#currently hello crime lord my old friend because i had to come up with something

[britcision]

Alright, not a lot for you this WIP Wednesday, I have been doing a lot of spring cleaning! But here you go, just a lil Jason getting out there to keep an eye on his family

Featuring Harper Row for the first actual time, cuz she’s great and she deserves to be here!

First part of chapter 13, the rest is, as always, in the tags. Title is subject to change

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Hello Crime Lord My Old Friend

About twenty minutes after dropping Danny off at his dorm, Jason was suited up and ready to go.

Well, he’d stayed outside until he’d seen Danny shut the door behind him first. Jason had some fucking manners, though if pressed he couldn’t name who’d taught him them.

Danny’s dorm was about fifteen minutes from one of Jason’s better safe houses, as it happened. Jason had never been to a dorm, but from Danny’s stories?

A step below Teen Titans’ bunks, and those had sucked. Less privacy, smaller rooms, and more people? Who weren’t even part of the same team?

Maybe next semester Jason could offer to let Danny move in. He didn’t need need the safe house.

Red Hood could always buy the building. There were other apartments and while they weren’t luxurious, they beat half his other spots. The neighbourhood wasn’t bad either.

It’d be nice to pay Danny back a bit. Not have him closer. Just. Repay some of the debt by giving him a place to stay, rent free.

And maybe, just a little bit, the part of Jason that enjoyed the romanticism of his period novels kinda liked the idea. An estate for the king on your lands was a big deal back then.

A slightly more modern part of him thought being a landlord for his ruler would also be pretty funny. He figured Danny would enjoy that side too.

And it wasn’t like the guy could complain, since he’d literally given Jason back himself. Yeah, Jason was gonna pull that one out if Danny tried any familiar “oh I can’t accept this” on him.

Fixing his core was pretty damn god level on the favours spectrum. Jason could do whatever the hell he liked and Danny would just have to deal with it.

It cheered him up a little more, kept him in a good mood on the ride back to his safe house. It was more time where he couldn’t help Cass, but seriously?

Danny could change in a matter of seconds and be at her side not much slower. Walls, cars, goons, Jason had this feeling that none of it would slow Danny down.

And yeah, knowing that helped, but there was still a piece of him that only unknotted as he slid his helmet on and headed to the window.

“Hey, Black Bat. Busy?” He asked as the comms switched from earpiece to helmet display.

Of course he wore both. People kept trying to steal his damn helmet. That was also what the internal explosives were for.

The others all piped up when they heard him, Harper and Steph calling cheerful greetings around an ongoing conversation.

“Shit, Hood’s in, this mean I can go back to bed?” Bluebird teased. Spoiler cut her off immediately.

“Hell no, it can’t be a school night, Robin’s here! Great timing though Hood, we’re planning Red Robin’s eulogy and you have some experience there,” Spoiler chirped brightly, and Jason hesitated.

Sucked in a breath. He wasn’t gonna judge anyone else’s coping mechanisms until they got past “heads in a bag” levels.

Best to ignore it, since she wasn’t actually trying to set him off.

What the hell had Tim done since they’d left the manor?

Shaking his head, Jason settled into Red Hood and hopped onto the fire escape, scaling easily to the roof.

“Black Bat?” He repeated instead of answering, and half smiled when Spoiler groaned dramatically.

Black Bat answered in the considerate group pause.

“Not busy. Why?” She sounded amused, not even particularly tired, and Jason relaxed enough to slip all the way in.

“Thinking of going a little out of my way tonight. Wondered if you’d mind a tagalong?” Red Hood asked, hoping he sounded casual.

It wasn’t like he’d been planning to patrol the Alley anyway; his guys had already been told to handle it. He’d have to run around tomorrow night to keep the creepers scared, but he could have a couple off.

The tiny pause before her answer didn’t quite feel like judgement, but Jason muted before blowing out the sigh as she did. It wasn’t like the others needed to know he’d been stressing.

“Sure. Meet at the library?” She’d had his tracker up. Hood nodded, turning and running for the edge of the roof.

“Sounds good.” And they’d probably wound Spoiler up enough, she’d start plotting vengeance for being ignored soon. “So what the hell did Little Red do?”

“Brought Too Fine to the Bat Cave,” Spoiler told him with relish, not noticeably put out by the delay.

Not necessarily a good sign, since she was also this enthusiastic while actively plotting against him.

Wait.

Too Fine was Tucker’s hacker name.

“But he doesn’t know about us,” Red Hood said with a frown, catching an outcropping and swinging on.

“Oh, now you tell me,” Tim groused while the others snickered, “what a shame you didn’t think to when it’d have actually been helpful!”

News to Hood that he was on, probably still in the cave.

“He knows now,” Nightwing chimed in brightly, probably also travelling from the slight strain in his voice.

Hood paused for a moment, letting that sink in before attempting the next jump.

“Is he on comm?” He asked warily, because if Tim brought Tucker to the bat cave, it was entirely possible that they were all outed.

And that Tucker might tell Danny.

Shit, he still had to text Harley. Resolving to do it once he hit the library, he set back to running, throwing himself across another street.

Cass would probably take a little longer to get there.

“He’ll be back, he’s in the bathroom,” Tim explained with a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “It’s not all bad, he’s given me the full story on what happened in Amity Park. Witness account and all.”

“From a witness you let down to the bat cave~” Spoiler sang sweetly across the air.

Red Hood could hear Oracle rolling her eyes as she cut in.

“Tone it down, Batgirl. Bluebird, if you’re still thinking of heading in, could you swing past one last site on your way?” She said firmly, then lightening her tone for their current guest.

“Batgirl who? I’m Spoiler,” Spoiler grumbled, but didn’t push beyond that. None of them did when Oracle invoked the name she’d had second.

Bluebird snickered at her before answering the question, a hint of exertion suggesting she was on the move too.

“I’m not actually in a rush to go home, O, I got all dressed up so I might as well enjoy one last hurrah.”

Right, because she’d be going back to school probably when Danny did.

Harper had always been a damn good hero in Jason’s books, but she valued her retirement and none of them really wanted to ruin it. Unless, apparently, seven bats just had to stalk Jason’s new friends.

Hood would have apologized, but frankly if she’d said no, some of the others couldn’t have come to the gala to be a pain in his ass.

And then he couldn’t have had so much fun fucking with them.

Fine. One cool fruit basket for the Row household, and some rainbow cupcakes for Cullen. He needed practice on frosting roses anyway.

Although that also reminded him.

“Hey Bluebird, have the others filled you in on Phantom?” He asked, cutting off some more background chatter from Spoiler and Tim.

Nightwing and the girls had had hours by now.

“What, your new boyfriend?” Bluebird asked sweetly, and Hood rolled his eyes.

Probably hit the important shit then.

“Sent you a picture?” He asked instead, decidedly not entertaining that question.

Nightwing and Spoiler snickered. Hood flipped off their general directions, settling himself comfortably on the roof of the library to wait for Black Bat.

There was a short pause, the others now wondering what he was getting at. Good.

“In and out of suit,” Bluebird agreed, curiosity tinging with mild suspicion. Being out of retirement clearly wasn’t good for her.

Hood nodded, pulling out his phone and shooting Harley a quick text. It might be moot now, asking her not to mention Red Hood shit in front of Danny, but he might as well.

He still had to ask if Waylon knew. No reason not to do both, just in case. And see if Tucker knew when he got back.

“I know you’re outta the game, but keep the light show to a minimum if you see him around, okay?” He asked, scanning quickly over the list Danny’d cleared for public discussion.

He didn’t know if Tucker would have mentioned it, but he might as well. Cause of death was good, but Jason personally would veto “and the effects it may have now”.

Because fuck Bruce and his need for everyone to show him their weaknesses.

Bluebird definitely sounded curious now, and possibly like she was punching someone.

“Oh? He not big on the electricity?” She wondered aloud, and Hood grimaced.

Because if they were both at Gotham U in engineering… there was actually a chance Harper and Danny would run into each other.

Danny was older, but Harper skipped a couple years and he had no idea what year Danny was in. Fuck, they might be in the same classes. He couldn’t believe he’d never thought of that.

“Not exactly. You mighta seen him around actually, he’s a techie boy too. But he’s not a fan of the electricity flying around,” he explained, Nightwing making background noises that told Hood he hadn’t put the pieces together either.

Good. At least he wasn’t alone.

Bluebird made an interested hum, and probably a finishing blow considering the satisfaction when she spoke next.

“I thought he looked familiar. But then, he’s total Wayne-bait. Yeah, I can keep the good stuff under wraps if I see him around. Gonna guess he’s had some bad shocks in the line of work?”

Hood hesitated and in exactly the same instant Black Bat landed on the roof. Sam had given them all the warning about talking about a ghost’s death, so he could leave it at that.

But…

The way Danny had looked when he explained about Vlad. Yeah, he’d rather they took this seriously. He didn’t want any of his family to hurt Danny, even by accident.

“It’s how he died. He won’t spontaneously combust or anything, but it’s a bad memory.”

Silence reigned while the others absorbed that particular detail, Black Bat crossing to crouch on the roof beside him. Hood leaned over enough to bump their shoulders together.

He could almost feel concern radiating off her, which was an extra weird experience after literally feeling all of Danny’s emotions half the day.

Guess that was where Cass’s liminality was going. It made sense, kind of; despite her occasional trouble speaking, she was pretty much the clearest communicator in the family.

Having another back up way to make herself heard would only fit.

On a whim, he tried projecting comfort back to her.

—————

Tag list: @welcometosasakiworld @kyrianclawraith @someonebored0100 @stealingyourbones @starkcravingmad @frostedthroughghost @akikkobara @rainbowbunny0159 @littlefeather345 @violet-catsarelife @serasvictoria02 @wolfjackle @blacksea21090 @secretdestinywerewolf @anime-hipster-the-amazing @undead-essence @skitscratched @blackroserelina @snoodly-boop @trickerdi @mayoota-blog @xysidhe @idkmrpianoman @little-apricot-the-writer @chaoticmistake @the-legal-shipper @bun-fish @aroranorth-west @demon-cat-goes-woof @perfectwastelandcreation @onyxlightdragon @larks-and-katydids @peachesandcreamfemboy @jesus-camp-the-sequel @may-rbi @mothman-the-mothman87 @viyatrix @stargirl1331 @idfk-man10 @thedepressedrobin @skulld3mort-1fan @rootsmudge @ravenshadow17 @cankoking @phantom-dc @mentalcarebear @magic-pincushion @redamancyardor @lyra689 @itsparadoxlacuna

[klbwriting]

Unexpected Allies - Chapter 1

Fandom: Six of Crows/Shadow and Bone

Pairing: eventually will be Kaz/female!Reader but for now nothing

Warnings: I mean, Kaz Brekker is involved, someone is getting maimed

Summary:  The Darkling won the Ravka civil war, defeating the Sun Summoner and taking command of Ravka. Then he went looking for ways to make his Grisha more powerful. Kaz Brekker knew this but took the job at the Ice Court anyway, getting himself and Jesper Fahey thrown into a Ravkan prison for his efforts. After getting broken out by the Darkling's second in command the trio has to find their way to the Permafrost and the resistance gathering there. And then Kaz has to figure out a way to get his crew out of this whole mess. But how can he get himself out of the mess of feelings he has for the Grisha with all the powers?

Note: Hello!  I am alive!  I have found motivation for something else!  As much as I loved the Shadow and Bone show I have found more love in the Six of Crows books so this fic is an AU based on both.  In this the Darkling won out over Alina and then Six of Crows happened like it does, except the Darkling showed up to ruin things as he does. Also going to address the Inej sized elephant in the room, in this Kaz’s feelings were less strong towards her because I ship the fuck out of Kaz and Inej but I also ship the shit out of Kaz and myself too and I needed some self-insert.  I hope you like it, I missed writing and I’m glad to find some inspiration again.  

Kaz Brekker was known even in prison as the guy who didn't need a reason. He wanted his infamy to spread even behind bars, the better to keep those looking for a pigeon to harass away. On his first day in this hellscape he had stolen a fork from the dining hall and used it when his cellmate attempted to take the makeshift cane that he had been provided from his hand. Now he no longer had a cellmate and his old cellmate no longer had his eyes, and word spread quick of the young man willing to kill to be left alone. That had given him the time and space to start to plan his escape.

First, get Jesper as his cellmate. That was accomplished with ease. Anyone else they put in with him would be blind or deaf or crippled within 24 hours so it came down the guards asking him straight out who he wouldn't maim. He said Jesper Fahey and they allowed it if only to have a night's peace. Jesper didn't look like he was faring well. In a cell at Hellgate Jesper would have been alright but here in a West Ravkan prison near Os Alta where his Zemeni features made him stand out he had become a target. When he entered Kaz's cell rage filled the young crime lord. Jesper was thinner than ever, dark circles under his eyes and hands fidgeting constantly, almost like he needed a drug but Kaz knew it was just because he couldn't focus his energy.

"Jesper," Kaz whispered after the guard had left and his sharpshooter sat on the cot. "What do you need?" Jesper looked at him slowly and gave half a smile.

"Just my friend, s'all ok now," he said. Kaz felt the side of his mouth twitch up just a little. "But I could also use a way out of this damned place." Kaz nodded, gripping the wooden walking stick a little tighter. He wanted to put a comforting hand on Jesper's shoulder but he could not, Jordie's body, cold and wet and dead flooded his mind, and he couldn't bring himself to reach out. He hated that this place seemed to be tearing his friend apart slowly. It was even taking a toll on him. Everyday was the same, waked up with the sun, eat a breakfast of stodgy porridge and soggy bread, washed down with possibly the grimiest coffee ever made. The prisoners were then sent outside to work on either the large farm for the prison and surrounding towns or they were forced to be target practice for the Grisha guards. Normally only the worst of the worst were reserved for practice, or those that pissed off the guards. Kaz had avoided this so far but he knew Jesper had run his mouth one day, getting snarky with the yard guard and he had almost been drowned by a Tidemaker the next morning. Lunches were non-existant most days. They were shuffled from work to 'free time' which meant sitting in the hot afternoon sun either playing cards, or, if they were lucky, sitting under one of the shady trees that scattered the yard. Evening was the only decent time at this hellhole, it was dinner, and then back to the cells. Kaz enjoyed this time, he was normally alone to plan, and now that Jesper was here they could plan together. He had the beginning, how to get out of the cell, but the rest he was still working on.

"I have been planning this since we got in here, you were the first part of my plan," Kaz said, watching as another set of guards walked by. He checked the small window above their heads. "She's coming any minute now." Jesper looked at him confused for a moment before the cell door opened and a guard told Kaz to get up. Kaz nodded and stood, Jesper rising as well.

"This one should come too, he was at the Ice Court with me on that night," Kaz said to the guard. The guard looked between them and shrugged, motioning for another guard, a Grisha Corpolaki judging from the kefta he wore. They led Kaz and Jesper out of the cells and into one of the small interrogation rooms. Kaz was familiar with the room at this point, having been there several times in the past few months speaking with the Grisha Infernei who was seated at one of the two chairs in the room. She looked up as they entered and he noticed that she seemed relieved, something she hadn't shown before.

"Are there anymore of your comrades from the Ice Court in this prison?" she asked, motioning for another chair to be brought in. Jesper sat down hard while Kaz stood still, leaning on the walking stick and once again studying the Infernei. She wore a red kefta with black stitching, something different from the others and he was still not sure why. He supposed it was because she was high in the ranks. After the Darkling defeated Alina Starkov and her followers he had gone back to using his true name, Aleksander Morosova, and became king of Ravka. He used the power that he had sucked from the Sun Summoner to control the Fold now, moving and reshaping it to whatever he needed and on the night of Kaz's jurda parem heist he apparently needed the jurda parem also. Kaz and Jesper had been taken but the others had escaped.

"No, no more of us, just we two were involved," he said. The Grisha looked between them, assessing them. Kaz took another moment to look over her while she studied Jesper. He always liked to measure who he was up against, and he didn't mind studying her. She was curvy, seeming to like waffles more than Nina did, with hair a deep auburn and eyes the color of dark chocolate. The first time he saw them they reminded him of Inej's eyes except her's were more hopeful than he had ever seen Inej. This Grisha fully believed that something good could still happen in the world. Kaz was almost jealous of this, but of course, this Grisha had seen her side win the Ravka civil war. His eyes now met hers and he saw that while he was studying her she had been doing the same to him. He could tell she knew he was lying but he didn't care. He had spent the last 4 months keeping his answers vague, giving just enough information so that she would feed him information back about the current situation at the Little Palace, now the true royal home since the Grand Palace lay in ruin. King Aleksander left it as a reminder to those who would attempt to assassinate him, bodies still left scattered around the rubble, Alina Starkov's kefta in tatters on the front steps. Kaz hadn't seen it but from the way this Grisha described it, he believed it was terrifying.

"Mr. Brekker, we both know the heist you were attempting could never be accomplished with just two people," she said, a knowing smile on her face. This seeming infatuation the Grisha had with him was a plus for Kaz. He often wondered if he could possibly seduce his way out of the situation but his mind couldn't fathom the interactions involved, so he would wait. Perhaps this woman had a inclination towards criminals, she might be seduced by anyone, Jesper could do it easily, Kaz just had to get the ball rolling so to speak.

"I don't know, I think Jesper and I can accomplish anything we put out mind to," he answered, bringing himself to nudge his partner in crime with his elbow. The Grisha nodded and opened her notebook as she did at every meeting and began to write.

Y/N had noticed the look on Kaz Brekker's face when he elbowed Jesper Fahey. She could see his hesitation, she noticed the look in his storm gray eyes. He was bracing himself for impact as if the touch would somehow hurt him. Jesper's face was surprised at the touch, and he physically turned towards Kaz with shock. She opened her notebook and pretended to jot down something important as she did every day, but she mentally notated this interaction. She had been listening to others in the prison and despite his limp Kaz never let anyone see him as weak, however, this aversion to touch was never mentioned. He hid it well out in the general population but she could see something about touch bothered him immensely, that information could be useful later. Kaz Brekker was a tough nut to crack she had to admit, but eventually she would get to where she needed to be with him, hopefully sooner rather than later. Aleksander was having a tough time buying her excuses and she had to become even more convincing for him, continuing to keep his trust after the betrayal of the Sun Summoner was an arduous task. She hoped soon she could drop her facade and begin her true purpose, breaking Kaz Brekker and his cohorts out of this prison and find the gathering resistance in the Permafrost.

"Alright Mr. Brekker, we left off yesterday with you explaining to me how you came to know about jurda parem and what the Fjerdans were doing with Bo Yul-Bayor and his son Kuwei?" she said. It had taken months for Kaz to even start explaining anything to her. She had hoped that agreeing to allow his friend to be his cellmate would open him up. Luckily the gamble had worked at their last interrogation. His answers had still been too vague to really make an impact but it was a start. She hated to make him desperate but she needed the information, something to feed to Aleksander and send him on a chase for more jurda parem. Kuwei Yol-Bo had escaped from the Ice Court and that knowledge was keeping Bo from cooperating with the Second Army. He had recreated exactly one vial of jurda parem and refused to create another until his son was returned safely to him. Kaz Brekker and Jesper Fahey had been the last people to see Kuwei alive and she needed something to tell Aleksander before he decided to come here and do the interrogations himself.

"Yes, I believe I told you that a rumor had gone around Ketterdam and that I just happened to hear it," he said, making sure he was as convincing as he could be. Once again Y/N pretended to write something down, pretending to believe his lie. He was a very good liar, she could see that in the way his eyes held truth, his body language said honest, even his pulse was calm, however, the blood in his veins moved just a milisecond faster during his falsehoods. It had taken nearly a month to figure out the tell in his body but she had done it and now she used this against him.

"Must have been quite a rumor to make you put your friends in the line of fire of Fjerdans and of King Aleksander," she said, keeping her voice light, leaning a little closer to him. She couldn't lie, she was enraptured by the young man from the Barrel of Ketterdam, but she wasn't foolish enough to believe that he would ever see her as anything other than another Ravkan Grisha blindly serving her king, but she could pretend that she hoped to lure him in, get him feeling confident about her.

"Jesper will tell you, he was eager to join me to find this new drug, imagine the kruge we could make from such a thing," Kaz said, standing suddenly and poking Jesper towards Y/N with his cane. He moved towards the wall, leaning against it. Y/N watched him for a few moments before turning her attention to Jesper. He wanted to push someone else at her? Why? She could tell he liked the attention she gave him, maybe not in a way most men did, but he liked it all the same. Jesper barked a laugh.

"Eager? You came back and acted like we were going to be rolling in kruge, become kings of Kerch," Jesper said. He was also a practiced liar, following the lead of his boss as it were. Y/N smiled at Jesper then, making sure her brown eyes looked intrigued and enraptured. She noticed the Zemeni man leaned back in his chair then, clearly not interested in the attentions of a Grisha like herself. "But ya, I mean, I wanted the kruge and I was having a good run that night at the tables, felt lady luck was on my side." She saw him fidgeting near his waist, where his guns should be. She had those stored in her private quarters, along with a certain crow headed cane, waiting for the right moment. She had been watching Kaz and Jesper since they arrived, having her spies give her information on them. They were the only link she had to Kuwei and Inej Ghafa and she needed to know all she could before she continued her plan.

She tried to pry more out of the two for several minutes before one of her people, a young Squallor entered.

"The hour is late Korovsa, the king is finished waiting," she whispered. Y/N’s jaw tightened. Her eyes flashed to Kaz and she saw him take notice of the slight change in her features. Her fears were starting to come to pass. She needed to end this charade now.

"Guard, please escort Mr. Fahey back to his new cell. Mr. Brekker and I have more to discuss," she ordered. The guard grabbed Jesper's arm, hauling him from the seat. Y/N wanted to say something, tell them to lay off the guy, but knew she couldn't appear as if she cared. Once he was gone she made a motion for Kaz to sit. He still stood. "Sit, now," she insisted, hoping he heard the urgency in her voice. He eyed for another moment before he moved to sit. She leaned closer, all of her coy attitude gone.

"What's happened?" Kaz asked casually, working the top of the walking stick with his hands, the only sign of his concern. Y/N let out a breath.

"My time is up, tomorrow night expect there to be a riot, stay in your cell with Jesper, don't leave until you hear 2 bells, then leave the cell and go to your left, the door will be ajar due to the last guard through it mistakenly knocking over mop. Once you are in the corridor go right and follow it to the deserted morgue. I will join you and lead you and Jesper out, do not leave without me," she said.

"Why should I believe any of this? That you're just going to help up walk out of there?" Kaz asked, trying to read her, seeing if she was lying. She groaned annoyed. Why was it that her only hope was as distrustful as her current king?

"Because I want to see the king's body burn before he destroys all of us," she whispered, voice dripping with venom. Kaz looked a little surprised at her viciousness and he nodded. She sat back, knowing that by now the guard had returned.

"Well Mr. Brekker, you've once again been no help, tomorrow the king will be coming to personally interrogate you, I hope you are looking forward to it," she said. "Guard take him back to his cell." The guard nodded and yanked him out of the chair. "Careful, the king won't like it if he can't inflict the pain himself," she warned, more to Kaz than the guard. She hoped Kaz believed her enough, that she had shown her hand to him enough that he would do as she asked. If he didn't they were all screwed.

[reinerispretty]

rotations. (zuko x f!reader) pt21

hello and welcome back! i hope you are having a very good day :)

pt1

pt20

pt22

It was a rainy day at the palace when Mai had interrupted (Y/N’s) meeting with the newer war generals. They were young, but had moved up in the Fire Nation army rather quickly and were more open to change than their older counterparts. (Y/N) paused her speech to stare at me. “Oh, hello,” She said. 

“What happened?” Zuko demanded as they sat with the doctor. The poor man was wearing a nightcap and gown, but whatever the Fire Lord needed, he got. (Y/N) was very appreciative of the old man who was currently stitching up the cut on her arm and she gave him a smile before turning to Zuko and narrowing her eyes. 

“What do you mean, ‘What happened?’ I couldn’t exactly ask the details while I was fighting for my life!” Zuko opened his mouth to speak, then shut it and turned his head away from her. (Y/N) sighed. “I’m sorry, I’m still on edge. They didn’t tell me who they were or what they wanted. They just said that they were sent to punish me for crimes against the Fire Nation.” 

“What crimes?” Zuko asked. (Y/N) shrugged, wincing as the doctor stitched into her skin. 

“None that I can think of, unless trying to right your country’s wrongs is considered a crime.” 

“That has to be it. The people who are still loyal to my father...they must have sent someone after you.” Zuko turned to the guards standing watch at the door. “I want guards permanently placed outside of her rooms at all times. I want every inch of this palace watched.” 

“Yes sir,” One of the guards said, bowing and then leaving to go inform the others. 

“It’s not me they should be protecting,” (Y/N) said. “They’ll start coming for you next.” 

And (Y/N) was right, as she tended to be. Over the course of the next year, as she and Zuko tried their hardest to bring peace back into the world and make up for the hundred years of war their nation had caused, five attempts on both of their lives had been made. (Y/N) tried her best to remain strong, but she feared going to sleep at night, not knowing if she would wake up the next morning. 

Zuko’s seventeenth birthday came and went. Their friends could not pull away from their work of helping those who had been affected by the war and Uncle Iroh’s tea shop was taking off, leaving him little time to do much else. They all still sent Zuko gifts to show how much they cared, but she wasn’t sure if that was enough. (Y/N) had proposed the idea of a birthday dinner for Zuko, but he dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. “We’re far too busy to worry about my birthday this year,” he had said as he signed scrolls at his desk. “I might just go to Mai’s house and have a small dinner with her.” 

“If that’s what you want,” (Y/N) said with a smile, but it really felt like a punch to the gut. The last birthday she had spent with Zuko was his thirteenth. It was so many years ago that she was looking forward to doing something special with him. But she supposed she couldn’t blame him for wanting to spend his birthday with his girlfriend. (Y/N) was the one who distanced herself from him, after all. Still, she gave him the best birthday present she could come up with: a portrait of him and his mother. It had sat in the catacombs of the palace, untouched for years. Ozai had probably ordered it thrown out after Ursa’s banishment. She left it in front of his bedroom while he was out with Mai. 

