#what part of “one minority group talking does not mean less talking for you”???? you can make your own posts

[redysetdare]

Some parts of the aro community have become incredibly hostile towards anyone who is ace in any way and it's disturbing to see.

[olderthannetfic]

"Why I don't write F/F" thread proceeded just as unproductively as I expected. It wasn't about moralizing about the women not writing F/F, it was a question about why personal reasons for avoiding a configuration aren't reflected in opposite directions by other groups. Unlike race, gender has an almost 50/50 split, there's a scale to the proportions not there for other types of identity category. "The femslash police suck" is a factor I can understand. But why wouldn't "personal reasons I just don't feel it towards this configuration" end up an even distribution across the population? The expectation for women to write about women isn't a moral rule, it's that if you allow the logic "men in control of stories write about men (and that's why more mainstream stories center men)", then the flip side is, well, why people clamor for more women behind the camera and in the writers' room. Either accept the logic for both sides or challenge it for both sides. Instead we have the worst of both worlds, we accept it for one side and challenge it for the other. Where's the parallel universe where this imbalance somehow resulted in a different quadrant being the smallest proportion of ships?

--

Why wouldn't "personal reasons" be even? Because the kinds of issues people face based on their demographic aren't.

But I think the larger factor is how socialization affects choice of hobbies and volunteer efforts. Cis men and cis women, on average, go in for different flavors. The dudes tend to be more bothered by the idea of "not getting anything back" for what feels like work. When they do do unpaid labor, it's often the kind that accrues glory and career prospects rather than less showy social ties. Open source coding projects where they can be important, yes. Writing fanfic, no.

Looking up any analysis of volunteering and unpaid work that makes such-and-such a part of society function will get you a lot of discussion of this gendered difference. It's pervasive.

Of course, this is just a broad trend. Plenty of guys do write fanfic, and when they dominate a fanfic space, we see tons of fic focused on the female characters they find attractive, including f/f fic.

And if you're asking about cis gay men specifically... well... again, gendered socialization means that the issues faced by cis lesbians and cis gay men are not equivalent. The reasons and ways that people employ allegory to talk about things "too close to home" will likewise not be exactly the same. Traditional US gay male culture goes in for drag and for an obsession with Hollywood divas and The Golden Girls. Plenty is being mediated through female personas; it's just not translating into fanfic specifically. But most people making "Leave the fujoshi alone" arguments are not thinking about cis gays: they're thinking about people in messier identity categories.

The biggest difference is not behavior but simply that cis men are a small minority on FFN, AO3, and Wattpad, the three big fanfic archives. (Some ancient FFN research found that it was 78% female, and that's the archive known for having more men!) The places with more cis guys are much smaller and don't get talked about as much by most fandom history and fandom meta types from the AO3 side of things.

The reason cis men's taste in favorite characters isn't being "pushed back against" isn't a double standard: it's because:

Cis men simply aren't that relevant to site-wide trends on AO3

and

2. The reverse pattern does happen all the time with vanishingly little m/m and lots of f/f

You sound like you think we'd make this fanfic-specific argument about pro media. In fact, plenty of queer women are open that they produce original f/f but not f/f fanfic or they produce f/f fanworks but not fic. A lot of the "too close to home" arguments are specifically about the kind of id fuel, naked-in-public vibes of AO3-style fanfic. Writing that is less id-driven may not feel that same way. A given woman might have a much easier time writing a mystery novel about a lesbian detective who never gets laid on page than a steamy f/f bodice ripper.

The parallel universe you ask about exists. It's horny imageboards full of fan art of anime girls.

The reason you sound judgmental and are getting "unproductive" responses is that you're phrasing things as though we're refusing to solve a problem. In reality, we're attempting to analyze the situation that exists. It's a descriptive approach.

[ghostkennedy]

I need a part 2 for Dinner and a Show!! 💗 Mean Leon >>>>>>

Encore

Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader x Chris Redfield

PART ONE

Word count: 2646

Content warnings: sex toy, public sex, mean leon, switch leon, begging, teasing, unaware third participant, third person joining in, public orgasm, dominant chris, degrading, praise, bisexual men, bisexual awakening, chreon action, threesome, blowjob, oral (male receiving), male giving blowjob, p in v sex, unprotected sex, hair pulling, overstimulation, the men kiss each other, eiffel tower

This story heavily contains male on male content. Bon appetit my loves.

!!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! THIS BLOG AND POST ARE 18+ ONLY!!!!!!!

You gripped Leon’s arm tightly, pulling his attention away from the group he’s currently speaking with.

“Yes?” He speaks quietly, only loud enough for you to hear. 

You lean your head into his shoulder, your mouth just inches from his ear. “Can I speak to you in private?” His face is pressed against yours and you feel him smirk at your question. A few seconds passed without a response from him. “Please.”

“What do you need to talk to me about?”

“Please,” you plead with him softly. 

He finally nods his head and excuses you two from the group. Both of your arms are wrapped around his right arm, your hands cradling his hand between them. 

He walks slowly, smiling and waving at various people. You tighten your grip on him, urging him to hurry up, but he ignores it. 

A few painstakingly long minutes later and he finally pulls you into a secluded hallway just off of the party. You press your face deep into his chest and let out a pitiful whimper into his suit jacket. He reaches out his hand, cupping your chin and pulling your gaze up to meet his.

“Is something the matter, baby?” He feigns innocence with his cooing tone. You look up at him and give your best death glare.

“Turn it off,” your voice is serious, hoping you can convey the urgency with your statement.

He laughs meanly. “Why would I do that?”

“I don’t care that it’s on the lowest setting, Leon. It’s uncomfortable. I can’t stand it any longer. Just please. Please help me.” You're begging him at this point, but you have no other options. You can’t focus, you can’t stand still. You can feel the constant gentle vibrations throughout your whole body. It’s nauseating. It’s downright cruel at this point.

Leon hums in response as he finally pulls the remote out of his pocket.

“The lowest setting isn’t working for you? Here, maybe this will help.”

You throw your head back as your legs threaten to give out beneath you. The vibrations kick up and send all of your nerves into a frenzy. He chuckles as you rock your hips, unsure of what you’re looking for. More friction or less. Any relief.

“Hey, you two alright?” A deep voice calls out from deeper down the hallway as footsteps approach. Leon’s gaze shoots towards the voice, smiling casually.

“Yeah, we’re perfect.” Leon assures him.

As he gets closer and you shift your focus to the figure. Realization dawns on you as you recognize the man. It could’ve been anybody, there’s hundreds of people at this damn party. But of course it’s Chris fucking Redfield. The man you bring up to tease Leon. Years ago you had a small schoolgirl crush on him and for some reason you confided in Leon about it. Crucial mistake, but you take your power back by teasing Leon right back.

You silently beg whatever higher power may be listening to get Chris out of this fucking hallway. But nobody must be listening because now Chris stands just a few feet away from you two.

“Now that I think about it, can you help me with something Chris?” Leon runs his thumb across the remote still in his hand. “I’m trying to figure out how to work this remote, but I’m not sure if it’s even working at all.” 

Leon hands the remote to Chris as you shoot a terrified look his way. The remote is officially out of his control and in a clueless Chris’ hands.

“What does it even go to?” Chris looks at the little remote puzzled. It’s a tiny thing, with a power button and then two buttons that look similar to volume keys. He gazes up at Leon who just shrugs in response.

Chris holds down one of the buttons and the vibrations stop completely. You let out a sigh of relief as you try to steady your heart beat again. 

“Does the other button do anything?”

Your eyes widen at Leon’s prompting, obviously trying to get Chris to turn the vibrations back on.

Before you can stop him, your eyes are rolling into the back of your head and your knees give out. You collapse against Leon’s chest, unable to hold yourself up. You’re panting heavily as you grip Leon’s shirt again.

“What the fuck is this?” Chris looks between the two of you and the remote. His face scrunched up in confusion.

You’re unable to hold back a long whine from escaping your mouth. Leon tries to hold you steady, but you go limp as pleasure courses through you. You fall to your knees, pulling Leon down with you.

Chris must finally catch up with what’s happening. “Leon, what the fuck?” He spits out angrily before holding down the other button completely turning the vibrator down again.

You whimper as you’re pulled back from the edge. You were so close and now you’re unable to think clearly. You reach out for Chris’ arm and grip pathetically.

“Please.” You repeat the word over and over, begging him to turn it back on, to give you what Leon’s been denying you.

Chris stares into your watery eyes, trying to process what you’re asking him. He holds the button, turning the vibrations up to the max.

You throw your head back and pant, “Yes, oh my god, yes. I’m gonna, fuck I’m gonna fucking come. Oh god, oh fuck, yes, yes, I’m coming. I’m coming.” 

Your body trembles as the waves of your climax crash through you.

One of your hands is still clinging to Chris’ arm while the other clings to Leon’s shirt. Your arms are shaking but your hands are locked tight. You begin to whine as overstimulation sets in, almost curling in on yourself at the sensations.

Leon taunts you, “You were begging me to turn it off a few minutes ago, then you begged him to turn it back on, and now you want it off again? Make up your mind, would you?”

Tears start flowing from your eyes and you look up at Chris who mumbles a curse and shuts the toy off again. With the vibrations finally stopping, you take deep breaths and finally start to relax your aching muscles.

Chris scowls down at you, “Get up, now. Both of you.”

Leon stands and holds a hand out to help you up, but Chris swats it away, offering up his hands for you instead. He pulls you up on your shaky legs, smoothing your hair before intertwining your fingers with his.

He reaches out and grabs Leon’s hand with his spare one, pulling both of you after him.

You reach the end of the hallway, Chris looking around to ensure no one sees you three before opening the door and rushing both of you inside. You enter the room and stand by Leon as Chris shuts the door behind him and leans against it.

You look at the floor, shame causing your skin to heat up.

“Look at me.” Chris speaks firmly, leaving no room for argument. You slowly raise your head up to meet his gaze as he looks between you and Leon. “You both think you’re so clever? Not taking the party I’m hosting seriously. This is a work event, but I doubt either of you need that reminder.”

You slowly shake your head. “I’m sorry, Chris. It wasn’t my intention to disrespect you.”

He sighs. “What am I going to do with you?” He crosses his arms. His stare is so intense it has you avoiding meeting his eyes again. “Strip.”

Your eyes dart back to him, but you’re not the one to speak.

“Wait, what? What are you doing, Chris?” Leon questions disbelievingly, not sure if he heard that right.

Chris chuckles at him. “You too, pretty boy. Both of you naked and on your knees. Now.”

You look over at Leon who once again is just shrugging in response, undoing the button on his suit jacket and pulling it off.

“Um, can someone unzip me?” You ask shyly, giving your back to them. Chris is immediately behind you, fiddling with the zipper on your dress.

In less than a minute, you and Leon are stripped completely bare and on your knees in front of Chris. He stares down at you two, an amused look on his face. 

He undoes the buckle on his belt before slowly pulling it off completely. The movement pulls your attention down to his groin for the first time and you see his cock straining in his pants. Based on the bulge at eye level with you, you can already tell he’s massive.

You glance over at Leon and see him holding a stare with Chris.

“Take my dick out.” Chris demands. Leon turns to look at you, but Chris reaches out and turns his face back towards him. “I was talking to you.”

Leon’s Adam's apple bobs as he swallows nervously. You can’t do anything besides stare as Leon leans forward and reaches his hand into Chris’ pants. You whimper at the sight and Chris looks over at you with a devilish smirk. 

“You like that, do you? You want to see your husband play with my cock?”

You nod immediately.

Leon looks in your direction, confusion lacing his stare. He hadn’t anticipated anything like this happening. He thought he’d embarrass you and Chris would be disgusted, maybe never speaking to you again. What could shut you up more than that? If you ever mentioned Chris again, he’d just laugh and know he wouldn’t come near either of you by his own free will.

But now you’re both on your knees for him and Leon isn’t ready to acknowledge how fucking hard he is right now. He turns back to Chris, biting his lip as he pulls his cock out of his trousers. You both stare at his now exposed cock amazed. He’s so thick, the definition of a fat cock. Your mind wanders as you think about how much you’d like to suck it. And secretly, Leon fantasizes about how much he wants to as well. 

Everyone in the room is on the same wavelength apparently.

“Now who’s going to be the first to suck my cock? And don’t worry. Everyone will get their turn, but perhaps my volunteer will be on my good side tonight.”

Without hesitation, you crawl forward until your mouth is right in front of his cock. You look up at him with wide eyes and he nods at you approvingly.

You poke your tongue out of your mouth, flicking the tip of it along the head of his cock. His hand reaches out and grabs a fistfull of your hair, guiding you until your mouth is wrapped around his tip.

“There you go. Being such a good girl for me. Show him how to suck my cock.”

You whimper around his length, taking it deeper into your mouth. As you pull your head back, Leon can see how you’ve coated his dick in saliva. He’s transfixed, lost in a daze as he watches.

You swirl your tongue around Chris’ shaft and his head falls back as he groans loudly. His head snaps back up and he gently pulls your head from his length.

“I’m gonna give your husband a taste now, okay?”

You nod enthusiastically, scooting over to make room for Leon. Leon slowly moves himself until he’s positioned before Chris’ dick. You can see how nervous he is and reach your hand out, holding his gently and caressing it reassuringly.

“You know how you like it, right? Just replicate that. He’ll teach you what he likes.” You smile at him and he smiles back, nodding his head.

He takes a deep breath before leaning forward, wrapping his wet lips around Chris’ tip. He starts to bob his head as he takes his cock deeper into his mouth. 

“That’s it. Good boy.” Chris praises Leon causing him to whimper pathetically as he stares up into Chris’ eyes. “You suck dick like a professional.”

Now it’s you lost in a daze, your core throbbing and leaking your arousal as you watch the two of them. Leon’s movements are more enthusiastic as he becomes more and more comfortable. Chris’ fingers are tangled in his hair, guiding him until his cock is in the back of his throat.

Leon fights back tears as he tries not to gag, but they break past his lash line.

You can’t hold yourself back anymore. You nuzzle yourself next to Leon, bringing your mouth to Chris’ balls as you suck them into your mouth.

“Oh fuck, look at the two of you. So fucking desperate.”

Leon pulls off his cock and sucks on Chris’ balls as you take his length into your mouth, alternating back and forth.

Chris backs away from the two of you, leaving you both staring up at him as drool coats your chins.

Chris points at you, “You on your hands and knees.” Then he turns to Leon, “And you fuck her mouth while I take her from behind.”

Leon’s instantly shooting up off the floor and hurrying over to the bed and you follow after him, barely able to keep up. Leon positions himself on his knees as you crawl up to him. Chris positions himself behind you as Leon starts thrusting into your mouth.

Chris lets out a laugh behind you. “Almost forgot.” He reaches inside of you and pulls out the idle vibrator. “Clean this up for me, will you?” 

Chris shoves the toy in Leon’s face and forces it between his lips. Leon whines as he sucks your juices off the toy, continuing to fuck your mouth at a punishing pace.

You feel Chris line up with your hole and it takes all of your power to not push yourself back into him. Thankfully, you didn’t have to find inner will power for long as Chris suddenly thrusts all the way into you.

Your mind goes numb as Leon fucks your face and Chris fucks you from behind. You’re so full and it feels so fucking good.

Leon and Chris stare at each other as they fuck you from either side. Chris grabs the back of Leon’s head and presses his forehead into his. They stay like that, breathing in each other’s air as they fuck you faster and harder. 

You’re fast approaching your high, Chris hitting that sweet spot inside of you that has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Leon’s close too, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he continues to stare at Chris.

