#like. he’s still an active fan that i know of. he’s still profiting from his h*gwarts house video and hasn’t said anything—

[rosesradio]

🥸

[bibluebutterfly]

Hoo boy. Now I've made it known multiple times on my blog that I LOATHE the whoobiefication of Vox, but lets get into why/how Vox is NOT a good person nor a baby that needs protecting and why he's all the better for it. Buckle up ladies and gentlemen, this will be long.

Now, why isn't Vox a good person? Easy. Because he (along with the other Vees) is supposed to be the bad guy of the story. Shocking, I know. Vox was NEVER intended to be a good person, and some of y'all just need to accept that.

Now for the long part: HOW is he not a good person?

Well, first of all, his literal introduction is an ad selling drones HE DESIGNED specifically for stalking,"peeping on the neighbors has never been more stylish"

Right off the bat, this tells us he doesn't care about people unless he can profit off them.

Which is also backed up by the point that he ADVERTISES Val and Vels "love potions" which are basically just roofies.

Again. This man ONLY cares about profit first and foremost, screw the people who can get hurt/SA'd by his products.

Next, he has a power of hypnosis which he is NOT hesitant to use. He can take away someones free will at a glance and uses that to his full advantage.

He's also very willing to give Val his lowest earners to shoot. Notice that he does so with no hesitance and no regret.

Also, (and most significantly) he's a huge, HUGE enabler. This guy has cameras EVERYWHERE, ESPECIALLY when Valentino is involved. He's got cameras in Val's room, Angels old room, at Vals corner of the club (which moves when Val does), there's NO WAY he DOESN'T know that Val is a r@pist.

And DESPITE that, he still sleeps with the man, is very likely in love with him, and oh yeah, FUNDS HIS WHOLE DEAL. The cameras Val uses are Voxtech cameras.

Val may be the one who does the dirty work but Vox willingly and knowingly makes a profit off of that. He doesn’t just know and do nothing, he actively HELPS Val out and obviously has no second thoughts nor regrets about it.

This is not a look of disgust or discontent, this is fondness. Genuine fondness. For Valentino. As a PERSON. Let that sink in.

There’s also the implications that Vox is jealous of the attention Angel gets from Val. Angel gets abused constantly by Val, Vox KNOWS, and still hates Angel because of the sheer fact that he takes up so much of Vals attention.

Not to mention the HEAVY implications that he gets off on watching people suffer.

“Well Vox can still do better than Val!!”

While I’m at it, I guess I should bring up the fact that BOTH Vox and Val are MASSIVE red flags.

With Val, aside from the obvious, he’s also a huge attention whore for Vox and isn’t afraid to break Vox’s property if Vox doesn’t pay attention to him. Yeah Vox gets frustrated with him, who wouldn’t be when their lover is throwing temper tantrums every other day?

With Vox, again, aside from the obvious, isn’t afraid to handle Val roughly when he’s mad, and literally screams about how watching his arch nemesis/obsession get the crap beat out of him is better than sex. Right in front of Val by the way. In regular circumstances, 9.98/10 that’s gonna get your ass dumped in a second.

Not to mention the mutual condescension ation towards each other.

And as much as fans (including myself admittedly) like to shit on Val for being a man child, Vox is literally no better.

Plus the explosive tempers.

Seriously. Vox LITERALLY cannot do better than Val. Vox is the only one who can put up with Vals BS and vice versa.

OH YEAH and lets not forget one last thing: VOX ALSO ABUSES HIS OWN EMPLOYEES.

This dude is scared of him, and it’s NOT because he’s worried about getting fired.

So yes. Vox is not nor HAS EVER been a good person.

And for me personally, I love that. I love that he’s entertaining yet awful. I love his dynamic with Alastor, and I love his relationship with Val even more.

If you’re wondering why I personally love Staticmoth, it’s because basic couple rules do not apply to them. They’re both toxic narcissistic red flags and therefore they can be as awful as they want to each other, and the other will simply shake it off. Yet there’s still heavy trust between the two (never being scared of each other) and they still have little moments together where they’re genuinely happy. It’s unique, and something I’ve never seen in media before.

Basically, if you liked Vox better when you thought he was a poor little baby being abused by Val, read a fan fiction. There’s a lot of them out there.

But people really just need to accept the fact that he’s an awful person. Always has been. He’s not better than Val by ANY means. He and Val are both evil pricks who deserve each other.

And guess what? LIKING AN EVIL CHARACTER DOES NOT MEAN YOU SUPPORT THEIR CHOICES. IT’S OKAY TO LIKE VOX EVEN IF HE IS EVIL.

But don’t go on saying that Vox was “ruined” as a character when all signs have always pointed to him being terrible.

[not-poignant]

Hey! It is so interesting to me when people hate on things created by the people they hate (not bashing here just wondering, for each their own). It is just for me it always was the same thing as - my country is run by terrible people, but there woudn't be the place where I can feel more at home than this room I am in. Same always was with HP. I will hate Rowling for every shitty thing she said/did, but hp fanfics/books will always be my safe haven. It's not hers anymore, it's mine.

Anonymously coming into a trans person's private messages to tell them that hating on the creations of the most famous transphobic creator in the world is 'interesting' to you as though this is merely a thought experiment and not something with tangible stakes is a choice, anon.

Here's the thing. JKR isn't dead, she's not a philosophical concept (like a nation), she's not a government. She's a living person still using the profits of her creations to hate on and harm trans people and actively influence trans dehumanising laws.

Anyone who gives her money via buying her books or merch actively and explicitly contributes to these actions and this hate. I don't think your analogy is comparable, so I'll give you another: It would be like if you were a domestic violence victim, and I was a huge fan of Chris Brown (a very famous domestic violence abuser) and went into your personal space to anonymously tell you how 'interesting' it is that I can separate the art from the artist. That his music is 'mine now' while fully knowing that a domestic abuser is benefitting from my listening to his music and spreading this rhetoric about him. I'll tack on a 'but he's bad' to cover my bases, but that's it.

Just...why.

Our lives are not thought experiments. It's not 'interesting' that many trans people can't and won't separate the art from the artist while the artist actively uses the money from the art to harm us and increase hate crimes against us. It's devastating that more people don't understand why this is such an issue.

HP is not yours, anon. Not in the same way it's JKR's. You don't own the IP. You can't use the profits from it to help marginalised people. You can enjoy it in your mind, and privately, and among folks who feel the same way as you, but speaking about it favourably in public with zero caveats allies you with the most public and infamous transphobic mascot and influential figure in the world whether you like it or not. Even with caveats, it still harms more trans people than it helps.

Being reminded of the person actively working to increase the number of draconian laws around our rights, who has the endorsement of Putin and has empowered trans haters in the US, is not an 'interesting' little experiment for me, it's actively painful and hurtful. I'd rather you just bashed outright so I could delete the anon message rather than explain why our lives are interesting philosophical think pieces.

If this is what you're choosing to do with the part of HP that belongs to you and is now yours, by anonymously coming here to tell a trans person these things as though you expect any answer than the one I'm giving you now? Well, that sucks too.

Enjoy the IP and make it yours if you must. Stop telling trans people about it anonymously. And if you can't stop telling people how much you like HP, for god's sake, warn them first so they can decide if you're safe enough to keep interacting with.

[lady-of-endless]

Hello! I hope you’re doing well :D

Could I please request headcanons for Fugo and Narancia with a hardworking s/o that’s shy and book smart and their love language (giving) is acts of service?

Thank you so much! Have an amazing day ૮𐙚꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶ 𐙚ა

Pannacotta Fugo, Narancia Ghirga x hardworking, book smart, shy reader headcanons

Author's Note: Thank you so much for this lovely request and for being so sweet. I hope you'll enjoy it!

Pannacotta Fugo

- At first, when observing how hardworking, book smart, and shy you are, it pains him a bit. It reminds Fugo of himself from years ago when he got more than hurt by others who took advantage of his way of being.

- He still finds it lovely but at the same time, it gets him concerned and always on guard if any danger gets close to you. He's protective but subtle about it. He sniffs ill intentions from afar so when someone maliciously wants to approach you, that individual stops abruptly with wide eyes and leaves. You might be asking yourself why, without knowing that Fugo was behind you, with a death glare and clenched fists scaring that idiot. With you, he's sweeter than honey, with others that try to profit off your nature, he's deadly.

- There's a chance that sometimes after something like this happens, he gets furious. Whenever Fugo has his fits of anger, he hides away from you, not wanting to scare you away. He cares for you so much that it sometimes scares him.

- Admires how hardworking you are but doesn't want you to overdo it, so he will always offer to help. It's also a good way to spend more time with you.

- Fugo will always come to you if he has a problem or inconvenience in his daily life, not for solutions but to be heard and understood. Plus, he trusts you enough to let himself open up.

- Please don't assist him while he tries to teach Narancia something because Fugo's attention will naturally be drawn to you. You're a big distraction, he'll end up staring at you for longer than intended instead of teaching, and that earns him some teasing from Narancia.

- When he catches himself daydreaming, there's a scenario that keeps repeating. He wonders how it would feel to lay his head on your lap as you're reading and just rest there and feel a calmness wash over his tense body. You always have that effect on him. As he starts to fall for you more and more, the others notice how he gets angry less often.

- As for your love language, Fugo catches on to it right away and understands the meaning of your acts of service because that's his love language as well.

Narancia Ghirga

- When it comes to being hardworking and booksmart, he thinks you're similar to Fugo and he admires Fugo so much so you being like that shouldn't be a problem, right? Right? Not really. Narancia gradually starts getting worried for you. Again, he admires you, your nature motivates him to try and be like that too but seeing you go past your limits, and overworking yourself leaves him concerned.

- He immediately comes up with a plan, taking the goal of making you relax very personally and seriously. His method is simple. Once he thinks that a break is needed, Narancia will distract you and somehow trick you into doing a pleasant activity that he knows you enjoy.

- The fact that you're book smart makes him feel a bit self-conscious. Narancia is your number one fan, he loves you so much, but sometimes he's afraid that you'll avoid him because he is not really academically bright. You notice this new insecurity of his because he starts to ask Fugo for more help, much more often. He doesn't realize that you like that he's more street smart than book smart.

- With a warm smile on his face and clinging to you, Narancia will always tell you how you shouldn't be shy, at least not around him.

- He also comes to you when he has a dilemma because he finds you not just wise but patient enough to listen to him.

- Eventually, he'll ditch getting academic help from Fugo. He likes the way you're teaching him much more. Plus, he's so infatuated with you that of course he wants to spend more time with you, even in this context.

- Unfortunately, exactly because of how badly he has fallen for you, he won't be able to pay attention to the lessons and it will be a lost cause. But he tried.

- Totally oblivious of you showing your love through acts of service because you're always sweet, in general. He can't be that special to you, can't he? Better prove him wrong.

[thebroccolination]

People Think Krist Is Homophobic (but He Isn’t)

[TW: discussions of homophobia, death threats, "the rape filter joke", etc.]

Last September, I made a thread about The Whole Krist Thing, and I'd like to make a version here on Tumblr as well.

NOTE: My being a queer fan of Krist doesn’t override the feelings or opinions of other queer people. I fully understand that time on this planet is limited and you don't need to exert precious energy into researching an actor. The reason I'm making this is to provide context for people who are new to the fandom or just wondering why Krist is known as homophobic.

- Why I Made the Twitter Thread -

As a queer international fan living abroad, my understanding of Thailand, Thai culture, and Thai language is extremely limited. Like most of us, I rely entirely on translations, both official and fan-made.

After watching SOTUS for the first time in 2020, I saw English-speaking fans claiming that Krist Perawat, the actor who played Arthit, was homophobic. And it wasn't just one or two people saying it. It was dozens. Hundreds. That called for some research. I loved Arthit, and Krist's empathetic portrayal of him didn't mesh with the angry guy in the Instagram photo I was seeing passed around.

I'd made a number of queer Peraya fans on Twitter, so I went to them individually and asked, "What's this about Krist being homophobic?" As queer fans who were knowledgable and openly fond of Krist, I wanted to hear their side of things.

They sent me links and photos and videos and translations that thoroughly explained how Krist's reputation for being homophobic had gotten so out of control. The problem: those things weren't compiled in one place, and they were all on Twitter where the Asian Peraya fandom is most active. Interfans, meanwhile, took the worst of everything they could find and compiled it into contextless videos for Instagram, YouTube, TikTok, etc. Since the vast majority of Krist's fanbase is spread across Asia and many of them don't engage with the international fandom, it's no wonder to me that the homophobia thing has become so ubiquitous over the years.

It's a paradox where, in order to see the evidence of Krist's allyship, you kind of have to be a fan already. Or you have to know which keywords to use to navigate Twitter's nightmare of a search function (I know, Tumblr is worse). While I made that thread, I was regularly texting Peraya I knew things like, "Do you know where that one interview from 2019 is?" or, "Did you take a screenshot of the marriage equality post he made last month?"

The thread was difficult to make, and I'm a fan! What I know of Krist, I know because I've been a fan for three years and I have access to information that fans who have been here much longer can find.

I also procrastinated on making it for ages. I knew the amount of vitriol people hold against him, and I just wanted to enjoy my time in fandom quietly without calling waves of anger and hate to my carefully curated little corner of sunshine.

Then Krist was in a car accident.

And even though he was reportedly driving safely and slowly, Thailand is notorious for its poorly maintained roads and a high number of traffic accidents. Only months after receiving his first driver's license, Krist's car flipped upside down, and he had to reassure fans from the hospital that he was physically all right, just shaken.

Meanwhile, some international fans thought it was funny.

And that's when I started making the thread.

So, with all that said, let's start with Krist's allyship, because I know most of us agree that that's the bare minimum for an actor working in the BL industry and profiting off the queer community.

- Acts of Allyship -

In the early days of their SOTUS fame, Krist and Singto were interviewed about the LGBTQ+ community.

Acceptance and equality is something that the LGBTQ community still struggles to achieve up to this day. But both Singto and Krist believe that this should not be the case. “They are just humans. They are like me, and they are like everyone,” Krist claims. Furthermore, he mentions that we should all be given the freedom to love anyone we want to love. “It’s just natural,” he says.

“They don’t have to understand now,” Singto says, referring to those who can’t grasp same-sex relationships. “One day, when they find their true love, they will realize that love is the same no matter the gender.” Krist adds, “Gender is not relevant when it comes to love. But in case some people still don’t understand this in time, what’s important is that we all give due respect to each other at the end of the day.”

He's also educated himself in colors representative of the LGBTQ+ community.

When Krist and Singto attended an award ceremony for their photoshoot in the gay magazine Attitude, Krist shared a sentiment that he gave to a queer friend of his. "If no one accepts you, you can stay with me, because I accept you for who you are." [Paraphrased]

Despite Thailand's current government leaning on BL series as a new soft power, it's still very conservative, and its people are to this day fighting to see equal marriage recognized.

Krist often adds his voice to this fight on Instagram, specifically as someone who works in the BL industry. These were in 2021 and 2022:

And, like many young people in Thailand, Krist also seems to support the Move Forward party. Earlier this week, he used an orange heart in a tweet to encourage people to go out and vote in the most recent election. One of the many things the Move Forward party is pushing for is the legalization of same-sex marriage "with the same rights and responsibilities as their heterosexual peers", which the current military government actively does not.

- His Circle -

When I was making my Twitter thread, I hesitated before including mention of his queer friends and coworkers. I knew how that would sound, but in the same way I felt it was important to mention my own queerness, I also think it's important to highlight not just the presence of queer people in his life, but how comfortable they are with him.

As I said in my Twitter thread, having queer friends isn’t indicative of anything substantial, but I do think it’s important to look at how those queer friends interact with him. If you’re queer, you know firsthand which friends you’d be physically affectionate with. The entertainment industry is its own world, of course, and the weight and meaning of relationships and connections can be different, but for all Krist's fame and popularity, he's not so famous or remotely powerful that faking a friendship with him is going to get them very far.

Among his queer friends, you've got Jennie who babies him, Godji who treats him like her son, and Oat who still adores him years after SOTUS. All of them queer, all of them visibly affectionate in a way that feels authentic, at least to me.

On the professional side of things, I think the best example of someone who wouldn't bother with him if he were homophobic is Golf Tanwarin Sukkhapisit. In 2022, Krist worked on The War of Flowers with Golf, a nonbinary queer activist, former MP, and director of The Eclipse. Since they're not just a queer person in the industry but a vocal queer activist who's made incredible progress for the community in their country, I value their judgment of his character.

Again, the reason I bring up these people isn't to say, "Look! Queer people! He knows some!"

It's to point out that he's close to them, and it disrespects their judgment to casually assume that they’d cosy up to a homophobe.

It's a small point, yes, but it was important to me when I first became a fan to see that queer people who know him personally had "vetted" him.

- Growth -

For this next section, I'll address three things I see brought up most often: the rape filter joke, the rumor that Krist said he doesn't like watching men kiss, and the claim that he's only doing BL because rent is due.

1) The Rape Filter Joke

In 2017, Krist and Singto were on a live with (I think) two other friends. They were testing out different filters, and when they got to a blur effect, one of them (one of the friends, I think) said it looked like the filter they put over victims of sexual assault on the news. They all laughed, including Krist and Singto.

I can't find a video of the original event, but we do have a translation of the apology he gave in 2018, and the public apology he made in 2020 when the video resurfaced again.

While this is unfortunate, and it would be nice if he hadn’t done it, I’m more interested in how he responds to criticism and his growth afterward. The incident was in 2017, but even speaking on it in 2020, he didn't make excuses for himself.

He apologized, accepted culpability, educated himself, and has never repeated it.

2) Krist "Doesn't Like to Watch Men Kiss"

There's also a claim that goes around that Krist said he doesn't like to watch men kiss. But that isn't what he said.

The subtitled interview that this claim was taken from has been split into two parts, and I think a lot of people have only seen the first half, if they've seen either.

(Also, my deepest apologies, but I'm linking you to Twitter for the video clips.)

In the first clip, the hosts tease Krist about Singto's sex scene with another actor in Close Friends. I can't speak to the nuances of what Krist is saying in Thai, but in the subtitles, he's basically saying that as a guy, he doesn't want to watch stuff like that and just skips past Singto and his partner to one of the other couples, like the male-female pairs. With just this clip, I agree that it doesn't sound great.

But in the second clip, the hosts tease Krist until he admits that the "stuff" he doesn't want to watch is Singto specifically kissing people who aren't him. Krist's jealousy, especially when it comes to Singto, is a well-trod fanservice joke.

3) He's Doing BL Only for the Money

I mean, I have no idea, but it'd be very weird if this was true, because he hasn't been in a BL since 2018 (if you count Our Skyy), and he's doing very well for himself financially.

Listen, this is probably the least serious people get when they criticize him, but I'm including it because why not, this is already a thesis.

From what I understand based on actors' comments, BL roles don't make a lot of money for the actors. (Boun even quoted a surprisingly low daily salary recently, and I'll share it here if I find it again.) Of course, I imagine Krist has enough fame and clout that he gets paid more than most actors, but to be frank, he absolutely makes more from all his other work.

Apart from the acting work he's done, he hosts two music shows, he starred in a musical recently, GMM just flew him to Japan for the first leg of his Asia concert tour, he runs a restaurant with Wave, and he has a bunch of sponsorships. And that's off the top of my head. The car from his accident in 2021 was a luxury model, and he replaced it with another pretty soon afterward. I'm not bragging for him or anything, but the "he's just doing BL for the money" is an odd thing to say when he probably already earns more than most without doing it.

It would have been a better argument back in 2016 when Krist's family was deep in debt. Krist's said that his main motivation to join the entertainment industry back then was to pay off that debt for his family, and he did so with the money he made from SOTUS.

Krist has spoken in the past about wanting to do more BL roles, but GMM preferred that he work with Singto. Now that Singto's left GMM (likely to start his own agency), Krist is in Be My Favorite, so I think his explanation tracks.

It's also worth mentioning that you can do something for the money and also love what you do. In the case of SOTUS, Arthit wasn't just a role that made him money, he's the character who changed Krist's life. He honors Arthit to this day by always wearing the bracelet he wore to his audition and by naming his music studio "SUN St." after Arthit.

(This is a very minor point, but I don't think a homophobe would cherish a queer role to quite that extent even if it was their kick-off point. If anything, they'd probably try to bury the role and pretend their real success started later.)

- Perception of Sexuality -

I think the reason the IG story hits people so hard is because Krist's reaction makes it seem like he's horrified that people could even think he's gay. My understanding is that he was tired of people interrogating him about his sexuality.

Krist is very openly affectionate with the people he loves, regardless of gender, which is clear in the photos with his friends above. Thus, he's always been like that with Singto. They hug before every show, they sleep on each other, cuddle, what have you. All the stuff of people who have developed a tight bond over the years.

When Krist was asked if he was afraid that that would put off potential partners in the future (which, good god, the questions they're asked) Krist said he doesn't care how people perceive his sexuality.

This was in 2018, the year Our Skyy aired, and he's said similar things in passing before and since.

- Conclusion -

All of what I've posted here is just a slice of what's out there. This is just the stuff I could find with reliable English translations because I'm making this for an English-speaking audience. Krist's fans already know all of this, which is why he has queer fans in the first place, and a lot of them are just too tired by hate fatigue to keep correcting misinformation.

I'm not trying to get every person in the world to like Krist, I promise. He's not perfect. He's a loud mess, and while he has four cats who love him, they're also exhausted by him. I just happen to like loud, obnoxious people, especially when they're as kind as he is.

There are plenty of Thai actors I don't vibe with for any number of reasons ranging from serious to petty. You have my written permission to dislike some people.

The Instagram story he posted was a bad move, we're all agreed. He agrees. He's apologized multiple times over the years. Whether one accepts his apologies is each person’s right, and I understand if this is enough to turn people away.

I just hope it's clear that he's been a staunch ally of the queer community and remains so to this day.

Personally, I'm more upset about the question.

This isn't a question you ask anyone.

And this wasn't the first fan to ask him.

According to people who have been fans from the SOTUS era, Krist and Singto were both relentlessly dogged by fans about 1) their sexualities and 2) details about their relationship with each other. We've all likely seen it happen to actors today, but back in 2016, there weren't hundreds of BL actors vying for the spotlight, so the spotlight hit Krist and Singto in a way that we can't imagine today. Most of us, myself included, arrived in this fandom long after SOTUS's meteoric rise to popularity that ended up saving GMMTV from bankruptcy, but given how many fans still behave like they're entitled to know an actor's sexuality, I think it's safe to trust that it was relentless. Fans accusing Kit Connor of "queerbaiting" as recently as 2022 is proof of that.

At the end of the day, there are plenty of reasons to dislike Krist, just like there are to dislike any person on this planet. He's hyperactive, he's whiny, etc. He's not flawless, but I think he's more than shown through his actions that he isn't homophobic, either.

He's not some actor playing queer roles for clout. He's vocally supportive of queer rights, and he backed that up this week in the polls by voting for the most progressive party in his country who are actively pushing for marriage equality.

But like I said, you don't have to like him, so I'll end this post with a quote from a friend who doesn't like Krist for the funniest reason I've ever heard:

"I don't think Krist is homophobic. I just don't like him because he reminds me of every kindergartener who demanded my attention at the exact moment when I was carrying something that could spill – and then it did spill, and they laughed about it for five minutes."

