#beth undercover

[forensicated]

(Cannot ever stop lolling at the 'Oh for fucks sake!' expression that Max always has when he's at gunpoint!)

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Beth Bourne

Published: Feb 27, 2024

Kaiser gender specialists were eager to approve hormones and surgeries, which would all be covered by insurance as “medically necessary.”

On September 6, 2022, I received mail from my Kaiser Permanente Davis Ob-Gyn reminding me of a routine cervical screening. The language of the reminder stood out to me: “Recommended for people with a cervix ages 21 to 65.” When I asked my Ob-Gyn about this strange wording, she told me the wording was chosen to be “inclusive” of their “transgender” and “gender fluid” patients.

Based on this response, several thoughts occurred to me. Could I expose the medical scandal of “gender-affirming care” by saying and doing everything my daughter and other trans-identifying kids are taught to do? Would there be the type of medical safeguarding and differential diagnosis we would expect in other fields of medicine, or would I simply be allowed to self-diagnose and be offered the tools (i.e. hormones and surgeries) to choose my own gender adventure and become my true authentic self?

If I could demonstrate that anyone suffering from delusions of their sex, self-hatred, or identity issues could qualify for and easily obtain body-altering hormones and surgeries, all covered by insurance as “medically necessary” and potentially “life-saving” care, then maybe people would finally wake up. I certainly had.

I was prepared for failure. I wasn’t prepared for how easy success would be.

* * *

I am a 53-year-old mom from Davis, CA. My daughter began identifying as a transgender boy (social transition) and using he/him pronouns at school during 8th grade. Like several of her peers who also identified as trans at her school, my daughter was a gifted student and intellectually mature but socially immature. This shift coincided with her school’s sudden commitment to, and celebration of, a now widespread set of radical beliefs about the biology of sex and gender identity.

She “came out” as trans to her father (my ex-husband) and me through a standard coming-out letter, expressing her wish to start puberty blockers. She said she knew they were safe, citing information she had read from Planned Parenthood and the World Professional Association for Transgender Health (WPATH). To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I was also confused because this announcement was sudden and unexpected. While others quickly accepted and affirmed my daughter’s new identity, I was apprehensive and felt the need to learn more about what was going on.

Events began escalating quickly.

During a routine doctor’s visit scheduled for dizziness my daughter said that she was experiencing, the Kaiser pediatrician overheard her father using “he/him” pronouns for our daughter. The pediatrician seemed thrilled, quickly asking my daughter about her “preferred pronouns” and updating her medical records to denote that my daughter was now, in fact, my son. The pediatrician then recommended we consult the Kaiser Permanente Oakland Proud pediatric gender clinic, where she could get further information and (gender affirming) “treatment.” Now I was the one feeling dizzy.

As I began educating myself on this issue, I discovered that this phenomenon—minors, most often teen girls, suddenly adopting trans identities—was becoming increasingly widespread. It even had a name: rapid onset gender dysphoria, or ROGD. Thankfully, after learning about the potential side-effects of blockers and hormones, my ex-husband and I managed to agree not to consent to any medical interventions for our daughter until she turned 18 and would then be able to make such decisions as an adult.

Over the past five years, my daughter’s identity has slowly evolved in ways that I see as positive. Our bond, however, has become strained, particularly since I began publicly voicing my concerns about what many term as “gender ideology.” Following my daughter’s 17th birthday family celebration, she sent me an email that evening stating she would be cutting off contact with me.

While this estrangement brought me sorrow, with my daughter living full-time with her father, it also gave me the space to be an advocate/activist in pushing back on gender identity ideology in the schools and the medical industry.

I decided to go undercover as a nonbinary patient to show my daughter what danger she might be putting herself in—by people who purport to have her health as their interest, but whose main interest is in medically “affirming” (i.e., transitioning) whoever walks through their door. I am at heart a mother protecting her child.

* * *

My daughter’s sudden decision to become a boy was heavily on my mind in early September of 2022, when mail from my Kaiser Permanente Davis Ob-Gyn reminded me of a routine cervical screening with “Recommended for people with a cervix ages 21 to 65.” I was told that the wording was chosen to be “inclusive” of transgender and “gender fluid” patients.

Throughout the whole 231-day process of my feigned gender transition, the Kaiser gender specialists were eager to serve me and give me what I wanted, which would all be covered by insurance as “medically necessary.” My emails were returned quickly, my appointments scheduled efficiently, and I never fell through the cracks. I was helped along every step of the way.

Despite gender activists and clinicians constantly claiming that obtaining hormones and surgeries is a long and complex process with plenty of safety checks in place, I was in full control at every checkpoint. I was able to self-diagnose, determine how strong a dose of testosterone I received and which surgeries I wanted to pursue, no matter how extreme and no matter how many glaring red flags I purposefully dropped. The medical workers I met repeatedly reminded me that they were not there to act as “gatekeepers.”

I was able to instantly change my medical records to reflect my new gender identity and pronouns. Despite never being diagnosed with gender dysphoria, I was able to obtain a prescription for testosterone and approval for a “gender-affirming” double mastectomy from my doctor. It took only three more months (90 days) to be approved for surgery to remove my uterus and have a fake penis constructed from the skin of my thigh or forearm. Therapy was never recommended.

Critics might dismiss my story as insignificant on the grounds that I am a 53-year-old woman with ample life experience who should be free to alter her body. However, this argument for adult bodily autonomy is a standard we apply to purely cosmetic procedures like breast implants, liposuction, and facelifts, not “medically necessary” and “lifesaving” treatments covered by health insurance. Or interventions that compromise health and introduce illness into an otherwise healthy body. And especially not for children.

My story, which I outline in much more detail below, should convince any half-rational person that gender medicine is not operating like any other field of medicine. Based on a radical concept of “gender identity,” this medical anomaly preys upon the body-image insecurities common among pubescent minors to bill health insurance companies for permanent cosmetic procedures that often leave their patients with permanently altered bodies, damaged endocrine systems, sexual dysfunction, and infertility.

* * *

Detailed Timeline of Events

On October 6, 2022, I responded to my Ob-Gyn’s email to tell her that, after some thought, I’d decided that maybe the label “cis woman” didn’t truly reflect who I was. After all, I did have some tomboyish tendencies. I told her I would like my records to be changed to reflect my newly realized “nonbinary” identity, and that my new pronouns were they/them. I also voiced my desire to be put in touch with an endocrinologist to discuss starting testosterone treatment.

Fifteen minutes later I received an email from another Kaiser doctor informing me that my medical records had been changed, and that once my primary doctor returned to the office, I’d be able to speak with her about hormone therapy.

I responded the following day (October 7, 2022), thanking her for changing my records, and asking if she could connect me with someone who could help me make an appointment for “top surgery” (i.e., a cosmetic double mastectomy) because my chest binder was rather “uncomfortable after long days and playing tennis.”

She told me to contact my primary care MD to “get things rolling,” and that there were likely to be “preliminary evaluations.”

Six days after contacting my primary care MD for a referral, I received an email from one of Kaiser’s gender specialists asking me to schedule a phone appointment so she could better understand my goals for surgery, so that I could get “connected to care.” This call to review my “gender affirming treatment options and services” would take 15-20 minutes, after which I would be “booked for intake,” allowing me to proceed with medical transition.

This wasn’t an evaluation of whether surgical transition was appropriate, it was simply a meeting for me to tell them what I wanted so that they could provide it.