(Y/N) expected her sixteenth birthday to go somewhat similarly. She was pleasantly surprised to wake up that morning to find that her friends had sent her birthday gifts from areas they had traveled. Sokka sent her a whale-bone comb from the water tribe. Aang and Katara sent her a lovely portrait of her and her friends, complete with big smiles and goofy faces. Toph had sent a letter (with Katara’s help) stating that when they reunited, she’d buy her a birthday gift that (Y/N) picked out, since Toph was blind. (Y/N) giggled as she read that. From Iroh, she received dried tea leaves that made “the best tea in all of Ba Sing Se!” as his letter said. 

Each of her gifts made her smile widely, but Zuko’s gifts had surprised her the most. A warm fruit tart was left outside of her door, along with a servant informing her that she had the day off to do what she liked and that all the costs would be covered by the Fire Lord. Then, she and Zuko would have a private dinner that night. (Y/N) thought it was a pretty sweet gift from the busiest person in the entire Fire Nation. 

Her day had gone great. She bought all of the things she had had her eye on in the market for a while, and even bought the servants and guards who accompanied her a few things that she had noticed them looking at. The royal family was beyond beyond wealthy, so (Y/N) thought a few hundred gold pieces spent on the people who made their lives easier was a manageable expense. 

When she returned to the palace, she readied herself for dinner and joined Zuko in the dining room. A feast had been prepared for the two of them, complete with all of their favorite things they used to eat as children. (Y/N) and Zuko dug into the meal, leaving little time for conversation, but they enjoyed each other’s company just the same. For the first time in a while, (Y/N) felt like she was just spending time with her old friend again. 

That was, until a guard came in and whispered into Zuko’s ear. He looked at (Y/N) apologetically. “Fire Lord stuff, I have to go. I’m so sorry, (Y/N), it’s very urgent.” 

“Oh,” She said, swallowing her noodles. “Do you need me to come?” 

“No, no, I gave you the day off. Enjoy it.” He walked to her seat and bent down, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. “Happy birthday, (Y/N).” 

“Thanks,” she mumbled, before watching him be led away by the guards. (Y/N) had known for her entire life that Zuko would become Fire Lord, yet there was nothing she could do to prepare herself for it. She ate the rest of her birthday dinner alone, and then retired to bed at an early hour. 

---

The sixth assassination attempt was the final straw for Zuko. He kept the assassin prisoner and interrogated them for information. This interrogation led him out of the Fire Nation and to the Earth Kingdom colony of Yu Dao. All of his decisions were made in a split second, including the one where he left (Y/N) in charge of the entire Fire Nation. 

“You can’t possibly be serious,” One of his other advisors said, “Leaving this girl in charge of your country while you are gone.” 

“This girl helped save the entire world from destruction, so I suggest you start listening to her. Besides, as soon as I walk out these doors, she might choose to fire you, and I’d absolutely back her up, no questions asks.” Zuko raised his eyebrow at the advisor, who immediately kept his words to himself. 

(Y/N) approached Zuko and tugged on his robes. “If I’m interim Fire Lord, do I get to wear the thing?” 

“The thing?” Zuko asked. She put her hand behind her topknot and waved her fingers around like a flame. “You mean the Fire Lord crown?” Zuko laughed heartily for the first time in a while. “Yeah, you can wear the Fire Lord crown.” 

“Yes!” (Y/N) said quietly to herself. It wasn’t so much that she wanted the power of being temporary Fire Lord, but she had always thought the crown looked really cool. 

Zuko took the crown from his own topknot and placed it in hers. “There. Don’t go burning the city down.” (Y/N) scoffed. 

“That runs in your family, not mine.” She walked away with her head held high, already giving her fellow advisors briefings about what decisions she and Zuko had come up with for the nation. Zuko watched as the old men begrudgingly listened to the young girl’s orders before departing to the Earth Kingdom. 

Zuko made some very questionable decisions while he was away. He had sent a messenger hawk to (Y/N) informing her that the Fire Nation was now pulling out of the Harmony Restoration Movement. He had learned that some of the families within the colonies where blended mixtures of fire and earthbenders. He explained to her how he didn’t feel right separating families or making people leave their homes, so that was why he no longer wanted to back the movement. (Y/N) was nervous about this decision, because everyone else in the world was for the movement, but Zuko had essentially given an order. He was the Fire Lord and he was trying to do what was best for his nation. She had to remind that little voice in the back of her head that Zuko was not Ozai. He was not the person he was before. So, she informed the advisors of the order and planned for the repercussions accordingly. 

It was a rainy day at the palace when Mai had interrupted (Y/N’s) meeting with the newer war generals. They were young, but had moved up in the Fire Nation army rather quickly and were more open to change than their older counterparts. (Y/N) paused her speech to stare at her. “Oh, hello,” She said. 

“Could I speak to you for a moment?” Mai asked. (Y/N) nodded and left the table, promising that she would return shortly. She and Mai stepped outside the room. 

“What’s up?” She asked. 

“I’ve been worried about you and Zuko.” 

“Me and Zuko? Why?” 

“Because of all the assassination attempts?” (Y/N) nodded. 

“Right, those. Forgot about those.” 

“Listen, I asked Ty Lee if she and the Kyoshi Warriors would mind keeping an eye on the place, since the guards obviously aren’t doing great. I wanted to double check that it was okay with you.” 

That honestly surprised (Y/N). She had never had anything against Mai, except that she had tried to kill her on multiple occasions (but at this point, very few of her friends hadn’t) and was dating the boy she loved. They had grown up together but she had never really considered themselves to be friends; moreso acquaintances who had a lot of mutual friends. So, the fact that Mai was asking for her permission to bring in the Kyoshi Warriors because she was worried about her meant a lot. 

“That’s completely fine by me,” (Y/N) said with a smile. “Thanks for thinking of it.” 

Mai shrugged. “Both you and Zuko are way too busy to have to worry about keeping yourselves alive.” She leaned in close to (Y/N). “By the way, I’m pretty sure all of those boys in there are completely in love with you.” 

(Y/N) laughed. “Makes my job of getting them to do what I want easier.” Mai gave her a small, very Mai-like smile before walking away. (Y/N) wondered if maybe Mai was soft on the inside like she was. 

---

Tag List!

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[misterewrites]

Threads of Fate 2: Electric Boogaloo (Jason Todd X reader)

Hello everyone, E here with another story! this time it’s part 2 for the story i wrote for my good friend @hains-mae last year for her birthday! so naturally it’s her birthday again cuz that’s how they work! Red Hoodie X reader. I hope you all have an amazing week. I will be trying to write my original story and post it sometime this/next week but we’ll see what happens. Stay safe, take care of yourself, for the love of all that is holy stay inside! wear masks! PLEASE! GET THE FLIPPING VACCINE IF YOU CAN!

E out, byeeeeeee! HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAE!

Here’s both parts conveniently in one place for you (cuz tumblr hates me and my tags)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29955270/chapters/73737858

“Romeo and Juliet? You’re so cliché that troupes are rolling their eyes at you.”

I shoot him a dirty glare “Says the guy that has Pride and Prejudice in his jacket pocket. Yeah yeah” I cut him off before he begins to throw out excuses “I know you say it’s thick enough to stop bullets but you’re not fooling me. You love some classic romance.”

“You’re no Lizzy Bennet” he grumbles behind his mask.

“And you no Mr. Darcy yet I tolerate you all the same.”

“It’s for my charming personality.”

“Certainly not for your face.” I playfully throw back “Smooth, featureless and red isn’t exactly my type.”

“I’m surprise you have a type given your lack of taste in books.”

I roll my eyes “Oh great now the former crime lord is giving me crap about my tastes in book.”

He rose his hands in surrender “Hey, that was my edgy phase.”

“Was? You’re still dressing like a goon from indie action film.”

“You kidding? Goons wish they looked this good.”

“I don’t think any respectable goon would shop at the thrift store.”

“Low blow. Low blow.”

I give the costumed vigilante a sideways smile as we settle into a comfortable silence.

It’s been about two years since Red Hood decided to intrude my quiet life (well as quiet as life could be in Gotham) and we have developed this strange friendship.

Every moment he wasn’t on patrol or at a briefing (coughfamilymeetingcough) he spent here. At first, I thought it was just him checking up on me like some overburdening mother worried their child couldn’t handle a minute in the backyard but I soon realized this became some sort of haven for him, a place for him to just exist. Not quite relax and let his guard down but just to be. No appearances of brutality to keep up, no disappointed glances from his estranged father figure. Just him picking on me because he’s a jerk.

But then again so am I.

I nervously glance at the red string tied snugly around my finger. It pulled off to the side though not too much further from me as its other end was wrapped around Red’s finger.

Strings of fate mom used to call it. My power to see the threads of destiny tying two people deeply together. At first I thought it was love or something junk like that but now I’m thinking maybe it just leads you to someone you need and someone that needs you back.

Or maybe it is love, what do I know? All I know about my power is it makes walking the streets harder than it needs to be. Ever see those old pictures of cities with powerlines just in every freaking direction? The strings are at least ten times worse than that! Luckily they’re not real? Well more an abstract concept that I see and not physical and you know what don’t worry about it.

“So” Red spoke up after a moment “Hungry?”

“After you insulting my taste in books?” I gave a fake pout “Starving. Oh shoot, I forgot to go to the store.”

Red chuckled “You didn’t forget, Penguin decided to try to extort it for protection money.”

“Oh” I blush in embarrassment “Right.”

“And you fell back asleep.”

I waved him off “Sometimes you just wake up, see the news and decide it’s not worth it.”

“I never get to sleep in.” Red rose to his feet “but honestly I’ve always had trouble sleeping.”

The nightmares. He mentioned it once in an off hand comment when he asked me why I toss and turn at loud noises. Gotham just does that too you. Eventually you learn to get ready to bolt at any loud noises over 190 decibels. Fun fact, that’s the noise level of a shotgun fired by your ear or a rocket taking off.

Or Joker laughing on the roof of your apartment building. Let me tell you, nothing’s louder than that madman. Thunder sounds like cats and dogs once you hear the Joker’s manic chuckle just a few feet away from you. One time years ago and I can still feel the chills run down my back whenever I think of it.

“So are you going to order pizza or what?” I asked quizzically “Since you’re aware I don’t have any in the fridge.”

I could practically hear the sarcasm dripping in every word out of his mouth as he held a bag of groceries aloft “I was trained by Batman. I’m always prepared.”  

Batman. Whatever his relationship with the dark knight currently is, he always spoke of him with a soft, gentle voice. A quiet pride that out of everyone in the world, the Bat chose him. But with that pride was a hint of shame. Everyone knew Red Hood hadn’t exactly made it easy on the old bat and while Hoodie was changing his ways, there was still some friction between them.

I didn’t say anything though. No point. He knew where he stood with his father figure and bringing it up would just make him sully. Besides I was way too curious to know how good of a cook he was.

I marveled in an awe silence as he expertly placed the various ingredients across my messy counter. He chuckled to himself as he cleared it to make space for dinner. I could feel my cheeks burn.

Watching him was oddly mesmerizing: His movements were precise yet graceful for someone with his build. He glided across the floor effortlessly, smoothly dicing whatever he brought one moment then by the time I blinked, he was warming up the frying pan by the stove.  

Soon an incredible smell filled the air while the sizzling of meat practically had me drooling.

“Your chin.” Red motioned to my lip with a spatula. I brought up my hand and flinched at how moist it was. Okay so it was drool. Sue me! You’d be drooling too if you had to deal with waiting for whatever heavenly meal he was cooking, okay?

Desperate to change the subject, I piped up “Should be I concern how well you handle that knife?”

He gave a casual wave with said instrument  “I hold the power of destruction and creation in my hand.”

I raised an eyebrow at him.

Red coughed loudly “I’ve trained with various weapons knives included. You’d be surprised how much overlap happens between cooking and weapons handling.”

“Right. Sure. That’s a totally normal statement.”

“What about me” He gestured to himself “Is normal?”

“Fair point.” I conceded.

-----

“Am I forgiven?”

I grumbled a half answer as I tried not to let on how delicious this meal was. I don’t make the best money and let me tell you before this the fanciest thing I ever ate was some overpriced pasta from some restaurant chain.  This easily beat anything I have ever tasted except mom’s cooking but I hadn’t had that in years.

Red snorted, his voice smooth and melodic not filtered through some robotic alternation. I didn’t really had a dining room or a dinner table so we sat comfortably on my couch, tv playing some nonsense in the background as we both took in the sight of the city beyond my modest window. The lower part of his mask retracted backwards via some kind of high tech witchcraft and allowed him to eat his food without needing to show the rest of his handsome face.

I mean I think it was handsome. I assumed it was handsome given I accidentally figured out who was under the whole persona he set up for himself. I never told him that I knew though I suspect he knew that I figured it out. He was smart even if he acted like an idiot and it really was for the best. Plausible deniability. If I never asked, he never needed to answer.

“You know if you want me to cook again, you need to forgive me. Otherwise I’m not gonna waste my time anymore.” Red threatened with a tease.

I let out an exasperated groan “Fine, fine! It’s good. It’s the best food I’ve ever had! Is that what you want to hear?”

“Naturally. Though I could never compete with Alfred. He has no equal in the kitchen. Better than my brothers though. They can’t cook to save their lives. Tim practically lives on fast food.”

I stopped shoving food into my maw as an icy chill ran through my body. The comfy silence that filled my humble apartment turned tense.

One of those names I could pretend away: Tim? Alfred? Every day common names. But together? Tim AND Alfred. Everyone knew every member of the Wayne family because they were the only rich family in Gotham who didn’t want to screw everyone else over. And he brought up his brothers. That was the final nail in the coffin.

I put down my fork slowly. I could feel myself breath heavily but I refused to see him. I refused to meet his mask with nothing but my own shocked reflection to look back at me.

“I know you know who I am.” He said simply.

I could feel the syrupy urge to look at him ebbing at my resolve.

I swallowed uneasily “What now? What happens to me?”

‘Us’ I left unasked.

Silence.

“I don’t know”

I tried to calm my breathing but I could feel panic grip at me: Does this mean he’s not going to come anymore? Does this mean I have to go into witness protection? Is Batman going to scold me?!

“But I want to.”

I couldn’t help myself. I turned to him and for one of the few times in my life I was left speechless.

I was not staring at Red Hood. I found myself not looking at the smooth, featureless mask I had grown accustom to these last two years but Jason Todd.

Out of all of Bruce Wayne’s children, Jason was the one who seemed to just fall off the face of the Earth. There was a rumor he had died a few years back but those were debunked when he appeared without warning, just walking the streets of Gotham like he went on an extended vacation.

There wasn’t too many pictures of the enigmatic Mister Todd but that quick glance I had gotten forever ago did not do him justice: He was my age. His eyes were a piercing blue that I did not know could be that shade. I know it’s cliché but I felt like he was staring directly into my soul. His face was rugged, rough but still handsome. His hair was a messy jet black but there was few streaks of white that looked too natural to be dyed.

“I….didn’t see anything?” I offered helpfully, giving him a chance to put the mask on and pretend this none of this ever happened.

His nose wrinkled as he gave me a playful scoff. I could feel my heartbeat roaring in my ears.

“I’m not that ugly. Better looking than Dick.” he joked playfully.

“I dunno. Dick’s got the better ass.” I mumbled out, still too caught guard from the whole reveal.

“But I got the muscles.”

“Yes you do.” I eyed his body carefully then flushed a bright pink.

That knocked me out of my stupor.

“Are you sure you want me to know?” I whispered, unable to keep the fear out of my voice “I mean I didn’t mind pretending I didn’t know.”

“I do.”

His face soften and for a moment he didn’t look like Jason Todd, wayward son of Bruce Wayne or the Red Hood, moral gray compress of the batfam.

He just look like a regular guy who needed someone.

Evidently me it seemed.

I took a calming breath and offered my hand. He stared at me like I’m crazy but I kept it outstretched.

He took it gingerly and shook carefully, still unsure what was going on.

“Hello Jason Todd.” I beamed cheerfully “It’s nice to meet you!”

He said nothing, instead opting to smile softly.

“Nice to meet you too.”

I stared at the metaphysical string that tied us so neatly together.

I have never seen it that red before. And has it always been that thick?

I wonder what that means.

Eh, it’s probably nothing. I had other things to worry about.

[a-secret-bolton-vampire]

Brief Thought on Theon in TWOW

Theon has been a huge mystery for me and a lot of people, because his story could go just about anywhere. He's currently held prisoner by Stannis, who plans on executing him (after interrogating him, of course). Although he is to be executed by fire, Asha comes in to tell Stannis to instead execute Theon himself with Lightbringer at the weirwood islet, all the while the caged ravens scream "Theon" and "tree"... hello Bran, hello Bloodraven.

Now, the fact the ravens are screaming about the tree and Asha mentions executing Theon at the tree to me is a clear indication that it is going to be an important location. Now, I don't quite think Theon is gonna die here (see below), but rather Bran is going to find a way to keep him around. He already called to Theon when Theon went to beg absolution in the Winterfell godswood. Summon some ravens to interrupt the execution, maybe even appear in the tree like he did to Theon at Winterfell.

Such a display from the old gods might make the northmen think it is a sign that Theon has paid for his sins. Stannis might not really care, although... if you get a sign like that, I'm not entirely sure what Stannis would think. Regardless, I think Theon is going to survive, and Bran wants him to. Why? Well, I don't actually think Bran is manipulating Theon here. It's been months at this point since we've had a Bran POV, and who knows what he's been doing this whole time. However, if he has been focused on Winterfell, he probably has seen Theon being tormented by Ramsay.

Theon betrayed the Starks. He took Winterfell. He killed two boys and passed them off as Bran and Rickon. He is a traitor and a turncloak and a murderer. But seeing Theon in this light might change Bran's perspective on him. He's suffered so much. He may have deserved execution for his crimes, but the torture he endured from Ramsay was not justice.

At the end of ADWD/beginning of TWOW, Theon is pretty resigned to dying. He wants to die, and he feels immense guilt for what he did. Bran is tapping into the power of the old gods and communicates to a broken Theon at Winterfell. Even though Theon has prayed to the old gods (really praying to Bran) and gotten some sort of reply, he doesn't know what it means. If Bran stays Theon's execution, that's a huge change for Theon. He believes he deserves to die for what he did.

If the old gods show some sort of presence that stops Theon from being killed, that changes everything for him. If the gods don't want him to die, what is his purpose now? What reason is there for him to be around? Does he truly deserve to be killed? Can he redeem himself? Part of the reason why I don't believe Theon is going to be executed here is because I think there is much more rich narrative and thematic depth to explore than him simply resigning to his fate and getting it.

As for what he will do in TWOW, apart from the theories that he simply just dies, some people also believe he might stay Stannis's prisoner, or be used by Asha to undo the kingsmoot on the Iron Islands. The latter theory is based on the mention of Torgon the Latecomer, by Rodrik Harlaw and later Tristifer Botely.

"When you put your name before the captains you submitted yourself to their judgment. You cannot go against that judgment now. Only once has the choice of a kingsmoot been overthrown. Read Haereg."

Archmaester Haereg wrote History of the Ironborn. And what was this one time the kingsmoot was overthrown? Well, Tris explains it the very chapter Asha has this memory of Rodrik.

"Torgon Greyiron was the king's eldest son. But the king was old and Torgon restless, so it happened that when his father died he was raiding along the Mander from his stronghold on Greyshield. His brothers sent no word to him but instead quickly called a kingsmoot, thinking that one of them would be chosen to wear the driftwood crown. But the captains and the kings chose Urragon Goodbrother to rule instead. The first thing the new king did was command that all the sons of the old king be put to death, and so they were. After that men called him Badbrother, though in truth they'd been no kin of his. He ruled for almost two years." Asha remembered now. "Torgon came home …" "… and said the kingsmoot was unlawful since he had not been there to make his claim. Badbrother had proved to be as mean as he was cruel and had few friends left upon the isles. The priests denounced him, the lords rose against him, and his own captains hacked him into pieces. Torgon the Latecomer became the king and ruled for forty years."

This is often used as evidence that Asha will use Theon in a similar manner; since he was presumed dead but is actually still alive, he did not put his claim forth, and thus the kingsmoot is invalid, as is Euron's ascension to the Seastone Chair. Theon the Latecomer will be Euron's undoing. While Theon is in no fit enough state to even be considered king, perhaps his presence will be enough to assuage Euron's control on the Iron Isles.

I think that the fact this is mentioned is important, and something like this might happen. Personally, I think that when the battle of ice turned against Stannis's favour, Theon escaped with the help of Asha and her supporters, and they grouped together at Torrhen's Square, which is held currently by Dagmer Cleftjaw, master-at-arms at Pyke, whom Theon had a close relationship with. And the idea will be to use Theon as a tool to invalidate the kingsmoot and Euron's role. Also, it would be very neat to see Theon reunite with Dagmer after all he's been through, since Dagmer was an important figure in his childhood.

The problem is that I don't think Theon Latecomer is going to change anything. For one, although he doesn't need to be king, just be used as a way to invalidate the kingsmoot because he never pressed his claim, what is that going to change? Is Theon really going to press his claim? And if he did, he would be laughed out. He has no interest in kingship, and he is not in any state to rule as one. So he's definitely not going to be elected. Who does that leave?

Well, Victarion is away in Meereen. Asha might have supporters but her gender works against her. Perhaps old Erik Ironmaker might try his hand again, but I doubt that will work any better. Aeron is supposedly in hiding (although really he's being tortured by Euron). Gylbert Farwynd wanted to sail beyond the Sunset Sea and see what lands lie west of Westeros.

Meanwhile, Euron is bringing the Old Way back to the ironborn in a way Balon never accomplished. He took the Shields and gave lordships to the raiders there. He has been sending ships up and down the Mander, in the Whispering Sound, even sacking the Arbor. He is giving the ironborn a great deal of wealth. What's even more, it appears that some of the things he wouldn't have dared before are a lot safer to do now. For instance, at the kingsmoot, he put on his facade as doing everything for the Drowned God. Now look at how his captains talk about the Drowned God in The Forsaken:

"Your curses have no power here, priest,” said Left-Hand Lucas Codd. “The Crow’s Eye has fed your Drowned God well, and he has grown fast with sacrifice. Words are wind, but blood is power. We have given thousands to the sea, and he has given us victories!”

It's not "the Drowned God" but "your Drowned God". They don't care anymore. They don't care if it's different or against their traditions. Euron has been giving them victories and riches and glory, and that's all that matters. This is something that is easy to see in the real world too (just look at what Donald Trump did in office and how the GOP reacted to his actions). Euron has taken the bulk of the Iron Islands military strength with him, and is living up to what he's promised so far. Why would they want to go back?

However, the most important part, for me anyways, is that ultimately, Euron doesn't care. He doesn't care about the Iron Isles. His goal is Westeros and the Iron Throne. The islands mean nothing to him. He loses some people there, so what? What's there for him to use? He's gonna try to become a god-king anyways so the Iron Islands aren't important.

In the end, even if Asha wanted to use Theon for these purposes, it won't do anything. The ironborn are in southern Westeros having the time of their lives, why would they return here? Now, if this is doomed to do anything against Euron, then why mention Torgon? Why have Theon go through that? I think it's all part of his internal journey of identity and allegiance.

He's always been stuck between Greyjoy and Stark. He didn't feel like he belonged with the Starks, but he wanted to. When Balon rebelled against Robb and insulted him, Theon wanted to prove himself to his father, so he betrayed the Starks. He was outsmarted and captured by Ramsay, however, and now regrets doing what he did. But he still hasn't chosen, Greyjoy or Stark. He wants to simply die.

I think that this journey for him is him recovering from Ramsay and finally finding his true self again. Theon has been a puppet of Ramsay's, and is poised to become a puppet for Asha and her followers. It's time he start to make his own decisions. I think this journey as Theon Latecomer (whether he literally returns to the isles or not) is him dealing with his own internal struggle, before finally resolving it. My theory is that he will decide to choose the Starks, because they are his true family, and there is nothing for him that he wants or can do with the Greyjoys.

[yetanotherfanficblog]

Elation, Trepidation, Dejection, Destruction

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Characters: Captain Jifuya, Male Xaela Aura Dark Knight Warrior of Light, Yotsuyu goe Brutus (mentioned)

Rating/Warnings: Mature (Mentions of past Sexual Abuse, Child Abuse, and Slavery, Slight Gore, Minor Character Death)

Summary: Hien refuses to judge Jifuya, and the Warrior of Light decides to take matters into his own hands. It is not the first time the Dark Knights have had to punish crimes that weak little lordlings would not, and it will not be the last.

Also on Ao3

It was with slowly dawning horror that Enkhjargal heard Jifuya unfold his story - of buying Yotsuyu from her abusive parents, of using her as a doll for his lecherous customers, of his eagerness, even, to specifically exploit her trauma, a story he told not with regret, but simply with fear that he might finally face consequences. Enkhjargal cast a look at Gosetsu. It was Gosetsu's choice, first, but surely, he'd understand this man could be no part of-

"...I see," Said Gosetsu, as Jifuya still cringed before him, "Then I shall recommend that you be assigned to a new post."

Enkhjargal took a step backward, a look of shock at Gosetsu that he quickly stifled. The practice of taking prisoners in war or camp raids was one thing, but this type of slavery, buying and selling of a person? He had seen Gosetsu's code in action, respected it. Did the code truly stop here? With allowing this buyer and seller of unwilling young women to continue as if his sin had been nothing?

Perhaps he only meant to leave the judgement to his lord. Yes. That must be it. Certainly, Hien would have the wisdom to deal with this properly. It was... not the best way to deal with it, frankly, in Enkhjargal's mind, but perhaps allowing Hien to serve justice would make Doma stronger in the long run, even it delayed the justice Jifuya so clearly deserved by a few hours.

---

"I would not presume to defend the life Jifuya led before he joined the Front," Said Hien, "Nor will I condemn it. Frankly, it is not my place to judge. I will only say this: the Jifuya I know has ever been a man of courage. That he should feel driven to flee bespeaks the depth of his terror. Even now, Yotsuyu casts a shadow over the realm..."

Enkhjargal narrowed his eyes. Had Hien just suggested that he would not condemn or judge bloody slavery-

No. Not here. Not like this. Confronting Hien right now is unlikely to change his mind.

But we must do something.

It won't be the first time we must dispense justice because some pampered noble lordling either couldn't or wouldn't.

And it certainly won't be the last.

He will be alone at some point. We only need to find out when, and where, and be there when he is.

Bide your time until then.

