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jungle-angel · 1 year ago

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Family Ties Are Stronger Than Time (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: You're supposed to beon bedrest for a bit after just having had the boys so Rhett decides to take Amy with him to visit an old friend and learns something about a family member that shocks him

Notes: A very, very Happy Hannukah to all who celebrate, I feel bad I haven't done much but this has been sitting in the back of my brain for a while. I hope it came out well enough, I was nervous writing it but I'm hoping it came out well enough 🥰🥰🥰🥰

Warnings: Mentions of war, birth etc.

"Alright sweetheart," Rhett said to Amy. "You ready?"

"Yeah!" she exclaimed excitedly.

She hopped down the steps of the general store you both owned with Rhett helping her down onto the snowy sidewalk and into the truck where he buckled her into her carseat. He placed the blue and gold box full of baked goods next to her, hoping that they wouldn't spill over on the ride out of town. He and Cecelia had painstakingly made them for three days, hoping that they turned out alright.

Down the roads they went, out of downtown and back to the more rural areas in town where ranches became a more common sight than buildings. They passed by the Waldorf school where Amy and Hannah both attended kindergarten and preschool respectively, the grounds now covered with snow and the farm across the street with it. Rhett had to laugh a little as he had lost count of how many times he had gone to the farm across from the school to help fix a tractor or help the farmers with their cows.

Finally, they came to a lonely little stretch of ranch, the old farmhouse sitting on top of a little hill with stretch after stretch of fence surrounding it. He pulled up to the garage and parked the truck, letting Amy out and taking the box with him.

"Go ahead Doodlebug," Rhett told her. "Go ring the doorbell."

Amy rang the little bell next to the door and in a split second it was opened by an elderly woman with white hair, her eyes lighting up when she saw Rhett and Amy.

"My sweet I didn't think you were coming!" she exclaimed happily.

"What, Sara? Ya'll thought we were gonna ignore ya'll?" Rhett chuckled.

"You.....you, you get in here, come, come in," Sara beckoned.

Rhett and Amy both went into the house and removed their coats and shoes. "Elie around at all?" Rhett asked.

"No, no, he went to go help Officer Joy or something," Sara told him. "Here, I'll fix you both something."

Rhett loved coming down to visit Sara. Ever since he was a little kid, he loved the way the elderly Polish woman made him feel welcome in her home and had even taught him a little bit of her language. Sara and Elie Abramowicz were as close with the Abbotts as the Duttons were, more like family than friends.

"Where is (y/n)?" Sara asked.

"She's all holed up in bed," Rhett chuckled. "Boys were born two days ago."

"Ah and on the first night of Hannukah no less," Sara said with pride.

"Oh, speaking of which," Rhett said, seating himself on the old, rickety barstool at the kitchen counter. "Made these a few days ago."

He gave Sara the box and when she opened it, her face lit up. "You didn't!" she exclaimed.

Rhett laughed before he and Sara hugged. "Didn't burn the kitchen down makin'em either," he laughed.

"Oh Rhett," Sara sighed. "You know I haven't been able to make sufganiyot since Mama passed away. Thank you. As if Elie and I didn't owe your family enough already."

"Sara what the hell are ya'll even talkin about?" Rhett asked her. "You don't owe us nothin."

"Oh but we do," Sara insisted. "And it all goes back to your Oma."

"My grandma?" Rhett asked.

Sara nodded.

"Wh.....what'd Oma Heidi have to do with anything?"

Sara scrunched her deeply wrinkled brow. "You mean to tell me that your Papa never told you?" she asked him.

Rhett shook his head.

"Here," Sara said, putting the box of fresh sufganiyot next to the toaster. "You stay and I tell you."

Rhett stayed put, keeping a careful watch on Amy who was in the living room playing with Elie and Sara's boarhound, Boris. He waited for Sara to finish making a mug full of heady black tea before she seated herself across from him.

"You know that Elie and I used to live in Warsaw?"

Rhett nodded.

"I remember a long, long time ago after the invasion," Sara began. "We were trapped in our city like animals, nowhere to run and nowhere to hide. Elie and I, we were so young, fifteen and seventeen years old and in terrible danger. Every night we all prayed for a miracle."

Rhett could almost see it before his very eyes and the terrible scene that played out in his mind like a movie.

"Your Oma had come to us with a group of people who claimed they could help," Sara continued. "French and German resisters who were bent on getting people out of the hands of the Nazis. We didn't trust them at first, but quickly we realized we had no choice. "Six hundred of us fled from Warsaw in 1943," Sara explained. "Six hundred. We went on foot, by rail and by truck, all the way to a safe place where we hid."

The more Rhett listened to the story, the more the shock ran through his very core. Royal had never said anything about his mother or about what she had done before leaving Switzerland.

"You see Rhett," Sara said. "It is because of your Oma that we and so many others lived. That is why Elie and I remain close with your family. After we came to America, your Oma and I remained very close friends, so much so that she came to fetch me the night you were born. I made a promise to your Oma that I would watch over you when she passed Rhett.....and Elie and I intend to keep that promise."

Rhett could feel his eyes burning. He had never known. "Why didn't Dad say anything if he knew?" Rhett asked her.

"Do not blame your father Rhett," Sara answered. "That was your Oma's wish. Your father knew how much pain she had gone through for others and didn't wish to inflict that pain on anyone else."

He felt a few loose tears falling from his eyes when he heard Sara's story. "Wish she was still here," he croaked.

"Ah but she is," Sara assured him. "I know she is Rhett."

It took him a while to process the story he had just heard, but after a while, Rhett felt an immense sense of pride, knowing how strong his ties were to the people who were like family to him.

Rhett heard a truck pulling up a little while later when who should appear but you and Royal with Hannah, each of you carrying a little carseat that safely held Tatum and Tanner, your twins.

"Hey Sara," Royal called as he entered. "We come bearing a Hannukah gift for you and Elie."

"Royal Abbott, you march into my house while your son is here...."

Royal laughed, unable to make out the rest of what she had been saying.

You and Sara talked a good long while while Rhett talked things over with Royal. Surprisingly enough, Royal was more than understanding about the whole thing.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell ya'll sooner son," Royal said. "I saw how much pain it had caused Oma.......I didn't want any of that pain passed onto you guys."

Rhett tried hard to hold back the tears in front of his father but he couldn't. Royal pulled him in and held his son when he saw that look in Rhett's eyes.

When all was said and done and everything had settled, you and Rhett gathered in the living room with Sara and Elie when he had returned, the two of them absolutely head over heels for your boys. Cecelia had joined you a little while later along with the rest of Sara and Elie's family. The grandkids all taught Amy and Hannah how to play dreidel and the delighted shrieks and shouts that came from the living room had you and Rhett in the best of moods.

"Think they'll sleep ok tonight?" you asked.

"No doubt darlin," Rhett chuckled. "Just wait till Christmas Eve."

You half laughed and half groaned at the thought, knowing Amy and her Dutton cousins would all be up till some ungodly hour, having eaten all the candy in their stockings. You and Rhett shared a sweet kiss as you watched the kids. Rhett looked out the living room window and saw that one of the stars was shining a little brighter that night, mouthing a silent "thank you" to his Oma Heidi, who he was sure, was watching over you all.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #amy abbott #royal abbott #cecelia abbott

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asanjou · 9 months ago

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kyoryu kingoh trailer wmg

GALACTISECT KING GIRA???? this look is soooooo good though

now this. this may beone of the sexiest suits of all time

glasses girlie yanma... with this haircut too. is it like an au like the 10 years birth short or is this more MGN stuff

normal girl himeno too. having carnation lunch

I'm glad takamina just understands ritas appeal. In other news my covid test is pausitive

SO KAKU SHIRTLESS SCENE WILL BE REAL

I don't have anything to say about the kyoryus cuz I don't know them well really but I'm happy red n gold made it back for this

#post tag #king oh #kingohger spoilers #it straight up smells like spiders in here

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superconductivebean · 4 months ago

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#1118

Okey @infernalrusalka @limonnitsa, The Ficbооk Post. I think you @theladyofshalott1989 might be interested in reading this, too.

So.

While I was away, the site managed to up a mirror but still, its block is certainly a tragedy for the fanfiction written in Russiаn and Russiаn fandom in general. It's our history; and our queer history, too, despite the quality of the discourse ensuing over the years was as bad as you can remember from the LJ days (if you weren't around then or weren't catching up, recent аnti vs prо-shiр is basically the nth wave of it). However, the tragedy hasn't had its first act premiered today.

Or rather, yesterday. I fell asleep mid-writing.

Anyway.

Some will say, Ficbооk was doomed at its inception, June 22d, 2009. Unlike AO3, Ficbооk wasn't created from the ashes of the fanfiction archive purges. Its birth is attested to the state of the runet's fandom and social spaces in general and most importantly, runet didn't have its own fanfiction.net.

The Inception

Slowly, LJ was becoming an ad-riddled retirement house as the most prolific authors were moving to Facebook or building their own sites to work the work, leaving regular diary owners behind. Those, in turn, were either going off the site, or migrating to the wellbeloved Diаry.ru that embraced them with open arms as it did former forum dwellers. However, neither of those platforms was well-equipped for hosting fanfiction — or any work of literature whatsoever. Not that it was an impossible mission to publish anything at all but you must agree, the search function on those websites wouldn't bring up everything that was ever posted. Forums and blogs being what they were, the hoster could've and often did restrict certain topics thus an entire fandom group could be wiped one day. For runet, it wasn't something people only heard about; not many fandom spaces faced this treatment but for the Ficbооk admin and perhaps many others, it was enough.