[acidichcl]

My babies

Was playing around a lil with how i draw them

Anyways, im bored so below is just me rambling about my tmnt fan iteration

If ur gonna read it, be warned, it’s long 💀 i tend to yap alot. I’ll make a clearer post once i figure everything out lmao

I guess i’ll start by explaining the background of it all

Baxter stockman found a crystal near an alien crash site and he found it super pretty, he wanted to give it to april’s mom, who he fancied. At the time, he didnt think much of it. He just thought it was a regular pretty crystal that was probably formed because of the crash impact or something.

(Little comic about this) As baxter gives the crystal necklace to april for her to give to her mom, april ends up giving it to Leo instead because april doesnt like her mom and refuses to give any gifts to her. Leo wears the crystal necklace in gratitude for April and on that night, leo had something happen to him. It’s like something from the necklace is taking over his body. That something is basically the crystal’s energy getting embedded to his body, this includes a hologram being (like an AI i guess) that is part of that crystal

This hologram being is what u call a Chronix. Chronixes are blue hologram AI beings that usually take a dragon-like form. Chronix doesnt immediately show itself to Leo, as just like any other virtual assistant, it only shows up when needed. When the crystal’s energy was embedded to Leo, he just thought that it was somehow Donnie’s mischievous doing. Maybe he was experimenting with things and Leo got caught in the way. Leo quickly dismissed it and went on with his day after Donnie gives Leo a device that would help tame the energy surge.

One day, a bunch of utroms have been spotted roaming around the town. While April was still sleeping, an utrom managed to get into april’s place through an open window and climbed onto leo, causing him to freak out and accidentally spawn a holographic whip that would break April’s shelf of her beloved figurines. Leo begged Donnie to fix everything and he also tells Donnie that the device he gave isnt working. Donnie agreed to fix the issues and he tells Raph to distract April, and Mikey to help clean up the mess a bit. While Donnie is fixing up his device, Leo is sitting alone in his room, wondering what actually is happening to him.

Prompted by Leo’s question about what’s happening, Chronix appears and tells him that the energy surges he’s getting are because he’s not used to it yet. His body is not trained enough to be a container for the energy nor to gain better control of what he spawns. Chronix explains further about what it is and where it came from: The utroms have a very advanced living condition and what keeps their conditions alive is a sun crystal that powers everything in their planet. It is linked to everything there and it casts virtual assistants to serve the utroms. As they were fleeing their planet that’s about to be taken over by shredder, the utroms took the big crystal with them as its huge energy source is believed to be able to form a new world and Shredder will have his own loyal army. When the utroms fled with the crystal, they crashed to earth, causing the crystal to shatter to multiple pieces. Those who came to check out the crash site notice these crystal fragments and take them, either its for collection, or for profit purposes, or for research, whatever. Ppl just like shiny things. The utroms are trying to gather all the pieces to form the crystal whole again to restore their home planet, while shredder, and other alien invaders, are also actively trying to seek out for this crystal for power.

As Leo is one of those who is in possession of the crystal, he is now a target, hence why an utrom climbed up onto him that morning. Now knowing that he’s not supposed to be in possession of the crystal, he tries to take off the necklace but he is now bonded with the crystal so he physically can’t take it off. The crystals dont have the same effects on other living things tho. I'll tell why eventually in future posts.

To avoid any more accidents, he asks for chronix’s guidance on how to make his body stronger to contain and be more in control. Chronix tells him that he just needs to train n stuff. For better guidance, he tells his brothers. And then april, who then mentions that there’s a dojo nearby and thats where they meet casey jones and his grandpa who owns a pet rat, Splinter, who shortly gets in contact with an utrom and gets mutated. Also the grandpa’s pretty old so he passes away not very long after. Casey is still too young to continue his legacy, but splinter is now an old wise rat who knows of the grandpa’s techniques. So splinter takes the sensei role to initially train only leo and casey, but the other turtles and april also wanted to join in just to have something to do

Yeah

[bigmouthlass]

Title:  Calling A Professional, part a

Series: Professional, part 1a

Author:  BJ

Fandom:  Supernatural

Rating:  Explicit

Pairing:  Dean Winchester/You, Dean Winchester/Reader, Sam Winchester/Jessica Moore

Synopsis: 'You' are a career-oriented young Omega too preoccupied with school to have a dating life. Your image-oriented family decide enough is enough and give you a screamingly inappropriate present -- a night with a full-service Alpha escort, emphasis on full. And stuff happens.

Tags:  Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, ABO, Omegaverse, AU, Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega You, Omega Reader, Sam Winchester, Zachariah, Balthazar, Gabriel, Naomi, Castiel, Benny LaFitte, Arthur Ketch, Abbadon, Becky Rosen, Bobby Singer, Jessica Moore, Alpha Sam Winchester, Alpha Zachariah, Alpha Balthazar, Alpha Gabriel, Alpha Castiel, Beta Benny LaFitte, Alpha Abbadon, Omega Jessica Moore, Charlie Bradbury, Billie the Reaper, First Time, Sex Worker Dean Winchester

AN:  Blame the walking talking PWP device that is Dean Winchester. All recognizable intellectual properties are owned by their respective creators and holders of any copyrights or trademarks. This is a not-for-profit work of fan art and protected by Fair Use.

---

“Are you kidding?”

Your cousin Rebecca shakes her head, flying that damn blonde mane all over the place.  Glaring, you wave a breeze past your nose.  Rebecca’s between boys again and she’s broadcasting interest signals to every Alpha within smelling range.  You check your watch.  God dammit, as it is you’re going to have to sacrifice another hour of sleep because this was supposed to be your study hour.  You do not have time to do lunch.

Except Rebecca’s speaking on behalf of one of the Family heads, an Alpha you’re supposed to call Uncle Zachariah.  You know him mostly as a signature on your tuition checks.  He’s not exactly pleased that you’re working on a degree instead of chasing a good Alpha but he’s never objected.

Apparently his patience has limits.

“Look, this service has an impeccable reputation--"

“I do not have time for this.”

“Make time, babyboo.”

You grind your teeth.  “Do not call me that.”

“Quit behaving like a child,” Rebecca says.  “Daddy made it clear.  Maybe it was okay to play it like you’re the cerebral ice princess when you were sixteen but you’re a grown Omega now.  People see you -- no Alpha, not dating, working all the time -- and they talk.”

No concern about your well-being or what you actually want, of course.  Once again you curse the absurd twist of genetics that caused you -- a surprise pregnancy between a couple of middle-aged Betas divorced from terrible first marriages -- to Present as Omega.  Things are expected of you, if you want to achieve your quietly ambitious goal of a scholar’s life without having to assume a mountain of debt.

“You hired a for-God’s-sake prostitute--"

“Escort, babe!”

“Someone receiving financial remuneration for sexual activities is a prostitute,” you say.  Because that’s what this is about; you have Alpha friends who’ll happily squire you around formal occasions just for the networking opportunities.  It’s making the conservative generation of the Family nervous that a healthy Omega with a legitimate blood tie is running around without making herself available to the right sort of Alphas, and as far as they know you’re still a virgin.

Which is correct.  That moment, when an Omega catches a scent from a compatible Alpha, gets all soft and slick and ready for mounting?  That’s never happened.  Certainly not with the frequency it happens to any of your Omega cousins.  Anael seems to fall in love every other month on average.  It all strikes you as ridiculous and it’d be nice to tell the Family to go to Hell and let you alone.

You’re more pragmatic than that.

“Look, it’s already set up,” Rebecca reminds you.  “There’s really nothing to be worried about.  It’s one party.  You and the escort get a chance to get to know each other.  Then he gets a call the next time you go into heat.”

“This is so humiliating,” you say.

Rebecca reaches across the table.  You yearn to throw your glass of water in her face but refrain.  She really is trying to be sympathetic.  “There’s nothing to be scared of.  Daddy told me this agency has Alphas that specialize in first timers.  All you have to do is relax.”

“Not helping,” you say.

“Just do it,” she sighs.  Because that’s what everything from the Family boils down to.  “You don’t have to enjoy it, but just do it.  Once it’s over Daddy and Great-Aunt Naomi will find something else to obsess over and you can go back to doing,” she waves a hand, making her bracelets rattle and her rings sparkle, “whatever it is you do.”

“It’s called anthropology,” you grumble as the waiter serves your quiche.  Rebecca tips her head and the waiter helps himself to a discrete noseful of her scent.

Disgusting.

---

A week later you’re dressing in your favorite gown and tying your hair up.  It’s Great-Aunt Naomi’s birthday party and you’re obliged to show up for a few hours and let yourself be counted amongst the Family’s membership roster.

If that were all, you’d be fine.  Take the chance to catch up with the least boring of your relatives.  But this is the night the guy your uncle’s paying to deflower you is coming to meet you.  And you’re nervous.

You open the portfolio sent by the agency.  The contract is a dense block of gobbledygook.  Someone’s highlighted the salient points, specifically in case you don’t feel absolutely comfortable and safe you can always terminate the service on the spot.  How the hell that’s supposed to work in the middle of a heat cycle, you have no idea.  Your heats are short but once you’re riding the tide your brain is good for nothing.

The opposite page has a profile of the specific professional who drew the short straw:

WINCHESTER, Dean M.  Six-foot-one, 190 pounds, brown hair, green eyes.  Cute enough, going by the snapshot paperclipped to the profile sheet.  There’s also a scrap of fabric tucked into a little pouch, a scent article that smells mostly like leather.

He’s also several years older, no higher education, and from his list of interests you anticipate a deep conversation about sports.  God damn your designation anyway.  If you were a Beta nobody would care if or who shared your bed.

“Bonsoir, cherie.”  Uncle Balthazar taps on the powder room door.  You’re staying at his condo while he spends most of his time abroad.  He’s volunteered to be there when your escort shows up, just in case.  “Are you ready darling?  I just heard the most awful racket from the garage and Harold tells me that’s your date.”

“Not my date,” you correct.  “My hooker.”

Uncle Balthazar winces.  “Mind your manners young lady.  It’s not the gentleman’s fault Zachariah has no sense of the appropriate.”

“I know,” you say.

Uncle Balthazar gives you an arm as you step into your highest heels.  “Darling, hold your head high and shine like the treasure you are and you’ll be fine.  I’ll be waiting in the sitting room.”

As he leaves you check the mirror.  Everything is in place and from photo distance you look like you belong amongst the Family rich and powerful.  With a little luck you’ll be back in time to get a little work done before going to bed.

“There she is!” Uncle Balthazar says as you stride into the sitting room.  There’s a man in black tie standing next to him.  “You look exquisite, my dear,” Uncle Balthazar brings you near with a light touch on your back and kisses your cheek.  “This fascinating gentleman is Dean Winchester.”

“How do you do?” you offer your hand.

Your gigolo takes it and brings it to his lips.  “Pleasure to meet you.”

The photograph does not do him justice, is all you can think as his eyes meet yours.  They’re green, all right, like spruce needles or forest moss or dark jade but not really like any if those things.  They study you with a warmth.  Delight, like this isn’t a business transaction and you’re the best surprise he’s ever seen.  His hand is warm, and his full pink lips are soft against your skin.  The touch sparks, like flint on steel.

“Yes, well,” Uncle Balthazar clears his throat.  “I’m going to go pick your aunt up.  I’ll see you at the party.  Au revoir ma petite.”

“Yeah, um,” Dean blinks like he’s just waking up from a trance.  “Come on, my car’s downstairs.  Let’s get going.”

“Yeah, of course, right,” you shake yourself, taking Dean’s offered arm.  Closer proximity doesn’t help, because now you can catch his scent.  He’s sweet, all caramelizing fruits and hardwood smoke and leather.  A hazy picture floats through your mind, one with less clothes and more heat and you on all fours arched and wailing as--

“Oh merde,” you say under your breath.

---

The car is an old but impeccably clean black Chevrolet.  You know nothing about cars but fall in love with this one immediately because the inside is saturated with Dean’s scent.  Warm and sweet and it’s working on your mind and body in ways you were not prepared for.

“Uht-oh, the vultures are circling,” Dean says as he pulls up to the hotel.  Sure enough there’s a gaggle of photographers perched behind velvet ropes.

“Lovely.  The more pictures they get now the more they’ll ignore me later,” you say.

“Not your first rodeo?”

“Very far from it,” you tell him dryly.

Dean accepts a token from the valet and gets out.  Waving aside the kid in uniform going for your door, he opens it himself and hands you out, standing just far enough back to be out of focus as flashbulbs pop around you.  You do the little half turn pretending to adjust the strap of your bag, and right on cue Dean steps up with his arm cocked.  He sets a leisurely pace, facing forward with a blank expression, letting you draw the eyes.

“Not your first rodeo either?” you ask in a low voice as the photographers focus on the next arrival.

“Nope,” he says, shrugging.  “Usually when I take clients to these kinds of parties, I hang out with the bartender, eat my weight in finger sandwiches, and try not to start food fights.”

You cough out a giggle at the mental image of your cousin Castiel launching a pie into Great-Aunt Naomi’s face.  “You can do that if you want,” you tell him.  “I mean except for the food fight part.  I’m used to entertaining myself at these things.”

“Nah,” Dean says.  “I want to see if I can hear you laugh some more.  You’ve got a great laugh.”

He keeps doing that.  Giving you little compliments like statements of the obvious.  Like how pretty you look with your hair up.  And an impressed, “Awesome!” when you tell him you graduated high school two years early.  And when you try to brush off what you study as boring stuff, he looks you in the eye and says, “Anything you want to talk about, I want to listen.  I’m interested.  I’m fascinated.”  He’s either the best damn actor in the world . . . or he’s being completely sincere.

Something else is happening too.  Assorted relatives keep orbiting by, insisting you introduce them to Dean.  He identifies himself as your date and nothing else.  He barely looks at them, even ones like your cousins Toni and Bela and Annmarie, Omegas firing off interest signals like fireworks.  He speaks when spoken to, can participate in conversations, but he keeps orienting on you like no one else is real to him.

Or so you imagine because that’s how you feel.  The low-level paranoia that makes events like this an unpleasant chore isn’t there.  Not when Dean keeps touching your arm or your back.  During the dinner part of the party, as your cousins do their thing around your assigned table, Dean keeps holding up morsels of his food for you to try, keeps sneaking bits off your plate.  It’s an intimate thing to do and doesn’t feel out of place at all.  You wish you were alone, just the two of you.

You stiffen when you hear your name.  It’s Zachariah, and the way he’s looking at you makes your skin crawl.  “Enjoying the party?”

“Of course,” you say.  Just listen and nod in the right places, you remember your mother coaching you as a child.  Your Uncle Zachariah likes to think he’s in control.  Give him that and he’ll leave you alone.

“Good, that’s good,” he nods.  One hand goes on your arm, the other goes on Dean’s, and he leans in close.  “Just wanted to make sure you kids were hitting it off,” he says, shaking you in what probably feels like a gesture of affection to him but feels intrusive to you.

“Mr. Adler,” Dean says, and the cold formality of his tone is jarring compared to the easy and pleasant affect he’s had so far.  “We’re fine, thank you.”

Uncle Zachariah’s smile curdles a bit.  “You’re in good hands,” he tells you, and you unconsciously draw back.  His hand cups the back of your neck and the part of you that’s been basking in the warmth of Dean’s attention all evening recoils like a startled snake.  “The agency tells me Dean’s the best they have with first timers.”

It’s not like everybody in the Family doesn’t know.  Your cousins gossip worse than retirees at their favorite diner on weekday mornings.  But to have it tossed back in your face-- you honestly want to throw up.

Abruptly Dean stands.  Conversation for ten feet around goes quiet.  Brushing back Zachariah he pulls you to your feet.  “I think I could use a drink.  Don’t you.”

You nod, and when Dean puts an arm across your shoulders you press closer.  Dean’s warm, sweet scent chases away the cold chills and the instinct to run and hide.  Alpha will protect you, those instincts say, and you’re too freaked out to retort that you can protect yourself, thank you very much.

Dean leads you to a smaller secondary bar tucked in a shadowy corner of the ballroom.  “Tequila, straight,” he tells the bartender.

“Make it two,” you say.

“Woah,” Dean says.  “No way you’re old enough to drink.”

“I’ve been taking wine with dinner since I was twelve Dean.  I could probably outdrink you.”

The bartender serves it up without a word and you both slam it back.  The liquor acts like a slap in the face, clearing your head a little.

“This probably isn’t any of my business,” says the Alpha that’s getting paid to pop your cherry, “but does he usually pull that kind of shit with you?”

“What do you mean?”

Dean does a double-take.  “You’ve never had an Alpha come on to you like that?”

“Like what?” you ask, getting a little irritated.

“Babygirl when an Alpha starts rubbing the back of your neck like that it’s a dominance display.”  Dean gently lays his hand in that same place.  He applies just a little pressure and oh God, your heart starts slamming in your chest and you can feel slick at the tops of your thighs.

“Stop that,” you say.

“Yeah,” he says and backs off.  Part of you cries out, wants to leap into his arms, bare your throat, your body, everything.  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Why stop now?”

“You’re smart, you’re beautiful, you work hard and kick ass.  Why are you putting up with,” Dean flicks a hand at the party proper, “this shit?”

“You tell me.  Why’s an intelligent good-looking guy like yourself turning tricks?”

Dean flinches.  The anger in his eyes almost spurs you into a run, but there’s something else lurking at the edges.  Shame?  Disappointment?  “I’m sorry,” you backpedal.  “It’s none of my business.”

“There aren’t many jobs for high school dropouts that let a guy gross eighty K a year, and I’ve got a father in assisted living and a brother in law school,” Dean tells you in a flat just-the-facts monotone.

You laugh without much humor.  “I’m aiming for a doctorate, the Family pays for my education, and Zachariah controls the money.  I’m ineligible for financial aid because my mother was an Adler of the Grand Rapids Adlers and student loans would put me in debt until I turn five hundred.”

The two of you stare at each other for a long moment.

“You wanna go out, get some air?” Dean runs up the Truce flag.

“So bad.”

---

Outside the fall air is cool and smells like peace.    You lead the way to the back end of the hotel courtyard, where there’re benches looking across the river.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize again.  “I got no high ground to stand on when it comes to how anybody makes money.”

Dean huffs out an unamused little ha.  “My dad still thinks I hustle pool and scam credit cards for a living.  If he knew I work for an escort service he’d have a heart attack.  Then come back to life and shoot me.  Then have another heart attack.”

“Aren’t you worried he’ll see you on one of those daytime tabloid shows?”

“Nah.  Dad only pays attention to the ABCs.  Automobiles, Booze and Cowboys.”  Dean pauses, looking across the river at the softly lit rotunda of the museum.  “Doing this means Dad can stay in a good place and Sam doesn’t have to hold down a job while he’s at school.  Once he graduates, he’ll be able to start helping with Dad’s bills and I can quit and do something else.  Or keep doing it and retire young.  I dunno.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me.”

“I’m not, just thinking out loud I guess.”  A breeze blows in from the west and you shiver as it pulls gooseflesh from your bare arms and back.  “Oh, here,” Dean says, shucking out of his tuxedo jacket and draping it over you.  His arm goes over your shoulders and you let him cuddle you close.  It’s easier to see now, the firm layers of muscle on his arm and chest, how small your body is by comparison.

There it is again, that melting feeling deep in your core.  A part of you that only comes alive in your heat cycles is awake now, making you want to curl around Alpha the way a cat curls up in a friendly lap.  You’d purr if you could roll an R.

You feel Dean’s chest rise as he takes a deep breath.  “You’re not used to having someone take care of you, are you?” he asks.

“I can take care of myself,” you say, but it doesn’t have the hard snap it usually does when you point that out.

“Yeah I can see that.  That’s not my point.  You looked scared to death in there, but you didn’t look around for help.  How long have you been dealing with his crap on your own?”

You shudder, and Dean pulls you closer.  “I barely know Zachariah.  I only see him at events like this and when I have to give him my schedule every semester.  He pays for my tuition, so I have to at least be nice to him.”

“Fuck.”  Dean’s quicker than he lets on.  “I just dropped a damn mess in your lap didn’t I?”

“It’s not your fault.  Look,” you say, trying to push past the way being in his arms makes you feel warm and alive and wanting, “if you want to back out, I’ll make sure you still get paid.  It’s pretty clear Zachariah didn’t give a damn about me or the Family.  He . . . I don’t know what he wants.”

“I got a pretty goddamned good idea.  When you get home, check for cameras.”

You shudder again, feeling sick.

“You also might want to talk to a lawyer about your options as far as family money.  An independent lawyer.  You get me?”

“Yeah.”

“Anyway, Zachariah isn’t the one calling the shots.  You are,” Dean says.  “Do something for me, would you please?”

“Okay.”

“Close your eyes.”

You do.

“Just breathe with me a minute.  There’s nobody else here, just us.”  Dean lets the quiet hang.  He tips his head to rest on top of yours, taking your scent.  His own Alpha scent gets stronger, more complex.  More delicious.  “Pretend we just met.  It’s up to you, where we go from here.  If it’s what you want, I’ll take you home right now and you’ll never see me again--"

“No.”  You open your eyes and turn your head, meeting Dean’s surprised look.  “No I don’t want that.”

“Oh thank God, me neither,” Dean breathes and presses his mouth to yours.

You’ve been kissed before, and mostly it felt gross.  This is not that.  The only thing you can think is soft.  One of his hands cups the back of your neck and you sigh into his mouth at the way you go soft and slick under the touch.  The picture in your mind is in sharper focus now, now that you know Dean’s palms are a little rough and how his lips taste.  How would-- how will that feel when you’re in heat and every sensation jumps by a factor of ten?  “Oh God,” you whimper.

Dean pulls back and smiles.  “Dean’s fine, babygirl.”

You swat at his chest, giggling.  “No egotism in your family.”

“When you’re as great as I am,” Dean tells you, trying to keep a straight face and not quite making it, “it’s hard to be humble.”

You burst out laughing.

“Oh, share the fun?”  Uncle Balthazar, his dark red silk shirt open at the throat and smelling strongly like Aunt Anna’s perfume strolls up.

“Inside joke,” you tell him.

“Already?”  He smiles down at you.  “Just came over to tell you not to wait up.  I got a call from Gabriel.  I have to catch a flight to Madrid in a few hours.”  He makes a face.  “God, I despise Spain this time of year.”

“Did they make the toast already?”

“Yeah.  If you want to make a discrete exit now would be the time.”  He pecks your cheek, frowns, sniffs.  “My goodness.  May I suggest a quick dip in the river before you go?”

“Very funny.”

“I’m not entirely joking, ma cherie.”  Is he blushing?  In the dark it’s hard to tell.  Uncle Balthazar turns his attention to Dean.  “It goes without saying that if you hurt our darling girl in any way I’ll have your legs broken, yes?”

“Understood,” Dean answers.

“Splendid.  I’ll call in a few days.  Goodnight sweetheart,” he smiles at you and strolls away, whistling Hall of the Mountain King.

“He’s right,” you say, trying again to behave like you don’t want to climb Dean like a curtain.  “We can sneak out through the access alley that comes out by the old post office.”