---

Enkhjargal kept his body language as casual as possible as walked out of the House of the Fierce - to get some fresh air, he had told his comrades. It wasn't even completely a lie, although mostly he meant to put as much space between him and Hien as possible, before he said something he might regret.

But before he did, he spoke to the sentry at the entrance of house of the Fierce, where it lead out to the fields of Doma once again.

"Have you seen Jifuya since he got back?"

"Oh! He stepped out again. Don't worry though, sir, he ensured me he was coming back this time. He's only off duty for a bit, at Lady Yugiri's suggestion."

"Hm. Do you know where'd go at times like this?"

"Well. I know he sometimes likes to head out past Monzen, to gaze at the Castle. Even though it's in ruins, it's still a grand view."

Enkjarghal nodded, "Very well. Carry on, Sentry."

The Sentry bowed as Enkhjargal strode past him, out of the House of the Fierce.

When he rounded the bend, he pulled out his whistle and blew a short blast. A few moments later, his Yol swept down the sky. Enkhjargal leapt upon her, and pointed her west.

---

Not his place to judge? By the twelve, it is EXACTLY his place to judge! What is the bloody point of having lords and kings if they will not judge the sins of the common folk and ensure their kingdoms protect the weak and prevent the strong from abusing their power? What in the Seven Hells is Hien thinking? Why are we freeing Doma if it will only perpetuate the sins of the Empire against the poor and orphaned and destitute? Will he create a hundred, a thousand new Yotsuyus, poor young folk, orphans and destitute, driven to hatred and desperation by their treatment of the hand of rich old lechers and greedy landlords and cocky soldiers, because he refuses to do his bloody duty?

The voice screamed at the back of Enkhjargal's mind as he flew his Yol toward the river, and Enkhjargal let it. It was right, as usual. Whether Imperial or not, Eorzean or Hingan or Xaela or otherwise, too many of these nobles and monarchs and generals were such selfish, shortsighted fools, interested in the path of least resistance, or their own comfort, and as always, it fell to the bloody warrior of light to fix it.

And fix it he would, one way or another.

His black-scaled tail twitched restlessly, angrily behind him as he flew on. ---

A few moments more, and he landed his Yol, patting it gratefully on the neck before taking a bit of Dzo jerky from his pack, holding it out letting the Yol nibble it from his hand.

"Wait here, my friend," he murmured, "I shall not be long."

He walked toward the river bank, and soon spotted Jifuya, staring out toward the ruins of the castle as the lookout had suggested. The man did not notice him. Enkhjargal's hand went to the spare dagger at his waist. He could end it now, with a well-aimed throw, or a shove of the dagger at just the right point on his spinal column-

No. Jifuya should KNOW. He should see it coming. He should face the weight of his sins, as we have. As all should.

So Enkhjargal walked closer, drawing his sword, ensuring the sound of scraping metal was just loud enough to be heard.

Jifuya leapt with a start and turned around.

"Oh!" He said, breathing a sigh of relief, "Hello, Lord Enkhjargal. I didn't expect to see you out here. I come here sometimes. Staring at the castle helps center me when I'm feeling a bit out of sorts."

"I know. I heard one of your comrades mentioning it. I had hoped to find you here."

"You... You hoped?" Jifuya said, his face confused.

"Yes. You and I have something to discuss."

"Oh! Of course! Anything for the hero of Doma," Jifuya said, smiling graciously, simperingly, "B... But what could you have to discuss with me?"

"Your Profession."

"My-"

"Before you joined the resistance. Was Yotsuyu your only victim? Did you kidnap your other girls? Buy some of them from slave markets? Seduce a few of them off streets, convincing them their only option to avoid homelessness was to work in your dens? Or did you simply buy them all from lecherous, greedy old monsters eager to pawn a daughter or a wife to pay off gambling debts, or just to move on to their next pretty plaything?"

"Wha- What?"

"ANSWER ME," Enkhjargal said, his voice rising in volume just a bit, infused with the dark anger of his other half, as he stepped closer, now towering over Jifuya.

"I-I- I was a legitimate businessman, I had the full sanction of the Em- I mean- I... I got my girls from a variety of places! But I- It was Imperial times! We all had to survive, one way or another-"

Jifuya stopped, cringed, looked up at Enkhjargal. Enkhjargal stared back.

"S-Some of them were there by choice..." Jifuya continued, whimpering.

"SOME of them," Enkhjargal repeated his words, stone-faced, monotone, putting just enough emphasis on the first to remind Jifuya of what it implied, that even more were there against their will.

If the man means to dig his own grave, who are we stop him?

"I. I know what I did to Yotsuyu was... not my best moment," Jifuya said, "But- But- I have heard what you've done! You fought her! Rumors say you can even stare into the past of your enemies! You've seen her sins firsthand! You KNOW she's a monster!"

"I am not here to judge her, Jifuya. I am here to judge you. But how, I wonder, did she become a monster? I have seen enough of her past to know she was not born that way."

He took yet another step closer to the Doman. Jifuya tried to step backward, but his foot nearly slipped off the enbankment. He looked back at the water, and Enkhjargal wondered for a moment if he was planning to try his luck in the swift current. Yet still, he turned back to look up at Enkhjargal, cringing.

"No, she was made a monster," Enkhjargal continued, "By neglectful, hateful parents. By a cruel, callous slavemaster who saw her pain and saw in it a way to put more gil in his pocket."

"I...I already said I felt shame-" Jifuya began to stammer.

"No you didn't," Enkhjargal said, his voice a low hiss, simmering with rising fury, "You said you were afraid of your past, not sorry for it."

"I-I- I'm saying it now! I'm sorry! I swear!"

"Remorse given at the last possible second out of fear is no remorse at all."

"P-Please! Hien already passed judgement! HE forgave me, sh-shouldn't you?"

"He is not my lord," Enkhjargal said, "And thus I have no reason to be bound by his judgement."

"It's a shame, really," Enkhjargal continued, "Maybe if he had done what a king should and put you on trial for your crimes, you could have gotten something softer, something that still served some sort of justice. Maybe exile, or a prison cell, or hard labor. Or restitution paid to Tsuyu and any other of your living victims. Some sort of thing to ensure that craven, beastly men like you will not be tolerated in his new kingdom. But instead, he'll let you go free."

"B... But he DID let me go, right? I'm free. He said so..." Jifuya's voice barely sounded as if it came from a human now, broken and whining as it was.

"Yes. He did. But Doma wouldn't be the first nation I've travelled in where the upper class are either too cowardly or too complicit to reign in the wicked and corrupt. And you know what I've done in those countries?"

"W-What's that?"

"This."

Enkhjargal raised his weapon, and as he did, dark crackles and swirls of aether played around every inch of his body, around his massive sword, as his inner flame finally unleashed, fueled by the anger and rage he'd being feeling every since he found out Jifuya's crime, ever since Hien refused to judge him.

"Oh Kami!" Jifuya cringed back, "Warrior! Please! Show Mercy!"

"The same mercy you showed Yotsuyu? Your other victims?" Enkhjargal answered, coldly, as he swung his sword downward.

Jifuya opened his mouth to scream, but Enkhjargal gave him no chance to sound the alarm.

The pieces of the former slaver's body fell silently into the River, the swift current carrying them out of sight in an instant.

---

"They might find out, you know," His Dark Double, Sometimes called Fray, sometimes Esteem, murmured at his shoulder, as Enkhjargal stood at the edge of the riverbank, still staring into its churning waters.

"No," Enkhjargal said, his mouth set in a grim line, "They'll never suspect me, I'm a hero, a bloody icon. Surely I would never harm as innocent a soul as the brave Jifuya, decorated Captain of the Great and Noble Doman Godsdamned Resistance. Besides. He already tried to run once, who says he didn't do it again? He must have slipped off into the night, too afraid of Yotsuyu - or feeling too guilty at a reminder of the weight of his sins."

"You have a point," Esteem said, with a dark chuckle.

"Besides, if they do find any part of his body," Enkhjargal continued, "They'll likely assume it was someone who died in the assault on Doma Castle. Even if the fish don't eat it first, the water should wear down the meat enough that no-one could tell for sure that it was him - or that he died quite some time after the end of that bloody battle."

"So that's one problem taken care of. But there's one left. How do we deal with Hien?"

"We watch, and we wait, like we always do," Enkhjargal answered, "I thought he had the strength to lead, but if he was too cowardly to judge Jifuya properly, perhaps I erred. So we watch. And if need be, we take action."

"Yugiri will not be happy, if it comes to that," Esteem noted.

"She won't," Enkhjargal said with a nod, "But I have hopes she won't let her love for her lord blind her should he continue to allow such gross oppression, and for all her loyalty, Yugiri's always been a friend of the oppressed. A Lord can only rule as long as they have the consent of their people."

"Hmph. We both know people consent to some messed up things. In exchange for a peaceful life, many would simply ignore the corruption which festers beneath the surface. Cast aside that which is dirty and broken. Speak not of things which would disrupt their dreary little lives."

"Many. But not all."

Enkhjargal could feel Esteem's smile at his shoulder, bemused, slightly bitter, but warm and genuine all the same.

"That we still have that optimism after all this time," Esteem said with a note of wonder, before switching thoughts, "Very well. As always, I shall follow your lead. But if the truth of the matter comes out as I suspect it will, and if you need help..."

"I shall clutch my crystal to my breast, and remember,” Enkhjargal said, fiercely, every word the truth. 

"Good."

And with that, he felt Esteem simmering no longer. He turned from the riverbank, and strode back toward his waiting Yol.

---

NOTE: Text in italics is meant to be the words of Esteem in Enkhjargal’s mind, ala Dark Knight job quest text in-game.

[foxydivaxx]

The Mystery of The Black Rose Chapter 1

After this, I don't think I can write any stories or anything anymore. I should just quit.

The Davis family at a glance seem to have it all. A seemingly perfect, well rounded and God-fearing family. The late Chief Gboyega Davis passed away about 18 years ago and many expected the matriarch of the family to falter over her husband's death. Yet this woman somehow managed to bounce back via her clothing line Violet Life which is reportedly worth a billion dollars.

Naturally with such success, there would be a lot of pressure on each of her three children to succeed in whatever chosen field that they set their sights on. So far, the oldest two children are doing well in their careers. Temitope, the oldest child and the only son of the family, is now a successful and highly respected doctor. Bisola who is currently married is an accountant for Savannah Bank.

All that remained at the moment is the youngest child Wuraola who is still in University studying Journalism in the hopes that she makes it as journalist someday. The girl comes across as a shy yet sweet and friendly person to be around. However, there lies a great pain in her heart. Said pain emerged one fateful day during a phone conversation with her sister Bisola.

"Wura, you are overreacting again. Mother isn't like that."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY THAT?!! I AM NOT CRAZY!! MUMMY HAS THAT TENDENCY TO NOT ONLY INSULT THE HOUSEGIRL AND TELL HER TO HER FACE THAT SHE IS ONLY A HOUSEGIRL BECAUSE SHE LACKS INTELLIGENCE!! THIS SAME OLD HAG ALSO INSULTED ME FOR TRIPPING OVER THE STUPID CARPET AS I HELPED HER BRING SOME COOKIES!! THIS WOMAN HAS BEEN BULLYING ME AND THE STAFF FOR YEARS FOR FUCK'S SAKE!! YOU WERE THERE WHE THAT WOMAN CUT MY HAIR OFF FOR NOT DOING THE HAIRSTYLE SHE WANTED ME TO DO AND YOU BLOODY DID NOTHING!! YOU AND TOPE!!"

Thank goodness their mother had gone out otherwise had the woman listened in on Wura's rant, the child's situation could have gotten worse.

"Seriously Wura calm down. Also, yelling like that will not help matters. Plus mum had every right to yell at both you and Yemisi since both of you do not know what you are doing half the time!!"

Wura just sighs. Why did she even bother herself with reporting her mother to her sister who is obviously so blind and refuses to look at anyone's point of view? It is almost as though Bisola cares more about herself than anyone else and it shows.

"So you mean to tell me that I should take whatever beatings and insults that woman throws at me?" Wura asks in a cold tone.

"Wura she is your mother...."

The last born immediately hangs up on her sister and lies down on her bed. For the past couple years, she had been questioning her role in the family. As far as she is concerned, they are all chess pieces in whatever evil game their mother intends to play.

I can't believe people find that woman's behavior to be cute. That is not cute. That is pure borderline abuse. How come no one has seen through her bullshit yet?

That was about five years ago.

Five years later, the entire family had gathered at the main Davis family home to have a family dinner to celebrate the 18th anniversary of Chief Davis' passing. As per tradition, the family and their friends and various well known celebrities that they happen to know would show up at the Church for a special Thanksgiving service. The family then heads to the family home to eat together and send some time before heading off to their various homes.

"Wait, where is Wura?" The kids' aunt, Aunty Yewande asked. The rest of the family exchanged looks.

Temitope snorts. "Hmmph that girl. She is probably watching that her favorite Korean show." he says with a mocking tone and shrugs. If there was one thing the family often mocks Wura for, it is her obsession with Korean dramas and Kpop which they often found childish.

"Or she could be sleeping. At times, Wura gets tired after church services and just doses off. She did not head downstairs for lunch." Says Violeta their mother.

"I will go fetch her." Says Bisola as she raises up from her seat. She takes slow yet tentative steps as she walks up the steep stairs.

"Wura come downstairs!! Dinner is ready!!" she calls out to her sister.

No response.

No do not panic. The girl is fine. She is fine. Nothing bad had happened to her. She is perfectly fine. Bisola kept on reassuring herself as she keeps on walking until she arrives at her youngest sister's room.

Of all the Davis children, Wura has the largest room with cute pink colored walls and white furniture at the girl's request. At the corner of the room lay a collection of CDS and books messily stacked up on the shelves above Wura's study desk. It seemed that the girl hadn't cleaned up at all. Bisola sighs. Their mother is strict on cleanliness and Wura always bore the brunt of abuse for being disorganized and having poor hygiene. This naturally affected Wura at school because how can someone so disorganized and scatterbrained like her even do well at all?

Bisola pauses as she hears notices a sea of water coming out of underneath the door of Wura's bathroom.

"Jesus wept." Could Wura have left the tap open to overflow like that?

Is she in there?

She slowly walks over towards the door and opens it. The sight that greets her forces her to scream her lungs out. Right inside the bathtub was none other than a naked Wura who seemed to be completely knocked out. There were heavy cuts and bruises all over her body and beside her were tubes of prescription pills. The rest of the family get alerted by the scream and rush upstairs to see what the fuss was about.

"Bisola wh-" Temitope freezes once he sees it. His wife Amelia gasps. When Violeta joins them, she immediately passes out with Yetunde holding on to her. "Mama Tope!! Please wake up!!"

Tope immediately springs into action and gets into the bathtub and picks up his little sister's unconscious body whilst Bisola's husband Timothy pulls out his mobile phone and immediately calls the nearest hospital.

"Hello!! Y-Yes!! We have an emergency here!! Our youngest family member drowned in the bathtub!! Please send paramedics down here!!"

Meanwhile, Tope performs emergency CPR on his sister, hoping and praying that the girl wakes up. Unfortunately for him, it seemed all his efforts were in vain. He then checks her pulse and his heart sinks.

"S-She is gone guys."

"No.." Bisola muttered in total disbelief. Tope simply sighs, trying not to appear emotional as he stares down at her body, his hands shaking in rage.

"Breaking news!! The youngest daughter of the Davis family, Wuraola was found dead in the bathtub of her bedroom at around 7.30pm today. Official cause of death is still unknown." says a news reporter who had just arrived at the scene.

Paremedics soon arrive and place Wura's body onto a stretcher and head outside. "NO!! Give me back my baby!!" Violeta screams as she chases after the paramedics. "Mummy calm down." Says Bisola.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN CALM DOWN?!! MY DAUGHTER IS GONE!! MY BELOVED WURA IS GONE!!"

The woman slumps onto the floor and begins to weep bitterly. Tope has tears in his eyes as his brother-in law comforts him. Amelia on the other hand, just stares up at the ceiling above them, not a single tear in sight. Thank goodness the only grandson of the family was with her parents. Lord knows how they would explain about what had just happened to his favorite aunt.

The Chief Inspector of Police arrives flanked by a group of police officers.

"Ah, good evening Mr Kasali." Says Bisola.

He simply replies her with a curt nod. "Please lead us to the crime scene."

Tope wipes his tears and takes it upon himself to lead them up to the room. "This was where we found her." he says, pointing at the bathtub which was still filled with water. There were still some blood stains on the tub.

The Inspector nods to one of his men who pulls out his phone and takes a photograph of the crime scene. Another set of police officers begin to investigate the area.

"Did anyone else come into the room with her?"

"No sir. It was just her. We hadn't seen her since afternoon. I remember her saying something about wanting to take a nap because she was tired and did not even join us for lunch."

He was not saying the complete truth, that he already knows. Nevertheless, Kasali chose not to press him even further.

"Did she have a fight with anyone?"

Tope begins to think. "She did have an argument with mummy but that was over where she wanted to go for her Masters."

Pure utter lies. It hurts that he has to cover up their family's tracks here.

Kasali nods as he notes all this down. "Alright. We shall leave no stone unturned in this case. You have my word on that."

"Inspector!!"

He turns around and walks over to a police officer who holds up a blood-stained razor blade and knife.

Tope's eyes widened in shock. "Holy shit!!"

His mind then flashes back to one particular day where he had just returned home after his graduation. He remembers seeing Wura holding a knife and him immediately confiscating it from her.

Wura please don't tell me you still harmed yourself.

"Very well. Pack that up. We will have to talk to others that know her in order to understand what led her death." With that, he and the other police officers leave.

Once everyone else was gone, Tope immediately walks over to his mother and grabs her by the hand.

"What the hell did you tell Wura that led to her death mother?! Tell me huh!! What did you do to her?!!"

"Ah hah!! Tope leave our mother!! Can't you see she is still upset?!"

"Shut up Bisola!! You do not help matters at all with your nonchalant attitude!!"

Bisola immediately keeps silent. He then stares at their mother who was cowering in fear. "I will not repeat myself again mum. What did you tell Wura?"

The woman gulps, fear gripping her as she meets her son's angered glance.

"W-Well.....you know that Wura is a messy person who is also a scatterbrain. She always forgets things. Today she forgot to give a special package I had wrapped for Mama Kanyin."

The boy's death glare intensifies. "So because of a stupid package, you sent her to her death."

The woman looks away.

"See? That proves my point. You and Bisola should be proud of yourselves because you have murdered my little sister!!" With that, he walks away, leaving a stunned mother and sister behind.

The boy stomps all the way down and sighs to himself as he walks towards his car and slams the door shut. Amelia had already left the vicinity to go pick up things from the supermarket. He could have done better and saved Wura from that place. From all those horrible people. But he himself was way too consumed with his own darkness, his own madness to even save his little sister.

He would not necessarily call himself the closet sibling to Wura but he still tried his best to be a big brother.

He just sits down in the driver's seat, his mind a total mess as different conflicting voices start to fight for control over him. Almost as though he were possessed. Maybe he was.

He then hears his phone buzzing which distracts him for a brief second. Reaching for his iPhone, he sees a notification about a message from an unknown number. Suspecting that it could be one of his crazy girlfriends, he checks the phone and is met by the following message:

Shine your eyes Mister man,

Your problems are not yet over,

No matter how saintly you try to be now,

Your sins are about to come crashing down on you.

Tope simply laughs it off. "Sins. What sins?" Truth be told, he is aware of what this mysterious person was talking about. However, he thinks little of such.

"Must be one of Danielle's tricks to try and get into my pants again. Stupid bitch does not know when to quit." He mutters as he starts the engine and begins to drive off to his home.

Bisola sighs as she sits down in her old bedroom. Unlike Wura's, hers was a lot more subtle with plain neutral colors. Her mother was fast asleep haven given her some medication to calm her nerves down and try to force her to sleep. So far her plan worked.

Her husband has gone off to go check on their son whilst she stays with her mother to keep watch over her. Before she could do anything else, her phone vibrates next to her on the bedside table. Fearing for the worst, she picks up the phone and checks her messages and gasps upon reading a rather vague yet scathing text.

You try to see the good in others,

Yet you refuse to acknowledge your inner darkness,

Your careless tongue and bitchy attitude caused the death of someone,

Someone that ought to be close to you,

Your other brother has problems no doubt,

But at least deep down he has a heart unlike you and that wretched witch

You call a mother,

"Who sent this?" Bisola asks. No. Wura is dead. There is no way she could have sent this even though the tone used her sounds exactly like her. Must be some friend of hers.

"Friend? Wura and friends? Pfft. Yeah right." As far as she and the rest of the family knew, Wura had little to no friends. Or so she thinks.

Meanwhile, Tope arrives at his house on Banana Island. Compared to Alakada, Banana is more of a surburban area filled to the brim with extremely wealthy individuals, mostly politicians and famous musical and movie superstars and a couple wealthy billionaires.

He packs the car and walks off to his penthouse suite that he recently bought with the new paycheck given to him by his boss Dr Roberts. Perks of being a in-demand doctor.

Once he reaches his suite, he heads straight to the living room and throws his blazer onto the couch and takes a seat on one of the chairs.

"You are back."

He looks up to see his beautiful wife who was wearing a purple silk dressing gown over her night gown. He nods. "This day has been a horrible day for me." He mutters. His wife takes a seat beside him.

"Poor Wura."

He simply nods and remains silent. Lord knows how they would fix this mess.

[adelcrait-old-account]

Lost and Found— Chapter 15: The Boss

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24522103/chapters/64196512

After discovering a security breach, Vader sends Luke and Piett undercover to a bar frequented by criminals, hoping to run into the woman that is planning to defeat the Empire. 

Meme spoilers and a rant under the cut:

Hello! 

This chapter was a long time coming thing. I wanted to change the scenario and get them all to an actual planet with real air. Luke’s been up in space for weeks, but Piett must have been there for a few months, if not a year. I’m sending him on a vacation, he deserves it.

July me also thought it was the funniest idea to write Piett, unmasked Vader and Luke in a bar talking about Vader. Luke would introduce unmasked Vader as “his mortal enemy”, and Piett would believe it. I also find it incredibly amusing (to me) that Vader refuses to act as another person because: a) *dramatic spotlight* He is Darth Vader, a Dark Lord of the Sith, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet, current temporary Emperor, Leader of the Imperial Security Bureau, Leader of the not-so-secret Investigation against the Galactical Insurrection....He will not do something as foolish as acting. Do you even know who he is? He is Darth Vader, a Dark Lord of the Sith- b) He refuses to act as Agent Broly because he just doesn’t care. In the end he did reveal his identity to Piett, and he knew it was a risk coming there unmasked, but there is trust between them, and so Vader doesn’t see the point of acting as this Agent Broly.

For some reason when I first started writing Agent Broly I imagined a tall surfer himbo of some sort. Do with this information whatever you want.

1. The Boss

Now onto the star of the night, Anak- sorry. *coughs* the spotlight please? Thank you. nOW ONTO THE STAR OF THE CHAPTER: Darth Vader, a Dark Lord of the Sith, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet, current temporary Emperor, Leader of the Imperial Security Bureau, Leader of the not-so-secret Investigation against the Galactical Insurrection... My mans a bit out of character, but hey! This is an Alternate Universe where Vader when stressed acts like clone wars Anakin because there is enough love in my heart for all versions of this character. 

The real boss of the chapter is Miss Celissa Vanis, finally making an appearance after Chapter 6, when Luke and Vader just found her in the Coruscant rebel base. Remember those times? Feels like ages ago. Where has she been? What is she doing? Does anyone know what she’s doing? Do I know what she’s doing? What is her Modus Operandi? Does she have one?

Listen.......She’s out there getting stuff done. It took her less than six months to scare The Darth Vader, kidnap Palpatine and Mothma and start a very organised clandestine riot. SHE’S GETTING SHIT DONE.

I really like her. She is the antagonist of the story, yes, but hey! She’s charming and makes some very good points even if the execution of her ideas is....well, bad. People are dying. But she makes sense, even if I, as a person that is also reading the story and has opinions, disagree with her.

Celissa had a dramatic entrance, and she also got a dramatic exit. It has taken me over 70,000 words, but I finally decided to include something about...you know. That guy. 

Celissa stared at the ship. Her people looked at her for guidance, but she didn't have any. She was already planning to get rid of Darth Vader's new Sith apprentice. "You! Pick up the blasters and let's go. The Emperor has some questions to answer." 

Palpatine, answering questions? Celissa, teach me your ways. 

2. ‘The Skywalkers: I am The Last Skywalker Left, both Skywalkers say’ A STAR WARS STORY

These two... I know they’re related, you know they’re related, everyone knows they’re related, and I know that they will know that they’re related (I’m not telling you the How yet ;D) but...they share one brain cell, and in this chapter Luke has it. Which is understandable, because Vader is out of his comfort zone and has a lot on his plate. He probably hasn’t been to a space!bar since that time Hondo kidnapped Obi-Wan and him...about twenty-five years ago.

Luke, on the other hand, spent most of his life on Tatooine. He probably befriended ‘cool looking people’ in Mos Eisley when he was five and his Uncle had to drag him away because those people were dangerous. Luke in a bar filled with dangerous people is like a fish in the sea.  But I think that the fact that Luke and Vader are related by blood will just be a major Plus when the truth is revealed, because I already see that they’re vibing as friends. Hell, they even argue like children through the Force because Vader’s being snarky (because he’s out of his comfort zone) and Luke is just not letting him get away with things Vader usually did.

Hey, and I love them for that.

3. ‘The not-a  Commander, Someone Help Him’

I would quote Rickey Thompson’s you are my ride or die video, but I want you to watch it. This is me talking about Luke in this fic.  The Commander, Ben Starkiller. As I said before, Luke is more comfortable in the ground with the normal people because he spent most of his life on Tatooine with his Aunt and Uncle, moisture farmers. He understands people, he understands crime, he has seen people being wrongly accused of crimes they did not commit. So when Darth Vader starts talking about criminals, Luke steps in. He said this in Chapter 3, and his position still stands. He might not officially be a rebel anymore, but his morality hasn’t shifted:

Vader continued staring at him. “Why did you join [The Rebellion] ?” Luke clenched his jaw. “The Empire is a rotten, corrupt fascist state that supports slavery and massive genocide,” he said calmly with a shrug, “I have witnessed enough to see that something must be done against it.” “That is all theory, Commander. I am asking what caused you personally to be against it.” “I won't watch how innocent people are killed because the Emperor threw a tantrum.” Vader wanted to say that his Master never lost his composure: out of both of them he was the most likely to throw tantrums. Sidious was more strategic in his murders. “The Empire took the life of someone you knew.” Luke clenched his jaw. “A great deal of many people, sir. This is a war.” He would never reveal what the Empire did to his aunt and uncle, he wouldn't give Vader that pleasure. "No one cares about murders on Tatooine."