So in the summer of 2009, the admin, Entrery, launched Ficbооk.

I must mention that Entrery was the admin for the early period of the site's life, selling it to the man named Kostya in 2014. Until that point in the site's history, I'm giving a short overview of the site and how people used to view it; consider 2009-2013 as an exposition to the entire drama.

Speaking of the runet fandom spaces, Diаry.ru, LJ (and numerous of its competitors like Yа.ru, LiveIntеrnet) and forums weren't the only platforms that existed then. Everyone knew Aeterna and Beon, but Aeterna was a quiz website, and Beon was a kid's version of LJ with sparkly graphics and bizarre public chats. There were also groups in vkоntаkte, оdnоklassniki and mоimir, plus, fandom websites on the ucоz engine. As an English-speaking fandom person, and I mean the one familiar with English-speaking fandom spaces, you'll quickly find equivalents to all of those; but keep in mind those are close matches.

At this point in time, runet had never had a platform dedicated to fanfiction, entirely. We only had General Publishing Websites. Those were:

paleolithic sаmlib. Seriously, just search it up and look at it;

prozа.ru, the one for the prose one;

there were few more of the less-known sites but not a single one dedicated for fanfiction besides blogs.

I think it's important to mention:

runet's queer culture is deeply rooted in fandom and subsequently in fanfic. it doesn't matter if GL novels are silly or funky those yaoi fanfictions if they are or were an augenblick realisation for people. boys can kiss boys. girls can do girls. it can be for real, in real life. im not going on a long tangent here but feel free to ask away.

Entrery wanted us to have a multifandom fanfiction archive. It ended up supporting original works as well as translations, poetry, meta but sadly, no artwork support. Even to an extent AO3 allows it, no. It did not really matter, though, albeit people were used to look at fandom websites and see sections for artworks, gifs, fanfiction, vids, forums, chats, guest rooms. Everyone accepted it, at some point. But before that would happen, Ficbооk's launch was met lukewarmly.

Entrery's project didn't create much of a hype for the fandom people.

The notable Diаry.ru was the site of, you know, clique behaviour. LJ users inhabiting it were rather supportive of it as well. Drama and the couloir games thrived in that community; locked blogs, userlists, do you remember that? People from there wanted Ficbооk to introduce exclusionary policies of any kind to keep those Beon and Aeterna children out of the site, saying kiddos needed to finish school at the very least before they could open Word and type any kind of fiction.

Entrery never did set any such policy, instead he let everyone in.

His project was quite literally an archive. Everyone could post and as there wasn't list-based access, there wasn't such a thing as posting exclusively for a certain number of people (with a subsequent drama of that posting being a spite-vague-fic written specifically for those who people used to call the rat-kun). However, Ficbооk had its own pits of despair: The Dislike Button and The Popular Of The Week.

Other things included:

edit records are kept for months. It was and is rather easy to work with betas and see what has been changed, although it could've been significantly improved by the time 2024 rolled around, back in 2009 it was fine as is;

Public Beta is a feature I think every single archive should have, it is a must. Imagine you spotted a typo but instead of going into the Edit Text and rewriting everything you just send yourself reports? and then run through them? fixing only those things that are easy, quick fixes?.. brb gonna cry;

drafts are kept indefinitely;

private and live chats;

User Moderation, a feature that has become the site's first flag for eventual downfall but until then, everyone's favourite pastime: it meant you would scroll through an endless flow of fanfiction and flag those works that violated the rules (then similar to AO3's TOS).

Many of those were largely unknown to the blog fandom people but social features, moderator status and ease of work were calling cards for those who weren't prejudiced or was in searches for a better place to be than — ahem — every platform in runet is infernal. There aren't any exceptions but while the new place hasn't developed any cliques, it's totally bearable.

What's 'moderator status'? If you were helping the site to filter out spammers and trolls, Entrery thought you needed to be rewarded somehow. It basically meant ad-free experience and all you needed for to achieve it was to successfully pass a test. Yours truly became a mod at 11 or 12 yo, to give you a gist of how trivial that test was. If you think I was an outlier, no, Ficbооk became a significant part of life of many fandom kiddos my age.

It's crucial to bear in mind because we were part of the reason the site faced prejudice and was constantly reprimanded for letting us punks in. No one believed a website where any child could post something wasn't full of children writing Investigation Discovery kind of fiction about their pixel anime dolls. Then, authors who somehow weren't children were thought to be people not able to write anything but trashy pulp. If your primary platform back then was Ficbооk, you would be told that you're either of those and you couldn't be neither.

Obviously, it wasn't true. But I will smother my nostalgia if I'm not mentioning Entrery's communication policies.

Bans weren't a thing unless you were a spammer. Comment removal wasn't a thing as well, you had to send reports and wait for the site mods — not content mods — to remove them for you but only if the mod deemed the comments inappropriate, too. In 2013, these things were introduced but wasn't it too late? Certainly was.

Aversion from receiving any kind of critique or criticism weren't an argument to bring up the table; you had to suck it up regardless of how stupid, blood-thirsty, or utterly brainded was that comment. Nor you could delete the consequences of a randomly opened floodgate.

Rules prohibited flooding and flaming but each site mod had their idea of what that entailed. Good luck to get everything you didn't need removed. Re-publishing the work wouldn't solve this. So yeah, bullies were thriving in that environment.

Any talk with the Support could turn a heated discussion because those people, including Entrery, did not know tact nor they had any awareness regarding how to work thousands of people. They would dismiss you, be rude to you, they would never listen.

Later, this prompted Entrery to think the site's userbase was a bunch of grown manchildren Who Certainly Knew Better aka if you told him the search could use some improvements and perhaps more tags, that would be called something in the fashion of We Aren't Turning The Site Into A Kink Encyclopedia. Yes, Entrery, I still remember this and will take that to my grave idc if it was 10 years ago.

Long story short, Entrery created a pit of infernality we all grew to love at some point. In the best post-U2SR tradition, we weren't really presented a choice; It was this or nothing but Diаry.ru's stuck-up bitches or LJ's grandparents calling you a sweet summer child.

I will mention these two fandom population were known for writing the Big Game Of Albus Dumbledore theory and asking questions such as Will I Be Able To Fuck Someone After Ripping Their Spine Cord Off Their Body And Will They Be Able To Feel Everything Still🤔? After reading threads like this I'm practically emotionally immune to whatever people can put up online. They, too, were deranged.

Fandom Kоmbat

Rocky start gravely injured Ficbооk in the management department but we were yet to realise this in the sweet sweet years of 2010-2011. The site grew in popularity, some authors were becoming popular — everyone didn't just know their names, they could easily look them up in the Popular Authors section.

This feature was originally planned to be a kind of motivation for the people to write more and compete against each other. To keep the engagement numbers up. To build a community. What could possibly go wrong (tldr; turned out the dislike button was an excellent tool for bullies to live someone off the platform hence it was disabled, 2012).

The community around the site's popular fanfics, originals & authors was toxic beyond comprehension, as you can imagine. People were doxxing each other, submitting dirt to the Confession Page, ripping apart the most popular works, building up the site's user stereotypes and documenting history in memes. The usual gist of things in every community; except runet being an infernal thing it is, it was viciously cruel. Some attribute it to the generational trauma, I personally think we are stuck living in the slum fiction, but anyway, by the time 2013 rolled around, the site was alive as ever. Even the Apocalypse of 2012 didn't crash its spirits, instead it busted the sense of community in its users for the first — and only — time in the website's entire history.

In December of 2012 the server fucking died and took an entire month worth of data with it.

However, 2013 was also the time of this Old Ficbооk — a pool of toxic brine — beginning to dissolve. Everything we were used in 2011-2012 suddenly wasn't there. Old heroes faded, new figures were aririsng. But they were becoming increasingly more local and less known to the general public.

And then, came the people from Diаry.ru. Fandom Kоmbat writers.

You could see these people, too. Ever seen a titled that looked like this?

WTF [Fandom Name] - 20XX

That's Fandom Kоmbat event. It's held twice a year, every fandom can participate, for those who are unlucky to have one can write for multifandom Kombat teams. Amazing thing, English fandom could never, honest. I'm rather bashful of Diаry.ru but I'm ready to forgive them a lot for this event's inception alone. Anyway. The event had (and it has) an annual crop of fanfics and original works and at some point — 2014, but first harbingers flew in 2013 — people needed a safe place to store their work.

Ficbооk claimed to be operating from Latvia, Riga. So people flocked to the .net domain from a seemed-finicky .ru, hoping it will protect their work from a potential deletion.

It brought many people to the website and eliminated many past problems it had. Diаry.ru bitches spat critics in their faces and called them out on being cheap good-for-nothing egomaniacs, didn't tolerate usual Ficbооk bs and could destroy anyone. Besides, they were wonderful writers and aspirational models for many writers.

However.

Communication Breakdown. Act 1

2014 was the year of unanswered questions, constant server issues and mad commenting.

Ficbооk was about to turn 5 years this year but it was stuck in its development. Changes were minor at best but and rare gems could not sweeten the sad realisation the website wasn't interested in any kind of conversation with its users.

What's the point of having the best bookmark system among all fanfiction sites and pride itself on having built-in request pool if the servers are crashing down every evening and the admins wouldn't hear any ideas on how to improve social experience, fix the search, add any kind of limited CSS support, fix co-author feature, etc etc.