Dean frowns thoughtfully, one finger waggling as he takes his bearings.  “Got it.”

You stand.  Dean doesn’t.  “Come on, we gotta get before the valets get busy.”

“Gimme a minute,” he says, pushing himself to his feet.

“Why?  What’s wrong?”

“God,” he says to himself, looking down into your confused face, “you have no fucking idea what you’re doing to me do you?”  At your very eloquent ‘huh?’ Dean pulls you tight to him and kisses you.  Reflexively you stretch to try and match his height, and Dean groans as your belly drags over the bulge at the front of his pants.

Blushing as your blood turns to lava, you say, “I’m sorry?  I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Never,” Dean says, “ever, ever, apologize to me for getting me hot.”

“H-ha-have you been like that all night?” you stutter.

“More or less.”  Gently pushing you back to arm’s length, Dean puts his arm across his face and takes several deep breaths.  “Okay.  I’m okay.  Let’s get out of here.”

---

You keep it together up until the elevator to Uncle Balthazar’s condo opens on the foyer.  Dean takes his jacket back and puts his face in the fabric, smelling your mingled scents.  “I’m never getting this damn thing cleaned again.”

“I will not be your excuse for dirty laundry, Alpha,” you say without thinking.

Dean’s smile widens.  “I could get used to hearing that,” he tells you, pulling you close for another kiss.

What was probably intended as an affectionate good night turns into something else, as the simple facts of safety and privacy make themselves known.  Dean backs you into a wall as your legs go weak.  He bends his knees and you moan as that bulge rubs exactly where you need it.  For the first time in your life you wish you were in heat, right now, Presenting, taking Alpha’s knot.

“Put your hands behind my neck-- good girl,” Dean says.  Your dress has a slit up the left leg; Dean pushes it up until the slit starts at your hip and reaches through.  “Fuck,” he breathes when he feels your slick sliding down your thigh, “you’re dripping for me, aren’t you babygirl?”

“Yes,” you whimper.  “Yes Alpha.”

“Tilt your hips up a little-- other way.  Let me get at that pussy.  Good girl, just like that,” Dean says, and you gasp as he touches you there, gentle pressure through the fabric of your panties.  You’ve tried doing that for yourself a few times but it never felt like this, nothing like this.

“Do you like this?” Dean asks.  “Does it feel good?  You have to tell me babygirl, I can’t read your mind.  Be a good girl and tell me.”

“Feels good,” you say through a tight throat.  “Feels so good, Alpha.”

“Makes your pussy feel good?”  You nod, biting your lip.  “Say it babygirl, tell me I’m making your pussy feel good.”

“Making my pussy feel so good,” you whine, being a good girl for Alpha.  Just the idea, being a good girl for Alpha, makes you weak, makes you want to fall to the floor and Present right now, let Alpha take you right there next to the umbrella stand and whatnot table.  “Please,” you moan, feeling the bliss adding and multiplying and clinging to Dean otherwise you’re going to fly apart.  “Please Alpha--”

“Come for me Omega, be a good girl and come in your panties for me.”  You choke on a whimpering howl as the coil in your middle snaps and pure pleasure floods every cell in your body.  Dean kisses you through it, swallowing all your moans and whines.

“Shhh, quiet babygirl,” Dean says as you beg him for anything, everything, just more.  “You need to get a shower and get some sleep and I need to go.”

“No Alpha, please, I need you, I need your knot, please--”

“Shhhh.”  He holds you until your body stops shaking, until your legs can hold you up on their own.  “It’s okay Omega.  I’ll be here when you need me.”

“I need you now,” you beg.

“If I get inside you right now,” Dean tells you, his voice hoarse, “I’ll last for almost ten whole seconds.  And to take care of you the way I want to, I’m going to need to be better than ten seconds.”  He gulps.  “A lot better.”

“No,” you moan as he puts your hands back down at your sides and sinks to his knees.  Your panties slither down your shaking legs and you almost fall taking your feet out of them.  Your pussy clenches and fresh slick floods out of you as Dean noses you through your dress, and from the look in his eyes it’s causing him physical pain to tear himself away from you.

“It’s okay,” he says, pulling you into a hug and kissing you, deep and desperate.  “Be good for me, go in and get some sleep.  I’ll call you tomorrow.”

And he’s gone, stuffing your slicked panties into his pocket.

---

The next day you float through your TA hours for Professor Visnyak and writhe through your Issues In Classical Archeology lecture, mind full of Dean and body longing for same.  In the cold routine of your life as usual he doesn’t seem real, like you were visited by some fairy prince with a taste for virgin Omegas.  You keep catching yourself sniffing at the air, searching for Dean’s sweet, smoky Alpha scent.

Your phone beeps a notification as you grind through a stack of Geology papers written by freshmen with zero interest in the topic, nibbling at a sad excuse for a Caesar salad and wielding a red pen like a Sith lightsaber.  Thinking it’s your father confirming he made it to Florida with the rest of the snowbirds you swipe the unlock and damn near drop the phone when you see a selfie of Dean posed next to the open hood of his car.  You barely believe it but in casual clothes and sporting some whiskers he’s even more handsome, and you thank God for the foresight that caused you to wear a liner in your panties today and double up on the scent blockers.

hi bbygrl

changing babys oil

whatre u up to?

Giggling, you lay your head on the pile of papers covering the TA’s desk and pose like you’d fainted, red pen clutched in your hand.

Grading.

Barf.

You set your phone down and go back to work, but a moment later it chimes again.

giv all As

less time, students luv u

After a moment’s thought, you type.

And miss making freshmen business majors suffer?  Can’t do it.

A second later, Dean replies.

as u were

(devil face)

---

RU on FB?

Yes but I barely use it.

When he asks you text your username.  The app on your phone chirps with a notification-- DM Winchester wants to be Friends.  Smiling, you accept the request.

would u do something 4 me?

Depends.  What?

take a picture every day

doesn’t hav 2B selfie

just whatevr ur doing or looking at right then

hav 2 go out of town a few days

might not B able to text every day

Out of town?  Why?

family bizness

10 hr drive to ks

HATE flying

do that 4 me?

Okay.  Why?  My life’s boring.

The three little I’m thinking bubbles bounce for several minutes before Dean’s answer pops up.

not 2 me

bbygrl

(kiss face)

---

Another thing Dean said to you on the bench that night’s been bouncing around in your head.  You’ve always just sort of taken everybody’s word for it that Family money is accessible to you, but only under certain conditions and only if somebody else approves.  When you posit the question -- in carefully worded hypotheticals on a Q&A forum run by the university law department -- the answer comes back to consult a specialist in inheritance law to be sure, but since you’re eighteen now and legally an adult, that might not be the case anymore.

You also do some reading on Alpha-typical body language.  Because you had to be overreacting, right?  Zachariah had just caught you in a strange mood, Omega instincts working like they’re supposed to for the first time in your life and preening under Dean’s focused attention.  But the more you read, the colder and more repulsed you feel.

“You’re awfully quiet.  Is something the matter?”

Screwing up your nerve, you ask, “Uncle Balthazar, do you know if Mother made arrangements for me in her will?”

“Of course she did dear, she met with Chuck’s people when she first got sick and had everything put in order.  You’ll never want for anything, she made sure of that.  Why do you ask?”

You hesitate.  “Why did Zachariah really pay for Dean to go out with me?”

Uncle Balthazar sighs.  “Sweetheart he was worried.  We all were.  It isn’t normal for a young and healthy Omega like you to show zero interest in Alphas.  He thought that once you’d had a complete heat, whatever the problem was would sort itself out.”

“I looked it up.  According to the doctor’s guidelines being a virgin isn’t something to be worried about unless an Omega’s almost thirty, not eighteen!  And the way Rebecca talked-- I mean, she didn’t come right out and say Zachariah would cut me off if I didn’t do it but she didn’t have to.  And as far as making people talk, compared to the crap Uncle Gabriel gets up to, me being a frigid bore isn’t news.”

Uncle Balthazar doesn’t say anything.  You sag against the kitchen counter, the strength going out of your legs.  God you wish Dean were here, warm and solid and safe.  The Omega in you craves Alpha’s protection, and you don’t like it but the rational parts of you agree right now.

“Uncle Balthazar--”

“This isn’t something we should discuss over the phone, cherie.  Your Uncle Gabriel and I are flying back to Michigan.  We’ll be there tomorrow morning.  Can you meet us for breakfast?”

You mentally reshuffle your day.  “I think so.  At the café?”  The café is the tearoom overlooking the river in the hotel owned by the Family.  Everybody eats there.

“No, we need somewhere we won’t be paid attention to.  That luncheonette in Caledonia Gabe likes, eight AM tomorrow.  We’ll see you there.”

You just stand there speechless, the hum of a broken connection ringing in your ear.

---

Later that day you’re bent over a table in the library, grinding through your Introduction to Statistics homework and listening to Mindless Self Indulgence.

Your phone vibrates.  It's Dean-- where r u?

Campus library.  Stats homework.

Kill me now.

nope.

bad luck to kill someone when ur holding their underwear

(leering face)

You gasp, covering your mouth when you see dirty looks coming from the other students.

DEAN!

A hand taps your shoulder and you almost hop straight to Heaven.  Dean's got a hand over his mouth turning red from holding in a huge laugh.  You drop your Statistics text and throw your arms around his neck, kissing the laugh right out of his mouth.

Some sarcastic soul starts a round of applause.

"Thank you, thank you, you're a wonderful crowd, try the veal, tip your waiter," Dean says, waving it off.  “I come bearing caffeine,” he tells you, plunking a carrying caddy with two big cups and a baggie full of sugar and creamer and flavoring packets on the table.

“Oh bitter fuel of life, come to me,” you sigh, grabbing one of the cups and taking a long sip of the hot black liquid.

“You take it black,” Dean says, like he’s making a mental note.

“Just like my metal,” you cap the line, but not surprisingly Dean doesn’t catch it.

“Quick-- favorite Led Zeppelin song,” Dean says.

“Houses of the Holy,” you say without thinking.  “Yours?”

“Ramble On.  Can you take a break?  Just for a few minutes?”

“Sure, I was about done here anyway,” you say, packing your stuff.

---

“This is where you took your picture day before yesterday isn’t it?” Dean asks as you walk with him across the pedestrian bridge spanning a deep crease in the earth cut when the glaciers retreated.  Far below a streamlet of rain runoff flows down into a storm drain.  The trees growing on the edges of each slope are in full color, brilliant oranges and yellows and one maple tree that turns purple-red every year.  Dean points to it.  “I recognize that tree.”

“Mmm-hmm.”  You sit on a bench set against the bridge railing.  Dean doesn’t sit with you.  Instead he goes to his knees in front of you and wraps you in his arms, nose pressed against the side of your neck.  You breathe him in and shut your eyes as Alpha’s scent wraps your spirit in warmth.  You turn your head and Dean’s right there, meeting your lips in a tender kiss.

“Missed you,” Dean says.

“Me too,” you admit.  “A lot.”  It’s been two weeks and feels like a million fucking years.

You put your hands on either side of Dean’s face, feeling his afternoon scruff scrape your palms.  In daylight he looks even more gorgeous than he did that night, sunshine picking up golden and coppery tones in his hair and bringing out amber tones in his green eyes.  But there’re deep shadows under his eyes and his skin is too pale.  You’ve spent too much time around people functioning on caffeine and stress to miss the signs.  “Are you okay?  You look like you haven’t been sleeping.”

“Good guess.  I’ve been driving since four this morning.  I gotta go home and crash but I wanted to see you first.”

“Aw,” you kiss him again, smiling.  “I can spare an hour until my next class if you want to grab a snack or something.”

“I can’t babygirl  I’ve gotta get a few hours rack time.  I got a job tonight.”

You stiffen.  The reminder of just what it is Dean does for a living feels like a faceful of icy water.

Dean’s arms are firm around you and before you can get up enough torque to really struggle he clarifies, “Not that kind of job.  It’s a bodyguard gig.”

“Oh.”  You hang your head.  It’s not like you didn’t know the score, and you’re both adults, and it’s really not appropriate for an Omega to get possessive.  You’ve known Dean a grand total of a fortnight and change.  You don’t have any special claim on his time.  Or his body.

Like hell I don’t, that Omega-voice says, quiet but steely.

“Bodyguard?”

“I spent a few years in the Army.  I got good reflexes, I’m a dead shot, and I can do double-duty as arm candy.”

“I’m sorry,” you say meekly.  “It’s not really any of my business.”

“Before you ask,” Dean says, “I take the other kind of gigs because the pay is about ten times better and there’s a lot more demand.”

Assuming Dean can’t talk about his job particulars, you change the subject.  “Can you meet me tomorrow for, I dunno, lunch or dinner or something?”

“I should be back in town after seven.  We could get something to eat, sure.”  Dean sits back on his heels, your hands held in his.  “Is something wrong babygirl?”

Briefly you explain what you’d found out poking around online.  “I tried to talk to Uncle Balthazar about it but he told me he didn’t want to talk about it over the phone.”

Dean swears.  “I hate it when you’re right Sammy,” he grumbles.

"What?"

"I mentioned my brother's in law school, right?"  You nod.  "Last time I talked to him I asked him whether or not you could get locked out of any family trusts after you turned eighteen."

"From what I found, I need to talk to an actual lawyer for a definitive answer," you say.

"That's what he said too, but he pointed something else out."  Dean squeezes your hands.  "Look, I hope I'm wrong about your uncle.  I . . . I could've been overreacting, I really don't like watching Alphas act like that around Omegas.  Especially when it's family."

"But," you prompt.

Dean sighs.  "Imagine how it looks to anybody who doesn't know you.  Grew up rich--"

"Not hardly."

"Let me finish.  By the standards of people who make up most of the taxpaying public around here you grew up with a silver spoon up your butt, okay?"

You roll your eyes but concede his point.

"Never been in a serious relationship, never been in a casual relationship," Dean goes on.  "From the info Mr. Adler provided, you've barely even dated.  Then you go out in public with a," he grimaces a little, you're not sure he knows he's doing it, "professional escort once, and all of a sudden you want access to the family checkbook?"

You feel your face drop in shock.  You'd thought your parents raised you as a rational, skeptical, borderline cynical person.  Not even close.  "To anyone who doesn't know me," you echo Dean's phrasing, "I either look impossibly naive or like a greedy bitch.  Emphasis bitch.  And you look--"

"--like a knothead asshole taking advantage of an Omega kid with a crush."  Dean smiles into your ashamed face.  "Don't worry about me babygirl, I can take care of my own reputation.  Such as it is.  I'm just saying, until you know for sure whether or not your uncle's trying to do something shady--"

"--I probably shouldn't be talking to you about it," you finish.  You feel like you need to curl up and cry.  The list of friends you can take something like this to doesn't exist; the few who don't have some sort of connection to the Family, you don't feel you know them well enough to confide in.  Not something like this.

"Hey," Dean says softly, brushing a hank of hair back off your face, palming your jaw.  "Whatever happens, I got your back.  Count on that."

"I do," you say, meaning it.  "Meet me anyway?  I just . . ." you laugh a little helplessly, "I don't care if all we do is fall asleep on the couch watching the Lions lose."

Dean looks down a second, his Adam's apple bobbing on a gulp.  When he looks into your eyes again, your mouth goes dry.  "Babygirl.  The next time I get you in private, we will not be sleeping."

---

You're still flushed from all the thoughts that sentence put in your head as you walk into the Salt Shaker Grill the next morning and find Uncle Balthazar and Uncle Gabriel at the corner table.  With them, to your surprise, is your cousin Castiel. 

"Darling," Uncle Balthazar says, standing and kissing your cheek.  "You look well.  Infatuation agrees with you."

"Yeah, you're all pink and glowy," Uncle Gabriel adds with a sardonic little grin.  "Who are you and what've you done with our girl?"

"Up yours Uncle Gabe," you say.

"I took the liberty," Uncle Balthazar says, pointing to a plate heavy with bacon and eggs, toast on the side.  "You hardly eat enough to keep a mosquito alive."

"Okay kiddo," Uncle Gabriel says after giving you a minute with your breakfast.  "Before we tell you why we wanted to talk face-to-face, I need you to be honest with me.  Okay?"

"Sure Uncle Gabe," you say.

"What exactly happened, to make you ask Balthy why Zach went and hired an escort for you?"

You explain about the incident at Great-Aunt Naomi's birthday gala.  When you tell about how Zachariah touched your neck, Uncle Balthazar interrupts, "Show me how he touched you, love."

You put your hand just under where your neck becomes your skull and squeeze.  The Alphas at the table exchange a look.  "I thought I was just-- I don't know, maybe the shrimp wasn't agreeing with me?  Dean told me Alphas do that as a dominance gesture."

"Yes they do," Uncle Balthazar says.  "Pressure, right in those spots," he rubs just behind one ear, "stimulates the pheromone glands.  It's a little like rubbing the small of a woman's back."

"That's a foreplay move, kiddo," Uncle Gabriel says.  "When Balthazar told me about it, I thought it was Zach just being a dick.  He gets like that sometimes when he drinks.  The only time you're around Zach is at Family crap like that party.  You're never alone with him."

"But it occurred to me," Uncle Balthazar says, more serious than you've ever seen him, "that that's not true."

"I saw the incident," Castiel says in his gravely voice, making you look at him in surprise.  You vaguely remember seeing Castiel at an adjoining table, deep in conversation with his date and not paying much attention to the party.  Castiel's a shy duck, and a bit socially awkward.  He works with Zachariah, one of the many spiders keeping the money web snug.  "I'm sorry I didn't intervene.  By the time I realized what was happening, your escort had already taken control of the situation."

"Zach insists on vetting your class schedule and making out your tuition payments personally, right?" Uncle Gabriel asks.

"Yeah, every semester."  You shrug.  "I take him my schedule, he pretends to be interested, he makes a big production out of writing the check, and I leave."

"And are you alone with him when you have these meetings?" Uncle Balthazar asks.

"Yeah," you say.

Uncle Balthazar hesitates.  "Darling, please know I love you and I would never do anything to hurt you.  But we have to know.  When Zachariah's alone with you, does he do things like this?"  He takes your hand and his thumb rubs the nerve cluster just below your wrist.  He puts an arm around you as though to hug you but his fingers press into your waist in a way that makes your breath catch.  His hands span your back, one between the shoulderblades and one low on your spine.  You can feel him tracing your bra strap as he pulls you close, pressing your breasts into his chest.

"Stop that," you say, pulling back.

"You legit didn't realize those were dominance gestures."  It's not a question.

"As I pointed out," Uncle Balthazar says to Uncle Gabriel, "she wouldn't.  Most of us learn those tells as we start dating.  Or by watching our parents."

"Except your parents were both Betas, and you don't date," Uncle Gabriel concludes.  "Puts kind of an unpleasant spin on Zach hiring a sex worker to pop your cherry."

"Oh for God's sake Gabriel," Uncle Balthazar says, "have a little consideration for the child's feelings will you?"

"She's not a child Balthy," Uncle Gabriel says.  "Us overlooking that is the whole reason this has gone as far as it has."

You push your plate aside, the appeal of the food gone.  "What am I going to do?  I have at least six more years until I get my PhD and financial aid is out of the question."

"That will never be a problem,” Uncle Gabriel says.  “Even if Zach cuts you off you'll be taken care of.  We owe your mother that much.  I'm putting that in writing."

"Me too."  Uncle Balthazar tips you a wink.  "Not all of our money is Family money, cherie."

"Overseeing the Family trusts is part of my job duties," Castiel says.  "Your mother set up a trust in your name when she had her will updated, to be held by the Family until you turned eighteen.  The process of turning that trust over to you should have begun months ago.  When I asked Zachariah, he told me things was on hold until your summer break when you would be free for court dates."

"Except that doesn't make sense," Uncle Gabriel says.  "Your birthday was in January.  Chuck's a gutless wonder but it's not like him to be inefficient."

A silence falls over the table.  You sense a boundary’s about to be crossed, and you ask, "Why didn't you want to talk about this over the phone Uncle Balthazar?"

"Because if what I think is happening is happening," Uncle Balthazar tells you, "it dovetails rather neatly with some suspicions Gabriel and I have had for years."

"We think Zach's been filching the Family fortune," Uncle Gabriel says it, bald and ugly.

"Irregularities have been appearing consistently in the bookkeeping," Castiel says, his usual frown deeper than usual as your mouth drops open in shock.  "Someone going to improbable lengths to conceal cash transactions, source and destination."

"The only people who have the access to do that kind of Catch Me Fuck Me with the books are the Old Lady," Gabriel is the only one alive who gets away with calling Great-Aunt Naomi the Old Lady, "Michael," the public face of the Family, "Raphael," the Family politician and a state representative in Lansing, "and Zachariah."

"Naomi has no motive or need.  Neither does Michael.  Raphael wouldn't be that stupid, not while he's running on an austerity platform, a corruption charge would destroy him politically," Uncle Balthazar says, ticking his points off on his fingers.  "Until recently, I would have said Zachariah had no motive or need either."

"You don't know him the way I do, Balthy," Uncle Gabriel says.  "Zach's always relied on being the Old Lady's favorite son.  I don't like thinking this way, kiddo," he says to you, "but if he's doing what I think he's doing, he's going to start openly courting you to mate and he's worked really fucking hard to make you think you had to stay in his good graces or risk losing everything."

"Oh my God," you say, swallowing hard to keep from throwing up your eggs over.  "He can't do that-- he's my fucking uncle--"

"Great-uncle, a few times removed," Castiel corrects.  "Legally there would be no barrier."

"Legally shit!"

"Agreed, my love," Uncle Balthazar says.  "Zachariah miscalculated when he purchased your new friend's services.  Fresh eyes see clear.”

Zachariah?  Thinking of you as his?  "I'm gonna be sick," you croak and scramble for the ladies room.

---

“It wasn’t your fault Pamela,” Uncle Gabriel’s explaining to a dark-haired woman in an apron.  “My niece just got some really crappy news.”

“I’m sorry,” you apologize on your own behalf.  “Everything was really good.”

The woman’s stern expression melts.  “Oh that’s okay sugar.  Do you want me to bring you some ginger ale?  It’ll help settle your stomach.”

“Thank you,” you nod.

“So anyway,” Uncle Gabriel says, “what Balth and Cas told me got me thinking.  Cas doesn’t have any hard proof Zach’s been skimming, he’s just the likeliest suspect.”

You remember what Dean said and just like that you know something.  “It’s Chuck isn’t it?  Chuck’s covering for him.”

“Very good,” Uncle Gabriel says, giving you a chilly smile.  “And if Chuck is dirty, none of us are safe.  He knows where all the bodies are buried.”

“Literally?”

“Best you be able to say for the record that we never answered that question,” Uncle Balthazar tells you, and you hush up.  Balthazar’s role in the Family business has never been completely explained to you.  “Look, the point is, if Zachariah’s been foolish enough to illegally block your access to your mother’s money, and if we can prove it, it could be the smoking gun we need.”

“We get control of the Family business away from Zach, we get Chuck disbarred and possibly thrown in jail, and we avoid a situation with the IRS and the Feds,” Uncle Gabriel winds it all up.  “If the law gets involved we could lose everything.”

“Not everyone in the Family has independent support,” Uncle Balthazar says, “and while I couldn’t give a damn about some of them that list includes you.”