4. Hondo Ohnaka, Forever Young

I loved him in the Clone Wars and in Rebels. This is the man that when confronted by Darth Maul and Savage Opress, said the following:

Darth Maul: "Filth, you will pay for your insolence." Hondo Ohnaka: "Insolence! We are pirates! We don't even know what that means. Open fire!" 

I can only imagine the kind of stories there are about this man in the galaxy, and Luke has heard them all, so when he heard that Hondo said Vader tried to kill him, I just imagined this:

Imagine sending this without context to someone that hasn’t read my fic but knows the star wars lore....I would be very confused. It could also be an AU where Hondo finds baby!Luke and raises him as a pirate, and then Vader comes for his child and finds Luke Ohnaka speaking fluent pirate slang with the man that raised him. 

In case you didn’t know, Hondo kidnapped Anakin and Obi-Wan for ‘business’ in the clone wars TV show. After that, Anakin was too distracted with the war to go find Hondo again, so they left on neutral-to-bad terms.  On the long list of people that Vader wouldn’t want to see him unmasked, Hondo is at the bottom, because Vader doesn’t even remember he exists. Imagine you’re Vader (I know, I know), you’re approximately forty-five years old, drowning in work, undercover in a mission, arguing with this boy who is accusing you of being “impossible”, and then he goes very quiet and says “That’s Hondo Ohnaka.” The name is oddly familiar, and you turn around and you see him. That dude that kidnapped you when you were only twenty years old. This was over 25 YEARS AGO, surely he won’t remember you, right? 

Right?

5. Captain Kathmir, who?

Captain to Darth Vader at the start of the Empire, led the 501st to battles, a very well known figure in the Imperial Fleet...so why doesn’t Vader want to talk about her?

Piett spoke. "Yes, precisely. [...] Everyone knows what happened to Captain Kathmir."

The Force stopped ticking.

Luke frowned. "Who?"

"Nobody," said Vader urgently, "Drop the topic, now."

She disappeared after failing him. What happened? 

The Force became cold, and Luke shivered when Vader spoke. "The story is a lie built on childish rumours." he spat quietly. 

In case that you’re thinking Vader might have had something with this Captain, the answer is No. In my humble opinion, in canon, I don’t see Vader having anything with anyone that wasn’t Padmé, and this extends to all my fics. There are enough headcanons for everyone.

And to conclude, a wholesome one: 

Thank you for sticking with my nocturnal ramblings about this story! I’m posting another chapter in a few days, where they will do Force magic in the snow. 

[fbdo1986]

Winter’s Chill - A Succession Fic

a/n: We meet again! Once again, here is something exploring the Roys and their sibling bonds! Admittedly, I’m digging deep into some of my own weaknesses here, but I couldn’t help but write something after discussing the concept (Connor holding onto things that his siblings grew out of) with a friend. This takes place on the timeline of Season 1, but without any of the events transpiring that cause Connor to be brought into conversations surrounding the future of Waystar Royco. 

Warnings: Brief Allusions to Death and Grief/Loss (actual loss is not present)

Word Count: 3222

On a regular January evening in New York, the soft sheen of snow leaves a film on all the windows of houses and apartments alike, and the sound of it brushing up against the panes has an almost transfixing quality. People outside brave the cold, swaddled in winter coats and scarves that are close to dragging on the ground. Crowded streets don’t have a chance to get very slick, yet the chill seems to coat everything the snow doesn’t touch. Those inside face a lingering shiver, with windows and doors locked tightly so as not to let anything in. If it weren’t so regular this time of year, it would be almost comforting. The isolated figures of the Roy siblings take refuge inside, not many miles from one another. The three go through the same motions, nearly. Funneling warm breath into chapped hands, shrugging off coats, as though they passed around the same mannerisms amongst themselves. 

The same can’t be said currently across the country, where both Connor and his girlfriend bustle about inside his home, until Willa stops in front of what catches her eye. 

“What do you have all this stuff for?” She asks, picking up a box that sits against the desk at the far corner of the living room. She sets it on the tabletop, leaving it unopened.

“What’s that?” Connor calls from the kitchen, meandering back into the living room to hear her clearer. 

“You’ve got… boxes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you open them.” She traces a hand over the cardboard as he rejoins her side. “Can I open this?” She looks up at him momentarily, her dark eyes meeting his light ones.

“Sure.” He says softly. He backs up, leaving room for her. It’s been a while. Usually, Connor goes through these things alone. He’s unsure, this might hold things that he’s kept so long he almost forgets what they are. Maybe that’s for the better.

So the box is opened. And immediately as her hands retreat, recognition tinged with regret washes over him. There’s no tape saving it from inspection, and the perplexity adorning Willa’s face stings, because there’s no right way—no proper way—to explain these seemingly useless mementos. But he’s kept them in any way he can, physically or otherwise. But now it’s the only way he has a piece of them at all.

He practically hides his face, like a little kid. Caught red-handed in sentimentality that he can’t look in the eye. 

“Are these yours?” She holds them up for him to see. They’re like evidence of a crime scene. Of a better self. It feels like years and years ago. A lifetime. They’re one of various pairs of mittens: blue with a snowflake pattern. They’re the size of a child’s hand. 

Tears clog his throat. His chin quivers. 

“What’s wrong?” She looks at him with a concern that words cannot convey. She knows that his childhood—all of theirs, collectively—is a sore, tender subject maybe best kept in boxes. Her frown gets deeper with every passing second.

He wants to say that it’s nothing. But really, it shows fully how much time has passed. It's etched in the pattern, he swears. But lord, when did these get so small? How could they have grown? Even more than he remembers, much more than that. And he knows, of course he knows they have. But with the true recognition of it—years and years between them, even though it feels like yesterday—his chest tightens, releases, and then the words fall out.

“They’re Kenny’s.” He turns away. “And the red ones are Shiv’s.” He swipes a hand across his face and is unsurprised by the fact that when he draws it away it’s wet with tears. “Rome’s are at the bottom.” 

No one penetrates the silence right away. Finally, Willa speaks tentatively. “Did something happen? They’re not…?”

“No.” He interrupts before she can complete the thought. “I-I talk about them like they’re ghosts. I mourn them like they’re gone. And-and they haunt me. But they’re not.” His shoulders come to meet his ears defensively, nearly folding in on himself.

She softens. “How long has it been?” She knows a lot about Connor’s siblings, he talks about them frequently and rarely spares any details. But she’s never seen them around, and there is—if nothing else—a rift surrounding them purely due to distance. Yet what she’s sure of, something he’s spent his whole life building, is a bond that connects them further than just through their father. 

He clears his throat. “Uh, six years.” Since he’s seen them all at once. It was at Kendall’s wedding. Some big, elaborate thing. And of course, he never made the conscious choice to leave them behind. In fact, he devoted himself to quite the opposite as he left home at eighteen. By twenty-one, he had his own place which served as an unofficial second home for his siblings just as much as it did for him. So it’s difficult to articulate how or why this ever happened. But somewhere between then and now, it all slipped away. 

Now, they paint a funny picture. Kendall, ushered into the business as soon he was old enough with Roman trailing at his heels, and Shiv holding her own trying to shoulder her way into politics, all around the little epicenter that is where they grew up. And, well, he’s somewhere in New Mexico. That’s all he can say. It slipped away. 

He grasps at her hands, but stops himself short. His voice is a near whisper. “Oh, Will. I want it back so badly. I want to go back, turn time around and make it up to them. Because… I remember everything. When each of them were born. When I got home just in time to see Roman for the first time. Shiv’s first cello recital, when I taught Kenny how to swim. And his drawings. I doubt that dad ever kept them.” And then it breaks. “I was everything. Now I’m just… nothing. How do you… forgive yourself for realizing you spent as much time in someone’s life as you have out of it? How do you stop feeling sorry?” 

It hurts him. It hurts him more than the multiple unspoken understandings he’s made throughout his life, some he only fully processed years afterward. More than knowing there was a day when his father decided he just wasn’t enough. And even more than the day where Kendall broke his arm, and Connor swore his chest felt the same impact. All the air was crushed out of his lungs. All it took was one thud and then grass—green grass, streaked through with summer sun—didn’t look quite the same anymore. 

In the pause she brushes the tears from his cheek. “Sweetheart, you can’t just stop everything. You can’t forget that you have a life. You can’t be everything. You can’t.” She stands stoically, softening with the last few words. 

“It’s not about that. It’s the fact that I promised myself I would do something, be something for them. I remember it so clearly.” His face hardens as more tears gather at his chin. He pretends they aren’t there.

“But you said it yourself. They’re not gone. Why have you waited? Why not reach out, try again?”

“I’m scared. I don’t… I don’t want to face them knowing I disappointed them.” It’s as though every year the reminder cuts deeper and deeper. He’s further and further from those days spent in the park, ensuring that before every outing they were bundled up tight, scarves around their necks with their mittened hands in his own. Somehow, he couldn’t imagine it. Anything else. It’s as though anything beyond the smallness of their hands was just pretend. Even as he saw it all unfold in adulthood, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was like seeing a little kid in daddy’s suit. Trying to be big, drowning in clothes. Just playing pretend. 

And then…. it wasn’t anymore. And now the rest comes rushing forward, and now that time finally caught up… it’s terrifying to admit. 

Willa shakes him out of it further. “You can’t keep them like objects, Con. They’re real people. Real people you can talk to. And if you’re even half as good of a brother as you make yourself out to be they definitely miss you. You’re not disappointing anyone.”

He sighs, absentmindedly thumbing the fabric of the small mitten he’s just taken in his hands. It’s Kendall’s. He puts it to his chest and gives it a squeeze. He isn’t quite sure of how they’d see him now, like this. He laughs with tears in his eyes. He’s always been sentimental, sure, but he doesn’t think anyone knows that he’s kept these things.

“So come on. Tell me your stories.” She chuckles, coaxing him to sit as her hands hold his forearms. “You have some, don’t you? About the mittens. Of course you do.” She presses a kiss into his forehead. “And tomorrow, you’ll make this right again. Okay? Call. Write. Start with Kendall. Start anywhere.” Warmth blooms in her features and so they settle, stopping their bustling to reminisce.

“Now, go on. Remember the sweet things." It's useless to combat her smile. So he starts, telling her about when they went out in the cold and he taught them how to make snow angels. How their eyes brightened when they realized there was no restraint here, that they could enjoy themselves with all the giddiness in the world. And so, they made a routine of it. Every chance he got, trekking out of the house just to see the sparks in their eyes. Falling and laughing in snow. Even if it took up the whole afternoon, even if it left their faces red and chapped from the wind, their glow never left.

The next day Connor gathers up the courage to take Willa’s advice, and with a deep breath he dials the phone.

A voice on the other end appears. "Hello?"

"Uh, Kendall?" He's a little frantic, since he didn't expect him to pick up, honestly.

"Con? Are you alright?" He’s unsure exactly why Kendall felt compelled to ask, but he supposes maybe asking a question off the bat isn’t expected. Or, maybe it's the waver in his voice, on the edge of breaking, or the simple fact that he’s doing this at all. 

"Yeah, of course. I'm sorry. I know it's a little out of the blue. Hey, uh, if you're busy I can always call back—" He backpedals. It’s too much to put onto him some random night, some odd years later.

"No." Kendall eases him, and takes a seat close to where he stands. "I'm good. We can talk."

Connor doesn’t speak right away, leaving a silence which Kendall scrambles to fill. “... Hey, um.” He exhales sharply. “Clearly you called for some reason, and if you don’t want to go through with it I’m not going to force you, but, it’d be nice. Y’know. To talk.” 

He hates how tense he feels, how abnormal this has become. "I'm sorry, Kenny." 

"Sorry? Why are you sorry? Don’t lie to me." Solid concern pools into his voice. And Connor can picture him like he’s right in front of him.

He weakens. He’s always had a tendency for this, to choke up when it comes down to it. “Gd.” He pinches the bridge of his nose momentarily. “Everything. All of it, Ken. I—I’m so sorry that I couldn’t stay. That I couldn’t be your big brother anymore. The way I used to be.”

“Connie… ” Kendall says, frowning slightly.

“Come on, Ken. You can’t do that to me.” Connor says, smiling sadly as he wipes away more stray tears from his eyes. “You just can’t. You know how I get.” The nickname feels charged, almost. As though it carries the weight of all the memories they forged when it was just him and Kendall.

“But I mean. You-you’ve always done enough. You were always there. You don’t have to worry about that.”

“But isn’t that all I’ve ever had, really? What else? What else have I done, or devoted myself to? As if I even did something that ever helped, that made you proud.” Connor huffs dismissively. “I’ve had my whole life to make things better, and what have I done? I retreated.” 

“No, you didn’t. You made us a home, a real one. You always had our backs, and protected us.” It’s something Kendall has held close his whole life. And although he doesn’t talk about it with them, he knows Shiv and Roman house the same sentiment.

“But I just, I’ve been gone so long. So many things have happened and all I’ve wanted to do is ask. But, but, I don’t know. I just, I have some things of yours, from when you were kids, and I dunno. If you’d want them back, I can—I can… ” His chest is heavy. It’s leaden with just wanting to let it out, that he misses him. That he misses when they grew up, when he was their outlet, the doorway to the world beyond their walls. That really, his siblings are the only fond reminders of home. He covers his face momentarily, heaving out a watery sigh.

It’s ridiculous. Trying to rewind time, trying to force Kendall to understand after such a gap of time, or hell, choking up on the telephone. There’s just no easy way to say it. No way to put how he feels into words, especially if he can’t get it out. But honestly, there’s just a piece of him that’s never quite been filled. And while feeling completely whole is out of the question, closing the gap might help. It’s the only thing he’s holding onto.

Connor’s shoulders slump forward. “Just, forgive me, I guess. For how long it’s been.” Neither can deny that.

“Oh, Con. It’s—This? Please. None of it is your fault.” It’s all so much more than that. So much bigger than any of them can fathom, more than they can ever fully come to terms with.

“Still. I could’ve been there. I used to be.” He scoffs. “I don’t even know how you are.”

“You know I can’t blame you for that. Leaving.” Kendall reassures him. “I mean that.”

“So I guess that means things are hard, then.” Connor doesn’t even mean to jump there, it just happens. Because he’s the only one who had the chance.

“It means they’re like they’ve always been. I’m okay.” Kendall laughs softly, and it eases them both.

“Okay.” A small smile flicks to Connor’s face even as he tries to fight it. It’s a touch ironic, how Connor has to be reassured by Kendall now, when the roles were reversed growing up. He was always that figure, a pair of shoulders to be leaned into for comfort, looming above the rest. 

And pretty soon, they slip into normal conversation. Trading simple anecdotes and jokes surrounding their current circumstances, time doesn’t quite rewind—but it does make it slow somehow. Laughter is easy, and somewhere they forget about the hurt that inspired the conversation in the first place.

Yet eventually, silence falls between them. Each brother tenses instinctively, fearing that the distance has been built between them again, that it’s too much to overcome. That they’ve waded deep enough that there’s nothing to fall back on; small talk can’t save them now.

“Connor?”

“Yeah?”

“Keep the things you have. My things. Okay?” Kendall pauses. “... And I miss you.” His heart tugs with guilt and fondness in tandem. And soon he’s spilling quiet tears of his own.

“I miss you, too.” Connor says finally, with a soft droop of his shoulders. The words are an exhale.

“So, um. Come back sometime. And uh, don’t be afraid to stay.” Kendall sniffs. “I’m sure the rest would want to catch up. You still have your place in the city, right? From when we were kids?”

“Yeah, yeah. I do.” Another instance of keeping pieces of the past. He doesn’t hesitate to smile, though.

“Good. Like old times, then.” Kendall says solidly.

“Yeah.” Connor nods to himself. “Yeah.” 

“Honey? It’s snowing.” Willa calls sweetly, eyes and smile equally wide. It’s a sight that they aren’t graced with often, since they’re secluded from the depths of the mountainous ranges of the state, where snow collects on their peaks. He sneaks a glance through the windows and surely enough, light flakes dance to ground below them.

“Well, I won’t keep you.” Kendall’s voice is amused, hiding a chuckle. He’s heard Willa in the background. “But uh, can I count on you? Staying for a little while?”

“You can. I’ll let you know when, but it’ll be soon. I swear.” He’ll make it up to them, he knows he will. This time, he’s sure.

“I know. I always could.” The sentiment is enough to draw tears from them again. They’ve never tried to hide their proclivity for emotion, but it’s the rest that makes it stew in their stomachs—how attached it seems to be to when Kendall would collapse into his arms unthinkingly, with Connor already outstretched, ready for the weight—that makes it that much easier to falter. It’s not… sad, not happy either. Just the understanding that somehow they ended back up just like they used to be, with fragile arms instead of strong ones. When neither is big nor small, just something in between. Something a little too quick to break, something that toes the line between readiness and second-guessing, where both need something bigger to hold them up even when they stand heads above where they used to. 

“Well, uh. Thanks, Kenny. I mean it. ” Connor says sheepishly. “Not just for this, even.” 

“Take care of yourself, alright?” Kendall offers, like it’s a hand on the shoulder.

“I will.”

So that’s how they leave it. No intentional goodbye, yet it’s filled instead by knowing that this time, there’s a plan to return. He won’t let it slip from his hands or get shoved into boxes to become souvenirs of childhood. It’s as tangible as the phone in his hands or the snowflakes coming to rest on the landscape unexpectedly housing them.

He sidles comfortably up against Willa, and the two venture out into the cold. A shiver takes her by the shoulders and he pulls her close as they watch the snow fall gently. The mountains are far away, so the expanse of desert as it meets the sky—quickly blurring to white—seems to chase on forever. There’s nothing around to greet them, as though the world could swallow them up, and it’s not as though there isn’t an occasional wish for more beyond their windows, even when the sky is brilliantly blue. However, they’ve been granted another guest, even if it’s just fleeting snow that dissolves on their fingertips. They’ve been gone from the city for years now, and that’s a reminder on its own. But whereas the city goers let it gather on their clothes and hair without a second thought, almost with annoyance, Connor welcomes it—albeit childishly, without the thought of covering his hands—as an opening, a prospect, an occurrence that he can’t help answer with the tinge of laughter. “Huh.” He smiles, wondering if it’s snowing again in New York. 

[lil-nest]

Summary: When Talia's young son loses his leg and she leaves him in an alley for his father to find, she doesn't expect the GCPD to find him first. When Officer Dick Grayson finds an amputated child in an alley, he doesn't expect Jason Todd's advice to be "foster him". Both those things happen anyway.

Notes: Written for Batfam Week 2018, Day 4:AU Warning for child abandonment, non-graphic amputation, League of shadow-typical ableism (which does not reflect the author’s opinion in any way, shape or form) and a little bit of swearing.

“I'm sorry, lady Talia, but there's only so much we can do. No one ever tried to transplant a whole leg before, and even though the leg matches his DNA perfectly, the procedure just failed.”

Talia grit her teeth at the memory. Oh how cathartic it had been to kill that scientist.

“I'm sorry, Lady Talia, but we can't try again. His body went through too much stress during the first few attempts, and we don't have anything new to try this time. We did all we could, but lord Damian will not get his leg back.”

She hadn't killed this one. Her father had stilled her hand before she could.

“Daughter, you know it is no use. It is time for you to let go of the boy. He will no longer be able to serve the League.”

“But father, he was shaping up to be a great heir. Making a new one will set back our plans...”

“We will not make a new one. The detective has been training his stray, and the boy has a lot of potential... he might even become a better detective than his mentor, and he seems more susceptible than Wayne ever was... It won't take much to say him to my side, and he'll make a perfect heir. Your son, on the other hand, is no more than a liability now. We can't even plant him in the Detective's house, now that he has a worthier heir. Kill him, or I will.”

Talia al Ghul did not cry. She had not cried since infancy. But the idea of killing her child...

Maybe he had become a liability. After all, she was risking everything to save his life.

She had taken him from the lab, claiming she wanted to give him a death worthy of a warrior. Instead, she had put him on plane headed to Gotham and had presented the corpse of a clone to her father.

She set him down in the shadows, where she knew Batman's patrol would take him. She didn't know if her Beloved would recognize him as his own – she somewhat hoped he wouldn't – but she knew he would make sure he was safe. It was all she could give her son now.

She forgot to take the police patrols into account.

Sometimes, when Dick worked overtime and Jason had nothing planned for evening, he'd let himself in the cop's apartment and cook him a nice warm meal. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement: He got both the pleasure of trying out new recipes and a free meal – sometimes two or three, when he let himself be talked into taking the leftovers home – and Dick could have something other than cereal after a long shift.

Dick would talk about paying him for those every once in a while, but Jason always called bullshit. They were at that point in their friendship when nobody knew exactly who owed who what favors and they just did things for each other – or, more accurately, they both knew exactly what the other did for them but they couldn't agree on which favor compensated which.

Of course, talking about such things was unthinkable between two emotionally constipated ex-foster kids, so Jason just claimed it was payment for the times his masked self showed up at the fire escape asking for a patch-up job.

This would inevitably get Dick to stutter and claim that if an illegal vigilante had ever presented themselves at his window – which they hadn't, thank you – then as an officer of police, of course he would have arrested them, and if, hypothetically, he had decided to break his vows and help said non-existent vigilante, then he certainly would not know their identity, but the point was moot, anyway, since Jason was not, in fact, stupid enough to be part of any hypothetical vigilante group picking up Batman's slack in Crime Alley.

The rant would then be followed by an abrupt change of subject, and Dick would swiftly send Jason home with all the leftovers instead of only half, and tell him to come by with laundry some time.

Jason would call it a win, and would even even be kind enough not to mention the fact that Dick said “Batman's slack” and not “the police's”, as though he had given up on the force ever setting foot there.

That particular evening, Jason was sitting in Dick's couch while his soup simmered, reading about his exploits in the paper – seriously, who put an article about his people struggling to survive next to crappy suppositions about Timothy Drake-Wayne's “secret life”? – when the man came home.

If Jason hadn't been so worried, he would have wondered what it said about him that he knew something was wrong just from the way he closed the door and the lack of greeting.

A moment passed, and he was just about to go check that Dick wasn't dead when the man walked up to him and threw himself on the couch.

“Rough day?”

He was treated to an empty look he hadn't seen since he had last seen his friend wake up from a nightmare back in the home.

“There was a kid...”, Dick eventually said.

Jason winced. Cases involving children were always hard, but Dick usually coped by crying on his shoulder. Whatever had shaken him enough to make him shut down his emotions must have been messed up – even by Gotham standards.

“A boy, four year old – five at the most. Found him in a gutter in a back alley. He was.. god, he was missing a leg.”

Jason's blood ran cold.

“Some new psycho killer, you think?”

“No, Jason, no, he was alive. And the leg... it was cut clean, “fresh surgical amputation” the medic said. Coated with antiseptic, properly bandaged, hell, they're making a blood work because they think he might have been given antibiotics. Jason, it's like this kid got in an accident, got amputated and treated in an hospital, and then just tossed out!”

There were the tears. It was progress, at least.

Jason didn't like where he thought this was going, but asked anyway:

“You think his parents abandoned him on the streets because he lost his leg, don't you?”

“I can't know that. Maybe the leg and his current situation have no link. Maybe he just got kidnapped while leaving the hospital and the kidnappers realized he would need treatment to stay alive and didn't want complications so they just threw him out. Maybe there is a psycho out there who gets off on cutting off kid's members, then pretending to save them by treating them and then leaving them to die in the streets, but...”

“But you know both these scenarios are less likely than assholes deciding their kid was not worth the inconvenience or the cost.”

Dick stayed silent. Jason decided to change the subject.

“Did you try talking to the kid?”

“I did. He wasn't coherent. It might have been shock, but... whatever he was trying to say, it didn't sound like it was even meant to be English.”

“Maybe that's it, maybe the parents are illegal immigrants and can neither earn enough money to take care of him nor benefit from healthcare.”

“But then how did they get him treated in an hospital? Their identity would have been controlled. No, Jason, whoever did this had enough money and rights to get this kid surgery and medicine, which means they also had enough money and rights to take care of him afterwards. They decided to leave him to either die or get thrown into the system. Jason, you know what's going to happen to him. No one will want to adopt or foster a disabled, potentially traumatized kid who can't even speak English, and GCPS has neither the means nor the willingness necessary to give him the help he'll need. He won't even end up like us, Jason, he'll end up worse!”

“Not if you do something about it” he countered.

Now, the thing with Jason was, he was a firm believer in taking things in his own hands. Always had been, really. His mom was too high to make them food? No problem, he could teach himself how to cook. No more food money? Well, hello there, Bat-tires, sitting there, prime for the jacking. The foster parents beat the smaller kids? Associate with eldest foster brother to beat them back. Now-ex foster brother wanted to give up on his dream to become a cop? Nothing was as easy as getting himself arrested at a strategic time so Dick could “accidentally” bump into his idol while bailing him out. Neither Batman nor the GCPD would protect the citizen of crime alley? Meet Red Hood and his Outlaws.

So of course Jason would suggest doing something – probably stupid – when someone complained something was unfair. It usually didn't matter how out there his ideas were, because Dick was always there to act as a voice of reason. He just forgot that said reason tended to disappear when Dick was upset, leaving him incredibly susceptible.

“And what exactly do you suggest I do about this?”

“Well, you're a registered foster parent, aren't you? Take him in.”

Dick startled.

“I'm sorry, what? I can't just take in a kid on a whim! Besides I only got registered so we could ensure children involved in a case didn't disappear into the ether before we were done like I almost did after my parents died.”

Ah, there was the voice of reason Jason knew and loved.

“With that being said, the kid is currently involved in a case. I could take him in just until we close it. It would give his social worker time to find a somewhat appropriate home for him. And maybe if he spends enough time with me it'll help him trust me and we might find a way to communicate...”

Never mind.

Dick deflated.