On October 18, I had my one and only in-person appointment in preparation for top surgery. I met in Davis with my primary care physician, Dr. Hong-wen Xue. The assessment was a 10-minute routine physical exam that included blood tests. Everything came back normal. Notably, there was not a single question about why I wanted top surgery or cross-sex hormones. Nor was there any discussion of the risks involved with these medical treatments.

The following week, on October 24, I had a phone appointment with Rachaell Wood, MFT, a gender specialist with Kaiser Sacramento. The call lasted 15 minutes and consisted of standard questions about potential drug use, domestic violence, guns in the house, and whether I experienced any suicidal thoughts. There were no questions from the gender specialist about my reasons for requesting a mastectomy or cross-sex hormones, or why I suddenly, at 52, decided I was “nonbinary.”

After the call, Kaiser emailed me instructions about how to prepare for my pre-surgery intake video appointment to evaluate my mental health, scheduled to take place on November 15. The email stated that prior to my appointment, I should research hormone risks on the WPATH website, and to “research bilateral mastectomy and chest reconstruction surgery risks and recovery” on Kaiser’s website.

I decided to request a “gender-affirming” double mastectomy and phalloplasty. Kaiser sent me a sample timeline for gender transition surgery preparation (see below) that you can use as a reference for the process. I also asked for a prescription for cross-sex hormones (testosterone) as needed and recommended by Kaiser.

[ Source: Kaiser Permanente, Top Surgery - EXPLORING YOUR SURGICAL OPTIONS ]

Pre-Surgery Mental Health Video Appointment, Part I

This “Mental Health Visit” assessment was conducted over Zoom. The Kaiser gender specialist started with questions addressing my marital status, race, gender identity, and other demographics. She asked whether I was “thinking of any other surgeries, treatments in the future.” The list she read included “gender-affirming” hysterectomies, bottom surgeries such as metoidioplasty and phalloplasty, vocal coaching, support groups, and body contouring. “Anything else you might be interested in doing?” she asked. I said that I’d perhaps be interested in body contouring. I was also assured that all the procedures would be covered by insurance because they were considered “medically necessary.”

I dropped in several red flags regarding my mental health to see the reaction, but all were ignored. For instance, I revealed that I had PTSD. When the therapist asked me about whether I had experienced any “childhood trauma,” I explained that I grew up in Mexico City and had been groped several times and had also witnessed men masturbating in public and had been grabbed by men in subways and buses. “I was a young girl, so [I had] lots of experiences of sexual harassments, sexual assault, just the kind of stuff that happens when you are a girl growing up in a big city.” “So, you know,” I finished, “just the general feeling that you are unsafe, you know, in a female body.”

The therapist did not respond to my disclosure that trauma could be the cause of my dysphoria. Instead of viewing this trauma as potentially driving my desire to escape my female body through hormones and surgery, she asked whether there is anything “important that the surgery team should be aware of” regarding my “history of trauma,” such as whether I’d be comfortable with the surgeon examining and marking my chest prior to surgery.

When asked about whether I had had any “psychotic symptoms,” I told her that while I had had no such symptoms, my mother had a delusional nervous breakdown in her 50s because she had body dysmorphia and became convinced she had a growth on her neck that needed to be removed. I told her that my mother was then admitted to an inpatient hospital for severe depression. I asked her whether she ever sees patients with body dysmorphia and whether I could have potentially inherited that from my mother. She told me that psychosis was hereditary, but that it was “highly unlikely” that there was any connection between body dysmorphia and gender dysphoria.

I enthusiastically waved more mental health red flags, waiting to see if she would pick up on any of them.

I’m just wondering if my feelings, or perseverating, or feeling like these breasts make me really unhappy and I just don’t want them anymore!...I’m just not sure if that’s a similar feeling to body dysmorphia? How do you decide which one is gender dysphoria and general body dysmorphia, and just not liking something about your body? Feeling uncomfortable with your body? And I did have an eating disorder all through college. I was a distance runner in college so I had bulimia and anorexia, you know. So I don’t know if that’s related to gender dysphoria?

The therapist replied, “I completely appreciate your concerns, but I am going to ask you questions about your chest, about your expectations. And then I’ll be able to give you an assessment.” She also said the main difference between my mom’s situation and mine was that my mom didn’t really have a growth on her neck, whereas it’s “confirmed” that I actually have “chest tissue.” Furthermore, she said that while “historically there has been all this pressure on patients to be like ‘Are you really, really sure you want hormones? Are you 100% sure?’ We are a little more relaxed.” She continued, “As long as you are aware of the risks and the side-effects, you can put your toe in the water. You can stop ‘T’ [testosterone], you can go back and do it again later! You can stop it! You can stop it! You know what I mean?”

Because we ran out of time, I scheduled a follow-up phone meeting on December 27, 2022 with a different gender specialist to complete my mental health assessment for top surgery.

Pre-Surgery Mental Health Video Appointment, Part II

During this meeting, Guneet Kaur, LCSW, another Kaiser gender specialist (she/her/they/them pronouns) told me that she regretted the “gatekeeping vibe” of the meeting but assured me that since I have been “doing the work,” her questions are essentially just a form of “emotional support” before talking with the medical providers.

She asked me about what I’d been “looking into as far as hormones.” I told her that I’d be interested in taking small doses of testosterone to counterbalance my female feelings to achieve “a feeling that’s kind of neutral.”

When she asked me about me “not feeling like I match on the outside what I feel on the inside,” I dropped more red flags, mentioning my aversion to wearing dresses and skirts.

I don’t own a single dress or a skirt and haven't in 20 years. I think for me it’s been just dressing the way that’s comfortable for me, which is just wearing, jeans and sweatshirts and I have a lot of flannel shirts and, and I wear boots all the time instead of other kinds of shoes. So I think it’s been nice being able to dress, especially because I work from home now most of the time that just a feeling of clothing being one of the ways that I can feel more non-binary in my everyday life.

She responded, “Like having control over what you wear and yeah. Kind of that feeling of just, yeah, this is who I am today. That’s awesome. Yeah.”

She then asked me to describe my dysphoria, and I told her that I didn’t like the “feeling of the female form and being chesty,” and that because I am going through menopause, I wanted to start taking testosterone to avoid “that feeling of being like this apple-shaped older woman.” “Good. Okay, great,” she responded, reminding me that only “top surgery,” not testosterone, would be able to solve my chest dysphoria. (Perhaps it was because all these meetings were online, they didn’t notice I’m actually fit and relatively slender at 5’-5” and 130 pounds, and not apple-shaped at all.)

She told me that we had to get through a few more questions related to my medical history before “we can move on to the fun stuff, which is testosterone and top surgery.”

The “fun stuff” consisted of a discussion about the physical and mood changes I could expect, and her asking me about the dose of testosterone I wanted to take and the kind of “top surgery” technique I’d prefer to achieve my “chest goals.” She told me that all or most of my consultations for surgeries and hormones would be virtual.

The gender specialist told me after the appointment, she would submit my referral to the Multi-Specialty Transitions Clinic (MST) team that oversees “gender expansive care.” They would follow up to schedule a “nursing call” with me to review my medical history, after which they’d schedule my appointment with a surgeon for a consultation. Her instructions for this consultation were to “tell them what you’re wanting for surgery and then they share with you their game plan.”

[ Decision-making slide to help me identify my goals for top surgery–flat chest, nipple sensation, or minimal scarring. Source: Kaiser Permanente, Top Surgery - EXPLORING YOUR SURGICAL OPTIONS ]

She told me that Kaiser has a team of plastic surgeons who “only work with trans and nonbinary patients because there’s just so much need for them.” She asked about my priorities for chest surgery, such as whether I value flatness over nipple sensation. I learned about double incision top surgery with nipple grafts, as well as “keyhole,” “donut,” “buttonhole,” and “Inverted-T” top surgeries.

