#The new fun sport that’s sweeping the country!

[stone-cold-groove]

Authentic Kung-fu sandals - worn for centuries by oriental fighting masters.

[leclerc-s]

paint the town red - part eleven

YOU AND ME WE'D BE A BIG CONVERSATION

series masterlist

SUMMER BREAK 2024

tony stark i expect every single one of you at the lake house for the next few weeks.

bianca stark-potts i can't. sorry dad. tony stark you can't? what do you mean you can't? you don't have work for the next few weeks. bianca stark-potts i have plans

tony stark WITH FUCKING WHO?

bianca stark-potts with my boyfriend

may parker oh how exciting! where are you going?

bianca stark-potts i'm not saying because my dad will literally track me down.

pepper potts have fun

james rhodes use protection!

harley keener and that is the sound of tony fainting. peter parker and that other sound was tony's unholy screeching.

biancastark_potts and charles_leclerc have posted new stories

amore mio (my love)

something about her looking at the view but i'm looking at her

liked by harryosborn, charles_leclerc, katebishop and others

biancastark_potts ¿qué horas son, mi corazón?

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katebishop someone tell the winch to be gone!

samwilson WHO IS HE STARK-POTTS?

peterbparker listen, i'm not saying the old man is spiraling but the old man is spiraling

↳ biancastark_potts oh i know he is, harley is sending me a hour by hour update on him. happy is also complaining.

lilymhe it's 5:39 pm in new york!

↳ biancastark-potts thank you corazón!

yelenabelova i love knowing something stark doesn't.

tonystark WHERE ARE YOU?!

↳ biancastark_potts here, there, everywhere.

↳ tonystark THAT'S NOT AN ANSWER!

steverogers bianca, why is your father trying to track you down at the tower?

↳ biancastark_potts i'm on vacation and he wants to know where i am.

↳ tonystark SHE'S WITH A BOY STEVEN! A BOY!

↳ steverogers she's a fully grown woman anthony. not everyone is harry.

america_chavez the wicked witch of the west is here? someone tell him to fuck off

wandamaximoff having fun?

↳ biancastark_potts yeah

↳ wandamaximoff good. if someone breaks into his apartment, it wasn't us.

↳ biancastark_potts he says it's all good. it's finally clean.

joaquintorres nice apartment, it's not yours.

↳ biancastark_potts shut your trap torres.

↳ joaquintorres TELL ME WHO IT IS!!!

do you have time to talk soon?

i'm out of the country and if i was in the country, the answer would still be no.

we have nothing to talk about.

don't be like that b, i still love you.

this is exhausting. we are never ever getting back together. like ever.

did you just fucking reply with taylor swift lyrics?

i did.

and i have a boyfriend so please leave me alone.

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told him the last one only gave me flowers on anniversaries and he said, "that is not acceptable. you should be given flowers all the time, for no reason."

🎾🎾

kate bishop where's my monegasque man to sweep me off my feet and buy me flowers for no reason??

yelena belova that is gross. who needs love? kate bishop we get it, you're allergic to love. yelena belova i just do not see the point in it. all i need is my dog and i am happy.

maria hill i have to say it, this one is so much better than the last one.

wanda maximoff have you told him about harry?

bianca stark-potts i did, we talked about. it in hungary, when he found out about him.

america chavez she's in looove. she's literally playing paddle with him

natasha romanoff who are you and what have you done to the bianca we all know? you hate sports

bianca stark-potts i don't like tennis or baseball. they're boring sports. i can enjoy soccer or football. but i hate participating in sports. bianca stark-potts he also told me, "i have to train somehow" and i knew andrea would be on my ass if this man didn't do some training

hope van dyne he bought you flowers? for no reason?

bianca stark-potts yup. he disappeared for like 20 minutes and when he came back he was holding a bouquet of tulips in his hand.

kate bishop again where's my monegasque man??

bianca stark-potts he has a brother?? kate bishop he doesn't seem like my type.

pepper potts i'm glad you're happy bianca.

bianca stark-potts thanks mom!!

bianca stark-potts by the way, he says hello!

bianca stark-potts and he said that if nat and wanda break into his apartment to knock, his brother is staying over because his apartment got flooded.

natasha romanoff but where's the fun in that?

bianca stark-potts "i'd rather not explain to my mum that my brother died of a heart attack because black widow and the scarlet witch broke into my apartment because i'm dating you" - silly vroom man

wanda maximoff we'll set off the home alarm on purpose as a warning.

bianca stark-potts "that works! thank you! and if my brother gets scared please send a picture of his face. i need new blackmail material." - silly vroom man

america chavez typical sibling move.

yelena belova HOW WOULD YOU KNOW?! YOU DON'T HAVE SIBLINGS?

america chavez I HAVE TO SHARE A FLOOR WITH ELI, KATE, AND THE OTHERS WHEN THEY'RE OVER! I LIVE A FLOOR BELOW PETER AND HARLEY! I KNOW THE WAY THAT SHIT WORKS!

george russell you dragged her into a paddle game??

charles leclerc i didn't drag her george.

alex albon he has to train somehow george. can't you see he's too busy wooing a stark-potts?

lando norris WHAT THE FUCK DOES HE NEED TO TRAIN FOR? HE'S LITERALLY 100 POINTS AHEAD OF US ALL?

carlos sainz wrong. he's 73 points ahead of me.

max verstappen is this what you guys felt with me last year?

pierre gasly 100% yuki tsnuoda absolutely oscar piastri totally. daniel ricciardo yes. max verstappen you only drove like 6 races?? daniel ricciardo i wanted to be included maxie!

pierre gasly he's in looove!!

charles leclerc shut up?

oscar piastri he bought her flowers. i saw the instagram story.

lando norris STAND UP CHARLES!!

george russell and i thought alex was the biggest simp. turns out it was charles.

logan sargeant oh come on, this guy had the worst year of his career last year, let him have this.

charles leclerc thank you logan!

max verstappen then tell him to stop flirting with me??

yuki tsunoda that is like asking me to stop loving food. it is impossible. carlos sainz no one will ever love anything as much as yuki loves food

tony stark hey, how y'all doin?

bianca stark-potts get off my dad's phone samuel.

tony stark WHO THE FUCK IS HE??

carlos sainz oh boy can't wait until they find out. tony stark TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW SAINZ!!

isaiah atkins oh my god, when will my nightmare end??

peter parker NEVER BITCH!!

charles leclerc you should've never taken the job then?

isaiah atkins yeah, you would like that wouldn't you? charles leclerc oh fuck you.

harley keener your girlfriend does that enough for you.

tony stark LECLERC HAS A GIRLFRIEND??

peter parker SINCE WHEN DOES LORD PERCEVAL HAVE A GIRLFRIEND??

harley keener have neither of you seen his stories?? he's been with a girl all break??

tony stark bianca come home! the children (america, mj, kate and me) miss you!

bianca stark-potts i literally hate you so much samuel.

sebastian vettel i can't wait until this exact text bites all of you in the ass

ollie bearman you're included seb. we ALL know.

tony stark know what?? what am i missing? arthur leclerc ignore him. he's in summer break mode still. ollie bearman your brother is literally a better liar than you.

NETHERLANDS 2024

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WE'RE BACK PEOPLE!! I GOT CONTROL OF THE ACCOUNT AGAIN!! EVERYONE SAY HALLELUJAH!!

SPOTTED: lightning mcqueen with mater

SPOTTED: spongebob and patrick, i'll let you decide who's who.

enjoy this picture of tony because he pissed me off.

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¡leclerc-s speaks! this one's a little short, but i swear the next one will be longer. it lowkey sucks too but oh well, the next one will be better, also this serves as a reminder that yelena is canonically aroace!!!!

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[rosemarydisaster]

I'm a Bisexual a Steve, Nancy and Johnathan girlie first and foremost, but I've been thinking about the potential for Steve and/or Nancy not even knowing being homosexual was an option for them. The whole "yes, I've dated the opposite gender but never felt quite right about it". As an ace aro person that has "been there-done that", I'm really interested in the topic.

So, have a little gay Steve steddie ficlet with some bisexual Eddie, because why not (I usually headcanon him as gay but you know, thought it could be funny for this fic). Probably will do a Nancy one too.

Warnings for uses of queer as a slur, 80's general homophobia, and internalized homophobia. Also long post :

Steve has always been into girls. Obviously. He's Steve "The Hair" Harrington, king of Hawkins High. He's been suavely flirting his way through half the school's population since day one. The female half, obviously.

It was something that made his dad proud of him in ways only basketball and swimming had before. "That's my boy!" He'd said anytime Steve related his latest conquest. His son being a Lady's man was another badge of honor on the list. Sure, his Steve wasn't the brightest, but he was charismatic in that way only True Men of Business were. He did not need to know that Steve was simply copying those same men.

At first it came naturally. He wanted to emulate his heroes. His father, the movie characters the were "the only true Men left in this dammed country" according to his dad, the movie stars he laughed with, telling little Steve "now that's what I call charm!".

So Little Stevie got the message, just like he'd gotten the message that he had to be good at sport and all the other things his parent's love was condiotional upon. It was only natural, all parents wanted to be proud of their children. It was the child's job to make them proud, but instead of money they payed in love. So easy even little Stevie could understand it. He simply followed the instructions.

Girls came after that, and really, it was more of a side effect than anything else. The men he looked up to always knew how to sweep girls off their feet: just a little sweet talk and a shiny smile. He had not put a lot of thought into what happened afterwards though, he was just a kid after all.

Soon enough, he understood that his parents thought it was great that their little Romeo was the most popular boy in school. More so when the mothers started gossiping about "what a suave little cassanova the Harringtons have!". His mother fawned and chuckled with them, clearly loving the compliments her son received.

So Cassanova it was. He learned soon enough that dating had its own set of rules, just like friendships and sports and school and dressing. He needed to keep this perfect balance between easy to fall for and hard to obtain. When he became a teenager he understood his father found his salacious stories about making out with girls funny, but that he would not approve just any girl. If he was to bring anyone home for a proper dinner, she had to be pretty, rich, soft spoken, smart but not smarter than his dad, christian, dressed appropriately...the list went on and on.

He thought he figured it out with Nancy, because Nancy was great. She was his first big love, the girl she actually enjoyed spending time with. Most of the others had been an exhausting amount of acting the part, pretending to be interested in things that bored him off his mind, and actually getting some pretty decent validation from feeling desired.

But not Nancy. She was actually fun to be around! Nancy always had a dozen new topics she was passionate about and could spend hours on end rambling about them while Steve thought about how lucky he was to have found a girl that didn't felt like chore.

His father was not thrilled. Apparently she was "decent enough", but he assured Steve that her Know-it-all tendencies would end up driving him up the wall soon enough. Steve hoped it wouldn't. It had been hard enough to find a balance between who he was expected to date and who he enjoyed dating.

Intimacy with Nancy was something he simultaneously looked forward and was terrified of. Seducing girls was half the job of. He also had to learn how to "rock their world" or else his reign would be a short one. He knew girls gossiped, they made sure to lock eyes with him before whispering in their friends ears and coyly waving at him giggling. So he studied the subject with the same feverish intensity he'd studied how to get his hair right. And the feeling of accomplishement he got from it was almost reward enough.

Nancy was a different story, you see. She was the one. She was the future Steve was hoping for, the mother of his kids. And he was dreading getting to third base with her. What if it felt like a chore? Spending time with Nancy had never felt like that, but what if the sex part was awful? He always got the impression the girls were getting way more out of it than he was, and he just wanted to feel like them for once. So when it all came to shit, he blamed it on the Demogorgon.

It wasn't Nancy's fault, nor his. It was just so incredibly awkward to do the dirty when the last time you did, your girlfriend's bestie got murdered! So they decided to take it slow, and Steve couldn't be more grateful. Their first time hadn't been so bad, it's just he had trouble remembering with all the upside down bullshit and Johnathan Byers punching him.

Johnathan was a queer. That's what his father had called him, so Steve called Johnathan a queer. That's the way the world worked. Steve understood enough about them: They were weird, they didn't like girls, they tried to ruin the people that were actually normal, and they carried a really fucked up disease. He hoped Byers didn't have it. Look, the guy may had punched him, but he deserved a break. Byers had been so brave for his brother, like a hero from a movie. Maybe his father had been wrong about him being a queer.

He learned that his father had most definitely been wrong when his girlfriend cheated on him with said Byers after calling Steve "Bullshit". It wasn't a slap in the face, it was a sucker punch to the heart. But he'd manage, he always did. It would be easier without Billy though.

The thing about Billy was that Steve hated him. With fervor. He was a racist asshole that threatened one of his boys and constantly tried to antagonize him. He had something about him that unnerved Steve in the same way Johnathan had, but unlike Byers, he did it on purpose.

His father hated him too, but in that way that meant Steve was at fault somehow. "You can let that queer beat you!" He always shouted after Billy managed to be the center of attention at all their matches. He had decided that Billy was a queer too, you see. He cared too much about his looks and he was from California, which apparently was were they came from. Steve wasn't too sure about it, after all, he had been wrong about Byers.

When robin happened, he almost cried. It had been his second chance, another girl he actually liked spending time with. Robin was funny and smart and charming. His parents were going to hate her but it'd stopped being about them a long time ago. Steve needed to like a girl for himself, to prove wrong the intrusive thoughts about Johnathan, Tommy H, Billy and the rest. But Robin had not been the solution he'd hoped for. Instead, she had been the catalyst that absolutely wrecked his life. Sure, she also made it a hundred times better, but still.

He did not talk to her about it. Not at first. It was so much, and he was still reeling from the fact that he was friends with one of the queers his dad hated so much. It took him a while just to unlearn the stereotypes and fear mongering rumours he had been raised in. Robin helped, she had decided that not getting bashed after rejecting him probably meant Steve was safe. So she explained to him the lesbian thing.

Steve didn't want to stop her. Clearly, Robin had no one else to talk to about it, and the relieve on her face when she told him about the sub culture, about liking Vicky about her feelings in general...he could not bring himself to take that alway from her no matter how much he wanted to. And God he wanted to. He wanted to go back, back to a time were he didn't have all this thought and doubts and nonsense. Because the things that Robin said about men...no. Robin had known she was a lesbian. If Steve was q...gay, he would have known by now. Yup.

Eddie Munson was the most unexpected gear to finally click in Steve's head. Honestly, he would have been way less upset about it if it had been Tommy H or Billy. Sure, he hated them, but The Freak??? That was several levels more life ruining than it needed to be. But God was it unavoidable.

It started with the kids raving about the famed Eddie Munson. The greatest DM, the most talented musician, the coolest dude on planet earth, and sure enough Steve was jealous. Who was this Munson guy to take HIS kids? He'd fought monsters for them, and that's how they repaid him? Ungrateful little shits. He barely remembered the guy from school, but he knew he was supposed to be older than him, and he was still there? Loser! Even he had managed to graduate. And then he met him.

The Vecna thing was a harrowing affair all by itself. He almost lost a couple of his kids and his emotional support Robin. But it was just an almost. Eddie managed to rescue himself and Dustin from the demo bats by "doing what I'm best at Harrington!". They've managed to steal enough time by blocking the gate with his wardrobe to steal yet another car. He violated several traffic laws just to get to the creel's house before the demo bats did and, well, that got Carvers attention. And thank God, because Lucas needed to climb on top of Dustin to reach for Max ears, powering El in the process. Nancy took care of Carver fast enough when a sprinting Eddie greeted them at the gate.

Steve did not now if it was the theatrics with which he explained the situation, or the fact that he saved Dustin, Lucas and Max, but the denial was over. He tried to go back, to ignore the feeling in his chest (those famed butterflies, making a mess of his ribcage), but it was too little to late. The way he smiled at him from the hospital bed while they patched up the gunshot wounds from Carver. The way he reassured a guilty faced Lucas that he'd survive "isn't that right Harrington?". This wasn't Billy's attractive yet hateable face nor an inconvenient crush on Byers. He was in deep.

Robin was as helpful as Steve had been to her when she needed to vent about her own homosexuality. By the end, Steve was Hyperventilating and in tears because what the actual fuck. And then Robin just... awkwardly hugged him and whispered "it's okay if we can't talk about boobies anymore". He laughed. Of course he'd laugh. A bit hysterical at first, but by the end of it both of them were joking about being "too much of a perfect match". He thought Robin being a lesbian would be the thing that ruined everything, but it was just the perfect fit. Sure, everything else was still awful, but they could be miserable together.

It became a dangerous game, guessing what else exactly had been a mask he put on to keep his parents happy. Surely it couldn't be everything, right? He still had a personality. The thought of having lived a complete lie his entire existence was the most horrifying shit he could think of. Worse than Vecna and the Demogorgon combined. Robin was helpful though, she kept him from spiraling too much.

Eddie had turned into a recurring problem. Apparently goodie two shoes Nancy Wheeler and King Harrington claiming that Jason was the actual killer and that Eddie was just his cover up was all they needed to exonerate him. Eddie was an amazing liar too, so he sold the story in under a minute to the police. Carver was hurting Chrissy, Chrissy came to him, Carver caught them and killed her in retaliation. But Eddie scaped so he had to improvise.

Apparently half of that wasn't a lie. Munson had confessed to Steve and Johnathan, high as a kite, that him and Chrissy did have some feelings. They never acted on them, but they were planning to when she felt safe enough to leave Carver. That was painful on so many levels... He'd vaguely known Chrissy in school and she was sweet enough, seeing the way Eddie spoke about her made her murder feel so much more painful. What if Vecna had done that to Robin? Or what if he'd actually tried to kill Nancy? But also, hearing from the guy your pining after that he likes girls was just a whole different can of worms. It made him feel awful, being jealous of a dead girl.

Life went on for a while, in that sweet sweet agony. Sharing custody of the kids with Eddie, joking about who was the mum and who was the dad, trying to save up to move out with Robin, becoming actual friends with Byers, having a proper platonic friendship with Nancy...it wasn't so bad. Sure he could never have what he truly wanted, but he and Robin had already planned to be each other beards, their friend group expanded and he could be close to the guy he liked. It wasn't going to be the happy white picket fence he had desperately tried to sell to Nancy in a last ditch effort to remain heterosexual. Not that he was ever going to be truly happy there either.

Things took the most unexpected turn thanks to Byers junior. The five of them were hanging out in the Byers-Hopper residence, their hangout spot since the kids preferred the Wheeler's basement. When Will weakly knocked on his brother's door, Steve did not expect to see him teary eyed on the other side. Soon enough everyone in the room was trying to console poor Will. Steve and Robin were both completely dumbstruck when Will finally opened his mouth to confess. They shared a look of "oh no, what's going to happen?". Steve had already a reassurance in his lips, trying to prevent anyone else making a hurtful comment, when Johnathan hugged him and told him it was okay. Everyone else followed, and now the look he shared with Robin was one of immense relief. He was quick to add on to the support, feeling extremely guilty at the way Byers senior seemed to relax, clearly on the fence about his answer.

Turns out Will was heartbroken due to falling for a straight guy, something that Steve could very much relate to. He wanted to say so but it wasn't the right moment, this was about Will, and no matter how relieved he felt for the Kid and his and Robin's sake, he didn't want to derail the conversation. Nancy and him reassured him that Wheeler was an idiot, and that he wasn't missing much. "You can do better than my brother".

It was Eddie who actually got Will to stop sobbing with a simple question "How do you know he's straight?". Robin pointed out how he had dated El to which Eddie gave the baffling answer of "so what? he could like both!". Johnathan and Nancy were quick to jump on his theory, while Robin and Steve exchanged incredulous stares. Clearly Robin had not known about that, or else she would have told him.

"Is that a thing?" Steve dared to hope, hope that this was not some plot to make Will feel better. "Yeah Harrington" Eddie looked at him with all that intensity he conjured for DMing "I'm pretty fucking sure." They both stared at each other, trying to read the other's face. Looking for a sign, while aknowledging it wasn't the time or place to talk. In the end, Eddie gave Will a ride to the Wheeler's.

Once he and Robin were in the safety of his car it was absolute madness. Robin's final words were "I may not have know that was a thing, but know I know and he was flirting Dingus!". He tried to shut her down, not wanting to get his hopes up, but once he was alone in his hose...that was a different story.