If you recall, 2014 was the year The War began. Draconian laws were passed along with it. Ficbооk had to be complaint, promptly banning all underage (=the police cares more about pixels because it's easier than solving real cases => don't push your law enforcement to fight pixel hurters, I beg of you, don't be stupid) but for whatever reason, everything queer remained in a relative safety — until 10 years later.

Deaf to complaints, refusing to talk, thinking everything's done and not done was not in vain, Entrery perhaps grew tired of us. Diary.ru was worried more than we did, however, and they were the most interested party in improving Ficbооk's UX; and they were especially curious about Entrery's desire to keep the underage change rather hidden, besides, there was another new rule set.

On Ficbооk, you can't write about real life tragedies until 6 months will pass — or the tragedy would end, and then, 6 month later, you can begin posting something about it. Wild policy.

Nothing has been done, and in the very end of 2014—early 2015 the site was sold to Him. Quietly. Nobody knew until years later.

Kostya. Act 2

All previous problems weren't ever addressed, and people began to grow weary of the site's stagnation. 2015, 2016, 2017 were years of eerie quietness. Everyone thought Ficbооk might die soon because the only signs of life we had had seen were increasing numbers of ads and rarely, major updates, such as the design revamp.

Remember I said The User Moderation was a precursor of doom?

At some point in between 2014 and 2016 the moderation's main perk — no ads — was challenged by the update where a new feature was introduced. That feature was 'acquire 100 kudos and see no ads'.

Kostya, now the admin, decided the content mods needed to be compensated somehow else. Thus he introduced Coins. Not the cryptocoins, the in-site currency. With it, you could buy in-site gifts, change you nickname, stuff like that. Certain amount of the approved moderation decisions converted into 1 Coin.

For many, moderation thus turned mindless tippy-tapping just to get a huge portion of them.

It quite literally broke site's economy, so to fight it, this genius man began thinking of a number of premium features. Coins were turned into an in-site purchase; moderation was promptly disabled and was never reinstated as its own, separate, currency-free feature.

Nobody really minded it at the time, however.

Moderation was a remnant of Ye Olden Days, many old users were gone for good, and old farts like me at the time were considering other places to move to in case Ficbооk would go under.

Premium Accounts. Act 3

During 2017, 2018 and 2019, while site's functionality remained the same, Kostya tried to implement various paywalls.

2017 was the year when fests were implemented. Basically, you'd submit your work to receive 3 comments but in exchange, you'd have to comment on 3 random works in the same genre. It was fun. While it lasted.

The system required improvements and new features, rulesets and other things, but instead of working on it, the feature existed as is until in late 2018—early 2019 it was removed for good. Individual groups of writers and readers alike tried to keep the idea afloat but many of them either died out, or turned cliques.

Meanwhile, Kostya was filling the site with ads, tried to make the 'online' status behind the paywall, and although he changed it later to be available for everyone, things like basic customisation, detailed stats and custom fandom feeds went behind the paywall.

If I remember, 2019 was also the year of introducing covers. Also a paywall feature.

In that same time window we also saw the inception of the new work selection, The Hotties. It's a separate feed in every fandom where you can place a work for a humble price sum-for-views-amount.

With no social activity, but ads and general sense of people actively leaving the site, Ficbооk looked as grim and sad as ever.

Clicks Clicks Clicks. Act 4

2019 and 2020 were years of investigations. Long stories shortened, Ficbook made six digit number in ad revenue. I'm no stranger to how a business would allocate funds but Ficbook didn't see any money put into its development. Same features for so a lot of years, no ad campaigns, no socmed presence, no moderation on its public pages mane of which were abandoned.

Seeing this made people to turn away from the site for good. I was among them. There was no future, only the consequences of an one greedy man actions.

Kostya perhaps felt proud in making the UX unbearable. Everything is designed to keep you at the site for as long as possible. Modern site-building wants you to either look at the front page, or browse quickly to find what you're looking for, because faster looks means more buys and calls. Ficbооk, living off the ads, couldn't afford that.

It wants you to stay everywhere. You can't click away on the link to another site. It will ask you for confirmation. Moreover, it places ads in text, in headers, in footers, in comments and masks its ads as the comments; every free space is used to be filled with an ad like they do on every single shady website, e.g. those for gamblers.

When people are this obsessed with money, they will do anything.

Fake Riga. Act 5

Ficbооk now is a child of greed and love malnutrition.

In 2021, Kostya introduced Promo slots. Your work would be added to the daily roster at a certain date so people could stumble upon it on the site's front page. Later, this roster will invade other pages of the site. Overall, this year was uneventful and quiet, if you don't count the socmed where the admins finally learnt you can ban duraks ebanyis.

Anyway.

You are all aware of the '22.

And what do you think Kostya did?

Quietly, in the dead of the night, he purged our hopes in being safe on that hellsite. He sold us out. All of us. There his loyalties lied, and as it often goes with fleabags like him, he hoped he would save his business this way. And what does it cost to give out someone's info.

Correct, nothing.

Business people here have no dignity. He doesn't either.

So people stood up, purged their works, and left.

Its Ban Our Comedy

Ficbооk never allowed multilingual posting. It naturally drove away not just English-speaking folks, a rather rare sight in runet, but all the people speaking other languages. I'm not asking a fanfiction website to be a linguistic treasure trove but it did a lot to the queer history and online history here, and 'here' includes more than one language.

Evidently, it meant Ficbооk would eventually give a cold shoulder to anyone hoping their favourite escape will have them a safe retreat.

Instead, it spat them in the face.

That little number of us who hoped something might work out from Ficbооk and supposedly Kostya being in the EU; we were shattered to know this moron valued his digits more than everything we built, had and could have. This site wasn't ever his creation yet he claimed to be its admin since its inception. I mean. No words. Only swearing.

Kostya tried to handle the situation but no damage control business he is, when he reverted the Private Info Disclosure section back to how it was before, it was already too late.

Few days ago, the site has been officially banned.

It was impossible to avoid. Either up a mirror, or teach people how to circumvent the blockage. That it took two whole years was a result of a scheme of Kostya's (he was turning links into gibberish).

Kostya saved himself enough time to, perhaps, sip off enough gold from this dying cow to soon close the site down — a long page of our Internet history — because he doesn't care, and never did. Or this all would've been prevented. I might be wrong and pessimistic but I lost all my hopes for this place many years ago now to ever rekindle it.

To Conclude

I'm evidently sad about the site's demise. But I'm happy this bloody arsehole may perhaps loose his income and as he's entangled, more than this. We live an infernal life here; he should've never come.

#днявочка #eng tag #днявочка: фандомное

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cricketcat9 · 27 days ago

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Power cuts in Ecuador can be now extended to 14 hours. I', for once, incredibly lucky to beon the same line as our hospital - have power all the time. People work in the shopping g malls, friends houses, cafés etc. The town centre has power, which means shopping, banking, eating out can be done. Doctors' offices and pharmacies are open. We have water, no restrictions for now.

Generators ans solar system are available in my province.

The whole South America looks like this

#rxtreme drought #south america

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vinetae · 2 years ago

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Like A Man - Ending!

Warnings: suggested content, lots of angst and flashbacks. Mentions of death, sad times and alcohol abuse. This carries on the life you and Jimin get to have after graduation.

A/n: it's finally time to say goodbye to these characters.. When I first started this supposed to beone-shot, I hadn't expected it to grow so big. Thank You for all of your love and support through these two!

P.s: you can find this series up on my masterlist. With love 💜

“Are you ready?”

The first thing he always says when something major is about to happen.

The blue sky’s streak across earth’s glow, as the sound of a melody you’d only heard on coming-of-age films. Almost five years it took you to get here. Standing at the podium as class representative for the future generation who’s about to walk into the new life. Your eyes scan across the filled metal chairs, each having their own distinct and proud family member for each of your classmates. Friends, spouses, cousins, brothers and sisters..

Parents.

Those hadn't been in the picture. You’d sent out a long (but formal) e-mail to your mother’s email address, asking if she and your father would attend the ceremony.

After a week of no response, you decided to email your father.

Then text.

Then call.

Until-

Silence.

Now here you stand on the stage, with nothing but a cheaply sewn gown and cap to match. Although your lips curved into the biggest smile at your awaiting future ahead, your heart torn with somber at the sight of the two seats you’d reserved for them.

After walking the stage a few feet down, passing teachers of all kinds who’d once graced you with their knowledge and wisdom, you’re met with the last one who’d given you the most to know.

The virtue of patience. Of selflessness. Of kindness.

Most of all,

He’d taught you to trust again.

A smile curves the edges of his lips, the rolled up decorated piece of paper slips from his hand to yours, as he flashes you a soft smile.

None of it mattered now.

You could only look forwards.

“What’s wrong.”

Your head glances up, being met with his gaze. His eyes had hardened, much to the ones he’d flashed you every time he’d tried to stump you with a struggling question in class.

Your head shakes, mentally brushing the thoughts away before leaning back down to wrap your lips around the length of your smoothie’s straw.

His arms fold, leaning back in the booth. Knee silently tapping against the floor, as he lets out a sigh. His arms lap on the table, leaning in to lower his voice just for your hearing. “I know you really wanted them there..” Your shoulders slouch, tips of your fingers pushing the large smoothie away in repulse, no longer having an appetite.

His hand comes to lap atop yours, gently thumbing over your knuckles in comfort. “Hey.. all that matters now, is that you made it.” He stands quickly, sliding into the booth beside you, wrapping his arms to encase your figure. Lips grazing the shell of your ear, as he plants a soft kiss to your forehead.