“We both know if I take him I'll end up getting attached and won't be able to bring myself to let him get lost in the system, though.” A dry, humorless laugh. “I'm pretty sure that's the kind of emotional investment the academy warned us about”

Dick's internal war would have been hilarious if the subject hadn't been so serious. Jason felt the need to intervene, since it was a little bit his fault, too.

“Eh, screw the academy anyway. You've always wanted to be a dad, and I'm pretty sure the only reason you haven't adopted yet is because you know you'll get attached to every kid you see and won't be able to chose. This might just be your chance!”

“I know, and it's very tempting, but... I'm a single man with a dangerous, time-sucking job, and my budget's not too tight, but it's not that loose.”

“You know you can work around all of those if you try. Look, I'm not saying you should up and adopt right now, but maybe give it a thought? The kid's due for a few more days in the hospital, right? Take that time to think about it, talk about it with his worker a bit, and if you find out you still want to after that, just foster the kid until the case is closed. It'll let you see if you can find a solution for the job and the money thing, and most importantly if you click with the kid. Then when the case is closed you'll know what to do. Hell, if you're worried you'll end up too attached to take a rational decision, I promise I'll be the devil's advocate.”

Dick snorted.

“Right. You haven't met him, Jay. He'll have you wrapped around his little fingers soon enough.”

“Hey, if he's able to melt my stone cold heart, then he'll deserve a place beside the only other person who did, right?”

Dick laughed.

“Alright. But you get to be the babysitter while I investigate.”

“I'm sorry, but you're supposed to find a workable arrangement, and I happen to have a job that I like and almost pays my bills. I'm not ready to become a full-time babysitter until the kid hits eighteen. I might, however, be willing to do emergency babysitting every once in a while.”

“It's a deal then.”

A week later, Jason's phone vibrated, startling the cat he was holding into fleeing. Once the animal had been safely caught and given to its new owner, he checked, silently promising retribution to the asshole who had almost ruined a perfect adoption.

It was a text from Dick.

“I'll be picking Damian at Gotham's General on Monday. I hope you're free this Saturday, because we're going shopping ;p”

Somehow, his stupid ideas always came back to bite him in the ass.

[thesassybooskter]

COLLISION POINT by Lora Leigh: Review & Excerpt

Collision Point by Lora Leigh Series: Brute Force #1 Published by St. Martin's Paperbacks Publication Date: February 27th 2018 Genres: Romantic Suspense Pages: 336 Source: Publisher Format: eARC Goodreads Buy Online: Amazon ♥ Barnes & Noble ♥ Kobo ♥ Apple Books

Disclaimer: I voluntarily reviewed a copy of this book. All opinions stated are solely mine.

Riordan “Rory” Malone is a force to be reckoned with. A member of the Brute Force Protection Agency and an operative working with the Elite Ops, Rory is the fiercest of warriors and protectors. Honed from the strong Irish stock of their grandfather and sharpened to a razor’s edge, Malone men live for one single purpose: to protect the women who own them, body and soul. From the moment he saw Amara Resnova, he knew she could be that woman.

But Amara, daughter of an alleged notorious crime lord, is a force in her own right. When she betrays her father, she’s finds herself in the arms of a man who is dangerous for her body and soul.

Can Rory keep Amara safe while protecting his own heart? Can Amara trust Rory not to break hers even as the danger mounts, threatening to take them and their passion to a breaking point?

  Review

I am a huge fan of Ms. Leigh’s Elite Ops and Nauti series and any of her books tangentially related to those series is an automatic read for me, so imagine my pleasure at finding a spin-off in the Brute Force series.

Riordan “Rory” Malone was a young man just coming into his own when he was introduced to us in Wild Card. Fast forward a few years and he has become a honed and skillful warrior, following in his brother’s footsteps. Like all Malone men before him, he has also found the one woman who owns him, body and soul. She comes with a lot of complications, but Rory is willing to fight to the death to protect her.

Amara Resnova is daddy’s little princess even though daddy is allegedly a notorious crime lord. The one time she decides to go her own way, she finds herself in life-threatening danger and the only person who can keep her alive is the one man she can’t have; the one she was willing to break the rules for.

Amara may be a daddy’s girl, but she is also very sweet, thoughtful, and kind. Rory is the perfect foil for her because he is protective and strong enough to make the tough choices needed to secure her well-being. That does not mean she is a pushover because she is ready to go head to head with him when needed.

One thing Ms. Leigh will always give you is lots of passion and suspense and this book is no different. Lots of scorching hot passion and lots of action like her Elite Ops and Nauti series and while loosely connected, every story stands on its own. Every time I finish a new book by this author, I’m sure to go on a binge of my favorites, just like now and I am really looking forward to the rest of this series.

  Excerpt

Chapter One

Six Months Later

She’d been told that West Texas in the spring wasn’t much different from West Texas in the fall, but as Amara Resnova pulled in the driveway of the small house outside Alpin, she felt she had to disagree with that summation.

Stretched out in front of the house with its wraparound porch was a lush green valley fed by a lazily running stream winding through it. Sunlight speared from the cloudless blue sky, bright and warm, spreading its heat in a comforting embrace.

And the charming little house sat just beneath the warming sunlight. Spreading out in front of it was the picturesque valley; behind it, the normal West Texas part-grass, part-scrub, potential-desert landscape that never failed to amaze her.

On a rising knoll stood a lone tree, thickly branched and heavily leafed, shading what appeared to be a small cemetery. Rather than looking desolate and lonely, that little plot of land with its surrounding black iron fence, appeared instead to keep watch over the land below it. As though those buried there kept a gentle eye on those who came after them.

As isolated as the property was, it should have appeared stark. Instead, an air of contentment and peace lay over it. As though the land, the house, the vibrant green of the valley, and the cemetery that overlooked it all, knew all there was about life and love and had locked all those secrets within it to sustain it.

Drawing in a deep breath to steady herself against the fears she hadn’t been able to push behind her even in such a lovely setting, Amara turned off the engine, forced her hands not to shake, and opened the door before stepping into the warmth that filled the valley.

It wasn’t a blazing heat, but rather a gentle wave that filled the air and wafted around her. And in it there was a strange sense of familiarity. A “been there before” feeling that had her heart racing, her mouth drying as she stared around and drew in the sights and whispered sounds of a land as yet untouched by civilized life.

Here, a person could see the stars at night rather than the city lights. The sound of the lonely coyote rather than the rush of traffic. Peace rather than a hectic race.

Here, perhaps, she could find some answers. And maybe there was a chance to find everything she’d lost.

Tugging the hem of her tank, she straightened it over the band of her jeans beneath the light denim jacket she wore as she walked slowly from the car to the stone path that led to the porch. The thick carpet of grass stretched from the valley to surround the house, but she’d noticed as she parked that it became sparser at the back. As though that carpet of green with its lazy stream could only struggle so far to embrace the weathered home.

The dark blue pickup parked at the side of the house attested that someone lived there. And she knew the vehicle belonged to the man those in town called Grandpops Malone.

Riordan Malone Sr. was grandfather to Riordan Malone the younger, she’d been told, when she stopped at the gas station and auto repair garage outside town that bore the name MALONE AND BLAKE—SERVICE AND REPAIR. There, she’d learned Riordan the younger was part owner but currently out at his “grandpops’” place.

Riordan.

That name haunted her dreams, her fantasies. Though the man in those dreams wasn’t an old man. The one who came to her in those nightly images was tall, strong, impossibly sexy.

As Amara forced herself to walk to the porch, she looked around, searching for the face, listening for the voice of a man she knew only in those dreams. The man she’d escaped her father’s protection to go search for.

Was he friend or foe?

Even she couldn’t answer that question, not fully. But for some reason, she couldn’t seem to help the need to learn which he would be.

As her foot lifted to the first step, the front door creaked, causing her to pause, to wait with bated breath as it slowly opened to reveal an aged, gray-haired gentleman she suspected was Riordan Sr., Grandpops.

In his worn loose jeans, well-washed white shirt with sleeves folded neatly back below his elbows, scuffed leather boots, and with that serene expression, the man looked as old and wise as the mountains themselves. And there was no doubt he was just as damn stubborn.

“Well, hello there.” The smile that lifted the corners of his mouth was reflected in his dark blue eyes. “Can I help ya, young lady?”

There was a whisper of a lyrical accent. Irish. Just a whisper though, not the full, male lilt she sometimes heard in memories that never fully revealed themselves.

“I’m looking…” She swallowed nervously. “I’m looking for Riordan Malone.”

His head tilted to the side, his thick graying hair neatly trimmed but giving a hint of the rogue he must have been in his youth.

“I’d say you’re looking for my grandson rather than myself,” he said gently. “He should be along in a bit. His da just called to say he’s done stole that wild pony again and headed this way.” A chuckle filled the air. “Come along up to the porch and sit with me till he arrives. That wild beast always gives a show when he comes barreling through the valley.”

Moving gingerly up the steps to the porch, she followed him to the comfortable-looking cushioned rockers that faced the valley.

“Does he steal ponies often?” She frowned as she sat down, feeling more off balance than she’d felt in her life—which was saying something considering the past six months.

“Just that wild-assed black son of a satan that took a liking to him.” He grinned back at her, his gnarled hands gripping the arms of the rocker loosely. “His da threatens to kill the beast every time Riordan takes it out. He swears it’s gonna kill the boy.”

Boy.

That didn’t sound like the man she was searching for. But, everything she learned assured her this was the one place she was certain to find him.

“Ahh, here he comes now.” Fondness filled the old man’s tone as he motioned to the valley.

He appeared at first as no more than a storm of dust rising beyond the verdant green of the valley.

Amara watched, her heart racing as that trail of dust grew steadily closer.

It was an imposing sight, she had to admit.

A sensual, exhilarating sight.

The horse, black as midnight, neck extended, flying across the deserted landscape, was enough to hold the eye. But the sight of the man, bent low to the horse’s neck, black hair flying back from his face, riding without a saddle, was a bit more than simply imposing.

It was exhilarating.

Imposing and savage and wildly erotic.

Amara could feel her body responding to the sight, weakening, filling with a sensual lassitude she couldn’t combat.

“Be watching this now. That horse loves ta take him on a wild ride he does,” Grandpops said softly.

The horse flew over a gully as though he had wings, before jumping the stream, neck and legs extended as it went airborne for precious seconds. The animal then took a series of fences as though they were nothing, and as she stared, she felt she knew how those women felt from centuries past as they watched a conquering warrior bearing down on them.

When the horse flew over the fence that enclosed the house yard, Amara was certain there was no way it could pull up before slamming headfirst into the porch itself.

With no more than a few yards to spare, the beast came up on his hind legs, a triumphant equine scream filling the air before landing again and prancing about with pure high-spirited joy before finally settling.

And Riordan sat firm on the animal’s back the whole time, holding onto the horse’s mane rather than a bridle, thighs gripping the animal’s heaving sides as he stared at her with blazing, furious blue eyes before turning them on his grandfather.

The younger Riordan dismounted smoothly, the soles of his moccasined feet hitting the ground as he slapped the beast on the rump. It came up on its hind legs once more in another display of savage beauty as it reared up, pawed the air, then shot off back the way it came the second it landed.

Flying like the wind, strong legs launching it over the fence, the gully, then the stream before a trail of dust followed it around the bend of the mountain.

So much beauty, she thought. A display of savage male temper and strength, and no less showed in Riordan’s expression as he propped his hands on his lean waist and glared up at her where she sat next to his grandfather on the porch.

Well-worn denim encased his hips and legs, and the moccasins that covered his feet weren’t fringed or fancy, just well made. A black T-shirt stretched across a broad chest, emphasizing his muscular abs and making her fingers itch to remove it.

Yes, this was him. The savage who invaded her dreams, the fury who slashed at her nightmares. Vivid sapphire eyes, daunting features, proud, imposing. A man who knew his own demons as well as those that inhabited other men. Or women.

She rose slowly to her feet, aware of Riordan’s “grandpops” as he sat comfortably in his rocker, watching in interest.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” the words that passed from his lips caused her to flinch; their icy tone caused her heart to sink.

The tender tone, the edge of lust and hunger she’d dreamed of, was nowhere in sight.

His gaze raked over her and there was none of the sensual promise she’s seen in his eyes when he’d invaded her dreams, none of the dominant sensualist who tormented her with his touch in her fantasies.

She hadn’t expected this. This wild fury and enraged demand. He didn’t seem the least bit glad to see her, she had to admit. What made her think he would be? she wondered.

Was she wrong? Did she not know him?

She was certain she had to have known him, certain that somehow, someway, they must have meant something to each other. Could she have been so wrong?

“Riordan!” Grandpops’ surprised tone had a grimace contorting Riordan’s face.

Evidently the grandfather thought little of the grandson’s language.

“Grandpops, perhaps you should go back to Grant’s.” He turned to his grandfather, his voice firm. “Noah, Sabella, and the babies will be there in a bit.”

Grandpops continued to glower at him.

“I’m certain I can handle whatever language he wants to use, Mr. Malone,” she assured the older man. “I’m not exactly a stranger to it these days.”

Her father cursed more often, brooded more often, and Amara knew the situation she’d found herself in was weighing on him. If she didn’t do something, didn’t fix things, then she was terrified of what may happen. Of what her father would do to fix things himself.

“But can his grandmother?” The old man sounded disappointed rather than angry. “Remember whose home your using that language in, boy.”

Rising from his chair, Grandpops moved to the steps stiffly and made his way down, casting his grandson yet another warning glare.

“Drive carefully, Grandpops. No more racing with those Brickford boys,” Riordan stated as his grandfather passed by.

And Amara could have sworn she saw a gleeful grin tease at the older man’s lips. But he merely grunted as he passed.

A few moments later the truck started, and they watched Grandpops ease around the circular drive and onto the road that led to the small valley.

The silence that stretched between them was heavy—with his anger and her uncertainty.

As the truck took the curve around the rising hill, she turned back to Riordan and tucked her hands into the pockets of her light jacket, her fingers curling into fists.

She’d faked the last six months with friends and most of her family. Taking cues from her father and his assistant Nikolai, she’d smiled and faked her way through every damn meeting and gathering she’d been forced to attend until she slipped silently from her father’s estate the week before and, in essence, ran away from home.

Not that he was letting her run without giving chase. He and his men weren’t far behind her and she knew it. They’d almost caught up with her the night before, outside Houston. If she didn’t do something, if she didn’t find a way to eliminate the threat shadowing her, then her poppa could do something she may not be able to live with. And it was that decision that sent her running to Alpine and the man who shadowed her dreams.

She was here now. She’d found the man she’d gone searching for, and she knew the days of lying and pretending to be who she’d been six months before were over.

She lifted her head, straightened her shoulders, and stared up at him in determination.

“Whatever I did to you, I’m sorry,” she told him, miserably aware that if she’d offended him in the past, angered him, then there was the possibility it couldn’t be fixed with an apology. She hadn’t been the nicest person she could have been in the past.

His eyes narrowed on her before once again moving to sweep over the landscape. There was a tension that surrounded him, a steady watchfulness she’d noticed her father and Ilya always carried as well. That prepared and ready-for-action thing strong men always seemed to carry with them.

“Go home, Amara,” he told her when those brilliant eyes turned back to her. “Go back to daddy. This is no place for you.”

He knew her. He was angry, but for a second, she swore she saw something more in that flash of heat in his expression.

“No. Riordan, please.” He couldn’t make her leave. Not yet, not until he knew what was coming, because what was coming didn’t affect just her. She could sense it, her dreams assured her of it.

Turning, Riordan dismissed her just that easily and strode up the steps to the porch, leaving her to stand alone as the storm door slammed behind his retreating back.

Alone.

Strange, but this feeling of “alone” didn’t seem nearly as unfamiliar as it should have.

Inhaling deeply, she followed him rather than doing as ordered. Not that she often did as she was ordered. That was probably how she found herself where she was now. Opening the door quietly, she stepped into the house, her gaze taking in the homey atmosphere of the large living area.

A comfortable leather couch, recliner, and matching chairs were grouped around a cold fireplace. The mantle held a variety of family pictures that she would have loved to have time to check out. The wood floor was smooth, aged with a sheen of time and caring.

There were more family pictures in frames on the wall, many appeared old and passed down through the years, the frames lovingly polished, the photos a bit faded from time.

As she stepped into the room, Riordan watched her silently, leaning against the wide doorframe into the kitchen, his arms crossed over his broad chest as he simply stared at her, his expression still and remote.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, that rumble of his deep voice sending a stroke of sensation up her spine.

What was she doing here?

Trying to survive, to live.

“I need your help.” She had to force herself to say the words, and still they came out as barely more than a whisper. “Please, Riordan. I need your help.”

* * *

Six months.

For six bloody months this damn woman had tormented his dreams while asleep and his thoughts while awake. He’d given his life for her on a dark, blood-filled night, then again on an operating table, only to be told she never wanted to see him again when he’d been released. And now, two months after he’d returned to Texas, here she was.

Son of a bitch. Just when he thought he could get through a night without being tormented by her, she just showed up out of the blue. And it was all he could do not to touch her, to jerk her to him and show her exactly what she was dealing with in coming to him.

But, she’d been his weakness from the moment he’d met her, hadn’t she? From the second his gaze touched hers, she’d been the one woman he couldn’t get out his head. And God knew he’d fought it.

Tiny and delicate, she made a man want to wrap her in cotton and hide her away from the world. Resilient, stubborn, and independent, she made a man realize fast that she wouldn’t allow him to do so.

Her once-long, straight silky black hair was shorter now, courtesy of her abductors. At first jagged and close to her scalp, it had grown a good six inches or so and feathered around her delicate face becomingly. Piercing gray-blue eyes stared back at him, somberly.

Frightened.

Riordan straightened from the doorframe, his eyes narrowing on her. That was fear in her eyes, along with the uncertainty and the heat he always saw there.

“You need my help?” he couldn’t help the mockery that tinged his voice simply because it flooded every corner of his mind. “Strange, two months ago you never wanted to see my damn lying ass again. What changed?”

What had changed? For a moment, that question had her pausing.

God, if only she could tell him. She was damned if she knew herself what had changed. All she knew was that now, six months after she’d awakened, she was unable to remember what had happened or who had abducted her or what they had wanted. The nightmares had grown worse, the sense of imminent danger and panic that fueled them had become overwhelming. In each one, this man stood with his hand outstretched, his voice whispering to her, urging her to find him. To come to him.

She swallowed tightly, uncertain what to say, how to explain. She didn’t trust him, not by any means. But she didn’t trust anyone now. She didn’t know who to trust.

“I’m sorry.” But she was damned if she could remember telling him he wasn’t wanted.

No doubt she’d had a good reason. Savagely hewn, rough and sexy, and a cowboy to boot. No doubt he had a wandering eye and hands that had no idea how to be faithful. The one type of man she despised. But personal fidelity and the ability to protect weren’t always intimately acquainted, she’d since learned. The man who cheated on his wife and walked away from his children could also be the very man willing to give his life for that same woman, or those children.

Men had never made sense to her, even from an early age. But she didn’t need him to make sense to her, she needed him to fulfill the promise he made in her dreams and help her figure out who was determined to see her dead and why she was so certain it was someone she knew and loved.

“You’re sorry?” he snorted, flashing her a look filled with disgust. “Fine, go home and be sorry there. I don’t have time for it here.”

The panic was beginning to build inside her chest. It thundered through her veins and raced to her heart. If he made her leave, if he threw her out and forced her to run again, she was going to die, and she knew it.

“You promised you’d help me,” she snapped, her tone more demanding than she would like despite her uncertainty and the fact that the words tore from her almost involuntarily. “You swore it. You can’t renege now.”

Had he really promised, or had she just dreamed it? Was the memory of that dark little hole and the pain that filled her just another nightmare? Had he really been there, swearing he’d always save her, or had she just imagined it?

“Did I now?” Softly voiced, the question held that bit of Irish sexy, lyrical sound that she often heard in those fantasy dreams filled with pleasure rather than pain. “And when did that happen?”

She shook her head. Memory or nightmare?

“You swore you’d always be there if I needed you.” She fought to believe it was memory. “All I had to do was reach out to you. Well, dammit, I’m reaching out. Do you want me to beg too?”

She could see his hand outstretched, his expression somber, demanding. He wouldn’t come to her, she had to go to him.

Riordan felt as though his world had narrowed, that nothing existed but this moment, this woman, and the dreams that had haunted him. Dreams of her cries, her pleas that he come to her. And no matter how desperately he tried to reach her, she was always but a touch away. No matter how often he’d urged her to take his hand, to come to him, just reach out to him, she never did.

The dreams had become so insistent over the months, he’d actually contacted his former security team members who still worked for her father to check up on her.

All was well, he’d been told. Princess Resnova was still the princess, and the czar still protected her like the cherished daughter she would always be. And still, he dreamed, reached out to her, and urged her to take his hand.

I’ll always be here for you. Just reach out to me.

He hadn’t told her that, he’d whispered those words in a dream.

And son of a bitch if that wasn’t enough to make a man force himself not to shake in his boots.

“Why?” he demanded. “Why the hell do you need me when your father has over fifty protection agents, and every damn one of them is on call in case they’re needed to protect you? What the fuck do you need with me?”

Damn her. She’d waited six months to come to him. She’d let him lie in a hospital out of the country, half alive for weeks, and hadn’t once called or reached out him. Why the hell was she short circuiting his brain now?

“I need you to help me,” she whispered again. “I need someone I can trust with my life, Riordan, before I die because I don’t know anymore who’s a friend and who’s the enemy. But you might know. I need someone I can trust to watch my back while I figure out who the hell is trying to kill me and why.”

Kill her?

According to every source he had in her father’s organization, she was safe. The men at the farmhouse where they’d found her were all killed. The bodyguard they’d identified as being behind the abduction and her beating was dead as well.

“Your father’s men can protect you.” God help him. If he even tried, he’d get them both killed—because he wouldn’t be able to stay out of her bed.

She was shaking her head even as he spoke. “I don’t trust them. I don’t trust anyone.” Desperation filled her expression now. “You don’t understand, Riordan. All I have are these crazy dreams of you. Every nightmare I have you’re at my back, protecting me. That’s all I have because I don’t remember what happened before my abduction or the abduction itself. I’ve lost a year of my life and I don’t know why and I damn sure can’t force those memories back,” she cried out, fury filling her tone. “All I have are the nightmares and dreams, and the only person I can see, the only person I can trust in them is you. And by God, I want to know why.”

She faced him, fists clenched, anger flushing her face, but that was heat in her eyes. It wasn’t just nightmares she had, it wasn’t simply dreams.

It was this bond he could sense between them even as she stared back at him, furious, frightened.

And he’d waited long enough.

Taking the steps that separated them, he jerked her into his arms, his lips stilling her cries, his arms tightening around her, holding her to him.

Her lips parted in shock, and he took full advantage of it. He tasted her. Lips and tongue possessed her kiss, and he let his senses grow drunk on her.

Because somehow, someway, she’d shared not just her dreams with him, but those incredibly erotic fantasies that filled his head as well.

And now, he wanted a taste of all that passion, that feminine hunger and need he hadn’t nearly had enough of before her abduction.

Then they could discuss the rest.

Copyright © 2018 by Lora Leigh in Collision Point and reprinted with permission from St. Martin’s Paperbacks.

  About Lora Leigh

#1 New York Times bestseller, LORA LEIGH is the author of the Navy SEALS, the Breeds, the Elite Ops, the Callahans, the Bound Hearts, and the Nauti series.

Lora Leigh dreams in bright, vivid images of the characters’ intent on taking over her writing life, and fights a constant battle to put them on the hard drive of her computer before they can disappear as fast as they appeared.

Lora’s family and her writing life coexist, if not in harmony, in relative peace with each other. Surrounded by a menagerie of pets, friends, and a son who keeps her quick wit engaged, Lora finds her life filled with joys, aided by her fans whose hearts remind her daily why she writes.

Website | Facebook | Goodreads

  COLLISION POINT by Lora Leigh: Review & Excerpt was originally published on The Sassy Bookster

[thenerdyunhealthybrit]

Klaroline FanFiction Recs

(NOTE: Updated on 29/03/2018 - Just factual information)

Hello everyone, so I decided to share with you my Fanfiction recommendations. Now I’m a harsh judge, on my FanFiction.net account, I rarely favourite fics, but these fics have wormed their way in, I find them so well written, they got me hooked and they do something rare - they make me want to reread it, despite knowing what will happen.

So I’m going to share my recommendations, what they are about, the pairings (because some are a no go) and share why I love them, If you know the author of any of the fics on Tumblr feel free to let me now so they can get the recognition on Tumblr as well. I’m aiming to build on it to include those drabbles and one-shots that are exclusively on Tumblr.

Always Only You by MysticManhattan | FanFiction.net AU/AH. Caroline is in a horrible car accident and goes into a coma. When she wakes up she thinks it's 2009, every memory from then to present has vanished. Will she choose to go down the same path that she chose before, or will she choose an entirely different one? And most importantly, will she ever get her memories back? Everyone is human! Chapters: 19 Characters: Caroline Forbes, Klaus Mikaelson Ships: Klaroline Last updated: 20 April 2014 Complete

I just love this FanFiction that after I read it I did what I usually did and moved on, but months later while reading other fics, this popped in my head and I remembered particular bits and how much I loved it, so I had to try and remember what it was called, reread it and still loved it. You can feel the chemistry in their relationship and it has the balance of plot and romance - although leaning more towards romance. My only complaint is that the ending to me felt slightly rushed, not awful, I just found myself wanting more, I wanted a prequel, more flashbacks and more of them rediscovering each other.

I Still Love You by AnnaTom23  | FanFiction.net AU/AH. Caroline has the perfect life. Trouble ensues when she realizes her loving Nik is a wanted crime lord along with her best friend Stefan. She loves him with all her heart but she can't stay with him knowing he is causing people so much pain. She has to run, if not for her sake then for the little one growing inside her. Even if she does run, it's not long before he finds her. Warning: It is a Dark Fic. Chapters: 22 Characters: Caroline Forbes, Klaus Mikaelson, Stefan Salvatore, Kol Mikaelson Ships: Klaroline Last updated: 17 November 2015 Complete

Now, I must stress I’m not big on Dark fics, especially in this case when it’s an AU/AH, this is simply because there is no supernatural element and I know the safe thing is for them to not be together and AnnaTom23 is a notorious fan of Dark Fics, however this is one of the more tamer ones. I knew that I should walk away but I couldn’t their was something intoxicating about there story and I reread it recently. This kind of fic reminded me of all those couples from those classic soaps like Dallas and Gossip Girl, that are well loved that have those unhealthy dynamic. It’s not abusive, but definitely shows possessiveness, there are some cute moments as well. But this fic also suffers from a rushed ending, I won’t spoil it but something big happens and then it kind of has an Epilogue, I would of liked more of an aftermath, are the Mikaelsons still in the same lifestyle etc.