Suddenly, Chris brings Leon’s mouth to his own, locking him into a searing kiss. That’s all it takes for Leon to begin shooting his load down your throat. The taste of Leon sending your orgasm crashing through your body and the clenching of your walls sends Chris over the edge as well.

Leon slowly pulls himself out of your mouth before collapsing on the bed. Chris pulls himself out of your spent pussy and you follow after Leon, throwing yourself on his chest.

You both lay there holding each other, trying to catch your breath.

A throat clears from the foot of the bed and you both look up, seeing Chris standing there fully dressed as if nothing just happened.

“You’re mine now. I’ll be in touch.” And then Chris is out the door, turning the lock before shutting it behind him. You and Leon look at each other exasperated. Did that really just happen?

Neither of you speak as you pull your clothes back on and fix your appearances.

As you begin walking towards the door, Leon grabs you by the arm and pulls you into his chest. His lips lock onto yours and you sloppily make out with him. 

Yeah. That really just happened.

~masterlist~

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I confront my friend while she’s at work?

I’ve (18M) had this friend (25NB), who I’ll call Kat, I’ve been close to for a while now, and we’re both part of a friend group that means a lot to me. We all enjoy doing stuff like roleplaying and writing together, and these kind of activities are super enjoyable and make me feel closer to the others.

In fact, we all have our own separate worlds that mean a lot to us. Most of us aspire to be writers one day and publish our worlds and stories, and I want to do that too.

But, the issues arise whenever I try to post anything about my world or roleplay in it. While one friend (Jake, 20M) has always been invested in this world whenever I talk about it. But, the others, Kat in particular, never seem interested. Whenever we do stuff that involves all of our worlds, mine is always the last to be considered. Kat goes out of their way to involve hers and the rest’s, but blatantly didn’t care about involving mine. There have been times where I try to get them involved in my world, and Kat’s always been cold whenever I do, or refuses to take it seriously.

I’ve tried to talk to him about this in the past. They’ve apologized, yes, but their actual behavior regarding it hasn’t changed. For the most part, I’ve tried not to be upset, not everyone’s ocs and world is for everyone, but it’s really affects how I view my art.

But, recently, it’s beginning to boil over. They went on a trip with the friend group (I couldn’t go, since I was a minor) and they came back… changed. He had gotten in a relationship with another friend in the group, and while it might be the honeymoon period, they’ve been acting worse ever since.

She’s been angrier and more confrontational. At one point, she verbally attacked Jake while he was at work, on behalf of her new partner. But, their partner wasn’t even upset. This caused Jake a lot of undue stress and pressure. The playful ribbing between Kat and the rest of us has turned less playful and more insulting, and it’s making me question whether or not I still want to be friends with them.

But, where I may be the asshole is in that I want to contact Kat, while she is at work, school to talk to her about all of my issues regarding past and recent behavior. The main reasons I’m questioning is because

It may just be the honeymoon period. It really does change who you are and how you act for a few months. It doesn’t excuse it, but it does explain it, and maybe I should just wait it out for things to go back to normal.

I’m contacting her specifically when she is busy and might cause her more stress. But I want to do it because she’s never respected our time in the past, and it may be the only way to get through to her.

Things have been rough for her at home. I won’t get into it, but it may definitely affect the way she’s been acting.

So, wibta?

What are these acronyms?

[ao719]

Vancross

Vancross - One Step Forward, Two Steps To Hell (Chapter 20)

Most of the characters belong to Pixelberry.

Summary: A group of friends embark on their final year at Vancross Institute with the hopes of making it their best year yet. When a new face with a complicated family plagued by secrets and rumors arrives on campus, new friendships are formed, a new relationship blossoms, and threatening challenges arise.  

Title inspiration: The End - Thomas Day

Main Pairing: Liam x F!OC

A/N: Multiple crossover series. There will be random sprinkles of canon throughout this story, but for the most part, it’s pretty much out the window. Not beta’d. Please excuse any errors.

Rating: M • Warnings: This series will contain nsfw material, language, some alcohol and drug use, and is not suitable for minors. If you read, you acknowledge you are 18+

Catch up here

Liam stared at Trystan, and he swore his heart momentarily stopped beating as he took in his tense demeanor and the look of dismay in his expression. 

“Liam,” Trystan nodded.

“Hi …” Liam stepped aside to allow him in, and Blaine and Alia stood from the sofa when they saw him, both their bodies tensing. When Liam shut the door, he turned to face him as the other two approached. He was afraid to ask, not knowing what he was going to say, but he forced the words out. “Did you hear anything?”

Trystan nodded. “I, uh …” He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I think we should sit,” he said as he gestured to the sofa.

Liam stared at him warily for a moment before the four of them walked to the sofa and sat down. He continued to eye Trystan, watching as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs and clasping his hands together. He remained silent for a few moments; despite taking the entire flight from New York to mull over how to approach this conversation, his words seemed to fail him at that moment. 

“Trystan …” Liam broke the silence as he continued to stare at him. “What is it?”

“It’s … it’s not good news,” Trystan cautiously replied.

Liam felt his chest tighten. “What do you mean? Is Croía alright?”

“From what I know, she is … as ok as can be expected.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Liam snapped. 

“Liam,” Blaine admonished as he looked at him. 

“I’m sorry, I just—” Liam let out a breath, looking back at Trystan with pleading eyes. “Who did you talk to?”

“I got in touch with Jonas first,” Trystan said. “And I found out that he was fired.”  

“What?” Blaine’s brows furrowed. “Why?” 

“Because when Croía landed in Drakovia on the Cordonian royal family’s private jet, it became obvious where she’d been,” Trystan replied. “Jonas never informed them of where she was … per my instruction. They fired him less than an hour after they arrived and he was escorted from the grounds. He didn’t call to tell me himself because he thought Croía would have told me.”

“What did he say about Croía?” Liam asked, feeling his palms begin to sweat.

“Nothing,” Trystan answered. “He hadn’t seen her since he was let go. So I reached out to Everett, another guard that I was close with and who I kept in touch with now and then …” Trystan inhaled a deep breath and slowly let it out as he met Liam’s gaze. “Wednesday morning, my mother instructed Lydea to assemble a few of her guards — Everett was one of them — and they were sent here to collect Croía’s belongings.”

“Wednesday … that was the last day Alia and I heard from her,” Liam said. “She hadn’t seen your parents since she’d arrived, but sent a message to tell me that she was having dinner with them that night and that she’d call me later to tell me how it went, but … I didn’t hear from her after that.”

Trystan nodded. “While they were having dinner, my mother sent guards to her room to have it searched … knowing she wouldn’t dare bring them with her to dinner, she had both of Croía’s phones confiscated, which is why no one’s been able to get a hold of her.”

“Both?” Alia questioned. “How did she find out about the other … the one for you? And does she know that’s what it’s for?”

“I don’t know,” Trystan answered. “She might know … or it was just found alongside the other so they took both.” 

“But why take the phones?” Blaine asked. 

“Because they don’t want her to have contact with anyone on the outside,” Trystan replied, looking at Liam again; he knew he was probably at the top of that list. “Croía … when she agreed to have dinner with them that night, knowing her, she was probably thinking — hoping — that they were just finally making time to see her, but she unknowingly walked right into a trap. And my mother … she has no intention of letting her come back here.” 

“Why?” Blaine questioned as he glanced at Liam, watching his jaw tick. 

Trystan chewed the inside of his cheek; there was no easy way to say what he needed to. “She’s planning to force Croía into an arranged marriage.” 

“What?” Liam’s brows rose in surprise. “To who?” 

“I don’t know,” Trystan shook his head. “According to Everett, this has been in the works. There’s been a ball planned for weeks now. I’m assuming she was planning to somehow get Croía home at some point, but then she chose to visit …” 

“Why the hell wouldn’t this Everett guy tell you any of this before now?” Liam asked. “You said you kept in contact with him. He didn’t think to reach out and fucking tell you about what they were planning?”

“Because number one, Everett didn’t even know Croía and I still talked. No one there does, and it’s always been that way for her protection,” Trystan explained. “Jonas didn’t even know until I told him after I learned he was going to be her charge while she attended Vancross. Number two, there’s probably only a select few who knew the true reason for this ball and I can guarantee Everett wasn’t one of them. He found out its purpose after they returned from getting Croía’s stuff because they had a guards meeting that evening to go over the preliminary security measures for the night of the ball, and it was mentioned then by Lydea because she had to explain the sheer importance of why no one could afford to fuck up.”

“I don’t understand,” Alia said, shaking her head as her eyes flickered between Liam and Trystan. “Why? Why are they arranging a marriage?” 

Trystan met Liam’s gaze again, knowing he’d understand the weight of what he was about to say better than anyone. “Because they have officially named Croía my father’s successor. She’s now Crown Princess … and the future Queen of Drakovia. I’m guessing, like most kingdoms steeped in tradition, they want her engaged or married before she takes the throne.” 

Liam furrowed his brows as he let out a sharp breath, trying and failing to wrap his mind around what was just said. Croía was being married off … because she was going to be Queen. 

“That makes no fucking sense,” Alia spat. “Your parents, especially your mother, have done nothing but treat Croía like garbage and make her feel incapable and less than her entire damn life, so why the hell would they want her to take the throne?”

Blaine looked at her; it was very rare to see Alia snap or even raise her voice, but this news about Croía — who had become one of her closest friends — had struck a deep nerve. 

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Trystan said. “I’m waiting for a call back from Everett. He’s trying to gather whatever intel for me he can, but he needs to be extremely careful. I’m hoping to hear from him soon. I know that none of this is much to go on, but I knew you were waiting for some kind of explanation and I didn’t want to tell you any of this over the phone … which is why I came.” 

“What …” Liam trailed off, throwing his arms up in frustration and worry. “What the fuck are we supposed to do? We can’t just leave her there and let them do this to her!”

“I have no intention of letting them do anything,” Trystan stated as he looked at Liam, determination filling his eyes. “I’m going to get her out.” 

“How?” Blaine asked.

“I don’t know yet,” Trystan answered honestly. “I need to wait and see what Everett can tell me … and I’ll go from there. What I do know is that I made a promise to Croía years ago that I would never let them force her into an arrangement like this, and I have no intention of breaking that promise.”

“I’ll help,” Liam said matter-of-factly. 

“No,” Trystan shook his head adamantly. “I am not asking you—”

“You’re not asking me anything,” Liam interrupted. 

Trystan sighed. “Liam, you can’t—”

“You can’t expect me to sit here on my ass and do nothing while she’s fucking trapped there,” Liam spat, his tone sharp and cold. “And I wasn’t asking because I sure as fuck don’t need your permission. I’ll do something to try and get her out with or without you.”

Blaine and Alia shared a glance before looking back at Trystan. “We want to help, too.” 

Trystan stared at them. He didn’t want to get Liam any more mixed up with his family than he already was, and getting Croía out of Drakovia was going to be no easy feat. He also knew, however, how Liam felt about his sister, how protective he’d come to be of her, and that he would do anything to get her out of this situation and back with him; that went for Blaine and Alia as well, who Croía had become close with. He didn’t doubt that if he refused to allow them to be a part of this in some way, they would go rogue and try to do something on their own, and with their worry and emotional investment, it would be something foolish and impulsive … something that could end up doing them and Croía more harm than good. 

There were things neither Liam nor Croía knew, things discovered during the investigation he was doing with the Cordonian monarchs. Had he known Croía was planning on going home, he would have tried to warn her without jeopardizing their plans, but he didn’t know, not until she called him from the Drakovian airport … and he didn’t answer the phone because he was busy. She left him a message to let him know. By the time he’d gotten the message, it was too late. He never got the chance to warn her, and the guilt he was feeling at that moment as he looked into Liam’s pleading gaze was insurmountable; he couldn’t help but feel responsible. 

In trying to shield them both from the truth until they had all the answers, they had unwittingly let Croía walk blindly into the snake’s nest. Trystan couldn’t tell Liam the truth behind his parents’ backs, just as they didn’t tell Croía behind his, but he couldn’t — wouldn’t — let him or her other friends walk into a trap of their own, either. 

“Fine,” Trystan reluctantly agreed. “But however we do this, we do it my way. And that’s not up for debate. And Mags and Cameron can’t know anything about this …” He sighed. “They’ll try to stop me, or worse, offer to help and put themselves at risk.”

“I won’t be telling my parents, either,” Liam said.

“Did you tell them about not being able to get in contact with her?” Trystan asked.

“No,” Liam shook his head. “I didn’t say a word before I left. As far as they’re aware, we’ve all arrived back here.” 

Trystan didn’t want to keep anything from Constantine and Eleanor, having gained their trust, but Liam was determined to help him, and keeping it to himself was the only way to ensure the prince didn’t go rogue behind everyone’s backs. “Very well,” he nodded. Just then, his phone rang; he quickly pulled it from his pocket and looked at the screen, glancing up at the others a heartbeat later. “It’s Everett.” 

Liam watched anxiously when Trystan answered the call. 

“Hey,” Trystan greeted him. “Where are you?” He paused, listening for a moment as he glanced up, seeing a knowing, worried look in Liam’s eyes as he stared at him. “Have you seen Croía at all?”

Liam held his gaze, watching him as he listened. When Trystan nodded and mouthed that she was ok, he let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. 

“No, don’t relay any messages to her. I don’t want to risk anything and I don’t want to give her false hope either. Just … keep as close of an eye on her as you can without drawing suspicion to yourself,” Trystan said. “What were you able to find out?” Several moments of silence passed before his head snapped up as his body straightened. “What did you hear?” Liam watched Trystan’s brow furrow as he listened to Everett; his eyes shifted in different directions as if he were taking in the information being given to him on the other end of the phone and piecing a puzzle together. “Are you sure that’s what was said?” He closed his eyes with a sigh when he was answered. “Ok. If you find anything else out, give me a call, but I’ll be in touch.” 

When Trystan ended the call, the other three sat forward. “Well?” Alia asked. 

“He hasn’t found anything … not yet, anyway, but he’s going to keep looking and listening for anything that may help,” Trystan explained. “But he did overhear something that makes me believe there was never any intention of Croía choosing a suitor at this ball. I think my mother plans to choose for her …” 

Alia’s brow furrowed. “What makes you think that?”

“A lot of the reason why she treats Croía the way she does is because she sees her as too naive and not cunning enough, not willing to do what it takes for the sake of not our country’s crown but our family’s crown,” Trystan explained. “She’s seen as too meek. Too empathetic. Too compassionate.”  

“So why choose Croía as their heir at all?” Liam asked.

“Well,” Trystan sighed. “I’m exiled. Lydea gave up her position in the line of succession to run the Royal Guard. Kaspar and Emika enjoy theft and torture too much to even be considered fit to rule. And it would complicate Astrid’s dating and sex life too much for her liking.”

“You still have three other siblings,” Blaine scoffed.

“And they’re—”

“Illegitimate,” Alia interjected.

Trystan nodded. “Vasili, Sebastyan, and Marguerite are my father’s children with his mistress; they have no legal claim to the throne. Which only leaves Croía.”

“Go back to your mother choosing for her,” Liam said. “What do you mean?”

“I think my mother is going to try to put someone on the throne who’s going to do her bidding once my father steps down next year … once she no longer holds her position of power.” 

“How would they do her bidding?” Blaine asked. “I’m no royal, but wouldn’t whoever Croía potentially marries merely be a consort or whatever and therefore not have any real power?”

“Normally, yes,” Alia answered. “When a female in a royal bloodline marries, her husband is not allowed to take the male form of her title because they would essentially outrank her.” 

