#Wes is going to Vegas and is already being shamed for not wanting to gamble with $1k

[goldenhourhimbo]

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[kadeuxhyeonju]

KADEU: INDIVIDUAL TASK

; FOR THE RESISTANCE, FOR LOVE, OR FOR MYSELF? An Interview with Vega Gem Owner, Lee Hyeonju

Tell us about Hyeonju’s involvement with the resistance! Did leaving for six months affect his standing?

Hyeonju taps clawed hands against the wooden meeting table that is situated in the secret meeting room of the Vega Gem. His eyes are narrowed in thought as he reminisces his return from overseas three years prior.

“Hmm. A bit, I suppose. I left a notice of my departure with some of my trusted informants. Told the leaders I’d send word of my return when I found what I was looking for. I was hardly missed, though. There are plenty of informants and financial backers for the resistance. I was one of many and I’m not wounded by that knowledge. Six months is a long time to be away, to not be out of the loop. It’s only natural that my standing had fallen a bit by the time I returned. But it didn’t take me long either to reach that original standing.” He smiles wickedly. “I might have been gone for a time, but I assure you I was still very much in contact with many of my connections. And connections are everything if you want to be a good informant.”

How does he feel about Mallick leaving as a leader?

At that, the smile slips from Hyeonju’s lips. He stares down at his hands and is silent for far longer than is comfortable. The ice in his whiskey clinks against the glass as it melts. Finally, the hybrid answers:

“I’m happy for him. Truly. He’s a dear friend, him and his brother, Devjay. He’s responsible and cares for the Clubs in a way no other Clubs Ace has. I’m sure he’s needed as an Ace far more than as a resistance leader. Is this not the change the resistance has been seeking and fighting for for so long?

“Nuisances the both of them for leaving like they did, though. There’s a whole in our leadership…but I can hardly blame that sad, little kitten for that. What happened in Clubs was…unexpected. Mallick isn’t perfect. With that said, I suppose I’m a bit disappointed that we can no longer run in the same circles. Not with that Ace of Heart watching for any connections to the resistance. It’s a shame that everyone knows Mallick was a leader for our group. Now I can’t tease him alongside Devjay.”

Does the Vega Gem sell enough for him to maintain his status as a financial backer?

Hyeonju scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“I suppose you’ve heard those silly rumors about His Aceness no longer visiting my shop? Contrary to widely held belief, Joui’s patronage does not make or break my business. I earned my title as best jeweller in Kadeu long before His Aceness came around. And I’ve kept it, I’ll have you know. When I returned from my trip, Alexei bustled in with six months worth of inquiries as to when I would be back and when I would be taking on commission again.

“Sure, I used my savings I stalked away for the resistance to go on my impropmtu trip, but the last three years of non-stop work have more than made up for the sudden loss of funds for those six months.”

Is he more or less involved than he was before he left?

This time Hyeonju leans back in his chair, head tilted back as he answers, as if bored by the question.

“I wouldn’t be much of an informant or backer if I sat on my ass, now would I? I still gather information through my network. There’s ways to pass on those kinds of things without being caught, you know. And the money? I’m a Heart. No one thinks twice about someone like me ’squirreling’ away money. It’s easy to to pass on funds when the entire continent thinks your faction is full of nothing but theives and greedy bastards. Though…” He pushes forward and leans against the table, arms crossed, a furrow between his brows.

“I haven’t been able to communicate much lately with the leaders. Not after what happened in Club three years ago. Not after Mallick came out as a former resistance leader. In fact, unless it’s one of my regualr informants who doesn’t raise any red flags, I don’t see much of anyone from the resistance. It’s almost like I’m communicating with ghosts…”

Did he apprise Idris of his involvement with the resistance?

Worried, contemplative expression twists into one of suspicion and…protectiveness, perhaps? Hyeonju answers, but his flash of fangs is almost threatening. His eyes glint with something dangerous.

“How do you know about Idris? I suppose it doesn’t matter if you won’t be able to speak of it later.

“Yes, I told him. I told him of everything I’ve been up to these nearly 50 years since I last saw him. I told him things I never would have told him when we first met. I told him of my life. What is spoken to Idris will never leave that Fae’s lips. I trust him. So I told him.”

Hyeonju leaves it at that, refusing to answer any more questions about the Fae.

How does he see his position changing or evolving in the future?

The hybrid, wound up tight from the previous question, relaxes just a bit. His eyes take on a curious look.

“Changing? Evolving? What could I offer that I haven’t already? I certainly won’t offer my life. I joined this cause so I could keep it, thank you. The only way I could see any type of ‘change’ or ‘evolution’,” he mocks, “is if they decided to appoint me as a leader. And I assure you I have no interest in having so many lives under my care. It takes all my effort to look out for myself. I leave that work to those like Mallick and Fallon.”

Do any of his personal goals relate to the resistance itself or the movement?

Ah, this is a tried and true question Hyeonju has no problem answering. He speaks without hesitation.

“The movement. The resistance is simply a tool to get what I want. Isn’t that what it is for everyone else? If I put my goals into an entity of such impermanence, I would lose sight of my goals the moment the resistance fell apart. It’s a fool’s belief to think your goals are what make up the resistance. It’s the unspoken agreement between us all to work together to achieve our individual goals.

“What are my goals? The same as always. Freedom. Not the kind that requires you to run away to attain it. The kind that lets me rip out the throats of those who would dare strip it from me in the first place.”

With that, the interview concludes. Hyeonju holds out a hand so suddenly it startles the interviewer.

“A horribly invasive chat that was. Let’s never do it again shall we?”

The interviewer nods quickly, not liking the look in the hybrid’s eye. They make a beeline for the exit. A manabeast appears before the interviewer suddenly, sending them sprawling across the floor. The scramble back, trying to get away from the large, vicious beast. Behind them, claws sink into their neck, drawing blood. They can feel it running down their back, soaking their shirt. Hyeonju’s voice murmurs pleasantly in their ear even as the manabeast growls only a few feet away.

“Did I not say earlier that I wouldn’t allow you to speak of any of this? Letting you live is too much of a gamble. I apologize, but I’ll make it quick.”

Chills go up and down the interviewer’s spine, their heart beating in double time. A deep chuckle rumbles in their ear.

“What a shame, sending a human into a fox’s den.”

[spaceskam]

ao3

Alex knew he picked a good choice of best friend when Kyle's response to Alex being dumped was to haul him into the car and start the 11 hour drive to Las Vegas.

The whole drive was spent full of Kyle distracting him and hyping him up, stopping by a daiquiri shop on the way there and getting him the largest size. It was a little weird, but Alex found that he was endlessly grateful. He needed this.

"You were too hot for him anyway," Kyle said a few hours in, "You deserve someone who could at least be a model, but not more of a model than you, you feel me?"

"Yeah,* Alex laughed, smiling at him as he sipped his drink, "I feel you."

"But it's all good. We're going to find you a hot piece of ass to rail," Kyle declared, "Or get railed by, I don't judge."

"Jesus Christ, Kyle," Alex laughed, but he just flashed that charming smile and went on with driving.

When they arrived in Vegas, the city was already lit up for the night and Kyle got a hotel room that they didn't stay in for long. He immediately led the way to a casino and paid Alex's way. Whenever Alex tried to refuse the handouts, Kyle insisted and said it was his idea so he would pay.

They spent the next few hours getting drunk and winning little sums of money. $20 here, $5 there, nothing fancy. But Alex was having more fun with Kyle than he had in his entire relationship, so it was easy to get lost in it.

"Alex," Kyle called, catching him by the belt loop and tugging him closer, "Blow on these for good luck."

Alex felt his face flush and a few sets of eyes were on them, but he blew on the set of dice Kyle shoved in his face nonetheless. He watched him throw them onto the table afterwards and a few separate things happened that he didn't quite understand having never been the gambling type. People cheered, though, and Kyle kissed the side of his face without hesitation.

"Told you!" Kyle exclaimed, "Good luck charm. What's his face didn't even know what he had."

Alex felt his face get even hotter and soaked up the praise without question.

Kyle kept him close as they eventually left the casino when they had a solid amount of winnings, taking their tipsy asses to a drag bar a few blocks away. They were let in surprisingly easy for not being dressed up in the slightest. They drank more, talking closer over the loud music and getting absolutely lost in each other's company. Alex felt like the luckiest man in the entire universe.

A few times, Kyle tried to introduce him to men he thought he might be interested in, but Alex always found Kyle significantly more interesting. He didn't mind going to bed alone if it meant just having Kyle. He eventually got that and stopped sending other guys his way, instead accepting drinks from interested parties and sharing them with each other.

"Men suck. All of them. Except maybe you," Alex said confidently, drunk enough to speak his mind but not enough to mess with his balance (for the most part) as they walked down the lively street. Kyle seemed to be on the same level because he smiled, squeezing Alex's hip since he had a grip on him so he wouldn't lose him as they headed towards the hotel. "God, I wish you were gay."

Kyle laughed loudly, "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!" Alex exclaimed, "You're, like, the only man I've met who understood what, like, growth is."

"What can I say? Therapy is a recommendation in my hospital," Kyle said. Alex snorted. "But glad I could be a good example."

"Yeah," Alex sighed, "You're my favorite person."

"Good," Kyle said, kissing the side of his head for what felt like the billionth time that night, "'Cause you're mine."

They were a block away from the hotel when they came across a 24-hour chapel. Kyle slowed as they neared it and came to a complete stop as he stared at it.

"You wanna get married?" Kyle asked. Alex blinked twice and looked at him.

"Seriously?" Alex said. His mind instantly started trying to be rational. Was he drunk? Was Kyle? What exactly did him asking that mean? Was it a joke? Would it be platonic? Would it be crazy to say yes even if it was?

"Yeah, why not?" Kyle said, looking at him with a fairly reckless smile. It reminded him of young Kyle who had talked him into sneaking into an abandoned house or had spontaneously learned how to do a backflip because he wanted to. He'd gotten a little more responsible since then, but it was nice to see. "Alex Manes deserves to give a nice fuck you to society and I'd love to do the honors of being that fuck you."

And, before Alex could even convince himself to ask questions, he nodded.

"Okay, sure."

Both drunk of hours of alcohol and each other, they found themselves standing in front of a tacky alter with a bouquet of faux flowers in Alex’s hand. They only partially listened to the guy who got his ordination credentials online, instead making teasing faces at each other. Alex felt like he was going to burst out of his skin, feeling a little confused and a little overwhelmed and a lot eager to understand what this meant. Would they frame their marriage license to put his dad’s grave and drink champagne in front of him? Would they use this for shared financial benefits? The healthcare between an Air Force officer and a doctor would be pretty sweet.

Except when the officiant said that they could kiss, Alex didn’t actually expect to Kyle to go for it. Or maybe he did because Kyle seemed to go in for a cheek kiss and Alex turned his head to meet his lips and Kyle just pulled him closer. And then Alex didn’t actually remember the kiss ending. 

It was like he blinked and they were back at the hotel, pressed into the corner of the elevator as they shared the alcohol still on their tongues. Then they were in the hotel room, two queen sized beds with a single nightstand between them and Kyle led them towards the one closest to the door to share.

It only stopped when Alex had to take his prosthetic off and, even then, Kyle pressed kisses across his shoulders and up his neck and certifiably destroying Alex’s ability to overthink anything. All he could think about was Kyle and how he wanted to touch him and how they had fucking signed a marriage certificate.

After the prosthetic was off, Kyle grabbed his jaw and sealed them in another kiss, pulling him to lay back on the bed. He seemed like he knew what he was doing and that was equally as confusing as the rest of the things that were happening that night, so he stopped questioning it. He welcomed Kyle’s skin and his touch and his kisses and he only had to help him out with an angle here and there.

It wasn’t until he woke up the next morning plastered into Kyle’s side, naked and warm and finally more sober, that he realized he didn’t understand. More than just that, he was outright confused about everything that had happened. Kyle, his straight friend, had just casually married him and slept with him after he got dumped. Did he do it because he felt bad for him? Did he do it because he was drunk? Did he even remember it?

Alex sat up and looked at him. He was sound asleep still, eyes closed and chest rising and falling with each breath. Tiny bruises that Alex had accidentally put on him were partially hidden under his facial hair. He was gorgeous. And so, so, so not into him like that.

Alex quickly got his prosthetic on and pulled on his clothes before he went into the bathroom, avoiding his reflection as he splashed water on his face. He didn’t want to look at himself, didn’t want to face the fact that he felt like absolutely garbage for what he’d done. The whole “marriage” was blurry, but Alex probably guilted him into it somehow. He didn’t remember, though, and that made it worse.

But, honestly, whatever happened was bad. Kyle was his best friend, the main person he could rely on, his safe space. And he fucked it all up by letting it go too far. He was going to lose his best friend because he couldn’t be responsible.

“Alex?” Kyle’s voice called. Alex’s whole body ached in response, a flood of guilt and shame and desire all hitting him at once. 

Kyle was his friend and he ruined it and, yet, he wanted to ruin it more. With him, he had fun and felt wanted and safe. No matter how stupid they were being, Alex never felt like the rug was being pulled out from beneath him. He was just safe. He wanted more of that.

“Hey, you okay in there?” Kyle asked, knocking gently. Alex squeezed his eyes closed. “You hungover? I can go get you something to drink. You like red Gatorade, right?”

Alex huffed a laugh and caved, swinging the door of the bathroom open. Kyle stood on the other side in all his naked glory and, honestly, it was a goddamn trap. It had to be. No one just looked like that casually.

“What happened last night?” Alex asked. Kyle stared at him, blinking a few times in confusion before his eyes widened slightly.

“You were that drunk?” he asked. Alex shook his head.

“No, I remember, I just... don’t,” Alex said, scraping his hands over his face, “I don’t get it. I don’t understand. Why did any of that happen? Did I make you feel like you had to or something?”

“You think I would marry you because I felt like I had to?” Kyle asked, a disbelieving tone in his voice. Alex didn't answer. "Look, it was a stupid ceremony and, and I don't think the license is even notarized officially or filed or whatever, so we can just rip it up and pretend it didn't happen if you want."

"Okay, so we pretend that didn't happen," Alex said loosely, his voice tightening as he got a little more upset and be gestured to the bed they'd shared, "How do we pretend that didn't happen?"

Kyle looked away from him for a second, falling so quiet they could hear the footsteps from the people in the room above them. Alex didn't know what to do.

"You want to forget that happened?" Kyle asked cautiously.

Alex huffed a laugh, “You don’t?”

Kyle was quiet for a long time, so long that Alex was beginning to feel sick. He felt like he drastically misunderstood something or maybe Kyle just was incredible at confusing him. Alex liked kissing him and, sure, the thought had crossed his mind more than once that Kyle would be the perfect boyfriend. Kyle was nice and thoughtful and cared about him. But he never in a million years thought Kyle might’ve thought about it too.

“Yeah, if you want to, sure. We forget it happened,” Kyle said, walking back towards the heart of the room to search for his clothes. Alex’s eyebrows were pulled together as he cautiously followed.

“Kyle, what the fuck is going on?” he asked. Kyle seemed to put an ample amount of attention into buttoning his jeans. “Don’t you want to forget it? I mean, I’d figure you’d want to forget sleeping with a guy.”

Kyle dropped his shirt and turned to face him.

“You must think real highly of yourself if you think I just decided to be bisexual because I wanted to make you feel better,” Kyle stated blatantly, “And you must think really highly of me if you think I was that good on my first try.”

“Wait,” Alex said, holding a hand up as he tried to process his words, “Wait, you...”

“I’m bi? Yes. And was it stupid to hook up with you knowing you just got out of a relationship? Also yes, but I’m not known to make good decisions when it comes to my romantic or sexual relationships, so,” Kyle said, throwing his arms out and letting them fall to his side pathetically.

Alex thought back through the last few months, trying to think back to any of the signs of Kyle realizing that about himself. He couldn’t remember when Kyle ever started acting differently. He was always just Kyle.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Alex asked. Kyle took a long, deep breath.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders, “Probably because I knew if I did, I’d have a lot less things keeping me from trying to marry you on a whim in the middle of Las Vegas.”

“Okay,” Alex said, slowly sitting down on the bed. A few seconds passed before Kyle sat beside him, sighing. Alex eventually looked at him after he processed his words. “You didn’t have to tell me if you weren’t ready. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I’m in love with you, Alex,” Kyle said, so openly that Alex’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head, “I have been for a long time and I’m tired of hiding it. Especially after last night. And if you’re not into me like that, okay, fine, I can take it. I-I need a little space, but we’re friends first and I can learn to stop loving you like that. But I need you to tell me because if you don’t, I’m going to sit and wait for the rest of my life.”

“You know, I didn’t expect this whenever you suggested we drive to Vegas,” Alex said, mind swimming with a million thoughts at Kyle’s confession. Kyle huffed a small laugh, but he didn’t try to add anything.

They sat there for a long time, Kyle letting him think over what he said. It was strange to think that, while Alex was dating idiots who didn’t treat him right, Kyle was just there and waiting for him to notice. It made a mess of the last year, a slew of overthinking every interaction. Was Kyle being nice because he was Kyle, or because he wanted to sleep with him? Or was it just because he loved him? Genuinely, truly loved him and didn’t make him feel like that was a bad thing? Was that a thing someone could do?

“Do you really love me?” Alex clarified after awhile. Kyle gently nudged his knee into Alex’s.

“Trust me, I wouldn’t have said that if I hadn’t thought about it every day for months,” he promised, “I love you and I want what’s best for you, whatever that means. So if you want me to fuck off, I will. If you want me to stay, then I will. Ball’s in your court.”