Hot (Sauce) by honestgrins�� | FanFiction.net Caroline Forbes had been a kick-ass surgical resident with a gorgeous fiancé when she accepted an invitation to a boat party on the Gulf. The night ended in terror as the guests started attacking each other. When she woke on the beach the next morning, the relief she felt at surviving the ordeal was quickly replaced by an intense hunger for brains. An iZombie-KC fusion fic. Chapters: 4 Characters: Caroline Forbes, Klaus Mikaelson, Katherine Pierce, Kol Mikaelson Ships: Klaroline Last Updated: 14 January 2016 Complete

This is the my favourite fusion based on a show, especially when a Sci-Fi/Fantasy element is added, it loosely follows iZombie, I mean you can tell how each TVD character is in relation to the iZombie characters but they quickly go off on their own. Maybe I’m greedy, but again I wanted more. I’m aware that this was likely never intended to be anything long term but I wanted to see more of Caroline dealing with being a Zombie as well as the other characters, or even more of what they did after the fic ended. However I love their interpretation and spin on iZombie. So if you want something short but not a drabble then this is great.

The Madness Underneath by marvelouskatie | FanFiction.net Caroline is a psych student working as a sober companion in Chicago, hired by Elijah Mikaelson to assist his brother, Klaus, who is fresh out of rehab. For the next six weeks, she'll be with him 24/7 helping him to maintain a sober life. Caroline will soon discover Klaus is no ordinary client. AH/AU, based off Elementary/Sherlock Holmes. Do not have to be a fan of Holmes to read! Chapters: 32 Characters: Caroline Forbes, Klaus Mikaelson Ships: Klaroline Last Updated: 22 April 2016 Complete

I won’t say much about this one and it is not an insult to the author, it’s because I believe that it’s a popular one with readers or many are familiar with it, but what I love about this is that it creates the right balance of romance and plot, it not overpowering that it’s just full one smut, although I’m guilty of liking that but the plot isn’t too much that the relationship is no existence. There is development, also wouldn’t a continuation of that little sequel you wrote. But again, this just worked for me.

Heroes Never Die by Angelikah | thetourguidebarbie  | FanFiction.net Doctor Caroline Forbes devoted her life to protecting the innocent, but fell in love with the darkest parts of a man who was anything but. After a terrible accident, her only chance to save him was to take a risk with an experimental healing treatment, which went horribly wrong. All she can do now is look back on what they'd had and hope that someday he'd forgive her. Based off Overwatch. Chapters: 2 Characters: Caroline Forbes, Klaus Mikaelson, Stefan Salvatore, Bonnie Bennett Ships: Klaroline Last Updated: 11 January 2017 Complete

I’ve never read Fanfics based on games, even when it has my OTP in their place, however I gave it a go because it’s Overwatch. Now I’m not going to go all fake gamer girl and claim that I’m a fan of it. My knowledge is based on watching people playing on Twitch, but I’m familiar with some of the voice actors from Overwatch (some of my fellow Hoomans). This game is on my to-do list. However, you do not need prior knowledge of the game to be able to read this, and god it is so good. I just love the reversal of roles because often Klaus would be made as the character that would go to the ends of the earth to save Caroline, so it’s nice to see it be Caroline and Caroline doesn’t come off as weak or some anti-feminist rubbish about how she can’t live without a man, this is a woman in love with a guy. This is a perfect two-shot, and I wouldn’t mind more, however I’m perfectly content with this. It is also a good example of a dystopian future fic that doesn’t lose it way and the world doesn’t suddenly get fixed or healed.

Picturesque by lil7miss7sarcastic | Fanfiction.net She doesn't talk to Klaus about feelings. Ever. Or at least when she's sober. Sure, there are times when their friends pass out and the two of them lie on the rooftop, looking at the stars, and talk. But some form of intoxication is always involved. AU/AH Klaroline (with slight Steroline) and the gang as Friends in New York City. Chapters: 7 Characters: Caroline Forbes, Klaus Mikaelson, Stefan Salvatore Ships: Klaroline Last Updated: 17 February 2018 Complete

This fanfic is kind of a HIMYM/Friends hybrid and it’s so good. None of these characters are actually directly based on the originals from the shows, it’s still the Klaroline you love. Now, when the author says slight SC, they mean it, they don’t date and they aren’t in a relationship at all. But this is great and I love the Klaroline dynamic and they finally finished this fic, two years later. My new complaint, which I shared with them, was that the ending does feel rushed, maybe it’s because I experienced the hiatus itself, but I feel like you can tell between Chapters 6 and 7, there is kind of a different tone to the last chapter than the rest. But I do understand writers block as well as losing the passion to writer for a ship or another passion overtakes the old one. But this is still a very enjoyable fic. It’s good for those who want to read something that’s long and a continuation as opposed to a one-shot, but also it’s not too long that you are spending time away from interacting with actual people face to face reading it.

I Have a Bad Case of Loving You by LitLover 101 | queenofthedramedies​ | FanFiction.net These would be the greatest years of her life. After seven years Hayley Marshall would officially be a doctor. Unfortunately, until then she had to deal with the rigors of her internship and residency with a colorful group of fellow interns and a one night stand who turns out to be her boss. What could wrong? Chapters: 24 Characters: Hayley Marshall, Elijah Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson, Rebekah Mikaelson, Caroline Forbes, Tyler Lockwood, Joshua Rosza, Bonnie Bennett, Freya Mikaelson Ships: Halijah, Klaroline (planning a reread, more to be added) Last Updated: 15 April 2017 Complete

Okay, bare with me folks! I know some might not be a big fan of Klaroline not being the main ship in a fic or are not a big fan of Hayley or Halijah, but this Grey’s Anatomy style fic is a current favourite of mine. For starters, Hayley is likable in this and not in the way where TO sometimes comes off as trying too hard to do that or  is OP. She even has some of Meredith Grey’s qualities in the fic, but for me I love the Cayley friendship, it’s a crackship of mine. But this is a rare fic for me where they have characters from TO and TVD but none of them (so far have been portrayed negatively, or biased negative), even characters that you don’t like appear but you don’t care because they are either made likable or only appear briefly in the background, a 2D character. But the Klaroline relationship is written so well, it doesn’t suffer because the primary ship is Halijah. It is like Grey’s in which Hayley is the lead but the ensemble cast do have their own storylines. My only complaint with this - which I shared with the author was about how the storylines of the other characters has missing gaps in because the story is written from Hayley’s POV so one sec you have two characters arguing, a chapter later they made up off screen. So it jumps with the secondary characters storylines, but she has made it up to us with a tie-in fic that is currently in production/progress.

Somewhere Only We Know by LitLover 101 | queenofthedramedies​ | FanFiction.net Tie-in stories to I Have a Bad Case of Loving You: follow the lives, loves, losses and triumphs of the interns, residents and attendees at New Orleans Grace Hospital. Chapters: 3  Characters: Rebekah Mikaelson, Tyler Lockwood, Joshua Rosza, Jackson Kenner, Caroline Forbes, Klaus Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson Ships: Klaroline, TBA (A lot is being kept as a surprise, I think) Last Updated: 24 June 2017 Ongoing

This is the tie-in that I mentioned in the comment of the previous fic. This is only one chapter in but this delves into the secondary characters and fills in those blanks and gaps that don’t completely make sense in the original fic or left you wanting an explanation. I won’t hype it up because we haven’t been giving enough yet but it is promising. One thing that the author is good at is making us care about these secondary characters, like Tyler is a bit of a fuckboy, not a negative portrayal but I still like him, he’s harmless. My hope is once it’s completed that someone (probably me) will re-edit the fic (for personal rereading purposes) so it can include the scenes from this fic in where they take place in the original one. This is being written co-currently with the sequel to the original fic. Again, I want to express my gratitude to the author for taking their time to write this tie-in because it probably wasn’t their intention and they are upping their workload just for us measly fans.

Rumor Has It by LitLover101 | queenofthedramedies | FanFiction.net Continuation of I Have a Bad Case of Loving You: Tales of failed boards, broken hearts, healing wounds, love, loss, friendship, family and resilience bring us back to the New Orleans Hospital. Oh, and, don't forget the new crop of interns. Things are about to heat up in this hospital. Chapters: 7 Characters: Hayley Marshall, Elijah Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson, Davina Claire, Caroline Forbes, Rebekah Mikaelson, Tyler Lockwood, Joshua Rosza, Bonnie Bennett, Freya Mikaelson, Aurora De Martel, Lucian Castle, Freya Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson Ships: Halijah, Klaroline (more to be added as revealed, I believe some are kept as a surprise) Last Updated: 31 January 2018 Ongoing

I won’t go into much because it is just chapter 1 but it is the sequel and I’m already loving it, it provides answers to the cliffhanger left at the end of the original fic - think of it as the cliffhanger to season 1 and this is season two. But this provides so many more questions, thanks to a 6 month time jump from the last fic to now. Now don’t quote me on this but if you’re worried that the secondary character and ships to Halijah might not get screentime or we will suffer from gaps due to it being from Hayley’s POV don’t worry, I think the author said that it will delve in a bit from other characters POVs and their storylines but Hayley and Halijah will still be the focus. Hayley is the Meredith of this TVD/TO Grey’s story.

Those are my current favourites, thanks for taking your time to read them. Sorry I might of gone overboard.

[aldreaoakley]

CINDERELLA: Hikaru Aihara

(Based off @catchthespade's Fairy Tale AU post with a sprinkle of Vocaloid's Cendrillon here and there. i’m trying a new format and... this was a tad more angst than I’d like. Revenge plots aren’t my most fave thing in the world because reasons behind them can be really weird sometimes...)

PROLOGUE

The Royal family and servants with their family all gather around the king's bed. The man is in his last minutes with his wife cradling their newborn baby girl. The king was a just man and delivers his promises until a crippling disease left him unable to even be with his people. The young king looks at all assembled in the room. "Promise me that you will protect the princess at all cost," he requests in a soft low voice. "If she dies... the kingdom will fall to darkness..." As everyone nods their agreement, the king's eyes close for the last time. A week later a funeral takes place and many remember their promise to protect the baby princess. When Princess ___ is only four, one of the pages decides to be mean to her. Loud cries alert a young butler and young guard to what he was doing to her. Shadowy tendrils lurk near her, making her cry. "Yami," Shuichi calls out to him. "What the hell are you doing?!" "Teaching her a lesson for being a brat that's what," the page boy challenges. "This is unacceptable," Soryu sighs. "We're going to take you to the queen." "That old hag doesn't know anything," Yami sneers. "I don't think so," a voice startles them. They turn to see apprentice magician Mitsunari Baba, or Baba as his main preference, coming their way, scarlet cape fluttering behind him. "The queen is a perceptive woman," he states while drawing closer and closer. "If she senses something had happened to the princess, it will be banishment from the kingdom forever." Yami laughs but then lands on his back a few seconds later. He pushes himself to see the three boys shielding ___ with Baba's magician's staff in front of them. Loud feet come stomping in seconds later and Soryu's father appears. The stern captain of the guards takes one look at the scene and gestures for his men to take Yami to the throne room. The three boys follow with Shuichi holding ___'s tiny hand in his. Once inside, everyone holds their breath upon hearing the queen's judgement. The woman opens her eyes and glares at Yami. "Strip him of his humanity and throw him into Shadows," she orders. Nobody dares to move until Baba's mentor steps forth. Shuichi shields ___'s eyes & ears by hugging her to his chest to prevent her from even witnessing the gristly scene. It wasn't long before Yami's form disperses with his threat lingering. 'I will make you pay for this!!' -~-~-~-~-~ Hikaru jumps from wall to wall, escaping the corrupt knight's guards while holding his steal. For as long as he can remember, Hikaru was rudely taken away from being near his friend Shuichi at a young age without his parents telling him why. Years later they both die mysteriously and only Shuichi manages to visit him once before taking his duties as a butler seriously. Hikaru hates that more than anything. Both were to be butlers but that never happened. "Damn it," he growls while landing on his feet with the guards running past the low wall he crouches behind. "And all over a meal..." The region he lives in now is far from the castle where he once lived and the knight there was nothing like the other nobles but he still loathes them with a fire that cannot be put out. He learns not long after his parent's deaths that it was an upper class nobleman who killed them. The only thing that keeps him going is revenge and hatred. He didn't mind those dark thoughts and feelings as they were a welcoming companion throughout his years of survival. After making sure that no one sees him, Hikaru runs to the abandoned building that was his home. "I'm back," he whispers into the empty hall. "Another crazy day of escaping guards." Climbing the stairs to his room, Hikaru sits down to eat the fresh plate of food and look at the main castle of the Tres Spade Kingdom. The glistening towers and opalescent walls makes it appear like some kind of dream world. He lets loose a sad sigh and leans back while eating a slice of now cold chicken. "It must be nice to even have a warm meal and not steal anything," he scowls. -~-~-~-~-~ Inside the castle, ___ stumbles again with a new waltz she just learn during lessons. "Here." ___ feels Shuichi's hands on hers. "It goes like this," he reminds her and guides her step-by-step on the waltz. "Left foot Princess." "Okay," ___ nods. "Seems that you are doing better," says a voice and both turn to see a young noble nearby. "Hello Eisuke," ___ greets with a curtsy. "Are you doing better today?" "... Yes. I'm still sorry about your mother," he sighs. ___'s mother died a year ago and the kingdom's seal, a sun atop three spades, is now around her neck. ___ refuses to be a queen yet as she wants to learn all she can now to be ready. Even more that her mother was the only living relative that Eisuke had, meaning the older male is more of a brother to her than anything. "Lord Eisuke I apologize for not seeing you sooner," she hears Shuichi apologize. Eisuke shakes his head. "It's time," he whispers in a near inaudible voice. Both didn't say anything. After escorting her to the Royal Tombs, ___ and Eisuke pay their respects to their dead parents. Neither of them, including most of the current staff ask for their deaths. But then... the castle is basically a home of orphaned castle dwellers. "Shall we," Shuichi asks them both. "Yes, Eisuke agrees while helping a weeping ___ to her feet. Once inside the castle, they go back to their positions. Which means more lessons for ___ and for Eisuke, it's dealing with the old men who refuse to even acknowledge how well the kingdom's success is despite some downhills. -~-~-~-~-~ One day as Hikaru dashes about after stealing a pair of new shoes, he hears a startling announcement. "The princess is having an engagement ball," he overhears. Ducking behind a low crumbling wall, he strains to listen to he conversation. "Yes," speaks another low voice. "It's about time she consider's marriage." "I hope she makes her mind this time," another scowls. "She refused everyone of us last year!" "That was last year and the queen just died then too," another reasons. "I doubt that she was even sane enough to pick a man to marry." A nasty sounding scoff interrupts them. "Like you have any room to talk," a nasally voice frowns. "Getting past her butler is another matter." He has enough of this. Sprinting away, Hikaru goes back to his own district and gives the shoes to the person he got it for. The man in turn gives him some fabric to fix his fading ones. Inside his room again, he scowls while repairing a pair of worn trousers. "Fucking rich people... throwing parties left and right... they don't even care if some of us are dying," he rants under breath. -~-~-~-~-~ "Not again," ___ whines during her visit to Ota's office. The young designer/artist/ jeweler/architect/craftsman sighs as well. "I am sick of it as much as you are," he reminds her. "And Eisuke had done all he could to even stop them." "Those old men doesn't even understand why mother and father both forbid parties and balls like this," ___ mourns. "And I don't have the power because I don't have a husband." "Why do you even frown," a new voice jumps in. "It ruins your face muscles." "Thanks Luke," ___ grumps. "But then you are in a tough spot too." Luke, the castle's doctor, nods in agreement. He cannot get full recognition as a doctor thanks to the men who decide to override any of the former queen's decisions. The three of them know that as long as they are there, it will be hard to even get anything done. "I've even seen the villages from Soryu's spy glass and I can't believe how conceited they are," ___ complains. "That's right and I can't do anything about the crime rates unless they approve and it takes forever," Soryu disapproves with an angry fist the table. "Yeah bu' they don't listen to anythin' outside their own voices," Mamoru reminds them. The young scoutmaster did have a point. The so-called "Royal Council" consists of old men way past age 50. "I've been spying on their meetings and I have to say that something is wrong," Baba adds. All seven turn to look at him. "There's something influencing them and I have only one guess," he tells them. "But I cannot tell since none of us can get into that room since it's always locked." "We can't but you can," Eisuke reminds. "They are scared of your magic and how you can get in and out of things." "He's right, Lupin," ___ encourages. She watches the magician nod then disappear. He reappears a few minutes later with a scary expression. "Wipe that look off your face," all the men yell while Shuichi covers ___'s eyes. "It's him," she hears Baba scowl. "He has a bad revenge since the queen made that order." That ___ knows can't be good. If Yami is out for revenge, then her life is in more danger than she can ever believe could be possible. -~-~-~-~-~ Yami watches Hikaru grumble through his magic mirror with a creepy grin. He already has trashed the kingdom enough to allow a tool for his revenge to come. "All I need now," he muses, "is for that smelly brat to die." He fingers a dangerous knife then holds it. "Your life is going to be very different, Mr. Aihara." -~-~-~-~-~ It's the day of the ball and Hikaru slips past the many guards and over the top carriages with a knapsack. He lands close to the warehouse to rendezvous with some others to distribute his recent steal. Durable fabrics, shoes, spices, metal, unwanted jewelry, and food come from the bag with something back for Hikaru. Some needles and threads go back into the sack as he exits. Back in his room, Hikaru frowns at the sight of the carriages milling up and through the castle gates. "Damn those rich people. The world will be a lot better without them," he growls. "And I can make that come true," a voice startles him. He whirls to see a young man about his age leaning against a wall wearing something like a bad mix of punk and gothic. "Who are you," Hikaru demands. "Your fairy godfather. All you have to do is go inside the castle and kill the princess," the youth smiles at him. "That's it," Hikaru asks with wonder. "Yes. Now let's make you an appropriate enough prince," his fairy godfather chuckles. An hour later, Hikaru grips his newly acquired dagger within his coat during his ride up to the castle. He recalls his instructions clearly from his fairy godfather. He has to get the princess on her own then kill her at midnight. But what Hikaru doesn't know is that he is actually a pawn in a larger scheme... -~-~-~-~-~ Yami cackles with glee watching Hikaru getting closer and closer to his destination before switching views to a grand ballroom. [You know the price for a level of magic like this,] a gravelly voice warns Yami as he watches the goal of his revenge. "Yeah yeah whatever," Yami exasperates. "I just want that brat gone. Even if the kingdom is something of a "beam of hope", how can it when it's being destroyed from inside!" While his evil laugh bounces off the walls, the other voice growls at him. [You made this pact with your life! Do not disappoint me this time,] it warns. "Alright already! Fuck," Yami frowns. -~-~-~-~-~ Once inside the castle, Hikaru scans around him to see if he can find the princess as each precious minutes tick by. Then he finds her off to the side with none other than- "Shu," he whispers in shock as his friend tends to an exhausted young woman in princess wear. Looking in a nearby mirror to make sure that his hair covers his face so that it isn't recognizable, Hikaru mimics a cat walking to get close. -~-~-~-~-~ "This is getting ridiculous Shuichi," ____ complains into the other's ear. "I really want to stop this silly charade..." "We can't yet. We don't have the magics strong enough to counter whatever Yami is doing," Shuichi reminds her. "Mamoru and Baba are already looking into it as much as possible. Now behave yourself. You have another prince coming." Straightening herself and putting her smile on, ___ turns to face the new prince politely. "May I have this dance," he requests with the best manners she's ever seen all night. "I would be honored Your Highness," ___ grins and accepts his hand. She lets him guide her to the floor and despite him trying to lead her, she makes it easier for him by being a step behind. This prince is most certainly not like other princes or other upperclassmen she already danced with tonight but she didn't care. All she knows is that the smile on her face is more natural than it ever was all night. -~-~-~-~-~ /Now what am I to do,/ Hikaru panics as he walks alongside ___ in the gardens. /This isn't how I imagine the princess to be like at all! She's... she's too pure... innocent... and... happy... everything I'm not... Damn it!/ His right hand begins to move towards the dagger hidden in his coat against his will. This wasn't suppose to happen at all. His dancing skills weren't first class but the princess' kindness allow him to not make a fool out of himself. And that feeling about her... Hikaru cannot shake off how innocent she is. From the simple questions she asks to backing off when she feels the conversation is going the wrong direction to that smile. With what will he has, Hikaru resists the pull while listening to ___'s happy chatter about the nighttime flowers. "I can't believe that the night can hold such beauty when I used to be so scared of it," she giggles then almost trips. Hikaru scoops her in his arms saying, "Careful! Quit being a klutz." When he sees her bottom lip quiver and the inkling of tears, he makes a quick apology that makes the smile he is growing fond of come back. But even so... with each minute that passes... the more and more his worry increase. He cannot kill this little beam of sunshine. He just C-A-N-'-T! -~-~-~-~-~ Shuichi quietly walks to Mamoru and Baba after the two had signal to him to meet them in the latter's room. He closes the door and looks at them. "What have you found out," he asks them. "It is Yami behind it all but we have a bigger problem," Mamoru reports with irritation all over his face. "He's meddlin' with magic he ain't suppose to be touching." "What?!" Shuichi wasn't even expecting that. But what comes next makes him even more frightened not just for his own life. "He somehow found Hikaru and made him his pawn," Baba scowls. "There's no way to break what spells he casted other than the princess herself. The light within the kingdom seal is needed." "We have to tell them. Now," Shuichi orders and the three dart out the room as midnight draws closer. -~-~-~-~-~ "Is something wrong," ___ asks him in such a sweet voice that Hikaru feels his resolve crumbling. As he eyes the clock tower's hands creep closer and closer to midnight, Hikaru cannot deny his instincts at this point. He pauses and feels sorrow upon seeing ___'s confused expression. "Hikaru, is something wrong? What's bothering you? Did I do something wrong," ___ peppers him. Hikaru simply shakes his head. This is going to hurt her but he'd rather see her smile than killed. “Listen, Princess. When the clock strikes midnight, I want you to run as far away from me as you can, got it?” Hikaru requests. "Huh?! Why?! I... I can't leave you alone," she wails. "___ just AHHH!" The clock bells ring out midnight. Hikaru feels his mind slip away and the last thing he sees is ___'s terrified face with his name falling from horrified lips. /NO/ was his last thought as he suddenly appears in a room he'd never seen before. -~-~-~-~-~ ___ cannot move as Hikaru's crimson and gold uniform turn black. Fear course through her veins as the face that haunts her nightmares replaces Hikaru's warm features. "No... no... it can't be... no," ___ whimpers. Yami smiles at her darkly, inky wings spread out and one hand reaching into the coat. A dagger comes out a second later. "What do you think, brat," he cackles. "Now DIE!!" "___!!!!" She can hear several familiar voices scream her name in horror the moment she starts falling to the floor. In desperate hope, ___ cries out the name of the man she fell in love with as tears fall down her face. "HIKARU!" -~-~-~-~-~ "No! No! You damned idiot! Stop!" Hikaru slams his fists against the magic mirror in front of him with all he has while watching helplessly as his so-called "fairy godfather" shoves ___ down, dagger advancing dangerously fast. "___!" [If you love her that much, go. The spell is almost over brave one,] a gravelly voice echoes in his mind. "I'm not gonna let you hurt her," Hikaru yells when suddenly he's back in his own body looking down at ___'s tear stained face. /Get out of my body bastard,/ Hikaru hollers with all he willpower he has to pull the dagger back. -~-~-~-~-~ "Gah," Yami cries out as he collapses in front of the wall sized looking glass. "You little-" [It's over. The contract is eliminated,] the demon's voice growls at him. "Give me another chance," Yami protests weakly and powerlessly watching Hikaru help ___ to her feet while dropping the dagger with the other. [You cannot change your contract now,] the demon snarls at him. Smoke starts to wrap around him and Yami scrambles away but fails when one grabs his ankle. [I should have done this instead of listening to your foolish request,] the demon grins from within the shadows. Yami freezes at that, leaving him open to be destroyed by the shadows he made a pact with nineteen years ago. -~-~-~-~-~ "So that's what happened," ___ hears Shuichi whisper while Luke tends to Hikaru's hand in the medical wing. ___ holds Hikaru's hand gently as he nods sadly. "But now I'm back... what's going to happen now," he wonders. "Am I going to be executed or banished?" "That's just silly," ___ sighs. "Either of those aren't options. Yami made them because he wanted me to be sad... something my father didn't want..." She notices Hikaru's confused expression and looks at Shuichi, who nods. As he explains the events that lead up to Yami being banished, Hikaru adds his two bits on his parents move and their deaths. "A castle of orphans," ___ mourns, "but that doesn't change that we are a family." She watches Hikaru's expression morph from confusion to a smile to match the others who come to see him. "Welcome home," ___ smiles. -~-~-~-~-~ Hikaru wakes up to ___ hitting him with a pillow, causing a pillow fight before Shuichi stops them both. He laughs at ___ being scolded then get ready for breakfast. Already a month since ___ use the seal around her neck, augmented by the natural light within her, to remove all the effects of what had been done to him and the rest of the kingdom.  The old men got invitations to various retreats to help them recover from the negative effects of the manipulations done, something he personally wishes had never happened. When they finish breakfast, Hikaru works with ___ and Eisuke over the mountain size stack of papers that fill the former council room. Paper after paper to figure out ways of compensation for those who suffer from the fake laws and proper punishment to those who really did break the real laws set down by ___'s parents. Hikaru puts input for all of the ones pertaining to his village but gets disappointed when he sees Eisuke shake his head over his brutal ideas of punishment. From his seat between them, Hikaru knows this is going to take a really long time before the wedding can even happen.