By the end of the hour-long appointment, I had my surgery referral and was ready for my “nursing call” appointment.

Nursing call with Nurse Coordinator from the Transgender Surgery and Gender Pathways Clinic at Kaiser San Francisco

On January 19, 2023, I had my nursing call with the Nurse Coordinator. He first said that “the purpose of this call is just for us to go through your chart together and make sure everything’s as accurate as possible.” Once that was done, my referral would be sent to the surgeon for a consultation.

He asked me about potential allergies and recreational drug use, and verified that I was up to date on mammograms, pap smears, and colon cancer screenings, as well as vaccines for flu and COVID. I verified my surgical history as well as my current medications and dietary supplements.

He told me about a “top surgery class” available for patients where one of the Kaiser surgeons “presents and talks about surgical techniques and options within top surgery,” and includes a panel of patients who have had top surgery. I signed up for the February 8th class.

Within 10 minutes he told me that he had “sent a referral to the plastic surgery department at Kaiser Sacramento,” and that I should be hearing from them in the next week or two to schedule a consultation.

Appointment for Testosterone

On January 27, I had a 13-minute online appointment with a primary care doctor at Kaiser Davis to discuss testosterone. The doctor verified my name and preferred pronouns, and then directly asked: “So, what would you like to do? What kind of physical things are you looking for?”

I told her I wanted facial hair, a more muscular and less “curvy” physique, and to feel stronger and androgynous. She asked me when I wanted to start, and I told her in the next few months. She asked me if I was menopausal, whether I had ovaries and a uterus, although that information should have been on my chart.

The doctor said she wanted me to come in to get some labs so she could check my current estrogen, testosterone, and hemoglobin levels before starting hormones. Then “we'll set the ball in motion and you'll be going. We’ll see you full steam ahead in the direction you wanna go.”

That was it. I made an appointment and had my lab tests done on February 12. My labs came back on February 14, and the following day, after paying a $5 copay at the Kaiser pharmacy, I picked up my testosterone pump. That was easy!

Top Surgery Consultation

On the same day I received my labs, I had a Zoom surgery consultation with Karly Autumn-Kaplan, MD, Kaiser Sacramento plastic surgeon. This consultation was all about discussing my “goals” for surgery, not about whether surgery was needed or appropriate.

I told the surgeon that I wanted a “flatter, more androgynous appearance.” She asked me some questions to get a better idea of what that meant for me. She said that some patients want a “male chest,” but that others “want to look like nothing, like just straight up and down, sometimes not even nipples.” Others still wanted their chest to appear slightly feminine and only “slightly rounded.” I told her that I’d like my chest to have a “male appearance.”

“What are your thoughts about keeping your nipples?” she asked. “Are you interested in having nipples or would you like them removed?” I told her that I’d like to keep my nipples, but to make them “smaller in size.” She asked me if I’d like them moved to “the edge of the peck muscle” to achieve “a more male appearance.” I said yes.

I was asked to show my bare chest from the front and side, which I did. Then she asked me how important it was for me to keep my nipple sensation. I replied that it was important unless it would make recovery more difficult or there were other associated risks. She highlighted the problem with the free nipple graft, saying that removing the nipple to relocate it means “you're not gonna have sensation in that nipple and areola anymore.” However, some nipple sensation could be preserved by keeping it attached to “a little stalk of tissue” with “real nerves going to it,” but that would require leaving more tissue behind. I told her I’d go for the free nipple graft to achieve a flatter appearance. It was also suggested I could skip nipple reconstruction entirely and just get nipples “tattooed” directly onto my chest.

She told me I was “a good candidate for surgery,” and put me on the surgery wait list. She said that the wait time was between three and five months, but a cancellation could move me up to a sooner date. Also, if I wanted surgery as soon as possible, I could tell the surgery scheduler that I’d be willing to have any of the other three surgeons perform my mastectomy. Outpatient top surgery would cost me a copay of $100.

They contacted twice, in February and March, notifying me of cancellations. If I had accepted and shown up on those dates, they would have removed my breasts. This would have been less than five months from the time I first contacted Kaiser to inform them of my new “nonbinary” gender identity.

How Far Can I Go?

I decided to see how easy it would be for me to get approved for a phalloplasty. Known euphemistically as “bottom surgery,” phalloplasty is the surgical creation of an artificial penis, generally using tissue from the thigh or arm.

I sent an email on March 1, 2023, requesting to have a phalloplasty and concurrent hysterectomy scheduled alongside my mastectomy.

Two weeks later, on March 16th, I had a 16-minute phone call with a gender specialist to discuss my goals for bottom surgery and obtain my referral.

During the call, I explained to the specialist that I wasn’t sure about taking testosterone anymore because I was already quite athletic and muscular, and that taking testosterone didn’t make much sense to me. Instead, I wanted bottom surgery so that I wouldn’t feel like my “top” didn’t match my “bottom.” I told her:

But what I really wanted was to have bottom surgery. So this way when I have my top surgery, which sounds like it could be very soon, that I’ll be aligned, that I won’t have this sense of dysphoria with one part of my body and the other part feeling like it matched who I am. So yeah. So I just did a little bit more research into that. And I looked at the resources on the Kaiser page for the MST clinic and I think I know what I want, which is the hysterectomy and then at the same time or soon after to be able to have a phalloplasty.

I told her that I wanted to schedule the top and bottom surgery concurrently so that I wouldn’t have to take more time off work and it would save me trips to San Francisco or Oakland, or wherever I had to go for surgery.

None of this gave the gender specialist pause. After a brief conversation about some online resources to look over, she told me that she would “submit the referral now and we’ll get this ball rolling.”

Bottom surgery would cost me a copay of $200, which included a couple of days in the hospital for recovery.

Phalloplasty Surgical Consultation with Nurse Coordinator

On May 16, 2023, I had a short surgical consultation with a nurse coordinator to go through my medical history. This was similar to the consultation for top surgery but included information about hair removal procedures for the skin on my “donor site” that would be fashioned into a makeshift penis. They also went over the procedures for determining which donor site—forearm or thigh—was more viable.

After only 15 minutes, she submitted my referral to the surgeon for another surgical consultation.

On May 25 I received an email from my phalloplasty surgeon’s scheduler, informing me that they have received my referral and are actively working on scheduling, but that they are experiencing delays.

I ended my investigation here once I had the referral for the top and bottom surgery. I never used my testosterone pump.

Final Thoughts

In fewer than 300 days, based on a set of superficial and shifting thoughts about my gender and my “embodiment goals” triggered by the mere mention of “gender” in a form letter from my primary care physician, and driven by what could only be described as minor discomforts, Kaiser Permanente’s esteemed “multi-disciplinary team” of “gender specialists” was willing, with enthusiasm—while ignoring mental health concerns, history of sexual trauma, and rapidly escalating surgical requests—to prescribe life-altering medications and perform surgeries to remove my breasts, uterus, and vagina, close my vaginal opening, and attempt a complex surgery with high failure and complication rates to create a functionless representation of a penis that destroys the integrity of my arm or thigh in the process.

