#round one for having too many 'I love her' votes!!) but I do certainly still run into some stuff now

[musical-chick-13]

All the people in the "Controversial Doctor Who Opinions" post saying that they 👉👈 Don't Like River 👉👈, lmao I did not fight for YEARS in the FUCKING TRENCHES for you to say that hating this character is a "controversial opinion."

[doctorbunny]

"For Mahiru's sake"

I have seen some arguements that, yes, if Amane is able to deck Shidou, it would indeed be a skill issue and all that However "we still must vote Amane guilty in order to protect Mahiru"

Ignoring all the things like "subjecting a torture victim to further torture" and "there is no guarantee that another guilty vote would restrain Amane enough to stop her" and "It isn't a case of when or if, Fuuta is literally already implied to be in Amane's cult and he has an inno vote meaning Amane could just ask him to act on her behalf"

I want to object to this on the grounds that Mahiru herself would not approve of it.

Firstly: Why did Mahiru forgive Kotoko? I think many people saw Mahiru forgiving Kotoko and took it at a surface level "Oh such a kind heart poor Mahiru has~" Perhaps some with concern "If she's willing to forgive a woman that almost killed her what else is she willing to put up with?!" I too have shared these concerns for her But I think there is an oft overlooked explanation, one deeper to Mahiru's true nature

"An ideal she can't concede on" It's no secret Kotoko views herself as a vessel for justice, dehumanising herself into a mere tool, Es' "Fang" And to Kotoko, justice can only be delivered in the most visceral, corporal satisfying way So it is completely understandable, that upon being told Mikoto, Mahiru, Fuuta and Amane had commited injustices. Kotoko's only reaction could've been a violent beatdown (until she got stopped by Kazui at least) Why would Mahiru care about that? Because, dear reader, Mahiru too has a belief she cannot concede on

Both Mahiru and Shidou say they'll do anything for love and its likely that conviction that lead them both to MILGRAM Shidou would take the hearts of a million paitents if his wife's would beat again. Mahiru, even after two trials... honestly doesn't have much to say about her boyfriend... But everything she did, she did for love and thus she has no regrets

Mahiru even directly draws a link between herself and Kotoko here.

So why can't Mahiru deny Kotoko's ideals? Because she'd be denying a piece of herself too

And if we're going off Mahiru's logic, she wouldn't want us to permit her ideals whilst denying Amane's

Ok, but, who cares what Mahiru wants, right? Useless weaklings should just shut up and let us protect them! Especially given how fragile Mahiru must be... A concern I've seen a lot is that even if Mahiru isn't the target, if Shidou becomes incapacitated, she'll potentially die too A lot of people voted Mahiru innocent on the basis that another guilty could be fatal to her. Now Mahiru does seem pretty badly injured, and while we don't know the basis of the care Shidou and Yuno are providing, it must be severe to require two round-the-clock carers

Despite this, while Mahiru certainly isn't comfortable, it does seem like physically she is mostly stable. Even without Shidou, Yuno has recently spoken about how out of normality, she can't let someone in front of her die. So she'd probably continue to help keep Mahiru clean and fed even if she can't help with more complicated things (and we know Yuno isn't at risk because Amane talked to her without giving her a big threat about breaking taboo) This is also total speculation on my part, but I have a feeling by the time trial 3 rolls around, Mahiru will still be in her wheelchair heavily injured, but she will have recovered some more of her strength. Wheelchairs can move faster than I can run to begin with (Source: Guy I used to share a class with always beat me in foot/wheel races) but in addition Mahiru could already (with great difficulty and probably with risk of exaccerbating her injury) walk/run to some degree before getting her chair I mean this not to discount her, but to say that she is not entirely without defence/method of evasion should Amane attack Even more speculation-y: After Kazui missed Kotoko's attack last time, I would hope that the prisoners have some sort of Kazui-alert system to ensure he wouldn't be so late to a surprise attack again that could be used if Amane comes after them too

Whilst Jackalope states it was Shidou's treatments that saved Mahiru directly after Kotoko's attacks When it came to Shidou telling Es about the threat to Mahiru's life, the topic was her mental health

Mahiru's innocent verdict will affirm her ideas about love and probably give her some more willpower

Will it be enough to protect her if Amane attacks her? I don't know!

But the sad truth is we are already aboard the pain train. We are trying to play 4D chess with a pigeon determined to knock our favourite pieces off the board. There's a lot of factors we can't account for, Kotoko for example, if voted guilty may not attack anyone or maybe she'll attack Haruka and Muu (or any other guilties) because she still sees them as injustice or maybe she'll attack the innocents because she can no longer trust our judgement of who committed injustice. We can't even confidently say what a T2 guilty looks like yet, so far two prisoners are voted guilty. Haruka is a seemingly bedridden hikikomori meanwhile Muu seems completely unaffected. We have no idea what'll happen with them until it does and how it'll affect the rest of this mess.

The only thing we have power over is a single, overly binary choice: To forgive or not forgive

And personally, I don't think Shidou or Mahiru is worth the continued punishment of a 12 year old. (idk why you're voting though so no offense if you think differnetly but I hope this was a good perspective)

[vintagetvstars]

Quick disclaimer: I’d like to thank both of you for all the work you’ve done running this tournament, and I still think the final match-up was a great one. The results have really gotten me down, though. Bigtime. Nichelle’s win in the semifinal round gainst a hugely tumblr-popular (and more contemporary) opponent with a bigger body of work came as a delightful surprise, but somehow it’s made her loss a huge bummer to me. Eartha Kitt was lovely—I’m not hating on her at all! (To be clear, I’m also not suggesting there was any kind of “rigging” going on…how would that even happen, lol). It just seems super weird that I never saw any propaganda submitted for her vs. the metric ton of Nichelle propaganda you all received. And even though life’s not fair, it does seem a little unfair (and a little…boring?)—at least to my whiny butt—that the same actress won BOTH the hot vintage movie star poll and the hot vintage TV star poll…especially since her opponent didn’t ever get to become a movie star, at least not beyond a role she’d made iconic on TV.

Anyway, thank you all again for all you do! I’m still looking forward to the men’s tourney, even though I know for sure that my faves are going to be knocked out super early. Just wanted to share my thoughts/distress here instead of shouting them into the void that tumblr dot com can be. Obviously, I got way too invested, haha.

Oof I definitely understand anon and I’m sorry the results were a bit disappointing. I think both women were lovely and equally deserving and personally would have loved to have gotten a tie to crown them both but I’m happy for everyone who really wanted the Eartha double crown!

Now that I can speak freely about my personal preferences, I am a huge Star Trek fan and I adore Nichelle Nichols! She was my number 1 for this competition and I was so ecstatic to see so much love for her throughout the competition! But I’d be lying if I said we both weren’t a lil sad about not getting a Nichelle Nichols upset win or a fun double crown tie! However I do adore Eartha Kitt and she is definitely deserving of a double crown so I’m not at all upset that she won!

Definitely no harm in being a bit upset about the results of something you were invested in and cared about, as long as you’re able to calm down and move forward at the end of the day that’s what matters. I hope this ask helped you get some of those emotions out so you can go forth and continue enjoying your hot vintage tv favs! Thank you for caring so much about our fun lil tournament 💚

Also if it helps at all we fully plan to bring this tournament back next year and we have already decided that winners of previous tournaments won’t be eligible to compete in future tournaments. So next year could very well be the year of Nichelle Nichols!

But in the meantime we hope you enjoy the men’s tournament! Even if your favs don’t make it all the way, I hope it’ll still be fun! (I certainly understand watching your favs get knocked out early 😔 so many of my favs went down in rounds 1&2 of the hot vintage movie men’s tournament).

- mod vintage

_

it's understandable to be upset, especially in a race so close (i think it was decided by only about two dozen or so votes in the end). while i love eartha and am happy to present her with the crown, im also very much looking forward to seeing if nichelle can snatch the win next year!

i was completely unaware of how beloved earth kitt is until running this tournament. even though there was no propaganda submitted, the reblogs and tags on the final spoke for themselves - hundreds of people commenting about their love for her and asking their followers to vote in her favor.

thank you for being so invested and for your ask. definitely stick around for the men's bracket - you never know how any of the men's polls are going to go on tumblr.com.

- mod violet

[being-of-rain]

I had thoughts on this poll when it came out but didn't get round to writing it. I do wonder how much the votes were influenced by people's thoughts on the titular stories of the collections.

I'm unsurprised that The Flood won the poll, it seems to be the most well known of Eight's comics due to people's curiosity being piqued by the abandoned plans to put a regeneration at the end of it. I wonder how many people who voted here haven't read any of the other graphic novels, or even only read the titular story itself. Despite being the end of Eight's comic adventures, it's not a bad one to jump to, since it's the series here with the least story arc. As long as you can accept the Doctor's new alien companion Destrii, and a few other references here and there, you'll be fine. And in for a good dramatic invasion story too.

I was delightfully surprised to see The Glorious Dead get as much love as it did, being a close second for most of the poll's lifetime and only just getting pushed into third place at the end. I'm glad to see the series get some love and a few people campaigning for it in their tags, as I don't hear it talked about much. Certainly its titular finale deserves some respect for being one of the longest Who comics ever, and its wild multiverse setting.

Oblivion was coming close to last for most of the poll time, until one of my beloved mutuals added a comment hyping it up 😂 That just makes clear how such a small sample size can have results that don't really reflect reality. Still, it's my personal favourite of the volumes (as I never miss an opportunity to mention), so I was glad I wasn't the only one who loved it. Of the graphic novels, it has the tightest story arc that influences all of its stories the most- so much so that it really feels like a proper graphic novel rather than a collection of shorter stories like the others. That's probably what influenced me to make this poll about the volumes instead of individual stories.

And finally it didn't surprise me that Endgame came in last, the only one of the lot with Alan Barnes as lead writer instead of Scott Gray. Barnes' old-fashioned adventure style can be charming (certainly it worked perfectly for 1930s adventurer Charley Pollard's introduction) but when writing so many stories in a row I think it can lead to inconsistent quality and convoluted story arcs. I definitely agree with Endgame being the worst of the four volumes (to be fair, the others set a high bar to live up to) and the reason I feel a little guilty telling people that they should start at the start of the series. What can I say, I love Izzy Sinclair a lot and think her story works really well when you read it all. But that might just be my completionist streak talking.

This might be an extremely niche poll with very little votes, but I'm curious.

[darthkruge]

Okay okay okay so imagine Reader is abducted by the separatists because she ( or nb reader ) is a very well loved member of the senate. So obviously Anakin goes to save her, but his idiot plan gets him captured as well so then it's up to Reader to talk her way out of this mess, get to her idiot boyfriend, free him and then both of them try to make it out alive. Bonus points for Obi-Wan looking very tired and sick of Anakin's ideas in the background. What do you think?

Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader ~ Rescue Operations?

Summary: After the Reader is captured by the Separatists, Anakin rushes to save her. When this doesn’t work out, the Reader has to get her and her boyfriend out of this mess. 

Warnings: Language, whump, one scene where the Reader gets beat up, Reader is a badass, Anakin is completely in love with his badass girlfriend and we love that for him

Words: 3.8k

A/N: Catherine, my love!! I’m sorry this took me so long, I have nothing to say for myself other than my poor organization skills. But I’m obsessed with this request, I hope I did it justice <3

gif credit (x)

You groaned as you opened your eyes and attempted to shake the drowsiness that seemed to cling to your very bones. You blinked, trying to get your bearings and remember what had happened. You were preparing for your speech at the Senate, trying to pass a peace treaty between the Republic and some smaller territories that were debating joining the fight against the Separatists. You’d been fighting for support for the treaty for months and you finally had the chance to give one last speech before the vote. 

You’d been pacing in your Coruscant apartment, practicing the speech for your boyfriend a million times. After you finished your recitation, you exited the room, needing to get your notes that you’d seemed to misplace. So you went into your office and… nothing.

Why couldn’t you remember after that?! You opened the door to your office, walked inside, and… 

You sighed as you came back to the present, leaning against the wall behind you and looking around. You were clearly in a cell of some sort and the Separatists were almost certainly behind this. You were still in your Senate attire, although it had been thoroughly scuffed up, and they’d taken your datapad and other communication devices. You felt around your boot and smiled. Your knife was still there. They must have assumed you wouldn’t be carrying a weapon to your speech and not done a thorough enough check. Whatever the reason, you were thanking the Maker it was still there. 

Back in Coruscant, Anakin was walking the Temple halls in a crazed state. When you didn’t show up for your speech, he immediately panicked. He knew how important this treaty was for you and the entire Republic; you’d been going over it for forever and there is no way you’d just blow it off without telling anyone. The rest of the Senate was also concerned. You’d grown up in one of the poorer districts and, thus, had a sense of relatability and humility that most were drawn to. Whether or not they agreed with your policies, almost everyone could understand that you always kept the interest of the people at the forefront of your mind. 

When Obi-Wan walked up to him with a ripped piece of your clothes and your scattered and crumpled notes, Anakin felt his heart drop. 

“It was the Separatists. They must have knocked her out in her office and escaped through the vents.”

Upon seeing his absolutely heartbroken expression, Obi-Wan added, “We’ll get her back, Anakin. I promise.”

Anakin could only nod, ideas for a plan to save you already running round his head. 

You’d been in this kriffing cell for four days now. Or maybe it was five? You were desperately trying to keep your wits about you but it was so hard; they brought you a tiny ration of food and water once a day and it was not near enough to keep your strength up. You’d spent your time trying to carve your way through the bars but your knife was no match and you quickly gave up, not wanting to dull the blade. You’d found a loose brick hidden around the floor and used the knife to cut it out, allowing you to hide your weapon under it on the off chance they searched you again. 

You tried to think of a plan to escape but they hadn’t even opened your door yet. There was no way you could get out by yourself and, until someone came in that you could attack, it was pointless to even try. They kept you in complete darkness and silence, no way to tell how much time had passed aside from the daily rations. You assumed you were on a Separatist base but that proved unhelpful; they were widespread and the cell held no defining features of climate or location. You had tried calling out to see if anyone else was around. Each time, you were met with your own echo. 

You stilled, hearing footsteps approach you. A Separatist guard opened your cell door, roughly pulling you out. You yelped, legs not cooperating after so long of sitting in the cramped cell. He led you into another room that was barely brighter than your own. Sizing up the guard, you felt fear creep in. No matter how hard you tried to banish your anxieties, knowing they’d only serve to lessen your already shaken focus, it was sometimes impossible. 

“Tell us which planets are deserting.” He commanded.

You met his stare evenly, refusing to let your fear betray you. There was absolutely no chance you’d tell him anything. As soon as the Separatists learned which planets were thinking about joining the Republic, they’d send armies to wipe them out immediately. You refused to let that happen.

“Fine. Be that way.” The man pulled his fist back and sent it into your cheek, the impact sending sparks of pain throughout your entire body. He brought his foot up, kicking you in the gut and you fell harshly onto the floor. He grabbed you by your hair, hoisting up your body as if it were a ragdoll. You gathered your strength and spit in his face, enjoying the way his smug look disappeared. In retaliation, he slammed you into the wall, the impact making stars cloud your vision. 

The man released you and you fell, your consciousness already starting to detach from your body. You tried to reason with yourself, hoping logic would aid you. This is a trauma response. I’m not going to die. My body can take this. I will black out, but I will wake up again. They’re not going to kill me. They need me alive. I’m not going to die. I’m not going to die. Somehow, the hardest part is this was banishing the thoughts of that beautiful boy from your head. You knew that if you allowed yourself to think of him, to fathom how he would blame himself should this be your end, you would give in. 

Instead, you focussed on the physical pain you felt, on the rage you channeled to this guard. You hated how weak you felt, how exhausted you were. You allowed your mind to hone in on all the ways you could hurt this man, given you had your full strength. You let yourself hate yourself, appalled at how you couldn’t even fight back. With every punch he threw at you, you went further into your head, into the one place this man couldn’t touch. Eventually, your mind started spinning from dehydration, pain, and overexertion. All you could do was curl into a fetal position and hope it somehow stopped. 

“What do you mean you’re going to find her?” Obi-Wan said, running after Anakin.

“It’s been days, Obi-Wan, days. There are only so many Separatist bases in the galaxy and Y/N’s on one of them.”

“Anakin, don’t you think they’ve planned for a rescue mission?! This is Senator L/N we’re talking about! And they took her right before the vote, this was clearly a thought-out attack, stop acting like it’s simple!”