“But they can get around it if granted the Crown Matrimonial,” Trystan said. 

“What the hell is that?” Liam questioned.

“Everett said he overheard Lydea speaking to my mother in passing and that he heard something about a Crown Matrimonial mentioned. I asked if he was certain that’s what he heard, and he was absolutely sure. When he said it, it clicked … it all makes sense …”

“What is it?” Liam repeated. “And what makes sense?”

“If offered as part of a marriage agreement, the Crown Matrimonial would grant the betrothed the power to co-reign equally as King, not consort.” Trystan shook his head. “If that’s what they’re planning … whoever is chosen will be a legal co-sovereign of Drakovia alongside Croía … which would give them the same power in making decisions as her and, as King, they’d technically outrank her, so there wouldn’t be much she could do to argue their decisions even though it would be her throne by right. And it makes sense because they know Croía wouldn’t rule as they have … but they’ll have someone there that will …” 

“Why the hell would they give someone that much power over their throne … over their heir?” Liam asked. 

“The only way it would be offered is if there was a guarantee of it being of use to them,” Trystan replied. “They’re not just going to agree to hand over their throne to an outsider — people they typically despise — without getting something in return. Something big.” 

And because of what they uncovered from the investigation, Trystan had an idea of what that something pertained to. 

“Why step down at all then?” Alia questioned. “What’s the point?”

“All Drakovian monarchs have to step down at the age of 65, which he’ll be next year,” Trystan explained. “Some old King claimed that stepping down at that age would prevent Drakovia ever being weakened by a monarch past their prime. For some reason, no one’s ever thought to challenge that tradition.” 

“If they’re so willing to give an ‘outsider’ that much power, why not just put one of the other three on the throne?” Blaine asked. “I understand they’re considered illegitimate, but your father’s bloodline would still remain, right?”

“Yes, but my mother would never agree to that because she wants one of her children on the throne so her bloodline is there as well,” Trystan answered before looking at Liam. “Croía would ensure that for her.” 

Liam’s jaw tensed as he swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat over the implication of Croía being used or, worse, forced to carry on that bloodline. Over his dead body would he allow that to happen. He cleared his throat and let out a breath. “So what are we going to do? What’s the plan?” 

Trystan thought for a moment, searching his muddled mind for the best path forward based on the little information he had. “I think our best bet is the ball,” he finally said. “It’ll be crowded with other guests and is our best option for getting her out less noticeably.”

“When is the ball?” Liam asked.

“A month.”

“A month?” Liam repeated incredulously. “We can’t leave her there that fucking long!” 

“We don’t have a damn choice,” Trystan retorted. “I don’t want her staying there any more than you do, but we have to play this carefully and meticulously for it to work. And this will give us time to plan because we have to have a plan going in.”

Liam sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger as his other hand balled into a fist. It’s not as if he had much of a choice but to go along with it, but to have to wait a month wasn’t going to be easy. He was already hanging off the edge. 

“Li, he’s right,” Blaine said. “We have to go into this with a full-fledged plan, not only for our sake but Croía’s.” 

“I know,” Liam grumbled. 

“I’ll let Everett know so he can get us whatever information we’ll need and can use leading up to the ball,” Trystan said. “For now … I have a few days before I’m expected back in New York, so we can work with what we know and start to try and formulate something …”

****

A few hours later, the four of them sat in the living room with boxes of pizza stacked on the coffee table in front of them; Blaine and Alia had offered to go grab something for them to eat while Trystan talked to Liam. 

Trystan tried to lessen Liam’s qualms about Croía’s situation; Liam listened and simply nodded at all of his attempts to do so, but he knew nothing he said was going to be of any help. He could tell the young prince was trying to mask his worry and stress as best as he could, and while he saw right through it, he didn’t push him to voice any of it. 

Once Blaine and Alia returned, Trystan reached out to Everett to let him know of their intended plan; the guard offered to help in any way that he could and promised to find out as much as he could about anything pertaining to the ball. Trystan also reached out to Jonas; he knew he’d be more than willing to help. 

“So, I take it that this isn’t a ball we’re going to be able to waltz right into?” Blaine said before taking a bite of pizza. 

“No,” Trystan laughed wryly. “Security is tight on a regular day. It’ll be extra tight that night.” 

A knock on the door paused their conversation; Liam stood from the sofa to answer it while Blaine and Alia shared a glance and subtle, conspiratorial smiles.

When Liam opened the door, his brow furrowed when he saw Olivia, Rashad, Simon, Kennedy, Tatum, Dionne, Peter, Zaira, Evelyn, Alexei, and Henri all on the other side. “Hey,” he greeted them as he stepped aside to let them all in; they filed in one by one. He shut the door and turned to see them all facing the living area; he stepped into their line of vision, looking at them questioningly. “What are you all doing here?” 

“Blaine and Alia called a little group meeting on their way to get your pizza, so we all met at mine and Kennedy’s suite,” Dionne answered. “They told us what was going on with Croía.”

“They said you’re planning to get her out of there,” Peter added. 

“And we want to help,” Kennedy said. “In any way that we can.” Tatum tipped his head to Liam in agreement as he placed a hand on her shoulder. 

Trystan stood from the sofa and came to stand beside Liam, who let out a quiet breath as he looked at each of his friends. “I appreciate that, really, but … no. It’s not a good idea. You don’t need to get mixed up in whatever this is.” 

“Well, thankfully, you don’t get a say,” Olivia scoffed, and he shot her a look. “You can give me that look all you want, but it’s not going to change my mind or anyone else’s. We’re helping.”

Rashad crossed his arms over his chest. “Whether you like it or not.”

Liam shook his head. “You guys—”

“Croía is our friend too,” Zaira interrupted, and Evelyn nodded her agreement beside her. 

“What she said,” Alexei subtly smiled as Henri nodded behind him. 

“So, tell us what we need to do to get our girl back,” Simon said. 

Liam stared at all of them for a moment; their expressions didn’t falter, silently telling him in no uncertain terms that they were not backing down. He then glanced over his shoulder at Blaine and Alia, and they both shrugged innocently; the amount of pizza they returned with, which was far more than enough for just the four of them, now made sense. Finally, he looked at Trystan beside him; Liam had agreed to do this his way, so this decision rested with him. 

Trystan looked over the group in front of him and after a few long moments, he subtly nodded, giving his approval. 

Liam looked back at his friends. “We don’t have anything planned yet, we’re just … going over some details.” 

“Fill us in,” Simon said as he clapped Liam’s shoulder before heading toward the living area, followed by the others. 

Liam and Trystan both turned, watching them all get situated on the large sectional, reaching for slices of pizza. When Liam looked over at Trystan again, his brow knit at seeing the corner of his eye glisten. “You ok?”

“This is all she ever wanted,” Trystan quietly replied, gesturing toward the group as he looked at Liam. “When Croía came here to Vancross … the one thing she wanted more than anything was to just make some friends.” He glanced back to the group, watching them all for a moment. “She found a lot more than that …” 

*******

Stepping outside from where his last class of the day was held, Liam started toward his building; he weaved his way through the crowd of other students before his steps quickened once through the thick of it. 

It had been two weeks since they returned to campus, two weeks since Trystan had shown up outside his door to tell him what was happening with Croía and why nobody had heard from her … two weeks since they decided to work together to get her back. 

Liam stepped inside his building and opted for the stairs, bounding up them two at a time as he held his heavy backpack in place over his shoulders. Once at the top floor, he turned down the hall toward his suite; he opened the door and stepped inside, met by the chatter from the others who were there. 

Their suite had become the makeshift headquarters of their covert operation. 

“Have fun today?” Trystan asked.

“As much fun as classes can be,” Liam replied.

“And do you have any homework?” another voice sounded playfully, earning a snort from Trystan. 

Liam glanced over, giving his brother a look at his question, which was nothing more than a joking attempt to “parent” him. 

A few days after arriving at Vancross to tell Liam what he knew, Trystan headed back to New York; he returned just a few days later with Leo in tow. They’d been there ever since. 

Trystan had reached out to Leo himself to ask if he’d be willing to help with the undertaking of getting Croía out of Drakovia; he trusted him, but more than that, he knew Liam was on edge and figured having his brother around might help to keep him grounded. Leo agreed without an ounce of hesitation, and the two used one another as their excuse for being away. 

The Cordonian monarchs along with Cameron and Marguerite were under the impression that the two old friends were catching up at a motocross event in the South of France. The timing worked out in Trystan’s favor since the side investigation he was helping them with was at somewhat of a standstill while they continued looking for that smoking gun they needed. 

Over the last two weeks, Everett had kept Trystan as up-to-date as he could on Croía, but couldn’t tell him much other than she was unharmed, and he only knew that from seeing her in passing. The guard couldn’t speak to her as his position gave him no reason to, and he couldn’t ask those who may know more because it could draw suspicion.

The ball being held in Drakovia, which they learned — much to their luck — was a masquerade, was now two weeks away, and while they had a fairly solid plan in place, there were some obstacles they were working through and details they were still hashing out.

“How’s that going?” Liam asked Leo and Trystan, tipping his head toward the kitchen counter.

“About the same,” Trystan answered.

“I’m not in yet,” a voice called out from where they sat at the counter, having overheard the conversation. Crown Princess Amalas looked over her shoulder and smiled at Liam. “But I will be soon.” 

Set up in front of Amalas were three laptops, all running a hacking program. Liam glanced between the three screens. He had no idea what he was looking for; hell, he had no idea what he was looking at. To him, it was just a bunch of random letters, symbols, and numbers that auto-scrolled and kept changing every time he blinked. 

They’d been working on breaking into the Drakovian palace’s servers to access the guest list for the ball. It was one of the obstacles in their way; they needed to access the guest list in order to add to it. 

Before he left for New York, Trystan mentioned how he wished he could ask Cameron’s friend Luke for help getting their hands on the guest list, knowing he’d be able to find a way to access it. Alia chimed in and suggested asking her sister. The Crown Princess of Monterisso had a reputation for her technological skills and Alia was certain she’d be more than willing to help knowing how close she and Croía had become. Amalas may seem hardhearted to others, but she had a soft spot for her baby sister. 

Just as Alia thought, Amalas agreed. She arrived at Vancross two days later; she was staying in Alia’s suite but had set up her equipment in Blaine and Liam’s as that’s where everyone had been meeting. 

Alia walked past Liam and looped her arms around her sister’s shoulders from behind. “Still working on it?” she asked, having just arrived with Blaine after their last class.  

“Yes,” Amalas answered. “Their firewalls are …”

“Complex?” Blaine interjected.

“Yeah,” Amalas nodded. 

“I’d expect nothing less,” Trystan replied as he moved toward the kitchen island. He glanced down at what was lying on it as Liam and Leo came beside him. “Everett sent us the details for the outside security perimeter earlier,” he explained as they looked over the Drakovian palace blueprint that Jonas had managed to get ahold of and send him; the perimeter had already been marked on the diagram. “They’re going to have two guards positioned in each of these locations,” he said as he pointed to a few spots marked with an ‘X’. “The entrance I will use is here,” he tapped a finger to a spot at the back of the palace; the exiled prince couldn’t be seen and needed to sneak in. “It’s accessible from a secret tunnel that runs beneath a back road behind the palace.” 

“What about your siblings?” Leo asked. “Should we be particularly worried about any of them being there and being a problem?”

Trystan shook his head. “Vasili and Sebastyan may be present in the beginning, but they’ll be scarce and then leave; Bas will be wallowing in his anger and Vasili will be trying to calm him down. Astrid, if she bothers to show up at all, will be too focused on the suitors so she can move in on those who aren’t chosen. And my mother isn’t going to allow Kaspar near the palace, which means Emika will be charged with keeping him away.”

“Why wouldn’t she allow Kaspar there?” Liam asked.

Amalas snorted. “Because he’s a goddamn klepto, that’s why.” She looked over at Liam. “Did you know he’s barred from entering several countries, including Monterisso and Cordonia?”

“What?” Liam and Alia both said in unison. 

“Years ago, he stole the Crown Jewels of Monterisso,” Amalas answered, earning a gasp from her sister. “Obviously, we got them back, but mother and father didn’t take too kindly to it and barred him from stepping foot in our country again. And as for Cordonia, he tried stealing the Cordonian Golden Apple.”

“You guys and your fucking apples,” Blaine snorted.

“Like I said,” Trystan began, “my mother isn’t going to risk having Kaspar anywhere near the palace that night. The only one we’ll need to worry about is Lydea.”

“Pfftt,” Leo scoffed. “I could take her.”

“No, you can’t,” Trystan said matter-of-factly. “Lydea can be lethal when she wants and needs to be. I think it’s best if I handle her. She’ll be able to fight, but I have an advantage.”

“What’s that?” Liam asked.

“I’m better,” Trystan said confidently.

****

Later, while Amalas still worked on getting into the guest list, Liam, Blaine, Trystan, and Leo sat up on the roof after everyone else save for Alia, who was inside the suite with her sister, had left. 

Holding his breath with the hit he’d just taken, Leo passed a blunt to Liam; Trystan watched from his seat across from him as he put it to his mouth. It wasn’t hard to see that Liam had been on edge the last couple of weeks — understandably so. He wasn’t doing much to hide it. Hell, he’d been on edge himself, but he was better at controlling it than Liam. 

It’s why Trystan had made a decision earlier that he knew Liam wasn’t going to be happy about. 

When Liam passed the blunt to Blaine, Trystan cleared his throat. “Once Amalas gets the list, the decision has been made that Leo, Blaine, and Simon will be the ones added under the aliases, which she’s still working on coming up with.”

Liam snapped his gaze to him as he exhaled. “What about me?”

Blaine and Leo shared sidelong glances as Trystan held his stare. “Liam, you’re too emotionally invested to be on the inside.”

“Everyone involved is emotionally fucking invested in one way or another,” Liam retorted. 

“Yes, but not in the way you are,” Trystan replied. “I know how you feel about Croía and how protective you are of her, and while I both respect and admire it, under these circumstances, those feelings are a liability. You’re already a ticking bomb. I’m not going to let this plan’s success hinge on whether or not you’ll be able to control yourself.”

Liam shook his head. “That’s bullshit!” 

“Li—” 

“No, Leo!” Liam shot his brother a look. “He’s asking me to leave getting her out of there in everyone else’s hands!”

“I’m not asking. I’m telling you,” Trystan said sternly. He knew he was upset, but he wasn’t going to change his mind. “This is how it’s going to be done.”

Leo glanced at his old friend. Yes, he was right that Liam was a ticking bomb, but so was Trystan, and this little rift between them was bringing down his usually stoic facade. “Look, maybe Liam can—”

“He agreed that we would do things my way,” Trystan interrupted. “This is my way.” He looked back at Liam. “So either get on board or get the fuck off the ship.”

Liam stood from his chair, grumbling obscenities under his breath as he made his way off the roof without a backward glance. A moment later, Blaine stood. “I’ll go talk to him …” 

Leo sighed when he disappeared from view and looked over at Trystan. “Look. Tensions are high. And I get it. But don’t be a dick.”

“I’m not trying to be a dick,” Trystan said, “but he needs to realize this is the best way. I understand he wants to be there and help, but you know I’m right, Leo. He’ll be fueled by emotions going in and that’s not going to do us any favors.” 

“I know,” Leo nodded. “And I’m sure deep down, he knows that too. I’m just saying … he’s worried. He’s already on edge. You both are …” 

Trystan looked at him and let out a breath. “Sorry. I just … we only have one shot at this. We can’t afford to fuck anything up.”

“I know.” 