“I’m so proud of you.”

The empty rooms echoed with space begging to be filled. Memories to be made.

Families to be built.

Lives to be lived.

White walls splash on the sides, as your feet lead your way through the apartment complex. Hands trailing delicately along the kitchen counter tops, before making your way into the last bedroom.

A small little room sat at the end of the hallway. Previous blue and green walls decorated the space, one that resembled a small child’s mind. Your lips smile at the thought. Eyes scanning over a little paint stained tucked in the corner of the bedroom. Action heroes displayed on the accent wall, as it winds and bends around to end in the open walk-in closet. You could almost hear a young boy’s voice echoing through the halls, growing closer the more it goes on. Large windows held the view’s point in place to be admired by even the coldest of hearts. One word came to your mind when exploring the new terrain.

Home.

Mornings and nights you spent falling into more of a pattern that became your lifestyle. Waking up, making breakfast, kissing him goodbye as he leaves to go plant more seeds into the minds of young ones alike.

Ever since your graduation, Jimin had brought up the idea of quitting his job at the university. Instead, he’d wanted to focus on the growth and consciousness of children. Weeks into the new move of your apartment, and he’d begin working in a local childcare center focused on aiding in troubled young children. Months later, you’d found a job working as a life coach and advocate for healthy living.

Your routines had matched up perfectly. Work during the weekdays, and home on the weekends. Dinners together, cuddles and movie nights galore. Nothing could separate the two of you.

Until.. He’d started becoming distant.

Coming home bluntly and late at night, just to slam the door in your face before you even had the chance to ask him how his day was. A hushed silence echoed through the closed door, as you could hear the sound of his vice being poured into the glass, then down his throat.

Every night, you sat slumped against the door. Feet crossed, as you just listened to him destroy himself day after day.

His kisses had no passion, the love you once had… seemed to turn to dust. The scars you had thought closed, now bursted wide open.

An infection had grown, tearing you two apart.

The door abruptly slams once more, as heavy footsteps trudge past you, and make their way towards your barely shared bedroom. You’re quick to step in before, not giving him a chance to shut you out again. He halts, as you hold yourself between him and his own death.

“Jimin.. please.”

His eyes burned with an anger you’d never seen. As if all the light he’d once had, the hope, had been swallowed by darkness. Leaving nothing but the death of his soul behind.

Your heart shattered at the sight.

Bags of deprived-sleep drooped under his eyes, lids heavy with exhaustion begging to give in. Mouth jared and hung low in submission to his own emotions. The once vanilla and honey smell that you’d begged to sleep next to, had turned sour and bitter. Being replaced with the stench of hopelessness and alcohol.

Your feet stood firm. Ten toes on the ground, as your body inches forwards. Begging to heal whatever had stoned his heart to kneel. Yearning to touch him, in comfort. To hold the man you love.

You held the tears that had been threatening to fall, back.

“Sweetie, tell me what’s going on.” Your voice forces a light and airy tone. “We can fix this”

His head lifts slowly. The tie of his neck being undone and unkept. White collared button up had been loosely hung. His whole demeanor opposite of who you’d fallen in love with.

Before you can react, his arm shoved you out of the way, before entering the room. Before slamming the door shut, he turns and mumbles;

“You can’t fix death.”

This time, he hadn’t come out of the bedroom in days. You’d slipped trays of his favorite meals in front of the locked door, each one coming back out completely untouched. Even the glass of water that had a handwritten note on the side, couldn’t tempt him enough.

The only time you’d been able to see him was when he left the bedroom to take a bathroom break, bottle in hand as he carried his tired figure to the restroom across the hall. On the fourth day, you’d found his body laying against the tub’s edge, projectile vomiting any substance of food he had left in his stomach.

Which had been none.

It wouldn’t take an emergency trip to the ER in an ambulance to tell that he had been depressed. The doctor had instructed you to remove any alcoholic substances from the apartment until his body fully heals.

After laying him to rest on the living room couch, you’d decide to call his office and tell them that he wouldn’t be able to make it in the office for about a week.

“He.. didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Doctor Park.. resigned from The Children’s center.”

Months had gone by, and Jimin still couldn’t open up to tell you the whole story. Only going off on what his assistant said, you could only comfort him from a distance. You’d restricted access for him from all lockable doors, making him sleep on the couch until he’d recovered. Even after the weeks he’d been spending in counseling, he still couldn’t tell you what made him reside.

Until one day.

Autumn leaves broke from the tree’s light grip, as the cool fall air breezes past your icing skin. Hand gently swinging alongside, entwined with Jimin’s as you two take a stroll through the park. Your head leans to the side, resting on his shoulder. For the first time in a while, you could almost see a smile on him.

Until it dropped with horror.

Turning your head at the sight, your eyebrow raises. A little boy had been bouncing on his feet to reach up and grab the balloon that had been stuck in the branch’s strong grasp. Craning your head back around, you feel Jimin’s grip on your hand tighten, as he silently leads you further away from the scene.

“Jimin? What’s the ma-”

“I’m hungry.” His voice is cold and toneless. As if controlled by a different being.

Your eyebrow quirks, stopping in place from his grip. “We can get food later.”

Your feet plant to the ground, as his hand gets ripped from yours. “No.. No! Stop avoiding me!”

He pauses, hands falling to his side at your raised voice. “I-..I’m no-”

“Yes, yes you are! For months now, Jimin! It feels like all I am to you now is just your sad little maid here to cater to your depressive episodes. Just TELL me what’s going on so I can fix it!”

Just like that, he snaps. “You CAN’T FIX IT!”

Your eyes widen, taking a step back from his sudden outburst. Tears well in his eyes, as his body gives out, falling to his knees. You bend down, quick to pull him to your chest tightly. His arms wrap around your figure, as he mumbles soft apologies. The strange, drama-like scene definitely gets some weird looks from bystanders, but you didn’t care. The man you love,

was suffering.

His mouth muffled against your chest, as he sobs. “Y-you can’t bring him back..”

After a few weeks, you finally knew who ‘he’ was. The open casket had done nothing but pain Jimin’s heart ever further. His hand placed against the casket’s edge, as he bows down to the still child’s level, tears streaming down his cheeks. Hands trembling to hold onto something, as the child’s family gathers to sob in unison. Your hand places against his back, leaning down to slowly rub his shoulders in comfort. His words were mumbled and cracked, as he bid his final farewell.

The brochure the church members had handed you was all you needed to know. It all came together, now.

The boy,

Had been Jimin’s patient.

The door no longer slams shut. Instead, you can finally hear the click of the door you’d left unappreciated. Jimin shoves off his shoes and coat, making his way to the bedroom. Flash backs of the months before flood your memory, and before you can stop it, your body is wedged between his path and the bedroom entrance.

He smiles.

He actually smiles.

Pulling your body into his, his lips press gentle marks to the side of your neck. Soft mutters blow against your skin, as his body leads the both of you into the bedroom even further.

“Thank you..”

You fall back into the bed.

“Thank you..”

His shrugs off his white button up long sleeve, tossing it to the side, before he dives back down to meet his lips with the lining of your own. His eyes bare into yours, before he’s slotting his body between your legs, grazing his lips across yours.

“I love you.”

His “are you ready”s always seem to come at the best, and worse possible times. Usually, he asks himself more than you when talking. Because in all honesty, he’s scared to death. Not for himself, no.

For you, right now.

This type of question, is the most difficult and easiest to answer. Eyes blown wide at the sight of eight to ten different nurses gathered around you, your hand death gripping his own as you let out a string of curses. Mainly directed at his -and he quotes- ‘stupid dick’ which you plan on cutting off with the kitchen scissors later.

He couldn’t help but look. Curiosity got the better of him, and then so did his weak stomach. Puking all over the hospital floor, next to your bed, as an extra nurse comes to assist him. You groan out, hitting his side bluntly.

“Oh YOU’RE the one puking!? What about ME-he!” Your head slams back against the pillows, eyes screwing tightly from the excruciating pain. You curse the doula you hired for suggesting a ‘natural birth’.

Curse her and her damned dream catchers.

“Your doing so great, momma. Just a few more pushes, okay?”

Your head shakes from side to side, crying out in frustration. Head turning to catch Jimin’s deer-in-the-headlights statue, as he wipes the rest of his mouth of the panda express orange chicken he had earlier that came back up to greet a second hello.

He’d never felt so scared in his life. The look in your eyes, looked like his personal death march.

His hand trembles slightly, trying to hold back onto your hand for support. Body slotting behind your own for ample support. Arms wrapped around your body, as the nurses throw out a few muffled instructions.

“Shut UP!!” You scream, sobbing out, falling back into the comfort of your imbecile lover. You’re going to kill him, you’re sure.

Your head turns to meet his gaze, screaming at him in agony. “FUCK YOU AND YOUR TINY DICK, JIMIN. I’M NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN!”

He leans away slightly from your volume, rubbing your back soothingly.

You scoff, twisting your body as the nurse staff shouts out in protest. “OoOOo, Look at Lucy Lock Lips saying NOTHING!!!”

In all honesty, he’s scared to speak. Anything he says will be turned against him right now.

“F-Fucking- SAY S-somet-thing..” His heart breaks at the sight of tears streaming down your cheeks. Your face is redder than a tomato, as your black mascara runs down your face along with the tears. The pain in your eyes hurts him more than any jab a knife would ever inflict.

Your voice tethers out, cracked and weak as you fall into his arms in surrender. You didn’t want to fight this imaginary argument inside your head anymore, you just wanted to be comforted.