This describes the supposedly meticulous, lengthy, and safety-focused process that a Kaiser patient must undergo to embark on a journey to medically alter their body. No clinician questioned my motivations. No one showed concern that I might be addressing a mental health issue through radical and irreversible interventions that wouldn’t address my amorphous problems. There were no discussions about how these treatments would impact my long-term health, romantic relationships, family, or sex life. I charted the course. The clinicians followed my lead without question. The guiding issue was what I wanted to look like.

No other medical field operates with this level of carelessness and disregard for patient health and welfare. No other medical field addresses issues of self-perception with surgery and labels it “medically necessary.” No other medical field is this disconnected from the reality of the patients it serves.

Kaiser has traded medicine for ideology. It’s far beyond time we stop the ruse of considering “gender-affirming” interventions as anything approaching medical care.

This isn’t the first time Kaiser Permanente has been in the news for completely disregarding medical safeguards in the name of “gender-affirming care.” As girls, Chloe Cole and Layla Jane became convinced that they were born in the wrong body and were actually boys on the inside. Doctors at Kaiser ignored their underlying conditions and instead prescribed testosterone and removed their breasts. Both Cole and Jane have since detransitioned and are currently suing Kaiser.

The fact that children and vulnerable adults are being exploited in this massive ideological experiment is not just tragic; it’s deeply disturbing, especially considering it has evolved into a billion-dollar industry.

I hope that by sharing my story, I can bring more focused scrutiny to the medical scandal unfolding not just at Kaiser but also at medical centers and hospitals across the Western world. These institutions have completely abandoned medical safeguards for patients who claim to be confused about their “gender,” and I aim to awaken more parents and assist them in protecting their children.

--

==

This is completely insane.

Apologists online are running around saying, but she didn't mean it, she was lying, she was pretending...

It doesn't matter.

Any kind of security, penetration or integrity test is insincere too. When security researchers compromise Microsoft's operating system or Google's browser or whatever, "but they didn't mean it" is not a defence to a discovered security flaw. It doesn't matter that the security researchers didn't plan to steal data or money or identities. The flaw in the system is there regardless.

It doesn't matter that it was insincere. Because the workers didn't know that. They never checked, never asked questions, never tested. They had been taught and instructed to never ask any questions. They did what they were supposed to. And the system failed spectacularly. Because that's what "gender affirming care" means.

Additionally, the claim that Beth Bourne committed fraud is an outright lie. A patient cannot bill. They do not have the authority. The medical clinic is the only one that can bill, and they must supply a diagnosis and a medical necessity.

If they didn't diagnose her and just wrote down what she said, then they committed fraud. If they claim they did diagnose her, then they committed fraud, because the diagnosis they concocted was bogus. This, by the way, is actually going on. Clinics are reporting fake endocrine and other disorders to get blockers, hormones and other interventions. Jamie Reed and other whistleblowers have documented evidence of this. Beth Bourne is not responsible for what the clinic does. They have medical licenses and legal responsibility. Not her.

Additionally, anyone who actually read the article would know how she tested the system. She said things like, "I've always been not that feminine. So, maybe I get my boobs removed." And they said, "sure." Instead of saying, "wait, why do you think that?" Framing it as her lying is itself a lie. They violated their ethical obligations. That much is incontrovertible. And it's directly the result of "gender affirming care," where clinics and clinicians rubber-stamp anything deemed "trans" based entirely on ideological, not medical, grounds.

[letterboxd-loggd]

The Lady Confesses (1945) Sam Newfield

March 31st 2024

[cooneyscross]

Better Keep Your Mouth Shut

Kyra x Sunny -> part one

summary: You've managed to keep your relationship a secret but can a drunk Kyra keep her mouth shut?

Kyra had only joined Arsenal a week ago but already people thought it was strange how close the two of you were with each other.

They all thought it was weird how you already seemed to have hundreds of little inside jokes that you would always be giggling about at training, and how you'd been out for coffee almost every day.

When people questioned it you'd both play it off saying that you'd clicked and wanted to get to know each other better. But in reality you were making up for lost time when you didn't have to chance to do this.

The girls would complain that they couldn't be friends with Kyra because you hogged her and you'd grin and claim it because you were the best person in the world and you couldn't blame her for wanting to be your friend.

Steph, who seemed to be the most suspicious, had even gone as far as trapping you in the changing rooms. Her eyes had been sharp, filled with a mixture of suspicion and concern as if she could tell what was going on. 'Why is Kyra always clinging to you?' Steph had demanded and it was the first time you'd struggled to smoothly answer.

'I've just been looking after her... making sure she settled in ok,' You stammered, trying to keep your tone casual, Steph was like Kyra's mum and you didn't want her to get mad. 'It can be really scary making this big of a move, you should know that.'

Steph's eyes stayed trained on your for a minute longer before she shrugged, either believing you or giving up trying. 'Caitlin must be right, Kyra's obviously going to make friends with the biggest pest on the team.'

Even though you were happy to finally be able to spend time with your girlfriend, not over facetime with an annoying time difference, you didn't want to stop her from being able to make friendships with the other girls on the team.

Overall the two of you had done a pretty good job at keeping it undercover, only once had the secret almost slipped.

Kyra didn't mean to she just hadn't been thinking about it when her and Alessia were leaving the cafe they had just had lunch in together.

'I need to pick up some chocolate for dinner tonight. It’s Sunny’s favorite.' The blonde had said as they walked along the street.

Kyra’s eyes lit up, smiling softly as she remembered all the times you'd begged her to get chocolate. 'Oh, that's a great idea she's obsessed with the marvelous creations you should grab that. Also get some Sour Patch Kids too. She always craves sour stuff after chocolate.'

Alessia raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways at Kyra confused as to why the Aussie knew so much about a girl who she'd only met a week ago. 'That's pretty specific... has she always been like that?'

Kyra nodded enthusiastically, her mood lifting as she gets to talk about you. 'Yeah, always telling me how she needs that sour kick to balance out the sweetness. She'll give me the silent treatment if I don't let her eat them. Funny how she’s got such specific cravings, right?'

Alessia’s suspicion grew with every word. 'So you’ve been hanging out with Sunny a lot then?'

Only then did Kyra realise the mistake she'd made, the way she was talking about you made it seem like you'd known each other for ages which you had, but nobody else was meant to know that. She mentally cursed at herself for not realising sooner. 'Yeah, a bit. But she's always going on about how she loves that combination. I guess it just stuck with me.”

As they entered the store, Alessia couldn’t help but wonder how Kyra knew so much about Sunny’s preferences in such a short time. The details seemed too precise for a friendship that was only a week old, leaving Alessia increasingly intrigued and wary.

Currently you were all at a team gathering and Viv and Beth's house, the whole team catching up before the start of the season. You'd told yourself you wouldn't drink tonight, knowing when you do you normally ended up doing something stupid. However you broke that promise the minute Katie had teased you and called you a chicken.

So that's how you ended up leaning heavily on the kitchen island an empty shot glass in your hand, matching ones scattered on the table. A smug grin plastered to your face as you watched Katie struggle to down her drink.

'Who's the chicken now.' You laugh making chicken noises and only stopping when she whacks you in the arm making you wince.

'Piss off McCabe,' you huff rubbing your arm even though it didn't even hurt that bad. You just liked to make a scene out of things. 'You're such a sore loser, I can't believe you thought you could beat me in a drinking game I never loose.' You smirk at her even as she flips you off before you decide you don't want to deal with a drunk and angry Katie, instead going to find Vic.

'Hellooooo.' You smile stretching out the word as you wrap an arm around your best friend, sitting down next to her on the couch as she talks to Leah and Lia.