EPILOGUE Hikaru sighs looking down at the ridiculous explanation in front of him. Being a king was a lot harder than he imagine when he was a kid. He turns to look at ___, sleeping on a cot near him. He chuckles and pulls a blanket over her. "Dummy... you have our twins. Be more careful," he sighs while sitting back down to look at the paper again. Clearly the person did something that he and ___ both agree should be illegal that once he got the cuffs on him, Soryu had to put his most trusted guards to watch over him. Making deals with magic that involve a kingdom and attacking the royal family cannot be redone again. "We are still cleaning up that mess," Hikaru grouches. "Damn it. People these days..." "Honey, please don't be so hard on them," ___ whispers. Wait a minute!? "I thought you went to sleep," he cries out. "I'm not sure if the twins would agree," ___ smiles and rests a small hand on her swelling stomach. "They love hearing their dad." "Get some rest, you've done a lot of work too," Hikaru reminds her. She takes his hand and places it on her stomach. He feels a small thump on his hand. "I'm not sure who is responding to your voice but they really do make it hard for me to sleep," ___ sighs. "Then I'll just have to whisper when I need you," he mutters into her ear. No matter what happens, Hikaru will defend his family from the unborn lives his wife carries to the residents of the kingdom. A family is more than just lineage and he just learned that.

Author’s Note: I’ll admit that pre-MC Hikaru was much easier to write than post-MC Hikaru that I had to use his Scattered Cards Epilogue for help, reference and material. And I do have a reason for picking twins, because I know Voltage won't make this canon enough. Hikaru’s name means light in Japanese and I still find it ironic that for someone with a bright name like his, he’s got serious darkness around him. Hence twins. Dui from SCM had nothing to do with it. It’s more from when I was on a bit of a Star Wars reading binge... a set of twins had one who is a Sith Lord and the other a Jedi. Shadow and Light. I also used some idea from my Chinese background of yin-yang. Light and dark balance each other out, like twins. I’ve seen twins and triplets before so I know some of the dynamics...

The last line, I tweaked it from the same Star Wars books I was binge reading from. “Family is more than just bloodlines.” I’ve seen some posts on Tumblr that says it works for Soryu but I think it’s more applicable for Hikaru. He and Shuichi aren’t even related but they are as close as brothers.

I use this rendition of Vocaloid’s Cendrillon for this story, save the last I don't know how many seconds because it got all weird... it didn’t fit how I see the story I was writing.

Next Bidder... Baba.

[theblacklistscripts]

3.23 Alexander Kirk, conclusion #14

REPORTER: We're awaiting a statement from Senator Diaz, who has temporarily suspended his presidential campaign to convene a special hearing a to investigate allegationsz, that energy billionaire Alexander Kirk has been financing terrorism.

Kirk amassed his wealth in the '90s through mining and oil operations in Russia, but fell out of favor with Moscow after a series of politically motivated raids on Kirk's companies by Russian authorities.

He fled the country and has rarely been seen in public in recent years.

(INDISTINCT SHOUTING) Thank you all for coming.

When I announced my candidacy, I made the American people a promise that my desire to run this country in the future would not interfere with my current obligations as chairman of the Senate Energy Committee.

I keep my promises.

You've all heard the allegation that Alexander Kirk is financing terrorism.

Sir, can you be more specific? He's purchasing oil from radical jihadists, committing a federal crime by supporting the very organizations that export terror to America.

I will not let one drop of oil into this country without making sure that Wait, he's sending it here? That's what I intend to find out.

MITCHELL: No one in the organization knows anything about this.

They don't know because it's not happening.

This is all Reddington.

He bought and paid for Diaz with my campaign money.

A fact can't use as leverage against Diaz a revelation like that would hurt you as much as him.

As a foreign national, you violated the Federal Election Campaign Act when you donated to an American candidate.

Is that right? You think I don't kn I'm just saying it's not a defense we can use.

Don't do it publicly.

I hired your damn firm for its relationships and influence.

Earn your money.

CAMPBELL: Whatever this evidence is, you could show up at the hearing and fight it.

I said no.

a special hearing to investigate Senator Diaz, who has temporarily suspended his presidential campaign.

Alexander.

DIAZ: I want to know if these allegations are true.

Let Senator Diaz know I won't be at his hearing.

I believe the American people deserve the truth, and that's what my presidency will be about transparency.

All right.

That's it.

Thank you.

See you tomorrow.

(INDISTINCT SHOUTING) I have three days to make the ad buys or my campaign's over.

I'm doing what you asked.

That money you took I need it back.

A good man could make a real difference as President.

A good man might even inspire one's patriotic instincts, but a good man would never allow himself to be put under obligation to anyone willing to write a big check.

You just had me accuse Kirk of something he didn't do.

What makes you so sure he's gonna show up? Don't underestimate yourself, Robert.

One way or another, I'm confident Kirk will come.

I'll have his head, and you'll end up in the Oval Office, where you can pay off your debt to me with a full pardon.

You expect me to pardon you.

Not me.

Elizabeth Keen.

The FBI agent who murdered the attorney general.

She's dead.

Yes.

And I want things put right.

I got the bowling ball blues When I first started bowling, just a spare was great And my score looked good at 108 And they said if I practiced, I could raise my game So I practiced and I practiced But I still bowl the same Thank you for coming on short notice.

I understand my associate's already brought you up to speed in the basics of the task.

The file? (MUFFLED SCREAMING) And my daughters, too I think I'll hang up my bowling ball My bag and my shoes Everything you asked for.

Photos of Tom Keen, his daughter.

Medical records? It's all there.

She was discharged from D.

C.

General yesterday.

By now, she's likely under heavy guard.

Won't be a problem.

It can't be.

Mr.

Kirk was very clear.

Take the girl, kill the father.

Understood? Are in a heck of a mess She reminds me of Elizabeth.

(CHUCKLES) Thank you, Kate.

For everything.

No thanks necessary.

All I care about is Agnes' well-being.

(SIREN WAILS IN DISTANCE) Saw the news conference.

What's the word on Kirk? - Is he coming? - It's under control.

That's not how this works.

We have an understanding I let you into Agnes' life and you let me help bring down Kirk.

RED: If you have the spare time, I would think you'd be spending it trying to learn about your parents.

I understand Scottie Hargrave offered you a job.

She'll have to wait.

You must have many questions.

Yeah.

But right now, ‭the only question that matters is where are you on finding Kirk? In exchange for getting his campaign funds back, Senator Diaz agreed to pressure Alexander Kirk to come to America.

We're giving it back, the money we stole? Why did we take it in the first place? I thought taking Kirk's money would be enough to smoke him out.

It wasn't.

And as I understand it, he's already sent word to the good Senator that he's disinclined to testify before the committee and answer to what, as of now, are false charges.

Diaz accused him of buying oil from radical jihadists.

You're saying that never happened.

Correct.

But I felt it was just the kind of lie Diaz would enjoy telling, as it'll inevitably ‭score him political points hit the sweet spot of jingoistic outrage.

So Kirk's not financing terrorism.

RED: Not yet.

Why don't I like the sound of this? The oil you had us intercept from Kerogent in Amsterdam that came from terrorists.

That's why you hijacked it before it made it into evidence.

No.

I hijacked it because I'm a criminal.

I'm parting with it because Alexander Kirk needs to be killed, and if it takes planting a little evidence on him so be it.

Is there any line you don't expect us to cross? Yes.

This one.

I don't expect you to dirty your hands planting the illicit oil.

I simply need you to arrest Kirk's employees once they possess it.

And how is any of that gonna happen? Have a little faith, Harold.

BARNHILL: Lord, guide us on this long and treacherous journey, for judgement is coming.

Judgement walks among us, and Lord knows when it comes for you, there will be nowhere left to run but the waiting arms of the Lord.

Amen, brothers.

Amen.

Thanks thank y'all for coming in.

May God keep you safe out there.

- Thank you.

- Thank you.

Thank you.

God bless you.

- I appreciate it.

- Thank you.

- Thank you.

- Thank you.

God bless.

Thank you.

Powerful sermon, especially for an old faker like yourself.

I know it's important for you to know what's moving where, but damn it, Red, I'm three ex-wives into this ministry.

And seven children.

You're like a rockstar without the income.

And I appreciate your help with the child-support payments.

I do.

The Good Book.

We've had a lot of precious cargo move through this week.

Big-screen TVs, 4k that's the good stuff.

Designer suits, ‭brand-name pharmaceuticals.

A lot of poaching options, but nothing you'd be interested in.

Actually, I'm looking for something very specific.

What can you tell me about a gas company called NexaCo? (CELLPHONE RINGS) Yeah.

Hello.

Tom, it's Dr.

Swanson.

Hey.

Thank you for calling me back.

Listen, we got the panels back, and I just wanted to put your mind at ease.

Everything looks great.

Agnes has a clean bill of health.

Just keep her on the feeding plan continuous supplements, and I'd like to see her again in two weeks.

Uh, thank you, Dr.

Swanson, for everything.

- I appreciate it.

- (CELLPHONE BEEPS) There.

I did what you asked.

Please.

You don't have to do this.

(GUNSHOT) (CELLPHONE RINGS) (CELLPHONE BEEPS) Did you get it? MAN: Triangulation looks good.

We've got a location on Keen.

(CELLPHONE BEEPS) Alexander Kirk owns companies all over the world, including a prominent energy subsidiary here in America NexaCo Gas that supplies gasoline to stations all over the country.

Reddington's gonna intercept one of his trucks and swap out the tanker with one full of the contraband oil.

NAVABI: How? According to Reddington's source, NexaCo trucks make regular supply runs to Kirk's refineries in Baton Rouge.

One of the drivers makes a regular stop to pick up lunch at a place off of Route 17.

They'll have less than 10 minutes to make the switch.

Doesn't leave a lot of room for error.

What exactly is his plan? What's the difference between the pastrami Swiss cheese dog with sauerkraut and the Reuben dog? Aren't those the same? Honestly, the amount of options overwhelms.

Serial number's 513.

See you on the other side.

(DOG WHIMPERS, GROWLS) Hey buddy.

(DOG BARKS) Okay.

Here we go.

I know what you need, huh? There, buddy.

All right.

Okay.

We're all friends.

And come on, come on, come on.

Come on.

There.

You want to go for a little ride? (ENGINE STARTS) Go.

So it'll be one Chicago double dog, hold the pickles, and one, uh The, uh, ‭Brooklyn Baconeer with cheese.

Oh, and throw in some of those house-made sea-salt chips.

WOMAN: Will that be all? What do you recommend on the dessert front? You know what? Toss in two of those little fried pies.

You only live once, right? Thank you.

Excuse me.

(CASH REGISTER BEEPING) Hi.

Chili dog, fries, to go.

You're good to roll.

34? Go easy on those doughnuts, all right? Really, Boscoe? (DOG PANTING) (BRAKES HISS) What's the problem? We're operating on credible intelligence that you're transporting smuggled crude.

Smuggled crude? What are you I'm hauling gasoline.

MAN: You want my papers? Actually, we're gonna need to see your product.

Does that look like 87% octane to you? - (DOG BARKS) - I don't know ‭anything about this.

Hands behind your back.

Come on.

MITCHELL: The FBI just released a statement.

The oil they recovered has high CH 4 levels chemically consistent with crude originating from northern Syria.

They're saying it was en route to one of your refineries on the Gulf Coast.

Clever.

Reddington's moving beyond theoretical accusations.

We spoke to our U.

S.

contacts, including Senator Bolson, the majority leader.

He has a lot of sway with Koepke and Talbot on the Energy Committee, however Let me guess.

They're less inclined to go to bat for us now that there's actual evidence.

They're not gonna stick their necks out for a foreigner who's hiding from the U.

S.

investigative process.

Which is why we're hoping you'll reconsider your position and show up for the hearing.

Cooperate.

Act like a friend and your powerful friends will respond in kind.

And if I don't, I'll be indicted.

Justice department will freeze all your American assets billions of dollars.

Your most prized asset in the U.

S.

will be lost.

Get the senator on the phone.

So, uh it worked.

Yeah.

Apparently, Kirk had a change of heart and he's flying in tomorrow for the meeting.

You know what that means, right? You know what Mr.

Reddington's gonna do.

I'm not okay with this.

Are you? These charges against Alexander Kirk for financing terrorism are ludicrous.

And no one's gonna touch him for what happened to Elizabeth.

So I'm gonna kill him.

He won't live long enough to see the inside of that hearing room.

I'm gonna kill him the instant he steps out of his vehicle.

You and I both know nothing less will protect Agnes and avenge Elizabeth's death.

Red how come Harold, you and your people I will always be more grateful than I could ever express, but I don't expect or rather, I couldn't accept your involvement in this final act.

I entered into this relationship with my eyes wide open.

So did Agent Ressler and the others.

I admire that about you, Harold.

I know so many zealots, men and women who choose a side, an ideology by which to interpret the world, but to get up every single day and do the hard work of deciding what to believe, what's right today, when to stand up or stand down that's courage.

It's been a privilege to see firsthand why the people you lead love you the way they do.

But sadly, our time together has come to an end.

On this case.

You don't mean I do.

(INHALES DEEPLY) We've done some good work.

But with Elizabeth gone there's nothing more for me to contribute.

Please take care of yourself and the others.

Charlene.

Aram set him up with someone, for God's sake.

He's like a kid with his first erection on the school bus.

(CHUCKLES) Raymond.

Thank you.

I just got to pick up a few things paper towels, formula, diapers the usual.

Do you want me to grab you some of those little sandwiches that you like.

Thanks, I'm good.

It's all clear.

I'll be outside.

- Be quick.

- ‭Yeah.

Okay, what do you think? Red can or green can? I agree.

Green it is.

She's beautiful.

Thank you.

I dig the bow tie.

(CHUCKLES) What happened to you? I spit up on myself.

What do you think happened? Will you watch the cart? We got to go wash up.

I'm coming with you.

I think I can find the bathroom on my own, thanks.

Mr.

Reddington left specific instructions not to let the kid out of our sight.

I'll take the child.

- Thank you.

- ‭Go.

Okay, sweetheart.

She has a real round head.

WOMAN: Oh, my God.

He was right here! I don't know what happened to him.

That's him! That's my son.

No, oh, wait.

What are you talking about? Ma'am, I need you to hand over the boy.

Hold on.

I think there's been a misunderstanding here.

Her name's Agnes.

We're just waiting for her father.

Look.

I don't know how this happened.

I'm so sorry.

They must've gotten mixed up somehow.

Tom gave us the slip.

He left with the baby.

Something's going on.

MAN: I think they lost him.

What makes you say that? Because I'm still tracking his cell signal, and it's moving west on Millbank.

Vector me.

Kirk's flight just arrived.

What's the security? He brought his own team.

There'll be a convoy of at least three vehicles.

Minimum of 8 to 10 men.

(CELLPHONE VIBRATES) Put Everly in the ‭Veterans Building, looking west.

Sandoval to the south.

Our source says the Capitol Police have asked the Bureau to assist with security.

They're expanding the perimeter.

Baz.

Advanced teams will be all over the Veterans Building.

Every window and roof within 200 yards will be scoped and cleared.

We need to find another perch with a clear line of sight, and we need to find it now.

I want you to get on the FAA database, pull a flight plan for me.

It's a Hawker 400, November-6-4-5-2-Delta.

(CELLPHONE RINGS) (CELLPHONE BEEPS) You have an update for me? There's gonna be a delay.

Keen went AWOL, just boarded a flight to Baracoa with his daughter traveling under an alias.

I'll get in touch with our contacts in Cuba.

In the meantime, you get on a plane and get down there.

We need that child in our custody by the end of the day.

(SAW WHIRRING, HAMMER BANGING) (ROCK MUSIC PLAYING) (GUNSHOT, ELECTRICITY CRACKLES) Hey, gentlemen, put down your hammers.

It's time for recess.

Simon says put your hands on your heads.

- Let's go.

- ‭Don't fret.

RED: We won't be long.

My associate will keep you company until our business is finished.

This'll work nicely.

Everly, right there.

You can't do this.

Agent Ressler.

Aren't you the dog on a scent? There was one empty building with a line of sight to the front and one to the back.

Started with the front.

You spoke to Harold.

Reddington, grab the guy, put him in a hole, get what you need from him, but don't kill Kirk.

There's nothing I care to take from Alexander Kirk - except his life.

- ‭Trust me.

I want him as badly as you, but I'm not gonna let this happen.

Oh, this is gonna happen, Donald.

This is gonna happen in about 10 minutes.

STALDER: I just heard back from our man in Baracoa.

KIRK: And? He checked with his local sources.

An American recently purchased a villa on the western edge of town.

High walls, very private.

That's where you think Keen's taking his daughter? We sent a team down to do some initial recon, and you need to see this.

(HORN HONKS IN DISTANCE) Senator Diaz, we're hearing that the FBI made a seizure yesterday in connection to this case.

Can you comment? We recovered raw Syrian crude from one of Kirk's gasoline tankers.

Mr.

Kirk has a lot to answer for, and he'll be given every opportunity to do so in today's hearing.

Thank you.

(INDISTINCT SHOUTING) REPORTER: We're told that Kirk's arrival is imminent.

(KNOCK ON DOOR) NAVABI: Do you have a minute? We can't reach Ressler.

He left, and he's not answering his cell.

You think ‭he went to find Reddington? Probably.

He'd never admit it, but I think he took Liz's death almost as hard as Aram did.

We are still waiting outside the courthouse So it's happening.

Kirk is here.

Touched down a few minutes ago.

Alexander Kirk to arrive.

We're gonna take a closer look Are you all right? A man got off that plane, and he has no idea that he'll be dead within the hour.

I've spent my entire life in the service of stopping people who do what we're about to let happen.

Not so long ago, ‭this task force felt compelled to hunt down Elizabeth Keen for intentionally killing a man.

Now she's gone, and we're about to do the very same thing.

If you're asking whether you'll regret it someday no.

I don't think you will.

To be honest, I crossed that line a long time ago killing in the name of justice, vengeance.

After a while, you don't just get over it you get used to it.

DIAZ: export terror to America.

I believe That's what I'm afraid of.

and that's what my presidency would be about.

RESSLER: Listen to me.

If he pulls that trigger, this building's surrounded in seconds.

Not minutes seconds.

There's no getting out.

Yes, I know.

If Liz were here, she'd tell you not to do this.

Elizabeth isn't here, though.

Is she, Donald? That was Mr.

Kaplan.

Keen made a move.

He took Agnes.

I want to know where.

- Kaplan's on it.

- Step away.

RED: Donald.

RESSLER: I meant what I said.

This isn't gonna happen.

I said stand down.

Look, Reddington.

If you want your man to live, you're gonna tell him to do what I say.

It's okay, Everly.

Step away.

Go find Baz.

Give him a hand.

All right.

Let's everyone take a deep breath.

Everybody relax.

All right.

Nobody's gonna get hurt.

Kirk's 60 seconds out.

What the hell do you think you're doing? I was willing to fire on your man, and I'm willing to fire on you.

Yes, I believe that, Donald.

But are you willing to die in the process? I said step away.

You want justice for Elizabeth.

Justice, not vengeance.

In my experience, they're the same.

RESSLER: What are you gonna do, Dembe? You gonna shoot me in cold blood? 40 seconds.

(GUN COCKS) I know how difficult ‭this must be for you, Donald.

I will do this.

You have faith.

I envy that.

Justice, integrity, faith in humanity nobody embodies those principles more than you.

DEMBE: 20.

And I know it must be hard for you to believe that you'll continue to embody those principles even after you watch me do this.

Oh, this isn't about me.

This is about the rules what's right.

When Elizabeth was a fugitive, you played by the rules, did what you thought was right.

But Elizabeth's gone.

Alexander Kirk took her away from us, and she's not coming back.

Raymond.

RESSLER: Take your hands off that trigger.

What do you think's going to happen if you stop me, Donald? That you'll arrest Kirk? That justice will be done? Let go of the weapon.

Do you want a bullet in Alexander Kirk's head or one in mine? Decide now.

What's it going to be, Donald? What? It's not Kirk.

He's not there.

(ENGINE STARTS) Ya llego.

(TIRES SCREECH) Unfortunately, Mr.

Kirk wasn't able to attend today's hearing due to an unexpected development.

I'll be testifying on his behalf.

(INDISTINCT SHOUTING) RESSLER: I don't understand.

I thought we confirmed Kirk on that flight.

Aram, the manifest.

I'm looking at it now.

Kirk was definitely a passenger on that jet.

Not only that, he was pre-cleared by U.

S.

Customs and Border Protection at Abu Dhabi Airport.

He's here.

Then why wasn't he in that car? I don't know.

Wait.

Wait, this can't There's a second flight plan, a new one, filed a few minutes ago.

Kirk's plane just took off again.

To where? Abel Santamaria Airport in Cuba.

I don't understand.

Why would Kirk clear American customs, fly all the way to D.

C.

, just to turn around and go to Cuba? Something changed his mind.

RED: Aram, run another search.

Every private flight to Abel Santamaria from the D.

C.

area in the last six hours.

- ARAM: What are we looking for? - Tom and Agnes.

He slipped my security detail earlier today.

Nothing.

Well, he wouldn't be traveling under the name Keen.

Okay, hang on.

There is something.

A Hawker 400 November-6-4-5-2-Delta left a private airstrip for Cuba with two passengers - a man and his infant daughter.

- ‭My God.

Kirk's going after Agnes.

Aram, the plane Tom was on.

Who owns it? Reddington! Hey! Ow! What the hell?! What's going on, Omar? I've known you for over two decades.

I was there when you renewed your vows with Eileen.

And suddenly, you're the person who takes Tom Keen and his child out of the country? Out of my sight? I don't know any Tom Keen.

Wrong answer.

Stop, please.

Of all the people with a private air fleet, Keen just picks your name out of a hat? I don't understand.

I was under the impression arranging this flight is exactly what you wanted.

Why in God's name would you think that? Red, I would never do anything to upset you.

I just assumed ‭when Kaplan came to see me, she was coming on your behalf.

- Kaplan.

- ‭She made all the arrangements.

She had all the documentation for your friend and his daughter.

I just did what she asked.

Raymond, I'm sorry.

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACH) I have nothing for you, Kate.

No parables about loyalty, no florid speeches of trust belied, deception, treachery, or false devotion.

I'm simply too bereft.

It will have to suffice to say I would name every human being on the planet before you if asked who might betray me.

- Raymond - ‭I know what you've done.

I know you helped Tom and Agnes leave the country without my knowledge.

Yes.

Yes.

What do you want to know, Raymond? If I'm sorry? Yes.

I'm sorry you weren't more honest with Elizabeth from the beginning.

I'm sorry you wanted to know her so desperately that you convinced yourself we could keep her safe.

I couldn't sit back and watch you make the same mistake with Agnes.

I didn't betray you.

I did what I've always done protected you this time, from yourself.

- You're wrong.

- ‭I won't tell you where they are.

You don't understand, Kate.

I know where they are, and so does Alexander Kirk.

- Kirk? - ‭He was tracking Tom.

He knows they're in Cuba.

He's flying there as we speak.

No.

‭I need an address.

I know you had her best interests at heart, that you were trying to protect her, but now, because of you, Agnes is in grave danger.

Not just Agnes.

(SIGHS) You made it.

Oh, my God.

Oh.

Oh, she's beautiful.

Just like her mother.

Are we okay? Liz, it's over.

There's nobody coming after us.

It's just you and me and her.

We did it.

We're free.

How? The how won't change anything.

I suppose I knew what I would do that afternoon in the car on the drive to the mobile ICU.

That poor girl, so afraid.

Always looking over her shoulder, in the dark about who she was and why it mattered.

But it wasn't just about Elizabeth anymore.

Her child was already paying the price for her association with you.

No.

Get out.

Please, go away.

Make him go away.

LIZ: This is my daughter.

Just wait out here.

Let me talk to her.

I saw my opportunity.

I know you're afraid, sweetie.

You should be.

Agnes will never be safe in Raymond's world.

The question is, how far are you willing to go to protect her? I saw her die.

You saw what the doctor allowed you to see.

If he finds out, he'll kill me.

I can keep this from him, protect you.

Just tell me what you need.

This is insane.

It'll never work.

Maybe not, but we have to try.

Most heart monitors ‭come with simulation devices for training purposes.

All I have to do is connect her heart leads to the simulator and I can make her vitals do whatever we want raise her heart rate, drop her oxygen levels, crashing her blood pressure.

What else? If I can make Liz seem unstable enough, it would be indicated for me to put her on a ventilator in a medically induced coma.

But there's a risk.

Of course there's a risk for all of us, but it's possible, right? What's possible? I sat over her body and watched her die.

You saw what we needed you to see.

Once she was safe on the ventilator, one large dose of a beta blocker dropped her cardiac output and pulse to a level just barely detectable under the best of circumstances, let alone with a gunfight raging outside.

You didn't want her body taken to the morgue.

That made things easier.

Elizabeth was in the body bag for less than two minutes.

Nik was standing by with the antidote, glucagon.

I found a suitable body for the funeral.

Need I continue? Had it really come to that? She loved her daughter that much.

Yes, Raymond.

It had come to that.

Hey, I'm back.

I found the cutest little bakery on the beach.

They make those little pastelitos that you love.

Shh.

Shh.

(GRUNTS) (CERAMIC SHATTERS) (GRUNTS) - (GUNSHOT) - ‭(SCREAMS) (GRUNTS) (CHOKING) Donald.

What is it? What's wrong? Come in.

Sit down.

A couple hours ago, I had the opportunity to stop Reddington.

He was ready to take one life to avenge another, and in the end, I, uh I was gonna let him do it.

I actually wanted him to do it.

Thank God Kirk wasn't in that car.

Well, now we know why.

Reddington called from the air.

Let's hope he gets to Tom and Agnes.

And Liz.

She's alive.

(GREG LASWELL'S "DODGED A BULLET" PLAYS) I'm not gonna try and make it even You're way ahead by now I'm not gonna try and make it all even Even though I know how And everyone thinks I dodged a bullet But I think I shot the gun And everyone thinks I dodged a bullet But I think I shot the gun I'm not gonna tell my new friends about you No, I'm gonna let that slide I'm gonna be lazy when I write about you Even though it takes all my might And everyone thinks I dodged a bullet But I think I shot the gun And everyone thinks I dodged a bullet But I think I shot the gun Kate.

What are we gonna do with you, Kate? I'm gonna get back to believing It's been a long, long time now I'm gonna get up and make it look easy Even though I don't know how My daughter, my husband where are they? What have you done with them? I'm not gonna try and make it even Hello, Masha.

I'm way behind by now I've been imagining this moment for the last 25 years.

Who are you? Alexander Kirk.

That wasn't always so.