“It is simple! Those Separatist assholes have Y/N. And it’s been days. What if she thinks we forgot about her? What if she thinks we’ve given up? They could be doing fucking anything to her and I’m not going to let her stay there for another minute!”

“Anakin-” Obi-Wan began but Anakin waved him off.

“I’m sorry, Master. But if the Council won’t do anything, I will.”

“Anakin, the Council is trying! They just don’t have enough troops right now to send a full rescue mission after one Senator. They just want a few more days, then some troops should be back from their missions and you can have your full battalion.” Obi-Wan took a breath and lowered his voice, empathy for his friend clear in his words. “I know you love her. I want her back, too, you know. I’ve grown quite fond of her; her friendship is quite dear to me. All I’m asking is you be careful and think this through.”

“Believe me, I have thought this through. I wouldn’t do anything to put her in danger, we both know that. And while a few days doesn’t seem like much to the Council, we’ve seen the harm these Separatists can inflict in far less. Listen, it might not be the strongest plan I’ve ever made but, if it’s between a semi-formed plan and none at all, the choice is already made.”

With that, Anakin jumped into his ship and took off into the night. Obi-Wan sighed, leaning his head into his palm. He knew how much you meant to him and he knew of Anakin’s frustration with the Council. They moved slowly, wanting to figure out every angle before jumping into a decision. While Anakin was a brilliant strategist, he tended to act impulsively when someone he loved was in danger. As Anakin traveled further and further from Coruscant, the older Jedi could only hope that the both of you returned home quickly and safely. 

Anakin looked at his ship’s display and cursed when he realized he was low on fuel. He’d been piloting for hours and there was still no sign of you. He was searching out for you with the Force and, still, nothing. Finally, he felt a faint energy pulse through the Force. He followed it to what was supposed to be an old abandoned Separatist base, concerned by how weak your lifeforce felt. 

He parked the ship and got out carefully, trying not to alert anyone to his presence. He pulled out his lightsaber but was careful not to ignite it. He saw an open door and ran through it, relief blinding him as he felt your energy grow stronger with each step he took. He turned the corner and saw a crumpled body on the floor of a tiny cell.

No, Anakin thought, it can’t be her. 

Without thinking, Anakin ignited his lightsaber, wanting to use the light to discern if the figure was truly you. The noise bounced off the walls and startled you awake. He mentally cursed himself and instinctively turned off the saber, not missing the even louder noise it made with it turned off. He inwardly facepalmed, realizing if he hadn’t alerted the guards before, they sure as hell knew now. 

You blinked groggily, wincing at your immense injuries and bruises. You remembered passing out while that asshole beat you and now you-

Wait, You thought, is that a fucking lightsaber?

You knew you must have heard it wrong, there’s no way the Council would have approved a relief mission this quickly. Further, there is no way it would consist of just one Jedi. 

Suddenly, the lightsaber re-lit, illuminating your boyfriend’s face. His determined expression grew stronger as he noticed the 10 guards surrounding him and pointing their blasters directly at his head. You smiled. He could take out ten guards with his eyes closed. You called to him in shock, hardly believing your eyes. He looked at you and immediately widened his eyes as he saw a guard come up behind you and point a blaster directly at you from outside your cell. 

“Lightsaber on the floor, Jedi, or the girl dies.” The guard growled. 

He looked at you in anguish and you could tell he was already beating himself up for “messing up” your escape plan. You shook your head, hoping he understood your message: this isn’t your fault. 

“Anakin don’t-” You couldn’t even finish the sentence before his weapon was on the floor. He put his hands on his head. As they grabbed him, you stood in helpless silence as they threw him in the cell beside you. They locked the doors and, once again, you were in darkness. 

You desperately crawled to the edge of your cell, trying to reach out to him. He was doing the same and when you felt his fingertips against yours, you almost started sobbing. You weren’t alone anymore.

“You came for me.” Your voice was soft, disbelief lacing your words. 

“Of course I did, my love.”

Then, as if everything finally registered in your brain, you reached out and tried to slap his arm. “Anakin, what about the Council? They’ll kill you when they realize you went on a rescue mission, alone, and without approval! Ani, the only thing keeping me going in here was knowing that you were safe! And now you’ve gotten yourself thrown right next to me, no weapons, no light, no food, no water, no escape! What the fuck are we going to do?!”

Anakin had opened and closed his mouth multiple times throughout your speech, trying to find a way to plead his case but was left without one. 

“I just wanted to save you.” The grief in his voice made you sigh and take a step back. This was your Anakin you were talking about. Your safety was his priority, always. Besides, doing all this because he was afraid for you? You couldn’t possibly stay mad. You smiled, despite yourself. Anakin. You thought, slightly shaking your head. 

“Fuck, I love you. Is it selfish that there’s a small part of me that’s glad you’re here with me?” You said, breaking the silence. 

Anakin breathed out a sigh of relief, glad you weren’t upset with him anymore. “Not at all, my love. So long as it isn’t bad that my least favorite part of this is not being able to see or kiss you properly because of this damn darkness.”

You chuckled, lacing your fingers with his once again. “You wouldn’t want to see me right now.”

Anakin froze. “Y/N? What are you talking about?” His voice was serious, clipped. He knew you would try and make it seem less than it was. You winced, realizing there was no way to lie your way out of this one.

“Just what the Separatists would call aggressive negotiations, I presume.”

“How bad?”

“It’s fine, Ani, I promise. Let’s just focus on getting out of here, okay?”

Anakin took a deep breath, collecting himself. “Alright. But as soon as we get back you’re going to a medical droid.”

You groaned. “Anakin I hate-”

“I know you hate the medical droids. But that’s only because they always rat you out when you try and lie to me about the extensiveness of your injuries.”

“You lie about how bad your injuries are, too! Remember that one time you came back from Kamino?!”

Anakin laughed, despite himself. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“You were literally bleeding from the head! And you said, and I quote, ‘it’s just a scratch’” Every time you thought back to that day, you were incredulous. 

“Alright, alright! Let’s just focus on getting out of here.”

“That’s my line!”

“Y/N,” He warned.

You smiled. Maker, you missed him. You honestly didn’t think that anyone else would have you laughing while you were beaten and captured. 

“Okay. What’s the plan?” Anakin said, back to the matter at hand.

You lowered your voice, leaning toward his cell so you could talk without being heard. “I snuck a knife in with me and I’ve been able to keep it a secret. Now that you’re here, it might actually come in handy. The problem was that I couldn’t stab anyone because no one would come into the cell. I need you to get them here. Push them against the side of your cell, the one closest to me, and I’ll stab them. Then while they’re hurt, you run out, unlatch my cell, and we’ll go.”

“I’m dating a fucking genius!” You could just about hear the smile in his voice. 

You smirked. All things considered, you were pretty proud of yourself. 

“When do you want to do this?”

“They bring daily food and water rations in the morning, I think? I can’t exactly tell what time it is, they’ve kept it so dark and isolated. Regardless, the next time they come by I need you to get them in here. They normally just leave the food outside and push it under the door.”

Anakin could hear the disorientation in your words and wanted nothing more than to be able to see you, to be able to hold you and reassure you that it would all be alright. 

“Okay, angel. Got it.”

“Anakin?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for coming to get me. It’s really good to hear your voice.”

“Always, my love.”

Both of you silenced when you heard those footsteps. You smiled for the first time as you heard them. We’re going to get out of here.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea, Y/N! This brick in here is loose!” Anakin announced loudly. You bit your cheek to suppress a smile as you watched Anakin catch the guard’s attention.

“What did you say, Jedi?!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Anakin responded, dramatically feigning innocence. 

The guard huffed and you internally cheered as he roughly opened the door. He walked over to your boyfriend, keeping the blaster pointed at him. As soon as the guard’s attention shifted to the “loose” brick, Anakin used the force to knock the blaster out of his hand and push him against the wall of the cell where you slashed his Achilles tendons. 

The guard howled in pain and you knew you had to work quickly if you were to get out of here before the rest of the Separatists found you. Anakin fumbled with the latch on your cell, the immense darkness making it difficult. Finally, he got it open and ushered you out. The both of you took off in a run and he gripped your hand with his metal one as you did so. 

You immediately stopped as you felt his hand roughly pulled from yours. 

“We’ve got you now, Skywalker” The guard said.

“Y/N, you ready?”

You blinked, unsure what he was referring to. Then, you heard an object whipping through the air and on instinct shot your hand out, catching it. You ignited Anakin’s lightsaber that he had summoned to you with the Force, it’s signature buzz making you feel powerful beyond words. 

The light caught you off guard and you squinted until your eyes adjusted. You saw Anakin held back by two guards. Hearing faint footsteps, you took off in a run. Anakin ducked as you swung wildly, hitting and taking out both guards.

“You done holding us up?” You said, extending your hand toward him once more and passing him his lightsaber. 

Anakin smiled, accepting it. “My sincerest apologies.” 

You both ran, hand-in-hand, until you finally made it to the exit.

“What?” You said, as Anakin stopped abruptly and looked at you, panicked. 

“The ship! It’s out of fuel!”

“It’s what?!”

“I-” Anakin and you stared at each other, flickers of doubt coming into your gaze. You can’t believe that you’d been able to escape for nothing. 

“Anakin! Y/N!”

You whipped your head around at the sound and were met with another ship a few meters down, Obi-Wan piloting it.

“Well? Are you coming, or what?” You and Anakin looked at each other in shock before taking off in a sprint, one guard now close behind you. 

He started shooting and Anakin pulled out his lightsaber, deflecting some of the shots. As he focused on that, you pulled your knife back out of your boot and sent it flying into the guard’s chest, effectively stopping his pursuit. 

Anakin smirked at you, awestruck. You shrugged before jumping into the ship, extending your arm to Anakin and helping to pull him up with you. You entered and immediately leaned against the wall of the ship, relief coursing through you. You laughed and Anakin joined in. He immediately pulled you into him, kissing you hard. 

He broke away from the kiss, looking at you with adoration. “You are a fucking badass!! You’ve never even held a lightsaber and between that and your fucking tiny knife you took out four guards!! I didn’t even get any! I’m not going to lie, Y/N, I’m a bit jealous.”

You laughed, leaning into him but wincing. As the adrenaline wore off, your pain was suddenly quite palpable. He noticed and pulled back, scanning your face and body. 

His smile fell as the extent of your injuries sunk in. Your busted cheek, scratched face, and ripped clothing that exposed some of your many bruises across your torso and limbs were overwhelming. 

“You kids alright in there?” Obi-Wan said, walking in from the cockpit. His smile died on his face as well as he took in your form.

“I’m alright, guys. It’s not as bad as it looks.” You said dismissively.

“That doesn’t look like nothing!” Anakin shot back. 

Obi-Wan looked at you apologetically. “Anakin’s right, Y/N. Please, rest. We’ll be back to Coruscant soon.” 

Coruscant! The Senate! “My speech!! Fuck, I had to present my speech! I’ve been gone, what, a week? They’ve probably already voted, Kriff.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “They decided to suspend the vote until you were back, Senator. They truly care for you and your policies.”

Your heart swelled at Obi-Wan’s words. You looked into Anakin’s eyes and saw that he agreed with the statement full heartedly. He took your hand and gently ran his thumb up and down its back. 

“Rest, my love.” He whispered to you, coaxing you to lie down on the coach and pulling off his Jedi cloak. He wrapped it around you as a makeshift blanket, smiling as you pulled it closer to you and drifted off. 

Obi-Wan walked up to Anakin and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Let’s leave her be, okay?”

“I don’t want her to wake up when I’m not here.”

The elder Jedi nodded in understanding. “She’s exhausted, she won’t awaken until we get back to the temple, I assure you. And if she does, you’ll just be in the other room.”

Anakin looked at you once more before smoothing the hair back from your face and gently placing a kiss on your forehead. He let his palm run down your cheek before he finally pulled himself away and walked into the cockpit with Obi-Wan. 

“So, how did you plan pan out?”

Anakin looked at his former Master, unamused. “I think you already know. How’d you know to come get us, anyway?”

“Well, when you didn’t come back or even attempt to contact the Council for over a day I assumed something had happened. I tracked your ship.”

Anakin nodded. “If not for Y/N, we’d probably both be dead.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “I heard! Four guards?! You’ve found yourself a good one.”

Anakin smiled. No words were needed, everyone knew that was completely and utterly true.

------

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@saltybreaddream @buckysbeloved @lolquarth

anakin tags:

@anakinswhore @kennedywxlsh @coldlilheart @adamgetawaydriver @chokemeanakin @gayidioot @starwars-whore @katelynnwrites @haydens-moles @serpntines @anakinlove @rowley-with-ackerman @dexthtoyounglings @babykinskywalker @cluelessgurl @april-showers-and-flowers @astxrias @beiroviski @captainshazamerica @alyssa-skywalker 

[storyofmychoices]

New Beginnings

[Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley Masterlist] [Keiki Lahela]

Pairing: Bryce Lahela x Olivia Hadley (F!OC) Other Characters: Keiki Lahela Book: Open Heart: Book 2 Rating: Teen due to brief language use Word Count: <700 Prompts: @choicesaugustchallenge : sword

Synopsis: Bryce, Olivia, and Keiki have finally finished moving in and are ready to celebrate their new apartment. [fluff, humor (hopefully?)]

"Uhh—Bryce, what do you think you're doing?" Olivia's eyes widened as she took a tentative step back. "Be careful with that thing!"

"Yeah...I'm gonna have to agree with Liv on this one." Keiki's brow rose as she surveyed her brother. "No way this ends well."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," He scoffed, claiming offense. "Need I remind you both that I have magic hands? I've got this!"

"Sure, sure. Totally sounds convincing. Don't mind me capturing this epic fail to post in all its glory on the internet." Keiki held her phone in front of her, focusing on her brother. If this was going to end in disaster, she certainly wasn't going to miss it. "Smile for the camera, B!"

"I'm sure we can christen the new apartment without any of us losing an eye or a limb." Olivia held her arms open, encouraging him to come to her.

"Don't worry. I know what I'm doing," he insisted, toying with the weapon in his hands. "I'm highly skilled with a knife."

"But, that's a sword, Bryce."

"What's a sword, if not just a giant scalpel?" He scanned the blade, lining it up with the bottle in his other hand.

"A sword's a sword! ! A scalpel is a scalpel! They're not the same! Not even remotely!"

Bryce shrugged, unmoved. "It's still a blade that requires precision, same as a scalpel."

"It's a sword!" She repeated more forcefully, still trying to process the turn of events. She had only left him alone in the kitchen for a few minutes while she changed from work. "Not even a champagne saber—an actual sword. Where do you even get a sword like that?"

"Not sure saying the word sword repeatedly is changing anything," Keiki said out of the corner of her mouth, her phone still trained on Bryce.

"Ramsey. He said some prince gave it to him for saving his life a while back, but I bet he just bought it at an antique store—like he knows a prince."

"And he just let you borrow it?"

"Blah, blah, blah! So much talking," Keiki grumbled, getting bored with the lack of destruction. "Let's do this thing!"

"That's the spirit!" Bryce lined the tip of the blade up with the neck of the champagne bottle he was holding in his gloved hand. He'd seen this done many times growing up at his parent's fancy dinner parties.

"5....4....3" He practiced moving the blade gently down the neck to the annulus.

"Please be careful." Olivia cringed, afraid to watch, but too curious to turn away.

"...2....1!" With one swift motion, he firmly slid the sword down the seam of the bottle, cleanly cutting the top.

"Woah." Keiki's jaw dropped.

Olivia's face scrunched in disbelief. "You did it?"

"I did it?" Bryce stood still, his face equally shocked until a sharp shattering sound pierced the open kitchen.

"Epic!" Keiki cheered as the bottom of the bottle smashed to the floor; champagne sputtered everywhere.

"Shit." Bryce instinctively jumped back from the broken glass and liquid spilling across the floor.

Olivia clapped her hands over her mouth, partially in shock, partially to suppress her giggles at the sight of his shocked face. "So much for those magic hands."

"Oh, that hurts!" Bryce pouted, feigning heartbreak, which didn't last long as the three of them burst into a round of laughter.

After composing themselves, it didn't take long before the three of them had cleaned up the mess, setting everything back as it was.

Olivia grabbed the bottle of sparkling cider they had bought for Keiki. "I think I better handle this one." She winked at Bryce, making a show of effortlessly opening the screwtop bottle. She poured three glasses, handing each out.

"To new beginnings!" Bryce lifted his glass.

Keiki hesitantly held hers up, her gaze shifting from her brother to Olivia. "To family."

