#like did they realize she couldn’t wrestle as often with her neck injuries

[sonnykissed]

I know folks here don’t care for her but forreal what is up with Saraya

[gamergirl929]

I’m Coming Out (Krashlyn x Daughter!Reader)

@discordedme Request: Hi, your writing is amazing 😍😍 and i look forward to reading your ficlets every time you post. As a request could you possibly do one where r is Ashlyn Harris's daughter that she had when she was still a teenager (like 16). And reader is now on the national team with Krashlyn and they act like parents, and just fluff (maybe like a first cap or injury, idk). You don't have to it would just be really cool. Thx. 😁

NOTE: I discussed with the requester and tweaked things a bit to differ from the request, BUT I hope everyone likes it nonetheless. 

ALSO going to add in this prompt as well, they’re VERY similar. 

Anonymous Request: Can you do a Krashlyn kid and just their interactions with them and the team? (They are also a soccer player)

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you sink a goal in the back of the net, whistles and claps sounding from the side of the pitch.

“WAY TO GO BABY!” Ali yells, your cheeks flushing bright red.  

“THAT’S MY GIRL!” Ashlyn yells.

From out of nowhere you’re lifted into the air, your mother hugging you tightly to her chest.  

“Oh my god, we’re just at practice.” You mumble under your breath, your cheeks now blood red.

Ali laughs as she makes her way towards you and Ashlyn.  

“I think we’re embarrassing her.”  

Ashlyn grins mischievously, digging her knuckles into the top of your head, your sweaty hair now even messier than it was before.

“Mommmmmmmmmmmmmmm!” You whine, your bottom lip jutted out.  

“Yeah mommmmm!” Emily mocks you, hazel orbs widening when you sprint after her, the woman screeching loudly as she runs away.  

Kelley shakes her head as she watches you chase Emily, eventually catching her and tackling her to the ground.  

“Kids, right?” She grins as she ‘tries’ to rest her elbow on Ashlyn’s shoulder, though she’s unable to thanks to her height.  

Ashlyn shakes her head as you and Emily tussle on the ground.  

Ali rolls her eyes, making her way over to the two of you.  

“Knock it off you two!”  

The two of you sit up, glaring playfully at one another before you turn to Ali.  

“SHE STARTED IT!” You both yell at the same time, turning back to one another, giving each other a playful shove before you’re again playfully wrestling.  

Ashlyn shakes her head, turning to Kelley.  

“Idiots.”  

                                                           ***

Ashlyn would admit, she had you WAY too young.  

Getting pregnant at 16 was never what she had planned, but when she DID have you, you were the best thing to ever happen to her.  

You kept her head up when she was feeling low, you were there for her when she joined the NWSL and eventually when she joined the USWNT.  

You weren’t far behind, the older you got, the more interest you showed in soccer, following in your mother’s footsteps and joining the NWSL before you were inevitably called up to the USWNT.  

Many said it was because your last name was Harris, but those in the NWSL knew it was because of your talent with the ball and as a forward, something that pleased Ashlyn to NO end.  

Of course, as you grew, Ali Krieger became a constant in your life, the woman a mother figure to you even before she and Ashlyn got together, WHICH you always knew they would.  

You knew even before Ashlyn did that the two would be together, neither even realizing they looked at one another like they had hung the stars for one another.  

You hoped one day you would find a relationship like that.  

You clear your throat, pulled from you trance as Ali gives you a nudge.  

“Seem a little distracted.” She whispers and you shrug.  

“Maybe a little.”  

On the other side of you, Ashlyn lets out a snore, the woman having fallen fast asleep during movie night.  

“What’s on your mind kid?” She asks, smiling when you move to rest your head on her shoulder.  

“You and mom.” You mumble, Ali’s brows furrowing as she turns towards you.  

“Just how you guys were so oblivious.” You snicker, Ali rolling her eyes playfully, cheeks flushing.  

“Oh, we were?” She asks and you snort.  

“You were, you guys used to just stare each other like a couple of weirdos.” You stick your tongue out, Ali wrapping her arms around you.  

“It was your mother who was the oblivious one.”  

You grin, glancing at the woman who’s snoring softly.  

“I mean, she’s pretty oblivious, about everything.”  

Ali giggles, reaching around you to run her fingers through Ashlyn’s hair, the blonde smiling in her sleep.  

“That she is.”  

You hum, snuggling between the two of them, leaning heavily against the sleeping blonde beside you, the blonde whose arms slip around you.  

Ali wraps her arms around the two of you, making you the innards of a Krashlyn sandwich.  

Eventually, you and Ali fall fast asleep, joining Ashlyn in the world of dreams.  

                                                           ***

You had NO clue why you were so nervous, but you were, you knew they wouldn’t love you any less after you told them, still though, you couldn’t shake your nerves.  

“Hey, what’s on your mind?” Emily asks from her seat beside you on the bus.  

You shrug, humming softly.  

“Just thinking.”  

Emily hums, eyeing you out of the corner of her eye.  

“It’s more than that.”  

Your eyes widen when you feel Emily lean closer, the woman’s nose pressed against your cheek.  

“Get off me you weirdo.” You laugh as you playfully swat at her, the defender pouting.  

“Hey! This weirdo is worried about you!” She huffs dramatically and you smile, resting your head on her shoulder.  

“I guess I’m just nervous.” You shrug, Emily’s brows furrowing as her head rests on top of yours, your cheeks flushing as she does so.  

“Why is that?”  

You hum.  

“I have to tell mom and Ali something, and I’m just nervous.”  

Emily hums, grinning.  

“Krashlyn are like the least judgmental people on the planet.” Emily scoffs and you laugh.  

“I know they are, I’m just overthinking it.”  

Emily slips an arm around you and your cheeks flush darker.  

“Whatever it is, it’ll be alright, and if it’s not, I’m not afraid to square up.”

You shake your head, barking out a laugh.  

“I’d love to see that.”  

Towards the back of the bus, Ashlyn and Ali share a glance, the two smiling.  

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Ali whispers and Ashlyn nods.  

“Ohh, I am.”  

                                                           ***

Starting had always been something you loved, it didn’t happen too often considering the USWNT had some of the best forwards in the world, but when it DID happen you tore the field up, something Ashlyn and Ali watched with pride.  

This game was no different, Ashlyn and Ali beaming as you race down field, the ball at your feet, running as fast as, if not faster than Christen Press.  

Ashlyn lets out a howl as you slip the ball right between the goalkeeper’s legs, sinking it into the back of the net, a massive grin on your face as you throw your fists in the air.  

Emily races down field towards you, jumping on your back, something Ashlyn and Ali watch with a grin.  

“You think she’s ever going to tell us?” Ashlyn whispers, Ali shrugging.  

“She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”  

The two smile, softly as you pull Emily into a headlock, ruffling her hair with a chuckle, the blonde pouting when you let her go, her hair a complete mess.  

You snort as you, tenderly fix her hair, the blonde’s cheeks flushing as you tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.  

“Let’s go Sontron.” You give her a playful shove, the blonde sticking her tongue out as she runs back down field, preparing for play to start again, her own cheeks pink as she takes her place on field.  

                                                           ***

The first to get to you after the game is of course, Emily Sonnett, followed by Krashlyn, the pair wrapping their arms around the two of you.  

“Great game baby.” Ali ducks down, kissing the top of your head.  

“As always.” Ashlyn grins, messing up Sonnett’s hair much like you had moments ago. “You too Sonny.”

Emily smirks.  

“Oh, I know.”  

You roll your eyes, giving her a nudge.  

“Shut up over there.” You tease, the blonde rolling her eyes.  

“Make me fool.”  

Ashlyn and Ali share a glance as the two of you start to wrestle, uncaring of the fact that the two of you are currently wrestling in front of cameras, and a stadium full of fans.  

“You think they even realize they’re into each other?” Kelley whispers to Ashlyn as she makes her way towards the group.  

“Nope.” Ashlyn shakes her head.  

“Wait, is Y/N gay?” Megan asks with a grin.  

“She hasn’t come out to us yet, but I mean...” She nods to where you’re wrestling with Emily, the two of you stilling, eyes wide and faces red when you realize Emily is on top of you, the two of you abruptly springing apart.  

Ali looks at Megan, who then turns to Ashlyn, the two nodding.  

“Yeah, totally gay.”  

“The gayest.” Tobin adds, appearing from nowhere alongside Christen.  

“Remember, let her come to you though.” Christen smiles, the woman smiling when she realizes you and Emily are staring at the group of women, your eyes wide.  

“Wh-What?” Emily stutters, running her hands down her jersey nervously, whereas you’re rubbing the back of your neck.  

“Yeah is there something on Em’s face?” You snort, earning a slap on the arm from the aforementioned blonde.  

Ashlyn shakes her head with a grin.  

“Nope.”  

Ali giggles, leaning against her wife.  

“Nothing at all.”  

                                                           ***

Your parents are literally, two of the gayest women in history, and you were completely and utterly nervous to tell them you were gay.

You weren’t sure what it was that made you nervous, you knew they would accept you as you were, but still, your stomach cramped with nervousness, your hands shook and your heart raced.  

“Okay, seriously, you look like you’re about to vomit.” Emily snorts at dinner, and you shrug.  

“Just...”  

“Thinking?” She fills in, a smile stretching across your face.  

“Yeah.”  

Emily glances around for a moment before grabbing your arm, your cheeks flushing as she drags you outside to the front of the restaurant.

“Alright, spill.” She says as she leans against the restaurant's outer wall, her hazel orbs narrowed.    

You sigh, leaning back against the building beside her, your eyes on the street that’s packed with cars, beeping loudly, the New York lights cascading down on their metal exteriors and glass windows.  

“I’m gay.” You mumble, Emily’s eyes widening momentarily before rolling them, though inside, the woman’s heart is racing.  

“Seriously?” She snorts, your eyes widening as you turn towards her, your cheeks flushed.  

“What?”  

“That’s all?” She nudges you and you shake your head.  

“I know, it’s stupid to be nervous about, right?” You huff, Emily shaking her head as she rests her head on your shoulder.  

“I mean, it wasn’t hard to tell me, right?”  

You grin, resting your head on hers.  

“Telling you anything is easy, I mean, you’re you.” You shrug.  

Emily smiles, her eyes fluttering shut as she slips an arm around you.  

“And you’re you.”  

                                                           ***

It’s later that night when you’re knocking on your parent’s door, the door opening seconds later as if the women were expecting you.  

Ashlyn steps aside, letting you in before she pulls you into a headlock, digging her knuckles into the top of your head.  

“He-Hey!” You groan, trying to wiggle out of her hold, but of course, to no avail.  

You grumble as you drop down on the end of the bed, though it’s seconds later before you’re pulled up in between Ali and Ashlyn.  

“So, what’s on your mind short stack?” Ashlyn asks, slipping an arm around you. 

You take a deep breath, your eyes fluttering shut.  

“I’m...” You swallow hard, licking your lips.  

“What is it hun?” Ali asks worriedly, a hand on your back, meanwhile Ashlyn peeks around you, sending her wife a massive grin, the blonde HOPING you were going to finally tell them what they already knew.  

“I’m gay.” You confess, the room going silent for a moment before Ashlyn groans.  

“Thank god.” She sighs. “I thought you were going to tell us you were straight.”  

Ali gasps.  

“Ashlyn!” She giggles, smacking her wife in the back of her head.  

“What she MEANT to say was, we respect you and would love you, no matter WHO you love...” Ali smiles, wrapping her arms tightly around you, giving you a squeeze.  

Ashlyn grins.  

“She’s right, you’re perfect just the way you are.”  

You smile softly, burying yourself in their embrace, simply being, between the two women you consider your parents.  

“So...” Ashlyn hums, smirking. “Does this have ANYTHING to do with a certain blonde we all know?”  

Your eyes widen.  

“A certain, clumsy, sit down comedian we all love?” Ali adds, grinning when your cheeks redden.  

“No...” You murmur, the two women snorting loudly.  

“Bullshitttt.” Ashlyn says, earning another nudge from Ali.  

“She likes you too you know.” Ali grins, your eyes widening further.  

“No she doesn’t.”

Ashlyn snickers.  

“Kid, are you blind?” She teases. “She totally does!”  

Your brows furrow in question, a smile playing on your lips.

“You think so?” You grin, Ashlyn rolling her eyes.  

“Yeah, she’s definitely gay, she’s as hopeless as most lesbians.”  

You smirk, a brow arching.  

“As hopeless as you were when you were in love with Ali and couldn’t tell her?” You challenge with a smirk, the blonde rolling her eyes.  

“Touche.”  

[sage-nebula]

So since you're taking fandom asks uhhhh do you have any more thoughts/ideas about your pokemon fantasy au? Specifically about Alan? I just love him and that au a lot<3

Just so you know, I am always taking fandom asks. I might not answer them right away because I haven’t spent as much time on tumblr ever since I got my new job last year (because tumblr is blocked there for being a “video sharing site,” hilarious though that is), but I love talking about fandoms and am always down to take questions about them.

That said, I sure do!

I don’t know how much of this I’ve shared here before, and if I repeat anything you already know then my bad, but what I have so far is:

— Alan hails from the Kingdom of Kalos, and is one of the Keepers of the Spirit of a Mythical Pokémon — in his case, Keldeo.