“J-Jimin..” Your forehead presses into his chest, as the nurse's voices draw out in the background.

"I know, I know, sweetie.." His voice is soft and soothing, resembling much of the tone that he uses everytime you have a breakdown.

Arms wrapped around your waist, he holds you in his embrace tightly. Tucking your head under his chin, as he gently tries to calm you down.

“You’re doing so good, baby. Just focus on me, okay? You got this, sweetie. You’ve got this.” His forehead pressed against yours, as he whispers gently.

“Are you ready?”

In a snap of a second, it’s like your whole life has been flipped upside down. Now, the missing piece in your what seemed to be - impossible puzzle..

Had been completed.

Everything you ever stood against, had become your reality.

And you couldn’t be happier.

<<<

Your feet crossed over one another, as you watched the little girl you had created with the man you loved dance in the line of bubbles he’d been blowing her way. The two turn to the side to glance at you, flashing two of the brightest smiles you’d ever seen. Your heart melted at the sight, as Jimin hands the bubbles to your daughter, crossing up the small hill before plopping down next to your figure.

His hand comes to rest on your thigh, as your head leans against his shoulder. Watching the living and breathing example of the love between you two, frolic in the grassy fields of the countryside.

The cotton of her baby pink dress flows in the summer’s cool breeze, as he picks up a small dandelion, blowing a wish to the seeds.

After finding out you’d been pregnant, you both decided to pack up and move to the countryside. Knowing it’d be much easier to raise a child in the soft melody of nature, rather than the busing streets of man made.

The money he’d earned from being a highly ranked professor at the university had done more than enough for providing for our family. You, on the other hand, had wanted to have a little more freedom in the work-field. After asking around, you’d found a local high school you’d wanted to counsel at.

Now, Jimin stays home and takes care of Ha-na. His experience in teaching the children at his old job had given him experience in what kids her age need to be learning, and how to teach them in a way they’d understand.

He teaches her colors, shapes, sign language, and even some different language words. He truly is the most devoted father to your baby girl, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

His eyebrow quirks, nudging your body gently with his side in a teasing manor. “Whatchya staring at? I know I’m beautiful but have grace, honey.”

You chuckle, hitting his side gently in return to the poke. “You’re ridiculous.”

A smile tugs his lips, before he’s leaning over to press a kiss to your cheek, pulling you into his arms. The two of you sat on the picnic blanket Ha-na had insisted on bringing for the outdoor tea party, watching the way she flips and turns in all sorts of directions to show off her superhero cape Jimin had picked up at the store in the city, when he took her to the Aquarium one day.

Your head lowers, resting in his lap, as your hand gently caresses the minor stretchmarks you’d acquired. Jimin’s hand comes to meet yours, he too touching the remaining memory of your baby’s growth together.

Jimin’s lips roll out a sigh, leaning down to press a soft peck to your ear, trailing it down your cheek until you have to push him away, giggling. He pouts, leaning back on his arms for support. You sit up, wrapping your arms around his body, cuddling into his side as if you’d both been back at the beach again.

His head lowers, perking a smile to his lips. “You know, you’ve got one for you now..” Your eyebrow quirks, glancing over to make sure Ha-na is still okay, before looking into his gaze. “What do you mean?”

A smirk presses his lips. “I think it’d be unfair to Ha-na to..” He trails off, making you tilt your head in confusion.

He yells out, motioning over to your daughter. “Ha-na! Come here, sweetie.” She runs up, falling into her daddy’s lap carelessly, giggling. He smiles, gripping her in a bear hug before turning them both to face you. He whispers in her ear, before they both sport a pleading look.

“Daddy wants a sibling-” Jimin's face palms.

“Ha-na, you were supposed to say that..” You giggle at the two’s miscommunication. She crosses her arms, turning in Jimin’s lap.

“I DID say that!”

“No you- ugh.. Nevermind..” Jimin sulks, lowering his head in a pout. Your eyes roll playfully, before scooting closer to the both of them, pulling Ha-na from his lap.

“Were you really trying to get our four year old to say it for you?” Jimin shrugs, smiling. Your head shakes, pressing a kiss to Ha-na’s forehead, then Jimin’s.

“Well, do I have some news for you two..”

…

THE END

#bts #bts jimin #Jimin bts #Jimin x you #Jimin x OC #Jimin x reader #jimin x female reader #Jimin smut #Jimin angst #Jimin fluff #Dad!jimin #Bts fics #Jimin fics #park jimin #Like a man #bts masterlist #pjm #bts fics #bts smut

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1eos · 6 months ago

Note

every time hyuk ignores a leo kiss a fairy dies this is real and true... he doesn't know about the privilege he has because for him it's always been like this it's actually crazy

1000% true. when hyuk ignored leo's kiss at the end of the ing concert i held a fairy in the palm of my minds and watched her fade into nothingness and she told me to tell everyone 'dan hansungan nal wihae dive-in dan han beon-e tteollim-eul jwo romanticism in our world together now' and like? yes i understand its a joke of their dynamic but im not fucking laughing he needs to be mindful of all the ppl who have never had leo crawl in their lap for a cuddle (me)

#asks #there are some ppl on earth who have received 0 leo kisses and hyuk has had like 200303020-2-2-2-0303 #so he's over it but i need him to be mindful of others and act like its the best thing to ever happen to him

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paramorearchived · 7 months ago

Text

October 2, 2009

Transcript:

Tour dates postponed.

Hey everyone, I've kept quiet (literally) for the past few days waiting to figure out how we were going to deal with my vocal cords breaking (not literally). Now's a good time to fill everyone in, I suppose.

First of all, the show on Tuesday was absolute insanity. Such an amazing mix of emotions. We were so excited to see all of you who came out in Pomona. It was weird, because it felt like one of those shows that we did in the fall of 2006. When things seemed to be exploding but it was still really intimate. I've never had such a good time on stage. Then there was the other side of me that was just in pain. After a 15 hour "work" day, 1 other show and 3 meet and greets later, my voice finally gave out on me. A few days before, I had already gotten sick, so it was probably bound to happen at some point. I made it through 7 or 8 songs alright and then, that was it. I was trying to be super positive about it, too! Haha... in the end, it was best that I let it go. Man, I was so disappointed I couldn't be a part of the encore. When the guys walked back onstage, I was sitting backstage in a corner... trying to hide my embarrassment from the crew members and other bands. You guys can't even imagine how good it felt to hear you singing along to "Misery Business" and even the "Miracle: Outro". It was SO LOUD! Definitely, one of the most incredible moments, for me, thus far. So, before I go on and try to explain all the boring details... I wanted to say THANK YOU!

So, this week I saw one of the best doctors in the country to check on my vocal cords. I knew it wasn't going to be good but knowing that we were just starting our tour, I was trying to remain positive about it. In short, I've got laryngitis and need several days of vox rest. Luckily, we caught it early on. It's not like I've got some impending doom hanging over my head in which every time I play a show I'm going to wonder if it's the last one... I just have to be smart about this whole thing. So - we may have to rework the way I do stuff on the road.. like not only do I need to watch what I eat - but how much I talk at meet and greets and signings and press. I might have to go back to wearing that "I'm on voicerest" button that I used to wear all the time. Ha. Ha. IT SUCKS!!! But I'm doing every thing I can, taking every precaution, to get it right. I wanna beon tour, man! All in all, this is the reason for the postponement of the upcoming shows. Just know that we WILL be coming back for you guys! The entire tour is going to happen... and I'm psyched.

Thank you again for the incredible support that you've shown me and the guys. We always say it but seriously... Paramore fans are the best fans. Wanna fight about it?

Oh and PS. To everyone who's picked up 'brand new eyes'. Holy cow. I'm hearing all kinda numbers and reports about having one of the top two records of the week. Regardless of whether it happens or not... this is madness! I LOVE IT! We're so proud of the new album and so stoked that so many people have already heard it. Keep telling all your friends! We wanna see you at the shows singing along!

Love, Hayley

#paramore #hayley williams #2009 #livejournal

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ethan-gaming-in-the-real · 2 years ago

Text

TW FOR SUICIDE IMAGERY IN LINK

I wont beon for awhile

Somethinghappened in my personallife and Ineed some time

#vent #/srs #/very neg #arg #alternate reality game #earth rebellion federation #https://imgur.com/a/QiNAhRl

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bitacrytic · 2 years ago

Text

Overheat [32 & 33]

Read Previous Chapter Here

"When an alpha bites another alpha, the pain-"

"I'm not an alpha."

"I know you are. Don't lie."

"Believe what you want, Pete."

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Even after Vegas left the bathroom, Pete sat naked on the jacuzzi pavement. They hadn't talked. They'd stayed in silence, slept, woken up, leaned against each other, till Vegas made the first move to leave. And now, Pete was scared that it was all over. Once he walked out of the bathroom, he'd have to leave, and once he left, he didn't know if Vegas would let him come back again.

Pete had rehearsals. He had to go to work in the morning. Sleeping over at Vegas' was probably the best idea that existed, but he didn't want to push. He'd pushed when he had ulterior motives. He'd asked to visit. He'd followed Vegas all the way here. If Vegas wanted this, after everything, it had to be Vegas who made the moves.

Hard as it was to admit, Pete knew he had to take a step back.

Vegas was a hard man, but he was also funny and smart and indulgent. It wasn't Pete's fault that he'd fallen in love with a mob boss. A boss who was so very worth it. At least, when he wasn't pulling people's toenails from their feet. But, at the same time, Vegas was in pain.

And he needed time.

