believe it because of his lack of belief in devils and Dan because it sounds irrational and like a cover-up for Jean Paul’s alleged crimes, but Raxl, Vangie, and possibly Alison would have the evidence they needed.

Anyway, Jacques and most of the others leave Quito to clean up the mess while they have some drinks in the dining room. Mostly, it’s Jacques trying to pressure everyone into drinking while trying to gaslight them into believing that there was a storm outside even though there wasn’t. They’re not buying it, least of all Dan, who now has yet another reason to be suspicious of him.

I should also add that Part 3 of the YouTube version of this episode (which contains this scene) is out of sync, meaning that most of the subtitles are combined with the wrong shots and the wrong characters. Sadly, we don’t get anything on the level of “NO NO NO YES YES YES,” but the out-of-sync audio does make Dan’s accusation almost look like Jacques is confessing to making the chandelier fall:

YES YES YES

He offers brandy to both Matt and Holly, but Matt tells him not to give it to either of them, so Jacques brings the glasses he just filled over to Elizabeth instead.  He starts talking about how no one was hurt, meaning that she has to remind him that Vangie was injured. Still, “she wasn’t really seriously injured,” so I guess for him it doesn’t count. He sends her away and starts to drink, which I guess lets Jean Paul recover his body because he de-possesses him, finally letting Jean Paul see the mess he left behind.

I already posted a lot of headache faces in this entry, so here I’m just going to include my favorite from this scene.

For a moment, Jean Paul looks like he’s going to cry, but his sadness turns to shock when Quito shows him the writing box. The wooden box which previously only held sand, now bears a message written in grains of rice in the shape of the symbol of the Great Serpent. Quito appears terrified by the message, but sadly he can’t translate it for Jean Paul. Raxl, too, freaks out when she sees it and says it’s “from the Conjure Man, but he needs the Conjure Woman to translate it and she’s still in a trance!”

Apparently, the Conjure Man communicates in grains of rice.

Although she can’t translate the whole message, she can tell Jean Paul, “It tells of more accidents. Spirits are very angry...with you!”

This final scene, like the scene with the crashing chandelier, is genuinely chilling, resulting in one of the scariest episodes of the Maljardin arc. This is one of SP’s finest episodes and certainly one of Ian Martin’s finest from his nine-week period as headwriter. I’m not certain what led the producers to decide to have Vangie enter a trance instead of revealing Jacques’ possession to the other characters, but most likely it was to increase the suspense and the terror. Also, I’m starting to wonder if perhaps Quito isn’t actually undead, but instead is an immortal like Raxl (and Vangie?), but stuck in a magically-induced trance. Perhaps when he recoiled in fear over Vangie’s transformation, it was because Jacques (or perhaps the Conjure Man) did the same exact thing to him three centuries ago.

Coming up next: Jacques continues to meddle in affairs on Maljardin while Raxl struggles to interpret the writing box. (But before then--hopefully--the next part of my review of Shadow Over Seventh Heaven.)

{<- Previous: Episode 35  ||  Next: Episode 37 ->}

[melynen]

Wind Me Up - 00Q

((Written for the Fluff Prompt Table’s prompt ‘Breezes’, and also for Trope week. Pre-relationship.))

“It’s a bit drafty here,” is the first thing that leaves Q’s mouth as he steps into the room and surveys it with curiosity. To his credit, he does look apologetic afterwards, as if he wasn’t supposed to judge the accommodations that James has so graciously found for them.

James rolls his eyes and playfully complains, “There’s really no satisfying my Quartermaster, is there? I save his life and he tells me off for shooting the man who was about to shoot him. I get him into a car and away from the bad guys, and he complains that I didn’t have the chance to get his suitcase. I take him to a place to hide so that we may contact backup in peace, and he gripes about the draft.”

Q huffs and sits down on the bed. It’s not a large bed by any definition of the word, and the raised eyebrow James gets is not exactly something he didn’t see coming. He grins and winks at him in return.

“Really, 007?” Q asks, and he sounds a mix of exasperated and resigned, though a hint of amusement has also somehow crept in, probably without Q’s permission. James determines that the exasperation is not high enough for him to not take his chances, so he closes and locks the door and makes his way over to Q.

“It’s safer to share the room, you do know that,” he says as he sits down next to Q.

“Yes, but you could have gotten a room with a bigger bed. There’s no way we can both sleep on this and still be anywhere near comfortable.”

“I don’t mind sleeping close to you though,” James says, though he keeps a polite distance between the two of them.

“I’m sure you don’t,” Q mutters, but he sighs and takes out his mobile nevertheless. “Now hush, I’m about to contact M.” He shakes his head at James’ innocent smile, but says nothing and instead turns his full focus on the phone call.

James shamelessly listens in on the call, although the room is so small that there really isn’t anywhere he could be that would offer Q even an impression of privacy. And it’s not like he hasn’t been on the mission for the past couple of days anyway, and besides, he’s the only defence against the danger Q is in at the moment.

Eventually, Q relinquishes the mobile to James, and he spends the next few minutes being given a new set of instructions. He’s to be acting as Q’s bodyguard until such a time that they can safely return to collect his belongings, and meanwhile they are to lay low and wait for further contact. James has no problems with such directions.

Q, then again, seems to. He looks mildly annoyed, and he’s also shivering, which he appears to be trying to hide from James. He finds it cute, but because he doesn’t want Q to be cold, he gets up and opens his suitcase, taking out a cashmere jumper, and walks back to Q.

“Here,” he says, offering Q the jumper. “Put this on and you’ll feel better.”

Q blinks and hesitantly accepts the offered item with a quiet thanks, and after a curious look at James, pulls it over his head. The action makes the disarray of his hair even more pronounced, and James cannot help but smile.

“What?” Q asks, smoothing down the hem of the jumper in a motion that seems unintentional rather than something he consciously does.

“Just... your hair,” James replies. “I like it like that.”

Q rolls his eyes. “A mess, you mean?”

“Well, it does look like you've just had a very satisfying romp in the sheets,” James winks, and to his delight his words cause a hint of pink to appear on his Quartermaster’s cheeks.

“You are impossible,” Q groans and visibly restrains himself from trying to smooth down his errant curls.

“But you like that,” James counters.

“See if I don’t make you sleep on the floor for that,” is Q’s predictable threat of a reply, though James is confident that Q would never actually do that. He’s more bark than bite, their Quartermaster is.