— And on that note, before we proceed further, that is a change I made. I originally had him as the Keeper of Victini, but I decided to change it to Keldeo because even though Victini is my favorite mythical and fire-type suits him more than water-type, Keldeo fits Alan to a T. Orphaned at a young age but happily adopted, determination to become stronger, so determined it has a resolute form, and Alan’s leitmotif in The Strongest Mega Evolution / XY&Z is actually sampled from Keldeo’s theme from its movie, “The Legend of the Sacred Swordsman”. Everything fits. So in conclusion, the boy is the Keeper of Keldeo, I don’t make the rules. I mean, I do, but my hands are pretty tied on this one. Moving on . . . 

— Soon after his birth, one of King Lysandre’s mages, Xerosic, identified infant Alan as the Keeper of Keldeo. Highly motivated to bring as many Keepers into his service as he could (and raising one from infancy to be loyal to him was the best situation he could ask for), Lysandre sent his knights along with Xerosic to obtain the child and bring him back. Lysandre’s knights did find baby Alan and his parents living in a remote town, but unlike in canon, Alan’s parents were not willing to hand their baby over to the king and a fight broke out. Alan’s mother’s family’s guards fought against the knights, and ultimately, were unsuccessful. Many of the guards and pretty much all of Alan’s family, his parents included, were slain. But somehow, Alan himself was lost in the battle. Lysandre’s knights searched through all corpses and burnt wreckage, but they couldn’t find the infant anywhere. Assuming him to have died and his body too mangled to identify, they reluctantly returned to the castle to deliver the news.

— In reality, what actually happened is that Alan’s mother, knowing that the battle was going to be lost and not wanting her son raised by the king, did what any panicked and terrified mother would do and put her son in a sling around the neck and shoulders of one of the family’s Charizard and sent the dragon away with baby Alan and the Charizard’s own baby Charmander (who, incidentally, hatched from his egg the very same day Alan was born). The Charizard was offended — she felt she should get to stay and fight — but ultimately the safety of the babies won out (particularly since, like any other pokémon, the Charizard could sense the Spirit of Keldeo within baby Alan and knew that he was someone to be protected) and so she took off with both human infant and Charizard baby in tow.

— And so, for the next few years, Alan was raised by a Charizard in the mountains, an absolute feral child. He didn’t know how to speak human language, nor did he know how to speak Charmander / Charizard (he made growls and similar sounds, but that’s not the same as language), though he could communicate with them well enough. Mama Charizard made sure that Alan stayed fed, fed him curing berries when he got sick (which didn’t work as well as they did for pokémon, but she tried), and he grew up with her baby as his brother. The two often wrestled and play-sparred, which resulted in quite a few injuries for Alan at first as the Charmander didn’t quite realize that Alan’s human skin wasn’t as tough as a fellow Charmander’s scales, but the two bonded exceedingly quickly and would remain inseparable for the rest of their lives.

— However, as mentioned, this only lasted for a few years. Neither King Lysandre nor Xerosic truly believed that Alan had perished in that battle, and so Xerosic had continued scrying for him ever since while Lysandre sent out search parties to the mountains. Every time they got near, Mama Charizard took both her babies and flew to another remote location, deeper and deeper into the mountains. It was deep in a cavernous ravine that tragedy struck; an earthquake triggered by Lysandre’s knights battling wild Tyranitar caused a rockslide, and though Mama Charizard managed to get her sons out of the way, she didn’t manage to escape herself. Boulders too heavy for her to move and at too awkward a position for her to melt pinned her to the ground. Her wings were crushed; she wouldn’t be able to properly defend her babies if danger came.

— Fortunately, danger did not come, but help did. A powerful sage named Olympia foresaw this tragedy, and though she knew that she couldn’t do anything to interfere with it happening because that would put the future too far off course, she could prevent it from getting any worse. She arrived soon after the tragedy struck, and though Mama Charizard was at first very defensive against her (believing her to be one of the humans out to hurt her human son), Olympia was able to convince her that she was there to help. Olympia’s psychic pokémon moved the boulders pinning Mama Charizard, freeing her so that she could move again . . . but only in limited capacity, given the breaks and tears in her wings. It was then that Olympia told Mama Charizard that she could take her and her babies to someone who would keep all three of them safe. Still wary, but with no other options, Mama Charizard relented. 

— It was a long journey, given that Mama Charizard could not fly and would not consent to a pokéball, but eventually Olympia moved all three safely to a quiet village — and, more specifically, to the home of an alchemist named Augustine Sycamore. Sycamore was, of course, pretty shocked to see Olympia show up with a severely wounded Charizard, a toddler Charmander, and a feral human toddler in tow, but after Olympia explained the situation (Mama Charizard was too injured to survive in the wild anymore, the toddlers wouldn’t survive on their own either, the human boy should probably become civilized and was also the Keeper of Keldeo and needed to be protected by a trustworthy guardian), Sycamore agreed to take them all in.

— As an alchemist rather than a monster trainer, Sycamore didn’t exactly have the qualifications to care for injured dragons. Despite this, he had a very spacious plot of land that he had inherited from his family, and as such Mama Charizard had more than enough room to recover, even if she would never be able to leave again due to her injured wings. Additionally, Sycamore made sure she knew that he wasn’t intending to take her babies from her, although in the eyes of the law he was adopting the human boy, but that didn’t mean he would prevent Mama Charizard from being part of his life. (Also, Mama Charizard could not fly, but she could still melt boulders, so Sycamore wasn’t going to push his luck on that one.)

— That said, if he was going to be adopted by a human parent, the feral child did need a name, and calling him “Keeper of Keldeo” would do the exact opposite of what Olympia said needed to be done to ensure his secrecy and safety. As such, Sycamore named him “Alan”, and set about teaching him how to do things like read, write, speak, and otherwise live in human society.

— When it came to being civilized, three-year-old Alan did not go quietly into the good night.

— For starters, he hated clothing. He’d never worn clothing before in his memory before Olympia found him and yanked things over his legs and tugged something over his head, and he’d been just fine. He didn’t understand why Olympia or Sycamore wanted to put him in clothes all the time and thus took them off at every opportunity. He also pitched a fit every single night he had to sleep indoors in a bed versus outside with his mother and brother. Eventually a compromise was made that both Alan and the Charmander would sleep indoors in the bed, but even then, Sycamore woke up no few mornings to find them both outside with Mama Charizard again. (And Mama Charizard was of no help in this department; if nothing else, she looked Smug when Sycamore saw the boys curled up against her chest beneath her wing.) Additionally, for the longest time Sycamore thought he was making no progress teaching Alan human language; he went over books with him every single day, but still Alan wouldn’t say a single word to him, with his only vocalizations being growls instead. It wasn’t until a full six months had passed before Alan looked at Sycamore one day and said, “Why don’t you call my brother anything?”

Sycamore stared at him for a long moment before he sputtered, “You can talk?”

“Yes.” Alan’s glare was unwavering. “Why doesn’t my brother have a name?”

Sycamore didn’t know whether to be elated the lessons had worked, bewildered why it took Alan so long to show that the lessons had worked, or a bit defensive at being so suddenly interrogated.

— Eventually, Sycamore told Alan that he and the Charmander should work out a name for said Charmander together, along with Mama Charizard’s input perhaps, and the name the two eventually came back with was Lizardon.

— Although Alan put up a stubborn fight pretty much every step of the way, by the time he was five he’d mostly acclimated to living like a human, and by the time he was six he took an active interest in Sycamore’s alchemic studies. By age seven he was helping with some of the experiments, and by age nine he considered himself Sycamore’s apprentice and hoped to one day become an alchemist himself. In other words, though it took time, the two bonded and came to love each other as father and son, and Alan came to be quite embarrassed about all the times he bit Sycamore when they first met. (It was quite a bit. He really didn’t like that whole “wearing clothes” thing.)

— As for Mama Charizard, she too gradually warmed up to letting Sycamore co-parent the boys. She also came to fall in love with Sycamore’s Garchomp, Gabrielle, so soon Alan and Lizardon basically had two moms and a dad. All in all, things were going quite well for them.

— And then, as it always does . . . misfortune, steered by destiny, came knocking.

— All these years, Xerosic never stopped searching for the Keeper of Keldeo, and by the time Alan was 13, Xerosic finally found him. This time, Lysandre took a more measured approach to things; at age 13, Alan would not be as malleable as he would have been had Lysandre been able to take him as an infant. If Lysandre had his soldiers abduct Alan now, no doubt he would put up a fight, and the Spirit of Keldeo was one of Determination. If the Keeper wanted to leave, he would leave. Lysandre had to find a way to make him want to stay. As such, he decided to stage a danger that would convince Alan that he needed to join Lysandre’s knights. Once he did that, everything would fall into place.

— So Lysandre sent his spies, led by Malva, to gather recon. They returned with intel that Alan was being raised by an alchemist and aspired to become one himself. They reported that he seemed very attached to his family and his home, and that it would be unlikely that he’d want to leave . . . but that there was a high probability he’d want to protect his family and his home. As a result, Lysandre staged things in three parts:

1.) He and his knights visited the village so that they could “check in” to see if there was anything they could do to enrich the lives of the people there. When Lysandre spotted Alan in the crowd, he made particular note to introduce himself to the boy, and make a comment about how perhaps Alan would like to join the knights one day, to help protect the kingdom. With Sycamore’s hand on his shoulder, Alan replied that he wanted to be an alchemist. Lysandre smiled and said, “Well, you never know what the future will hold.”

2.) A few days after that, he staged a disaster; I don’t have a clear idea in mind for what the disaster was at the moment, but it was something that put Sycamore, Mama Charizard, Gabrielle, and others in danger. Alan and Lizardon did their best to defend but they didn’t have training to do very much. I think Lysandre probably staged this so that it looked like an attack from one of the neighboring nations (perhaps the Kingdom of Galar) to make it extra clear why it would be wise for Alan to join the knights to protect his family and his home.

3.) A few days after that, Lysandre and the knights visited again to help the village recover from the attack. He also, while there, once again suggested that Alan could learn to defend against attacks like these if he joined the knights.

— And that was all it took. Alan didn’t want to leave home, but he also couldn’t stand the thought of anything terrible happening to his family. So he asked Sycamore if he could join the knights—pleaded, even. Sycamore didn’t want to say yes for multiple reasons, the warning Olympia had given him about Alan being a Keeper and thus needing to be kept away from those who might use him in mind—but he could also tell by the fire in Alan’s eyes that he was not really going to take “no” for an answer, and so he relented on the condition that Alan write weekly letters. Alan agreed without hesitation. Mama Charizard, meanwhile, had no use for letters, but she agreed only so long as Lizardon went with Alan, because she believed them stronger together. Of course, neither Alan nor Lizardon had a problem with this, and as such they both left with Lysandre that afternoon. Just as planned.

— Things changed for both of them pretty quickly once they got back to the castle. For one, Lysandre forced Alan and Lizardon to begin using a pokéball, as was kingdom law. For another, while Alan was technically a squire like any other beginning knight, he was also much younger than the rest and thus would receive personal lessons from Lysandre himself in order to get him where he needed to be in terms of strength and training. Alan had no qualms about this, of course; he wanted to get as strong as he could as fast as he could.

— The first bit of training they went through was Alan testing out different weapons to see which one he was best suited to using. In honesty, he had aptitude for multiple; his sharp eyesight made him proficient with a bow, and he wasn’t half bad with a sword and shield. Ultimately he chose to specialize in polearm, though he would still practice with sword and bow semi-regularly in the years to follow.

— Other forms of training included Alan sparring with Lysandre himself (which especially in the early years consisted mostly of Lysandre kicking Alan around the training grounds), and melee matches with other knights and their pokémon. It was in one of these matches that Alan was seriously injured; Lizardon, a Charmeleon now, let out a startled cry as one of the knights hit him with the blunt end of an axe and knocked him to the ground. Distracted, Alan rushed to Lizardon’s aid, only to be hit by Lysandre’s Pyroar from his blind spot. Pyroar’s claws raked down the side of Alan’s face, blood everywhere, and the training session was halted. Lysandre scolded Alan, telling him this was what happened when he got distracted in battle, before he sent him off to the infirmary for treatment. The wounds healed, but scars remained down his cheek from then on.

— For what it’s worth, Alan did write weekly letters back home. But after a year of never receiving a response he stopped, figuring that Sycamore must be too upset with him for leaving in the first place to want to write back. In truth, Sycamore never received those letters. Lysandre ensured that they were never sent.

— Ultimately, harsh and cruel though it was, the training paid off. By the time he was fifteen Alan could best most of the other knights in combat, including the generals, earning him the rank of General himself (as well as Lysandre’s top General, though that was due to his nature as a Keeper in all honesty; Lysandre wanted to keep him on a short leash). This, naturally, made him very unpopular with the other knights, who felt he was an upstart who didn’t deserve such a high rank, but Alan didn’t join the knights to make friends and so he mostly ignored their scorn.