“Okay,” you say, accepting the cool cup of ginger ale from Marybeth.  “What do you need me to do?”

“For right now?  Act normal,” Uncle Gabriel says.  “I know you’re still seeing this Dean guy--”

“Don’t ask me to stop.”

“I wouldn’t kiddo,” Uncle Gabriel says.  “Balth tells me you two hit it off.  Big time.”

“They certainly smelled very cozy with each other,” Uncle Balthazar says.

“The way Mr. Winchester immediately acted to keep her away from Zachariah,” Castiel observes, “it was not the action of a detached professional.  A detached professional would have been more concerned about appeasing his patron than ensuring your comfort.”

“I’m not going to be the one telling you to quit seeing a guy who was ready to throw down for you an hour after meeting you,” Gabriel says.  “But for the love of God be careful.  If Zachariah starts throwing money around--”

“Dean wouldn’t do that,” you defend your Alpha.

“Not saying he would.  I did some digging,” Uncle Gabriel says, “and a quick hundred thousand would solve all sorts of problems for him.  Zach can write that kind of check, easy.  He probably spends more replacing the towels in the hotel after New Year’s.”

“And if someone got the idea Dean was only seeing you to get access to Family money,” Uncle Balthazar says.

“That’s what he said.”  You tell them about the conversation the two of you had earlier.

“Guy’s not a complete dumbass,” Uncle Gabriel notes.

“And he’s completely besotted with her.  Anyone with eyes could see it,” Uncle Balthazar says.

“I agree,” Castiel adds.

“When do you see him again?” Uncle Gabriel asks.

“Later today.”

“If he tells you that his boss, or Zach, or Chuck got in touch with him and asked him to do something with you off-contract,” Uncle Gabriel says, “you need to tell me right away.  An unscrupulous escort can make a lot of extra money in blackmail too.  I’m not saying,” he says, holding up a hand as you open your mouth, “that Dean would.  Just the insinuation might be enough to fuck us up.”

“Zachariah,” never again will you think of him as Uncle, “is acting like he’s my Alpha-in-waiting.  Is blackmail an option for us?”

“That’s not a discussion you need to be privy to.  You neither, Castiel.  Let us old men handle the scheming,” Uncle Balthazar says.

The four of your rise and Uncle Gabriel leaves a pile of tens on the table.  “Thanks Pamela.  Take her easy.”

“Incidentally,” Uncle Balthazar says as he escorts you to your car, “I’ll be staying with your Aunt Anna whilst I’m in town.  You young people might need a little privacy.”

“You’re supposed to tell me Dean’s a prostitute and I can’t trust anything he says or does is real,” you say, feeling very tired suddenly.

“Darling, how often do you think a professional takes time out of their day to just take their clients for a walk?  Or leave absurd little memes on their social media?  Or indulge your ridiculous love for cartoons?”  Uncle Balthazar puts his arm around your shoulders, an affectionate, comforting weight.  You take in his familiar scents of lilies and sandalwood.  “I’m not going to say it’ll be anything lasting, cherie.  First loves almost never are.  But just because a relationship proves temporary, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t worthwhile.”

“Better to have loved and lost?”

“Good God, no.  The only person who can decide what’s an acceptable risk when it comes to your heart is you.  Don’t let our cynicism ruin a chance at a little genuine happiness.”

His characteristic smirk reappears.  “And do try not to break any of the furniture.”

---

“You can sight-read Latin?”

Dean shrugs, picking a cheese stick out of the basket.  “Long story.  And wouldn’t you know-- none of the high schools I went to would give me a language credit for it.”

You look up from the pictures you took in lab, of linen and parchment scrids covered with heavy block printing.  “How may times did you change schools?”

“Lost count,” Dean says.  “When I finally gave up I was like two years behind.”

“Why?” you ask.  “You’re a smart guy.”

“That’s an even longer story, babygirl.”

You put your phone down.  “I have time.  These damn parchments have waited three hundred years.  They can wait another couple minutes.”

Dean stares at you, taking a sip of his drink.  The two of you are holding down a table in your favorite greasy spoon just off downtown, Harvelle’s Filling Station.  It’s open 24 hours and the management doesn’t care if you take a few hours to get some homework done in the relative peace and quiet.  The urge to apologize for prying comes but this time you resist.

“Our-- me’n’Sammy, our mom died when I was four and Sam was a baby.  House fire.”

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” you say.  You reach for Dean but he shifts out of your reach.  It hurts, but you leave your hand there, an invitation for Dean to take or leave.

“Dad never got over it.  Something up here,” Dean taps his temple, “just broke.  He started saying he saw someone in Sammy’s room, that whoever it was was out to get us.  Then our grandma died of a stroke and he started drinking.

“Would you believe until I got my discharge the longest I ever lived anywhere was ten months?  Dad would move us somewhere, get a job -- legal or otherwise -- we’d start to settle in, but then the nightmares would start up again.  He’d disappear a lot, sometimes for weeks.”

“Jesus.  Who was taking care of you?”

“We took care of ourselves, pretty much,” Dean says.  “But it got bad sometimes.  Dad would come home and start screaming at us in Latin, crazy shit about the sixty-six seals and the end of the world.  I forged a work permit when I was thirteen and started working.  Did a lot of other shit I’m not proud of.”  Dean shrugs.  “School just wasn’t as important as making sure Sammy was fed and safe.  I got caught hustling poker when I was seventeen and the DA gave me a choice-- Army or jail.  I picked Army.  At least then Sammy got a steady income.”

“Where were you deployed?”

“Afghanistan.  Three years into my contract, my Uncle Bobby had a heart attack and I got a hardship discharge to come back and take care of him and Sam.  Don’t look at me like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like I’m some three legged puppy or something.  Dad’s okay, Sam’s okay, I’m okay.  That’s what matters.”

You can’t help it though.  It’s too damn easy to picture Dean as an underfed kid fighting tooth and claw to keep everybody’s shit together.  Dean comes by his cynicism honestly, you realize, more honestly than you in any case.

“Anyway, it’s not your job to take care of me.”

“I thought we left the job thing about six exits back,” you say.

“Not what I meant,” Dean says.  “I’m an Alpha.  Alphas take care of Omegas.”

“If we’re bringing designations into it,” you say, “it’s just as valid to say,” you point your thumb back at yourself, “I’m the Omega, it’s my job to be caring and nurturing to my Alpha.”

A light comes in Dean’s eyes and he smiles.  “Your Alpha?”

You replay your last sentence.  “Did I say that?”

“Yep.”  Now Dean takes your hand, bringing it up to scent your wrist.  He meets you halfway across the table for a soft kiss.

“Hey hey hey,” the night shift fry cook says.  “Get a room you two.  This is a family place.”

“I gotta go,” Dean says, getting into his coat.  “I got an appointment BFE then I have to go out of town again.”  He pauses.  “You’re on cycle meds, right?”

You nod.  You have to be, in order to get the necessary time away from school to deal with your heats.

“When do your meds change?”

“Sunday.”  Switching from suppressant to contraceptive means a heat within 24 hours.

“Call me the second-- the second, you start getting the shakes.  You hear me?”

“Yes Alpha,” you say.

The frission of nerves must show on your face, because Dean smiles and gives you another kiss.  “Try not to worry babygirl,” he says softly.  “I’ll make it good.  I swear, I’ll make it good.  Take such good care of you.”

“Yes,” you moan, ever so softly.

---

A couple of days later you’re in the lab wading through a dig site inventory reconcile.  Behind the dust mask over your face you wiggle your nose and sniffle like some kind of half-assed rabbit.  Every damn time you mask up you get a runny nose.

It’s a relief when your phone purrs with a bass guitar D chord, the custom sound you picked out for Dean’s number.  A break would be lovely right now.  Going into the other room you unmask and blow your nose.

morning bbygrl

gimme a smile?

You snap a mirror selfie of yourself blowing your nose.

Stupid dust.

Dean replies with a laugh-to-tears face, and you respond with The Finger.

do u know this guy?

A second later your phone flashes a fuzzy pic of a dark-haired square-jawed man wearing a motorcycle jacket.

That’s Mr. Ketch.

PI that works for family law firm, Sturley and Kline.

I think hes tailing me

unless there’s another reason for him 2B in lansing

Maybe?  Uncle Raphael lives in Lansing.

Why are YOU in Lansing?

Dean texts back an embarrassed blushy face.

speeding tix

wasn’t paying attn

nailed doing 88 in 70

You reply with an eye roll.

ur fault

comin home 2U

You took a speeding ticket for me?

(Bambi eyes)

break speed limits

crash barricades

slay dragons

wash dishes

don’t do windows

mans gotta draw the line somewhere

---

Sunday is the one day a week you make it a point to leave completely open.  After Mass at St. Mary’s By The Freeway, you wrap yourself up in your overcoat and stroll across a couple parking lots to the Filling Station for a late breakfast.

“Hey-hey!”  The peace of your divinely mandated day of rest dies bloody as you spy Zachariah leaning against your car.  “There’s my favorite niece!”  He pulls you into a crushing hug and you almost gag when you get a noseful of stagnant water and wet dead leaves.

“Good morning Uncle Zachariah,” you say warmly even though your lips have gone numb.  Now that you know what to look for, Zachariah’s body language screams of overbearing Alpha.  Nothing at all like Dean.  Dean, dammit, where is he?  You need Alpha, like right fucking now please.  “Join me for breakfast?”

“Sure.  I could eat.  Meet me at the hotel?”

You tic your head at the Filling Station.  “I usually eat here after church.  Their omelets are delicious.”  And the owner knows your face.

Zachariah’s smile does that souring thing.  “Sure.  Good to get out of the comfort zone once in a while.”

Because apparently you’re a closet sadist you order Zachariah an Ash Special with extra peppers, just the sort of thing to give him heartburn the rest of the day.  Zachariah sits on the booth bench like it’s covered in something nasty and his nose wrinkles at the stench of cigarette smoke.

“So!” he says, as you attack your omelet and gulp coffee, “big day tomorrow.”

You pause.  How did he know your heat’s coming-- your omelet turns to ashes in your mouth.  The university requires Alphas and Omegas to give estimates of the days you have to be absent because of ruts and heats.  That’s why Zachariah insists on vetting your schedule even though he’s utterly indifferent as to your field of interest.  He’s been following your cycle for the past two years, at least.

Swallowing the bite in your mouth, you smile at him, coquettish little Omega.  “Yeah.  I’m a little nervous, but Dean was so nice at the party.”

“Oh boy,” Zachariah sighs.  “Sweetheart, there isn’t an easy way to tell you this so I’m just going to tell you.  Out of his ever-present briefcase Zachariah pulls a folder stamped with the Sturley and Kline logo.  Your blood runs cold when you see the name printed on the tab-- WINCHESTER, D.M.

“The escort service Dean works for wasn’t totally honest about his background,” Zachariah says as you flip open the folder.  “Because Dean’s bonded we assumed he had no criminal record.  He doesn’t because it was all sealed as part of a plea bargain-- the prosecution agreed to seal his juvenile record and drop an assault charge on the condition he enlist in the Army.”

This is shocking but not for the reasons Zachariah thinks.  Your flip past photocopies of newspaper columns you’ve already read.  Based on the biographical information provided by the escort service and the things Dean had told you . .   my God, in this exact spot, you’d gone and done a little research.  In the process you’d gathered enough background about the Winchesters of Lawrence, Kansas to confirm Dean’s story-- the fire, his mother’s death, his father’s eroding sanity, everything.  You know the “assault” charge was Dean breaking some high school senior’s jaw when he caught the bastard beating up his little brother.  You also knew his father lived in Kansas instead of Michigan because he was forbidden to leave the state as a condition of his suspended federal prison sentence.  John Winchester’s luck with evading the law had finally run out when he was caught with a cache of narcotics and a bunch of bomb fixings and assault weapons.  Homeland Security had even gone so far as to put John on a terrorist watch list, never mind he’d been living quietly in an assisted living community in Topeka since his sentencing.

“Wha-- what are you saying?  You think Dean might hurt me?” you ask in a tiny voice.

“I think where there’s smoke there’s fire.  He spent years living on mail fraud and credit card scams while his crazy father ran around screaming about the end of the world.  I know, you’re a tough kid but you’re still so young.  I don’t want to take the chance of him claiming you and acting like he can help himself to your money.”

“No, no he wouldn’t do that,” you say, mind racing to write the script a few lines ahead.  “Besides, except for pocket money I don’t have anything to my name except my car.”

“I know that but he might not,” Zachariah says, leaning forward into intimate space.  “Don’t worry baby.  When Chuck called the escort service they terminated the contract and offered us another Alpha.”

“No!” you snap, panicking.  “Uncle Zachariah, I can’t go to bed with a total stranger.  I can’t, I can’t, please don’t make me--"

“Hey hey hey, shh, that’s enough,” Zachariah soothes, pulling your head forward and kissing your forehead.  “If it makes you feel more comfortable we’ll wait until your next heat.”

You nod, sniffling back genuine tears.  “Thank you.”

Zachariah settles back into his seat.  He takes your hands at the wrists, encircling them like handcuffs.  “I know it hurts,” he says, “going through your heats alone.  Hopefully this one will be the last one.  The escort agency offered to keep this Alpha available for you if you want.”

Just what you always wanted, your very own professional mistress.  “And Dean?”

“You’ll never have to see him again.  Chuck has Mr. Ketch tailing him.  Last report says he’s driving towards St. Louis in that ridiculous land yacht of his.”

You nod, gulping.  “Thank you, Uncle Zachariah.”

“Just looking out for my favorite niece,” he says, with that who-loves-ya-babe smirk.  He gets up, leaving his food barely touched.  “Go home, get some rest.  Do you want some company?  I could call Rebecca to come stay with you--"

“No thank you Uncle Zachariah.”  You paste a weak smile on your face.  “I have a paper I need to finish.  I wouldn’t be very good company.”

Zachariah doesn’t have a reply to that, and after an uncomfortably close embrace he leaves.

Once he’s safely out of sight you plonk your head on the table and concentrate on keeping your food down.  You manage, but it’s close.

“You okay sugar?”  Ellen, the Filling Station’s owner and manager asks, coming over with a fresh pour of coffee.  “Something wrong with Ash’s cooking?  I’ll fire him right now if you want.”

“Not the food.  The food’s fine,” you say.

“Who was that guy?” Ellen asks as she tops you off.

“My uncle,” you say.  “And after the conversation I just had I may never eat again.”

---

You didn’t tell me you got fired.

The dots dance.

?!

they didnt fire me I quit

“What?” you ask it as you type it.

More dot polka.  This time it goes on for a full five minutes.  Finally, a text pops up.

do u hav time 4 vid chat?

You look around from your driver’s seat.  The parking lot is empty and deserted.  A wind sweeps at stray oak leaves with a sound like castanets clacking.  Autumn in Michigan can get pretty damn dreary, you think.  Right now you don’t mind, it matches your mood.

You call and a moment later Dean’s face fills the screen.  He looks tired, but his smile is still like the sun coming up. “Hey babygirl.”

“Hi Dean.”

“What’s wrong?  You look like a guest at your own autopsy.”

“Zachariah ambushed me on the way out of church this morning.  He told me the escort agency terminated your contract because you lied about having a criminal record.”

Dean’s smile dies.  “Babygirl I can explain.”

“Dean.”  You hold up your hand.  “Please don’t be mad at me.”  You explain about what you’d found on the Internet.

“You couldn’t have just asked me?” he says, and you can tell he’s fighting not to lose his temper.

“I did ask you,” you point out.  “When I found your Dad’s arrest record, I figured you’d tell me when you were ready.”  You take a breath.  “Dean, I don’t care.  If you were the kind of Alpha Zachariah wants me to think you are, you wouldn’t care enough to be kind to me.

“I’m seducing you, you idiot.  I do it for a living!”

“Oh yeah, a cup of coffee and a fingerbang and we might as well be bonded.  Take me, I’m yours,” you drawl sarcastically.  “Besides, Zachariah probably made it a point to tell you every single last thing about me, up to and including the time I got caught shoplifting candy bars from the party store near my parents’ cottage in Indian River.”

“Three Musketeers?”

“I was a nougat fiend at the time.”  You replay your last sentence.  “I was kidding but he seriously told you about that?”

“Said your mom had you on a diet that summer.”

Thank God, it looks like you’ve pulled the fangs from Dean’s anger.  “What do you mean, you quit?”

Dean sighs.  “It’s why I’ve been having to go out of town so much lately.  The place Dad lives in isn’t cheap, but they can make sure he stays sober and keeps up with his meds.  If I can come up with enough money to buy into his building, Medicare and Social Security will cover the monthly facility fees.”  Dean pauses.  “I’ve been fighting not to, but Sam finally talked me into selling our grandma’s old house in Lebanon.  Between the sale and what I got saved, I have enough.  Just barely.”

“Why hang onto the house for so long?” you ask.

“I always planned on moving back to Kansas after Sam finished school,” Dean says.  “Sam kept telling me I could do that anyway and we needed the cash more than the memories.”

You nod.  Given what you know of Dean, it was the memories that mattered, not the asset.

“Babygirl,” Dean goes on, “I didn’t say anything because it didn’t matter.  I don’t want to be with you because of a job, and . . .” he trails off a moment, thinking.  “I went in to see Becky and told her I wanted to stop doing full service.  She said that wasn’t acceptable, shit got spoken, and I walked.”

"Zachariah said the agency had another Alpha lined up and ready to go," you say.  "I told him I wanted to wait until my next cycle."

Dean doesn't say anything.  His eyes have gone glacial, and you're suddenly glad he's not in the car with you.

"I bought us some time.  Didn't I?" you ask, hating a little how small your voice sounds.

"I'm not angry at you, babygirl," Dean says, reading your face perfectly.  "I want you to get what you need to hole up for a few days and go home.  Do you still have the folder the agency gave you with the contract in it?"

"Yeah, it's on my desk."

"Look for the sheet with the red border.  It's the form saying you officially refuse the agency's services.  The instructions will tell you to take a picture of the form with your phone after you sign it and send it straight to Becky.  When someone from the agency calls for the follow-up report, tell them you got cold feet when you found out about my record.  After that, Zachariah stops being a concerned uncle and starts being a fucking pervert.”

"What about you?  Zachariah told me he has Mr. Ketch following you to make sure you stay away from me."

"Don't worry about me honey, I've dealt with guys who’re a lot scarier than him.  Give me fifteen minutes and a good rush hour.  I’ll lose him on the Indiana turnpike."

You nod.  "Dean?  I'm scared," you admit.  "I never really noticed it before, but Zachariah's always freaked me out a little."

"That's your Omega instincts, babygirl.  They knew he was bad before you did."

"But what if he decides to make a move?  I mean, directly?  I already changed meds this morning, I can’t risk skipping a cycle.  Last time I tried I had to go to the hospital.”

"Seizures?"

"Yeah."

"Don't do that.  Get home, lock the doors.  I’ll be there when I can.  Just hang in there.  You hear me?”

“But what if he pays somebody to--”

“Another Alpha touches you,” Dean says, his tone so cold you shrink in your seat, “over my dead body.”

---

The next hours feel a little anticlimactic by comparison.  You bury yourself in Statistics homework, seeking refuge in the total focus and concentration required.  When the elevator buzzer goes off you about drop dead of a heart attack.  "Miss?" Harold the parking lot concierge calls over the speaker in the foyer.  "There's a lady here to see you.  Says she’s from the agency."

The representative from the agency Dean mentioned.  "Yeah.  Buzz her through."

A minute later the elevator opens and an attractive redheaded woman in a black overcoat and power boots strides in like she owns the world.  Dark green eyes light on you and she smiles.  "Good evening.  I'm Abbadon."

"Hi," you say, your throat suddenly dry.  A scent of cinnamon candy and grilling meat is crawling up your nose, sharp and savory.  "You're here from the agency, right?"

"Yes darling.  Here at your service," she says, in the least servile tone you've ever heard.  She tsks, looking at you.  "Such a shame, to hide such a beauty," she says.

She's an Alpha.  Your brain blanks.  Trans-designations -- female Alphas and male Omegas -- are rarer than red diamonds.  You've only met one in your whole life, an Omega in high school everybody called Mick.  Abbadon pulls a deep breath in through her nose.  "You smell like roses, right after a rainstorm," she says, closing her eyes and sighing in pleasure.

"I think there's been a misunderstanding," you say.  "I signed the cancellation sheet and sent it to Ms. Rosen a few hours ago.  Your services aren't required."

"From that pretty blush," Abbadon says, coming closer and fixing your eyes with hers like a hypnotizing snake, "my services are very much required.  Your heat is coming, isn't it sweet?"  She closes her eyes and takes another draught of the air.  "So sweet."

She strokes your jawline with a finger, turning her wrist up.  On reflex, you scent her skin.  Abbadon's candy and cooking meat scent is pleasant, but that's all.  The memory of Dean’s perfect smoky sweetness makes you want to turn your nose up like an offended cat

"Oh dear," Abbadon says.  "It's Winchester isn't it?  You've imprinted on him and it makes you think you'll never quicken for another Alpha again."  She shakes her head, her expression warm and sympathetic, except for her eyes.  Her eyes are cold as lumps of green glass.  "That's normal, but it isn't real.  We provide company,” and she takes your hand, stroking the soft skin across the back, “and pleasure.  Not mates.”

“Unless you’re here to take down my reasons for refusing your service,” you practically squeeze the words out in a stilted run-on of sounds, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“There’s no need to be frightened, Omega,” Abbadon says, still low and smoky.  She comes in closer, and you’re horrified to find yourself softening in the core.

“I’m straight,” you croak, “I don’t like girls.”

“When you’re wrapped around my knot, that won’t matter.  Designation always wins, Omega.” One hand, then the other, slides up each side of your neck.  You grab her wrists but she’s strong, you can’t pull her hands away.  Her palms press down against the pheromone glands in your neck and you gasp.  The glands are swelling with blood, filling the air with your enticing Omega scent.  The pressure sends a trickle of heat down through your body and your legs start to tremble.  “Designation always wins,” Abbadon repeats, coming closer and closer.

The elevator door buzzes and slides open.  You and Abbadon both jerk like you’ve been shot, and just like that whatever spell she’d been weaving breaks up and floats away.

Castiel comes in calling your name, and just behind him comes a tall, beefy man you don’t know.  “What’s going on?” he asks, looking at you with his striking blue eyes.

“It’s all right, I’m from the escort service, Rosen Entertainment?”  She smiles at Castiel.  “We were just introducing ourselves.”

“I thought she was here to do an exit interview,” you say, willing some strength back into your legs.  “I don’t want any servicing.”

Castiel, bless his bumblebee tie tack, deliberately shuffles a little to one side, putting himself fully between you and the woman Alpha.  “I believe there’s been a misunderstanding.  Consent has been withdrawn.”

Abbadon’s red lips part in a predatory grin.  “The Omega’s body is consenting.  It’s calling for an Alpha.”  She scents, and sighs.  “So sweet.  You smell it too, don’t you?”

Castiel’s shoulders go stiff.  “You’re in rut.”

She what?  You sniff the air, trying to sort out competing scents.  As you do, your knees do that wobbling thing and you sit on the coffee table.