Alex took a deep breath and looked at him seriously. His handsome features, his honest eyes, the little hickies hidden in his facial hair. Alex wouldn’t mind looking at him forever, especially when that wasn’t all he had to offer.

“Can we do something in the middle?” Alex asked. Kyle waited. “Can we spend this weekend in Vegas being stupid and reckless, but when we got back to Roswell, give me some time to actually get over my last relationship. And then we start from square one? I don’t want you to be a rebound.”

“You don’t want me to be a rebound, but you wanna sleep with me again first?” Kyle clarified. Alex blinked innocently and gave a short nod in response. Kyle just laughed, moving forward back into his space and kissing him again.

Alex wasn’t sure if it was the sobriety, the love confession, or just the lack of confusion in general, but this kiss seemed to transcend all the previous ones. He leaned into it more, letting Kyle just love him openly and honestly.

And he liked that feeling.

[youreverycolor]

An Unlikely Love: Fight For It, Pt. 2 (Rafael Barba x Anna Stein)

AN: Prompt #43 from 200 Prompts from @drink-it-write-it (“Do you believe in soulmates?” – “No.” – “Oh, well, that’s a shame, because I’m it. I’m your soulmate.”)

The conclusion of Fight For It. I hope you guys enjoy. Comments and reblogs are always appreciated. :)

Special thanks to @madpanda75, @thatesqcrush, and @misssirenlove for love, support, idea-bouncing, and generally being wonderful women.

Tagging: @danahart1 @nikkijmorgan @ele-esposito @dianilaws @sunnyfortomorrow @mommakat32 @lucifersadvisor @gibbs274 @oliviamariathegirl @evee87 @tropes-and-tales @garturbo @delia26 @neely1177 @jennisdirtyimagines @lostintech0011001 @letty-o @lucifersadvisor @sunnyfortomorrow @literallyprentissstwin @gibbs274 @dianilaws

Song: "Ours” by Taylor Swift

~*~*~*~

There was nearly a decade between Amanda Rollins and Anna Stein, but they could easily be mistaken for sisters, only a year or two apart. Of all the squad members, Anna was closest with Olivia, and so she might have asked if the lieutenant could use some time away from work, but she thought better of it. Olivia was Rafael’s best friend, after all, and he would probably want to talk to her over the course of the week. However, since the party he had thrown to celebrate Anna’s first semester grades, Amanda and Anna had also formed a fast friendship. Amanda was a lot of fun and up for anything without needing an explanation, as Liv might have asked for. As it turned out, she also had a copious amount of vacation time saved up. So, she bribed Carisi into taking Jesse for the week—with the use of her sitter for the daytime—and told Olivia a slight fib about a “family emergency back home.” By Tuesday night, she and Anna were on a plane headed to Tennessee.

Originally, Anna had suggested Vegas, but Amanda—a recovering gambling addict—quickly countered with Nashville. Anna had never been there, but Amanda said she would love it: all the fun of Vegas bars without the price tag, and the added bonus of hot cowboys. Amanda knew Nashville like the back of her hand; she had graduated from Middle Tennessee State University. The college was only about thirty miles from downtown Nashville, and Amanda and her friends frequently went into the city on weekends. So she knew exactly where to go and what to do, and Anna was more than happy to let her lead the way.

Although in some ways, Amanda had become a hardened New Yorker, she quickly reverted to her roots after only a day in Tennessee. She took Anna along for the ride, converting the native Californian to a Southern belle. During the days, they visited the Parthenon, Music Row, and the Country Music Hall of Fame. They took walks along the riverfront and even went to the Grand Ole Opry. Amanda had done most of these things already, but she was content to do them again with her friend, who clearly needed the distraction.

At night, they teased their blonde hair (Amanda joked that “the higher the hair, the closer to God”) and wore obscenely short denim skirts and cowboy boots while drinking on Honky Tonk Row. At some point, they found themselves in a karaoke bar, and Anna shocked the hell out of Amanda by singing the mysterious, little-known third verse of Garth Brooks’ “Friends in Low Places.” They talked about their families and how much they missed them; Amanda’s mother and sister had moved back to Atlanta and she rarely got to see them, while all of Anna’s family still lived in Los Angeles, where she also had lived until four years ago. But all the while, Anna did not bring up Rafael once, and Amanda didn’t ask about him.

But by dinner on Monday, Amanda’s curiosity got the better of her. They were sitting at a bar nursing vodka tonics and eating the best burgers Anna had ever had, when Amanda asked, “So, since we’re scheduled to fly out tomorrow morning, you gonna tell me why we came?”

“Sorry?”

“Well, as much fun as this trip has been—”

“So much fun!” Anna said. “It’s honestly been the best girls’ trip I’ve ever taken.”

Amanda smiled. “I’m glad you had fun, but I have to ask…”

Anna set her burger down in favor of a sip of her drink. “I don’t want to make it weird for you when you have to deal with him at work,” she said. “It really wasn’t that big of a deal anyway.”

“Okay, first off,” Amanda began, “unless you’re telling me about whatever weird kinks Barba has in the sack, nothing you could say would make me feel weird around him. And second, it must have been a pretty big deal for you to want to get out of the damn state for a week.”

“Maybe I just wanted to do something fun over spring break with a friend,” Anna replied, avoiding eye contact.

Amanda raised an eyebrow. “You know I’m a detective, right?”

Anna laughed. “You and, like, half my other friends.” She put her face in her hands and then turned on her bar stool toward Amanda and told her the whole story, starting with Rafael’s Spanish-laced tirade when he arrived home to the moment he stormed back out. Amanda listened quietly the entire time, the same as she did when investigating a case. Her face betrayed nothing—no doubt a skill she learned in her gambling days.

When Anna finally finished, Amanda took a deep breath. “You know, I can’t say any of this surprises me.”

Anna raised her eyebrows. “What?”

Amanda downed the last of her vodka. “Well, let me start by saying that you did the right thing getting out of there. A lot of women would’ve hung around waiting for him to get home. Took a lot of guts to do what you did.”

“What, run away?”

“You planning to go back?”

“Of course,” Anna said, a little taken aback.

“Then you didn’t run away. You decided that for the good of your relationship, you needed to take some time for yourself. No shame in that.”

Anna took a moment to process this. “It really was a stupid fight,” she finally said.

“Yeah,” Amanda agreed. “But, you know, all couples fight. At least you’re fighting about stupid things than about, I don’t know, whatever the hell my old partner, Nick, and his wife used to fight about.”

“I guess,” Anna said.

Amanda put her hand on top of Anna’s. “Anna, look at me.” Anna looked up, pushing a wisp of her hair away from her eyes. “You’ve gotta understand, Barba has been alone for a long time. And take it from me, when you’re alone that long, you get used to thinking you’re right all the time because there’s no one telling you otherwise.”

“I get that, but maybe we’re just too different. Maybe he’s been alone too long. Maybe I don’t take things seriously enough. Maybe it’s just too—”  

Amanda held up her hands. “Look, I get it. He’s a stubborn pain in the ass. Hell, he’s hard to work with, so I can’t imagine living with him. You’ve got a pretty big age gap, and you’re both really busy with work and school. So I would completely understand if you decided you weren’t right for each other.” Then she softened her voice. “But I told you once before, I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. And when I asked if you were planning to go back, you looked at me like I was nuts for even asking that question. That says something to me.”

Suddenly, the bartender came over with two shots of whiskey. “From the gentlemen down that way,” he said, gesturing to two young, extremely handsome men sitting at the end of the bar.

Anna and Amanda looked at the men, then at each other. “You wanna go talk to ‘em?” Amanda asked, a sly grin on her face.

Anna hesitated for a second, looked at the men again, and then took out her phone. “Give me a second.” A minute later, she put it away and grabbed one of the shot glasses. “Okay. Ready.”

They clinked their glasses, tapped them on the bar, and downed the shots. “Sisters, right?” Amanda asked, referring to their cover story.

Anna hopped off her barstool and the two of them linked arms. “Sisters.”

***

Rafael was miserable.

Anna had only texted him twice a day since she’d landed in Nashville the previous Tuesday: once in the morning, and once at night. It was largely the same message every time: good morning or goodnight, and that she hoped he had a good day. He appreciated that, despite her anger, she at least wanted him to know that she was safe. And he wanted to give her the space she had clearly demanded, so he didn’t message more than that. He wasn’t a jealous man who needed to know what his girlfriend was doing every minute of the day, after all. Anna had gone on a handful of trips with her friends over the course of their relationship. That wasn’t what bothered him. What bothered him was that this time, she did it to get away from him rather than to get away with other people. That made all the difference. He trusted Anna implicitly. But every night, after he’d finally dragged himself home to bed, his brain went to a dark place where she met some stranger in Nashville, some ridiculous cowboy, who made her realize that he wasn’t worth the effort.

And because of what? A damn pen.

The day after she left, he threw them all out.

He felt like a bachelor again, but this time it wasn’t self-imposed. Nevertheless, he had reverted to his bachelor ways, working as much as he could until the wee hours of the morning. On Thursday and Friday mornings, Carmen had found him asleep on his office couch in the same clothes he’d worn the previous day. He worked right through the weekend, up until Sunday night. The good news was that he actually seemed to have caught up on a good deal of his backlogged work. The bad news was that he couldn’t even enjoy the spoils because he had no one to enjoy them with.

He had lunch with Olivia a couple of times and didn’t mention what was going on. She noticed something was off, but he deflected, saying he just hadn’t slept well that week. It wasn’t a lie.

Since he had gotten caught up with work that week, he decided to take Monday off. He cleaned out his closet, donating a bunch of clothes he hadn’t worn in a year. Anna had said more than once that she wanted to get a rain shower head, so he went out and bought one and installed it. Carisi came over with Jessie and a pizza that evening. Rafael had never been comfortable around children, but he had to admit that watching Carisi play with Jesse made him want to participate. So he and the detective and Amanda’s daughter colored and ate pizza—and for a minute, he forgot about being alone. Then, he got the nightly text from Anna, and was reminded all over again that she wasn’t going to be next to him in bed.

By Tuesday, he was climbing the walls. Work was the only thing he knew would take his mind off of the long wait until she arrived back home, so he threw himself into it that day. He had to give his phone to Carmen so that he wouldn’t be tempted to check it every ten seconds. She gave him a weird look but took it anyway. When three o’clock hit, he gathered his things to head home. Anna’s flight was due in at four, and he wanted to be there when she got home so that he could tell her what he’d failed to tell her before she left.

***

The light in the bedroom was on when he got home. For a split second, he was terrified—was there an intruder? And would his briefcase be enough to knock said intruder unconscious? But then he noticed the suitcase against the wall adjacent to the living room.

His heart raced. She must have gotten back early.

He found her in the master bathroom putting her toiletries away. She was wearing old, beat-up jeans and a t-shirt, and her hair was in a messy ponytail, but to Rafael, she had never looked more beautiful. He stood watching her for just a second, breathless. He worried if he said anything that it wouldn’t come out right. The last conversation they had turned out terribly.

But as soon as she turned her blue eyes up and locked onto the green of his, words were the last thing on either of their minds.

She flew at him, leaping into his arms and knocking him backwards onto the bed. She kissed him everywhere; on his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, and, finally, finally, his mouth. He kissed her so deeply that he thought he might actually be able to drink her. She tasted like mint and smelled like ripe peaches. She had come back to him in a flood of living memories. She had come back to him, period.

He finally pulled back to look her in the eyes again, his own wet with tears. “Te amo,” he said. “Te amo, mi corazón.” He repeated it like a prayer, so many times that he worried it lost meaning, but to Anna, nothing ever sounded better.

Rafael made love to Anna for the next two hours, and every time he moaned her name, “I love you” wasn’t far behind.

After they were both finally spent, they lay under a throw blanket on the bedroom carpet; at some point in their lovemaking, Anna actually rolled off the bed and they just continued there, laughing and kissing all at once. She told Rafael about her trip and all the things she and Amanda had seen and done. He hung on every word. But there was one more story she had to tell, and she hoped that when he heard it, he would understand why she reacted the way she did when he arrived home.

“So,” she said, “I don’t think I mentioned, we had a cover story on this trip that we were sisters. We didn’t use our own names with anyone we met the entire time. It was like being undercover. So last night—”

He laughed. “Okay, I have to know. What was your UC name?”

“I was Ariel and Amanda was Aurora.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “You seriously used Disney princess names?”

“Well, if you’re gonna go UC, no better cover than a mermaid and a narcoleptic princess, right?”

“Does that mean I get to be Eric?” When she gaped at him, he said, “We’ve been together for over a year. I think you underestimate how much Disney trivia I’ve picked up in that time.”

She drew in a deep breath and focused her eyes on his. “So, as I was saying, last night, we were having dinner and two really hot cowboys sent us shots of whiskey.”

He sat up slightly, alarmed. “Okay, why are you telling me—”

“Because you need to hear this,” she said, pushing him back down and propping herself up on her elbow. “Amanda wanted to go talk to them. And we ended up having a really good conversation. It was a lot of fun.” He looked stricken, and she softened her expression. “Raf, you know nothing happened, right?”

“Of course I know that,” he said, although he was glad for the confirmation. “I just—it’s not that I don’t want you to go on trips with your friends. But this time…I guess I wish I could have been there with you.”

She smiled and kissed his shoulder. “You were, Raf. That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“Right before we went to talk to them? That was when I texted you goodnight. Because I wanted to make sure I said goodnight before you went to bed—whenever the hell that was this week. I didn’t want to do it late and have you wonder if I’d forgotten you.”

He felt tears welling in his eyes again. “Anna, I never would have thought that.”

“Even still. You were on my mind every night and every morning. I wasn’t just texting you to let you know I was safe. I wanted you to know that no matter what happens, no matter where I am or how things are between us, I’m always thinking of you. And,” she added, “I’ll always come home to you.”

He sat up and wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck, into her hair, and brought his lips to hers. When he pulled back, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

She pressed her forehead to his. “I’m sorry, too.” Then, she grabbed his watch from the nightstand above them. “I know it’s not our usual date night, but I could sure as hell use dinner and a movie right now. How about you?”

He smiled at her and ran a hand along her hip, memorizing the curves. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll even let you pick the movie.”

***

Anna wiped away her tears, which had been flowing for the last twenty minutes. After they’d eaten, she and Rafael had settled in to watch her favorite movie, What Dreams May Come. The plot was simple: the two main characters, Chris and Annie, lose their children in a horrible car accident. Annie has a mental breakdown and is institutionalized until she and Chris manage to rebuild their lives. But four years later, Chris also dies. His afterlife is beautiful, and he is reunited with his children. But when Annie commits suicide and is sent to hell, Chris journeys there to save her.

Even though Anna had seen it a thousand times, watching the two characters reunited at the end of the movie never failed to turn her into a weeping mess. She didn’t even try to hide it. “God,” she said, “That scene where they’re in Hell and he’s about to join her there and—Raf? Are you okay?”

Unlike Anna, Rafael preferred people think he was born without tear ducts. But there was no mistaking the sound of his sniffling next to her. “I’m fine,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady.

She leaned over and turned the end table light on. As her eyes adjusted, she caught him wiping his cheek with his shirt sleeve. “You’re crying!”

“I am not—”

“Yes, you are.” She handed him a Kleenex from the box she’d judiciously placed next to her before the movie started. He took it and blew his nose. “I warned you it was a gut-punch.”

“When you said it was a movie about soulmates, I think I expected, well, the usual tropes. I wasn’t prepared for something that seemed…realistic.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Almost the entire movie was set in heaven, and this is the one you’re calling realistic?”

“That’s not what I mean. Usually, movies make it seem like soulmates are perfect together and never fight and read each other’s minds. But come on, who gets that?”

She laughed. “People in movies.”

“Exactly,” he said. “People whose lives are literally scripted. But I don’t think our lives are predestined. For instance, I don’t think whatever higher power there is intended for you to be assaulted so that I could meet you.”

She cast her eyes downward. “Well, I’m glad to know that, because if that were the case, I’d think God was a huge asshole.”

He shifted on the couch to face her. “You want to know what part of the movie it was that got me?”

“Of course.”

He took a deep breath. “It was when they finally explained what their double-D anniversary was.” In the movie, Chris and Annie had a special anniversary; it commemorated the day they decided not to divorce after their children died and Annie had her breakdown.

“Oh, I know. When he told her not to give up—”

“No, it wasn’t that.” He cleared his throat. “When I first heard them described as soulmates, I was internally rolling my eyes. But then, we saw them suffering in two completely different ways. He pushed the pain away, and she collapsed under it.”

“Life’s like that,” she replied. “People react differently to things.”

“Yeah. But that’s what got me. They weren’t on the same wavelength at all. They didn’t just push through everything together like it was easy. They had to make an active decision to do it. When they chose to stay together, even after the gargantuan amount of suffering they went through…”

She pushed her hair over one of her shoulders and tilted her head. “So you do believe in soulmates now?”

“You know,” he said, “I don’t think it’s out of the realm of possibility. But like I said, I think soulmates aren’t people who are perfect together.” He took her hand. “I think they’re two people who aren’t perfect together—maybe even two people don’t even make sense together—but who make the choice every day to come back to each other. They fight, sometimes blow up, maybe don’t even speak to each other for a week, but they actively choose each other every day.”

She moved closer to him, tucking her legs underneath herself. “That sounds…very plausible.”

“Plausible,” he repeated with a chuckle. “In what world am I the romantic in this relationship?”

She grinned. “We can share the title.”

“I was thinking about the fight we had,” he said, pivoting so fast that Anna was worried he was shutting down on her again.

“Okay?”

