#gestures to the majority of characters in the media “Look at the ABLE BODIED characters you could have picked from

cozy-the-overlord · 3 years ago

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Funny Little Ups and Downs

Summary: Loki is having a bad day. The love of his life is being sent away to marry some ridiculous Vanir prince, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Then her little sister shows up to give him a pep talk.

Word Count: 3,824

Pairing: Loki x Sigyn

A/N: Sound the alarms! Alert the media! Cozy wrote something happy! I actually wrote the majority of this over three months ago, then got stuck on the ending and forgot all about it until a few days ago. It’s inspired by “I Love Melvin,” a silly little musical from 1953 starring Debbie Reynolds and Donald O’Connor that employs my favorite trope of all time: the main character’s little sibling bonding with the romantic interest. It’s fun, it’s cute, and I just had to write it. Consider it an apology for all the angst I’ve been throwing your way XD

Warnings: None

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @the-emo-asgardian @imnotrevealingmyname

If you want to be tagged, feel free to send an ask/message :)

Read it on Ao3!

Spring in Asgard was truly something to behold. The last dredges of winter melted into memory, leaving behind a crispness in the air and a radiance in the land as vibrant life bloomed across the planet. It was a kind of brilliance that one could hardly resist, and so it was no surprise that the palace gardens were alive with activity— novice warriors sparring in the field, strolling couples engaged in lively conversation, giggling children chasing each other through the labyrinth of brick and shrubbery.

It seemed the very universe was mocking him.

Loki held his head in his hands, huddled in a despondent heap at the edge of the garden bench. It was truly amazing how quickly the sweet spring air turned foul. The day had started with such promise, and now …

“Hi your Highness!” Loki jumped when the little girl plopped down next to him without a warning, crumbs spilling into her braids as she munched on a cookie.

He sighed. “Oh, hello Milla.” He couldn’t say he particularly cared for company at the moment, but he couldn’t find the energy to shoo her off.

Milla studied him, chewing intently. “Are you crying?” she asked.

“Of course not!” Loki bristled. Was he now so pathetic that he was garnering the pity of a child? He huffed in indignation.

She patted his arm as if in consolation. “It’s okay to cry, Prince Loki. I cry all the time.”

Norns.

He swallowed the temptation to shove her away and abandon the bench, electing instead to change the subject. “Did Sigyn send you?”

It wouldn’t have been the first time she delegated her little sister to the position of messenger. Perhaps Milla was here with some kind of news, that the whole thing was a misunderstanding and Sigyn wasn’t getting married after all. But deep down, Loki knew that was nothing but wishful thinking. If that were the case, Sigyn would have come herself.

“No,” Milla said, dashing what little hope he had against the brick walkway. “I saw you leaving from my window. You looked sad.” She paused, cocking her head to the side. “Was Sigyn mean to you?”

It was such a childish question that Loki laughed, although there was no humor in the sound. Sigyn didn’t have a mean bone in her body. It was something of which he was in perpetual awe. It didn’t matter how badly her day had gone, how grievously she had been wronged—she always had a kind word or a sweet gesture and an eagerness to help. There was a grace about her, a grace that Loki had never seen from anyone else in court.

The way she had broke the news to him, pushing him into the hallway outside her apartment before he even had the chance to knock … it was cruel, but it wasn’t a cruelty she had chosen. He understood that at least.

Loki heaved another sigh. “It wasn’t her fault.”

For a moment, Milla was quiet. He turned away from her. It seemed he really was that pathetic.

“Sigyn got all upset after you left,” she finally said. “She went running upstairs and hid in her room. Now Daddy’s mad because Prince Sverrir is coming over and she’s not ready.” Sverrir. Loki dug his fingernails into his palms. Milla didn’t seem to notice his tension.

“Do you know Prince Sverrir?” she asked.

Loki grit his teeth. “I’ve met him.” It was astonishing how his opinion of the Vanir Crown Prince had changed from aloof indifference to outright hatred within a matter of words. Loki had known Sverrir since they were both children, when Vanaheim’s royal family had come to Asgard for a few weeks to celebrate the millennial anniversary of the end of the Aesir-Vanir War. He had found him to be tiresome as a boy, a trait that did not improve upon adulthood. Loki had avoided him when he could.

Sverrir had only become relevant to him within the last few years, when after one royal visit he began to express an interest in Sigyn Yngvarrdóttir. At this point, Sigyn and Loki had been seeing each other in secret for quite some time, and while a public courtship was still out of the question, Loki had no intention of allowing the foreign prince to pursue what he already called his own.

The court was appalled when it discovered that Sverrir had been hiring harlots and bringing them into his chambers—his guest chambers, the very rooms in which the Asgardian royal family had so kindly allowed him to stay! His insistence that he had never even interacted with the ladies of the night, let alone allowed one on to palace grounds, fell upon deaf ears and Sverrir was forced to return home to avoid further scandal. Loki remembered watching him cross the Bifrost, with his unnatural posture and his idiotic attempt at regality, certain that they’d seen the last of him.

But now here he was again, back with a few years distance and an ailing father, and suddenly every woman in Asgard was ready to fall at his feet. Which would’ve been fine, except for the fact that he decided upon the only woman who didn’t want him in return.

Loki groaned, rubbing his temples. Besides him, Milla prattled on.

“He’s very dull, isn’t he?” she was saying, brushing the cookie crumbs off the front of her dress. “The last time he came over he just sat in the parlor and talked about how much Sigyn would like Vanaheim. I don’t think she was all that interested. And he kept calling me Mina!” She scowled at the ground, as if Sverrir was there, sitting at her feet, before turning back to Loki. “I like you better. You’re nice to me.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Am I?”

“Yeah!” she grinned, tapping his shoulder enthusiastically. “You know my name, at least. And you gave me my good-luck charm!”

She pulled the charm out from under her top, fastened to her neck by thin strip of leather. It was nothing special, just a simple wooden carving of a cat’s head that he had whittled himself during his time serving as diplomat in Alfheim. He didn’t have near the talent for woodworking of the Elven carvers, but he was patient in his practice. By the end of the trip, he had spent hours upon hours working on the carving of a wolf’s head, Sigyn’s favorite animal, to give to her upon his return. Milla’s cat had been something of an afterthought. Still, he hadn’t been able to hide his smile at the way she squealed in delight when he presented it to her, and Sigyn had seemed more touched by the fact that he thought of her sister than at her own gift.

“Has it worked for you?” he asked.

“I think so,” Milla said, running her finger across the cat’s ear. “Good things happen when I wear it.”

Loki laughed bitterly. He could use a bit of that now. “Have good things happened today?”

She didn’t look up. “I’m still waiting to find out.”

A silence fell over the two of them, heavy and stiff. He wondered what Sigyn was doing, if she was still hiding in her room as her sister claimed. She had been waiting for him that morning, ready to push him out into the hall with shaking hands the moment he arrived at her doorstep. He knew immediately that she had been crying—if her swollen eyes weren’t enough of a giveaway, then the little hiccupping gasps that peppered her words certainly were.

“You can’t be here right now,” she had hissed. “If Father sees you, he’ll lose his mind!”

“What happened?”

“Sverrir made an offer for my hand. My father—Loki, he accepted.”

It had taken a moment for those words to sink in. When they had, he had demanded to speak with her father.

“Loki—”

“He can’t do this! He can’t sell you off like cattle—”

Only he could, and they both knew it.

“Prince Loki?” He turned away from his thoughts and back to Milla. She was looking up at him with wide eyes, her voice suddenly very small. “Is Sigyn going to marry Sverrir?”

Loki found he couldn’t answer. There was a threatening lump in the back of his throat, making him unwilling to trust his voice. Sigyn … she was always supposed to marry him. He had been sure of it from the moment he met her, back when they were taking their lessons together. He had pretended to trip when walking by her desk and spilled his potion all over the floor just to have an excuse to talk to her. Thor had rolled his eyes when he heard of it (“could you not just speak to her like a normal person?”), but Sigyn had laughed and offered to help him clean it up, just like the angel she was. And when class ended, he offered to walk her back to her apartment.

Sigyn had smiled, that shy little smile she seemed to reserve for only him. “I’d be honored, my prince.”

Loki was smitten.

And now he was heartbroken.

“You know she doesn’t want to marry him, right?” Milla asked, tugging at his sleeve. “She doesn’t even like him.”

Loki inhaled. “Marriage isn’t just about who you like.” Sigyn had explained this to him just now in the hallway. Her family may have been prestigious in her great-grandfather’s heyday, but a series of poor investments and bad choices had set them on a steady decline. Her marriage to Sverrir would secure their position permanently. Her father would condemn her to a life of loneliness to maintain their status. And Sigyn would accept it, because she was far too good a person to refuse. “You have to think about your future, and your family, and Sverrir is a prince—”

“But you’re a prince too!”

“I don’t have a throne.” Loki sighed. He had never been jealous of Thor’s position as Crown Prince, not really—kingship came with hundreds of little hinderances and headaches that Loki was perfectly content to live without. But if he could stand before Sigyn’s father, not as Odin’s forgotten son but as Asgard’s future ruler … well, he wouldn’t be having to stomach discussion about some Vanir prince, that was for sure.

Milla yanked on his sleeve even harder. “But Sigyn loves you.”

Loki’s eyes widened. “She told you that?”

“No.” She said. “But I know she does. She reads your poems every night before she goes to bed.”

He flushed crimson. “Does she?” Oh, those poems. He had never considered himself to be much of a poet, but there was a soft sense of familiarity in words that he had never found anywhere else. And Sigyn … how could one not write about Sigyn?

He never had the courage to read them to her in person, silly, romantic things that they were. Instead he kept to leaving them hidden in spots where only she would find them—wrapped up in her napkin at dinner, buried in her bag at the healing ward, slipped into her dress pocket as they danced. She never said anything about them to him, but he lived for the way she’d squeeze his hand after he passed one to her.

Milla nodded, grinning. “She has them all in a little book, and she keeps it under her pillow.” Loki smiled too at the image, just for a moment, but then reality came crashing back down. She could hold on to as many poems as he could write—it still wouldn’t change anything. He buried his face in his hands once more.

He felt another tug at his sleeve, and he turned to find himself face-to-face with a creased brow. “You love her too, don’t you?” Milla asked. “That’s why you’re so upset.”

Loki huffed. “What I want doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does! It has too!” she insisted, shaking his arm. “You can make it matter.”

“Make it matter?” Suddenly, looking at her there, with her braids and her “good luck” charms and her childish hope was too much to bear. “What would you have me do?” he snapped. “Kidnap your sister?”

Milla flinched. “No … But—”

“There isn’t any ‘but.’ Your father will never allow her to settle for me when there’s a superior option. My father will never care enough to intervene on my behalf.” Norns knew he had tried. But Odin had nothing to gain from a marriage between Loki and Sigyn, and if Odin had nothing to gain, he saw no reason to act. “It’s useless to pretend otherwise. Now are you just going to sit here and bother me all day or do you have somewhere else to be?”

She gulped, abandoning her place besides him on the bench. “I’m sorry, your Highness. I’ll go.” Loki watched her slink off back towards the palace, head down like a whipped pup. Somehow, he felt even worse.

…

Dinner was miserable.

Loki picked at his food out of a sense of courtesy, with no real appetite to be found. How could he eat, when four seats to his right Sverrir was regaling his audience with descriptions of his perfect bride-to-be? The prince hadn’t yet mentioned Sigyn by name, but he didn’t have to. Loki could see the way his gaze lingered on her table as he described her “perfect form.”

It made him sick.

He had still barely touched his meal by the time many of the merrymakers had moved to the dance floor. Sverrir had gone, too—Loki watched him practically slither across the room to Sigyn’s side to ask her for a dance, watched Sigyn’s nearly imperceptible nod in assent. Now, they commanded the whole of the floor, gliding through the steps as flawlessly as a couple could, Sverrir grinning ear to ear and Sigyn the epitome of quiet repose.

Loki wished he could return to his rooms. He didn’t want to sit there, watching his heart spin and twirl in the hands of another man. But he couldn’t seem to rip his gaze away from her. Her sea-blue skirt matched Sverrir’s cape as it twisted about her, giving her the appearance of some sort of oceanic goddess. He wanted to hate the color, but of course it was beautiful on her. Everything was beautiful on her.

“Prince Loki!”

He was startled out of his despondent silence by the child shrieking his name. Loki barely had the chance to turn around before Milla was upon him, grabbing at his arm and trying to pull him to his feet.

He frowned. “What are you doing up here?”

“Come on!” She yanked at his cape. “You have to dance with Sigyn.”

Wary of making a scene, and too flustered to push her away, Loki stood. “Milla, I—”

“You have to,” she insisted, giving him a push towards the dance floor. “Go! Dance with her!”

He stumbled forward, but the little girl kept corralling him down the podium stairs, towards Sigyn and her aggravating prince.

“Milla!” he hissed. “Can’t you see she’s already dancing with someone?”

“Who cares?” she hissed back, shoving him again. “Dance with her!”

And so Loki made his way down to the dance floor, cheeks burning, holding himself with as much dignity as one could after a literal child herded them like a sheep away from their meal. Luckily, few in the the ballroom seemed to be paying him any mind.

One of the positives of being the forgotten son, he supposed.

Sverrir and Sigyn were in the middle of the floor, still wrapped up in the music. At least, Sverrir was. Sigyn was holding herself as if someone had strapped a wooden board down her back. He couldn’t remember a time where he had seen her so tense. The sight made Loki stiffen.

With a sudden burst of confidence, he tapped on the Vanir prince’s shoulder. “Excuse me,” he said, not bothering to hide the tightness in his voice. “Would you mind if I cut in?”

Sverrir started. “Oh. Uh—” he glanced back at Sigyn. “Do you mind, darling?”

She shook her head, features still perfectly neutral. Only then did Loki notice that, while she was wearing blue, the ribbons weaved through her braids were emerald green.

“Oh!” Sverrir seemed surprised, but quickly shook it off. “Well, then, of course not!” He stepped aside, making a grand gesture towards Sigyn as Loki took his place in her arms with a rigid nod.

For a moment, they only stared at each other, slowly swaying to the notes of the waltz in silence. Sigyn looked away first, turning to watch her feet on floor as if she were a girl in pigtails still learning to dance.

Loki swallowed the desert on his tongue. “How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Well enough, I suppose,” she murmured. When she looked up again, her eyes were glossy, her features twisted in an attempt to hold back the tears. “Loki—I’m sorry.”

There was a lump in the back of his throat. He wished he could hold her to his chest, cup her cheek and promise her that everything was fine. Instead, he only shook his head. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I just …” She inhaled. “I wish things were different.”

Don’t we both?

“Is he kind to you at least?” he asked. He would at least be able to rest easier knowing that Sigyn was well cared for, and as irritating as Sverrir was, Loki had never seen anything to suggest that he was cruel. Although … he almost wished Sverrir was a beast of a man—horrible, vicious, barbarous— just so he could have another reason to despise him.

Sigyn shrugged. “He talks a lot.”

“Oh? About what?”

“Absolutely nothing!” she cried. “I’ve never heard of a man who could go on so long without a single thing to say. It makes my head ache.” Sigyn sighed. “But Father finds him interesting.”

Loki scoffed. “Your father would be fascinated by grass growing.”

She laughed. “Probably.”

They danced in silence for a while longer. He liked the silence—the soft, soothing movement was almost enough to make him forget why this night was different from every other he had spent dancing with her. But soon enough, the song came to an end, and he made ready to bid her farewell.

A familiar voice cleared his throat, rasping across the hall. The hum of conversation stopped as everyone turned to face the royal podium, where Prince Sverrir stood, smiling over the masses.

“Ladies and gentleman, if I may have your attention!” he called. “I would like to make an announcement.”

“Here we go,” whispered Sigyn. She reached out to grasp Loki’s hand.

When the crowd thronged around the podium had appeared to reach a size to his liking, Sverrir continued.

“As many of you know,” he said. “My father’s health has been failing for the past several months, and he has voiced that it is his greatest wish to see me married before he passes. Therefore, I am overjoyed to announce my engagement to one of your very own Asgardian ladies—” He stretched his hand out towards Sigyn, grinning widely as the rest of the nobles whipped around to follow his gaze. “The lovely Lady Sigyn Yngvarrdóttir!”

The ballroom erupted into applause. Sigyn sighed, but quickly masked it with a gracious smile, letting go of Loki’s hand in order to make her way to the podium.

To her fiancé.

Loki didn’t even think. When he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to his side, he was acting off pure instinct.

“That’s impossible!” he cried to the crowd, to Sverrir. “Completely impossible, your Highness. She can’t marry you.”

The applause fizzled out as quickly as it begun. Confused whispers began skating through the onlookers.

“Loki!” Sigyn hissed. “What are you doing?”

Above them all, Sverrir frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Prince Loki,” he said. “Lord Yngvarr had given me his permission, and Lady Sigyn has accepted. Why can I not marry her?”

Loki didn’t blink. “Because she’s already married to me.”

The crowd exploded into outraged gasps.

Besides him, a wicked grin was blooming across Sigyn’s face.

Sverrir seemed to have been rendered incapable of response. He stood stuttering on the podium, any words he did manage drowned out by the commotion of the entire court processing what was turning out to be even more of a scandal than the last time the Vanir prince came to visit.

Until finally one voice cut through the chaos.

“Liar!” yelled Yngvarr, pushing his way through the crowd. “My daughter would not betray her family in such a manner.” He turned back to Sverrir, fuming. “Your Highness, I’m afraid Prince Loki seems to be playing a prank, and a decidedly unfunny one at that, at the expense of my daughter’s reputation.”

Loki opened his mouth to protest his offense, but before he could find the words, yet another voice joined the foray of madness.

“It’s not a prank, Daddy!” Milla grinned, materializing seemingly out of thin air to pull at her father’s sleeve. “It’s real! I heard them talking about it a week ago.”

Yngvarr whipped around so quickly that one of his whiskers caught on his shoulder plate. “What?”

“Uh huh,” she nodded. “Prince Loki came through the window! They were talking about how they were going to get married as soon as possible, because they love each other so much and they’re soulmates and … and …” she trailed off, seeming to only just be realizing that every pair of eyes in the ballroom was on her.

“And what?” snapped Yngvarr.

Sigyn stepped forward. “And I’m pregnant!”

The roar was deafening.

She turned back towards Loki with a smirk. He could only gape at her.

“What?” she asked. “Did you think I was going to let you have all the fun?”

Loki didn’t bother trying to find words. He just planted his lips on to hers. “I love you,” he whispered when he pulled away. He had never meant anything more in his life.

She laughed. “What now?”

“Well,” he said, grinning as he offered her his arm. “It seems we have to get married. After that—” he stopped abruptly. There was something in his pocket, something that he knew hadn’t been there before, bulky and solid. Frowning, he pulled it out to find the rough carving of a cat’s head tied to a loop of worn leather.

He looked up again in confusion. His eyes landed on Milla, beaming at him from across the room. She winked.

Good things happen when I wear it.

Loki smiled, slipping the charm back into his pocket. Next to him, Sigyn tugged at his arm.

“After that?” she repeated.

“After that?” he shrugged, smirking. “We improvise.”

#loki marvel #loki fanfic #loki x sigyn #funny little ups and downs #cozy writes

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harry-writings · 5 years ago

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The Edge of Tonight

- The one where Y/n reaches her breaking point and ruins Harry’s special night

TW: drug use of a family member, mentions of overdose

Masterlist

Tonight is really important.

Harry has a mandatory meeting that addresses his next leading role in an upcoming action film. This is his biggest acting opportunity since his role in Dunkirk—his career only seeming to get better with each audition and he couldn’t wait to discuss the next character he has to take on.

Everyone is there—between his managers, the directors, and all the other actors involved in the making, tonight is a really big deal. Harry hasn’t been this excited since his last movie, and to be honest, he never thought he’d end up being a part of something like this again.

He’s amazed at it all, really. There’s a certain type of hustle he’s already found himself getting comfortable with, despite his overwhelming introverted-ness. The cast and crew—everybody, really—is really welcoming, and to know that this will be his life for the next year gets him even more excited.

At the main table—where everybody talks individually to get a proper grasp on the characters—he makes rounds with as many people he can; asking questions and getting all the clarification he needs in regards to the film. And even though everything he’s doing is work related, there really isn’t anywhere he’d rather be at the moment.