Pete got dressed in the bathroom and by the time he got out, Vegas was seated at his desk, still in his lemon-green bathrobe, his legs folded into the chair as he stared at his laptop. Since he was in his seat, with his back to the wall, Pete couldn't see the screen.

"Uh..." he began. "I'm going back to camp."

Vegas looked at him.

"Rehearsal is in the morning. Don't want to bank on traffic."

Vegas pursed his lips, still staring at Pete intently.

"Okay, then," Pete said.

He grabbed his phone and keys and headed for the door.

"Pete?"

"Yeah," he said, turning back immediately.

Vegas licked his lips nervously as he blinked at Pete. Then he said, "I guess... I guess I'll see you around."

Pete couldn’t help the amount of sheer joy that spread through his body at those words. I'll see you around. Easy words to utter that felt like a lifetime promise to Pete's ears. Vegas wanted to see him around. Vegas wasn't done with him. There was hope. He could come back. He could... see Vegas around.

"Okay," he agreed. A smile broke on his face as he spoke.

He'd been so worried that this would be the last time that Pete hadn't taken the time to enjoy every moment he could with Vegas. Fraught with fear, he'd counted every second, like a starving child about to run out of food.

As he drove back to Graham Blitz, Pete revisited those moments, seeing them anew, witnessing them in fresh, bright lighting that wasn't darkened by the fear of finality.

I'll see you around, Vegas had said. A blessing that Pete knew he didn't deserve.

***

The next day, Porsche missed workout, breakfast and the first few scenes. But that was okay because neither Beon nor Niran were in those scenes. Pete didn't even need to ask to know that Porsche had spent the night with Kinn. What a coincidence that it happened just as Pete and Vegas fucked again. They'd been cuddling a lot, in the absence of the people they really wanted to be with and now, Porsche was probably back with Kinn. And maybe his situation wasn't as tentative as Pete's was with Vegas. If Porsche was spending the night, maybe they were properly back together and Porsche was healing again. Maybe Pete was about to be left behind, with no misery-fellow to keep him company.

Pete tried really hard not to be jealous about that.

"For god sake, Niran," the director said, looking directly at Pete. "Where is your fucking Beon?"

"I'm here!" Porsche yelled from the door as he rushed in, dropping his bag in Toss' lap as he made his way through the crew and support staff, till he got past the screen and had to wade through actors, to the center of rehearsal. "I'm here. I'm sorry."

The director rolled his eyes as he waved his hand for Porsche to begin the scene he shared with Tem, The Emperor.

In a palace rife with murder and betrayal, Emperor Ritnen's suspicion of everyone had grown to the point of abuse, where close confidants such as his most prized omega, Beon, was faced with constant rage, violence and accusations.

Watching Porsche bend to Tem's will was an incredible bit of progress from the first few weeks where Porsche had struggled with submission. Pete had tried to help him work through it, and now he knew why. Porsche was an alpha. A privileged rich boy who'd never taken an omega role in his life. He'd never had to put himself in the place of the very people his activism cared about. It was all new to him.

But Porsche was learning. He was fluid on the stage, bowing to Tem, pleading with him, leaning against make-shift furniture seductively.

The director had struck gold. He'd hired Porsche for his name, but now he had the added bonus of getting a damn good Beon.

When Porsche was done with his scene, he rushed to Pete's side, falling into Pete's lap, sweaty and icky.

"Sorry I was late."

"At least you made it."

Turning on his side, but keeping his head in Pete's lap, Porsche watched the rehearsal.

Pete's mind roamed while he played with Porsche's hair. His body sat in the rehearsal room, but Pete's mind and soul remained in Vegas' home, Vegas' jacuzzi, silent and still, as they leaned against each other. It had been enough, just to be there, but knowing that Vegas had let him, Vegas hadn't rejected him, was a balm to Pete's soul that he hadn't known he needed.

"Hunh," Porsche said, quietly, drawing Pete back to the present.

Tem and Time were still in the scene, but something was different.

Because Tem wasn't perched on his make-shift bed, like he always was when he was in a scene with Time. Unlike a relationship between omegas that was always done by having two hypersexualised omegas, when it came to depictions of alphaxalpha pairings, it was an unspoken rule that traditional roles were established. For the actors' sake as well as the audience. One alpha was The Alpha, while the other alpha was... for a better term... less of an alpha. And for as long as they'd been rehearsing, the emperor was always the latter. With Beon, he was the alpha, the man, the one in charge. But with his bodyguard, the emperor took on a more submissive role.

"The emperor is different," Pete said.

"Yep," Porsche agreed.

Now that Pete thought about it, the director hadn't been showing the alpha scenes since Pete got back. He'd assumed they were working on it in private. After all, the director had private rehearsals with Pete and Porsche. It wasn't strange that he was doing the same with the alphas.

But this? This was a whole new level of different.

Together, they watched the emperor play the role of an alpha, the same as he'd done when he was with Beon. His voice didn't lilt, his shoulders didn’t slant, and his hips weren't swayed. And as they spoke to each other, voices loud and steady in the way stage voices were supposed to be "quiet" and intimate, Pete felt the tension build. Not like it used to be before, where they walked to each other, only to reach just before the curtains closed. This time, both alphas watched each other, chests heaving in anticipation of a kiss that was written in the book but would never be played on stage. Why? Because no one wanted to see two alphas kiss each other.

Still, closer and closer, they walked, speaking low, drawing each other in, till the very last line of dialogue.

"I'm right here, Your Majesty," the guard said. "Take what you want."

When Tem kissed Time, Pete's heart leapt out of his chest as he sat up in shock. Beside him, Porsche sat up as well, gasping loudly.

"Ok," the director said. "Cut. We're still working on the sex scene so let's stop here."

"What sex scene?" Porsche asked, as Time and Tem walked off the stage, allowing the next scene to begin.

As Tem was passing, Porsche pulled him down to sit by him and Pete.

"What the fuck?" Porsche asked, as Pete leaned closer to hear. "A kiss? A sex scene? Since when?"

Tem laughed.

"The director's been making some changes, is all," he said with a shrug.

"So there's an actual sex scene?" Pete asked. "Like the one with Porsche and I?"

"Like the one in the book."

"Pssh," Porsche said. "A bunch of books have alpha sex scenes but director's just ignore them."

"Not this time."

"But why?" Pete asked, unable to understand it.

"The posters of Phi-Time and I came out and changed the director's vision for the emperor and the guard." He looked towards Time. "I have to go."

As he tried to stand, Porsche held him down.

"So who's top and who's bottom now?"

Tem's eyebrow rose as he smiled sardonically.

"What a progressive question?"

Porsche sputtered, as Pete held back a laugh.

"You're having a sex scene," Porsche eventually said. "Someone has to go in and someone has to be... gone... into."

"I guess you'll just have to wait and see," Tem said, smiling dubiously as he quickly crawled in Time's direction.

"I hate you," Porsche called after him."

"Shush!" the director harshly said, looking in their direction as Porsche and Pete quietly sat back to watch the rest of rehearsal.

***

"I still think Time will top Tem," Porsche said from the room as Pete brushed his mouth that night. He was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, shirtless. His scars were still visible, but some of them were clearing. Very slowly.

"Who cares who tops?" Pete asked.

"I think Phi-Tay had something to do with it. The director is smitten. Did you see how he was listening to Phi-Tay during the photoshoot? Tell me he didn't whisper "alpha sex scene" into the director's ears and make that man change his entire worldview. I dare you."

Pete spat, rinsed his brush and came out, just in time to see Porsche pulling on a long sleeve shirt.

"I think an alpha sex scene would be nice."

"Nice?" Porsche asked. "An alpha sex scene would be the bomb." He frowned. "They might even overshadow our sex scene." He looked up at the ceiling, a dirty dreamy look on his face.

Pete shook his head as he got into bed.

"Stop picturing your friend having sex, Porsche. It's creepy."

"No, no," Porsche said, waving his hands as the sleeves of his shirt fell back, revealing his forearm. "I'm not thinking of my friend having sex. I'm picturing the emperor fucking his bodyguard. There's a big difference."

"What's that?" Pete gestured at the bandage on Porsche's left arm.

"Oh, um." Porsche quickly put his arm down as he pulled the sleeves back into place. "Nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing," Pete said, shuffling towards Porsche's bed as Porsche moved away, dragging the sleeves down, past his finger tips.

Pete's stomach churned at images that flew into his mind, as he watched Porsche. He didn't want to press beyond the boundary Porsche was currently setting, but he couldn't ignore it. Without being told, Pete was sure this had something to do with Kinn. With that knowledge, the dread grew. Kinn was controlling. But Porsche had disobeyed and left. And now, a week later, Porsche returned from spending the night away, with a bandage on his arm.

Did Kinn grab him so hard he hurt? Did he cut Porsche? Did he hit Porsche, while Porsche was trying to protect himself with his forearm? And if any of that was true, did Porsche choose to stay with him, given how he was hiding the injury?

Pete had to know because, first thing in the morning, he was going to go find Kinn and give him a piece of his mind. But first, he had to make sure.

Pete lunged at Porsche, grabbing him from behind and pressing him down to the bed as he took Porsches hand.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

When Pete tried to open the sleeve, Porsche pushed him off, turning around and rolling them both off the bed. Fortunately, Porsche landed on his back, and Pete took the advantage, grabbing the arm again as he ripped off the bandage.

The sight was nothing Pete could have ever predicted. Shocked to the spot, Pete wasn't ready when Porsche smacked him across the face and he fell off.