— While he had standard armor at first, Lysandre’s training fast-tracked Lizardon’s evolution, as well as his and Alan’s ability to Mega Evolve. Charizard scales shed naturally, and by the time Alan was 17 enough scales were collected from Charizard’s mega evolved form that they were able to forge custom armor from them. This armor, naturally, was fireproof, and his ability to withstand flames—along with the Spirit of Keldeo giving him unnatural determination that allows him to keep fighting even after sustaining what should be life-threatening injuries, that fire inside him only burning out once the battle is through—earned him a fearsome reputation. Being sighted standing engulfed in flames, his refusal to go down . . . both of these earned him a reputation as a “demon knight.”

— Once Lizardon evolved into Charizard, he became Alan’s sole sparring partner. Unlike the play wrestling of their youth, Alan and Lizardon’s sparring was much more skilled now, with Alan using his polearm and Lizardon deftly avoiding strikes while trying to pin Alan to the ground. So far, Lizardon has ultimately won every spar, successfully pinning Alan to the ground and drenching his face with kisses. These moments are pretty much the only time Alan really laughs after joining the knights.

— At the time the story kicks off, Alan is Lysandre’s top general and he does not know that he is the Keeper of Keldeo. He is also completely unaware of Lysandre’s sinister machinations and aims. Sycamore is incredibly worried about him and has been ever since he went to the castle never to be heard from again, and has been making contacts across the kingdom to get as much information as he can. (He has tried to seek out Olympia for her console, but her whereabouts are unknown.) Lastly, Alan ends up saving a young aspiring bard named Manon when she’s attacked by brigands, and she immediately attaches herself to him, deciding that he is the perfect inspiration for her ballads and stories, no matter how many times Alan stresses to her that he is King Lysandre’s top general and he goes into battle a lot and she will get hurt and die if she continues to follow him. 

“If you’re a general, then where’s your platoon?” 

“I don’t have one.”

“Then how’re you a general?”

“It’s just a title. A rank. I’m different from the others.”

“And that’s why you’ll be great epic poem material!”

“[long suffering sigh]”

Eventually, Alan will learn the truth about the king’s intentions, but whether he learns the truth in time or not . . . that remains to be seen.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer Chapter 14: Deal with the Devil

Previous Chapter

Go back to the Beginning

My mind entered a trance . I didn’t see the room or the people in it. I didn’t even see the boy. I only perceived the life force in his body. The dragon blood warred on his body, wrestling with his human side, swallowing it like a snake. The corruption coursing through the boy’s veins was like a weight pushing against me. To stop his conversion was about as difficult as catching a heavy box being tossed from a window and then throwing it back in an immediate reversal!

The child fell, screaming, writhing on the cold metal floor of his confines. My power was like a fire, burning away and wounding the dragon blood, hobbling it so that it could no longer devour his human side. It looked even more painful than I remembered but I did it. He wasn’t turning into a servitor. He was changed. 

The men in lab coats marveled, recording on their devices as the scales vanished and the boy’s eyes returned to normal.

The vision I saw ended. I blinked my eyes, staring at my hand. My joy shone through my smile, the tears in my eyes. 

“I did it…” I whispered.

“Quickly!” The grandmother began barking orders at the people gathered around, “Take a sample!”

The labcoated people sprang into action and entered the cage, brandishing their kits with needles and vials. They were all over him, pinning him down while he was crying. He was looking at me in terror, not relief but I couldn’t help him.

They let him go, once they had all they needed, but kept him in the cage. The boy pulled his shirt over his head to hide his face. While they were distracted by their machines and monitors set up to study the results, I went to the side of the cage to better see him. “Hey.  It’s okay. You’re not going to turn into a monster any more.” I said, reaching through the bars.

I’m pulled away from him by my arm. Anthony glared at me. “Be careful! He might still turn.”

“He won’t turn!” 

Anthony stared at me. “Why are you so surprised? Don’t tell me you’ve never done this before?”

We were both startled by the amazed gasps coming from the medical personnel. The grandmother was nodding and smiling with validation.

A young man who had been hanging back against the wall approached me. “I guess it worked.” There was no joy or celebration in his eyes. They were crimson, like Isaac's. 

"This is Lukas. The boy you healed is Tobias. They are Isaac’s brothers.” Anthony explained.

Guilt dampened my joy, now that I faced more of Isaac’s family. “I wanted… I wanted to help him. Help Isaac…” I whispered. “I can still try to get out of here-”

He stopped me with a wave of his hand. “It’s okay. You can’t change the past.” He kept his eyes on the boy, a pained expression on his face. “Besides, it’s either Isaac or him. It can’t be both. If you save Isaac, who will come to save him later? Won’t you disappear into a time paradox?”

He was right. If Isaac didn’t die, how would I end up here? What would happen to this child?

 He took a shaking breath. “When do you … go back in time?”

“Not for a few more days.”

“Alright. Let’s… not worry about those days. What happened during that time is already fixed.” On Lukas's face there was no bright smile, no self-confidence, only weariness and grief. “Try to figure out what you’re going to do after that.”

The Grandmother was already on the phone, talking rapidly. “I’ve sent you the results. They’re remarkable. A complete reversal.” But then her smile faded. “Yes… yes, I understand. I’m sure once you see the results for you-...” She paused. “Tomorrow? I- yes, yes I can do that? How many will you need?”

The young man watched. “That’s probably Japan on the line. The dragon’s blood serum that we manufacture is actually of their make. The Devil Clan uses it. They’re a whole gang made of unstable hybrids in Japan.”

“I know.” I lowered my eyes.

“You do?” He asked, astonished. 

“I want to help them too. So they don’t die.”

His shock turned to worry. “Alright… you and I need to talk, privately…” He leaned close to my ear. “Pretend to be sick.”

“Ok.” I closed my eyes and went limp against him. 

Anthony’s voice. “Hey! What’s wrong with her!” 

“She needs to lay down.” He was helping me stand up. I didn’t make it easy for him. “No I have it. I’ll take her back to her room.”

Surprisingly, it worked. I resisted the urge to peek, trusting him as he escorted me back down the hall.

“You’re a good actor.” He said once we were out of earshot.

“I … I used to do ballet.” 

He pushed the door to my bedroom open. The servitor eyes watching me in the window saw my escort and immediately shut.

“Hey, that thing… It’s a servitor. Why isn’t it hostile?” I asked.

He locked the door. “Gramma has a connection with it. She has a strong will and the skill to control a servitor. Strong hybrids can actually control weaker ones to an extent, even if they’re not servitors.” He stood in front of me. “Okay, quick, tell me what happened between you and Isaac.”

“He gave me that stuff you manufacture… I went crazy and got stabbed by one of his men. He healed my injury but turned into a monster. I killed him by accident when he attacked me."

He shook his head in denial. “It doesn’t sound like him at all to do that. Dragon's blood is one of our company secrets. He…” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I know he always was trying to prove himself to Gramma and the executives. He was under a lot of pressure. It’s hard to explain. This doesn’t mean anything to you.” He let his hand drop. “Knowing what I do now, I can… text him and let him know how I feel. It’s not an opportunity people often get.”

“You’re not going to tell him to stay away from me?” 

 “It won’t matter!” I flinched and he looked apologetic. “Tell me. How do you know the Devil Clan?”

Someone knocked on the door. Anthony spoke behind it, and calmly gave us fifteen more seconds before he had to break in.

“Get in bed.” He turned and opened the door.

I managed to get under the blanket before Anthony saw me. He was followed by a nurse with a kit of needles and vials. I flinched away. “No…”

“Hey, she’s dizzy, leave her alone.” Lukas waved her off of me. “Give her an hour.”

Anthony stepped between him and me. “I’m afraid we must insist. The transaction went through and Herzog wants the eggs tomorrow night.”

“Eggs?” Lukas hissed.

More medical personnel entered. I looked to Lukas for help, for answers. “What… what’s going on?”

They surrounded the bed. The men grabbed my arms and pushed me down. “Get off!” 

As I struggled, I turned my eyes to the window to the monster. It was looking at me  “Hey!”

The eyes in the smoke locked on to mine.

 “Get them off me!” I demanded.

The medical personnel backed away as the servitor oozed through the glass, rising from the floor in a column of dark mist, hissing like a cobra. I rolled out of bed and moved behind it.

Lukas called to me, backing against the wall. “Hey… call it off.  Call it off, I said!”

My anger rose with my heart rate. “What’s the magic word?”

The beast let out a low growl, a long tendril growing from its head and sprouting whip-like protrusions that menaced the people in the room. It was taking orders from me, the stronger Hybrid.

Lukas swallowed. “Please…”

I exhaled and relaxed. The creature paused, and then lowered to the floor, slithering out through the glass and dissipating. The room filled with a fearful silence. No one moved. 

Realizing this was a chance I hadn’t had before, I straightened up a little more, “I want you… to leave me alone. I won’t have any part of this… whatever this is. Whatever you did to that kid. To Isaac. All of it! You hear me!”

The door opened a little farther and the Matriarch came in, calm and slightly amused. Maybe her connection to the Servitor made her aware of the fact that I had wrested control of it from her. 

“I hear you. We’re going to work things out. I’m going to have a very important guest tomorrow.  But don’t worry. I won’t make you work for free. We’re asking a lot from you and I understand that.”

I glanced at the window. The servitor was gone. “Where’s the child I cured?"

“He’s resting comfortably.” She answered, not taking any further steps forward. I backed away anyway. 

“What happens to him now?” “What would you like to happen?” She asked.

“He should go somewhere his family is.” I tried to keep my voice from shaking and failed. “No more cages. No more being locked up!” I looked at the people in the room, searching for some semblance of sympathy. “So he can have a childhood, and be happy and safe. For once in his life. … like I did!”

Her dark eyes were serene as she absorbed my words. “Alright.” She nodded. “That’ll happen. I’ll make it a priority. And in exchange, I’d like your cooperation.” Her eyes looked me up and down. “We can provide you the resources, the expertise, the manpower. You have something we want as well.”

She folded her hands in front of her. “Dr. Herzog has agreed to purchase five of your unfertilized eggs for five hundred million dollars… I could collect them by force, but I’d rather not.”

“Five… hundred million dollars?” I whispered in disbelief.

The Matriarch massaged her temple. “You really don’t understand how precious you are. And how much you mean to the world hybrids. Not just your genes, but the power they contain could save countless lives, and relieve suffering well into the future.” She spoke to me softly, intently. “You are priceless. Five hundred million is nothing. Nothing.”

I shook my head. “I don’t trust you. I’ll believe it when I see it. You’re letting your own grandson die! You’re not that generous, you’re not that kind. The minute I don’t do what you want… you’re going to take it all away. Aren’t you?”

Her smile disappeared, she sighed. “There’s not a lot of people who care for the unstable the way you do. In our society, they’re trash. Garbage. Waste. You know it as well as I do, having read those books… and you’ve seen it. With our help, you can save as many unstable children as you want… Unless you expect someone else to?”

She was right. Nobody cared about Isaac, not even his own family. The man who nearly killed me in Japan said he’d been locked away his whole life. The only reason Tobias was alive was because I had requested from my father the power to heal. No one was looking for a cure. I was the cure.

“Do we have a deal?” The woman asked.

“Even if I say no, you’re going to go through with it anyway.” Tears slip down my face. 

“I’m trying to make this easier on you. I don’t have to.” Her voice softened. “You’ve been kind to my boys. I want to give something back.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded. “Okay.” I whispered.

I walked toward the bed and sat down. Lukas, who had watched the whole thing, balled his hands into fists and left the room. Anthony stayed, but he didn’t look me in the eye. The nurse cautiously approached, looking for any sign of resistance as she inserted the sedative filled needle into my arm. Then she helped me settle against the pillow. I closed my eyes and fell unconscious.

Next Chapter

[hazelnmae]

Lies Travel Faster: Chapter 12

Summary: Sophia Murphy’s life seems to be on the upswing when she takes a job with Birmingham’s notorious Shelby Company Ltd. But when she falls for her boss, CEO and ruthless gangster, Tommy Shelby, she finds herself wrapped up in a tangled web of danger and deceit. After all, lies travel faster than the truth.

Tags: Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character; Tommy/Assistant Trope (it’s a hill I’ll die on)

Warnings: angst; smut; violence; language; rape/non-con; death

The warnings are there, folks, but I feel the need to let you know that this chapter does include explicit mentions to domestic violence.

CHAPTER 12 (read Chapter 11 or start at the beginning with Chapter 1)

Sophie felt his presence before she heard him. She’d come to Arrow House to visit the horses, to get away from the bustle of the city and spend some time in the fresh air. She genuinely thought she wouldn’t see Tommy--assuming she’d be in and out before he returned home. But as soon as she realized he was behind her, she was grateful he’d come earlier than she expected. She needed to see him. Needed to know they were alright.

He cleared his throat as he stood over her.

“Hi,” was all she said, turning slightly and smiling from her seated position.

Tommy sat on the grass beside her, letting out a huff as he lowered himself to the ground. It struck Sophie that Tommy probably didn’t sit on the ground often and she couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of him in the grass, like a small boy. He placed his forearms on his knees and leaned into her shoulder with his own.

“Hi,” he returned, without looking at her.

They sat there, side by side, for longer than either realized. The air started to fall colder as the sun dipped and Sophie finally spoke up.