“You wouldn’t,” he says out loud.

“Want to bet?” Q counters.

“Better not, I wouldn’t want to embarrass you when you inevitably lose.”

“Please tell me that you at least have some food for us?” Q asks in a way of changing the subject.

“Oh ye of little faith, of course I do. It’s nothing fancy of course, but enough to tide us over until morning.”

Q looks reluctantly impressed. “Well, good, because I don’t know about you but I missed both lunch and dinner today.”

James had an inkling that something like that could have happened, so he has come prepared. He goes back to his suitcase and piles the food he has brought onto the bed. To top it off, he places a bag of Earl Grey on top of the bananas and sits back to enjoy the widening of Q’s eyes.

They share the food in amicable silence - though James makes sure that Q gets the bulk of it - and afterwards decide to head to bed. James takes the first turn in the bathroom due to having finished eating first, and when Q returns he’s already under the covers, patiently waiting for Q to join him.

He’s wearing a t-shirt and pants and Q, clad similarly in a shirt James has just lent him, surprises him by not offering a single word of resistance. Instead, he gets into bed and under the covers, and even allows James to adjust their positions to his liking. It’s a pleasant surprise to James, and they end up with Q resting his head against James’ chest while James’ arms are gently wrapped around his upper body.

”Comfortable, Q?” he murmurs against Q’s hair when he’s done.

Q makes a small sound that James interprets as assent. He smiles and plants a tiny kiss against the soft strands tickling his jaw, and thinks that he can hardly wait for morning to be able to wake up to a sleepy Q still in his arms.

[ultramaga]

“Dear Sir - Don’t Let #MeToo Make You Afraid of Me“ Because if you are afraid, you might take defensive measures, instead of being a victim when it suits us. “Men appear to be afraid of me.” Feminists claim that men are the evil oppressors, yet Feminists are the ones in power, and men grovel and scrape before them. Who is oppressing whom? “ A male superior at work asked, “Is it okay to say that?” after complimenting me on a new pair of “funky” boots. “ Not at my former workplace. Compliments were banned, for fear of sexual harassment charges. Feminists put in the laws - then moved the goalposts for them to infinity. In the UK, this even extends to asking someone what time it is. “Another man apologized profusely after tapping my elbow. “ Feminists changed that to be assault, so at their whim, yes, they can destroy a man for tapping their elbow. If you see a Feminist about to fall into machinery, say nothing. It’s the only safe thing to do. " it’s more likely a sign that men are unsure of how to interact with women.” Record everything, and don’t talk to them alone. Yes, Feminists have succeeded in the goal of splitting humanity into two segregated parts. Well done. No wonder they are so keen on Sharia. “It’s an unintended consequence of the movement” Bullshit. Read “The Future is Female” to find out this has been their goal all along. They just want to keep men and women confused while they seize more and more power. " Lean In and SurveyMonkey found that nearly half of male managers are uncomfortable participating in mentoring, working alone, or socializing together with women” Only half? I guess the rest will learn. Do not mentor women, do not work alone or socialise with women from the workplace. In fact, at my old job, fraternisation was completely banned, to the point it occurred secretly only. Because women - generally - are heterosexual, and want men, and need men to make the first move, and without that cannot find love. There shall be no love in the Feminist Utopia.

Feminists do not experience love, of course, and cannot comprehend that need. They despise it in men, and think it is a result of the hypnosis of Patriarchy when they see it in women.

“ A recent Harvard Business Review study exploring the #MeToo and #TimesUp movements' impacts on creating lasting improvements in their organizations revealed some adverse reactions.” Only some? Dividing men and women, making them enemies, only has SOME ADVERSE REACTIONS? I have to wonder what the hell the benefits are to that, from a business perspective. I suppose you could sell both sides bullets? “Men and women are not talking to each other. The environment is becoming sterile and completely unenjoyable to work in,” Gosh. Who could have foreseen that?

" According to the survey, 65% of men indicated that since the movements began it’s “less safe” to mentor and coach their female colleagues. This unintentional consequence hurts the women the movement was meant to serve.”

World Ends: Women and Minorities Hardest Hit

Feminists will always spin anything that hurts men. They cannot stand seeing men being cared for. “Strangely, it’s men who aren’t doing anything wrong who are feeling needlessly nervous” Because the defence of innocence has been stripped away.

"why are so many men stumbling in their ordinary discourse and interactions with women at work? “ Because they know they are guilty until proven innocent - it is simply up to the whims of any woman as to whether they are sacked - or worse. Even with Kavanaugh, with years of failure from Feminists to find anything to destroy him with, they succeeded in poisoning the well of public opinion. Control social media, and you control the minds of the masses.

"Of course, there are bad actors still lurking in the office” Note that Feminists never admit the bad actors could be female? Only males are guilty, all women are victims, and feminists never, ever lie ... " this mistrust comes with a huge opportunity cost for working women — missing out on mentorship by men with valuable experience and skill sets to share”

If you are a woman who stood by and yawned while men had their rights stripped away, this is the future you deserve. If you are a Feminist, you cannot be surprised when the men you defecate on don’t want anything to do with you. "Imagine if someone watched you eat for week, and pointed out all the stuff that was unhealthy, but never thought to tell you about what was healthy. “ Except that they had no science behind their beliefs, just power, the power to hurt you arbitrarily. That’s what Feminism is - power without reason, power for its own sake, the power to cause pain and the lust to glory in that pain. "So, to all our male colleagues — it’s okay to compliment a haircut or outfit.” No, it’s a crime thanks to Feminism. Feminists will happily lie to you to get you to do it - then turn around and destroy you the second they feel like it. Look at how Mattress Girl acted, pursuing a man, and when he said no, pretending he had raped her. His evidence of her pursuit long after the alleged rape didn’t matter - she was supported by the University and he was hounded. "Don’t comment on how someone’s body looks, how their appearance makes you feel, or what someone should wear.” Stifle your feelings. Do not express emotion. Feminists hate that. It’s toxic masculinity for a man to ... act like a woman. " think about complimenting women for their work” Because that‘s what humans do when they are attracted to each other. Hello, work unit. Your output is: adequate. See. You. Tomorrow. [*robotic wave*]

"As for mentoring and meetings, if it’s feels uncomfortable to take a woman out to a drink, then take her to breakfast” Whatever you do, do not take her out for breakfast. There is absolutely no reason for this not to be seen as intimate behaviour. "lunch” Only if you are prepared to record it all or have a third party as a chaperone. "coffee” Oh yes, there is no possible way a feminist wouldn’t interpret asking a woman for coffee as sexual harassment. Jesus bloody Christ, this Reeves is an idiot! " If you are still uncertain, consider mentoring a pair of women or larger group and take them out together. “ Because it’s not like Feminists conspire when they want to get rid of someone.