“Of course.  The smell of an Alpha in rut relaxes timid Omegas.  They can’t help it.  You know that--"

“I do believe,” the beefy man says, his voice soft and round and Southern, “that you’ve been asked to leave.  However good this little girl smells she obviously don’t want what you’re sellin.”

He must be a Beta, you realize.  Otherwise he’d be reacting to the miasma of scent in the air.  He looks over at you and smiles.  “Hi there.  M’name’s Benjamin LaFitte.  Call me Benny.  I’m a friend of Dean’s.  He said to tell you he’s still got ‘em in his pocket.  Said you’d know what that meant.”

Groaning, you hide your red face in your hands.

“Figured it was sumpthin dirty.”  Cajun?  You think you can hear the French lurking under his sentences.

Abbadon’s not smiling any more.  “Sweetheart, this is ridiculous.  You need a knot.  You don't have be shy about your body and what it wants.”

“I said no,” you say.  You see the portfolio with the agency’s original contract and snatch it, flipping it open and showing the red-bordered page with your signature and date at the bottom.  “See?  Service refused.  I do not want this.”

“That only applies to Winchester’s service contract,” Abbadon says as though explaining something dead simple to a stubborn child.  “A new arrangement’s been made.”

“Nevertheless,” Castiel says.

All the softness disappears from Abbadon’s body language.  “That Omega is mine,” she snarls.  “Get out of the way.”

Benny comes up beside Abbadon.  “I do believe the lady's said no.”

Snarling, Abbadon throws herself in your direction.  Castiel takes the hit, immovable as granite.  Benny grabs her by the arms and bodily drags her to the couch across the room.  “Stop it with those heels,” he grumbles as Abbadon’s spiked heel rips his pant leg.  He puts her down and keeps her there as she tries another lunge.  “Uht-uh lady, we’re all gonna sit quiet and behave ourselves.  Understand me?”

“Are you all right?” Castiel asks you.

“Yeah.”  You look up at him as your brain starts trying to make the last ten minutes make sense.  “What are you doing here?  Either of you?”

“I have a monitoring program on the accounting software that tracks the Family’s cash accounts.  About an hour ago three large sums were wired out.  The destination accounts were Rosen Entertainments, Rebecca Rosen’s personal deposit account, and another deposit account under the name Abbadon Diablo.  I found the incident alarming enough to contact Balthazar, and he asked that I come to make sure you were all right.”

“I got a call from Dean this morning askin me to catch a plane to Detroit,” Benny takes his turn.  “Said he was havin trouble shaking a tail.”

“Why didn’t he just fly in himself?” Castiel asks.

“The Chief’s scared of planes.  Our last tour, the corpsman had to give him a shot to keep him from throwin a hissyfit all the way to Kabul.”  Benny shakes his head.  “Not afraid of heights but terrified of flying.  Who can figure?”

“You guys were in the service together?” you ask.

“Sure were cher.  First time I met him was when he dug me out from under a truck.”  He slaps one leg.  “Put a tourniquet on it.  Wasn’t for him, I’d’ve bled out or be walkin with a peg leg right now.”

You ask the small talk questions.  Benny answers-- he’s from Metarie, Louisiana, served five years before getting discharged for failing a drug screen, works as a bouncer in a bar in Baton Rouge owned by his wife Andrea.

“And you just hopped on a plane?” you ask.

“Sure did.”

“To come babysit a stranger a thousand miles away.”

“Course,” he shrugs, like it’s something people just do.

“Why?  You don’t know me, you don’t know what kind of a shitstorm you’re walking into here.”

Benny looks at you.  His eyes are blue too, paler than Castiel’s, clear and striking.  “I owe Dean one.  A big one.”

Something else occurs to you.  “How did you guys even get in?  Harold should’ve stopped you at the elevator.”

“Balthazar gave me a spare access card just before he left for Buenos Ares,” Castiel explains.

“I ran into bumblebee here trying to talk the doorman into buzzin him up,” Benny says.  “He’ll be all right but he’s gon’ have a sore jaw when he wakes up.”

---

The waves of fury Abbadon’s putting out strangles any further conversation.  You keep your seat on the coffee table, curling up more and more as the heat really starts sinking in.  Abbadon watches you like you’re the most fascinating thing ever, and every minute goes by her smile gets a little wider.  Her rutting scent is calling to you, and to your shame your body is calling back.

“You poor thing,” she says when you hiss through a cramp.

“Quiet,” Benny rumbles.  “Like an itty-bitty church mouse.”

Even Castiel can feel it.  Red slowly creeps up from under his collar and he starts to shift a little in his seat.  You hope that he and Hannah are still an item.  He needs someone to be nice to him, you think.  It’s not his fault he’s better with bees and butterflies than people.

Finally, finally, the elevator buzzer goes off and you bolt across the room.  Dean opens his arms just in time to catch you and pull you into a tight hug.  You take a deep breath from his neck.  Alpha’s scent, strong and sweet, blowing Abbadon out of your head like a wind blowing away smoke.  Every cell in your body trembles.  Slick starts to seep between your legs.

“Babygirl,” he breathes between soft kisses.  “What happened?  Are you okay?”

“I am now,” you say.

“Hola, Chief,” Benny says, shaking Dean’s hand and smiling.  “Commet ce vas?”

“Thanks a bunch Benny, I just spent ten minutes talking Harold out of calling the cops.”

“Is he okay?” you ask.

“Yeah, nothing hurt but his pride.  What happened?”  Dean takes a sniff at the air and freezes.  His eyes go dark and his upper lip lifts in a snarl.

“Well, if it isn’t the white trash Adonis,” Abbadon sneers.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean asks.  Gently, he pushes you behind him.

“Cleaning up your fuck-up, Winchester,” she says.  "And earning myself a big fat bonus in the process."

"Good evening," Castiel greets Dean, introducing himself and telling him what he'd told you about the money.  "I believe Zachariah specifically requested a female Alpha because he reasoned she would not admit a man."

"Correctly," you mumble.  "God I'm an idiot."

"Not your fault," Dean says, pulling you close to kiss your forehead.

As he pulls back you notice his cheekbone is swollen and there's a scrape going up into his hairline.  You touch it gently.  "What happened?  Why didn't you call me?  Why didn't you answer your phone?"

"Ketch," Dean says.  "Did you know he used to work for the SAS?  He got the drop on me just outside Kankakee.  Bastard broke my phone."

"Jesus Christ-- are you all right?" you ask, patting Dean over anxiously, looking for more injuries.

He smiles.  "It's just bruises, babygirl.  I'm fine."

"What'd you do with him?" Benny asks.

"Left him tied up in a Porta-Potty with the door bolted shut.  The construction crew'll find him tomorrow morning."  You bark out a laugh.  You've met Mr. Ketch once, and that was one time too many.

Dean holds a hand in front of Abbadon.  "Phone," he orders, snapping his fingers.  When she doesn't move, Benny rolls his eyes and digs out her pockets.

"Are you there yet?  The feeds are still dark," a woman's voice answers.

"Hi Becky," Dean says.  "Feel like explaining why you sent fucking Abbadon to service a virgin Omega who'd already red-sheeted us?"

"Dean!  Hi!" Rebecca Rosen, the proprietor and manager of Rosen Entertainments chirps.  "Now you gotta know I can't disclose the terms of a contact to third parties--"

"I'm not a third party!" you snap.  Now that Dean's here and it's really sinking in what almost happened, what might have happened if Castiel and Benny hadn't shown up, you're pissed.  "I put it in fucking writing I didn't want any of your Alphas!"

"Y-you did?" Ms. Rosen stutters.  "Oh my God-- I am so sorry, our e-mail servers are being exchanged, I never got--"

"Red sheets go to your phone.  Which is working," Dean says.  "You wanna try again?  Boss?"  When Rosen doesn't answer, Dean growls, "Answer me, or the next call I make is to Detective Mills in Lansing."

"You wouldn't," Ms. Rosen says.

"Wanna bet?  How much is Adler paying you?"

Castiel reads off some figures.  Some astronomical figures.  Figures far above and beyond anything you could imagine anyone spending on one thing, and for someone used to hanging around your idle rich cousins that’s saying something.  "Le je vous Salue Marie," Benny whispers.

"What did he want you to do to me?" you ask Abbadon, clenching your hands together to hide the shaking.

"Oh, stop acting like a frigid little prude," Abbadon sneers.  "All I was hired to do was help you through your heat.  Knot you like you're supposed to be knotted."

"He said maybe the problem was you liked girls but were too shy to tell him so," Ms. Rosen says.

"He told you to take her to the cottage, didn't he?" Dean says.  A wave of scent pushes out of him and you curl in on yourself.  Alpha is angry, Alpha is in a rage.  The pointed tips of claws sprout from the tiny ridges under his nail beds, and you can see his canid teeth have dropped and twisted into full fangs.  The skin over the pheromone glands in your neck twitch.  That's where Alpha will put his mark and claim you, and the thought makes slick pulse out of you.

"Mr. Winchester," Castiel says, putting a hand on his arm.  His own Alpha scent of honey and wildflowers has thickened, but bears none of that sense of threat.

"Don't get in my way Cas.  There's not a jury in the world that would convict me if I tore this bitch's fucking head off right now."

"That might be true Chief but is that really what the situation calls for right now?" Benny asks.  "The bitch ain't really the core problem here if I'm reading things right."

"No," Castiel agrees.  "Ms. Rosen, by accepting Zachariah's money you've made yourself and your business an accessory before the fact to an attempted rape.  I've examined the," you can hear him put it in quotation marks, "'red sheet' and found it in order.  A forensic examination of your phone will prove it was received and all instructions were followed."

"The red sheet only voided the contract between us and Mr. Adler that named Dean as the service provider--"

"You're not that stupid Becky," Dean cuts her off.  "Zachariah hired you to provide a rutting knothead, and paid extra to take her to a place where he could film it happening."

"What?!?" you cry.

"The cottage is a house Becky owns just outside Rockford.  It's wired for video and sound.  We take clients there that want to star in their very own pornos," Dean explains.

You grope out with one hand.  Benny, bless his silly golfer's cap, grabs the nearest wastepaper basket and holds it under you as you vomit.

"An associate of mine will be contacting you shortly.  I strongly suggest you call your lawyer and go on record that he will have your full cooperation," Castiel says, and if he wasn't acting the dominant Alpha before he is now.  "If you choose not to," his raspy voice deepens and he seems to grow a foot in front of you, "I swear by the Lord God I will break you."

Dean knows a dramatic cue when he hears it and disconnects.

“There.  That should buy us some time,” Castiel says.

“What d’you mean, jellybean?” Benny asks.

“He was bluffing,” you explain, wiping your mouth and grimacing at the aftertaste of bile.  “He’s an accountant, not a lawyer.  He doesn’t have associates.”

“Not exactly,” Castiel admits.  “Balthazar’s flight is scheduled to land at Ford International in twenty minutes.  I’m sure one of his associates can secure Ms. Rosen’s cooperation.”

Dean stares at Castiel for a long moment.  "You're all right, Cas," he says.

“Splendid,” Abbadon says.  She stands and plucks her phone out of Dean’s hand.  “As my contract has been cancelled I believe I’ll--”

“Aht-uh, I don’t think so,” Dean says, shoving her back down on the couch.  “You’re not stupid Abbs, you know Becky’s gonna throw you off the cliff to save her own ass the second the cops start talking deal.  I’d take some time and think seriously about your options.”

“This’s nice place to get some thinkin’ done,” Benny points out.  “Quiet.  There food in the kitchen cher?”  You nod.  Benny takes off his coat, and you gasp when you see a gun tucked into a shoulder holster.  He follows your eyeline and smiles.  “Your man’s prob’ly packin too.  I bet my boots that’s what he was doin in Kansas.”

“One of the things,” Dean says.  He reaches around his back and pulls out a chromed pistol.

“You brought a gun here?” you hiss.

“Let’s hope nobody’s stupid enough to make me use it,” Dean says, putting it back where he got it.

A wave of heat rolls through you, bringing hot blood under your skin and a fine film of fever sweat.  Your pussy trembles, clenches, throbs.  “Alpha,” you whine under your breath.

“Hey.”  Dean pulls you close and cuddles you against his chest.  “Just breathe, babygirl.”

“I think we can handle things here Chief,” Benny says.  “You need to get your girl somewhere safe.”

“Benny is right,” Castiel says.  His face is red but, God bless him, he’s composed otherwise.  “I’m not confident Zachariah will react rationally when he learns his scheme failed.”

“Yeah me neither.  Can you walk?” Dean asks you.  “I need you to go pack.  Just the essentials-- your toothbrush and enough clothes for a few days.  Make it quick.”

You nod and head for your room.  Picking out some jeans and T-shirts takes maybe five minutes.  Talking yourself out of taking every piece of frilly underwear you own is harder.  Packing up the work you need to get done before you go back to class-- the thought is almost surreal after everything that’s happened, what’s still happening.  Is normal even a thing any more?

You emerge from your room with a backpack, a stuffed duffel bag, and a hardshell suitcase on wheels.

“That’ll work,” Dean’s saying to Benny.  “Andrea’s threatening to carve my knot off again isn’t she?”

“Just cuz she loves you don’t mean she don’t want to kick your ass Dean,” Benny says.

“Tell her I love her too.”  Dean looks you over and takes your duffel from you.  He smiles into your frightened face.  “It’s okay, babygirl.  I’m just taking you somewhere safe.  I know a place.”

“Where?” Castiel asks.

Dean gives him a look.  “You don’t need to know.”

Castiel’s stance softens.  “You’re right.  Of course.”

“Your job,” Dean says, “is to do whatever you gotta do to nail her uncle.  My job is to keep my Omega safe.”

“What’s my job?” you ask.

Abbadon laughs.  “Get on your belly and take a big fat knot, Omega,” she says.  “Your body’s crying for it, I can tell.  You were born to be on your knees, sweet.”

“Shut your mouth,” Dean growls.

“Or what?” Abbadon taunts.  “She smells so delicious.  You can’t wait to get her alone and fuck her.  You never could own up to just being a shitty mutt sticking his knot--"

“That’s enough,” Benny cuts her off.  “Can I borrow your tie, Mr. Castiel?”

Castiel pulls off his tie and holds Abbadon by the arms as Benny gags her with it.

“Benny, I--” Dean starts.

“Go on now.  We can handle things here,” Benny says.  He smiles at you.  “Sure was a pleasure to meet you, miss.  Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing now.  Me’n the bumblebee got it covered.”

---

You sit in the shotgun seat of Dean’s Chevy, trembling as your fever intensifies.  You have no real idea where you are.  Absent a stop at a Thrifty Acres to get some groceries, Dean’s been driving on side roads and two-lane blacktop with flat-footed confidence, constantly checking his mirrors and sometimes telling you to duck down out of sight.  You’re trying to keep yourself still, not break his concentration.  It’s hard.  Slick is oozing from you in a steady trickle, so much you can feel it’s soaked through your jeans.  Dean’s reacting to it, you can tell.  He’s all but squirming in his seat.  His scent’s turning darker, more intense.  You keep thinking of how it felt, when Dean made you come just by touching you through your panties, when you were a good girl for him.  You can feel your heartbeat between your legs, making everything swollen and sensitive and ready for Alpha, for Dean--

Finally, after a long crawl down a rutted track through some second-growth tangles of tamarack plants and tree saplings, you spy the dark outline of a house.  Dean pulls the car next to it and kills the engine.  “Here we are,” he says into the silence.

“Where?” you ask.

“Friend of my Uncle Bobby owned this place,” he says.  “It’s got propane and a generator for the lights and a well and septic for water.  We can hole up here until everything blows over.”  He reaches past you and punches open the glove compartment.  “I’m gonna go in first and make sure it’s empty.  You know how to use a gun?”  At your headshake, he pulls out a revolver.  “Pull the hammer back,” he demonstrates, “and squeeze.  I’ll be right back.”

After five minutes that feel like fifty fucking years, you hear a clack and a chug as a machine starts up.  A dim yellow light flicks on inside the cabin.  Dean comes back out, tucking his gun into the small of his back.  “We’re clear,” he confirms and you sigh in relief, putting down the revolver.  “Help me with the bags.”

Inside, the cabin is a one-room shack with a tiny part sectioned off in what you assume is the bathroom.  The walls are knotty pine paneling and you can smell decades of old cigarette smoke.  A woodstove slouches in one corner and there’s a galley kitchen against one wall.  The cabin’s only furnishings are a bed, a saggy couch, and a little café table with a couple of chairs.  Dean plugs something in and the refrigerator starts to hum.  “Put the groceries away.  I’ll get the rest of our things.”

A cramp seizes you as you finish putting the food away and you grind your teeth, bracing yourself on the counter.  By now, at home, you’d be in bed full of muscle relaxants and painkillers, riding your heat out like a little boat in a choppy sea.  “Keep it together bitch,” you mutter to yourself, straightening.  Doing your absolute best to ignore the disgusting sensation of slick-saturated fabric between your legs.

Dean comes in and slings his duffel bag onto the couch.  "The only other people who know about this place," he says, brushing by you without looking at you, turning on the kitchen faucet and nodding at the clear stream of water that results, "are my brother and Bobby.  We should be safe here for at least a few days."

"That's good," you say.  What's happening here?  Why isn't he touching you?  Your body is sobbing for him, you can feel it.  Another cramp twists your insides and you suck in a breath.  Oh, that's bad-- the room is filling with scent, yours and Dean's, mixing together into something that's squeezing your chest in a steel fist.

Dean turns around and braces himself against the kitchen counter.  His eyes dart to the corner, where the bed waits, neatly made with a gray blanket.  Your eyes dart below his belt and yes, even through his jeans you can see he's hard.  He sighs, "God, babygirl, I am so sorry."

"What?" you ask, totally dumbfounded.

"This wasn't what I had planned at all," he says.  "You deserve so much better than a dirty bachelor shack in the middle of nowhere for your first time--"

"Jesus Christ Dean, you think I give a shit about a little dust and mouse turds?" you cut him off.  "Just how fucking shallow do you think I am?"  You curl your arms around yourself, shaking. 

"I don't," Dean says.  "I don't think that at all.  God, you're gorgeous and you're smart and you smell so fucking sweet."  He gulps.  "I've never-- you won't believe me, but nobody's ever gotten under my skin like this before.  What the fuck are you even doing with a bum like me?"

"I thought," you gulp, "I thought you wanted to take care of me."

Dean's eyes darken and a fine tremor makes his body quiver.  Slowly, he pushes himself upright.  One step, two steps, and he's looming over you.  He reaches out and slides his hand up your jawline, turning your head up and your eyes to his.  This is happening, this is really happening, and you feel the knowledge like a punch straight between your legs.  A tiny sound peeps out of you.

That must've been Dean's cue.  His mouth slants over yours.  The relief that sweeps over you makes you melt against him, clinging to keep your balance.  Dean's hands are everywhere, strong and confident, pressing you against him.  You moan when you feel him, hard and seeking through both your jeans.

"Gonna take care of you," Dean growls against your mouth.  He touches your leg, feels the heavy cotton damp with your slick.  "Your pussy's hungry for me, isn't it babygirl?  I've been smelling it all fucking night.  Got me hard soon as I got out of that elevator."

"Really?" you pant.

Dean nods.  His hand curves around your shoulder and slides down.  Your entire body shakes as his hand fits itself to your breast, learning the weight and the curve.  His thumb finds your nipple and swishes back and forth over it, making it painfully hard inside your bra.  Your head drops back and he kisses down your neck.  More slick runs out of your pussy, hot and thick and slippery.

"Can I take this off?" Dean asks, pulling your shirt out from where it's tucked into your jeans.  He kisses across your collarbones as you moan out a yes, raising your arms as he pulls if off over your head.  Bare hands on your waist, feeling him skin-to-skin, your mind reels.

You're at the bed, Dean half-dragging you because your legs have quit working.  The two of you topple over in a great squeak of stiff bedsprings and a puff of dust.  You giggle at Dean's cuss, taking the opportunity to put some kisses of your own under his jaw, down his neck.  His heart's hammering fast as yours, and the texture of his skin against your lips is a mystery you could spend the rest of your life exploring.

Groaning as you press down against him-- against his cock, you correct yourself, his Alpha cock, Dean sits up and shrugs out of his jacket and plaid button-down, shoving them to land on the floor somewhere.  "Take my clothes off," he tells you as he pulls you to straddle his lap.  You pull his T-shirt up and off.  You undo his belt and the top button of his jeans.  Dean lets out a sigh of relief as his trapped erection springs free, stretching out his underwear.  Your bra clasp pops open with a twist of his fingers and you sling it off as your tits swing free.  "Beautiful," he moans, tipping you back and covering your chest with kisses.

"Dean," you whine as he pulls a nipple into his mouth and sucks.  The sensation goes straight to your pussy, which for God's sake is starting to burn.

"Told you," he says, his mouth full of your nipple and his fingers gently pulling the other one, "I needed time to take care of you.  Nice," he says, suckling you long and strong and making you cry out, "and slow.  Make you howl for me, babygirl.  Unzip your pants for me."

You do as you're told like a good girl, and Dean rewards you by shoving his hand down your panties.  He groans when he finds a puddle of slick.  Your cunt clenches, more slick runs over his fingers.  It was good when it was just pressure through your panties; skin to flesh, a rough palm rubbing over your clit and fingers gently threading through your soft inner lips, and you're almost weeping with need.

"Feel that?" Dean asks.  "Your pussy's trying to lock around my hand, babygirl.  You're so slick, I'm gonna just slide right in, right all the way in.  Get in you so fucking deep, you'll feel me for days."

"Please Alpha," you beg, arching to rub yourself over his hand.

"Uht-uh," he grunts.  The fingers that've been stroking you right where you open slip through and slide inside, finding tight and soft.  They move, wiggling deeper, touching secret places you've never even touched yourself.  "Gonna feel so good to make you come on my cock," he says, "feel your pussy lock my knot up nice and tight."  His other hand takes yours and puts it over his tented underwear.  Your palm curves around him and Dean moans.  "That's it, babygirl.  Feel how fucking hard I am?"

"Yes Alpha."  Your hand reaches further into his open jeans and you cup his knot in your hand, feel it pulsing and swelling a little with each throb.

Gently, you squeeze and Dean groans your name.  "Just like that babygirl.  Not too hard-- wait, stop a second."

"No, please, I need you, I need your knot--"

Dean pulls your hand out of his pants and his hand out from between your legs.  His fingers are running with your slick.  Like he's got a palmful of syrup, Dean licks his hand clean.  He presses a finger to your lips and you take a timid lick.  It's . . .  weird, salty and weird.  Not bad, but weird.

"So good.  Later," Dean says, kissing more of your taste into your mouth, "I'm gonna put you up on that table, and spread you out, and eat you out until you scream.  I promise.  Lay back."

You arch to lay back down Dean's legs.  A laugh coughs out of you as he fusses with your jeans, helping you straighten and raise your legs high so he can pull them off.  Your panties go with them, leaving you bare to Alpha's eyes.  Under his burning gaze, you suddenly want to curl up and hide.  You're barely rounded anywhere, skinny rather than slender, your bush spraying everywhere because it's never occurred to you that it might need trimming, much less shaving.  Not like the lushly curved, voluptuous, beautiful Omegas he's probably popped his knot into on a regular basis.