“I’ll go talk to him,” Trystan said as he went to stand.

“No,” Leo held up his hand to stop him. “Give him time to cool off. Because he can be a dick, too, when he’s pissed off and I really don’t want to have to get in between the two of you if things take a turn.”

“You don’t think I could take him?” Trystan quipped.

Leo snorted. “You probably could, but I can tell you from experience that he’d put up one hell of a fight. You’d both come out looking a little worse for wear.” 

Down in the suite, after sharing concerned glances with Alia and Amalas, both of whom saw Liam storm inside and slam his bedroom door behind him, Blaine knocked on his door; when he didn’t answer, he opened it anyway. Liam was pacing the length of his room with his hands clasped behind his head. Blaine took a step inside and shut the door behind him, leaning against it as he folded his arms across his chest.

“What?” Liam snapped.

“Don’t get snippy with me,” Blaine said. “I didn’t do anything.” 

Liam stopped his pacing. “Did you know you were going in with Leo and Simon?” 

“Not until about 20 minutes before everyone left tonight,” Blaine explained. “He told me and Simon together while you were talking to Leo and said that he was going to talk to you about it.”

“It’s fucking bullshit.”

“Yeah, it is,” Blaine agreed. “But you know he’s right.” Liam looked at him. “He is. And I get it. I get why you want to be there. If the shoe was on the other foot and it was Alia, I’d be absolutely fucking feral, and the second I saw her, all bets would be off. Which is exactly how you’ll be if he lets you go in. You’re one thing going wrong away from losing it as it is.”

Liam threw his hands up in both frustration and defeat. “What the fuck am I supposed to do?”

“You’re doing everything you can,” Blaine answered. 

It had been three weeks since Liam had last heard from Croía, and each day that passed took its toll on him. He wasn’t sleeping well, and between classes, assignments, and late nights working with everyone to put a plan in place, he was more stressed than he ever remembered being before. 

This just added to everything else. 

Liam let out a breath and ran his fingers through his hair. “I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind.” 

“I know you’re worried,” Blaine said, “but at the end of the day, we have to trust that Trystan knows what he’s doing.” 

*******

A week later, the entire group was gathered in Liam and Blaine’s suite with Trystan and Amalas standing before them; she’d finally hacked the guest list and had spent the last several days putting together aliases for the three that would be going in with Trystan. 

With everyone there, Trystan explained that he’d reached out to an old friend who owned a cabin in the mountains just outside of the Drakovian border in Rivala; they would be arriving there the night before the ball. Amalas also planned to get into the security feed now that she hacked the server; she was going with them to monitor that and pass along whatever information she could to Trystan once he was inside. Olivia, who wouldn’t take no for an answer, was tagging along to help her with that task. 

In the week since their rift on the roof, Trystan and Liam hadn’t spoken about what was said between them. Trystan figured Liam was still upset and was waiting for what felt like the right time to approach him. Liam hadn’t sought Trystan out to speak to him privately because everything he said about being too emotionally invested was true; he was still struggling with getting his emotions under control and didn’t feel like proving Trystan’s point. 

Trystan did, however, agree to let both Liam and Alia come with them after talking to Leo and Amalas. Next to him, they were closest to Croía, and they thought it might help to keep Liam calm if he came along. 

Everyone else was staying behind at Vancross. They didn’t want to draw suspicion with their entire group suddenly being MIA. Their job while the others were gone was to stave off anyone who might come asking questions about where their friends had disappeared to.

Once Trystan finished explaining the details about his friend’s cabin, Amalas stepped forward. “I’ve given each of you an alias as a noble from Rivala,” Amalas said, handing Blaine, Leo, and Simon each a piece of paper. “You have a week to commit them to memory. They’re basic and boring because you don’t want to make spectacles of yourselves. Putting you on the list was risky in itself because we don’t know how exclusive the list was to begin with, so we don’t want to draw any unwanted attention.” 

The men stared down at the information they were to memorize about their assumed identities. “What is this?” Blaine scoffed. “Lord Elias Lambros? What happened to the list of names I gave you?” 

Amalas cut a pointed glare in Blaine’s direction as she settled a hand on her hip. “I’m sorry, I don’t think Phil McGroin, Mike Rochburns, and Ben O’Verbich would have worked out very well.”

Blaine snorted at hearing her say them. “I thought they were pretty great.”

“Ben … Ben O’Verbich?” Leo chuckled as he looked at Blaine.

After three weeks of stress, exhaustion, and worry, that dose of levity seemed to be the thing everyone needed at that moment. Suddenly, the entire room broke out into hysterics. Simon and Rashad bent over, placing their hands on their knees as Leo and Trystan stumbled into each other, holding their stomachs. The others all joined in and laughed as Amalas smirked and shook her head. 

“What?” Blaine chuckled as he glanced around the room at everyone. “They were good names!” he exclaimed, throwing his hands up. He glanced over his shoulder to gauge Liam’s reaction … just in time to see the sliding glass door leading to the balcony shut. The sound caused the room to fall silent as everyone turned their attention to the door Liam had just disappeared out of. 

It was the thing everyone needed … except him. 

“Shit,” Blaine mumbled as he turned toward the door.

Trystan stepped in front of him. “I’ll go,” he said. “You have an alias to study up on.” Blaine sighed with a nod as he turned away. 

When Trystan stepped outside, the balcony was empty, and he glanced up at the ladder that led to the roof; he walked over to it and began making his way to the top. Just as his head poked over the last rung of the ladder to give him a view of the roof, he saw Liam pick up one of the old chairs they had set up in their makeshift lounge; he swung it up over his head before slamming it to the ground with an anguished growl, and Trystan winced. 

Letting out a breath, Trystan pulled himself the rest of the way up to the roof; once he stood, he slipped his hands into his pockets. Liam turned to look at him, having heard the scuffling of his feet; his jaw tensed as he turned away, lacing his fingers together at the back of his neck as he tipped his head back and looked at the night sky. 

Trystan slowly made his way over, stopping right beside him, and the two stood in quietness for several long moments. 

“I can’t laugh …” Liam finally broke the silence. Hearing his voice crack, Trystan glanced over to see the moon illuminating a wet trail on his cheek. “I can’t laugh with her being stuck there and imagining what she’s going through, which is the worst, by the way. All I can think of are the worst possible outcomes. Of how she’s being treated. Of what she’s thinking and feeling.” He dropped his hands to his sides. “I can’t laugh,” he whispered. 

“She’d want you to laugh,” Trystan said, earning a scoff from Liam, but he ignored it. “And if she knew her absence was causing so much turmoil … I don’t know if she’d be surprised or feel guilty.” 

“Both,” Liam said. “She’d be both.” 

“Probably,” Trystan nodded. “And if she knew you and I had a row over how to get her out, she’d be angry with us both … and also feel guilty about it.” 

Liam looked at him, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry … for how I acted the other night. I just …” He sighed. “I want to help.”

“I know you do,” Trystan nodded. “And you are, even if it doesn’t feel that way. And I’m sorry, too. You’re not the only one who’s been on edge.” 

Liam shook his head. “I’m the only one letting it get the better of me, it would seem.”

“When I said you were too emotionally invested, I didn’t mean it as a bad thing,” Trystan said as he looked at him. “Croía … I don’t think she’s ever had someone wear their heart on their sleeve for her the way you do … not even me. And I know you’re worried. But I promise you, Liam … we will get her out. You have my word.” 

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

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[thetrashbinseries]

— Fahrenheit ( bangchan x reader )

rated - mature | minors dni

parts - one, two (explicit)

warnings - idol universe, name changed idols, mature themes, drug use, alcohol use, sexual themes, mentions of mental illness, slight angst

x x x

“It’s not rocket science, Chris."

My annoyance hits the roof. What the hell is his problem? Why's he turning this into a damn soap opera?

"You're back in LA. New York—yes or no?"

Chris tiptoes the line ever since last year's scandal close shave. I get playing it safe, but I'm alone in a six-bedroom Jersey fortress. In the U.S. media game, I'm golden. No cancel threats, not yet in my rising career.

But the spotlight got hotter after the last single went viral. Chris, in the crosshairs of relentless management, dances a careful routine.

He's the big shot, leader of the world's hottest K-pop group. His company would shoot themselves in the foot by axing him. Yet, Mr. Libra doesn't dig rocking the boat.

"-I want to, babe, but it's too risky right now."

I sigh. Twisting my computer chair, neon lights bathe me in purples and reds. I'm in the studio, bullshitting on songs for the third album.

I've had it. "Catch you later, Chris." The call drops, facedown on the desk, anger swirling.

"Seriously, fuck you." I spit out, taking it personally.

Being a foreigner feels like the snag. His industry would call me a disgrace tagging along.

I don't need that energy.

Am I settling as his 'little secret'? I'm 29, he's 27 – grown folks. Pings remind me of him, but I silence the noise. Facetime interrupts, Jake, the friend with benefits. Games or busy, no time for emotional plays.

Warner signed my band, deep in commitments, mind racing. A shrink's gift? Adderall for my ADHD.

Now, even less time for the BS.

"Hey, daddy." I purr, thickening my accent.

Jake’s smile fades as he eyes me. "What?" I giggle,

"Stop playing with me like that, y/n."

"How am I playing with you?"

"You're gonna end up with your legs cocked back like last time, girl, cool it."

Laughter ensues. I glimpse his background – a parking garage stairwell. We catch up every couple of weeks via Facetime.

"Where are you at?" I squint.

"Recognize it?" Jake turns his phone, revealing the New York City skyline.

"You're out here? Aw, shit." I lean back in my chair, a half-cocked grin, tongue behind my lower lip.

"Aw, shit is right! What's up? What are you up to tonight?"

I chuckle, rolling my eyes. "Nah, uh, Jake. We gotta play nice. I got a good thing going on right now."

He sighs, exasperation audible. "You two still a thing? Thought you were photographed over there, outside the JYPE building?"

"I was."

"They ain't letting that fly, you serious, y/n?"

"I mean, they're being hard on him, but we're still trying to make it work." I express more hope than Chris does. Jake’s viewpoint is valid – he's been through the K-pop circuit, burned out, went solo, and found massive international success.

Which is why he bitches about it.

It's unfair.

"I do wanna see you, though," I admit, the need for an adventure kicking in.

"That's my girl. Hey, I'm about to hop in the car. Should be able to make it over in twenty. You at your spot in Jersey?"

"Yes, I am, Jake, but don't come in on no bullshit."

"I'm always on bullshit. See you in twenty."

Jake hangs up before I can fight back.

Why is my grin so wide? I roll my eyes at my own excitement, surprised at how genuinely thrilled I am to be around someone who wants to be with me. Scanning Chris's messages puts me in a better mood.

babydaddy: there’s no way you just hung up like that -_-

babydaddy: this is my life…my career…

babydaddy: why can't you be more patient?? this is hard for me too…

babydaddy: we need to talk tomorrow…

babydaddy: about us, and where this is going.

The last message triggers something in me. My stomach twists like it always does before bad news. It doesn't change, whether in poverty in my hometown or a small Jersey mansion. The same sunken gut reaction. We've been going back and forth, but this sounds... final. At some point, he'll grow sick of it. I know I have.

Yet, there's so much I love about Chris. Selfishly, I don't want him with anyone else. He's the man of my dreams, flawed as he is, he’s human. My human. I panic, feeling like my boat has sprung a leak, desperate to plug it somehow.

Knowing myself, I turn my phone upside down, placing it on my desk and stand up, distancing myself from the setting. Something else would trap me; all I want is not to reply to him with charged emotion. It wouldn't help anything.

Jake’s on his way over.

I take a deep breath, letting my anxiety settle. I'll talk to him; he always has good insight and wisdom beyond his years. I look at myself in the mirror. I'm in comfy mode, barefoot, walking across hardwood floors.

Entering the dimly lit kitchen, I brew hot chocolate, curling my toes against the balls of my feet, cracking knuckles as I chew my lower lip, mind drifting to Chris. Resistance is weaker now; the reasons to text back sound more convincing. I shake my head, trying to clear my mind, grab my cup, and sip as I walk past my bearded dragon's tank. It's late; he's asleep, tucked into his pink bed. I stare at each plant, trying to keep my thoughts in check.

My outdoor motion detection buzzes the smartwatch on my wrist, signaling someone's arrival. I glimpse headlights through my foyer. My grin widens; I bite my lip, urging myself to behave.

"Alexa, shuffle my evening playlist on Spotify, downstairs."

The nearest speaker obeys, filling the space with music. My dog scurries around my feet as the doorbell rings, and my bigger dog's deep barks echo throughout the house.

“Hey, cool it!" I shout at them, stepping over the little one weaving through my legs, nipping my ankles for some ungodly reason. I open the door, visibly exasperated, while my larger dog bellows from the top of the stairs.

Jake points to her behind me, furrowing his brows dramatically. "I thought we were friends!"

My dog hurls another final, loud bark before slowly making her way down the stairs. I let Jake in, lock the door, and he takes off his shoes, grabbing a disposable guest pair from the basket by the front door. I turn, starting down the hall, and Jake’s full body weight slams into me from behind, arms wrapping around my body, causing me to stumble. Seemingly unpredictably, he stops us from falling while laughing. I catch my footing, give him a firm shove, swipe stray hair behind my ear, and correct the other side, giving him a side-eye.

"Now, you know damn well I'm too clumsy for some stupid shit like that," I scoff, turning into the living room. I walk over to the glass coffee table near the sofa, grab the nearby gold electric candle lighter, tip it into the wide, three-wick candle, and light each of their blackened tips. The scents of apple-cinnamon, cedar, sandalwood, and vanilla fill the room, complemented by the warm orange glow of well-placed LED lights. I sit on the edge of the sofa, and Jake takes his favorite spot on the oversized black beanbag chair nearby. He pulls his hood off, followed by his knitted beanie, ruffling his dark brown hair.

I've got to say, Jake is a handsome guy, no doubt about it.

But I've got problems, and I've caught heavy feelings for one of my biggest headaches lately—Christopher Bang.

We're in this so deep, at least on my end.

I start to think a little harder, trying to see beyond the rose colored glasses for a moment. His text plays through my head as I scroll on my phone, my excuse being searching for another song to skip to on Spotify. But, of course, I get back to the messages Chris sent earlier.

"About us, and where this is going…"

We'd never had an official conversation about being exclusive. We met by chance, fell for each other, and started sneaking around together. I consider Chris my boyfriend, and I’m saved in his phone under ‘baby.' That's got to mean something, right?

The horror begins to set in—has this been a situationship this whole time? Is that why he never went public?

Anxiety creeps in.

"Yo," Jake snaps his fingers, waving his fingers. Damn, I must've been really distracted, crinkled brows as I stare into my phone, thumb tapping against the glass but not doing anything. I look up at him, raising my brows as if I had just briefly missed something he recently said.

"Hm?" I ask.

He's sitting up more, his left hand stroking one of my cats. "Talk to me, girl," he gestures to the marble ashtray with half of a joint, "And pass it."

I lean forward, grabbing the pink joint and placing it between my lips. I use the lighter nearby, sparking it, blowing a few times, the smoke thick and pungent, rising into the air. I tap it into the ashtray and lean over, passing it his way. Jake takes it graciously, placing it between the center of his pink lips and taking a big inhale. He holds it in, nodding, looking down at it as he blows the smoke out the side of his mouth.

"Chris and I got into it again. He told me they were coming to LA for a show over at KCON, and he was like 'maybe I can fly over to see you,' trying to fit it in, delaying his trip to Korea by like three days, which didn’t seem like a big deal. But then after everything ended, he was just hyper-aware of the attention on them and changed his mind," I begin to explain. Jake has taken a few hits during my story; he's leaning forward, passing me the joint again. I take it, hitting it.

