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vanchlo · 4 years ago

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The Firsts / #4, “The First Time Meeting The Old Best Friend“

*not my gif

---> NEXT BLURB: November 16th at the lastest, hopefully.

READ THE ASSISTANT, AKA WHAT CAME FIRST

SERIES MASTERLIST

READ ON WATTPAD

LEGEND:

+ : a break in the story; a time jump.

sorry i forgot italics in this one, it’s just too much sometimes to go back through and do

WARNINGS: Swearing?

WORD COUNT: 9k words

SONG: If I Didn’t Have you from Monsters Inc. (CLICK TO LISTEN)

* SNEAK PEEK, DUH BC ALWAYS *

The irony that sits in the possibility of replies sickens me, because there’s little else I want more than to sit down and have dinner with him. The normalcy and the ignorance to how things have so drastically changed, and so quickly.

I wonder if I have enough time to leave, but no, I can’t. He’s noticed, and knows that I’m home. He’s expecting me. If only he could know how that same feeling has overflown inside of me, and been pushed back down each and every time, a hunger that was never fed. I hang my coat, place my keys on the ring beside his, and leave my ankle boots on the mat by his chestnut brown chelseas, just like every other time. In every way I still find it dreamy, but it’s not the same, no matter how much I wish that I could pretend that it is.

“When I love, I love for miles and miles. A love so big it should either be outlawed or it should have a capital and its own currency.”

- Carrie Fisher

His humming pulls me from the lines of text growing hazy and forgotten in front of me. Tearing my eyes from my lap, I find him kneading his bottom lip between his fingers. A corner of my mouth greets my cheek as I observe him flip a page and his eyebrows sink closer to his pair of greens, concentrating.

“What are you humming?” I ask, cocking my head to the side and narrowing my eyes. The sound stops and his eyes shoot over to me, brows still hugging his eyes, now in confusion.

“Hmmm?”

“What song are you humming? I don’t recognize it,” I explain, standing from my seat. The smooth, tiled floor is a welcomed cold against my bare feet that plod a path towards his tall bookshelf.

“Oh, that. Um, Junk by Paul. God, I love that song. ‘ve been listenin’ t’ him loads with tha concert comin’ up. You should too, babe.”

“I will, thanks for the reminder,” I tell him, winding my arms around his neck and pecking his cheek. Watching the dimple fall into it, a happy hum radiates through my chest.

“Whatcha wanna do fer dinner t’night? We could eat those leftovers from last night, or I dunno, heat up a can o’ soup. Perfect weather fer it right now, ‘d say.”

“Both sound good. You can call it, but I’m going to go and refill our teas,” I answer, leaving another kiss on his stubbly cheek.

“Oh, thank you, love. I hardly noticed, been so engulfed in this bloody book.”

His smile matches mine when I look over my shoulder, his empty mug in hand as I slide my flats back on. Voices trickle out of the doors I pass on my way to the breakroom. Excitement leaks from them, questions, hushed whispers, and then, a name I recognize.

“Can you direct me to the office of Harry Styles?” a blonde woman asks Amelia at the front desk. With a hand on the door, I turn back around to watch.

“Yes, of course. And your name was?” Amelia asks in her sing-song voice, hands poised on the computer keyboard, probably checking the schedule.

“Penelope-.”

“Oh, hey, Becky. Filling back up too, I see,” somebody says, drowning out the rest of the woman’s words.

“Why does that name sound familiar?” I mumble to myself and only her, watching as Amelia types away. “Sorry, what’d you say, Ash?”

“I just saw you’re getting a refill too. After you,” he almost wheezes, but I don’t take note of it, my eyebrows still in a dip after what I just saw.

“What’s that look for, huh? Is somebody not happy to see me?”

“Of course not, Ash. I just saw- I dunno what I even saw,” I confess, setting down my pink mug I pluck from the cupboard, and Harry’s black one in front of the electric tea kettle.

“Everything okay? You look a little lost, or something.”

“Yeah, fine,” I say slowly, trying to remember if Harry had said anything about wanting coffee instead, but he’s already had two cups, and tries to stick to only two these days. It’s already almost time to go home for the day, anyways. Sighing, I pull open the tea drawer and pluck out an English Breakfast and a Peppermint.

“I heard you and Harry nabbed that huge McConnell case that everybody’s talking about. Congrats on that,” Asher comments, sticking a hand into the drawer after I moved to the side, ripping open the tiny packets.

“Oh, thanks. No pressure, or anything.”

“You’ll do great, don’t worry about it. If anything, it’s a good thing you have Harry. If the bloke is good at one thing, it’s winning cases,” he insists, and I only nod along as I free the string from the bags to place in the mugs.

A mumbled confirmation leaves my lips as the steam from the scalding hot water wafts over my face, filling the mugs, one and then two.

“We still on for lunch tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure thing, Ash. Talk later,” I smile at him, pushing my back against the door and turning around to walk down the hallway.

Juggling the two, steaming cups in my hand, I take my time walking back to Harry’s office. Quickly, I find that I’m not the only one on my way there, and soon, I pass Amelia on her way back. Smiles float between us, but mine falls away for some reason, and in only a matter of moments, I’d have so many reasons why.

His head is bent over that same book, and a hand missing that summer glow rubs over his tired face. I can see him from down the hallway, and my vantage point would end up being regrettable, if only I’d known.

“I didn’t know running your own firm was so tiring, Styles,” the frosty-blonde girl says when she stops in his doorway, and he immediately perks up.

No, that’s my nickname for him, I think immediately, stopping a few paces behind her.

“Nelly?!” Harry exclaims with absolute sunshine radiating from his face. “Hell, look at you. T’ what do I owe tha pleasure, love?” he continues in a voice brimming with astonished happiness, standing quickly to hold out his arms towards her.

“I was in the neighborhood and figured I might as well finally come and see you and My’s firm. It’s about time, sorry it took me so long,” she giggles in her posh accent, walking right into his arms where he holds her against him for several moments. Something twinges in my chest at the sight of it while I try to remember when I’ve heard him speak about her. I know he brought her up once, or somebody else did, but I can’t remember what they’d said. Who is this person?

“Yer bloody right ‘s ‘bout time, only took ya years and years. How’ve ya been? Ya look good, thirty looks smashin’ on you, y’know. Married Ben yet?”

“Thanks, but I reckon it looks far better on you, Styles,” this woman laughs and it sounds like a song, but I’m not sure if it’s one that I like. From the appearance of his crinkly-eyed smile, Harry likes it. “Nah, we split a few months back.”

“Damn, ‘m sorry t’ hear ‘bout that,” he remarks softly while she picks up and looks at things on his desk. His eyes roam over her, but I can’t blame him, because so do mine. They drift over her cropped, curly hair and the long-sleeved, polka dotted dress. Polka dots have never been my thing, but somehow she makes them look sexy and far from childish all at the same time.

I watch as she picks up the framed pictures sitting on his desk and when she grabs the largest of them all, something flits across her face before she hastily places it down. I only wish I could’ve seen what it was. Shaking my head, I lift a foot to turn around while her voice wanders over to me, and then his.

“I heard you’ve found somebody new, no longer with Amber, I see.”

“No, we’ve been split fer a few now. Ya, that’s Becks,” he comments warmly, and the next few of his words I can’t make out, until I hear some that I can’t ignore. “There she ‘s now. Hey, babe, c’mere. There’s sumbody I wantcha t’ meet!” Harry calls down the hallway to me. Gulping, I look up and down the other side of the hallway before turning around to find the smile of my boyfriend. One of my favorite sights, if not a little duller now.

The few moments it takes me to walk to his office are awkward, knowing that they’re watching me and my movements. I suddenly wonder if I need to touch up my makeup, fix my hair, or how this new, black dress really does look on me.

“Thank ya, love,” Harry smiles when he takes the black mug from my hands to sip from. My own lips fall when she plucks the pink mug from my hands with a similar notion, completely devoid of any apology or embarrassment, and neither is Harry. What the- “Nell, this ‘s me girlfriend and colleague, Becky Holte. She worked here as an assistant o’ mine befo’ she finished uni, and came back last January fer an associate position. She’s me mentee and ‘m her mentor fer tha next few years while she finds her footing, workin’ primarily with me on cases, includin’ tha new McConnell one.”

“I heard about that, Harry, congratulations. That’s very exciting . . for the both of you,” she grins from behind her mug of tea. My mug of tea.

“Oh, sorry. Becks, this ‘s Penelope Hautten, or as we fondly call her, Nelly,” he introduces, and she offers a small wave and an awkward smile. Yeah, you have no bloody idea how awkward this is. “We met in uni fer law in our cohort, same with Rose and Rory.”

“Hi, it’s great to meet you. I’d love to say I’ve heard loads about you, but it’s been a minute since I’ve spoken to Styles over here,” she says, holding out a hand tanned from fake tan that I reluctantly shake when I hear her next comment made in laughter. “I’m sorry we had to meet like this, I’d be upset seeing another woman being all over my boyfriend, too.”

“No, you’re okay,” is all I say at first, feeling a little better when I feel Harry squeeze my arm after swinging one around my waist. “It’s nice to meet you too, I think I’ve heard Harry mention you before. He sure has a lot of good things to say about all of his fun in uni.”

The words bring loud laughs to both of their lips, and for a moment, I think that I need to as well. I find it awkward to not be laughing, but by then, it’s far too late to begin.

“I just wanted to stop by to say hi and congratulate you on getting this case, it’s a rather big one. Actually, maybe we could talk some more about it over dinner? I was just on my way to Lenny’s on this side of town,” Nelly says, and yes, I do see the little glance you give to me before you bat your eyes at Harry.

“Thanks, Nel.’ ‘d actually love t’ pick yer brain ‘bout tha case, and over a sandwich and soup sounds fantastic, ‘specially with this cold weather comin’ in. Great timin’, ‘m starvin’,” he remarks with an eager smile, rubbing a circle into my back before it falls. “Becks, you don’t mind, d’ya? Maybe ya could see if Rose needs help with anythin’,” Harry comments after setting down his tea, raising an eyebrow at me. He nods almost instantly, walking around his desk to grab his Northface off the back of his chair to pull on.

“Yeah, I’d love to consult on it with you, Harry.”

“Y-Yeah, sure,” I mumble, lifting a hand in a lousy wave as they’re already walking down the hall and away from me. Their loud and happy laughter floats back to me as the image of her arm hooking around his waist burns in my eyes.

“Was that . . ?” somebody says, breaking into my thoughts. Blinking and turning my head, I see Rose standing in her doorway, down the hallway. “Oh god, was that Penelope?” she groans with a shake of her head, stopping when she sees me standing there.

“Yep, in the flesh. She took my tea,” I say with a turn of my palm to the sky, taking slow steps until I arrive at her side. I join her in watching them get on the lift with smiles stretching their lips. “And my boyfriend.”

“I never liked her.”

“Why not? Wait,” I ask and then pause, furrowing my brows as thoughts race around behind my eyes. “Was she the one in your friend circle in uni who- No, please tell me that’s not the one who had a crush on Harry?”

A sigh is all that graces my ears while she tucks a daring lock of hair behind her ear. “Yes and yes,” she answers.

“God,” I groan, losing a hand in my hair. “And she just stole my boyfriend for a dinner date, when we were just going to go for our Taco Tuesday. What the fuck?” I exhale, letting my hand fall with a slap! to my leg.

“You better keep a short leash on him when she’s around, that’s all I’ll say.”

“Rose-,” I begin, turning to look at her.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to scare you, love. I’m sure everything will be fine, it’s been years since all of that happened, she’s bound to have changed, or so I hope.”

“You said everything would be fine, and you know what, it’s not fine!” I exclaim, dropping my bag onto the chestnut colored chair in front of the desk. Inhaling, the breath passes my lips shakily, and I turn away to look around the office.

“Becky, what’s the matter, love? What are you talking about?”

“Her. Penelope . . She’s on the McConnell case with Harry, instead of me,” I reveal gently, but the words falling from my lips feel like anything but that to my heart. Sniffling, I swipe a hand across my cheeks.

“What, how do you-.”

“I just saw him in the break room. You know what, I didn’t see him all last night. He didn’t come home until late. I went to sleep in an empty bed, and woke up later around eleven when he came in, and didn’t say a word to me. But in the break room, I run into my boyfriend, my mentee, my boss, who are all the same person, and all he has to say to me is that he’s switched me to your case and her to his. He didn’t have time to say anything more, because what’s-her-face slinked in and stole him from me. Again. Rose, I-I don’t like this, what the fuck is going on?” I finish, spinning around to look at her through the hazy tears sitting in my eyes.

“Oh, Becky love, I’m so sorry,” is all she says before pulling me into her arms where I let the tears fly.

“Am I stupid for getting so upset over this? I dunno if I am, because I looked her up on Insta last night and her stories were of them getting dinner and drinks together and she put hearts all around him on it. T-Then, this morning he barely kissed me on the cheek before breaking the news to me, and nothing more. No ‘I’m sorry for replacing you at dinner last night’ or ‘I’m sorry for coming home late and not responding to any of your texts last night,’” I cry, catching whiffs of her floral based perfume, feeling her sigh before hearing it. “I’m not going through another fucking Amber phase with him, she was one and done for me. I don’t like this, I just want him back.”

“Come ‘head, love, time for our weekly team meeting.”

I remain silent, staring at the laptop screen unblinkingly, wishing it was the voice of another now saying my name.

“I don’t want to . . she’ll be there . . with him,” I answer, switching tabs and scrolling through my search results on the Silver Net database.

“Becky-.”

“I can’t, Rose, okay?” I nearly retort, turning my head to look at her patient, brown eyes. “You didn’t hear the stuff she said to me yesterday.”

“What’d she say to you?” she hurriedly replies with concern, sitting down on the chair next to me, pulling it over so she’s facing me.

“It’s what she didn’t say,” I respond, closing my laptop but nervous to meet her eyes. “With just my luck, I ran into her in the break room yesterday, just when I was starting to feel better the day after getting dropped from Harry’s case. She was asking me about him, and well, me. How long I’d known him, how long we’d been dating, blah blah. Then she couldn’t shut up about how she’s known him for over ten years, how they’d have all of these late study nights in the library together, and how they took their Bar together. Then, he came in and she just continued, rattling off the cases they won together in the beginning when they got their first real lawyer jobs. She knew what she was doing and so did I, she was showing how much better she is for him, and how I’m . . not.”