"Hey hey hey," Dean says as you cover your tits with one arm and your pussy with the other hand.  "Don't do that."

"I just--" you snap your hand back over yourself as Dean tries to pull it away from your bush, "look at me."

"I am," Dean says.  "Be a good girl for me.  Let me see you.  Come on.  Babygirl," he says, settling a hand low on your belly, rubbing down and making you shudder as you feel it deep inside your core, right at the source of all the burning, "you will never have to worry about disappointing me.  Not ever.  You hear me?"  He leans over you, filling your vision with his face, with his eyes.

You seize his face and pull him down for a kiss.    How easy it is, to wrap your legs around him.  Dean unconsciously grinds against you.  Frustrated little grunts pop from him as his clothes keep him from sinking into you.  The glands in your neck start to ache, as your body puts out more and more scent.  Alpha is here, right here, he’s rutting, he’s in rut, you need him, now, oh God now, before your body catches fire and burns away.

Grunting, growling, Dean pins your torso flat to the creaky mattress.  “Let me go Omega, just for a second.  Gotta get my pants off.  Hold still, just for a second.”

You let your legs relax.  Dean pushes himself up off you and reaches down under his waistband to free his trapped cock.  Your first thought, as you get your first look at a cock, an Alpha cock, standing up from Dean’s groin like an iron bar and equipped with a pulsing mass of knot at the base, is disbelief.  Dean’s fingers are long and thick and felt huge inside you.  His cock is . . . to your inexperienced eyes it looks like a fucking baseball bat.

Dean busts out with a laugh and you flush, mortified.  “I said that out loud didn’t I?”

“Just call me Miggy Cabrerra,” Dean teases, shoving his jeans down and peeling them off.  You shift to roll over and Present properly.  Dean stops you with a hand on your hip.  “No babygirl.  I need to watch your face.”  You curl yourself upwards a bit to see what he’s doing-- putting his hand under your pussy and cupping his palm.  The answer comes when he takes the slick that’s gathered and spreads it down his cock.  The sight makes your cunt throb so hard it hurts.  You drag a hand through your pussy and Dean jumps as you smear your slick down his shaft.  His cock is a length of warm stone in your hand, the skin soft and fine, the softest skin you’ve ever touched.  Dean shudders as you gather more slick and use both hands on him.  “Good girl,” he says through a strangled throat, “getting me so fucking hard for you.  Lay back.”  He puts his hands on your thighs and pushes them as far apart as they’ll go.  “God, perfect, spread yourself out nice and wide for me.  Sit up a little.”  A pillow slides under your back.  “Now what did I say about reading minds, babygirl?”

It takes you a second.  “That you can’t.”

“Yahtzee.  If I do something that hurts or that you don’t like, you have to tell me.  I promise, I will not be mad no matter how far gone we are.  Tell me to stop and I will.  Understand me?”

“Yes Alpha,” you say.

“Good girl.  Being such a good girl for me,” Dean says, the words making you shudder.  He smiles and tips your face up to look him on the eye.  “You like being my good girl don’t you?”

You bite your lip and nod.

“Hold still.  Keep being good for me, hold still.”  You gasp as his fat, wet cockhead slides across your pounding clit.  It slips down, a blunt mass seeking where your body unfolds.  Dean says your name and points to his eyes.  “Watch me.  Right here.”

You fight to keep your head up and your eyes open, as Dean’s cock lodges between the innermost of your pussy lips.  Between, and through.  You pull a breath in through lungs that won’t inflate.  He’s . . . big, thick, massive, heavy-- your brain runs out of adjectives.  Your Omega instincts howl in completion.

Dean moans as you clamp down on him.  “Oh my God.  So fucking tight.”  He holds himself still, puts a hand on your belly to hold you still.  “You gotta relax, babygirl, relax, let me in, can you do that for me?  Come on, you can do it.  Let me make you feel good--” and your pussy unclenches and Dean slides straight in, all the way to the knot.

Oh.

So this is what all the fuss is about, is your first thought.  Alpha’s cock filling you to the limit and his knot pressing against where your pussy will lock him in place.  It . . . you ache, down there, where the nerves are going crazy processing new sensory input.  Dean’s weight lays down against your belly.  For a moment you can’t breathe and you squirm under him in a panic.  Then he shifts and puts his forearms on either side of you, bracing himself and taking his weight off you.  Never breaking eye contact, Dean’s hips roll.  Sliding, friction, deep inside where you’re most tender--

Dean sighs, “Squeezing me so tight, Omega.  Tightest little pussy.  How does it feel, feeling me deep like this?”

“Full,” is the only word that comes to mind.  “Feel so full.”

Dean smiles, brilliant but bracketed with tension.  You breathe in his scent and it’s heavy and dark.  You slide your knees up and your legs fall open wider.  Dean shifts back, slipping away and he thrusts, filling you back up full and no, this is what all the fuss is about, this, this.

--mate knot breed mate knot breed mate mate MATE--

Groaning, Dean keeps moving inside you.  Hot and alive.  You’ve used knotting toys before, all Omegas do.  Dean feels nothing like that.  “C-c-can I go a little faster?  Babygirl you feel so fucking good on my cock.”

You nod, gulping.  Your eyes drift closed, going inside yourself, concentrating on the ache and the bliss deep within.

"Eyes open babygirl."

Your eyes fly open and you moan.  Balancing himself on one arm, Dean brings his free hand to your face.  "Suck on my fingers.  Get 'em nice and wet for me.  Good girl," he says as you lick down each of his first two fingers, take them both in your mouth and suck them.  "You're gonna come on my cock, babygirl," he tells you.  "Squeeze my knot so fucking tight.  Lock me right the fuck up."

You cry out as his wet fingers find your clit, arching underneath him.  Your bodies find a beat and you wind your arms and legs around Dean, kissing his lips, his face, his throat.  You suck a bruise at a warm spot in his throat and Dean cries out your name.  Your fangs drop and you only realize at the last second what you're about to do and duck your head, taking your mouth away from where Dean's mating gland throbs.

Dean's movements are getting shorter, the thrusting harder.  You meet him as best you can, pulling him to you, wanting him to melt into your skin, become part of you.  You cry his name as the pleasure just rises, and rises, and critical mass oh God--

You go rigid as you come, harder than you ever have in your life, your pussy squeezing around Dean and the muscles along the lips spasming.  Dean cries out as his knot pops free of them, once, twice.  His hips stutter and you feel him . . . inside you, painting your insides with his seed.  His knot swells and your pussy clamps down, locking him in place as he comes.  The Omega within you screams in completion.  Dean's cock shifts and his knot pulls as his orgasm wrings him dry, the sensation making you whimper through another mini-orgasm as your body squeezes to keep him in place.

You lose a few minutes.  When you come back to yourself, Dean's laying full on top of you.  His hips stutter and jerk every few seconds, his cock twitching as he leaves little dribbles of seed.  Weakly, he wraps an arm around you and rolls you both over, arranging you to lay draped overtop him.  He strokes down your back, cards his fingers through your hair, brushes away tears that've leaked from your eyes.  You don't remember starting to cry.  His chest heaves under your ear and his heart is beating like it's about to burst.

"Dean--"

"Shh," Dean says, and you shush up.  You kiss what skin you can reach, just to feel his skin against your face.  It's so nice, not like what you'd imagined.  Little aftershocks make your cunt flex around Dean, pulling little helpless noises out of him.  Content, that's what you are, the burning under your skin mellowed to a pleasant heat.  You want more.  Later.  Now is for laying in Alpha's arms.

---

continued in part b

[themarkofoxin]

still time to delete your post. you were uninformed, that’s fine, but now you know that there is a pattern of racist behavior on dan’s end and we are right to be upset. him outright saying that he won’t tour in ‘third world countries’ like mx and brasil during a WAD show is racist. calling my home a third world country is racist. this is not in the past, you can say logistics all you want but dan outright said that he will not tour in our ‘third world countries’. it is not logistics. it is racism.

if i'm remembering correctly, dan did not "outright" say he just wouldn't tour in mexico & brasil. he made a tasteless, dismissive joke, sure, with the fans as the butt of the joke in the same way fans were the butt of the joke in many wad segments; it was insensitive and dismissive because the fans he was poking fun at weren't actually there and, obviously, have real frustrations with his behavior. but the meaning and implication of the joke was never that he actively avoided those places and would never go there--hell, they have been to brasil, to show a recorded version of ii and do a q&a. they had a mexico date for ii but it fell through, right? claiming he "outright [said] that he won't tour in 'third world countries'" is a mischaracterization as much as it would be to say "he outright said he hates phil" because he's said it in competitive gaming videos before. the key difference is he has failed to build a rapport with latam fans so it was insensitive and hurtful.

also, it is very much influenced by logistics. as much as it sucks, we absolutely cannot dismiss that. i was too sarcastic and dismissive in my additions to the post, and i've deleted those, but i stand by the original paragraph. regardless their (but especially dan's) racist comments, booking venues in countries where

1) english is not the predominant language,

2) they are not widely known,

3) once the venue learns about them they figure out they may be well past their peak in popularity and,

4) in some cases, it is relevant that they're gay and much more open about it than ii,

DOES actually make it significantly more difficult to convince a venue that it will be profitable for the venue to put on your show. most of the time, that is all venues are worried about. will people actually show up, or will these two faggots who peaked ten years ago draw in an audience of like, 20 people, and the venue will lose money when they could have booked a more profitable show? if the venue manager had to google them, are they really that popular anyways? the venue managers don't care unless they are certain they will not only break even but profit from dnp more than they would profit from literally anyone else they could book that night. why do you think they were able to do locations in asia for ii, but don't have them now (yet)? in 2018, they could reasonably argue their profitability, and even that wasn't enough in manila.

i am hoping, genuinely and from the bottom of my soul, that they will use the speed at which most of their shows sold out when the tickets went up to prove to venue managers in places other than the US and europe and commonwealth oceania that it is worth it. i hope they try very hard, and that they're able to add more dates. it certainly seems like they want to. i think it's also likely--whether it's right of them or not--that their experiences in MX & manila have led them to believe it's better to stay entirely quiet before they're absolutely sure they can announce a date and it will work, which makes it look like they're not communicating at all, but they may see it as them saving people from getting their hopes up if it doesn't work out. idk which is better, honestly. it at least seems to me like they're telegraphing that they're trying to book in other regions

[scribbleseas]

Straight Laced, Chapter V: To Be A Force of Nature…

Description: After the London’s Royal Ballet company’s prima ballerina goes missing within a string of mysterious disappearances among the ballet’s young ballerinas, you finally get your chance to debut in the leading role, taking on the position’s physical toil and immense social pressure. Although this role was supposed to be your grand jeté into the spotlight, it is quickly complicated when these disappearances catch the eye of Ciel Phantomhive — the Queen’s Guard Dog. He is a captious and shrewd man who also happens to be one of London’s most eligible bachelors.

For enough profit for you to secure your freedom for the first time, Lord Phantomhive double casts you as both his accomplice to solving these dancer disappearances and… his pretend lover. While debuting as London’s new prima ballerina, you must perfect a brand new routine: deceiving all of the nation’s polite society while actively searching for a serial killer — all while being an immigrant from France with a dancer’s reputation.

What could go wrong when you realize this off-stage performance of yours may not be an act at all?

Story Warnings: detailed description of gore, pain, and violence, detailed death, smut & explicit sexual scenes, allusions to non-consensual sex, objectification, prostitution, allusions to under-aged prostitution, smoking, drinking, eating disorder tendencies (food restriction, frequent references to wanting to maintain a certain weight, over-practicing & exercising), infidelity, fake courtship, swearing

Author’s Note: idk I have nothing to say for myself. i’m sorry this is so late. anddd keep an eye out for an upcoming poll! I need some input about which story you guys would like to see from me next, since we’re now officially halfway through this journey! As always, let me know what you think about this chapter! I love love LOVE audience interaction. So fun and so motivating. i love you all and hope you enjoy it!!

Happy Reading,

- dan (Depression Barbie LMAO)

MASTERLIST

⇐ PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER ⇒

The End of October

The Royal Opera House, The Practice Room

“Try it again, Y/n,” Natasha ordered. The bottom of her cane knocked against the floor to cue the pianist to start the music.

Despite your obedient nod, your whole body protested.

Every single muscle in your feet begged for mercy, and your legs and lower back began to do the same. The amount of complex pointe work and arabesques in the variation were what made it such a challenge— maintaining the perfect form but without being too stiff. The Sugar Plum Fairy had to be regal and majestic; you needed to be buoyant on your toes to create the vision of a fairy ready to flutter her wings and fly.

The Nutcraker’s Sugar Plum Fairy Variation was the physical and emotional equivalent of a chess game with Ciel Phantomhive. You watched yourself in the mirror, eyeing the streams of sweat that fell from your hairline and down the bridge of your nose. Still, your arms fanned to either side and your leg drew back to create your starting position: b-plus.

This was the piece that established the fairy’s power in the land of sweets. It needed to be perfect or near perfect by now or Natasha would have your head.

“Your pas de bourreé needs to be lighter,” the director criticized, catching every error in your movement. Her gaze was heavier than a magnifying glass. “It should be airy— and you must maintain the connection between your fingers and your head.” You frowned, your eyebrows knitting with concentration.

She has cautioned you about a heavy step sequence before, Y/n. Try harder— Tchaikovsky wanted this dance to be as light as raindrops; this is the second time Natasha has told you to land gentler.

Your throat felt dry with embarrassment, but you forced yourself to power through. The music hesitated to a short stop while you spread your arms as if you were bracing for a wide hug.

Seconds later, the music launched into its famous chorded sequence up the keys and you stepped into your piqué manége. While a pas de bourreé resembled a sideways sequence of you rapidly tiptoeing across the practice studio floor, the piqué manége and coupé jeté combination was a constant step and turn rotation. You had to spring into small jumps to make each turn, repeating the process until you outlined the perimeter of a square with your spins around the studio floor.

Your head swam, dizzied because you skipped breakfast and lunch that day because you wanted the extra time in the studio. The investigation with Ciel was eating more into your practice time than you wanted to admit— he summoned you to take short promenades through parks, short appearances at bakeries, and specialty boutiques, spoiling you. Showing the public that you were well provided for — frankly blooming under the warmth of his generous fortune— was the Earl of Phantomhive’s ‘love’ language.

“Keep your chest up,” Natasha’s voice felt distant, even though she was in the same room as you and the rest of the company. “You should be thinking of your spinal cord as a fixed structure that your ribs rotate around. And keep your arms controlled with these spins. You are delicate, but there is still a commanding firmness to you.”

You took your final spins, returning to the middle of the stage to chassé up— otherwise, arrange yourself into the performance’s ending position. Both of your arms were straight and angled upwards like you were reaching for a high shelf, and your back rounded to create an energetic arch. Your left foot extended behind your right leg.

Your heart pounded in your chest as Natasha inspected your chassé, peering at you in the same way Ciel examined whatever literature he happened to be reading at the time. Her cold fingertips guided your chin a few centimeters upwards before her head bobbed in a content nod. “Keep your gaze in line with your arms, in this position. Always.”

Natasha’s lips were relaxed in their frown. She was in a particularly stormy mood during this practice, all fortified scowls and impatient scoffs before this moment. Now, rather than completely vexed, the choreographer only seemed mildly frustrated. You struggled to hold her frustration against her— you had been having the same difficulties with this dance since the beginning of the month. You were frustrated with yourself.

“I appreciate your feedback, Natasha” you replied, maintaining your appreciative pretense for the rest of the company members present. Your smile was mechanical and fake, nothing more than the flimsy curtain that the backstage hands rolled in and out between every act. For you, harsh criticism gracefully was an act— smiling while your chest burned with indignation was incredibly blood-boiling.

Especially after you dedicated at least a full afternoon to perfecting the same piece.

She sent you a curt nod in response, only proving to you that there was something on her mind. Something unpleasant…along the lines of her husband being a serial rapist and potential murderer. Guilt sweat beamed in your hairline because, by Ciel’s orders, you still were not allowed to inform her of what you learned about William. But if she found out on her own…you could certainly comfort her, right?

“You are all dismissed,” Natasha addressed the class. “But remember! Soldiers have their designated costuming times with myself and the costuming director this upcoming week! Talk to one of us for your appointment.”

You waited until Natasha finished answering every post-rehearsal question, sending a nameless company member scurrying off with notes on the performance, or some set of miscellaneous instructions. Now that dress rehearsal was only a month away, it was time for each company member to make their dances technically perfect. Natasha preferred to focus on mechanical accuracy before adding the art and drama back into the ballet with the addition of stage makeup and glitzy costuming. Furthermore, Natasha was the heart and soul of the London Royal Company— it was a risk to so much as inhale at an undesignated time.

“Is there something bothering you?” you asked, your eyes breaking away from the door once you were sure everyone was out of earshot. “You were harsher than usual. I know dress rehearsal starts soon but—”

“Everything is fine with me, Y/n,” Natasha replied chillingly, jumping to the defensive. Her hand adjusted on her cane’s grip, bringing the walking accessory closer to her to re-shift her weight. She hissed through her clenched teeth at her bad leg, suggesting the old injury was hurting her. “If I were you, I would be more worried about my dancing than my director. Your rendition of Plum’s variation left much to be desired,” she said without a hint of hesitation.

Of course not— when it came to the choice of sparing a cast member’s self-esteem or breaking their confidence into jagged pieces of shrapnel for quicker results, Natasha would always, inevitably, choose the latter. She wasn’t the best prima ballerina in London five years ago because her feedback was obsequious. “Honestly. I would have thought you would have a breakthrough with your pointe work by now,” Natasha continued, disappointed.

With her sharp cheekbones and straight, raven hair, her visage reminded you of a slightly grumpier and career-driven Snow White.

“I will dedicate every free moment to it,” you insisted, your cheeks hot. Tears stung at your eyes, but you were accustomed to the suffocating feeling and managed to hold them in until you reached the closed door of your dressing room.

The moment you turned your lock closed, you turned towards the inner side of your door, resting your forehead on the cool wood. Your tears tracked down your cheeks, but you made no effort to flick them away. Not yet. You needed to sulk. You deserved to sulk.

“My wife doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” a man’s amused tenor told you, causing your head to jerk back in surprise. “I say, ignore her. I, for one, had a lovely time watching you today, my new prima.”

Ballerina, you wanted to finish the title. Prima felt much too familiar; much too oppressive.

William Wood was as relaxed as a lazy cat, his long and lean body poised comfortably on your couch. He gave a fleeting, yet bitter, look to the gold wedding band around his left ring finger before returning his gaze to you.

You made a rapid effort to wipe your distressed tears away. Normally, you were never one to cry over some constructive criticism, but you guessed it was your building stress— the amount of time and anxiety it consumed. The dark knowledge you had weighed on your mind heavily: knowing the truth about the man sitting in front of you, how he potentially murdered ballerinas like you. The fact that he was responsible for horrendous crimes and was still free to flash a winsome smile at you with the expectation that you’d fall for it.

Moreso, you imagined he used the same strong stare and enticing words to trap all of his victims; whether or not he persuaded them that he cared about them, or ripped all of their confidence away with his own surplus of it.

You cleared your throat, hesitant to meet his cool gray eyes. While Natasha’s were slightly blue, William’s were only a monochrome silver— as if all color was drained from them. His thin lips pulled into a half smile that he likely meant to be seductive and welcoming, but the longer you watched him, the more pursued you felt. He was watching you with the salacious eagerness a hunter would, aiming his rifle at an unsuspecting deer.

How could the other girls have reacted? Amélie, Eliza, Janet? Your heart was heavy with grief. The pain that these girls would never be able to share their stories with the rest of the world. Their lives were stolen from them. By this man.

“Thank you, Mr. Wood,” you greeted tersely. You knew your smile was unconvincing; you couldn’t bring yourself to bring the warmth of recognition into it, or the respect an employee would show to her handsome and potentially homicidal employer. All you could think of was the blood on his hands and the utter certainty across his lips. He was a huntsman. “I see you have returned from Paris. How was your trip?”

How could he live with himself?

“Just fine, Y/n,” William stood to his feet and took a leisurely set of steps towards you, casually crowding you against the door you just locked. There was enough room between you for him to deny his lack of respect for personal space, but so little room that you could spot every individual freckle across the wide bridge of his nose and his cheeks. “But I’m more interested in you. Your technique has simply flourished since that Janet girl left us.”

Left us?

You tensed, but you forced your body to remain open, fighting its natural urge to curl in and shield you from the danger. There was no hesitation in William’s face— not when he started flirting with you, and certainly not now, after he suggested that Janet simply retired from dancing and disappeared. Of course, the Yard was keeping these ballerina disappearances out of the papers. No one else knew there was anything wrong except for those clothes to the ten women, those investigating, and of course, the killer.

Ciel would tell you to talk about Janet and the recent company losses to gauge William’s response. His body language, what was saying, what he was not saying. He would tell you to either ignore the flirting or use it to your advantage, as rejecting Wood would likely bruise his ego too much for you to continue pursuing this…angle. Embarrassed, William would never speak to you again…or if you angered him, he’d simply kill you later.

You would need to use this interaction to set up future time with William. That way you and Ciel could make a plan to get his confession or gather concrete evidence, considering Ciel was too cautious to make the arrest if he wasn’t completely convinced.

If the course of the investigation was solely your choice, you would have already had William arrested for assault, abduction, and at least one murder. Unfortunately, your authority only extended to waltzing tips and how to make Ciel’s publicity smile appear less like a grimace.

William’s eyebrows raised, prompting your response. He was suspicious of your hesitation— which was surprising, given that he was married to your director. How could you fail to notice this…aggressiveness before this week? Now, it was clear to you.

“That is so kind of you to say, sir,” you paused, unsure of what to say next. How could you extract more information about Janet without appearing accusatory? “This opportunity has been extraordinary for my career. It is so hard for me to believe that Janet would give it up so senselessly.” You watched William’s face, looking for any flicker of emotion, but there was none beyond his pensive nod.

“You should know how it is, by now, Y/n,” William drawled with the wisdom of an experienced man who had been watching the ballet field for a near century, rather than a measly thirty years. While the Wood family owned the opera house since its construction in 1732, William only started running the Wood’s business empire five years ago — after his father, John, died abruptly. Heart failure.

The last production the opera house had under John Wood was the Sleeping Beauty run where William met Natasha, the new prima ballerina. They were both around your age at the time. You couldn’t imagine meeting your future spouse and marrying them only for your father to die a month or two afterward.

“Not everyone can take the heat. Not everyone should. They can’t handle it because they’re not like you. You’re a shark. A force of nature; someone special. I can see it,” William continued, taking a loose strand of hair that fell free from your bun and tucking it behind your ear. His fingertips lingered on the side of your neck, and the top of his thumb kept your chin tilted upwards towards his face.

“A force of nature?” You asked, almost as puzzled as you were uncomfortable. You wished you could take a step away, but your backside was pressed against your only exit.

William chuckled, pleased to have the opportunity to explain himself. It made him feel smarter than you— something that most men adored as much as staring at you. “Yes. That means, unstoppable, strong, and…unforgettable. Beyond control. Like I said: don’t listen to Natasha. You were flawless. You are flawless.”