He’s two hours in—half of his questions still unanswered and the director has yet to discuss the majority of the making. They’re walking to take their seats for the mass presentation—where they go over their film location, get their scripts, all the nitty gritty that comes with being an actor—when Harry’s phone starts to ring.

Normally, considering the situation that he’s in, he’d ignore the call and wait until his meeting was over to get in contact with whomever was in need to reach him. But as he stares down at the unknown number on his screen, something doesn’t feel right. His stomach tightens and he doesn’t necessarily know why. It’s just a goddamn phone call made at the wrong time.

And he really wants to ignore it—really should ignore it—but he can’t dismiss the mysterious feeling inside of him as it vibrates, for now the second time in his hand.

He sighs, looking around for somewhere much more private. He quickly walks away from where the crowd his heading, finding a secluded section near the bathrooms while he makes sure to answer the call.

He barely has any time to say anything before he hears her.

“Harry, please don’t hate me.”

Y/n’s voice sure as hell was the last thing he expected to hear on the other line as it evidently speaks through tears and worry. To hear her in that way makes his heart drop to the pit of his stomach and his palms sweat against the phone, the thought of the unfamiliar number somehow slipping from his mind as it’s now raided by concern.

He thinks of the worst possible scenario she could be in for her to be calling in such a state. Despite her saying “please don’t hate me” hints at the fact whatever position she is was her fault, he can’t help but to panic at the mere thought that she’s in danger and he’s not close enough to save her in time.

“Darling, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

Y/n wishes he didn’t sound so concerned for her because when it comes down to it, she doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt Harry always gives her. Everything that’s happened, the whole reason why she’s here, is because of something she had done. It was necessarily her fault, but it was her stupid decision that brought her into this mess, and she doesn’t want to take advantage of his heart.

Especially not now, not during one of the most important nights of his career. She can’t take advantage of what he always gives her because he’d never forgive her, no matter how much she really truly needs him right now.

“I’m at the police station I—" She stomps her feet on the ground because she knows what she’s in for now that she confessed her whereabouts. She’s more than upset with herself, too, because she knows that she’s being a burden on a night so detrimental to his career. “I fucked up, Harry. I’m so sorry.“

He really doesn’t know how to react. He doesn’t really know if he can react. Neither of them have ever been put in a position like this—he almost thinks this whole thing is a figment of his imagination—his brain trying to bring down his spirits because this role is just too good to be true, just too, too good, and his body can’t handle it.

And there’s just no way. The only thoughts swirling in his brain are what could she possibly have done? What did she do to end up there, all alone, with nobody to help her?

His hand is rubbing against his face harshly, sucking in a deep breath as he tries to wrap his head around the situation. His fingertips press against his closed eyes, trying to fathom the damage she possibly could have done.

“What did you do?”

Even though he was remaining as calm as possible, she can hear the disappointment in his voice. Her eyes squeeze closed as she chokes back a sob, holding the telephone closer to her ear as she tries to come up with something better than “I knocked a girl unconscious while blindingly drunk.”

“Assault.”

The breath is knocked right out of him. How the hell could this have happened? Y/n? Assault? She’s always been such a good person, always doing what’s greatest in her heart and making sure those around her are safe and content at all times. She’s a big believer in treating others the way she wants to be treated, so putting people before her was in her blood—in her nature —like she was born for those around her.

Her wholeheartedness was one of the many reasons Harry fell in love with her. She was just so goddamn easy to fall for and he admired the effortless aspects of her love and fondness. He knows deep in his heart that there must have been a good reason, a really good reason, Y/n would have assaulted somebody—he really does believe that—but he just can’t shake the anger out of him right now.

She knows what this night means to him and his career yet she’s finding her way to ruin it. And if he didn’t love her so much, he would finish off his meeting and make her wait, make her learn her lesson to not be so goddamn careless and stupid, but he just can’t do that. No matter how jaw-clenchingly pissed off he is, she means the most to him and he would never be able to live with himself if he were to keep her in any danger any longer.

He sighs again, resting his forehead in the palm of his hand while his elbow is placed sturdy on the wall beside him. He feels dizzy and his brain is moving much too quickly for him to comprehend any rational thought. There are so many endless possibilities as to what could happen to her—what could happen to them—after this gets resolved.

“I’ll be there soon.”

It takes him nearly five minutes to get his head screwed on straight and muster up the courage to tell the managers that there’s been a family emergency. Although they seem hesitant to believe him, he’s sure they’ll be reading all about Y/n’s arrest on social media if it happens to become public.

And that’s just another thing that’s really getting on his nerves. He’s an extremely private person, always tentative about shining light on his personal life. It took him months to make his relationship with Y/n public, and although she’s done nothing but respect his need of privacy, this entire situation is going to interfere with that. And possibly this new upcoming role.

Everything about tonight makes him more angered than he’s ever been in his life and it’s almost overwhelming him. And God, does he want to put some sense into Y/n, but he can’t even think about being more upset with her than he already is until he knows that she’s okay.

When Harry arrives at the police station, they already had Y/n sitting on a bench near the officer’s room. His eyes instinctually look for any visible scars or damages on her skin, but besides the few bruises on her arms and a busted lip, she doesn’t seem too hurt.

What he really does notice, though, is how tired and out of it she looks. She looks lifeless upon the bench, her eyes refusing to move from the wall in front of her. The color of her skin is paled and her eyes are sunken in with exhaustion. She’s still crying, too, but doesn’t make any attempts to rid the tears falling rapidly down her cheeks.

“Sir, are you here for Y/n Y/l/n?”

His gaze breaks away from her figure to meet with the police officer standing beside him, who’s holding files of papers in his hands with a stern look on his face.

Harry nods quickly, not bothering to clarify much more than he has to. The officer nods in response, pointing his head over to his desk—implying Harry to follow him into the room. He leads him over to the empty chair, making sure to close to the door to prevent any leaked information.

Harry makes himself as comfortable as he possibly can in the circumstances that he’s in. The officer is extremely intimidating and making it hard for him to communicate properly. He just wants to know what the hell is happening so that he can put his worries to rest and bring Y/n home.

The officer is flipping through papers on his desk, not making any move to sit down or reassure Harry in any way. He can physically feel his heart beat harshly in his chest and the sweat surface on his palms.

“And you’re the boyfriend, correct?”

This time, the officer finally looks up to where Harry’s is sitting across from him. He nods tentatively, unsure of really what to do or say. He figures that wordless gestures are enough unless he’s asked for details.

The officer writes something down on paper—perhaps confirming his presence and here to bring Y/n back home. He coughs slightly before finally giving the answers Harry desperately, hopelessly needs.

“Since she’s had no prior criminal record and was under the influence of alcohol, we’re letting her go with a three-month probation. Thankfully, for her, the woman didn’t press any charges. If she doesn’t cause any trouble within the next three months, we’ll drop the record from her name. Got it?”

Although confusion is still buzzing through Harry’s head and there’s still so many questions to ask, he doesn’t say anything in response. Between the gloominess and tension in the small room and all the intimidation flowing through his veins, he’s almost scared to speak out.

The officer doesn’t look very promising, either, even though he hasn’t been harsh on him. It’s all just too much happening at once and he can’t understand it all.

Harry obeys all the officer’s orders in regards to the instructions of Y/n’s probation. It doesn’t take much longer than twenty minutes to get everything clarified, but his legs are shaking impatiently. He really just wants to get out of here.

And when Harry finally walks out of the room, the officer that was standing by Y/n leads her over to him. Her steps are hesitant and slow, almost unsure of her movements. She still hasn’t looked up at him but Harry barely notices—either that, or he doesn’t really care.

He grabs her wrist between his fingers before he practically drags her out the door. He isn’t walking that fast, but Y/n’s still a bit drunk and she can barely see where he’s going through all her tears. It seems as though the world is moving too fast for her to keep up.

The entire car ride is filled with tense air and Harry’s shallow breathing. She knows there is nothing she can say to make the situation any better, but she just wishes he gave her something to work with. She’s never needed anybody the way she needs Harry right now. Ever.

And when Harry doesn’t talk, that’s when he’s really had it. He doesn’t speak much to begin with, so when he’s silent and refusing to talk things out with her, he’s building himself up—it’s the calm before the storm. Everything he wants to say is being swallowed in his own throat, just waiting to explode all at once.

“H, please say something.”

He grips the steering wheel tighter—so tight that his knuckles turn white and his wrist pulses under the pressure. Not a reaction in him gives her a reason to believe he can even look at her in this moment. She’s unintentionally pushing him over the edge and she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to live with herself for it.

“What’d you want me to say? Got nothing to say to you right now.”

She throws her head back on the headrest as a cry spews past her lips. Her feet are kicking at the glove compartment and she really thinks she can break down right then and there. She really fucking needs him to be there for her and tell her everything is going to be okay.

“I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t mean to ruin your meeting because I know how important it was to you, but I swear I—“

“Y/n, please. It’s taking everything in me not to yell at you right now and I don’t want to be so bloody angry that I can’t see the road. So please, that’s enough.”

When they get home, Harry doesn’t open her car door like he usually does, nor does he wait up for her before going inside. She pouts at this, feeling neglected and utterly upset that she’s made him so angry.

But she needs him right now—now more than ever. There is so much more to the story than he knows and she can’t stand the fact that he won’t let her talk about it. She needs his comfort and his love to keep her steady in the midst of all the chaos happening in her life, but she knows that’s the last thing he’ll give to her right now, no matter how much she relies on it.

Her bottom lip trembles as she closes the front door shut, meeting a house full of slamming cabinets and the sound of his rushed footsteps. She tentatively follows the glimmer of light that meets the hallway from their bathroom, slowly opening the door wider as she’s met with a counter full of first aid kits and Harry’s moving body.

“Just because I’m pissed off at you doesn’t mean I don’t care. Sit on the counter, your knuckles and lips are cut.”

She complies silently, hitching herself on the edge of the counter until her bottom legs are dangling and her back is slouched against the mirror. And before she really has time to get comfortable in her position, he’s already grabbing her hand to clean the dried blood off.

There are so many things he wants to say but doesn’t know how, not without sounding like an asshole. He loves her too much to keep her crying the way she has, and loves her too much to make her feel worse about herself than she already does. But really, what the fuck was she thinking?

He sees the regret and guilt in her eyes and it pains him. He knows that it’s partially his fault—why she’s so saddened—but this isn’t something he can forgive her so easily for no matter how much he wishes it was.

He’s at his boiling point and he can feel it—partially mad at Y/n, partially mad at himself. The cotton swab that was once gently patting her cut knuckles is now moving more harshly from his aggressive movements—not enough to hurt her, but enough for her to know that he’s having trouble keeping it all together.

“There better have been a really good reason as to why you’ve done this, Y/n—acting like a proper idiot. Do you have any idea how this makes you look?”

She shrugs, a pout on her face as she refuses to answer. She knows it’s not worth trying because this is his blow and she doesn’t want to push him any further. She’d rather take it as it is now rather than make it worse—something she wouldn’t be able to take.

“You know what this night meant to me and you know this could have been the worst possible time to cause some shit like this! And you were drunk, too! You were proper fucking drunk and alone! You know how you are when you’re drunk, damn sensitive, have no sense! And look where you ended up!”

He slams his fist on the counter next to her legs, the gauze falling from his hand from the impact. He still isn’t looking at her—hasn’t once looked at her since they’ve left the station—and it breaks her heart in two.

It hurts so bad, for him to be right in arms reach and not being able to hug him and kiss him and tell him just how sorry she really is.

His shoulders are tightened, jaw clenched, face nearly red, and fingers in fists from all the anger. And Y/n begins to cry.

“I had to sacrifice my time, my future, my career because of your fucking irresponsibility! This isn’t even goddamn like you, Y/n! And if the media finds out, guess whose ass is on the line! Mine! It will all turn shit for me and my possibility for making a life for us all because you decided to physically assault somebody!”

Y/n’s head is hung low at the point, not having the strength to look at him the way he is now. She never wants to see him this frustrated with her—because of her—and it just makes her feel worse than she already did.

And normally she would still listen to his lectures, only because she really deserves it and doesn’t find it in her heart to turn anything around on him, but she has to say it. No matter how embarrassing it’ll make her look—no matter how bad it’ll make her look—she needs to tell him.

If she doesn’t, he might not ever forgive her.

“My mum overdosed.”

It’s almost a silent confession, spoken so inaudibly Harry almost doesn’t hear it underneath all his rage. It doesn’t make any sense, and he almost thinks he misunderstood her somewhere because it just doesn’t make any goddamn sense.

“What?”

She sighs, lifting her head but still not having the courage to look at him. She lays the back of her head against the mirror, tears falling silently from her eyes as she stares emotionless at the wall beside him.

He’s already calmed down some and is now staring at her in confusion. He’s not even entirely sure what she just said and his patience is wearing thin when she takes a couple of moments to fully explain herself.

“I got drunk because my mum overdosed. She’s been like this for too long—you know, being addicted. It was only a matter of time before it got to that point, where too much wasn’t enough. That’s why I never had you meet her— because I never wanted you to look at me differently or look at me like there’s something so terribly wrong with me.”

Harry’s hands are running delicately up and down her legs, listening intently to her words. There’s a furrow between his brows as he takes everything in, allowing himself to process everything she’s saying before he finds the right words to say back to her.

“And I know, getting drunk wasn’t the answer, but it wasn’t the problem, either. Some girls from my high school had found out—I guess maybe from their friends or parents? I’m not so sure. They’ve made my life miserable for as long as I could remember and this was their perfect opportunity to make a fool out of me. You know, ‘look at the drug addict’s daughter’ and ‘maybe this explains why you’re so fucked up.’”

Harry instinctively reaches his hand out to her tearful cheeks, cupping the skin between his fingers as if to reassure her that he’s there for her. His own eyes are overflowing with tears and he swallows the lump in his throat harshly.

“Oh, baby.” He whimpers.

She really could have stopped there—he didn’t need any further explanation for what she’s done. He’s already forgiven her and is more than ready to console her and be there for her for as long as she needs. But she needs to keep going, he knows that. He sees the words fighting past her lips and he’s not going to keep her thoughts unspoken.

“They started insulting my family, insulting my mum, insulting me and they just kept going. They just wouldn’t stop, and people around us were looking and I was so embarrassed and so upset, Harry. I just needed one last push until I cracked, and that’s when they mentioned you. Saying how you don’t deserve a mistake like me—saying that I must be fucking up your life the way my mum fucked up mine.”

She purses her trembling lips tightly and squeezes her eyes shut, trying so desperately to control the sobs that dare leave her mouth that her wobbling chin meets her chest. Now that she’s started, there’s no way for her to stop, but she doesn’t know if her body can take it.

Harry slowly drifts his hand to the back of her head, slightly digging his fingertips into her scalp and rubbing in soft circles. He’s never seen her this horrible and he’ll do anything he can to make it stop. His heart is hurting for her, his chest is burning with guilt, and his eyes are tearing with sympathy and he never wants to let her go. No, not tonight.

“And I didn’t need that, Harry. I didn’t need to hear that because my biggest fear is becoming what my mother is. I love her so much—I love her so fucking much even though I shouldn’t because she picked her addiction over me! I’ve always been neglected! She never loved me like I loved her and I never want to do that to you, Harry! I never want to do that to you.”

She punches at his chest almost passionately, to show him how much she really means it, because he might not ever trust her now.

But Harry scoops her up in his arms, keeping her as close as possible as she drowns herself in her hysteria. Her hands are shaking against his chest, lips pressed against the crook of his neck, and legs wrapped around his waist as he shushes her in an attempt to calm her down.

His lips pepper chaste kisses against her skin, an endearing reminder that he’s not going anywhere anytime soon.

He buries his head in her hair and cradles her into his chest, his hands running feverishly all over her back. She doesn’t deserve anything that’s been given to her tonight—including everything he’s said—and she doesn’t deserve all the pain and worries she’s been going through.

Hell, she doesn’t deserve any bit of this and he wants to fix it now—has to fix it now.

Because how could he have missed it? How could he have been such a shit boyfriend to not take notice in Y/n’s toxic relationship with her mother? How had he never asked questions? How had he failed to be there for her for so long?

“Baby, baby, look at me. Look at me.”

He’s cupping his hands over her cheeks to ensure that her eyes meet his. And when they do, his heart breaks at just how spent she looks. The light in her eyes has burnt to a crisp and it seems as though there’s nothing left in her.

And despite how devastating it is, he still looks at her in the most loving way. It almost makes Y/n smile, but instead of the tug on her lips to do so, she feels the tug in her heart.

“You’re never going to do that to me, you understand? I know you more than anybody and I know how much you love me. It’s in everything you do, and even if you didn’t love me, you are not your mum. You’re so much stronger than you think you are and I am not letting you live your life in constant fear of turning into somebody you’re not. I’m not letting you do that, not when I’m here with you.”

She lets out a whimper, and despite the evident pout on her lips, she nods in understanding.

“Don’t deserve this, not one bit.”

His thumbs are rubbing against her cheeks while he presses a passionate kiss on her lips, and something about the common gesture is enough to settle the constant fear in her thoughts. And when his lips move to settle on her forehead and his hands tuck her into his chest, the weight in her chest seems to disappear.

By now, all her tears have been shed and all she’s left with are heavy eyes and a nearly boneless body. This day has consisted of almost too much chaos and she needs to end.

She hums softly, slowly moving to kiss his neck before resting her chin on top of his shoulder, closing her eyes at the sound of his breathing.

“I love you so much, H. Can you take me to bed? Need you.”

Her fingers tug at the collar of his shirt and he laughs softly at the gesture. It’s one of the sweetest things she’s ever done, and it’s in that moment he questions how he’s gotten so damn lucky.

She truly is the sweetest girl he’s ever known, and really is the most beautiful sight to see. And she’s all his. No matter what she does to make him angry, or what shit is going on in her life, she’s his greatest blessing and he’ll do whatever he can to protect her.

Not just for tonight, but for every night for the rest of their lives.

#harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot

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toysoldiers-rwby · 3 years ago

Text

[CS] 12. Survive.

Cutting Strings

Characters: Penny Polendina, Winter Schnee, Aurora Glade, May Marigold Word Count: 7.5k

“All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women are merely players.”

Then when are we not in a play?

Read on Ao3

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Memory Defragmentation. 69% Completed.

Xanthic’s recovery was near instantaneous, there was less to adjust to as her prosthetics only consisted of her eyes. Aro was projected to recover by the end of the week. They had made major changes to Aro’s neural implants and minor changes to the connectors of Aro’s prosthetic legs and the legs themselves. There was no new incisions or other organic damage so it was just a matter of practice and familiarizing herself with the new software.

Aro decided to recover in her own home down in Mantle, an idea May and Winter was all too eager with. Penny saw an envious glare from Xanthic as they left… It took a moment to remember that she was a criminal, a prisoner in her own home. Possibly one of the most heavily surveillance areas outside of the military… Before turning away something in Xanthic gaze changed but she retreated into her large house all the same.

Penny moved most of the furniture in Aro’s living room before the elite graduates had a chance to help. They stared in muted amazement and perhaps flustered at the display of strength. Penny grinned up at them.

May slowly set Aro on her feet and helped her walk while Penny and Winter went over the schematics of Aro’s new legs. Or they were supposed to, instead they’d watch Aro attentively take a few steps into her living room and May rushing to her side as she started falling. The two laugh as May caught her each time. Penny watched May’s hands gently trail over Aro’s body. Sometimes they were objective, only wandering over her hands and arms to balance Aro. Other times they were selfish, wandering up her arms and to Aro’s wide shoulders, then her neck…

When they were lucky Aro would trip and their faces would be inches from each other. Aro would bring them closer laughing and pressing their foreheads together. May laughed too, but her eyes were a little focused on Aro’s lips.

“Stop being so sweet,” Aro would said pulling away with an odd smile, “I don’t deserve it.” Penny and Winter frowned, glancing at each other.

“I disagree,” May whispered. She cleared her throat, “Is blackmailing Ironwood supposed to be a turn off?”

Lingering exchanges like those was one of the few differences Penny was able to observe now that the four of them were dating. It was difficult to separate the platonic behaviors with romantic ones but perhaps using two women who pinned over each other for years was a bad example. The pair have always been affectionate with each other, their touches might linger a little longer now but… Aro wasn’t hiding behind her glowing eyes as much. All Penny found was unguarded emotion, her words were blunt and fumbling without Focus planning everything in advance.