" Let the mentee drive the relationship. “ I don’t think this moron understands what a Mentor IS. “Please tell me how often, when, and where you want to meet." Because women respect men who grovel and beg? JFC! "We need to work together more now than ever. “ You had a chance to do that. You made men your enemy. It’s a bit late to whine about it now.

Feminists decided long ago that men had no place in the world. Men are starting to wake up to that. And at some point, we are going to have to put their beliefs to the test.

But here’s the thing. It’s not the Feminists who are carrying the guns.

[agirlinjapan]

Red Data Girl: My Wish on the Night of the Shooting Stars (Week 7)

Red Data Girl: My Wish on the Night of the Shooting Stars By Noriko Ogiwara A Translation

Miss the last piece? Read it here!

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Last week was an unintentional break from RDG. Sorry for the wait and thank you being so patient with me as I balance life, translating, and for the next month, National Novel Writing Month. Things are getting a little wacky right now.

This is the last week in chapter 1 of RDG 6.

Translation Note:

Jinbei, what Daisei is wearing in this episode, is a type of casual, traditional festival wear from Japan. They make good summer pajamas as well because they’re light and comfortable to wear. Jinbei are traditionally worn by men, but in recent years, women have begun to wear them as well. I have a cute Hello Kitty jinbei set myself. :)

Red Data Girl: My Wish on the Night of the Shooting Stars By Noriko Ogiwara Chapter 1: Disappearance Part 3 (3 of 3)

The email’s main text was followed by instructions on how to work the video chat. She turned the possibility of seeing and speaking to her father over in her head a few times, her heart beating fast all the while. Then she checked the clock and saw that there was still an hour or so left until nine.

Mayura will probably be back in the room by nine. It looks like it will take me a bit to set everything up, and I don’t know if everything will work the way it’s supposed to. Maybe I should just start getting ready to call him now…

If she did video chat with her father, she would definitely want to introduce Mayura to him, she thought. Daisei would want to meet her roommate as well. Izumiko excitedly started getting ready.

As it was the first time, a few parts of the set up puzzled Izumiko, but the software installation wasn’t particularly complicated. It was finished in much less time than she had expected. When she tried to see if placing a call would work, Daisei immediately appeared.

“Oh, Dad.”

“Hey, Izumiko.”  

“It’s not nine yet already, is it?”

“It’s not.” Daisei wasn’t the sort of person to be surprised by the unusual. He smiled at her through the screen. “I wasn’t quite ready yet either, but there was a necessary change in plans.”

“There was?”

“Yes, because my one and only daughter called me.”

Daisei, who worked for a programing company, seemed nonplussed to still be sitting in front of his computer in the middle of the night, as strange as the situation might have been. He was visible from head to shoulders on the screen and was sitting in front of a bare, pale green wall. As usual, he wore his round glasses and his hair was uncombed. His clothes could have been pajamas or loungewear—either way, he always wore traditional garb of some sort when he was dressed casually. Right now, he appeared to be wearing an indigo jinbei.

“How have you been? Is school fun?”

“Dad, you’re being too carefree.” The complaint was out of Izumiko’s mouth before she realized it. “You already know what’s going on, don’t you? Mom came to the festival, and Mr. Sagara’s here at school. Things were hard before that, too. It hasn’t been anything like fun.”

“But you look happier than you did before. Just looking at you makes me feel better.”

“Please don’t feel better just because I’m in front of you now.”

“Anyway, it looks like the video chat is a big success. I can see you while I’m at work now. I’m never this happy! From here on, we can see each other whenever we want!”

Daisei’s voice was filled with glee, and with it, Izumiko’s shoulders relaxed. The video chat definitely was something to be excited about.

“Yeah. I’m happy too. There’s a lot of stuff I want to talk to you about.”

“Then we can get right to that. Your powers that you’re still figuring out influence spirits. Something in that process interferes with electromagnetic waves. That’s why electronics break around you. Even if you haven’t found a way to control that influence you have over electronics, it doesn’t mean there aren’t other options to address the problem. For example, what if there were ways to manipulate your abilities unconsciously?”

Izumiko opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Daisei quickly continued.

“That laptop was a daring interpretation of an idea of mine, and it was a try at something new. You’ve had a very hard time using the internet until now, but the actual reason for your troubles was the opposite of what you’d think. Your abilities tap into the actual computer networks very easily, and, as a result, change the range of the wavelengths. It must be my genes. I’m very easy to get along with. Common sense would say that your laptop shouldn’t be able to connect to the internet. But you’re the last piece of the puzzle. You supply the wavelengths that connect the machine to the web.”

“Wait a second. I’m part of the set up?”

“Let me put it this way. Asceticism is founded on mental concentration through chanting sutras, right? It’s sort of like that.”

Izumiko stared at her triumphant looking father in utter confusion. “I have no idea what you’re saying, Dad. I thought I just became the goddess for real a few days ago, but you’re saying I’ve always been the goddess?”

Daisei seemed to notice that he had said too much as he often did. He lowered his voice a little and said, “Ah… Well, yes. We’ve known that for a while. Sorry for not saying anything up until now. But there was no easy way to tell you until you noticed it yourself. No one really knows what it means to change the future. Even your mother can’t say anything for sure.”

“Why did you enroll me at Houjou Academy if you knew it was the school where they were choosing the World Heritage Candidate from the start?” After asking the initial question, Izumiko’s tone relaxed as she continued. “You knew about the future the goddess is talking about. Will I probably become the World Heritage Candidate?”

Daisei nodded, his expression deadly serious. “I discussed it with you mother and we both decided on sending you there. Hey, Izumiko. Becoming the World Heritage Candidate won’t be a bad thing for you. You’ll be recognized as someone who contributes to the whole world, and the amount of people looking out for your safety will grow, too.”