“It was a nothing fight, but it turned into this big blow-up,” he continued. “A lot of couples would have let it get into their heads and make it into something about the relationship itself.”

She picked off a piece of lint from his shirt and smoothed the fabric over his shoulder. “Well, we’re not other couples.”

 He nodded. “And I know how people look at us when we’re out together. They see you, this beautiful, young, vibrant woman, and then they see me—”

“A handsome, distinguished, slightly silver fox?” she offered, gently touching his hair, the silver in it just beginning to show.

He smiled and put his hand on her cheek. The softness of her skin was like her generous heart: it never failed to amaze him. “The point is, despite what people think or say, or when life makes love hard, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that we work at this, even through the hardest days, because we want to. We choose each other, every day—even if we need to go to other states to do it.” He winked at her.

She lifted his hand from her cheek and kissed his palm, her heart beating so hard it might have jumped out of her chest. “Are you saying…”

He didn’t complete her thought, but he didn’t have to. She knew the answer when he gave her that half-smile she loved so much. It made him look like a man much younger than his years, almost timid, a little mischievous. “I know, I just destroyed my grumpy, cynical persona. Don’t tell the squad; I have a reputation to keep up.”

For a minute, he was afraid that she would think he was silly or—worse—being disingenuous. But then he caught her eyes with his, and they were sparkling. She crawled from her spot on the couch into his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You know, in the movies, this would be when the boy asks the girl to marry him,” she laughed.

He pulled her to him, so that their lips almost touched. “Well, we’re not other couples,” he said, just before he closed the gap between them.

***

Two weeks later, Anna had fallen asleep on the couch hours ago while she was reading and he was reviewing case files. He couldn’t remember a time when she hadn’t fallen asleep when she read on the couch. She would lay with her legs stretched across his lap and he would run his hands along her calves, sometimes massaging them if she’d had a particularly hard day at the diner. She thought it was for her benefit, but the truth was, he loved doing it. Knowing he could relax her into sleep just with the touch of his hands was an intimacy he loved even more than sex. And so it was that he found himself lifting her legs off of his lap carefully, trying not to wake her. Mercifully, she was a heavy sleeper. It would probably be a struggle to get her into bed later on. For now, he decided to just change into pajamas and do the rest of his work in the home office. But there was something he wanted to do first.

The fight they’d had was a turning point. It had been a result of nothing more than mishandled stress on both of their parts. It hadn’t been anything deeper than that. But it had scared him more than any other argument they had ever had. She had gone away on trips before that, but he hadn’t been lonely. Their apartment still felt like their home because he knew she would be back. But when she’d been away with Amanda that week, he had been afraid she would realize she was happier away from him. So their home had temporarily transformed into just a place to keep his stuff. It didn’t feel comfortable. It didn’t feel warm. It just felt like four walls he slept in. Waking up without her was excruciating, as was knowing he would have to fall asleep without her there. He’d missed her laughter, her smile, the way he could smell her shampoo for hours after she’d left the bed. He’d missed seeing her body wash next to his in the shower.

He had missed her legs on his lap.

He crept into the bedroom and turned on the nightstand light, the dimmest in the room, so as not to wake her from afar. Then he went into the closet and opened one of the drawers. She never went into his closet, saying that she was afraid she would get lost under a pile of ties and vests, never to be seen again. He reached deep within the drawer, toward the back, and found what he was looking for.

Anna had joked that, in the movies, after a boy told a girl she was his soulmate, he would ask her to marry him. Although he had deflected the comment with a kiss, for just a heartbeat, he thought she had somehow tripped, fallen, and landed in his sock drawer. He had managed to compose himself, but now, his overstimulated, paranoid brain needed to make sure she hadn’t actually found what he was holding.

He looked over his shoulder, and then carefully opened the velvet box in his hand. The ring he had bought was still there, the question within it. All he had to do was choose a day to ask.

[kassandra-lorelei]

I know you're on holiday (so, whenever you get back and can get to it), but wondered if you could write a N/CC fic where they get married by accident? Like, maybe after spending the night hanging out together on one of the sheffield family vacations or something. Whatever you decide. Ha ha Just thought it sounded like it could be hysterical and don't remember reading one like it before. Have you? Thanks! Love your stories!

Hey there, Anon! I apologise that this took so long. I have actually written another story like this before (I adore the premise), that’s probably been lost somewhere in my tags, but I felt like writing another one in a similar vein, so here we are. :-) Enjoy!

@missbabcocks1 @holomoriarty

“God, what does a woman have to do to get a drink aroundhere?!”

“You mean you’ve run out of your usual methods?”

She should’ve known it’d be him she was carping off aboutthe lack of a bartender to – the biggest carp of them all. But in the dim lightof the place C.C. hadn’t noticed who she was sitting next to, and quite franklyshe hadn’t cared. Why Nanny Fine had insisted on a long weekend break in Vegasshe’d never know, and why Maxwell had agreed was an even bigger mystery – thekids were too young for anything in the city, so they were practically confinedto the hotel room at night, and somehow that only increased their capacity tobe annoying during the day.

Luckily the whole family going meant that Niles had had togo along as well, so she’d been able to get that one over on him. That was,until he’d reminded her that it was his job to be there, and she’d come alongof her own free will.

Remembering that little titbit of information only made herwant a drink more, which it seemed she was, ironically, about to get from thebutler, as he waved his hand and immediately caught the attention of thebartender.

But, whatever; it was strong, and it came in a glass. Andshe had time to get her own back as the barman poured it.

“At least my methods are legitimate,” she countered. “Idon’t go filling up from Maxwell’s liquor cabinet when I think no one’slooking.”

Niles’ eyebrows raised as he picked up his drink to take asip, “No need – we could wring you out and fill up all the bottles.”

C.C. had been frowning deeper in preparation to retort thathe knew something about filling up the bottles (with water), when the butlersuddenly spoke again.

“Truth be told, after this week so far, I can understandyour need for a little release.”

It caught her off-guard – both the sudden change fromzingers when he could’ve had her on the ropes, and the claim that he understoodhow she was feeling.

Well, maybe not that last one entirely. She at least had herown home to go to, he had to be around the Sheffields all the time. They wereprobably getting on his last nerve as well.

And for some reason, that made C.C. want to share more.

“That’s putting it mildly,” she told him, getting irritablejust thinking about it. “If I have to hear one more time about how the boytried to sneak into the casino with a fake ID, I think I might drown myself inthe pool.”

Niles joined in, “Or about how Mr Sheffield is bored ofhaving to sit around the pool all the time because there’s “nothing going on”during the day.”

The producer groaned and nodded in agreement.

“Unless you want to gamble,” Niles then added bitterly,before taking another sip of his drink.

C.C. could tell what that tone meant. She’d heard it before,when they’d been in Atlanta that time.

Of course, she wasn’t going to make the same mistake she hadthe last time.

She took a gulp of her drink, “They took your wallet again,didn’t they?”

The butler turned a low scowl towards the bar, “They’ve beengiving me an allowance for drinks and the buffet.”

It was funny, but something about that made it hard for C.C.to want to laugh at him. She eventually managed a half-assed one, but it onlyhelped to fuel his next insult when he accused her of getting soft.

Then they were back in familiar territory, and theyrefreshed their drinks to keep on talking and laughing (together and at eachother) well into the evening.

That was, until Niles downed the rest of one last drink, andtossed the last note he had down onto the bar.

“Well, that’s all my money spent for one evening,” hedeclared, slipping out of his seat. “I think I should probably go up.Goodnight, Miss Babcock.”

He turned away, and something struck C.C.. She knew whyshe’d found it hard to laugh at Niles just then – whether it was the alcohol,or the heat, or something else entirely, she didn’t know.

But she felt sorry for him. And they’d been having such agood time without the Sheffields, she didn’t want to call it a night just yet. Theyalways ended up having fun when they were out like this, and just because hedidn’t have money didn’t mean he had to go.

She slipped off her stool after him, “Niles, wait.”

Luckily, the butler turned around. He seemed to wonder whatshe could possibly be wanting to say to him.

C.C. undid her purse, and took out her credit card to showhim with a smile.

“Next ones are on me.”

………………………………………………………

“Oh, God…”

Between the blinding headache, the overall sense of weightedfuzziness going on all over her body, and a dryness in her mouth that could putDeath Valley to shame, C.C. thought that hangovers could kiss her ass.

Shifting a little in the bed but without opening her eyes,she tried to reach up and wipe at her face. But she found it…difficult. Therewas a warm, heavy something pinning it down. And she couldn’t move it.

It felt…like another arm?

She opened her eyes, and even without being able to seeherself, she knew that all the colour had drained from her face.

The other arm (as indeed it was) belonged to Niles, and itwas…holding her naked body against his naked body! Her leg was snugly securedover his hip, and…well, there was certainly now an explanation for why she feltso strangely warm down there…

It was all coming back to her.

The smatterings of laughter echoed down the corridor as theymade their way towards her room – hers was safer, it was further away from the family’sthan Niles’. And they couldn’t keep their hands off each other the whole way.

They barely made it through the door before her dress wasunzipped and pooled at her feet. She kicked it away somewhere and got straightback to business ripping open his shirt.

She’d already decided that night was going to be special,and it was going to be fun…

C.C. tried to swallow, “Oh, God…!”

Her words, as short and quiet as they were, were stillenough to rouse the butler. He shifted, as much as he was able to, and startedto wipe his own face.

“Hm?” he wiped his eyes, blinking them open. And that wasthen he saw C.C. staring back at him. “Oh, God.”

C.C. had a feeling that those words had been said a lot overthe course of the last eight or so hours.

But she didn’t stop to think about it for too long, beforethey both simultaneously sprang apart and flew out of opposite sides of the bed,each trying to grab a sheet to cover themselves.

“We slept together?!” C.C. scrambled to pull her bedsheetaround herself.

Niles had nearly given up trying to cover himself with hisown grabbed sheet – he was busy staring at his hand.

“I’ve got news for you,” he eventually said, apparently inshock. “I think we did a bit more than just that.”

Shakily, he lifted his left hand to show her.

A gold band encircled his ring finger, and C.C. felt herheart leap into her mouth.

They…they couldn’t have gotten…

But it had to be true. When she looked down at her own lefthand, an identical ring glittered in the light coming through the window.

The producer nearly dropped her sheet, “M-Married?!”

Niles could only stare at his ring, “It would appear so…”

It was so. The longer C.C. looked at her own ring, the moreit all came back…

The chapel was small, and ridiculously tacky. But to them,it felt just perfect. Just the two of them, finally about to get hitched afterhaving convinced the registrar that they were sober enough to know what theywere doing.

They might have put on a little bit of a show during theceremony – all beaming smiles and giggles, cuddles and holding hands.

It had clearly been enough, and had probably made theregistrar want to get them the hell out of there as soon as possible…

Niles certainly was a great actor when it came to feelings. C.C.felt that she was better at it when she was sober.

She’d been thinking about him far too much in that light inthe past few years. Her fearing for his life after his heart attack, and therelief at him waking up. Attending his friend’s wedding together, and dancingthe night away as they talked smack about the other guests. Even the kiss inthe Sheffields’ living room, which had sent her back home with a vague smirk onher lips and a more than pleasant shiver creeping up and down her spine.

Her resolve was weakening, and she couldn’t let it. She wasa Babcock, for crying out loud! Her family had never mixed with servants!

Especially not servants who had always been their enemy, andhad hated them for the past twenty years that they’d known each other.

Not that part of her particularly blamed him, though. Sheknew how she was – a moody, selfish, stuck-up rich girl who didn’t know how toappreciate a good thing when she saw it. Of course, that didn’t mean she alwaysdeserved the things that he did, but the self-deprecating side to herpersonality could see where he was coming from.

Of course, to preserve her dignity and retain her pride, shehad to get angry about it.

“I can’t believe this!” she started to snatch her clothes upfrom the floor, hastily trying to slip them back onto whichever body partthey’d been slipped off. “As soon as we get back to New York, we’re going to mylawyer and we’re getting this thing annulled.”

Niles, who had been grabbing his things as well, stopped andlooked at her.

“As…soon as we go back?”

He’d looked so happy at the wedding. His eyes had shone, andthat lopsided grin had never once left his face as she’d stumbled and giggled herway through the pre-set vows the chapel had let them pick out just before.

It was a very different picture now. When he knew what hewas doing, the resentment was back.

“Well, yeah!” she told him, knowing it was the better option.“We can’t stay married!”

There was a deathly silence, and the butler glowered.

“I see,” he said sharply, throwing on his shirt and roughlystraightening it out. He couldn’t button it up. “Of course we can’t. That wouldbe ridiculous.”

Why did he sound so angry? He of all people knew that thiswas the way things had to be! They might’ve thought they’d known what they weredoing (agreeing to get married because screw it, they were there and lookingfor fun, so why not, her brain oh-so helpfully reminded her), but it wasobvious they hadn’t!

“Jeez, what’s got your panties in a knot?” she asked. “Ithought you’d’ve been the first out of the two of us to suggest a get outclause!”

“And why the hell would you think that?!” Niles snapped.

That astounded C.C. to the point where she dropped theclothes she’d still been carrying.

“It’s me, Niles! C.C. Babcock, your archnemesis, remember?!”she gestured to herself. “You don’t want to be attached to that for the rest ofyour life!”

“Who says that I don’t?!”

What was he saying?!

C.C. could feel her pulse and breathing speeding up, but shekept them under control enough to continue the argument, “Now just what thehell is that supposed to mean?!”

Niles threw down his gathered clothes, and stepped towardsher, “It means that I love you, God damn it!”

He dropped his bedsheet in the process, and so did she. Butneither one of them noticed.

The producer stepped backwards, stunned, “Woah, I’m sorry –you what now?!”

Niles glared, “You heard me.”

C.C. let out one single, humourless laugh.

“Heard, but didn’t understand!” she cried.

“What’s there to understand about the phrase “I love you?””Niles shouted. “It can’t be put in any simpler terms than that!”

“Try, because I’m failing to see how you can claim to loveme!” C.C. folded her arms over her chest. “You haven’t acted like it, or even saida word about it, in the last two decades of us knowing each other!”

Niles marched towards her, a stormy look on his face.

“Would you haveaccepted it if I’d just opened up and told you, rather than played those pranksto get your attention?!” he asked. “Would you have even spoken to me if I hadn’tinsulted you first?! Would you have given me a chance if I hadn’t?! And behonest with yourself when you answer that last one.”

She was brutally honest with herself as she thought. Andwhat she found was so sobering, it cured the rest of the hangover she’d beendistracted from.

She would have laughed in his face if he’d told her. Shewouldn’t have spoken to him before, or after, and would’ve expected him to geton with his job, no matter what had been said. She wouldn’t have considered hisfeelings, or what he was like as a person…

But because of their pranks and insults, she’d had to payattention. And when she did…well, that had started off something ratherspecial, if she really thought about it. Far more special than anything she’dever tried to have with Maxwell. With Niles, it wasn’t all just about wit and fun,even though they had those by the bucketload. There was also a sense of quiet camaraderiewhen they weren’t arguing, and they shared more than a few interests.

And he was a good man. Talented, and polite (when he wantedto be), and he cared about people deeply.

She would’ve let go of all that, all of the good things about him, because she was rich, andhe wasn’t.

Struck by the thought, C.C. sank back down onto the bed.

“No. I wouldn’t have given you a chance,” she said, shakingher head sadly. A few tears were starting to mist up her eyes.

“So it’s just as I thought, then,” Niles grumbled irritably.“I’m a servant, and I’m not good enough for you.”

She wanted to yell at him that that was a lie, but she suddenly didn’thave the strength. So instead, when he tried to turn away from her (and possiblyleave the room entirely) she grabbed him by the wrist.

She still had enough energy to speak.

“All my life, my mother told me never to mix with servants. Shetold me all I had to do was find a rich man and bring him home, and then livemy life however it played out after that,” she started to explain. “And theworst part of all that is that I believed her! But…she was wrong. I was wrong. What’sthe point of going after money and power if you already have it? What’s thepoint of looking for someone your parents accept if they don’t make you happy?What’s the point of going out somewhere to look for someone who is wealthy,good looking, and has superficial charm when you already know a kind, witty,genuine man right where you are?”

She looked up at him, holding his gaze when he blinked downat her. Was he shocked? In awe? She didn’t know, but she had to finish what shewas saying, no matter how much pain it was causing in her chest.

“It’s not you who’s not good enough for me, Niles. I’m the onewho’s not good enough for you,” her lip began to wobble, and she started tocry. “I’m sorry I treated you how I did, and I know it’s all too late! But Iwas born a snob! I was raised a snob! And now…now, I’ll die a lonely snob!”

The very words broke her own heart, because she knew how truethey were. Who’d want an old, bad tempered witch like her?

She buried her face in her hands, imagining going throughthe rest of her life alone. Getting up to live only for her work (somewhereelse, there was no way she could work at the mansion after this!), going throughher day not letting her mind wander to what she couldn’t have, and coming home toan empty penthouse. No dinner waiting on the table, already prepared. Nofriendly conversation to while away the hours. Just a frozen microwavable meal,a television, and a bed that she’d later have to warm up by herself.

She was wallowing so deeply in her misery that she didn’t noticeNiles moving to kneel on the floor in front of her. The first she realised ofit was when she felt her hands being taken away from her eyes, and her (watery)sapphire ones met his bright blue pair.

“Not if I have anything to say on the matter,” he saidgently. “You know, it would take the both of us to sign those papers, Babs. AndI’m not planning on putting my name to anything that says you’re not goodenough for me, when I still believe exactly the opposite.”

That caused C.C.’s heart to lift, and she sniffed as sheblinked away some of the tears.