“Penny,” Winter sang softly in her ear. She jumped and gasped in surprised. Winter chuckled softly. Her arms slowly wrapped around Penny’s waist and she bent a little to rest her chin on Penny’s shoulder. “You’ve been lost in your thoughts for a while now. Everything okay?”

“Just…” Penny leaned back into the embrace. Winter’s cool Aura was lovely against her heated skin. It helped calm down the flight mode Winter accidentally triggered, and the embarrassment that followed. It wasn’t skin contact but it was contact. “I’m enjoying the atmosphere generated by lovely company.”

“Oh, I’m sure that will change as soon as Aro can walk again,” Winter teased, eyes glancing up.

Aro scoffed signing a few taunting and rude gestures with a playful smile. Penny was a little surprised she kept her balance long enough for that. Her partner, leader, and girlfriend took a few steps forward before tripping over her slimmer prosthetics and nearly falling hard. As always May caught her in time.

May tried to separate herself from Aro but the huntress held her hand. Then linked their arms when Aro’s balance on her new legs faltered again. “You need to move your toes, doll.” May laughed.

“That’s so weird!” Aro softly yelled. Her ears flickered and arms waved a little, venting out some energy she couldn’t express verbally. She looked down in her feet with concentration. It took a few seconds for her toes to wiggle. "I haven’t had toes in years…" She mused softly.

Winter and May looked pained for a moment as Penny flicked through the schematics for a possible solution. “Your new legs still have the functionality of your previous ones with the added aesthetic benefit of being modular,” Penny said. Her old legs were military grade and militant in appearance. The ones Aro had on now mimicked organic civilian legs with her heavy body type. “Xanthic created some modules that mimicked your previous design as well as some suited for several other occasions.”

“Such as,” May scowled a little. Penny had noted her irritation spiked when she said the hackers name and chose to ignore it like the others did.

“Ball room dancing, sleep, swimming,” Penny listed.

Aro perked up, bouncing to her and pressing to Penny’s free side. “Show me!” She said, arms wrapped around Penny’s waist, fingers finding Winter’s and intertwining. Penny giggled as Aro’s wiggling ears brushed over her own. May sat on the floor, slotted comfortably between Penny’s legs and head poking through her arms to look at the Scroll. Penny lowered it a little so avoid May straining her neck and flicked through the parts.

“I haven’t worn heels in forever!” Aro said gasping softly at one module. She dragged two fingers on the screen to get study it from a different angle. Everything from the knee down was an elaborate design in Aro’s colors; soft pale green, aged or polish gold and deep royal purples. But the real highlight was the feet, designed to replicate fashionable and expensive heels, something you’d find in Winter’s closet. Aro’s smile dropped, a little sad as Focus turned off. Penny stared at her a little surprised. It didn’t flicker, just… deactivated. “I kinda miss wearing feminine clothes.”

“You like skirts and dresses?” Penny asked quickly. Her partner’s outfit usually consisted of an Atlas Academy uniform, customized to mark her status as a student of the Accelerated Program with the cord given to third and fourth years, her broiler suit for combat and work, or some kind of tailored suit

Aro gave her a sad look, “I love my public image but I hate being stuck with it.” Penny tilted her head and nodded, though she didn’t quite understand the perspective. She was constantly with Aurora, she wasn’t just a picture in a magazine or a gently stoic presence on screen. She never really looked into what the easily manipulated media thought of the… secretly former businesswomen.

“Perhaps new purchasing new apparel is in order?” Penny asked with a tilt of her head. Her simulators had a hard time creating an image of Aro in a dress or skirt, which only increased Penny’s desire to see her in one.

“Then let’s go shopping!” May said with a large smile. Winter groaned, pulling away from their cuddle but all three of her girlfriends laughed, mostly May who’s laugh was a little wicked, and pulled her back. “Come on! It’s been awhile since I got to dress someone up! They’ll need new clothes for Vale’s hot as fuck climate too. Don’t want Aro overheating again…”

“Let’s go,” Immediately Winter stood up, her strength nearly dragging all three of them onto their feet.

There was some look of regret on Winter’s face when May took them to large store in Mantle. Penny giggled at the former heiress of the Schnee Dust Company and pulled her in by her hand. Winter did relax seeing the various styles, they ranged from feminine to masculine, from Menagerie to Atlasian. At the counter they spotted a new but familiar tattooed face on her Scroll.

“Salutations Turk!” Penny said with a smile and wave.

Turk jumped a little but smile at the new customers, “Call you later, Tukson. My favorite patron and her mates found me,” Turk said. May looked away, a blush hard on her face for a moment. Her embarrassment only made her a target to the Faunus’ predatory gaze. “Right… Will do, see you soon.” They hung up and leaned against the counter nearly looking like a satisfied cat after dinner. “My brother says hi and to warn him next time you order… tasteful comics.”

“Sunstone came in?” Aro gasped with a light bounce.

“Yep,” Turk nodded. She studied Aro a little, eyes focusing on Aro’s usually displayed cleavage. At her side Penny could feel Winter tense, and when she glanced over there was a protective, perhaps jealous glare. Then Turk smiled, “You’re looking much better Aro. New tattoos causing any trouble?”

“Everything good, boss!” Aro said with a playful salute. “So far. My girls haven’t let me play around with Dust yet.”

My girls. Penny stared at Aro’s odd choice of words. It made her feel… conflicted at first. She wasn’t an object, she wasn’t a weapon, but soon the cherishing warmth and protectiveness in the tone droned out her insecurities. At least a little. Penny would have to further analysis the phrase and emotions. May seemed to be having similar thoughts and reactions to Penny, but stronger. She let out a embarrassed noise, quickly unlinking her arms from Aro and escaping into the racks of clothes muttering something about finding a new outfit.

“You were always the odd runt of the litter,” Turk mused looking back at Aro. It was then that Aro became a little stiff and guarded. Her ears strained out even if her shoulder didn’t tense. “Your humans are very cute though-”

“I’m choosing to ignoring your patronizing,” Winter interrupted with a hard glare. Turk didn’t seem fazed, instead they just raised a brow in odd satisfaction. Where all Menagerie Faunus like this? Was… Aro like this or did Focus hid it? The Specialist looked between them and Aro, “What your implying… the tattoos react to Dust?” She asked Aro with an accusatory look.

“Dust and Aura,” Aro said, voice defensively. Her eyes shifted away as she took a smooth step back with a shrug. “It’s not harmful-”

“You say that while it’s untested,” Winter said.

“It’s been through generations of testing,” Aro said in a near growl, Focus leaving only a glowing white pupil. She looked… a panicked with her ears pinned low at the angle Penny hated the most. The sudden outburst shocked her two girlfriends into silence. Their reaction caused Focus to flicker. It didn’t deactivate it shrunk and stayed. “… Sorry,” Aro muttered looking away and retreating after May.

Penny saw Aro burry her face into May’s chest pulling her girlfriend in for a tight and comforting hug. May looked at them, confused. “What happen?” She signed at them.

“I upset her, sorry,” Turk signed back. May glared hard at the Faunus and lead Aro further into the store. The tattooist and store clerk turned back to Winter, “I’ll give you this for free to make up for ruining your date. The ink for those tattoos are made from flowers that grows around Dust crystals and deposits.”

“Sounds… very traditional.” Winter drawled, “Thank you for the new information.” She briskly marched walked away with Penny following closely after her. She looked between the two Faunus who awkwardly avoided staring at each other.

“Are Turk and Aro friends?” Penny asked softly. Winter closed her eyes for a brief moment. The tension that had slowly drew her shoulders tight melted a little when Penny linked their arms together.

“Perhaps?” Winter said hopeful. Then her voice soured a little, frustration a little more than boiling, “Aro has certainly never spoken of her previous life before Atlas.” Penny blinked and briefly went through her memory banks, even the archived ones.

She couldn’t recall Aro speaking about her family. Ciel constantly worries about her family and visits them whenever possible. All the money from various betting pools were given to her family. Even Xanthic talks about her uncle. Aurora spoke about Menagerie but never touched upon her personal experiences… It reminded Penny of how she drew upon the information she was preinstalled with.

When the pair found Aro, her ears perked up and she smiled brightly at them. May looked a little distressed at her side, face a little red as she had a handful of lingerie instead of public appropriate clothes.

“Please talk her out of it,” May asked.

“Hm,” Winter pretended to be stoic. She stared at Aro’s glowing eyes, as if trying to determine if this was an honest or an act. Instead Winter turned her attention to May with a controlled and level stare. “The purpose of this is to buy clothes that would prevent Aurora from overheating in Vale. The current selection of clothing would work.” May’s eyes widen, the blush tinting the tips of ears. Aro grinned happily. Some of her un-Focused behavior such as the small bounce and flap of her arms broke through. Winter sighed and patted Aro’s head, “You need to wear some kind of jacket or shawl with it. Understand?”

“Yep!” Aro said, nuzzling into the palm, even rising to her new toes.

“And we are getting you real clothes,” Penny added. May let out a breathe, blood slowly returning to her limbs. Aro agreed but stuck out her tongue and Penny saw the glint of metal through it. She tried to remember if that was another new addition or not.

It took nearly an hour for Aro to relax enough for Focus to deactivate again. Turk would occasionally help, or try to.

“I tailor and embroider Dust into the cloths. I’m just covering a shift.” They said through the curtain. Turk’s didn’t trigger Focus, but they also avoided any familiar talk, instead talking fashion with May. “Lingerie and loose robes are quiet popular back in Minstral, especially during the summer. I could find that easily enough.”

“That… That’d be great!” May said as Aro stripped out of shorts and another loose sleeved but thin top. Aurora had a weightlifter’s build, muscles hidden under fat and sculpted in areas that didn’t store it. Such as her back and arms. She usually wore a sports bra or bralette, this time it was a simple cross back bra with a matching thong that held the huntresses attention for more than a second.

Her back was facing them with a full length mirror still showing her front, Penny had a hard time deciding if the faux modesty was habit or tactful choice. After nearly an hour of watching Aro dress and strip, Penny understood her partner’s selection of clothes to be more out of necessity rather than preference. Muscular back and shoulders made pulling shirts over her horns difficult. But her girlfriends didn’t step in to help quite yet.

They just… stared for a few minutes. Admiring the… muscles that flex with each small movement… every breath…

When it was clear Winter and May was too busy restraining themselves, Penny took a step forward. To help. Her curious hands didn’t linger over skin inches away from the tangle top. She wasn’t slowing down to archive the sensation of hard muscle under soft civilian skin. She was completely objective in her goal of guiding the shirt over Aro’s shoulders and neck. Except Penny’s slow touches acclimated her sensors to Aro’s warm body and she nearly shivered at the rush of cool air when her hands had to leave her girlfriend’s skin to make sure her horns didn’t cut into the fabric.

"Thanks, Penny." Aro said, giving their two other girlfriends a teasing glance. She gave Penny a light kiss on the lips as a thank you.

Penny tensed for nanosecond. Her Aura flared across her processors trying to analyze and save the new sensation that buzzed across her lips but it was already overloaded with the feel of Aro’s back. The short contact wasn’t enough to decipher, so Penny followed Aro’s lips. She felt flexing muscles far beneath those soft lips, under her fingers she could feel Aura heat the ink on the base of her throat. Then a sound, hot breath across Penny’s face and a small tremble from Aro as her back hit the mirror.

“Penny,” Winter’s voice, lips and breathe grazed her ear. Penny was encouraged back by cool hands, but the new expression on Aro’s face had her craving more. She was dazed and flushed, heavy chest rising with deep breaths. The energy humming in the ink slowly faded, but it lured their eyes down and down.

May closed her eyes briefly, trying to keep them from wandering up and down her inked cleavage. “I’m starting to think this was a bad idea.”

“Oh you think!?” Winter snapped softly. When everyone managed to look Aro in the eyes again she work a smug grin that complimented the breathless and disheveled look.

“You look thirsty,” Aro signed. May let out a strangled noise. Quick glance and Penny could see her chest struggling for air, her neck and cheeks turning a lovely pink and growing darker. Winter growled in frustration, eyes hooded and hungry. Penny was busy trying to balance a power surge as her Aura flared. She wondered if it was illegal that the sign for thirsty was an index finger drawing down the throat, and what kind of punishment would be appropriate for the slow, teasing emphasis Aro placed on it.

“Ahem,” Turk cleared their throat from beyond the curtain. Everyone jumped a little. Penny was suddenly aware of how often their intimate moments were in public. Perhaps they’ll need to discuss that. “Here’s a few robes. Also we Faunus have sensitive noses… so either fuck and make it quick or hide the boners when you leave.”

Aro gave a breathless chuckle, making sure to avoid May’s direction as she shifted uncomfortably in place. "I’ll behave if you three behave," Aurora promised in sign language. Penny and May quickly nodded. Winter looked as if she wanted to rebel before shaking her head out of her heated daze.

“You’re advice has been noted but unnecessary,” Winter said. She reached out and pulled the new selection of clothes for Aro to try on, a little surprised when there was a little more than just robes. There were some outfits that suited Winter’s figure, Penny’s adorable and vintage aesthetic, and May’s current dress.

“Your welcome,” Turk sang as the couple heard their footsteps wander back to the front counter.

Penny tried to be more attentive to the difference in their behavior after that. Aro had always been physically affectionate, May was always easily embarrassed and Winter was always snuck in gentle smiles and touches when they were on military grounds. So the difference was very subtle, something she only noticed as the weeks passed.

At first it was small additional behaviors. Aro’s physical affections became lingering touching that danced over their skin. She loved to embrace her partners from behind, arms slowly wrapping around their waist, sliding down into a snug fit around their hips while her head found a comfortable spot on May and Winter’s shoulder, or in Penny’s case her head.

May’s reservations and fears transformed into an excited energy. Her embarrassment didn’t stop her from doing almost anything to get her girlfriends to smile. From horrible puns to outrageously clashing outfits during impromptu fashion shows during small shopping trips at the malls.

Though Penny found Winter’s dating behaviors to be the most… unrestrained of the three. Not always. Most of the time she was gentle with Penny, holding her hand and kissing her knuckles and wrist. When they were alone, Winter’s hands would travel up her arm and neck. The sensation would freeze Penny in place as her Aura raced through her system, temporarily overloading everything with a pleasant buzz. Winter’s thumb would graze Penny’s bottom lip and Penny would be chasing that soft touch for more and more until she was inches from Winter’s face.

This happened a few times a week. Gradually increasing in frequency as time further passed until finally Penny took action instead of reacting. The look and noise of surprise Winter expressed as her back hit the wall… As their lips finally met-

Winter groaned into the kiss, trying to match Penny’s force but her self-restraint protocols were barely in effect. Every push was matched in strength and a little more until Winter pulled away. When Penny tried to follow again there was a some resistance so she stopped with a frustrated huff and pout.

“You…” Winter murmured weakly out of breath. She tried to move but Penny wasn’t finished. She firmly placed her hands on Winter’s chest and pushed her back. Winter smiled, head against the wall with a laugh. Penny licked her lips. The sensation of touch was still new to her, her code always evolving as much as her hardware could allow and apparently after her first kiss with Aro the code readjusted. Or she never noticed her lips were just extremely sensitive. “Don’t you to need to breathe?” She said with a laugh.

Penny archived the image before her. Specialist Winter Schnee, the perfect soldier disheveled in a dark hallway of the Polendina Facility, gasping for breath from a kiss when the women could fight off a small horde of Grimm without effort. Neck exposed… throat flexing with each breath and swallow…

The sensation, reaction, behaviors, it was all still foreign and Penny was craving more.

“This is definitely romantic affection,” Penny whispered to herself. Perhaps her subconscious wanted Winter to hear it too. The smile on her lips was too addictive to be rewarding. She licked her lips trying to cherish the phantom sensation of Winter’s lips on hers. But her skin was cool, soft, her Aura buzzing and alive against Penny’s artificial skin. When Penny leaned in again, Winter was much more firm in stopping her with an index finger pushing on Penny’s lips.

“Slow,” Winter whispered in her ear. “We have two other partners to dance with.”

“As of right now, I’d rather have them watch,” Penny said with a frustrated pout. She blew the hot air building within her onto Winter’s neck. Penny wasn’t satisfied with the shiver that ran through Winter but considering all the new behaviors and reactions Penny discovered it was… close enough.

Penny did notice May and Winter took them much more seriously during training. They capitalized on every opening but didn’t do enough damage to end the fight. It slowly became a test of endurance, one that Penny would win if Winter’s didn’t have a Glyph for every occasion. It created so many variables it was frying Penny’s processors and slowing her reaction time. It was not the way Winter’s chest rise and fell, or the flush of exhaustion rising coloring her pale skin.

Penny smothered that line of inquires, sorting them for later and attacked again. During the rare moments Penny was able to keep up, Winter would use Time Dilation on herself or her summons.

“Agh!” A pack of blue and white Beowolves rushed at her. One shoulder slamming into her back. Penny felt the sharp pressure around her ankle. A shot from all fourteen guns of Floating Array freed her. Temporarily. The rest of the pack descended on the metal women suspended in air. Penny recalibrated her next shot, lengthening the duration. It wasn’t powerful, there was no time to charge it as the rest of the pack lunged. Weak but steady streams hit the second and third summons with just enough force to throw them off trajectory.

Within fractions of a second Winter redirected the fourth and fifth beowolves. Glancing blows didn’t slow their advancement. Claws white and misting blue nearly effulged her vision-

“Denied!”

Penny gasped, her body suddenly pulled down. Months ago her code wasn’t advance enough to feel wind breezing past her face as those sharp claws swiped inches out of reach. Aro’s arms wrapped around her. Penny braced for hard impact but her gyrostabilizer couldn’t detect the ground. Mix signals of false inputs confused her but she learned to ignore most of it. They’ll have to upgrade it before they’d leave for the tournament.

“Marigold!” Winter gave a frustrated yell. She stiffen as the Huntress was suddenly by her side, out of breath.

“Her upgrades made her a faster, alright?” May complained.

“Upgrades are meant to improve performance,” Penny said with a small giggle. She enjoyed contact from having her arms wrapped around Aro’s shoulders before she was suddenly pulled her chest.

Penny watched as those new tattoos glow a dull purple. The same color as gravity Dust. Penny barely had time to brace herself as there was a sudden increase in pressure. Even Aro grunted under the force. All around them, freshly summoned beowolves howled as they slammed into the ground, metal floor denting. Aro quickly released her teammate and Penny sprang off her thigh as soon as the gravity Dust was off. Before the beowolves recovered Penny sent her swords through them.

“You’re assistance is much appreciated, Friend Aro!”

“We aren’t done yet, Penn!” Aro crouched low. Combustion Dust locked in, a red and orange glow overpowering the passive purple. She smirked at their girlfriends. The elite graduates had recomposed themselves, giving them a combative stoic stare but a small and proud smile. Winter had only had one sword out but May was at her side, ready with the crossbowstaff. "We have a victory to secure against Opponent Schnee and Marigold!" With a blast Aro was rocketing towards them.

Penny landed hard on her feet, the density of her body almost bending the metal tiles of the training room. She reconfigured Floating Array. Seven blades hovering close to her body while seven guns charged to join in the rush. With her passive gravity and combustion Dust chambered in, Aro is faster and much more agile than Penny. The metal women decided to strike second, taking advantage of whatever opening Aro’s attack would create.

That problematic yellow glow of Time Dilation shined under Winter. Aro immediately increased her speed, a massive blast of combustion and several smaller ones to increase velocity. Floating Array roared like an engine, pushing Penny forward. She felt like she was chasing a bullet.

Suddenly Aro dodged in front of her, a black glyph under her previous path. “Good!” Winter said but she smirked as May appeared in a few feet in front of Aro, bayonet pointed at the hallow of Aro’s collarbone. “It doesn’t matter how fast you are if you’re predictable!”

“Now do better!” May yelled.

Aro growled at her. Even with her gravity Dust, a sudden change of direction at the necessary speed to dogde was unlikely. Instead Aro suddenly reached back without looking. She grabbed Penny’s blouse and threw her at May.

Penny felt an odd warp of gravity, like she was sling out of orbit. The huntress pair gasped, a black Glyph appeared in front of May in time to catch Penny and halt her attack. Time Dialation faded from their bodies as Winter rushed forward to protect May’s flank as prosthetic limbs and hard-light blades collided with her sword. May helped Winter push the attack back before Invisibility Field hid their retreat.