"Did he say why?" he asks. Jake’s voice is low, even-toned. He’s invested in my story and the way I’m feeling, I can tell by the way his laser focus is on me as I speak. His eye contact is intense, fiery, the Aries in him.

"No, he didn’t, and that’s what frustrated me, so we got on a call tonight. He like—called me and was dancing around it, and I was like 'look, it’s not hard, are you coming to New York or not.' I was just... over it," I reply, pausing to take another hit before passing it to Jake once more. "He was all 'I want to, baby, but it's too risky.'” I mock his Aussie accent, and Jake can’t help the cough of smoke that comes out from trying to repress a laugh. He turns his head, full-on coughing a couple of times before he catches his breath again.

"Do you need water?" I ask, successfully holding back my own laugh. I don’t wait for his reply, instead, standing up and taking a few steps over to the mini-fridge and grabbing a bottle of spring water, handing it to him.

Plopping back down on the couch, I sigh. "So I didn’t even let him get the rest of it out. I was like 'ok, I’ll talk to you later' and like, hung up."

Jake places the burnt-out joint tip into the tray, effectively ending our puff-puff-pass session, making us both more relaxed and a little spacey. "Oof, y/n, this is... such a unique situation that very few people go through, and even fewer non-K-idols. I mean, I don’t agree with any of it, right? But it’s not me, and Chan, he’s in like–the peak of their career as a boy group, dude." Jake shakes his head, sitting back, my cat jumping from his lap, considering him having moved too much for his comfort.

"I don’t—care," I blurt.

Jake’s head drops back with a sigh before he picks it up again. "That’s probably part of the problem. Chan’s risking his career; Korea is no joke when it comes to this shit. I promise you, unless you’re physically in the industry as an idol over there, you have no idea. It’s so obsessive, and these companies, the management, they will not let you breathe, and the bigger you are—the tighter they hold onto you because there’s so much more to lose at that point."

He only leaves a half second of pause before he says, "I don’t think you’re compatible with—nor do you deserve, that kind of relationship with anyone."

Ouch.

It hurts that much more because—he’s right

"Now that doesn’t make Chan a bad person, or you a weak person. He’s got a right to this life he’s worked super hard to get to, and you’ve got a right to someone to love you the way you want to be loved, especially while you’re in the beginning stage of becoming great yourself. It’s a huge distraction—maybe not a relationship, but like, that kind of relationship."

I can do nothing but sigh, throwing my hands up and sitting back onto the couch, feeling, well, defeated. Can you blame me? It fucking sucks, the reality of it all that I was trying to avoid.

"Fuck," I finally say aloud.

Jake’s looking at me; I know he feels bad for breaking it down so plain, but he does it because he cares about me and wants the best for me, and I know that. “You still do what you want; it’s your life. Whatever you two decide is what you two decide, but that’s just—my limited experience.”

I scoff with a roll of my eyes, “Limited experience. Yeah ok.”

He laughs.

We both understand the subtext of the brief exchange.

“He says we need to talk tomorrow, about us and ‘where this is going’,” I say with air quotes.

“I mean, hey, it’s an opportunity to get your concerns out there, listen to his, and decide what’s best for you. He’ll decide what’s best for him. If that’s being together, great, if not, great. Either way, you’ll be ok. That’s how I like to see these kinds of things.” Jake says, his words profound and his perspective valuable to me. He leans forward, “We’ve known each other like what? Almost a year now?” I nod to confirm, and he continues, “In that short period of time, I can just—tell that you’re a strong person; you wouldn’t have gotten this far if you weren’t. If you ever need someone to talk to, my line is always open.”

I let another long breath go before laying across the sofa on my stomach, bringing myself closer to Jake as I lazily hug a pillow, resting my chin atop it. His advice is logged in my thoughts. I really don’t want to talk about it anymore—the way he phrased it did something to lower my anxiety so I was going to let sleeping dogs lie. “What about you, huh? What’s got you on the East Coast? You’re never over here, rarely in America anymore for real.”

“Yeah, I’ve been—busy, but it’s a blessing, you know? I’m so grateful that so many people support me, as a solo artist, doing my own thing, my way.” Jake never fails to acknowledge those around him that have supported him, and keeps himself grounded and humble somehow through being an international celebrity. “But I was at the Versace show over in Soho. I’ve got a couple of other shows to see for New York Fashion Week, but I touched down and had to come see you.”

I lift a brow. “I’m not gonna fuck you, Jake.”

Without hesitation, he fires back, “I’m not asking you to, y/n.”

It’s enough to drag a snort from me.

He laughs, “The hotels get lonely, and most places I go, I don’t know anyone. I like it here; you’ve done a lot since the last time I was here.” Jake looks around at the decor. He points to a painting of a cat skeleton on a black canvas. “That’s new, I like it.” He says.

“Yeah? I do too; it’s simple but it matches the vibe of the space, I found it by accident one day.”

When Jake says the hotels are lonely, I believe him. He often confides in me about how lonely his lifestyle can be and how it can drive him so crazy that he’ll call everyone through his phone until someone answers, and when that person hangs up, he’ll keep going. More often than not, he doesn’t have anyone to call, despite my insisting that I was an option. Some nights, when it gets really bad, he’ll have a tendency towards drinking, which is something I don’t like, and we’ve talked about ad nauseam. Of course, he’s always welcome in my safe spaces.

“So what’s new with the band? When you texted me the other day, you had like, tons of shit going on that you were freaking out about.” Jake cracks open the bottle of water, taking a gulp.

“I’m flying out to LA next week for a couple of events, but we’re like focused on album three right now; I’ve been locked in the studio just writing.”

“Ok, ok, you got anything for me to hear yet?” He seems to perk up to ask this question.

“Eh, nothing I’m ready to show or anything, just fragments of songs right now. The label is really pushing the work we did with album two to build the hype up for album three, and that’s the one they funded.” I kick my feet slowly in the air behind me as I talk.

“We should do a song together.” Jake says, quite suddenly. He can tell I’m taken aback. I mean, creatively, Jake and I get along great, but we had never discussed merging on a record before. “An official song, I think it could sound incredible.”

I immediately want to agree, of course, but I have a couple of hurdles I know I need to jump now that I’ve gotten to this point in my career. I hated that. I used to be able to agree to a collaboration immediately. But Jake had even more hoops to jump through; he couldn’t commit to something official now either.

So why was he proposing it?

“I gotta ask the label—”

“Fuck the label, dude.” Jake waves his hand, “They don’t have to know anything, not yet. We’ll just work together and see what happens. Whaddya say?”

It takes no thought for me to reply,

“Let’s do it.”

—

Jake wore me down enough to bring him down into the studio, insisting he didn't have anything important to do until tomorrow evening. I don't want to encourage his drinking, but when he spots the whiskey decanter, he gestures to it as I sit down in the main chair in front of the soundboard.

"What’s in there? Hennessy?" He answers his own question as I spin around in the chair to see what he’s talking about. He’s already over at the mini bar, opening it up and whiffing.

"Yeah, but I rarely drink it. I got it for guests." I turn towards my soundboard again, powering it up and waiting for the two large screens to load. I add another thought to the end of my sentence, albeit, to myself. Not like I have guests anyway.

Jake comes over with a glass, the brown liquor sloshing around as he tilts it in my direction. I roll my eyes, taking it, and he’s already got his glass, which he holds out for a toast.

"To the music," Jake says.

"The music." I oblige, clinking his glass and taking my gulp down a lot less gracefully than he does his, before he pours up another for himself. "Don’t overdo it; you’re gonna have a nasty hangover, and I won’t be the one to blame for it." I press a few buttons, and the house lights lower, back to the blue and purple hue I was sitting in earlier.

"I am a grown man that knows my limits." Jake states, matter-of-factly. He sits in the rolling chair at the table alongside me, pulling himself up to the soundboard and sitting back in his chair, sipping his drink as his eyes dance across the screens while I click around, pulling up my digital audio workstation of choice.

I point to the keyboard nearest to him, "Press a key for me?" He does, confirming it's connected and functional, the note ringing out through the monitors.

"Aw yeah." Jake sits up, setting his glass down on the designated cupholder space on the edge of the mixing table as he places both hands on the keys, beginning to fiddle with the limited random keys and chords he had learned how to play while being forced to learn as a trainee. "Damn, it’s been so long." He says, a half smile on his face. I can tell he’s reminiscing, I just can’t tell if it’s good or bad. "You’re so lucky to have control over your music, you know that?" He says, looking over at me before focusing back on the instrument again, slender fingers of his right hand climbing up the keys.

"I don’t really have total control, not anymore. Not sure I ever did." I say with a sigh. "It’s always been like—an Eli and me thing, not just a ‘me’ thing. I just get a little more attention because I’m the one out front, singing." I continue to explain. Jake’s stopped playing, instead choosing to lean in his chair and eye me over the top of his glass as he sips, listening to me with an empathetic nod. "Now with a major label involved, there are so many other factors now."

"You get the final say though, right?"

"Well, yeah, I guess I do." I say with uncertainty, not because it isn’t true, but because it still feels like the decisions I make have to be based on what everyone else thinks is best for us. If I vehemently object, I’m persuaded down to the decisions of others. Sometimes, it feels like I’m being gaslit. But I don’t have much time to ruminate on that, since everything is moving forward at top speed.

"Guess it’s complicated?" Jake concedes.

I nod.

"Girl, you got it," Jake croons in his gruff voice, eyes closed, fingers snapping to start a rhythm. "And I know it, baby, why don’t you?”

I nod, sliding him away from the keys as I hit some chords to match his singing. Unsure if it's a freestyle or something pre-written, I catch the composition unfolding. Music flows through me effortlessly—my natural talent that's brought me this far. It didn't happen overnight, but creating is the part of music that feels like pure joy, a distraction from all the BS.

Soon, we're vibing out a hook, laughing for hours, blending funk with '90s groove, a nostalgic fusion. My phone rings, freezing me in place. The weight of unresolved problems crashes over me. Jake senses it; I bolt before he protests. His eyes speak understanding; he knows when to let me deal with my demons. I answer the phone, attempting to steady my voice.

“Hello?”

“You answered.”

It’s Chris.

His voice is tired, ironic, as if he couldn’t believe it himself but didn’t care.

It irritates me. Why call back so soon if compromise isn't on the table?

“I just called to say, that I’ll be there in about four hours.”

A lump forms in my throat; I glance around for a clock. Holed up in the studio with Jake, time escaped me.

“But you said—“

‘First class, you are now welcome to pre-board flight 917 to Newark, First class, you are now welcome to pre-board flight 917 to Newark.’

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you in a few, yeah?”

“Y-yeah.”

The phone beeps, leaving me in stunned silence. The studio's muted song hums in the background. I'm not ready to face it yet, still figuring out what this sudden visit means.

“Said I wouldn’t do this.” I mutter, pressing my fists against my forehead, heaving a frustrated sigh. I vowed not to let another man stir my emotions, yet here I am—almost having a meltdown. But my feelings are valid. No explanation after a heated argument, and suddenly he's on his way here?

Maybe he got another perspective from the members or his friends. Maybe he thought about it. Either way, he'll be here in four hours. We can hash it out then.

I muster the calm to return to the studio. Jake sits back, his chair turning towards me. “Well?”

I plop onto the nearby sofa. “He’s boarding a flight here now, said he’ll be here in four hours.”

Jake’s brows lift in surprise. “See? I told you…this was going to push you two in some direction it needed to go. Four hours? My man, okay BangChan!” Jake laughs, toasting with his glass. “So I added some drums, check it out.” He plays the track; the groove multiplies.

“You added that part too?” I notice another musical flair, and he nods proudly. After a few seconds, he turns it off, a slow fade of the volume knob.

“I think that’s enough for me to work with for now, what do you think?”

"The skeleton is definitely there, but what about more instruments?" I question. Jake pushes his chair back, picks up his hoodie, slipping it on as he stands up.

“It’s enough to write to; we can come back to it; if Chan’s on his way here, the last thing he needs is to see another guy here late night.” He slips on his shades, his phone reflected in them as he orders an Uber Black. I didn't think he cared like this, feeling closer to him; he did what he felt was best. I was freaking out about how to get him out in time, and Jake took the initiative.

A relieved sigh escapes me. “I owe you.”

“Absolutely nothing. You don’t owe me anything, sweetheart. I had a good time here tonight.” He tucks his phone in his jacket pocket. “Twelve minutes.”

I nod. “Follow me upstairs, I made some cookies yesterday; you can take some with you.”

“Ooh what kind?”

“Chocolate chip.”

“A classic.”

[butchbarbieagainstterfs]

let’s talk about this! was going to tag her but I’m pretty sure she blocked this blog so about the topic of jeffrey marsh:

“most”? girl, one person potentially doxxed and threatened her children. the rest of us were basically just calling out her lies for what they were. none of us advocated for anyone being physically threatened or doxxed. I don’t endorse that. no one should be doing that shit. anyone that is deserves what they get.

but you lot - because you’ve made it patently obvious you yourself are a terf - physically threaten and doxx trans people all the time and tell trans people you’re going to get their kids taken away from them. don’t cry now just because some fucked up asshole did it to one of you. how many threats do you think jeffrey has gotten just this week?

also: there is no evidence jeffrey is grooming anyone. shumirun cropped and edited videos of them and screen recorded 18+ content that children were never invited to and was locked behind a pay wall and posted on a 13+ app when she knows some of her followers are 12, 13, 14, 15. her being a muslim is irrelevant to me and most people I’ve encountered, and doesn’t mean she can call people groomers without solid proof.

as someone on tiktok said themselves, why have none of you pretended to be a minor on jeffrey’s 18+ patreon to catch them out? because there have been thousands of accounts calling them that in their comments and such for ages, shumirun just took it a step further by posting the accusations on her page then doubling down for 7 million followers to see. you’re telling me not one of you thought to pretend you’re a minor and attempt to talk to them? I’m guessing some of you did try that and didn’t like the answer you got, eh?

next part!

jeffrey isn’t doing anything at all suspicious.

shumirun’s discord however was literally a playground for actual predators. multiple kids from it said people were interacting with them in a weird way. where is this energy for her? I don’t think she is a predator, don’t get me wrong, I’d never accuse someone of that without evidence but you’d be dragging jeffrey’s name even more through the mud if that was them with that kind of discord and they admitted to playing roblox with 12 year olds. you’d also be dragging their name through the mud id they’d lied about having a health condition to get a job and endangered kids in the process.

also: her using their pronouns (not preferred in jeffrey’s case, they’re just their pronouns) doesn’t change that she used a transphobic (and homophobic) stereotype against them, follows an anti-trans group on twitter and liked tweets that were maliciously misgendering them.

last part!

ding ding ding, there’s the terf dogwhistle! the fact you would have less sympathy for a child being murdered because they’re trans (brianna wasn’t murdered by “males”, one cis boy and one cis girl have been charged with her murder) says far more about you than it does about me, “bestie”. also the fact you support all these conservative laws? you realise they’re coming for you too, right? 😬 don’t worry though. we “evil TRAs” will be fighting against any anti gay legislation even if you won’t fight the anti trans ones.

and you have said so much abhorrent shit about trans folk but a lesbian calling himself a dyke in his bio is where you drawn the fucking line? lmfao what the fuck 😭

have a nice day and enjoy the block that will be coming your way very soon 🥰

[feral-radfem]

Political lesbian this, political lesbian that. Tell me how male homosexuality is a political move for super woke men, then you can talk to me about how female homosexuality isn't actually real but rather a political move. No really, because it isn't new that people don't believe that women can have innate sexual desires towards one sex or another (or both) that males can. That our sexualities are somehow always more affected by our environment than males are.