“You…you really mean that?” she asked hopefully.

She didn’t understand how she could still have a chanceafter all this, but Niles was starting to grin at her.

It was that special lopsided grin, too.

“For better or worse,” he told her, bringing a hand up totenderly cup her cheek. “And I’m sorry I insulted you for so long, and that I playedso many childish pranks on you.”

C.C. managed to choke out a small laugh.

“Some of them were funny. Some of the time,” she told him,hesitating only a little before reaching her own hand up to take his. “Sorry Itried to get a divorce as soon as I found out we were married.”

Niles let out a chuckle at that.

“As long as it doesn’t happen again, I think I can forgive,”he told her, stroking her cheek with his thumb, which made C.C. relax into his palm.“Besides, I’d quite like to see about taking you out on our first proper date.”

A proper date. He’d probably do all the little things tomake it special, too – flowers, maybe candlelight and a romantic walk…

It was so much like something out of a storybook, C.C. couldalmost feel her eyes shining.

But for once, she didn’t care. This was the end of the story– the time when dragons and monsters had all been beaten or banished orwhatever, and the prince and the princess got married and lived happily everafter in their castle.

And who cared that her prince wasn’t rich? He made up for itin love, and companionship, and all the witty zingers that they could now teamup and use against other people.

She nodded, “I’d like that very much, Butler Boy.”

They both sat there for a moment, just relishing in thehappiness that was blooming between them, before they both ended up leaning in.

C.C. couldn’t currently remember their first kiss as husbandand wife, but the one they shared then had the same meaning. It was a promiseof love and togetherness, and it came with the added benefit of them both beingsober.

She knew they’d definitely have more like it in the future.

When the need for air eventually took over, she ran one handthrough his hair, ruffling it.

“Breakfast is probably being served by now,” she said. “Maybewe should go down?”

Smirking, her husband raised a cheeky eyebrow, “Hm. Well, ifyou lie back, I can-”

She shoved him playfully in the chest, “Niles!”

But after a moment of playful laughter shared between them, shedid end up lying back.

And before she could suggest that they renewed their hasty,accidental vows somewhere more tasteful, she was lost in a blissful haze.

[rose-of-pollux]

A Family Affair (MFU fic), part 1/4

Title: A Family Affair Rating: PG Chapter summary: A mission to prove the ties of a Las Vegas casino owner to THRUSH is complicated when Napoleon’s parents arrive at the same casino for some recreation--and apparently have a history with the mission’s target. Notes: This is an expansion of a drabble I wrote quite some time ago.  As always, Napoleon being the same as Albert Stroller is Robert’s own headcanon, which I am borrowing here--and why I have Napoleon’s mother’s maiden name as Stroller.

If you prefer reading on FFN, you can read it here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12950926/1/A-Family-Affair If you prefer reading on AO3, you can read it here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14780255/chapters/34184486

                                         Act I: Blood Will Out

There was no doubt that Napoleon was in his element from the moment he and Illya had landed in Las Vegas for their mission. The casinos beckoned with their call, and Napoleon was more than eager to answer—it was lucky that their mission was to investigate a casino whose owner was supposedly allowing THRUSH to use it as a supply and finance depot.

“A fairly straightforward mission, when you think about it,” Napoleon said, eagerly looking around at the green felt tables upon which several games were being played.  “All we have to do is get proof that the owner of the Paradise Hotel and Casino is knowingly allowing THRUSH to use this place, and we can bring him in.”

“And here he is,” Illya said, taking out the photograph that had been in the briefing files.  “Thomas Rex, owner and proprietor.  He’s been in the gambling business here in Las Vegas since the 1920s—of course, gambling was illegal until 1931, but there was quite an underground gambling ring back then.  Needless to say, I’m sure he has made agreements with many a shady character over the decades if it meant lining his pockets with a little extra.”

“He probably doesn’t realize how dangerous THRUSH is,” Napoleon intoned.  “Once he is no longer any use to them, they’ll kill him.”

“If we can convince him of that, then he will hopefully give us all the names of those he’s interacted with,” Illya said. “Then, it will simply be a matter of chasing them down.  Do you think he will talk?”

“It’s been my experience that when money is involved, as well as a lack of understanding about the level of danger, they usually end up talking,” Napoleon mused.  “…Sometimes, more money is required, but I consider that an investment, especially if we can round up some THRUSHies from it.”

“While I understand that, I do hate the thought of giving that opportunistic, greedy fellow money,” Illya frowned.

“Not that he’ll have much chance to enjoy it in prison if we can prove he was complicit.”

“Now that, I can live with,” Illya said. “What do you suggest we do first?”

“Well, if we can somehow bring Rex out into the open, that’ll be good for starters; we could see if you can get one of your handy trackers on him without him realizing it,” Napoleon said.  “He’s bound to have passageways here in case he needs to hide money or make a quick exit; a tracker will help us find exactly where he is.”

“True,” Illya nodded.  “But how do we flush him out?”

“Easy—have someone win so much that it grabs his attention,” Napoleon grinned.  “And I am just the man for that job.”

“You certainly are,” Illya mused.  “The amount of luck you have is truly extraordinary—such as being able to indulge in gambling despite being on duty.”

“…Hey, we want to drag him out here, right?”

“Enjoy yourself, Napoleon,” Illya said, with a smile. “I was only teasing.  You are correct, it is a good way to get him out without making him suspicious.  I will look around and see if anything seems out of the ordinary—and cover you in the process.”

“Thanks,” Napoleon returned.

So, as Napoleon sat down at a poker table, mingling with the other players and the dealer, Illya kept a watchful eye on him, making sure that any THRUSHies weren’t going to try to sneak up on him, assuming he was noticed.

Illya was so absorbed watching that he didn’t even notice when two very familiar people entered the casino—at least, not until they approached him.

“Illya?”

The Russian whirled around, not expecting to see Napoleon’s mother standing beside him in the middle of a mission.

“Mother!” he exclaimed, quietly, addressing her as such by her request (she had long since considered him a member of the family).  “What are you doing here?”

Before answering, she held out her arms to him, and he obliged her with a hug.

“Oh, it’s such an unexpected surprise to see you!” she said.  “Well, it turns out that Leopold and I were talking about how we hadn’t taken a vacation in so long, and so, we decided to visit Las Vegas—we hadn’t been here since the ‘20s!  …It certainly has changed, hasn’t it?”

“…I shall take your word for it, Mother,” Illya said, looking over to make sure Napoleon was doing alright.  He was, thankfully.  “Where’s…?”

“Leopold?  Oh, he’s getting us some drinks; if I’d known you and Napoleon were here, I’d have had us all sit down for a drink together.”

“How did you know--?”

“I can smell his cologne a mile away,” Cora said, with a roll of her eyes.  “If I’ve told him once, I’ve told him a thousand times not to overdo it with that Bay Rum…  And he used to wonder how I knew when he snuck out and back in again?  He never figured out that I literally used my nose.” She turned around towards the poker table.  “Aha, see? There he is.  Oh, and what do you know?  There’s an open spot at the poker game…  I think I’ll go surprise him…”

“Mother, I don’t think that’s a good idea; we’re in the middle of--!”

He stopped himself, not wanting to blow his cover, and just cringed as Cora sat down next to her son. She didn’t draw any attention to herself, thank goodness; she was acting as though she hadn’t seen him.

Napoleon, who had been counting his stack of white poker chips, quickly glanced to the side as she sat down and looked back, resuming his counting.  He then froze as he finally registered what he had just seen, and did a priceless double-take to confirm that it was, indeed, his mother sitting beside him.

“Ahh, I’m done here,” he said to the dealer, and he collected his chips, gave a nod of greeting to his mother, and got up from the table.

Cora shrugged and started playing the game despite Napoleon having left.  Napoleon, in the meantime, sought Illya out and headed to him.

Illya merely greeted him with a “tsk-tsk-tsk.”

“For shame, Napoleon—not wanting to play cards with Mother?”

“You’ve never seen Ma play cards, have you?” Napoleon asked.

“Nyet, but I have seen you play cards, and you are quite the shark.”

“Let me put it this way, Illya…  Do you remember when I told you about who taught me how to play poker?”

“Da; you said it was your grandmother.  She also taught you how to grift.”

“Exactly.  That was my maternal grandmother.”

Illya’s eyes widened, and he glanced at Cora for a moment before glancing back at his partner.

“You don’t mean to tell me that Mother--!?”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Napoleon said.  “You just watch—she’s going to clean out everyone at that table, and if I hadn’t gotten out of there when I had, I would have been collateral damage!”

“The apple does not fall far from the tree, evidently,” Illya mused.  “But I have a difficult time believing that Mother could be a shark!”

“Believe it,” Napoleon’s father said, from behind them.

The duo turned to see Leopold standing there with the drinks; they exchanged greetings, and then Leopold cast a wistful look at his wife.

“The first time I met her was in a speakeasy casino here in Las Vegas, 45 years ago.”

“…What…?” Napoleon asked, staring at his father as though he had just spoken an alien language.  Illya, on the other hand, looked intrigued.  “But… wasn’t there a law against gambling back then?”

“And you think you mother and I didn’t know about the time you took the car for a joyride when you were 15 and without a license?  The ‘20s were quite a time, Boys, and the forbidden fruit often was the most tempting,” Leopold said, as Napoleon went bright red.  

“Bay Rum in the car…” Illya murmured under his breath.

“What?” Napoleon asked.

“Nothing…”

“Anyway,” Leopold said. “That’s how I met Cora—a poker game. …And she cleaned me out, mercilessly.”

Illya was looking at Cora now with a new admiration as she added to a rapidly-growing pile of poker chips.

“I must say, I am quite glad to be a part of this family.”

Napoleon just gave a still-stunned nod.

“But, do tell me,” Illya went on.  “What is this about you and taking the family car on a joyride when you were 14?”

There was a long, awkward pause.

“I’m going to, ah, hit the blackjack table,” Napoleon said, trying to ignore Illya’s quiet snarking.

It was best to focus on the mission, anyway; between him at the blackjack table and his mother at the poker table, they were sure to lure out Rex, as far as he was concerned. That was going to be the easy part; the complicating factor now would be trying to continue with their mission now that his parents were there and would, undoubtedly, want to spend some quality time together with them.

Illya was already finding that a challenge—he had quickly sobered once Napoleon and Cora both continued playing games.  Leopold, in the meantime, still had a drink in each hand.  With a good-natured shrug, he offered the second drink to Illya, who responded with a wan smile.

“That is very kind of you, but I think I shall refrain for the time being,” he said, politely.  “I’m sure Mother will come back for that drink, anyway.”

Leopold blinked, suddenly understanding.

“…You and Napoleon didn’t come here for a pleasure trip,” he realized.  “You two are on duty, aren’t you?”

“Er… yes.  I’m sorry, Father; we did not expect you two here at all, and we must get back to work,” Illya said, apologetically.  “…Exactly how much time were you and Mother planning to spend in the casino?”

“…Er…” Leopold said. “I’m sorry, Illya, but we have reservations in this hotel.”  He gave Illya a sympathetic look as the Russian’s face fell.  “Cora and I, we’ve been wanting to celebrate the anniversary of the day we first met.  And, naturally, we thought that coming back to Las Vegas, where it happened, would be a great way to celebrate.  It was a bit of an impulse decision, and, as a result, finding reservations wasn’t easy; this hotel was one of the last ones with available rooms…”

“It cannot be helped,” Illya conceded.  “You understand, of course, that our concern is that if any of our enemies realize that you are Napoleon’s parents, they will not hesitate to attempt to use the two of you as leverage.”

“I know,” Leopold sighed. “Cora told me all about the time when that Emory Partridge fellow tried to kidnap her; it’s a lucky thing for all of us that he underestimated her ability to defend herself.”

“Very much so,” Illya agreed.

“Rest assured that neither of us have any intentions of allowing ourselves to be used as leverage against you boys.”

“Thank you,” Illya said. “Just try to keep a low profile; with any luck, Napoleon and I can finish the mission quickly.”

“We’ll try to stay out of your way, then,” Leopold promised.

“Right.  And if you happen to see the owner of this casino, see if you can let us know—as discreetly as possible, of course,” Illya requested.

“Of course,” Leopold echoed.  “But how will know the owner?”

“This is him,” Illya said, showing the picture from the mission briefing file.

Leopold stared at the photograph, a look of dawning recognition—and horror—growing on his face.

“…Is everything alright?” Illya asked, knowing all too well that it wasn’t.

“No,” Leopold said, his normally good nature changing rapidly.  “This man… Is his last name Rex?”

“Da, Thomas Rex,” Illya said.  He paused, about to ask the obvious.  “…You know him, don’t you?”

Leopold’s expression changed to a deep frown.

“All too well,” he replied. “Well, Illya, you and Napoleon can cast aside all worries about Cora and I drawing too much attention to ourselves—we’re checking out of this hotel right now.  Excuse me, please.”

Illya stared, stunned, as Leopold handed both drinks to him and made a beeline straight for Cora and the poker table.  Obviously, Leopold and Cora had some very unpleasant history with Rex if Leopold wanted them to leave—and without any guarantee that they’d get reservations elsewhere.

And as Leopold continued to head towards Cora, Illya now headed towards Napoleon, who saw him coming and finished up his hand, collecting his chips as Illya approached; the look of concern didn’t escape him.

“What is it?” Napoleon asked.  “Did you see Rex?”

“Nyet; but something is happening.  Did either of your parents ever mention Rex before—anything at all when you were young?”

Napoleon shook his head and looked over at the poker table.  Leopold was pulling Cora aside, and showing her the photograph that Illya had given him.  Cora noticeably paled; she said something to her husband and nodded, turned back to the poker table, collected her chips, and moved to where she could cash them, with Leopold right by her side.

“Ma and Dad both know Rex,” Napoleon realized.

“And, clearly, the memories are not good ones,” Illya added.

“Clearly…” Napoleon said.   He was torn, wanting to check up on his distraught parents, yet knowing that he couldn’t afford to break his cover.

“They were checked in at this hotel,” Illya went on.   “But now Father wants to leave—without any guarantee that they’ll get reservations elsewhere.  Napoleon, what could it be that got the two of them nervous enough to run?  Even Mother—she is normally as stubborn as they come, but even she seems eager to avoid running into Rex again.”

“You’re right; I’ve never seen Ma this nervous, and that includes the time she was with Partridge,” Napoleon said.  “I wish we could help…”

“I know, but we best not—we can’t have them linked to us when we’ve got THRUSHies around…” Illya trailed off.  “Oh, dear…”

“What?”

“…Rex got smoked out after all.”

Napoleon and Illya could only stare, helpless, as Rex emerged from a back room, making a beeline for Cora and Leopold as they attempted to leave.

“‘Oh dear’ is right,” Napoleon sighed.

[missmafiaempire]

I have created the Empire to give people inspiration and hope.  To let people know that no matter where you come from you can defy all odds and honestly be who you want to be and more.  Before I tell you about my successes in life I have to tell you where I came from.

I want to dedicate my whole business life to my grandmother.  She is known to everyone as "Mum".  She is my rock, my savior and without her I would not be here today.  She may not have given birth to me but she is the only mum I have.

I am Sicilian and the eldest of technically 7 brothers and sisters.  I only grew up with and remain close to 1 sister.

My biological parents were 16 and 18 when I was born. At 3 months of age they broke up resulting in my mother slamming my head against the road to seek revenge on my dad. My parents weren’t normal in the way they wanted to live life. Bless my mother’s parents (my grandparents especially my grandmother) they came to my rescue, offering my mum to live at home with me and to go to school. My mum rejected the offer however left me with them.

That was the last I was to see my mum or dad for the next 4 years. My grandparents had two sons living at home and were beyond broke. My granddad was a 38 retired injured Vietnam War Veteran and my grandmother a stay at home mother and carer. And in May 1984 ended up with a new born to raise as their own.

4 years later my mother appears back with a new child (my sister) who was 6 months and left her on the doorstep in the pouring rain. She walked off again and never came back. My grandparents that day made the decision to give my sister and I the best chances at education and life so that we would never end up in these situations.

My grandparents took all their money they had and borrowed money from family to send us to the local private girl’s college. Immediately I was an outcast as I didn’t have normal parents and I didn’t have money like the other girls.  My own family would outcast my sister and I and would always say it was such a shame that we had a mother like ours and they felt sorry for us as we would end up just like her.

My grandparents never spoke an ill word about my parents no matter how much they were absent or never financially supported us. They would always say they are coming home soon or they were at work. One night I overheard a conversation that my dad was possibly working for the mafia, I was 8. I went to school and told the few friends I had, “I live with my grandparents and my dad is away working for the Mafia.” My friends obviously told their parents who called my grandparents and told them they should invest in a shrink as I was a very bad child. I never had friends after that. At that time, it was unheard of that grandparents raised their grandchildren. My grandparents were extremely conservative. From that day on I was not allowed to discuss my family outside of our home.  I still didn't learn what the Mafia was until I was 16.

School Holidays were spent going over school work. I was an A student all through primary school except I had one dilemma, I could never understand. I could never understand why my parents would never visit me or call me. As I became older I found out why – they were career criminals and had chosen that life over their kids. I thought that if I became a prosecutor I could find them and arrest them so I could ask them why.

By high school I started rebelling. I was suspended and refused to go to school. We were broke, the other girls hated me and I was over being bullied everyday I went to class. This was the era of the start of the internet. I learnt how to create a website in my lunch brakes at school and I created a website publicly shaming the girls that bullied me by calling them prostitues and giving out their contact details. Yes that was me. I was expelled immediately.