“As if anybody fucking asked her,” Rose tuts, shaking her head vehemently and getting to her feet. “You stay and keep checking on those statements we got, okay? You don’t have to come to the meeting, I’ll just debrief you when I get back.”

Nodding, I lift the lid of my laptop again and switch to Docs.

“Becky?”

“Yeah, Rose?” I say, my eyes flitting to the door where she stands with her hand on the doorknob.

“You’re sure you aren’t going to talk to him about this? I think the sooner the better.”

“I would, if I could get him alone, but I can’t. It’s like she’s always there, even outside of work, he’s out doing something with her. I dunno, I give up.”

“I’m really sorry, love,” she frowns, emphasis in her voice and the bend of her eyebrows.

“Thank you, Rose,” I answer with a small smile, watching her return it and leave the room. I almost jump when I hear the ding of my phone, and scrabble to pry it from my pocket, only to be disappointed with a text from Skye. As well as the memory staring back at me, teasingly, from my lock screen.

If only I could go back to that day, or just rewind life by a few.

The flecks of snow leave cold puddles in my hair as my fingers wrap around the cold handle. Gulping, I don’t twist it, and instead, I just stare and listen. I listen to the happy hum of music I hear coming from the other side, and to the obnoxiously nervous thrumming of my heart. He’s home, and for the first time in three days, it’s before eleven o’clock. I want to savor it, but the repressed thoughts have turned sour in my heart, building upon each other throughout the prior days.

The new cold that has embedded itself into the wind and the trees around me, is what brings me inside. Maybe there’s an ounce of wanting to see him, or a contradicting whole lot, but it’s the sudden cold that I can’t handle anymore, and how it’s much too like the same absence that’s grown in my chest.

“Ya hungry, babe?” he calls to me, the sound of the door opening something I’ve only gotten used to recently, but he’s mastered by now. Breathing in, I chase a deep breath, but it’s lost. Wasting the time until I have to walk past him, I sink down onto the bottom step to pry off my shoes. “I was gonna make sumthin’ fer dinna, but ‘m not sure what. Anythin’ sound good t’ you? Oh, I was wonderin,’ why weren’t you at tha team meetin’ t’day? Ev’rything’ alright?” he continues, despite my lack of an answer. The irony that sits in the possibility of replies sickens me, because there’s little else I want more than to sit down and have dinner with him. The normalcy and the ignorance to how things have so drastically changed, and so quickly.

“Becks?”

“I’m not hungry,” I softly decide on a few moments later, padding into the kitchen where he still stands in his work clothes from today. The shiny black number adorned with velvet edges now absent, and my ever favorite, the leopard button up. The pain still sings behind my ribs at the appearance of it in its lonesome, untucked from his slacks.

“How are ya not? ‘s five o’clock, love. I know ya have yer lunches at one, so ya must be starvin,’” Harry comments, but how would he even know? The fridge makes that noise it always does when it opens, the soft pop before the whoosh of the refrigeration. “Hey, where are ya goin’? I could make a pizza, or some spaghetti fer us.”

The words that he requires to his questions escape me, and in their place, sit the impatient ones that have been patient for far too long. Yet, I can’t find the right ones to say that feel right, but then again, all of this feels so wrong. Not one moment from the last few days has felt anything close to right.

“Becks,” he says, urgency laden in his voice, and I wonder why I didn’t just walk up the stairs and away from him when I had the chance. “Hey, why’re you ignorin’ me, love?”

If that didn’t do it, his hand on my shoulder, soft as can be, does. I try my hardest to not melt into putty in his hands, but he sidesteps that entirely, and walks around to stand in front of me.

“What, it’s only okay when you do it?” I bite back, but the fervor isn’t there in my voice. No, not yet, but it’s not what does it for him when he sees my face. It’s barely there, but the way his eyes widen, and his lips part tells me that he too feels the tears warming up my cold-bitten cheeks.

“Becks, I dunno what yer talkin’ ‘bout. What’s tha matter, love?”

“Please, don’t lie to me,” I begin, a sob near and not too far. A swallow to wet my voice is anything but that, and I know it will only get worse as his eyebrows fall into the deepest V I may have ever seen.

“‘m not lyin’ t’ you, bug,” he insists, cocking his head. A whimper sounds from my lips when I pull my arm out of his grasp, and the effect is immediate, firstly in his eyes.

“You forgot about me, Harry. Our Taco Tuesday date . . watching the new episode of American Horror Story last night . . watching FRIENDS every night at dinner . . reading Harry Potter together every night before bed,” I say, the sob beginning its place behind my lips. “Ever since Nelly walked into your office on Tuesday, it’s been all about her! We’ve hardly spoken the last three days, and when we do, it’s ‘Nelly this,’ and ‘Nelly that.’ I’m your girlfriend, Harry, and I got fucking demoted by you, again!” the exclamation is dry, and yet with the sadness that leaps from my insides, no longer patient.

“Honey, ‘m sorry,” he tries with sorrow and everything else sewn into his features, but unlike every other time, I don’t want to take it and run. I don’t want to give in, or settle.

“Sorry doesn’t always cut it, Harry, you know that. You dropped me from your case without even asking me so you could have her help you! When we were talking about taking the case, you told me that it would be such a great learning experience for me. My first murder trial, and you gave it away to her! She’s seen how many murder trials, how many courtrooms, and known you for how long, Harry? It’s like I didn’t matter anymore the second she walked in your office. You didn’t answer your calls and texts, or if you did, it was hours later. I saw you on her Instagram story getting dinner and drinks every night this week, instead of having dinner at home, with me,” I explain, the tears wetting my lips chapped from the cold wind. “I don’t understand, Harry, what did I do or what didn’t I do? What does she have that I don’t?”

“Becks, please-,” he starts with a sadness in his voice that I don’t want to place or take ownership of.

“She loves you, Harry, I know it,” I say, and then, it all changes. His face does, and so do his words. He changes.

“What? What would make ya say that?”

“Don’t play dumb, Harry, I’ve seen it. I’ve only known her for a few days, and I see it. I see it in the way she looks at you, how anytime I’ve tried to talk to you at work this week she steals you back from me, and how much she sells herself to sound like you . . how she’s so much better for you than I am,” I tell him, the emphasis at last arriving in my voice. The bravery.

“She doesn’t feel that way ‘bout me, she never has. We’re jus’ good friends, ‘s all.”

“P-Please, I said don’t lie to me,” I stutter, squeezing my eyes shut at the sound of his words. The sting of the denial. “She does, even Rose told me she has ever since uni, Harry! Why can’t you see that?”

“There’s nuthin’ to see, Becks, ‘s jus’ best friends reunitin’ afta a few years. Ya wouldn’t understand . . ,” he spits back, disdain heavy in his voice, and now in my heart.

“I’m supposed to be your best friend, Harry, but I guess, not this week.”

“Jealous much?” he tuts with a shake of his head, his upper lip curling as his face takes on the look of . . somebody else. “Y’know what, ‘m sorry I dropped you from tha case, and yer all bitchy ‘bout that. I wanted t’ work onn’a case with me best friend fer ol’ time’s sake. I don’t see what’s so wrong with that! There’ll be how many mo’ murder cases, if that’s what yer really upset ‘bout. Nelly, she’s not in love with me, so stop bloody sayin’ that. Fookin’ f’get dinna, I don’t even wanna be ‘round you right now, yer bein’ pathetic and all jealous,” he retorts, and any words I had to say are drowning in the tears that crowd my cheeks.

“Harry, please. Don’t,” I beg him, turning to watch him walk away and shove his feet into his boots by the door.

“No, Becks. ‘m goin’ out fer dinna . . with Nelly. ‘ccordin’ t’ you, that’s all ‘m good at as of recent,” he says, and his voice drops when he says her name. So does my heart, and I’m sure it shows on my sleeve, because a hint of My Harry appears on his face just for a moment. Only a moment of regret and realness. I don’t wait to see if it remains, and dash past him to take the stairs two at a time until I find the guest bedroom, wishing that I could collapse onto our bed without it hurting me all the more.

It’s a few choked breaths until I hear the door to the garage slam, his car start, and then leave.

I guess I got my wish, afterall, to be alone.

The slamming of the door is what I hear next, and what lifts my heavy head from the pillow. Muffled curses pricks at my ears while I rub at my heavy eyes, a yawn leaving my lips. Blinking slowly, my eyes begin to fall shut and the pillow greets my head once more. Licking my lips, I grasp at the edges of the striped pillowcase, the remnants of my dream coming back to me. The sounds around me soften and so does the rest of my body, unbeknownst to me the hour, or the memory of the fight earlier. Nor did I know of the man who nervously climbs the stairs with a hole in his heart, searching for me.

“There you are,” he says, but I hear it in my dream, or so I think. Opening my eyes slowly, sleep is all but lost as his steps creak across the floor after opening the door noisily. “Oh, shit. ‘m sorry, I woke you up.”

I’d fall back asleep, ignoring him and it all, but I can’t after I hear the way the words fell from his lips. The subsequent sniffling and whimpers that adorn his words. Lying there staring into the darkness, my eyes slowly start to open more and so does my mind, and perhaps my heart. Having slept in another bed that wasn’t mine, I want more than anything to not have to fall asleep in an empty, cold bed tonight, without him. I just want things to be okay again, and to be normal. I had never before coveted the normalcy that we had only days ago, and how unknowingly happy I was living amongst it.

It pulls me to my feet and across the room blindly, and into his arms. For the first time in days, the tears don’t find me, but as I breathe in his smell, they belong to him now.

“Becks,” he cries from above me, his chest shaking under my touch. Sighing, all of the unspoken grievances spend themselves onto his skin, and hopefully, out of my heart. Little did I know.

“I don’t want to fight anymore, Harry, it’s okay.”

“‘s not okay, Becks, ‘s really not,” Harry continues, and as if in slow motion, I pull myself away from him. The glow of the streetlamp illuminates his features painted with sadness, and their rivers.

“Harry,” I begin, afraid of the words mounting on his lips as he presses his palms against his eyes.

“You were right,” is all he says and I’m stepping away, muttering frantic ‘no’s until I touch the bed, and sink onto it. His hands fall and in the scattered light amongst the darkness, I see the impending words weighing on his lips. “S-She kissed me . . t’night at dinna, we had been drinkin’ and . .”

The ‘no’s are lost entirely within moments, and my head falls into my hands. An emptiness that had been building within my gut over the last few days only intensifies, and if I’d eaten anything for dinner, it would have been lost by now.

“I stopped her, Becks, believe me. Please. I-I told her that she can’t, and I didn’t do it, too. I didn’t kiss her back, baby, I promise you that. ’m sorry, Becks, ’m so sorry,” Harry weeps. The floor creaks, but I’m too far away to know what it means, until his face falls into my lap. “I pushed her away, and told her that yer tha one I love, it could never be anybody else. I could never feel that way ‘bout her, I said that too, and how I love you so much and ‘ve been tha worst boyfriend t’ you ever since she came here . . . I-I made her leave, Becks, I swear. S-She’s gone and ‘m so fookin’ sorry I let this happen, baby, ‘m so goddamn sorry. I love you. I love you so fookin’ much, and ‘s only you. ‘s only ever been you.”

With a choked sound, I stand up and hardly feel the carpet pass under my feet, or the wooden steps that come next. I hear my name, the one that he gave me so long ago, and only swears by. Again and again, it comes, and I listen, but I don’t. After a while, the sobs bursting from me cover his voice, but they could never silence it. No, not my favorite sound in the entire world, and yet, at this moment, it’s the one that I hate most, because of the words it said.

“Becks, don’t. Baby, please,” he begs when I grab the keys and pull on my shoes. “Don’t leave. ‘m sorry, I promise she’s gone and isn’t comin’ back. You can’t leave anyways, ‘s a blizzard out there. They’re sayin’ people shouldn’t be drivin’ in it, ‘s tha first snowfall like this in October in a hundred years. I don’t want sumthin’ t’ happen t’ you.”

Stopping, my hand freezes on the handle, just like it did only hours before. Only then, things weren’t nearly as bad as they are right now. Sniffling, my shoulders fall and shake harder than before, and so do my words, “I don’t want to be here,” I sob, helplessly.

“I know, ‘m so sorry, Becks. ‘m so sorry,” he continues from behind me. I wait for the sound of his footsteps but they don’t come, and I’m not sure of my own, either.

Standing there, I’m uncertain of how much longer I can do it, to stand. Our cries fill my ears, and the ache of all aches weighs in my chest. With every second, it feels as if my legs are going to forget me, but there I keep standing, for how long I’m not sure.

“‘ll go, ‘ll leave you be. ‘m gonna pack a bag and stay at Myles’ down tha road . . Eat, babe, please. Have sumthin’ fer dinna,” he announces, and I swallow, past all of the anger and upset living in there. Blinking, the tears waiting in the dugout leave, and I see the cream of the door. I see all of the memories that happened even just there - the nights tripping in from too many drinks, the first nights at his place together, coming in after walks around the neighborhood, or surprising him after work with takeaway. They play before my eyes until freezing at the feeling of his lips on the crown of my head, and I close them. I wish that it could be like any other time, but the trembling of my lips tells me otherwise. “I love you, so much, Rebecca Ann. I love you, love you, love you,” he whispers before another peck, and then, he’s gone.

I don’t remember leaving him, or making my way to the downstairs study, falling into a fitful sleep on his futon with the sights and smells of him dancing around me. I only remember wishing that this was all a nightmare that he could wake me up from, and to not have to wake up to it, again.

The shrill sound of my alarm is what brings my eyes open the next morning, instantly groaning. Turning over, I press Snooze on my phone screen, again, and catch the picture that I haven’t been able to get myself to change. I could place it anywhere - a visit to The National Gallery to see Monet, Harry’s recent infatuation. It was a selfie gone wrong in front of the painting, Bathers, and instead features our large smiles in a blurry photo.