The personal is political was never meant to be interpreted as being able to identify into any demographic you feel politically aligned with. I do believe that's what most of our issue is with the whole transgender thing, is it not? The idea that you can identify into groups you fundamentally do not fit the definition of because you believe it is more politically pure, or whatever propaganda the oppressor class you belong to is currently pushing about that minority.

I don't care if you are genuinely a lesbian or not, pushing that being a lesbian is a choice that can be affected by our environment or through social pressures, is homophobic. We do not belong to a system of thought that believes being a part of a demographic means you cannot hurt that demographic of people. That makes no sense. If that was the case class traitors would be impossible. Being a class traitor and throwing other members of your minority group under the bus, may cause people to question whether or not you're actually a member of that minority group because this is the internet and people have the capability of lying. That does not make lesbianism an ideology, it means we don't believe you, as an individual.

Our orientations are proven not to be effected by social conditioning, otherwise conversion therapy would work, and it doesn't. The fact that people in radblr still run with comphet knowing it came from a political lesbian and then are surprised there's so many political lesbians on radblr is amazing to me. Of course we are full of political lesbians, almost every "lesbian safe space" on the internet pushes that with enough societal pressure homosexual women will fuck men. Which is false. I'm also not going to pretend like people can't understand whether or not they're sexually attracted to women unless it's introduced to them through porn or social media. That's not how sexuality works. This was the hell I was willing to die in in the old feminist circles and in tra circles, I will continue to die on the hill radfem circles.

And I'm sorry, but this does circle back to the gold star lesbian thing. There would be far less gold star lesbians who felt the need to aggressively defend the boundaries of our community if there wasn't so many women pretending to be lesbians and speaking over us. We wouldn't have to scrutinize every woman's sexual history and her attraction to fictional characters or TV show characters, if women who were not lesbians didn't constantly try to encroach on our spaces. If you are angry about the hypervigilance in the lesbian community but preach either the old school homophobia or this new wave of bisexual flavored homophobia, you are the reason it is there in the first place. Hello, meet the consequences of your own actions.

[TL/DR] You are only a lesbian if you are a female homosexual. Any sexual attraction towards males disqualifies you from this category, whether you act on that attraction or not. There's nothing more to it than that. Female homosexuality is normal, innate, and absolutely natural. You are only materially a lesbian if you are a female homosexual, being a febfem or sexually celibate does not make you a homosexual. Sit down, shut up, and stay in your fucking place.

Thank you. :)

[realitycanbewhateveridesire]

Hi sorry I only just started seeing people talk about reality shifting and was curious? What does it mean to you? When did you choose this? What is a DR?

look, i'm like the worst person you could've asked cuz i never really researched stuff much. i'm just vibing with the community. also, i'm tired as fuck and unable to think, so take what i say with a grain of salt. like i said, i'm the worst person to ask cuz i'm just "fuck it, we ball".

DR is short for desired reality, which is the term used for the reality you want to shift to.

as you perhaps already know from stumbling upon shifters, reality shifting is about "shifting" to a different reality. or rather, shifting your awareness to said reality. obviously, there's also belief of countless realities existing alongside ours including the "fictional" universes of books, movies, etc. and the belief of one consciousness kinda, that any of our dr selves (a person you intend to shift as) and our cr (current reality) self is one. everything, everywhere, all at once style.

again like pls, just ask someone else cuz idk shit and can't explain stuff to save my life.

also in regards to shifting, i know many anti-shifters compare it to psychosis. and it may have to do with part of the community normalizing harmful behaviors, especially tiktok and the 2020 shifttok era (which is often kinda ridiculed in the shiftblr community). from my experience with shiftblr it's way less of that (which might be both due to the nature of both social media and/or just simply passage of time). but then again, i haven't seen every shifting account so i can't guarantee you that there isn't any.

many ppl also have this kinda weirdly "moralizing" stance about shifting being a potentially "harmful coping mechanism" inflencing "impressionable kids and minors". which i kinda don't understand why is reality shifting often singled out. there are many other potentially harmful coping mechanisms that are common but not focused on. also personally, i believe that cringe culture and kinda "outlandishness" of shifting makes it easier for haters who just wanna hate (i'm too tired to find a more eloquent term) to do so, cuz we're an easy target.

also personally, while it might be not very moral of me, but i don't care about it being "potentially harmful". like i said, there are many other things that can become harmful when taken to extreme. it's true of basically everything. shifting is no different. which is why, i don't see why is it being treated differently.

just to clarify, i also do not think of shifting as harmful if you have a healthy mindset (which not to be a hypocrite, i probably don't have).

personally, i heard of many ppl for whom shifting helped them in their darkest moments. and i must include myself in that group. it helped me through a tough time mentally.

kinda contradicting myself here, but for me it is a coping mechanism. i discovered and picked it up at like 14-15, but haven't been that much dedicated to it.

for me, it also allowed me to find a community and sense of belonging.

i also believe that others can believe or do anything, as long as it doesn't others. which is in majority the case with shifting. and i wish many ppl had this kind of approach and left our community alone, no matter how "nonsensical" our believes are to them.

sorry for this rant not making any sense.

[stopscammingartists]

it's so skeevy how glip n their community put responsibility on their victims to be completely infallible when daring to make a claim that they were abused. they have to walk on fucking eggshells because one wrong move and glip/the flora community just wont fucking read it and instead center an entire book about the 'wrong' statement instead. example being pengo not reading any of boo's stuff bc one sentence insinuated he lied about something.

this is such a classic manipulation tactic. the kind of thing an abusive cheating spouse does. "oh you caught me messaging someone? well you disrespected my privacy by going through my things!". that kinda shit. its abusive and only used to silence someone and intimidate them and they have to know this I mean. they cant be that dense.

anyway, pengo/glip/everyone here's a challenge. if you didnt read all of the allegations against you then dont bother responding them. nothing you say about it has any value unless you actually own up to what you did and better yourself or somehow refute it in a way that matters :)

Let me establish some context for anyone who doesn't know what happened with Lain/Spaggle and what her story is.

In 2014, Lain, who had just recently turned 14 posted to tumblr about how Marl approached her a few months ago in the Floraverse IRC and would talk about how he wanted to fuck Lain in vivid detail and send her pictures of dog genitalia.

She would retell her story a few times on different platforms over the years. Meanwhile, Glip would respond by claiming they had logs of Lain insinuating that she likes to bait adults into a child porn charge.

None of the logs Glip would ever provide will show this. Glip was simply lying. Glip, and Eevee both would make call out posts on tumblr continuing frame Lain as some insane 14 year old enchantress looking to entrap adults in a child porn charge. As if any adult, like Marl, who took this supposed bait wouldn't still be a pedophile. Glip and Eevee both would platform the anonymous testimonial they received about Lain from Lain's friend and, alarmingly, another adult who claimed that Lain "has done this before". Establishing Lain as a repeat-victim of childhood sexual abuse. Children who are sexually abused tend to never be sexually abused once.

Glip would continue to berate and slander Lain whenever she popped up until 2019. Propping up the words of the other adults who sexually abused this minor along the way.

Meanwhile, privately, Glip and their inner circle where looking to do something they where worried would have legal ramifications to them if got out.

According to @hexcryingwolf who was part of this group - Glip had obtained Lain's dox and had wanted to take legal action against the child who their then ex-husband sexually abused with photos of dog genitalia.

However, before Lain even came forward in 2014, Marl had convinced Glip to be filmed having intercourse with a dog, twice and was told by the person Marl cheated on them with that Marl had shown them pornographic content of their pet German Shepard dog, Apollo.

So when Glip framed Lain as some enchantress trying to entrap men, as some lying parasite and was trying to go after this child in ways that where legally dubious, they knew from the very start that Marl was a zoophile and probably had dog genitalia photos to send Lain better then anyone else. Because, naturally, Glip is also a victim of Marl's beastiality.

When Glip says they did not know what Marl was doing, or what he was capable of - they are lying. Nothing more, nothing less.

So, let's jump to the present and actually address what @sc0rfanos is talking about.

This is a 30-something adult who slandered, and silenced a 14 year victim of their shared abuser for nearly 5 years.

Glip does not get to demand that everyone else considers how they feel and how they're hurt, and how they're a victim while they wipe their ass with the feelings, pain and trauma they inflicted upon others.

Redirecting a point about how Glip abused Lain over the span of years to be about how Glip is a victim of said husband is fucking disgusting. Glip continuing the spout the words of the other adults who sexually abused this child in 2023 as if they matter or excuse their actions is fucking disgusting.

This only serves the purpose of redirecting the discussion away from Glip actions and the ramifications those actions have had on others into a discussion about how Glip is some sad lil' boo boo who was totally reasonable to do the things they did.

Eat dirt you disgusting worm of a person.

[invested-in-your-future]

Have you ever thought that faunus being mistreated no longer comes up because Remnant is a bad place for EVERYBODY? There are monsters everywhere...

I mean...for one I, in part, agree - Remnant SHOULD be portrayed as a bad place for a lot of different people.

It always felt like "Oh Remnant is extremely inclusive and welcoming setting" was basically used as a shield to not have to actually add people of color or LGBTQA+ or any marginalized group characters into the show because "oh you know Remnant is absolutely inclusive so they exist somewhere, you just got to imagine".

I can see parts of Remnant feeling more welcoming, like the schools for example. The Huntsmen Academies are absolutely something that SHOULD be progressive and inclusive.

But beyond that? Schnee family exists, faunus slavery exists, great war happened, characters still threw around transphobic jokes, Port still hit on an underage student, etc. Bullying exists and if Beacon is to go by, bullying is normalized. WF subplot in itself shows that world can be dangerous and dark.

And the ask is absolutely right on another fact - there ARE monsters everywhere. And that tends to shape societies in different ways. Some people will band together, some will grow more mistrustful, etc.

I also agree that discrimination can't be JUST limited to faunus. That's also correct. Because again, bigotry isn't logical. Faunus aren't discriminated because they are special or unique - they are because a subset of humanity found them appropriate to punch down against as "lesser others". Also discrimination is cyclical - if there's one thing a bigot is good at is to switch targets whenever balance of power starts to shift. And again, there are countless forms of discrimination. Grudges, social biases, classism, ableism, ageism sexism and so on and so on. And also limiting it to just "racism against Faunus" walks into an older "magical minority/ethnicity" trope that in itself is racist.

So yes, do show that the world of Remnant can be dangerous and dark and that actual progressive values and beliefs aren't a given but something worth fighting and standing up for. And that also includes showing and exploring the idea of why Faunus would be desperate enough to resort to less than "peaceful" methods at times.

Isn't that what in part this show should be about? Proving that humanity is worthy of survival in spite of it's flaws?

Yet somehow, Faunus worldbuilding conveniently disappears after walking into a wall a few times. And disappears on such an awful message too - "as long as you are a model minority and one of the good ones, racism is gone!"

So yeah. Remnant can absolutely be a dangerous place and hatred does take many shapes and forms.

SHOW IT.

But that requires actually writing the show and the setting so... It's far easier to just "dream up" generic brother gods and talking animals and have a suspiciously blue eyed blond haired white individual be the centerpiece of it all in spite of not having a show named after him.

[autogyne-redacted]

hi! i saw your post abt race primacy and was wondering if you'd be able to expand on that a bit more if you feel like it. i am i guess kind of new to the idea that it's possible to talk about racism without doing what the example you posted does.

Yeah, absolutely.

As far as race primacy goes, the basic, short answer is that you can avoid it by not positioning race as fundentally, across the board more important or more fundamental than other characteristics. The "if you're white you're white before anything else" part of my example post.

Prioritizing race is an analytic approach, and it's certainly an important one, but if it's your only one you're going to miss a lot of what's going on.

To give a more thorough answer means getting into a lot of background and exploring the messy entanglements that lead towards race primacy and race reductionism, so buckle up it's gonna be a Long Post.

Most of the patterns I want to criticize here are (imo) the result of taking useful analysis and loosing the nuance, generalizing sloppily, slipping between different definitions of words, being overly dogmatic, or otherwise taking it in less than helpful directions. I'm not saying to throw out these frameworks, just to recognize that they don't represent absolutely and universal truths.

I'm also not opposing any specific language here. Sometimes ppl are casual and say things that communicate perfectly well but would make shitty philosophic positions if you took them literally and held to them rigidly. That's life.

.

Whether you're looking at how demographic categories correlate with individual actions or they affect how other ppl treat you, race is significant but saying it is always the most significant factor is a wild position.

To give a clear example, and show one path to race primacy, lots of the conservative Christianity is structured and defined first in terms of religion (obviously), and then around lines of Christian / family values and gender.

The Southern Baptist Convention has had a Black president. Women are still explicitly barred from even being pastors. Out gay and trans ppl are excluded pretty completely.

.

A common approach, to maintain a focus on race is to say that Christianity (or at least the SBC) is a fundamentally white religion and value system. PoC may participate in it, but that as a political and historical force it is solidly on the side of The West, Europe, Colonialism, etc.

I tend to talk about this as abstracting whiteness.

Whiteness often (even if not in our circles here) gets abstracted to talk about shit like cop calling, assimilationism, middle class values, etc.

"White feminism" is a great example of this, where the term can 100% refer to race, or point to middle class, carceral, cis, imperialist, or other shitty tendencies.

If we talk about the shifting boundaries of whiteness, especially looking back to when whiteness was necessary for full legal rights / personhood, whiteness was very directed the thing you assimilated into thru patriotism, middle class achievement, gender conformity, etc. (This is an explicit note that my knowledge is about a US context and I'm sure this shit varies)

There's a bunch of research that shows lots of minority and immigrant groups having initial disadvantages compared to white ppl (measured thru wealth, income, segregation, education, etc) that shrink over time. And a distinct lack of this gap narrowing by most measures looking at Black Americans. Related (at least in part) to this you get some theory abstracting Blackness as that which is unassimilable (some of which is really powerful).

From this and other angles I think it makes a lot of sense why ppl are drawn to abstract whiteness.

However, the second you do that you're no longer talking about race (in a way that can be mapped to individuals). And I (as a white person) am not necessarily any more a part of this abstracted whiteness than any PoC.

And since race (in the individual, traditional sense) does matter, loosening the terms to this point has significant downsides.

.

You can see similar dynamics at work when ppl constantly fall back on referring to Far Right groups like the Proud Boys and Patriot Prayer as white nationalist / white supremacist groups.

They're very much not. Both have had PoC leaders, and they're centered around Western Male Chauvinism and Christian Nationalism respectively.

But, if you see The West, right wing Christianity and American Nationalism thru the lens of abstracted whiteness, than these are all white supremacist groups.

And like ..... there's clearly something to that. Having PoC leaders by no means makes these groups less racist. But there's also a clear distinction between them and what you're gonna see in a hardine white supremacist group like, say, the Klan.

If you caught the mess a few years ago when a bunch of ppl decided that Chelsea Manning had joined the far right because whiteness is ultimately all that matters, that's a great example of mixing up abstract and concrete definitions of whiteness to reach completely ridiculous conclusions.

.

I don't wanna go deep in this point because I haven't seen it since I got off of fb years ago, but I want to briefly mention the argument that the gender binary is inherently European, and thus PoC are inherently non-binary. This is another argument where there lots of individual statements that make sense on their own, and then thru some shifting definitions you reach a wild conclusion.