Penny was freed from the Glyph and landed on her feet. She stepped forward to protect Aro’s side. Despite all the training she was still the quickest to tire out. The civilian was already panting softly, sweat damping her skin and some even rolling down her neck. The steam venting from her legs didn’t help. Penny angled her guns up and behind before cooling off half of Floating Array.

Then they noticed a swirl of movement in the steam. Penny and Aro turned, looking up to defend or counter May or Winter’s attack. Instead Fiona appeared from the steam and took the opening to punched Aro in the abdomen. The blades of Robyn’s wrist mounted crossbow followed. In such tight quarters Penny didn’t have the space to maneuver Floating Array. She was forced to dodge away from Aro.

“Hey- Hey!” Xanthic yelled running up to the fight. She waved the steam out of her face. “If this is turning into a four on four match instead of a one on one can we have a breather?” The hacker asked. Ciel was the final one to arrive, freeing Robyn’s crossbow bolt out from her beret and putting it back on her head.

May dropped the Invisibility Field. The unauthorized and nearly rogue team of FRSM (Freshmint) stood besides their partners. Fiona with Robin and Winter with May, who was glaring at Xanthic’s newest accessory. A halo with an inner transparent cover to show off the circuitry, it hovered around her head with gravity Dust.

“Sure… if we get to break that ugly thing,” May said with a scowl.

“But it’s actually really functional,” Fiona protested softly. “I know… they… yeah. But they’re forcefully stuck together so you two need get over it.” Both May and Winter gave the tiny Faunus a fierce glare that had Penny flinching. She didn’t even buckle, or challenged them back, just gave them a soft pleading look.

With the anarchist pair on opposing sides of APCX, it took a bit of left and right to see that their appearance made a matching set. Penny and Ciel gasped, both their eyes growing wide with realization. The anarchists attitudes foiled each other to near staged perfection, their interest greatly overlapped, their intelligence set them at odds with many peers their age. Lately their behaviors were far too similar as if bad habits were resurfacing. All the hostility May and Winter had towards Xanthic…

Me and Glade have… history. Penny remembered Xanthic telling her once.

“You two dated?!” Ciel and Penny asked the hacker. With the information Penny got from Winter and May… the one relationship that let nearly broke Aro’s semblance, her voice was much… much angrier than Ciel’s. Penny could barely restrained her defensive protocals-

Xanthic sneered, cold and guarded. A look Penny previously thought as default and normal for her. “Dating is a nice word for horny ass teenagers.”

Penny wasn’t well practiced with negative emotions. They rarely surfaced in occasions where it was expected but jealously and anger caused her Aura to flare wildly. Several attack strategies, the instinct to defend Aurora bypassed several protocols.

But… Xanthic didn’t move to defend. She only stared down Penny, challenging her… Without any real fight, Penny realized. They got along like they were friends… but how much of it was an act under Focus?

“I’m not punishing you for what you did to Aurora.” Penny said looking away. She heard and saw the crackle of hard-light Dust. Her simulators could actually predict the defensive anger on her face but she tried to imagine the look of Ironwood’s face. With the protective glass and bright lights in the control room, Penny could only make our his silhouette.

You paired Aurora and Xanthic together, sir. Penny’s fist clenched tight and she looked back Winter. She tried to give a comforting look but with all the restrictions from the Military it was conflicted and nearly pained. Then stoic in a way a soldier needed to be. Meanwhile, May was furious, all attention focused on Xanthic.

“Break’s over!” Fiona called out. “Ready?”

“No…” Ciel and Penny muttered. Aro looked at them, resignation and sorrow odd with her glowing blue eyes. It seemed genuine but… everything did with Focus. “What’s the plan?” Penny asked softly.

“Survive and look good doing it,” Aro answered. Her voice was hallow. Penny’s head turned to Aro so fast there was no way she could have missed it before she looked at Fiona. “APCX, ready!”

For the first time Penny couldn’t focus on a fight. Her processors kept spinning the same information over and over again with no real goal. General Ironwood knew the damage between Aurora Glade and Ashley Xanthic and still paired them on a together.

Aro’s gravity Dust manipulation kept rendered escape impossible. Xanthic’s concentrated hard-light Dust weapons would take them out. It was an effortless and strategic show of force, picked to complement each other, just like how the Ace Operatives were handpicked to strength each other’s abilities.

Months of training created an automated defense but when Floating Array moved to cover Xanthic against May’s crossbowstaff… She hesitated. The strangled and pained gasp, the shimmering Aura threatening to break at the sharp blade and pressure. Xanthic was lifted from the ground, grabbed by the throat and slammed down.

Penny only watched and she regretted it.

She quickly fixed her defensive priorities. Defending Aurora and keeping Xanthic away wasn’t necessary right now. Neither was defending her… teammate Xanthic from opponent May. She was created, she wanted to protect people. Her swords angled in, blocking May’s next strikes and pushing her back.

No offensive move was made from APCX until Ciel intervened, chakrams soring in. May set off the explosive Dust when she blocked. APCX regrouped at Xanthic’s side. A pulse of gravity Dust brought lifted her back onto her feet.

“Why’d you stop her!” Xanthic scowled.

“Why didn’t you attack?” Ciel asked.

“Because it was the right thing to do,” Penny frowned at the pair.

“Discuss this later,” Aro said in a commanding tone. They all stood, back to back looking around the empty training room as Aro and Xanthic tried to sense out the Invisibility Field.

“You need a weapon,” Ciel threw Aro an annoyed glance. “You’re fast but they know you. There’s no way they’ll engage in melee, you’ve just been chasing them.”

“Too be fair I have been running from May and Winter for years,” Aro mused lightly. Her teammates groaned at her and Aro only laughed and winked. The laugh was fake, it didn’t have that rich rumble. Then Penny noticed an extra glow. Her eyes were bright, completely engulfed by Focus but the tattoo was softly glowing. The ink had changed into a hard-light cyan color, raw Dust energy gathering bright between her horns. "And to be fair, they only know my life in Atlas." She said with an almost hallow evenness of her voice.

Grabbing the raw hard-light energy, Aro pulled out a long whip with a flourish. She ejected a fire Dust cartridge from her leg and applied it to the handle, changing the cyan glow to an ominous red. It traveled along the length on the next crack, a plum of fire bursting from the tip.

Fiona and May screamed, Winter and Robyn grunted. Invisibility Field dropped to reveal them scrambling away from the blast. Fiona grabbed May and shook her a little, "Can you not be a horny ass right now and fight?!"

“Sh-Shut it!” May scoffed, pushing the leader of FRSM off her. The four quickly disappeared again. Penny giggled. She saw a surprised look on all four elite graduates but a flush across Winter and May’s face before they retreated.

“Aurora,” Ciel sighed in annoyance, “Have you really been holding back all this time?”

Aro didn’t answer. She just looked at the whip in her hands and twirled it lightly, winding up for another crack. Once again May screamed and raced to get out of the blast, Invisibility Field faltering. Another crack and Winter was nearly sent sprawling to the ground. Apparently her Faunus traits allowed Aro to scent out the pair. Penny giggled at May and Winter’s blush when Aro tapped her nose and winked.

With additional range support, APCX had a brief advantage. They focused on May and Winter, attacking them while Ciel kept Robyn and Fiona at bay with Clockwork and her chakrams. Almost overwhelming them until a sudden buzzer sounded.

Penny frowned and looked at the board. No one took damage… but semblance and Dust used Aura. Aro’s attack had drained her Aura to 10%, similarly Xanthic was low from her previous hits and highly charged attacks.

Aro walked to the waiting room. Without her support the fight quickly fell into FRSM favor. Xanthic was the next to fall, a powerful elbow from Winter felt a little personal.

Ciel and Penny turned their attacks to Robyn, determine to at least defeat one of the elite graduates. But Clockwork worked both worked with and against them. It was an AOE semblance, unable to tell the difference between friend and foe. Everything within the area slowed, including the projectiles Floating Array fired.

When Ciel dropped the AOE, Robyn dodged or blocked the projectile. She laughed and shook her head, “That’s right girls, chase the birdie.” She beckoned the pair forward.

Out of FRSM, Robyn’s semblance was the least threatening in combat. Sensible teams would try to take advantage of that. The elite graduates used that thinking to their advantage. Penny and Ciel stood back to back, scanning the empty room.

Penny didn’t have Aro or Xanthic’s sensory equipment. She didn’t detect May or Winter in front of them until Invisibility Field was deactivated. May’s grin and heavy breaths was a sharp contrast to her partners even and stoic stare behind the saber pointed at Penny.

Penny took a deep breath and sighed, “APCX concedes.” She said. Winter gave a small smile, a proud one that made the defeat and… revelations a little softer.

After a quick clean up Fiona rounded up everyone outside of Atlas. “Excellent work everyone! I’m glad you two are recovering from the upgrades.” She smiled up at Aro and prounce a little at Xanthic to swipe up at the halo, making it wobble and spin.

Penny stood with May and Winter, trying not to glare at how well the two looked with their accessories. “This… explains your previous hostilities.” Penny murmured. They watched Fiona continue to play with the halo until she completely pulled it from Xanthic’s head. She laughed and ducked behind Aurora who laughed softly as the small Faunus deftly dodge the hacker’s grabs. “Are they friends?”

“Fuck no!”

“That isn’t your call, May.” Robyn quickly chided. She lead Ciel to the polymerous trio even though the officer seemed reluctant to join. “They’re stuck together and you two are making it worse.”

“If it makes you two feel better…” Ciel nervously started, “They act more like brother and sisters.” Penny nodded in agreement though she doesn’t understand the full context of that phrase. It was definitely not romantic, platonic? Maybe. May and Winter looked unconvinced so Ciel smirked a little, “Xan is the younger brother with the inferiority complex.”

“Fuck you!” Xanthic yelled at her. “I’m not inferior and I’m not fucking friends with any of you!” She said chasing a giggling sheep around a goat that was starting to get a little overwhelmed. Penny noticed for the first time Focus was deactivated with Xanthic. She gave Penny a helpless stare.

Penny giggled and pulled her out of the circle. Without a barrier Xanthic quickly caught Fiona but her halo was absorbed into her semblance.

“Thyme! Give it back!”

“Never!” Fiona laughed trying to free herself as Xanthic started to vigorously shake her up and down.

May scoffed at the scene, “You two only like her because she steals for Mantle.” She said glaring hard at her leader. Robyn didn’t shrink. If anything she straightened her back and looked down at May.

“It’s almost as if she’s trying to atone.”

“Fuck off!”

“May,” Aro’s voice was an odd type of commanding without Focus. It wasn’t charismatic like Robyn but harder like Winter’s. “Just be civil. You can hate her, forgive her, whatever.” She shrugged. Then Aro smiled at Penny and linked their arms pressing herself tight to her partners side. She looked back at Winter who tried to retreat without losing grace. “We’re stuck together because of Ironwood. No need to make it worse.”

It took a while for Winter to meet Aro’s gaze. She didn’t speak right away. Instead she held her hand out towards Robyn who took it with Lie Detector flaring at contact. “I would have stopped him if I had known,” Winter said softly. It glowed green.

Aro looked at Penny for a second then away. Penny wanted to be an observer again. For a moment she didn’t want to be reminded about the string of lies Ironwood had wrapped around her. Aro had looked at her with resignation Penny understood for all of her life.

“You would have tried to stop him,” Penny corrected softly. In the end even Winter was under his command. A tense silence fell over the group. Even the atmosphere was a little quiet as the sunset and military life slowed. They heard Xanthic’s footsteps as she walked up.

“We leave for one second and you idiots get all depressed. I didn’t even give you guys bad news.” Xanthic scowled. Fiona thrown over her shoulder but her halo back around her head. She threw her to Robyn who caught her with a smile.

“Fighting not enough of an exercise, lambchop?”

“That just got my blood pumping!” Fiona said with a large smile and ears wiggling. The two kissed briefly before Robyn set her down. She finally took in the mood and settled down a little, “Okay… so what did we miss?”

“Me and Penny should be asking that,” Ciel said with a scowl, “What other secrets you have?”

Xanthic scowled at her. The familiar and faux hostility calming the tense air a little. Then Xanthic raised a brow and posed with a superior smirk, “I faked my death and like to fuck random girls in the dance floor.”

Surprised glanced were immediately turned to Aurora who gave everyone a surprisingly fierce glare for how hard she blushed. “E-Excuse you?!”

“Here’s a real secret,” Xanthic said crossing her arms, “Ironwood has us leaving before the others.” Everyone gave the polymerous couple a sympathetic look. The fight from May quickly dissolved into near defeat while Winter was growing furious.

“What,” Winter scowled. “He didn’t tell me anything.”

“Wasn’t the end of the last conversation all about how he doesn’t need to tell you shit?” Xanthic scoffed rolling her eyes. They landed hard on Penny, “Perhaps if someone didn’t start something in the middle of a surveillance military facility Ironwood wouldn’t have seen it.”

“When?” May asked.

Xanthic gave her a confused glare, “When they made out in the hallway?”

“No!” May sputtered a little red from the statement and frustration. “When is APCX leaving you dumbass!”

“About two weeks from now. He was probably trying to spring this on us so me and Aro doesn’t have time to prepare. Ironwood is sending us to Argus first for some maintenance work. Then we’re to investigate the crimes going on in Vale.”

Penny didn’t really pay attention to Xanthic after the first sentence. She looked at May’s scared eyes and Winter’s conflicted glare. She could feel the resigned air around Aro, calming the normally excitable and happy women.

Their short time together continued to hang above their head even after getting ready for the night and nearly half an hour of restless cuddling on the bed. The huntresses were being rather selfish with their younger pairs. May held Aurora tightly to her, back turned to Winter and Penny. The Specialist ensured Penny was half laid on top of her, a hand brush over the nightgown… over where her belly button would be.

“Are you coming back…” May whispered. Penny nearly shot up and reached for her but Winter held her close. Penny shuffled, looking as Aro gently pressed May’s back to the bed and hovered over her. Sea-green eyes gazed down back at gold ones, both valuable and scared. May turned away, trying to wipe tears from her face. “Ironwood, the SDC, Atlas is slowly killing you-”

Gently Aurora took one of May’s hands. She kissed the tears smeared across her finger tips and then guided it to her neck. May’s hands slowly traced the tattoo. Her hands grew bolder, reassured by the deep purr Aurora let out. “What can I do if the ink on my skin isn’t enough to show my devotion to you and the others…” She whispered.

May grabbed a horn and pulled her down to a kiss. Penny watched Aurora slowly calm May’s desperate lips with her slow earnest ones. It didn’t stop tears from salting their kisses but Penny could remember warmth and love behind it.

Winter’s hand came up, cupping Penny’s cheek and gently guiding her eyes back to her. Penny held Winter’s hand, gaze on her neck. Part of her was scared to see tears spilling from the strongest amongst them. Slowly Winter’s hand pulled Penny’s face closer and closer, until their foreheads was touching and there was nowhere else to look besides blue defeated eyes. Penny almost wished she was crying instead.

“We won’t ask you to come back to Atlas…” Winter said. Her hands drifting over her button-less belly. “But please promise me you and Aurora will take care of each other. No matter what you two decide.”

Penny smiled, trying to lift Winter’s mood. She wasn’t quite sure it worked but Winter returned it with the small amount of energy she still had. “It is my duty as her partner.” Penny pointed out. Still she sealed the promise with a kiss.

Neither Aurora or Penny answered May’s question.

100% Complete.

Timestamped: Day 363 since creation. Day 136 of APCX’s formation. Approximately ██ since PAWM ██████ █████

#Penny Polendina #fic #cutting strings #pre-fall of beacon #Aurora Glade #winter schnee #May Marigold #pfenning #qued

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horrorhare · 5 years ago

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I think it’s about time I collect myself and put in my own 2 cents on the RWBY V7 E12 situation.

I started watching RWBY when I was in like, 7th grade. I’ve been here since the Red Trailer. I’ve gone through this show and watched it evolve and devolve, take turns and twists and upset people over and over again. It is not the perfect show and it never was.

But there’s a huge difference between that and what happened today. This wasn’t just a little flaw, but a colossal mistake on CRWBY’s part. Very rarely do I come across media that have solid MLM rep. Sometimes it’s just “subtle”, never worked upon even if there’s obvious romance within the show. Other times it’s fetishy, stereotypical, and unrealistic. So much media treats being a gay man like it’s a problem, a sin, a mistake, a secret. I thought finally, FINALLY, a show that I really enjoy that I’ve been following since the very beginning of my own journey towards figuring out who I am, would have that representation.

I’d also like to mention that I am a storyteller, I’m majoring in Animation so I’m able to tell stories, write and design characters, develop a world and it’s people. As someone who’s studying film and media and cartoons, picking things apart to figure out what’s right and what doesn’t work, it’s incredibly frustrating to see something with so much potential be put to waste.

Why go through the trouble to design a character who’s obvious purpose was to compliment, bring up, and develop another character and then throw that all away for something “dramatic”? Stuff like in E12 isn’t “showing your true colors”, it’s blatantly written out of character. To make something like that work, you have to signal and clarify that not all is as it seems. Working up towards that “big moment” felt wasted because it never had buildup in the first place. So many people today have said it felt wrong, it felt out of place, like it wasn’t real. Well? It’s because it didn’t work.

Why did Penny’s death work? Because Metal vs Polarity was an obvious set up, Cinder could be seen insinuating she was planning something with Penny, there was obvious build up.

Why did Pyrrha’s death work? Simple, Achilles heel. Who she was based upon made it clear something was up, such a strong chadacyer had to have a weakness. From the start with the crushes and romance, team building, to the maidens and destiny to her final moments, it all made sense. Yes, it hurt, it hurt a lot to watch Pyrrha die, but it didn’t make me want to stop watching the show because it worked.

So what exactly made Clover’s death not work? Well, for one, you shoe horned him into one damn volume. Yes, Lionheart was in one volume, but he was set up to be weak and hated, he was a traitor who was hurting the cast rather than helping. Clover was set up as a perfect foil to Qrow, expected to have great character interactions with him since it was constantly teased at.

As someone who writes, who develops characters, and knows their way around animation, I saw things that I expected were going to be built upon. A professor of mine taught us to have every frame, every composition, every set up to mean something. From the way they smile, to the way they look at a character, to the dialogue, down to even the smallest bit of body language. CRWBY seemingly wrote Qrow, a broken character who was recovering, to have an intentionally complimentary queer-coded foil, only to lose all that great development and buildup to one poorly written episode.

There’s one crucial thing I’ve been taught by multiple professors, and that is the writing technique of establish and resolve.

What CRWBY established was a clearly deep connection between Qrow and Clover, a connection built upon flirtatious gestures and phrases, along with clear and exciting growth.

What CRWBY didn’t do was resolve. They did the flip opposite of resolve. Instead of taking the time to develop on an interesting conflict between characters, they took the cop out route and killed off one of them swift in order to give it “angst”. I mean, for real, it played out like I was reading something fan made, like the people who wrote it didn’t know the characters.

Why would Qrow team up with Tyrian, a serial killer whom he does not trust who has fought him, attempted to kill him, and attempted to kidnap his niece? Why would Clover, a man “loyal to his kingdom”, suddenly blindly follow Ironwood’s actions to abandon his kingdom, after being paired up with a character clearly close linked with rebellion? I’m not blind, people. The utter potential to write interesting scenes between these two is near limitless and instead they go for something completely out of no where.

Specifically, like I mentioned before, Pyrrha’s death hurt me. But I continued to watch. I wanted to keep watching because after lying down her life to protect Beacon, her friends moved forward in order to continue spreading peace to Remnant. They kept moving forward.

Why is Clover’s death so upsetting? Because after moving so far forward for so long, Qrow is going to start moving back. This show, since day one, no matter the conflict, was about pushing through and moving forward. And from what I’m seeing, Qrow has been set up to relapse. Something incredibly horrid to see after a character has made such progress.

It’s not enjoyable to watch, it’s not exciting, it’s not alluring. It’s agonizing and hurtful.

And yes, the big red cherry on top is the fact that out of all I just said, they took away the chance to have an amazing badass MLM couple that wasn’t just “a secret”, that wasn’t just “a fetish”, but something that had weight. Something that had meaning. Something that made people feel happy and represented.

This was never about our ship not becoming canon, this was about poor writing, poor development, and yet another queerbaiting scenario after decades of other shows doing the same exact thing.