The time continues to tick away on the wall, and with every second that passes, life comes back to me, and walking back into my heart. I lay my head back down on the pillow and watch how the early morning sunlight peeking in through the shades dances across his study. The spines of his favorite books filling the shelf on the wall. Reflections painted on the screen of his trusty iMac. The ghosts stare back at me from the framed pictures around the towering object. His mum, sister, grandparents, the team at the firm, and then, there’s me. It’s the shiniest of all, absent of dust, and is in the biggest frame. He’s not even in it, like the others, because it’s just me. The pink and brown, patched quilt falls to my waist when I sit up quickly, squinting with my contactless eyes to see it. I had no idea he had printed it and framed it, to have in here, a snapshot of me from my birthday with a bedhead and a tired smile after opening presents. The accompanying frames hug the sides of his computer, but this one- no, not this one. It almost obscures the monitor itself, it’s so close, and it makes me wonder all the more if that says anything for how he holds me in his heart.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter under my breath, stabbing at the lit up number amongst the rows. Dragging a hand through my hair, sighs fill the air whilst I smooth down my wrinkled slacks, hoping I don’t look as shitty as I feel, like I know I do.

Not soon enough, the office comes into view, and I rush in. “I’m so sorry,” I apologize profusely, shaking my head as I set down my things in her closet where hers sit as well. “I just- I had a really terrible night, I know it’s no excuse, but-.”

“Would you stop apologizing? You overdid it when you rang me on your drive here, don’t worry so much, love. We all oversleep sometimes. I’m just glad you didn’t miss the team meeting, come on then.”

“God, another one? That has to be like two too many this week . . why?” I groan, following her out of the room with slumped shoulders. The realizations and realities don’t hit me until the second before I step foot into the conference room, searching for him. He’s nowhere to be found, and of course, it only makes me feel all the worse. I snoozed my alarm too many times and overslept, missed breakfast, forgot makeup, and now, my boyfriend I’m fighting with is MIA from work.

Could this week get any worse? Hmm, perhaps I shouldn’t jinx it, now.

“Where’s your lover boy at?” Rose taunts, but when my eyes stop their investigating, I find that she’s looking around with pinched brows, too.

“I’m wondering the same thing,” I answer softly, watching as more people fill the room, plucking bagels and muffins from the platter in the middle of the table. It would be calling my name typically, but no, something else is right now, somebody else.

“You go and find him.”

“But, Rose, they’re going to start-,” I begin, until Myles’ booming voice interrupts me from the front of the room.

Her firm green eyes don’t shy away from their answer, “It’s okay, go, Becky. He doesn’t usually miss these things, anyways. He’s gotten good at actually showing up to them for once,” she says with a soft smile, patting my arm and nodding at me to follow her words.

Nodding with a grateful smile, I weave around the cluster of familiar lawyers finding seats, and slip out the door. Searching the halls nearby is the first thing I do, but I’ve never been very lucky with that, and I’m not this time, either. I think I have it in the bag when I push open the door to his office, but despite the warm light pouring in from the windows and the ceiling lights, it’s a ruse. Harry’s not here, either.

Whirling around, I take a step towards the door until my mind catches on something. With careful steps, I turn back around and walk over to his desk, and I notice it. The mess. It hasn’t been this unorganized since well, when I worked as his assistant. He’s always kept it clean since I started working with him again, always having a place for everything, and keeping it that way. This is odd.

That’s pitched back onto the pile, forgotten, when the sun glimmers on something reflective. With another step, I catch sight of it, and like the other one did so perfectly, the guilt starts to bead inside of me. Inhaling suddenly, a smile lopsides my lips as I reach out to touch it. It’s just like the other one, and yet it isn’t, and in the best of ways.

As if it’s a mirror, my face stares back at me, and in so many ways. My staff picture for the firm that he took of me on a pair of steps on a walk together during lunch. Me riding the carousel when I had to be four or five. Pigtailed primary age me kicking a football along the field in a yellow jersey. Chubby-faced me smiling at the camera with only a few teeth to call my own, drool running down my chin. A candid of me at a staff party, and one that was long ago, when I was just his assistant. One to remember, a shot of me moments before my very first case with Harry, all dolled up in my lawyer attire. In the center of them all, they sit taped to a larger picture of me smiling so hard my dimple popped, in front of a path of autumn trees. A day only just a week ago if that, I realize, while admiring it.

Sighing, I reach a hand to brush underneath my eye, but I bump his white Apple mouse in the process. It wakes up his iMac and the sight of his screen is soon clouded with tepid tears. They fall, tasting briny against my lips, and heavy with guilt. In all of my time working with him, before, I had seen his computer. I had seen his laptop background. I had even seen his lockscreen, and it was never of somebody. No, it was a painting, song lyrics, a grocery list, or a sample background. It was never of a girl, but this time, it is. It’s him and me, some secret snap from a hike with Robbie this summer, overlooking the peak but smiling at each other while the sunset colors wash the sky.

God, I really do need to fix this, right now. And if I had any plans for what that would be like, they’re stolen away by the wind when I look up.

“Hey,” he says softly, worrying away at his bottom lip. His warm gray suit flutters when he stuffs his hands into his pockets, and if it weren’t for the lip thing, I know from this too that he’s nervous. Anxious or not, he looks unforgettable in that suit - the very one he donned for our first date, and I requested for so many more that he finally told me ‘no,’ because he had so many others.

“I was looking for you,” I reveal slowly, my voice shy and distant, although I try so hard.

“I was jus’ lookin’ fer ya too.”

Silence falls into the space between us and claims it, separating us all the more with the desk in between us, and his figure across the room. Words fill me to the brim, and I didn’t know it a moment before, but these ones are impatient too. They grow heavy and needy when I see the glassy look to his eyes, and then disappear altogether when the first tear drips down his cheek.

“‘m so sorry, Becks. I know I fooked ev’rythin’ up, and I understand if ya wanna break up- I-,” Harry weeps, his voice giving out on him. His dingy, flat curls move when his head shakes from side to side. My heart aches with each beat, and only sinks further when those pretty greens run away from me to hide in his hand.

“Harry,” I begin in the worst of sighs, my rushing feet not quick enough to get me over to him. “You didn’t fuck everything up, you’re not even capable of that. Breaking up hasn’t crossed my mind, I promise.”

“What?” he breathes, his hands falling at last. They’re slick with tears when I wrap them up inside of my own. Shock paints his face and stills the tears in his eyes that glue to me immediately.

“Just shut up and kiss me already, big head,” I refrain, freeing his hands and grabbing his face until my lips touch his. Surely, I’ve surprised him, but it’s only seconds until he kisses me back. Her face pops into my head, and I kiss him harder. The thought of her kissing him comes next, and I lose my fingers in his hair. I try to find my ground by focusing on the feeling of his stubble underneath my fingertips, and his smell. It smells like home.

“Baby, ‘m still so sorry,” he mumbles against my lips in between kisses.

“It’s okay,” I assure him, pressing pecks to his mouth with hurried breaths. The image of his wet green eyes find mine again, and it’s like my heart didn’t just get sewn back together in the last minute like I’d thought.

“‘m sorry, Becks, fer ev’rythin’ this week. Ignorin’ you, droppin’ you from tha case, comin’ home late, and our row last night,” Harry starts with tears growing in his eyes. Shaking my head, I pull him against me, and find his neck with my nose. “I was such a prick t’ you, I can’t believe it. Ya don’t deserve tha way I treated you or talked t’ you. ‘m so sorry.”

“I know, Harry, it’s okay. I forgive you, it’s okay,” I coo, trailing my nails against the back of his neck, catching the soft curls there. “I was to blame too, I should’ve talked to you right away, and not waited. I-.”

“No, don’t, Becks. ‘s not yer fault, none o’ it, it was all me,” he insists with a sob. I shush him, and lay my head on his shoulder, wishing to know how I could make this all go away. Hushed ‘it’s okay’s fall from my lips as I rub hearts into his back, wishing I could rub and rub until it was all better. Finally, the silence feels comforting, and no longer dangerous.

The sniffles have slowed and almost stopped once I pull away, catching a tear budding on the end of his nose. A corner of his mouth greets his cheek as he catches one under my eye.

“I’m sorry I got so upset last night over that stupid kiss. I know that you’d never do something like that to me . . it wasn’t your fault, Harry,” I say, brushing my thumb over his untidy stubble along his cheek.

“Thank you . . ‘m sorry I didn’t believe ya and got all defensive ‘bout whatcha said. Yer me girl, nuthin’ will ever change that,” Harry hums, sponging a kiss to my forehead. “I got so excited t’ see Nelly at first, but she kept tryin’ t’ keep me away from you, and I shouldn’t have ignored it.”

“It’s okay, it’s all over and done with.”

“Mmmhmm,” he hardly smiles, looking down at me.

“I’m your girl, huh?”

“Always, baby,” he confirms, his lips slowly spreading to shine that sunshine on me. “Hey, why tha tears when I came in, bug?” Harry shushes, leaving kisses along my face until I’m giggling.

“Your pictures,” I say amongst the attack of kisses, hearing his confused ‘hmm?’ from somewhere on the other side. “Nothing, I just- I know. I really know, now.”

“Good, silly girl, wantcha t’ never f’get that. Yer all mine,” he nearly sings, his lips drifting to my jaw and then my neck. “Love you, love you, love you.”

“I love you more,” I sing back in reply, but then my breath catches when his giggle tickles my ear. “Don’t you dare! Harry!” I chuckle.

“Do what, love?” he asks, the mischief sparkling in his eyes when his lips leave my skin to smile at me now.

“I swear to God, Harry Edward,” I titter, my words collapsing into laughs.

“I love you most,” he claims with a loud wheeze, tittering into the corner of my neck soon, making us both laugh.

“That’s my line!”

“Seems I got t’ steal it this time, bug, and fook, did it feel good t’ finally get t’ say,” he comments, earning a dramatic sigh from me. “So, what d’ya say t’ skippin’ tha team meetin’ like ‘d planned, and orderin’ brekky and catchin’ up on that show o’ ours?”

“Perfect.”

“Good answer,” he smirks, touching his lips to mine before pulling me in to wrap me up in my favorite place in the whole wide world, his arms.

“Are you ready yet? God, I swear you take longer than me, Harry, and I’m the gender who’s said to take the longest in the bathroom!”

“Ya well, ‘s not very hard t’ bloody braid yer hair, throw on some gym clothes, and a hat, now ‘s it, Ms. Holte?” he calls back, and I shake my head, crossing my arms over my chest. With a sigh, I take a seat on the bottom step and let my chin fall into my palm.

“Oh, would you stop? All you had to do was spray your hair and spike it, and write some words on your face with eyeliner.”

“Be nice t’ me,” he remarks from above me, his voice coming closer. Cocking my head, I see a glimpse of him until at last, he comes into view. His grumpy face doesn’t last very long when he sees the dimple fall into my cheek, and soon, so are his. “How do I look, Ms. Green?”

“Great, Mr. Geller. You really nailed the nineties spiked hair,” I say, my words falling into a giggle that he shakes his head at.

“Why thank you, ‘m rather proud o’ it too.”

“I still can’t believe who you said we should go as instead.”

“Keep teasin’ me and maybe we will go onna break,” Harry jokes, arriving at the bottom stair and soon returning to sit beside me with his pair of Old Skool vans in tow.

“Hush,” I retort, knocking shoulders with him. Smushing the hat back against my head, my head falls onto his shoulder and I wind one of my arms around his. “You did good on the whiskers, I like them,” I note, dragging the back of my finger against his baby-smooth cheek.

“Thanks, babe,” he mumbles while pulling on his shoes. Turning to me, the fake, black whiskers are obscured by his lovely dimples. “Ya really did do a great job with yer costume too, love, and t’ think we jus’ used what we had. We’re rather nifty, ‘d say,” he says, tapping a finger against my nose.

“Thanks. I can’t wait to see how cute we look together.”

“Then let’s go look, shall we, Rachel?” he asks with a raise of his eyebrows, and I nod as he kisses my forehead.

Taking his hand, I stand up and follow him through the house until we arrive in the main floor’s bathroom, staring into the floor to ceiling mirror. A laugh immediately sputters from my lips and one from his too.

“God, we look stupid.”

“I hope that means we did good with our costumes,” he titters, inspecting his hair until I softly swat at his shoulder. “Ya really outdid yerself with tha pigtails, babe. Me black cap looks great on you, as does tha rest o’ yer outfit that’s mine. Ya always blow me away by how sexy ya look in me clothes.”

“Okay, bud, would you chill out?” I chuckle whilst he sponges kisses down my neck from behind me now. “Harry, we haven’t even left for the party yet and you’re going to mess up your makeup.”

“‘s okay, ‘s supposed t’ look a li’l messy since Ross was drunk in that episode.”

“Harry, stop it,” I giggle when his lips wander to below my ear and his hands to my ticklish waist. “Kissy time can wait until later, mister.”

“Hmmmph, yer no fun.”

“I’m sure we’ll both be loads more fun when we’re tipsy later,” I note, taking his hands in mine and leaning into him.

“Oooo, don’t tempt me, babe. Already wanna kiss all over you, yer not helpin’.”

“Harry, I’m dressed as Rachel from the football episode in nothing but sweats. How in the hell is that sexy?” I wheeze, squirming when his fingers find just the right place on my ribs, because he’s gotten it memorized by now.

“Told ya that ya look like sumthin’ else when ya wear me clothes. Plus, there’s never a time where ya don’t drive me mad with how beautiful ya are.”

“Harry,” I sigh happily, opening my closed eyes to watch him litter kisses along my face in the mirror. “You know, I bet we’ll even win best couples costume.”

“Hmmm, ya think?” he wonders aloud, lifting his head to look back at us, and in my eyes. Gently yanking on my pigtail, I giggle as I turn around and thread my arms around his neck. “Y’know what, reckon we look cute t’gether even as Ross and Rachel, but always as Harry and Becks.”

His sunshine spreads a wider smile on my face as I hide my blushing face in his neck. The olive green button down of his slips under my fingers from behind his neck, and then again, I see the cat face scribbled on his face and ‘Ross’ written on his forehead from that one episode of FRIENDS.

“We make a good team, huh?” I ask him, my fingers dancing over his beaming face.

“Ya, we sure do, babe. And we’ll make a better one if ya don’t mess up me makeup I took far too long t’ put on.”

“Okay, fine,” I relent, my thumb drifting along his cheekbones before it finds his bottom lip. “How’s this spot?”

“That works just fine.”

“Oh, you don’t say?” I snicker, pulling down his warm lip only to have it spring back against his teeth.

He shakes head with red cheeks while humming a response, but it doesn’t go very far until I envelope his lips with mine, sure that I’m screwing up his makeup but neither of us care. The kiss only grows sweeter when I think of the last Halloween that we spent together, and how this one is already starting off miles better.