Her heart swelled, filling her chest with warmth. Olivia tried to hide her growing smile as she raised her glass, "to our home."

"Our home," Bryce nodded in agreement. "Cheers!"

They clinked their glasses together, each toasting to their new home and the love that would blossom there. The night lingered on until their cheeks hurt from grinning and laughing, the sound of their joy filling their new home.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this. I headcanon that Bryce and Olivia move in together during the course of book two.

Tags in a reblog, please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

[chilly-me-softly]

One with DCL where you're a football player for Man U womens team and you've never met Dom but there's a few fan pages of you two and there's a new event called idk the Prem Get Together or something which is basically like the met gala where all the premier league footballers (men/women) dress up and go and they do something like prom king and queen type of thing and call it Prem King and Queen where they have a vote for best dressed and you're chosen Prem Queen while he's chosen Prem King and the footballers that know of the fan accounts that ship you two, all call it fate and what not and he asks you out at the end of the event.

This is a really odd one that I just came up with and I love it, I might just write something like this myself but I'd actually like to see how you go about it as well. But if you don't want to because I'm planning to write something along the lines too, then trust me I totally get it, no hard feelings :)))) Xx

I absolutely loved the idea, I am not that good with descriptions and this request perhaps needed it more than anything else. But absolutely can't wait to read yours too, tag me in it if you haven't already written it x

-

Prem Get Together is the most anticipated event of the year, perhaps even more so than the weekly games. The excitement is in the air from the start of the week, everyone starts talking about it, wondering if the level of the year before will ever be topped or how the various players will perform. There are a lot of people within the football world who want to express themselves without being judged, and that event is the best opportunity. You personally can't wait, to see the reaction to your outfit or to hear the ideas behind other people's outfits or to laugh at some people's choices.

The red carpet is there for you, you walk proudly with your gaze high until you turn to the photographers and let them take as many pictures as they want. It's also their time not to hide behind bushes to get pictures of the footballer of the moment. You smile at everyone, stopping for a short interview, before entering the hall and starting to wander around to look at the competition. There were people who were certainly more excited than others, others who simply enjoyed having a different evening. And then there would be the proclamation of the king and queen of the event, whoever had thought of that event had made sure that everyone put a little effort into the competition.

"Oh my god you look fabulous!" you turn around smiling finding yourself in front of Tom Davies and Dominic Calvert-Lewin, the former has an excited look on his face and can't keep his eyes still studying every little detail of your outfit. It's a well-known fact that the two are passionate about fashion and this is reflected in their choice of clothes, which you can see they've put a lot of work into. Dom in particular strikes you, it may be simple but the simplicity strikes in an unexpected and unique way. You seem to have found who to vote for in the male audience.

"You guys are great too. It's almost a shame I can only vote for one of you two."

"Oh no vote Dom please, I just came for the art part"

"I can see that" you giggle bringing the glass in your hands to your lips. Tom sees one of their friends and drags Dom away unceremoniously, the boy turning quickly to give you a nod before disappearing into the crowd.

You approach a few of your teammates and together you gossip a bit about the boys, some of them not really applying themselves and some just wearing heavy makeup or dressing up like it was a simple Halloween party. But at least they tried.

Together you go to the voting booths and wait for the line to proceed so you can cast your vote. You never vote for yourself and you found a female costume that you liked, even if it belongs to a city player you make the cross next to her name. For the men's outfit you didn't have so many problems. Satisfied you go back to the common room where you enjoy the rest of the evening chatting and waiting for the proclamation.

The hosts of the evening are the king and queen of the previous year, who can change clothes for the award ceremony and in fact as they come on stage you notice that they have changed into their classic ceremonial clothes.

"Are you ready to find out the king and queen of Prem night?" the boy shouts and a round of applause and booing is heard loudly soon after.

"The wait is almost over, in this envelope we have the names of the winners"

"C'mooon!" shouts someone in the crowd raising a few laughs, you're nervous and you don't even know why. It's not like you're aiming for victory, you're already quite satisfied with the criticism you received for your outfit.

"Okay ladies first" the girl opens the envelope and nods finding herself clearly in agreement, "The Queen of the Prem is..." it feels like the last day of competitions where the games are all played at the same time and no one knows until the end. It's a strong, exciting feeling but you don't want to feel it on a daily basis.

Then you hear your name and a spotlight shines on you and the applause and whistles start up as you make your way incredulously towards the stage, with all those eyes on you and the crown and everything you feel a bit uncomfortable and you don't know what to say honestly but you try to act normal, thanking and waiting for the king to be proclaimed.

Shortly after you are joined on stage by Dominic and you find yourself agreeing with the popular choice, a wide smile greets him on stage from you. Even on his face there is some slight embarrassment as he tries to hold the crown balanced on the curly hair he has decided to keep natural for the evening and thanks his friend for representing the idea they had one night in the best possible way.

"Well our work here is done. We leave you with tonight's winners and next year's hosts, ladies and gentlemen the king and queen of the Prem!" you are immediately blinded by the flashes of reporters wanting as many pictures as possible of the two of you together and then alone and then together again.

"I voted for you" you murmur as they continue to take pictures, turning slightly towards Dom to see he's smiling at you.

"Me too" he murmurs, "I was so happy to see that you had won"

"Me too in sharing this with you" your friends don't miss a chance to congratulate you on your win and take a closer look at that crown, curious to see if it's cheap jewelry or what. Inevitably you walk away with your groups, but all it takes is for your gaze to briefly fall towards him to apologize to the girls to bring you closer to him again.

"Hey king, it's been a pleasure. I guess we'll see you again next year"

"Or we could start preparing as early as tonight" he says boldly, "maybe over coffee?" and you find yourself nodding accepting his offer, starting your journey that will take your complicity through the roof at the next edition of Prem Get Together.

[angelkurenai]

Imagine being part of the Black Widow movie with a character who is Bucky’s wife in the comics. Only you and Sebastian have a crush on each other so your costars try to set you up.

“Natasha, my sister. What brings you home?” Yelena only tilted her head when Nat rounded the corner with her gun raised. She frowned when she saw the blonde was only smiling at her, no gun of her own raised. And that was even more suspicious, or even scary and dangerous, than her having one pointed at her.

“We've unfi-” she started, the words having been on her mind from the very beginning and ready to be spoken after thinking about them too much. She stopped herself though, frowning deeply “Wait a second. Aren't you... going to fight back?” she put a smirk on her lips “Where's my welcome back party?”

“Oh there will be one. There will be.” the smile on Yelena's lips was even more worrying as the seconds ticked by, especially when Natasha watched her grab a chair and slowly move it to the side before taking a seat on it. And when she crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back casually, it all clicked in her mind.

Natasha's eyes widened and a breath left her lips as she muttered “Well, fuck.”

She barely had time to let it all register before she swirled around and was met with very certainly a kick in the face. It wasn't strong only because the attacker was holding back but it managed to do the job of disorienting her, making her grasp on her gun loosen up. An arm quickly appeared, ready to take it from her but she quickly grasped it, pulling back only for the attacker to swing with to knocked on her hand while an elbow met her face. Taking advantage of the hand with a gun close to her, and after just having lost hers, she took hold of the arm and twisting forced it to drop it. Both parties jumped after the fallen guns, with a roll and twist, soon on their feet to face each other and point the swapped guns at each other.

Only two seconds of silence before “S'up sis.” you said with a wide smile that made Natasha laugh and shake her head a bit.

Glancing at Yelena from the corner of her eyes to notice the blonde had taken and poped a beer open, watching the show with interest. She looked back at you, gun still pointed and smiled even more “Figures you'd be here. Since she didn't even attempt to make a move.”

“I'd rather watch the show, thank you very much.” Yelena shrugged “It's been a long time. Oh and while we're on that-” she raised a finger “Twenty bucks on Red. Sorry, Natasha.”

“Only twenty? Come on, you drink like there's no tomorrow. How is Nat gonna buy for drinks later? That won't be enough. Unless Natasha has more on her?” you complained, looking at Yelena who pouted.

“But I only have twenty with me?” she raised the money in her hand, looking a bit more though her pockets but unable to find anything else.

“Fine.” you huffed “But you two keep it down on those damn drinks. I, as the winner, won't.”

“You two are literally the worst.” Natasha tried to say a bit more seriously but she only scoffed a laugh “Already so sure you'll win this, (Y/c/n)?”

“When have I not? Wait-” your shoulders relaxed a bit “Yelena, have I ever?”

“Absolutely not. I've kept count.” the blonde shook her head “And I doubt this will be an exception.”

“Thanks for the vote of faith you guys.” Natasha muttered with a roll of her eyes.

“Hey, I'm technically your opponent right here. Don't expect my vote of faith. Especially after so long. I'm kinda looking forward to see what new tricks those Avengers taught you.” you smirked, the both of you circling around each other. All Yelena did was lean forward in her seat to watch you both.

“It's been a long while. I'm pretty sure you've got a couple new ones yourself. Speaking of which-” her smiled turned into more of a teasing one and you prepared yourself for the worst “What has the great Red Widow been up to lately? Still saving, what was it, ah Red Sparrows from their fate?”

“Hardly. The new ones seem even less willing to be saved. I'm keeping my tabs on them but, you see, the world is a big place for only a handful of heroes. Never enough of them. Even more, ones willing to use all means necessary. You know how that is. So-” you shrugged “I've expanded my horizons.”

“Ah one would wonder why that is.” her smirk only grew, especially as she shared a look with Yelena, and you cursed at both yourself for your not careful words and your sisters “I suppose, there aren't any more Winter Soldiers to save from HYDRA anymore, are there? Oh it feels just like it was yesterday. There is that one in particular-”

“Alright-” you huffed, giving her and Yelena who was trying to stifle her laugh a glare “Is that how you're planning on winning this? That's a low move, Romanoff. And you- you stop laughing. That's not fair play.”

“Oh you've hit a spot there, Natasha. I might even have to reconsider my bet.” Yelena smirked and you shot her another glare.

“I mean, I kinda remember you always fell for the ones with the blue eyes, didn't you (Y/c/n)?” she insisted of course and you hated yourself for how easily you let it affect you, not that you really had any control over it “I've got a location, in case you're still interested.”

“Oh she is. I assure you of that. I've got enough proof.” Yelena smirked, taking a sip of her beer casually.

Natasha chuckled. You glared as hard as you could at her though you knew, you could practically feel it, that the heat had started traveling up your face “I hate you both so much right now. One more word and I give up on this.”

“Then, maybe, I shouldn't mention how he's asked me several times about you ever since he found out I knew you? Oh the questions he had and the times he brought you up.” the smirk clearly didn't leave her lips and you didn't even try to keep yourself from rolling your eyes.

“I'm never telling either of you a single thing again.” you sighed.

“Wow! What a scene!” the video cuts to Scarlett who is holding the phone – his phone Sebastian notes and he hardly can keep himself from wincing, preparing himself to do that later because nothing good could come out of this. And given how the woman uploaded the video in his own account and it has been up there for a good few hours now – because, let's hide his phone away that would be great too is what she must have thought of – there is no taking it back because far too many people have seen it. Now it's his turn. And, once more, given how he's aware of how well his friends know about his crush on you, based on all the endles teasing, he is prepared for the video to be the most embarrassing one of those moments.

“Red Widow, finally in the MCU, who's excited about that? I know I am! It's going to be amazing on the big screen, especially with such a wonderful actress as (Y/n)! I can't believe how I had managed to keep it a secret for so long. I know everyone is excited, I've been getting texts and calls from friends all these days, though the one that really has been more thrilled than anyone has kept quiet about it. As some would say. What I would say is-” he smirk was full of mischief “Has kept shy about it. Because trust me, if there is one reason I'm making this video for, it's Sebastian Stan. So this goes to Marvel... and possibly (Y/n) who is not sadly away these days filming but I have no doubt will see this.”

Oh no. Oh no. Goodness, he hoped not. He didn't dare take a look at the comments but he feared, after the countless notifications, that with all the attention this was getting you'd see it one way or another.

“And since I know you follow him and will be attentively watching everything he posts, I expect comments down below or like, definitely, a dm. You two either start texting each other or else I'm gonna smack you in the head because there is only so much mutual pining I can take.” she let out a small breath before grinning even more widely.

Mutual... what? Sebastian blinked twice or three or four times. He didn't know. He'd have to watch the video again and listen to that part just to make sure it was not his own wishful thinking. And definitely ask Scarlett about it. However, he had to watch the entire thing first to see for himself just how bad it was.

“Oh and don't think you're off the hook, Sebastian. This video is also about you, if not mainly about you. I'm doing you a favor, buddy, you'll thank me for this later. After, like, you dare come out of your house when you're done dying of embarrassment.”

So, actually never, if it was all going as bad as he imagined.

“See, as I've made very obvious, he's a great fan of hers. We all are, let's not kid ourselves. However, when he doesn't let his vast admiration for that great talent and possibly small- who am I kidding, big crush on her, take his mind away he has these brilliant ideas that I can't help but agree to. And even if he might be a bit too shy to admit it out loud, I'll go ahead and say this: Hey Marvel, give Bucky Barnes his wife in the MCU...” well, maybe not as bad as he feared. The crushing part had been mentioned more than plenty of times by the rest of his friends.

“Because Sebastian would totally love to share a kiss or two with (Y/n). And we want to see the most badass couple of the Marvel comics on the big screen too.”

Well, no, it was even worse apparently.

“As would her, but that's not the point here. I've been trying to figure out a way to get two idiots together and with all this distance and work, this is the best I could think of. Well-” Scarlett shrugged and it was then he noticed the laughing behind the camera “Chris Evans' really, but if it works, hey fine by me! He said something about being subtle but I ain't got enough patience for that anymore. So, there's that. Hopefully, Marvel and Kevin will listen, even more hopefully (Y/n) you'll see this and then even more hopefully as if by a miracle I won't have to listen to you two talk about each other, non-stop, ever again!”

[windup-dragoon]

Mind Games

|| FFXIV write - 2020

|| Prompt #20 - Free Day! - Mind Games

|| Modern AU 

|| Featuring @whitherliliesbloom​, @ancientechos​, @heirsofdiscord​;; Illya, Alphinaud, Laurelis, Haurchefant, Arianna, Emet-Selch, Moth’ir, Thancred, Hien, and Kirishimi

|| 928 words

|| What’s a little game among friends?

|| Now with art by @rosepinkwol​ found here!

“Okay, enough squabbling! We need to get to the bottom of this!” Alphinaud demands the attention of the room. The lights begin to flicker but it deters him none. “We’ve already lost some of our dearest friends to these fiends... We cannot allow ourselves to blame aimlessly!” 

“To be fair,” Hien interjects, standing close to Kirishimi. “Thancred wasn’t keeping his story straight. We had evidence against him and he has been known for being shady.” 

Kirishimi nodded in agreement, although the action had still left her feeling sad. He was full of too many inconsistencies. One moment he had mentioned tailing Moth’ir while doing their rounds, then five seconds later he was at the reactor. Nothing of his added up and their friends paid the price. He simply couldn’t be left alone. 

“You are all still incredibly wrong.” Moth’ir stated, arms crossed and exchanging a look around the room. 

“It was put to a vote, Moth’ir.” Alphinaud lowered his head, shuffling an ilm closer to Illya. “I am deeply sorry-” 

“Save it.” Moth’ir dismissed the young elezen with a wave of his hand. 

This time Laurelis, standing off to the side as she was, leaned forward and offered a tiny smile. “We’re running out of time. Let’s get back to our rounds and go from there, okay?” 

Illya nodded. “We’ve still a lot to accomplish but we can make it.” 

“Optimistic as always.” Alphinaud smiled to the lalafellin woman with a touch of warmth in his voice. 

- - - 

The meeting was dismissed and all in attendance departed. Hien and Kiri took to working on electrical panels, finding safety in groups was the best decision. But the whole ordeal had left her feeling shaken. Among them, one of their friends, was intentionally sabotaging their chances of survival. Blood laced the hands of someone she once laughed with and it unnerved her. 

Had Thancred truly been one of them? A part of her had hoped it was, then at least his removal would not have been for nothing. But it still left her stomach sour as she connected colored cables. Hien busied himself with his own devices, glancing up and giving her comforting smile beneath fading lights. 

Emet-Selch had been removed at the very first sign of trouble. His words were like eels; he couldn’t be trusted as he laughed at them for thinking too much. The majority ruled him guilty and that had been that. Yet Arianna was left alone because of this, treading the shadows in silence as she worked without company. 