All I have to say at this point, after taking a whole Saturday to grieve over this damn episode, is that I’m extremely disappointed. Volume 7 from episodes 1 to 11 have been my favorite, but it hurts to watch all that progress be completely done in by one poorly written episode.

#lu yells #fair game #rwby7 #sorry fellas but i jusf had to get it all out #this shit is still so frustrating i dont undersfand how they could fuck it up so badly

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rujeangheilm · 3 years ago

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Toy Story’s Story

Toy Story is the first computer animated film. It tells the story of two toys, Buzz Lightyear and Sheriff Woody. The film required four years of effort to make which came out in 1991, marked a major shift in the way animation was viewed and performed. It was the first full-length film to feature a fully computer-animated character. The film’s plot was about a battle between old and new. The traditional toy doll character, Woody, is forced to contend with the new toy Buzz Lightyear, who usurps his affections. With Toy Story, Walt Disney Studios surpassed expectations with a movie that was both technologically and emotionally compelling. It's the one that started it all.

For more than two decades, Pixar has been producing some of the most iconic animated films in the industry. From Toy Story to Finding Nemo, the studio has always excelled at creating great characters and settings. Since 1995, Pixar has continuously pushed the envelope in terms of technology and storytelling. With each new movie, the studio continues to push the envelope even further. Since its inception in 1993, they have been working hard to create the first computer-animated film in history. Today, the company is one of the most trusted names in Hollywood. For as great as Walt Disney and Pixar have been, it's the stories that make them so special that matter most.

Many changes have been made to the way computer graphic animation works since 1995. These changes have allowed us to experience new worlds and new characters. Before computers were able to create animated characters, the work of animators was typically done in seconds or minutes. For this project, the challenge was to create a complete world that was fully animated. The members of the Modeling and Layout groups help the animators get started by providing them with shots that are already ready for animation. They also help minimize gross level motion by blocking it out. The traditional hand-drawn method of animation begins with drawing key poses for each character. These are drawn from an exposure sheet and a dope sheet, which contain a breakdown of the action and the words and stress that fall in the dialogue. After drawing the key poses, a cleanup artist is tasked with ensuring that they conform to the established look. The conditions for making this movie were relatively limited. The pay was not much for the animators who would come on board, but they were promised a place in the future of animation. Around 27 animators worked on the project at a time, and 400 computer models were utilized to create the characters' movements. The animators then coded the various parts of the film, which allowed them to make the characters move in various ways. The animators then tried to make this transition more natural for viewers. The animators started working on the scenes once they were set, and then added additional details such as lighting and shading. Still, they stuck to the limitations of live-action animation while still keeping it realistic.

FUN FACT: The animator of Toy Story based all the characters to his own toy collection.

It was also mentioned that lights and shadows are very critical to the making of the first Toy Story, since colors back then to transmit digitally is very limited. Schemes are just within the primary colors, so, they use shadowing and lighting adjustments in order to get their desired shades. From working frame by frame, into having layers of traditional references, it was then shown that as time goes by, technology has evolved and creativity and discovery became broader.

To see how far the company has come in just under 30 years, take a look at Toy Story 4. The animation in the film is some of the best in its history. While it's clear that Toy Story is dated, it's still impressive to see how far the company has come. The film's stunning visual style is still very much in keeping with the toy-centric world of today. Many elements were necessary to make the film, such as character development, unique software tools, and the creativity of the artists and designers. Animation on a computer is refined through a series of adjustments, which include the use of a broad gesture to convey the intended text. Unlike traditional animation, which only has key poses for an entire character, computer-generated characters can have multiple key frames for various parts of their bodies. One other advantage of working on a computer is that animators can see and hear their shot in real time. This allows them to draw styles and proportions that are consistent across all platforms. The animators keep things simple while still making sure that the toys look as good as they always have. They also use more 3D technology to give the toys a more immersive look. One thing that will stand out to you right away is how the animators managed to keep both Buzz and Woody looking good while making some changes to the animation itself.

Now, seeing the film Toy Story, as an artist myself, I cannot help but to be in awe, seeing how articulate the creatives were in terms of details. All textures, colors, shadings, thickness and vibrance of every material seen in the movie especially within the images of the characters, everything was on point. It has shown that the quality of work has transformed into a better technique, whereas, it surely demonstrated a clearer and modern resolution of an animation’s features. From forky’s glitter glue, to woody’s cowboy suit’s linen, you can see how meticulous and how cartoon turns into something as realistic as it might be. All movements became as smoothly transitioned, flowy and without any stop motion evidently present even though there are still framing of each movement used. Softwares and editing has also made a huge impact as 3D drawings can be positioned to make a live action by just using digital commands.

Truly, the animation has gone far! And surely, it’s perfection, progression and development will continuously prosper and be appreciated, until limitless, without barriers and ends. Just as what Buzz said, for me, creativity is what has to touch the media industry ‘To infinity and Beyond!”

-RU JEAN GHEIL R. MEEHLEIB

Ashton, W. (2019, June 27). Toy Story Vs. Toy Story 4: How Pixar’s Animation Has Changed Over The Last 24 Years. CINEMABLEND. https://www.cinemablend.com/news/2475686/toy-story-vs-toy-story-4-how-pixars-animation-has-changed-over-the-last-24-years

Cook, M. (2020, November 18). Toy Story at 25: how Pixar’s debut evolved tradition rather than abandoning it. The Conversation. https://theconversation.com/toy-story-at-25-how-pixars-debut-evolved-tradition-rather-than-abandoning-it-149873

GCU. (2019, September 16). The Evolution of Toy Story’s Animation. https://www.gcu.edu/blog/performing-arts-digital-arts/evolution-toy-storys-animation

Henne, M., Hickel, H., Johnson, E., & Konishi, S. (1996). The Making of Toy Story. COMPCON Spring ’96. Published. http://people.uncw.edu/ricanekk/teaching/spring09/csc100/lectures/pattersone/TheMakingOfToyStory.pdf

Pixar Animation Studios. (2015). Art and Technology at Pixar, from Toy Story to today. SIGGRAPH ASIA. Published. https://graphics.pixar.com/library/SigAsia2015/paper.pdf

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beliamh-its-me · 4 years ago

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Performance overview & Research

The overarching theme of My Country is inspired by the question, ‘How united is the United Kingdom?’. The idea behind the theme derived from the contrasting verbatim scripted opinions surrounding Brexit. Through acknowledging the vast amount of opinions and stories, we compared each region to the referendum results. Not only did this support our theme, it helped to structure the fictional manifestations of regional characters. For example, Caledonia’s persona has been based off the Scottish remain vote totalling 62.0% (BBC, 2016). So, in order to amplify this, Caledonia is extremely defensive and angry in a way to foreshadow the verbatim lines. Brexit links to the exploitation of corruption within the UK’s patriotism, something amplified in the script. A poignant line, to support the theme comes from Theresa May, ‘...a vision that works not for the privileged few’. The message shows the government promoting the UK as a satisfied minority, proposing changes are needed. This idea finishes the play, leaving the audience questioning the current political climate. We aspire to start a conversation, about politics and its importance. May, quickly became the Conservative party leader. Offering an idea that Brexit was a distant idea, until it was not, accompanied with unsettling optimism. Another issue that arises is the name ‘Brexit’. Broken-down it means ‘Britain’ and ‘Exit’. This means Northern Ireland is excluded from the branding, linking to a long history of division within the UK, and is played on in the script. The major element, being the lack of spoken lines from NI through verbatim, to create the sense of lesser respect for NI’s opinions. The theme of delight breaks tension in the performance. During the fictional scenes, there is shared food, facts and laughter! This is important in remaining partial, but mostly to celebrate the UK for individuality. The constant return of the characters throughout the verbatim sections, create a sense of familiarity. The creative vision is synonymous with the medium, Zoom. The Guardian (2019) reported that Farage’s party accounted for 51% of all shared content on Facebook and Twitter during the campaign. Meaning that Brexit was a social media operation. We used this to incorporate the fictional characters. This is shown through using Facebook inspired videos that indicate joining a ‘Pub Chat’ group call. This implies the characters oversee the verbatim characters, and join the audience in watching the performance. Further, creating a sense of realism as the audience form a relationship with the fictional characters. Both parties are learning about the Brexit repercussions, however the voices of the nation’s get drunk instead resolving the issues within the discussion. This imitates life, as Brexit was unclear.

The creative vision started with explicit use of the Facebook page however, due to complications of practicality, we decided to use the page as an implied structure, through ‘Pub chat’ videos. This was determined after wanting to use a link to the page, to display images alongside monologues. The page distracted the words being spoken, so we refrained. Click here for rehearsal footage

In two ways we have portrayed to the audience the right atmosphere. First, creating a sense of urgency through breaking up scenes with movement and digital influence. This mirrors the masses of campaigning prevalent at the time, and allows information to form in an unbiased way. The second aspect is placing the audience vote before the ‘vote’ scene. This immerses the audience and clarifies a timeline of the performance.

We discussed other avenues to separate the fictional characters from verbatim. Through development of the first scene, we determined that costume would support our intentions. All fictional scenes have Union Jack hats and tops. This is so we can physically change our aesthetic to make transitions easier for the audience. Click here for rehearsal footage.

Research:

My Country- a work in progress, is a verbatim play created by Carol Ann Duffy and Rufus Norris (2017). Duffy is an award-winning writer for her work writing raw and expressive poetry and plays. Duffy’s work includes Take My Husband (1982) and Standing Female Nude (1985). Rufus Norris has acted, written and directed numerous plays/operas such as, Market Boy (2006), Cabaret(2007) (BBC, 2013). Together these playwrights have been able to create an enticing piece surrounding the Brexit debate, with views from numerous angles of the leave/remain spectrum. Verbatim interviews promise direct access to actual lived experiences and make them authentic (Fisher, 2011). To convey Brexit and the volume of controversy surrounding it, verbatim is one of the best ways to express the UK’s concerns fairly. The final vote was 51.9% Leave, 48.1% remain (BBC, 2016). This shows that it is almost impossible to depict the UK’s opinions without using both sides, especially when looking at regions such as Northern Ireland and Scotland who have a troubled history with England. Summerskill (2021) see’s verbatim as ‘Documenting aspects of historical material which tend to be missing from other sources relating to lived experience (p. 24). With the combination of media, technology can thicken participant’s experience, through building different versions of reality, or spaces (Burnett, 2019). This supports our intentions to blend education with theatrics. It also justifies our ideas to improve audience connection. Our audience, typically, were under the voting age during the referendum. This means that, although the effects of Brexit will deeply govern their lives, they had no say in the matter. With the use of verbatim we can transfer the thoughts, feelings and facts from the UK to give the audience an education. Although Brexit has happened, the British Youth Council (2020) are still fighting for young people to be ‘stakeholders in [their] future’. Through reminding them of the past we could motivate them to work on their future in this country. The challenges of creating a political performance entail removing any bias, to allow a genuine response from audience members. If it is done correctly, the abstract creation of political theatre can initiate enquiry and evaluation instead of negative confrontation (Kritzer, 2008).

When looking at companies to influence ideas throughout the creative process, I wanted to draw on two avenues:

The first, being movement to enhance the digital platform. As the creator of the ‘Feast’ and ‘Europe’ sequences, I wanted to make sure that we were utilising the ability to make smaller gestures, whilst still adding abstract and full-bodied movement. I drew inspiration from DV8, a physical theatre company. DV8’s published work of Can We Talk About This?, depict a woman talking in verbatim whilst holding a tea cup. The movement around her is abstract and exciting. The idea to have a focus whilst also conveying deeper dramaturgical control is powerful and I wanted it to be seen within the above-mentioned scenes.

The second, the incorporation of portraying political information. I have drawn on a slightly abstract perspective for this influence. This American Life (2020) by Ross Gay explores delight, which is one of our themes, in this there is a podcast of a boy getting the bus for the first time. Although he is surrounded by the excitement of childhood, he still speaks of death and anxiety. This is something echoed in our piece, a lot of the audience members have been treated like children in the eye of Brexit, but are being given the platform to learn it as they maybe should have at the time. We use our polls to give the audience the chance to express this.

The link below will take you to a specific research document for this performance, containing sources for performance material and references.

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1X5ibI5xWIoWm3bK9W6aAgplQtarR-Hq5gq8m9uGf1u4/edit

The link below will take you to the social media page:

https://www.facebook.com/RuleBritannia1922

Bibliography

Afflick, R. (2020). ‘British Youth Council urge Government to consult young people on Brexit’. British Youth Council, 31 January. Available at: https://www.byc.org.uk/news/2020/british-youth-council-urge-government-to-consult-young-people-on-brexit (Accessed: 12 March 2021).

‌BBC (2015). ‘EU Referendum Results’. BBC News. Available at: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/politics/eu_referendum/results (Accessed: 2 March 2021).

Burnett, C. et al. (2019) ‘Conceptualising Digital Technology Integration in Participatory Theatre from a Sociomaterialist Perspective: Ways Forward for Research’, Research Papers in Education, 34(6), pp. 680–700. Available at: https://search.ebscohost.com/login.aspx?direct=true&db=eric&AN=EJ1229827&site=eds-live&scope=site (Accessed: 12 March 2021).

DV8 (2021). DV8 Physical Theatre. Dv8.co.uk. Available at: https://www.dv8.co.uk/media-portal (Accessed: 8 May 2021).

DV8 (2021). DV8 Physical Theatre. Dv8.co.uk. Available at: https://www.dv8.co.uk/projects/can-we-talk-about-this/foreword-by-lloyd-newson (Accessed: 12 May 2021).

Fisher, A. (2011) ‘Trauma, Authenticity and the Limits of Verbatim’, Performance Research, 16(1), pp. 112–122. doi: 10.1080/13528165.2011.561683

Gay, R.. (2020). The Show of Delights - This American Life. Available at: https://www.thisamericanlife.org/692/the-show-of-delights (Accessed: 12 May 2021).

Kritzer, A. (2008) Political Theatre in Post-Thatcher Britain: New Writing, 1995-2005. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan

My Country: A Work In Progress by C.A. Duffy (2017)

Savage, M. (2019). ‘How Brexit party won Euro elections on social media – simple, negative messages to older voters’. The Guardian, 29 June. Available at: https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2019/jun/29/how-brexit-party-won-euro-elections-on-social-media (Accessed: 26 April 2021).

Smith, N. (2013). ‘Rufus Norris: Who is the new National Theatre director?’ BBC News, 15 October. Available at: https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/entertainment-arts-24532470 (Accessed: 10 March 2021).

Summerskill, C. (2021) Creating verbatim theatre from oral histories. Routledge: New York.

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collapsedsquid · 5 years ago

Link

One of the cruelest paradoxes that “flatten the curve” illustrates is that the claims you most want to evaluate are probably least amenable to being put into a form that can be evaluated. The post discusses with great erudition the problem of when a scientific concept becomes a meme, received very differently by disparate audiences and transmitted at lightning speed.

And this is to say nothing of the enormous difficulties in getting people that distrust each other immensely to submit to a shared mechanism of evaluation. Arguments like this often become proxies for unresolvable arguments about whether or not social status and resources have been correctly allocated and/or proxies for larger ideological, cultural, and personal feuds. It’s part of why predictions are overrated. Not because they are useless or there is some kind of aura of mystery that prevents us from making and judging them. But because the predictions that are most important to us tend to defy the most straightforward mechanisms of formulation and evaluation.

This is also perhaps why proposed remedies to great failures to control systemic problems also take on a primarily polemical character. Proposing more “skin in the game” is fine as expression of discontent but it is unclear whether or not it would be a socially beneficial policy. Skin in the game is a desire that the interests of principals and agents become more closely aligned. But it is difficult to find nontrivial cases in which they are, and the costs of attempting to forcibly create alignment may not be worth the benefits relative to other schemes for so-called ‘public morality’ in society. Polemic emerges in lieu of a clear resolution to something that people (justifiably) have impassioned feelings about.

One possible answer to this is to insist on rigor and try to aim for some neutral and objective standard. Epistemic hygiene movements tend to fixate on this, fighting the natural tendency of people to avoid arguing over discrete and tangible things and to differ vigorously about the basic parameters of the discussion at hand. But this seems like a lost cause. After all, if it were possible to get people to hold to these common constraints much of this would be far easier. Hence, while withering in my criticism of the ‘expert system’ mode of information regulation, I did not offer unqualified praise for the self-styled ‘weirdos’ that oppose it. As I noted in the prior post I linked, it is likely unwise to embrace a ‘Year Zero’ approach.

The past few posts have discussed the decay and decline of a mechanism for information regulation fundamentally rooted in the assumption that modern societies are best managed by closed and exclusive bureaucratic entities and/or communities of practice tasked with the management of specialized information. The emergence of the Internet and the growth of large computational platforms has, in this view, opened a Pandora’s Box of junk information that threatens the viability of these entities and by extension common perceptions of shared reality. This is the base of the counter-disinformation approach I have criticized, at least in crude outline.

Yet as Ben Thompson argued, this viewpoint both underrates the explosion of useful information as well as the utility of this new information as a hedge against self-regulation problems by legacy institutions. One of the major criticisms that many have voiced online about legacy institutions’ responses to COVID-19 is the manner in which fear of looking crazy or empowering “bad faith actors” stifled recognition of uncertainty and danger. To paraphrase George Orwell, better to be crazy than barbarous. Hence, indifferent to social pressures and already expected to be crazy, the self-styled weirdos were free to sound the alarm and take preventive action.

This is an excerpt from an extended piece about the infopocalypse we are facing using partially @nostalgebraist‘s “mind viruses about body viruses“ as a jumping-off point. The anti-polemic gesture is also something that I felt was important, I get annoyed at people who want to make this a morality play

I posted earlier that I though I actually was well-served by news media, and this piece sort of gets at that. I feel like my thing here is the very basic “You have to know who you are getting information from,“ you have to know the language and the signifiers, you have to know who’s gonna be weird in what way. You have to be able to decode and compensate their interpretation, and you have to try to trace ideas to where they started. You have to know when a story looks too on-the-nose to be true. And yeah, it does help to have a group of people you know that you can bounce stuff off of, hence *gestures around* this.

Worrying part through is that this is not a general solution, I do this shit because I am brain-poisoned but it doesn’t solve the problem of getting people in general informed and on the same page. All is have half formed *mumble *mumble* organic intellectuals *mumble *mumble*

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sarahghetti · 6 years ago

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call me in the morning [part one]

Series Summary: One year after the death of his wife, Barry has just begun to piece his life back together. Then, his superpowered doppelganger shows up, kidnaps him, impersonates him, and mistakenly brings him and Detective West to this so-called “Earth-1.”

As if it couldn’t get any more complicated, in this world -

You’re still alive.

Part One: E2!Barry is reminded of the past and finds it staring back at him.

We used to walk in the night, watch the city lights changing Now I look in your eyes and feel like a stranger

Word Count: 3334

Warnings: Major character death (it’s you. you’re the dead wife)

A/N: an e2!barry/e1!barry x reader and uhhh this ain’t a happy one yall. perspective will alternate between e1!barry, e2!barry, and the reader, so keep on the lookout for the subheadings to know who we’re following!

E2!Barry

All things considered—Barry’s having an awful day.

He’d slept through his alarm, scrambled into work with his sweater inside-out, spilt coffee all over his desk. An intern had misplaced his case files the night before, leaving him to reorganize his entire cabinet for the first (late) hour. Then, just when he thought he had survived the worst of it all—a momentary power outage had interrupted his assay, forcing him to restart the analysis.

Oh, and there was another Zoom attack.

The name still sends chills down his spine. Barry’s mouth dries up at the mention, fingers rapidly twisting his wedding band as he rides out the fear and panic. Captain Singh had dismissed him from working on any case involving that speedster, that monster, after the incident, but that doesn’t stop the other officers at the CCPD from talking about Zoom when they think he isn’t listening. If anything, the pitying looks and sudden silences when he makes his presence known is somehow worse.

No one dares to bring it up. There had been the initial shock once everyone caught wind of the verified casualties that day, the not-so-subtle glances his way when Singh went down the list. Barry remembers everything in that moment—he had been standing near the back of the group, by the doorway leading out to the main atrium. You had picked out his bowtie that morning, a deep navy blue to match his grey blazer, pecked him on the lips before he left for work.

And Singh had read out your name. Softly. Carefully. Let the syllables roll off his tongue and be eased by the air and yet, they still echoed across the room. Barry remembers repeating it over and over ever since you said yes, testing out his last name in relation to you; he had loved how it sounded but now didn’t know how he’d bear to be called Allen when you were gone.