We really have made it, haven’t we?

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ahtohallan-calling · 5 years ago

Text

chapter 16 of don’t read the last page is here!

masterpost

[kristanna / m / multichap / modern au with actress!anna and vetstudent!kristoff]

“I mean, even if that is what she’s filming today,” he said to a cat recovering from minor surgery as he held out a toy for it to bat around, “it’s not a big deal. I mean, she’s an actor, right? And anyway it’s for the movie, so no one else will see it yet, and everyone will know it’s fake. So it doesn’t bother me.”

The cat stopped playing and gave him a look that said even I know that’s bullshit, buddy.

Kristoff had always been a patient person. He wondered sometimes if it had started when his parents had adopted his oldest sister, or a few years before that when he had been a ward of the state waiting to be wanted, or perhaps he had just been born this way, stoic and solid, slow to anger and quick to forgive.

The magazine display in the checkout lane was testing that right now.

She had been excited about that photoshoot with People just a couple of weeks ago. “They want me to be on the cover!” she had called to tell him on her way home from Sam’s office. “And do an article about, y’know, my rise to fame and stuff. I mean, it’s not Vogue or anything so it’s not a huge deal, but still!”

He didn’t really recognize her on the cover. They had slimmed her down for some reason, when just last week she had come home from a doctor’s visit upset because the doctor had told her he was worried about the rate at which she was losing weight when she had already been slender. “I just don’t have time to eat on set sometimes,” she had explained to Kristoff as they went through the grocery store together, both of them in sweatshirts with the hood pulled up. “And then I’m dancing all day, and then I’m stressed as fuck, and I just…”

(He’d packed her lunch every day since then and left a note in each bag. She sent him a picture one day of all of them taped up around her mirror.)

Somehow worse than that, though, was the little blurb in splashy pink letters: Anna Arendelle Rises To Fame...And Falls In Love? Find Out More On Page 36!

She’d done the interview before the Hans debacle, and when they’d asked if she had ever been in love before she had said, “Oh, absolutely. And it’s the most amazing, wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me. I’d take that over the fame any day.”

It had been romantic when she had told him about it later that night when they laid tangled in bed together. It was less romantic now knowing that it was followed up in the article with a whole paragraph about her New Year’s duet with Hans Westergaard.

Between the two of them, they had almost all of the magazines on the rack covered, most of them promising “details about their budding romance inside!” One particularly abhorrent one actually had a picture of Kristoff next to her one day sitting on a park bench; he’d had his hood on, and she’d made the mistake of keeping hers off and leaving that unmistakable red hair on display. Still, he had no idea how anyone would be stupid enough to think he was Hans, considering he had a good five inches and thirty pounds at least on the other man. Then again, the same magazine promised proof Prince William was a lizard.

He turned that one around so no one else could see it, and then picked up a Twix-- Anna’s favorite-- and threw it in the cart. On second thought, he grabbed another; he needed one, too.

---

"Damn, is that really gonna work under latex gloves?"

Kristoff jumped and slammed his laptop shut. "Jesus, didn't anyone ever tell you it's rude to look over people's shoulders?"

The vet tech grinned. "Yeah. But I think when you see your favorite intern looking at engagement rings, you can make an exception. That bloodwork came back clean, by the way. We can send him home tomorrow."

"Thanks, Ryder."

The other man plopped down in the seat across from him. "Pay me back by finally telling me more about this girlfriend."

He groaned. "Why are you so invested in this?"

"I already watched all the good stuff on Netflix. Now I'm bingeing coworker drama. Casey and Paul are fucking, by the way, which is why--"

"They suddenly both started volunteering for kennel clean-up, yeah. Obvious."

"So give me something better to talk about. Like why you were seriously looking at a heart shaped stone."

"It's romantic!"

"It's cheesy. She'll hate it. Probably."

"How do you know so much about women?"

Ryder waggled his eyebrows. "I'm kind of a love expert."

"Didn't you tell me once you were perpetually single?"

"Exactly. I know exactly why to avoid all the bullshit. Stop changing the subject. What's her name?"

"Anna," Kristoff said before he could stop himself, and Ryder grinned.

---

had to talk to hans today bc we r shooting stuff together again

he was super apologetic

said it was a waiter who filmed n leaked it n that he called the company

Do you believe him?

idk

he said the bowtie thing was to match the confetti not me

i think i believe that part at least i mean why else would he have had a silver one lying around

Maybe he already had some ready no matter what color you wore.

idk i think that’s too creepy even for him

it is right?

god i can’t think about that today

He waited a long time before texting her again, keeping his focus on the puppies he was giving their first shots instead of why today was apparently the wrong day to think about just what Hans would do to capture her attention. As hard as clinicals were and as exhausting as it was, this was the work he had dreamed of doing his whole life, and the fact that it required his full attention when he most needed a distraction from the rest of the world was the cherry on top right now.

But then the puppies were vaccinated, and it was already four o’clock, and all that was left to do for the day was check on the animals who were staying in the kennels overnight, and his mind couldn’t help but wander as he went from cage to cage.

The cat stopped playing and gave him a look that said even I know that’s bullshit, buddy.

Anna had gotten home before him for once that night. She was already in the shower, and she didn’t emerge until he’d already cooked dinner and was half-considering digging in to his plate. “Oh! Hey, baby,” she said as she came into the kitchen, still only wearing her towel. “I thought I heard you in here.”

“Jesus, Anna, how hot did you have the water? You look like a lobster.”

“Nice to see you too,” she said, trying to tease, but she looked away from him instead of coming over to greet him like she always did with a kiss.

He went to her instead and stood before her, not touching her like his heart was screaming for him to do; she leaned away, just barely enough to confirm his suspicions.

“You had to do a kissing scene today, didn’t you?”

She only nodded.

“It wasn’t really you guys,” he said softly. “Just your characters. Did he-- did he try anything?”

“No, not at all. He was a perfect gentleman, and it went just fine, and after he made sure I wasn’t bothered since he knew I was kind of upset about all the hubbub but...I don’t know, Kris. I don’t know what’s acting for him and what isn’t.”

A tear slid down her cheek and spattered on the floor. Still he didn’t touch her, waiting to let her make the first move. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“Me too. I’m sorry I...god. I’m sorry for everything.”

“I’m not upset about it, though,” he lied. “In case you were worried.”

She stepped closer to him then, pressing her still-damp forehead against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her, letting his thumb rub gentle circles over her shoulder. This is why, Kristoff, he reminded himself, this is why you can’t tell her.

“I love you,” she said, sounding so forlorn he could have sworn he felt a little crack open up in his chest.

“Love you too. More than anything.”

---

He still didn't understand exactly how to use Twitter, but he did know enough to understand that when he logged in and saw stuff about Anna before he even searched her name, something big was happening.

Exclusive new behind the scenes photos from Anastasia! Click here for more:

It already had six thousand retweets, and dozens of replies all screaming about the photo of Hans and Anna clinging to one another. They were in full costume, surrounded by cameras, and the photo was grainy, but still he couldn't help but zoom in on Anna's face, the way she gazed up so lovingly at Hans, the same way she used to look at him before she started running so low on time. Now it seemed he only ever saw her when she was asleep or halfway there.

"Didn't take you for a Disney fan, Bjorgman," Ryder said from behind him.

"Not Disney. It's Fox," he muttered, knowing it was useless to rebuke him for peeking yet again.

"My sister works on that set," Ryder said proudly. "She does Anna Arendelle's hair and makeup."

"...Honeymaren is your sister?"

"...what the fuck? I thought I was the nosy one. How the hell do you-- oh my god, is that your Anna? The one you’ve known since high school and you live with and--”

Kristoff stood up suddenly, his chair screeching with the movement. “You can’t tell anyone,” he said, his voice unnaturally harsh. “I’m serious.”

For once, Ryder looked serious. “Jesus, man, no need to go all ‘I’m six-foot-four on me’. We’re friends. I wouldn’t fuck you over like that.”

His heart was pounding. He could trust Ryder-- he wanted to, at least, but it had been a secret for so long, and already even without other people knowing his life had been upended, and if it got any worse he might have to--

“Kristoff. Seriously, man, I’ll forget you said anything.”

Ryder looked wounded somehow as he turned and left. Feeling guilty, Kristoff called after him, “Wait, it’s just--”

Ryder glanced back over his shoulder. “We’ve all got our shit. I’m here to talk if you need.”

He walked away, and Kristoff found himself standing alone in a room silent except for the buzzing of the fluorescent lights and his own breath, harsh and heavy in his chest.

---

Sweat poured down his back as he ran harder than he ever had before, his legs pumping like he was desperately trying to get somewhere that remained forever just out of his grasp.

He had woken up that morning to an empty bed and a post-it on the fridge with an apology. Meeting with Sam before filming, completely forgot. So sorry xo

She hadn’t even remembered to grab her lunch from the fridge. She probably had forgone breakfast too, and they were in the thick of filming now, doing the huge dance scenes that seemed to take all day and half the night and left her so exhausted sometimes he had to help her undress.

Last night had been one of those nights, and the night before, and this night would be the same, and his lungs were burning, and he’d already gone five miles, sprinting the whole way, and by the end of the day he would be too sore to move, but he still didn’t know what the hell to do and so he just kept running.

---

He was covering the front desk today for the receptionist, whose daughter had just had a baby; normally he wouldn’t have volunteered for something like this, would have wanted to stay doing what he knew best and getting as much experience working with the animals as he could, but as much as he hated talking on the phone to people, he knew he was likely to do more harm than help in the back of the clinic today.

Mercifully, the phones hadn’t been busy so far that morning. He stared, distantly curious, at his hand as it rested on the mousepad, trembling as if he wasn’t sitting perfectly still in a room that was by all standards a little over warm.

A styrofoam cup filled with shitty breakroom coffee appeared just in front of his fingers. “We’ve been taking bets on how long you’ll last out here without falling asleep,” Ryder informed him. “I said another hour, but it was looking iffy for a second there, so I brought you this.”

“Thanks, man.”

He ignored the cup and went back to watching his hand. He didn’t know a lack of sleep could do this. He’d have to keep that in mind next time he was scheduled for a surgery the next morning, would have to find some way to fall asleep in spite of his own mind.

“I, uh, I told my sister I know you. And that I know about it. If that’s okay, I mean,” Ryder said hurriedly. “She’d told me before about hanging out with Anna, and so I just kinda put two and two together and assumed she knew.”

“‘S fine. She’s known the whole time.”

“I, uh, I asked her if she knew why it was a secret. I could have asked you, I know, but, uh...you know how you are with secrets. Figured if I wanted the truth--”

“Just tell me what you want to say. Please,” Kristoff said, taking a sip of the lukewarm coffee in the futile hope it would help.

“Just...that it sucks. Especially with this shit with them saying she’s dating Hans Westergaard. Wish I could tell you ‘I get it’ or something. But I don’t, so I, uh, just...yeah. But I hope the, y’know, engagement ring thing that I saw you looking at that one time...I hope it works out.”

Kristoff ran his hand through his hair. “Yeah. Me, too.”

---

“They seriously won’t just let you call in sick?”

“I mean, I could, but at this point, I’m in all the scenes that are left, and I can’t just halt production for a whole day just because I’m sore, especially when we’re going to Russia in two weeks, and they’re all depending on me, and I can’t just--”

“You sprained your wrist,” he said flatly. “This is more than just being sore.”

“I know, but we already filmed one scene with it, I got Honeymaren to put some foundation on it so you can’t see the--”

“Anna,” he said, his voice so strained she finally went quiet.

He grabbed one of her makeup wipes off the bathroom counter and came back to where she was perched on the edge of the bed. He took the injured wrist in his hand as carefully as he could and started gently dabbing at the nearly-invisible lines of makeup. She winced, and that crack in his chest widened a little more, deepening further as the green and brown smudges faded into view.

“Jesus,” he muttered, and her fingers curled into a fist as she tried to pull away, embarrassed. “Anna, no, I just-- how did you manage this?”

“There was this stunt with the train scene, and nobody else was going to have a stunt person do it, and so I...I wanted to try and see if I could do it, but I just...I don’t know, Kris, I just fucked it up, I guess.”

He bit back everything he wanted to say; what good what it do, anyway, when everybody else seemed to be encouraging her to push herself this way? Instead, he leaned down and pressed a featherlight kiss to her palm. “Let me get something to put on it.”

When he came back a few minutes later with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel, she had already curled up on her side and fallen asleep, still fully dressed. He sat beside her, lifting her head onto his lap. She still didn’t wake up, and so he carefully raised her injured wrist, holding it gently as he could as he pressed the makeshift cold compress against it.

He stayed holding her that way, for a long, long time, until the peas had thawed, and then he went to the kitchen and threw them out and leaned over the sink and splashed cold water onto his face, wondering how much one person could bear.

---

Mid-February had finally rolled around with all its gray skies and sappy pink storefront displays. She was leaving in thirty-six hours, and he hadn’t seen her since the night before, because he’d gotten up two hours earlier than normal to come in early so he could leave early and take her out on the date they’d been planning since even before New Year’s, the one to make up for her being gone for the next three weeks and missing their first Valentine’s together.

It wasn’t that he gave a single fuck about the holiday; it was that she did, and so he’d put his heart into planning it all out: they were going to drive outside of the city limits, just enough that anyone who saw them might do a double take but still keep walking, but not so far that they would get back home too late for anything else. He’d found a diner just like one they used to hang out at in high school, one where they could order a giant strawberry milkshake to dip their fries into and spend all the quarters they could find in her car on playing cheesy old love songs from the sixties, one where if they got lucky they could risk holding hands under the table without anyone seeing.

He was already half-dressed after showering off the day’s stress, expecting her to come through the door any minute, when his phone buzzed.

i’m so sorry

He was half-tempted to throw the phone out the window. Maybe if he didn’t read the rest of the message it wouldn’t come true.

He looked again anyway, that now-familiar crack in his chest widening into a full-blown chasm.

i’m so sorry, something happened with the plane tickets and then the schedules changed and so they want us to have a meeting

hans said we can do it at his place (🤮) since we’re all tired of the set

but at least that’s towards where you said we were gonna go

i’m so so sorry kris can you pick me up from here? ill just ride over with him i guess so i can leave my car here

He sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, putting the phone aside to bury his face in his hands. How the fuck had they gotten here? This wasn’t supposed to happen; they were supposed to move in together, and it would all be fixed, and he’d see her enough, and it was all going to be fine, but it hadn’t been fine for so long he was starting to wonder whether it would be again.