“But the goddess…”

“The goddess didn’t bring the world to a sad end in the future because she became the World Heritage Candidate. The problem is that her abilities span in many directions. As ascetic monks, our job is to use the goddess’s powers to interact with this world for the better. But think about all the people who aren’t interested in her for that reason.”

With Izumiko rendered speechless, Daisei continued.

“The more your power is used in a stable manner, the less dangerous the world will come to recognize it as. Your powers are completely unknown to the world, and because of that, research organizations from all over the globe will probably want to desperately get their hands on you. Then there will be many people who want to profit off of you as well. Just the simple fact that you can break electronics without touching them could have military and weaponry potential. And that’s just the start of what your abilities could be used for.”

Izumiko involuntarily looked down at her hands. “Military weapons?”

“All of human civilization is coming to rely on electronic communication. In this age, my Izumiko could probably move satellites in outer space all by herself.”

“I wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.” Daisei gave her another easygoing smile. Quickly letting tension go was another one of his qualities.

“However, all those people out there don’t know that you’re not that kind of person. That’s why we’re all working so hard to protect you. If there comes a time when someone tries to deceive you into thinking they can teach you about your abilities, we’ll be there to step in. Hopefully that won’t happen for some time longer, though.”

“Are the ascetic monks studying me?” Izumiko asked, confusion evident in her voice.

“If they are, it’s to find out how to prevent the future’s destruction.”

“Are they studying my actual body to do that? They’ve done experiments too, haven’t they? They’ve done them on Miyuki, as well.”

“Do you not want those tests to happen?”

“They make me uncomfortable.”

Unable to come up with a more logic based explanation, Izumiko had no choice but to say “uncomfortable.” However, uncomfortable was only the very beginning of how she felt. She wanted to resist all that was happening to her without her knowledge with all her very being.

“Dad, you’re an ascetic monk, right? Someone who prays and trains in the mountains? The ascetic monks learned the knowledge of the mountain spirits at some point, so unlike the diviners and ninjas who have the same beginnings as them, they were able to distance themselves from the country’s government and grow from there. That’s what I heard at least, but I’m guessing it’s mostly right.”

Izumiko paused to check that she was correct. When she saw Daisei nod, she continued. “I have a feeling that what you and the others are doing is separate from what the other ascetic monks are doing. I mean, right now there’s no way you could be training in the mountains when you work at an American company. I have a really bad feeling about this research. How would you describe the goddess’s powers? Would you say that the ascetic monks control her power? Does that mean they have a power that could become military weaponry?”

“Stop, Izumiko. It’s not like that.” Daisei shook his head sharply. His expression was pleasant, although somewhat troubled. “I’m a sucker for my field of study, and I have a tendency to get completely absorbed in what I’m working on. The ascetic monks are not involved in any sort of conspiracy. Besides, think about who your mother is. She’d never let me fall into anything like that.”

He was right, Izumiko admitted. Angering Yukariko would be an incredibly terrifying thing to do.

“So you’re saying Mom’s alright with all this testing?”

“That’s…” Daisei began to respond, but then paused for a moment.

“That’s?”

“You need to understand that any organization, no matter who they are, needs a source of funding. In order to achieve our goal of protecting the goddess, we need the appropriate funds to come from somewhere. If we don’t want a government sponsorship, the need for that money to come from undisclosed routes becomes that much more important. In the past or now, that sort of thing doesn’t change. Do you understand?”

“About the money?...”

“It’s something that’s unavoidable. I know about making money. The American company I’m working for now is a cover of some sort for something else that has plans to eventually start up as an independent company in its own right. For the time being, the ascetic monks don’t know about it.”

“You’re making a new company in America? You’re not coming back to Japan?”

“For now, I’m planning to start the company here,” Daisei answered excitedly. “Before, you said the ascetic monks couldn’t do anything in America, but that’s not true. There’s even a Native American group much like us here.”

Izumiko was quiet for a bit, but then she said in a small voice, “You’re doing this all for yourself.”

“No I’m not. I’m only thinking about y—”

“I’m ending the call now.”

“Wha? Wait, Izumiko?”

Izumiko saw the surprise on Daisei’s face, but she clicked the end button anyway. The call screen went black, and the room went back to being silent.

Izumiko stared at the blank screen, and let out a long sigh as she considered where her anger had come from.

…Of course Dad didn’t understand at all. Neither of my parents spend any time around me. Obviously they wouldn’t have a clue about how I feel.

Like a child with a new toy, her father was completely caught up with living in California. Thinking about her too easily distracted father made her feel reproachful of him. He had said he was doing everything for her over and over during their discussion on the screen, but if that was the case, Izumiko would have preferred that he come back to Japan.

Realizing that Mayura hadn’t returned to the room in time for her to meet Daisei, Izumiko pondered this thought for a bit along with everything else. At this point, Izumiko doubted that she would have been able to happily introduce the two to each other.

Dad acts like a kid when he’s at home, but he’s really an adult man. He lives in a world I know nothing about…

Doubt hung over Izumiko like a grey cloud. Daisei wasn’t the sort of person to have ulterior motives, but while he might have thought he was doing everything for her, the things he had wrapped himself up in were anything but that.

To Izumiko, the idea of living and working in a faraway country was a bit hazy to her, but it was still something she could get a sense of. Was her father just an easygoing man with a pleasant disposition who had been placed in a difficult situation?

My powers flared up at the festival and I broke the electronics, made the shikigami disappear, and flew into that other dimension all because Takayanagi and the diviners thought that they could control me. But if I really think about it, the ascetic monks have been doing the exact same thing from the very beginning. They’re planning to eventually use the goddess’s powers for themselves.

Izumiko clenched her fists tightly as she thought about this. She remembered the things Yukimasa had told Miyuki. They were the sort of things he would certainly say. And before that, Yukimasa had told Izumiko that once she left school, she would live a life surrounded by endless security.

Of course that meant that the ascetic monks would be the ones guarding her.

If the goddess’s power is dangerous just like Dad said, and it’s something people want to get their hands on… obviously the ascetic monks would want to get their hands on it, too.

For the first time, Izumiko grew distrustful of the people who had been around her throughout her whole life. She had always felt uncomfortable with something about her situation, but it hadn’t stemmed from a suspicion of her home or the ascetic monks. Now though, a new viewpoint was forming inside of her. Nonetheless, there was still a chance that she could be wrong about everything.