The last thing you said to him was be safe.

“You don’t have to do this,” Iris murmurs.

He’s crouching in the midst of a burnt down department store, carefully collecting samples of the ash and soot. Pointedly ignoring her, Barry seals the plastic bag and adds it to the rest inside his briefcase. Scans the footprints in the ground, makes a mental note that Zoom had accompanied Firestorm after the storefront came down.

There’s a pressure on his shoulder and he jumps, flinching back to see Iris’ hand hovering in the space between them. “Barry, really, I’m sure we can get someone else on this if you want.”

They really can’t. Three of their CSIs are sick with the flu, the others swamped with a backlog of tests. With, admittedly, the highest calibre and most experience in the field—Barry is the only one left.

Reporters clamber behind the barricades, microphones pointed in his direction for a statement. It’s the same thing every time—an attack, a promise made to stop Zoom, not being able to stop Zoom, repeat ad infinitum. Iris is about to continue but another officer waves her over, and Barry doesn’t try to stop her from leaving. Barely glances her way at all before he gathers his things to deliver another hopeful message to the people in order to prevent total and utter desperation.

“We will stop Zoom,” Barry says, his eyes locked with the camera. Immediately, he feels claustrophobic. He had had enough with the media after that list of victims was released to the public, his decline to comment spun into a Greek tragedy in the news. There’s a lump in his throat as he hastily excuses himself to leave, knuckles white around the handle of his bag.

He’s too focused on making it back to the station to react when something, someone grabs his upper arms. The streets around him start to blur. Wind presses his glasses painfully against the bridge of his nose. Barry opens his mouth to say something when his feet hit solid ground again, the inertia rocking his body forward.

The first thing he feels is fear. Wonders if Zoom has finally come for him too, finally decided that he was too meddlesome to have on the CCPD’s side. The thought of you in this same position makes him sick to his stomach.

Barry turns around and deduces swiftly that if he’s in danger, it’s not from anything he already knows about. It’s an office, large and well-kept. Likely for someone important. There’s an awards shelf to his left and monitors line the walls all around him. His gaze falls on the three figures in front of him and he nearly thinks he’s dreaming.

He doesn’t recognize one of the men. The other, well—meeting Harrison Wells had always been on his bucket list; you had looked at that line and claimed that Harrison Wells should be excited to meet him.

Then there’s him.

And it is him. It’s a Barry Allen with his hair styled the other way, glasses missing from his face. His jaw clamps shut with all the frustration and pain he’d felt that day and it takes everything in him to not walk out of the room. “What is going on here?”

Dr. Wells ignores him, turning to his duplicate. “Allen, what are you doing?”

“Hey!” Barry shouts, scowling. Their heads snap to attention. “I am this close to just leaving unless someone cares to tell me what’s happening right now.”

“Wow, this you is a dick,” the unknown man mumbles under his breath, earning himself a glare.

Dr. Wells steps forward. “Listen, Mr. Allen—”

“Dr.,” he snaps, if only to assert some control over the situation.

“Dr. Allen, I assure you that everything is under control. Allow me to welcome you to S.T.A.R. Labs.” Wells opens his arms, gesturing around the room. “Obviously this isn’t the most ideal way of getting you here, but, desperate times.”

His eyes narrow. “What do you need me for?”

“Well, you see,” Dr. Wells steps around his desk and Barry makes the mistake of tracking his movement.

Because the next thing he feels is a sharp pain in his torso, his muscles contracting all at once, and his vision goes black.

When Barry wakes up, his legs are bent at awkward angles and the ache in his neck is killing him. There’s an impressive crack as he stretches it out, but there’s resistance when he moves to sweep the hair out from his eyes.

“Are you kidding me?” The handcuffs restraining his hand to the wall jingle mockingly as he slumps his shoulders. He’s also been changed into different clothes, but thankfully his wedding band remains untouched. “Hello! Hey! Is anyone there? I swear when I get out of here…”

He tugs his hand uselessly. Looking around, he’s been put in some sort of utility closet, but nothing around him looks promising to aid in an escape.

The door swings open and silhouetted in white light is Dr. Wells and the same man from before. Barry clenches his jaw.

“Are you with Zoom?” If Harrison Wells, the man he’s looked up to ever since he was a kid, has been working with Zoom this whole time—he’s going to lose it.

“Am I with Zoom—don’t be insane.” Dr. Wells unceremoniously unlocks his handcuff, discarding the key somewhere on a shelf. He doesn’t spare him a glance before leading him out into a main office space.

“How long was I in there for?”

“Barely a day,” Dr. Wells shrugs.

Barry laughs bitterly. “‘Barely a day.’ Don’t be too sorry about it.”

“You need to leave,” He insists, but Barry steps in his path.

“Not before you tell me what the hell is going on.”

“Barry, it’s a really long story—”

“Ramon, there is no time—”

As if on cue, an alarm goes off, and the screens around them flash red with an alert. Dr. Wells freezes, lips parting.

“He’s here,” he murmurs. Barry doesn’t have to ask who he’s talking about.

Zoom is here, Zoom is here. The blood runs cold in his veins. Iris was right—he’s not ready to face this, face him. His knees are on the verge of giving out when Dr. Wells grabs both men by the collar, dragging them down a corridor. “We need to go.”

Barry doesn’t try to fight him. Drags his feet across the floor before they stop at some random strip of hallway, can’t find the strength to react when part of the panelling slides open to reveal a secret room.

He’s pulled to the far end and nearly collapses against the wall. His breath comes in short bursts, his mind blanking as he gets more and more lightheaded. The other man—Ramon—grabs him by the upper arms, and frowns. Barry’s shaking like a leaf.

A vibrating, gloved hand shoots through the wall of the secret room and he nearly faints on the spot. Ramon presses his hand against his mouth to muffle his incoherent rambling, but Zoom is as terrifying as he’s ever been. Blue lightning crests off his body, his inhuman eyes scanning the area. A low rumbling comes from his chest and Barry swears that he’s looking right at him.

Then, he leaves just as fast as he entered.

Ramon lets him go but he still can’t breathe, clutching helplessly at his chest. That vibrating hand—he’s seen that trick before. Done to civilians, to his colleagues, to his friends, to you. Iris had told him that he shouldn’t watch the security footage from that day, but Barry couldn’t bear the thought of not knowing what happened to you and now—

Did it hurt? Did Zoom know who you were, targeted you specifically because of him? His chest is tightened so much that he feels as though a thousand-pound weight was pressing down on it. His ring is painful around his finger.

Zoom killed you. Drove his hand through your chest like it was nothing.

Wouldn’t have hesitated to kill them, too.

“We need to move.” Dr. Wells already starts his way towards the exit, Ramon beside him. “We need to find a different place to hide and make a plan.”

“No.”

His voice is so weak that he doesn’t know if he’d made a sound at all. They turn around to face him and Ramon’s face softens into concern. “Barry, you okay?”

“No, no—no, I can’t—” Barry gasps for air and Ramon places his hands on his shoulders, steadying him. “I can’t go against Zoom. Please don’t make me go against Zoom.”

Ramon shoots a helpless look at Dr. Wells. He sighs, slings the gun over his shoulder. “You’re one of, if not, the best crime scene investigator in the city, Dr. Allen. We need your help.”

“You don’t understand, I—” Barry’s eyes start to water and he grinds his teeth to stop his voice from trembling.

“Zoom”—he flinches at the name—“has my daughter. I don’t know where. I don’t know if she’s still alive.” Dr. Wells’ gaze is steady and determined, but Barry can see the worry underneath it all. “So let me rephrase that. I need your help.”

We’ll lose. Barry bites back the words, instead nodding mutely. He wipes his eyes with his sleeve. “We can go to my lab in the CCPD; you can explain everything on the way.”

They switch off on the storytelling. Another world. Another Flash.

Joe is dead.

During it all, Barry can see their glances at him through the mirrors but refuses to make eye contact, fumbling with his hands. He can’t handle anything more right now.

“Barry!” Iris calls out as they walk out of the elevator. “I didn’t think you were coming into work today. Are you sure you want to be here?”

“No,” he responds flatly and makes his way up to the lab without looking back. Every step he takes fills him with dread.

Barry slumps into his chair, letting them find their own places to settle down in. He rests his head on his hand and closes his eyes as Cisco—Cisco and Harry, they had properly introduced themselves in the car—tells a shortened version of their story to Iris.

“So that’s why you weren’t wearing your wedding ring yesterday.” Barry swallows thickly and nods.

“They want your help to find Zoom,” he explains. Hopes that Iris can come up with some miraculous solution to this problem so he doesn’t have to. “He has Harry’s daughter and their Barry.”

Iris’ words are quieter now. “I’ve done everything I could to try and track him down. The only person who would know where he would be hiding someone would be a meta that’s worked with him.”

“Like Killer Frost?”

“Even if you could get her to help us, finding her would be just as hard as finding Zoom,” she states. “But, if anyone can do it…”

Iris lets the sentence hang in the air. Barry shakes his head, takes off his glasses to dig palms into his eyes. “You know I can’t.”

“What is your problem with Zoom?” Harry asks, crossing his arms. “It’s not a general dislike nor anger at his actions you feel—what did he do to you?”

Cisco raises a hand to stop him. He takes a slow step forwards. “Barry—our Barry—was torn up about something last night, but he wouldn’t tell us what.”

“Yeah, I can imagine why,” he mutters. Barry stands up, walks over to his desk to where papers are strewn about the surface but he knows what he’s looking for.

Framed beside his monitor, you’re beaming at him from in front of the camera. Neon lights from the carnival colour your hair; if Barry had been a little further, he would have gotten the teddy bear you had just won in the shot as well. He twists his ring.

“Last year, Zoom attacked the city square. It had been a few months since we last saw him, so some people started to believe that he was gone for good,” Barry exhales shakily. “Too much hope, he called it.”

Iris’ hands are folded tightly on her lap. Harry and Cisco shift to see what Barry’s looking at. There’s a quiet gasp.

“My wife was on her way to work. She loved that route because whenever she had spare change in her pocket, she’d make a wish in the fountain. Said that it had come true when I came home safe that day.

“Then Zoom showed up. Told the world to remember that we were at his mercy.” There’s rustling behind him, a hushed conversation that Barry can’t quite pick up aside from a firm: not a word, Ramon. “She was gone before the CCPD even got there.”

“What was her name?” Harry asks.

“Y/N.” Barry smiles sadly when he says your name. “She was the best person I’ve ever known.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.” Harry comes to stand beside him, averts his eyes from the photo of the person he spoke to not forty-eight hours ago. “My wife was a force of nature. Smarter than me, more cunning, more charismatic.”

He knows the story; the death of Tess Morgan had been covered all over the news when it happened. For the first time since Barry’s met him, Harry has a shadow of happiness on his face.

“No matter how much time goes by, we never really stop thinking about them, do we?”

Barry sighs. His heart still aches, but for now, at least, it’s motivation. “I can locate Killer Frost. Just… give me a minute.”

“Get out of here.”

Iris presses a hand on his shoulder, urging Barry forwards. Jesse and Cisco are beside him as they make their way to the entrance, but he can’t help to look back at Killer Frost—her hands outstretched, freezing Zoom to the floor of the cavern. He remembers her expression when the name Ronnie was said, the clench of her jaw.

Zoom killed him, too.

When they get back to S.T.A.R. Labs, Harry immediately starts scrambling for supplies. The others prepare to travel back through the breach they came through and Iris shoots him a look, a helpless shake of her head. What happens to them now?

“You guys need to get out of Central City, alright? Any place you think you’ll be safe from Zoom?” The other Barry walks up to them.

“We have some friends in Atlantis that can—”

The alarm goes off again. Barry’s blood runs cold and Iris grabs his arm. “We need to go.”

“We can’t,” he realizes, dread washing over him. “Zoom is faster than us, stronger than us. We’ll never make it out of the city, much less the building.”

“What are you saying?”

He tries to speak but nothing comes out. Barry turns towards his doppelganger, who nods empathetically in understanding.

“You have to come with us.”

“Just like that? Barry”—she steps in front of him, holds his gaze—”we can’t leave Zoom to terrorize our world.”

“You stay here and you won’t live to save it,” Harry states. Nods towards them. “Dr. Allen is right.”

He doesn’t want to be. For all the horrors and pain and devastation Barry’s been through, this is his home. Where he grew up, went to school, met and married you. He swallows down his nerves. “Let’s go.”

First Cisco and Jesse, then him. When he emerges to the other side, the first thing he hears is someone calling his name, arms extending to pull him away from the breach.

Iris is looking up at him, worried, but—it’s not her. She’s out of uniform and her hair cascades unusually over her shoulders. A quick glance around sees a woman who looks suspiciously like Killer Frost, and—

“Joe?” He murmurs, dazed. The man claps his shoulder and brings him into a hug.

“You’re going to have to tell me everything that happened, later,” Joe flicks his glasses for emphasis and he recoils.

“I’m—I’m not—”

The energy warps and phases behind him. Iris, his Iris, comes out. The other Barry follows behind with Harry in tow.

“Close it! Close it now!” Confusion sweeps across the room as eyes fall between him and his doppelganger, but Cisco is fast and throws a device at the breach.

What happens next is a blur to him; the Flash from his earth is there, then, isn’t, as Zoom reaches through to pull him back to their world. Someone screams, a hand pushing him behind them. Footsteps come running into the room.

“I saw what happened—is everyone okay?”

Barry stops breathing.

He knows that voice. Heard it say good morning and goodnight nearly everyday for the best years of his life; I love you and I do. He wants to turn around. Wants to see your face and smile again, hear your laugh. There are so many things he didn’t get to tell you that it hurts him to think about it.

But Barry’s dreamed of this for so long that he fears that it’s just his mind playing tricks. That this whole experience of doppelgangers and other worlds has just been one huge dream that he’ll wake up from at any moment now. He also knows that, logically, you aren’t his Y/N. You might not like or love him like you did in the other world. Might barely know him to begin with.

All of that gets pushed aside when he turns around.

“Y/N?”

His voice is barely above a whisper. You’re as beautiful as he remembers and he chides himself for ever thinking that all those photographs could ever do you justice. His eyes well up. Barry wants nothing more than to hold you in his arms again, and the only thing stopping him is the last scrap of rationality he has left, as weak as how he’s felt for the past year.

“You’re alive.”

#barry allen imagine #barry allen x reader #earth 2 barry allen imagine #earth 2 barry allen x reader #earth 2 barry x reader #the flash imagine #the flash headcanon #the flash x reader #barry allen #earth 2 barry allen #the flash #writing #series: call me in the morning

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margueritehall · 3 years ago

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Chapter One: My Kingdom Come Undone

Stood on the cliffside, Screaming, “Give me a reason” ( Hoax ; Taylor Swift )

April 27, 2018

“Kate, were you able to—?” Maggie gently rapped on the doorjamb, poking her head into the older woman’s office. She cut herself off when she saw the woman in question at the window watching a disturbance contrasting against the light blue, mid-morning sky. Stepping fully into the room, a shuttered breath caught in her chest as Maggie’s blood ran cold, her hands shaking as she watched the descent of a gargantuan O-shaped spaceship. She could feel the papers slip from her fingers, falling on the floor around her.

Suddenly, she was twenty-one again and waiting by the phone for her parents to call and tell her that they were okay. To tell her that they had been out to lunch when the Leviathan crashed into the building. To tell her that they were on their way home and traffic was a nightmare but they’d be there as soon as they could. The call had never come.

It was happening again, not even six years after the Battle of New York; the world had turned upside down once more. She swallowed, placing her hand on her stomach and forcing herself to slow her breathing as she tried to refocus her train of thought to what they could do to help in the moment, “We need to get the teams together. We’re— we have to do triage.” Every cell in her body was screaming out; each of them telling Maggie that she should turn and run far away unless she wanted to meet the same fate as her parents.

“Oh, god.” The white-haired woman reached out, touching the glass of the window with her fingertips in disbelief. It was like she hadn’t heard a word that Maggie said.

“Kate!” Maggie raised her wavering voice, walking further into the office to take her shaking hand and bring her attention to the other pressing matter at hand. The woman that Maggie had come to see as an almost-surrogate mother’s eyes were filled with tears when she looked at Maggie. “We have to go. Now.”

Kate nodded, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath before she finally made an effort to ground herself. “Get everyone you can and just get out there and start checking on people.” She gestured out the window at the chaos awaiting them below. “We’ll meet back here at eleven for a check-in.” Gathering some files, she tucked them under her arm before grabbing her phone and coffee and walking out past the younger woman. “It’s going to be a long day.”

Pulling the scrunchie from her wrist, she gathered her brown waves into a ponytail before picking up the forgotten papers from the floor. She ran through a mental checklist, ensuring she had her phone, notepad, and calling cards. Following the Chitauri Invasion, and the loss of her parents, Maggie had made a decision to help others in the way that she wished she’d been helped when dealing with the immediate fallout of the events. Trading in her neuroscience major for social work, Maggie graduated with her master’s degree and took a position with the stateside branch of the Stark Relief Foundation.

Only a week after applying for the job, she’d received a call from Iron Man himself— or, as she knew him, Uncle T. Tony had gone to Phillips Academy with her father where they’d been roommates. He’d been their family friend since before she was born and he was curious to know why Maggie, the closest thing he considered to be a niece, hadn’t called and just asked him for the position.

Tony knew she was more than capable— since the death of her parents, he tried to keep in contact with her as much as possible. He attended her award ceremonies and graduations, he and Pepper took her out for celebratory dinners in the absence of her guardians, they exchanged letters while she served in the Peace Corps in rural Europe. They both knew he felt guilty for their passing despite Maggie’s forgiveness; it was like he was trying to make amends that had never been needed.

When he made an attempt to offer her the job, on-the-spot, she furiously explained that she wanted to do it on her own merit and go through the entire process without his, or Pepper’s, help. “God, you’re just like your mother.” She rolled her eyes, a small smile on her lips as she thought of her mom; she’d gotten her spit-fire personality from somewhere and it certainly wasn’t her goofy dad. Maggie had been hired less than a week later, following multiple assurances that Mr. Stark hadn’t had a part in the process, and she moved upstate to be headquartered at the New Avenger’s Facility.

Occasionally, she’d return to the city for meetings and conferences or she’d travel wherever the foundation dictated but typically she lived quietly, just an hour outside of the city. She heard F.R.I.D.A.Y. over the loud speaker, calling out orders on behalf of Tony. If she hadn’t already been kicked into gear, she would have been upon the AI’s order as she called out certain teams to be dispatched across the city. Descending the stairs as quickly as possible, she finally reached the crowded street where the deafening screams echoed and were carried further by the turbulent winds swirling the dust and debris of the city. Like Tony had said before, it was time to work for a living.

Bumped, bruised, and exhausted, Maggie re-entered the office building just before noon; she knew that she was late and she’d have to get back out as soon as she touched base with her superiors. While first responders had gotten to those injured immediately, the SRF came to the aid of those in shock or those that had been displaced following the earlier event.

After the large ship ascended and left destruction in its wake, the city had calmed down exponentially; people returned home, clean-up crews were sent out, things returned to some semblance of normal. It felt suspiciously calm. Opening the door to the conference room expecting to find her entire team, she only found Pepper, Happy, and Kate speaking quietly over the large table.

At their odd behavior, Maggie felt a sinking feeling, “What’s going on?” She heard the mumble of the television across the room. A familiar, goateed face filled the screen, the word ‘missing’ caught her eye and her stomach lurched. Her voice was quiet as she asked, “Where is he?”

Pepper’s red-rimmed eyes found Maggie’s apprehensive ones. The woman who was typically so elegant and composed was still dressed in the workout attire that she’d likely been wearing when the invasion began. “He… was on that ship.” Pepper looked at her hands that rested on the table, trying to keep calm. The glint from the diamond on Pepper’s finger caught Maggie’s eye and she felt a sharp pang in her chest.

“Well, F.R.I.D.A.Y. should be able to track him, yeah? Anywhere in the world? Friday?” Trying to keep her quivering lip at bay, Maggie blinked back tears. She triggered the interface that was installed in Pepper’s phone as it sat on the table between the adults, “Where did he go?” The look on Kate’s face confirmed that they’d already tried this without any success.