He managed about seven whole minutes of repeating the mantra "just because he's into dudes doesn't mean he is into you" before deciding "fuck it" and gunning it for the door. He needed to know know. Steve opened the door at the same time Eddie closed his van's. After that it was only a couple of long strides, a locked door and Eddie slamming him against it.

"Sorry if I didn't read this correctly but-" Steve didn't let him finish. And sure enough, this time he actually felt it. The butterflies, the fireworks, his heart pumping away like it was about to explode. There would be time to talk things out, figure out what they wanted, but right then and there Steve finally felt alive. And he couldn't care less what his parents thought about it.

[thecandywrites]

Monster March 2024- Day 19- Demon- Adjacent

Speed Demon

I know, it's not what I expected either, but it's cute and fun. And it's Kamoba. Which is if martial arts met obstacle courses met gymnastics, met any other high contact sport.

As always, huge thanks to @borealwrites for their Monster March 2024 Prompt List.

Monster March 2024- Day 19- Demon-Adjacent- 

Speed Demon 

Prince Brehane along with his many imperial brothers into the dragonborn quarter of Dorierra and couldn’t help but drop their jaws at the sheer beauty, size, magnitude, scale, cleanliness and opulence the quarter had. Even his own Imperial Palace paled in comparison. Even his own private palace looked like a humble farm house compared to the this. He had no idea having a whole inner country to be one big city- could work and not feel cramped or crowded, or filthy. But far from it. There were those eagerly sweeping the roads and trash receptacles everywhere so that no trash or any other litter dare touch the ground. Any piles left by horses, or greater dragons or really any other mode of animal transportation were picked up the moment they were left. But the trains that ran from district to district and out from the Dorierran City Center? Were both a of marvel of engineering, and moved at incredible speeds just though steam and to his understanding- magnets and electricity. Which they themselves had not yet learned to fully harness. This was incredibly advanced. And yet Brehane felt incredibly guilty and unworthy to call any woman from this place. How anyone who was used to this- could find contentment far away, in any other place, was practically an impossibility. 

“Come on Meharene! Or we’ll start the match without you!” Girls came and called, all of them wearing stark white armor and odd weapons that he recognized as training weapons. 

“Coming!” Came another who put her ball of mochi partially into her mouth as she put her money away while she hastily ran out of the sweet shop directly in front of him as she practically ignored him and his royal brothers and quickly ran across the busy street, using her wings that practically sprouted from her back to help her jump and fly over the lanes of traffic so she didn’t have to dip and dodge and wait for a break in the traffic to cross the street. 

Brehane practically gasped in awe as he saw the prettiest pair of feathered wings fly their owner across the street before she softly landed, despite her very voluptuous body and heavy armaments about her body as she went with her friends into a Kamoba training arena. It’s metal frame sporting new paint to keep the metal from rusting. 

Suddenly Prince Brehane did not care about taking in the sights or grow more familiar with the quarter for the week’s appointments that he had with various ladies from this quarter. All he cared about was actually seeing this Kamoba training session, and the gorgeous beauty that was about to fight in it as he managed to wait for a light in traffic to quickly cross the streets to get over to it before he came in, just as she was leaving with her group to wait their turns in the arena. 

“How can I help you?” Came a gentleman’s call from behind a desk. 

“Hi, is there, like, a ticket or something I need to buy to watch the Kamoba?” He asked as he pointed to where the doors- leading to the arena were. 

“Well if you wanted a box seat to watch as a spectator- and your refreshments brought to you, yes. But otherwise there still might be some room way up in the bleachers where watching the matches is free to watch, you can try to squeeze in there. But if you want an up close look at the competitors, I highly suggest a box, . However, if you wanted to participate, you need to go to that counter there.” The attendant offered. 

“How much for a box?” He asked before the patient gentleman on the other side pointed to the priceboard behind him. 

“Well would you want a box with unlimited refreshments or just the box and a menu to order what you want?” He asked. 

“Just the box and a menu.” He offered. 

“Ok, and how long would you like the box for? Would you like it for an hour or two or just a match? Because each match can either be done in a few minutes or take up to two hours.” He offered. 

“How many matches do we have on the board now?” Brehane asked before the guy looked to the other counter and saw the number that was currently put up. 

“Right now, there is a match and four more groups are waiting to enter. So five.” He answered. 

“Let me get the box for the five that are already up there.” Brehane offered. 

“You got it. That’ll be five danari. You’ll be in box 8, here’s your box key, your betting box and betting slips and your menus from the food court that your server can pull from. Along with a menu for the bar.” He offered as he handed him a stack of menus and a table number before Brehane handed over the danari coins and took the items and followed the signs to the door labeled “Spectators”. 

He walked down the line- behind the booths, watching bits of the battles between them before came upon the box- labeled “Box 8” and came in and sat down at the closest seat in the booth and now that he had a key to the booth- there was a sign on the door saying to keep the door open to show that the booth was being occupied. He sat next to a table and put his things down and barely got a chance to look over the menus after counting that the girl he had seen was actually two groups away from entering the arena as he could see others were putting up the names of the competitors and the teams for the spectators who could bet and wager on the fighters both in and about to leave the arena. 

A waiter came and got his orders as he ordered a nice variety of things from the different food stalls in the arena food court and a few drinks from the bar that sounded good to him before he gave the waiter his name and what palace he was staying in- since he was clearly- not a local as he was asked if he wanted his expenses for his food and drink charged to his palace or if he was going to pay for it all right then. He felt confident that he had more than enough pocket money to pay for whatever he would need here as he gave them the answer that he would be paying for things himself. 

Then it was asked if he wished to place any bets on the battles. 

And that was when he could use the waiter to learn of the beauty’s full name that he had seen in the streets. 

Meharene Jember-Bente - also known as Opal Feather- one of the many dragonborn moura with feathered wings instead of just skin as he saw that she was signed up to do a speed run. 

“What’s a speed run?” Brehane asked. 

“A speed run is a one on one battle instead of teams where the goal is to either- either win the match in five minutes- or be the first to strike a beacon, which can happen in seconds. She’s chosen to go full obstacle course speed run match. And oh, she’s facing off against the victor of the the set in front of her. That’ll be good.” He noted. 

“So…I just put my money in the box?” He asked.

“Yeah. And fill out the slip.” The waiter- Goliad offered. 

Goliad had barely left with his funds and the order before the match was won by a kill strike and an explosion of colored smoke and sparks before there was a round of applause and cheers as the competitors hugged and then helped each other wash off the paint as the arena was reset as the next group finished their stretches and began to filter into the arena, careful not to step in the newly splattered paint while the paint from their own weapons continued to drip a bit at their feet before the arena was reset as Brehane kept his eyes on Meharene as she used that time to continue to do her stretches and the slower- methodical movements on the mat with the others. Brehane could see from his vantage point that she wasn’t the only one with such pretty feathers. But he was intrigued to see that many from her group weren’t dragonborn like her. She had many others from all over the other quarters with her. She even practiced using her prehensile tail to support her full weight so she could use it as her own springboard to kick out, like a kangaroo which intrigued him before she used it to practice picking her whole body up to pull her out of being pinned down in a corner of the mat by wrapping around a pillar like a whip. 

“Do you need some help with the slip?” Goliad asked.

“Yes please.” Brehane offered before Goliad helped him fill out the slip and walked him through what the current odds were and offered he could wait to put it in now, or wait until the odds might be a bit more clear and more favorable. But Brehane didn’t need to wait and instead was happy to place his bet on Meharene now. And was congratulated for being one of the first since that was just now put on the board as his bet was probably going to set the odds. 

Brehane could only really use his own for better balance and to crudely pick things up. Or occasionally, and with great difficulty- use his own like a kangaroo- the way she did. Which would explain why her tail was so supremely and fabulously muscular. As she could practically use it like an elephant’s trunk to pick up small things like a flower that had fallen from one of the trees to gently pick it up to hand it to her as she picked it up and smelled it and twirled it in her fingertips and talk with the others as they waited for the match until the first beacon was hit and that’s what pulled all of their attention back to the arena as she was quick to offer a cheer and applause while she put the flower in her friend’s hair, behind her ear before she went and got her drink and drank whatever she was drinking down through a straw before she went back to her conversation with her group and other stretches as Brehane was outright amazed and impressed to see how limber, flexible she was, clearly doing several kinds of splits and more. Brehane could only watch on in amazement and awe at her relaxed posture and prowess as if she was waiting to go to lunch or something. 

If he were in her shoes, he would have been just as anxious as he had been before all of his battles. But maybe she was relaxed because she knew her life wasn’t on the line. And she wasn’t about to fight for her life. Probably why she was relaxed before the second beam was set off and suddenly it was her and her friends coming to see who had set it off before Brehane’s food and drink was brought to him. Just in time for the third of the five beacons were set off. 

“Oh, now it’s on. Last two.” Goliad offered as he set the food and drinks down. 

“Anything else?” Goliad asked. 

“No, do you I pay you now or…?” Brehane asked. 

“If you think this is all you’re gonna be needing or wanting. Do you think that drink will last you through eating all of this through the next 3 matches?” Goliad asked. 

“No, I don’t suppose it would.” Brehane answered. 

“Let me get you another refill on your drink, just in case.” Goliad offered before he left and returned a few moments later with the drink before he left again to return to the other boxes to see if any of his other guests needed anything before he returned to a special booth that he and the other servers could both keep an eye on the Kamoba training battles and their guests to see if they would be needed as Brehane couldn’t help but notice that all the waitstaff had been male. But he supposed in a country that prided itself on it’s bride program, the young men would work, while women trained or did whatever they wanted while they waited for “husbands” to come to them. 

Within a few moments though, the other two beacons were hit as the victors cheered the loudest while the others clapped while the losers were gracious in their defeat and still offered hugs and congrats as they were happy it was over and could leave the match and begin to cool down and clean up the paint from their leather armor before the two “winners” were put on the board to face off against Meharene. Which he thought was unfair. But the odds for her to win suddenly quadrupled as he wondered if he should have waited to put the money on her. But at the same time, if she could face off against two openants- she deserved to have any mate she wanted in the whole wide world while the two winners were now- looking a bit anxious as they waited by the side, eager to see how Maharene would fair. 

“Is there anything else you’ll need?” Goliad asked. 

“That Lady Jember Bente is now not only going to face off  in the arena, but also face off against two opponents after?” Brehane asked before Goliad still snorted a laugh. 

“Isn’t that a bit unfair?” Brehane asked.

“What’s unfair?” Goliad asked. 

“Is this your first time watching Meharene fight?” Goliad asked. 

“Yes, this is the first time I’m getting to see any kind of Kamoba battle, we just came into Dorierra yesterday.” Brehane offered. 

“Ah, ok. Then you should probably know that Meharene is one of the best fighters in the District. She’s in the top 5 fighters in the district. And in the top 100 for the nation. She has faced off against multiple opponents before and been just fine. Honestly, she’s one of the more sure bets we will have today. Don’t worry, you’ll be most likely getting your money back and then some.” Goliad reassured him. 

“I don’t care about the money, I’m…I’m more concerned for her safety. Facing off two to one is no mean feat. Especially with all of these variables.” He tried to say. 

“Have…have you not come to know about her? You just…walked in and put a bet on her? Just…a blind bet? Not knowing anything about her, just taking one look at her and placing a bet on her?” Goliad asked. 

“Well…when you say it like that, I can see how that’s odd.” Brehane admitted. 

“Yeah, just give her name to your match director, and he’ll try to set up a meet with her while you’re here. Hopefully she might have a spot still open for you.” Goliad offered. 

“Is she married?” Brehane felt the need to ask.

“No. But I believe her schedule is still open to meet potential grooms. You could always apply to meet with her.” Goliad offered.

“Really?” Brehane offered. 

“Would I be able to meet her outside of that?” Brehane asked. 

“Yeah, what you could do, is offer that should your bet prove out, you could award her your winnings, I can guarantee that she’d come by to at least say thank you.” Goliad offered. 

“Even if she doesn’t win, even if I lose it all. I’d like to meet her if at all possible.” Brehane offered. 

“Well, usually there is a price for a meet and greet with the competitors of 10 danari.” Goliad told him before Brehane readily reached into his purse and grabbed a handful and gave Goliad the whole handful that had to be at least 50 danari. 

“This should definitely cover it.” Goliad smiled before he left again and quickly went down to the arena to write out a special message on a board for Meharene to see that was under the the platform that the booths were on as he wrote down that the guest in box 8 wanted to meet with her after her matches on the board under that box where those in the curved theater wouldn’t be able to see- but the competitors could as it seemed the competitors gave that message and the others on the other boards a glance as Maharene nodded to Goliad that she had read and agreed to the message before he put all the coins into her prize purse before he quickly cleared the message out and went back to the booth just as the match commenced. 

“She agreed to meet you. She’ll be up once she’s done and cleaned off.” Goliad offered. 

“Thank you!” Brehane offered happily as he rather ignored his food and was happy to lean his arms over the bench and watch intently as it seemed Meharene had three opponents against her as it was clear- from the formation that Meharene was supposed to advance and be the one to ignite the beacons. And with lightning fast speed, the gong had barely been struck to signal the start of the fight as she practically mowed the three of them down, and ignited the first then second daggers as she used her tail to lift her up to the second story before the three could try to pile onto her as they were now eagerly climbing the beams to get to her on the beams on the roof while her teammates were eager to send another to the third beacon before Meharene ran across the beams like she was running across the floor before she used her tail to hold onto the last beam and dropped down to pull someone off of her teammate to keep her teammate from being overpowered before a third hit the third beacon before it was a race for everyone to get to the rafters above the obstacle course as her teammates were eager to hit the remaining beacons as she used her tail to swing her backwards as she used her hands and feet and tail to flip and slip from one end to the other and then to the top of the roof and then- up the other obstacles to the last beacon sitting on the top as the other teammates were also trying to get up to it as she used her own weight to counterbalance another to propel her friend up to the last beacon as the friend jumped and managed to hit the beacon before the other team could get there to defend it as she used her own wings to float down to the beams again as her teammates celebrated their victory as Meharene got ready for her speed battle as the other two were obviously, very, nervous as they took up the stage with her as the beacons were reset. 

“Please go easy on us ok?” They requested. 

“Of course, it’s just a game.” She shrugged off and waived them off as she pulled out her real sword and blew fire onto it before she used her hold onto it to show how it was actually two swords in one as she had a lighted sword in each hand. The other two tried to simply light their own swords on fire from hers. 

The gong’s sound didn’t even stop ringing- and all anyone really saw was a blur of white and fire and barely heard the swords clang together as Meharene had thrown three daggers in rapid succession with just her tail to win the match as she kept both opponents at bay with her two swords as the three beacons practically exploded in succession before the gong had to be hit again. 

“Holy fucking shit!” Brehane exclaimed in utter and complete awe as the match barely took but one or two seconds. 

“Oh thank the gods.” The other two immediately practically removed their swords from hers and bowed in respect before they were quick to blow out the flames and then get hugs from Meharene. 

“Good match, thank you for not making it hurt worse.” They thanked her as they accepted hugs from her. 

“No problem.” Meharene smiled as she helped her teammates finish cleaning up before she got herself put back together and got her winnings and had to look inside to see the whole thing practically stuffed with two months worth of daily wages for just a match that barely lasted a few seconds before she came up and got congratulations from the others in the other boxes who wanted to congratulate her on her victory while the others were happy to offer their congratulations. 

Then she finally made her way to box eight as Brehane was standing at the box’s door to meet her. 

“Congratulations Lady Jember-Bente.” He offered. 

“Thank you for your vote of confidence.” She answered as she readily shook hands with him. 

“No problem at all, would you like to come inside, I just ordered some food if you’re hungry. And the waiter should be coming soon if you would like a drink.” He offered as he gestured to the food, still untouched and still practically steaming still on his table. 

“We just got in yesterday.” He answered. 

“Sure.” She accepted as she came in and sat on the other side of the table.

“So, how long have you been in the country?” She asked as she sat down and began to get a little off of every dish he ordered and onto one of two empty plates that the waiter had left for her. 

“We? Who is we?” She asked. 

“Oh, myself and my imperial brothers…” He began before he listed his brothers off. 

“I see. So are you looking to get into the Kamoba Sport or you just wanted to meet with a Kamoba champion?” She asked. 

“Ugh, really I just wanted to meet you, in particular, before you were a champion or anything. I saw you outside, you were getting mochi before the match but I didn’t get a chance to try to come up to you and greet you before you were pulled into this place and then you were getting ready for your match.” He tried to excuse. 

“I see. Well…what was your name again?” She asked. 

“My name is Brehane.” He offered. 

“And how long are you here for?” She asked. 

“At least two weeks.” He offered. 

“And where are you coming from?” She asked. 

“Simmeret.” He answered. 

“Simmeret, like…north east of Yeshi - that Simmeret?” She asked. 

“Yes, that Simmeret.” He confirmed. 

“Of course.” She nodded as she was quick to eat her little bites of what she had put onto her plate. 

“Wow, that must have been quite the journey.” She mused.

“It was, but well worth it.” He nodded. 

“Well, it was lovely to meet you- Brehane. But if you will excuse me, I have a meeting with another suitor this afternoon that I have to get ready for. I hope your trip here has been well worth the trouble.” She offered after she cleaned her plate, and shook hands with him again and then quickly continued on to get congrats with the others down the set of boxes before she went down the stairs and rejoined her friends who were waiting for her outside as she was quick to use her money to get herself and her friends a carriage to take them home so they didn’t have to walk all the way home. 

“So? Who paid for our ride home?” Her friends asked her. 

“Prince Brehane of Simmeret. He bet 10 danari on me. And then paid extra just to meet me after the battle.” She answered. 

“And?” They offered. 

“And what?” Meharene returned. 

“And is he going to be a courtier?” They asked. 

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. I don’t remember seeing him on my schedule.” She shook her head no.

“Well maybe he’ll show up on your schedule tomorrow.” They offered. 

“Ok.” She sighed before she paid her driver and then walked the rest of the way home, her humble, modest home, doubting very much that anything was ever going to change.

“Doubt it. Guys like that, see girls like me and think of conquering a champion, not marrying a wife. He’ll sleep on it and then probably decide against it in the morning. Or if he does schedule it today, he’ll end up cancelling tomorrow afternoon after he meets his future bride tomorrow morning.” Meharene muttered with a sigh and a pout out of the window.

“Don’t give up hope yet, ok?” They tried to encourage her as their carriage came to their stops. 

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6 Effective Strategies for Reducing the Risk of Colorectal Cancer

Introduction

Colorectal cancer is a type of cancer that affects the colon and rectum, which are parts of the digestive system. In Abu Dhabi, just like in other parts of the world, colorectal cancer is a serious health concern. According to the Abu Dhabi Health Services Company, SEHA, colorectal cancer is one of the most common cancers in the UAE, accounting for 9.4% of all cancers diagnosed in the country. It is also the third most common cancer among both men and women in Abu Dhabi.

Regular colon cancer screenings can help detect it early and make it easier to treat. In Abu Dhabi, SEHA hospitals and other private hospitals offer colon cancer screening and colorectal surgery to prevent, diagnose, and treat colorectal cancer.

Strategy 1: Healthy Diet

It is possible to reduce the risk of colorectal cancer by eating a healthy diet. Here are some tips for maintaining a healthy diet:

Eat plenty of fruits and vegetables: Fruits and vegetables are rich in vitamins, minerals, and fiber, which are essential for maintaining good health. Every day, eat at least five servings of fruits and vegetables. It’s suitable for snacking or adding to meals.

Choose whole grains: Whole grains are a good source of fiber, which can help keep your digestive system healthy. Examples of whole grains include brown rice, whole-wheat bread, and whole-grain pasta.

Limit red and processed meats: Eating red meat, like beef, pork, and lamb, and processed meats, such as hot dogs and bacon, can raise your risk of colorectal cancer. One way to reduce the risk of colorectal cancer is by limiting the amount of red and processed meats you eat. Instead, opt for leaner protein options like fish, chicken, or beans.

Avoid sugary and fatty foods: Foods with lots of sugar and fat, like candy, cookies, and fried foods, can make you gain weight. Being overweight can increase your risk of getting colorectal cancer. To stay healthy, you can eat less of these foods and choose healthier options like fresh fruit or a small handful of nuts.