“I just miss it, you know? And you said I could visit--”

“Yea, I did, and I meant it,” Tommy interrupted. After a few more moments, he made his move to stand again. “Well,” he said, placing his hands on his knees and forcing himself off the ground. “We better get on with it before it’s too late.” He held a hand out to help her up.

They mounted their horses and started on the path back to the house. About halfway through the ride, Sophie pulled ahead and led them on the scenic route, wanting to stay in that moment with him, freely riding, worries behind her, as long as possible.

____________________

Robert was home when she finally entered the house at half ten.

It was late.

She’d stayed far longer than she’d planned, but she’d had a hard time pulling herself back into the reality that awaited her in London.

“It’s about time,” he said from the dark.

Sophie switched on the lights in the parlor to find Robert lazily smoking a cigar, still dressed but a bit disheveled. Clearly he’d been waiting for hours.

“I wasn’t expecting you home,” she said, as she removed her gloves and hat.

“I’m sure you weren’t.”

Sophie chose not to respond to the obvious jab. She wasn’t going to apologize for having spent time with a friend. She was an adult and could make her own decisions. As far as Sophie was concerned, Robert was going to have to find a way to accept her relationship with the Shelby family.

“Did you know he’s running for parliament?” He asked.

“Wha--Who?” she responded, pretending to be uninterested in the information.

Robert just scoffed.

“Thomas fucking Shelby,” he spat. “Can you imagine? Thomas Shelby, MP? Thomas Shelby in the house of fucking commons?”

“Is that really so radical?” Sophie said, crossing the room now and placing a hand on his shoulder. She hadn’t seen her husband in a week and thought he’d have missed her. She opted to play nice--to give him the benefit of the doubt and allow him an opportunity to say the right things. She bent down to give him a kiss on the forehead, but Robert pulled away--almost disgusted by her presence.

“He’s a criminal.”

“Well that’s nothing new,” she continued, reaching for the whiskey on the sideboard. “So are others.”

“He won’t win.” Robert stood and moved toward her.

“Is that a threat?” She asked without turning to see his face.

He moved close enough to whisper in her ear and moved her hair away from her neck. For a moment, Sophie thought it may be a romantic gesture, but that was quickly shattered.

“And just what the fuck does it matter to you, eh?” He asked in her ear, hatefully.

Sophie didn’t react, despite the elevation of her heart rate and the thoughts racing through her mind.

After she didn’t answer, Robert eventually retired upstairs, slamming the bedroom door behind him.

She stayed up for a few more hours, thinking about Tommy. Parliament? She wondered. Why would he keep something like that a secret?

Then it struck her. Perhaps he was using her. Perhaps his reemergence in her life aligned with his plans to take parliament for a reason. Perhaps his interest in her was really an attempt to disarm Robert. She had known him for nearly a year and had seen him do much worse.

But she was tired of constantly doubting him.

______________________

The names and counts roared out through the hall. Sophie waited on a bench at the bottom of the stairs, conflicted. She knew that one side of her, as his wife, should hope for Robert’s victory. But she’d never been particularly drawn to the idea of playing “dutiful wife.” The other side, the louder one, knew Tommy would come out victorious.

“Ronald Carr, Conservative, 3,412. Bernard Hall, Liberal, 4,015. Robert Ross, Communist, 6,406.”

After a pause, she heard it, “Thomas Shelby, Labor Party, 48,564.” Then uproar and celebration.

The doors to parliament swung open and she watched Tommy emerge victorious.

“I now declare Thomas Shelby to be the new Labor Member of Parliament for the constituency of Birmingham South.”

Most of what followed was a blur.

She remembered Tommy descending the stairs, his friends and family following closely behind.

She remembered that he looked different--like he was ready for the challenge she knew he’d be facing. Tommy Shelby was a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them. He had a plan, she was sure of it, she just didn't know what it could be.

She was pulled from her wandering thoughts when she saw Robert. He followed the other candidates, but quickly pushed through the crowd, clearly taking the loss less gracefully than the others. He violently took her hand and pulled her toward the exit.

Sophie caught Tommy's eyes just as she turned to follow her husband. She mentally steeled herself for what was sure to be a difficult evening.

__________________

At first, Ada incorporated the knock into her dream.

She’d fallen asleep on the sofa after wrestling Karl to bed, not ready to admit that she was tired herself at that point. After the knocking grew to a loud banging, however, she could no longer ignore it.

She opened the front door to find Sophie standing in the rain, large hat pulled down over her face and suitcase in hand.

Ada simply moved back and opened the door for Sophie to enter.

This wasn’t the first time she’d ended up on Ada’s doorstep after a fight with Robert, but it was the first time she’d shown up with bags.

They moved into the parlor without saying a word, Ada heading straight for the bottle of whiskey and two glasses. Sophie sat at the small table while Ada poured them each a drink. When she finally removed her hat, Ada slumped into the chair beside her and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Are you’re leaving him?” She asked, nodding to Sophie’s suitcase.

Sophie just nodded and downed the glass of whiskey in one take, hanging her head back in the chair to allow the fiery liquid a full burn all the way down.

“It’s about time,” Ada said.

Ada was fully aware of Robert’s growing temper, Sophie sharing on more than one occasion about how her new husband was growing more aggressive. She hadn’t however, actually seen the remnants of his temper on her friends skin. Sophie was wearing a large gash above her left temple and a small cut on her right cheekbone. A bruise was blossoming there as well.

Ada tipped up the bottle of whiskey, wetting a napkin from the table and pressed it to the cut on Sophie’s head, eliciting a sharp inhale as she did so.

“What was it?” She asked.

“He backhanded me slamming my head into the wall” Sophie responded, explaining the placement of the injuries.

“Bastard.” Ada shook her head.

Sophie’s response was cut short by another knock on the door, but Tommy entered the parlor before Ada could answer it. He entered the room quickly, lecturing her, once again, to keep her door locked. He’d told her many times before that anyone could come into her home if she didn’t lock the fucking door. He entered prepared for a fight but stopped when he saw Sophie sitting at the table, back turned to him.

She recognized his steps and made eye contact with Ada, shaking her head slightly to signal that she didn’t want to talk to him.

She should have known that Tommy would end up at Ada’s house. He’d just won his seat in parliament and had, no doubt, spent the night celebrating at a number of clubs and pubs. She’d gotten lucky that Ada was even home, and not out celebrating as well. She couldn’t be so lucky as to avoid Tommy as well.

“Sophie just stopped by for a quick visit. What do you need, Tommy?” Ada asked, trying to keep his attention from her friend.

Tommy just looked back and forth between them. Of course he knew something wasn’t right. Sophie had no reason to be at Ada’s house so late at night. And she certainly had no reason to ignore him so boldly.

“Turn around,” he said.

But Sophie didn’t.

“Sophie, turn around.”

This time she turned, standing from the chair as she did so and holding her face high.

“Jesus,” he muttered as he closed the distance between them and reached his hand up to her injured cheek.

The bastard had struck her. Had hurt her. That fucker. Sophie watched his expression change from shock to anger.

“Where is he?”

Sophie tried to look away, but Tommy’s hand held her face steady.

“Where the fuck is he, eh? Tell me,” he continued. “Is he home?”

When she still wouldn’t answer him, Tommy just turned on his heel and headed back for the door. He hadn’t removed his coat, so he moved quickly without anything to slow him. Sophie grabbed at his arm and Ada called for him to stop, but he was determined to find Robert and make him pay.

“Tommy please,” Sophie begged as they moved into the hallway toward the door.

Turning and pointing in her face Tommy said, “Don’t you dare defend him, Sophie.”

She held tightly to his arm, and felt his pulse racing.

No one had ever cared for her so fiercely. No one since Henry had vowed to take care of her so unabashedly. For all his flaws, Tommy had kept his promise to protect her, to avenge her, to care for her, always.

“I’m not. I wouldn’t,” she responded. She reached her own hand to his cheek and stroked it softly. “Tommy,” she said, “I’m leaving him”

“Good,” he said and turned back toward the door. He would pay.

“Don’t do this,” she said, desperately trying to hold onto any part of him. 

“Tommy, I need you.”

He took her in fully for the first time since walking into the house. Her face was battered, but her resolve was strong.

She really is leaving him, he thought.

“Please,” she begged. “Stay.”

____________________

Chapter 13

I feel like I say it so much, but seriously thank you so much for reading. Feedback is so so so appreciated!!

For you lovelies: @justanothershelby @l0tsofpennies @porcelainjokersmadness @evelynshelby

[strangcrdoctor]

( @cheeseburgersandwarbirds​ continued from here )

The need for sleep for Captain Marvel was often different from that of the “normal” ( as normal as super heroes could be)  humans on her team. With the addition of Kree DNA and Kree powers Carol enjoyed a heightened stamina meaning she could go for days on end without sleep and be fine. 

However, old habits died hard and more often than not Carol ended up going to bed every night; when she wasn’t working or off world that is. Habit aside, there was also a simple pleasure in just having time to close ones eyes and drift. Even on the nights she chose to sleep Carol was typically among the last to go to bed, which is why it seemed odd to find Stephen Strange awake and alone in one of the common rooms. 

He had gotten a fairly nasty injury in the last fight and he wasn’t in bed resting? Carol had enough issues what was with the men on this team and pushing themselves too hard?

‘Hypocrite you do the same.’ She thought but waved it aside and, frowning, headed directly towards the sorcerer. Carol didn’t give him an opportunity to protest before picking him up, carefully, and starting towards his room.

Sure Stephen wasn’t around much compared to some team mates, but everyone had a designated room. Carol wasn’t going to comment yet until the remark about getting him into bed. She felt her face grow hot even as she snorted in amusement. “Did you want a drink?” She joked turning down the hall and pushing into the bedroom with her shoulder.

"Well, if I’m going to get manhandled like medieval damsel, I sure as hell wouldn’t mind one,” he muttered back in trite reply, settling the weight of his grip around her neck over the stretch of his forearm. His hands had suffered enough for one day, and his dignity was about the last thing that could and would take a hit. But from Carol, he’d was more willing to take it than from some others. If someone had come in and badgered him, he would have bit back with all of his medical authority and probably badgered them out of the room. Or at least into not worrying over him.

Carol, however, was not someone to be fought against. Especially not when her version of diplomacy involved hauling him up and dumping him in bed. He couldn’t beat Carol in a staring contest, let alone the full-body wrestle it would have taken to get back onto his own feet, especially with his leg the way it was.

“Which isn’t not a thank-you, I guess,” he continued, half in a grumble, realizing that getting to bed would have taken much longer without her help. Though he was far from done enjoying his sojourn by the fireplace, he was sure that medically it would be better to have his leg more elevated than the coffee table he’d had it resting on. “But I’ll make you a deal - I’ll lay in bed like a decent patient for once in my life, and if you stay and have a drink with me, I won’t set of Tony’s magic alarm system like it’s New Years in Times Square,” he offered. Which, in this situation, was as much of a threat as he could issue. She could, of course, still dump him on his ass for it, but he doubted she’d be that cruel when he had a major flesh wound. “Or you could bring a poor invalid a drink, if you’ve got better cocktail appointments to get to.”

[gremlinkweenarchive-blog]

Bad Moon Rising

Part 3: Feeding Time

Summary: The reader finds and rescues a hurt merman who tells her that his name is Jim. She helps him without a second thought, but his presence might attract the attention of other supernatural creatures she never knew existed. This will eventually be a foursome (Jim Mason x Michael Langdon x Duncan Shepard x Reader) mythology/supernatural au.

A/N: Alright, we finally have significant interaction with all four of them, just not together yet. That’s coming next chapter. I’m .......... fairly proud of this chapter, so I hope you enjoy! And as always, feel free to leave feed back and/or ask for the tag list! This will stir a lot of feelings for Michael and Duncan, fyi.

Warnings: No smut yet, sorry, but there is hella tension. There is blood, injury, purposeful self-injury (for the reasons of feeding a vampire), reader getting hurt, staring death in the face and the aftermath of that, and someone being a little callous to that fact.

Word Count: 2.6k

Tagging List: @langdonsinferno, @ccodyfern, @michael-langdon-appreciation, @lovelykhaleesiii, @michael-langdon-owns-my-soul, and @moonagecordelia

It was a mystic ability that it seemed all Washington natives had they could tell where the sun was, even behind the layers of clouds that often blanketed the sky. She was no different, and even though there was barely any change in the light level, she could tell the sun was peaking over the horizon. She blinked sleepily, she hated that she could never sleep for more than a few hours at a time it felt like. She knew she should get up and get something today, but she was warm and comfy.

She grabbed the furry arm and pulled it closer as she snuggled into the bed. Then her eyes snapped open at the realization of what she was holding. She looked over her shoulder to see the wolf sleepily peacefully and her mind had to restart. Okay, so last night was definitely not a dream or a hallucination. Well, she was up now. She careful shimmied out from the bed as not to wake up her bed partner, and she peaked her head into the bathroom. Jim was cuddled into the pillow and snoring softly, making her smile softly. Alright, everything seemed to be going fine. She descended the stairs to the kitchen softly, catching a glimpse of the vampire who's head was still hanging low, and grabbed a banana, munching quietly as she leaned against the island. She was becoming acutely aware of eyes burrowing into the back of her skull and she whipped around nearly yelped to see that the vampire was very much awake and staring her down like a lion would a gazelle. He made no move to fight against the chains fastened around his chest, but he certainly looked like he was waiting to spring into action. 