When sees you she rolls her eyes lightly, 'I thought you said you weren't gonna drink tonight.' You grin sheepishly.

'What do you mean, I haven't.' You lie causing her to roll her eyes again but you know she's not seriously annoyed as a small, amused smile plays at her lips.

'Well when your throwing up tonight, don't expect me to hold your hair back for you.' She teases moving her body so her legs are resting on you and you groan trying to push them off but failing.

'that's not true, you always hold my hair.' You tell her knowing that she may act annoyed but she's always there for you at the end of the night just like you are for her. She shakes her head and you move your face closer to hers 'admit it, you love me.' She laughs, gently pushing your head away from hers before the two of you join in with Leah and Lia's conversation.

You don't realise that as this happens Kyra is watching you from the corner of the room, where she is talking to Katie and Caitlin. Her attention far from the conversation as she gets sick of Katie complaining that you must've cheated.

Instead she's watching you with Vic, your arms wrapped around the Dutch's body and her legs casually resting on your lap. When you lean your face closer to hers she can't help but feel a pang of jealousy in her heart seeing you like that with someone else.

She knows her thoughts are irrational, you and Vic are just bestfriends, she's like this with Charli as well so she shouldn't be jealous but she is. She blames the alcohol for making her feel this way.

When your head rests on Vic's shoulder she leaves the room wanting to find someone else to talk to bored of Katie's complaining. She didn't expect to find Stina, Frida, Steph and Beth all laughing loudly as Kim stood in the middle of the room singing loudly to a song Kyra couldn't recognize.

When the other four notice her presence they all grin at her. 'You're next Kyra.' Steph laughs loudly handing Kyra a hairbrush and pushing her to where Kim used to be standing. She then plays a song and it takes a minute for her to realise what it is but when she does she let's out a little laugh before singing loudly.

Normally she wouldn't be this comfortable performing in front of people she hardly knew, but the alcohol surging through her veins seemed to have given her a surge of confidence.

Meanwhile, you're still stuck on the couch with Vic. Her legs on top of you stopping you from leaving. Your interrupted from the conversation by Alessia's loud voice in your ear.

'Sunny, you've got to see this!' She screams, pulling you up causing Vic's legs to fall to the ground a small whine escaping her lips.

'Hey! I was comfy.' She complains but her cries are unheard as Alessia is already dragging you through the crowded room. She was pulling you up the hallway and only when you got closer could you hear Taylor Swift's voice breaking the quietness.

It was only as you reached the door that you could hear another voice screaming loudly along with the song. the off-key wails you immediately recognized as Kyra's, and you immediately understood why Alessia wanted you to see the scene in front of you.

Kyra was completely wasted with a hairbrush in one hand and a glass of some alcoholic liquid in the other. The hairbrush was being used as a microphone with Kyra screaming the lyrics of You Belong with Me. Steph and Beth were dancing along together and Frida was laughing from the couch her phone trained on Kyra as she filmed the madness.

'Why can't you see-e-ee you belong with me!'

'Sunny please stop her, she's been playing this song on repeat like four times.' You laugh at the pained look on Stina's face as she speaks.

'Kyra! what the fuck are you doing.' You shout getting the Aussie's attention. When she sees you her whole face lights up and she runs over to hug you.

'Why were you being so cuddly with Vic.' She pouts, dropping the hairbrush onto the ground. You were always like that with Vic, and Kyra knew you only meant it in a friendly manner so you frowned.

'When.'

'Just then, on the couch.' She whined squeezing you a little bit.

You had no idea why she was so upset, you were just sitting together.

'Kyra Lilee Cooney-Cross, you've got to be fucking with me! You can't seriously be jealous of Vic!' You push her away lightly remembering where you were and that nobody knew about you and Kyra. She pouted as you looked around the room checking to see if anyone was watching you, which thankfully they weren't all caught up in their own stuff.

'it's not funny.' she puffed, crossing her arms like a 4 year old. By now Steph and Beth had changed the song and were both now in their own little world dancing away as everyone else watched their performance.

'Alright, I'm sorry.' You roll you eyes at her pettiness forgetting how dramatic Kyra could get when she'd have something to drink. 'I'll order a uber and we can get going when it arrives.' You offer and she huffs one more time before strolling off.

You laugh lightly at the girl watching her walk away from you walking into the door and swearing at it before going out of sight. You pull out your phone and open up the Uber app but are interrupted before you can order one.

Leah grabs your arm pulling you into the middle of the circle with her. 'C'mon little gooner,' she grins at you, using the nickname she had for you one that she started calling you when you first joined the senior team resulting in you calling her big gooner. 'It's our turn for karaoke.'

Someone chucks you the hairbrush which you catch with ease as the music starts blasting through the speaker and you instantly recognize the tune of 'The Angel' and you laugh. 'Manu, was this your idea?' You look towards the Austrian and roll your eyes playfully before you start singing the lyrics along with Leah. People laughing as you try to hit the notes but fail drastically.

When it gets to the chorus the whole room starts singing along.

'North London forever, whatever the weather.' Leah wraps an arm around your shoulder.

'These streets are our own.' You smile despite how awfully out of tune everyone is 'and my heart will leave you never, my blood will forever run through the stone.'

Eventually the song ends and every breaks into a round of applause you and Leah laughing as you take a bow.

'Who's next?' Beth shouts and when no one puts their hands up Beth stands up and grabs the hairbrush from your hand picking a song of her own.

You squeeze next to Caitlin on the small armchair she's sitting on, flicking her in the shoulder knowing she's was extra irritable when she'd had a drink.

'Fuck off, I'm not in the mood for it tonight.' She groans pushing you away, but its no use and the arm rests block you from going anywhere so you're still stuck pressed up against her side, 'Katie's been talking my ear off all night, and I was trying to get a break from it now but of course you had to ruin it.' She sighs and you grin at her reaction.

'Speaking of katie, where is she?' realising you hadn't seen katie since you beat her in that drinking game.

'Her and Kyra are in the kitchen, their both pissed.'

You frown to yourself, remembering you told Kyra you'd call and Uber but you'd not been able to when Leah had distracted you. You get off the chair and walk into the kitchen.

'I still can't believe you have a girlfriend, that you've never told us about before.' Alessia says, looking shocked at the news.

'She's so pretttyyyy.' Kyra was drunkenly rambling on to a slightly less drunk Alessia. 'L-like she's perfect. And it's not fair that she doesn't think I'm perfect.' The aussie whined sadly.

An equally intoxicated Katie frowned dramatically, 'well then she fucking stupid.' she decided through a hiccup.

Kyra gasped as it was the most offensive thing she'd even heard. 'Don't say that.' she pouted with a heated glare towards Katie.

'it's true.' Katie sniffed, waving her hand in the air mindlessly and accidentally slapping Kyra on the face.

Kyra let out a shriek as though Katie had full on punched her and lifted her hand, slapping the Irish back with no strength, it was more of a pat on the cheek.

Katie gasped loudly leaning over to hit Kyra back and seeming to forget she was sitting on the edge of the kitchen counter resulting in her falling off and landing on the floor.

And that's how you found them, a red faced and frowning Katie lying on the floor as though she had been shot, a giggling Kyra rocking from side to side where she was perched on the counter and a tired Alessia who still had a vague look of shock on her face as she was still thinking about the news Kyra had just broke.

'Normally I'm the one who has to be looked after on nights out.' You mumble, amused at the sight before you.

Katie pushed herself off of the floor so fast you were worried she'd injure herself but she didn't even notice, instead her face lit up making you confused before she yells out; 'Foordy!'