There's tons to talk about in terms of the imposition of binary gender and specific European norms as part of colonialism. (The Coloniality of Gender is what I think of as the classic piece making this argument).

And there's plenty to say in terms of PoC being held to different standards and negatively framed as too masculine or not masculine enough.

But this argument then acts as if no assimilation to gender whatsoever has happened, and as if there are no differences in levels of gender conformity and the social positions these produce. It's extremely weird and imo the kind of position that imo could only be produced thru a tremendous amount of ppl setting aside their critical thinking due to not having the right identities to see these issues as in their lane.

.

A lot of this comes down to the question of how we name That Which We Oppose. Identity politics really pushed us to frame it in terms of identity, but the world of hardline identity-based structures is largely gone.

Part of what I love about the language of Civilization and Leviathan is that it provides an answer for this question that recognizes the slippery relationship between both individuals and identity-defined groups of ppl and the structures of hierarchy we want to dismantle.

[istorkyou]

A Thousand Battles (A Modern!Ivar AU)

A modern!Ivar x F OC (Julietta Lothbrok)

Warnings - NSFW, MINORS DNI. Language. Slight violence.

Synopsis - Julietta wakes up with no memory of her life or her husband, Ivar. Will it ever return? Does she want it to?

Word Count - 4333

This is for @blackseapearl 400 follower trope challenge. I asked for Amnesia :)

Shout Outs - A massive shout out to @blackseapearl and @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie for beta reading, ironing out all the mistakes and the motivation to keep going with it. Special hugs to @blackseapearl for talking through the ending with me and giving me some much needed inspiration and the wonderful moodboard.

This fic kicked (and is still kicking!) my ass, I’ve never had such a hard time with motivation as I have writing this long-ass bitch so I hope you enjoy it :)

It’s also LOOOOOOOONNNGGGGGGGG….. and I’m only the tiniest bit sorry about that!

Tag List - Let me know if you want on or off :)@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls​​ @youbloodymadgenius​​ @momowhoo​​ @zuxiezendler​​ @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog​ @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer​ @pieces-by-me​ @heavenly1927​​ @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint​​ @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy​ @petite-hime​​ @serasvictoria​​ @mimiiinspace​​ @itsmysticalmystery​​ @lonewolf471​​ @mylifeisactuallyamess​​ @draculasbride-blog​​ @love-all-things-writing​​ @southernbe​​ @redhead7799​​ @kaybee87​​ @ivarlover​​ @ivarhoegh​​ @idgafiamallthefandoms​​ @darkphoenix5037​​ @profoundtyrantharmony​​ @snarling-through-our-smiles​​ @crazyunsexycool​​ @xceafh​​ @bragisrunes​​@noway4u @batmandallyboy​​ @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73​​​​ @meandmycherrytree

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

CHAPTER 9

The rigmarole of getting through the security of the Gala sets Ivar off, especially when Julietta sets off the metal detector arch and is taken aside to be searched.

“No one touches her,” Ivar warns the security guards menacingly as he steps in front of her, pushing her behind him protectively. “Keep your fucking hands off my wife. She has surgical pins in her arms and that is setting them off.

“Sir, we cannot allow entry unless she is properly searched and we are satisfied there are no weapons about her person. Please do not obstruct us.”

“Get a hand held metal detector and wave it over her. The only part of her that will make it beep is her upper right arm which is held together by pins because of a car accident.”

She raises onto her tiptoes and places her lips by his ears and whispers, “Let them do it, I’m not bothered and it’s protocol. I’m no different to anyone else. Okay?” He turns his face towards her, deciding what to do, and when she gives him an encouraging nod he turns back to the security team

“Touch her inappropriately and you die.”

The guard nods tersely and sweeps his hands over her body. He then gets the handheld metal detector and what happens is exactly what Ivar described, beeping over the scar tissue set off by the pins under the skin.

“Ok, ma’am. You may go in. Thank you for your compliance.”

Ivar's arm encircles her waist as he guides her into the great hall, but not before making a note of the guard's name tag

In the banquet hall they find the rest of the family and Ivar hands her a glass of champagne. “To us,” he holds his out and she toasts with him.

“To us.” She takes a sip and looks around the party. There are clear factions, groups clustered together, eyes sweeping the other, surveying the attendees, marking up the enemies in the room.

Ragnar approaches her. “Things will be less tense once the alcohol flows later. I know the atmosphere is crackling right now, Julietta but don’t worry. Is this helping your memory? Do you recognise anyone?”

“Have I been here before? How would I recognise anyone if I haven’t?” she questions and catches the tiniest squint of Ragnar's eyes.

An hour later and Ragnar was right, the atmosphere has changed, still charged but less segregation of the groups, meaning business is being spoken about, deals being made. She is surveying the room when she feels Ivar close behind her, his breath in her hair, his hand grips her waist. “Hello beautiful. Dance?”

“You want to dance here?” she asks with an amused voice.

“I want to dance with you anywhere. Come on, baby.” He grabs her hand and leads her to the dance floor, into the crowd of other couples dancing closely.He pulls her against him, his right to him wrapped around her waist. He sighs happily and she relaxes into him.

“You look so sexy in that dress I can’t wait to get you home later.” He places a small kiss on her exposed shoulder

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do to me later, Ivar?” she asks, letting a hand touch his chest and slowly move it down to stop on his stomach. “Describe it to me.” She enjoys the way his cheeks colour a little. “I know what I want you to do to me.” Her voice is low and sultry.

He moves his face to her ear and whispers, “I am going to make you cum more times than I ever have before. I won’t stop until you can’t take it anymore and you are begging me to stop. How does that sound?” He slides his cheek across hers and kisses her

“That sounds very good,” she replies breathlessly, “let’s go home now!” He throws his head back, laughing at her enthusiasm.

“As soon as we can, love.”

When the song finishes they head back to the family, and soon Ivar is approached by Ubbe, who whispers in his ear. His eyes flit to her and he nods once, taking the few steps that closes the gap between them.

“Baby, I have to go and speak with someone. I’m sorry, I’m needed.” He can see the apprehension in her eyes so he cups her face.

“You said you wouldn’t leave me tonight,” she says petulantly, but she’s covering her feelings of dread at being left alone. She hasn’t seen the stranger from the alley yet but she assumes he is here somewhere and it makes her grip her husband's hand harder.

“I’m sorry, I will be as quick as I can. Stay here with my father, okay? You will be safe with him.”

“Ivar, you said you wouldn’t leave me. You promised.” She repeats.

He kisses her hand. “I won’t be long.” And he leaves. Julietta watches him walk away with a nervous feeling building within her. She’s never been exposed to his business before and strangely, for the first time she’s considering how dangerous it must be for him. Her heartbeat picks up and she wants to run to him to stop him putting himself in harm's way

Her thoughts are interrupted by a quick tap on her shoulder and turns round expecting to see Ragnar's eyes but instead of the crystal blue ones she is looking into the chocolate brown eyes of a man. A tall man with a scar through his right eyebrow and stubble covering his tanned skin.

It’s Lev.

She works her hardest to control her facial expression, her breathing, and fights the urge to run

“Can I help you?” she asks, a tremble in her voice. What is he going to say to her? She glances to the left and sees Ragnar eyeballing the pair of them, clearly gauging her reaction to the stranger.

Lev looks pissed at her, eyebrows drawn together in a deep scowl. “I would like to dance with you.”

She lets out a relieved, high pitched giggle. He doesn’t seem to be there to expose her. She shakes her head and her hand flies to the necklace Ivar gave her earlier.

“I can’t dance with you. I'm a married woman,” she tells him indignantly, looking him up and down.

He raises his eyebrows at her. “Your husband is an insecure man? Doesn’t trust his wife?” His head tips slightly and he smiles menacingly.

His sick little game bursts the calm bubble she is trying to exist in. She looks at him up and down, the man who claims to love her, to know her, but for whom she feels nothing but contempt.

“He’s not insecure at all and he has absolutely no reason to distrust me. It’s inappropriate for me to dance with a stranger,” she snaps at him. Julietta feels hand run up her arm and she closes her eyes, assuming Ivar has returned and for a split second she feels calm again before realising it is Ragnar.

“I do not think my son would mind at all if you had an innocent dance with….”

“Raphael,” Lev replies in a thick Spanish accent.

“With Raphael. Don’t look so worried Julietta, go and have fun.” Ragnar gives her a little nudge towards Lev

“No,” she replies indignantly. “I don’t want to dance, Ragnar. I will not disrespect Ivar and I think you don’t know your son that well if you think he wouldn’t have a problem with this. I will wait here for my husband.”

Ragnar lets out a patronising chuckle and cocks his head to Lev as if apologising for her insolence.

“Nonsense child, off you go. You don’t want to appear rude to a guest of the Gala, do you?” Ragnar flashes his eyes at her. “I must insist.”

Lev doesn’t wait for her answer, he grabs her hand roughly and guides her to the other side of the dance floor, as far away from the Lothbroks as they can get and pulls her to him so her body is flush with his.

“Hello, Etta. I knew you would come tonight. Your curious little mind couldn't stay away, could it?” His eyes are wandering over her face and neck as if he is about to devour her. “My Gods, I want you so badly. I’ve missed your tight little pussy, your dirty little mouth, fuck, I’m getting hard just looking at you.”

She tries to step away from him, repulsed by his words, by the way he is looking at her, at the realisation that he seems to know her so intimately and yet is a total stranger to her. His fingers dig into her waist as she tries to shift away from him

“Where do you think you are going? Did you find the things in your apartment?” he asks in Russian.

“I didn’t look,” she answers stiffly, hoping he doesn’t know her well enough to know she’s lying.

He is staring at her intently. “Always so adept at lying, you know I didn’t have to teach you that? It came naturally to you. You still have no memory?” She shakes her head, turning her head to look at the family but he grabs her jaw and brings her face to his.

She has her hands over his instantly, before she registers it herself and she is digging her nails into a pressure point on his hand which makes his hand drop quickly and he laughs, stretching out his hand.

“I did teach you that though. Don’t look at them. You keep your eyes on me. Do you know how I feel having to watch you dance with that cripple? Watching you let him touch you, kiss you and whisper God knows what into your ear? How dare you do that in front of me, acting as if you actually love him. You have clearly forgotten what I told you about falling in love with him. And stop speaking to me in English. I taught you Russian, you will speak to me in the mother tongue.”

He spins her around on the dance floor and she catches eyes with Ragnar who is watching them closely. She addresses him in English. “I don’t know what you and I were to each other, before my accident, but you need to understand something. Whatever it was is finished, the affair, whatever it was, is done now. I love Ivar, I don’t know who I was before the accident but this me, the one you keep bothering, wants no part of you. Do you understand me?”

He spins her around again so his back is to Ragnar and then his face toughens, turns nasty. “You were mine! Before all this, you were mine. We were in love for years…and I still love you. My Gods, the things we used to do together! You may be married to that cripple but you are mine Etta. My warrior, my fighter, my love. You will remember it’s an assignment and when you do you will run back to me.” He pulls her tight to him again and he moves his head like he is about to kiss her so she shakes his arms off her.

“Assignment? What are you talking about? I don’t believe anything you say,” she hisses in Russian, surprising herself.

“Julietta!” Ivar’s voice shouts behind her far enough away she knows he didn’t hear her speaking Russian. “What is going on here?” He pulls her behind him and faces Lev, who is somehow managing to keep his face neutral despite the hatred she knows he feels towards Ivar

“I wanted to dance with the most beautiful woman in the room, nothing more, nothing less.” Lev has switched back to his fake Spanish accent.

Ivar looks him up and down with disgust. “You make a habit of putting your hands all over married women? You are lucky this evening is a safe haven or I would have put a bullet between your eyes before you even knew I was here. Do you know who I am?”

Lev smirks and replies simply, “yes. You are Ivar Lothbrok.”

“Then you must have a death wish asking my wife to dance with you. We will catch up soon, you and I, in a setting that is much less favourable to you and your disrespect.” Ivar turns to Julietta, sneering and grabbing her hand harshly. He doesn’t say a word, he just walks her briskly back to the family.

“We are leaving,” Ivar announces

Ragnar is still looking at Lev, who, in turn, is watching Ivar and Julietta.

Ivar tries to contain his rage but he doesn’t succeed. He grabs her upper arm and pulls her into him so he can talk quietly to her. “Why the fuck did you dance with him? You’ve humiliated me in front of everyone.”

Before she gets a chance to reply Ragnar interrupts. “Ivar, I gave the okay. That man seems quite besotted with your beautiful wife, didn’t he Julietta? Who is he my dear?” Ragnar questions her with a look of menace and distrust on his face.

Something inside her kicks into gear, she addresses her father in law with an annoyed and covering tone. “Oh you think I know who he is? Very funny Ragnar, I know no one on this fucking Earth apart from your family!” She points her finger at him accusingly. “Don’t put this on me, I told you Ivar wouldn’t like it, didn’t I?” She looks Ragnar up and down in contempt and a rage fills her whole body in a way she’s never felt before.

In her head she watches herself throw her arm around Ragnar's neck and snap it, hear his last breath, see his life force leave. Her conscious mind feels sick at the images playing out.

Ragnar just watches her, as if he can see her thoughts, feel them. A satisfied smile creeps over his face.

Ivar looks between them. “Let’s go. I’m done with this night.” Ivar grips her arm and they leave the Gala, not noticing Lev's gaze following them.

In the car on the way home they are both silent but the tension is so thick it could be cut with a knife. The silence gives her a chance to process what Lev told her. They were in love, before she met Ivar. He referred to Ivar as an ‘assignment’ again

Her ability to speak Russian, an assignment? Surely it can’t mean what she thinks it means… she needs to look at the stuff she found in her apartment. She could be a….

“So. You think it’s appropriate to humiliate me in company? In front of our allies and rivals? To dance with another man?” Ivar’s voice trembles with rage, his knuckles white with the force he is gripping his crutch, but his face is still turned towards the window. “I’m a joke to you?”

“Ivar, please. You know you aren’t a joke, I love you…”

His gaze turns to her. “You fucking love me but you allow another man get close to you?” His eyes travel up and down her with an unmistakable look of disgust.

It flares her anger again. “Your fucking father made me, I said no twice and your father practically pushed me into him! Gods, get a handle on your temper when you are talking to me. I don’t appreciate your tone.”

“I don’t appreciate my wife getting pawed by another man in front of half the city like a common fucking whore.”

Whore.

Whore.

The word bounces around her brain like a ball on a squash court.

Whore. The rage the word ignites in her gut causes her to slap him hard across the face. “Fuck you, Ivar. You are bunch of fucking wolves. All of you! Business was so important that you broke your promise to not leave me alone at the Gala knowing who could have been there! Your father offered me up like a lamb to the slaughter for Gods knows what purpose but I’m fucking sure it was a business one. If you have an issue with me dancing with another man tonight you take it up with your father. He forced me to do it. I told him no but apparently that word isn’t in his vocabulary!” 

Ivar rubs his cheek, clearly in shock at her actions, but she barrels on, undeterred.

“Don’t you ever dare to call me a whore again. You may have a reputation but do not for one second think I’m scared of you or will allow you to speak to me like I’m dirt. Like I’m less of a human than you. Fucking whore??

She stares at him, waiting for his reply but it doesn’t come. He just continues to hold his face and stare at her dumbfounded, so she rips her chin high and spends the rest of the ride home watching the city get smaller, biting back tears she sure as shit will not allow to fall now. In front of him.

------------------------------------

Ivar doesn’t get out at their house, he doesn’t say a word, she just watches the car drive towards the main house so she assumes he is staying there for the night.