"Hi there," she cautiously greeted and he met it with silence, just watching her every movement. "I'm Y/N...." She trailed off as he again, met her attempted conversation with silence. 

"Look, I'm sorry I knocked you and tied you up, but you were trying to kill one of my friends..." Again, silence. She had to admire his tenacity. She sighed, and was a little impressed that it was hurting her feelings a little.

She ate in silence until she heard and was just at the point that she had let it go, "You should have killed me when you had the chance."

It was amazing that this man made her jump twice in the span of ten minutes. Something about him was unsettling, but she wasn't sure what. Or more, where to start. Yeah, he was a blood-sucking vampire, but that wasn't it necessarily. She looked over at him. He was so still and controlled, like every movement he thought about doing it. There was something else though, it was just under the surface.

"I wasn't just going to kill you." She answered, earnestly. 

"Why? I was going to."

"We're not the same people. I wasn't going to kill someone that is just doing what they need to do for survival.... I just couldn't let you kill my friend." He was quiet again, and she wasn't sure where that left their conversation. Finally, he posed another question, "And what makes you so certain I won't kill you when I get out of this? I can't stay here forever."

"Well, I certainly hope that you have enough manners that you won't kill someone who could have killed you, but didn't."

He hummed.

She pursed her lips and got brave enough to venture closer to him. He was still heavily wounded, but the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck were standing up. He was staring at the ground now, but his eyes moved measuredly to meet her curious gaze, a silent and rude what being spoken with the gaze. 

"I thought vampires healed quickly." 

"I'm weak, I haven't fed in a week and a half." 

Now she hummed, and as he looked away, moving just as languidly as he did to look at her, she moved in jerk motions back to the kitchen. She tapped the counter with her nail, thinking about what she should do, and as her eyes flicked to the knife that she used for the skinning and gutting of the fish she caught for herself, she sighed deeply. 

She grabbed and a measuring cup from the cupboard and tried to get comfortable. She had to think about this, but she decided that cutting her ankle was probably the best bit. She remembered from that medical history class this was the most agreed upon spot for blood letting, and it would be the easiest to hide because man, would this cause lots of questions.

The position was less than dignified, measuring cup on the island and leg resting on that, as the rest of her was balanced on one of the stools, but it worked. She took a moment to breathe before slicing into her skin as fast and fluidly as she could. A grunt escaped her lips, but it wasn't the worst pain she's never felt. It was quiet, except the occasional sound of metal against wood. The vampire's interest was piqued now. She let the cup get most of the way full before grabbing the towel on the counter and applies pressure to the wound until the bleeding slowed down to a slow ooze. 

She grabbed the cup and approached Michael with uneasy and shaky steps. His eyes were fastened on the measuring cup and his eyes were darkening. He was inhaling the air to intake the scent of the blood. 

"Here, a peace offering. Now, please just don't..." She wasn't sure what she was asking for but his dark and red eyes fixed her gaze and he nodded for her to approach, a silent promise that he wouldn't try anything. 

There was a fire growing in her veins as she approach. She was scared and his lips turned up to a sadistic smirk hearing her heart beating like a rabbit's. There was something else here though. The way his eyes burned into her, the pure predator and prey dynamic here, was making a heat flare up in her core. She brought the cup to his lips and tipped it. He started greedily drinking the blood, his eyes keeping her gaze until his eyes rolled back in ecstasy, a languid groan sounded from him, then he was drinking down the hot liquid with even more fervor. His eyes fluttered open and with long and slow strokes of his tongue, he lapped what he could reach of the measuring cup. 

Taking it away slowly, she didn't even realize she was breathing hard. His eyes were still dark, and that dark smile was on his lips again as he licked them clean. "Thank you."

"Uh-huh," She said with a strained voice and left for the kitchen, trying to hide her flushed cheeks and arousal, but she doubted that he didn't notice. He could probably smell and hear her. She set the cup in the sink and stole another glance at the vampire and saw him watching her intently. 

She turned to go back upstairs to get changed, but as she got ready for the day, it hit her why he was so unnerving. She only saw him breathe to get the scent of her blood, other than that, his chest was stationary. He only moved out of necessity. There were none of the involuntary movements that came with being alive, he didn't even twitch his head or blink for that matter. He was totally and utterly in control of himself, and something about that just scared her, but also had an extreme power over her. 

She slipped out of the house without even looking into the living room, she didn't want to have to have anymore interaction with the vampire than she had to. It was too much to be in the presence of such an apex predator. 

------------------------------ The shopping went well, even if the new wound on her ankle had started burning half way from the trip. She wasn't too bothered though, but she was happy to be wrestling the groceries into the house. She set things down on the island and kicked off her shoes, but something mad her stop. Something wasn't right here, but she couldn't put her finger on it. She went through the small entry way off to the side of the kitchen that connected the stairs and the living room, and it clicked. The beam was broken, the chains were strewn around the floor and there was no vampire in sight. Fuck. 

Suddenly, she was forced to the wall with a hand clamped around her throat. "I'm sorry to tell you, but I'm not big on manners." 

She made eye contact with him, but she wasn't able to contain her fear like she did with the wolf. This was a creature hellbent on hurting her. 

He was smiling again, drinking in your fear. "You know, this morning I was planning on just ripping open your neck and then draining that little merman you have up stairs, but you just taste so goddamn delicious. I think I'm going to have to keep you around for awhile. I haven't had my own personal blood bag in such a long time." 

She whimpered, terrified of this creature now, truly and wholly. He didn't have an ounce of sympathy in his eyes, if anything, unbridled joy at your fear. "Know that I'm going to suck you dry just until you're about to die, then I'm going to kill your friend. We're going to have fun." 

You had no idea what to do, but from the lack of oxygen and his words had tears pricking your eyes. 

"Now, Michael," you didn't have time to respond before the vampire was forced from you and in the quick struggle, you were pushed to the couch in your living room. You grabbed your throat and looked up in confusion to see what they fuck was going on. 

"That's not very nice." 

What a sight it was. There was a man you didn't recognize pinning the vampire to the wall the same way he had pinned you. He was also naked as the day he was born. His arm flexed as his fingers tightened around the other's neck, his back was toned and that was by far the most pert and mouth watering ass you had ever seen. He was just hard muscle and part of you wondered if Michelangelo didn't carve him from marble. 

"Our gracious host spares your life, and this is how you repay her?" He turned to look over his shoulder to look at you, giving you a wink. "Hey there, sweetheart." 

You nearly hit the floor, you knew those eyes. This is the wolf that you shared your bed with. You could see the wounds, but they were practically all healed now. You found yourself thanking the universe for him now. 

He turned his attention to the vampire again, "Honestly, Michael. I know you were born in a barn, but this is a new level of rude for you. This nice girl does so much for you, even feeds you, and you have the audacity to want to hurt her like that? Shameful."

Michael's mouth is set in a hard and angry line, but not risking a fight. Seeing his hesitance, Duncan grins in his face.

"You're still weak from the fight, aren't you? You know I can snap your neck right now and there's not a damn thing you can do to stop me." Michael looked away from him, and she yelped from her position on the couch.

He looked over at her, "Too much, sweetheart?" He turned back to Michael, a cocky sort of anger lighting his eyes.

"Even now, she isn't keen on killing you. As I said, shameful." He did change his stance a bit, and she couldn't help but stare at his tight backside as he moved.

"If you promise to be good, I'll let you go, kitten."

Michael's nose flared at the comment and she was more than confused as to what that was about.

"I promise," Michael agreed through gritted teeth and Duncan let him go.

"That's a good boy."

Now, Duncan's attention was on her and he was smiling. She saw him now in all his glory, and her breath hitched. With a smirk, he moved towards her, crawling over the couch to her. She hadn't been intimate with anyone in over a year, and even then, she wasn't used to someone to forward. She sunk into the couch with a bright red blush and wide eyes.

"Hi, sweetheart." He asked, his face hovering just above her's and his voice was low. "We weren't properly introduced last night. I'm Duncan Shepard, next alpha of the largest and most powerful pack on the East Coast. What's your name?"

She hummed like she understood what the hell he just said to her, and then it hit her that he asked for her name. "It's, um, Y/N."

He grinned. "Y/N," he spoke like he was tasting her name in her mouth. "That's a beautiful name."

"Thanks," she squeaked out and he was smiling and biting his lip.

"God, what a cute omega you'd make."

"Thanks, um. Can you, Can you maybe put on some clothes?" She was bright red and she had just done 180s with her emotions and she needed some type of relief from this. Just a moment to process this. "I've got somethings up stairs."

Duncan was slightly taken aback, not sure how to take her comment. She certainly didn't smell like she wanted him off of her, but her eyes were practically begging, and Micahel let out an amused snort from somewhere behind the two of them.

"I need to go to the bathroom," she was bright red and he saw the storm of emotions and he nodded, letting her up and watched her as she ran to the long way to the bathroom avoiding Michael as much as she could. Once she was out of Duncan's sight, he turned to Michael and the eye contact they held screamed a thousand words and emotions, but no words were shared.

She ran to the bathroom and slammed the door closed and turned on the facet and splashed her face with water. Her breathing was irregular, and she was fighting back tears. She had been nearly killed, and then whatever that was with Duncan happened, and she was scared. Scared was the only word she had, and she was beginning to regret this whole thing.

"Y/N?" Jim cautiously asked, but concern dripped through his voice.

The young woman nearly jumped out of her skin, for a moment forgetting that the merman was in the room. "Yeah, hi Jim. Sorry."

"Are you okay?" He knew the answer, he knew the telltale signs of the beginning to breakdown, and he could see the bruise on your neck forming, but he felt like he it wasn't his place to tell you that you weren't okay.

"... I will be," She spoke carefully, "I will be."

Jim held out his hand and she stared at it for a moment before gingerly placing her's in the palm. He gently squeezed her hand and she felt the tension slip from her muscles. He offered her a small and kind smile, and she didn't know how, but she was pretty sure that was the most beautiful thing she's ever seen.

"You will be," he reassured her, and she believed him.

[hazyheel]

G1 Supercard Review

First match of the night was the Honor Rumble, starting with Kenny King and Minoru Suzuki. Just gonna run through some of the fun spots, such as the tag teams teaming up. Taguchi had a moment where he directed Rocky Romero’s corner clotheslines, eventually leading almost all members of the match to hit BUSHI in the corner. Jushin Thunder Liger got a huge pop, entering and eliminating Brawler Milonas with Shoteis. Colt Cabana took Yano’s spot in the match, in a heartwarming moment. King Haku made a big return, got a decent pop. Haku was beating down Cabana, so Yano ran into the match to help him out. And at #30, the Great Muta made a huge return. Yano accidentally nailed Cabana with the corner pad, leading to them both being eliminated. Ishii and Suzuki renewed their rivalry, leading to Suzuki’s elimination. The two finalists were Jushin Thunder Liger and The Great Muta. They had a nice little match, before Kenny King, who had not been eliminated, threw them both out and won the match. King got misted for his deceit, but still won the match.

Grade D+. Just a weirdly rushed Royal Rumble rip off. Really not into this. It wasn’t very smooth, there wasn’t much story to it, and even though it was for a world title shot, I just couldn’t care. Still, nice to see Muta wrestle again. He kinda still had it.

And in the first actual match of the night, Will Ospreay took on Jeff Cobb, in a winner take all match for the NEVER Openweight Championship and the ROH World Television. They started out fast and furious, with Cobb hitting a huge European uppercut to start the match. Cobb even hit an awesome delayed superplex for a near fall, showing incredible core strength and balance from Ospreay. Ospreay went for his flip off the chest, but Cobb countered with a huge lariat. Ospreay went for the os cutter, but Cobb caught him and threw him into the corner, only for Ospreay to land on the middle rope and hit the os cutter anyway, for an awesome near fall. Ospreay tried to hit the stormbreaker off the top, but Cobb countered with a super tour of the islands, then hitting a normal tour of the islands for the win.

Grade: A-. Great match. They had awesome chemistry, and hit some awesome moves on each other. I don’t know why I thought that Ospreay would end Cobb’s undeafeated streak, but I was happy to be wrong. Really great match, and I am looking forward to seeing how long Cobb is a double champion. Definitely a match worth watching as their counters were actually awesome.

Next up, a special singles match between Rush and Dalton Castle. This match was over in seconds, as Rush nailed three huge corner dropkicks and got the win. After the match, Castle was so pissed about his loss, and pissed at the boys for trying to cheer him up, he attacked them with a gutwrench suplex and a bangarang, turning heel. I am not going to grade this match, but it was pretty awesome to see.

Then we had a woman of honor championship match, pitting Mayu Iwatani against Kelly Klein. Before the match, Klein sent away camp klein, opting to fight the match fairly. The two had technical exchanges, with Klein coming away with the advantage during mat wrestling. But as Klein got too comfortable, Iwantani locked in a sleeper hold, nearly able to get the win off of that. Kelly Klein got the win after two K powers. At the end of the match, Velvet sky and Angelina Love came down to the ring. As the women distracted her, Mandy Leon attacked, laying out Klein and several other women of honor. They drew the anarchy symbol on her head, and walked out. New stable in the women of honor division.