By following these tips, you can maintain a healthy diet that may help reduce your risk of developing colorectal cancer. Remember, eating a variety of healthy foods and limiting your intake of unhealthy foods is key to maintaining good health.

Strategy 2: Physical Activity

Moving your body regularly can help reduce your chances of getting colorectal cancer. It helps your digestion, boosts your immune system, and lowers inflammation. It also helps to regulate hormones that can play a role in the development of cancer. Adding physical activity to your daily routine:

Walk, run, or bike: These activities can be done outdoors or indoors on a treadmill or stationary bike. Aim for at least 30 minutes of moderate to vigorous exercise, such as brisk walking or running, on most days of the week.

Participate in sports: Joining a sports team or league can be a fun and social way to get regular exercise. Some examples of team sports include soccer, basketball, and volleyball.

Dance: Dancing is a fun and engaging form of physical activity that can be done alone or with others. You can take dance classes or simply turn on some music and dance in your living room.

Do household chores: Activities like vacuuming, sweeping, and gardening can also count as physical activity. Aim to do these tasks for at least 30 minutes on most days of the week.

Remember to start increasing the duration and intensity of your physical activity. If you have any medical conditions or concerns, consult with your doctor before starting a new exercise routine. Also, try to find activities that you enjoy, so that you are more likely to stick with them over the long term.

Strategy 3: Quitting Smoking

Quitting smoking is an important way to reduce the risk of colorectal cancer. Smoking is linked to several types of cancer, including colorectal cancer. Smoking can also lead to other health problems, such as heart disease, lung disease, and stroke. Here are some steps you can take to quit smoking:

Set a quit date: Choose a date when you plan to stop smoking. Mark it on your calendar and make sure to tell your friends and family so they can support you.

Find a support system: Quitting smoking can be difficult, so it’s important to have a support system. This can include friends, family, or a support group.

Try nicotine replacement therapy: Nicotine replacement therapy, such as patches or gum, can help reduce the physical symptoms of nicotine withdrawal.

Avoid triggers: Triggers are situations or activities that make you want to smoke. Avoiding these triggers can help you resist the urge to smoke.

Stay busy: Keeping yourself busy can help you distract yourself from the urge to smoke. You can try exercise, hobbies, or spending time with friends and family.

Remember, quitting smoking is a process, and it may take several attempts before you can quit for good. Don’t give up if you slip up and have a cigarette. Instead, learn from the experience and try again. Talk to your doctor if you need additional support or guidance in quitting smoking.

Strategy 4: Moderate Alcohol Consumption

Drinking too much alcohol can increase your risk of getting colorectal cancer. It’s important to drink in moderation to help reduce this risk. Here are some tips for moderate drinking:

Limit how much you drink: If you drink alcohol, women should have no more than one drink a day, and men should have no more than two drinks a day.

Know what a standard drink is: A standard drink is a 12-ounce beer, a 5-ounce glass of wine, or 1.5 ounces of hard liquor.

Don’t drink too much at once: Drinking four or more drinks in two hours if you’re a woman or five or more drinks if you’re a man can be dangerous and increase your risk of cancer.

Choose drinks with less alcohol: Beer and wine usually have less alcohol than other drinks. Drinking these instead can help you stay within the safe limits of drinking.

It’s still important to be careful, even if you don’t drink a lot. Drinking can be harmful if you have a family history of alcoholism, liver disease, or certain types of cancer. Talk to your doctor if you’re worried about your drinking.

Strategy 5: Regular Screenings

Regular colorectal cancer screenings can help detect precancerous growths or early-stage cancer before symptoms appear, making it easier to treat and cure cancer. There are different types of screening tests that your doctor may recommend, including:

Fecal occult blood test (FOBT): A simple test that checks for blood in the stool, which can be a sign of cancer or other problems. This test is usually done at home using a test kit, and the samples are sent to a lab for analysis.

Stool DNA test: A newer test that looks for DNA changes in the stool that may be a sign of cancer. This test is also done at home using a test kit, and the samples are sent to a lab for analysis.

Flexible sigmoidoscopy: During a flexible sigmoidoscopy, a doctor will use a flexible tube with a camera to examine your rectum and lower colon for growths or polyps. The procedure takes place in the doctor’s office and usually lasts about 20–30 minutes.

Colonoscopy: A procedure that uses a flexible tube with a camera to examine the entire colon for growths or polyps. This test is usually done in a hospital or outpatient center and takes about 30–60 minutes.

Your doctor will suggest a screening test based on your age and family history to check for any signs of cancer. It’s important to follow the schedule your doctor recommends to catch any potential cancer early. Here are some other tips to help you remember to get screened:

Talk to your doctor about your screening options and schedule.

If you experience any symptoms such as rectal bleeding, abdominal pain, or changes in bowel habits, talk to your doctor immediately.

Prepare for your screening by following your doctor’s instructions on bowel preparation.

Make sure to attend all follow-up appointments as recommended by your doctor.

Strategy 6: Maintaining a Healthy Weight

Maintaining a healthy weight is important for reducing the risk of colorectal cancer. Being overweight or obese can increase the risk of developing the disease. Here are some ways to help maintain a healthy weight:

Eat a balanced diet: Eating different healthy foods like fruits, veggies, grains, lean meat, and low-fat milk can help you stay at a good weight. Limiting high-calorie, high-fat, and processed foods is also important.

Practice portion control: Eating too much food, even if it is healthy food, can lead to weight gain. Use smaller plates, measure portions, and avoid eating in front of the TV to help control how much you eat.

Stay active: Regular physical activity can help you maintain a healthy weight. Aim for at least 30 minutes of moderate to vigorous exercise, such as brisk walking or cycling, on most days of the week.

Get enough sleep: Not getting enough sleep can lead to weight gain. Aim for 7–8 hours of sleep per night to help maintain a healthy weight.

Limit alcohol consumption: Drinking too much alcohol can contribute to weight gain. It’s recommended that women have no more than one drink per day and men have no more than two drinks per day.

Stay at a healthy weight, it takes time and effort, and small, sustainable lifestyle changes can help you reach your goals. But, before making any diet or exercise changes, talk to your doctor if you have any medical conditions or concerns.

Conclusion

Colorectal cancer is a serious health condition, but there are effective strategies that can help to reduce the risk of developing this disease. By following these strategies, you can take an active role in promoting your health and well-being. Here are some key takeaways from this article:

Colorectal cancer is the third most common cancer in the world, but it is also one of the most preventable.

To reduce the risk of colorectal cancer, you can:

Eat healthy foods

Be physically active

Avoid smoking and excessive drinking

Get regular screenings

Maintain a healthy body weight

Pay attention to symptoms and see a doctor if needed

These strategies work well when used together as part of a healthy lifestyle.

You can reduce your risk of getting colorectal cancer by making small changes to your daily habits. Eat healthy foods, get active, and pay attention to symptoms. Don’t wait until it’s too late. Take action now and be proactive about your health!

Remember, it’s never too early or too late to start taking steps to reduce your risk of colorectal cancer. Whether you are a young adult or a senior citizen, there are things you can do to promote your health and well-being. If you have any concerns or questions about colorectal cancer, speak to your healthcare provider.

[dailyrugbytoday]

Six Nations Rugby championship tournament begins in February

New Post has been published on https://thedailyrugby.com/six-nations-rugby-championship-begins-in-feb/

The Daily Rugby

https://thedailyrugby.com/six-nations-rugby-championship-begins-in-feb/

Six Nations Rugby championship tournament begins in February

The 2023 Six Nations Rugby will another time see the England, France, Ireland, Italy, Scotland and Wales global rugby union groups take each other on over the course of five exciting rugby-packed weekends of fixtures.

This is an global competition that takes place annually, with each of the six facets playing each different once.

The Six Nations Championship (known as the Guinness Six Nation for sponsorship reasons) is an annual worldwide men’s rugby union opposition between the teams of England, France, Ireland, Italy, Scotland and Wales. The modern-day champions are France, who received the 2022 tournament.

The 2023 fixture agenda for the Guinness Six Nations starts offevolved on Saturday, 4th February 2023 with Ireland getting the first in shape underway away to Wales followed by means of Scotland visiting to take on England at Twickenham; then on Sunday fifth February 2023 Grand Slam champions France tackle Italy at the Stadio Olimpico in Rome.

When is 2023 Guinness Six Nations Rugby Championship

The 2023 Guinness Six Nations Rugby competition runs till 18th March 2023 whilst all three fixtures of Round five take location at the same day known as ‘Super Saturday’, beginning with Scotland v Italy at BT Murrayfield in Edinburgh, accompanied through France v Wales in Paris before culminating in Ireland v England at the Aviva Stadium in Dublin.

One of the most fulfilling rugby events inside the international returns in February as some of Europe’s excellent countrywide rugby teams start a 5 week event called the Six Nations.

Defending champion France will are looking for its nineteenth championship this year after winning the occasion the Grand Slam in 2022.

How To Watch Six Nations Rugby Championships

The Six Nations Rugby Championships can be broadcast on NBC Sports within the United States and a diffusion of various networks across Europe.

However, the U20 Six Nations tournament, which begins on Feb. Four, may be streamed on FloSports in the United States.

In March, the 2023 Women’s Six Nations tournament may also movement on FloSports.

📆 Clear those diaries, the next few weekends are gonna be fun 🍿#GuinnessSixNations#AwakenAnticipation

🇮🇹🇫🇷🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿☘️🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿 pic.twitter.com/tMwHzmzmFp

— Guinness Six Nations (@SixNationsRugby) January 28, 2023

Where The 2023 Six Nations Matches Being Played?

There isn’t a centralized location for the tournament, but instead the event is played across the participating countries.

The stadiums that are hosting matches are:

Principality Stadium in Cardiff, Wales

Twickenham Stadium, Twickenham, UK

Stadio Olimpico, Rome, Italy

Aviva Stadium, Dublin, Ireland

BT Murrayfield Stadium, Edinburgh, Scotland

Stade de France, Paris, France

France claimed their first Guinness Six Nations title in 12 years and a first beneath Fabien Galthié after successive runners-up finishes. They kicked off with victory over Italy in Paris, with a win at the Stade de France against Ireland every week later laying down a marker in a war among the two aspects who had beaten the All Blacks the previous November.

They accompanied that up with the aid of winning on the road in Edinburgh and Cardiff to set up a tilt at a easy sweep towards England on domestic soil. With Ireland triumphing all their different suits, France wanted a win to assert both the slam at the name, and they duly delivered, skipper Antoine Dupont stoning up for the attempt that clinched it.

Elsewhere on Super Saturday, Italy claimed a first Championship victory in seven years as they earned a ultimate-gasp win over Wales in Cardiff.

Six Nations 2023 Fixtures List :: All kick-off times shown in GMT. Click on the links below to view further details about each match.

Six Nations Rugby Championship Schedule 2023

Round 1 Six Nations Schedule (All Times EST)

Ireland at Wales, 9:15 a.m. – Feb. 4

Scotland at England, 11:45 a.m. – Feb. 4

France at Italy, 10 a.m. – Feb. 5

Round 2 Six Nations Schedule

France at Ireland, 9:15 a.m. – Feb. 11

Wales at Scotland, 11:45 a.m. – Feb. 11

Italy at England, 10 a.m. – Feb. 12

Round 3 Six Nations Schedule

Ireland at Italy, 9:15 a.m. – Feb. 25

England at Wales, 11:45 a.m. – Feb. 25

Scotland at France, 10 a.m. – Feb. 26

Round 4 Six Nations Schedule

Wales at Italy, 9:15 a.m. – March 11

France at England, 11:45 a.m. – March 11

Ireland at Scotland, 11 a.m. – March 12

Round 5 Six Nations Schedule

Italy at Scotland 8:30 a.m. – March 18

Wales at France, 10:45 a.m. – March 18

England at Ireland, 1 p.m. – March 18

More News :: Owen Farrell Explains Biggest Lesson He Learned At Tackle School

[ournewhome1926]

Luxury Vacation Lodging In South Africa

Taste a slice of Greece on the Cape West Coast, where the brightly colored shutters and cobbled pathways at Club Mykonos Langebaan resemble the burst of color seen on the Greek island of Amorgos. Enjoy the seaside, loosen up on the onsite wellness spa or get energetic on the tennis and squash courts. Fully-equipped self-catering items provide the final word comfort during your stay. Welcome to First Group Hotels and Suites – South Africa’s alternative for premier lodge lodging, featuring high-end service, quality-curated amenities, and the superb locales and entertainment options that you deserve.

A signature way of life estate in JOHANNESBURG’s unique Waterfall area, The Polofields has every thing the discerning purchaser is on the lookout for. Besides all the features for which Balwin is famend, PRETORIA’s The Blyde lifestyle estate boasts a crystal-clear sustainable lagoon. The Whisken in JOHANNESBURG is a Balwin classic conveniently situated in a beautifully landscaped setting next to Kyalami. See what discounts OENA can offer you on lodging and actions in any of their properties throughout South Africa.

You can anticipate probably the most refined luxury lodging whenever you rent a villa in Clifton. This model new and wonderful trendy house in Zimbali provides ultra-luxurious accommodation with partial sea views. It has an open plan residing area, giant wooden decking for entertainment and a spectacular water characteristic and backyard. Luxury 7 bed room house in Franschoek La Cotte is SO far more then an opulent holiday villa.

Sacha was a unbelievable host, and we saved in contact about check-in times. The house itself is gentle, ethereal, spacious and tastefully furnished. Unparalleled views of the ocean, and we received there just in time for sunset - spectacular view from the balcony! The farmstead rests on over a thousand hectares of rugged mountain wilderness with an abundance of mountaineering and working trails, and scenic picnic spots, the place the antelope and small sport freely roam. Ideal for multigenerational family gatherings and celebrations, the estate can accommodate as many as 26 friends.

Construction has commenced at Mooikloof Eco Estate situated in Tshwane. The Estate will consist of 1, 2 and three bedroom upmarket luxury residences and a net-zero, 6 star rated, Edge licensed green life-style centre. Balwin Properties will soon luxury houses launch the De Kuile life-style estate in Kuils River, Cape Town. This secure improvement will function ultra-modern residences serving views of picturesque landscapes and a world-class Lifestyle Centre.

This is a perfect household property which offers friends a large eating and dwelling space leading out onto the patio and pool. On a greenbelt in Waterfall Country Estate, Midrand, this architect-designed home exudes a tranquil farmhouse feel. The setting Tucked away in a sea of fynbos, with zebras and springboks roaming the realm, this splendidly secluded three-bedroom holiday residence in Romansbaai is a perfect place to chill out and unwind.

600 smart buyers now name the Greenbay life-style property residence. Nestled within the stunning Gordons Bay panorama, Greenbay presents trendy and trendy open-plan studio, 1, 2 and 3-bedroom houses. The setting On the slopes of Stellenbosch’s Helderberg Mountains and surrounded by rolling vineyards, this picturesque villa at Hidden Valley Wines epitomises tranquil nation luxury houses dwelling. No interruptions, simply sweeping views of the valley, vineyards, and Table Mountain in the distance, make this luxury lodge a private paradise, and the proper place to immerse yourself in endless nature .

The main house consists of three bedrooms and two bedrooms. Costa Smeralda is ideally located that can assist you create recollections of fun-filled, coastal family holidays. Each property within the First Group assortment presents a unique and exciting experience, with over 20 properties in Southern Africa that span across luxury houses various places. Visit with us on your next vacation, and discover for yourself what makes us the leaders in affordable hotels, lodge specials, and superb hotel experiences.

Resting on the most prominent residential area, the whole southern border of the property nestles against the Table Mountain Reserve. Rather than dominate the elegant panorama on which it rests, the villa pays quiet homage as a substitute. The pool terrace joins the interior lounge by way of ample glass doors, allowing the house to breathe the Atlantic air. A pretty, two-way hearth warms the comfy lounge area and the ocean-view dining desk, whereas the luminous kitchen is totally geared up with chef-grade appliances and an espresso machine. There is also a separate media room with cozy furnishings and enormous TV. Throughout the home, the understated class of the design and décor offers trendy luxury while harmonizing with this mountainous coastline’s exquisite pure beauty.

[musingsofgrizzal]

Reflections from a Small Window…

                                                   ‘On the Road’

                                                   1969. June. Friday.

My life began when I was sixteen. Everything up to that point had been conditioned for me. Everything afterwards was madness. In that sense it’s been a very ordinary life, for I’ve come to understand that everyone’s experience – what might be called our default position – is a form of madness. It’s only the details that differ and those not so much, really. The question to answer is how do we cover our tracks? What mechanisms, what habits of mind and body do we employ to hide our madness from each other? I suppose there’s not much opportunity there for truth. But the day I stuck out my thumb at the side of the A361 on a Friday afternoon in June was for me the beginning of both truth and true lies. I was just sixteen.

Our parents condition us because it is in their very nature, willing or not. School conditions us because that is its function. Our town, our country, our house, our street, condition us. Our friends condition us. Our enemies condition us. When we break free the result is confusion; and perhaps some slightly truer lies.

So the cars went past me one by one. Sometimes I would lock eyes for an instant with a driver, always a man. For a flash his world, unknown to me, would meet mine, unknown to him. My assumption was that their worlds were as passé as my parents’ world; though this was callow. When we are young we cannot imagine the satisfactions of maturity. The dynamic of youth is a keen but wobbly blade. If it isn’t so, then we are ageing before we are due and so much is never won. In my keen but wobbly world though, on that day, possibility seemed infinite. I stood, open to chance, on a summer’s day a mile beyond Devizes, where the beautiful, ancient downland sweeps away to the distance and into mystery. It felt righteous.

Eventually a car stopped for me. It was an Austin Mini, quite newish and driven by an African in a sports jacket and spectacles. He leaned across and opened the passenger door. We both half-smiled and I said I was going to London. He pushed forward the passenger seat to usher me into the back where I perched myself and felt grateful. He said “I can take you as far as Marlborough” in an educated accent. I was happy to accept and I liked his accent.

At that time I knew two black men, which was more than most people then in rural southern England and especially of my age. One was an artist, the only black man in Calne. By visiting him at his home and studio through older friends I already knew something of prejudice and a need for caution. Roy had to be so careful. Calne could be a dangerous place if you stuck out. Even my own very non-dangerous and well-loved grandfather had been profoundly unkind about this man of whom he knew nothing but the colour of his skin. Thus was the time. Thus was Empire and dominion. It still lingers of course, disgracefully. Roy though, was very cool and in his way a great teacher.

Mac was quite different. He was a bouncer. He had worked in America as a rigger and was something of a totem for the youth of Devizes, especially the emerging group of skinheads of which I was a slightly quizzical member. It was a big reggae thing. Racism was no part of it and in those early days there was a sort of bond between alienated kids and outsider music. Mac was alpha male. His voice was really high but his biceps were huge. We looked up to him. He was fun and popular until one day it ended badly when he stabbed his gay lover to death. Honestly, we had no idea. I guess we all see what we wish to see.

Death and disillusion were in the future though, as boy and African trundled along the A4 in a little Austin mini. We passed on through Marlborough as we chatted. Why was I going to London? I told him about the big concert tomorrow. “It’s in Hyde Park. It’s free. It’s a new supergroup, they’re called Blind Faith. Eric Clapton’s in it.” He said he didn’t know the name. “He was the lead guitarist with Cream. They split up” I said, as if that explained everything to an African guy in a sports jacket driving a mini.

As we drove out of Marlborough through Savernake Forest he said “I can take you as far as Hungerford.” That was fine by me. Hungerford came and went and he said “I can take you as far as Newbury.” I was beginning to see a pattern. Newbury came and went and in the end he dropped me in Hammersmith. The last thing he said to me was “I’m glad I picked you up, you know.” It made me feel really good. The journey was a great success. I had connected and made a social relationship without reference to anyone or anything else but myself and my moment. The world was my oyster, which I, with social grace, would open.

Yeah. Sure.