“When Mr. Stark left our atmosphere, we lost track of him. We don’t have any coordinates at the present moment, Miss Hall.” The feminine brogue responded somberly.

“Oh.” Maggie placed a shaking hand on the table, bracing herself as she sat down. She avoided eye contact with anyone else, trying to drown the panic far below the surface. “He— he’ll be back.” She didn’t notice the volume of her voice rising, “When he’s done fighting whatever the hell that thing was, he’ll come home.” She’d already lost her parents. They couldn’t lose Tony too.

A dull ringing started in Maggie’s ears and she closed her eyes tightly before she heard Kate’s voice whisper, “What’s happening?”

As she opened her eyes, she saw Kate staring at her hand that had slowly begun to turn to dust. “Kate?” Maggie could barely hear her own voice. It was like the world moved in slow motion as the dust dissolved across her body until the woman was gone. Until she had been blown away by some invisible wind that no one else had felt. Until she ceased to exist.

“What…was that?” Maggie blinked, trying to make some sense of what she’d seen. “Where did she go?” Standing, and stumbling in her urgency, Maggie clamored to the now empty seat where her mentor had just been. Pepper and Happy only looked at one another as Maggie ran her hand across the empty seat, her eyes wide in confusion and fear.

How were they to know? How were any of them?

xxxxxxx

Disclaimer: This page and this author do not claim ownership of any of the media seen on this blog aside from original character personalities and fictional stories. If you are a content creator of any gifs or images and wish for any of your content to be credited or removed from the page, please contact me here or on my personal account (@twelvesoswald) and the issue will be resolved as quickly as possible.

#we learn to live with the pain - fic

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dailynewswebsite · 4 years ago

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Guilty or innocent? In virtual courtrooms, the absence of non-verbal cues may threaten justice

The COVID-19 pandemic has meant that courtrooms have been compelled to turn out to be digital, however is the long-term adoption of expertise a risk to justice? (Shutterstock)

For the reason that starting of the well being disaster, Canadian courts, like these in different nations, have been making a technological shift. The variety of proceedings filed on-line have elevated and the identical holds for digital trials.

Though their use seems professional through the pandemic, video communications purposes akin to Skype or Zoom are hindering the position of the non-verbal communication in courtrooms.

The problem could appear easy and innocuous, however in actuality, it isn’t.

Faulty beliefs

The result of lawsuits will not be solely decided by legal guidelines and precedents. Certainly, the looks of witnesses and the way in which they behave can play a figuring out position. Nervousness and hesitation are sometimes related to mendacity, whereas spontaneity, in line with many courtroom judgments, might point out that witnesses are telling the reality.

Nevertheless, analysis on lie detection reveals very clearly that beliefs of this nature — nonetheless in use in 2020 — are inaccurate and haven’t any extra scientific foundation than these used within the Center Ages. Certainly, an trustworthy litigant might hesitate and be excessively nervous. A hardened liar might categorical himself spontaneously. There is no such thing as a gesture, no look, no facial features, no reveal much like Pinocchio’s nostril.

Moreover, as psychologist Judith Corridor and her colleagues level out, “there isn’t a dictionary of non-verbal cue meanings, as a result of contextual components involving encoders’ intentions, their different verbal and non-verbal behaviours, different folks (who they’re and their behaviour), and the setting will all have an effect on which means.”

As courtrooms transfer on-line, the dynamics of courtroom interactions might want to shift drastically. (Shutterstock)

In different phrases, studying to “learn” non-verbal behaviours is fiction reasonably than science. Sadly, as I documented in my grasp of legal guidelines thesis on the non-verbal behaviours of witnesses throughout trials and my doctoral thesis in communication on the detection of false testimony, quite a few judges appear to consider in any other case.

Learn extra: Furtive seems, nervousness, hesitation: How nonverbal communication influences the justice system

Past lie detection

Since utilizing a single look to find out whether or not somebody is mendacity — as depicted within the media — will not be potential, some might consider that the non-verbal behaviour of witnesses, judges and attorneys is of no use. Nevertheless, this is able to be a mistake. Certainly, scientific analysis has been documenting the capabilities of non-verbal communication for many years. Hundreds of peer-reviewed articles have been revealed on the topic by a world group of researchers from totally different disciplines.

Throughout trials, lie detection represents a grain of sand within the ocean of non-verbal behaviour capabilities. Gestures, seems, facial expressions and postures permit witnesses to speak feelings and intentions, judges to foster empathy and belief, and attorneys to raised perceive at any given second the actions and phrases of witnesses and adapt accordingly. All of this largely happens robotically.

The non-verbal side of trials will not be restricted to faces and our bodies. The traits of the atmosphere wherein they happen — the courthouse and the courtroom — contribute to the picture of justice. The situation the place witnesses are questioned and the place individuals are seated influences how trials are performed. For instance, judges are seated greater than others within the courtroom, which may have an effect on the authority given to them by litigants.

How a courtroom is bodily and spatially organized additionally impacts the character of the proceedings, like when judges’ authority is represented by positioning them greater than different courtroom attendees. Right here, attendees await Supreme Court docket of Canada judges to reach within the Manitoba Court docket of Attraction in Winnipeg, in September 2019. THE CANADIAN PRESS/John Woods

Non-verbal communication is an integral a part of trials

In the course of the pandemic, purposes akin to Skype or Zoom allowed for the listening to of pressing instances. Nevertheless, a number of jurisdictions have introduced that digital courtrooms will stay open after the top of the well being disaster. For some, their major profit could be to advertise entry to justice.

Nevertheless, by lowering non-verbal info, digital trials restrict the flexibility of witnesses to be understood, to really feel understood and to know others adequately. For the reason that evaluation of credibility is dependent upon the flexibility of judges to know what witnesses are saying, the influence may be vital, particularly since “[c]redibility is a matter that pervades most trials, and at its broadest might quantity to a choice on guilt or innocence.”

For the reason that conduct of a cross-examination, in flip, is dependent upon the attorneys’ capability to know always the actions and phrases of witnesses, an entry to the courts that restricts non-verbal behaviour to a face on a display, can have far-reaching penalties. Because the Supreme Court docket of Canada wrote: “Efficient cross-examination is integral to the conduct of a good trial and a significant utility of the presumption of innocence.”

The significance of interdisciplinary dialogue

The usage of purposes akin to Skype or Zoom shouldn’t be taken calmly. Along with the consequences on the evaluation of credibility and the conduct of cross-examinations, digital trials may produce other penalties.

These embody dehumanizing victims and defendants, an impact already documented amongst immigrants heard by way of videoconferencing. Digital trials may also amplify the damaging results of facial stereotypes, which may distort the evaluation of proof and the result of trials, even to the purpose of figuring out whether or not an individual must be sentenced to demise.

In view of this, earlier than digital courtrooms turn out to be everlasting or legal guidelines are modified, the position of non-verbal communication in courtrooms must be totally appreciated. So as to maximize the benefits and decrease the disadvantages of the shift to on-line justice, dialogue between the authorized group and researchers working in disciplines like psychology, communication and criminology, is prime.

Vincent Denault is co-founder and co-director of the Middle for Research in Nonverbal Communication Sciences of the Analysis Middle of the Montreal Psychological Well being College Institute. He’s a recipient of a doctoral analysis scholarship from the Quebec Analysis Funds – Society and Tradition (FRQSC).

from Growth News https://growthnews.in/guilty-or-innocent-in-virtual-courtrooms-the-absence-of-non-verbal-cues-may-threaten-justice/ via https://growthnews.in

#Growth News

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bethestaryouareradio · 4 years ago

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Be a Super Hero! Wear aMask!

Click to view this email in a browser

BE a SUPER HERO! WEAR A MASK!

MIRACLE MOMENT®

“You are braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” Christopher Robin

MESSAGE FROM CYNTHIA BRIAN, Founder/Executive Director

How are you doing in our 8th month of this horrid pandemic? Are you wearing a mask, social distancing, avoiding crowds, washing your hands, and being responsible?

If not, please heed this message because Covid-19 is a devastating disease that will negatively affect you and those you love.

As of August 11, global Covid-19 cases have doubled from 10 million to 20,395,035 million, and those are only the cases that are reported. It is estimated that the numbers are at least 10 times those that are reported. The death toll is 741,807. It took 6 months for cases to reach 10 million and only 6 weeks to reach 20 million. Half of those cases are in just 3 countries-the United States, India, and Brazil. California, Texas, Florida, and New York lead the pack with confirmed cases over 500,000 and thousands of deaths.

If you read this newsletter, my blogs, or listen to our radio shows, you know that since March 11, my office has been closed and I have been sheltering-in-place with only occasional quick visits to the post office while wearing a mask, gloves, glasses, and a hat. My husband’s office was also closed and only reopened the end of June after he purchased all the pandemic protection equipment including masks, shields, gloves, gowns, goggles, security dividers, thermometers, sanitizers, specialized air filters, mouth rinses. He and his staff follow a very strict protocol for working with patients as do medical professionals everywhere.

We have all experienced our favorite salon, restaurant, pub, gym, bank, or store reopening only to be shuttered because an employee gets sick with Covid-19. It’s heartbreaking for the patrons and financially disastrous for the owners and employees.

I witnessed this recently when a close friend’s company was impacted.

Two weeks ago, an employee fell ill. Seven days later the office was informed that this employee tested positive for Covid-19. The business had to immediately close, all staff and their families had to be tested, all clients informed, and contact tracing begun. Because of a back-log at the labs, results from tests can take anywhere from 4-14 days. In this case, seven days elapsed. Everyone was instructed to stay home until a negative result was determined. Fortunately for my friend, his staff, and all their contacts, the test results were negative so work could be resumed within 12 days. But that was 12 days without income or services.

This is occurring everywhere around the country as businesses attempt to re-open. However, when even one person tests positive with Covid-19 in the workplace, the business must close. No one can go to work. The one positive infection exponentially affects hundreds, perhaps thousands of individuals and businesses. Many people live with several generations and everyone has to be tested and traced. Family members and friends become angry about the possibility of exposure, especially when many are being so careful. Everyone is losing out on earning a living. Many people live pay check to pay check and missing work for a week or more could mean ruin.

Even though every protocol is adhered to in a workplace, an employer can’t dictate what an employee does on her/his private hours. But there is one thing that everyone can easily do to curb the spread and that is to wear a mask when in public.

The power and potency of wearing a mask and social distancing can not be over emphasized. Wearing a mask is NOT a political gesture, it is the responsible action. Covid-19 strikes everyone and anyone. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) reported that if everyone wore a mask throughout the United States for the next few months, over 40,000 lives could be saved.

The volatile political landscape is fraught with misinformation. Contrary to what some politicians have claimed, Covid-19 is not going away, in fact, it is ramping up. The disease knows no boundaries. It doesn’t care what political party you belong to, what religion you practice, or where you live. It is an equal opportunity infector with people of color and lower-income households heavily hit. If you are gathering with groups and not wearing protective gear, you are risking your health and maybe your life as well the lives of those you love. Pay attention to evidence based health experts and scientists. Get your information from the CDC, not from social media or the campaign trail.

As coronavirus surges, labs are struggling to keep up with testing. Having to wait for a week to 14 days for results renders a test useless to prevent transmission. The CDC states that currently we are identifying only 1 in 10 cases because we are testing so few people. Currently no vaccine is available to prevent coronavirus Covid-19. To bring the pandemic under control we need rapid testing. We need to be able to test daily or weekly without cost and receive results within an hour or at most, 24 hours. Only then can we safely send our children to school and reopen our economy. The federal government must step up its leadership to safely ensure that we can go to work and gather. For now, the best way to prevent illness is to avoid being exposed.

Are you old enough to remember cars without seatbelts? I am. Our family of seven would pile into a truck or a station wagon and there wasn’t a seat belt in sight. At first when seat belts were introduced, a public outcry occurred. But today, I wouldn’t dare get into any vehicle without first buckling up.

Closer to home, you’ve probably engaged in a Zoom or SKYPE call for personal or business reasons. You could easily wear a lovely shirt or blouse on the top part of your body while your bottom is wearing underwear. But if you need to go to the market, I bet you add a pair of pants or a skirt! Right?

This autumn, major designers are adding masks to their haute couture lines. Whether or not there will be runway shows, you will be seeing coordinating outfits with a mask to match. Masks are going to be the next hot trend for looking hip, cool, and well-dressed.

Covid-19 is a non-partisan pandemic and it is at our doorstep. For accurate information visit https://www.cdc.gov.

Put a smile on your face and start viewing masks as a beautiful, life-saving accessory.

Remember, super heroes wear masks.

You, too, can be a superhero. Cape not necessary!

Be brave, be smart, be strong. Do your part. WEAR A MASK!

Living with gratitude and wearing a mask,

Cynthia Brian

Founder/Executive Director

Be the Star You Are!®

PO Box 376

Moraga, California 94556

[email protected]

https://www.BetheStarYouAre.org

http://www.BTSYA.org

DONATE: https://www.paypal.com/fundraiser/charity/1504

Our newest and youngest reporter on Express Yourself! is 13 year old Jonathan Jackson who will be showcasing a segment called Jay’s Sports World beginning on September 13th. Be on the lookout for this new talent.

Hello, My name is Jonathan Jackson. I am 13 years old and from California. I enjoy playing sports and spending quality time with my friends and family. Basketball has always had a special place in my life. It is not only recreational for myself but it's also mental and emotional . I like to compete and I love to show my passion for both the game and its history. I have always had a natural curiosity towards all sports. This has created a desire to become a future sports journalist . I am a student athlete that is trying to maintain a 4.0 GPA. This will help to achieve my dream of going to UCLA and joining their journalism program. I love to talk, and I guarantee you will love my show! https://www.voiceamerica.com/show/2014/express-yourself

TOGETHER IN UNITY AGAINST THE CORONAVIRUS CALAMITY

by Siri Phaneendra

Eradicating the coronavirus involves a team effort and the cooperation of everyone. It is imperative for us to come together in unity against calamity.

As Greek philosopher Aristotle emphasized, ‘Society is something that precedes the individual.’ It is not about you and me — it is about humanity. Even if one life can be saved, isn’t it our moral obligation to wear a mask? The efficacy of wearing a mask can only be enhanced when every individual in the vicinity makes a conscious effort to do so.

The asymptotic nature of the virus causes it to exponentially spread like a forest fire. Let’s not add fuel to the fire by protecting ourselves and others. Spread love, not the virus.”

Siri Phaneendra studies Computer Science at UC Berkeley and is a recipient of the Cal Alumni Association Leadership Award. She is the founder of drawmylove.com, a company that provides people a platform to express their love by creating physical books with customizable characters. Siri is a host on Express Yourself!™ Teen Radio on the Voice America Network.

BE UPLIFTED WITH BE THE STAR YOU ARE!® RADIO BROADCASTS

As part of our Be the Star You Are! Disaster Relief Outreach program (https://www.bethestaryouare.org/copy-of-operation-hurricane-disaste), StarStyle® Productions, LLC and Be the Star You Are!® are showcasing authors, artists, actors, poets, musicians, and many others, all of whom had had their gigs canceled and are out of work.

We believe in supporting creativity that provides escape and joy, especially during tough times.

Tune in to StarStyle®-Be the Star You Are!® on Wednesdays at 4pm PT for “Wednesdays with Writers and Performers” LIVE http://www.voiceamerica.com/show/2206/be-the-star-you-are as well as our teen program, Express Yourself!™ airing on Sundays at 3pm PT for “Super Smart Sundays” https://www.voiceamerica.com/show/2014/express-yourself

Both programs broadcast on the Voice America Network, Empowerment Channel and will be archived on that site.

SURVIVING THE UNKNOWN

by Angelica Paramoshin

I remember the days of March that were so heavily flooded with normality. Crowds of individuals flocked towards train stations like classes of fish swimming through reefs. In the present day, we all crave that forgotten feeling of normality. We miss the days when we were able to peacefully stroll through the streets watching all forms of life flourish around us. Now that we are all stuck within the barriers of our homes, we cannot fathom what is to come.

Numerous individuals have struggled to assimilate into this newfound lockdown in quarantine and ultimately, have sunk into a never-ending whirlpool of emotional turmoil. As someone who is currently writing this from the confines of her room, I understand how mentally exhausting it can be having minimal social interaction with the people you were once inseparable from. People have forgotten to take care of their emotional well-being because their feelings of anxiety and fear of the unknown leave little space for glimmers of positivity and improvement.

Although we are living amongst the presence of a pandemic, we must continue to live for ourselves and not simply for the need to survive. Everyone deserves a day dedicated to themselves. Even reading a few pages of a novel you’ve been wanting to read, allows your mind and soul to flow through a river of serenity and peace. It is okay to take a step back and breathe. We are all on this mystical planet together and we will survive together.

Angelica Paramoshin currently is a rising senior in high school devoting her time during this pandemic to volunteering with Be the Star You Are!®.

SUMMER SURVIVAL READING

Our Star Teen Book Review Team is busy reading and writing reviews for you to enjoy this summer. Reviews are honest and the personal experience of each writer. Check them out at our website, http://www.btsya.com/book_reviews.html, and at our partner, The Reading Tub, https://thereadingtub.org/books/be-the-star-you-are/.

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goddessgardener · 4 years ago

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Be a Super Hero! Wear aMask!

Click to view this email in a browser

BE a SUPER HERO! WEAR A MASK!

MIRACLE MOMENT®

“You are braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.” Christopher Robin

MESSAGE FROM CYNTHIA BRIAN, Founder/Executive Director

How are you doing in our 8th month of this horrid pandemic? Are you wearing a mask, social distancing, avoiding crowds, washing your hands, and being responsible?

If not, please heed this message because Covid-19 is a devastating disease that will negatively affect you and those you love.

I witnessed this recently when a close friend’s company was impacted.

Covid-19 is a non-partisan pandemic and it is at our doorstep. For accurate information visit https://www.cdc.gov.

Put a smile on your face and start viewing masks as a beautiful, life-saving accessory.

Remember, super heroes wear masks.

You, too, can be a superhero. Cape not necessary!

Be brave, be smart, be strong. Do your part. WEAR A MASK!

Living with gratitude and wearing a mask,

Cynthia Brian

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TOGETHER IN UNITY AGAINST THE CORONAVIRUS CALAMITY

by Siri Phaneendra

Eradicating the coronavirus involves a team effort and the cooperation of everyone. It is imperative for us to come together in unity against calamity.

The asymptotic nature of the virus causes it to exponentially spread like a forest fire. Let’s not add fuel to the fire by protecting ourselves and others. Spread love, not the virus.”

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We believe in supporting creativity that provides escape and joy, especially during tough times.

Both programs broadcast on the Voice America Network, Empowerment Channel and will be archived on that site.

SURVIVING THE UNKNOWN

by Angelica Paramoshin

Angelica Paramoshin currently is a rising senior in high school devoting her time during this pandemic to volunteering with Be the Star You Are!®.

SUMMER SURVIVAL READING

SHOP ONLINE WITHOUT A MASK!

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#masks pandemic covid19cdcsuperherowearamask bethestaryouarecynthiabrianstarstyleradioshowsdonatevolunteers

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brilliantorinsane · 7 years ago

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The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (Stoll Pictures, 1921–1923)

Inspired by @devoursjohnlock‘s amazing meta about The Secret of Sherlock Holmes, I’ve embarked on an exponentially growing meta about the changing portrayals of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson’s relationship in film, beginning with those produced in Doyle’s lifetime straight through to today. But I quickly encountered a problem: some of the films I’m studying for this meta are just too darn fascinating to be confined to a short blurb in a larger argument.

So while I work on the overarching meta, I intend to periodically post about little-known Sherlock adaptations, the ones that catch my interest and don’t seem to have been analyzed on Tumblr. I’ll be discussing each film’s contemporary reception and current standing, its depictions of Holmes and Watson respectively as well as its portrayal of their relationship (and any potential Johnlocky-ness disguised within), and will end with my personal endorsement of the film.

Please keep in mind that although I am trained in literary analysis and am doing my best to fact-check, I am not a film critic. These analyses are the opinions of a fan, not someone who’s actually qualified for this sort of thing. And with that, read on—I hope you enjoy the discovery even a fraction as much as I have!

Note: all references to Alan Barns are taken from Sherlock Holmes on Screen: The Complete Film and TV History. For any other resources, links are provided within the text.