Your breath hitched, unable to hide the euphoria that came with praise, but of course, not without recalling that these were lines he likely rehearsed. William knew how to attract his victims with honey before resorting to vinegar. Ultimately, it made you realize that this was how Amélie, Eliza, and Janet felt. Seen. Special. Noticed by the owner of the opera house. Frankly, if you hadn’t been promoted, you doubted you would have been William’s next target.

Still, even if you knew you were a force of nature before William said so, there was something more empowering about hearing so. For once, it wasn’t your ego; it was praise. Genuine, few and far between, praise. Something educated and intricate— it might have been nearly leagues more satisfying than faraway applause from an audience that didn’t know the first thing about ballet…if you didn’t know that William had ulterior motives. If you didn’t know that this was the trap the huntsman fabricated to catch his next meal.

William took your prolonged silence as encouragement. He leaned downwards, each gaining centimeter only pushing him closer to your lips.

“Mr. Wood…” you cut his advance short, hesitating as you remembered that rejection was not an option. You tried to soften your expression, and your body, given that your words came out somewhat flat. You thought of the weak-willed princesses in children’s tales; the submissive character you put on for all of your old patrons; the long set of polite society’s rules Sebastian branded into the front of your brain.

William’s approach was to take vulnerable and insecure girls and make them feel like a force of nature because of him. Not because they were, inherently.

But you were. This time, he didn’t know who he was messing with.

“I think…we ought to wait until we have more time together,” you said sweetly, your hand coming from your side and adjusting William’s shirt collar. It was folded unevenly, and even the minute gesture was enough for him to think you cared about him— that you were looking intently enough to realize that there was a problem with his wardrobe in the first place. Any special attention from intended prey was like a drug to these power-starved men. It made you wonder why they thought they had all of the power. “Could you imagine the scandal? If everyone in the company found out?” You asked, widening your eyes with ironic innocence.

You were the black swan, Odile. Mischievous, conniving, confident. Frankly, thinking about making the arrest and putting the bastard away was what created your reluctantly seductive grin— much in the same way as Odile’s excitement to manipulate Odette’s prince.

William’s back straightened as he considered you once more, looking over you with reignited vigor, now that you were fully committed to playing his game. He tilted his head, though his eyes were slightly more hesitant to leave your lips.

“I think you’d get some enjoyment out of all that attention, Prima,” William joked, taking your hand in his. He pressed a kiss onto your knuckles before doing the same for the inner part of your wrist. His thumb rubbed the same spot on your wrist as if he wanted the feeling of his foreign lips on your skin to linger. “But unfortunately, you do have a point. I think I have a remedy for us, though,” William looked ponderous before he fished out a ring of keys from his jacket pocket with his free hand— he was still holding yours until he needed both hands to sift through the crowded keys.

To you, it suggested he had several places he needed to keep locked away. That could be residences, safes, closed doors, drawers... the number of potential areas to hide murder weapons and implicating items could be limitless if all of the locations for these keys were his. It was suspicious.

Once William found the key he was looking for, he unlinked it from the key ring. He pressed it into your palm so hard that you could feel it indent in your skin. “Here. This opens the back door of my country house. We will meet there. Tomorrow— after your performance,” he ordered, closing your fingers around the key for you. He pointedly failed to ask if you were available, presuming you would make the time for him.

“The one in… Southampton?” Your mouth felt dry. You went to William and Natasha’s country home once— about a year ago. Natasha allowed you to spend the night after you arrived at the docks after midnight, returning from a short visit to France. Your director didn’t trust you to make it back to your home safely, and she insisted you stay the night with her and William.

The Wood’s Southampton house was a symbol of Natasha’s kindness to you, and now, you were about to use it to further betray her. Failing to tell her about her husband’s crime was the first; and now, you were about to seduce him in order to expose those misgivings.

“Yes. Natasha stays late with the costuming director on Thursdays and Fridays. It’s perfect,” William reminded you. While most companies started costuming for the lead dancers, Natasha liked to start with the ensemble. She claimed it was best to get all of the mass-produced costumes fitted and out of the way before focusing on the standout pieces like yours.

Thinking about your Sugar Plum Fairy costume made you giddy with excitement. While you haven’t seen the ensemble itself yet, Poppy (the costume director that William failed to name) showed you her beautiful sketches for it.

“Meet me there at eleven. Sharp,” William ordered decisively, offering you no chance to protest. Within seconds, he unlocked your door, made sure there was no one outside to see him exit, and swiftly made his leave.

The Same Day, Dusk

Ciel’s Carriage

“No. Absolutely not,” Ciel’s stoic, yet resolute frown pursed into a line. He angled his chin upwards, daring you to argue with him.

“What do you mean?” You demanded, your eyebrows knitting together incredulously. You wanted to stand up to punctuate your surprise and frustration, but the moving carriage wouldn’t allow you to. “This is the perfect opportunity. You said it yourself: We need to investigate William Wood. If he is with me, his guard will be down! And we need evidence and a confession!”

“We would do better to explore a…different angle. I would prefer to meet with him,” Ciel said boredly, opening his book to his current page. He clearly didn’t think much of this disagreement; you thought it was, by far, the most ridiculous one the two of you dealt with up to this point. He was being brainless— you had an opportunity to get into William’s home and make him vulnerable, and Ciel didn’t want to so much as entertain your idea! Your lead!

“But, why?” You insisted, protesting like a child fighting their mother for an extra piece of candy. “What could possibly be wrong with this plan? Setting a meeting up between you and him — without looking suspicious — could take ages!”

“It will not take ages,” Ciel said, emphasizing his use of your words. He skimmed over the words in the passage of his book — The Canticle of Saint Eulalie — idly, speaking while he read. The novel was a relic from medieval French literature, a name you vaguely recognized only to have Ciel snicker at you for not being as inclined to know every facet of your home culture. It was disquieting to know that Ciel was fluent in your first language. When he offered to speak to you in that language, you had denied it vehemently because it was simply too personal. Speaking in French took you back to your mother, dance school, and every painful memory you left back on the European mainland. “I want to extend an invitation to Wood about a business venture.”

“Ciel, it is too convenient. No one will believe that we are in love if you make a business deal immediately after courting me,” you insisted.

“It only matters if he believes that it is a true business meeting,” Ciel said, flipping the current page over.

“I guarantee you, he will not,” you shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. “William might be a sadistic criminal but he certainly is not a moron—” unlike you, genius “…and he will make the connection between you and me. Natasha has to have told him already.”

“Honestly! You are being stubborn because this is my lead! It was my acting and my efforts that gave us this opportunity. You are insecure. You are selfish! If we let our investigation progress slower than necessary, more people die! Is it worth it? Is your—” You would have proceeded with your tirade until you and Ciel reached your destination, but he slammed his book closed with a start. The heavy sound caused you to hesitate, giving him the opportunity to intercede.

“Y/n! Your plan is too dangerous!” Ciel snapped. “You are an untrained civilian. You are not going to meet a man who has assaulted and likely killed ten other of your peers. Certainly not when he likely imagines you as his eleventh! Honestly! You must be mad. Do you have a death wish?”

“I do not care about that,” you admitted, taking in a long inhale through your nose and quickly glancing out the window. Your fingers intertwined in your lap as your shoulders fell sheepishly. “The danger,” you clarified at the Earl’s perplexed expression. “I truly…it is of no importance to me.”

“And why is that?” Ciel demanded.

“Why do I have the right? They all…died. Why do I get the privilege of…” You let the sentence die, gesturing with your clammy hands because you couldn’t string the proper words together. How could you to know to be careful when these girls didn’t know what they were getting into? They deserved the same warnings you had, but that would never be.

“Come on, Ciel. We need access to his home and his belongings. We will not get it if we pursue your business meeting idea. Please, please, let me do this,” you said, fishing William’s house key out of your jacket’s pocket. The silver key had his matching initials engraved down the side of it in cursive. “While I keep him occupied, you and Sebastian can find the spare office keys in the studio and—”

There was a new grudging respect in Ciel’s face, paired with a thoughtful frown. He was considering your idea, freshly reminded that you were extremely committed to the investigation. After all, it was a personal matter, now.

“No,” Ciel started. He quickly sent a silencing look at you, noticing the confrontational way you leaned in toward him. The carriage was rather small, putting you in the same proximity William was to you, earlier that day. “Not without us. I will not, in good conscience, permit you to go tomorrow without Sebastian and myself. We don’t know what William might try with you.”

A slow smile spread across your face, victorious. You truly were a force of nature.

“You care about me,” you grinned, nose wrinkling with glee. “How kind. Who knew the magnificent, oh-so-powerful, Lord of Phantomhive could care for someone besides himself…” Your hand flew over your heart dramatically. “I’m touched!”

“I had no idea it was controversial to ensure a civilian’s survival,” Ciel smarted, his exposed eye-rolling. His face flushed, but you couldn’t decipher the cause. Frustration from having to accommodate your ever-shifting mood? Embarrassment? No, Lord Phantomhive could never view himself as lesser-than!

Or perhaps, you were right. He did care about you.

Your cheeks grew warm at the thought, causing your head to jerk away before you could regard his lips anymore. (Were they always this plump when he scowled? And that pink?) You were all too aware of your closeness, given that you hadn’t moved back to your original position in the carriage and had been leaning towards him with the severity of either someone enraged or in love.

Enraged. You were enraged.

“Admit that I persuaded you,” you demanded, unable to keep the play stoicism on your face.

“I will not,” Ciel shook his head, relieved that the carriage was coming to a stop because it gave him an easy reprieve from the conversation at hand. “We need you to confirm the body’s identification. Will you come inside?” The Earl asked, gesturing to the Yard’s station outside the carriage. He reminded you of the meaning behind your excursion: confirming that the body found floating in the River Thames was Janet Fischer or a nameless victim. While there were numerous pictures of Janet, they needed a person to confirm her remains.

“Yes, I can.” Your heart sunk, bringing your joy with it. Your smile melted as you nodded gravely, well aware that there was no need to maintain any pretenses in front of the body. Ciel forced the Yard to clear any non-ranked personnel to avoid conflict with your public appearance versus your intended utility to the case.

Within minutes, you were facing Janet one last time. She was truly perfect— the type of beautiful that belonged between pages of a storybook. Her cheekbones were high, but her cheeks were full; her lips were soft and pink. Her blonde hair fell in wisps, too thick to stay in her bun perfectly. Even in death, her eyelashes were long and curled, kissing her cheeks.

Unlike Amélie, there was little sign of death on her, save for her lack of breathing and the obvious bruise on her temple. Otherwise, there was no foul smell, no bloodshot eyes, or gaping mouth. Janet looked as if she was only napping, her face serene without the deep sadness that used to inhabit it. No one in the company carried the same innocence and melancholia— that was why she was Natasha’s first choice for Odette.

“This is her,” your voice hardly registered above a whisper. “Janet…what happened?” you asked, blinking rapidly to keep tears from falling. You wished she could wake up and tell you. There was nothing you wanted more.

“She was officially reported as missing on the night of September 28th,” Ciel said, his presence somewhat comforting to you. Janet was already dead— there was nothing to be done except to bring her killer to justice and ensure this doesn’t happen to anyone else. “Exactly one day after the last time everyone has claimed to see her— the night of Thursday, September 27th.”

“This wound seems as if it was from a blunt object,” Sebastian noted, peering at the purple bruise on the side of Janet’s right eye. “But she was found near the Tower Bridge, the rest of her wounds consistent with a high fall.”

“Could she have been hit with the object and subsequently pushed?” Ciel wondered, not truly looking for a response from either you or Sebastian. He crossed his arms, searching for answers from Janet’s body.

You battled a fresh wave of nausea.

“The bruise appears to be circular. I believe the object we’re looking for is slightly round — like a hammer, the pommel of a dagger, or even the end of a cane might create this shape of bruise,” the butler continued, the broad number of potential items doing nothing of note.

If the bruise wasn’t leading to anything concrete, you opted to focus on something — anything — else. Janet went missing on a Thursday… Today was Wednesday. William wanted to meet with you on another Thursday. You had full Nutcracker rehearsals on Thursdays and Sundays, but William said that Thursday would work the best because Natasha always stayed at the studio to work with Poppy.

That made Thursdays the ideal day for him to kill someone: Natasha was out of the picture, and the whole cast was exhausted after a full show rehearsal and a showing of Swan Lake.

You stiffened, your head jerking to look at the Earl. He startled at your sudden movement, knitting curious eyebrows together. What is it now, Y/n? He asked without having to speak.

“Ciel, do you have the dates for any of the other disappearances?”

“Sebastian?” Ciel prompted.

“Annalisse Sterling’s last sighting was Thursday, September 14th and Harriet White’s was August 31st, and…” Sebastian continued, as you flipped through a calendar. You ripped off one of the officer’s unoccupied desks. You circled every date Sebastian said until he stopped at Amelie’s disappearance date.

“The majority of disappearances have taken place between these three weekdays,” you declared, showing Ciel and Sebastian the months of circled Thursdays, Fridays, and Sundays. “Look. And these are days where we have full show rehearsals and his wife is thoroughly distracted…it cannot be a coincidence.”

Ciel considered the theory, nodding slowly with perceptible hesitance that you wanted to kick out of him. There was absolutely no basis for him to doubt you! Why did he need to be this stubborn? All of the time? “Is there anyone we can speak to regarding Janet? We have already spoken to her family and Lord Taylor, but—”

“She never had friends,” you shook your head. It was true— Janet always distanced herself from everyone. Even Natasha, who seemed to be the entire company’s older sister. “What did Lord Taylor tell you?”

“He has a solid alibi— hosting a birthday dinner for his niece in Tanglewood. His son’s betrothed,” Ciel said. “The party location puts him too far away from the Tower Bridge at that time, and there is no evidence that Taylor told Janet to meet him there.”

“She had to tell someone that she was going out of her usual way,” you shut your eyes for a moment to organize your thoughts. “Janet was not stupid, she would never leave without notice. Her mother and her brothers relied on her income to live.”

“The mother insisted Janet found a note in her dressing room, but there was no one — and no note — to corroborate that,” Sebastian recalled, as perplexed as you’ve ever seen him. Anyone could have left a note in Janet’s room— the murder had to be premeditated if that was how the killer lured her. They knew to leave it there after the performance and to either dispose of it themself or take it from Janet after killing her. Not only that— they had access to those backstage areas. It needed to be someone who blended in at the opera house, otherwise, the interviewed dancers and stagehands would have noticed a suspicious character.

“Ciel, we need to look into William. He owns the opera house— no one would think anything of seeing him backstage. William knows when rehearsals are, and his wife’s work schedule,” you demanded, wide-eyed. Honestly, if Ciel continued to doubt you, you would suspect he was in the wrong line of work.

“Say it is William,” Ciel pinched the bridge of his nose, “how would we proceed?” He asked flatly, guessing that you had a few ideas.

Your expression wasn’t gleeful. You were unsure what to call it, besides fierce and unyielding. It was forceful, it was serious. A real force of nature would do this. You were going to do this.

“We get a confession, then. Tomorrow night.”

[outsidereveries]

old requests from curiouscat (19th june 2024—24th june 2024)

19th June 2024

how KISS OF LIFE’s comeback in July will do?

3 of pentacles, ace of cups, strength, ace of wands, 10 of wands • knight of wands

They'll do well. Might do better outside of Korea though. I don't feel anything else so far, it might not be that memorable.

will all of TWICE renew their contracts for second time? i read that their renew first contract for 3 years.

As much as I can remember, I saw a shift in 2025? I am certain about Nayeon wanting to leave :|

Nayeon | the empress rx

Jeongyeon | the star

Momo | ace of pentacles rx

Sana | temperance, 6 of pentacles

Jihyo | 3 of pentacles, 9 of pentacles

Mina | the world, the hanged man

Dahyun | the devil rx

Chaeyoung | 7 of cups

Tzuyu | ace of wands rx

Least likely to renew⬇️

Chaeyoung | She's actually looking for other options 👀

Jihyo | Similar to Chaeyoung, she's looking for other options too👀

Momo | Money has been an issue for her for quite some time. She might have an issue that's similar to Lisa where she feels and is possibly scammed. Because of her salary, profits and whatever else, she'd like to leave.

Dahyun | Similar as the next member, she feels restricted. The difference here is that she's longing for freedom.

Nayeon | When it comes to her solo career, she feels extremely restricted. "TWICE this, TWICE that, where are MY solo opponturities???" is the words I could hear based on the card. Nayeon and Dahyun are pretty much on the same vibe.

Tzuyu | She's ready to continue forward as an individual but not in the way JYPE wants. She might have some ideas that are unrelated to what the company wants.

Mina | She'd like to focus her relevance in Japan and possibly other places, so she'll leave the company too. She might leave with good feelings and relationships with JYPE.

Sana | The most chill out of everyone. 6 of pentacles feels like Justice: whatever you gave, whatever I return. Based on her lack of solo activities, she'll leave.

Jeongyeon | Won't renew as an idol, I actually sense she'll depart from the industry. She'll be an ordinary worker under JYPE instead. Might have shares from the company in the future.

Most likely to renew ⬆️

20th June 2024

i'm no longer a fan of ZB1 but I still want to know... zhang hao has been attracting negative discourses surround him because of his speeches/words he said recently. is he aware of this and how does he feel about this? will there be any chances for him to redeem his public image affected by such discourses and controveseries in the future? as someone who's kind of sensitive, i feel most of the time he's basically joking around without any harm to the receiver/s but it's the way he jokes or talks, they usually have no filter at all, occasionally being a little over-the-top (TMI for real) and deeply need context for other people to NOT raising their eyebrows a little upon them. that's what make me confused the most, people have valid irks, he just doesn't seem to act accordingly anyway and as far as i know he's someone who really values his personal identity... i just don't know

Awareness: knight of cups rx, page of wands, death rx • 9 of cups

Uh, yeah.. I am not sure he's aware. I am not sure how to feel, to be honest, he's just blank about it. It's not like he knows what to do but he seems to not have any opinion about it. I personally don't think he's attracting them at all, it's just the boys' luck, I believe so.

Feelings: page of swords, 8 of cups, 8 of swords • 8 of pentacles

Hao seems to be aware that he's brutally honest and unadulterated but doesn't want to change anything about it. That's his personality and self. I am unaware if this is talked topic by zeroses or not but if this worries of yours becomes viral elsewhere, he'll have identity crisis. Please, for his own sake, just don't mention it out loud.

Any change?: the devil rx, queen of wands, 2 of pentacles • page of cups

Yeah, there will be a change on the intentions Hao will have but not on his personality, so.. I am sorry for that if you expected different answer. He will still say whatever he wants to and so on but it looks like as of now he personally doesn't have any intentions towards his sayings and etc. As much as I remember, he might be spiritual from an older reading of mine on Tumblr. Therefore, he's not spiritual enough. I see Jiwoong helping him out and realising some of the things he might do without realising. Maybe only then Hao will realise what he might do wrong when it comes to the law of attraction and other spiritual things.

21st June 2024

can you do a reading on enhyphen’s comeback? how will it do?

Will try to feel the vibes this time rather asking separately for local and outside-of-Korea success.

the lovers, the fool, knight of swords, knight of cups, the moon, justice rx • ace of cups

The comeback on July seems to be more successful than their previous ones not because one of their songs will be viral but because of a TikTok video that will go viral. The viralness though won't come natural at all. Despite that, I believe it's like usual whenever.

can you do a reading about the future of billlie? will they get more recognition?? how they future will turn out?

of swords, 10 of cups, 10 of swords rx, 3 of pentacles, king of wands • 3 of cups

In the upcoming 3-4 months Billlie will be like they usually are. I don't see them becoming more successful or becoming nugu, their relevance will stay the same (+/-).

will skz disband? if they are to disband, will the members reunite or go their own ways?

After Stray Kids' (alleged) disbandment: the hierophant rx, page of pentacles rx, ace of swords, 6 of cups • 9 of swords rx

It seems that they'll do their own thing. If they reunite somehow publicly, it will be after a few years.

can you do a reading on Dahyun (TWICE)’s acting career? she will star in the in the film “Sprint” and have the lead role in the drama “You are the apple of my eye”. will people like her acting? will her films be successful?

will her acting be liked: 4 of cups rx, temperance, 3 of pentacles • 3 of cups

Yes, especially her chemistry with .. Uh, I believe it was Jung Jinyoung? He is with her on the drama, isn't he?

Sprint's success: death, 10 of swords rx, the world, 8 of cups, 5 of pentacles rx • the hierophant

The film might be for specific audience who are interested in films that are as similar as Sprint. I don't see it flopping but I don't think it will be extremely successful. I see ONCEs and other people who usually watch dramas/korean films watching it but up to there.

YATAOME (abbreviated)'s success: 6 of pentacles, 8 of wands, 7 of cups, the lovers rx, 8 of swords rx • the fool

Compared to the film, YATAOME will be way more successful as it might become viral at some point. I see the relevance of the drama might go up near Squid Game's or even next to it, the popularity might go out of control.

how aespa's career will progress?

4 of cups rx, wheel of fortune, knight of wands, ace of pentacles rx, 10 of swords rx • 9 of pentacles

As the reading is more focused on stuff, happening behind the scenes, a manager who was focused solely on aespa's group career will be changed. The new manager is the Knight of Wands. They (as I'm unaware of their gender/pronouns energy-wise) will realise what the girls want and will change the way aespa functions as a group. It seems to be related to the activities the girls have, no matter if they're group ones or solo. As they were mainly group ones, this will change and they will have more individual opponturities in the future. However, this will cause some terminations in some if the girls' group gigs "due to schedule conflicts", which situation might be by far worse than it's seen (These cards are my 2nd spread, the first was way worse, but since it doesn't represent the energy enough, I asked one more time) here. Their path until roughly the end of October is still unseen though.

i want to ask about jo woochan. is he still a trainee under big hit or do you think he is under another company? if he is a trainee under another company, do you see a big3 company or a small one? is he going to debut in a boygroup or solo?

If he is still a trainee, in what type of company he is an one: 2 of swords rx, 10 of cups, ace of wands • the hierophant

The company seems to be a small from what I am sensing (not in big4 for sure). Since last I asked if he was a trainee under MODHAUS and in the answer there was the Moon in the bottom, he will probably stay there as of now. There might be things he wants/ed to have signed in his trainee contract. The company seems to allow it, so he's or will be really happy. Smaller than MODHAUS if I have to compare.

Future in the industry: queen of wands rx, 9 of wands rx, 10 of swords, page of wands • 8 of wands

He seems to have low self-esteem, so don't be suprised if he debuts at later age. There will be an opponturity for him for sure. With these cards though, I am leaning towards the option he'll be in a group but might not be ready for it soon (by soon, I mean up to 3 months). They'll wait for him. Still, he will debut up to a year, but I don't know if his guides know exactly when.