And there I was in Hammersmith in brown corduroy jacket and school haircut. The jacket was one of a long line of hand-me-downs from big brother Steve. I didn’t like it much but it was better than my school blazer. I didn’t like those hand-me-downs at all really but I’m not bitter. At least the jacket was vaguely mod. In 1969 only rich kids and wide-boys had loads of clothes and I was certainly neither. I suppose I must have had some money but it can’t have been much. In any event I found my way to Clapham, to Tess and Ian’s flat. I have no idea how I got there. Probably not by bus as that would mean at least two bus rides and I didn’t know enough for that. So by tube then. But that must have been my first tube ride and considering the long love-hate relationship I quickly developed with the London underground it seems odd that I have no memory of my first encounter. Somehow though I emerged from the depth of Clapham North station and found the flat. Strictly speaking I only found the house that the flat was part of because there was no answer to my hopeful ringing of the doorbell. Ah. A problem.

I remember clearly standing on those steps and feeling perplexed. I wasn’t sure what to do and I think a little bit of confidence ebbed away at that moment. The next thing I remember is arriving in Trafalgar Square. It sure did feel adventurous; I’d never been there before. I’d never really been anywhere famous on my own before. I wandered around for a while and ogled Nelson’s Column and the great lions with their fountains and the massive buildings all around. It felt a deliciously long way from Devizes.  So many people. All kinds of people, hurrying, ambling; some seemed to belong, some didn’t. I sat down on a bench in the corner between St Martin’s church and the National Gallery. I just sat and looked. I probably smoked a roll-up.

I only became aware of the old man sitting next to me when he spoke. I looked shyly across and felt I was right to be shy. He was small, grizzled, stubbly and wore a grubby black coat. It took me less than a second to realise he was the dirty old man we have all been warned about and whom we all despise and to an extent, fear. “That’s ok” I thought, “I am a young man of social grace and shall deal with him gracefully.” I didn’t.

I don’t remember the words that passed between us now, but he was like a limpet. I got up and walked away. He followed me. I strode along Charing Cross Road. He tagged along like a shaggy dog that you really don’t want. He asked me this. He asked me that. I tried to deflect but failed. He pressed me to go back to his place. God almighty. I was so far from the young man of social grace. I was a lost boy. I did more leg work and got cross. But not too cross because truthfully I was a bit afraid by now. I didn’t want to find he had rabies and bit me. In any case I had been well socialised to be polite to elders and strangers and I could never shake that off. It was all a cloudy whirl in my head. I had no experience to use. I knew there was danger in this and yet he really wasn’t that nasty. Looking back from safety I can feel sympathy for him as well as loathing. Even then I think I felt sorry for his life which would certainly tell of dark and sunless visions. I would guess he assumed I was a runaway. He was spot on to sense my vulnerability. I’m glad it ended before it really began.

Somehow I got to shake him off but I don’t know how. Looking back I should have simply found the nearest tube station and gone straight back to Clapham but perhaps the absurd logic of the scenario confused me. Instead I found myself back in Trafalgar Square, feeling like a rabbit far from my burrow and the world full of doubt and danger. I found another bench and sat hunched as the day stretched towards evening.

Then a moment of great kindness came out of nowhere. I was struggling to light a cigarette and a voice offered a helping hand. I responded but I was a little paranoid by then and feeling so lonely. The voice said “Are you West Country?” I said yes. He said he was from Plymouth and didn’t hear the accent much up in London. He offered to buy me a drink but I was wary and hesitant. He was reassuring and seemed to realise I’d had a scare of some kind. In fact he did buy me a drink and a sandwich too and he gave me some matches. We were perhaps half an hour or so in each other’s company. He was a grown up and I was aware that I wasn’t. He had sensed my distress though and was simply being kind. I have no idea who he was or why he was there. I needed him and he was there.

So I went back to Clapham. Tess and Ian were home by then and made me welcome. I still remember the address of their flat: 106 Gauden Road. Legendary. A top floor hippy oasis amid the South London sprawl. Ian’s interior paintwork was spectacular. I think at that time it was all crimson and coral. Later on the sitting room became a cartoon countryside of green hills and blue sky, trees, butterflies, cows. Wonderful. Tripped out, man. Literally. The flat rocked. Actually it really did rock, every time a goods train lumbered by towards Clapham Junction the whole building would gently shake. I liked that. I liked watching the trains go by from high up above the city streets. It was to become my home as well over the coming months. That night the flat and Tess and Ian were warm refuge. Somehow I knew then that the events that day, trivial really, were important. I felt like a small ship newly launched into a big, big sea.

                                          ‘Good Day Sunshine’

                                                            Saturday

Saturday in June. Hyde Park, London. It’s a warm, sunny day. So many people. 100,000 hippies, maybe more. There was such a buzz all around. It felt exciting to be part of the throng, the anticipation of something intoxicating. I went with Tess and Ian on the tube to Hyde Park Corner, where we spilled out expectantly to the sunshine. We agreed to part and meet back up, well, sometime later I guess. Good move on their part, looking back. Would you want a moody and unknowing sixteen year old for company at a prize picnic? But it was fine by me; I was pretty much an expert at being my own company by then and I had that wonderful freedom of ignorance that sucks in new experience like a hoover. I just wandered off, wide-eyed.

I’d heard of Speaker’s Corner; the one place in England where anyone can say anything, so they say, an odd adjunct to our beloved democracy (or something like that).  There was a guy, quite literally on his soap box, exhorting his modest though attentive audience to be noble. He was blond, young and a Londoner in white shirt and blue jeans. He put an impassioned case to us that we were no longer noble, that we (collectively I suppose) no longer understood what it meant to be noble. His point was that we had lost our way and become decadent. Looking around me I felt he may have had a point, somehow. I admired his passion and his engagement but there was a sense of lost cause about his argument. I wonder how his life panned out.

Nearby was a drummer of a kind rarely seen. She was a Cockney lady, broad in the beam. She sat on a stool behind a large, mounted tin box and beat a compelling rhythm with the help of two quite hefty pieces of wood. She looked as if in a state of minor bliss. We all clapped and some cheered. The atmosphere all around was like an unspoken celebration. Were we celebrating the freedoms and optimism that so many seemed to feel through the Sixties? Were we a part of a cultural flowering after the dark winter of war and austerity, or were we a decadent gaggle with more hair than moral fibre, as some would have it? Perhaps we were both. Thunderclap Newman were right though, there really was “…something in the air” at least on this occasion. I looked around and promised to return to Speakers’ Corner whenever I could. I never did.

So I found my way in to Hyde Park. It was full of hippies ‘digging it, man’. The stage was set in a natural amphitheatre and furnished with more people than I had ever seen in one place. I found a spot just below some trees and nestled in.  A waif of a girl picked her way through the throng selling poems for sixpence. She had them in a basket, tied up as scrolls with ribbon. It was sweet really, both enterprising and not at all enterprising. Anyway, I decided I could write my own for less. I wish I’d bought one now just to have seen what her poems were like. People all around were chilled and, well, happy. Let’s remember that this was an entirely free event. No fences, no goons, no hassle. Just a confluence of idealists all putting down some unspoken marker for the way they wished to live. It was good air to taste, however unsustainable in the long run. The music? Yeah, that was pretty good too. The critics were lukewarm but for me to lay in the sun and see and hear the likes of Eric Clapton, Ginger Baker, Stevie Winwood and so many more felt like Babette’s feast. I was happy to gorge on it.

So back to Clapham then. I rang the bell at the flat. No answer. Ah, been round this one already. This time I had the wit to take a chance and ring the bell of the flat on the lower floor. I heard footsteps and the front door opened and a quizzical face appeared. He was a tall, wiry guy with an open face. I explained my problem and he just invited me in. We went up to his flat and he introduced me to his wife. They were about to eat and asked me to join them. It was chicken and rice. Wow. I felt very lucky and very grateful. I had never met these people before but they were as casually hospitable as a sunny meadow. Could this happen today in London? I don’t know; but eventually footsteps on the stairs told me Tessa and Ian were back. I thanked my hosts profusely and returned to harbour.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          ‘On the Road Again’

                                                            Sunday

It had been a brilliant adventure. I would hitch-hike home with my internal treasure. What could go wrong? So off to Hammersmith I scurried and walked to the slip road of the M4. An unusual thing these days, to hitch a lift, but commonplace back then. I believe the idea started with the great depression in the 1930s. It would have been nice on that Sunday morning to have hitched one easily, as was the expected procedure. The day after a big hippy concert though, meant that there were dozens of us strung out in a line, like a small herd of wildebeest in silly clothes waiting for the great migration home. As it happened I did get a lift after only a little while and I jumped in happily. They were sweet and originally from Poland and said they chose to give me a lift because I had the shortest hair. Not great for my self-image but it got me away from London. They lived in Staines and I had no idea where that was except that I knew it wasn’t quite on the way home, so they dropped me off at the junction for Heathrow. And there I was. For a long time.

It was a hot Summer’s day and the roads were full of cars, not one of which was interested in stopping for me. The slip road was hopeless so I walked along the A4 for miles, thumb in the air, past the airport, still loads of cars, still no lift. I walked back again to the slip road. Still no lift. The Sun crossed the sky and evening approached. I was a long way from anywhere really. Eventually a bus came along and I was near enough to a bus stop to wave it down and get on. With my last few pennies I made it to Reading. I walked to the outskirts on the A4, hungry and tired. It became clear that nobody was going to take me home so I did the only thing I reasonably could. I phoned home. Call box. Reverse charges. “Mum…I’m stuck…” So much for the glory of independence. At about 11 O’clock a pair of headlights arrived, heralding the squat green body of Mum’s Austin A35.

So here’s the point. Actually there are two. The first is that my poor long-suffering mother drove fifty-odd miles through twilight and darkness to rescue her son from a long, cold, hungry night in a hedge. She said not a single word of reproach or anger, and I have to say that as we drove the fifty dark miles home I loved and respected her more than I could possibly have found the words to express. That simple, wise forbearance under stress was a lesson to me in both humility and unconditional love.

The second point was that my O’ levels were to begin the next morning. I think I had two on the Monday, History and English Literature. Never made it. It says an uncomfortable amount about my relationship to school, exams, the respectable World and its ambitions. Yet truly I would not have ever traded my adventure for a couple of O’ levels. So I never did get a History certificate until I finally accepted a serious education some seventeen years later; after which I was able to teach History for many years and with enduring enthusiasm. History is all of us, after all.

                                                                        ***  

[stone-cold-groove]

The new fun sport that’s sweeping the country!

[bigilante]

〖 her best friend ❣ zendaya 〗

「 zendaya x gender-neutral!reader 」 ┅ 「 2.7k words 」

: a.n : back at it again with the unsolicited fics :)) i hope you guys like it 👉🏼👈🏼

⤷ : prompt : separated forcefully or for reasons you can’t control, run into each other again years later on accident.

“Do you think they’ll ever stop making headlines calling us ‘very good friends’?” You halfheartedly laughed at yet another Instagram post by some magazine that showed you and Zendaya out and about LA. “Like, the minute you hang out with any guy they’re like, ‘Oh! Date alert!’ But I’m just your ‘best friend’” You were ranting now, unable to hide the annoyance you felt.

“Why does it matter what they say?” Zendaya quizzed, her hands playing with the waist string of your sweats. She looked up at you from her slumped down position on the sofa, her faint frown making you sigh.

“Because... don’t you feel is a bit homophobic?” You wondered, placing your phone face down on top of your stomach to give her your full attention. The brunette just shrugged nonchalantly and you let out another sigh picking your phone again to close the app, “I’m gonna head out.” It was best to just leave then, you didn’t want to get in a stupid argument with her not before you were set to leave for New York the very next morning. You began to incorporate but Zendaya’s hands gripped your thighs keeping them draped over hers.

“Y/n, come on.” She said, gorgeous hazel eyes pleading at you. What exactly? You had no idea but for a second, you were about to give in however a loud ding coming from your phone stopped you. Your eyes scanned the screen and the reminder that had popped up read ‘PACK ! 4 ! N Y C !’, you sent her an apologetic glance before getting off the sofa, gathering your stuff and petting Noon goodbye.

Zendaya had stood up from the sofa too, watching your every move intently, probably trying to figure out if you were upset with her. The truth was, you didn’t know if you were upset with her or with the media, it was possible that both had a little part in your now sour mood. “See you next week, best friend. Love you.” You joked before swinging the front door open and leaving. The week was going to feel like a month, you knew, but the hope that making that simple joke followed by the declaration would ease things up was strong.

But what did hopefulness ever bring if not disappointment and heartache?

Seeing medium-quality paparazzi pictures of your girlfriend as soon as you landed from a five-hour flight wasn’t exactly the way you wanted to be welcomed to New York. You sat quietly in the back of an Uber trying not to cry as your eyes stared at the images on your phone. A series of pictures of Zendaya and Tom leaving her house, —they must had been taken that morning while you were on your way to the airport— the further you scrolled down the Twitter trends the more you felt like throwing up. Them in his car. Tom’s hand reaching for Zendaya’s jaw. Both leaning in. Kissing. Laughing.

It felt like a punch to the face, it was the worst feeling you had ever endured and the people that caused it were the last you would’ve thought could ever dare to hurt you. Your trembling hands fumbled with the settings on your account, privating it and blocking her and Tom, doing the same with Instagram followed by their numbers on your phone. It felt like doing a cleansing, the pressure in your chest easing only minimally when you locked your phone and looked out into the running city. You wanted to scream and cry, break stuff, throw your phone away and not show to work, you just wanted to go hide in your Airbnb for the rest of the week and pretend you and Zendaya never happened.

The reality was that you two had happened and it was far too hard to pretend it didn’t, your heart ached both physically and metaphorically and you hated every second of it. For that week you spent in New York no one shut up about the photos, every person you worked with had that hot, brand new ‘goss’ about the pair that had hurt you so badly.

You sat in the quiet living room of the apartment you had been living in whilst in the big city, laptop sitting in front of you as you cancelled your flight back to LA, changing the tab to the Airbnb’s one to pay for a few more days. You had been holding yourself together the whole time you were there, work keeping you busy and sleeping pills doing their magic at the end of the day but it could only go so far. Glassy, stinging eyes stared blankly at the empty inbox of your email, the cursed images projecting over the blank space and you just weren’t strong enough anymore, you couldn’t, so you cried and choked and screamed until your throat and eyes were sore; until your whole body was drained of every bit of energy.

Little by little you were sweeping your life clean of her, clearing out your phone’s camera roll, changing your number. Deleting social media was a big no for your job so filtering everything and anything that had to do with them was the only option, that and spending little to no time online. You had stopped to think one night of the what-ifs of the situation, you were aware that Zendaya’s publicist wasn’t so happy about you and her dating publically and Tom’s was obsessed with boosting the Spider-man movies at all cost, still, giving you a heads up about it would had been the right thing to do.

For a year and a half, you made yourself busy, going back and forth wasn’t something you enjoyed but it worked to avoid unwanted visits and accidental encounters. Enough time had passed, you thought as you stopped booking in so many clients across the country and settled back in your LA home. “You know what? I could go for a thick, sugary milkshake, right now.” Naomi told you as you put down your half-empty box of fried noodles on the coffee table.

“Are you serious?” You asked incredulous receiving an enthusiastic nod from your friend. “Naomi, we just had Chinese and you wanna wash it down with a milkshake?” She rolled her eyes at you when you pointed it out.

“Fine, what about Bubble U? Bubble tea is Chinese isn’t it?” She offered, her question prompting you to send her an unamused glare. “Yep, Bubble U it is, then!” Naomi jumped up, going straight to the door. Reluctantly you got up from the floor, groaning all the way to the door where you got ready to go out, “Come on! It’ll be fun!” She chirped while she pulled you out of the house. You hated to admit it but you had completely modified your life after the heartbreak, once you settled back home you barely left it, you didn’t attend parties unless it was for work or go out with your friends unless it was at any of their houses. You didn’t walk around the city that often anymore in fear of bumping into her.

“I miss this.” You sighed as you walked down Chinatown with your friend, the coldness of your drink pleasant against the palm of your hand. “Just walking around town.” You continued taking a sip of the milk tea.

“I still don’t get why you had to stop going out with us.” Naomi said inciting you to turn to look at her, “I mean, I know why it’s just… you didn’t have to stop.” She rephrased it giving you an apologetic glance. You knew how much your friends hated the idea of you not being able to be you after the whole thing with Zendaya and Tom happened but it was your way of coping with it and even though they didn’t agree with it, they supported you.

“Well, I’m outside now, aren’t I?” You nudged her side with your elbow making her giggle as she nudged you back. “Maybe this is me getting back to my old self.” Hope laced your every word as you looked around the busy street. The way the golden light of the setting sun washed over the buildings made the outing worth the risk.

LA was the second-largest city in the United States, with a population of nearly four million that one could think the chances of crossing paths with a lover-turned-stranger was one in millions, yet, there you were rooted to the pavement as your wide eyes stared at the tall and thin figure coming out of one of the many restaurants that dotted the street. “Come on, let’s go back.” Naomi said, placing her hand on the crook of your elbow ready to pull you out of there but something inside your chest told you to keep moving forward.

So you did, you started walking again letting your friend’s hand slip away from you. She was quick to follow, whisper-shouting at you that whatever you were doing probably wasn’t the best idea. The closer you got to her the more nervous you felt, it’s been over a year since you last saw her and god, was she even more beautiful than before; long legs clagged in camel coloured trousers, feet sporting her beloved black converse. Her top was white, a little see-through and you cursed at how much it still drove you absolutely crazy in the most irritating sense.

Curls tucked into an elastic on top of her head in a carefree and relaxed way, a few stubborn strands hanging out framing her face and gracing her neck. She was laughing loudly at something Darnell said, that laugh you had forced yourself to forget but the second it hit your ears, you realised how badly you had missed it. Then everything stopped, Naomi’s panicked telling off, Darnell’s chatting and Zendaya’s laughing. It all had stopped but the rambling around the four of you.

You stood in front of Darnell while Naomi stood in front of Zendaya, your friend’s usually amicable attitude disrupted by the scowl on her face as she glared Zendaya’s way only the brunette’s pupils were set on you with no apparent intention of averting. “It’s you,” She breathed out, hope barely perceivable in her tone. You only hummed at the observation, your eyes moving from hers down to her hands that were gripping the long lanyard that held her phone around her neck. Her nerves were evident then, the intensity with which she clutched it seemed to be draining the blood flow from her fingers. “I— How—” Zendaya tried to speak but failed, letting out a shaky breath. “How have you been?”

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Naomi protested, you understood where your friend was coming from but you also needed that, you needed to speak to Zendaya just one more time to be able to finally let everything go. You needed her to confirm your theory just so you could move on and Darnell seemed to be on the same page as you for he stepped in between you and Naomi, throwing his arm around her shoulders to guide her away from you two. You heard her object some more but ultimately she complied and walked away.

“I’ve been fine. You?” You eventually spoke after short but agonising seconds of silence.

“I don’t know. There are good days among the terrible ones, so... fine, I guess?” She shrugged a shoulder. With a nod of your head, you looked past her over her shoulder to see a man pointing a camera at you, you were about to warn her when she began speaking again. “Y/n, I’m so sorry about—” Zendaya started but you shook your head no making her stop, you realised then that you did want to talk to her but not on the street in front of that many people and certainly not when there were paparazzi nearby.

“Heard the movie did well.” Your tongue betrayed your brain. Zendaya tried to speak once more but you cut her again. “I’m glad it did. Made it all worth it, didn’t it?” You faked a small smile nearly choking on the words, the anxious lump in your throat threatening to cut your airflow.

“No, It didn’t.” Zendaya denied taking a step closer to you forcing you to hold your breath with the sudden move. “I was a total asshole to you before you left, then Marla wanted me and Tom to do that for a while and I don’t even know why I did it.” She ranted in one breath.

“I upset you.” The statement earned you a furious head shake from the tall girl. “I did. I kept bugging you about the articles,” You carried on, inconspicuously your eyes started to line with tears. The more you talked the more you realised that maybe, just maybe there was a bit of blame in you too, however, that didn’t mean Zendaya was absolved from any. “You never said a thing to me about the stunt.”

“I felt like I didn’t need to, I wasn’t gonna do it.”

“But you did. The morning I left LA.” You mumbled, trying to hide from the second man with a camera that had appeared closer than the first.