What should I do? At this rate, I won’t be able to trust anyone around me, no matter who they are….

Just like that, Izumiko realized how easy it would be to hate people. The makings of such a feeling had been inside her from the start.

Deep down inside of herself, she had been holding onto this terrifying trait all along without ever knowing it, and now it had come to the surface. She was sure she could overcome the hatred somehow. But if she did manage to get rid of those frightening feelings, she couldn’t help but know that the same things that had set her off would happen again, and cause those same feelings to come rushing back to her.

Keep reading!

[incorrecteragonquotes]

Eragon Movie Recap Part 1: The First Part

So.

I watched the Eragon movie. Voluntarily.

I would say that I had forgotten how bad this movie was, but the truth is, I don’t think I ever fully understood in the first place. I saw this thing in theatres back when I had very low standards, and I kinda disliked it then. Seeing it again more than ten years later, it blew my mind. Ohhh boy, was I ever unprepared. I knew it would be bad, but this? I completely underestimated it. I was not at all ready.

But, ready or not, I saw the film. All of it. In detail. And among all of the bad bits I found many things to laugh at, though I imagine most of those were unintentional, and at least one instance of thematic consistency, which is always nice to see. So, the film was bad, certainly, but not thoroughly, completely terrible. But, if what we have now is bad, can we do better? Can we take what the studio has given us and transform it into something fun to experience, something people might actually choose to look at because they like seeing it? I certainly hope so, as this is the beginning of my quest to make that a reality.

This post and those following it will constitute a recap of the 2006 Eragon film - a summary of its events with a bit of commentary sprinkled in. Personal opinions will probably sprout up faster than weeds in a suburb. The wordy bits will be broken up by annotated screencaps from the film itself. I hope you like them! This series is based on a recap/screencap format that I personally have seen in mammothrider’s RWBY Recaps. In this recap series, you’ll be able to see elements from both that and screencap annotation blogs like cakewatchespsychopass. These folks do some very good work, and if their stuff looks interesting to you, you should totally check it out!

Now that you know what’s coming, I invite you to join me on my journey, as it is now beginning. My mission: to give you a way to enjoy the Eragon movie without first having to endure the Eragon movie.

Our story opens with a series of aerial shots. Clouds, mountains, and more are visible as the opening narration makes it clear that we’re in for a few minutes of exposition. Eventually, while looking at some clouds, a dragon raises its head into the frame. It turns out that we, the audience, were the real dragon rider the whole time! I must wonder, though, where the dragon was keeping its head earlier in this shot. That must have made for one uncomfortable flying stance.

But what’s this? On the other side of this cloud, we find a battle! With dragons fighting left and right and fire flying every which way, we look up to find ourselves attacked from above by another dragon!

The narrator informs us that all of this fighting is because of some guy named Galbatorix. While we’re on the subject of this guy, I have to ask, who names their kid Galbatorix? Like, even ignoring the part where it’s clearly an Evil Overlord Name, am I the only one who thinks it’s weird that somewhere, somebody looked at their kid and thought, I’m going to give you a really unwieldy name containing entirely too many syllables and weird consonants. I don’t mean to suggest that people never have long or complicated names, but compared to the rest of the names in this story, this one really sticks out to me as a very egregious example.

Moving on, we’re told about how there was this big war where a bunch of people died, and those that didn’t opted instead to run away in the approximate direction of some mountains. But wait! Who is this?

Some important rebels are riding through the woods on horseback, and they… stole the king’s favourite rock. We aren’t told why this matters. We are told, however, that the most important rebel’s name is Arya. Interestingly, she appears to be wearing the least armour, despite being the most important. Maybe they’re hoping that people will recognize her, and therefore not attack? That’s an unusual strategy. Regardless, everyone’s favourite oversized paperweight is clearly causing a few problems.

Meanwhile at the local evil lair, Ol’ Galby’s telling his Shade friend Durza all about how much he misses his cool rock. Oh, if only there were someone who could go on a low-profile retrieval mission. Someone with vaguely-defined supernatural abilities. Someone who doesn’t have the responsibility of staying in this weird mountain cave in case they need to loom dramatically in front of the camera. Durza, one of the least bad characters in this movie, takes the hint.

And now, we get to meet our protagonist! He’s getting out of bed at nighttime, for some reason. Protagonist walks past his sleeping uncle on his way to the door, and, for some reason, takes the time to pause and smile fondly at him. I’m not really sure of what the filmmakers were trying to communicate with this. He cares about his family? This man is, in fact, related to him? He would be disappointed if his parental figure were to suddenly be murdered? It is indeed that time of day, you know, the one when people generally aren’t awake? I should hope these things are all understandable by other means.

As our narrator informs us that this man venturing into the woods with a bow and some arrows is, in fact, going hunting, we get to enjoy a confusing bit of editing. In one shot, Protagonist Man (the fact that his name is Eragon is, of course, left unsaid) is closing the front door behind him. In the next shot, he’s climbing a hill in the middle of a lush forest that was clearly not at his doorstep in the establishing shot. Yes, I know he could have walked there first, but the editing strongly suggested he didn’t have to.

Moving on, Durza’s lurking in the forest now, waiting to intercept some horses and their humanoid companions. He stands in the middle of some pathway, raises his hand all magic-like and starts… hissing? The Urgals are apparently on their game today as they know how to interpret vague hissing as “launch ambush plan 4.2”.

It’s ambush time! Arya’s two dude friends get pincushioned real fast, and Arya herself gets tackled off her horse. Oh, no! If only there had been some obvious sign of trouble, like a suspicious dude acting suspiciously in the middle of the road dead ahead.

Eragon’s walking in the woods. There’s no-one around and his phone is dead. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots it: a deer.

Meanwhile, Arya is scooting along in the forest, holding a sword. That’s probably not how you hold a sword. Man, elven emissary training just isn’t what it used to be. Though, I do wonder how she made her tackler vanish before they hit the ground. We will probably never know. Then again, maybe that’s what they covered during training in place of proper sword-carrying technique.

I digress. Suddenly, it’s the Ring of Fire! Durza’s casting it, and really doesn’t seem to worry about fire damage while walking through it. He tries to intimidate Arya by finishing his sentence even after pausing to let her quip, but she’s one step ahead of him. She retrieves a very special cool rock, and immediately beams it out of her jurisdiction. Foiled again, Durza!