24th June 2024

is Lee Sangwon going to debut? if yes, solo or in a boy group?

wheel of fortune, 5 of swords rx, king of cups, queen of wands, 7 of pentacles • 2 of swords rx

He gave up on training and becoming an idol.

can you do a reading for the i-land2 gg? how do their future looks like?

queen of pentacles, 6 of pentacles, the hermit rx, judgement, 9 of swords rx • 10 of cups

It feels uncertain when they'll debut. The girls, whoever will be they, will be very focused on their ambitions, talents and everything else just to debut. The girls seem to practice by themselves so I'm not sure how they'll be better.

will YG Entertainment disband WINNER anytime soon?

knight of wands rx, knight of cups rx, 10 of swords • king of swords

More likely they'll be in the dungeon as a group, i mean being inactive. At least Seunghoon will debut earlier than this October!

will SM participate in game caterers show where all idols from the company participate?

4 of cups rx, 5 of cups rx, the hierophant • 6 of wands

No. I doubt it as of now.

what kind of genre, concept, lyric will aespa members go for their solo songs at their 2nd concert tour?

Karina: judgement | Don't have access to see.

Giselle: 2 of wands | The lyrics of the song/s might be related to choose x or y, or exploring, or getting to know something.

Winter: 3 of swords | Very sad, very depressed songs. She seems to be in mood for letting her emotions out.

NingNing: 2 of pentacles, 7 of wands | Cannot see for her too.

what kind of concept, lyrics will aespa have in their Japanese debut?

the magician, 8 of cups rx, page of pentacles rx, the tower rx, queen of cups • king of cups

so far I see that aespa will focus on what their concept is (kwangya or not, doesn't matter; i am talking about the elements). I feel the vibe of Hot&Mess as it really feel like their older songs so far in a way or another (the reversed cards). I also feel Sun&Moon too with the upright cards, it will be a song that the girls wanted to try for quite some time and they like the result of it.

Basically:

(as ZOOM ZOOM is already released)

Hot & Mess - chaos, turning back time, superpowers, supernatural, acceptance; Giselle might be important in the MV

Sun & Moon - creativity, vibe, happiness, chill, euphoria.. basically positive vibes. I can see the R&B genre as it was already mentioned somewhere.

I don't see the lyrics of the songs, sorry for that.

how the rest of 2024 will be for TWICE?

3 of wands rx, the magician rx, 4 of swords, strength, 7 of cups, page of swords • 4 of wands

The girls might be more active in Korea until then. They were on a tour, right? Anyways, so they seem to take a break for a bit where the chances for the girls to solidify themselves or even better, to be more relevant, are way higher, possibly because of Nayeon's solo comeback, I believe so. I can see them releasing a comeback until the end of this year as it's still planning, but nothing much. The girls making compromises with themselves is still there to an extent.

nwjns said they will have a comeback at the end of this year. how will it do in terms of success? will it surpass get up era? and will there be hybe “sabotaging” them? yk like fake news that will make ppl turn against them

queen of wands rx, king of pentacles, 7 of swords rx, 8 of wands rx, the hermit rx, 8 of swords • queen of pentacles

I am not sure it will happen by the end of this year because of other circumstances that I cannot see yet. If the dispute between MHJ and the rest of HYBE is in the same position where BELIFT try to sue her, or could go worse, I have no clue, then it can be because of the corporation. I saw MHJ getting mad because of the comeback delay, so the circumstances don't seem to be because of her. Therefore, the success itself is somehow on hold because of other reasons that I cannot see as of now.

i heard rumors haechan will be luxury brand ambassador this year, is that true? or can you explain about haechan solo career

Rumors of Haechan being BA: 4 of pentacles, 10 of cups, the emperor • the moon

There's an offer, yes, but depends on SME if it will be accepted. Everyting is on the company, not Haechan himself.

Career reading: the world rx, ace of swords rx, temperance • knight of wands

The plans that are there for Haechan will be either delayed or rejected in the end. Whether if it's for solo gig/s or group ones (comeback or not, it's whatever), they just won't happen. Either there'll be suprise gigs, or he'll be inactive. SME seems to be a mess, I don't know. For the scandal that happened, though, it might be the reason the situation is like that.

will there be a change in higher ups among YGE in the near future?

6 of cups, 10 of wands, 8 of swords rx • 8 of pentacles

No.. I don't see it.

some of YouTube tarot readers said that one of txt members will leave the group? do you also see it and if yes is it when – when their contracts end or before?

strength, the tower, queen of swords, king of pentacles, queen of pentacles rx • ace of wands

Uh, no. I doubt these 2 boys (possibly Soobin and Yeonjun) will leave TXT. They'll be very close to leave the group around the contract renewals though, because they will want to do their solo actvities elsewhere. BHM or HYBE might be against this wish of theirs at first but since they'll risk the eventual disbandment of TXT or another issue, they'll give up and make compromise. So no, I don't see it. I see there is a risk of it to happen but in the end it won't.

what's the relationship between Eunseok (riize) and Ningning (aespa)?

the moon rx, the hanged man, knight of pentacles, the emperor, 10 of cups • the star

They don't seem to have something between each other. The dynamics between them are clearly colleague-related, at least currently. Eunseok might want to get closer with her, of course as a friend, but in reality I doubt it will work it out. One of them (as I don't know Eunseok's energy better, I am unsure who is the emperor) might come off as more dominating, therefore if they get closer in the future, their bond will be really unstable as they're really different.

will Ningning ever star in dramas? (k-drama or c-drama) When will it be, what kind of genre/plot will she choose?

queen of swords, the fool, 9 of pentacles, king of pentacles, ace of pentacles • 9 of swords rx

No, at least of now, she doesn't want to try acting. She sees she's more talented in other fields (singing, fashion-related gigs).

how well will BabyMonster do with Forever?

page of pentacles, 9 of cups rx, 7 of swords rx, page of cups rx, 3 of pentacles rx • 9 of wands

Releasing Forever on a date that other groups will come back too is kind of risky. Even though similar thing happened with SHEESH and their first EP where TXT and QWER did exteremely well compared to them (TXT mainly overseas while QWER domestically), it feels that now is more risky because they want the history to repeat again. As I don't quite see how their fans will stream the pre-release like they're, I am sorry for these words, obsessively hypnotized of them, so far I see the general public, mainly the Korean one?

I'd say that because of SHEESH and that it did fine with the time, the outsiders will give it a chance. I doubt it will be liked, though. Unless MHJ vs HYBE 2.0 or similar situation repeats all over again, I really feel that Forever will be way more disliked, at least compared to SHEESH.

can you do a reading on StayC’s upcoming comeback?

Local success: 10 of cups, 3 of pentacles, 8 of pentacles, 9 of wands, 10 of swords rx • king of swords

StayC will do like usual in Korea, at least from what I see. Compared to Bubble era, I can see the girls doing better and receiving a bit more music show wins (If with Bubble they received 2, then with their 1st full album they can realistically receive 4 or even more). The competition, though, is intense from the company's perspective - KIOF, BABYMONSTER if Forever is liked by the audience and the already released songs, albums and etc. Nonetheless, I believe they'll receive more music show wins even if it's 1 more or 3-4 more. SWITH will like this era and the general public can like it too. I can see the girls being discussed here and there on the korean blogs and possibly not only.

Foreign success: the star, 10 of cups, 4 of wands, 5 of pentacles rx, queen of swords • the emperor

Outside of Korea though, STAYC might do way better compared to their previous songs, at least to the k-pop fans. HighUp might try to achieve something, related to Billboard - either the Albums chart, or one of the charts a k-pop song can get (Hot 100, Bubbling under Hot 100). I don't see StayC achieving way bigger things, though, but they can do an achievement or two that they haven't done before, especially now when they'll release their 1st full album.

[beautifulpersonpeach]

BPP! You mentioned somewhere that releasing music during enlistment was legal. Is that true? My understanding was that idols were not allowed to earn from their day jobs while in the military.

There is talk of two BTS members releasing albums while away during military service. Most likely this is rumoured to be Jimin and RM. Why would they release an album if they cannot earn from it? Hybe would never give a free album.

Also. Why would they release music when they are not able to promote it? Especially Jimin who only went through a 9 day promotion period for Face. And RM, who had been working very hard for something different (I think he said it in his interview/live that next work will be completely different). Would they not want that promotion time?

I honestly find it quite baffling when some fans argue that that Jimin and RM don’t want the commercial success. I am pretty sure they do so it is surprising that they would be releasing albums while away.

***

It being legal has nothing to do with whether or not Jimin/RM want commercial success.

For every question you asked, direct it to Kai who enlisted before EXO released Exist - an album he contributed to and was profiting from while not promoting it. Or to all the actors who enlist and their projects are released for profit without incident. It's legal. They can't access this profit until their service is over, and that's understood and accepted by all parties.

The issue with Baekhyun was a mob of rival stans from SM groups making a stink, because up to that point Baekhyun was perceived to be the favourite of the company alongside Taemin. People were going to use outside pressure, given the issue involves public perception and the military, they were willing to use that to humble Baekhyun. SM acted to protect their own image even though the initial claims were baseless so their action was unnecessary.

The repeat of the same thing is happening now, with EXO/SM stans angry that BTS, the perceived 'favourite', is putting out music their own fave wasn't able to even if that means ignoring people from their own company (like Kai) who also had no issues. These people are hoping HYBE rolls over and pulls the BTS projects. It's just the classic SM stan coping mechanism of directing their angst/anger/frustration at BTS/ARMYs rather than at SM for the company's own incompetence. That's how a company that's been in as many criminal cases as SM, still has this many loyal fans than critics.

Personally, I'm not invested one way or the other. We don't know what the format of the releases will look like. Whether there'll be filmed performances or not. Most of the time Coldplay performed My Universe BTS wasn't there, so it's not like there's no precedent for the members not actively participating in promoting a song. Anyway, we'll just have to wait and see but personally, I'm looking forward to everything the members have prepared.

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

Ok so we all know hp is bad and hp fans are genuinely sus and Not Good people..But are fans of other things such as twilight, mcu, certain horror movies with awful directors, or even things such as rock singers in the 80s who made amazing music but they were Awful. Can people enjoy these things and still be a good person? I've wondered this for a bit and your hp reply was great!

The questions you have to ask yourself are “is [bad person] benefitting from me engaging with this media in some way” and “is [bad person] actively using their success in media as a way to fight for legislature that oppresses a marginalized group”. You also have to analyze if the media itself reflects whatever makes the creator bad.

JKR is a unique case because she uses profits from Harry Potter to fund hate groups and push anti-trans legislation into law. She uses her platform specifically as a means to harm other human beings actively, and her works are rife with racism, antisemitism, sexism, fatphobia, ableism, etc. etc.

It isn’t just a matter of JKR having a bad opinion, she weaponizes her media to groom her fans into TERFs and is directly placing trans people in danger, especially in the UK.

Fans of movies made by Harvey Weinstein or whoever are generally not being groomed to be sexually abusive because he wasn’t using his media as a weapon, he was using his money as a weapon for harm. Do I think people are inherently bad for liking Pulp Fiction or whatever just because the executive producer is a sexual abuser? Not really, because for one thing he’s in prison and can no longer benefit from any profit that movie could make and for another he was just the executive producer for most of the movies you’ve actually heard of, not a writer or director. Death of the author works a whole lot easier if the author is actually dead or otherwise off the table, and how tainted the media is by their involvement is proportional to how involved they actually were with the media.

So something like Mindless Self Indulgence is hard to justify still engaging with even though Jimmy was arrested because he was the direct artistic influence for his music and had more or less full creative freedom with it. I wouldn’t personally say it reflects great on a person to enjoy art made by a known child molester, but that doesn’t mean you have to hate Spy Kids or whatever just because someone on a very large team of people involved who didn’t really have creative control on the project was a bad person.

It’s case by case with a lot of reliance on using best judgment.

[tscritical]

Hi just another anon here. I find criticizing my favorite stuff fun and interesting so I have a thing to bring up.

The way Thomas interacts very actively and personally with his fan base, incorporates fanon into the content to the point where fanon almost defines the series, and makes content that is very “nurturing” in nature (which is also clearly aimed at a younger audience) creates a perfect storm for unhealthy parasocial connections. I will say that this is partially on him (and his team) maybe? Idk

But also that unhealthy parasocial behavior can take on many forms, like feeing that a person can do no wrong, seeing them as a replacement for real human connection, or even (possibly like you and me right now) obsessively looking for things to criticize about the person/overthinking the things they do. We probably wouldn’t be here criticizing Thomas Sanders in such a detailed fashion at all if we didn’t have at least somewhat of a parasocial connection to him. If we detached ourselves from him we would say “yeah, well he’s a celebrity. I don’t even know him, and he probably goes through stuff that isn’t my business. Lack of content happens, so eh. Celebrities advertise because they want to make money. Thomas Sanders isn’t different, and it is what it is.”

We don’t see Thomas and his crew as a for-profit organization because they fostered that image on purpose. All YouTubers do. A relatable guy who would be your friend, even though celebrities aren’t your friends, and they live a very different existence than regular people (valuing status, image, and money in a way regular people don’t)

I won’t go into detail, but I have a very complicated relationship to sanders sides because of this atmosphere of parasocial relationships that is rampant in the fandom. I found sanders sides when I was in a really difficult place mentally, and it was comforting but I also had a sort of… bad feeling about it? It made me physically anxious for a while and I didn’t know why. A lot has happened in my life since then that I’m still processing so my feelings about this are a bit of a mess.

Idk it’s 3am and I’m rambling. Sorry for the long ask, I had some Thoughts

yeah there’s definitely something to be said about the parasocial aspect of it all, even if i don’t quite have the spoons or brain cells to go into a detailed discussion about it

basically Shit’s Complicated lmao

and you’re so right about the fanon influence, it’s especially obvious in the five year anniversary video (for example: when the sides all declare their roles in the “family dynamic” (patton being the dad, logan being the mom, etc) and perpetuating the idea of family being these strictly defined roles. i have nothing good to say about that shit)

[yourtoradorasextendedwarranty]

If I had tp pick one person that I hate, in the most literal sense of the word. And fully mean it with everything I have, that person would be Hasan Piker.

This man is the Nephew of the TYT co-host Cenk Uygur. And when he was up and coming, he was a very frat boy-esc type youtuber. Then at some point, he decided to do political commentary. As to why I have no idea, but if I had to guess, well.

Now what is it about this person I hate? Lots of things. He often goes on smear campaigns where he lies about people or events. He actively motivates his audience to go out and harass people and thinks it's justified. And he claims to be a Socialist, despite the fact he is very much not. I'll explain that one. Hasan is a Crony Capitalist who profits by selling Marxism to maladjusted people in the world. He is pro war, and he is complacent in Corporatocracy & Corporatism. He lives in a multi million dollar home, with several expensive cars, and frequently travels, probably first class or on private jets. And he makes a killing off the US systems in place, while shitting on our country every single day.

Now some people might say that, "Oh well he donates to charity". Ok and? I'm sure Hitler did too. What's your point. And yes donating to charity is a good thing most of the time but often times it's a waste of money in general because most charities are corrupt and only seek to serve their own self interests.

But it's more than that. He's bad faith. He lies frequently. And he profits off of shitting on the country that made him as wealthy as he is. Despite coming from a pretty well off family in general already. And honestly I think he is one of the biggest PoS in the online game if for not other reason then the fact that he preaches lies, profits, and then uses that money to preach more lies. Marxism is a scourge on the US. And he's only rich because of what's left of capitalism in the West. However, he is pro war, pro intervention, pro big brother government, and can't stop gagging on corporate dong.

And this is proven by the fact that when presented with the idea that people are trying to make their own businesses to get away from ESG and companies that comply with Woke ideals, he said, "Why are they being stupid? It's just higher priced stuff at half the quality." First of all, you don't know that because you've never bought any of it. Second, it's funny that you say that because it feels like you are complacent in child slave labor despite being the type to decry that (only in appearance) and yet do nothing about it. Like a good little socialist. Third, it's also funny to realize he's like, "Oh yeah only big companies that use global child slave labor make things worth anything. Made American? PSSHH Ok because I want to pay 2-3 times the price for half the quality". Which frankly is a pro corporate stance. And also anti small business.

Hasan isn't a Socialist. He's a scam artist selling you something he doesn't really believe in, so he can get rich and make you think he's a better person than he really is. Under all that BS he's still that PoS Frat boy who thinks he's better than everyone else. And frankly it makes my blood boil that he's spreading Marxism in the US while not just clearly not practicing it himself, but also helping the downfall of our nation, while figuratively 'Taking a selfie of himself shitting on the US flag while subsequently being showered with money by self hating Americans'.

And to his fans. Kindly get off your knees and stop sucking him off long enough to realize you are being played. If you want to actually live the life where you make a change go spend an off day at a soup kitchen. Make an ACTUAL difference.

[samooooo1]

(Credit for the Art (@roarinthehotate) noice art)

Nagasumi Eiji x reader

Relationships headcannon

>___]___○•V•○___[___<

•He is a sweet but very introvert boy, it be very hard to get him to confess his feelings to you, yet once its over all the things would be paid off.

•You like his hair very much, so its rare that when the both of you are alone, that you dont play with his hair or style him as you find him very handome.

•The both of you love cats, so when the both of you moved in together, you brought a cat with you and by then on, you a extrovert have adopted 2 introverts into your heart.

•You dearly love your boyfriend, but you cant stand it when he doesnt wash himself every 3 days, same with the cat, so what do you do in this kind of situation? You drag them from their sleeping position and throw them in the bathtub and make sure that he washes himself, after that you get ignored by him for doing this things to him but he just cant stay mad at you, so he forgives you and says to you that he will try to make sure, to bath every 3 days.

•You play with him Video games, mostly Digimon ones as both of you grew up to love the franchise and so the both of you are stil to this day very active fans to the franchise.

•You are the one who works while he is at home and how you like to call it "your malewife", while you are his "girl husband".

•Always when you get back from work, he is mostly done with everything and already has prepared a meal for you, and you love him for being the lover that he is to you.

•The both of you go on dates reguarly, even though he is mostly at home, he has a succesful streaming career and gets good profit out of it.

•Sometimes even you watch his streams during work break, and you just love it, as your coworker ask who you are watching, and then you just answer "my beautiful lover ❤️".

•He is a sweet person if it comes to you, when he first met your parents he was scared that they might not like him or say that you break up with him, but then he realised just how sweet even your parents are to him, well the saying "the apple doesnt fall from his tree to far" was probably the best way to describe your parents, they accepted him into the family but they still are strict and he knows, respects and loves that about your parents, because they remimd him of you, atleast when he didnt bath for some time.

•Your first date would have been very akward at first, you both chosse to do a simple pignick as both of you didnt want something big but rather something simple with lots of love and time between the two of you.

•After some years, even though Eiji would have been the more shyer one between the two of you, he would make a proposal to you, if you want to marry him.

•You offcourse said directly yes and all your friends were invited to you wedding, they all were happies but most importantly both of your families were beyond happy and proud of you, as they all cared for the both of you and seeing you both commit to one another made them so happy :D

•You both offcourse married in a Christian like wedding and after the Bishop blessed the both of you, you and him became 1 in flesh and you kissed and it all was offical (YAAAAYYY)

•Now we dont have to speak about your honeymoon my dear readers, as you and I already know what they be doing on their honeymoon ;)

•After a couple more years (3) you became pregnant and had your first children, they were twins! A boy looking like a mini boy version of you ,the mother and a girl, looking like a mini girl version of her father.

•It is safe to say that the both of you are happy for the rest of your life and may God the Almighty Creator protect you both from any harm that comes in this life til the 2nd comming of the Lord Jesus, God bless you both, Amen.

_____________________

God bless ya all, I wanted to write this for some time after knowing about Digimon Seekers, anyways thanks for the person asking for a request :D I am very grateful for getting any requests :D! Also please be a bit patient as it takes some time for me to develop a idea of how to write one shots, but I hope you all be enjoying these one shots.

Thanks for reading til this part :D!

Have a good day/night!

;)

[annonniiiiieeeee]

so i know you mentioned the bros and usagi and co were going to continue protecting new york and the hidden city and stuff, but i can’t imagine a job like that paying much unless they were working for the police or something. so, if you plan on them having jobs other than that, what are they?

side note: i hc leo and mikey work for hueso for at least a little while, bc we know from that one hidden city ep they would make good(ish) servers

I just answered this a bit. As teenagers Usagi, Gen, and Kitsune work for Hueso. He called Leo in when he needs extra help and Mikey on days when his staff won’t come (mob days) Leo used to come whenever he needed a break from his family or a distraction from his thoughts. Now with his boyfriend and friends working there he basically has a part time job with how much he’s there helping out and hanging out with them.

As adults their jobs differ. Yes saving the city doesn’t pay the bills.

Donnie

a software engineer. He has two companies. One that sells hacking equipment and programs and one that sells security. There always seems to be an update in his hacking software right after there is an update in his security programs. There is just enough space for the people doing truly illegal stuff to get caught but never for the people pirating movies to get caught. Does he monitor his hacking programs to see what people are doing and strategically update the security programs just in time to catch career criminals and billionaire doing illegal things, he’s yes he does. - but most of his time is spent building other tech for his family or third business.

Mikey

a chef. I know I said he would study psychology if he could a while ago but his passion is food. He owns the most popular restaurant in the hidden city. The only thing he doesn’t serve is pizza as he doesn’t want to compete with Hueso.

Raph and Kitsune

They runs a non-profit helping people escape from abusive situations. Raph focuses on helping children while Kitsune helps women. They also have resources for men needing help as they know that men can get abused to and they want to help them as well. All of their siblings are the biggest doners to their project.

Leo

He goes into medicine. I think that splinter made all the boys get their education online so Leo was able to go to college/med school in the hidden city. I think he’d specialize in trauma surgery as it’s the closest to battle field medic. (I still haven’t decided his full path)

He does keep a list of doctors and nurses who are kind and treat patients with respect and dignity. He passes the list along to Raph so that he knows which doctors to request when the people he helps need medical care.

April

She becomes a journalist and is a big part of desegregating the hidden city and New York. Her goal is for her family to one day walk above ground without any fear.

Cassie

Brownie empire. She has a choke hold on the industry. She is playing the long game. Anytime April needs sources or Raph needs donations there is a brownie box showing up at the targets house buttering them up for her family to slip in and do what they need to. She still has her long goal, World Domination. As soon as her family is on board they are running this world. Unfortunately her family is not on board. (I will let you guess which members aren’t down with world domination)

Usagi and Gen

Body guard business. Usagi hates how much crime there is in the hidden city so he starts helping people. He gets a reputation of not being scared of any of the crime bosses. One thing leads to another and boom business. They only take jobs from people doing legal activity. Big Mama is not a fan but also wildly impressed. She’s tried to get them under her employment for years.

They get big enough to have other employees and there is always a shift going at Raph and Kitsune’s non-profit. It is the safest in the city as no one gets through their body guards.

They also teach self defense class and will do free ones at the non-profit. The whole family will join in on those.

Casey

Author. I’ve said it before but I’ll say it again, this boy has the most popular young adult novels out there. He is just writing down that happened in his timeline and people are losing their minds. He did it to keep his memory of them alive. Now he gets fan art of him and Master Leonardo when he was growing up in the mail. He also get letters asking how he could kill cheaters off when they were so beloved by fans. (Raph and Donnie’s deaths caused an uproar. His moms was expected as “all parents are dead in these kinds of stories”) When yokai and humans are finally intermixing a picture of Casey and his family comes out and everyone can tell that the characters in his book are based off of the turtles in his life. They all get some weird mail from that.