Kiri treaded the space between Hien and herself, drawing close enough to lean against the table he was working at. “What if-” She began softly, a hushed whisper so no one would over hear her. “What if I were the killer? Would you kick me?” 

To this inquiry, green eyes lift from his panel, his eyebrows shooting up. “Oh? Are you confessing to me?” He mused and pulled her close. “Any other confessions? Spill them all.” 

She hummed with a giggle but shook her head. “Certainly not! But could you do it?” 

“I would be heartbroken.” 

“So you would?” 

“You wouldn’t be the woman I love if you were murdering people, now would you?” 

“Fair.” 

Briefly they shared a kiss. There was something urgent about it this time. The drive to survive and live and thrive. Hien’s hands at her waist were tightly knotted against her red outfit, lifting her onto the table for a more advantageous angle. 

His lips parted from hers reluctantly, both breathless as they shared a silent moment. 

“And what if it were me?” Hien questioned now, brushing back silver hair from Kiri’s cheek. 

She laughed and drew her arms around his neck to pull him back for more attention. “Somethin’ kinda spicy ‘bout it. Not murderin’ people but... ya’know. Evil Hien.” 

They both laughed, helpless against the need to share another desperate kiss. 

And then the door to their secluded room opened. Both tore away from one another in a flurry of motion, Kiri smothering out wrinkles in her attire while Hien cleared his throat. 

In the doorway stood Illya, lilac bambi eyes wide. “Am I interrupting?” 

“N-Not at all!” Hien stammered with flushed cheeks. “Have you seen the others?” 

Illya smiled and walked into the room further with no real direction in mind. “Yes. I believe we’ve won.” She announced with a softness in her voice and eyes bright. 

Kiri leaned forward, hands to her knees, excitement riddled on her face. “Really? So Thancred must’a really been one of ‘em? And Emet-Selch too! That’s perfect! I bet he was so irritated when we got him in the first round-” 

Both Hien and Illya simply stared at Kiri however while she spoke. They wore smiles on their faces, but after a second look, Kiri’s brows drew together. They weren’t quite normal. Not the familiar grin Hien would often wear. Or the sunshine bright smile from Illya she had grown so accustomed to seeing. 

“Wait-” 

“I’m sorry, Kiri.” Hien moved closer, snatching at her wrist. 

“Wait-!!” 

“No one suspected a thing.” Illya commented and laughed musically. 

Hien chuckled in return as he drew Kiri once more to his chest. “Kind of spicy, isn’t it?”  

- - - 

Dead Chat 

Emet-Selch: What a bunch of idiots. 

Thancred: THEY KICKED ME?! I’M STILL???? 

Moth’ir: Thanny, you were stumbling a lot on your story... 

Ari: I’m sorry, Emet... 

Laurelis: ILLYA AND HIEN BETRAYED US ALL

Alphinaud: She intentionally saved me for last! How very clever... 

Haurchefant: Sorry for being the first to die, everyone. :’c 

[aion-rsa]

15 Best Final Fantasy Characters

https://ift.tt/3rHgcZn

While the list of things that Final Fantasy has gifted the gaming world is much longer than the one we’re bringing you today, one of the most consistently incredible aspects of this legendary RPG franchise is the quality of its casts of characters.

Even if you’ve only played one or two Final Fantasy games in your lifetime (or perhaps even just absorbed elements of the series through its prominent place in gaming culture) you likely know and have strong feelings about at least one Final Fantasy character. No matter how fantastical these games get, their heart will always be found in the heroes, villains, and even NPCs that drive some of the greatest adventures in RPG history.

Which Final Fantasy character is the best of them all, though? That’s a question fans will never find a universally approved answer to, but I’m willing to be most personal shortlists include at least a few of these incredible characters that have become icons of this franchise, the genre, and gaming.

15. Bartz Klauser (Final Fantasy 5)

Many Final Fantasy protagonists are tortured souls burdened by destiny and circumstances. There’s nothing inherently wrong with that type of character (we’re actually going to honor a few of those tortured souls later in this list), but too much of that kind of personality can really wear you down.

That’s what makes Bartz Klauser such a breath of fresh air. As a young man just trying to honor his father’s dying wish to go out and explore the world, Bartz didn’t ask to get caught up in an epic battle or grand adventure. Yet, he handles the incredible events that befall him with positivity, humor, and constant support for his friends and allies. 

14. Squall Leonhart (Final Fantasy 8)

There was a time when it felt like Squall’s place somewhere at the bottom of any list of Final Fantasy protagonists was all but reserved. There are still more than a few Final Fantasy fans who passionately hate him, and it’s easy to understand why. He’s angsty, he’s sometimes derivative of other characters, and he’s even sometimes cruel to people who should be his closest allies.

Yet, there’s just something about Squall. His looks and gunblade certainly make him memorable from a design perspective, but there’s also something to be said for how we get to watch Squall grow throughout Final Fantasy 8 in a way that few franchise protagonists get to grow across the course of their own adventures. Squall is the surprisingly grounded heart of a Final Fantasy game that reaches all-time high levels of weirdness.

13. Zidane Tribal (Final Fantasy 9)

I’ll always have a soft spot for Final Fantasy 7 and 8’s more somber protagonists, but like many fans at the time, I was more than ready to embrace Final Fantasy 9’s return to medieval fantasy as well as its returns to slightly more upbeat lead characters. 

Zidane is a fantastic example of a more lighthearted Final Fantasy protagonist, but he is no mere throwback to a simpler time. There’s plenty of darkness in Zidane’s surprisingly deep backstory, which makes his attempts to become a better person and a better leader (as well as his insistence on enjoying life whenever possible) that much more interesting. 

12. Cidolfus Orlandeau (Final Fantasy Tactics)

Some version of Cid pretty much had to be on this list, but which Cid is the best of them all? Well, there’s certainly an argument to be made for Final Fantasy 7’s Cid, Final Fantasy 14’s Cid, and Final Fantasy 9’s Cid, but my vote for the best Cid goes to a somewhat outside the box version of this recurring character. 

It’s interesting enough that Final Fantasy Tactics’ Cidolfus Orlandeau is a warrior when so many other versions of Cid are engineers, mentors, or even political leaders, but what makes Orlandeau really stand apart is how powerful he is. This is one of the most overpowered characters in Final Fantasy Tactics in terms of both lore and in-game abilities. Actually, his incredible power kind of feels like a love letter to the entire Cid “lineage.”

11. Zack Fair (Final Fantasy 7)

It may seem like Zack Fair’s popularity only started to grow in more recent years, but the truth of the matter is that many Final Fantasy 7 fans have always loved Zack and just weren’t able to properly share their love for this previously minor character prior to the modern internet age. 

Before Zack Fair finally got to star in his own game (the largely underrated PSP title, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII), he won the hearts of millions with his optimism, friendly nature, and unwavering belief that he can fight to make the world a better place. He is, in many ways, what we think of when we think of heroes. 

10. Celes Chere (Final Fantasy 6)

Final Fantasy 6 certainly isn’t lacking in memorable protagonists (or villains), which really makes it that much more impressive that Celes Chere has arguably become the game’s unofficial lead all these years later. 

Celes initially comes across as a standoffish enemy general who is only helping the player’s party because they’re temporarily united against a common threat. By the time we reach this game’s legendary opera scene, though, we understand who Celes really is and even start to sympathize with what we previously believed were her greatest flaws. Celes was one of the first Final Fantasy characters that properly showcased the storytelling potential of this franchise and gaming.

9. Lightning (Final Fantasy 13)

Final Fantasy 13 honestly deserves a lot of the criticism it regularly receives, but it’s always been a shame that the game’s divisive (often negative) legacy means Lightning is sometimes denied the status she so rightfully deserves. 

Lightning’s backstory isn’t the most complicated in Final Fantasy history, but that actually proves to be one of the character’s strongest qualities. Lightning is mostly interested in protecting her sister, which turns out to be all the motivation as she needs to embark upon an epic journey as well as all the motivation we need to sympathize with the incredible things she does along the way. Lightning is fearless, strong, determined, and the kind of person many of us like to think we would become in her situation. 

8. Balthier (Final Fantasy 12)

It’s certainly easy to understand why so many Final Fantasy fans have compared Balthier to Han Solo over the years. Balthier is, after all, a sarcastic yet suave sky pirate who gets caught up in a war. You don’t have to break your brain to see the similarities.

However, that doesn’t make Balthier any less of a compelling character. Balthier believes he’s the real protagonist of Final Fantasy 12’s all-time great story, which is honestly hard to argue against when you consider that he’s the most consistently compelling character in the game and one of the most consistently entertaining characters in the history of this franchise.

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7. Tifa Lockhart (Final Fantasy 7)

What is it about Tifa that’s made her one of the most popular characters in Final Fantasy history? Is it her warmth? Is it her combat abilities? Is it the ways that she’s able to so easily pivot between leader and supporter based on what the situation calls for? 

The answer is “yes.” Tifa is capable in ways that the best playable video game characters sometimes need to be, but she’s still vulnerable, conflicted, and sometimes scared in the ways that any of us would be if we were in her situation. She’s a truly well-rounded character who is more than worthy of her fan-favorite status. 

6. Auron (Final Fantasy 10)

On the surface, Auron is everything that you’d expect to see in a “cool” Final Fantasy character. With his giant sword, samurai-like philosophies and lifestyle, and mysterious vibes, you could even argue that Auron represents some of the “tropes” we sometimes associate with this franchise’s most notable warriors.

Yet, Auron is so much more than the (admittedly badass) warrior he first seems to be. As we learn Auron’s backstory, we also learn more about the Final Fantasy X universe and this game’s wonderfully weird and surprisingly complicated storyline. Auron is undoubtedly cool, but it’s the sweet and sorrowful details of his backstory that elevate him above some notable competition. 

5. Cloud Strife (Final Fantasy 7)

It’s sometimes hard to look at Cloud and not see a collection of what we now think of as cliches for both Final Fantasy protagonists and JRPG characters. Even if you want to push aside the fact that Cloud helped introduce (or at least arguably perfected) some of those cliches, you can still make a compelling argument for the character’s all-time great status on the basis of some of his qualities that don’t get talked about quite as often as they should. 

Cloud is a much deeper and more mysterious character than he often gets credit for. Given that we learn more about him as we learn more about Final Fantasy 7’s plot, world, and emotional stakes, he’s also one of the best (if initially less obvious) player surrogates in the history of RPGs. 

4. Sephiroth (Final Fantasy 7)

Like so many of Final Fantasy’s other great characters, you could make an argument for Sephiroth’s “best” credentials on the basis of his design alone. Any character that looks this cool and has a theme song as incredible as “One-Winged Angel” is destined to steal some hearts. 

What’s most impressive about Sephiroth, though, are the ways that the Final Fantasy team has revisited this character and grown him over the years. Sephiroth is a tragic character in many ways, but you won’t find many who are willing to shed a tear for him or the ways he’s used his personal tragedies to internally justify unforgivable acts. 

3. Yuna (Final Fantasy 10)

While I don’t hate Tidus as much as some people do, I have to admit that I’ve always seen Yuna as the real protagonist of Final Fantasy 10 as well as one of the series’ best characters ever.

Yuna’s incredible empathy and compassion are appropriate character traits for a summoner who is so willing to complete what is generally considered to be a suicide mission. Yuna believes in the role she plays in this world, but she’s not so committed to her duties that she becomes this one-track protagonist that doesn’t get to develop a personality. Indeed, it’s Yuna’s likability that inspires so many Final Fantasy 10 players to see her complete her quest, whatever the cost may be. 

2. Kefka Palazzo (Final Fantasy 6)

When people are praising Kefka as a villain (which is obviously something that happens quite often), the line you’re almost always guaranteed to hear is that Kefka is one of the few villains in any medium who achieves their seemingly absurd plans for world domination. His almost unrivaled success as a villain has rightfully become the defining part of his legacy.

As a character, though, Kefka stands apart through the almost horror movie-like nature of his design (he’s somewhere between Pennywise and the Joker) as well as for the way he goes from court jester to world-destroying diety so convincingly. He is, at the very least, the best Final Fantasy villain ever. 

1. Vivi Ornitier (Final Fantasy 9)

Vivi’s short lifespan and the fact he was ignored and dismissed for so many of the few days he had to live should make him one of the most tragic characters in Final Fantasy history. Indeed, many aspects of Vivi’s life are a tragedy and a pretty compelling tragedy at that. 

Yet, there’s a reason that simply hearing the name “Vivi” puts a smile on so many Final Fantasy players’ faces. Vivi may discover the sorrowful truth of his existence in Final Fantasy 9, but he also learns the joys of friendship, confidence, and adventure. In many ways, the character’s final words represent how we all feel whenever we have to leave our favorite Final Fantasy characters:

cnx.cmd.push(function() { cnx({ playerId: "106e33c0-3911-473c-b599-b1426db57530", }).render("0270c398a82f44f49c23c16122516796"); });

“I’m so happy I met everyone… I wish we could’ve gone on more adventures. But I guess we all have to say goodbye someday.”

The post 15 Best Final Fantasy Characters appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[ratingtheframe]

Everything wrong with... Ep 3 - Pretty Woman

*sigh* *big sigh*.  I’m back here giving you another politically charged review of a film I like to call a femmeçade:

Femmeçade /fɛm//fəˈsɑːd/ noun noun: femmeçade; plural noun: femmeçades; 1. A genre of films directed by men that forefront yet misinterpret the female narrative and representation on screen. "Pretty Woman is the worst femmeçade of them all in the way it depicts women as the lesser gender"  (definition by yours truly).

I have to say, I have never felt more compelled, more angry in my entire life to write such a review and tear this film down until there is nothing left but the underlining, prominent misogynistic aspects of this film. I am talking about the 1990s classic, Pretty Woman starring Richard Gere and Julia Roberts. Now a musical, the film has survived three waves of feminism (if you count MeToo), and yet is still available to access for our entertainment. Even though censorship is less common in the Western World, the only good thing about watching Pretty Woman would be to see how vile and unacceptable it is in the eyes of our modern and ever changing society. It truly brought tears of anger to my eyes to watch such a film and see how its lead was shoved into the spotlight for a round or two of humiliation and prodding by the fingers and eyes of the male gaze. There is A LOT to go through here, so grab a snack and buckle in as I put Pretty Woman to shame.

Let's just start with the title itself Pretty Woman, a pretty lazy title for a film if you ask me. I understand it does what it says on the tin, like any title should, however the irksome thing about the film and title is what it’s selling. The lust and beauty of Julia Roberts as opposed to her character or story for that matter. Stood alongside Richard Gere in thigh high boots with her legs for days, months and years on show. We get it, Julia Roberts is a beauty, but why does a film have to focus on that sole part of her? By doing this it creates the idea that it’s her only asset and BOY does this film do a good job at reminding us just that. They’ve got the man’s vote and supposedly the woman’s seeing as the story is about them or who they’d like to be. WRONG, seeing as the crew behind Pretty Women were mostly men themselves. The writers, cinematographer, director, producers, best boys and gaffers, you name it. So who was this film for if it wasn’t to satisfy at least it's mostly male crew members?

Male satisfaction are the appropriate words to use when we are introduced to our leading lady in close up shots of her bra and knickers. Vivian is played by the highly talented and ordained Julia Roberts. Ever since seeing Erin Brodkovich which bagged her an Oscar in 2001, I’ve been in love with her spirit and confidence on screen. As we all know she is certainly one of Hollywood’s shiniest stars, up there with the elites like Meryl Streep, Viola Davis and Angelina Jolie. Why she decided to sign onto such a film, I would hate to speculate seeing as Feminism was more of a dirty secret than a positive movement back in the 1990s. Many (mostly men, though women too, especially those in the film business) would accuse the movement of threatening the comfortability and fun out of life’s pleasures, like women wearing makeup, dresses and being groped at office parties (sarcasm). However, as we now know, feminism isn’t the demon that the 1990s tried to make it out to be and I hope that Julia Roberts was unaware of feminism back then rather than being a strong opposer of it. 