Time for Eragon to shoot the deer. But wait! The deer got all glowy and exploded! Actually, no, it didn’t explode, but it did get very mildly spooked and will be grazing elsewhere. Eragon doesn’t know what’s going on. His arrow’s on fire. There’s a cool rock on the ground. It’s smoking. Eragon looks perplexed, more than anything, by this complete surprise. I understand that intense confusion is something anyone would be feeling in this situation, but I would think that Eragon might have more pressing concerns when faced with a flashy mystery projectile.

Durza walks over to Arya, who’s collapsed onto the ground. It turns out that InstaPost is an expensive service. They discuss the exact meaning of “out of her jurisdiction”.

Eragon has decided to walk over to the cool rock. He squats down next to it. Picks it up. Blows on it. Truly an exhaustive investigation. Unsurprisingly, he doesn’t do any sort of check beforehand to make sure that the suspiciously shiny explosively teleporting object isn’t going to curse him on contact. Oh, Eragon. What are we going to do with you?

Arya, meanwhile, has some sixth sense that lets her know that her cool rock has been found by an idiot. Satisfied, she takes a nap, leaving Durza to pick up the pieces.

This brings our first installment in the Eragon Movie Recap series to a close! This part covered about 6 minutes of screentime. Thanks for reading, and I hope you had fun, as I most certainly had fun writing it. If there was something you particularly liked, or would like to see done differently in future installments, you are more than welcome to leave some feedback as a reply, or in the ask box, or however else you’d like to deliver your message. I look forward to hearing from you!

Remember to tune in next week when we visit such questions as “will Eragon achieve his dream of multiclassing?”, “just how much trouble is Arya in?”, and “will the audience ever see Eragon follow proper safety procedures?”. See you then!

Bonus:

[actualbird]

yo you totally made me think about low empathy michael and it like totally makes sense and i think about it a lot when i listen to two player game bc ye like he OBVIOUSLY cares a lot about jeremy and he loves him and like jeremy's stating his problem and michael keeps saying the same solution cause like "that's the answer bro, don't be down" bc he cant wrap his head around the emotions and connect w them that well so in his mind he's just saying this completely fool proof solution i love this hc

yo i got this ask while balls deep in three books of discourse analysis i could only understand by like 10% but because of that was in the mood to just. keep thinking my brain in circles.

so heres a stupidly long answer cataloging canon instances of michael being low empathy af/exhibiting other traits related to this. along with like, characterization to extrapolate from that (at least by my own personal interpretation. obligatory disclaimer that how i see characters is not law, this is just My Take). 

but before that, im gonna define some terms outright so we’re all on the same page. empathy is a person’s capability to understand and feel what others are feeling. basically how well you can put yourself in somebody else’s shoes. this shouldnt be confused with sympathy, which is feeling compassion, pity, sorrow etc. for another. empathy is recognition/replication while sympathy is more on the caring about it. here i focus on empathy and the lack of it. 

im not an expert on Anything but speaking from experience as somebody who has very low empathy, this causes some complications. when you dont feel what others are feeling, sometimes you dont notice other people’s feelings at all. this results in stuff like bluntness, trouble reading social cues, insensitivity, etc. all things that 1) may happen unintentionally, 2) can be worked through via healthy communication, 3) are not inherently bad, just a result of how one reacts to external emotions and 4) things i totally think michael exhibits because hes a low empathy goblin i love with my whole heart. 

let’s get right into it. in more than survive, right after jeremy and michael discover their boyf riend backpacks, this exchange occurs

this seems pretty normal at first glance but it is the first instance of what seems to be michael’s go-to pattern for when he notices his best friend is feeling down, which, at least, kudos to michael, he very obviously noticed jeremy’s feelings. hurrah! so his process for how to fix this goes a little like “step 1: notice jeremy is upset. step 2: cheer jeremy up! step 3: unknowingly kinda mess up step 2“

jeremy is upset about the backpacks but then jeremy provides an out with something supposedly positive. michael latches on to it. it turns out to be negative. michael tries to salvage the situation by cheering jeremy up! by giving him a cool science fact! hell yeah! except it’s a shaky save at best because he does call the both of them losers but in an “it’s okay :D” way. 

all in all this is nothing really, just some friendly fast paced banter between best friends. whats important here is the 3 step pattern aforementioned because it 1) shows that michael Cares about his best friend and tries to make things better and 2) is BASICALLY the entirety of two player game

TWO PLAYER GAME is such a BOP and, at its core, is a song about how michael has got jeremy’s back and vice versa. but tpg is also textbook the 3 step pattern with added sprinkle of unintended invalidation. ive briefly spoken about tpg before so this might look a lil familiar but at its gist:

like you said anon, in tpg jeremy tells michael a problem he has, and throughout the course of the song, he continually makes it known that hes upset and has a lot of issues. step 1 has been achieved: michael knows jeremy is not doing too hot. time to do step 2: cheer him up!! and what better way to do that than to think positive with his trademark line “guys like us are cool in college” like, over and over again. because….it makes sense for michael. things might suck now, but just keep swimming yeah? it’ll be better later.

but it’s not better now and thats what jeremy actually needed validation on. michael thinks the solution is to look to the future but jeremy has his problems bothering him in the present. for all that michael says this is a two player game, he’s unintentionally dismissive because he doesnt understand that this isnt something that can be fixed with a simple “look forward to two years from now” mentality. neither of them are in the wrong, really. theyre just not on the same page.

onwards we go to something else entirely. the chili fries

this is a RIDICULOUSLY SMALL MOMENT but it stuck out to me because imo it is pretty obvious that jeremy says “leave me alone” because hes bummed and is being dramatic, but michael takes it literally and uses the opportunity to skedaddle and get his sweet sweet discontinued soda. im aware michael had to be gone for plot reasons and also the discontinued soda is foreshadowing for the mtn dew red, but taken at face value, this is something that happens a lot w/ low empathy: things are taken literally. 

jeremy is upset. jeremy said to give him some space. thats cool, i’ll go for a bit and come back with something neat that might cheer him up—hey, where’d he go?

and now let’s jump to something everybody and their dog knows about. michael in the bathroom. except not really. because mitb isnt what interests me so much as what happens before.