My grand scheme was to be expelled so that I could open my business but little did I know I had to be 18. My grandparents took me for interview after interview at other private girl’s schools where I would swear at the admissions clerk. Finally, they allowed me to attend the local state high school. I had no interest in school and I was only there because I had to do it. I would attend roll call and then leave to walk to the local shopping centre so I could look at fashion. I rebelled even WORSE. I was the girl your parents would tell you to stay away from. I was mouthy and I didn’t care what anyone thought. I would do things to upset my grandparents purposely so I could debate them. I would walk out of the house and hang out with the local boys I grew up with on my street so I could race cars every night. We would pull apart engines and race.  I would not come home until after midnight.

End of year 10 I ran away to where my mum and my dad lived. I knew where my mum lived so at 15 I packed a bag and caught the train to where she was. I lived with her and my step dad for 3 weeks. My step dad never knew what my mum did when he wasn’t there. I saw what she did. My dad would come over to her house. The things I heard and the lifestyle I saw they lived made me regret my decision to wanting them in my life. I called my grandparents and begged them to let me back. They did.

Year 2000 nearly 16 and a year 10 certificate, I was ready to start my life in the big world. My grandparents still would not allow me to leave school however made a deal with me. It was a Wednesday and if I could have an apprenticeship by end of that Friday I didn’t have to go back and do year 11. The apprenticeship had to be a “real” job in their eyes. No fashion or hairdressing. If not, I had to return to year 11 that following Monday. I grabbed the newspaper and saw the local dental surgery wanted a training dental nurse. I rushed down there to apply. I told the senior nurse that it was my long-lost dream to be a dentist but I had trouble learning at school. They saw that I had attended the private girls school and that had weight. I was given the job straight away. I went home and sat around. My grandparents said you better start looking it Thursday and tomorrow is Friday with a smirk on their faces. I looked them straight in the eye and said I have a job. I start tomorrow I am officially a training dental nurse! They looked at me and said “but you hate the sight of blood.”

I worked as a dental nurse during the day and late nights and weekends in a menswear retail store where my manager was always too busy at the pub so she taught me how to run the store for her. I loved retail. As soon as I turned 18 I registered my first business but I didn’t know where to start. There was a local popular fashion store just opened and were looking for store managers. I applied. I lied on my resume and I am sure they knew. I said that I had 2 years’ experience as a manager already for a local high-performance car shop. The car shop owner gave me a reference to say the same. The owner was actually my fiancé at the time. They put me in the store and told me it was a C grade store and they didn’t expect it to last let alone make money. I asked them what store their A grade store was and what figures they were turning over.  I made them a deal that if I beat that store and maintained beating that store I wanted the 30% commission plus a bonus of 15% additional commission and based from the store turnover not profit. They laughed and agreed. I started 30 September. My budgets came out. I threw it in the rubbish and wrote my own. I told my staff that if they didn’t make the figures I set they were fired. In the first week 2 of the staff thought I was joking. I fired them. I hired new staff. End of Oct we beat the A grade store. November and December were the same. I turned the C grade store into the best revenue store. I ended up becoming the area manager in January the next year. I was responsible for budgets, staffing, training and stock ordering. The stores I ran like my own. They owners would always fly out to Vegas for "buying trips".  By March my wages stopped being paid and so did the staff's. We couldn’t get a hold of the owners and by May the Company had gone into receivership. The owners had gambling problems and lost everything in Vegas.

This is everything that lead me to opening my first store.

[shesasurvivor]

Cosa Nostra - A Preview for A Candle for the Caribbean

As many of you know, @loveinpanem is holding a charity event to raise money for those impacted by the hurricanes in Caribbean. If you donate money to any charity that’s helping victims, you will receive a copy of a fanfic anthology put together by many talented writers and artists.

For my contribution, I’ve decided to finish a fic that I’ve been working on behind the scenes for over three(!) years now. Conceived one night while @beanfromdistrict7 were dining at an old Italian restaurant on the Strip, Cosa Nostra is an Everlark historical AU taking place in 1950′s mob-run Las Vegas. Katniss Everdeen is a performer for The Mockingjay, which is run by mob boss Coriolanus Snow. Peeta Mellark is a forensic accountant who is a plant for the FBI in The Mockingjay’s business office. The two meet and are instantly drawn to each other, but how can anything possibly end well when they are on two opposing sides? Especially since Katniss knows that the mob will have no problem harming her sister if she betrays them.

Since I’m a Vegas local, this story is also a bit of a nod to our own recent disaster, the shooting at Mandalay Bay. Such a sad world we live in. But it’s the people rush to help those who have been harmed by these events that make our world worth living in. 

At any rate, enjoy the preview!

---

“Good evening, Miss Everdeen,” he says to me in a voice that is a little too upbeat. “It’s wonderful to finally get to meet you.”

“Good evening,” I say to him, my voice far more stilted.

“I’ve heard so many things about you,” he continues.

“And I, you,” I say, then kick myself mentally because that is about as dangerous comment as I could possibly make. I may as well just openly challenge him. I don’t dare betray the fear I’m actually feeling, though, and do the best I can to arrange my facial features into one of stone. I hope against hope I have a better poker face now than I did when gambling with Peeta and Haymitch the other night.

Cray raises an eyebrow; my transgression has been noted, filed away, but he won’t act on it now. Not yet, at least.

“Of course, you’ve been a particular favorite of Snow’s for so long,” he continues without missing a beat, though I can tell, maybe by a shift in his body language or something, that my comment did get under his skin. “First the wife as one of his most loyal employees,” he says, adding an extra emphasis on the word ‘employees. “Then as one of the most lucrative aspects of his most successful business venture to date.” He motions around, to indicate my dressing room, and the performance as a whole by proxy. “You attract visitors to the hotel just because they want to hear your lovely voice for yourself.”

“I think you’re playing me up too much,” I say, my cheeks burning slightly.

“Not in the slightest! You’re famous all up and down the Vegas Strip,” he says. “And even beyond, especially given your romantic history with people like Finnick Odair.”

I want to set the record straight about Finnick Odair’s and my past, but I stop myself, remembering who this man is. He likely already knows the truth. So why he’s bringing it up, I’m not sure. But I can be it has something to do with why he’s here.”

Cray reveals himself immediately. “Of course, that’s part of why there’s so many people confused now, as to why you’ve gotten so… friendly with the new accountant on staff.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, before I have a chance to consider if it’s even a good idea. But I catch myself before I can make too much of a mess. Instead, I try to play it like a woman who has had such unsavory rumors spread about her. “What rumors are these? Who’s spreading them?”

“It’s the talk of the staff,” Cray says. I notice he doesn’t mention any names in particular, though. “You’ve been seen, eating meals together. Walking in the halls together. Gambling in the early morning hours. I even heard about your day trip out to Hoover Dam yesterday,” he says brightly.

A sharp jolt of energy shoots through me. It’s my worst suspicions, confirmed. Oh, sure, I knew about all the witnesses to the meals we’ve eaten together -- it’s not exactly like we’d been hiding those. But the gambling lesson, the trip to Hoover Dam? I suppose any number of workers might have reported seeing us that first morning, but my first suspect that comes immediately to mind is the one who played with us. What was his name? Haymitch? I’ll have to make note to keep an eye for him in the future.

The one that has me most concerned, though, is Hoover Dam. How on earth did he know about that? Granted, anyone could have seen me leave the hotel with Peeta yesterday, or even seen me return last night. But none of those people would have had any way of knowing where we had gone together… unless they had followed us. Or maybe even had witnessed us there, just like I had wondered about yesterday. Only then, I was pretty sure I was just being paranoid. Maybe I still am, though. I know I didn’t tell anyone, aside from Prim, where I had gone, but what about Peeta? Had he casually mentioned it to someone, thinking it was no big deal? Or could it even be possible that Prim let it slip to the wrong person? She does work on the front desk…

“I wasn’t aware anyone knew about the trip yesterday,” I say. “I’ve barely spoken to anyone since I’ve been back. And I haven’t mentioned it.”

“You know how it is around here,” he smiles that suspiciously sweet smile at me. “Rumors spread like wildfire. But I think it’s great that you’re getting to know the new accountant.”

“You do?” I ask. That was probably the very last thing I expected to hear from him.

“Oh, sure. As a matter of fact, so does Snow. He’s heard about your little friendship, too, believe it or not.”

“I believe it,” I say. Snow makes it his business to know everything that’s going on, at least if it’s something that could directly impact his business. The question is, what’s he going to do about it? What course of action is he going to take now that he knows? Will he choose to correct it? The fact that Cray is here doesn’t bode well for the future of this entanglement. Suddenly, I’m terrified Peeta will disappear, and turn up dead later, his body just “mysteriously” abandoned in the desert. It wouldn’t be the first time something like that had happened.

“He’s a real romantic, Snow is,” Cray continues. “And so am I. If you think something is blooming between you and the accountant, then by all means, you should follow your heart.”

There it is. Cray is definitely here for something. There’s no way he would pay me a visit just to wish me luck on a potential relationship. He doesn’t deal in that kind of thing. “What does Snow want me to do?” I ask. “I know you’re not actually here to congratulate me on making a new friend.”

“Smart girl,” Cray says. “See, Snow was thinking you could use your position as an advantage. Get close to the kid. Learn things from him. Find out what he knows. Get a peek at what he’s really doing, if you know what I mean.”

“You want me to spy on him.” Of course. I should have known. In fact, I should have seen this coming the moment Peeta Mellark bid his first hello to me. I feel like such a fool for not realizing it would come down to this.

Cray’s smile turns sad. “I know you’ve heard the rumors about him, Miss Everdeen. Everyone around here has.”

Well, there’s no point in lying. He’s right; it’s practically all anyone has been talking about for weeks. Or at least, all anyone who knows what’s really going on around here talks about. “I suppose I was just hoping they weren’t true,” I say, cautiously, because I know I am on thin ice here, and the wrong comment could prove dangerous.

“Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? Find out what he’s doing. If it’s nothing, then there’s nothing for either of you to worry about.”

“And if there is?” I ask darkly, knowing full well the answer to that question.

“If there is… well, I’d recommend you tell Snow what you know right away. Because I’ve been keeping an eye on that sister of yours -- Primrose, is it? She’s real pretty. It’d be a shame if anything were to… happen to her.”

I spin around to face him, my eyes wide, my mouth hanging open. “You wouldn’t.”

“I’m just saying, bad things have a way of happening around here to those who aren’t careful.”

“She doesn’t know anything!” I’m on my feet now, ready, I think, to actually fight him over this. Never mind that it would be a losing battle. I can’t let anything happen to my sister. This is the very thing I have fought so hard to defend these last few years, to prevent from happening.

“Then I would recommend you get a good look at whatever that new accountant is doing. If he’s up to any funny business… you better let the right people know,” he says with a glint in his eye. There is no question as to who the “right people” are.

I feel frozen in place, at a total impasse. I have no choice; I can see no other way out of this situation. “All right,” I say weakly, nodding absently as I sink back down on my chair, feeling weak.

“Good girl,” Cray says. “That’s what I thought you’d say. Snow knew you’d see things our way.”

“Yes.” Snow is all knowing, it seems. He really does watch everything that goes on in his empire like a hawk. Or like a tyrant, more like it.

“Well, now that that’s settled, I really must be going. Break a leg,” he says, and flashes me the kind of grin that suggests he may actually mean that. He moves for the door. Just as he’s about to open it, there’s another knock. So Cray takes the liberty of opening it. And of course, on the other side stands no other than Peeta himself.

“What fortunate timing,” Cray says with a sinister smile as he exits from the room.

Yes. For him, maybe. Myself, I’m mentally screaming at Peeta for his timing, for showing up here at all. It only makes everything a thousand times worse.

“What was that all about?” Peeta asks, glancing over his shoulder at Cray as he retreats. Peeta’s eyes are narrowed; is it my imagination, or does he seems a little suspicious of Cray? No, it has to be the weight of our conversation influencing me.

“He’s… um, head of security,” I like, sort of, though in a way it’s true. “He just came by to say hello.”

“Oh,” Peeta ways simply, and seems to let the issue go. Now he turns his full focus on me, and gives me a huge grin. “I wanted to say hello, too,” he says.

“Oh, hello,” I say weakly, giving a nervous laugh, that I hope Peeta doesn’t pick up on it. Or maybe, if he does, he misinterprets it as the laugh of someone nervous around a new beau, and not because she’s just been blackmailed into spying on someone.

I can see in his eyes that he does pick up on it. But he doesn’t force the issue. “I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to come by to see you until now,” he tells me. “Work was crazy today. I wanted to bring you flowers and everything, too.”

“It’s all right,” I say, feeling worse by the minute. Thank goodness he didn’t have a chance to stop to pick up flower for me. That would have made this an even bigger mess. Still, a small part of me can’t help feeling touched that he even wanted to make the effort at all. Which is an even bigger problem, when I think about it, than the flowers would have been. I can’t let Peeta take root in my heart. Somehow, I have to figure out a way to make him think I’m getting close to him, without actually putting my heart on the line.

Putting on my best smile, I walk over to him, and kiss him on the cheek. “Why don’t you go take your seat?” I tell him. “We can talk after the show.”

Fortunately, Peeta agrees with this suggestion easily. He gives me a kiss before he leaves, though. It takes everything I have not to pull away, more out of self-defense than anything. But I force myself to remain steady, and accept his kiss. I watch him as he leaves, walking down the hallway that will take him out to the public area, where he can find a seat. How on earth am I supposed to pull this off?

[mylittledragonhoard]

Fic: Viva Las Vegas

[AO3]

Chapter Two: Sunday Night

Brown eyes stared at the man in front of him, completely entranced as the blond regaled him with the fantastic tale of his encounter with a whale shark while scuba diving in Cancún about a month ago.

Kili had been figuratively on the edge of his seat for the past hour as he listened to some amazing adventures. He'd asked Philip what he was doing in Vegas to start a conversation and he hadn't been disappointed.

First of all it was Fili, not Philip, because "Philip was a chubby kid too shy to make friends". Despite how much his head hated him, Kili laughed upon hearing the name the man went by because it was just too perfect.

Fili was confused by the sudden outburst until Kili grinned and explained. "I go by Kili."

"Well fuck me." The blond grinned, utterly bemused.

"Already did." Kili said without thinking and that just threw Fili into a giggling fit.

Fili explained that he was in Vegas to cross a few things off his bucket list. Ah the bucket list again. That made Kili curious so he asked for details about what kinds of things were on it and that had been that. He had continued asking questions because he was utterly fascinated by just how much Fili had done.

In a little over a year the man had learned to fly an airplane for the fun of it, had swam with both sharks and dolphins on two separate occasions, visited countries Kili had never even heard of, and had done a lot of things that involved jumping out of an airplane or jumping from tall things like cliffs and bridges.

Aside from crazy stunts that would have led to Kili wetting himself, the blond had also done things like volunteer for about ten weeks researching and monitoring nests of sea turtles in Kenya. He'd wanted to build homes for families in Haiti too, but it hadn't worked out.

Suffice it to say, Fili led a very active life.

At one point in the conversation an adorable blush coloured Fili's cheeks and the tips of his ears. "Oh my god, I probably sound so conceited the way I go on."

But Kili assured him it wasn't like that. "No way, man. I keep asking questions because I'm interested! Your passion for everything is contagious."

Fili wanted to know all about Kili and didn't care when Kili promised it would be incredibly boring as it paled vastly in comparison to Fili’s. Fili insisted though, so Kili began with why he was in Vegas and how it was a present for graduating university. That led into what he'd majored in and what he planned to do once he got back, and that was to take a year off to just get life experience, which just seemed kind of childish as Kili said it.

Fili didn't seem to think so though, and encouraged Kili to do what he wanted and not to worry about what others thought.

Aside from that, Kili didn’t really have much to say about himself aside from a few details. He didn’t want to lose Fili’s interest with details of his very ordinary life even though the blond had assured him he wasn't boring. Fili seemed to understand that Kili just wasn’t as open with strangers as he was about information and had accepted what little the brunet had chosen to share.

"So, Mr. Adventurer Extraordinaire. I should be looking forward to a very busy week." Kili sipped at his drink, pop this time because he wasn't ready for more alcohol yet.

They’d left the hotel – (The fucking Erebor! Kili was going to brag to his friends about that later since it was one of the largest and most prestigious hotel chains in the world, and they never would have thought to even look into it for their own vacation. Fili certainly knew how to travel in style.) – and had gone for supper at what looked like a fancy restaurant on the outside but really ended up being comfortable and welcoming. The place served a buffet, which was perfect for two starving young men suffering from hangovers.

They had sat down at a large table and had covered it with plates of food. They’d pretty much grabbed a plate for everything on the buffet line and they'd both nibbled and ate from every dish until everything was practically gone. Kili's hangover appreciated all the greasy foods and by the look of it, Fili was the same.

In response to Kili's comment, Fili looked confused, as though he'd forgotten the fact that they'd accidentally gotten hitched, and Kili wouldn't have been surprised if he had. The marriage hadn't been mentioned since they woke up. The look quickly disappeared as those sea blue eyes lit up in surprise happiness and a sexy smirk curled his lips upward, dimples deepening to a point that should have been illegal.

Hungover and disheveled Fili had been utterly hot that morning before Kili's little freak out about the certificate, but showered, dressed, and ready for life Fili was a whole other level. That smile alone sent Kili's heart into palpations and reminded him how little room he had in his skinny jeans. He didn't know whether to be jealous because he still felt and looked like shit, or be smug because yeah, he'd tapped that delectable ass the night before, even if he couldn't remember it.