Vivian Ward is a hooker living and working on the streets of LA, the city of dreams as some may brandish it. She lives with her roommate Kit (Laura San Giacomo) and between them they spend their nights trying to scrape enough money for their rent. I’m glad that sex work isn’t as scrutinised as it was back then and another arresting aspect of Pretty Woman is the way it depicts the so called “atrocities” of being a sex worker. The propriety and haughtiness of those who laid eyes upon Kit or Vivian was degrading and dehumanising, simply because they choose to lead a different lifestyle to those around them. It seemed so archaic, almost Victorian like the way people ogled and gazed upon Vivian at the hotel where she was taken in by her male counterpart. Pretty Woman again proves itself to be an anti-feminsit horror show for shaming women on choosing what to do with their own bodies and how they dress. We need to cut this BS out of society ASAP that women dress in certain ways to attract the attention of the opposite sex. Clothes are a form of expression and 9 times out of 10, that expression hasn’t anything to do with wanting to be leered at in public. Enough with the victim shaming as well; asking women what they wore when they were sexually assaulted. Instead let's ask what the attackers were THINKING when they decided to prey on an innocent victim....

One night whilst Vivan is looking for clients, she meets the so called delectable and mouth droppingly handsome male lead that is Edward Lewis, played by Richard Gere. I didn’t get the hype at all as I felt Vivan to have enough personality and lust for life to fill both of her and Richard Gere’s character. Edward Lewis was wooden, stern and boring, and despite this, Vivian seems to see more in him beyond her usual hookups. That’s another irritating thing about Pretty Woman. Edward Lewis didn’t have to do FUCK ALL to prove his love or worthiness in the life of Vivian. 

He didn’t have to (nor did) change one thing about himself throughout the entire film and that’s not only extremely sexist, but shit filmmaking. Did the writer of completely forget or give up on Edward Lewis’ character arc whilst he was too busy making drooling over Vivian? All Edward Lewis had to do was wave his card around and POOF Vivian was at his knees. No wonder the 1990s shamed feminists because this is the exact sort of crap they were trying to prevent from happening on screen. It may seem like fun and games when Edward Lewis tells Vivian to go shopping, buy herself a new dress for dinner, but in reality this is just a fresh case of misogyny, served up with a side of degradation and bigotry for dessert. 

Edward Lewis goes as far to hire Vivian for the week as his...escort? His actual motive isn’t known and we are left as an audience to conclude that it’s because she’s pretty. Again, selling the film title through and through and deminishing the worth of women with each scene. Vivian is never actually asked what she wants, nor do we get to know her seeing as Edward’s inflated ego and wallet covers up most of the screen time whilst watching this film. If you didn’t think this film could get any more horrific is the age gap between Julia Roberts and Richard Gere at the time of filming, to which Roberts was 22 and Gere, 40.

One moment in particular that proved this film to have zero substance to it, is when Vivian eventually gets down on Edward and to my absolute horror, her bra strap is INCREDIBLY and shockingly inauthentically loose. Like falling off loose. Not one woman in the world who chooses to wear a bra; not in China, India, Pakistan, the U.S, Ukraine, Hooker, doctor, astronaut, teacher, hairdresser or not would ever EVER wear their bra strap so loose. An impractical and uncomfortable choice, this tiny infinitesimal yet significant part of this film showed that this film doesn’t care or know how to show accurate female representation on screen and goes against any sense of providing women with strong characters they can use as role models. And all from one bra strap. 

The shopping and transformation part to this film had to be the big red thumb that stood out the most from the eternity of this film as AGAIN for the fifteenth time this film has proved itself to be in favour of entertaining those who like to ogle at Vivian as opposed to getting to know her. Edward thrusts his card at her once again (without giving her much choice, a common behavioural pattern associated with sociopaths and abusers) and she goes to Rodeo Drive to essentially pretty herself up for him so that Edward isn’t judged by those he introduces Vivian to. 

When Vivian had attempted to go shopping alone on Rodeo Drive in her casual attire, the female employees of one of the stores behaved abominably towards her, classing her as someone who didn’t have the means or appearance to shop in such a place. This film just got even worse as not only do we have the opposite gender dictating the appearance of women, we’re having our own sisters do the same whilst investing in the patriarchal narrative of the way women should be seen in public. At this point you may think I’m going crazy and repeating myself, of which I am doing both, however once you’ve fully taken the time to wake up and smell the patriarchy’s cup of coffee, there’s no turning back. These details become smoke signals that turn into epiphanies and realisations that have you questioning is this really okay? And a Pretty Woman is NOT okay.

Once Vivian has had her transformation (so kindly afforded by the dominant Edward Lewis) she seemingly begins to enjoy her new life as a piece on the side, until she is presented with Edward’s lawyer, Philip Stuckley.

So here’s what we have so far on our checklist of misogyny and anti-feminsit motifs to Pretty Women

A poster and title created in the eye of the male gaze CHECK

A female character whose worth is based on her desirability and propriety CHECK

A mediocre white man who doesn’t progress and gets his way through charm, money and power CHECK

Women who take unkindly to other women because they don’t fit the normalised standards of the patriarchy CHECK

Shaming women for their dress sense and career choices CHECK

Lack of women in general, most of which don’t speak throughout the film CHECK

The list could go on but another motif to add to the list from this film that acts as big shiny wrecking ball that smashes up feminism and leaves its values in the dust is sexual assault. Or attempted sexual assault at that, as when we see Phillip Stuckley’s first interaction with Vivian he says right out that he knows she’s a hooker, whilst running the edge of his sunglasses down Vivian’s arm and suggesting they get together after Edward’s demise back to wherever he came from. EW, this was one of the many moments of the film where I had to swallow my vomit. Phillip attempts to rape Vivian back at Edward’s penthouse suite, when luckily Edward comes in to stop it happening, which was the most decent thing he did the entire film. Edward’s lawyer represented a hoard of men that existed back then and now who feel entitled to a woman’s body, hooker or not. Even though Pretty Woman had dug itself a big enough hole, by the time I got to this part of the film I had been sold on the idea that this film is completely out of line with women’s liberation and empowerment. It’s just one big game to prod and poke at women, seeing how far they can go, which in itself is a metaphor for sexual assault. 

I’ll wrap up on the lack of diversity in Pretty Women. Because the world affords white men and women more luxuries and privileges than people of colour, they were at the forefront of this story whilst black and asian minorities were put in the background as butlers, maids and chauffeurs. It makes me so angry that on top of being a whirlwind of misogyny and sexism that such a film would have the audacity to misrepresent minorities entirely and highlight their so called use as servicing white people. IT. IS. GETTING. OLD.

Hopefully you’ve made it to the end of this “review” (kinda) and seen the damaging implications such a film has on our society. On reading Feminists Don’t Wear Pink and Other Lies curated by Scareltt Curtis, I read that “Books and things reflect what’s happening in the world, Hollywood movies DICTATE IT and MOULD what people think”. 

You may think movies don’t matter or a film of the 1990s doesn’t matter, but if we are to learn from our mistakes and progress our movements, we must unpick the past and see it for how it was. Movies are our culture, our representation of what we’ve learnt or seen in the world. I don’t want to see women as sexual objects without their permission. I don’t want to see them being moulded by the patriarchy or by women who support it. I don't want to see women only good enough to be hookers, wives or mistresses. I want women to be the strongest versions of themselves and for films to buckle up and show that shit on screen.

Pretty Woman can kiss my ass and if it’s a film you like in  unlike it. Pronto.

[mxvladdy]

A Break

Part Duo. Some fluff, some plot. I guess? I just like writing this one. 

Chapters: 1-2-3-4

Two

Hanzo left later that evening with a chaste kiss and a promise to call when he could. You watch him go, waving him off from your little balcony stopping only when he became lost in the sea of people below. The gold of his ribbon disappearing in the blur of faces and colors. Alone again you flop down onto your bed staring watery-eyed up at your ceiling fan. The quiet around you no longer the comforting kind, his soft-spoken presence a larger comfort then you thought. Already you missed the feel of him draped over you in bed, his gentle snoring in your ear.

Glancing at your alarm clock you debate whether it was worth it to get up and do something with your evening or just call it an early night. Fuck it. You were gloriously sore and sleeping sounded amazing right now. Work could wait for tomorrow. Laziness winning over you rose kicking off your leggings slipping under the covers of the freshly made bed, courtesy of Hanzo. Stretching out on his side of the mattress you reach out to your bedside table, fingers ideally pulling Hanzo's latest gift to you.

The metal of the pendant was cool to the touch. The light silver chain of the necklace shone brightly from the twilight outside. Thumbing over the tiny owl impression on the drachma you smile longingly. Slipping it over your head you tuck the coin under your shirt.  

Greece. What an adventure.

You wished he could have stayed longer this time to talk about his travels. Greece had been a place you dreamed of going when you were younger, but gave it up to get your career off the ground. That was your life now, bookkeeping and payroll. Our business needed you more than you needed to travel. Perhaps one day you could feel confident enough to leave the shop for a world tour. Or maybe even a romantic getaway with Hanzo, see if you were really compatible.

Admittedly your romance had been a whirlwind from the start. A drunken kiss with a handsome stranger that should have led to nowhere but a musty motel room followed by an awkward goodbye. But instead, you woke up with his number and a promise of an actual date. Half a year later Hanzo had a drawer of clothes and a toothbrush in the bathroom. Snuggling in deeper under the sheets you yawn clicking off your lamp drifting off with your phone clutched in your hand. You sleep peacefully wrapped in your boyfriend's warm floral scent till a light buzzing wakes you. Your phone vibrates, the light blinding you when you unlock it. Not that you care.

Hanzo (3:14am): 

Shuttle just landed. Be safe for me.

You (3:14am):

Always will :*

And you too please! I find myself rather attached…

Hanzo (3:16am): 

Ha. I will try not to freeze to death.

Hanzo (3:16am): 

Perhaps you could warm me up next time?

You snort wrinkling your nose at his flirting.

You (3:16am):

Yes sir! But it’ll cost you

Hanzo(3:20am): 

A price I will willingly pay.

Hanzo(3:22am): 

I must go, I’ll call when I get the chance.  

You (3:23am): 

Goodnight! Miss you already

You wake late the next morning groggy but warm, tangled in the sheets. Alarm screaming obnoxiously close to your face. Blindly, you swipe at the phone silencing the noise and rise. Waddling groggily you head to the bathroom to get ready for the day. You arrive an hour late grinning ear to ear. Your friends and employees glancing up smirking at your poor excuse for calling in sick yesterday. You let them work heading to the back to get your workload started for the day. Setting up in the back of the store in your favorite corner you look over your new assortment of dried leaves, flowers, and fruits.

The background noise of the shop and quiet music overhead lulling you into a comfortable trance. You hum under your breath pulling your scale closer to you blatantly ignoring Tabatha. She circles you like a hawk, keen eyes looking for any opening to start grilling you. The heat of her gaze latching on to the blemishes and love bites you didn’t even bother hiding. Placing your pestle down you sigh turning to her. “Ok. Ok. Lay it on me girl.”

Tabatha moved in fast plopping down next to you grabbing your pile of dried lemon rinds. “In all the time I have known you I’ve never seen this.” She starts shaving the rinds down smaller. “You skipped work, unannounced. During peak season!” She rounds on you dumping the shavings into their allotted jar. “I’m so proud!” You laugh tension you hadn’t noticed you were carrying in your shoulders dissipating. “I’m serious!” She continues. “All this time and I’ve never seen you finally blow off some steam till he showed up.” Tabatha smiles and leans closer flicking a soft curl ticking your ear. “You know you have to bring him around for drinks and leftovers sweets. Shit, the rest of the team wants to meet him too! Your pictures don’t do him justice.” You nod promising to ask next time he came to visit.

The rest of the day moved on from there at breakneck speed, the front portion of the shop bursting with patrons. The back with employees running about, fresh herbs, pastries, and coffee carafes in hand. The din of your business running smoothly a comfort to your frazzled mind. You finish your newest blend with a flourish, sprinkling dried ginger into the jar closing it with a satisfying ‘snap’.  

“Yo Boss! Can you cover the front while I take my break?” Switching places you wish your employee a good break. Perching at the register you make small talk with a few regulars as the evening lull hits. Greeting a cluster of teenagers as they entered you pause mid conversation taking in the new customers coming in behind them.

Oh. Well, this was rare. Omnics came in from time to time sure that wasn’t unusual. You make it a point to welcome everyone equally, as did your employees. But omnics always came in with human companions or solo to pick up an order or gift. And they most certainly never glowed. You eye the two curiously. The green one wandering aimlessly picking up different jars of teas and homemade jams before being over a display case of brightly colored macaroons. The other taller one was dressed in baggy pants merely looked at the counter before making eye contact.

“Ahh~ greetings.” He spoke. His voice, while naturally monotone it held an underlying tone of levity. “I wish to inquire about your tea selections. I have heard you have a unique variety.”

“Oh course!” You blush embarrassed that you were caught staring. “We have a small selection of in house blends, but the bulk of our products are sourced from fair trade shops from India, China, Japan, and Africa.” You recite by heart pulling out your display tray. The omnic looked down at the cards reading each selection as you described them nodding along patiently.

“What a peculiar name?” He picked up your latest custom blend. Southern Dragon. “How do you come up with the names?”

“I let my staff pick and vote on names. But this one-” You smile softly popping the tin open. “I named after someone.” The tea itself didn’t look like anything fancy sure. The blend of reddish-brown sticks looked like something someone could scoop up outside, Tabatha had joked about it often. “ Hojicha, roasted in house with dried ginger and imported nashi pear. This is the first season we are caring it as I like to buy fruits only when in season. It isn’t one of our most popular yet, but many customers have appreciated the mild caramel flavor and slight sweetness of the peaches and gentle tang of the ginger.”

“I see, that sounds very pleasant. I would like a bag of that and perhaps the sharp lemon for my pupil.” You nod scooping out the desired amounts into two small bags weighing them swiftly.

“And anything for you?” You smile less genuinely at the smaller omnic as they all but swaggered over. You had felt his gaze the whole time you had been chatting.

“Hmm.” They leaned on your counter visor not leaving you, long metal fingers clicking on the marble counter top. “I’d take a small shortcake and a three-pack of macaroons, the matcha ones; if they come with your number.”

You freeze choking on your smile, even the other omnic seemed surprised.

“Genji-”  

“We have our business number on the bottom of our boxes and bags, and a popular online storefront.” You ring him up quickly handing him his order.

“Mmm. I was hoping for something more...personal.” They continued voice dropping low into a slightly clipped purr.

“No.” You cut them off quickly, smile gone. “I have a boyfriend.”

They gasp in mock shock. If they had lips you were positive they would be stretched into a shit eating grin. “What a lucky man.” They tip heavily turning without another word to the door, phone out texting animatedly. You look blankly at their abandoned companion waving a hand uselessly at the door.

“I apologize. He sometimes forgets himself. I hope my pupil didn’t offend? I would like to return at a later date.” They bow low in compensation. “I will have him apologize properly when we meet again.”

Meet again… You jerk your head awkwardly still processing what in the world just happened.

“Woooow,” Tabatha drawls wrapping an arm around you watching the two take their leave, the taller one levitating the moment they were outside. “ Wow . Popular with all types huh? Thought I was gonna need to come in here an’ knock heads.”  

“Please,” You scoff recovering to wipe down the counter. “That has to be one for the books, right next to that time I fell in the school fountain at graduation. All white- like a dumb ass.” Tabatha howls with laughter already walking back to your shared office.

“A beautiful day in history. But damn that green one was mighty pleased to hear you were taken.”

“Ha-ya.” You frown rubbing your arm. Now that you think about it it was kinda weird. Perhaps they were a friend of Hanzo’s. He never spoke of omnics, cowboys and old vets, but you would think highlighter green would stick out.  

Tabatha came back talking to the last of your closing staff noticing you were still looking out the window. “Hey- you ok?”

“Yea-yea. Just thinking about it now.” Your friend frowns discarding her armload to lead you back into your office dropping you in your chair.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. But how ‘bout you get started on the paperwork, and I’ll cover the front in case they come back.” You agree already pulling a stack of orders to you booting up your computer. You get a few hours of work done in peace as your employees filter out for the night, bidding you and Tabatha a good night. With a huff she collapses to the couch watching you work for a moment.

“You forgot didn’t you.” Hmm? Tabatha meets your blank stare dark brows raised into her hairline prompting you. Blinking you try slyly to look at your calendar. Was it someone's birthday? Anniversary? “ Gurl ." She jokes. "Dick that good you forgot whine and cheese night?” Oh. Oops. 

Whine and cheese night had been a tradition since grad school, then when you went into business together. Every last Sunday of the month you two had a few too many drinks and bitched about anything that came to mind that month. Tabatha chortled grabbing your keys and turning off your monitor. “Good thing I remember. I got some new vintages and some fancy cheeses I stole from my girl’s fridge.” She leads you out of the shop locking up the building pushing you out into the brisk night air. You walk the short distance to your flat listening to her talk rapidly about her upcoming trip with her girlfriend to France. “Handsome take you anywhere yet?” She asks finally taking a breath at your front door.