"What the fuck?" Porsche screamed, crawling away from Pete and putting his bed between the both of them.

"Was it Kinn?" Pete asked, even as his ears were ringing from Porsche's slap.

"It's none of your business."

That was as good as a "yes".

Nursing his hurting cheeks, Pete pulled himself up and sat on his bed, looking down at Porsche. He'd imagined that Kinn did everything to that spot on Porsche's arm. But he'd never imagined that Kinn would go as low as biting Porsche to make him submit.

"I know what you're going through."

"Oh god," Porsche sighed, turning away. "Not this again."

"When an alpha bites another alpha, the pain-"

"I'm not an alpha."

"I know you are. Don't lie."

"Believe what you want, Pete."

"I'm an omega."

And there it was. The stopped breath, the widened eyes, the stiffening of his features as he replayed every moment he'd ever been careless around Pete. Just like any unmated alpha would, when confronted with an omega.

"Yeah, I know we've been really lucky and stupid sleeping in this room together for three months."

Still shocked, he asked, "What?"

Pete gulped, bracing himself for what he was about to say.

"I presented when I was sixteen. My father, before then, used to bite me. Whenever he had a heat, he... sated himself on me."

Slowly, Porsche's mouth fell wide.

"I could take the bites. Beyond the wounds, it was nothing. Not until I presented. The first time he bit me on my back, after I became an omega, I felt like that spot was on fire. Like someone had stabbed me open with a blazing sword. I bled for days. It was the same thing he'd always done. But for some reason, my presentation made it worse. Which is how I know that that bite must have hurt you like hell."

"Pete, it wasn't-"

"And considering the shit Kinn went through with Awut, one would think that he knows never to bite another alpha."

"He didn't do it."

"Oh please, Porsche." Pete could barely believe his ears. "You must have heard every story. Surely you're aware of how textbook your case is."

Porsche shook his head as he climbed on his bed, kneeling on it as he faced Pete.

"Kinn will probably kill me for telling you this but," he hesitated. "I'm sure he'd rather you not think he was abusing me."

"Porsche don't make excuses for him."

"He was kidnapped eight days ago."

"Wait what?" Pete's brain struggled to comprehend what Porsche had just said.

"They took him, tied him up and forced him into a rut."

Pete's head erupted in alarms as Porsche's words registered. Triggering as they were, Pete was reminded of the time when he was kidnapped, tied up and forced into heat. Thinking back to hard metal beneath his naked butt, biting into his skin as he fought to close his legs, as he prayed his heat would stay away as long as it could. With a camera capturing every moment as his dick got harder and harder even though nothing about his surroundings was worth the reaction.

The thought of Kinn going through the same thing was horrifying. Pete's kidnappers hadn't wanted him to infiltrate the main family. They'd wanted him to go after Vegas. Maybe because they already had plans to go after Kinn. He wondered if that was why.

"By the time I found him, he was barely able to move. He was running a fever. I was scared so I made him bite me."

"You did?" Pete asked, still shocked and unsure whether to believe it.

"Yes," Porsche said with conviction.

If it all was true, if the person who took Pete had taken Kinn, then he had to talk to Vegas.

As Pete went to his phone, Porsche frowned at him in confusion.

"What are you doing?"

"I need to talk to Vegas."

"Hell no," Porsche said, grabbing the phone from him. "You can't tell Vegas someone kidnapped Kinn. He'll tell Phi-Tankhun. That family shoots first and asks questions much later."

"I have to tell Vegas. We've been tracking someone who might be the same person."

"I don't understand," Porsche said as his hands relaxed enough for Pete to take the phone back. "Tracking who?"

Fuck, Pete thought as he dialed Vegas' number.

Because once he told Vegas what was happening, Vegas was going to want to talk to Kinn about it. And when that happened...

Kinn was going to find out that Pete had betrayed, not only Vegas, but Kinn's entire family.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Vegas didn’t sleep well. He woke up with joint aches, a headache and very slight fever. Slight, because he didn’t want to have to admit to anyone that he was clammy and sweaty and… fucking hell, everything just sucked, the rest of the day.

“He slept in a motel last night,” Nop said, seated on one of the short sofas in Vegas’ office as he gave a report. “He’s still got the coat Pete gave him, so we’ve been able to visually monitor him. He made a call to an untraceable number last night. He’s meeting with someone today.”

“How did he pay for his room?” Vegas asked.

“He’s a regular. They gave him a room and sent food up as soon as he arrived.”

“Who owns the place?”

“Iteli Turner. An American businessman.”

“Any ties to Gambit?”

“No.”

Vegas sighed, rubbing his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. He didn’t want to be there. He wanted to go back to bed and cover himself and pretend Gambit was a fucking dream.

“I’ll let you know once he’s on the move, again,” Nop said, getting to his feet.

Vegas waved him off, as Nop left. He pulled out a drawer, grabbed his bottle of suppressants, poured two into his palm and swallowed, his head tipping back as his eyes caught sight of Ken, standing by the door, watching Vegas.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Vegas said.

“It’s been seven months, Boss,” Ken said, quietly. Standing still, at the door. Like the permanent statue that he was.

“Thanks,” Vegas replied. “I know how time works.”

“You’re taking five doses a day. You’re burning through your suppressants and it’s not healthy.”

“I just have to wait three more weeks.”

“For what, if I may ask, Boss.”

It was stupid. Vegas knew it was stupid. But he couldn’t help it. As crazy as it was, he didn’t want to be… unavailable if Pete ever came looking. And the cast and crew of “Overheat” were due for a cycle break in three weeks. If Vegas waited, he could go off suppressants around the same time, thereby reducing the amount of time he’d be away from Pete. Because if he was having a rut, while Pete was having a heat, then they’d be done in a week, two tops.

It was stupid but Vegas didn’t care.

“If you’re doing this for Pete, Boss-”

“Be very careful what your next words are, Ken.”

When Ken opened his mouth to speak, Vegas' phone rang.

Pete was calling.

"Hey," Vegas said, as soon as he answered.

"Are you busy?"

"What is it?"

"I... I need you to come to Phi-Kinn's place. The hospital."

Vegas' first thought was that something had happened to Porsche. After all, the last time he'd heard from Porsche, he was arming himself and going after Kinn. Vegas had assumed that since he didn't get a call for backup, that Porsche had been overreacting and that Porsche was okay.

"What happened?"

"I can't tell you over the phone."

"Pete-"

"Vegas," Porsche said, voice loud like he'd taken the phone from Pete.

"Oh thank god," Vegas said in relief.

"Come to the hospital. We need to talk."

"Tell me what's going on."

"I don't want you to overreact before you know the whole story. Get here first."

Porsche cut the call.

Vegas grabbed his keys, headed straight for the door.

"Boss-" Ken said.

"Not now Ken," Vegas said, abandoning his bodyguard in his office because he wasn't in the mood to continue that conversation.

***

As soon as Vegas entered the room, Pete and Porsche stood.

"What's going..." Vegas' words trailed off as he saw the seclusion unit Kinn was standing in. "Why are you in there?"

Porsche moved Vegas out of the way, standing between Vegas and the door.

"I was abducted?" Kinn said with a shrug.

"By who?"

"Can you sit, please?" Pete said.

"Fuck that," Vegas replied, facing Kinn. "Who was it?"

"I knew he'd overreact," Porsche said, locking the room door.

"Overreact?" Vegas asked, looking at Porsche in disappointment. "You do realize that we trade in fear, right? You do know that all this," Vegas said, waving his hands around the hospital room. "Is bought and paid for by people's ability to recognise that you don't kidnap a Theerapanyakul without fucking consequences. Why the fuck didn't you call me earlier?"

"We’re telling you now,” Porsche replied.

"Fine. Who took him?"

"I appreciate your concern for me," Kinn said.

Vegas scoffed.

"Who gives a shit? I'm more worried about our collective reputation as a unit."

"Whatever you say," Porsche said, rolling his eyes. "The point is, no one is running out of this room half-baked. We need to share information so that we can come up with a plan."

Vegas was neck-deep in Gambit bullshit. The fact that he had to worry about people kidnapping Kinn was just too much. He needed to let off some steam.

"A plan for what?" he asked. "What's going on?"

Kinn sighed, looking away as Vegas realized that even Pete was avoiding looking at him. As well.

"We know about the issue with Gambit," Porsche said. "Pete was just filling us in when you walked in.

Vegas pursed his lips, anger draining down to his fingertips as his hands itched to punch something.

"What?" he asked. "You told them?"

"The person coming after you might be the same person coming after Phi-Kinn. I had to tell them."

He had a point. Weeks now, and Vegas still didn't have any solid leads. If something was going on with Kinn then-

Vegas phone vibrated.

"What?"

"We got something,” Nop said. “I just sent you a video clip. You're not going to believe who that cockroach works for."

Vegas cut the call and checked his messages. There was a one-minute clip.

"Who was that?" Porsche asked.

"Nop has a lead on who might be bothering me."

"Let me see," Porsche came around as Pete followed.

Vegas played the clip of the man walking through corridors. He couldn't believe the fool had worn that same coat, taking along the camera on the collar. He turned into an elevator that took him right to the roof. As soon as the man stepped onto a helipad, a chopper slowly drifted onto the roof, landing as the doors shot open. Two bodyguards stepped out.

Then the boss followed.

"Holy fuck," Porsche said.

"Wait," Pete said, as the video fizzled and stopped abruptly. "Who was that?"

"Oh my god," Porsche said, as he grabbed Vegas' phone from Vegas' hand.