His hand, his arm, his whole body felt like it had been filled with lead when he picked up the phone to respond. Of course, baby. Just call me when it’s over.

He finished getting dressed and went to sit on the sofa; figuring at least he could turn on the TV and find some stupid show to drown out his thoughts. His eyes flicked down to the Netflix button on the remote; what the hell, he thought, you already feel like shit, might as well see her during it.

He put her movie on, the stupid Christmas one he’d helped her run lines for, and watched her-but-not live through a dreamy, whirlwind romance, even almost smiled at the scene they had read together on his living room floor all those months ago; he closed his eyes for the kiss at the end, even though he’d seen the movie before with Sven when it first came out, he didn’t know if he could take watching it right now.

He kept watching while the credits rolled, jealous of all the people whose names scrolled by for every second they got to spend with her, not knowing how he coveted her time. It was getting dark; he glanced at his phone, expecting to see that he’d missed something from her, but there was nothing.

He went to the kitchen and cracked open a beer; he wasn’t normally one to drink when he got like this, but tonight-- tonight something felt different, like the air was suddenly running out of oxygen, like the walls of this house they had thought would be full of so much happiness were closing in on him.

He finished it; still nothing. It was late enough now she’d be too hungry to wait through the drive up. Fine; they’d get McDonald’s, or order a pizza, or he’d cook pancakes for her-- he didn’t care, he just wanted to fucking see her before she left, just wanted to be with her and no one else and pretend that it could be that way all the time.

He cracked open another beer. Another hour passed, and the frustration that had been pooling in his gut had started to ferment into worry. She was never quiet this long; something had to have happened, something had to be wrong.

His jaw was clenched; he released it, thinking it would lighten some of the tension coiled tight in every part of him, but it didn’t. He felt hot and cold and too big and too small all at once, a bundle of aching and anxiety bouncing around the prison of his own skull while he waited to hear something, anything.

Suddenly he could take it no more and stormed out the front door, snatching up his keys and heading for the car. He had it started, had his hand on the gear stick to pull it into reverse when a sudden horrible thought hit him: what if she didn’t want him to pick her up? What if she wanted to spend her last nights here with everyone else, with all the other people like her, the ones who kept pushing her and and demanding so much of her, all in the pursuit of-- of whatever the fuck it was that kept her going like this.

He went back inside and sat at the kitchen table, his eyes never moving from the door.

Another half hour passed, and then suddenly it swung open and she was there, her eyes wild and her hair half-out of a ponytail. “Kris, I’m so fucking sorry,” she gasped out, and he stood, striding over to her.

“I-- I rode with Hans,” she explained, already reaching for him, “and then I got there and realized my phone was gonna die, and I didn’t have my charger with me because it was in the car, and no one else had theirs either, and then the meeting just kept fucking going on and on because everyone was asking so many questions, and then I had to borrow someone’s phone to get an Uber and it turns out that that just complicates things and I-- fuck fuck fuck I’m so sorry, I just--”

“I need to go,” he said shortly, catching the door before it could swing shut behind her and slipping out into the night without saying goodbye.

#.............oop #drtlp #my fics #thank you fericita for helping me with ryder and the ring bit haha

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kaniacqueen · 5 years ago

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Leverage International: The Diner Job Ch. 12 Invitation

What are you up to?” Savannah asked as she stirred awake after a solid three hours.

Eliot was sitting up next to her, swiping through his tablet. “I think I have the menu for the party, just about finalized. I just sent it to you and Parker and Hardison.”

She reached over to the side table and groped around for something that apparently wasn’t there. “Wait, where--” She laid back down in realization. “Right, we’re in your suite.”

“Yeah, you know, we’ve been here weeks, almost months, and I can count how many times I’ve slept in my suite on one hand.” He nudged her.

Her eyebrows knitted in shame. “Sorry.”

He kissed her forehead. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

She leaned into him and rested her head on his shoulder. “How do you put up with me?”

He handed her the tablet, choosing not to answer the hypothetical. “Here, take a look at this for me.”

“Hmmm,” she mused as she scrolled. “Looks good. Tasty. A little more complicated, a little show-off-y. Perfect for a party for a bunch of egotistical Italian mafioso-wannabes.”

Eliot laughed through his nose. “Your descriptors are getting excessive. You’re spending too much time with Sophie.”

She dropped the tablet on her chest and covered her face with her arms. “I’m trying to spend less time with Sophie. She’s making me nervous.”

“Is all this about Sophie?” He spoke without thinking.

“Eliot, please don’t,” she whined.

“Fine.” He changed the subject. “So I’m a show off?”

It worked and she started laughing. “In like the best possible way though!”

He leaned over her, playfully looming. “And what way is that?”

“The sexy way.” She shifted beneath him.

“Yeah?” he asked through his teeth. Her submissive positioning made him tight in the crotch again.

“The one where you know what you’re doing...and totally deserve to show off.” Her breathing quickened. His hands curled into fists alongside her hair. The tension pressed on them like a lead weight.

“We should get ready to go to the diner.”

“That is a fantastic idea.”

They moved like lightning to escape each other’s presence, the exact opposite of the night before.

“Okay, time to drop the invite for their little party,” Eliot voiced, catching Savannah in the kitchen between orders. They were swinging wildly between keeping their distance and not keeping their hands off each other. Her fingers flexed as he got close to her. He felt excessively warm, even for being in a bustling kitchen.

She shrugged uncertainly. “So go invite.”

She started to turn away, and he pulled her back. “Nope. No. United front. You gotta do it with me.”

She rolled her eyes and made an exaggerated wretching noise. “Fine.” She grabbed a pitcher of ice water. “Let’s go.”

He followed her out. She stretched on a fake syrupy grin. “How are you, gentlemen?” she asked with a touch of Southern charm as she began filling glasses.

After the peppering of positive responses, Eliot followed up with, “Well, we’re having a party, celebrating our most loyal regulars.” He glanced at Savannah.

“Meaning y’all,” she continued.

“Next Thursday. We would close a little early and you guys could have the place to yourselves.”

“Just us and you. How does that sound?”

There were the expected murmurs of anticipation. Eliot squeezed Yavetz’s shoulder. “Kilmer?” he implored quietly. “Be my guest of honor?”

Yavetz clapped him back and nodded. “For you, Paul.”

He heard Savannah exhale. “Glad to hear it.”

“I...I need your help,” Hardison’s exasperated voice came through the phone. Savannah had been half-asleep on Eliot’s shoulder watching a movie that neither of them were truly paying attention to, about ready for bed, when the phone rang at a truly odd hour for any sort of pleasant phone call. Eliot picked up on Parker roaring in the background.

“Is it Yavetz?” Eliot asked. None of what was coming through the phone was adding up.

“No, Parker is freaking out...Just get here, okay?” Hardison pleaded.

Savannah finally sat up. “His suite or Parker’s?” she asked, not quite present yet.

“Parker’s,” Hardison answered, evidently having heard Savannah in the background.

And without further ceremony, they headed to Parker’s suite where they found her shredding various notes and throwing them about the room in a screaming fit. “What the hell?” Eliot said to himself. Savannah hovered by the door. With a deeply furrowed brow, she searched around the room as if solving a puzzle. Eliot slowly approached Parker. He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Parker? What’s going on?”

She hardly seemed to register he was there. She just slumped over next to the coffee table and started ranting. “It’s supposed to be perfect but it’s so frustrating. I don’t understand any of it. There’s so much to do. It’s supposed to be perfect, but it’s just so hard. I can’t do this. This feels like a mistake.”

“What are you talking about? Is this about the job? Damn near none of our jobs go perfect. Why are you freaking out?”

Savannah came up behind him, took him by the shoulders and shifted him behind her. “Move,” she instructed.

She knelt down next to Parker. Eliot noticed her peering at the torn pages. She carefully removed the paper shrapnel from Parker’s hands. “Parker, talk to me. I get you’re stressing about the wedding. Tell me what exactly is going on in there.” She grazed her fingers over Parker’s hairline.

Parker finally looked up, her face reddened and puckered in stress, her eyes glassy. “There’s so much to do. Venue. Flowers. Menu. Invitations. Wedding party. It’s supposed to be perfect. But there’s so much of it. Every time I think I have things figured out, there’s more that I had no idea...it’s so complicated.”

Savannah pursed her lips like things weren’t adding up. She started piecing together paper scraps and examining the notes she could translate. “Parker, is this really what you want?”

She shrugged. “I want this day to be perfect. For Hardison. He deserves perfect.”

Savannah looked away for a moment, like she was struggling with something. Then a smirk blossomed on her face as she turned back to Parker. “Have you...asked Hardison what he wants?”

Parker leaned back visibly as if Savannah had shoved her. “He...”

With a nod, Savannah repeated, “Have you asked him?”

Parker and Savannah both turned to look at Hardison who stood near Eliot, both watching cautiously. Savannah nodded towards Parker, wordlessly turning the situation over to Hardison as she got up. She and Hardison switched places. Hardison took one of Parker’s hands as he sat down and took a look at the notes Savannah had pieced together.

He stifled a laugh and shook his head. “Parker, is this what you want?” he asked, touching the scraps.

She pressed her lips together then sighed. “I want this to be perfect, perfect for you.”

He nodded. “And what do you think is perfect? What do you think I think is perfect?” Parker looked at the notes and her expression turned sour. She opened her mouth, but it was Hardison who spoke. “See, this is normal. Doesn’t necessarily mean perfect. Especially if you look at the divorce rate.” He took both her hands in his and had her face him straight on. “Parker what did we agree on from the very beginning? That this wasn’t going to be normal.” She nodded, her eyes welling up and a grin tickling the corners of her mouth. “I don’t want normal. You want to know what would make me happy? Marrying you. I don’t care if it’s in a courthouse, on top of the Eiffel tower, or jumping out of a plane. Okay?” It was an embarrassed laugh, or a relieved sob; it was hard to tell. But Parker laughed as a few tears leaked out of the corner of her eyes. She touched her forehead to Hardison’s and nodded. “What do you want, Parker?”

“I want you. And the Eiffel Tower sounds pretty good.”

Hardison groaned, obviously regretting the sentimental suggestion. “Okay, we’ll talk about it.”

Savannah told hold of Eliot’s arm. “I think that’s our cue to slip out.”

#Leverage International #The Diner Job #Leverage fan fic #Leverage fan fiction #Eliot Spencer #Parker #Alec Hardison #Harker #Pardison #pretzels #Parker/Hardison

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geek-gem · 5 years ago

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I’ve been working on this for some days. Because of Aawesomepenguin’s latest post. I know how the Sonic movie goes. While we have known some stuff of it already before. But not in that much detail.

This is basically my what if idea for a Sonic movie. I’ve made two of these before. The first being with Metal Sonic and Silver Sonic, the 2nd I’d like to called the, “Chaos Draft” because it was a loose adaption of Sonic Adventure and borrowing heavily from the fake Reddit info leak I’ve talked about before.

Really I’ll give my honest thoughts on the Sonic movie when I see it personally. Because I don’t wanna just slam a whole bunch of negativity on it. But I’m mainly disappointed by the fact of the direction it went. I might end up loving the film. Yet I would of liked something like a more serious take on the franchise. Let me talk deep here mate.

I’ve wanted to talk about this despite this has been said in my head. I would love if it Sonic was made cool again. Which is a intriguing topic because hasn’t Sonic always been cool? It depends on how you see it. Which is why I seem more serious on a Sonic movie adaptation than other video game adaptions. Because the franchise means a lot to me. Which is why I want the movie to be good and hopefully the reception gets better because of it.

Despite I’ve learned I shouldn’t do a condensed loose version of Sonic Adventure and whatever else. My biggest inspirations for this new version of my Sonic movie was taken from several things. Such as my love for the 2018 movie adaption of Rampage by Brad Peyton. Which helped inspired this vision in a weird way.

Along with Paul W.S. Anderson’s RE films mainly the first because of well those films aren’t big. Mainly low budget. So I decided to not take a risk with Chris Pratt as the lead character. Especially there were other characters in actors and characters. But also the mis-mash of ideas which is risky. Considering the first RE movie took elements from RE 1 and 2 and I wanted to try something like that.

The other inspiration was Sonic Adventure 2. Such as using elements from that story but not all of it where it be a direct adaption. This is the reason why I’ve been playing the game more(Mainly if I recall on the Dreamcast). To get inspiration for this story. While Adventure 2 suffers problems such as with writing and other things, it’s a game I personally love. Including this is a reason why Rouge is here(Along with the reason I want Lisa voicing that character), and other elements as well. Also considering when the Sonic movie we were getting was getting written. The Adventure games such as Sonic Adventure 2 Battle was an inspiration. Basically this classic image here.

Including other info I’ve learned from here about Van. https://www.bumbleking.com/forum/viewtopic.php?f=4&t=7576&start=210&sid=2d070269a047bd57674d2db32b49a8f8 Gonna be honest I did not expect that image to be put here I was expecting a link.

Basically I wanted to make a outline while it’s not a draft. But a story I was happy with and I thought would make a good start off for Sonic movie. A story I felt would of been good as a stand alone in a way but it might get sequels anyway. Which is why it’s not just a simple origin story you have Sonic, Eggman, Tails, Amy Rose, Rouge, Metal Sonic, Silver Sonic, the GUN Commander, and the president(with his secretary of course). Especially that fake Reddit leaked story was in mind with the areas. But still it’s a story I feel personally happy with. Despite I have not written a script but it’s the outline I like.

In a similar way to the 2018 Rampage movie. Which while there are other nice and good video game movie adaptions as well such as Detective Pikachu. My direction for a film like this(it would be directed by someone else or whatever) is gonna be a lot more bad ass, a bit more serious, but most importantly a lot more emotional.

Especially to aim for a PG-13 rating that older audiences can enjoy. Along with the other goal to understand who Sonic is as a character when he’s involved in a more serious situation where the world is kind of against him, he’s been framed, Robotnik and the, “Metal Brothers” are out to kill him. With Ian being this surrogate of like the fans that love Sonic(which may seem weird as hell), but also being a person that develops this close bond with this creature because they are very alike. Including Ian will risk his life to make sure this creature who has become his best friend, almost like a brother won’t die. But also with these other characters too such as Tails and Amy.