“Does the city fair count?” You ask flipping on the lights to your kitchen. You glaze at your friend's face. Clearly it did not. “He isn’t around often enough to do something like that. Not that I mind,” You add quickly trying to get your piece in before she decides to cut in, her frown growing. “We had plans to rent a beach house for a weekend but he had an emergency at work. After that, we just do stay in dates or stuff around town.”

“What, he always on call or something?” Tabby flops hard onto your floor pillow kicking off her shoes. “Or like too afraid to tell his boss off?”

You snort passing your lounging friend an overfilled glass of zinfandel. “Bit late for the background check ain’t it?” She accepts the wine gracefully wiggling deeper into the cushions stealing your remotes. “Besides, I like just having lazy days here. He travels a lot for work so I’m sure that gets exhausting. I doubt a road trip would be relaxing for him. I like just having him here even if it is to just sleep.”

“Rrrriiiggghhtt. ‘Sleep’ .” She snorts looking wholly unconvinced as you settle into your favorite recliner sticking your tongue out teasingly. The two of you get lost in your favorite show then, talking on and off between mouthfuls of pizza and chips. “So-” Tabatha rises a few hours later popping her back. Eyes going to the liquor cabinet dramatically. “Wanna bring out the good shit and tell me all about your impromptu to vacation day?” She wiggles her brows, popping the cork out of your favorite gin bottle pouring you way too much. Downing your first glass in one you hunker down for a long night.

For the second night in a row, buzzing wakes you. The vibrations sharp and rhythmic against your thigh. Groggy from booze and gossip you dig around your chair. “‘Ello?” You mumble wiping drool from your cheek.

“Ah. My apologies-I forgot about time zones. Would you like me to call you back.” Hanzo. You perk up a little stumbling over your passed out friend to your bedroom door.

“No-no. I wouldn’t want to miss this.” You beam rubbing the sleep from your eyes clicking your door closed softly. The haze of the day prior leaving you with his smooth voice, his soft chuckle in your ear made him feel like he was there. The warm presence on your back instead of your sweat-soaked tank clinging to your frame.

“The same can be said for me- but I really should let you sleep. I merely wanted to hear your voice before my… shift started.” Faintly you could hear the sounds of laughter and clinks of plates in the background.

“Where are you?” You ask beyond curious, hoping for a satisfying answer. He paused again, the sound of merriment and chattering fading into the background. “Breakfast and a shift change. It was my turn to cook along with a friend. He had an idea for a 'traditional American breakfast'. It is very hearty, the others are excited. I expect I'll have heartburn for the next week now.”

“Aww! You’ve never made me breakfast!” Ah shit. “Not that that’s a problem!” You backpedal. “Life is hectic and we both have hard schedules.” Silence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Hanzo shushed you gently over the phone. “No, you are more than within your right. I do not do all that I would like with you, yet you set aside time for me every time you can.” You snort into dead air. It wasn’t that hard for you, Tabatha all but forced you to take weekends off from work.

“It’s ok. Don’t make it feel like a duty, love. I just… wish we could do more couple like stuff you know?”  You twine your fingers feeling childish for even complaining.

“I understand that feeling, I have been neglectful. Allow me to make it up to you?” You hum faking thinking hard on your answer. “ Darling.”   Your chuckle behind you hand practically hearing the pout on his elegant face. He continues with a huff. “After this assignment I’ll ask for personal leave. A few weeks perhaps? We can do whatever.”

“I like the sound of that.”

[cynicalclassicist]

Education, Education, Education

Set between The Sound of Drums and Last of the Time Lords

Written by FELIX O’KELLY

The Year that Never Was

The Valiant

The Master sat in the Valiant, looking out across the world he ruled supreme. He smiled. Construction on the ships were on schedule. His remodelling of the Lincoln Memorial had gone well, despite some resistance his forces had entered the Capitol and established his rule. Construction at Rushmore was going perfectly, after he’d had a few public executions. There had been a few rebellions in Scotland, helped by friends of the previous Prime Minister, but a short sharp shock had put those down. Despite that trouble with the Loch Ness Monster. The Norwegian resistance was giving him some trouble, spray-painting Quislings onto the local security offices and disappearing into the woods. But the woods were being chopped down to fuel his industry and soon there would be nowhere left to hide.

And meanwhile, as Earth groaned under his rule, he ripped it up, its plains, its valleys, opening its hills with spacious wounds, digging out masses of minerals to fuel his fleet. The Earth Reptile bases occasionally found as the Earth was torn apart were an utter joy. The Master could sometimes get so tired of only oppressing humans, killing a few Earth Reptiles could add real spice to otherwise dull weeks. Sometimes they even made good slaves! And some new weapons for his fleet as well…

The Master glanced at a map of his world. The Doctor did like those lovely crinkly edges of Norway. Maybe it was time for a bit of remodelling.

There was a cough behind him, and he turned. “And what can I do for you!”

Captain Ironside, who the Master had given the role to partially because he liked the name, saluted. “Master. We’ve brought him.”

“Splendid!” smiled the Master. He glided gleefully down the rail as a figure was dragged in, beaten and bloody.

“Nicholas Clough, I presume!” said the Master.

He recognised the man of course. Nicholas Clough had been one of the rising stars of politics only recently, being promoted to Education Secretary by Harriet Jones. Yet when the fall of Harriet Jones happened, he had left the Cabinet with her. In the election in which Harold Saxon had finally risen to Prime Minister, Clough had announced he was stepping down as MP for Hazelhurst East, a position he had held since the 9th of April 1992. It was the first time Saxon had seen him since then.

The man looked up, through a black eye. “Saxon.”

“Oh, that was the name I used, but you know I am the Master!” sneered the Time Lord. He whipped out his laser screwdriver at which the guards stepped back. But the Master laughed. “Not yet! Haven’t had a good chin-wag since I had that Shaw brought here. Though she was a tad disappointing… not even killing her was exciting.” He turned and grinned horribly at the Doctor, who sat there in his wheelchair. “But the look on your face made it all worthwhile! Just like when I told you about Miss Grant and the grandchildren she… had.”

The Doctor’s face burned with hatred at this.

“Why do you want to talk to me?” asked Nicholas.

The man he had known as Harold Saxon pirouetted round like a ballerina. “Well, you have been spreading some very hurtful things about me” he replied. “And I heard that you met a certain… Martha.” He savoured the word a moment, then spat it out, trying to stay composed.

Nicholas smiled. “Yes. We talked a bit about the Doctor. I’d been wondering who that fellow was ever since Harriet Jones made that broadcast on Christmas.”

“Well, here he is!” The Master pulled the Doctor out of the wheelchair. “Here you are, Mr Clough! Here is the wonderful Doctor!” He flung him back in, the Doctor remaining silent, with the aura of one used to this humiliation.

Nicholas looked worried but composed himself. “Well, there are plenty who resist you still.”

“Yes… Harriet is proving a bit elusive herself” said the Master, his face turning ugly again. “But of course, you were close to her!”

“I left when she did,” replied Nicholas.

“Loyalty… an unusual trait in a politician” replied Saxon. “I should know! Plenty were happy to flock to my banner!” He laughed. “Remember that loathsome Oscar Sudders? Harriet’s Health Secretary? Jumped at the chance to become my Defence Secretary! And that idiot from Richfield South. And of course, the old fool Dumfries! The look on their faces when I made the reshuffle…”

“I’m certainly glad I didn’t take the chance to be your Education Secretary!” said Nicholas.

“So much for wanting to educate!” laughed the Master. “I know how much you politicians talk about education, education, education!”

“Well, I was leaving politics anyway,” said Nicholas. “And I am happy to keep educating people.”

“Oh, what would you need to educate them about!” asked the Master. He pointed upwards. “I have my network, broadcasting the right ideas into their minds! I even have a few loudspeakers set up if I want to give a message!”

He pushed some buttons as if playing a piano, pulled a lever and yelled down the receiver. “PEOPLES OF EARTH! THIS IS YOUR MASTER! JUST TESTING!” He smiled at Nicholas. “It’s 1:15 in that part of the world, it should make the people jump!” He gave a laugh. “Not that it’s too dissimilar to many politicians in the days before my rule, this sort of propaganda! The sheer amount of awful Parties I had to go to to get Ru…” He paused and looked sullen at this memory, then brightened.

“But enough of that! I recall a piece you wrote about me, just before the election! It was called Why I will not be voting Saxon!”

“I think there are a lot of people who regret voting for you now” replied Nicholas.

“Well they should have thought of that beforehand. Not that they ever read your magnum opus. It got pulled due to a word from his Lordship the Paper’s owner, but he was kind enough to send me a copy!”

Like a conjurer the Master produced a paper. He smirked at the Doctor. “I’ve been teaching myself magic! I recall you liked those when you were that little man with the umbrella! Travelling with that… what was it… Dorothy?”

“Ace” said the Doctor. “Her name was Ace.”

“Oh yes! Ace! I remember telling you about her last stand with the Nitro-9… excellent chemical, I’m bottling a bit of it myself for a rainy day! Where was I… ah, the article!”

The Master began reading.

“Let’s see… Clough calls me the most dangerous man in Britain.”

“I was too kind, you’re the most dangerous man in the world” replied Nicholas.

“Oh, still too kind, the Universe!” The Master continued. “Brings up… oh yes, that little car accident which meant I just happened to be elected an MP! Poor old Charles Lichen!” He chuckled horribly. “Talks about dubious businessmen… Well, Salamander is doing some good work for me. And Van Statten’s collection has all sorts of lovely weapons for mass-production!” He commenced skimming the article. “Badmouths me, surprisingly nice about the Shadow Attorney General, badmouths Brian Green… Brings up Lazarus…” The Master was practically blushing as he read of his sinister deeds and scheming. “You’re too kind! I almost wish I could give you a job!”

“Well there will always be people like me, ready to educate against people like you!” said Nicholas. “And that’s what Martha is doing! Giving people hope!”

“Your pathetic people haven’t got a hope!” spat the Master.

“Doesn’t matter how many times you say that, it doesn’t make it true!” replied Nicholas, standing defiantly. “I kept telling people what Martha told me and I’m happy to have done so!”

A smile formed on the Doctor’s face, the first proper one in weeks. The Master glanced around, and his eyes narrowed. He turned back to Nicholas.

“Perhaps.” He took out his laser screwdriver and fired it, blasting Clough to the ground.

“Leave it wherever you found it,” he laughed to Ironside. “I’ll tell the people it’s an education!”

“You didn’t need to do that” said the Doctor angrily.

“No. But it’s fun!”

The Master turned to his transmitters. “Peoples of the Earth, please attend carefully.” He winked at the Doctor. “I always love saying that.” He continued. “I had a meeting with Nicholas Clough. A most educating experience. Just thought I’d let Miss Jones know that! And that I look forward to meeting her!”

But far away Martha continued telling her stories, telling the people of someone who fought against evil. Of giant crabs, of Daleks, of atmosphere-cleaning whales intended to destroy humanity, time-travelling assassins and more. And eventually the stories she told grew in the minds of the people and ended the tyranny of the Master.

And on that day, time snapped back a year. The Toclafane decimation vanished and few remembered the rule of the Master. Instead they watched as the Prime Minister was shot and died.

But they moved on and life went on. The papers about Saxon were covered up by the Lord High Chancellor Brian Green, including Clough’s Why I will not be Voting Saxon, citing security concerns.

Though with plenty more troubles and tricksters like the Master the world was not yet safe…

28th February 2021

England

Nicholas Clough glanced at his article, Why I will not be voting Saxon, written all those years ago. After some lobbying, he had finally been able to get it released for the memoirs he was writing, probably helped by the fact Brian Green was no longer in Parliament. Not many people seemed interested now in history. He sometimes wondered if the country would ever learn, especially as they kept making the same mistakes, falling for the same tricks. Not just in this country even!

But he had to keep trying. And maybe, one day, people would learn. Maybe they would see through the lies that the powerful told. Where there was life, there was hope. Even in the darkest of times.

[queencarolinemikaelson]

A Mystery Never Fully Explained

//Klaroline AU Week// - Day 1 - All Human AU

x

There really was no two ways about it, Klaus Mikaelson was a diva.

A prima donna, even.

There was an urban legend in the theatre industry that once, while rehearsing his role as Beast in Beauty and the Beast, Klaus opted to sit his dressing room, rather than ‘save’ his leading lady from the wolf attack at the beginning of act two.

“I was just throwing the moron to the wolves,” Klaus allegedly said smugly, to the rightly irate director.

Yep, he was biggest drama queen in the theatre industry.

All who worked with him agreed Klaus was actually a soprano in a baritone’s body. Though they would never say it to his face. Nope, to his face, all were perfectly lovely.

Because, no matter how many three-year-old-esque tantrums he threw, or crazy demands he slung at a company, or assistants he fired, Klaus Mikaelson was still the best.

Contemptuous he may have been until the very last second, but once he was under the spotlight, he was magic.

No note, nor line was missed. His honey voice caressed every ear like a lover. His impeccable acting could bring to life every character from King Herod to Jean Valjean.

So naturally, when casting for a reinvigorated West End production of Phantom of the Opera, whom else was to set to play the titular character?

Rehearsals certainly weren’t easy for the crew.

The nature of the show meant already two divas needed to be cast for the roles of Christine and Carlotta. How were they to cope with a third.

But they had managed to make it to opening day without too many scuffles until – 

“What the bloody hell do you mean Bonnie’s in the hospital!?” Klaus roared. “Who is going to do my make up?”

“Have some compassion, Niklaus!” Elijah, Klaus’ brother – who also happened to be his manager, (and what was more pertinent, the only one who could make any sense of a tantrumming Klaus) – sighed. “She is in the hospital, after a car accident!”

“We are opening in three and a half bloody hours, Elijah! I refuse to have my Phantom butchered by some blonde-bimbo-beauty-school-drop-out, playing face paint, just because Bonnie decided to have an accident!”

“Oh be reasonable,” Elijah snapped, though made the mental note to tell Ms Bennett just how indignant Klaus was about working with anyone else. Surely that was some vote of confidence? “She was hit by a car!”

Klaus glowered, but didn’t return fire. Even Klaus, diva or not, knew car accidents were bad.

“There are two options,” Elijah said, after both men had a moment to calm themselves. “You can have your makeup done by the associate head of make up. This will require you to leave your dressing room, and join some of the other cast members.”

“I don’t mingle with the peasants, Elijah,” Klaus pouted, petulantly. “They chatter and natter about inane things, and I cannot focus on what is important. Which is the work!”

“Fine! The second option is you trust Bonnie’s substitute. A Ms Caroline Forbes, currently the head of artistry on Broadway’s Phantom of the Opera.”

Klaus rolled his eyes intensely. He hated Broadway. He hated working on Broadway. And with people who worked on Broadway. And just people in general, but that was beside the point.

“Brother, my feelings about Broadway aside, I’m not sure if you’ve seen a globe recently. But this is London. Not New York City.”

It was Elijah’s turn to roll his eyes – honestly maybe it was time to quit, and live as far away from Klaus as possible.

“I’m well aware of the geography, Niklaus,” Elijah groaned, rather uncharacteristically. “Ms Forbes, an old friend of Ms Bennett, is currently visiting London. Had tickets for tonight’s show, in fact, so is very well placed to aid us tonight.”

“Fine,” Klaus grumbled, after a moment of contemplation – though there wasn’t much to contemplate, no make up was so bad that he would endure the blather of other cast members. “This Broadway woman will have to do. But I refuse to be pleasant to her.”

“I would expect nothing more of you, Niklaus.”

Just then, there was a knock at the door of Klaus’ dressing room.

 “Ahh, that will be her.”

 “You did not just approve her to come backstage before consulting me brother!” Klaus growled.

“Well,” Elijah said, buttoning his suit jacket as he stood up, an air of finality in his tone. “As you so eloquently put it, brother you’re ‘opening in three and a half bloody hours’, there really isn’t any time for your arguments.”

Elijah strode away from the sulking Klaus, and greeted the woman on the other side of the door.

“Ms Forbes,” he said politely. “Please come in, and thank you so much for this, the company is indebted to you.”

“Please, call me Caroline,” Klaus heard a bright, cheery voice say, though she was still blocked from his sightline. “Anything for Bonnie!”

“And how is she after the accident?”

“Shaken,” the woman said, her bubbly voice suddenly laced with worry. “Her injuries are mostly superficial, but her arm will be in plaster for the next few weeks.”