Grade: D. Just a bad match. I liked the story of Klein showing that she has become a better person, but other than that this was a boring match that was kinda awkward. I didn’t really care for the post match antics either, just becuase it wasn’t particularly good. But they did hit some cool moves, it just wasn’t awesome.

Mega Ran did a rap. Yay, but thankfully Bully Ray came out to interrupt. He was given a big babyface reaction because they all hated Mega Ran. He drove Mega Ran out of the ring, and confessed attacking Juice Robinson.  He said that the challenge was still open, and Flip Gordon answered the call. Back from injury, he got a huge reaction. He quickly started out with a superkick, and a springboard spear. It didn’t take long for Bully to get the table, and for Shane Taylor and Silas Young, but LifeBlood’s Juice Robinson and Mark Haskins came out to save Flip Gordon. They offered to change this to a 3 on 3 match, and came to beat down Bully. Gordan had to take huge kendo stick shots from all of the heels, no selling all of them until his Lifeblood allies came, for a kendo stick fight among all six. The heels fought back, and powerbombed Gordon through a table. In the finish, Bully was hit with a superkick, powerslam, stinkface and a 450 for the win

Grade: C. Perfectly fun soap opera bullshit. It was a lot of hard core stuff, but nothing too crazy. Awesome to see Flip Gordon back, and doing his thang, happy to see Silas Young and Lifeblood, just fun. Not the best hardcore match ever, but it was fine for what it was.

Into the IWGP Junior Heavyweight Championship match, Taiji Ishimori took on both Dragon Lee and Bandido. Lee quickly picked up the pace with a slingshot hurricanrana to Bandido, only for Ishimori to hit a huge moonsault. Lee was really beating the shit out both of his opponents, with shots that were as stiff as they come. They just kept hitting crazy flying moves, mexican destroyers, hurricanranas and ddts. Ishimori hit Lee with the Bloody Cross for a near fall. Bandido hit both men with a moonsault powerslam, which the commentators accurately said wasn’t a real move. Lee was able to get the win after hitting a knee lift to Ishimori and some sort of vertical powerslam to Bandido.

Grade: B+. Flippy flippy flippy match. These guys flew all over the place, with awesome and dangerous moves. It was surprisingly short, but still quite fun. Dragon Lee winning the belt makes me think that Hiromu Takahashi will be back for the Best of the Super Juniors. Happy to see Lee have the belt, he really deserves it. And although I think Ishimori’s reign ended a bit short, I think that it ended at the perfect time for the story of Takahashi vs. Lee to continue. Hope to see that soon.

Into the tag team championships match, the Guerillas of Destiny vs. Villain Enterprises vs. The Briscoes vs. Los Ingobernables de Japon. PCO had to be revived in his entrance, but it looked pretty cool. They started out with a wild brawl, and there didn’t even seem to be rules in this match. The Briscoes seemed to be working together super well, destroying their opponents with chairs. Sanada and Evil hit awesome tag team offense, with huge kicks and such. PCO hit a huge moonsault for a big near fall. Tama Tonga and Tonga Loa gave PCO a huge powerbomb out of the ring, to the floor, with no protection, it looked horrendous, but he sat up afterwards, so I think he is okay. In the finish, Jado got involved, smacking Brody King with a Kendo Stick, allowing Tama Tonga to hit a gunstun, and then a superpowerbomb from Tonga Loa for the win. However, as they went to grab the belts, Toru Yano had stolen them, and looked to run away with them. 

Grade: A-. Wild match right from the start. There were crazy bumps, crazy spots, non stop action, and I couldn’t look away. It was a lot crazier that I had thought it would be, but it was still awesome. Briscoes had some awesome hardcore spots, Brody King and PCO did some crazy stuff, Evil and Sanada kept ahold of their classic wrestling style, while Tama Tonga and Tonga Loa kept their heads down, interfered when they needed to, and came away with the win. Fun, car wreck of a match.

Next up was a singles match between Zack Sabre Jr. vs. Hiroshi Tanahashi for the British Heavyweight Championship. The two exchanged technical holds, with Sabre not commiting too hard in the beginning of the match. Sabre continued to play mind games throughout the match, working over Tanahashi’s arm. When tanahashi couldn’t skin the cat, Sabre realized that he needs to target that limb and began to destroy it. Sabre did his best to counter Tanahashi’s submissions, but Tanahashi was able to keep outwrestling Sabre. However, when Tanahashi went up for the high fly flow, Sabre quickly ran to the top rope to stop it. Sabre seemed to have the advantage during striking contests, but not in technical wrestling, oddly enough. Tanahashi began to psych himself up, hitting several twist and shouts and slingblades. However, Sabre was able to outlast Tanahashi, locking in his submission that has a super long name and getting the verbal submission.

Grade: B. A bit slower than the matches that these two normally, but still quite good. I liked the story of Tanahashi actually being able to best Sabre, but sabre just outlasted him. He was younger, had better conditioning, and knew that he could outlast the Ace. Good stuff, but far from their best match.

And then we had the Intercontinental Championship match, Kota Ibushi vs. Tetsuya Naito. They started with the quick strikes right off the bat, targetting each other’s necks as these two so often do. It didn’t take long before they started busting out the big moves, with ibushi hitting a hurricanrana off the apron, and then hitting a springboard double stomp for a near fall. Ibushi hit his second rope german, Naito hit a spike hurricanrana off the top rope. The two battled for the opportunity to hit a package piledriver on each other, with Naito eventually getting the honors. The two began to exchange forearms, kicks and palm strikes. Naito then hit a huge reverserana into a destino, but Ibushi actually kicked out. Ibushi then nailed a bomboye to the back of the head, and then to the face for a near fall. He then hit a last ride for a near fall, before picking him up for a Kamegoye and the win. 

Grade: A. As awesome as ever, these guys can do no wrong. They hit each other as hard as they could, they threw each other onto their necks, and the whole thing was just so so scary. Awesome to see Ibushi finally getting a long term title reign, unlike his run with the Openweight Belt. He will probably hold it for a couple months, hopefully into the G1 Classic, but I am just happy that he won here.

Now into the ROH main event, Jay Lethal vs. Marty Scurll vs. Matt Taven, for the ROH World Championship, in a ladder match. The men didn’t take long to start throwing ladders at each other. At one point, Scurll trapped Lethal’s head in a ladder, before hitting the latter with a chair. Scurll even attempted to grab the belt by climbing a shorter ladder and grabbing it with his umbrella. Throughout the match, Scurll injured his knee after being stuck in a figure four in a ladder. Taven hit a huge powerbomb to lethal through a ladder suspended between two chairs. Taven and Scurll faced off in the middle of the ring, with Scurll attempting to hit all his offense, but Taven kept playing spoiler to that, drawing chants of fuck you taven. Scurll hit a huge superplex to take out Taven. Lethal was about to win the match, but Scurll locked in the chicken wing and threw him off the top. Taven and Scurll then battled at the top, only for Scurll to break Taven’s fingers, before getting punched off. Taven had it won, but his fingers hurt too much and he fell off. Lethal was able to land a lethal injection on Scurll, but did not have a ladder to capitalize. Scurll took a lot of punishment, as Taven delivered a huge spear through the ropes and through a table. At one point, Lethal went up to the top of a huge ladder to hit the biggest elbow drop ever on Taven, through a table. At one point, Taven introduced a huge, purple ladder, with ladders suspended between lower rungs and the ropes of both sides. Scurll got taken out after Taven swept his leg, and he tumbled out of the ring. Lethal and Taven battled atop the ladder, and Taven smacked lethal with the belt, sending him down through the ladder. Taven then grabbed the title, the new ROH World Champion.

Grade: A. This was a great match. They destroyed themselves with ladder shots, and falling from huge heights. These guys will be sore tomorrow, and they put on a hell of a match. Scurll probably took the most sickening bumps, but everyone did some terrifying stuff. I didn’t expect this match to be as good as it was, but I was pleasantly surprised. Bummed that Scurll didn’t win, but Taven really does deserve it. Congratulations Taven, you deserved it. Surprisingly enough, this was probably the match of the night for me.

And the main event for New Japan, Kazuchika Okada vs. Jay White for the IWGP World Heavyweight Championship. White started playing mindgames immediately, but Okada played them right back. Every time Okada seemed to be gaining the advantage, Gedo got involved to keep White in the lead. It got to the point where, after booting Jay White over the barricade, Okada threw Gedo in after him, before hitting a huge splash to the both of them. White desperately tried to counter Okada’s signature moves, but even when he did, Okada would manage to hit them anyway. Okada was hitting his dropkicks as hard as he ever has, nailing one in the face and one in the chest. At one point, White hit a huge Saito suplex out of the ring, onto the apron. Jay did everything he could to make sure that he doesn’t get hit by the Rainmaker, at one point just sitting down to avoid it, and another time reversing into a sleeper suplex. Okada nailed a spinning rainmaker, into another Rainmaker for a great near fall. Jay hit the blade runner, but did not make the pin due to his exhaustion. As Okada was about to get the win again, but Gedo distracted the ref and White hit a low blow. They had a series of counters, before Okada hit two rainmakers, a jumping tombstone, and then one more rainmaker for the win.

Grade: A-. Really great match. They played on all the apsects of their rivalry over the past few months, like Gedo’s betrayal, the reversal of the rainmaker into Bladerunner, and Okada’s need to go super overkill to put down white. The action was fast and intense, and although I thought it would be better if White retained, it does feel good to see the belt back on Okada.

Overall Grade: B+

Pros: Cobb vs. Ospreay; junior heavyweight championship; tag championship; british championship; intercontinental championship; ladder match; main event

Cons: honor rumble; Dalton Castle heel turn :( ;women of honor match; mega ran

[forestsstories]

Unsolved

Sunlight filtered through my beige curtains, casting highlights on the walls and playing gently across my face. I let out a soft moan, not yet ready to release myself from the visions dancing behind my eyelids. As consciousness reluctantly was thrust upon me the images faded from both vision, and memory. However I left my eyes closed for several minutes, until I heard familiar music fill the tiny space which I am permitted to occupy in my house. Another moan rumbled in my throat as I finally forced my eyes wide.

It seemed like a fairly normal day, maybe even a good one. The sky was an azure blue with small but fluffy clouds dancing across it. My hand fell upon my phone, which was vibrating with the force of my morning alarm, and my day began.

My eyes drifted lazily over my accumulation of clothing, dismissing each article with disgust, the way teenage girls often do. Hearing the ruckus of the rest of the house stirring I decided it was best to get my ass in gear if I was planning on having breakfast before school, and decided on my white shorts and red v-neck tee.

I grimaced at the wrinkled state of the tee as the hanger swung back from the force of its burden being snatched from where it hung, and flung it to the bed. My breasts complained slightly as I lifted my night shirt over my head and I made a mental note that it was time to start dieting again unless I wanted to outgrow all my clothes. The idea of asking my mother to take my shopping for new ones, coupled with the look of disdain I could already picture on her face was not one I relished, so dieting was definitely the way to go. It was when I folded down my pj pants and made to kick them to the floor that something abnormal finally hit me.

A quarter sized mark, blue around the edges and a center the colour of caramel, perched delicately upon the outside of my thigh. My brain reeled, going slowly over every possible cause, as one does when a foreign mark finds its way onto your person. My bare skin grazed the soft blankets of my bed as I perched there to go over the likely culprits.

Yesterday had begun in much the same way today had, with the exception of the sunlight. Clouds had hung in the sky and threatened rain, I recalled this clearly as the threat had persisted and I had wondered if soccer practice would be canceled. I remembered packing my cleats anyway, which had taken a while because they weren’t where I had left them. “Ryan!!” I could almost hear myself shouting at my dimwit brother for taking my cleats, feel the vibration of the floor as his feet pounded down the hall toward me. The ensuing argument had lasted several minutes, minutes which were precious in the morning. The result had been a lack of shower, and still missing soccer cleats. So I hadn’t slipped in the shower then.

I closed my eyes, tracing where I had gone next, and wincing inwardly at my whiny tone as I had stood outside my mother’s door. “Ryan took my cleats, I know he did, and I need them for soccer! This sucks!” I remembered stamping my foot, as my mother had told me off for my childish antics and threatened not to let me continue having a job if I was going to act like a child. “Adults don’t stamp their feet when they’re upset Jillian. Use your words.” I sighed, mom was always like that.

But nothing had hit me when I stamped my foot, and nothing else of note had happened at home. I’d packed my usual ham sandwich and ran to catch the bus. Had I fallen? I recalled each time my feet had struck the pavement, but as far as I could remember had arrived at the bus without issue. My father had shouted something that sounded suspiciously like “wear a coat!” as I dashed out the door, but a bruised ego left no physical marks. When my keester had found the hard plastic seat that was the best our cheap school bus could offer I unzipped my bag and rifled through it. Soccer cleats, textbooks, my work uniform, everything I would need for an unremarkable day. The bus ground to a rather jerky halt to pick up one of my friends and I heard some rabble rousing at the back as a couple of the kids had been thrust forward. Katie plopped into the seat next to mine and I recounted the tale of my stolen cleats while the bus puttered onwards towards the hell we liked to call our school.