Including the other point is to make a surrogate better than well Chris Thorndyke because he’s a character that I felt should of been better. Yet Sonic is still the main protagonist with Ian being a deuteragonist. It’s to show in a setting like this humans can be pretty good characters if handled right. That’s why he’s there too in a way.

While I have thought of the idea people would look at the, “Make Sonic cool again” as a way of it being brought back to levels of Shadow The Hedgehog and Sonic 06. But more so again like the Dreamcast era and some modern games and some classic games thrown in there a bit too.

Besides I think I’ve made too many of these. I’m officially gonna stop because I’m kind of happy with what I did. With this idea because it’s I guess almost everything I want. It’s a reasonable starting point for a Sonic movie. Because it has things I like and would like to see in a movie. So I’m pleased with it. I’m being an annoyance to folks anyway making this shit. Because it seems disrespectful I make these while a movie is coming out anyway that’s already completed in a way. Despite we are getting a redesign.

But again here’s my what if idea for a Sonic movie. Whether it could be at Paramount, or even at Warner Bros with Legendary Pictures. I’ve rambled on too long I talk too much.

“Sometimes you gotta go fast! In a action packed adventure based upon the popular and iconic video game series, Sonic The Hedgehog.

The world is in serious danger when an insane scientist by the name of Dr. Ivo Robotnik(Jeffrey Dean Morgan) plans to take it over. His goal is to use the power of the mysterious Chaos Emeralds to power his machines. To ensure his victory, Robotnik has made certain robots that will make sure he is able to obtain his goal for world domination.

Now because of being mistaken for a villainous robot who looks like him. Sonic(Tom Holland), the world’s fastest hedgehog is on the run from the military. Along the way he meets a young GUN soldier Ian Andrews(Brenton Thwaites), a man who wants to help everyone the best he can.

With them teaming up, on the run from the military known as GUN, and to get the Chaos Emeralds and stop Robotnik from achieving his goal. But during this time as they fight through a ever changing battlefield. Ian must make sure not only help stop a global catastrophe. Yet to also save Sonic who he’s developed an unshakable bond with. Especially from the horrifying threat of Metal Sonic”.

Characters.

Sonic The Hedgehog. Voiced by Tom Holland. A 21 year old hedgehog who’s cocky but kind and chill. 4 feet tall. The world’s fastest hedgehog who while being framed by Metal Sonic, wants to save the planet from Robotnik. Even if it means risking his own life helping these humans who don’t understand who he is as a person. Because he knows it’s the right thing to do/

Ian Andrews. Played by Brenton Thwaites. The 21 year old GUN Private who helps assist Sonic to save the planet. A young man who joined GUN because he wanted to simply helped people in his area. While only a Private assigned in his home area to defend it. He is courageous despite being afraid of certain enemies. Especially because he wants to simply help everyone the best he can. Including the blue hedgehog who he develops an unshakable bond with, almost like a brother. He knows Sonic is innocent and risks his life to reveal the truth.

Dr. Ivo Robotnik. Played by Jeffrey Dean Morgan. The 55 year old scientist with an IQ of 300. Who wants to take over the planet, along with making Robotnikland a reality. While he may be hilarious, he is a rather cruel, narcissistic, and a very intelligent man who will do anything to get what he wants.

Miles Tails Prower. Voiced by: Noah Schnapp. A 14 year old two tailed fox. 3 feet tall. He’s an intelligent engineer and inventor who flies a plane, and Sonic’s best friend, who is like Sonic’s younger brother.

Amy Rose. Voiced by Maisie Williams. A 18 year old hedgehog. 4 feet tall. While she admittedly has a crush on Sonic. She’s like to make it as public. But she is a kind hearted young woman who wants to help her friends and will fight for them if needed. Especially to never give up on them.

Rouge The Bat. Voiced by Lisa Hannigan. A 24 year old bat who is helping Robotnik but is secretly a GUN agent. 4 feet tall. While a treasure hunter and even a thief. She’s actually much more kind than people think about her. Despite her narcissism, being strong minded, and flirtatious.

Metal Sonic. A robotic copy of Sonic himself and Robotnik’s personal enforcer. 4 feet tall. Inspired by Sonic’s skills and speed. Metal is Robotnik’s greatest creation. With a goal set in mind by Robotnik, to kill Sonic once and for all while being Robotnik’s personal enforcer and leader of his robotic army. But as time goes on, Metal becomes more obsessed with Sonic to where he thinks there can only be one Sonic.

Silver Sonic. Another robotic copy of Sonic and Robotnik’s powerhouse of a brute. 16 feet tall. While not as self aware as Metal. Silver Sonic’s doesn’t care and just would rather listen to his master Robotnik. Built to simply destroy anyone or anything that gets in the doctors way.

Abraham Westbrook the GUN Commander. Played by Idris Elba. The 53 year old commander who leads the GUN military. While trying to figure out what’s going on with Robotnik and Sonic. He’s trying to stop any possible threats to thw world.

Gabriel Ivan the President of the United States. Played by Oded Fehr. The 51 year old president of the USA. Who while trying to do what’s best for nation’s people and be against Robotnik. He understands Ian’s situation considering he was once a solider in the GUN military and just wanted to do the right thing. He’s also the one who sent Rouge to go undercover with Robotnik and to find Sonic as well.

To be honest I have thought about other characters. Such as being played by actors being like callbacks to stuff. Such as Deedee Magno Hall(Steven Universe), Jennifer Paz(Steven Universe), Shelby Rabara(Steven Universe), and Emilia Clarke. But I have realized there are too many characters if you don’t handle them right. Besides I think I just wanna post this after seeing that spoilers filled post.

Including I’ll leave the little details under this with areas and the inspirations. Which I have talked already about. Other details are that I’d would love Andrew Lockington to do the score.

I’ll also admit Ian who is not Gary anymore or he could be a younger brother of Gary. Ian is basically inspired by Leon Kennedy especially the RE2 remake version. Including I decided to make Ian’s Sonic’s new age because it might help them connect more or so.

I’m not gonna do a RT score because I don’t want to. Besides we haven’t even got the Sonic movie out yet with no score. I’m talking about Rotten Tomatoes. Hopefully you enjoy this or so. It’s just me rambling and yeah I’m done with these. Because I feel happy when I think about this story. Yet also it’s probably secretly annoying people now. Since I’ve just put down the tags, hope no one minds this in the Sonic movie positivity tag. Because I don’t really shit on the movie. Yet I want this to get some attraction. Despite I know my long rambling will turn people off.

Areas:

Central City.

Green Hill.

Chemical Plant.

South Island.

Metropolis zone.

Inspirations:

Sonic Adventure 2.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic movie #sonic movie positivity

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hopevalley · 7 years ago

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5.8 Weather the Storm (Thoughts)

This episode was both really bad and really good. I guess what I mean is that the bones of it work really well...but in execution it falls (predictably) flat. We have nice, easy concise plots to work with, though:

Harper and Emily (PART I)

Carson, Rhonda, Faith, and the Brain Surgery (PART I)

The Bank Issue + Greta, Elizabeth, and Duncan (Part II)

Bill & AJ and Our Friend the Rattlesnake (Part III)

Separately I think all of these plots are...fairly decent. Crammed into a single episode together and then...resolved at the same time? It renders them subpar. But I’ll talk more about the potential of the plots when I get to them.

1.) Harper and Emily

This episode started off a little awkwardly and in the classroom. I mean, I like cheese but I frowned a little at the theme of the episode being ‘weather’ on like, six different levels, none of them remotely clever or subtle.

So...the kids are gonna learn about weather. They get paired off and each pair is given an assigned aspect of weather to do their assignment on (wind, rain, snow, sleet, et cetera). It’s not especially interesting and again I’m annoyed that the whole school does everything together; that isn’t how one-room schoolhouses worked. In fact, management of a one-room schoolhouse was very difficult and a skill to be feared.

Anyway, cute as hell? This:

Robert being paired with Hattie and giving her this li’l smile and wave. I hope we get more Robert tbh.

Emily gets paired with Harper, and Harper spends his time winding up and unwinding a yo-yo while Emily does all the work. She suggests building a ‘wind machine’ to measure wind and he gets kinda frowny at it, because it’s extra work.

Emily is the class suck-up, I guess. But hey, Harper’s a suck-up, too.

It’s painfully obvious that he just wants Emily to do all the work and he doesn’t want to do anything. If the idea was that he’s bad at science, that’s one thing, but this is too simple of a project for a kid his age to flub in terms of just explaining how air moves. It’s literally a sentence. C’mon.

This is the same kid who borrowed materials to study with on his own time, and who accepted a position as co-editor of the school paper. I’m pretty annoyed that he’s just a plot device here to teach a dull “life lesson” to the audience with. I get that the title of the episode is “weather the storm” and the theme resounds through each plot point, but they could have pushed the teamwork aspect on a character who hasn’t been so very good at, you know, teamwork. Harper was the wrong choice.

Though if he was supposed to look stilted and fake as hell, he did a great job of looking like a lying scumbag of a kid. Yikes.

And hey, maybe Robert isn’t as good at science as Hattie, but she’s explaining things, and he’s listening attentively.

Emily more or less agrees to do all the work, because that’s what seems to always happen to the poor saps who get stuck in group projects and have some desire to do well. On many levels, that made this plotline #relateable. I always wanted the good grade, even in college, and so was willing to put in the effort, even when my teammates left all the work to me. But what can ya do, right? Might as well just do it and get the grade you want. And hey, if you want it done right...

Emily is working hard after school and Elizabeth...

Well, she’s onto you, boy.

The next morning, Elizabeth passes the time before she snipes Harper straight into hell writing a letter to the love of her life.

She even signs it, “your loving wife” which, I admit, is pretty cute. In light of recent potential spoiler leaks, this...is actually pretty depressing. And also kind of forced. But hey, whatever. She’s had a taste of intimacy with Jack by now, so I’ll give the lady a break. Maybe these last few weeks are a little...extra taxing on her, waiting for her man to come home and love on her. ;)

It’s time for their presentation! You know Emily worked her entire butt off to make that poster and everything. Elizabeth ZOOMS IN FOR THE KILL SHOT.

YIKES. Boy falters. Flounders. Flails in his boots. He can’t even repeat what was literally just said. For a kid who wants to get away with not doing work on group projects, he’s miserable at even pretending he knows what he’s talking about. C’mon, kid, BSing is a way of life for kids like you, or should be.

I guess at least he admits it.

My absolute favorite part of this plotline was this moment, when Harper flubs it for good.

HECKIN YIKES. BOY DONE ANNIHILATED HIMSELF.

To be honest, I was kind of vaguely interested in Hattie and Robert’s project, and in Cody and Anna’s, but I’m glad they didn’t waste too much time in this plotline when the others needed more attention than they got as it was.

So after class, Elizabeth holds Harper and Emily.

It is a lie. It’s taking credit for something you didn’t do. It’s lying. Stop sugarcoating it, Elizabeth. The boy’s definitely old enough to be called out on that. And yes, in front of his classmate who is about the same age and old enough to hear that she was duped by a jerk.

His reason for slacking?

Thanks, Hallmark! I hate it! The reason’s cause he’s lazy. Or doesn’t care about his grade. Or plans to do manual labor for the rest of his life anyway so why bother with getting good marks. They could have done better with this, even if it was dropping hints that Harper’s weak subject was science several episodes back (to at least make it a little believable).

I mean, don’t get me wrong; kids with various issues (ADHD for one) tend to struggle when they’re not immediately good at something because the focus required to learn from the ground-up makes it difficult. However, we’re not looking at a kid Hallmark is trying to show us has ADHD or a learning disability. They just want us to, you know, accept that he’s dumb at science and that’s why he didn’t do the work? Not even a little bit? In a school where there are only like 20 kids total? I highly doubt it but okay.

My anger mostly goes right back to the fact that Harper has been established as a boy who tries pretty darn hard and who has a reasonable amount of ambition. Miss me with this plot for him. They should have used someone else!

Emily admits where she was coming from (and her face is mine for the rest of this plot):

After this, Elizabeth tells her there “are some things more important than grades” which is absolute bollocks and kind of infuriated me. Look, that was an evil lesson. Harper should be the one learning a lesson here, not Emily. Emily’s reasons weren’t selfish! She wanted a good grade because it reflects her capabilities and she wants to be smart and seen as smart.

And hey, it’s not her job to teach Harper to not be a lazy sack of bones. That’s Elizabeth’s job. As the teacher it’s her job to say, “Next time something like this happens, Emily, and someone tries to leave you with all the work, come to me and I’ll grade the assignment based on the work you yourself put into it.”

The only lesson Emily needed here was to come and talk to the teacher when someone was trying to use her.

And look, I get it: college isn’t fair about grading group projects. Oftentimes people get docked points for stupid reasons (like being bad at public speaking) while the rest of their group does well because they’re good at public speaking and the group leader told them everything to say. It’s not a fair system and no, it’s not an accurate representation of most real-world “teamwork” scenarios IME.

But this is a G-rated wholesome mess, so I kind of expected a better lesson for the kids. You know. One that didn’t put a boy’s learning on a little girl’s shoulders.

Bad job, Hallmark. Bad.

Harper’s laziness is his own fault and his own responsibility. Harper learning to do his fair share of the work should NOT be coming at the cost of Emily’s grade, her dignity/pride, or her self-esteem. Why should she have to stand in front of the class and be embarrassed by shoddy work and then take a bad grade just so Harper learns that nobody will do his work for him?

Again, it’s bad writing. The lesson for Emily should have just been: “Tell the teacher.”

2.) Carson, Rhonda, Faith, and the Brain Surgery

I know this is going to sound crazy, but this was a good plot. My problem with it lies with its pacing and the fact that we don’t even meet Rhonda (or hear about her, iirc) until this episode.

Other than those details, it wasn’t bad at all. And shockingly, it made me like Carson a bit more. I could really get behind his reactions to what was happening, and Paul Greene did a good acting job, too.

So hey, this is Rhonda!

She’s Carson’s sister-in-law (the sweet one, apparently). He definitely views her like family. Heck, he loves her.

She’s more or less his baby sister. He’s known her since she was six and she was the flower girl in his wedding so he really views her as family.

She’s super sweet and tells Carson she’s glad he got back to medicine and that she’d heard he wore his wedding band for a long time after Amber, his wife, died, and expresses how much that means to her. I know some people might think that’s weird, but when you’re really missing someone, it helps to see other people took their time grieving, too, and in a way you understand.