“I see,” Elijah said, before they both came round the corner, and Klaus was able to get a good look her for the first time. “This is Niklaus.”

“Hi!” she said, smiling a smile so bright, he should have been wearing sunglasses. “Caroline.”

She held out her hand for him to shake, but Klaus just looked spitefully at it, before looking away.

Klaus couldn’t believe his misfortune. She was a blonde bimbo.

“Right,” Caroline said, a little disheartened, as she withdrew her hand.

“Anyway, Miss Forbes, I’m terribly sorry, but I have to dash. The world does not cease for Niklaus, although he’d like to believe it would. I’ll catch up with you both later.”

The two of them chuckled together, much to Klaus’ chagrin, and then Elijah left, the same way Caroline had just arrived.

“So,” Caroline said, sitting herself daintily beside him. “You and Bonnie have been working on some pretty cool techniques for your look.”

Klaus said nothing, just stared pointedly at her.

“She took me through her plans for tonight, anything you –”

“We actually open very soon, and I would very much appreciate it if you just got on with it,” Klaus snipped. “Though try not to talk, love. It will be a bit painful otherwise.”

“There’s no need to be rude,” she said, as she raised her eyebrows coolly. “I was just going to ask, if there’s anything you wanted to tell me before you get started. Latex allergy, warm ups that need doing, that kind of thing.”

“No, nothing to share,” he muttered. “And as if I would need to do warm ups.”

“Okay!” Caroline said brightly, trying to ignore his cockiness. “Then let’s get –”

“I do warm up, but not near the help,” Klaus interrupted. “If you want a free show then go back to Broadway.”

“Yep, I get the picture. I’m just going to –”

“Urgh, the quality of Broadway is nothing on the talent of those of us on West End.”

“Mmhmm, I understand, Broadway is the worst. But please –“

“In fact, I swear Broadway casting directors just goes to Times Square and nab any old riff-raff street performer to make up their ensembles. It’s lunacy _”

“Uh huh, I get it, Broadway suck, but Klaus I really –“

“I’m literally the best in the country. I have won multiple tony awards, even a grammy award. I have more original cast recordings under my belt than –”

In years to come, Caroline would swear herself black and blue that it was an accident. That it was a mere, yet mildly severe, slip of the hand brought about by loss of concentration because of Klaus’ continual ramblings.

And she would never live it down. But she would also be revered by many because she actually managed to make Klaus Mikaelson shut the hell up for once in his life.

For, at that exact moment, Caroline’s deft hands wiped fast drying liquid latex over Klaus’ mouth, and Klaus, who was completely stunned by the movement, did not move quickly enough before the latex dried.

Sealing it completely shut.

“Oh my god, Klaus, I’m so sorry!” Caroline said, with all the correct emotions. She certainly sounded convincingly mortified, until she followed up the with a quirked eyebrow and the comment, “though, try not to talk, love. It will be a bit painful otherwise.”

And, to Caroline’s amazement, Klaus stopped squirming, stopped trying to form words when his amplifier was completely blocked, and Caroline was finally able to get to work.

“What a happy little accident,” Caroline said, jovially, now a little more at ease that he wasn’t being so obnoxious. “Might just snap a little picture, I’m sure Elijah would appreciate it.” 

Klaus narrowed both his eyes at her.

“Oh? Don’t like that idea?”

Klaus just remained stock still, the menacing look still etched on his face.

“But you are so cute when you’re not talking!” Caroline joked, before quickly realising what she said, and going a lovely shade of magenta.

Somehow, Klaus managed to smirk, even without full use of his mouth.

“Oh don’t look at me like that,” Caroline said, with all the bravado of someone trying to dig themselves out of a hole. “You know you’re cute, why deny it?”

Klaus just shrugged, and dismissively inspected his nails.

“Fine, let’s get on with it,” Caroline said. “And if you’re a good sport, I’ll dissolve the latex before it’s time to sing!”

xxx

“All done!” Caroline beamed, happily inspecting her work.

It was a little under two hours since Caroline began Klaus’ transformation, and a little under twenty minutes since she freed him from his gag.

In the past twenty minutes, even though he had the option of railroading her for having the audacity to seal his damn mouth shut, Klaus found himself, funnily enough, keeping his damn mouth shut.

Experiencing Caroline as she worked was rather mesmerising.

She certainly wasn’t anywhere near just a blonde-bimbo-beauty-school-drop-out as he feared. She was very talented, extremely precise, and had an almost unparalleled eye for detail.

But further than that, at any given moment, her face was liable twist and change, letting him know exactly what was going on. It was rather endearing.

She filled the silence in with bits of chatter, about the different steps she was up to in his transformation, about her life, and just about many inane things really.

And, though Klaus despised the inane, coming from Caroline it felt natural and a little bit lovely.

“You do look fantastic,” Caroline said, proudly, spinning him around in his chair so he could more closely inspect her work. “Definitely like a weird dungeon dweller who’d fall in love with beautiful young things who sing to you!”

“Then you nailed the brief love,” Klaus quipped. “I don’t recognise myself.”

“Well, I would be worried if you did!” Caroline giggled, squeezing his shoulder briefly. “Then you would have to admit to me that you’re a weird dungeon dweller who’d fall in love with beautiful young things who sing to you!”

“I’d never admit it, love,” he said nonchalantly. “Though, I have to say sincerely, your work is impeccable. Bonnie’s work is excellent, but you’ve provided just an extra spritz of something else.”

“Not bad for a Broadway babe, huh?” Caroline winked, nudging him with her hip.

“Not bad at all.”

In that moment of eye contact that so often follows a tease, Caroline was stolen by the glint in Klaus’ eye.

“So umm,” she said, looking away. “Where to next for you, Mr Phantom, sir?”

“Warm up, last minute director notes, back here for a costume and touch ups.”

“I’ll stay here until you’re ready for your touch ups.”

“I look forward to it.”

And with a wink, Klaus was off.

xxx

A few hours later, Caroline was back in front of Klaus’ face, tenderly wiping away the residual make up.

The show had gone off seamlessly. And honestly, Klaus was so completely on cloud nine by how it all went, he was actually being pleasant to those around him.

And now he was with Caroline again, and that was a joy in and of itself. Though he’d never ever admit it to anyone.

Klaus couldn’t help noting how soft and delicate Caroline’s fingers, and the stroked along his skin at different places.

“Nearly done,” Caroline murmured, concentrating on removing a particularly stubborn strip of latex. “Nearly done.”

“Not a problem, love,” Klaus said, absently. “This is the most relaxed I’ve felt in months.”

“Opening night behind you,” she replied. “That’s got to be a relief.”

“Mmm.”

He shut his eyes, and felt himself get mildly lost in the sensations, until –

“Klaus,” she said, softly.

“Mmm?”

“We’re finished.” 

“Oh.”

“Umm,” Caroline said, searching for something to say. “I guess I’m done for the night, unless…”

“Unless?” Klaus prompted.

“Well, I’m really hungry, but I don’t know where is any good around here…”

“Are you asking me out?” Klaus smirked.

“What! No?” Caroline blustered. “I mean, I am asking you to go out, but not out. Not like on a date out.”

“Glad to hear you’re so indignant at the idea of a date with me,” Klaus teased in mock offence.

“I’m not indignant! Dating you would be fun, I think! But this wasn’t a date! I’m just hungry, and I thought you would be too!”

“Dating me would be fun would it?”

“Oh shut up. I’m leaving.”

Caroline grabbed her coat and huffily stalked from the room.

“But you’re hungry, and don’t know where to eat,” Klaus grinned, hurriedly gathering his own things so he could follow her out.

“I can google it, I just thought company might be nice,” she snipped. “Glad you arrested me of my illusions so promptly.”

“You wound me, love!” he laughed, catching her hand in his, and stroking a thumb along it gently – apparently her skin was as soft under his hands, as it was on his face. “Come on, let me take you to my favourite post show hang out. You’ll love it.”

Caroline stopped walking, and narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

“Not a chance, love,” Klaus quipped.

Caroline couldn’t help the wry smile stretch across her lips.

“Fine.”

And so it was, the two went to that post show hang out that night. And the night after that. And the one after that. Until Caroline had to leave, back to her home, back to Broadway.

And, in a mystery never fully explained, Klaus put aside his distaste for the iconic New York creative hub, and somehow ended living in New York, reprising his role as the Phantom on Broadway, only a few short months later. Before going on to perform many more incredible shows there.

It was a mystery.

Unless you were familiar with Caroline Forbes.

Then it wasn’t much of a mystery after all.

 xxx

This prompt came from ~somewhere~ literal years ago! “You’re the one person who can do my elaborate stage makeup so every night you spend half an hour in close proximity to my face and I am distressed”. I started writing this in 2015, and it finally was in a state that was nice and shareable. Hope you enjoyed! Happy AU week klaroliners!

[lsbaird]

The Devil’s Luck - Chapter One Preview!

A day late but hopefully not a dollar short! It was a deliberate delay, I think we could all use the distraction today, and if I’m looking at post notes I won’t be reloading the news. (Allow me a small interjection: Please please please go vote if you’re eligible. It is without a doubt the most important thing you can do today, and possibly this year. Already voted? Thank you!) Now let’s hunker down and hope for the best. I plan to make soup and play Hades, myself. But you get to remember today as the day you met your new favorite murderer: Etienne of the Order of the Crimson Seal. 

Etienne Vynae Na'Gammon had endured considerable discomfort in the course of his long and shadowy career. He had spent long nights navigating steep and icy rooftops, he had waited out the tides while clinging to pilings beneath the city's piers, and on one (far too memorable) occasion he had traveled down the canals in an olive barrel. In his crowning achievement he had even covered himself in plaster and posed—quite successfully and for several hours—as a garden statue in the middle of a widely-attended soiree. Many was the time he had been out and about the Order's business during the bleakest winter gale, when decent people shuttered their windows and were cozy in their beds. And yet, for all his ordeals, he had never encountered anything as devilishly uncomfortable as a single hour in this accursed carriage.

As if to punctuate the thought, the carriage hit a yet another canyon in the road, and Etienne pitched forward with a barely-contained oath. He’d been travelling now for four days, and he estimated he had spent at least a quarter of the journey suspended in mid-air inside the carriage, rattled around like the bead in a baby's rattle. He landed with a jolt and a groan as the wheels surmounted the crater and plunged gamely towards another. Then again, Etienne mused, maybe it’s not the carriage that’s to blame. Easting roads were not meant for lowland carriages, or for lowland assassins.

Massaging his side as he eased back onto the seat, Etienne drew back the curtain and peered out. A muddy, piney smell unfamiliar to the city-dweller seeped around the glass and crawled boldly into his nostrils. The light was fading fast, but even if it had been noon under the bluest sky, there would still be very little to see outside. Easting's countryside was naked under heaven, the bare bones of her hills clad only in the brief modesty of heather.

The sight of that vast nothingness, rolling interminably into the deepening dusk, made Etienne feel as exposed as a sinner's soul on the cold pan of St. Justicia's scale. There were no havens, no hiding-places on those moors, only sparse bursts of trees here and there, and those were already leaf-bare. The isolation of it struck an unfamiliar chord of loneliness within Etienne. He was sworn to do his duty for the sake of humanity in the broadest sense, but he enjoyed his own company best and had no great love for his fellow man. Under close examination he found most of them to be extremely irritating. Still, in Ivanis City, he knew how easy it was to be invisible in the crowd, he knew how to lose himself among the rooftops and canals. The city was no mere backdrop, it was a fundamental part of his art. If he could transform himself into a blade of grass or a gorse bush, he might have felt equally at home in Easting.

Even worse, his disguise was made to attract the eyes of others, to make him a focus of attention rather than to avoid it. Which was well and good for a distraction when distraction was called for, and quickly shed for comfortable anonymity. But there would be no shedding it now, not for some time. Ephaseus had said that the challenge would be a good thing for Etienne, and make him more well-rounded in his craft.

Etienne was as well-rounded as corsetry could make him, and so far, it had done very little for either his craft or his mood. For one thing, there was something off about the fit. Etienne could not understand the difficulty. The corset had been custom made for him, and had fit perfectly three years ago when he’d poisoned the Viscount of Brinesgreene at a dinner party. But then, that was only for one evening, and his victim was dead before the soup course was finished. It was simply a matter of having to wear it longer and while traveling, Etienne concluded, and there was no other reason (certainly not a reason in the form of numerous ginger biscuits), that it did not fit now. True, the stays of the garment were sterner than fashion demanded, as Etienne's slim steel throwing blades were sheathed between the whalebone, and most ladies already possessed at least a semblance of the curves that Etienne's corset was forcing upon him, but he couldn’t quite fathom the cause. Bad luck, that was all.

The carriage shuddered again, knocking Etienne's forehead against the glass and then sending him in a heap of rumpled skirts to the carriage floor, and this time he indulged in some heartfelt profanity. The carriage slowed, and for a moment he thought his outburst had actually reached the ears of the coachman. But a quick glance outside revealed the first man-made structure Etienne had seen for miles: thorny black iron gates looming up out of the darkness. They had reached the edge of Chancelion.

The gate was lodged in the low hummock of some feudal earthworks that had once enclosed the property, which years ago had been the ancestral seat of some forgotten and long-dissolute noble line. It was Chancelion now, named so by Lord Evern Reichwyn decades ago when he won the whole pile in a game of hazard, and took a fancy to the marble cats perched on the gate. That was the first of Lord Reichwyn’s two legendary card games, a tale still told even as far away as Ivanis City. The second game was even more famous… and had not gone quite so well.

“Miss Elsa Lenoir,” the coachman said, as the gatekeeper approached the twin pools of light cast by the carriage lanterns.

The gatekeeper lifted his shaggy eyebrows and cast a fleeting glance to the window of the carriage. He was too interested in getting back to his warm apartment in the gate to stand and stare for long, however, and Etienne, in his guise as a lady of quality, stared gravely forward into the middle distance without taking note of him. The gatekeeper attended to his duty, the carriage wheels rolled onto the blissful smoothness of fresh gravel, and Etienne's mission at last unfolded before him in shades of greenish gray.

Now in the distance he could see the black shadows of trees, the timber hills a dark stain on the edge of the pale moor. The wind carried their soughing along with the low, aching cry of a wolf.  Etienne frowned at the thought of wolves prowling the countryside. An extra factor to consider, without a doubt. When he was obliged at last to make his escape, he decided he would do so on the fastest horse he could steal.

“Almost there, ma'am,” the coachman called back, startling Etienne from his unpleasant reverie on snapping wolf-jaws. “Less than 'alf a mile.”

Etienne steeled himself to his task. There was a difficult task between him and his freedom, and his frequent trips to the carriage floor had knocked his wig askew. A few minutes' maintenance restored the glossy black curls to their proper places on his shoulders, some repeated pinching forced maidenly color back into his cheeks. His kohl would have to do as it was; Etienne was skilled at the art, but did not trust himself with anything so delicate inside the dark, rattling carriage. A brief inspection in the small hand-mirror pinned to his skirts presented him as a passable version of the portrait miniature Ephaseus had painted, with the exception of the peeved expression. Etienne forced his eyebrows up to get rid of the frown line between them.

The lady-to-be of Chancelion would be fatigued from the trip, and perhaps a little anxious, but she would be excited to meet her future husband for the first time. And who could blame her? Lord Freyton Reichwyn Landry was a bastard, and only recently had he been tracked down as the heir to his great-uncle's property. But he was young, handsome, beloved by his tenants, and fabulously rich. Elsa, on the other hand, had a bloodline that was beyond reproach, but she was a pauper and an orphan, dependent on her wealthy city relations for her room and board. She had little for her dowry save her name, and a ruined family castle that stood derelict and bat-infested in a part of Easting even more remote than Chancelion. Elsa needed a rich husband to save her an endless string of aunts, and Lord Reichwyn needed nothing save for a bit of blue blood to improve his standing among the gentry.

As a match it was absolutely ideal, save for the trifling detail that Etienne was not Elsa Lenoir, and he was determined to murder his bridegroom before the week was out.

One can't have everything in an arranged marriage, Etienne thought, with a dark chuckle, and checked his glass again. He couldn’t help feeling that he was a bit of a step-up on the original. He much resembled the real Elsa Lenoir—who had been selected as much for that reason as for her suitability—with the exception, Etienne presumed, of murderous intent. She was presently socked away with a pious spinster Aunt in the city. Etienne had seen her on a few occasions and knew her well enough, but their social circles did not often overlap. She spent her days attending only the most respectable soirees and the most moral theatre, and would probably be teaching embroidery at a convent school long before word of her ill-fated engagement ever reached the city. It would no doubt be the most mysterious puzzle of what Etienne suspected would be a thoroughly dull life.