“Fuck, I know it was a shitty thing to do and I’m sorry,” She took another small step forward.

“You always told me kissing in public wasn’t your thing.” You exposed, tears irrevocably breaking the surface tension and cascading down your cheeks. Flicking your gaze up at her you saw nothing but hurt and regret written all over her gorgeous face and your heart squeezed at the sight. She had never spoken about it and neither had you asked, you just felt it in your heart that she was scared of how the media would treat you both if they ever found out you were dating, you knew the times had changed but there were still closed-minded people that ran gossip magazines and could make your lives a living hell the moment they caught you holding hands in public or worst, kissing.

The murmuring around you increased, reminding you that you were in a very public place crying in front of your secret ex-girlfriend. “Fuck that.” Zendaya grumbled. One moment she was a small step away from you and the next her hands were cupping your face and her lips were softly pressed against yours. The action took your breath away instantly, still, you found yourself powerless against the familiar taste and feel of her and allowed her to kiss you as long as she wanted to in front of how many people she wanted to. There were yelps and gasps all around the two of you and you started to regain conscience and pulled away.

Wide, watery eyes staring up at the girl mere inches away from your face. “Th-there’s pap—”

“I don’t care.” She whispered before she captured your lips once more, this time deeper and twice as intensely as the first time. Your hands scurried to her waist, bringing her flush to your body as you kissed her back gladly, desperately wanting her lips to make the past year bleep out of your core memories.

The night went by slowly as if the universe was granting you more time to spend in the arms of the girl you loved. She never once let a second of silence go by you, filling it with a whispered apology and a kiss. You talked about everything the time you spent apart brought to both of you, she told you about firing her publicist right after the pictures came out, about how she understood why you had cut her off without any explanation and how bad both her and Tom felt with the whole thing.

Articles flooded the internet that very night as well as the next morning, however, neither of you knew of them right away for any device that could be hooked to a WiFi signal was rightfully turned off while you basked in the presence of each other under the covers of Zendaya’s bed.

“Spider-man Star Zendaya shares intense kiss with BFF, Celeb Stylist y/n l/n in the middle of Chinatown! Swipe to see the pictures!”

It might be 2021 but some things refused to change.

【 thank you so much for reading! ♡ please, consider reblogging and letting me know what you thought of this ♡ kit xx 】

[chloebeale]

i’m talking loud, not saying much

rating: G || words: 5.5k

bechloe week day two—bed sharing/one bed

read below or on ao3!

***

There is nothing—literally nothing—positive about this stupid new arrangement.

For the last few years, things have only seemed to go from bad to worse for Beca. First there was her deadbeat mother abandoning her, then her overzealous father ended up moving them from their quiet, comfortable hometown in favor of shacking up with Lady Tremaine—uh, Sheila, halfway across the damn country, and Beca’s life had effectively been thrown into a tailspin.

It is bad enough that she has to share a home with Sheila and her daughter, Juliet—unfortunately Beca’s age, unfortunately much taller, much prettier, much more popular than Beca—but to have to share a bedroom with her, too? God, that is...yeah, that is just the icing on this particularly terrible cake.

Now, she is expected to spend her free time with Juliet? When she really could’ve gotten their room to herself for the night?

Seriously, that is bordering on child abuse.

“I swear to God if you embarrass me…” Juliet mutters under her breath as they make their way up the winding path toward her friend’s obnoxiously large house, effectively breaking into Beca’s pity party of bitter thoughts. A long arm outstretches to drum a balled fist against the pristinely painted wood of the unfamiliar front door, and despite her sour mood over having to bring Beca along with her tonight, Juliet pushes a bright smile to her lips the second the sound of approaching footsteps begins to chime from the other side of the door.

Beca only rolls her eyes, thumbs looping through the straps of her backpack to hike it more comfortably into place.

Why she hadn’t protested more strongly before, she really does not know.

Beca usually loves Friday nights. Considering Juliet’s social status, she generally has Friday night plans, so Beca gets their shared room all to herself. It is just about the only time she ever has to unwind, in fact, but when her dad had made a big deal about how Beca needs to try to put herself out there and make some friends in Atlanta, and Sheila had suggested Juliet bring her along to Olivia’s sleepover tonight, no amount of groaning from either soon-to-be step-sister had been enough to shut their parents up.

“You’ll have so much fun, Bec! Sleepovers are great, you’ll really get to know all of the girls!” Her dad had stated much too enthusiastically while Beca had begrudgingly thrown items into her backpack.

“I hope you know I’m calling CPS later,” Beca had grumbled as she’d climbed without haste into the backseat of his car, earbuds quickly stuffed into her ears to drown out the sound of Juliet’s overly-peppy phone conversation radiating from the passenger seat.

That same pep—totally forced, Beca would argue; she has seen what a grumpy monster Juliet really is at home—returns effortlessly as the door swings open to reveal a beautiful brunette holding a bowl of what looks to be freshly popped popcorn in one hand and a brand new rose gold iPhone in the other.

“Jules!” Olivia greets pleasantly, though her expression falls slightly as her bright gaze shifts from Juliet’s dazzling smile and toward Beca’s tightened jaw. “Oh… You weren’t joking about bringing your sister.”

“Step-sister,” Beca grumbles quietly under her breath, gaze cast down toward her beat-up looking Vans. She can feel Juliet’s heated glare burning into the side of her head without even bothering to look up.

“Nope, not joking,” Juliet responds with a pop of the P, not-so-subtly shoving Beca out of the way to breeze into the house.

With a heavy sigh, Beca pushes away one last fleeting thought of turning and running away to sleep on the streets for the night, and forces herself to shuffle inside behind her.

“Guys, Jules is here!” Olivia announces as she leads the way through the entrance hallway and toward what Beca can only assume by the number of doors they pass is one of multiple living rooms. The other sleepover attendees erupt into a chorus of Juliet’s name, before Olivia continues, “And, uh…”

“Beca,” Juliet says through gritted teeth.

“Right, yeah,” Olivia nods, “her sister.”

Beca bites back the urge to correct her again—they are not sisters, they will never be sisters—and instead offers the room of expectant eyes a forced, tight-lipped smile, before she goes back to staring dutifully down toward her feet.

All anybody has to do is look around the room for half a second to see that Beca is entirely out of place among this particular group of people. They all sport full faces of makeup and wear their hair in neat, pretty styles, while Beca hides behind a layer of questionably thick eyeliner and limp tresses that have had nothing more than a comb pulled through them all day.

Unsurprisingly, none of the activities to commence now that they are all here—Juliet loves to be fashionably late—are of any interest whatsoever to Beca. She doesn’t care to call the boys they all think are sooo cute and promptly hang up when they answer, and when she refuses to pick dare on her second turn in Truth or Dare—she shrugged and said “pass” when asked if she’d ever ‘done anything with a boy’ after picking truth in the first round—they all seem to give up on halfheartedly trying to include her, so Beca shrugs and plugs her ears with her earbuds, and sits off to the side with her back to the couch, contentedly listening to music.

Beca can lose herself for hours in music. Among all of the huge, rapid changes in her life, especially in recent years, music has been her one constant. It is that one form of solace for Beca, so she doesn’t mind being left out, nor her presence being all but forgotten until she eventually has to answer nature’s call.

“Uh, where’s the bathroom,” Beca asks Juliet with a small tap on her shoulder, thumb sweeping over the pause button on her phone’s music player.

Clearly enraged to have been interrupted from her circle of friends, Juliet stares back at her with a face like thunder. “I don’t know. Go find it,” she scoffs, offering Beca nothing more than a shake of her head, before turning back to the talkative group.

Beca simply stares for a moment, before rolling her eyes hard enough that she can practically hear them rattling in her skull, then pushes herself lazily to her feet.

It is a big house—an obnoxiously big house, in fact—so it is probable that there is at least one bathroom on the ground floor, but Beca doesn’t feel like trying every door and potentially running into Olivia’s parents in one of the other living rooms, so she decides it is safer to check upstairs.

The first door she tries leads to an extravagantly decorated but empty bedroom, so Beca promptly steps back out and closes it behind her, before moving quickly onto the next. That one turns out to be another empty bedroom, too, so Beca hopes that it will be third time lucky, and meekly tries the next door.

This one is a bedroom, too, only this time, it is not quite empty, and Beca jumps slightly as she realizes she is intruding on someone’s personal space. “Oh, whoa. Sorry,” she says quickly, widened gaze landing on the sight of red curls and a nose buried deeply in a book.

“Hm?” The redhead questions, evidently too enthralled by her reading material to have even noticed Beca’s presence beforehand. Her eyes lift to land on the stranger in her room, though, and Beca finds herself slightly taken aback by just how intensely blue they are.

“Sorry,” Beca says again, her pale cheeks heating up with a splash of what she is positive is a very obvious shade of crimson. “I didn’t realize this was—I was looking for the bathroom.”

“Oh,” the other girl nods, neatly setting down her open book on the mattress before her. She offers Beca a friendly smile despite the intrusion. “That’s okay. The bathroom is two doors that way,” she says, pointing in the right direction.

Why Beca finds herself staring, she really does not know, but she catches herself after a short moment and quickly clears her throat. “Right, got it. Thanks.”

“Mhm,” the redhead smiles, bright eyes remaining on Beca. Beca is about to leave, though she notes the way the other girl seems to be studying her curiously, before piping up with, “Are you my sister’s friend? I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

“No,” Beca shakes her head, though realizes how bad that sounds and corrects herself quickly. “Uh, I mean, yeah. Or...I don’t know. My step-sister is friends with Olivia. She’s here for the sleepover, and my dad and her mom made her bring me.” As she speaks, Beca can hear just how ridiculously pathetic she sounds, and proceeds to mentally kick herself. “I guess I’m new to town or whatever.”

“Mm, that would explain why I haven’t seen you before,” the other girl nods, flattening her palms to the mattress to smoothly shift to her knees. “What’s your name? Or are you, like, peeing yourself and you have to leave right this second?”

“No,” Beca chuckles awkwardly, the bathroom almost forgotten about for a minute there. “No, it’s fine. I’m Beca,” she says. “My step-sister is friends with Olivia.”

“You said that already,” the redhead grins, to which Beca only mentally kicks herself again. “I’m Chloe, I’m actually Olivia’s step-sister, too.”

“Oh yeah?” Although she knows it is entirely possible for step-siblings to have healthy, good relationships, Beca can only assume judging from the scene before her that their situations may be somewhat similar. Chloe looks to be around their age, after all; surely she would be invited to the sleepover party going on in her home if she and Olivia were close, right?

“Mhm,” Chloe nods. “Which one is yours?”

Assuming Chloe is referring to which one is her step-sibling, Beca responds with an almost cautious, “Uh, Juliet Lyman.”

At that, Chloe immediately winces, and Beca cannot help the grin that breaks onto her lips in response.

“I’m sorry,” Chloe says with an apologetic look. “That was super mean.”

“No, it’s okay,” Beca promises with another small chuckle, this one much less awkward sounding than the last. “She’s kind of a dick.”

While she still looks a little bashful, almost like she feels that she spoke—or winced—out of line, Chloe’s stiffened shoulders ease then, and she offers Beca a gentle nod of her head. “Mm, I guess that makes sense. None of Olivia’s friends are particularly nice.”

Like something of a vampire, Beca rarely enters a room without invitation, so it is almost surprising to her that she seems to shift slowly inside now, but Chloe doesn’t seem to be put off. If anything, she only sends Beca a friendlier smile, and nods as if to tell her it is okay.

“I guess you’re not having a ton of fun down there, huh?” Chloe says somewhat sympathetically, motioning toward the door for Beca to close it behind her.

“Uh, yeah, no, I guess you could say that,” Beca frowns, following Chloe’s silent instruction to close the door. Much too focused on the pretty redhead whose privacy she accidentally invaded, she hasn’t taken much time to really study the room, but her eyes do a quick visual sweep now, and she finds that, while still beautifully decorated much like the rest of the house, this particular bedroom feels much more comfortable, much more homey than anywhere else. So as not to seem like a total weirdo, however, she brings her gaze back toward Chloe, then drops it to the book flattened on the bed before her. “What are you reading?”

“It’s called Looking For Alaska,” Chloe explains with a brief motion toward the book. “It’s really good so far. I’m halfway through and I’m dying to see how it ends.”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Beca nods. “Yeah. You should totally get back to that.”

“No,” Chloe shakes her head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t exactly enjoy being locked away in my room,” her nose wrinkles. “I actually kind of appreciate the company. There’s a bathroom right there, by the way,” she motions toward the adjoining ensuite, “if you still have to go.”

“Oh, yeah. Thanks.”

Chloe flashes her another kind smile while Beca shuffles by the bed and toward the bathroom door, then disappears inside.

Unlike Chloe, who apparently appreciates awkward new company, Beca is definitely more of a lone wolf. She prefers her own space, and will generally engage in as little social interaction as possible, but she finds that she does not feel completely uncomfortable with Chloe. In fact, after being ignored for the last hour in a room full of people, she would go so far as to say she is actually kind of glad she walked in here.

Upon returning from the ensuite facilities, Beca wonders where to go from here. She wonders if it is weird to try to stick around, if she should begrudgingly go back downstairs and rejoin the party, but she finds that Chloe has pushed her book aside, and pats the mattress to invite Beca to sit.

“Are you sure?” Beca questions, though she makes her way toward the bed regardless.

“Totes,” Chloe nods. “I told you, I like the company, and you’re not having any fun down there, so.”

“True,” Beca agrees, shuffling over to plop neatly onto the end of the bed.

“Do you go to Barden?” Chloe asks conversationally, head tilted slightly and eyes trained curiously on Beca’s face. Again, she seems to be studying her, and Beca doesn’t quite understand why she is not more weirded out.

Beca frowns in response, though eventually nods her head. “Yeah, I do. I don’t really like it, though. My old school was...well, it was still high school. I guess I was just more comfortable there or whatever, though.”

“I get that,” Chloe says with a somewhat sympathetic smile. “We moved here halfway through freshman year, and I was super sad to leave my old school. It’s hard trying to fit into a new place where everybody already knows each other, huh?”

“Yeah,” Beca nods, a hard sigh escaping through her flared nostrils. “Tell me about it.” She pauses then, this time eyeing Chloe curiously in return. “Wait, but you, like, made friends since then, right? I mean, how long have you been here?”

“Oh, yeah, tons,” Chloe says with a nod of her head. “Just not Olivia’s friends. I’ve been here almost two years now.”

“So you’re a junior?” Beca asks, to which Chloe nods again. “Me too. It’s kinda weird I haven’t seen you around.”

“It is,” Chloe agrees, bright gaze still comfortably studying Beca. Eye contact has always been a difficult thing for Beca, but she finds that it is somehow easy to hold Chloe’s. “I definitely haven’t seen you at school, though. I feel like I would’ve remembered you.”

“Yeah?” Beca questions with an awkward laugh and a lift of her brow. “I’m not the most memorable of people.”

“I would’ve remembered you,” Chloe repeats, her curious expression smoothing into something of a somewhat knowing smile, under which Beca feels her cheeks rapidly beginning to heat up again. Chloe lifts a hand to motion toward Beca’s earbuds, the wire of which hangs limply down her chest. “What are you listening to?”

“Uh, I think it was David Guetta,” Beca responds with a scrunch of her nose. “I don’t remember, I turned it off before I came up here. I have Titanium stuck in my head, though, so it was probably that.”

“Titanium is awesome,” Chloe says with an approving smile as she scoots back to rest against the headboard with the pillows stacked up behind her. “Can we listen together?”

“Oh,” Beca glances toward the space beside Chloe. “Uh, sure. If you want.”

“I do,” Chloe nods, patting the empty spot for Beca to join her.

Shuffling to sit beside her, Beca arranges the spare pillows to make a backrest, then offers one of the wired buds out to Chloe, who takes it with a gracious smile, before slotting it into her ear. Beca does the same with the other, before hitting play on her phone screen. She had the volume up pretty loud before, but makes sure to turn it down a few notches as Titanium begins spilling through the buds in the place she’d left it off before.

“This was my audition song for the Bellas,” Chloe hums fondly, shoulders relaxing as she eases back more comfortably into her stacked pillows.

“The what?” Beca questions with a curious side glance.

“The Barden Bellas. It’s our school’s a cappella group. That’s actually where I met most of my friends.”

“A cappella,” Beca echoes, lips pulling inward in a failed attempt to bite back an amused smile. “Like...synchronized nerd singing?”

“It’s not nerd singing,” Chloe giggles, lightly swatting at Beca’s arm. “It’s fun. And all of the girls are super nice. We’re like a little family.”

“Whatever you say, dude,” Beca chuckles, and finds that she has very comfortably slotted into this little space beside a person who was a total stranger to her only moments earlier. It is an odd feeling for her, but it is certainly not an unwelcome one. “So, you sing?”

“I do,” Chloe says proudly. “I love to sing. Do you?” Before Beca gets the chance to respond, Chloe sits a little further upright, eyes lighting up with excitement. “Oh, you should totes audition for the Bellas!”

“Whoa, slow down,” Beca warns with another amused chuckle. “I’m not nerd singing with anybody. Besides, I don’t even sing.”

“That’s a lie,” Chloe says, “everybody sings. Whether you sing well or not is another story, but everybody sings.”

“Yeah?” Beca lifts a brow. “Not me.”

“I bet you do,” Chloe counters, motioning toward Beca’s phone where the current track is winding down to its end. “I bet when you’re alone, you turn up the volume and you belt out this song to your empty bedroom.”

“Shut up,” Beca grumbles with a fond roll of her eyes and a hint of amusement lacing her grumbly tone.

While Chloe giggles quietly, she relaxes back into the pillows again. “You would love the Bellas. You’d make a ton of friends, and it’s super easy to sing when everybody else around you is doing it,” she says, reaching down to tap on the back-skip button on Beca’s screen, effectively restarting the song. “Sing with me. This can be your audition, and if you’re good, I’ll tell the others.”

“Dude, no,” Beca frowns, shaking her head as the beginning of the song starts to filter through her one earbud again.

“You interrupted my reading time,” Chloe states with a lifted brow and a smug smirk painting itself onto her lips. “The least you could do is sing with me.”

“Sing with you? Right now? That’s so weird. You’re so weird,” Beca says, her brow lifting the same way as Chloe’s. Despite her protests, she can feel her resolve softening already. Like Chloe whose last name Beca doesn’t even know apparently just has some kind of weird, calming spell on her. It helps that, despite saying she doesn’t sing, she actually very much does—and she is pretty freaking good at it, too.

“Just the chorus,” Chloe presses, pushing herself upright again and pointing animatedly toward her phone. “Look, it’s coming up. Just sing it with me.”

Beca scowls in response, so Chloe sends her a bright, encouraging smile, and when Beca does not outright protest again, Chloe excitedly nods her head.

Sucking in a deep breath through her nose, Beca’s jaw sets for a second, but she can feel herself preparing to start singing. She has a feeling Chloe knows she is going to, too.

“I’m bulletproof, nothing to lose…” Beca starts through gritted teeth along with the song, though she softens some at the way Chloe’s eyes instantly light up all over again.

“Fire away, fire away,” Chloe chimes in, and Beca finds that she has to pause for a second, because even with the actual song filtering into one ear, she can hear how good Chloe sounds in the other. In fact, she can hear how good they both sound as they begin to effortlessly harmonize.

As the chorus ends, they both come to a stop, too, and Beca had not realized before, but it turns out that their eyes were trained on one another’s the entire time. She doesn’t quite register it until her gaze falls to Chloe’s excited smile—the same way she doesn’t register her own smile, though once she does, she quickly wipes it away.

“I knew you were lying,” Chloe says triumphantly. “I knew you could sing. And you sounded so good, too. You have to audition for the Bellas.”

In true Beca Mitchell fashion, Beca’s cheeks have heated up, though she hopes her frown will distract from the redness in her face. “What? Dude, I thought you said that was my audition.”

“So you want to join?” Chloe asks hopefully, to which Beca immediately pauses.

“I didn’t say that,” she eventually says, arms folding tightly across her middle.

“Well, I’m gonna tell the girls how good you are, and Aubrey—she’s our captain—will be on your case until you agree to join, so.”