Bad pop music droned through speakers that were older than I was in the halls. As I made my way to my homeroom I saw the usual high school bull, someone studying, a couple dumb boys wrestling, one of the drama students reciting lines with just a little too much gusto (one of the best tells of inexperience) nothing amiss. I struggled to remember if anyone had bumped me, but nothing remarkable came to mind. My classes had all gone smoothly, I got my English homework back (got an eighty, not bad) and everything had been normal until lunch. I winced a little remembering lunch.

I don’t usually find myself in the cafeteria at lunch time (remember my sandwich?) but today when I unwrapped my carefully prepared meal I spotted a disgusting spot of green fuzz nestled in a sea of soft white bread and knew I would have to brave it. I begged Katie to protect me from the masses but when she shook her head I gathered my courage, took a deep breath and strode in.

The noise was palpable. I like to listen to my music at a temperate sixty percent and this was well abouve seventy decibels. I ducked as a spoonful of mashed potatoes whizzed past my ear and sent the culprit of the attack a nasty glare. It must have worked because I remember feeling a sense of smug satisfaction as he sat his ass down and feigned remorse. I had chosen a cup of strawberries with yogurt and a grilled cheese for lunch. Ten dollars seemed like a bit much for the contents of my tray but I needed staying power if I was going to make it through a shift at work on top of soccer practice. The buttery crunch of the sandwich almost made up for the near miss of potato in my face, and I found myself not entirely sorry that my ham sandwich had proven inedible.

It wasn’t until I had half finished that I realized where I had decided to sit. A mere five feet from me, and staring at my chest with gusto was the mouth breather who always watched our soccer practice. Kevin. I frowned and scooted sideways to put a little more distance between us, until I felt my thigh brush against the steel leg of the table. The leg was cold and I considered just ditching my food and leaving, but ten dollars is a lot of money. It’s incomprehensible how I could hear his breaths amid the din of the cafeteria, but I swear I could almost feel the air being pushed between his teeth, even though I know that isn’t actually possible. My chewy grilled cheese didn’t taste nearly as good once I realized I was watching it beneath his watchful gaze.

I ended up walking the halls with my yogurt cup, carefully smuggled out as you’re not supposed to have food outside the cafeteria. The rest of the school day had been formulaic, and I couldn’t think of any reason a bruise would have blossomed on my skin from it. Had it been the table leg? I couldn’t remember hitting it with any amount of force, but possibly. I sank my teeth gently into my bottom lip as I continued to peruse the days memories.

Finally I landed at soccer practice, slipping on my cleats in the changing room. I told Katie about my impromptu lunch date and we both shared a laugh at our mouth breathing friends expense. I gazed longingly at the showers, wondering briefly if there was time to slip in a quick wash to make up for this morning, but the coach had launched into a tirade over something or another and I had to at least pretend to be paying attention. I expect I wasn’t because I couldn’t recall what the speech had been about, but I’ve gotten pretty good at pretending. Seven short minutes later we were on the field, sweating as we raced each other around it, attempting to foot wrestle the spotted ball into the opponents net. I remembered a chill in the air and a crisp scent that made me wonder again if it was going to rain.

A slight drizzle began about ten minutes in and persisted throughout practice but we were not to be done in by a little rain. Anything short of a downpour and we were determined to play, because we’re girls. I recalled the ball hurtling toward me. I remembered a split second decision to knock it to Katie, and my eyes flew open as I remembered my foot coming out from under me.

My breath caught in my throat as my foot slipped on the grass, slick with rain. My shoulder slammed hard into the dirt and my eyesight went dark for a moment, as it tends to when you take a hard fall. Play had stopped as everyone gathered around me and the coach asked if anything hurt. I frowned, concentrating on how exactly I had struck the ground. I remembered my ankle had been twisted, and as I touched my shoulder I realized a bruise was also blossoming there, but my thigh hadn’t taken the weight of my fall so an injury there didn’t make a lot of sense.

That was it though. I felt my brow furrow as I sat naked upon my bed reaching for any other possible explanation. My mother had picked me up after practice and due to having to ice my ankle I had called in sick from work. My manager had groaned a little, but there was little to be done. The remainder of the evening had been spent in bed, icing my ankle and studying. I pushed the mark, watching the pale skin around it regain colour for a moment after I released it and sighed. It would seem that the mystery mark on my thigh, similar to the reason of why Kevin can’t operate his god given nostrils, would remain unsolved.

[istrys]

The Vinterblot Pt 3

Rethandus often found himself toiling away in the smith during the late hours of the night. He found some measure of solace in the solitude of the forge, free from the judgemental stares of his newfound allies. He poured all of his anger into every hateful strike, bending the molten slabs of metal to his insatiable aggression. Although he struggled with his inner demons, his strikes were steady and his aim true, forging a graceful pattern inspired by his suffering. It was easy to lose himself in his thoughts like this, left to freely wander the labyrinth of his own mind. What would he do once he proved himself worthy to his master? How would he fight against the demons that clawed at his very soul, begging for anguish and agony? Could he truly be whole again, would it even be possible to make friends of his new allies? Or would the dangerous missions he was assigned to lead him further away from the Light, until he was someone - or something else? Doubt began to fester and thrive in the corners of his mind, but he couldn’t let despair grip his very being. Never again could he wrestle with thoughts of suicide, for the next time, he may not be so fortunate.

“Hello.” a timid voice caused his ears to perk up while he shifted his gaze to meet the stranger. A Quel’dorei woman stood at the edge of the smith, armor-clad in black steel and tightly clutching a bastard sword; she kept her distance from him, staring at him intensely with two soft blue eyes. “You’re Rethandus?”

“I am.” Rethandus stopped striking the ingot to inspect her, but he wasn’t really in the sociable mood; he had aggression to hammer out. It was strange to see a High Elf in a Horde encampment, but he wasn’t here to question anyone’s loyalty. “Can I help you…?”

“My name is Zion.” she quickly answered, sheepishly taking a step forward. “I was hoping you could repair my sword? It’s um. Broken.” The Harbinger narrowed his eyes at the woman, reluctantly gesturing her to approach; although he technically wasn’t the Bloodsworn Vanguard Blacksmith, nobody else had the experience to help her. Nobody awake at this hour, at least.

“You’re undead…?” He asked, perking a brow the moment he realized. Although her skin was pale, she was incredibly well-preserved; she could convince people she was still amongst the living with a little mascara and method acting. Zion gave him a few silent nods, seemingly embarrassed by such a question. “I… I’m sorry…” Rethandus stuttered, suddenly feeling extremely callous. “You being undead or not is none of my business.”

“You meant no offense.” Zion gave him a slight smile, offering her broken sword to him. “I was swinging it this morning and it. Um. Nearly slipped out of the hilt.” He pursed his lips while he stared deep into her eyes, shortly before returning to the present.

“This sword is of terrible quality.” He admitted, holding the blade aloft; a part of him wanted to sugarcoat the truth, but his pride in his own work compelled him to be as blunt as possible. “It looks like it’s been damaged for a long time. The blade itself is incredibly dull…”

“The only other blacksmith around here is the High Justicar.” she nervously explained herself, fidgeting with her gauntlets. “I was going to ask him to help. But. Um. He’s very. Uh. Intense.” Rethandus couldn’t deny Alucieus was intimidating, especially armed with the Holy Light; but as long as he kept his distance from the High Justicar and did his job, there was little to worry about. “I was trying to soothe my curse. You know… by killing things.” Zion kept her gaze on the broken sword, seemingly struggling with the right words to use. “It. Um. I hit a boulder. And it almost popped out.” Rethandus had a hard time imagining this woman chasing someone with a blade, but he didn’t want to ask too many provoking questions; if she really was killing innocent people, he wanted no part in it.

“So you swung at someone and missed?” The Harbinger asked, invoking her startled gaze.

“N-no. It was a deer.” She spoke dryly. “Um. A plagued baby deer. When I have to kill things to stop the ache, I always search for animals already suffering. By ending their suffering humanely I can end my own. At least. Um. For a few days.” Rethandus kept his gaze on her while she spoke, genuinely impressed by her methods to quell her curse.

“It’s going to take me a while to repair this damage. I’ll let you borrow a spare in the meantime.” he tossed the broken sword onto a nearby table, seemingly unfazed by potentially damaging it further. “Here… this should work for now. Take it back to the Acherus to get some runes inscribed on it when you get the chance.”

“Thank you Master Rethandus.” Zion gave him a warm smile and a modest curtsey; that smile didn’t last very long. “Um. I may be overstepping my boundaries. But. Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Ask away.” Rethandus never liked personal titles, but having her call him master was far less dreadful than he expected.

“So. How did you..?” her question trailed off, but it wouldn’t take a detective to fill in the blanks.

“How did I die?” Rethandus perked a brow at the woman before setting his smithing hammer down long the anvil. “I was stationed in Northrend awaiting Prince Arthas and his detachment to return to camp. When he finally came back to us several days later, he wielded an unfamiliar blade with an army of the dead trailing behind him. What happened next wasn’t a battle between the living and the undead… it was a massacre. I managed to bury my blade into the chest of one of his new champions, but it wasn’t enough.” Rethandus dropped his gaze to the smoldering ingot before him. “They drove a cursed blade into my gut. It was the coldest pain I have ever experienced… colder than I could ever imagine. When I opened my eyes again, I was this.” he gestured to himself before shooting his glance up at Zion. “My hair was frozen to my neck. My skin was drained of my blood… but the pain of my injuries were gone, replaced with a numbing cold I still feel today. My body moved against my will, and a voice didn’t recognize inside my head compelled me to march with the others. And march we did, down into the freezing depths of the sea, all the way to Quel’thalas.” Rethandus paused while he grimaced, vividly remembering the atrocities he committed on his own people. “I’m sure you can guess the rest…”

“I was in Northrend when I became a Death Knight too.” Zion slowly placed the spare blade down on a nearby table before continuing. “I was a cleric of the Argent Crusade, stationed in Zul’drak to heal crusaders on their way to Crystalsong Forest.”

“Argent Crusade?” Rethandus repeated. “That had to be long after the Battle of Light’s Hope Chapel.”

“It was. The Lich King had his plan to lure the strongest heroes into the heart of Icecrown, but the Cult of the Damned was starting to grow desperate. A surprise attack on the Argent Stand claimed a lot of us, and they wasted no time dragging us to a nearby ziggurat to raise us into undeath.” Zion gave him a disappointed smile. “I was a Death Knight for maybe two months before the fall of Icecrown Citadel. If I had kept my head down during that attack, I probably could’ve survived that night.”

“What’s done is done.” Rethandus quickly responded, knowing there was little point in thinking about such hypothetical outcomes. “Let me know when you’re off duty. We could go relieve some pain together. And I’ll teach you how to use that sword as well.” Her face lit up moments before she plucked her rental sword off the table.

“Thank you!” Zion beamed, barely able to contain her excitement. “Farewell, Master Rethandus!” Rethandus watched her trot out of the blacksmith with mild amusement; it was strange seeing a Death Knight so happy, but then again, she could hardly be considered a former Scourge Champion. He was starting to grow envious, knowing her list of atrocities committed upon the living would have to be blissfully short.

But he couldn’t afford to think about it for much longer. The titanium nails had to be completed before dawn, and long before his first mission with Advisor Kash’kaar. It would be the first of many.

[lolcat76]

Folie a Deux, pt 7

I wanted this to be longer, but if I don’t post it...I won’t have incentive to keep writing. Technically, this should be the last part of chapter six. Listen, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, if I finish this beast before next Christmas, it will be a miracle. Thanks as always to @okaynextcrisis for the prompt, even if she did try to kill me with that Civil War mini-fic.

He needed to be nicer to Carolanne, he decided. After a full weekend with just him and the boys, he was exhausted. How the hell did she do this all day, every day?

“You look tired,” his ex whispered in his ear.

Hell, yes, he was tired. He was awake far more than he’d been asleep last night, tossing and turning on an increasingly uncomfortable couch. Just when he finally managed to find a position that didn’t kill his back, he was woken by two sets of eyes staring at him.

So he made them pancakes at 7am, argued them into packing their bags and wrestled them into clothes that (in Zac’s case) just barely matched. Their mother would be picking them up at the studio at 11am, and if he ever wanted a weekend with his kids again, he’d better have them ready.

And a good thing too, because Carolanne had been 15 minutes early. She claimed it was because she missed the boys so much, but he suspected she was checking up on him.

Bill tried not to be hurt when the boys dropped his hands and went charging into their mother’s arms. He gave his ex-wife a thin smile, one that she returned. Maybe living this far apart was good for them, he mused. It was the first time in years her smile hadn’t looked like a wolf baring its teeth.

Carolanne’s attention went back to the boys, trying to keep up as they fought with each other to be the first to tell their mother everything they’d seen and done in Philadelphia. She picked up on a few choice words - most notably Laura being repeated over and over again - and that smile disappeared.

Well, it was nice while it lasted.