The Order had, of course, considered completely inventing a bride from whole cloth, but an unknown woman of mysterious origin would attract the curiosity of the whole district. But a real and boring one, with a family name everyone has heard somewhere, would be no more than a passing novelty, at least for long enough to serve the Order’s purposes. Etienne tugged his glove further up his arm, though his tattooed wrist was well-concealed by kid leather. When this was done, no trace would be found. Not of the ersatz Elsa, or of her doomed bridegroom. They would fade into the legend as a footnote of that second card game, and only the Order would know the truth of it.  

An inviting light glowed beyond the curtains, and Etienne felt the first, long-belated tingling of anticipation for his task. He had no love of killing for its own sake, but he was a man of principles, and he took his craft very seriously. The disposal of his betrothed was only the final flourish in a long, precise dance. First, he would win over the butler, with the charm of a noble lady that had been so wanting (so Lord Reichwyn's letters had said) in Chancelion. From there it was a simple step-by-step acquisition of the hearts of the whole household, and Etienne knew full well that once you had the confidence of the domestics, the rest was as easy as filching cakes from an open pantry. And once the business was done, Elsa would vanish like the mirage she was.

The coachman cooed a relieved noise to his horses, the wheels slowed, and Etienne took a deep breath.  Elsa had arrived.  The curtain was rising, and he affected an air of weariness mingled just so with trepidation, and a tiny sprinkle of glowing excitement. It was a combination sure to win the affection of Lord Reichwyn's butler the moment the kind old soul opened the door. But when he stepped out of the carriage and onto his stage, Etienne got his first unpleasant surprise of the evening.

There was no kindly old butler there, ready to have his heart melted by the gentle beauty of his new mistress.  There wasn't even a crotchety retainer whose heart couldn't be melted even if it was dropped into a forge.  No, there in the rain at the folding steps of the coach was none other than Lord Freyton Reichwyn Landry himself, the Scion of Chancelion, as though he was no better than the footman. He was clear-eyed and handsome in a friendly, effortless way as he held out a warm cloak for his bride-to-be, and he wore a look of concerned relief that was unfairly earnest.

This, Etienne thought, with a sudden and grim foreboding, is going to be difficult.

“Here you are at last!”  Lord Reichwyn exclaimed, as though Etienne was a favorite sister who had spent too long at the county fair, and not a young noblewoman he had never met. “I've been worried sick—mind the puddle, there���all afternoon. Beastly weather for travel, and no mistake. The streams are all in full flood, and Alfred's horse-cart lost an axel in the mud today. I was afraid you'd meet worse trouble out on the moors after dark.  I was just getting ready to go out after you myself.”  

“It was a bit trying,” Etienne admitted, keeping his voice in the warm middle tones that he had decided best suited the demure Miss Lenoir. “But I felt it best to press on, since I… didn't wish to wait any longer to get here,” Etienne finished, at last. It was a weak reason, but he hoped girlish excitement could excuse it. Etienne was no expert on girlish excitement; his usual feminine persona was much more the quiet and murdery type. He thought it probably felt sort of like having to sneeze, but being startled halfway and not managing to get it out. He felt that way now, itchy and tingly in his spine, but he blamed the corset.

Etienne blamed lots of things on the corset.

“The bridge at Keeston washed away,” Lord Reichwyn continued, bundling Etienne up into the cloak and drawing the fur collar snugly around his shoulders. “You only must have just made it across before the river took it down.” His bride-to-be secured, Freyton leaned up into the carriage and emerged with Etienne's small personal case in his hand. “Have you no other luggage, my lady?” he asked, looking around the empty compartment in confusion, as though there was a large trunk of dresses hiding somewhere and he'd missed it on the first pass.

Etienne fiddled with a glass-eyed ermine head on the cloak. “It's to come along later, along with my waiting maid.”

“They will both have to wait, I’m afraid,” Lord Reichwyn said, shaking his head as he shut up the carriage. “With Keeston-bridge gone, we won't be able to get a carriage from the Highroad until they can do repairs.”

Good work, Bruin, Etienne thought. Aloud, he made only a soft noise of concern, one that was eclipsed as his betrothed offered the coachman a room above the carriage house until the roads were passable again.

“Here,” Lord Reichwyn said, on turning around and finding his bride-to-be still staring pensively after the retreating coach. “Let's get inside before—”

With a sudden crackle of thunder, the drizzle became a downpour, and a deluge of icy rain poured down on them like a baptismal cataract. The curl in Lord Reichwyn's blond queue vanished in an instant, and the lace on the modest neckline of Etienne's gown lost all its starch as he struggled to get the hood of the cloak up over his wig. Lord Reichwyn took Etienne's elbow and towed him along towards the house. “Quickly now, my lady!”  

They fled, skirting the puddles in the rutted gravel of the drive, and scrambling up the broad steps of the house.  Once inside the ebony-paneled foyer, they shook rainwater off their clothes and last got a good look at one another.  

“Your painter does not do you justice, my lady,” Lord Reichwyn said, with such wondering admiration that it could not be anything but honest.  Etienne was thinking something along the same lines.  The painter of Lord Reichwyn's portrait miniature had prettified him to city standards, obscuring the clean line of his jaw and falsely darkening the pale sweep of his lashes. His dripping hair and flushed face only enhanced his appearance as a prime sample of healthy Easting stock, a soft-spoken, broad-handed hero suitable for a syrupy novel by some love-starved city countess.  Etienne, however, had not been so fortunate. He caught a glimpse of his own reflection in the dim hall mirror behind Lord Reichwyn, and found that instead of a quivering maiden in the blush of first love, the rain had turned him into a drowned badger in a soggy dress.

“You must jest, my lord,” he said, aghast. The careful pile of Lady Elsa's black curls had been plastered straight down against his face; all that remained of their former glory were limp twists at the end, dribbling rainwater down his cloak. His carefully applied kohl was smudged around his eyes, and the chill had swiped an unbecoming streak of red across his nose.  The real Lady Elsa would have dropped dead of shame at being seen in such condition.  

“I assure you, I don't,” his paramour replied, with a perfect bow that contrasted sharply with the spreading puddle of rainwater around his boots.  “But please, you must call me Frey.  I insist.”

At that moment the gruff old butler at last made his appearance on the scene, far too late for Etienne's carefully composed introduction.  Considering the old man's pace, Etienne supposed he must have left the servant's quarters sometime early the day before.  “Your rooms are prepared, my Lady,” he wheezed.  “Will you be wanting some late supper?”  

Etienne leaned on the elaborate newel post of the main staircase with an air of great weariness that was not entirely concocted. “I fear the journey has left me far too fatigued,” he breathed, fluttering his lashes a little.  “I'm not at all used to such hard travel.”  Frey, his attentive affianced, was at his side in a second.  

“It must have been a dreadful journey, lady. You needn't make light of it.  Easting is already bitter this time of year.”  Frey placed an arm under Etienne's but kept a concerned, formal distance; common though his blood was, he would not impose himself on a lady's person.  

Bastard, Etienne thought, uncharitably.  If only Frey had been a repulsive cad right off the bat, with a leer in his eyes and groping hands, it would have been easier. Etienne knew this mission would be a challenge, his master had told him so. But Frey, so far, was the nicest fellow Etienne had met in the whole damn week. That took Etienne's task beyond a mere challenge and into farcical territory. Ephaseus, safe and warm back at Marlyon House in Ivanis City, was probably chortling into his tea at the thought of the whole lark.

“Lady?” Frey prompted, perhaps concerned by the audible gritting of Etienne's teeth, “are you quite sure you're well?”

“Ah, forgive me.” Etienne clutched Lord Reichwyn's arm with both hands, and struggled to inject a measure of gratitude into his smile.  “You are too kind, sir.”  

“Nonsense, I should have sent you straight up to bed at once, not made you stand around in wet things. You’ll catch your death.” Frey turned to his butler, who stood waiting attentively in his dusty black velvets, and plucked the candelabra from his hands.  “Tobias, be a good man and have the cook send up some of her excellent potato soup and a pot of tea for Miss Lenoir.  And none of you are to disturb her until she's rested.”  

“At once, my lord,” Tobias bowed, and crept off to the kitchen at a snail's pace.  Etienne would be lucky to get his supper before breakfast-time.

“It's only a short way,” Frey said, helping his lady up the stairs, his boots making damp prints on the thick carpet.  “I've given you the tapestry room. It's a bit smaller than the traditional best guest room, but that's on the other side of the house and cold as a crypt.”  

Etienne, getting a bit more into his role, answered in a plaintive sigh.  “Oh, I would be happy with a hay bale in the barn now, my lord!”  

Frey laughed as they came up onto the first-floor landing, and it was a friendly, open-handed sound.  “I hope my hospitality is not so poor!  And you must call me Frey.  Everyone does.  Except the servants, of course. One simply cannot make them listen to reason.  But I haven't given up hope yet! Here we are.”

He opened a heavy rosewood door, and bowed his lady into her chamber. Etienne entered, and tried not to flinch.  The room was furnished in an Easting show of wealth and luxury, which was, to Etienne’s taste, an eye-stabbing explosion of colors and textures.  The bed, a vast antique fortress of carved oak large enough to sleep a family of bears, was stuffed to the brim with eiderdown, the pillows barely held in check by the red velvet bed-curtains.  Only fragments of the parquet floor were visible under its coating of vivid rugs, and old-fashioned tapestries covered the walls, concealing the simple wood paneling. There were no less than six mirrors, each one encrusted with more gilt flourishes than the last, each reflecting the bright tapestries in a dizzying whirl.  Etienne tried to imagine sleeping in such a cacophony of patterns and hues, and thought he'd rest better in the belly of a bagpipe.  

Frey was undeterred as he surveyed the room.  “Looks like Toby has a fire going, good.  You should dry out thoroughly before retiring. It's so easy to catch a chill here. Will the room suit you?”  

Etienne eyed an ostentatious gold cherub that was looming with ominous pudginess over the red and green enameled washbasin.  “I'm sure I shall feel right at home,” he demurred.

“I do hope so,” Frey said, fervently.  “It's a lovely view of the gardens in daylight, and—and I can't tell you how glad I am you're here at last.”  He paused, and seemed to forget what else he was going to say, his pale blue eyes going soft as he looked at his future bride.  

Etienne's scalp prickled under his wig; he wasn't quite prepared for this scene yet.  Fortunately, he was spared further ardor by Tobias appearing with a tea-cart and her ladyship's minimal luggage, and Frey remembered how to speak.  

“If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask,” he said, as his servant carefully removed the lids from the platters and laid out the silver.  “Breakfast is at nine if you want to come down to the dining room, but if you wish to sleep longer, just ring for a servant when you're ready.  I took the liberty of supplying your wardrobe with a few things, so I hope the delay of your trunks will not prove too troublesome. Shall I send one of the house maids to assist you?”  

“I think I will be fine on my own.”  Etienne held out his hand, and it was promptly accepted.  “I'll have a little supper and then retire at once.  Thank you for your kindness, my lord.”  

Tobias discreetly withdrew as the lord of the manor bowed over Etienne's hand.  “Frey,” he whispered in reminder, and brushed his lips over Etienne's gloved knuckles.  His eyes met those of his presumed lady's, and the moment not only dragged, it dragged as though it had been lashed behind a team of mules and taken through the city square to the gallows.  Etienne at last summoned a dismissive smile, Frey wished his lady good night, and the Lord of Chancelion hurried from the room as though pursued.

The latch clicked, and Etienne collapsed into a chair so appalling it would have sent the minister of the royal household screaming into the hills.  Damn, if it wasn't as bad a start as he had ever done, Etienne thought dourly, peeling off his wet gloves. It was worse than the olive incident, and Etienne didn't even think that was possible.  A lucky thing his lover was so smitten. Etienne could probably have turned up in jackboots and a beard without losing any of his betrothed's affections.  

Damp skirts and the smell of hot soup forced him up again, and with a last suspicious glare at the cherub, he hurried to get himself undressed.  All his clothes, including the corset, had been altered so that he could get in and out of them without help, and in doing so a few liberties had been taken with current city fashion. He had been worried that his slightly outdated stomacher and downright pious neckline might attract too much notice.  He had no such concerns now.  Etienne kicked off his petticoats and scowled at his loud bedchamber. This household wouldn't recognize good taste even if it was indecently assaulted by it in an alley.  

The clock on his mantelpiece chimed ten o'clock and Etienne settled in the hideous armchair to eat his dinner, relaxing a little for the first time in the whole interminable journey.  He only required a day or two to of reconnaissance, after which he could tiptoe down the corridor and murder his fiancée.

Mood considerably brighter at the prospect, he attended to his supper with pleasure.  

[allinmycorner]

Looks like I called it. This season has been more predictable than I expected but I don’t mind it at all. 

(Though I am sad the two people pictures didn’t make it to the finals). 

There were two rounds to the semifinals. In the first round, each couple had a judge pick the dance style they wanted them to dance again in a “redemption” round. And in the second, they all danced one unlearned dance. 

We had a double elimination this week so there was a bottom three but one person was eliminated based on votes and scores alone (Johnny), no assist from the judges, before the remaining two (Justina and Skai) went before the judges to find out who they would save (Carrie Ann and Derek voted to save Justina because she was the more consistent scorer and Bruno agreed with them). 

So how did the semi-finals go for our stars? Let’s find out! 

Johnny and Britt: Johnny certainly went out on top - almost. He just didn't appear to have the votes and I'd rather not consider why right now. Because we all know it's probably not good. He definitely improved in his salsa, even with the few hiccups with the arm passes, and shone on the dancefloor. I also loved his jazz routine in the second round. Bruno was right - it had so many homages that it was clearly jazz and he pulled each move off brilliantly. I'm sorry he didn't make it the finals and I'm sure he's heartbroken but hopefully he is also proud of everything he did. 

Skai and Alan: Poor Skai. Like Johnny, she can be proud of everything she did in the competition and especially the semi-finals. With Bruno's guidance, she was able to redeem her cha-cha and show how much she's grown as a dancer. And her Viennese waltz about the inner strength she's found inside herself was gorgeous. She allowed herself to be vulnerable and that really elevated it. I'm sorry she fell short of the goal but she can leave with her head held high.

Kaitlyn and Artem: I knew once Tyra said each couple was going to get help from a judge for their redemption dance that they would pair Carrie Ann with Kaitlyn. It was Hannah Brown Part 2 only with less tears. She helped Kaitlyn with her paso doble and to imbue it with strength. And like most of the other couples, Kaitlyn did improve. She was definitely stronger technically and I was really impressed with her ending. So even though Carrie Ann couldn't be there in person, she still did a good job of coaching Kaitlyn (same for Johnny too). Her contemporary was beautiful, a tribute to a friend who died at 18. It brought out Kaitlyn's emotions and for the first time, I felt like she finally married her emotions with the dance moves.

Nev and Jenna: Derek had them do the foxtrot again for their redemption dance, hoping to show the growth in Nev. And it did. He was smooth and elegant, carrying himself with more confidence then he may have in the first couple seasons. And then he and Jenna knocked their second round contemporary out of the park. Carrie Ann is right that it is Jenna's jam and Nev was a great partner for her in this aspect, handling her choreography almost like a pro.

Justina and Sasha: Derek came in to help Justina and Sasha with their redemption tango, especially to keep Justina from bouncing across the floor rather than gliding. And she knocked it out of the park! It was definitely an improvement over her Carrie-inspired tango and I do believe she deserves to be in the finals. I also loved her contemporary routine paying tribute to her friendship with Sasha. She always brings such heart to her routines and it makes me excited to see what her freestyle looks like next week.

Nelly and Daniella: I am not surprised that Nelly made it in. He clearly has a strong fanbase voting for him and he's pretty fun to watch. He may not be as technically good as Kaitlyn or Nev or even on the same level as Justina. But like her, he brings a lot of heart to his dances. Bruno helped him improve his paso doble and it wasn't as stiff this time. It was also set to a great song too. And though there was some tonal whiplash in the second round since he had the jive when everyone else had these emotional dances, he killed it. He just had fun and made it a celebration, just like everyone else - albeit with a different tone. The ballroom went nuts and it was well deserved.

I believe the finals will come down to Nelly’s fanbase vs. Bachelor Nation, though I’m rooting for Justina to take it all. See you all next week!

Who do you think will win?