Rhonda cuts to the chase pretty quickly:

She goes on to explain that it’s growing into her brain, more or less, and that her doctor isn’t experienced enough to even attempt the surgery, so she came to Carson. Carson, who performed this same surgery on Amber several years ago. You know, the one that killed her.

I liked Carson’s backstory with Amber and always assumed the tumor was too advanced to remove by the time Carson decided to try it. Because it was so advanced, when it was removed, it might have hemorrhaged or grown into her brain (forcing part of it to be removed and maybe not in a way that allowed Amber to live). That’s how I always interpreted Amber’s death. It wasn’t necessarily Carson’s lack of skill that did Amber in; it was the tumor being in a more advanced stage.

Carson tries to explain to Rhonda that not many doctors want to even try the surgery; it’s difficult and (essentially) stains your record when it’s not successful, which is usually the case. Doctors with a good record might like to abstain from risky surgeries just because of the risk to their profession.

Plus, hey, Carson still feels like he failed Amber.

You think you do, but you don’t. I mean, she does, though. And it’s easy to see her side of things even though she doesn’t really explain it now. She is clear to Carson, though, that she’s more than willing to take the risk.

He offers to wire Dr. Ellis, a good surgeon in Union City.

So later in the day, presumably at dinner, Carson eats at Abigail’s with Rhonda. It’s very awkward.

Well, that could have gone better. Rhonda can blame that awkward conversation on her tumor. I would. She’s probably secretly mortified.

Abigail is really sweet to Carson, though, when Rhonda says she doesn’t know what she’d do without him.

It’s good that Carson is appreciated. I wish we still felt that same appreciation for Faith, but with a real doctor in town she fades to the background a lot when it comes to bigger plots.

So Carson and Rhonda dig into a uhh mediocre lookin’ meal and he watches her cutting up her food only to say:

He even goes into detail about exactly how this reminds him of his wife.

Rather than this backfiring horribly (as “you remind me of my dead spouse” tends to do), it’s actually a sweet, shared moment between these two. Not once did I feel like there was any romantic chemistry between Rhonda and Carson; they did, however, genuinely feel like family. It was easy to see them as in-laws who care a lot about each other. BLESS.

The conversation shifts to Amber being elegant, graceful, and funny (which are apparently Carson’s Turn-Ons, so pay attention, ladies), and then kind of takes a nosedive into his guilt. Which Rhonda tries to drop-kick.

Mostly by expressing her support for Carson and what she knows he tried to do by attempting the surgery--something she probably feels more keenly now, considering her own circumstances.

If only it was that easy to render guilty feelings void!

But hey, they have a very honest conversation about Amber’s death!

Oh man, I liked this. I mean, I like that the show just lets it be reasonable. Of course Carson’s gonna still feel guilty. He’s doing better, emotionally, than he was when he arrived in Hope Valley (when the guilt was still eating him alive because he couldn’t really deal with it), but being in a good place doesn’t suddenly, magically make all of the bad things you feel go poof. He’s not confident enough in his skills to want to rip a tumor off of anyone’s brain, let alone his wife’s baby sister’s. Heck, for all intents and purposes, his baby sister. He wants better for her than he was capable of the last time he checked.

So he’ll find her the right doctor.

The next morning he has breakfast with Lee and Rosemary, which I love because it helps with the “community” feel of the show; usually we’re stuck seeing the same groups of people interact but this helps break it up...and it shows that Carson has, you know, friends.

(Who in the world is this waitress?)

Carson confides in Lee and Rosie about his insecurities.

And he talks about Rhonda, too. About how long he’s known her and how much he likes the person she was and still is.

He adores her. It’s so sweet.

Lee asks about the success rate of the surgery...

Lee and Rosemary are a bit dismayed to find this out, even though it makes sense.

I appreciated that Lee seems to Get the situation that Rhonda is in, maybe more objectively than Carson is able to.

And Carson unloads a bit of his personal guilt, about how hard it was for him to perform his wife’s surgery and lose her. He thinks Amber died believing he could save her and he still feels like he failed her utterly in letting her die.

His friends try to put things into perspective for him, but...

Well... That can only go so far.

Fair. But it’s also fair to acknowledge that tumors grow and maybe your wife’s was just too big to safely remove. I’m disappointed that that was never really...addressed, not even post-surgery.

But hey, I can’t blame Carson for not wanting to do the surgery. It’s a terrifying prospect and the patient being a loved one makes it ten times more difficult.

Carson receives a telegram from Dr. Ellis declining to do the surgery, and he goes to tell Rhonda about it. He tries to explain that Dr. Ellis feels it’s just too risky and it’s not one he’s willing to take.

I’m with Rhonda on this, but...

That view is 100% that they don’t want their sterling reputation ruined. If they don’t do the surgery they don’t have to look incompetent on paper. They won’t lose patients. Et cetera and so on. So even though I get where Rhonda is coming from, I totally understand where Dr. Ellis stands, too.

So Rhonda tries to get Carson to do it, and he refuses on newer reasons: he’s out of practice. That’s reasonable, IMO. When he did his wife’s surgery he was doing surgeries every day and there were probably a lot of them he didn’t have to think too hard about to do. This one isn’t the same as pulling out an appendix that’s about to rupture. It’s so much more complex and terrifying, doubly so because it’s affecting someone he cares about. Again. And the last time he operated on someone he cared about, they died. He watched it happen and he couldn’t do anything. It’s not hard to picture him covered in his wife’s blood watching her slip away.

They have this exchange:

Rhonda: So you’re weighting what might go wrong against my life?

Carson: I’m weighing the possibility of you living for six months, twelve months...against dying on an operating table.

Rhonda: I want the chance at a long life, Carson...and you’re my last hope.

This was way less cheesy than the preview led us to believe. WHEW.

Carson more or less agrees to think about it. But he knows there isn’t much to think about.

Carson is at least honest with himself; he knows Rhonda will die if she doesn’t have the surgery, so it’s not like he’s saving her life by not doing it. He’s literally weighing the risk of dying now vs. dying soonish. She could die in two months or now, and it’s scary to be the person forced to make that decision. He probably regrets operating on Amber because hindsight is 20/20: maybe he could have had a few more weeks with her.

What he’s not talking about are what the last few weeks of Amber’s life would have been like and what Rhonda’s will be like; she might very well be little more than an invalid, incapable of any communication and feeling very scared or unaware of what’s happening.

For some people, it’s better not to try. Especially in this time period, you had a lot of people who wanted to “die naturally.”

For Rhonda, it’s worth the risk. She’d rather die now than suffer the last six months of her life (if, indeed, that’s all the time she has left); she’d also rather have the option of maybe living another 20, 40, 60 years. Which she won’t get at all if surgery isn’t attempted.

So hey, it’s 6 months maximum OR the possibility of dying now mixed with the possibility of living a long life. It’s no question for her.

Carson airs his grief out to a listening Faith.

And Faith...tries to be supportive? I think?

She goes on to tell him that he saved Cody’s life when he would have died in the hands of the other doctor that came to Hope Valley, and she believes in his skill because she saw it in action during that surgery.

Problems with this:

a.) that’s a routine surgery for a doctor like Carson. He could probably do it blindfolded even now.

and b.) that’s...one surgery. In the last year.

And it definitely ain’t brain surgery. There’s a huge difference between yanking out an appendix right when you know it’s about to bust and, you know, cutting into someone’s head. Where their brain is. Where you could nick something and all but kill them or do irreparable damage.

Carson tries to explain to Faith that when he thinks about the surgery, tries to visualize it, all he sees is his wife on that table. It’s like he’s killing her all over again! He can’t bear to lose her sister the same way he lost her: at his own hands, under his own knife.

Faith gives us perhaps the most insensitive lines uttered in this entire show thus far:

...Who wrote this? Who thought this was a good idea? It’s skeevy. No it wouldn’t be ‘something.’ "Maybe your wife died so Rhonda could live” is evil. No thanks. Leave that thought process at the door. It’s not a clever coincidence. It’s not cute or funny or ironic or sweet.

And hey, the core idea behind this isn’t terrible! “Hey, maybe the experience you went through better prepared you for handling another surgery just like it” makes sense. But there are other ways this could have been talked about that wouldn’t force it to seem insensitive. Like, you know, “Maybe this time it was caught early enough that it’ll be safe to remove and it will work.”

Evidently, Carson hates the thought as much as I do.

And I mean, there are some cringey lines in this episode, but I feel like Faith’s lines are by far the worst, if only due to how insensitive they come across. And accidentally, mind. I think we’re supposed to be inspired by them, not horrified.

Carson obviously still loves his wife and he misses her. It’d be cool if her death wasn’t made light of by someone who never met her and can’t possibly understand or relate to what Carson is going through.

Those lines sunk the S.S. Carson x Faith for me.

Some time later, Rhonda has an episode.

And Faith witnesses her acting kind of strangely.

I’m sorry, did I just hear the S.S. Faith x Rhonda set sail? I think I did.

Terrifying tbh. Rhonda’s actress did a really good job of acting out of it.

So Faith calls for Carson.

Rhonda recognizes Carson and manages to say his name, which was just about the sweetest touch they could have added to this scene. It felt more meaningful that way, and I think it’s easy to imagine that Carson felt the same way about it.

Lee notices the hubbub and comes running.

Carson explains things gently and tries to reassure Rhonda.

I like that Carson’s “It’s gonna be okay” echoes what AJ tells Bill earlier in the episode. You know he’s not sure if it’ll be okay or not, but he hopes it will be.

Meanwhile, Lee wires ahead to Benson Hills for a couple of supplies a driver he has heading there can bring back with him.

And then the surgery commences.

Rosemary and Lee sit outside the clinic keeping vigil, and Abigail stops by with coffee, because it may be a long wait.

Lee drinks coffee.

Carson asks for Lee’s coffee...

Carson...drinks...Lee’s...coffee.

Lee x Carson Indirect Kiss C O N F I R M E D.

(I’m teasing.)

Faith comes out and then Carson shares the good news: the surgery seems to have gone well. Rhonda’s vitals are good and she even woke up and managed to speak! Hurrah!

So, a likely happy ending for Rhonda. And for Carson, who may feel more secure now that he managed a complex surgery successfully.

So hey, this plot wasn’t bad. It was nice to see more of Carson’s guilt and his...reluctance. It helped him feel like an actual character worth my time. I’m not gonna tune in for him by any means (sorry, I still like Bill better; and Lee; and Jesse; and--) but I can honestly say I enjoyed him in this episode.

That said, I feel like this plot suffers in a big way by not taking place over several episodes. If it had, the wait for the surgery might have been suspenseful, and Rhonda’s recovery a plot point people were actually invested in. As it was, she came in to be what I feel is a one-off character (I doubt she’s around next episode), and that’s...not only disappointing, but dull. She’d be off the show whether she lived or not, so...does it matter if she lives? I guess we’ll find out next week if her living has a continued effect on Carson (such as, patients showing up from out of town to get his help).

But overall, again... Not bad at all. For a one-episode plot, I expected this to be much worse than it ended up being. I can honestly say I ended up not really minding what we got at all.

CLICK HERE FOR PART II.

#when calls the heart #faith carter #carson shepherd #harper tucker #emily montgomery #elizabeth thatcher #analysis and meta discussion #season 5 shenanigans #season 5 spoilers

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libertariantaoist · 8 years ago

Link

Donald Trump ran on a platform of improving relations with Russia: his victory was a mandate for that policy. Yet the real power in this country doesn’t reside within the ballot box, and that reality was brought home when the Justice Department appointed a “special counsel” to investigate “any links and/or coordination with the Russian government and individuals associated with the campaign of President Donald Trump.”

After months of leaks coming from the intelligence agencies, who bitterly oppose the new policy, and a barrage of innuendo, smears, and character assassination in the media, the will of the people has been abrogated: the Deep State has the last word. The denizens of Langley, and the career spooks within our seventeen intelligence agencies, have exercised their veto power – a power that is not written into the Constitution, but is nevertheless very real.

Their goal is to not only make détente with Russia impossible – and Trump’s goal of “getting along with Russia” will surely not be implemented now that the regime of the special counsel has trumped him – but also to overthrow a democratically elected chief executive, and perhaps prosecute him for “high crimes and misdemeanors” in the process.

No matter what you think of Trump, this is an ominous development for all those who care about the future of our republic. Because the warning to our politicians could not be clearer: So you want to effect a fundamental change in US foreign policy? You dare to question the permanence of NATO? Let this be a lesson to you.

This goes way beyond the Trump administration: the potential targets of the investigation are potentially unlimited. Deputy Attorney General Ron Rosenstein’s letter to the Special Counsel – Bush era FBI Director Robert Mueller – also states that the counsel’s purview includes “any matters that arose directly from the investigation,” as well as “any other matters within the scope of 28 CFR 600.4 (a),” which refers to anyone who might conceivably be involved in obstructing the Special Counsel’s probe.

In short, Mueller has virtually unlimited power to expand his investigation, and, given the history of Special Counsels, you can be sure that this one will wander far afield and become a general probe into “Russian influence” on the election – a matter already taken up by at least two congressional committees.

Any politician, especially one who supported Trump, who advocates peaceful and productive relations with Russia is a likely target. The War Party has already got Rep. Dana Rohrabacher (R-California) in its sights for his fearless questioning of the anti-Russian propaganda campaign.

Furthermore, any media outlets that either supported Trump, had a good word to say about Trump, and/or dissented from the Russophobic hysteria that has gripped the “mainstream” media are liable to be scrutinized. Journalists with “Russian ties” – no matter how tenuous – will be caught up in the witch-hunt. The Washington Post gave front page prominence to a group of anonymous “researchers” that calls itself “PropOrNot,” which has compiled a lengthy list of “pro-Russian” media outlets and web sites – including the Drudge Report, and Antiwar.com.

The dynamics of the witch-hunt will play out in the manner in which it has operated up until this point, only more so: the “mainstream” media will act as the research department of DOJ investigators, “uncovering” the “pro-Russian” network in the US, inviting Mueller to move in for the kill. Politicians, journalists, academics, and even ordinary folks will be targeted by the government in the hunt for “Putin’s puppets.”

We haven’t seen this kind of thing since the 1950s. Indeed, the history of these political lynchings goes all the way back to the Moscow Trials conducted by Stalin and his henchmen, who consolidated their power by prosecuting “Trotskyite wreckers” and other “enemies of the people” – to the applause of Western “liberals.”