pre mitb is very, very interesting. before i say anything i’ll be clear in saying that literally nobody had even remotely a nice halloween night, it’s a disaster for everybody involved, but keep in mind that jeremy goes into the pre mitb scene immediately after the clusterfuck that is do you wanna hang and also getting chased down by a sloshed but aggressive jake. many people have said this before me but i’ll say it again: jeremy was not doing well. at all. 

and this is where michael fails step 1 of his pattern. he doesnt pick up on this at all. michael is kinda stuck in his own head right now. hes pissed. hes confused. hes betrayed. he cant understand other people’s feelings and now he has to deal with his own too. his head is a melting pot of AGH and he takes it out on jeremy. yeah, he tries to help jeremy, but he doesnt do it very well. it’s all very accusatory, and jeremy just had a terrible night, so jeremy lashes out.

teenagers are bad at emotions but theyre not bad people for it.  //cue mitb notes, we know the drill

to the play!!! 

recap for maximum contextualization: jeremy realizes the squip is bad fucking news and wants it gone. michael makes an entrance with the one thing that can kill it. and then this happens

AIGHT okay so the whole “i need an apology” scene is obviously played for comedy, and it does a good job at suddenly diffusing the end of the world stakes with some more down to earth teen friend drama but that aside, this scene is a good candidate to be listed under the definition of the phrase “bad timing” because michael, holy shit. BAD TIMING. like great timing for humor but bad timing as a human being. 

here we have jeremy clearly in possessed distress and michael has the antidote but he only wants to give it on a condition. it is absolutely a dick move. yeah, michael is is valid for wanting an apology, but not at this moment with the current stakes. this is michael thinking pretty selfishly. hes stuck in his own head and his own thoughts. he cares about jeremy and wants to help but…this apology important to him. it’s easy to get stuck on things like this when you cant empathize with others. the low empathy means that the only feelings you really get to really interact with are your own, so theres a tendency to focus on them. sometimes even at inopportune moments.

unintentional asshole-ery behold. in fact, this can be pushed even harder by this snippet in the score of be more chill that had some lines from an earlier draft. 

the fetus version of michael makes an entrance is hilariously low empathy, oh my god. this happens while jeremy is rolling around on the floor fighting an invisible-to-everybody-else squip and this is the first thing michael says. it’s positively dickish. 

SO with that done, a little bit can be extrapolated in terms of characterization. i think michael is low empathy so the dominos fall. michael is terrible at feelings. hes got a tendency to get stuck in his own head and not see what others are going through. his emotional periphery is abysmal, hes like a horse with those things that stop horses from looking to the side. in spite of all this, he still has a lot of love and good in his heart and he tries his best to show that in the ways that make sense to him. post-canon, the rift between his brain and jeremy’s brain can only be bridged by a big healthy heap of communication where michael learns that what makes sense to him isnt always what makes sense to other people. hes a good kid. he can do it. 

of course this is, again, all my take. the fun thing about transformative work and fandom is that all interpretations are valid and there will always be somebody out there who agrees. or disagrees. but on this blog, this is my michael. or at least one aspect of my michael. //shrug

ANYWAY im glad you like the hc anon!! ive obviously got a lot of feelings about it since i used your ask as an excuse to aimlessly ramble for, holy shit, 1.6 k words lmao. i hope you have a good day!!!

[hewhofragments]

The Haunting of Hill House: The Strange and Unreal (Book & Show)

Warning: I will mostly be discussing the book here with some spoilers, but the show is entirely different from the book and I will not be spoiling any of it!

My boyfriend and I started The Haunting of Hill House, again, and by again, I mean for the second or third time together. And by that I mean, I’ve seen it a few times already, and I’ve read the book, but every time I try to get us both to sit down and watch it, something comes up and takes our attention away for a few months. . . 

But after an unintentional hiatus from watching television, we revisited the good old Netflix and found Midnight Mass. I won’t say much about Midnight Mass because one, I don’t want to spoil it and two, I thought it was just okay, but seeing all the Hill House actors encouraged us to give The Haunting of Hill House yet another try.

For whatever reason (maybe spooky season and our lack of new Resident Evil games), this time it seems to be working. We’ve finished one whole episode, which while it may not seem like much, is a big deal with our somewhat hectic schedules and many interests!

Now just around the time we started watching again, I saw a post here on Tumblr from someone whom very much did not like the book. The reviewer said that the characters, and the dialogue especially, seemed unreal and strange to the point that the book was almost unreadable. To them, the strangeness and unreality was either executed poorly (if intentional) or it was entirely unintentional and due to bad writing.

Although I do not agree with the reviewer’s assessment, I do think they raise an interesting point by describing the characters and dialogue as strange and unreal. For those of you that have read the book, you’ll remember that the interactions between Eleanor and the other guests of the House go from perfectly boring to, “Wait, did she just say that? WHY!?” 

In my opinion, the strangeness of said interactions just added to the discomfort and fear I felt while reading the novel. Over time, the book shows that Eleanor is estranged from the world and is only becoming more so with time. Her difficulty understanding and interpreting what other characters say and do only adds to that feeling of estrangement.

Because the book is written from Eleanor’s perspective, that feeling of estrangement is something that the reader feels acutely. You feel lonely, misunderstood, and incapable of understanding. You feel estranged from anything and everything that isn’t the House itself. The House is the one thing that seems cozy, inviting, friendly, and simple--except for when it isn’t.

Which brings me to something else the reviewer said: they said the “scary” paranormal moments of the novel made little sense and therefore were not something to be feared. I think again, the reviewer misses the point. The events in the novel may seem strange or poorly described, but again, we’re dealing with Eleanor’s limited and skewed perspective. 

Eleanor is dealing with the unknown, and she’s not dealing with it consistently. Her reactions vary widely and make little sense. And by the end of the novel, she begins to treat the House, and all that should be feared, as the same cozy, inviting, simple, and friendly thing that the Shirley Jackson spends the whole novel telling her (and us as reader’s) the House is very much not!

There is plenty more to be said on this subject, but I would like to turn to the show. What I want to know is: do you feel that the characters and dialogue in the show have the same strange and unreal feeling as the book does? Do you see the characters’ reactions to the paranormal events as odd? Do you think they are poorly executed? And finally, do you think that the handling of the characters, dialogue, events, and everything else is done intentionally so to create feelings of estrangement and fear?

Hopefully my boyfriend and I can continue the show soon, and I can come up with my own answers to the questions.