Caitlin groans from behind you and you realised she must've followed you, the aussie barely has time to prepare herself before Katie launches herself into her arms.

You grinned at them, shooting Caitlin a teasing smile as Katie snuggles herself into the crook of her neck and even let out a hum of complete content.

You only look away from the amusing yet adorable scene when you hear Kyra whisper to Alessia who had her eyes shut and was resting her head on Kyra's shoulder now. You were unsure if she was sleeping or trying to but you prayed it was the former as Kyra loudly whispered 'She's so pretty.'

Alessia just mumbles before a quiet snore escapes her lips and you allow yourself to go and sit next to Kyra.

'Talking about me love?' You question cheekily, this time speaking in an actual whisper so no one else can hear.

'Yeah.' Kyra whispered back, to out of her normal mindset to tease you or be cocky, instead she sounded so sincere that your heart fluttered a little bit. Her big eyes staring up at you hopelessly as you smiled tenderly.

'Well thank you.' You smiled softly, giving her a little squeeze not wanting to do anything more knowing that if Caitlin sees she's likely to remember as she's not as shit faced as Katie is.

'It's ok, it's the truth.' Kyra sleepily smiled back at you, her eyes drooping as she leans on your shoulder, Alessia groaning from the sudden movement rubbing her eyes as she moves into a sitting position.

It takes her a while to adjust, seeming as though she must've forgotten where she was after falling asleep. When she sees you her eyes light up a little bit a grin falling on her face 'Sunny you're here.' Her words are still slurred showing that she hasn't sobered up yet, 'did Kyra tell you the big news, she has a girlfriend!'

The smile falls off your face, and you feel your hands start to sweat as nerves take over. 'really?' You manage to say weakly, you weren't prepared for everyone to know 'did she say who it was?' You ask praying that even drunk Kyra would be smart enough to not tell them.

'No.' You feel your heartbeat ease but the smile on the strikers face falters, clearly disappointed that Kyra hadn't revealed who, before she beams again 'but she kept going on about how caring and funny she was, I wish I had someone to love me like that.' The blonde sighs looking into the distance as you smiled fondly at the other girl who's head rested on your shoulder.

'So pretty.' Kyra mumbles half asleep and your smile grows before Alessia looks back at her a coos.

'Oh Sunny, you've got to help me find out who she is.' She says excitedly, and you nod weakly trying to act as if you had no clue who it could be. After seeing your reaction Alessia squeals hopping off the table, 'I've got to tell the others the big news.'

'Maybe it can just be our little secret for now.' You suggest not wanting everyone to know as they'd all pester Kyra non-stop and she was never good under pressure.

'I guess, but Katie knows as well.' You sigh bringing a hand up to your face knowing that Katie wouldn't be able to keep her big mouth shut, all you could do was hope that she'd be to drunk to remember this in the morning.

Once Alessia's left the room, you're alone with only Kyra.

'Baby it's time to go, the Ubers here.' You gently shake her causing her to groan and hug you tighter burying her face in your chest. 'You can stay at my place tonight, we can just tell Steph that you crashed on the couch.' You tempt her and a small smile forms on her face.

'Cuddles?'

'Of course.' After hearing your response she quickly hops up and grabs your hand, helping you off the counter and pulling you to walk beside her and out of the house. 'Shouldn't we say goodbye?'

'It will be fine, they probably won't even notice we're gone. Now stop trying to stop me from spending time with my girlfriend.' She whines and you laugh kissing her on the nose to quiet her complaints.

'Better?' You joke rubbing her back before sliding your arm around her waist.

'I think I'm going to need more than that.' She says a mischievous glint in her eyes. You place a small kiss on her lip, intending for it to only be a quick peck but she senses your plan and wraps her arms tightly around you stopping you from moving as she deepens the kiss.

'Kyra.' You mumble between her lips, 'someones going to see us if we keep going.' after a bit of wiggling around you finally are free of her grasp.

You gasps, acting hurt as she places her hand to heart 'my own girlfriend doesn't love me.' she exclaims dramatically and you laugh.

'You're hearts on the other side silly.' You state moving her hand to the correct position as she goes red.

'I knew that, just testing you.' she lies a grin on her face as she does.

By now your out on the street waiting in the cold for your Uber, noticing your shivering Kyra wraps an arm around you pulling you closer trying to warm you up with some of her body heat.

'I love you Ky.' You say softly, the sound of your voice the only noise in the peaceful night sky.

'Love you more.'

'Don't think that's possible.'

She doesn't have the chance to retaliate as your Uber pulls up and you both hop into the back of the car, hands still intertwined as you do so. You quickly tell the driver your address as they begin the drive home.

You and Kyra sit in a comfortable silence both staring out the window and it's only when you look to your left that you realise the sad expression on Kyra's face.

'What's wrong my love?' You ask squeezing her hand as she turns around to face you.

'It’s nothing,' she mumbles, her voice barely audible. But when you give her a stern look, she exhales heavily, her frustration palpable. 'Fine. Tonight, I kept watching Caitlin, Katie, Viv, and Beth—seeing them so effortlessly happy together. It made me ache because I want that too. I want to be able to be with you like that. I want to show you off and kiss you without having to sneak around. I want to hold your hand in public, cuddle with you on the couch, call you ‘baby’ and ‘my love’ without the constant fear of hiding. I’m tired of pretending we’re just friends when all I want is to be able to be your girlfriend.'

You weren't expecting those words to fall out of her mouth and when you do it makes your heart sting a little. What she was saying was true, you felt that way to but you were too scared of all the bad things that could happen if you did tell everyone.

'Oh baby.' You look into her brown eyes which are slightly moist and you can feel her pain, 'I'm sorry for making you feel this way, I didn't know it was upsetting you but if you want we can tell the others. It's up to you.'

She looks torn, trying to decide how to respond. She opens her mouth before shutting it then opening it again, 'that would be nice, but maybe we can wait a little longer. We'll see what it's like after the season starts.' She suggests and you nod, yawning loudly as a sudden rush of exhaustion enters your body.

'Let's get home and rest we can talk about this tomorrow.' You tell her, eyelids becoming to heavy to keep open much longer. The relief you feel when you feel the car stop and see your familiar apartment building just outside the window is welcomed and you rush to quickly pay the driver before getting out of the car.

Once you get into your apartment you and Kyra both make a beeline for the bedroom, equally as ready as the other for a good sleep. You chuck her a pair of pajamas she left last time she'd stayed the night which she puts on whilst you do the same.

Your quickly in bed her head resting on your chest as you play with her hair causing a sigh to fall from her mouth.

'Goodnight love.' She whispers into the darkness.

'Night baby.'

[lottielovelace]

công chúa

(ghost x könig's-sister!reader)

summary: You're just a student trying to make through med school with your sanity intact. That last thing you needed was to be kidnapped to serve as a hostage for a half-brother you've never met.

At least the special forces operative here to help is cute.

originally posted on ao3 (wordcount: 3.8k)

Rating: T

Relationships: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader, Kate Laswell x her wife (I call her Jean), König & Reader <- PLATONIC

Ao3 Tags: meet cute! in a prison camp / First Meetings / tries to follow canon characterization / less so canon events/timeline / so some things (like the villains) are VERY vague / Past Suicide Attempt / Undercover Simon "Ghost" Riley / Unmasked Simon "Ghost" Riley / (Temporarily) / reader has a name & backstory but I tried to make it unobtrusive

this is a part of a series

Author's note: I do write this story with a specific OC (check the series masterpost if you want a full breakdown of her) in mind just so characterization is consistent, but I tried to make it possible for you to replace her with whoever you imagine. I do have to explicitly mention details unique to the OC (most obvious example here being her ethnicity and name [Elise Veidt]), but for the most part I'll try to keep things open ended (ex: using "your hair" instead of "your dark hair").