“You’re so annoying,” Beca chuckles, sinking back against the pillows. “You’re really persistent, huh?”

“When I want something,” Chloe shrugs, trailing off to hum along quietly with the song.

“Yeah?” Beca lifts a brow. “And what do you want?”

“You,” Chloe says casually, and Beca’s mouth opens when that seems to be the end of Chloe’s response, though she pipes up again then, “to join the Bellas.”

“I—” Beca falters, and registers the way her heart rate has for some unknown reason increased slightly. She tells herself it is simply due to the impromptu duet—she may sing when she is alone, but she never does it in front of anybody, and certainly never with anybody—though she has an odd inkling that that is not solely the case. “I’ll think about it,” she grumbles, turning her focus to her phone screen.

Chloe grins brightly at that, clearly very pleased with herself. “Awes.”

For the next little while, they remain in their comfortable position side by side with their backs against the pillows, listening to Beca’s playlist and casually conversing. Much like she had found Chloe easy to be around right away, Beca finds that that same feeling only continues. In fact, it almost intensifies—it is not often that Beca Mitchell finds herself this comfortable with a new person, but she really is strangely comfortable with Chloe.

In fact, Beca doesn’t even realize how much time has passed until her phone screen lights up with a new text message notification, and she glances down with a frown when she sees who it is from.

Juliet where are you? i swear if you went home and told your dad we were leaving you out or whatever i’ll deny it and all of the girls will back me up

In response, Beca sucks in a deep sigh through her nostrils. “She’s so annoying,” she mutters, gaze flickering toward the much later time. She knows that she should probably leave, that she should go rejoin the party at which she was having absolutely no fun, but the thought of doing so is draining, and Beca sinks even further back into the pillows behind her. “God, I don’t wanna go back down there.”

“So don’t,” Chloe shrugs, glancing toward the open text message on Beca’s cracked phone screen.

“It’s, like, almost twelve,” Beca frowns, using one finger to lazily type out hanging with olivia’s step-sister in the chat bar. “You’re gonna wanna sleep, and I probably should, too.”

“You can sleep in here,” Chloe hums, stretching out her legs and wiggling her toes beneath her socks. The cartoon corgis adorning the fabric are pretty freaking adorable, though Beca totally won’t say so.

Instead, her brow crawls a little higher in response. “What, like in your bed?”

“You think I’m gonna make you sleep on the floor?” Chloe counters with a look of fond amusement.

“Uh, no,” Beca shakes her head. “Yeah, I guess that’s—dude, isn’t that weird?”

“You’re at a sleepover with a bunch of people you don’t even like, you were gonna be sharing a bed with at least one or two of them,” Chloe shrugs, then gently shakes her head. “It’s not weird, you can sleep in here.”

“Uh,” Beca pauses, thinking it over for a second. “Are you sure?”

“Totes,” Chloe nods, eyeing Beca for a moment. Her lips twist into something of an amused grin when she clearly notes her apprehension. “What, do you think I’m gonna try to make a move on you or something?”

Beca’s instant reaction is not the one she expects. She expects to splutter and for her tired eyes to shoot further open, but instead she only stares at Chloe with an arched brow. “I don’t know, are you?”

“What if I did?”

At that, Beca’s mouth hangs open slightly, the same way it had earlier. In response, Chloe only giggles brightly again, and Beca registers that there is something almost melodic about the sound. “I’m kidding,” she promises, amusement lacing her tone as she removes the earbud and begins to push herself up from the mattress. “I’m gonna get ready for bed. Go grab your stuff and come back up here.”

Although Beca’s shoulders sag with something akin to relief, she doesn’t quite understand why a wave of disappointment washes over her, too. Does she want Chloe to make a move?

Does Chloe want to?

What even is a move, exactly?

Either way, Beca attempts a nonchalant shrug as she rises from the bed, a feeling of slight dread coursing through her at the idea of having to go back downstairs, even if only to grab her things.

It turns out, however, that the worry is needless, because nobody even entertains her with so much as a glance as she enters the large living room in pursuit of her belongings. Well, nobody but Juliet, and even then it is only for her to shoot Beca a quick glare before she goes back to talking to her friends.

Deciding that it might be a little weird to change for bed in Chloe’s room, Beca makes her way back up the stairs and toward the bathroom she hadn’t gotten to before. She momentarily holds her breath as she opens the door, worried about the idea of bumping into another peppy stranger, but it turns out to be the correct room, and Beca changes and washes up quickly, before making her way back to Chloe.

“Oh, whoa—” Beca’s response is much the same as last time, except this time she lifts a hand to quickly cover her eyes, the crimson color in her cheeks rising toward the tips of her ears.

“What?” Chloe questions, evidently entirely unperturbed despite Beca walking in on her in the process of pulling on her pajama top—under which she is not wearing a bra. “Oh… They’re just boobs.”

Beca practically chokes at that, blindly making her way into the room and shoving the door closed behind her. “Dude, I don’t need to see them.”

Chloe’s amused giggle rings through the air. “Sorry. In my defense, this is my room, and I figured you’d knock before you came in,” she says, taking a second or two to adjust her pajamas, before Beca hears her gliding toward the bed. “It’s safe for you to uncover your eyes.”

That considered, perhaps sharing a bed with Chloe for the night is not the most awkward thing anymore, so although cautiously, she lowers her hand from her face, lips pulled inward as she makes her way toward the bed. “I’m guessing that’s your side?” she asks, motioning toward the spot Chloe had taken before.

“Yep,” Chloe nods, peeling back the comforter to slip beneath it. “Sometimes I curl up in a ball in the middle, but I always at least start out on this side.”

Why the mental image is so cute to Beca, she opts not to question, and instead simply slides into the other side. “Cool. My bed’s a single, so I guess I don’t really have a side.”

“Single beds are super cozy,” Chloe hums, reaching behind herself to flatten the previously propped up pillows, before shuffling to make herself comfortable.

“They suck,” Beca frowns. “I’m actually kinda jealous of you with this. Your room is, like, bigger than my dad’s house, in fact.”

“Your dad’s house?” Chloe echoes, twisting onto her side once Beca has laid herself down, too. “It’s not your house?”

“Doesn’t feel like it,” Beca shrugs, automatically twisting her body to face Chloe.

In response, Chloe sends her a somewhat sympathetic smile, so Beca only shrugs once more. “How long have you been there?”

“Too long,” Beca grumbles, sticking one arm out of the comforter to rest her palm against the pillow by her head. Her cheek rests against the back of her hand, and Beca notes that she only feels more and more comfortable with Chloe by the second—and not just because of the ridiculously comfortable mattress. “About four months now.”

Chloe seems to consider for a moment, before eventually nodding her head. “You’ll start to feel better about it soon,” she promises in a softer voice, her hand reaching out to settle delicately over Beca’s for a short moment, before sliding it away.

It is interesting, the fact that her father has told her the same thing a million times, but that each time, Beca has only scoffed in response. For some reason, though, when it is Chloe telling her, Beca cannot help but believe her, and responds with a soft sigh, followed by a small smile of her own.

“I’m gonna turn out the light,” Chloe says, before commanding Alexa to do just that. Soon, the light in the previously bright room grows dimmer, until they are engulfed in a blanket of darkness—seriously, what a relief; Juliet makes them sleep with a night lamp on every night.

Considering it is still difficult, after four months of living there, for Beca to fall asleep in her bedroom, she expects it to be the same here. It is still something she considers unfamiliar territory, so Chloe’s room should be even more so, but as the room around her grows still, she finds that her eyes begin to grow quickly heavy. The soft sound of Chloe’s quiet breathing seems to help somehow, too.

“Beca,” she hears after a moment of silence, Chloe’s voice much softer than it was before.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you for walking in here tonight,” Chloe continues, and soon Beca feels a hand laying across her own once more. Her natural instinct would normally be to pull away, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t understand why, she just...doesn't. “I really do appreciate the company.”

“Yeah?” Beca chuckles quietly, her own voice growing quieter with those telltale signs of tiredness. “It’s cool. I liked it, too.”

“Mm,” Chloe hums, the tips of her fingers stroking feather lightly over the back of Beca’s hand. Again, Beca does not pull away. In fact, she actually kind of likes it. “I really hope you do join the Bellas. I kind of wanna keep you around.”

Although she is positive Chloe just wants someone to add to their singing group, something about the statement causes Beca’s heart to flutter slightly. Honestly, she is just not used to someone actually wanting her around—it is not like Juliet does, and she is pretty sure Sheila doesn’t, either—but it is particularly nice to her that Chloe wants her around specifically.

“Ditto,” she mumbles, her thumb instinctively rising to brush softly over the side of Chloe’s pinky finger.

There is a stillness to follow, a calmness that Beca is not altogether used to, but again, it is something she welcomes. Something she has been yearning for for months now, in fact. No, years.

Although she feels sleep beginning to instantly overtake her, and she really doesn’t want to break the comfortable silence, a nagging voice in Beca’s head instructs her to do so. The kind that causes her heart to race again, and Beca licks over her now dry lips as she wonders if she will actually do it or not.

“Chloe,” she murmurs quietly, a part of her hoping Chloe is one of those people who can fall asleep pretty much as soon as their head hits the pillow—but a stronger part of her hoping not. Either way, she continues in a quiet voice, “If you did wanna make a move, you can.”

There is another silence to follow, a short stretch in which Beca’s heart thunders and she wonders if perhaps Chloe is already out, before she feels soft fingers slotting through the gaps in her own, then registers her sleepy, whispered response, 

“I just did.”

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (5)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters:  Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

START  / RREV / NEXT

Ms Iroi always tries to engage him in conversation whenever she comes in, asking questions and chatting to herself in a fruitless attempt at helping him recover his 'lost' memories. Most of the time, Kakashi is indifferent to her presence and always has a magazine handy as an excuse not to talk.

Today, Iroi is in a particularly good mood, humming to herself, greeting him with an energetic, “How are you doing today!”

Kakashi grunts a noncommittal response which doesn’t do much to discourage the woman’s good mood as she runs through a check-up routine.  

“You should try watching U.A’s sports festival tomorrow. I hear it’s going to be particularly spectacular this year,” she says as she pulls the blinds on Kakashi's window, blocking out the distant city lights. 

U.A? he recognises the name. Kakashi glances up over the pages of HERO!! MONTHLY BREAKDOWN. It is the third time he has read this issue.

“You know, since you like reading those hero magazines, I figured you would be interested in watching the ‘next generation of heroes’ debut,” she continues, noting his attention, “U.A always puts on a good show.”

Kakashi frowns. The problem with his amnesia cover story is that he is still trying to figure out what he can get away with not remembering. So far the doctor’s seem content to chalk up the disappearance of his long term memories to a ‘quirk’ accident but were always more concerned when he failed to recall basic factual information. Something to do with different parts of the brain being responsible for different types of information.

 “Watch how?” He settles on asking. U.A. was supposed to be a hero-training academy so whatever this ‘sports festival’ was was worth checking out. 

“Oh,” Iori pauses to think, “I, ah, think channel 2 with be covering it?” she hesitates, “You know what. I’ll look it up and let you know later. Sorry, I can’t carry my phone around with me while on shift.”

“Thank you.” He smiles and makes a show of returning to his magazine to dissuade further conversation.

Later the same evening, just before the end of the evening shift, Iori pokes her head into his room again. She is out of uniform, long hair untired, waving to catch his attention.

“The coverage is on channel 2 and starts at 11am,” She holds up her portable communication devise like it means something.  It probably did mean something. The frequency by which people checked them suggested it had a function beyond basic communication. He has held off attempting to steal one because, unlike pens, people would notice and care if one went missing.  

“Have fun watching! Oh… also, I forgot to ask…”

Kakashi raises a brow.

“I have a bunch of old gossip magazines. Mum used to read them all the time and there are a few hero-themed ones in the mix. I can bring them in if you want more stuff to read.” 

“If you want.” Iori must have noticed him re-reading the magazines. 

"I'll bring them on Friday!"

Iori had been unsubtly hinting that Kakashi might have had a history in heroics. It definitely wasn’t because reading information on a page just made sense when compared to the barrage of conflicting reports the television gave him. A few weeks with only the television as his information source has him writing off most of its information as useless or propaganda.  

…

...

“HEELLLOOOOO, LISTENERS!”

Kakashi stares dully as the video footage, which had been giving him a bird’s eye view of a positively massive stadium, changes to a sweeping shot of what must be thousands of people crammed into seats. It almost makes him claustrophobic just watching it.

“WELLCOME TO OUR ANNUAL U.A. SPORTS FESTIVAL! THE HIGH SCHOOL ADOLESCENT RODEO YOU ALL LOVE TO WATCH. CAN A GET A ‘OH YEAH!’”

As if of one mind, thousands of people leap to their feet screaming. The camera angle changes again to show a grinning blond-haired man, seated at a desk and pointing enthusiastically at the camera. All these shot changes are going to give him a headache. Kakashi is already having reservations watching this and its only10 minutes.

“Thank you! You’re an AMAZING audience!”

 It almost reminds him of the final Chunin Exam stages -if the Chunin exams had had three times the audience - which always involved some sort of combat display.  There hadn’t been any public Chunin Exams recently for reasons such as a large portion of Konoha being flattened by Pein.

“FIRST UP ARE OUR FIRST-YEAR EVENTS! And what an exciting round of events they are, perfect for debuting our newest students! Give us a shout so they can feel your support!”

Another loud shot as thousands of people yelled in unison.

“Come on! Louder than that! These are your future Heroes I’m talking about! SHOW THEM SOME LOVE!”

More yelling. Kakashi turns down the volume.

“But! Wait just a minute!! We're not only here for our Hero students! As I'm sure you all know, behind every great hero is a hardworking support team! GIVE IT UP FOR our Support, Management and General departments who are also competing for a chance to face off in the finals!”

Kakashi sighs. He is getting the sense that this might be more for entertainment than utility purposes, conforming to the general trend of Hero-related stuff being flashy. Different from the Chunin exam which had deadly consequences if not taken seriously.

“Hey. Hey! HERE THEY COME NOW! OUR STUDENTS PARTICIPATING IN THE FIRST YEAR STAGE!”

What follows is an overly dramatized race where the only thing of interest to him are the obstacle types, including robots, - mobile mechanical weapons of some sort that produced a lot of environmental damage but were taken down fairly easily- and explosive devices that acted a lot like explosive tags. Then there was a team elimination round and one-on-one tournament fights after which the coverage shifts to the second year and third year stages.

He uncovers the sharingun only to discover that, while its memorisation function worked fine, the part that translated the movements into muscle memory felt off. Perhaps, the replication and copying component of the eye didn’t work when viewing a technique through a screen rather than in person. Interesting. As there wasn't anything particularly impressive technique-wise during the events he counts the new information as a net gain. 

The student-heroes – he is not sure if there is an official term for a hero in training – barely match Konoha’s academy standard in their taijutsu and physical conditioning though there was marked improvement between first, second and third-year groups. These students were what...between 14-18 years old...and yet most had the skill level of an academy  students and fresh genuin with only a few notable exceptions?

Sure, there were - honestly ridiculous- versatile and powerful bloodline abilities being thrown around like nothing, but ninjutsu techniques only took a shinobi so far without a strong base to work from. He shakes his head, reminding himself that these kids - because what else did you call combatants who hadn’t graduated yet- weren’t shinobi in training and would be policing civilians and engaging ‘Villains’ of similar skill levels. It was obvious that the students favoured non-lethal takedown methods and put little to no thought into stealth and misdirection during fights. 

Different words…different priorities. 

As Kakashi has yet to see any evidence that the country, Japan, was at war with another he thinks the skill level displayed might be serviceable. There were also no major conflicts between the country’s large cities over farmland, water sources and the like. Obviously, this place had sorted out the resource and distribution issues usually encountered when supporting such large populations. Or, who knows, maybe everything on the television was a carefully constructed lie to lull people into complacency.

Now he has seen an example of hero-students, he better understands the low combat ability demonstrated by the police. It also gives incite into the blurry recordings of Hero/Villain confrontations which played on repeat across the various ‘news’ reports. They all tended to hover around Chunin or maybe Special Jounin in terms of skill. He knows generalisations are dangerous so, until he saw the combat in person, he would exercise his usual level of caution. There were bound to be outliers after all-the impressive brute strength of the number one hero comes to mind- and there was no telling what advantages a bloodline ability might provide. Absently, he makes testing the susceptibly of people without chakra to genjustu as something to figure out sooner rather than later.

He sighs. This is why he hated the television. Whenever he watched it, he came away increasingly confused, with more questions than he had answers. Not to mention anything useful being constantly interrupted with information detailing one of the many products that he could apparently buy here. It irritated him to no end. 

...

...

The chakra collecting seal is ready before the week is out. Mostly ready...it was ready enough.

Kakashi returns to the roof. Sitting cross-legged, back against the stairway entrance, he works his way through the 100 or so pens, cracking them open and tapping out ink into a large bowl, stolen -like the pens -from hospital staff.

The mix of black, blue and red ink is gluggy, forcing him to add water to thin the solution out. Once satisfied he pulls out an appropriated scalpel – one of a growing collection hidden alongside his pens because having a stash of weapons is never a bad thing- pricking his middle finger, watching the blood drip and curdle with the mixture. The blood would be absorbed into the ink, allowing it to conduct chakra. He mixes everything with pair of disposable chopsticks, taking care not to spill it on the ground or stain his hands.

The whole process reminds him of other insistences where he had improvised fuinjutsu ink in the field. The last time being during his final Anbu missions where he had created a body storage scroll from scratch after unexpectedly losing a squad mate on what should have been a simple intel retrieval mission. Not a particularly fond memory but a memory he was stuck with.

Since his demotion to Jonin-sensei there had been fewer of those sorts of missions. Not that being a Jonin-sensei had been easy – considering all his students had gone off to find other teachers he didn't even think he had been particularly good at it - bringing with it its own special brand of stress, culminating in a stint as Hokage, a fourth war and him stuck here. He is pretty sure his experiences aren't universal. Team 7 was just cursed to fail in increasingly spectacular ways.

He lets out a heavy sigh, leaving his airways open to a sudden gust of cold wind which carries the scent of cleaning chemicals from the hospital and oil from the road straight up his nose. He exhales forcefully and mentally bumps finding a face mask up his list of priorities. It would be good for hiding his features and dulling the artificial smells of a city housing over a million people.

The sound of wind whistling around the building almost blocks out the echo of feet in the stairway, approaching his location. In one smooth motion, Kakashi stands pushing the remaining broken pen back into the vent, nudging the cover back in place with his foot. Carefully he holds the bowl of ink in his injured arm and a scalpel in the other. Kakashi steps back against the entrance so the outward opening door would hide him from whoever came out.

A crying kid comes barrelling through the door.

Well, not completely crying, more like sniffing loudly, eyes all shiny. He even recognises the kid from the U.A combat demonstration, as improbable as that was. It is the first year hero student with the speed-enhancing ability which, seeing him up close, probably had something to do with the strange growths coming out of his caff muscles. High speed movement put enormous strain on the body so he could reasonably conclude that the kid was physically resilient to acceleration stress and similar forces. Not resilient to stabbing though....

Kakashi forces himself to relax, his scalpel lowering ever so slightly. Lucky he had heard the kid coming or he might have accidentally hurt him. A few weeks of reduced sleep coupled with a lot of time to ruminate on past missions and failures has put him on edge. This was exactly why he disliked taking extended breaks. 

Maybe, Kakashi should start relocking the stairway if he was planning to make regular trips up here because the young male probably hadn’t had the roof in mind as a destination. Kakashi knows from experience that, unless you were injured or a member of staff, there were few good reasons to wander around a hospital at odd hours.

With the hero-student distracted sniffling into his arm, Kakashi slips around the door and back down the stairs. He hadn’t planned on applying the seal on the roof anyway. Too exposed to the elements and the concrete was too rough for the delicate line work.