"Nah, I can take it easy for a few days." The blond promised as he sipped at a milkshake he'd ordered: chocolate, raspberry, cherry, and cheesecake because he couldn't decide on a flavour and apparently because life was too short to waste time choosing. "I know I stole you away from your friends, but there are other things I'd like to do and would very much enjoy doing them with you." He admitted freely, unashamed with no trace of awkwardness at his forwardness.

Kili had already concluded that Fili took things as they came, had no issues with admitting his emotions, and was trying to live each day as if it was his last. There were no regrets and no shame with what he wanted. There had to be something behind that, because nobody Kili knew even had a bucket list or such a busy life, but he didn't feel right asking after only knowing and remembering each other for a total of three hours.

Fili's attitude was infectious though, and Kili decided that he could live that way too, at least when it came to this man. A week of marriage wasn't so scary once he'd looked up the laws about annulment, and how it could be done anytime. (The scariest thing was what was going to happen when Kili's mother found out, but he refused to think about that for the time being.)

"I truly hope a re-enactment of last night is on your to do list." The brunet said without a thought as he plucked the remaining deep fried pickle from its plate and took a bite. "Because you can steal me for as long as you want."

Those blue eyes widened just a bit, but that smirk grew a little wider as the milkshake was put down. "As many times as we can physically handle it." And the hungry way Fili let his eyes trail down Kili's form until the table interrupted him was enough to make the brunet want to drag him back to the hotel room and make good on his word.

Luckily, unlike drunk Kili, sober Kili could control his urges, so he stayed right where he was, even if that was the last thing he wanted to do. His pleased grin said it all though. "And what other things did you plan on squeezing in between rounds?”

Fili tilted his head as he turned thoughtful and that mass of long hair tumbled off a shoulder. It was as soft as it looked; Kili had eagerly checked when they'd lounged around in bed for a bit before getting up to eat. "You're here on vacation, right? You must have had plans."

While that was true, and while it was also true that these plans had been laid out for a while, Kili was certainly not disappointed in how it had played out so far. No offence to his friends, but he knew who they’d choose to spend their holiday with if either of them was sitting in his seat.

Kili shrugged in response to the blond's kind of question. "We were planning to mostly party, gamble a little, and see the sights." He finished off the pickle. In truth Tauriel had planned every moment of their time down to the last detail. She was organized like that and Kili did appreciate it. But at that moment, Kili decided that his plans had changed. "I think I'm getting the better deal with you." He smiled coyly as he laced his fingers together and propped his chin on them. "Tauriel can be a little overwhelming when she takes charge of things."

"Tauriel." Fili repeated the name as if he was tasting it, "Red hair?"

"Yeah. You remember?" Now that he was awake and his head no longer wanted a divorce from his body, a few of Kili's memories had filtered back. They were hazy and only fragments, and sadly there was nothing after meeting Apollo here and being led out onto a dance floor, but he would take what he could get and hoped more would return eventually.

Fili leaned back in the booth he’d commandeered and looked highly amused. “If she’s who I think she is, then she tried to pick me up.”

Kili couldn’t deny that it sounded like her after the texts he’d read that morning. “Yeah, that’s probably her. Hope she wasn’t too forward.” He grinned.

Fili chewed his bottom lip, and his dimples appeared again even though he tried his best not to smile, “Is my vagina crying or are you just sexy?”

Kili choked and stared at the man, “What?!”

Fili burst into laughter at Kili’s response. He’d been laughing a lot since they’d woken up the second time, despite wincing every once in a while because of the ache in his head. It was a rather adorable laugh that was more giggle than anything and just seemed to fit this blond stranger perfectly. “That’s the first thing she said to me.”

The brunet laughed until there were tears in his eyes. He didn’t know if he felt bad for Tauriel or not. She could get a little wild when she was drunk and that certainly sounded like something she’d say. “Yeah, pretty sure that’s her. Drunk Tauriel has no filter or sense of subtlety, and apparently she called dibs on you last night and was really pissed I left with you.”

“Oh really?” Fili's smile was bordering on smug as he leaned forward on his elbows and looked at Kili curiously.

Instead of replying, Kili took out his phone and moved to the messages, sliding it across and letting the man read for himself. The laughter erupting from the table once more gained the attention of a few other diners and made Kili grin by the sheer ease of it. “Should have sent a couple of pictures. I hate being the reason for causing someone so much obvious pain.” He was speaking of her last text. “I hope she doesn’t take it personally. Girls aren’t my thing.” He shrugged as he slid the phone back.

“Luckily for me.” Kili picked the phone up just as it buzzed. He frowned and looked at it. “Speaking of the red haired devil; her ears must be burning.” He opened the new text message.

[From: Tauriel] Where the hell are you?? Did the Aussie plow you so hard you can’t text??

Kili rolled his eyes and showed Fili his phone again.

The blond grunted as he picked up his milkshake again, “Kiwi, not Aussie.” He mumbled around the straw in an adorably petulant tone.

Kili snickered as he typed a reply. “He’s a Kiwi, and now you’ve offended him.” He said aloud as he keyed in the message and hit send.

The reply was almost instantaneous.

[From: Tauriel] OMG!!! YOU ARE ALIVE!!! [From: Tauriel] Ori was worried Mr. Hottie McNaughty turned out to be a psycho and killed you! Where are you? You still owe me details!

Fili choked on his giggling over his new nickname as he read over the texts again, “She’s insistent.” He observed once he could breathe again, reaching toward a plate that had a piece of apple pie on it. It looked like dessert was the only thing left on the table.

“Oh you don’t know the half of it. She’s going to wheedle me for every little detail when she gets the chance.” He loved his friend, but it was hard keeping up with Tauriel sometimes. He tapped his phone thoughtfully before sliding out of his side of the booth and sliding into Fili’s, saddling up close. “Want to have a little fun?” He asked even as he found the camera app.

Whether Fili understood what Kili wanted or he was just going with the flow as usual, Kili didn’t know, but he grinned and nodded, pushing the pie away and turning more toward the brunet so they could easily both fit in the frame.

Kili held the phone up and leaned back against the other man’s solid form, enjoying the fact that he could press himself back against the other. Just as he was about to snap the selfie, he saw Fili move on the screen and fingers gently gripped his chin and turned his head until a pair of sweet tasting lips covered his own. Fili tasted like cinnamon and apples after the pie he’d eaten, and Kili almost forgot to snap the picture before he was lost in a kiss that started sweet but then grew more intense as he tilted his head to better their angles.

It was a while before they came up for air, and by then the food had been forgotten.

They were both panting a little as they ended the kiss for the unfortunate need for air, though neither seemed willing to really move apart. The blue in Fili’s eyes had all but disappeared and Kili had the feeling that his weren’t any better. If only a kiss was that hot, holy fuck, Kili wanted to experience everything with this man.

Fili seemed to have the same idea as his nose brushed against Kili’s. “I think we should go back to my hotel room and continue our fun.” He murmured, voice low and husky and just the right tone to spur Kili into action.

He nodded in shaky agreement, and as Fili flagged down a waiter for their bill, Kili remembered his phone. He attached the picture to a text and sent a quick message along with it.

[From: Kili] This is the only detail you’re going to get. I’m going to go have mind blowing sex now!

And this time he wouldn’t be forgetting it.

[what-is-going-on-mate]

Here is chapter 2 of What happens in Vegas !

Send prompts here !

Savitar1 : Keep it going, do something like they try to piece together what happened to each of them like in the Hangover movies.

Asian_shipper : Maybe a sequel to this like the aftermath of Vegas in Central City for Iris’s and Barry’s wedding ?

« What the hell ?! What happened last night ?! » shouted Jax. His face turned blank. « Oh my god. What’s my mom gonna say ? » From what they had heard, she was salty and was respected by her son. But she’d kill him, knowing what he’d done that night, even if he didn’t know what precisely. The tattoo saying « Gray and Black, like Yin and Yang. One person, two personalities. » was proof enough. Now the team knew that alcohol made Jax turn into a poet. 

He officially entered the emotional drunk category, just like Stein. (not so different, after all) « Damn, what else did we all do last night ? And how did we do all this ? I mean, I took more decisions in one night than I did during the rest of my life. I got married. I don’t do married. » Mick frowned. « It would be nice to know if I adopted any other living animals, too. I don’t want to start a zoo in the Waverider. There’s already Axel and now him… I don’t need to find out that I have a cat and a snake as well. » added Leonard. « Indeed, Mr. Snart. I would like to know if I married anyone else during those few hours. » « So we all agree. Even if we’re all still drunk, we’ll find out what it is we did last night. Here is your mission: retrace your steps, ask people for informations. Just like in the movies. Just…don’t put yourselves in the same situations. Please. Good luck. We’ll meet in the evening, once everyone sorted everything out. Whatever those things are. » ordered Sara, still holding on to Leonard for support. Yup, the alcohol was still kicking in.

For Nate and Ray, it was easy. They had spent the entire night together, and when one didn’t remember what had happened, the second would fill him in. Mostly. There was one detail that they had forgotten. A small tiny detail that didn’t matter at all. Not one bit. In their shared admiration for J.J. Abrams’ work, they had travelled to his house. Things…happened. They were far too ashamed to even think about it, so there was no way they would ever tell one soul. To summarize their meeting, they weren’t allowed to leave the state of California until the trial had taken place. Restraining order. Nice. They also found out that when they gambled and stole everyone’s money at the club, they had taken the money of a certain Mr. Tokugawa. This Tokugawa was an offspring of Yeyasu Tokugawa ,who had tried to kill both of them in Japan in the 17th Century. The son of a bitch had destroyed Ray’s suit. Both of them had finally taken their revenge. Centuries too late, but still. Apart from those adventures, they still had all their teeth and they hadn’t married anyone or adopted anyone.

Then there was Amaya and Mick. They had gotten married in a church and their priest had been Stein. That was the only thing they knew. Amaya was of absolutely no help because of the space cake. There was a big black hole in her memory. After retracing their steps to the church, the newlyweds found out that they had knocked out an Elvis impersonator and that their witnesses had been a homeless couple they had found right outside the building. They were sweet. Apparently they had taken a few hours to find a ring before they were engaged. When Mick had finally found what he was looking for, he had proposed to Amaya while engaging a brawl in a bar. She had accepted right outside of it, being thrown out by security. After their wedding, Mick had taken Amaya to the park, where they took a dive in the lake and managed not to drown. Amaya, summoning the powers of the dolphin, did a few tricks underwater. After that escapade, they went back to the hotel and crashed in Leonard’s bed, solely for pissing him off. And it was the most comfortable in the suite.
They couldn’t remember wether or not they consumed their marriage that night. But they both knew that they hadn’t gotten married simply because they were friends. There were feelings. Hidden. Unsaid. Secret. But they were there. Always have been. They had no regrets.

For Stein, it was pretty easy. He had left with Mick and Amaya and stayed with them until they had gotten married. Then he was asked for his services by the couple who had played witnesses for Mick and Amaya. Of course, being of a generous nature and under the influence, he had gladly accepted. He married a bunch of couples during the rest of the night until he felt the need to sleep. Some of them had planned to get married in Vegas, and others, much like Mr. and Mrs. Rory, had decided on impulse to let the cute and inoffensive Martin Stein marry them. His age and wiseness lead him right to the hotel. He had to admit that there was no way he could have found his way back to the hotel without having at least one scientific degree. That city was a real maze ! The alcohol had nothing to do with his difficulty to know which way was left and which way was right. He calmly returned to the suite and decided that his bedroom was too far away from the entrance door (it really wasn’t) and slept on the couch. His hangover was coming from the extreme quantity of rum he had drank back in the club. Enough to keep him drunk the following day, at least.

Jax could never live more intensive hours than those in Vegas, even with him being a hero and traveling through time. After a thorough inspection of his body in search of other tattoos or piercings, he found a phone number. No name. Just the number. He reluctantly called the mysterious number. A rasp, manly voice answered. It was some guy named Guy. The youngest of the Legends learned that he had spent two hour with this Guy guy in some nightclub. Guy was the one who took him to the tattoo artist also called Guy. They were cousins. Who calls two cousins by the same name ? Those guys were confusing. They were probably lying, but it was the only way for Jax to find out what had happened. Guy told him that Jax wanted to have a full sleeve tattoo and that Guy, following Guy’s advice, had refused to do it. Then Guy the tattoo artist had joined them to a stripper club. Jax hated that. He hated to see those girls, who didn’t always have a choice, to have to submit to those men like that. He hated that those Guys guys had taken him there. But from what Guy was telling him, he had enjoyed it. He had spent the entire time they were there in a bedroom with a stripper called Jessica. That’s where the phone call with Guy ended. So he had to go to the club to ask that Jessica what they had done during that hour. He was scared of her answer. What if he had forgotten to use protection ? What if he had disrespected her ? His mother would kill him. There was already the tattoo that would get him killed ! He didn’t want to die twice ! Her response was absolutely not what he was expecting. Or it was exactly what he would have done, not being drunk. It was both. As soon as he had entered the club, he had taken Jessica in a room and he had asked her to play different cards games. He had seen how much fun Leonard and Sara were having, playing those. He wanted to try that. In short, he had spent his night hanging out with Guy and Guy, getting a tattoo with a deep meaning, and then he had played cards with a stripper called Jessica in her office for several hours only to wake up sleeping on a table. Bravo.

Concerning Leonard and Sara, neither remembered much. It was a shame, because they had a dog with them. They really hoped that they hadn’t stole him from a loving family. But Leonard had to admit that the little buddy was extremely cute and fluffy. And he had always liked dogs. (Simply because we all deserve to see a picture of a very cute husky)

Unlike most of humans, dogs were faithful and felt unconditional love for their owner. Appearance didn’t matter for them. As long as they were treated the way they deserved and were loved, they would do anything for their owner. He liked dogs. When he’d see one, he’d always feel the need to tell him « good boy » in a very embarrassing voice, but never did. He had a reputation to keep. Of course, Sara had realized that Leonard was, in a way, like a dog. She didn’t know him fully and completely, but from what he had showed her, he acted just like a dog who had been betrayed by his owner. His father. The world. Everyone. He failed to trust people easily, but once he did, he could sacrifice himself for them. She was pretty sure that he had unconditional love for his sister. He mentioned once that he was pansexual, which means that, in a way, he didn’t really care about the physical appearance of people. Of course she had noticed that he had a type. He liked blue eyes. But apart from that, he liked people who could keep up with him, intellectually speaking. She was sure that he would be hard to keep with physically speaking too. But that wasn't the point. Drunk or not, she had always thought that Leonard would love to have a dog. Being drunk just turned her thoughts into action. They still didn’t know anything about the dog in their room. He was wearing a collar, but there was no medal with it. Leonard instructed Sara to check her pockets to see if they could find any information about their night. He found documents about animal adoption in his jacket and she found a map of the city with locations circled in red. They could work with that. Firstly, they went to the address on the adoption documents. They had to go on foot because Dog wouldn’t keep quiet in the taxi. Oh yes, they didn’t have a name for him, so they decided to call him Dog. Dog was very lively and full of energy for a puppy. Sara was still having a hard time to walk, so Leonard was the one walking Dog. Walking was not the proper word. Leonard was running Dog. Huskys were known to love exercise, but he never thought that they would love it that much. So Leonard would run for a few seconds ahead of Sara, then he would let the Dog run to Sara and then back to him. It felt very domestic, like dog could be their child. But he wasn’t. And Leonard was absolutely not imagining he and Sara having children together. Children. Already a plural form. That was the alcohol thinking. Clearly. Sober Leonard would never imagine things like that. Halfway to the office, Dog was exhausted. He refused to walk any further. They tried for a few minutes to make him walk in his own, but their fight was a lost cause. So the cold crook had to carry Dog under his arm. Sara was as tired as Dog, so she took Leonard’s free hand. Maybe he’d drag her there and she wouldn't have to walk. He did drag her. When the three finally arrived inside, Dog was sleeping in Leonard’s arm and Sara was resting against the cushion that was Leonard’s side. After a short discussion with the manager, they found out that they had adopted a two-months old husky named Leo. What a joke ! Leo ? Really ? Once they were outside of the building and had a new clue to where they had been that night, Leonard expressed his feelings towards their dog’s name. « There is no way we’re calling him Leo ! » Dog barked. « Why ? I think it’s cute that it resembles your name. Leonard. Leo. » another woof was heard from Dog. « You don’t understand. It’s a little too close from Leonard. My father used to call me that. » his eyes fell on the ground. « I’m sorry. I didn’t know. But just so you know, a name is not going to define who you are. You are you, wether your last name is Snart or not, wether you’re called Leonard, Len or Leo. » she offered. Dog barked once more. She took his chin in her hand to make him look in her eyes. « And sincerely, it’s a really cute name. It sound like lion, dangerous and wild. Living in community with your family or the people you love. I think it suits you…and it suits Dog too. » « I never thought of this name that way. For me, it has always been linked to my father. But you’re right. I can give this name whatever meaning I want. It’s not that bad to pronounce. Leo. » he admitted, a small smirk on his face. Dog barked again ! Sara’s eyes quickly shot open (they were closed because sun and hangover are life-long enemies) and she took Dog from Leonard’s hands. Leo, she said. He woofed. Dog. Nothing. Leo. Woof ! Dog. … Sara kept alternating between Dog and Leo for a while. Leonard watched this exchange between the two and was in shock. Dog already knew his name. He was Leo. Dog meant nothing to him, but Leo…it was him. He found Sara glowing. Maybe it was the sun, but maybe it was simply her. Quite frankly, he still had her taste in his mouth and he was dying to have another one. And she was smiling at Dog Leo in a way that made her look even more beautiful. « Alright, I get it. Leo it is. » « Really ?! » she exclaimed, putting Leo on the ground. « As long as the captain accepts pets on board, I am serious. I wouldn't risk offending my superior. She can be a pain in the ass when things aren’t going her way. » Oh so that’s how he was playing it. « Well, I’m sure that every captain has to put up with a lot of shit from their crew. Don’t you think ? » Third person discussion. Nice. « I think that the crew does as the captain orders. But if the captain is drunk and is making out with a very attractive crook for a few hours, the entire crew does a lot of shit. » he explained, making sure to flatter himself just to annoy her. « Oh, so in that case, it’s because of the crook. If he hadn’t been this attractive, maybe the captain wouldn’t have stayed there this long. » she flirted, taking a step closer to him. « You can’t blame the crook. I’m sure he was simply making sure that the captain wouldn’t put herself in a compromising situation by, let’s say, kill everyone in the club. » he added, walking towards her too. « So it’s the fault of the people in the club. If they had stopped flirting with the crook, maybe the captain wouldn’t have felt the need to kill them. » They were standing in front of each other, close enough to easily reach for the other. Their eyes were locked, challenge in them. As if they wanted to know who would crack under the pressure forming between the two. It was a dangerous game. « Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should have let you kill them. But I much preferred seeing you jealous. You’re quiet the possessive type, aren’t you, captain ? » Leonard had entered her personal space. She had to raise her eyes to keep the contact. She could feel the warmth radiating form his chest and his cold breaths on her forehead. His gaze was intense. Everything was intense. Eyes, warmth, coldness, stance,…lust. « You know what ? I think you’re right. I think I am possessive. But I also think that you are jealous. I saw the way you contained yourself when those guys would come up to me in the club. You care, Leonard. Admit it. » she did it. She cracked. But she didn’t care anymore. She needed to say it. That was enough for him. She had admitted her feelings. She was jealous, she cared. As actions speak louder than words, he reached for her cheeks and pulled her in a passionate kiss. She let go of the pressure that had builded up inside her when she returned the kiss. She closed the tiny distance between their hips by pulling his to her, pressing her tongue in his mouth. He hungrily took her in his mouth. The kiss felt even more amazing sober than drunk. The taste, the feeling of the other under their touch. They could stay like this forever. Leo reminded them of his existence by jumping against Leonard to get his attention. They decided to follow the leads they had, but they quickly realized that they had simply done a bit of sight-seeing. Drunk sight-seeing, but still. Apparently they had enjoyed it, seeing the selfies on their phones. But they didn’t remember at all. That’s what they had told the team. They hadn’t told them the way Leonard would keep his arms around her waist or the way she would whisper in his ear. The way they’d kissed on the ferris wheel, the way she’d sit in his lap in the helicopter. Those were their secrets.