Also, as I mentioned, the OC's ethnicity (half-Vietnamese) is pretty plot relevant this chapter, but if that disrupts your reading flow, feel free to mentally replace it with whatever makes sense for your own personal read-through. I'm not used to writing in second person, so the verb tenses are kinda screwy.

Also this is in the tags but TW: DISCUSSION OF A PAST SUICIDE ATTEMPT (character has for the most part fully recovered)

công chúa:

People could be so fucking stupid sometimes. Bold and stupid. Newbies especially. New recruits—or in this case, new criminal organizations—always think they’ll be special. The exception to the rule.

Take for example, this new group who had the bloody brilliant idea of trying to control special forces (and a handful of top PMCs) by kidnapping anyone ransom-worthy they could get their grubby little hands on. Which meant a lot of missing parents, kid siblings, and SOs.

Ghost couldn’t tell if they actually thought that would work or if this was just some distraction. Perhaps an intimidation ploy or a small part of some greater plan. Either way, in reality, all they ended up with was a whole bunch of pissed-off—and very well trained—soldiers, many of whom were willing to do anything to get their loved ones back. Even allying with their greatest rivals. Ghost didn’t predict to end up working with KorTac of all bedfellows, but even their lads weren’t safe. 

In the past month, he'd had to bear witness to his comrades and competitors getting wrecked, worried sick over their nearest and dearest. Laswell might’ve single-handedly revived the tobacco industry and he’d never seen Johnny so torn up.

Ghost himself had been spared any grief. He would’ve liked to pretend that it was because his mask had protected his identity so well, but the reality was much simpler and bleaker. He had nobody to take. Tommy and Joseph and Beth and Mum were all already six feet under. Nothing would ever change that.

That being said, the mask wasn’t useless.

The hostagers had done extensive research into all their personal lives. They needed to in order to find out who they could kidnap and how. They had become intimately familiar with every combatant their cobbled alliance could send—with one glaring exception.

They certainly knew about Ghost, but not even they knew Ghost’s face—at least according to the dossier smuggled to the Task Force.

After that was discovered, going undercover was less of a choice and more of a duty.

----------

“Jean?”

The woman’s head jerked up at the whispered sound of her name. Finding no one in front of her, she swiveled. Her eyes landed on an idle balaclava-ed guard.

“Don’t look at me,” the guard commanded. He followed his own advice, keeping his gaze trained on the horizon. His voice was low and rough. Familiar.

Jean Laswell hazarded one last glance at him. She squinted, trying to place where she'd seen him before.

A stifled gasp rang out as her eyes widened in recognition.

“Ghost?”

“Keep your voice down, I’m undercover.”

Jean tried to keep her body language innocuous, eyes now glued to her own clasped hands. The last thing she wanted was to blow Ghost's cover.

“It’s good to see your face— or er, hear your voice.” Pleasantries aside, she went straight to the first question on her mind, the one that had plagued her sleepless nights. “How’s Kate?”

"Smoking like a chimney, but otherwise holding up. She misses you."

"Are you here to…"

"Not yet. KorTac and the team are planning a mutual offensive, but we need more intel before exfil becomes viable. Intel I was tasked with collecting."

His tone didn't reassure her.

"But…"

"I ran into a little roadblock. I was supposed to receive, memorize, and orally deliver crucial information about the compound’s layout and security flaws. We’d had some limited online communication with our informant, but couldn’t get anything sensitive past the security systems. So I volunteered to get it directly. Unfortunately, we didn’t know that our informant only speaks Vietnamese, Cantonese, and some very broken Russian. The dictionary he’d been previously using isn’t complex enough for the level of detail we need. Our shared Russian skills aren’t much better. I can’t leave until I have the intel memorized and I can’t memorize it until we find a translator."

"Could you leave and come back with a translator? A digital one maybe if you can't get anyone else past the guards?"

Ghost shook his head, “They know that we're trying to infiltrate them. They’re very strict about what technology gets in and out. Besides, my cover is only so good. I should be able to get a believable excuse to leave camp, but the scrutiny required for re-entry would compromise it.”

Jean pursed her lips in thought, running over the possibilities. She paused, half thinking out loud.

“I think the princess speaks Vietnamese.”

“Princess?” Ghost’s eyes widened beneath his mask. Shit, no one told him they'd taken someone so high profile. That significantly complicated security procedure. “I thought all their targets were lowkey.”

“No, no, she’s not royalty. She’s a med student. It’s just a nickname,” Jean hastily corrected with an embarrassed laugh. “We have a lot of those here. We get kinda bored.”

Ghost silently thought back on his own POW experiences.

“Things could be a whole lot worse than boredom.”

“The perks of being a hostage," Jean responded dryly. "Need us in one piece.”

“So where’s this ‘princess’ of yours?”

“There,” Jean pointed at the upper level of the compound's eastern turret. “You can see where the nickname comes from. She’s in solitary, but she has a window that we talk to her through during yard time.”

“What'd she do?” Unless the hostage takers were worse than he thought, they wouldn’t put someone in solitary for shits and giggles.

“She’s… a special case."

“Who’s she tied to?”

“That’s the thing. We don’t know. Not even she knows.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I know I’m here because of Kate. Ritchie’s here because of his uncle. Troy because of his brother. Eileen… could be her nephew, but it’s probably Soap. But Elise—that’s her name, Elise Veidt. Do you know any Veidts in Special Forces or KorTac?”

“Not to my knowledge, no. Could it be her boyfriend?”

Jean shook her head, “No. The common theory is an uncle or half sibling. Both her parents were civilians, but her father had family and an ex-wife on the other side of the Atlantic. She has no idea where they are now or if they’re even still alive, but it seems the most likely—if not the only—possibility. Plus she was single when she was discovered.”

Ghost's brow furrowed.

“Discovered? What do you mean by that?”

“There was… an incident. It ended with her being taken into custody.”

Ghost wanted to press for more detail, but Jean flashed him a look that stopped him in his tracks. She was married to Laswell, and that doesn't happen without being able to hold her own in an argument.

“It’s not my story to tell." Her tone was measured, but Ghost could tell this was non-negotiable to her. “She’s a good kid. Just got in a bit of a rough patch. Along the way she had her blood tested and it must’ve pinged… something. Next thing she knows, she’s getting transferred. They refuse to tell her where. When she resists, she gets knocked out and wakes up here.”

“That still doesn’t explain the isolation.”

“We think that whoever she’s related to, it must be someone important. Or someone very dangerous. Someone they’re scared to anger.”

“Then why did they kidnap her if they’re so bloody afraid of pissing the bugger off?”

“Taking her was probably a calculated risk. Returning her damaged a death sentence. They wanted to make sure she doesn’t get hurt, either by her own hand or someone else’s.”

----------

Ghost cautiously approached the cell door. According to the directory, this was “Detainee #934287: VEIDT, Elisabeth.” He peered through the grate, careful not to get too close to the opening—he knew firsthand how solitary confinement could warp the mind and liked having both his eyes intact.

From what he could see, the cell had a tiny cot, stripped of its sheets on the left. On the right was a wash basin and bucket. In between was a small window—just large enough to stick your face out of. It wasn’t the worst cell Ghost had seen, but it wasn’t homey either. It also appeared to be empty.