She’d wanted to get on the road immediately, but the boys whined until she agreed to let them watch half an hour of the party rehearsal. Bill suspected it would be more like fifteen minutes - large group rehearsals like this were notoriously long and tedious. He led them to the mirrors in the front of the studio and told them to sit still and behave. And that lasted for all of three minutes before first Zak, and then Lee, were off and running to Grace. He snapped at the boys to get their attention and pointed to the spot where he’d told them to sit, but the little monsters both turned their back on him and grabbed Grace’s hands.

Traitors.

That’s when Carolanne sidled up to him and whispered in his ear that he looked tired. Funny how she could make even a simple statement sound threatening.

“We had a big weekend. Lots to see and do, and they have a lot more energy than I do.”

“Is that why you had to call Laura for backup? Really, Bill, if you can’t handle the boys on your own for a single weekend, maybe we need to revisit the custody agreement.”

“Don’t start, Carolanne,” he warned. He had absolutely no intention of getting into a fight with her in front of the boys, not to mention the entire company, but her claws were already coming out.

“Look, Bill, I know you think the world will end if you crawl out of the Almighty Laura Roslin’s ass for long enough to spend time with your children, but I am their mother, and I certainly don’t want them anywhere near her. And if you don’t like it, then-”

She was getting louder and louder, and it was only catching sight of a familiar redhead ducking into the studio that shut Carolanne up. She had no problem humiliating Bill in front of his dancers or his children, but she’d rather die than let Laura see her make an ass of herself by screaming in a jealous rage. “We’ll finish this later,” she hissed.

Of that, he had no doubt, especially when he caught a glimpse of the look on her face when the boys went running for Laura.

Laura bent down and hugged them, then whispered in their ears as she gestured to their father. They nodded solemnly and scampered back to the spot where they’d been told to sit quietly. “Laura says it’s rude to run around during rehearsal, especially when we’re guests here,” Lee whispered to his father.

“Oh, well, if Laura says,” Carolanne said, and even Lee looked surprised at the venom in her tone. “Come on, boys. We’ve stayed long enough, and we’ve got a long drive home. Say goodbye to your father.”

Bill bent down to hug his boys goodbye. He made them promise to be good for their mother, and he promised in return to call them in the morning. “I love you,” he said.

“We know, Daddy,” Lee said. He took his brother’s hand and pulled him out of the studio, the both of them turning back to wave before they disappeared through the door.

His stomach clenched as he watched the door swing closed. Was it worth the hell that was about to come raining on him, to spend the afternoon with Laura, Grace and his sons? He had a sudden picture in his mind of Laura helping Lee read the museum displays, his little hand clutched in hers. Totally worth it, he decided. Whatever Carolanne decided to do to him, he had no intention of giving up time with his boys, and he had no intention of giving up Laura Roslin ever again.

***

The rehearsal was more than half over before Laura finally made her way over to him. “You look tired,” she said.

“Funny,” he replied, “you’re the second woman today to tell me that.”

“Really? Your charm must be slipping in your old age. Kids wear you out?”

He nodded as he rubbed the back of his aching neck. “I had them for a weekend and I feel like I got hit by a truck. I don’t know how you did it with Grace all these years.”

“Well,” she replied, “I put her in so many dance classes she only had enough energy to eat, do homework and sleep. Worked like a charm.”

He chuckled, but his laugh sounded hollow even to him.

“Hey,” Laura said, nudging him with her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

He shrugged,not sure whether he should tell her what was bothering him. Not sure she even wanted to hear it, and definitely not sure he wanted her to know just how much his ex-wife hated him, and by extension, her. “It’s just...I’m not sure when I’m going to see them again, and it’s my own fault.

She opened her mouth to argue with him, but her jaw snapped shut when she realized that the room had gone silent. Bill and Laura looked up to find Jack, as well as the dancers, staring at them.

“Are we interrupting something with our little show here? Should we leave, and let the two of you finish?” Jack snapped.

Bill leaned into Laura. “I think we’re being rude, and technically, we’re guests at this rehearsal.”

She stole a quick glance at the clock on the studio wall, then reached out and tugged at his hand. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll buy you a cup of coffee while the master surveys his domain.”

They sat at the same table where they’d had that first disastrous cup of coffee all those weeks ago, but if Laura noticed, she didn’t say a word. She simply sipped her tea and waited for him to start talking.

“It’s hard,” he said finally. He drummed his fingers on the table, not quite sure how to put his thoughts into words. “I try to talk to them on the phone, but Carolanne isn’t very good about letting them come for visits. Every time I see them, they’re different.”

She hummed sympathetically, but didn’t respond. She was always good at waiting him out.

“I’m just afraid that they’re going to forget me, you know?”

“Bill,” she said. “You’re their father. They’re not going to forget you. Children don’t just forget their parents.”

Jesus, he could kick himself. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m a jackass. I didn’t mean it like-”

She waved away his apology. “I know you didn’t. And I didn’t ask you for coffee so that you could tiptoe around my feelings.”

“Still,” he said. “I should have thought before I opened my mouth.”

“You never have before. Why start now?” She laughed, and he couldn’t stop himself from grinning back at her. “Seriously, Bill, just because something terrible happened to me and Grace, doesn’t mean you don’t get to feel bad because something rotten is happening to you. And I’m not so selfish that I can’t listen to my friend’s problems without turning it back to my own personal tragedies.”

“You’re not selfish at all. If you were selfish, you’d have dumped Lee back on me and run for the hills after his first fifty or so questions.”

“The thought did cross my mind,” she agreed. “No, Bill, he was fine. I had a lot of fun at the museum.”

He grimaced, remembering the look on Carolanne’s face when she realized just who had accompanied her boys and their father to the museum. “Me too, and it’s a good thing, because I’m going to be paying the price for that.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him, confused. “Carolanne. She wasn’t too pleased to hear that you were with us. I hate to tell you this, Roslin, but she’s not your biggest fan.”

“I wasn’t aware that Carolanne was a fan of anyone but Carolanne,” she drawled.

She didn’t let bitchiness slip out often, but when she did, it always made him laugh. “You’re probably right. I think she’s still trying to figure out a way to blame you for her injury.”

“What, by greasing the stage? Not my style. I could have slipped on it and torn my ACL, and where would that have left me? No, if I were going to take her out, I’d have gone old school. Glass in the pointe shoes.”

“I’m flattered that you’d go to all that trouble just to dance with me. Really, Laura, all you ever had to do was ask.”

She reddened a little at that, and the flush brought out the green in her eyes. Something about her was different - she looked a little less haunted, a little less closed off. “You look good today,” he said. Happy, he wanted to add, but he didn’t want to press his luck.

She looked away, staring out the windows of the cafe. “Thank you,” she muttered.

“You also still can’t take a compliment.”

“Then maybe you should stop trying to give them to me.”

“Fine,” he shot back, “you look like shit.”

His timing was perfect - she started coughing and spluttering into her mug, somehow managing to spit a mouthful of tea right in his face. This time, it was his turn to cut off her choked apology, but he was laughing too hard to actually get out any words.

They sat there, giggling and wiping off their glasses and the tabletop, until Bill finally managed to get himself back under control. “Thanks,” he said. He curled his fingers around hers. “I needed this.”

She gave his hand a little tug. “Anytime. That’s what friends are for.”

He held her gaze for a long minute, wanting nothing more than to stay here, her hand in his, for the rest of the day. He had a rehearsal to cover in a few minutes, though, so he reluctantly let her go and slid back in his chair. “I’ve got to get back. And so do you - that kid of yours is going to be done in a few minutes.”

“Ah yes, all nice and tired and ready for food and bed. It’s a good system, Bill, I’m telling you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He followed her out the door, and he was surprised when she threaded her arm through his and held it all the way back to the studio.

***

She’d been joking about using dance to wear Grace out, but tonight, it looked like she wasn’t too far off the mark. Grace collapsed in a heap on the couch, eyeing the stack of schoolbooks she’d left on the coffee table that morning.

“I’d complain about my English paper,” Grace sighed, “but I know you’ll only tell me that understanding Shakespeare will make me a better Juliet onstage.”

“See, you are learning. Now get your feet off the coffee table and get to work.” She pushed Grace’s feet to the floor and dropped her English textbook into her lap. “The sooner you start, the sooner you’ll be done.” Laura ignored the pathetic whimper from the couch as she made her way into the kitchen.

As tempting as ordering takeout sounded, she’d been relying a little too much on delivery these days. The fridge was packed with styrofoam, and it was beginning to smell even worse than her niece’s dance bag. Laura pulled the trash can to the fridge and started weeding through its contents, hoping she’d find something green underneath the takeout boxes and plastic bags containing the liquefied remains of what was last week’s grocery shopping trip.

She found a jar of salsa and a bag of cheese that was dangerously close to expiration. A couple of cans of black beans and a can of corn, and she'd have a perfectly respectable soup. Martha Stewart she was not, but at least they weren't going to starve. It was either that or pasta, and she wasn't in the mood to listen to Grace bitch about carbs again.

She missed the days when Grace’s biggest complaint about her cooking was crusts on her grilled cheese sandwiches. More than that, she missed the days when meal planning meant getting down to the kitchen before her sisters and her father ate everything in sight. Her mother always made it look so easy.

Probably because you weren’t paying attention, she reminded herself. She dumped cans into a saucepan, added a good handful of chili powder, and gave it all a good stir with her mother’s favorite wooden spoon.

At least she’d inherited a good set of pots and pans. Her apartment with Bill had been stocked with the finest cookware Duane Reade had to offer, and she’d burned more meals than not. She ate them anyway, too stubborn to admit that she wasn’t good at something.

Bill ate them too, not willing to risk her temper if he asked her why the spaghetti was all stuck together. At least now she knew to give the pot a good stir and salt the water.

She wondered what Bill was eating, in that apartment all by himself. She shouldn’t be worried about it, but it seemed that her lot in life was to spend her entire adulthood worrying whether or not the people around her were eating enough. She picked up the phone and called him before she realized what she was doing.

At his gruff hello, she asked him, “Are you hungry?”

“Am I what?”

“Hungry,” she repeated. “I’m cooking, and I always make too much. Are you hungry?”

“I know how to feed myself, Laura,” he said, and she fought back the urge to argue. Hot Pockets did not constitute a meal. Even soup made from cans and barely edible produce was better than the crap Bill was most likely microwaving for dinner.

“Come over. Home cooked meal. It’ll be ready in ten minutes, but I’ll keep it warm for you.”

Somehow, she knew he wouldn’t say no. She gave the pot another stir as he told her that he’d be there as soon as he could.

Dinner was almost ready; just a few more minutes to simmer and she’d be ready to dish up a bowl and take it out to Grace in the living room. She hummed under her breath as she bourreed to the fridge to dig out the cheese. An arabesque and pique battements as she made her way to the cabinets holding her dishware, and a series of attitude turns as she juggled an armful of kitchenware.

“You’re dancing again,” came a voice from the doorway. She stopped in her tracks, feeling more than a little bit ridiculous. Grace, still decked out in her rehearsal clothes, all long lines and willowy neck, and Laura all of a sudden felt old, out of shape and ridiculous dancing Giselle’s peasant variation in her kitchen.

“Sorry,” she said with a grin. “I’ll leave the dancing to the pros.”

“No,” Grace said. “I like it. You haven’t done that since I was little. I used to love watching you dance. You always seemed so...happy.”

“Grace, honey, I am happy. Whether or not I’m dancing in the kitchen has nothing to do with it.” She ladled a healthy serving of soup into a bowl and sprinkled some cheese over the top, mentally reminding herself not to glissade through the kitchen to hand it over.

Grace took it with a raised eyebrow. “Okay, fine, happier. It’s just...in all the years we’ve lived here, I’ve never caught you doing sun salutations or the warrior pose as you cooked dinner.” She wrinkled her nose. “Are there beans in this? Aunt Laura, carbs!”

“Eat what I give you or learn to cook, kiddo. And until you want to learn your way around the pots and pans, stay out of my kitchen.”

Grace shrugged. “Fine by me. I’ll leave you to your…” she gestured to the appliances lining the countertops, “...audience.”

Laura stood perfectly still in the kitchen, running Grace’s words back and forth in her mind. When she was her niece’s age, she practically wore grooves in the kitchen floor rehearsing for upcoming performances or perfecting her technique, but she’d let all of that fall by the wayside as Grace grew older. Years ago, she’d given up the idea that she was a dancer and embraced the reality that Grace was the one who’d have a career. In doing so, she’d forgotten the simple joy of dancing just because she felt like it, just because she had an open room and nothing else she needed to be doing at that particular moment.

She missed it, plain and simple. She missed the days when dancing wasn’t a career. Mostly, she missed the days when dancing wasn’t the reason she lost her entire family. She  missed the days when dancing made her happy. Purely, completely happy.

The kind of happy she’d been a few minutes ago, running through the peasant variation while she cooked dinner. The kitchen was still empty, Bill wouldn’t arrive for another twenty minutes or so, and she hadn’t made it to the coda of the variation. She cued up the music on her iPhone, turned down the burner on the stove, and started the variation again.

If the only applause she’d ever earn for her performance as Giselle was the hissing of steam from a pot of soup, she’d take it. Happily.