Once, a long time ago my name was Constantin Rostov.

Everyone thinks I dodged a bullet But I think I shot the gun And everyone thinks I dodged a bullet But I think I shot the gun Masha, I'm your father.

And everyone thinks I dodged a bullet But I think I shot the gun 

[crqstalite]

pt. 7, counting stars (corso && ghenkl)

ewww this part is kinda really bad near the end with my botched attempt to be a little nsfw. didn’t work but i tried.

anyways! ghen is on the hunt for kiv while planning her wedding, plans on inviting hyperion & co. and speaks with her old partner in crime, theksevoy!

written : 7.8.19. published to tumblr : 7.15.19. word count : 2,761 ════ ⋆★⋆ ════

character song: counting stars, onerepublic (totally made for corso and a romanced female smuggler. change my mind.)

character file: captain ghenkl riggs, corso riggs.

-

“dress?”

“i dunno.” she says, chugging down another glass of whiskey. “white?”

“ghenkl, you know what i mean.” risha says. “you have a pile of credits you put away for this, and all you can think of is ‘i want a white dress’?”

she thinks for a moment, “ruffles?”

“stars, you are impossible.” risha puts down the datapad as she takes a sip of her own drink.

“well, why don’t you do it? you seem to know a lot more than i do.” she responds, as risha sighs. “let’s not forget that i’m a gunslinger, not a wedding planner.”

“don’t you have even a small idea of what you want though? you’re getting married, captain. for most women they can only dream of having a fantasy wedding like yours.” risha deadpans.

“i’m also legally able to officiate weddings on my ship.” ghenkl offers, shrugging.

risha rubs her temples. ghenkl is a little apologetic, but also mildly tipsy. she had been out the day before, sometimes doing some charity work, but mostly just drinking until risha had to come and get her. she wouldn’t say she had a real problem, even if it was borderline addiction. of course, a nice corellian whiskey every couple of days sated it.

but ghenkl never was a girl to fantasize her weddings. as a little kid she was aware her parent’s marriage was rocky, and when kiveqil was born, it only got worse from there, leading them to have been divorced. their father just made their lives a living hell, leading her to run away to the bowels of nar shaddaa with a preteen kiveqil to keep her little brother safe.

didn’t always have the best idea of what a good romance was supposed to be like. hence her more, player like attitude once she got off ord mantell. weddings? you might as well take her back to school.

“well, i suppose you don’t really have to have one. who are you inviting anyways?” risha questions, running a hand through her hair. it’d been a difficult morning, ghenkl found that because she wasn’t hugely picky, apparently that made it harder on the selected woman to plan her wedding.

“didn’t think too hard about that.” she looks down in her glass before brushing her hair out of her eyes. “risha, you remember me telling you about my brother?”

“depends. which time?” she smirks, and ghenkl breaks into a sweat. she’d only told risha once about her family, at least that she could remember. “one where you were sober, or when you were blackout drunk?”

sheepishly, she smiled. there were a lot of situations where she wasn’t fully conscious of things she told risha, and this might’ve been one of them. “while i was sober.”

“well, you did. you told me that the last time you saw him, he was carted off to the temple. you also mentioned you’d been watching over a girl named ana'la at the time before she also was kidnapped. you mentioned you’d never had the time to really sit down and search for either of them.” ghenkl’s surprised she remembers, she doesn’t even remember ever telling that much to risha. then again, she’s having a hard time remembering ord mantell too, it’s been a long time since she’s been back. “i’m assuming you’re still looking for him?”

“been trying to. reports are too scattered, and the council doesn’t exactly give out  brochures when you ask about their masters.” she’s getting a headache, just thinking about the conversation she’d had with a togruta master, kiiwiks, or something about kiveqil’s current location. 'everywhere and nowhere’ was the frustrating answer she’d gotten from everyone, as some locations were dated from years ago, and others seemed impossible. but no one knew where her little brother was right now, and if it weren’t illegal and morally questionable, she’d shoot everyone who was hiding where he was. “apparently ran off with some carsen girl after his trials. got himself a ship and has been helping out 'round the galaxy. took out the emperor at some point, so he’s got that goin’ for him i guess.”

risha cocks an eyebrow. “i-what? what exactly is he?”

“a jedi master. why?” she asks, looking over to her female companion as she pulls out another datapad. “not exactly huge in the news, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

“you said you haven’t seen him in years?”

“not since i was seventeen.” risha shows her the datapad, a quick drabble written about who she’s assuming to be kiveqil with a gathering of four other humanoids and a droid. “where’d you get this?”

“apparently he received commendations a while back on coruscant. he could still be on planet.” risha responds. “looks like he got himself a crew. the carsen girl you mentioned is a jedi knight.”

“risha, this was three years ago.” she says, sullen as she hands it back. ghenkl does smile a bit at seeing her brother’s face. he still has that chilidish grin to him as the two humans (one kira and the other only listed as 'doc’) have their arms around him with cheeky grins. scars here and there, particularily around those amber eyes of his.

they look like children. children forced into a war much too quickly. she sees it in corso’s face everyday, and it makes her so sad. “it’s outdated, and i’ve already seen it.”

risha rolls her eyes knowingly, “did you read it all?”

“of course i did.” she grumbles.

“well, then you would know he’s also a battlemaster. my guess is that’s he’s on the frontlines somewhere.” risha answers. “we could start looking there, a little slicing here and there and we could locate someone from his crew. the carsen girl i’ve never met, nor the sergeant, droid or sith lord. but i have heard of this 'doc’ before. tracking him down shouldn’t be too hard.”

“and with the doctor, we find his patient.” ghenkl muses. “you are a genius, risha.”

“i’m aware.” she responds, taking another swig of wine. “now that i’ve got that out of the way-”

“my next guest is that major i was talking about.”

risha’s face fell into one of confusion and mild disappointment. “you plan to invite major hyperion to your wedding?”

“yes, of course. why do you look so sad?”

“she could arrest any of us for the multiple crimes we’ve committed the last couple of years. she’s a soldier and holds fast to laws. those things we rarely if ever pay attention to.” risha deadpans. true, she’d broken a few laws that finally caught up with her on voss, but hakio had yet to arrest her, so she figured she was somewhere in the 'tolerance’ chapter of the major’s book.

“who says we have to admit to things we did?” ghenkl shrugs as risha sighs. “besides, we’re like best buds now!”

“she didn’t even remember your name the last time she saw you.”

“given! it was six in the morning and we all were exhausted.”

“sure.” risha responds, skeptical. “we’ll put that on the list of maybes. anyone else?”

ghenkl thinks for a moment. finding ana'la in time would be impossible (for a fleeting thought, the gunslinger didn’t even know whether she was still alive or not), and finding kiveqil was priority number one. the major would probably reject her invitation, but she’d send it anyways. “rogun?”

risha is silent and just drops her head in her hands. “you’re impossible.”

“that’s only another type of possible, risha.”

-

she’s bored. corso’s already gone to bed, and like any good smuggler, she doesn’t exactly follow good sleeping habits. so instead of lying awake in her husband’s arms, she’s in the communal area near the holoterminal, splayed out on the couch watching a holodrama on the lowest volume she can.

so in all, not unusual in the slightest.

however, her personal holocom immediatly begins beeping as she slips off the couch with a pained 'ow’ as she rubs her knee where it connected with the ground. slipping it out of her pocket, she pushes her hair back so she doesn’t look like a swamp monster straight out of hutta to the person on the other end of the line. “hello?”

“good to know your com code is the same as always.” her face brightens through her exhaustion. the person on the other end is none other than her partner in crime (and also ex), theksevoy li'ui, who’s standing with his arms crossed but a smirk on his face. “got a job.”

“what else is new?” she asks, blinking a couple of times to focus on the projection of her friend. “you’ve always got some violent job, li'ui.”

“true.” he shrugs. theksevoy has always been an off and on again kind of partner, when they were much younger (she was twenty-five, he was nineteen) they’d met on balmorra while she was doing a gun run. originally, neither had known the other’s faction, primarily because ghenkl was never hugely patriotic and thek had yet to enlist in the imperial military. eventually she did find out, but neither really cared either because they weren’t tied to their faction the way the military or force sensitives were. there was a fling when she was twenty-seven and he was twenty one, but it didn’t go anywhere and they remained just helping each other out with staying out of trouble with the fuzz. be it lying or murdering, they were a good team. without morals, yes, but that was okay. “how you doin’ this time of year?”

“well, it’s twelve r.s.t*, so i should be sleep. but y'know the usual, supply runs, outrunning the fuzz, earning credits legally and illegally.” she answers, leaning back on the couch. “you? heard you won some big comp a while back.”

“you’re lookin’ at the grand champion of the great hunt, gorgeous.” he winks, and she rolls her eyes. he’s still a huge flirt, and it makes her laugh everytime he tries it. he has some woman she doesn’t remember the name of, and she has corso. but no one said they couldn’t keep being chaotic together just because they got tied down. “won me a nice sum of credits, some serious recognition out there.”

“as always.” she says. “that’s what makes the galaxy go 'round, right?”

“you got it.” he says. they make observations about each other, about how one of her horns is missing (shot off by a just missed shot by some gangly sniper), how he’s wearing a not-so intimidating manbun, and just about life. ghenkl loves her crew, but there’s something so inticing about a man halfway across the galaxy and aligned with a different faction. maybe if she didn’t have corso, they’d be together no questions asked, a deadly power couple with insane accuracy. but they’re not, and she’s okay with that. “wait, go back a second.”

“which one?” she asks, turning back towards the projector. “growing out my hair?”

“no, you said you’d tied the knot with someone.” he says suspiciously, raising his eyebrows. “didn’t take you for the marrying type.”

“oh yeah. cap'n ghenkl riggs.” she’s about to answer when the man himself answers instead. corso brushing sleep out of his eyes, and yawns. “thought you would’ve come to bed by now, ghen.” there’s a touch of jealousy in his voice, and her mood plummets. this must’ve looked odd, talking to a man over the holo in the middle of the night in sweatpants and a sports bra, who wasn’t her fiance.

“i couldn’t sleep. i was watching holodramas until thek called.” she answers, sitting up. “thek, this is corso riggs, my fiance. corso, this is theksevoy li'ui, one of my partners in morally questionable crime.”

“nice to meet you, kid.” thek bids him hello, and corso is mulling over his response. thek turns back to her, “really though? color me surprised.”

“don’t you have a girlfriend too?” she asks in response. “or did you break up with another one of them?”

“i’m perfectly capable of romancing a girl without making it a one night stand, ghen.” he says, cracking a grin. “except for you, of course.”

“ha, i know that.” she says, as corso shifts uncomfortably, frowning visibly. she’d never told him about any of her previous relationships, especially the one with thek. it lasted longer than she wanted it to, one day they’d be all over each other, but the next they’d be at each other’s throats. it wasn’t healthy for thek, who she knew was still a bright-eyed kid at twenty, and it wasn’t healthy for her either, stressing about not only not getting him killed but also tying herself down much too early. “what’s this girl’s name anyways? wanna call her and make sure you haven’t driven her crazy yet.”

“mako. hasn’t left me yet so-”

“who are you talking to?” she hears a high pitched voice, which immediatly sets off an alarm. how old is this girl? she doesn’t sound any older than ghenkl did at sixteen. however, she appears on the projector as well, and taking stock, she figures the girl is maybe somewhere over legal age.

hopefully.

“old friend of mine. ghen, this is mako. mako, you’re talking to the captain that runs port nowhere at the moment-”

“whoa, captain ghenkl delux? you’re like, one of the most inspirational women i’ve ever heard about.” ghenkl taken aback by this. no one’s ever called her inspirational to date, but mako’s smile is infectious. “sorry about that. yes, my name is mako.”

“nice to meet you.” she says, sitting back next to thek. “what were you talking about?”

“nothin’ mako. isn’t it late where you are?” thek asks, as mako pulls out a datapad of her own and furiously begins typing.

“it is.” she shrugs. “you can tell me all about that job tomorrow, cool? friends don’t let friends pass up opportunities for a big payout.”

“you got it, cap'n.” he does that wink that probably swooned mako straight into his bed, and she smirks back before she shuts her holocom off, leaving her and corso in the darkness as she stretches her arms over her head.

“you wanna head to bed, corso?” she asks, moving to get up. he’s silent, but before she can utter an apology, he yanks her back down so that she’s sitting a little awkwardly, but he shifts her to be sitting directly in his lap. “alright, what’s gotten into you?”

“who was he?” he asks, and a part of that gruff voice that only comes out when he’s trying to flirt with her. “why was he calling you in the middle of the night?”

“it happens. i.s.t is nearly the exact opposite of r.s.t, sweetie.” she responds. “just an old work friend, and he’ll give us details for a job tomorrow.”

he looks unconvinced, but she changes that as she leans down to press a kiss firmly on his lips. “you’re mine, and i will be yours. now and forever.”

“i know you will cap'n.” he responds. he smiles at her, and she grins. something about corso always makes her just that much more giggly, and she has no idea why. however, her grin turns a bit darker as she rolls her hips over his.

“how about you show me just how much i belong to you?” she asks, glancing at him through lidded eyes as he shifts to get her off of him.

“ghen, you’re gonna be the death of me.” he responds breathlessly, as she gets up. “why do you do this?”

by that time, she’s already got her sports bra off, arms over her now exposed chest as she sits next to him. “because i can, that’s why, corso.” one of her fingers traces her breast lightly, biting her bottom lip. “well? don’t leave me wanting.”

he’s not pale, but stars can she see his face go red in the dark of the ship as his eyes meet hers. he’s soft, and is always looking for a reaction before continuing on, kissing her roughly before tracing his nips down her body.

to say the least, they have one of the best nights ghenkl thinks she’ll ever have in this lifetime or the next. now, marriage isn’t sounding nearly as bad as when she was six or seven. especially if she gets to spend it with a man who not only knows his way around a blaster, but also knows full well how to woo his wife.

[doubledrivel-blog]

13. Trump vs Lavar Ball - Ray Allen is a jilted lover - How old was Manute Bol?

Greg: Hello and welcome to another episode of Double Drivel. We are a weekly podcast offering a fan's perspective on the news and issues surrounding the NBA. Thank you for joining us. My name is Greg and I am joined as always by my co-host JT. You can find us on Twitter @doubledrivelers or email us at doubledrivelpodcast@gmail.com. JT what up my friend?

JT: Not too much Greg. It's so nice to be talking with you again. Where have you been? It seems like you've been somewhere else lately.

Greg: I hosted Thanksgiving, and then we had a little family trip to Germany for a dance completion. I am known as the Lord of the dance. The Lord of the dance is what they call me. There's a lot of things you don't know about me and one of them is so my German folk dancing. It's very important to me, but I'm very private with it.

JT: That's incredible. What is the best thing about Germany?

Greg: My favorite thing is the food. There's a lot of great food, and the people are very nice. You can drink almost anywhere. I don't know of a place you can't drink. I don't really know the laws or the language well enough to know where the limits are. I know that I drank in a grocery store walking inside. I walked in with a beer from outside, drank it walking up and down the aisles of that grocery store, and checked out with that same beer. No one even blinked or looked at me or really cared in the least. Amazing, it's just a strange amazing place. From what I understand there was a lot of strange amazing stuff here during the time since we last spoke. Lavar Ball and Donald Trump went head to head, Ray Allen had some issues, and there's a story about someone that we loved growing up, a really big guy, Manute Bol, We're gonna start with the heavyweight matchup, Lavar Ball and Donald Trump. You had the best little

line here in the notes that it's a federal level Twitter beef, and it really was. Why don't you go over a little bit on why they're fighting?

JT:  Yes sir Greg. We have the President of the United States, who recently took a trip to China, a planned trip. The presidents travel, and wheel and deal. This is coming on the heels of three young UCLA basketball players who were arrested for shoplifting in China. We discussed committing a crime in China on last week's show Greg, which is actually a big deal. They actually will throw you in jail for a really long time for things that.

Greg: If you told me people still got their hands cut off in China for stealing I'd believe it I believe it 100%.

JT: There was a high-end retail shop attached to the hotel they swiped some watches from. They got caught, they

got arrested, and we were kind of on hold for a minute. Then they got released and the president started speaking

about how their release came to be. He says that he had to have conversations with powers-that-be in China, and he had to essentially call in a favor. The basketball players were released, they came back to the US, and then they put

these three kids up on the podium do a press conference at UCLA. They ask them look like a hostage video. Those

kids weren't even smiling. They were saved from 10 years in prison. They stood up there like they weren't thankful or happy about anything.

Greg: Very strange to me, but please continue.

JT: Imagine 19 years old and then you go from a very high end Chinese hotel to a Chinese prison to staying in that Chinese prison for a decent amount of time. Then they were on house arrest at the hotel.

Greg: They never made them actually go to the prison that was one good little thing.

JT: They didn't even spend time in a Chinese prison?

Greg: That's great. No one should-

JT: Fine even if they don't have to go there, they come back and our president was waiting for a thank you that he never got.

Greg: Trump was not happy. He felt slighted because he was never formally thanked. He went on an offensive.

JT: Oh no, mercy me.

Greg:  Lavar Ball said the release of the students didn't have a lot to do with Donald Trump. Mr. Ball had some people on the ground kind of downplaying Trump's role and it wasn't a big deal. That was the worst line of all. It wasn't a big deal he said.

JT: That's the kind of thing that gets Donny boy fired up. as we've

come to understand and let me pull up

Greg:  If they said any sort of thank you he would have caught it. He would have known He would have replied to it on Twitter the same way he replied to the fact they had not said thank you.

JT: It's important to always say thank you regardless of your views. If the guy got you out of ten years of Chinese prison you definitely say thank you.

Greg: The original tweet from the president was “Do you think the three UCLA basketball players will say thank you President Trump?”

JT: He was ready. He's just winding up. They were heading for ten years in jail yeah and this man transitioned right to the 280 characters of Twitter.”

JT: “Donald Trump from Twitter on November 22nd “Lavar you could have spent the next five to ten years during Thanksgiving with your son in China no NBA contract to support you but remember Lavar” he keeps using his name “shoplifting is not a little thing it's a really big deal especially in China ungrateful fool China strongly says.”  Strong words from the president.

Greg: You know what they have in common? They both have WWE appearances. Much like WWE careers one actually had almost the whole storyline built around him and one was just really a one-hit wonder that showed up on one episode. Lavar ball wishes he was at the level Donald Trump is. He is someone who wants to be in the news every day. This is someone who's dying for the kind of beef that Donald Trump brought him. It  gets him in the news and that's all he cares about. And fighting with the president, you don't do better than that. That's high level beef.

JT: Why waste the words on this? I didn't think it was gonna happen this way. I figured it'd be something stupid, but never did I think that a father of an unproven rookie, who doesn't have the platform for this volume of a message, he just doesn't fucking have it- There's no way I thought that two months into the NBA season these two numbnuts would be wagging dicks at each other. This is certainly much faster than anybody would have anticipated. I would have doubted that those two comments would have put across at some point.

Greg:  You're kind of a Monday Morning Quarterback though.

JT: Let me try to guess who else that he'll have a fight with. It's got to be easy enough. After the fighting with the president it's kind of like shooting fish in a barrel.

Greg: He's just rounding up people now. It's where we are, everybody's coming into contact. It's kind of amazing.

JT He's gonna fight with Kanye, how about that. He will straight up be fighting with Kanye in the next six to nine months. Like when  screech fought Hoody in the fucking celebrity dumb shit boxing show.

Greg: He's fought the guy from Welcome Back Kotter. Poor Horshack. He fought Horshack. Up next we’ve got something that you love, so keep your laughing face on. Ray Allen's on the scene. I know this is a story very close

to your heart. I actually heard someone reference his appearance in a certain movie, and how he was the best part of that movie. I don't know how I feel about that comment. Why don't you tell us a little about your love for Ray Allen, and give us a little backstory.

JT: I don't have a tremendous love for Ray Allen. The majority of it comes from my close association of late 90s basketball movies of which I am a huge fan. There's three I love, “Above the rim with Tupac and Leon. You know my man Leon, who also played David Ruffin The Temptations NBC movie which you know I fucking love Greg.

Greg: He was in Oz too wasn't he?

JT:  Yeah and White Men Can't Jump. I have that painting in my garage of Billy Ho getting his Reeboks pumped up by Sidney Deane. I also love He got Game the Spike Lee movie with Ray Allen and Denzel Washington. Everyone loves Denzel Washington.

Greg: In all honesty I don't know if I've ever seen that movie. I've seen bits and pieces of it, but there's no way I've seen the whole movie.

JT: In He’s got Game Denzel puts on a stronger performance than Ray Allen. Ray Allen's character’s name is Jesus Shuttlesworth. Not “Hay-Zues,��� they go straight up Jesus. One line from is Jesus Shuttlesworth impersonating his own mother from childhood. They live in the  projects and there's a basketball court surrounded by high-rise apartment buildings, and come dinnertime his mother would put her head out the window and yelled “Jesus Jesus!” so yes, he go by Jesus. It's a great movie Greg, you should see it.

Greg: I'll watch it over Christmas break when I'm home.

JT: Be sure to watch it. That’s what put Ray Allen on my radar. He's in this movie I really like and then Ray Allen has a very successful NBA career. He sets the record for the three-point percentage in the regular season. He sets it for that same three-point percentage record for NBA playoff season playoffs. He's out but then he pops back up in the news. Ray Allen recently appeared in the Florida Court to respond to a claim of stalking. Ray Allen responded to claim that he has been stalking a man named Bryant Coleman. You know this isn't going anywhere good. Do we know a lot of stories about NBA players stalking anyone?

Greg: I can't think of any. The closest I can think of is a story I love with Matt Barnes. He drove all that way to punch Derek Fisher in the face. He drove 50 miles to whoop his ass because he was at his ex-wife's house. That's certainly not stalking but that's court stuff I think about when shit's getting dirty. Even in that situation that's NBA player versus current or former NBA player, and you can follow the charges and the situation. What could possibly bring on bothering and stalking a man

JT: I  bet you Greg Ray Allen wishes this was a drug charge. He was sitting around like “God I just need one reporter to think I got a coke problem, please!” He claims that this guy Brian Coleman impersonated many different women online and effectively catfished him.

Greg: That's no good. Isn't that weird though? Why would Ray Allen stalk someone who was bamboozling him? Allen was claiming that he was multiple women?

JT: At one time he was kind of stringing Ray along on whatever avenues he was pursuing women on, whether it be Craigslist or-

Greg: It was  probably Craigslist

JT: This is what Ray Allen claims, but Brian Coleman says that all along he was looking for me. There weren’t any girls or catfishing. My mam was looking for the Bryan. This guy says Ray knows I'm a dude, we get down, we've done this in the past, and we've done it pretty recently. This guy might have signed a non-disclosure agreement about it.

Greg: Oh snap! They're getting down like a couple of bills fans in the parking lot. Ray’s got to pay him off and get him to sign an NDA and then the guy breaks it. Usually you don't get into that type of situation unless you want someone to stay quiet. The only thing we can do to clear this up is invite them both on the show. We'll just clear the air. We can bring Alan, he’s always welcome, and Brian Coleman. I'll have to try to reach out but, Ray Allen, you’re always welcome.

JT: This is a come as you are, judgment-free environment. Anyone with anything to say can come on and clear the air. That invitation is out there. Ray Allen join us when it's convenient for you.

Greg: If you're in any sort of trouble I'm not gonna hit you with the hardball questions. I’ll give you a nice soft landing here to give you a platform. Thanks again Ray, we love this story. We are gonna move on to our good friend who we grew up with a big tall fella, Manute Bol.

JT: That's a guy who was 7’7. He was the tallest person ever to play in the NBA. There is reason to believe that he made up his age.

Greg: I always found it crazy that you didn't even know how old you were, that there was so little documentation around you that you wouldn’t have any idea. He looks old in some of those pictures we were looking at. He may have been 50 years old. Go back and look at those pictures JT. He looks about 50 years old.

JT: When he went to Cleveland State Greg he enrolled at the University of Bridgeport, a Division two basketball school. When he had to fill out the paperwork, apparently the coach just fudged the numbers because no one knew how old he was. I can relate to this story personally Greg. You and I were rubbing elbows at this point in Pleasant Valley with  Mark Bang’s son.

Greg: 'm gonna take the other half of the story. There were two kids in our grade at our school. They were adopted and they definitely came internationally. I don't know what country, but there is reason to believe Mark was very old.

JT: I remember eating lunch with Mark. We were in elementary school. I'll never forget it. It was second grade, and there was a man sitting at our table. His name was Mark, and he was in my class. He was not in second grade. He was 13, and he had a brother who had some disabilities. He was even older. Mark used to yell at him like he was a little brother, but he was much smaller. Joey's age also very cloudy.

Greg: I don't think the world will ever know how old Mark and Joey were.

JT:  They were great people Greg. They were great teammates. I got the opportunity to interact and spend time with both of them. He played Little League with us. They were fast as fuck Greg. Fast as the day is long, like a cheetah. He would hold his hands in ninja stance, do you remember that? When he was running it was like he was chopping through the air. He was probably five, six, seven years older than the rest of us.

Greg: Joey, Mark, and Manute Bol kind of riding that same wavelength. They're saying he was 50 years old when he was finishing up his NBA career. That's crazy to think about. He was so tall at the same time, just remarkable. He didn't weigh hardly anything. The guy was thin as a rail, but he was one of the first big men that was shooting threes from the outside. He used to line up behind the line all the time. That wasn't something people did at his size. They still don't. It was a very precious shot he had. It was a lot of fingertip and both elbows were  out. He gently put it up there.

JT: Now his son is playing Greg. His son, whose name is Bo Ball, just committed to Oregon. He's gonna be a duck. Greg: He's gonna have that big Nike logo on his giant self. Congratulations to the Ball family. However old Manute is on his next birthday, happy birthday to him. I may have just wished a dead man a happy birthday.

JT: Oh Christ alive, let's see. Yeah, he died in 2010. God rest his soul Manu Ball.

Greg: His son really carrying the torch for the family. That's good for the Ball family. Another great episode JT.

JT: Absolutely. Glad to have you back in the states,

Greg: I'm glad we're back too. Danka. We will be back next week with another episode. In the meantime you can follow us on twitter @doubledrivelers or you can email us at doubledrivelpodcast@gmail.com. Subscribe to the show on iTunes, podbean, or Google Play. Until next week, we will see you on the Internet.