Happy watching/reading!

[ezatluba]

Your Dog May Know If You've Done Something On Purpose, Or Just Screwed Up

September 1, 2021

NELL GREENFIELD BOYCE

Researchers in Germany used this glass partition and a handful of dog treats in an attempt to decipher what dogs do and don't understand about human intent.

Josepha Erlacher

Anyone who has ever accidentally stepped on a dog's tail has probably wondered if dogs can understand the difference between doing something by mistake about doing it on purpose. Now a new study suggests that, at least in some circumstances, dogs do seem to know when their humans have just screwed up.

"I have to say I was surprised. I didn't expect to have this clear picture," says Juliane Bräuer, head of the dog studies lab at the Max Planck Institute for the Science of Human History in Jena, Germany, who published her team's findings online Wednesday in the journal Scientific Reports.

But not everyone buys her group's conclusions.

"I'm not convinced," says Clive Wynne, the founding director of the Canine Science Collaboratory at Arizona State University in Tempe, who did not work on this study. "I think it's a fascinating question, but it's a tremendously difficult question to get a handle on, and so at this point, I think the jury is still out on whether dogs actually understand human intentions or not."

To try to probe what dogs might be able to comprehend about people's intentions, Bräuer and her colleagues asked dog owners to bring in their pets. The experiments involved 51 dogs, and the canines were first taught that an experimenter would feed them tasty treats through a gap in a glass partition.

"And then we interrupted this established pattern by suddenly withholding the treats," explains Britta Schünemann of Harvard University, who did this work while at the University of Göttingen. Instead of being passed through the partition, the delicious treats this time stayed on the experimenter's side of the glass. The dogs could see them there, tantalizingly close, on the floor.

Sometimes the treats ended up there because they were withheld "by accident." In those cases, the experimenter attempted to pass the treats through the partition, but clumsily dropped them. Or the gap in the glass partition was closed up, and the dog could watch the experimenter try to pass the treats through but fail.

When the researcher accidentally drops the treat

When the human researcher "accidentally" drops the second of the treats she's been feeding the dog, the dog hesitates only a second before rushing around the glass partition to retrieve the dropped food.

Other times, however, the experimenter showed the dog the treats through the gap in the glass partition and then deliberately withdrew them, intentionally placing the food on the floor next to her seat.

Every single time the dog failed to get food, no matter why the treat was withheld, the dog could simply walk around the side of the partition and gobble up the easily seen treats. But whether they did this, and how quickly, seemed to depend on whether the person appeared to have denied the dog the treats either "accidentally" or on purpose.

Dogs approached the food on the floor quickly when the experimenter failed to give it to them "by accident." But when the experimenter had deliberately withheld the treats, the dogs seemed more hesitant. They waited longer before going around the partition to try to eat it.

Some dogs didn't even try to get food that was intentionally withheld. Instead, they simply sat down. That was an unexpected behavior, says Bräuer, who imagines that the dogs were maybe thinking something along the lines of: "I am being a good dog, and maybe then she will give me the food that she obviously doesn't want to give me at the moment."

When the researcher holds back the treat

Watch carefully and you'll see that this time the researcher simply shows the dog the treat, then places it on the floor beside her right foot, before turning away from the pup. The dog waits and watches quite a bit longer than in the previous video clip before walking around to find and eat the treat that had been withheld.

Bräuer notes that this whole set of circumstances was an unusual one for the dogs — because their owners most likely would not be in the habit of teasing them with food and refusing to give it to them. The way the dogs reacted, she says, "might really suggest that they are able to understand intention, at least in this simple set-up."

Similar results have been found in experiments with chimpanzees. For safety reasons, the chimps have to remain on their own side of the partition. They will angrily pound on the glass or leave the experiment in a huff when food is deliberately denied to them. But when food is withheld from chimps by accident, says Schünemann, "they will really try to help you to give them the reward, and put their finger through the gap and try to get the reward."

In humans, a basic understanding of others' intentions seems to be present in early infancy. For example, if toddlers see an adult trying to put two parts of an object together, but clumsily be unable to do it, the children will imitate the action and possibly put the object together successfully. "So it really seems that they understand that some people fail — but they understand what they intended to do," says Schünemann.

Being able to understanding people's intentions in a more complex way — like how they depend on someone's beliefs, desires, and values — develops in the later preschool years, she adds.

It's not possible to ask the dogs what they were thinking in this experimental situation, says Bräuer. Still, she finds the results telling. "The take-home message for me is that they are very sensitive and might even distinguish whether we do things on purpose or not," she says. "They are constantly watching us and are very sensitive to such subtle differences as we saw in that experiment. I think that's amazing and interesting."

She's thought a lot about whether dogs understand when someone accidentally stomps on their tail. "I don't know," she says. "Maybe the situation is a bit different." That's because it involves pain, instead of a reward.

Wynne, however, thinks even the findings of this experiment with food are difficult to interpret. What the experimenters were trying to convey through their actions, he says, "is an immensely subtle and confusing thing for anybody to grasp, never mind a dog."

Dogs were fed several tasty treats through the gap before the experimenter started to withhold the reward in a way that looked either intentional or unintentional. In similar experiments with chimps, the animals angrily pounded on the glass or left the experiment in a huff when the treats were deliberately denied them.

"Discriminating between actions that differ only on whether the person carrying them out had an intention to carry them out or not is a tremendously difficult thing to do," says Wynne. He says if a waiter spills red wine on a customer and apologizes, for example, it can be difficult for the customer to know whether the waiter truly dumped the wine by accident or was secretly acting out of malice.

And in this experiment, Wynne says, all of the people's actions were, in truth, intentional — the experimenter was only pretending to drop the treat or be blocked from delivering it. "If you were to do that to me," he says, "I think I would catch on."

In general, he says, "I don't find any prior science or any intuition that tells me when a dog would be in a big hurry to pick something up or slower to pick something up. It just doesn't correspond to anything that I can think of. So those are my misgivings."

He believes that dogs are brilliant and have wonderful adaptations that let them live with humans — like the ability to form a close, cross-species emotional bond. But he doubts that dogs care much about people's intentions.

He points out that people who live with dogs spend a lot of time trying to teach them which food is for dogs and which is for humans.

"We work really, really hard at that," he says, "and yet at the end of the day, when it hits the floor, the dog's on it."