Production and Reception

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, produced by Stoll pictures, stands as the most prolific Sherlock Holmes series with a total of 45 short and 2 long silent films starring Eille Norwood as Holmes and Hubert Willis as Watson (with the exception The Sign of Four, in which Watson is played by Arthur Cullin). Decidedly literal in interpretation, these films were released while Doyle was still churning out Holmes stories. In fact, Doyle sold Stoll Pictures a license to adapt the stories after apparently being so fed-up with the previously authorized Paris Éclar Company that he “bought the film rights back for ten times the amount he’d sold them for” (Barns 14). The Stoll films “proved a huge hit” among its contemporary audience, and according to Motion Picture News, “they automatically became classics of the silver-sheet” (Barns, 17).

Nevertheless, one rarely hears of these ‘classics’ today. This is not entirely surprising; if one is speaking of silent Sherlock Holmes films it seems natural to default towards William Gillette’s 1916 production, a direct translation of the 1899 play which he likewise produced. After all, in addition to being the first major trans-media Holmes production, the play/film had considerable influence on popular perception of the detective and boasts—as far as I’m aware—the most significant contributions from Doyle of any adaptation. (For the record I won’t be writing about Gillette’s film, because @heimishtheidealhusband has already assembled this gem discussing its content and influence).

Additionally, as Russell Merritt relates, feuds over film rights and difficulties with an American distributor kept the Stoll films from making any headway in America, despite their popularity in Europe, Australia, and Japan (x).

With the exception of The Noble Bachelor, all of the Stoll Picture films have been preserved, but as far as I can tell only three are currently available to the public: The Man With the Twisted Lip, The Dying Detective, and The Adventure of the Devil’s Foot. Fortunately for us, these three ‘instant classics’ are available on YouTube, and this past week I watched the trio with considerable enjoyment. Having done so, it is not difficult to understood why critics consistently identify Eille Norwood’s imposing depiction of Sherlock Holmes as these films’ core strength.

Eille Norwood as Sherlock Holmes

According to Barns, Norwood was “obsessive [in his] determination that his Holmes should be true to the character created by Doyle,” and he admirably captures his own interpretation of the character, which he vividly described:

Holmes . . . is absolutely quiet. Nothing ruffles him, but he is a man who intuitively seizes on points without revealing that he has done so, and nurses them with complete inaction until the moment when he is called upon to exercise his wonderful detective powers. Then he is like a cat—the person he is after is the only person in all the world, and he is oblivious of everything else till his quarry is run to earth. The last thing in the world that he looks like is a detective. There is nothing of the hawk-eyed sleuth about him. His powers of observation are but the servant of his powers of deduction, which enable him, as it were, to see round corners, and cause him, incidentally, to be constantly amused at the blindness of his faithful Watson, who is never able to understand this methods (Barns, 16).

My own reading of the character differs from Norwood’s on a few points, but it is certainly a compelling image, and one that is strikingly achieved on screen. According to Merritt, Doyle himself loved the portrayal, saying that Norwood “has that rare quality which can only be described as glamour, which compels you to watch an actor eagerly when he is doing nothing. He has a brooding eye which excites expectation and he has a quite unrivaled power of disguise” (x)

Speaking of disguise, I cannot resist relaying a brief anecdote from Barns: It only took one screen-test for Norwood to deeply impress his employers with his ability to disappear into the character of Holmes, but Stoll’s co-managing director Jeffrey Bernerd remained skeptical that Norwood’s distinctive figure to convincingly transform into the cabby Holmes masquerades as in Scandal (15). As a result one can imagine his embarrassment after “attempting to have a ‘common-looking’ cabby removed from the set of A Scandal in Bohemia, completely unaware that the insalubrious ‘cabby’ was none other than Norwood wearing one of Holmes’ many disguises” (15)!

Hubert Willis/Arthur Cullin as John Watson [Spoiler for The Dying Detective]

As you have probably gathered given his virtual invisibility in the discussion thus far, Watson does not fare nearly so well in this production. Although a contemporary critic praised Willis for “[resisting] the natural temptation to burlesque this character,” the lack of burlesque is replaced with . . . nothing much of anything. There is a stolid composure to the performance which is decidedly Watson-esque, but it is not surprising that Burns has no more to say of Willis than that he is “a white-haired and slightly redundant Dr. Watson” (16). Merritt is more actively critical, going so far as describe Watson as the series’s “Achilles heel”—although in fairness, he extends this critique to the few silent-era Holmes films which include Watson, rather than leveling it at Willis’s portrayal in particular. Merritt goes on to say that “In these pre-Nigel Bruce days, [Watson] barely registers as Holmes’s partner, and the theme of a famous friendship, so important in all post-Rathbone films, is, here, all but ignored” (x)

In Willis and Cullin’s defense, this blandness appears to be more the fault of the script and direction than their performances. Watson is frequently on screen shadowing Holmes, listening to him talk, and occasionally stumbling across dead bodies; but for the most part he is just . . . there, and one is at rather a loss to determine why. In the admittedly limited selection I’ve watched the most striking demonstration of this is The Dying Detective, which necessarily includes Watson’s initial conviction that Holmes is dying, but skips entirely over the moment in which he discovers that it was all an act. After all, in the film the audience knows that the illness was feigned from the beginning, and Watson’s discovery of the same is relevant only insofar as it is a significant moment in the relationship between him and Holmes—a relationship in which it appears this series is largely uninterested.

Nevertheless, the duo is not utterly devoid of partnership, and given the state of matters I found myself smiling at their interactions surprisingly often, for the following reasons:

So . . . What about Johnlock? [Spoilers for the The Dying Detective and The Adventure of the Devil’s Foot]

By this point it is transparent that if you’re looking for top-tier Johnlock material, the Stoll films are hardly a goldmine. But if you’re willing to dismiss probable authorial intent and enjoy what’s there, you’ll come across some unexpected gems.

The thing is, a much as we the audience feel excluded from the secret of why Holmes wants this iteration of Watson along on his cases, it is clear that he does want him. Despite scant acknowledgement of Watson’s existence in the script, Holmes periodically includes him through look, word or gesture. Turning to address a few words to Watson that do not appear on screen for the audience, waiting for him at the gate, gesturing for him to come forward when trailing behind Holmes and an Inspector—in little actions and mannerisms Holmes demonstrates that while the audience may have half-forgotten about Watson, he has not. Rather less subtle is the miniature tantrum which Holmes throws when Watson doesn’t have time for him in The Dying Detective—an event both amusing and familiar to BBC fans, but surprising and notable for an iteration of Holmes who as a general rule is “absolutely quiet” except when on the tail of a criminal.

Added to this is a definite air of protection which Holmes exudes towards Watson. It is genuinely touching to see Holmes gesture for Watson to allow him to enter a potentially dangerous room first, shove Watson out of the poisoned room in Devil’s Foot before exiting himself, and grab Culverton’s poisoned box from his friend with startled urgency. And while I would have preferred to see the office of protector devolve more frequently to Watson, if only to give the poor man something to do, in The Dying Detective it is indeed striking to see his repeated attempts to get close to Holmes and care for him despite having been informed that his supposed disease is “horribly contagious and invariably fatal.”

This mutual care allows the audience to on some level accept them as partners, even if they do not understand why. It also lends credence to a certain familiarity and easy coordination that is visible in their interactions, perhaps most notably in the way they frequently stand and walk closer together than strictly necessary. Small as it is, I also find myself fixating on a moment in Devil’s Foot when the police walk in on them investigating three bodies. Due to a deviation from the cannon Holmes and Watson have stumbled across the bodies by accident, so being found with them now doesn’t look at all good. But Holmes continues his investigations without a hitch, and after only a negligible start Watson calmly begins to explain their presence. When a potentially uncomfortable circumstance arises Holmes implicitly trusts Watson to handle matters, Watson does so without instruction or hesitation. In that moment one thinks: “Oh, these two know each other and understand how to function in tandem.”

I know of no reason to suppose that those involved in the production imagined any sort of romance underlying their series. Yet thanks to the details above, somehow even making Watson a veritable wallflower was insufficient to prevent it from being rather easy for those of us who are in on the secret of every Holmes and his every Watson to a imagine private intimacy far deeper than they are free to reveal to any prying eye.

In conclusion: far be it from me to assert that initiating physical contact with a friend who has nearly died through one’s own rash actions is inevitably gay—it is no more than any human who isn’t emotionally constipated would do. I’m just saying that when the lion-hunter approaches the country cabin at the end of The Devil’s Foot, knowing that Holmes may well have deduced that he is a murderer, the first thing he sees is Holmes holding Watson's hands in one of his and gently touching the side of his friend’s head with the other. And there’s just no way he didn’t at least consider that if Holmes really did accuse him, he just might wriggle out of it by blackmailing the doctor and detective with the threat of sodomy charges.

Conclusion: Should You Watch It?

I’m not going to insist that these are films everyone must see. To be honest the preservation quality of the films is poor—at times the white glares blindingly, and at others it is nearly too dark to see. The soundtrack is just classical music played in a loop without any attempt to sync with what’s happening on screen (The Dying Detective soundtrack in particular is interminably repetitive, and you’d be best off just muting it while playing your own classical music), and flashbacks which cut away to show the crimes being committed tend to drag.

But if you are even a little interested in seeing one of the earliest depictions of Sherlock Holmes, quite possibly the favorite of Doyle and audiences alike—hell yeah you should watch them! Then come tell me what you think—it’s not as if I know anyone who has seen them. You can watch all three in an hour and a half; and if you watch only one I recommend The Adventure of the Devil’s Foot—in my opinion it has the best pacing and the best Watson/Holmes interactions, even if a few plot alterations make the climax a bit nonsensical. And if nothing else, watch the first 1.35min of The Dying Detective, for reasons ;)

A final note, since clearly I don’t know how to shut up: If you watch The Man With the Twisted Lip, don’t get overly excited like I did over the fact that Mary is erased from the story. After a bit of research I discovered to my disappointment that Watson does still get married in The Sign of Four. Fortunately Sign is relatively early in Holmes and Watson’s relationship chronologically speaking, and the fact that as far as I can tell she doesn’t appear in any other Stoll films allows us to continue imagining what we will. Yet the part of me that at times just finds it so damn sad that through such an endless train of retellings creators seem compelled to find ways to bury and deny an love that should be celebrated cannot help fixating on the fact that Sign was the final Sherlock film released by Stoll Pictures. After three years of a bound partnership that not even the near-absence of agency on Watson’s part could entirely obscure, their public image was jerked to a conclusion with the purportedly hollow (x) ringing of hetero wedding bells. But we need not dwell too long on such depressing images. Regardless of whether you continue to hold out hope for BBC Johnlock, it is my increasingly firm opinion that we are charging headlong towards a doorway, and any moment we will burst into the green fields where beauty is joyously vaunted.

If you continue to follow my ramblings, I’ll see if I can’t convince you of the same.

#The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes #Stoll Pictures #1921-1923 #Eille Norwood #Arthur Cullin #Hubert Willis #film adaptation #Sherlock Holmes #John Watson #film analysis #johnlock #meta

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daisy-chain-gardens · 7 years ago

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(HUGE thanks to @leaalda for making this cute banner for me)

Here it is, the review feature that I said I would start up. I’ve started writing long reviews on some of my favourite fics on AO3 and I figured I would start a feature so I can help promote these incredible fics as well.

The first fic I’m going to review is: Fade Into Me (I'll Fade Into You) by @elegantmoonchild

This fic is absolutely incredible. I read it all in one sitting and then spent about twenty minutes afterwards trying to figure out what just happened and gushing over it with @wonderrful. Basically what I’m saying is you should go and read it RIGHT NOW because wow. Since I binge read it I forgot to comment as I went but to make up for that I left a massive (it took up three whole comment boxes on AO3) comment on chapter 5. Below the cut is the review I left so it is targeted at the incredible author

Warning: MAJOR spoilers under the cut

I just binged this fic and loved it so much, even though you did send me on a complete emotional roller coaster. I forgot to comment as I went so instead I'm going to leave a massive ( and I mean massive) comment on this chapter because, for obvious reasons, it really stuck with me. I want to start off by saying that this story is truly something special. As a reader, it's so obvious that you really love this story and it means something special to you because the way you write is gorgeous. Every sentence seems to be carefully thought out and this story a dream to read. I literally spent about ten minutes just gushing over this story with my friend on Tumblr because your writing left that much of an impact. Before I make myself look like a complete idiot and trip over my feet, let's get into the actual comment.

Archie, ever the goofball, would play around with JB, filling her with loud, raucous laughter, and Jughead would sit on the couch, Betty curled under his arm – the entire scene feeling a little more Hallmark than any of them could ever realize. Ok, so I remember reading this line and thinking how sweet it was for them to be able to find little pockets of happiness in such a dark time. Now that I've finished the story, I realise just how clever you were to slip that line in. I can't find the exact line but I remember something about them being 'the picture of grief' when they were at Jellybean's funeral (I think). My mind automatically jumped back to the line above, the whole idea of being a picture of happiness contrasting the picture of grief. This isn't the first time in this comment and it certainly won't be the last but, once again, hats off to your writing because it's the little things like that that truly make an incredible story.

Betty watched as the girl continued to stroke the sheepdog’s thick fur, lost in her own world of pure and simple joy. One thing that I love about this story (and there are a lot) is how you've written Jellybean's character and then how you've introduced her to us. It's nice getting to meet her in small moments through Betty's eyes. It makes the story flow really well and feel a lot more natural than it would if you tried to create a solid character before the story started. It's the little moments like this part with the dog that made me fall in love with JB. It also helped me fall in love with the way you've written Betty. Even just by a simple sentence like this I can feel the love that Betty has for other people and the true empathy she possesses.

She could feel him tense with nerves, overwhelmed by the sight of his sister entrenched in utter happiness for the first time in days. Your Jughead is freaking amazing. He's so caring and protective of Jellybean but then you've also written him as something more than just JB's big brother/father. He's got a true personality and, like I said before, the way we uncover it is so seamless in the story it really makes me feel like I'm watching it all unfold before my eyes. The characters are so raw and human that t makes it impossibly easy to get sucked into the story.

Jughead leaned over to one of the couch arms, leaving a space in between his legs for Betty. When she was finished tidying up, she crawled into the space, pulling the covers up over them both. Obviously, I love Betty and Jughead together and I think that they way you've written their relationship is something really special that we don't see every often in this fandom. There seems to be a complete level of trust and understanding between the two of them (at this point at least) which isn't necessarily shown through big romantic gestures but subconsciously fed to the reader through small moments like this. It's makes the relationship seem really real and not like something impossible and unattainable we're always fed through the media.

Her concerns about Jellybean had also grown, advancing into a territory she worried JB wouldn’t be able to get herself out of. She could see it in Dr. Klempner’s eyes every time she rounded on Jellybean, could read between the lines of her progress reports when she sat with Jughead at each visit to explain JB’s status. This is another thing I love about this fic, the fact that we get an idea of what's going on at moments like this due to Betty's job but then we're also kept in the dark like Jughead. It's a fine line but you've managed to balance it well. Also, this is just another example of those moments where we get a sense of Jughead and Betty's relationship getting a bit more serious, even though you haven't said it outright. The fact that Betty and the doctor are in the room at the same time with Jug (I don't know if this is normal or not) gives us the sense that Betty is there more and more for Jughead because she really wants to be there than because she is working.

Truthfully, sleep had evaded Betty as well. Initially, she had spent her nights away from the hospital, giving Jughead and his sister time together without her. She had tossed and turned, missing the newly familiar feel of Jughead’s body in her bed, until she gave up and began spending her nights with him there in the hospital room. It wasn’t all for missing Jughead, though. Betty had grown attached to his sister, feeling like she had become a part of her life in such a big way. Betty began making daily trips to get them fresh clothes from Jughead’s apartment or would rush out into the traffic of the day to find the one thing Jellybean was craving when her appetite had momentarily come back. She found herself a part of their narrative, easing into it with a comfort she hadn’t expected. I know that this is really long but I couldn't make it shorter. Your writing style is freaking amazing.This is poetic and sweet and beautiful but with that almost haunting undertone that seems to have crept it's way into this chapter. We get to know a bit more about Betty and how she's slowly moving away from her role as JB's nurse and becoming a bigger part of their little family, even though you made it very clear at the start of the fic that Betty is very good at separating her work from her personal life. It really makes us appreciate how special her relationship with Jughead is. Subconsciously feeding that change to the reader also shows how seamless that transition is and how Betty doesn't even realise what she's getting herself into or at which point she crossed that line she used to stay well clear of.

Betty’s heart felt the pinch as she realized she had no legal right to be there. Before she could leave, however, Jughead shook his head and reached for her hand. The look on Dr. Klempner’s face was of mild surprise. “No, she can stay. I’d like her to be here for this.” This is where the tears started for me. Not only the few lines before it where the doctor came in and we knew something was wrong, or JB being the little warrior she truly is, but the notion of Betty being an actually part of their little family. A family as unorthodox as they come but still the one thing in the world that Betty wants more than anything in the world. It's heartbreaking to me that now she's finally got it, it's about to be ripped out from under her and leave her and Jughead in such a devastating period of grief.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” It was a simple question, but Betty could feel the weight of her words. Now it was time for my heart to actually break. Jellybean is such a strong character despite her age and the fact that she's worried about Jug despite the fact she's about to die really shows that. The little explanation after this line about what JB's life was actually like is tragic but, once again, shows how strong she is. The fact that she trusts Betty and feels close enough to her to confide in her is so adorable, it's just a shame we can tell that their time together is limited and we won't get to see more of their relationship.

“You can’t let him know, Betty. You can’t let him know what I know.” A death bed wish, a promise Betty knew she would have to honor. Rereading this chapter is making me sad but even more in appreciative of your writing because you really have put a lot of thought into each word. There are so many little moments which foreshadow events in the last two chapters and I know how hard that is to do properly to well done. This line gives me a sense of bittersweet happiness for a few reasons. First off, we get to see how much they really do value each other as people, not just as their roles of nurse and patient. Second, because Betty doesn't even hesitate to agree to JB's request, even though she probably knows in the back of her mind that this would hurt Jughead. Sure enough, it does eventually, but I really admire Betty for honouring her promise. It really does show how much she loves them both.

“Then you need to know you both have the support of everyone here.” “Just don’t forget to take care of yourself, too.” I couldn't really chose one part of the Kevin/Betty conversation but these two lines stuck with me so I figured I might as well put both. I have no words for this part. Truly. It was so raw and real and emotional. It's an interesting shift to see Betty finally admit what's happened, to admit that she is a part of this special little family and she cares about JB because she loves her and not just because it's her job. It's good to have someone from the outside lay down the facts and really be there for Betty since she is definitely going to need it. She seems to be sort of isolated, without much of a support system. Even though she loves Jughead (and he loves her), she is giving him more support than he's giving her because he's the one that needs it the most, but that doesn't mean that Betty won't be grieving when Jellybean does pass away. It's nice to see someone finally acknowledge that. I think that the second to last line of that part really speaks to the person that Betty is and to how much she as grown from that experience. The fact that she's finally able to admit that she needs help is a big step for her. They did feel like a family. Betty knew when the time came for family to be cared for after Jellybean passed, she’d be one of the people needing emotional support.

Before I go into this part (which I did cry upon rereading), I found the sentence I was looking for before! When I was talking about the picture thingy in the first comment, it's here and not at JB's funeral. Oops. A snapshot of sadness

I can't find a good quote to use for this part. Every single line had so much meaning and was so carefully thought out that it felt wrong to separate them and I don't have enough characters to copy and paste the whole part. Let me just say that it was gorgeous. It was a truly beautiful way for JB to spend her last hour on this earth. A truly beautiful way for Jughead to say his goodbyes. A truly beautiful way to send of such a special person. I know that these are fictional characters but you make them feel so real. I have no shame in saying I was definitely crying throughout this whole part but I wouldn't have changed a single thing. JB's wishes for Jughead once she's gone were wise beyond her young age but were so heartfelt. I actually liked how you left Betty out of it a bit, how you acknowledged that despite her wishes and her feelings for the girl, this was Jughead's time and not hers, how you let her watch from the sidelines but still let her presence be known to the two people she had come to love so much in such a short period of time.

I'm not going to write about the last part because I think I've said enough but just know that I am now obsessed with your writing, even if it tears me apart, and the rest of the story left me with an odd sense of peace. Thank you so much for sharing your story with us. As I've said a few times already, I can tell how much thought and care you put into this and for that I am genuinely grateful. Thank you thank you thank you

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