He continues mixing while he walks, having mentally mapped the hospital well enough to know which hallways to use and which to avoid. There is a surgeon with some sort of heat-sensing vision who works late most nights that he must be careful around and a nurse with a weak proximity based empathic ability working in paediatrics. Both obstacles force him to take a meandering detour on his way to the ground floor and  the larger shower blocks which housed  cubicles the size of small rooms. Enough smooth floorspace for the expanded seal design and easy to clean afterwards. He supposes he is lucky, some complicated fuinjutsu required several meters worth of floor space. The containment on Saskue’s cursed seal comes to mind and he is glad that this seal is infinity smaller.

Not one to waste time knowing that nurses and patients regularly used the space even this late in the evening, he immediately slips into a cubicle upon arrival. Flopping onto the floor he pulls out the paintbrush he had had scour the hospital for and eventually to steal from the children’s ward. Carefully, he begins the slow process of application.

…

…

The final seal design is circular, about the size of his splayed hand, positioned on his uninjured shoulder just above where his Anbu seal had previously sat. The sleepwear provided by the hospital had sleeves that extend just past his bicep. It hid the design, for the most part. The final visible seal is a bit bigger than he had predicted or planned for. If this were a proper infiltration mission, where blowing his cover came at the price of death, he would be in big trouble. If this were a proper mission, he would have waited before applying this. An unnecessary risk. He itches the back of his head, turning from where he is craning his neck to see the seal, gathering up his supplies to be thrown in one of the hospital’s many rubbish bins. Kakashi lets out a breath. Maybe, this whole ‘trapped in a different world’ thing is affecting him more than he was willing to admit and making him sloppy.

He pulls down the sleeve so it mostly hides the design. Not like the doctors here would recognise the significance of fuinjutsu, he reminds himself, even if their questions would be annoying to deflect.

He pumps chakra into the seal and a jolt akin to lightning runs down his limb. It activates without issue and Kakashi grimaces as his chakra is slowly drained and collected. The rate of the drain is pathetically slow. Three years too slow. But, between this and his sharingan - which was always active and draining chakra- he can’t risk making it quicker. Despite the relatively low-level threats around him, Kakashi is, first and foremost, a Jonin in an unknown territory who is already taking risks simply making and applying the seal. He can’t afford to impair himself with poor chakra management on top of everything else.

Kakashi pops his head out of the cubical, scanning the shower block. Nothing of note has changed and he darts out, intent on returning to his room. He is tired and it would be a long, tiresome week as his body adjusted to the strain as well.

NEXT  

[seasonofthewicth]

A Groovy Kind of Love - Chapter 6

AN: I feel like I’ve got my mojo back with this fic a little bit, this was so fun to write and I hope it’s fun to read too!

masterlist

------

First days were always nerve-racking, and this one was no different.

Aelin knew she had no real reason to be nervous other than the fact it was new, she had prepared what she needed, even taking extra time this morning to make sure she had put on a swipe of make-up and a smart outfit to feel primed for the day.

She’d taken it upon herself to wake Fenrys up half an hour earlier than normal to make sure he would be ready to leave on time, she knew he normally rocked up to the school right on the bell, but she needed to be at least five minutes early to meet the principal, lest she look unprepared.

Fenrys had left her outside the principal’s office, waiting for the woman to arrive, taking in the blue carpet of the floor and the wooden panels of the walls. The school was in an old building, with mostly traditional décor that gave it character unlike her old school. She liked it. Even though the chair she sat in was hard and uncomfortable as she shifted her weight while she waited for the principal to appear.

She had been thankful for Fenrys’ comforting presence in the car on their way, he had chattered away filling her in on the harmless school gossip, distracting her from her worries about the new school, but now he was gone, off to teach his own classes for the day, the nerves had settled back in.

He had been almost more excited than Aelin about her new role, glad to have her at the school, and he had championed most of the drinking the night she had found out. She had had a great night, each of her friends seemed genuinely happy for her and had toasted to her all night, even once she had gone to bed they had continued to celebrate.

She hadn’t managed to quiz Lysandra after her kiss with Aelin’s cousin, whenever Aedion came up between the two Lysandra had been quick to change the subject, embarrassed at her drunk actions and the fact that they had even played truth or dare at all.

Aedion had recovered well, from Lysandra’s determined ignorance of his existence every time she saw him since, and Aelin was relatively sure he had brought a guest home from the night she hadn’t made it out to and had instead gone to bed.

Gone to bed might have been putting it generously, she remembered the way Rowan had guided her to her room. A gentle hand making sure she didn’t stumble, tucking her sheets over her and leaving a glass of water for her to down in the morning.

Her heart gave a squeeze at how gentle he had been.

Heels clacked against the cheap flooring and she glanced up. The woman striding towards her was dressed smartly in a black pencil skirt and a navy blue blouse. She had a couple of decades on Aelin, but her dark locks didn’t have even a hint of grey, nor did her harsh face have the beginning of a wrinkle.

The woman strode up to Aelin and presented her with a hand.

“Miss Galathynius I presume? Welcome to our school.” Her voice was stern but polite and Aelin stood and shook the hand she was offered. “I’m Maeve Valg, Principal, we’re glad to have you on board. Please follow me.”

The woman, Maeve, led the way into the office Aelin had been sat outside. Aelin nodded, greeting the woman and following her in.

Inside the office it was tidy, shelves lined the walls, overflowing with books and files, but organised in a way that Aelin was jealous of. Her own organisation wasn’t lacking, it couldn’t be, as a teacher she needed to know where things were, but she could never reach this level of military-style precision.

The Principal took a seat behind the large wooden desk in the centre of the room and Aelin dropped to the seat on the other side, facing her.

“Welcome,” She said again, a polite smile on her lips.

“Thank you, it’s great to be here.” Aelin said, folding her hands in her lap.

First impressions were important, and she knew she’d be able to get away with much more at a later date if she gave Maeve the initial impression that she was to be trusted.

Maeve nodded.

“It’s great to have you here, I was impressed with your interview, and I’m confident that you will fit into our school ethos well.”

Aelin smiled. She knew from Fenrys that the school valued the community spirit and communication between teachers a departments, she was excited to get stuck in. She told Maeve as much and she received another slight smile.

A knock sounded at the door behind her and Maeve called for whoever was on the other side to come in.

“Ah yes,” Maeve said standing from behind her desk. “I’ve invited Mr Havilliard to show you around. He can give you a bit more information than I can as I have to attend a meeting now.”

Aelin turned to the man in the doorway and saw he was grinning at her.

He was as handsome as a Disney prince, his thick dark hair curled around his ears, and his deep blue eyes were striking and sparkling. She took in his clean white shirt and pressed trousers where he stood. He wasn’t as tall as her roommates, but he still tilted his chin to smile down at her.

“Dorian Havilliard.” He offered his hand. “At your service.”

She shook his hand. “Aelin Galathynius.”

He grinned at her even wider than before. “Follow me Aelin,” He turned to the door with a nod behind her at the principal.

“Thanks,” She smiled at the dark haired woman before following Dorian out the door.

Once in the hall, his posture relaxed, and Aelin adjusted hers in response. He led the way down the nearest hallway, the corridors empty of any students given that the first period had already begun.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s a hard ass, but you get used to it.” He told her, his voice was low and smooth.

“Right, good to know,” She joked. “I was worried.”

He shook his head. “Don’t be. She’s like that with me still and I’ve been here for years.”

She blinked; he couldn’t have been much older than her. He must have sensed her confusion, or seen the look that crossed her face, and said, “I’ve been here seven years, got the job straight out of college, worked my way up to be one of the assistant principals last year.”

Impressive, Aelin noted. He must have been at least couple of years older than her then, making him maybe thirty, if her quick mental maths added up.

“What do you teach?” She asked him, curious about that path he had taken to get where he was.

“English,” He told her. “I love it, have loved it since I was a kid.”

Aelin shared his interest, she had loved reading ever since her childhood and her mother had bought her book after book when she devoured the stories one by one. She supposed that was where her interest in history had stemmed from, reading historical fiction had led her to historical non-fiction and she found the tales of knights and kings and queens to be fascinating. Sweeping her away into tales of honour and warfare and romance, distant enough from her reality to transport her away.

They were making their way down the halls, Dorian pointing out the points of interest on their tour, telling her where the cafeteria was, where the main hall and staff rooms were. He showed her where her office would be, and they walked past the classroom that would become hers once she had time to make it her own.

“So,” He turned to her after walking her through the grounds of the school, showing her the sports pitches and athletics track. “What’s your story?”

She pondered his question for a moment, chewing the inside of her lip slightly as she took in his smile and the way he was walking close to her, his shoulders leaning into her own.

“My story?” She shrugged, flicking her eyes out across the field in front of her. “I lost my old job to budget cuts, but I’d been there for a couple of years. I actually moved here after college when I qualified and then got the job pretty much straight away.”

He nodded along as she spoke, a dark curl of his hair bobbing along his forehead as he did, but then he tilted his head at her, a piercing look in his sapphire-blue eyes.

“I knew you weren’t from around here, but I couldn’t place the accent.”

“I’m from Terrasen.” She told him, thinking fondly of her home country and her parents who lived there still. It’s rolling mountains and grassy plains that she had explored as a child, sometimes alone, sometimes with Aedion when him and his parents came to visit.

“My accent isn’t as strong now that I’ve been in Adarlan for so long.”

Dorian only smiled at her. “I like it.”

She smiled, unsure how else to respond. Was it wise to flirt with a colleague? She wasn’t truly sure she wanted to flirt with him, and she fought the part of her brain that flashed an image of Rowan up at her. She was trying her best to keep her distance, at least in that respect.

“I teach history, I love it, but I love reading too. I also live with Fenrys, I don’t know if you know him?”

“Fenrys?” He questioned. “Coach Moonbeam?”

She nodded and watched something flash across his face at the confirmation, something she’d have to ask Fenrys about. If his reputation had ruined her first friendship at the school before it had barely had chance to start she’d kill him.

“Yeah,” She confirmed warily. “We live together. He told me about the opening here.”

“I see.” She couldn’t place Dorian’s reaction to her roommate, so quickly changed the subject.

“Any advice for this school?” She asked as he held the door open for her to re-enter the building.

“Not really,” He huffed a slight laugh, scratching his jaw. “Stick with me, and a couple of other teachers here that are pretty sound, and you’ll be fine.”

“Yeah? You’ll have to introduce me.”

Maybe if she could make her own friends here she wouldn’t have to follow Fenrys around like a lost puppy.

He checked his watch, something silver and clearly expensive before saying, “Actually, I think some of them might be free now.”

He led her back through the hallways to the staff room he had pointed out earlier and pushed into the small room.

There were kitchen counters around the sides, a number of cupboards no doubt stuffed full of mugs and plates, standard for a school staff room. There were tables and chairs dotted about the space and at one of the tables sat a man and two women, each nursing a mug that based on the smell she knew contained coffee.

“Aelin,” Dorian began. “Meet Chaol, Yrene and Nehemia.”

He pointed around the table as he made the introductions.

The man, Chaol, was stern looking but his expression lightened when he offered her a small smile, his copper-brown eyes crinkling at the motion. The woman next to him smiled widely at Aelin, Yrene, was beautiful, and her brown hair fell in spirals down her back, golden highlights standing out. A shining ring on her left hand glinted as she waved at Aelin around her mug.

The final woman, Nehemia, was striking. Her dark skin was smooth and her raven hair, braided down her back, had small elements of gold scattered throughout. Nehemia shot her a sly grin upon introduction, Aelin liked her immediately.

“Guys meet Aelin Galathynius. The new head of humanities, Terrasen native and Fenrys Moonbeam’s roommate.”

At Dorian’s introduction Chaol nearly choked on a mouthful of coffee and Nehemia outright cackled. Aelin needed to ask Fenrys about it.

“Hi Aelin,” Yrene smiled at her, her face kind as she waved a hand at the teachers on either side of herself. “Ignore them, welcome. How is your first day going?”

“It’s fine so far,” Aelin said as she followed Dorian over to where he was fetching a cup of coffee and grabbing her own. “I’ve had a great tour.”

Nehemia laughed again, “Right.” She said sarcastically and Dorian flashed her the finger.

“Where did he show you? I’m sure he probably managed to leave somewhere out,” Chaol cut in, his tone ribbing Dorian again.

“Everywhere, I think. Or at least I’d hope so.” She said, taking her seat next to him, Dorian slotting in on her other side.

“Hmm,” Chaol hummed, shooting an unimpressed look at Dorian who held his hands up, grinning at Chaol.

“I did!” Dorian protested to Chaol who rolled his eyes and sighed a laugh. Aelin laughed along, she could tell Chaol was exasperated, but fond of Dorian.

The dynamic between the group was easy, friendly and teasing, but clearly a very tight knit group. Chaol and Yrene were an adorable couple, very much in love, Dorian had sung at her when she had asked. Nehemia had a killer sense of humour, mostly at Dorian’s expense, but he always laughed along, taking the jokes in his stride.

He had been extremely friendly towards her. Filling all of the gaps in her knowledge without her needing to ask, touching her gently on the arm when he directed the conversation to her.

He was an extremely attractive man, with a charming kind of confidence that she normally would have been all over. Had she met him in a bar, she could see herself sliding into the seat next to him and flashing him a small smile while she accepted the drink he would have offered to buy her.

But they weren’t in a bar, they were at work, and he was technically her boss.

She could hear Lysandra’s warnings, you know it’s a bad idea, she would tut before reassuring Aelin she could find a man anywhere else, that she didn’t need Dorian and his disarming smiles.

Lysandra, as per usual, was probably right.

------

The rest of her day flew by quickly. She had a brief introduction to her classes from Maeve, fresh out of her meeting with the school board, and she had had some time to move her belongings and teaching aids into her classroom. Tomorrow would be her first full day of teaching and she was prepared.

It was only later that evening that she remembered to ask Fenrys about Dorian and his friends’ reactions to his name, even though they had driven home together he had filled the journey with tales of his students and their inabilities to play simple games.

She cornered him in the kitchen as he grabbed a beer from the fridge, resting her hand against the island, blocking his exit as she asked.

“Dorian Havilliard?” He questioned; his face carefully blank.

“Yes, do you know him? He had an interesting reaction to your name.”

More than just that, his friends had outright laughed at Dorian when Fenrys’ name had been mentioned. Surely all of the outlandish situations her imagination was telling her were way off, it had to be something small.

Fenrys sighed, taking a swig of his beer and lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck.

“Dorian Havilliard and I have a history.” He winced as he said the words.

Aelin groaned. She could try to repair any fights they had had; she knew she could definitely blackmail Fenrys into an apology, she liked Dorian and his friends.

“What kind of a history?” She narrowed her eyes.

A blush started on Fenrys’ neck, spreading up to his cheeks.

“A… sexual history.”

“No!” She gasped.

She ran through the interactions she and Dorian had had today. She felt a blush creeping up her cheeks, she had thought he had been flirting with her, complimenting her accent and the way he had been leaning into her. How had she read it so wrong? And Fenrys had a… history with him?

Fenrys bit his lip as he nodded.

“Oh gods,” She groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I thought he was flirting with me.”

Fenrys shrugged, unbothered by both her reaction and his own revelation. “He probably was, to be fair. He flirts with everyone.”

It was that moment that Rowan chose to come into the kitchen.

She fought the small wave of embarrassment at the sight of him, at the thought of the conversation they had had when she thanked him for putting her to bed. She hadn’t been sure whether to mention it or not but decided it would have been worse to not acknowledge it.

He had been graceful, reassuring her with a small smile that it was no bother. Which she appreciated, had the roles been switched she would have made sure he got to bed. Well, she would have tried.

And she was grateful, any of her other roommates probably would have left her on the couch. Lorcan probably would have even taken photos of her passed out, probably would have enjoyed seeing how many things he could have balanced on her sleeping form.  

“Who flirts with everyone?” He asked, stepping around her to get to the fridge.

He was dressed in his usual uniform of jeans and a flannel shirt; this one was green, and it complemented his silver hair.

“Fenrys’ ex, one of the teachers at the school.” She told him, but Fenrys shook his head around a mouthful of his beer.

“Not my ex,” He said once he had swallowed. “It was a one-time thing. Years ago.”

It reassured her slightly that she hadn’t been crazy, and that she had probably picked up on the cues from Dorian correctly.

“He was flirting with you?” Rowan turned to her, pulling his own beer out of the fridge, his tan face unreadable.

“I think so,” She pursed her lips.

“Oh,” Rowan’s voice was quiet, and he looked down to the beer in his hand.

“It was probably nothing,” She found herself saying. “I wasn’t flirting back.”

“You could.” Fenrys said from beside her. “It would be fine with me, he’s a decent enough guy. Good in bed too.”

She pushed him on the arm, and he laughed.

“Didn’t need to know that,” She laughed as she pushed his arm again when he made a suggestive gesture at her. “Get out that’s gross.”

“Didn’t think you were a prude, Galathynius.” He teased, but turned from the room, blowing a kiss at her as he left.

She turned to Rowan, who remained leaning against the counter opposite her, picking at the label on his beer bottle.

“Office romance on day one, huh?” He teased her, his lips twitching with the smirk that was threatening to break through.

“Stop that,” She told him. “It was very light flirting.”

He shrugged at her, taking a sip of his beer.  

“If that even, he probably wasn’t. Or maybe I’m making it up.”

“Now you stop.” Rowan told her; his eyebrows drawn as he pushed off from the counter. “Why wouldn’t he have been flirting with you?”

She raised her eyebrow at him, unimpressed, daring him to continue.

“I’m serious,” He continued, stepping over until he was directly in front of her.

Every time they were close she was struck by how much bigger he was than her. And how good he smelled, his pine and snow combination was clean and fresh, she took a deep breath in.

“Why wouldn’t he want to flirt with you?”

She tilted her head up to look at him, suddenly vulnerable in what had previously been a light-hearted conversation, taking in his serious expression. His eyes were earnest as he looked into her own.

“I don’t know,” She started, not drawing her eyes away from his. She wasn’t sure she was able to. “After Arobynn I haven’t been flirted with for a while.”

She loosed a self-deprecating laugh.

He put his beer down on the counter, resting his hand on the counter by her side, his front was almost pressed up against hers now and her breaths came quickly.

“Of course you have,” He told her, his voice soft. “Maybe you just haven’t noticed.”

She swallowed hard.

He picked up a piece of her hair between two of his fingers, smiling gently as he twisted the strand around a knuckle. Aelin liked his smile, it showed a lighter side of him, and he looked especially handsome when he did.

“I think I would notice if guys had been flirting with me.” Her voice was rough as his other hand came down on the bench by her waist. He boxed her in to the island now, close enough to her to share breath, as he hummed in response.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she felt as if an electric current was thrumming below her skin at his close proximity.

“I’m not convinced.” His voice rumbled over her skin, his breath brushing her ear sending shivers down her spine as she tucked her chin down at the sensation. Her action pinned Rowan’s face in the crook of her neck, but he didn’t pull away, instead he pressed his face into the spot where her shoulder met her neck, breathing her in deeply.

His lips brushed against her neck, their touch feather light.

Aelin couldn’t move. She was sure she was panting now; Rowan’s own breaths had increased their pace where she felt his chest pressing against her own. Each brush lighting sparks along her skin.

She needed to be careful, this would look incriminating to any of their roommates if they walked in now, but she couldn’t connect her brain to her body.

While her rational brain was screaming at her to step away and put some distance between herself and Rowan, her traitorous body urged her to press closer into Rowan. Urged her to press her hips against his own and generate the friction she craved.

Rowan’s brain seemed to work faster than her own as he drew his head back with a hiss, leaning on his heels to put some distance between them. She felt the cold where her body now touched only air.

His green eyes were dark, almost taken over by his pupils as he scanned her face.

He cleared his throat and picked his beer back up of the island.

“I think you’d notice.” He told her with a hint of a smile.

He stepped back from her fully and left the kitchen without another word. She heard his bedroom door close before she managed to breathe again.

She screwed her eyes shut as she squeezed her thighs together, trying to convince herself she felt nothing.

He was a rutting good flirt, damn him. She definitely noticed.

------

tags:

@jesstargaryenqueen​

@maybekindasortaace​

@slytheringalathynius​

@http-itsrebecca​

@morganofthewildfire​

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​

@fictional-horan​

@tottenhamboys20​

@dressedindustandshadows​

@sleeping-and-books​

@perseusannabeth​

@ireallyshouldsleeprn​

@superspiritfestival​

@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​

@spyofthenightcourt​

@jlinez​

@queen-of-glass​

@booknerdproblems​

I’ve combined the tag list for this fic and general tog for ease, but I’m not convinced I’ve done it right so let me know if I need to make any changes.