Entering their house and runs to her closet, heart beating so hard from the adrenaline that she thinks it might tear through her skin. Julietta finally takes out the notebook and the phone from the hiding place. Unsurprisingly the phone is dead and she doesn’t want to risk plugging it in to charge out in case Ivar comes back tonight.

She looks first at the notebook she found hidden under her mattress. Pages and pages of nonsense, written not in English or Russian as she expected, but what seems like a code, she only recognised the dates in the corners of the pages, starting from 2012, the year she met Ivar. She scouts every page for the key but doesn’t find one. She throws it down in frustration and picks up the notebook that Lev knew about. Inside it is full of Russian writing, at least she can read that. It’s pages of dates, times, locations, names of people and companies. Each page is dated and they start from before she moved onto the estate, before the accident. She flips through all the pages and around a year in the page dates are getting longer apart, not days now, weeks sometimes months and when they are entries the information on them are less detailed. No more names, fewer locations. After their wedding date there are only two more entries.

She keeps flicking through hoping to find help to decipher the other notebook but nothing.

Her breathing has calmed now, her heartbeat raised but less so. She takes the notebook with the Russian writing and tucks it into her dress, she stashes the other notebook back in its hiding spot along with the phone.

Her feet carry her outside and she turns on the fire pit as her brain tries to offer up any alternative reasonable conclusion than the one she has already come to.

She was leaking information to Lev and whoever the fuck he works for. Who she worked for. Her heart breaks at the realisation: she was selling Ivar and his family out.

Why would she do that? To what end?

She turns the notebook over in her hands and almost throws it into the fire but at the last minute decides against it. If she has to tell Ragnar about herself she will show him what she divulged

She is going to die because of this, the family will kill her. She puts her head in her hands and sobs.

She knows she needs to pull herself together, hide the evidence until she can figure out what she needs to do. How she can handle this new information about herself. She knows she can’t barrel into this, she needs to be smart.

-------------------------------------

Ivar waits in his father's office. Drinking more of the expensive whisky in the crystal decanter than he should, certainly more than he should if he wants to feel half decent in the morning.

He hears Ragnar and Aslaug come home an hour later and he hauls himself to the office door and waits for his father to see him.

“Ah Ivar, I thought you would be here.” He turns to Aslaug. “I will be with you after I have spoken to our son.”

“Ivar, just hear your father out,” Aslaug pleads but Ivar doesn’t reply, he turns back into the office and drops into the chair opposite his father's desk. When Ragnar shuts the door Ivar explodes.

“You made her dance with him! Did you enjoy my humiliation, father? Revel in my shame? In front of the whole fucking city? I fucking hate you!” Ivar continues to scream at his father until his throat grows hoarse whilst Ragnar sits calmly and takes it all. When Ivar screams himself silent Ragnar holds up his hands.

“Son. There was a reason. That man didn’t take his eyes off your wife all night. He barely contained his anger watching you dance with her. I saw the rage in him when you were kissing her, he started to head towards you but he managed to hold himself back. I asked around to find out who he is, no one knew who he worked for but he had a valid ticket. He knows her, Ivar. Or he used to. I needed to see if she knew him.”

“Of course she doesn’t, she doesn’t know anyone here but us and a handful of people from the gym.”

“I couldn’t read her. I couldn’t tell if she was so uncomfortable dancing with him because he was a stranger or because there is a history. He grabbed her jaw, Ivar. He turned her face away from us when they were talking, that’s not an act one stranger does to another.”

“What fucking history? What are you implying?”

“I don’t know but I know the look of jealousy on a man’s face caused by a woman. He watched her for an hour from the corner. I thought at one point he was going to follow you when you went to talk business but I watched him change his mind. He used your absence as an opportunity to get to her. That’s why I allowed it.

Ivar thinks hard for a few seconds. “Was she looking at him?”“She glanced his way but I couldn’t decipher if it was because of the intensity he was watching her or if she recognised him. Talk to her. You know her the best. Ask her if she knows him, Ivar. I’m either wrong or she’s a very talented liar. I hope it’s the former.”

-------------------------------------

When Ivar gets home he hears the television coming from their bedroom. He walks quietly down the hall and into the bedroom, stopping at the door to the walk in closet. When she spots him he sees her take in a massive breath and when she exhales it seems like all the fight, the resentment at his words and actions goes with it. He can see she’s been crying, her eyes are rimmed red and her eyelids are puffy. As her face breaks and more tears flow she holds her hands out to him and he doesn’t wait even a fraction of a second to go to her, pulling her into his arms.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you by dancing with that man, I didn’t want to, I promise. I’m sorry I slapped you.”

“I’m sorry I called you that name, I won’t ever call you anything like that ever again. I’m sorry I was so mad at you, I was so jealous when I saw him near you. He was looking at you like he was going to kiss you and I just lost it. I’m sorry.”

Julietta reaches behind him and pulls his necklace off the side and shows it to him. “You took it off. You said it was safe at the Gala and you only take this off when it’s dangerous.” He doesn’t reply, just shrugs. “Here, let me put it back on for you.

Her hands snake behind his neck and she looks up into his eyes, which are boring into hers, making her hands wobble as she tries to do up the clasp.

Ivar reaches up as if to stroke her cheek but he actually grabs her face hard and moves close to her, running his nose along hers. “Who is he, Liet?” he says in a sweet voice that doesn’t match his face at all. His face is as dark as the midnight sky.

As her breath catches in her chest things move in slow motion. She feels the necklace slip from her trembling hands, sees the necklace fall from his neck and her eyes follow it as it bounces on the floor.

The familiarity of this situation makes something crack.

Then the floodgates in her brain open.

Memories drowning her, filling her completely, no space left for oxygen even. Snapshot of her life before the accident zooming at her like she is standing in the middle of a motorway, memories hurtling towards her dangerously.

Her parents. Their deaths. Letters. Meeting her real father. Realising what kind of man he is. Meeting Lev. Love with Lev. Training. Her new life. Violence. Meeting Ivar. The circumstances. The wedding. Seeing Lev in secret. Her accident. Seeing who was behind the wheel of the car that hit her.

“Liet! Julietta!” Ivar is shaking her violently, his voice sounds like it’s coming from far away, the blood rushing through her ears is the only thing she can hear properly. Suddenly her vision goes sharp, before the edges get dark, her vision decreasing, slowly being taken over by the blackness until her vision is no more than a pin prick.

Then nothing.

Chapter 10

[menalez]

"but i disagree with ur argument that it’s like. an accepted and normal thing. again, the majority of radblr are bisexuals, the ppl who were prejudiced against bisexuals in such a blatant way were always criticised and being called out and i know this bc i’ve been on here for years at this point and had personally called out many of those ppl who were already basically pariahs outside their own little radblr cliques."

what does it being mostly bisexuals have to do with anything? lots of bisexuals hate other bisexuals most of all. like that imdb person that said bi rape victims are just whiners trying to play 'most oppressed' if they talk about biphobia or that drpepperwoman that said bi victims of abuse shouldn't complain because she as het-partnered bi doesnt feel oppressed so the rest of us must be exaggerating or lying. And plenty of people encourage them and tell them how cool and awesome they are for "standing up" to other bisexuals. Lots of non-bisexuals encourage them.

I don't know how you can think it's not an accepted and normal thing because that is entirely different from my experience. plenty of people that were very friendly with the blackpills are still around and popular, like that like-a-ruby, tenko-irl, desisapphic, lesbian-king-kai and lots of people that reblog from them too less vocally. it's not like I now most of the names tbh only the ones I have seen repeatedly over time. Or like kronkk throwing a tantrum and saying she doesn't care about the blackpills and that they're right and she "loves mean lesbians" and then deleting all those posts when other lesbians started to react badly. or people like piqued-curiosity who say she disagrees with them but always goes out of her way to defend then and say they need compassion and healing, then passes around essays calling bi women dick worshipers and saying bi rape victims are just weaponizing abuse and she calls it insightful and smart, and that rape victims just need to learn critical thinking skills and not zero in on that because those aren't the parts that matter. No one seems to understand that we have every right to get mad at people like her that treat our abuse like an acceptable target even if they claim to disagree with it. And there's weird borderline shit like heterophobic saying she thinks most people are really bisexuals, and heterosexuals are also a sexual minority, basically saying homophobia is the fault of bisexuals because they are the majority and they enforce it. It can't just be that heterosexuals are manipulative and homophobic liars, it must be they are bisexual. Or her saying bisexuals don't experience the core of homophobia, so I guess when we're raped and abused thats some het bullshit that doesnt have to do with real homophobia. Or the lots of women that say weird shit about bi men, anything from that sports are homophobic only because of bi men, to saying bi men need to be exterminated because they hurt all other demographics. Bi women are not stupid we can see that's biphobia that will carry against us too if it was more acceptable.

and most of all maybe you don't see it because radblr is huge, it's not like just you and your followers, it's several circles with sometimes only tiny overlaps. I often dont see these lesbophobes or know who they are until you reblog them to call them out either but that doesn't mean I don't believe you that they're a problem in other circles. maybe you simply don't know the people passing bullshit around bi women all the time but that doesn't mean its not tolerated in some groups. And most of all just like lesbophobia, homophobia, and racism are still a problem I don't know why you think homophobia against bi people was magically solved. Of course its there just like all the rest.

okay after i read this message i now understand that the reason u don’t see them as a fringe group is bc you consistently read things said by both bisexual women & lesbians you disagree with in the most uncharitable and bad faith way possible bc i know some of the stuff you referenced and it wasn’t as you described it

[antiterf]

Okay so to make sure no ones surprised, here are some beliefs on discourse and morals.

I'm generally open to talking about them, but please do not fight me on the morals aspect. You can ask for more info but I may get meaner than I'd like if you fight me on morals, I hold them very close to me.

People generally want to do what's best for themselves and for others. Human beings inherently want to be good.

Every human life has value, one life lost is years of experience, knowledge, love, and care lost. It is never just a statistic, as only ten 60 year olds dead is 600 years love and experience of life lost.

Even with this belief I feel that if the rich don't do something about the enormous amount and wealth and power they hoard, their death is more valuable than their life like how a piñata is only beneficial when it's broke open.

Making fun of someone based on a minority status only hurts the entire group of oppressed people. Making fun of someone for their appearance will do harm to people who've done nothing to you.

Hating someone for something they have no choice in isn't going to help shit. So don't do it.

You cannot only fight for one minority because you'll end up ignoring the less privileged parts of your own minority.

No one owes you an explanation to anything, you don't owe an explanation to anyone. This doesn't mean that the person is simply obligated to believe what you say.

Your worth is not dependant on how much you're able to work and produce.

No one is worth any less for needing assistance, whether it's for an hour or for life.

Now to the not morality stuff

If the people in power are going for one minority, prepare to be next.

You can be trans without having gender dysphoria (I am dysphoric btw)

NPD and ASPD don't make people inherently abusive and to hate someone solely because they have those disorders is ableism.

Narc abuse is just emotional abuse with some specific aspects. Please stop calling every abuser a narcissist or armchair diagnosing your abuser.

Having a multisexual identity other than being bi isn't biphobic

The ace and aro spectrums exist and ace and aro people shouldn't even have to deal with the question that they belong in the LGBTQ+ community or not, they do.

Intersex people are a part of the LGBTQ+ community if they want to be.

Being a bi lesbian is valid

Having an identity that seems contradictory is valid

It/its pronouns are valid (I have had them used on me in a derogatory manner btw)

I am uncertain about transandrophobia or the other commom terms for it. I believe that afab trans people can and do experience oppression because of their agab and sex characteristics (otherwise abortion rights and healthcare wouldn't be an issue for us). But at the same time I feel like trying to make a term that centers around trans men will exclude nb people who experience the same. I have also seen many transandrophobia fighters be blatantly transmisogynistic and it doesn't sit right with me.

ACAB and BLM

Basically, I'm not against transandrophobia but I'm not for it either.

To say I don't get uncomfortable with the people who are heavily against it would be a lie though.

No person is illegal

Religion is important to many people and we can address the harm it does while still respecting the help it does as well.

I'm a psychology major but recognize that the field of psychology has a major role in determining what's "abnormal" for someone to be and is usually ableist.

Queer isn't a slur, but you should still respect people who don't want it used on them. I will use "the queer community" when talking about issues because I'm an LGBTQ studies minor and that's how we usually speak.

I believe that trans men and nb people can reclaim the T slur. Mostly because reclaiming it myself has helped a lot with my internalized transphobia.

TERFs hurt trans women the most out of anyone. I usually do not say things like that but trans women are usually their main obsession. This doesn't mean that other groups aren't hurt a lot.

If you're still in the Harry Potter fandom then you're not a trans ally. You really shouldn't be putting a book series over the millions of lives being fucked over by the writer.

You will become disabled eventually. If you're ableist then I mean this as a threat.

I'll add more as they come

[opinated-user]

The entire point of X-Men is that some of Magneto's ideas are right (securing a homeland (via terraforming) for mutants where they can live in peace, correctly identifying rising extremist rhetoric, objecting to registration of mutants/tracking their movements by the government) and some of Professor X's are correct (mutants shouldn't have to leave/should be able to live in human society, acceptance isn't impossible, open dialogue is important). And the comics have been clear about Professor X being in the wrong in terms of being overly optimistic about the progress people can make and how quickly they can make it, while also showing Magneto's paranoia to be self-defeating and leading to tragedy. Both also have suffered consequences of their actions and have been shown to be complicated men impacted by social stratification and trauma (being a Holocaust survivor and Jewish for Magneto, being disabled and having witnessed his father beat the shit out of his mother (killing her in some continuities) for Xavier).

It's not about one being 100% wrong and the other 100% right. It's about two people who are in the same minority whose viewpoints, actions and philosophies regarding the mistreatment of that minority are informed by their life experiences and being part of other minority groups. It's about intersectionality and social stratification and how two well-written characters, as people, respond to systemic injustice and inequality. Every aspect of their backstories can be seen in their approaches to everything from socialization to politics to activism.

"Magneto did nothing wrong" is a joke among Jewish people, myself included, because we can see how he arrived at his conclusions and methodology and we have sympathy in our hearts for what he's gone through. But actually it's less black and white and more very dark grey and very light grey. There's more to it than good guy vs. bad guy, whether you like Magneto or Charles Xavier. Neither is perfect. Neither is pure evil. They haven't been since longer than LO and I have been alive put together.

Do we have any confirmation LO has ever consumed any X-Men media or does she just parrot memes from the internet? Because it feels like the latter, tbh.

if anything we have quite literally more evidence if anything that she didn't consume them through the comics. maybe she watched one of the many cartoons that they made or the movies but that apparently that wasn't enough and said she read "the comics"... but which ones? from which author? what year? just all the comics?

somehow i doubt that.

another thing that frustrates about her take is that comic books characters, as you well point out, are notorious for not always having a fixed personality, backstory, function or motivation for their actions. this is in part because of reboots or alternative universes but also quite simply because because of multiple writers passing themselves around the same character and all of them coming out with their own interpretations for them. they're not like characters of movies or books because of that, so you have to be a little more specific if you want to talk about "the comics" particularly and not just the general notion of Magneto that we have on pop culture.

but unfortunately LO won't talk about the little nuances of such a character because she doesn't want that. i don't think she even understand a concept like having a sympathetic villain because to her a villain must always be in the wrong and someone you want to beat down. anything else means that the author wants to glorify/make apoligia the evil deeds of this villain or wants to demonize something that is actually good because the author themselves is bad. there's no in between for her.