« And that’s supposed to explain why the music isn’t working anymore ?! » exclaimed Barry, pissed off at the Legends. Out of nowhere, Amaya began to cry. Mick brought her in his arms as Leonard turned to Barry. « Look, Barry, we adopted a dog. Leo is still young. We’re still training him, and sometimes he makes mistakes. He’s learning to control it, but it happens that he…takes a piss when he needs to. Maybe he did it on the cables, or something. » « You’re telling me that your absolutely way too cute dog is the one who ruined my wedding ?! I can’t be mad at him ! Have you seen him ?! I couldn’t live with myself if I had to lecture him. » complained the groom. « Barry, don’t your powers come from lightning ? Shouldn’t you be able to fix this music thing ? » Sara joined, reasoning Barry. Martin, still wearing the clothes he wore to marry Iris and Barry, led the groom to the electrical board. His knowledge would be welcome. Soon, the music had started again and Iris could open the ball with Joe. Leo was laying between Leonard and Sara’s seats as they were watching the dance. They weren’t at the singles table. It was beautiful and emotional. Iris and Joe had almost died so many times that this dance, promising of a happy future, meant everything to them. The happiness between the father and the daughter was radiating in the entire room. Mick and Amaya were dancing slowly, almost immobile, just enjoying the other’s presence. « I have always loved those father-daughter dances at weddings. That’s the moment you can see the love between them. » she said against his chest. « I wouldn’t know, never have been to a wedding before. And I’ve never had a kid, for that matter. » he shrugged. « Maybe you should observe Joe more, then. You know, just for practice. » she said, not looking up at him. She said it perfectly calmly, without a care in the world. « Practice ? You mean… practice at what, dancing ? » he said, making her meet his eyes. « I believe that’s not exactly what I mean, no. Practice at something else, like being a father, like Joe. Congratulations, daddy. » she cracked a smile. « It seems like we did consume our marriage, back in Vegas. Just so you know, I wouldn’t want my life to be any different from how it is now. I have everything I wished for. I have you. » she ended, kissing him on the cheek. He responded by giving her a bear hug, not too strongly, so he wouldn’t squash the baby or something like that. Mick was smiling. At the other side of the room, Ray and Nate were playing poker against a few police officers. And, of course, they were winning. Their duo had won money at every stop they took in History. They had too much fun together and were planning on keeping their partnership for a long time. Jax was showing his tattoo to a young woman who was a friend of Iris’s. He didn’t regret his tattoo anymore. He had found the meaning of the tattoo in the memories of that trip in addition to its evident meaning. Much like everyone in the team, they had all made mistakes that turned out to be exactly what they needed. Martin was watching the party from aside, and realized that Vegas had been the best trip of his life. It had brought happiness to so many of his friends, of his family. He was glad that had been able to take part of it. Mick and Amaya were married and extremely happy, for whatever reason. Leonard and Sara were finally together and they had Leo. They were already acting like a family. Nate and Ray were spending all their time together and Jax was just as happy, head full of memories and souvenirs. Martin was happy for his family. For the Legends.

[howwelldoyouknowyourmoon]

The Dark Side of the Moons – Nansook Hong

November 22, 1998

Nansook Hong was 15 when she was forced to marry into the ‘True Family’ at the head of the Moonies religious cult. It was the start of two decades of physical and mental abuse, from which she has only recently escaped. Here, for the first time, she tells James Langton of the ‘hypocrisy and evil’ at the heart of the Unification Church.

In the comfortable anonymity of a Boston coffee bar, a slender and solemn but pretty Korean woman in her early thirties is sipping a cup of raspberry tea and talking openly about her marriage. It is a story of beatings, drugs, under-age sex, adultery and fraud.

What makes Nansook Hong different from other abused women is the name she shed in the Massachusetts divorce courts. The husband she disparagingly refers to now as “my ex” is Hyo Jin Moon, eldest son of the Reverend Sun Myung Moon – a Messiah to the faithful of the Unification Church, but to the rest of the world the leader of the religious cult known as the “Moonies”.

At 15, Nansook became the child bride of a deeply disturbed young man who already had a history of heavy drinking and drug abuse. Smuggled illegally into the United States by church officials in the mid 1970s, she arrived at the Moon family mansion north of New York speaking no English and never even having dated a boy.

“I have never known exactly why Sun Myung Moon chose me to marry his eldest son,” she writes at the beginning of her recently published autobiography, In The Shadow Of The Moons. “I came to believe that my youth and naivety were the central reasons for my selection. His ideal wife was a girl young and passive enough to submit while he moulded her into the woman he wanted. Time would prove that I was not nearly passive enough.” Nearly two decades later, Nansook has emerged to tell her story. It is set against the background of the increasingly turbulent affairs of the self-proclaimed “perfect family” at the head of one of the world’s most controversial religious cults.

“The evil at the heart of the Unification Church is the hypocrisy and deceit of the Moons,” she says now, “a family that is all too human in its incredible level of dysfunction. To continue to promote the myth that the Moons are spiritually superior to the idealistic young people who are drawn to the church is a shameful deceit.”

At the peak of their powers in the late 1970s, the Moonies mesmerized the popular imagination. Worldwide membership was believed to run to hundreds of thousands. The Reverend Moon would marry off thousands of young acolytes — who had never previously met — in huge public ceremonies which were every parent’s nightmare. At a higher level, Moon enjoyed the patronage of Republican power-brokers drawn by his deeply conservative message on family and marriage and, perhaps, by his lavish hospitality. What Nansook is saying now would once have seemed to her blasphemous. From her earliest memories, the Rev Moon was the Lord of the Second Coming, his wife the True Mother and their offspring the True Children. Her own parents were one of the 36 Blessed Couples, the original followers of Moon when he was an itinerant and persecuted preacher seeking disciples in the chaos of post-war Korea. Like all members of the Unification Church, Nansook knew that she would one day be “matched” to her husband by the True Father, perhaps to a man she had never met.

Nansook was studying music at The Little Angels, the exclusive performing arts school founded by Moon in Seoul, when she was ordered into a limousine and driven without explanation to the True Family’s Korean mansion. Her parents were also there, but said nothing. “My mother?” says Nansook now, “I think she knew what my life would be like. I know that she did, but that she also believed she was sacrificing my personal happiness for God.”

Nansook had been aware of Moon’s son Hyo Jin, a student three years her senior at Little Angels. In contrast to the other members of the deeply conservative church, he wore tight jeans and his hair long. There were rumors of cigarettes, girlfriends and drinking. He was, however, the heir to the True Father and, therefore, in the church’s teachings, without sin. When the Rev Moon asked her if she would marry his son, it was a question with only one answer.

For much of his early life, Hyo Jin was raised by babysitters and church elders. In 1971, when Hyo Jin was in his teens, the Moonie entourage moved to America. In a confessional speech before church members in 1988, Hyo Jin revealed that he began to take drugs after being sent to live with an elder in a wealthy suburb of Washington. The son of the “Messiah” also complained that his father was remote and uncaring. “I thought the best way was to disappear, then I would have no burden,” he said. “Many times I sat with a gun pointed to my head, practicing what it would be like.”

This was the 19-year-old who was to be given a virginal school-girl as a wife. Nansook says she was barely aware of the facts of life when she arrived in the US under the pretext of being a competitor in a piano festival, hastily organized by church officials as a cover story.

Life with the True Family proved anything but perfect. Church rules say that couples must not have sex in the first three years of marriage. Hyo Jin was having none of that. No sooner were they alone after the wedding ceremony than he demanded that his bride strip naked.

“He was very rough, excited at the prospect of deflowering a virgin,” Nansook writes. “I just followed directions. It was all I could do not to cry out from the pain. It did not take him very long to finish, but for hours afterwards my insides burned with pain.”

Nansook says now that she knew from the very beginning that her husband was a monster and that her in-laws were little better. The honeymoon was in Las Vegas — a place she had never heard of — with the True Family in tow. In the casino she watched the Mother of the True Family “cradling a cup of coins and feverishly inserting them into a slot machine”. The “Messiah”, who publicly condemned gambling, explained that it was his duty to mingle with sinners to save them. He would position a senior church official at the blackjack table and whisper instructions from behind. “So you see, I am not actually gambling myself,” he told his young daughter-in-law.

Back in the Moon compound at Tarrytown, 40 miles north of New York, Nansook was sent to the local high school with instructions not to mention her marriage or the Moons. In the evenings she would finish her homework and then brace herself for the arrival of her husband, usually drunk and demanding sex. Within weeks she was pregnant. She also contracted a sexually transmitted disease, the result of her husband’s continued philandering. “I tried to love him as a husband,” she says of the early years of her marriage. “I asked myself later if there was any happiness in our relationship. There was not one moment.”

In 1982, the Rev Moon was imprisoned for tax evasion, claiming the church was a charity and then spending the money lavishly on his family. There is a photograph of Nansook in a staged demonstration outside the Danbury Federal Penitentiary. Her neatly stenciled placard reads: “Religious Freedom Now.”

Today Nansook says that the family saw her as “a china doll”. For her part, she attempted to make sense of her unhappiness. “I had my faith in God that I had been put there for some purpose. I struggled for years over Moon. He was so egotistical, so selfish. How could he be the person he claimed to be?” In 1992 she went on a fundraising trip to Japan with the True Mother. Before the return journey, she says: “I was given $20,000 in two packs of crisp new bills. I hid them beneath the tray in my make-up case. I knew that smuggling was illegal, but I believed that the followers of Sun Myung Moon answered to higher laws.” Much of the Moon money was given to Hyo Jin to fuel his cocaine and alcohol binges.

Hyo Jin, she says, would frequently beat her. “I once tried to flush his cocaine down the toilet. He beat me so severely I thought he would kill the baby in my womb. He made me sweep up the spilled white powder from the bathroom floor even as he continued to beat me. Later Hyo Jin would offer a religious justification for beating half-senseless a woman seven months pregnant. He was teaching me to be humble in the presence of the son of the Messiah.” Her children, she says, were her only reason to live. “My main goal was to raise them decently.” Her children would ask her: “Why do we have a bad dad?”

By the middle of the 1990s, Nansook was old enough to realize that life could be different. Hyo Jin had all but abandoned the marriage, retreating to New York to make bad rock’n’roll in a studio bankrolled by his parents. Nansook’s parents had abandoned the Unification Church. So had her older brother and his wife.

In August 1995, she finally found the strength to leave. “I was frightened that Hyo Jin would stop us if I was open about my plans,” she writes. “He had threatened to kill me so many times, and with a veritable arsenal of weapons in his bedroom, I knew he could.” Her brother, and a close friend who had left the church, helped to smuggle her children and a few possessions past the guards at the Moon compound. A bitter and protracted legal battle followed. In the end, a settlement was reached and the divorce finalized last year, although the Moons refuse to pay maintenance.

Nansook now lives in a modest house in an anonymous suburb. In the gilded cage of the First Family, she had never cooked, never even folded clothes. Now she must do everything, but says she feels free for the first time in her life.

She wrote her book — for which her advance was said to be small — “because by writing it all down I made something of my life, it had not been just wasted. I also don’t want anyone else to go through what I did.” She has returned to college and plans to devote the rest of her life working for battered wives.

Her former husband still retains visiting rights. The children visit him in New York and return with lavish presents paid for by the True Grandmother. The exception is her eldest daughter, who refuses to see her father. She is 15, the same age as Nansook when she was handed over to the Moons. “She seems such a baby to me. I can’t even begin to think that she could get married.”

On the loss of her own youth, Nansook says: “I feel duped, but I do not feel bitter. I feel used, but I feel more sad than angry. I long to have the years back that I lost to Sun Myung Moon. I wish I could be a girl again. I wonder if I will ever know romantic love, if I will ever trust a man or any so-called leader again.”

Nansook can never fully escape the Moons. It is not just the occasional church official who arrives unannounced on a mission to reclaim her for the church. The Rev Moon, despite “shoe-polish black” dyed hair, is 78 and in the final years of his life. At least two of his children are known to have deserted the church which, according to Nansook, now has only a few thousand supporters in America, his country of adoption.

In Japan, the main powerbase of the Moonies, there are thought to be only 10,000 active members, and in Britain no more than a few hundred. Moon’s natural successor would be Hyo Jin. But because of his obvious failings, it is believed that the True Father and Mother have decided to anoint their third son instead (their second, Heung Jin, died in a car crash, aged 17, in January 1984). Hyo Jin is unlikely to abdicate his throne without a battle, however, and since he has supporters even inside the True Family, a power struggle seems likely after Moon’s death.

Nansook knows that her oldest son Shin Gil, as the crown prince, could become a pawn in any Moonie civil war and fears, as with all her children, that he might he tempted back to the Unification Church. Even as he wanes, Moon still has the power to take hold of weaker minds than his. Nansook says that he enjoys the process of humiliating those beneath him. Even so, she suspects that Moon is haunted by the problems in “the family without sin”. “Deep down, under the ego, I think that the failures of his children do bother him,” she says.

As for her former husband, she believes he is crushed by his relationship with his father. “He has hatred towards him, but he also knows that without his father he is nothing.”

The Moons, she says, would accept her back if she was prepared to apologize, even after the publication of her book, which they have studiously ignored. She still appears on official Unification Church photographs and no mention is made of the divorce.

At the lavish banquet for the Moons which followed a mass wedding in New York last year, there were place cards and empty chairs for Nansook and the other children who have long fled the True Family.

More and more, it seems, the Rev Moon is simply deceiving himself.

In the Shadow of the Moons: My Life In The Reverend Sun Myung Moon’s Family, 1998, by Nansook Hong, is published by Little, Brown & Co. ISBN  0-316-34816-3

Nansook Hong, transcripts of three interviews, Inc. ‘60 Minutes’

Nansook Hong interviewed by Herbert Rosedale

Nansook Hong In The Shadow Of The Moons, part 1

Sam Park reveals Moon’s hidden history (2014)

Sam Park 2015 response to feedback from my presentation

[silkhuikj]

silk

Silk

by Hui Kj 

****************************

Bailey, 

Not the twins or fish rot find faces, and I did not know exactly until after your submarine redirected their mirror lipstick, which is hardly possible to get the subjects more gleeful until your Atlantis: where identity is scanned by [redacted] and your group will be occupying in the sea training, all your ladies from your power shedding but please, for not much longer for such a way is different here now; you can come back to our home planet and your ladies will remember you as I have over such awhile.

For me, motel to motel: lights and backflip, scanning stress, heart rate normal but tried - and what I fear now is your capture and to see locked portals when you teleport into some planet’s virus that shows how you just refuse to be predictable and become hologram trickery, and friendly your way thru in disguise and that is my meaning to advise against your risk taking, besides the mere admiration I have: to avoid but of course promptly applaud on how you adapt across intimidating lines, and what I fear is that you have been brought here and there in your own way of time, yet by my traces shaping, and /Silk/’s gambling habits and you remain invisible one day at a time. Forget old-key monuments; not in this phase of life. 