[worldserasingandcreatinginmymind]

Familiar | Dracula

Pairing: Dracula x reader

Summary: reader is Dracula’s familiar. when your master’s oldest vampire friend comes to visit a feast takes dangerous turn and truths are revealed

Word Count: 3522

Warnings: mentions of blood & death

A/N:  spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :) for the purpose of this story vampires are able to transform themselves into any other person without killing them first...

Masterlist

- - - - -

Being the familiar to one of the most feared vampires in the country was not what you had planned or your life. Yet here you were, working for Count Dracula. 

You first met Dracula when you were ten years old. He found you begging on the streets after your parents abandoned you and he took pity on you, bringing you back to the castle. He gave you clothes, food, and a room of your own. In exchange you started cleaning for him. 

Initially you just dusted cobwebs off chandeliers and moped floors but after a few years you began taking on more duties. Lighting and extinguishing candles, preparing rooms and cooking meals for his human guests, cleaning up after one of his many feasts. After almost ten years of practice you were now an expert at getting blood out of any fabric. 

One of the hardest parts of being a vampire’s familiar is the sleep schedule. You follow Dracula’s sleeping pattern so you're awake all night and you go to bed just after the sun rise. You sleep for a few hours and wake up in the early afternoon to do your household chores before Dracula wakes up. You're tired a lot and you miss the sun, but you wouldn’t trade this life if it took you away from him. 

But today is different. After your master goes to sleep you don't go to bed like you normally would. Instead you get straight to work preparing the castle. Tonight one of Dracula’s oldest vampire friends is coming to visit and everything has to be perfect. You work solidly throughout the day and by the time the sun sets you're confident the castle is ready. You're just finishing sweeping the entrance hall when Dracula descends the stairs. 

You turn to face him and bow your head, holding your broom behind your back. 

“Good evening Master. Did you sleep well?” 

“I did. I trust everything is ready for our guest’s arrival” he says and you nod. Just then the door bell rings and Dracula waves his hand, signalling for you to answer. You quickly tuck the broom away in the cupboard and rush to the door. 

When you open it you're greeted with a tall, dark haired man who looks slightly older than your master. Behind him stands a younger boy, around your age, who you guess from his tatty clothes is the vampire’s familiar. 

“Please come in” you say politely as you hold the door open and bow your head. 

“Dracula you old dog! Good to see you again” he says as he walks past you and to the stairs where your master is waiting. He clicks his finger and his familiar comes shuffling in, dragging a heavy looking bag behind him. 

“Orlok! My friend, how was your journey?” Dracula greets his old friend with a handshake. 

“Not too bad. Although it has give me quite the appetite. Will we be feasting soon?” 

“Just let me get my cloak and we shall begin the hunt. Y/N! Help Orlok’s familiar bring his bag to his room” 

You go to move but Orlok holds up his hand. 

“My boy can do it himself. Can’t you?” He glares at his familiar who nods his head very quickly, fear in his face. “No need to trouble your little one” his eyes flick over to you and something about the look on his face makes you shiver

“Very good. I’ll get my cloak” Dracula disappears upstairs followed by Orlok’s familiar, leaving you alone with the unknown vampire. 

You turn to leave, making yourself busy but Orlok blocks your way. He stands in front of you, his dark eyes boring into your own making you look down. His hand finds its way to your chin and forces you to look up at him. 

“Well aren’t you a pretty one. Where has he been keeping you, eh? Hiding you away from me?”

“I’m sorry sir I must go… I have chores” you say shakily as you turn away again and go to walk but he grabs your wrist and spins you around so you somehow end up with your back against the wall. He closes the gap between you, pressing his body against yours holding you in place. 

“Stay. Take the night off. I can show you how much fun vampires can be” he smiles and you get a glimpse of his sharp teeth as he strokes up your neck with the back of his fingers. 

“Um…” you breath shakily “I-”

“Orlok! Leave her alone” Dracula voice suddenly cuts in.

“Don't you fancy a little pre-dinner snack” he sniffs the side of your face and your close your eyes tight, holding your breath.

“Not her. She’s off limits.” Dracula’s voice becoming more stern. 

“She’s just a familiar, we can find you a new one”

“I said no” he growls making you open you eyes and look at him. Orlok releases you, taking a step back holding his hands up in surrender with a playful grin. 

“Fine. Let’s hunt” Orlok leaves, winking at you before he disappears out the door. 

Dracula looks over at you briefly and you swear you can see a hint or worry in his eyes. 

“We’ll return soon with the humans, make sure the table is ready” he states before he disappears too, leaving you stood alone. You take a few deep breaths to steady yourself before getting on with preparing the dining hall. 

You begin setting out the plates and cutlery along the long wooden dining table. Even though no food will actually be consumed, your master likes the table to look fit for a grand banquet. As you lay the table you cant help but feel a pang of guilt, knowing that soon this room will be filled with death. After a few minutes you're joined by Orlok’s familiar, who enters the room looking very anxious.

“Oh hello. We weren’t formally introduced. I’m Y/N” you say smiling at him and he looks surprised by your kindness.

“Elliot” he replies “can I help?”

“Thank you” you hand him the rest of the cutlery and carry on laying the table “they’ll be back soon with the feast so we should hurry”

“This is the worst part of the job. The killing I mean, not the cutlery.” He explains himself and you laugh.

“I don’t know, it’s going to be a big job cleaning it all up after” you joke.

“Well at least tonight were not get a night off from choosing the humans to be killed”

“What do you mean?” You stop working and stare at him blankly.

“My master makes me go out and lure humans back to his house for him to feed on. Doesn’t yours?”

“No, my master always chooses his own kills.”

“But that’s one of the main jobs a vampire familiar has. Providing food for the master”

“Well my master is very particular about who he drinks from, so…”

“Lucky you” Elliot sighs and you both get back to laying the table. 

Half an hour later you hear the vampires return and they enter the room, followed by a small group of humans who gaze around at the magnificent castle interior with awe. 

“Welcome to my home” Dracula smiles charmingly, opening his arms out gesturing for the humans to follow him to the table “take a seat, the feast will begin shortly.”

As the humans take their seats you go to them one by one, filling up their glasses with wine, making sure not to make eye contact with any of them. Knowing what’s about to happen to them it’s easier if you have as little interaction as possible. Once all the guests have their drinks you stand aside, ready to serve. Your master calls you over to him. 

“Thank you Y/N, you can go to your room now.” He says quietly and you look at him confused. 

“Master I still have duties-” 

“Not tonight you don’t. I don't want you anywhere near what’s about to happen in this room so go to bed. Lock your door. Stay there until sunrise.” 

You glance around the room at the unsuspecting humans laughing and having fun. Your eyes fall on Elliot, stood nervously in the corner of the room, and then to Orlok who is laughing maniacally with two girls draped over his shoulders adoringly. 

You look back at your master and bow your head. 

“Good night master” you leave the room and as you begin walking up the stairs you hear Dracula announce that the feast shall begin, which gains a round of cheers from the humans. 

You only just make it to your room when you hear screams start erupting from the dining hall.

You slam the door shut quickly and lock it behind you before jumping into your bed and pulling your pillow over your ears. 

In the almost ten years of working for Dracula you’d had to clean up a lot of blood from his meals. In the beginning it bothered you but you soon became numb to it. You understood that this was what your master had to do in order to live. And he would never leave any pieces of the body behind, that part he would clean up himself. 

But big feasts like this were always harder to deal with. Not just because the clean up usually takes a whole day, but because it feels more like murder. Instead of eating to survive, it’s eating for sport. The look on Orlok’s face before you left the dining hall confirmed that this was for fun. You could still hear him laughing now. 

You pulled the pillow tighter over your ears and hummed a song to yourself, trying to block out any thoughts of what was going on below you. Instead you filled your mind with happy memories of all the times your master had shown you kindness and cared for you.

— — — — 

You must have managed to drift off to sleep because a few hours later you're awoken by a gentle knocking on your door. 

“Y/N?” Comes a voice on the other side

“Yes master” you reply sleepily. 

“Can I come in?” 

You get out of bed and open the door, allowing Dracula to walk in. He sits down on the edge of your bed and gestures for you to sit next to him. 

“I just wanted to check on you, see how you're doing?” He says and you look at him confused. He doesn’t normally do this. 

“Uh, I’m okay” you shrug and he nods, licking a small remaining drop of blood off his lips “how was the feast?” 

“Good, good. Very good.” He looks into your eyes and you can feel something isn’t right “you should have seen those human’s faces when they realised what was happening. Hilarious!” He starts laughing. You stare at him almost in disgust as he reminds you more of Orlok than your master. “Oh and I’m afraid Elliot won’t be of much help with the clean up. I got a bit carried away…” he gestures to a particular patch of blood on his shirt and carries on laughing.

You’ve spent most of your life with your master but you barely recognise the vampire sitting next to you. He’s never acted like this before, and he would never treat a familiar like that. You look into his eyes and your heart drops as you realise they aren’t your master’s eyes. They’re Orlok’s. 

You try to remain calm, but your heart is racing faster than your mind. You have to think of a way to get out of this room without Orlok realising you know its really him. 

“Well there’s no time like the present. I’m going to get started on clean up straight away” you move to get up but Orlok puts his arm around you.

“Nonsense. Plenty of time for that later” he says

“You know how bad blood stains can be when they’re left too long” you shake him off and stand up “I’d rather deal with it now” you head to the door but suddenly he’s stood in front of you, blocking the way out. 

“Sit down” he says firmly and you just shake your head. “I am your master. You will do as I say now SIT DOWN!” He shouts the last bit making you flinch. You reluctantly sit back down on the bed and the vampire turns around to close the door. He stays stood with his back to you as he speaks. “You should have been there tonight. At the feast with us, witnessing the true power we vampires have over you mortals.” 

“B-but you told me to leave-” you stutter

“Oh give up the act.” He spins around to glare at you “I know you know who I am. I heard your pathetic little heart beat change when you realised. What was it? The eyes? It’s always the eyes that give us away. The one thing we can’t change. Smart girl for trying to play along though, I’ll give you that.”

“Where is he?” You ask, afraid of the answer.

“He’s having a little post feast nap.” He laughs to himself “you should have seen his face when I killed my familiar. Oh wait you can. It was like this” he uses Dracula’s face to mimic your master’s shocked expression “that reminds me, I don't need this anymore”

He opens his mouth wide, putting his hands on his lips and opens his face up until his own face emerges. You wince and look away. Orlok approaches you, placing a hand on your chin to guide you to look at him, now stood in his own form. 

“That’s better” he grins “I can see why he’s so attached to you. Pretty, loyal, hard working, clever. You’ll be a great vampire”

“I don't want to be a vampire”

“Nonsense. All familiars want to be vampires, that’s why you do the job. Pathetic really. Following us around like little lost puppies, completing our every command in the hopes that one day we’ll reward you by making you like us”

You shake your head, disagreeing with him. 

“You really don't want that? Then why? Why do you live like this?” He gestures to your small bedroom and looks at you expectantly. You don't reply. Then his face changes “oh of course. You love him. Don't you? That’s it, you love a vampire. That’s even worse” he scoffs. 

You cant look at him, instead you stare down at your hands in your lap and you fiddle your fingers nervously. 

“He’ll never love you back. Not while you're like this.” He sits down next to you, his face uncomfortably close to the side of yours. “I can help you. I can make you like us. A magnificent, fearless, beautiful vampire. He won’t be able to resist you.”

You think about it for a moment, and come to a decision. You turn to face him. 

“No” you say firmly. 

“Suit yourself” his face changes and he bares his teeth as he pushes you down onto the bed. You kick and scream, trying to get him off you but he overpowers you and forces your arms down. He holds your arms in one hand and uses the other to turn your head to the side, exposing your neck. He licks a stripe up from your collar bone to your chin and hums. 

“You know I’d have preferred if you’d given me your consent, it always tastes better that way but… I have a feeling you're going to taste exquisite” 

He draws his head back and lunges it back down to your neck. 

But before he can sink his teeth in an almighty roar fills the room and suddenly you can’t feel his weight on you of you anymore. You open your eyes to see your master holding Orlok up in the air by his throat. 

“I told you she was off limits” Dracula growls through gritted teeth and Orlok laughs.

Get out of here” he says to you but you remain frozen in place “NOW!”

Suddenly springing to action you jump up from the bed and and race out the room, sprinting down the stairs toward the front door, ignoring the sounds of the vampires fighting behind you. But before you can escape Orlok appears in front of you again, locking the door. You turn on your heels and run the other way into the dining hall, you don't get far as you trip over a body lying on the floor and skid face first in the pool of blood till you hit something. You open your eyes and lying face to face with you is Elliot’s lifeless corpse, covered in blood with fear still frozen his eyes. 

“Don't worry, we’ll get a new familiar once you're living with me. My vampire bride” Orlok’s voice startles you and you flip over onto your back so you can see him. You push yourself backwards along the floor as he takes slow, menacing steps closer to you. 

“There’s no use trying to run from me little one. No one is going to stop me from taking what I want. Dracula won’t save you. That pathetic excuse for a vampire, it was so easy to overpower him.”

Your back hits the wall and tears flood your eyes as you realise Orlok has probably murdered your master and now he was going to do whatever he wants to you. 

“Oh don't cry. I know you think you loved him, but now you can love me instead. And I'm much more deserving of your love”

He holds his hand out to you, but you don't take it. Instead you just shake your head at him and his face changes to pure anger. He picks you up with ease and pins you against the wall. 

“I tried to be nice to you. I offered you eternal life with me. And this is how you treat me?” He smirks at you “I am going to enjoy killing you, and it will be a slow and painful death”

A sob escapes your throat as you shut your eye tights, waiting for the inevitable. 

Instead he suddenly releases his grip on you and you drop to the floor, feeling a layer of ash and dust covering your face. You blink your eyes open to see Dracula standing over you with a wooden stake in one hand, holding his other hand out to you. You look into his eyes, studying him until you're sure it’s really him. You fling your arms around his neck and hug him before pulling away quickly. 

“I’m sorry master, that was, that- I thought he killed you- I thought-”

He interrupts your nervous stuttering by pulling you back into him, hugging you tightly into his chest. “shh. It’s okay, it’s okay” he whispers. 

You both stay like that for a while as you take deep breaths. 

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, pulling away to look you in the face and he wipes remnants of Orlok’s ash from your cheek. 

“Yes” you almost whisper “Are you? You just killed your best friend”

“He deserved it. I warned him, multiple times but he was out of control. I am so sorry you had to go through that” he looks at you with real sadness.

“It’s okay, I’m okay” you reassure him but he shakes his head.

“I think its time you moved on” he walks away fro you and heads up the stairs to your room. 

“What?! No! No I-” you follow him, frantically trying to stop him.

“I put you in danger tonight and it almost cost you your life. I cant risk that again.” 

“No” you try to interrupt him but he carries on talking

“I’ll provide you with a house, somewhere away from here where I know you’ll be safe” he packs the few personal belongings you own into a bag.

“I don't want that, master please I want to stay here. I want to stay with you, I love you!” You blurt out and he freezes.

You feel your face blush instantly with embarrassment. He turns around slowly to look at you.

“What did you say?”

You stare down at the ground as you repeat the last part of your previous statement. There’s a moments uncomfortable silence before he finally speaks again. 

“Why would someone as kind and gentle as you love someone like me? A vampire. A murderer. A monster.”

“You found a broken homeless orphan girl and you took her in. Fixed her, fed her, gave her clothes and a warm bed. Cared for her, gave her a job, a reason to live. That is not something a monster would do.”

You approach him and carefully place your hand on his face, his eyes meet yours and you smile at him. 

“You don't know how much it means to me to hear you say that” he smiles back before leaning in and gently pressing his lips to meet yours.

“I love you Y/N”

“I love you Dracula”

[tellytuber]

15 Shows of 2020:

The new (and sometimes old) series and seasons that made my year. 

Columbo [Peacock]: After years of seeing only a handful of Columbo’s - and Etude in Black many times, this is the year I finally watched the rest of the rumpled detective. Necessary viewing for any tv fanatic or aficionado of 70’s fashion and/or interior design. My dream kitchen is now pistachio green.

Hoarders (S11) [A&E]: My ultimate comfort show. And this year had me running it repeatedly - Even on my phone at work when we were forced back into the office post-lockdown.

Motherland [SundanceNOW/BBC2]: I first watched this at the very end of last year, but having watched it 3 times through this past month (and itching to do it again) - I had to include it in this year’s list. Of all the Mom (+1 Dad) Support Group sitcoms, this one is the best.

Awkwafina is Nora From Queens [Comedy Central/HBOMax]: Utterly hilarious and so so weird. And strangely extremely relatable. From Depardieu to Dirty Dancing: Havana Nights. And most especially the 27 year old woman who still lives at home part...

This Country [BBC3]: The mockumentary is dead, but this gem is its lazarus. It was so much fun watching this family affair. Big Mandy is one of my favorite characters of anything ever. I’ll never hear the word “Tomato” the same way again.

Corporate (final season / S3) [Comedy Central]: I’m happy for this show to end on on a high, but I’m sad that it never really got the attention it deserved. So acidly sharp and wonderfully bizarre. A great workplace satire on the dullness and inhumanity of capitalist America.

Better Things (S4) [FX]: I don’t have much to say, except: It’s still great.

Fargo (S4) [FX]: One of the most exciting shows ever, both creatively and narratively, and this season didn’t disappoint. I was especially pumped for this one since the very first details were released teasing the 50’s-set Kansas City mob plot. I was ready for the Mike Milligan origin story, and I’m happy with what I got.

Ted Lasso [AppleTV]: At first, it was a hate-watch, its earnest good naturedness grating. But like Roy Kent, the Lasso Way quickly wore down my cynical shield. It did goodness without being preachy. It balanced silly jokes and dramatic realism. Plus, a sweet romantic subplot and music by Marcus Mumford. Maybe it was my weakness for an underdog sports narrative or the Sudeikis charm, but I am now a big fan. Can’t wait to watch it again, but not on my phone at work.

I May Destroy You [HBO]: I’ve seen one Best Comedies of 2020 list so far, and this was number one. I disagree. Not that it wasn’t the best, it is. It is funny, but it’s not a comedy. When I think back to my experience watching it, I remember the visceral physical reactions I felt. The nauseating sickness as the instigating event unraveled Bella’s life. The suspended terror as vulnerable T wandered the dark Italian streets, waiting for, expecting a Bad Thing to happen. Both these feelings and worse when we are forced to watch another assault only for the law to sweep it aside. The best sociological horror drama.

Search Party (S3) [HBOMax]: FINALLY. The most bingeable show ever returned. This season had some weak spots compared to the first two, but its best parts more than make up for them. One of them being the introduction of Shalita Grant’s Cassidy Diamond, who took vocal fry and made it a work of character comedy art. Overall, still hilarious and wry and stylish and dark. It’s so much fun watching these apathetic hipsters break into screeching hysterics over their gory (Dory) mistake. 

Law & Order: SVU [NBC]: We will all have that one thing we will forever associate with this global experience. For me, it will be Mariska Hargitay. Midway through the first week of lockdown, I caught a wild later season episode rerun on USA. A few weeks later, I caught up with all 21 seasons. Dun Dun.

Dark [Netflix]: Watching Dark was an all-consuming experience. Visually and musically beautiful. The plot so convoluted I felt like I had to take notes to wrap my head around it all. And when I wasn’t watching it, I was thinking about it. Constantly. 

How To With John Wilson [HBO]: How To With John Wilson is documentary is comedy is video collage. It is pure art. It’s genius. True originality. Both the show itself and the moments of Life that he captures within. The best show of the year.

Koi Wa Tsuzuku Yo Dokomademo [TBS]: Extremely saccharine and layered with trope upon trope of romantic dramas. I laughed, I cried. But most of all, I smiled. This show made me Happy. And because of that simple joy, my first favorite thing of the year ended up being my most favorite thing.