What we are witnessing is a “regime-change” operation, such as our intelligence agencies have routinely carried out abroad, right here in the United States. Yet it is more – and worse – than that.

This pernicious campaign is an attempt to criminalize dissent from the foreign policy “consensus.” It is an effort by powerful groups within the national security bureaucracy, the media, and the military-industrial complex to stamp out any opposition to their program of perpetual war. It is, in effect, political terrorism – that is, an attempt to achieve political-ideological goals by the threat of force, i.e. the threat of State coercion. The police state methods utilized by law enforcement agencies in this country since 9/11 – universal surveillance, and the whole menu of cyber-spying techniques exposed by Edward Snowden and WikiLeaks – will be deployed. And it won’t just be our own American spooks doing the eavesdropping.

The involvement of the British and other European intelligence agencies in this regime-change operation on American soil is well-known: it was a “former” MI6 agent, one Christopher Steele, who authored and circulated the infamous “dirty dossier” on Trump. The Ukrainians, in particular, are in the forefront of this campaign: their targeting of Paul Manafort is out in the open. And a recent article in the Washington Post which relates a conversation between GOP House majority leader Kevin McCarthy, Paul Ryan, and others, has McCarthy saying he thinks both Trump and Rep. Rohrabacher are “paid by Putin.” The exchange took place on Capitol Hill, after a meeting with the Ukrainian envoy – and the Post, in a story datelined Kiev, reports that it was “recorded.” So who did the recording? My bet is on the Ukrainians.

Oh, but that kind of “foreign influence” on our politics is just fine and dandy. You won’t ever see a Special Counsel appointed to investigate it.

The reign of terror is about to begin: anyone who opposes our interventionist foreign policy is liable to be labeled a “Kremlin tool” – and could face legal sanctions. Because you can be sure that ancillary efforts, apart from the office of the Special Counsel, are already in motion to make sure dissent is muzzled. They intend to move against the Internet, in the name of guarding against “Russian influence”: the phony campaign against “fake news” is already well-advanced, along with legislative efforts to fund a “push back” campaign against “Russia propaganda.” And I wouldn’t be at all surprised if some attempt is made to abridge the right to publish material deemed “pro-Russian,” either with direct legal sanctions or indirect methods, such as stopping or inhibiting the funding of “suspicious” web sites.

Speaking of which: Antiwar.com is now in the midst of our Spring fundraising drive, and we need your help to defeat the War Party’s latest – and most frightening – assault on the peace movement. We don’t know what kind of repression lies ahead – but we must be prepared to fight it, and win. We need your help to do that.

We can’t let the War Party roll over us so easily. Tell the Deep State to go to hell – make your tax-deductible donation today.

#justin raimondo #antiwar.com

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bonneibennett · 8 years ago

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Another source account is saying Bozo is endgame and the kiss in the cemetery is them and that Damon is the one dying. I think everyone pretty much knows Bamon isn't happening in the series finale. The writers can't bait us anymore. That's why Bamon isn't being promoted because it doesn't work. We see through their tactics. No one will fall for it. That's why the writers reduced themselves to promoting the ships no one cares about.

Second Anonymous said:I would take whatever that twitter source says, with a grain of salt. First, she pretty much said, that she's a DE shipper, so... be careful. Not only that, but she didn't say BE's endgame. She said, that for HER, endgame's a ship that loves each other and admits it. So, congrats to every shipper in TVD, you're ship's endgame! Second, Paul, SE King, cried reading the script, so huge red flag for either S or D dying. And, there's hope, since Ian, invited two fans to see the finale with him.

Third Anonymous said:I'm starting to think Bonnie does die that is not a unexpected or unpredictable happy ending for her JP can fuck off that her happy ending is dying so she can be with Enzo. That the Bennett line dies with her and she lives in a fantasy world. I don't even know Bonnie anymore.

There’s so many spoilers flying around now, and often directly contradicting one another, lol. Almost makes me wonder if the TVD team finally figured out they could combat the spoiler leaks by setting up fake spoiler accounts themselves to misdirect?? Who knows what’s true at this point.

Here’s my completely unsourced predictions:

Damon will sacrifice himself at the end and that will be considered a fulfillment of his redemption arc. He might take up Katherine’s place in hell, or be lost to the MFG in some other way... but I don’t think he’ll be in eternal anguish in the way Cade promised. I do think that he’ll be comforted by the knowledge that he saved his loved ones once and for all, but he’ll end up parted from them in some permanent way.

Elena and possibly Stefan will leave MF to start a new life, maybe after asking to be compelled to forget the things that happened (ie. Damon)

Bonnie and Enzo will pledge their eternal love for one another but part from each other (either because they decide that Bonnie can’t live her life trapped between realms which is what I’m rooting for, or because something happens that causes Bonnie to lose control of her dimension which is what seems more likely because otherwise I think she would try to pull Damon out of whatever death state he’s in using her new powers)

Caroline will stay in MF with the twins and help with the Magic School. Stefan will do the same, in the case where he doesn’t leave with Elena.

This is just me parsing all the different information and pulling out the bits that feel like something JP et al would choose, so I am probably totally wrong about everything, lol.

#anon #replies #nisha for ts #tvd speculation #tvdspoilers #spoilers #tvd for ts #bd for ts #be for ts #se for ts #sc for ts #Anonymous

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sharethisgemwithme · 8 years ago

Text

“Adventures in Light Distortion” instant reaction

[Written on January 8-9. I was blind to this episode and the whole remainder of the Bomb, with the exception of tiny leaks and Youtube screenshots. Comments related to those spoilers are footnotes, marked with [#].]

Oh man, what a title. You see, the emphasis makes all the difference. Is it light distortion, as in little itty-bitty lies? After the previous episode, what further lies would we be telling? Or is there really the chance the gems are going to tell half-truths to Dr. and Mr. M and bring *Connie* along on this mission?!? Please oh please. Or, since the gems are light constructs, is it light distortion, as in the bending of light rays and such. And "Adventures in"... as in plural? I mean, obviously, the gems are going to chase after Blue Diamond. Are we going right to Homeworld? Are we doing this, for real? 'Cause sign me the hell up. Now, the gems have a ship, and I am 99% sure Pearl knows how to fly it because Pearl knows how to fix, operate, drive, or fly anything she damn well wants to, so we're about to find out just what it's like when the Ruby ship goes zoooooom [1]. I don't remember which is third, "Gem Heist" or "The Zoo", but whenever we meet up with Greg again (presumably at the zoo), are there other types of aliens there? Are there other gems? [2]

I'm spacing out the episodes, not chomping them all down at once, to give myself time to think about them. However, only the first episode remains available on VOD, so I'm watching tonight's via DailyMotion (the first place I saw that has the entire episode available in one video). So timestamps are those of the DM video, which has the intro begin at 0:09. As always, though, I’m watching straight through with no pauses or rewinds.

0:09 - Time to find a way. 0:32 - Hilary and Lauren tonight. (they fixed the title card, this was a Raven & Paul episode) 0:42 - Aww, no more Amethyst ponytail. 0:49 - Oh man, Pearl's losing her shit quickly. 0:59 - "Turn into a chair. I need to sit down." Wow. 1:17 - "That might be it." The zoo. Oh boy. 1:31 - Steven's like "are you fucking kidding me? a human zoo." 1:45 - Digging this music btw. 2:03 - Pearl going cross-eyed. 2:19 - "We're not coming back without Greg." That didn't sound as intimidating as I expected. 2:35 - They already flew on this, it should be OK. 2:55 - Aww. "Protect Beach City." 3:09 - "Bending reality." 3:26 - Lapis looks utterly thrilled about protecting BC. 3:42 - We're just totally handwaving all the oxygen issues. 3:53 - "Space turbulence"? Oh come on. 4:12 - WHAT ARE THEY ALL DOING IN THE SAME PLACE? 4:19 - "We should really do something about them." Ya think? 4:35 - It doesn't work that way. BTW, Greg's 40. Note to self. 5:03 - That doesn't sound good. 5:14 - NOT A GOOD DECISION, STEVEN. Maybe brace yourself before someone else hits the button. 5:35 - LOLOLOLOLOLO OH BOY. 5:50 - Oh my god, this is like almost chibi-size. 6:06 - "In what way is this funny?" EVERY WAY. 6:30 - I guess that makes sense. 6:41 - But they shouldn't all be the same size, so that's not really gonna work. 7:04 - I guess we're gonna spend the whole episode en route. 7:13 - STOP JUST MASHING BUTTONS, DUDE. 7:26 - Oh good, a big red X. That's never a bad sign. 7:31 - OH THAT'S NOT A BAD SIGN AT ALL. They just poofed? 8:07 - You might wanna get out of warp speed now. 8:31 - You can do it! 8:55 - Oh boy. Don't do this to yourself, Steve-o. 9:14 - Don't you goddamn dare do this "future vision" thing to me, here. 9:40 - HEALING TEARS? streaming back towards the gems. 10:23 - I guess, uhh, that makes sense. "Don't think too much about it." Don't worry, I won't. 11:04 - Time for stuff to happen! Next time... 11:20 - So is this Homeworld? Or are we still not quite there?

INSTANT REACTION - So it was the distortion of light we were dealing with, and honestly that was the kind of... not quite body horror, but body manipulation certainly that we would expect from a Paul & Raven episode, not a Hilary & Lauren. [N.B. I read several days later that this was in fact actually a Paul/Raven episode, and the title card was incorrect, so that makes sense] I'm a little embarrassed that the idea of Peridot and/or Lapis coming along never even occurred to me, but they were written out of the arc anyway. Steven's conversation with Connie was pretty curious, though. I wonder what she was saying on the other end of the line, but I really think she wanted to come along (as much of an absolutely terrible idea as that would probably be). We got a little more conclusive timeline. Greg would be turning 110 in 70 years, ergo he's 40 now, so he was 26 when Steven was born. Since he's "known the gems since [he] was 22", that means he spent about four years courting Rose. I know that I said "healing tears" above, and I am realizing now after the fact that Steven doesn't have healing tears, but rather healing spit. However, there really did seem to be SOMETHING there in him crying about making all these mistakes, and his tears streaming to the back of the ship. I could've sworn some landed on the gems. Obviously, since I've only watched the episode once, and in real time, I can't be sure about that (or if any of the gems were actually cracked as Steven feared, but I doubt that). At 9:14, I was briefly afraid that, with Steven monologuing how he's made so many mistakes and why couldn't he just trust Garnet's warning and now he's lost everyone, we were going to have a future-vision fake-out and reset back to the stairs outside the beach house, 4 minutes into "Dream". I would've been fucking PISSED if that had happened (side note: I've read a number of fan theories/jokes about how the last scene of the whole series is going to be Rose asking Garnet whether she should go to some concert on the beach, and that the entire series has been Garnet's future vision of what will happen if she does. It's cute, but entirely violates what little we do know about future vision), because it would've wiped away an entire episode, taken away Steven's agency to make his own decisions, and just been a fucking hack move. I'm glad that wasn't the case. I've said in the past that realistic astrophyics was never a strong point of this show, starting from the illogical gravity in "Laser Light Cannon", but I'm STILL peeved at the stereotypical asteroid belt (and though I'm amused at the trio of Rubies--I saw the first one was Navy, didn't catch who the other two were--there's no way they should all be together). That said, I appreciated the metaphorical dropkick they delivered to faster-than-light travel ("Don't think too much about it.")

SECOND WATCH THOUGHTS: Pearl's side-eye at "Back when I still served... Homeworld." WHAT ARE YOU HIDING, WOMAN? Seriously, Connie had some plan to go with Steven, or at least to do something. It's a longshot, but I'm calling it now: we are going to hear from Connie somehow before this arc is over. Pudgy, ruby-shaped Pearl is adorable. I see the really huge setting on the Roaming Eye showed up on the slot-machine-looking display as ♦ ♦ ♦ OK, doesn't seem to be any structural issues for the gems at any point while warping. That whole segment is really trippy though. As someone with minor eye issues that occasionally lead to double vision when my eyes are out of focus, it was really disconcerting. I feel like Steven's monologue is one part addressed-to-kids "Hey, when stuff around you is going poorly, you can make some rash and desperate decisions, but please don't think the original stuff is also your fault" and one part actual plot set-up, but I can't make out what it is. Whoops on the Rubies; the first one was Doc, followed by Army and Navy. That leaves Leggy somewhere off in the distance.

[1] - one of the screencaps Youtube spoiled for me was titled "Traveling faster than the speed of light" or something like that, so, yeah I'm pretty sure we'll get to see that. [2] - via tumblr posts that didn't get immediately hidden, or the tags that remained, I know there are a bunch more gems to meet. I'm still hopeful that at least a few of the Youtube screencaps were fanart, but... we'll see.

#steven universe #instant reaction #su liveblog #adventures in light distortion #out of this world #su spoilers

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zenruption · 8 years ago

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The Daily Disaster-5/10

AN UNDER-APPRECIATED PROBLEM WITH THE TRUMP PRESIDENCY IS HOW HE AND HIS STAFF CONTINUOUSLY NORMALIZE DISASTER. BECAUSE WE WITNESS NEW SCANDALS, GAFFES, COVERUPS, HYPOCRISY, MISDIRECTION, INCOMPETENCE, ATROCITY, CRONYISM, IGNORANCE, RACISM, XENOPHOBIA, TREASON, EMBARRASSMENT, LIES, DYSFUNCTION, POWER GRABS, WAR ESCALATIONS, ENVIRONMENTAL ASSAULTS, MISOGYNY AND MORE ON A DAILY BASIS, THE MAGNITUDE OF EACH IS DIMINISHED IN OUR CONSCIOUSNESS BY THE SIMPLE VIRTUE THAT WE HAVE BECOME SATURATED. BECAUSE OF THIS, WE AT ZENRUPTION WILL BE PUBLISHING A DAILY CURATION OF THE EVENTS THAT HAVE BEEN REPORTED, FROM VARIOUS SOURCES, INCLUDING LEAKS WITHIN THE WHITE HOUSE, SO THAT WE CAN FULLY EXPERIENCE THE LEVEL OF DISASTER OUR EXECUTIVE BRANCH HAS BECOME AND THE IMPLICATIONS IT HAS ON ALL OF US. TODAY, MAY 10, 2017

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From The Horse's Mouth (Trump tweets)

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