/Silk/ with their gene, file pile separation operation for animal evolution, brain swapping and to sense-evolve: being able to see the scent in the lab: see thru fog - or hear their sigh as crickets choir to a song of freedom outside the bases on acre-vastness maybe noticed. See undo modern garden and me as fuck up then with the modern tree with extraction for our potions that remain classified, and I fuck up edit-copy-send and refuse to supply 100% of my own intel piles - there is a kingdom getting more difficult to fight for. 

Sometimes there are branches French kissing or cloud faces turning to see: all too addicting but they remain when I break eye contact and that is why we seek out identity because identity is everywhere if you hunt metaphysics or any bloom or trail. My curtains are closed now - and the powers are wearing off since I removed myself out of fear. 

A joke would be fireworks if we do not see each other but the cosmos specks are stories: the static riot and all the Rains, and all the Noahs, and all the Summers; shame for the tongue at the edge of worlds to wait on but deniable recruitment statuses, or a wise one does not have the knack or interest for our history and maybe even any history neither. You bite your tongue. If subject is at truth then it is ice cold when they are older yet you help them from the sea. Game but will title. So, when crazy B? 

/Silk/ is very serious about when green is black there is orange. If God knew of what you said that day then…..this is why I am alone and gave my office to our good pal Garcia who you teamed then but you were sent elsewhere because of the so many blueprints. He might of stole information like I did so, but he is an artist - I have not been back for almost a year, and I will not get current-tied; not again because you are already there and anywhere often but away. They remain a vision tilt opus all in all frequently, and that is /Silk/ while we can write these letters but somehow are separated by design tally planets away, mild difference with submarines, airplanes, or again classified means…(teleport), but you do not think that is true and your letters tell me that each person planted should envy each other and collectively better the world - /Silk/ is good but it all separates us. Jolie amour, I need to see you. /Silk/ is sending me someone - Godspeed. . .

- K.Well

***********************************

Bailey, 

Did /Silk/ call for a virtual huddle when the scan came thru? I do not know if heaven cheers or if the sky is the first to go dark - I am not in the system anymore. My den is poison-lights straining me with puzzle strings if void is nothing or everything lately. I meant something else about teacher-twins. [Filter]: sonder not bombers; they are not reporting on recruits from planet: Sneurnka: make sure /Silk/ knows different hums are different revivers and then learn it.. all subjects will be tested about planet flexibility and I will send spies on my own if I must. 

I love you Bailey. When you turn on Church Street out-under, do you crack from the suicide I have caused? The admirers… I am trying to preserve this for you from me, or just my depictions made some crazy when they were fine and it was misguided when the risk was absolute zero but was taken as contradiction. Garcia told you; so you can know my pain: weary agent uncurling. Me for earth - you at Atlantis - /Silk/ unknown: we want to save Sneurnka. Although, there is a raptured fever held and kept to a butterfly and your data fraction was saved and I have it here with me. (Reference: Garcia: code: Wolfman.) He sent me a letter about green suicide: not too far away from me now. It is someone - possibly an old subject, and I found him and invited him to coffee…. Ah, we need a double against old friends, find my chip; last buffered 492582 and even what did I Mrs. then? - in hiding for this. The subject will collapse in will offer up himself for the Sneurnka attack; the issue is all he knows is snow just pressed diction and fear for coming back - he is 30 minutes away. 

I will try spelling it out for him ad submerge lightning in honor of your sector with options for placement. My cup of tea is psychosis even though I remember how brave you were in training, even outlining the teacher’s alien drawings and it was impossible for you to not get promoted and promoted on. You helped me, and /Silk/ gave you that noble internship and when God showed your eyes were shut because one of the Noah’s turtles went blue; /Silk/ was zapped by God, and extraction is what I am trying to get to you but it is tangible unlike our computer army that I refuse to reopen those blueprints and be discovered  )))))))))))))))

((((((((((((((( Subject 1 brought his cousin to the cafe. She (2) told me to be sick six times. It made it seem that things were reserved for the last: they had cuts on their arms and around their body and even mentioned they would sometimes slice each other to feel - /Silk/ is interested because of their undeniably unique aesthetic with the moodiness, enigma spy, and they told me the uncommon fight is how glow is glow and I am guessing /Silk/ will offer these two help and if it is incest then many things could be of disturbance to the code and DNA of any of our bases. They just do many drugs; mostly meth for telepathy access. Denial they would throw pennies at me but you would be the cousin’s Queen. It is just their mayday. ))

— 

The subjects told me how their vibration is grey but remain investigating. My jaw dropped when they spoke of death wishes, and without hesitation I offered up a planet Sneurnka visitation. Their grey rain in a season and meeting destiny accidentally: subject 2 spoke up, I need /Silk/ to stay away from this kind of plotting: her filter exposes and forfeits progression 00000 doom but they will be away at Sneurnka to learn about spite, and you are the one I trust B - if you go there you could have your position changed: I know asking for more of your help is painful both ways, but new subjects contact me swiftly but urgently throughout my months data scanning. You could help these subjects, and you have dearly planted productivity at Atlantis. Your tracking will be up again once you arise. Thanks for all you do.  

K.Well

*******************************

Bailey,

Wolfman dimension Q swayed your findings and concerns for you to report to Sneurnka, even though your 7th sent me a direct postcard from London - thank you for writing my dear: I am jazzed even if everyone else just knows your badge. In your letter, I must say, you misplaced something: ‘cat9’ which the code has changed and now only means, ‘Virginia, Vegas fathers’ - which Wolfman has drafted your report so all in all to /Silk/; you have your clones pretty and handsome: bravery; as you are always and everyone fears you for ethics. 

Your dyed your hair black and your profile ‘Xxxx-00000’ is equivalent to the April trinity: tho all scanning winter, summer, spring, and still in progress. You always told me you just wanted to be normal, and I do not know if I can fix that: you bring peace and if you are tired of retire daydream then I will contact /Silk/ and see if they can give you a vacation in Z and electrify a twin to achieve points Sneurnka or not, and if you never see me again: it is because Wolfman said I was crazy and rebellious and evil for deactivating my will to get out - this matrix is a doorbell: but I am afraid the only nerves is that nobody will show. I have merged my clones for a greater cause  and /Silk/ is not only guarding you but slowly casting virus walls in my chips thru our line. Yet, you are the invisible one, and maybe you will frenzy to freedom without my help. 

Wolfman is dialing…)))))))))))))))))) 

((((((((((((((((((((( So,…. /Silk/ has found a C in America, Earth. so your 9 was correct: well done! Wolfman wanted me to tell you about this important art: XXXXXXX by XXXXXXX, and that was all. B, my eyes on you will stay to protect but I am no host. Turn around if you feel anxious, but I know that is wave oriented and you are so bold and infinitely inspiring. You said in your letter that Atlantis is in order. I will be scanning in Sneurnka for awhile while you train C - remember, Earth’s eye is violent but Sneurnka is worse - Wolfman will assist with……))))))))))))))))

(((((((((((((((( 

(

I cannot scan any finds; undetectable information walls - your parents are dialing my phone but my phone is under. Reading about the suicides - oh no B. I can not send anymore blueprints and there is no clearance for you to know about the Wvm-virus that slipped out from my lab…. - unplugging, updates thru my brother only, he is on Mars. 

Bailey, if we had matching shoes…. You will be hearing from /Silk/ soon I predict. I am weak and they know about me but not you. I am sorry. I love you. Goodbye for now! ~~~~~~~~~~ <3

- A.Well

*************************************

1 year later —————

It was to attempt to think in front of me and it was awkward now without subjects coming to see me - I never left the motel room and have not seen daylight. There are dreams of crows and the roar of trees of winds that I called peace but the crows from my bad dreams. I kept busy sifting thru war crime data and I have not heard from /Silk/ - would refuse jobs anyway. The thought of getting a bicycle was like heroin, and nobody could make out my face - even tho Sneurnka acutely invaded parts of here maybe two hours out.

My doppelgängers expired - Wolfman in the news but Bailey hail for peace never seen but remarkable invisibility. It is difficult to see forward; never had a track on her, my brother on Mars never alerts me, /Silk/ sends shocks to my chip twice a day but everyone uninvolved from past status and now I am an utter waste…. 

C might rival with Bailey, and Wolfman may end up like me: depressed and heartbroken without a seeming purpose but to tune into war and unable. He never made a death wish, and neither did I, but my eyes were red then. There is always the surrendering of brain in a /Silk/ lab, but seclusion has made me mad and any action at all seems like suicide - ah, trapped but was a villain. Earth has spun, and Sneurnka the action needed - /Silk/ will conquer the galaxy and imprison me as something official, differing from now in motels. 

***************** (mental hospital)

Daniel! I know you! I know you Daniel! Hey! I know you!

**************************

Doctor Frances floated him to sleep thru his veins……

[yahoo-puck-daddy-blog]

What We Learned: Is it time to worry about Vegas?

The Vegas Golden Knights are finally starting to struggle. (Ethan Miller/Getty Images)

Having 95 points is, from what I understand, a lot for an expansion team with 10 games left on the schedule.

The Vegas story this year has been an amazing one, because this is a team that by all rights shouldn’t be as good as they have been and is, in fact, shaming most of the league’s GMs for giving away so many players who are having such good seasons. Call it luck or a confluence of positive circumstances or whatever else you like, but the Golden Knights have been a smashing success.

All season, people have championed not only their powerful home ice advantage, but also their ability to turn unsung heroes on other teams — William Karlsson, Reilly Smith, Jon Marchessault, David Perron, Erik Haula, Colin Miller, Nate Schmidt, etc. — into legitimate scoring threats. It doesn’t hurt that Marc-Andre Fleury, already one of the more likable guys in the league, is also having a whopper of a season.

That none of the players on this team will get much love for individual awards a few months from now is, perhaps, reflective of whatever alchemy they’ve forged together. However, you can basically write Gerard Gallant’s name in for Jack Adams right now, in pen. And it’s probably a toss-up between Steve Yzerman, David Poile, and George McPhee for GM of the Year.

However, those who’ve been paying attention have probably noticed that the stories about the Knights’ home cooking are a little less frequent these days. The “aren’t they amazing?” video packages aren’t so common anymore. All talk of what a tough out they’re going to be have faded. And that’s because it’s starting to look like teams have figured them out. Since Feb. 26 (and not including yesterday’s game against a sliding Calgary side), they have just three regulation wins in 10 games. They’re losers of four straight in T-Mobile Area, the once-proud home of the Vegas Flu.

But anyone can lose four straight at home. Anyone can lose 6 of 10. It happens. Earlier this year, the Lightning lost 5 of 7. Nashville opened the season winning just 5 of 12. But the problem for Vegas is that in terms of their “process,” they’ve been trending down for a while now. Their numbers in the last 16 games — that is, since Feb. 13 — look pretty bleak at 5-on-5: They’re 16th in shot attempts, 19th in shots on goal, and 27th in expected goals. The only reason they’re even plugging along a little bit is that Fleury continues to be spectacular, by and large, and they’re still getting plenty lucky in shooting the puck.

Moreover, this comes at a time when their power play remains quite good, running seventh in the league at 24.4 percent, neck-and-neck with Tampa. Their PK, however, has crashed and burned, running 74.4 percent and seventh-last in the NHL. Their kill is suddenly worse than Ottawa’s, after spending the previous 55 games at 82 percent. And that’s reflected in the underlying numbers; they’re giving up more attempts, more high-danger chances, etc., and to no one’s surprise when such a thing happens, that’s turning into more goals in the back of their net.

Over this period, they’re plus-3 in actual goals but minus-5.3 in expected goals at full strength. Outperforming their poor play to that extent is the only reason the wheels haven’t well and truly fallen off, and one has to logically start wondering how much longer Vegas can last.

Again, in the grand scheme of things this may look like a blip on the radar. It’s 16 games of playing poorly, and their record in that time is still 9-6-1. This is basically the definition of being a bit lucky, but the thing with Vegas is that this is a slippage of quality that’s led to the worsening results. Other teams that outperformed expectations for a big chunk of the season then regressed — your Torontos and Minnesotas and Calgarys and Colorados and Floridas — were those with sub-50 percent underlying numbers that never really impressed you to watch them but won anyway thanks to a lot of shooting luck and, often, surprisingly good goaltending.

Not so with Vegas. Basically all their underlyings were well above 50 percent for a good chunk of the year and have only started to slip in the last month-plus. The reasons for this aren’t quite clear to me; have teams simply figured out their PK and 5-on-5 schemes? Are injuries to some key players catching up with them a bit (and in doing so exposing the team’s long-gestating depth problems)? Could this just be “one of those things?”

The answer to all those questions, I think, is “probably.” It’s a combination of factors that can’t be wholly explained except to say the NHL season is long and teams that don’t have a ton of top-end talent and depth eventually get figured out, and when guys like James Neal and Reilly Smith get hurt, that exacerbates the issue.

I’ve said all year that Vegas got a better team than they had any right to if other GMs were smart about their expansion draft approach, and a number of guys are having career seasons in what not-so-coincidentally are contract years. I’ve also said all along that they were a lot like last year’s Blue Jackets, which were pretty good for most of the season but made a lot of hay by absolutely pounding on bad teams and getting lucky against good ones. I’ve seen little to dissuade me from either take to this point.

The question, then, becomes what this team looks like come playoff time. They’re still all but assured to win their division — San Jose ended Saturday night six points back with an extra game played — but they’re also probably going to face the better of the two wild card teams. Right now that could be Colorado, Dallas, or Anaheim. The Stars are sliding a bit lately as well (3-3-4 in their last 10) and Colorado is coming on strong (6-1-3). That would be a tough out for the Golden Knights, home ice or not. It couldn’t be a surprise if they, like last year’s Blue Jackets, lost in the first round despite getting a lot of hype all season.

In theory, there’s still time for them to turn this around and go back to being what everyone thinks of them being. But they’re quickly running out of track and, perhaps, answers.

What We Learned

Anaheim Ducks: Losing Kevin Bieksa for a month strikes me as a blessing in disguise.

Arizona Coyotes: Put another way, Antti Raanta is looking to run out the clock.

Boston Bruins: How do they keep winning like this?

Buffalo Sabres: They’re really gonna try to sign Casey Mittelstadt here. If Mittelstadt is smart, he runs it to Aug. 15, 2021.

Calgary Flames: They’re gonna miss again. You gotta make changes this summer.

Carolina Hurricanes: Ah, trying to cheap out on a GM search? Good stuff. For the record, $400,000 a season is mid-tier assistant GM money, not actual NHL GM money.

Chicago Blackhawks: These guys hadn’t lost to the Sabres since 2009. That’s where we’re at now.

Colorado Avalanche: Another attempt to discredit the MacKinnon for Hart campaign. Shameful!

Columbus Blue Jackets: They just keep winning. Which is what they should have been doing all year.

Dallas Stars: The good news is they keep getting enough points that all this losing might not matter so so so much at the end of the season, but also you probably don’t want to gamble like this.

Detroit Red Wings: This kind of apologia has to get wearisome to write after 70 games.

Edmonton Oilers: Hahahaha, what a headline.

Florida Panthers: Turns out it probably doesn’t matter if you get super-hot at the end of the season if you were horrendous for the first four months of it.

Los Angeles Kings: Sometimes you just get shut out on 38 shots by a backup goalie. It’s a weird sport, man, I dunno.

Minnesota Wild: Devan Dubnyk picked up his 200th career win on Saturday. Here’s a guy with a .916 career save percentage despite playing on the Oilers for a long time. Not bad!

Montreal Canadiens: “Would the Canadiens be better off tanking the rest of the way?” What kind of question is this? They’re a point above the bottom five and they went into the year thinking they were a playoff team. Who cares?

Nashville Predators: These guys gotta be scary, man.

New Jersey Devils: They are about to do it.  Down five points, Florida’s gotta be cooked, even with the games in hand.

New York Islanders: Moving Tavares to the wing? Just trade him now. Good lord.

New York Rangers: Yeah I can see their future: It’s a real dark place.

Ottawa Senators: In my medical opinion, getting hit in the head with a frozen rubber thing moving close to triple-digit miles per hour is bad.

Philadelphia Flyers: If you’re ever down in the third period, you better hope like hell you’re playing Carolina.

Pittsburgh Penguins: If they can finally get Brassard going, look all the way out.

San Jose Sharks: Gotta tell ya, the Sharks are looking real good lately.

St. Louis Blues: Would losing Vladimir Tarasenko for the last few weeks of the season be bad?

Tampa Bay Lightning: I want a Lightning/Bruins series very very very badly.

Toronto Maple Leafs: I don’t know if it’s good or bad that the Leafs have been around this long and this third-in-their-own-division season is probably going to be their best in franchise history.

Vancouver Canucks: Yeah this team is an embarrassment, full stop.

Vegas Golden Knights: One team Vegas really doesn’t want to play in the first round? Minnesota.

Washington Capitals: This is a fun twist.

“Winnipeg Jets: Lost in how good the Jets have been: Last summer’s Dmitry Kulikov contract has been pretty bad.

Play of the Weekend

For me? This was a good goal from Luke Schenn.

Gold Star Award

As expected, Keith Kinkaid is sealing up this Devils playoff appearance. We all saw it coming.

Minus of the Weekend

Drew Doughty has played 30 minutes in two of the Kings’ last three games. That’s too many minutes!

Perfect HFBoards Trade Proposal of the Week

User “wilfred” is on top of things.

To Ottawa: Price

To Montreal: Ryan Gaborik Anderson Perron Ott 2nd 19 *Perron and Ott 2nd are for Montreal to pay for Prices 13m signing bonus before the trade is made

Signoff

Oh, not in Utica, no. It’s an Albany expression.

Ryan Lambert is a Puck Daddy columnist. His email is here and his Twitter is here.

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