"Was that-" Vegas started to say, but Porsche pressed a finger to Vegas' lips to keep him silent.

"Give me your phone, Pete."

Pete handed over his phone."

"Where's your phone?"

Kinn held up his own phone.

"Okay," Porsche said. "Get a coat, wrap the phone in the coat and put it under your pillow. Now!"

As Porsche spoke, Porsche picked his and Pete's coat, and wrapped all three of their phones. Then he put them under a couch cushion and sat on it.

As soon as he was done, everyone was looking at him like he was crazy.

"What was that for?" Vegas asked.

"You saw who was in that video, right?" Porsche asked.

"Who was in it?" Kinn asked.

"Tod Setely," Vegas and Porsche replied in unison.

"Wait, what?" Kinn asked, looking even more confused.

"Tod is a tech genius,” Porsche explained. “Every phone in this room is a potential monitoring device. Trust me. We don't want to be talking about this with phones lying around."

Vegas frowned.

"If you're saying the same person who's messing with me is the same person who is messing with Kinn, are you saying Tod Setely kidnapped Kinn?"

"No," Porsche said. "Tawan Apinya kidnapped Kinn."

"Actually, it was the congressman," Kinn added.

Vegas took a deep breath.

"You guys aren't making any sense. Now, let's all take this from the top. We're here to share information, right? Let's share."

Everyone hesitated.

"Someone has to start talking."

"Okay," Pete said. "I'll start."

"Thank you," Vegas said, taking a seat beside Porsche.

Pete sat up straight, clasping his hands together.

"Two weeks before camp, I was abducted and filmed in heat by an unknown man."

"What the fuck, Pete?" Kinn said, voice coated in concern as he got up from his bed and moved to the glass screen.

Without looking in Kinn's direction, Pete gulped and continued. "They wanted information on Vegas, so when Vegas found out," Pete's voice shook. "We came up with a plan to capture one of the men and set him loose so that he'd lead us to his boss."

"And as you've all just seen," Vegas cut in. "Said boss is Tod Setely. Now, Your turn, Kinn."

"Wait," Kinn said. "Why go to Vegas? Why not spy on me? Pete, you were already close to me anyway."

"They wouldn't need to spy on you if Tawan was about to marry you anyway," Porsche said.

Kinn sighed, but held his tongue from replying to that.

"What's that about?" Vegas asked.

"Kinn's fiancé-"

"His father-"

"Abducted Kinn and tried to get them mated."

"What the fuck?" Vegas asked, eyes wide in horror. "Tawan Apinya? Really?"

"Do you know him?" Porsche asked.

"We dated," Vegas said. "Barely a date. He thought it was a date but Papa just wanted me to fuck him for a deal with his father. Tawan wasn't into that at all."

Porsche frowned like that was not what he'd expected.

"See?" Kinn asked Porsche. "I told you he's not like that."

"I thought he was a beta," Vegas said.

"He presented last year," Kinn offered. "Lost his job and everything."

"Did he bite you?" Pete asked, going to Kinn.

"No, I'm fine."

Porsche scoffed, frowning while he sat. Vegas looked at him. This was not the whole story. Something was going on between Porsche and Kinn and whatever the fuck actually happened during his abduction. Vegas wanted to ask but he refrained. When it was just the two of them, he was going to get the real juice of it out of Porsche.

"So what do we know?" Kinn asked. "Tod Setely went after Pete for information in Vegas and Congressman Apinya went after me to force his son into the family. Is it safe to say they're working together?"

"Makes sense," Vegas said. "Tod was after Macau earlier. Then he met Porsche and started pursuing Porsche instead."

Pete shook his head. "Something still doesn't feel right. If Tod wants an in with your family, why go through Porsche? You're close but Porsche is not a Theerapanyakul."

"Maybe he already got information about me. He could afford to use Porsche for something else."

"Got information from where?" Kinn asked.

"There has to be a connection. I mean, we know Gambit is involved, but maybe we're just not aware of the CEO's link to Tod Setely or the congressman."

"What information?" Kinn asked again.

Porsche looked between Pete and Vegas, as if sensing that Vegas was evading Kinn's question.

Vegas hated himself for uttering those words. He was so caught up in the moment... in the possibility of unveiling his enemy that he'd spoken too much. Now, Kinn was latching on to it. Vegas had noticed the careful language Pete used to explain their side of things. He hadn't specified much and it had gone over Kinn's head. But now...

"Vegas," Kinn said, quietly. "Look at me."

Cringing inwardly, Vegas turned to Kinn.

"What information?"

"There was a leak but we’ve plugged it."

"A leak?"

"Yes, but it's fine."

"A leak to Tod Setely?"

Vegas nodded slightly.

Kinn's face hardened as his eyes slid over to Pete, who was staring at the ground.

"When you said he abducted you for information and Vegas found out, I guess you skipped the part where you actually gave him information."

"Hey now," Vegas said, standing. "We've resolved the issue."

"Sit," Kinn said.

Vegas obeyed, hating that he was sitting so far away from Pete. When Kinn returned his attention to Pete, Vegas wanted to go over there. He wanted to get up and get between them.

"How long?"

"Up... up until last month," Pete said.

Kinn let out a hard laugh as he took a step back from the glass screen.

"You didn't tell me."

"He has a recording of me in-"

"Did you think that wouldn't matter to me?" Kinn asked. “Did you think that if you came to me about that, that I would what? Abandon you?"

"I was trying to spare yo-"

"By spying on my cousin?"

Pete lowered his gaze again.

"I'm sorry."

"Get out."

Porsche looked up. "Kinn."

"We're trying to strategize and I would rather not do that in front of a leak."

Pete got up and left, as Poreche went after him.

"Porsche- '' Kinn said just as Porsche slammed the door on his way out.

Kinn gasped, blinking at the door like he expected it to give him answers.

"Okay," he said, turning to Vegas. "How am I the bad guy now?"

"Are you looking for a real answer or should I just keep sitting here, obediently?"

"Pete lied to you. He sold your information."

"To save himself."

"He didn't have to do that. He could have gone to you."

"We barely knew each other."

"He could have gone to me."

"He thought he could handle it and to be fair, he was handling it."

"How many deals did you lose? How many men?"

Vegas rubbed his neck, remembering how he'd felt in the dungeon, realizing what Pete had been doing. And he'd only known Pete a few months. Kinn had worked with him for years.

"I'm not saying he's innocent."

"No, you're just defending because you want to keep fucking him."

Something inside of Vegas clenched tight as his anger fluttered in his stomach. Kinn looked up at him.

"That was unfair.” He waved at Vegas. “I'm sorry," he said, sitting on his bed as he rubbed his eyes in weariness. "I can't... I don't even know where to start from. Fucking Pete."

"He's on my side now."

"How can you be sure?"

"I caught him-"

"Exactly," Kinn cut in. "He didn't confess. You caught him. He's sorry. He's working with you now, because he got caught."

"What would you have done?"

"I would have confided in people I trust."

"No," Vegas said, shaking his head. "I mean, what would you have done if you were me?" Vegas really wanted to know. "If Pete was Porsche and he'd done something atrocious and disloyal, what would you have done?"

Kinn opened his mouth to reply, but no words would form. Not that Vegas needed any words. Kinn's answer was right there on his face. The broken helplessness was evident. If the roles were switched, Kinn wouldn't even bat an eyelash.

He'd be bending over backwards to find a way that he and Porshce could continue to be. He'd rationalize Porsche's decision like his life depended on it. Vegas didn't need to assume, he'd seen it before.

Recently, Kinn had learned that Porsche was an alpha. Rather than running in the other direction, Kinn had gone back to Porsche.

Considering that, how could he judge Vegas for his feelings? How could he not understand that if Pete was making the attempt, if Pete was sticking his neck out for this to work, how could Kinn think that Vegas had any other choice than to fall right behind him again?

Pete wasn't perfect. He was just as human as the rest of them. But Vegas wasn't looking for an angel. He was looking for Pete. For a man who could catch him covered in blood and drag him to get a shower. For a man who could fuck him and cuddle him till slumber. For a man who wasn't trying to change Vegas or disregard the work that Vegas did for his family.

"He betrayed you."

"And he'll pay for it," Vegas said.

Kinn spared Vegas a concerned look.

"I thought you'd forgiven him."

Vegas shrugged. He was in love with Pete, but he wasn't a forgiving fool. Actions had consequences.

"We need him, Kinn. We can't shut him out of this."

Kinn clasped his hands, tapping his toes on the ground, deep in thought.

"You're sure you have a lid on him."

"I do."

"And you trust him?"

"I do."

"Fine then."

Vegas smiled as he got up from the chair and headed for the door.

"Vegas," Kinn called.

"Huh?"

"Be careful."

Vegas smiled.

"When am I not?"

As he went in search of Pete, Vegas laid out all he'd learned, like a map in his head. Tod Setely. Tawan Apinya. Pete Saengthem.

Three omegas, well stationed around the Theerapanyakul alphas... and Porsche. Vegas shuddered to imagine what could have happened. It all could have gone unnoticed and they'd have never seen the pattern.

They still hadn't even seen the pattern completely. They were still running around like headless chickens with no plan in sight. Kinn was right. Vegas ought to be careful.

If Pete hadn't ended up in that dungeon, Vegas would have never found the bugs. And if he'd never found the bugs, the Theerapanyakul dynasty would have been infiltrated... or toppled by an unlinked clique of omegas.

#Pete's POV #omegaverse #kinnporsche #vegaspete #actor au #Vegas' POV

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