“What the—” he muttered under his breath.

The low rumble of his voice almost made you jump from your position, sitting leaned against the door. The window was your only connection to the outside world, but it also made your cell freezing so you tried to stay as far away from it as possible when there was no one outside to talk to. You paused, confused then intrigued. You didn’t think they had a British guard. Slowly, you got up.

He was closer than you assumed. Right up against the door, you almost had to suppress the urge to jump again. You silently mourned the fact that such a pretty pair of eyes were wasted on some terrorist dipshit.

Still, you were bored enough that anything seemed intriguing.

“You’re new.”

“You’re Elise, right?”

Your lips quirked with all the cockiness of someone who knew they couldn’t be touched.

“Shouldn’t they have already debriefed you on that?”

“The only person who’s briefed me on you was Jean.”

Your eyes narrowed. You may have only been able to communicate through a tiny window, but you trusted Jean. You knew her. She wouldn't rat on you, not without a fight.

“What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” his voice grew even gentler. Soft in a way that commanded you to hang on every word. “I’m here to help.”

Attractive voice and eyelashes aside, you were still unimpressed.

“Really?”

“I'm on a reconnaissance mission for Special Forces. I was supposed to memorize this file. I wasn’t told it was going in Vietnamese.”

You perked up at this. Finally, things were making a little sense.

“I speak Vietnamese.”

“So I’ve heard.”

You took one last look at him, trying to figure out if this was a trick or some sick game. Then again, if it was, what would they even do? Your captors didn’t seem allowed to punish you physically, and mentally there wasn’t much more they could do. Fuck it, you had nothing to lose.

You reached out your hand, “Gimme.”

He slipped you a folded up piece of paper. You unfolded it to reveal an annotated set of blueprints.

“Pen or pencil?” For all you know, he could be picky about that sort of stuff.

The man stood up to dig for something in his vest. You quietly realized that he’d been bending down to look you in the eye. This man, whoever he was, was tall.

He passed you a pen. You noticed that while his hands were gloved, a whisper of a tattoo peeked out as his sleeve rode up. It looked like it could be the bottom of a skull. Or a very small picket fence. Probably the former.

You figured he'd turn away and leave you to your work, but he doesn’t.

“Are you going to…”

“No,” he responded firmly. “If either of us get caught, at least two of us are screwed. I know I can get myself out of it, but our informant can’t. I won’t have his blood on your or my hands. So I’m going to keep watch.”

It’s slightly awkward with him just standing there, but you did your best to lay the blueprint flat against the wall and start scribbling away. Still, you couldn't help but let your eyes flit to him, now with his back to you, standing guard.

“Where are you from?”

“Hmm?”

“Your accent, where’s it from?”

“Shouldn’t you be focusing on your work?”

“I could do this with both hands tied behind my back."

He made a doubtful noise.

You let a cheeky smile grace your lips, “Pen in my mouth, paper on the floor. Handwriting might be chicken scratch, but it’d still be legible.”

If you could see his face, you would’ve noticed his eyebrows raise as he tried to picture it. You on your knees, leaned forward with your ass in the air, hands bound, tongue twisted around the p—

“So, the accent? Where?”

“That’s classified.”

You tilted your head in thought, “It’s Northern, right? British, not Scottish. You don’t sound like Eileen.”

He bristled, quiet in a way that tells you you’re on the money.

“Look, how about this. For every question you answer truthfully, I’ll do the same. I won’t ask you anything I know you can’t tell me, not even your name. I just... wouldn’t mind a little conversation. They’re kinda in short supply here.”

A beat passed.

“Manchester.”

“I knew it!”

He made another noise. You think it was a laugh. You think it sounds beautiful.

“My turn. How do you know Vietnamese?”

“My mother. She immigrated from the South when she was young. Judging from some of his vocabulary, I’d guess your informant is from the North, but the dialects aren’t all that different, especially in script. What food do you miss the most?”

“Anything that isn’t an ORP.”

“An ORP?”

“Operational ration pack.”

If your hands were free, you would’ve crossed them.

“That’s a cop out.”

“Fine,” he relented. “I could go for a Nando’s takeaway.”

“What sort of food is that?”

“Chicken. Flame grilled with this Peri-Peri sauce and—”

He groaned. It’s a noise you want to hear again.

Mimicked him in commiseration. The plates the guards slid through your food slot were pitiful, to say the least.

He starts to ask you something but seems to stop himself.

“What?” you asked.

“It’s… I shouldn’t.”

You were many things, but you weren't a coward.

“I can always choose not to answer. Hit me.”

His voice was still hesitant as he asked, “What did you get arrested for?”

You were worried that the question would be gross or embarrassing, not utterly nonsensical.

“Arrested?”

“Jean said they found you because you were taken into custody.”

“Oh,” your cheeks flushed. “It wasn’t that type of custody. I was 5150-ed. Or more accurately 5250-ed.”

“Pardon?”

“I tried to kill myself. I failed.”

The man froze. He turned around, trying to get a glimpse of you—and any wounds—through the grate.

“Do you need medical attention?”

“No,” you reassured. “I stole some valium and then drank myself silly. I was found in time and they got me help before any irrevocable damage happened. If they hadn’t spotted the note they would’ve just written me off as some foolish party animal, pumped my stomach, and let me be on my merry way.”

You haphazardly glanced at him, expecting him to be stone cold. A proper soldier. To your surprise his eyes, those stupidly beautiful eyes, are trained on you with more care than you've seen in the last three months combined.

“Were you a user… before?”

You shake your head but your eyes remain locked. You couldn't bear to break contact.

“No. Too busy with school. But then my mom died and suddenly everything was… too much. Going to med school and becoming a doctor was what she wanted. The loans, the sleepless nights, the blood, sweat, and tears. It was all for her. Not me. I wanted to make her proud. Happy. And now that will never happen. Without her, I didn’t really see the point of continuing to put myself through hell. I tried to drop out, but the program wouldn’t let me. So I figured might as well cut out all stress in my life instead.”

“Are you planning to try again?”

“No,” the answer is honest. “I’m not giving these bastards the satisfaction. Plus I need to find whoever put me in this situation in the first place and give them a piece of my mind.” You turned back to the blueprints, gently trying to shift the tone back to the comfortable rapport you had earlier. You missed it and you need him to stop looking at you like that or you might do something stupid. “That was like three extra questions. It's my turn now. Any hobbies?”

“Hobbies?”

The very word sounded foreign on his tongue.

“You know. Do you have a secret passion for knitting or something?”

“Embroidery, actually. And that’s no secret.”

“So, anything you do outside of… espionage or whatever your job is?”

“I dunno. Football. Tattoos.”

“Giving or receiving?”

“The latter, though I have been curious to learn it.”

“Got a steady hand?”

He smiled, thinking about something you know he won’t tell you.

“You could say that.”

“Anything else?”

He paused for a moment. You can tell there’s something on his mind. He just hasn’t resolved whether you’re worth it to tell to.

“There’s a bare knuckle boxing club I like to go to when I’m on leave.”

You haven’t seen him in combat, but there’s something in the coiled posture of his stance that tells you he knows how to handle himself.

“I bet you kick their asses."

He says nothing, but you swear he almost preens.

"Could you teach me?"

His lips quirked.

"How serious are you being?"

"Pretty decently. They got me this time. I won't let that happen again. Not without a fight."

"If you're ever in Town, visit Stuart’s and ask for Simon. Might be able to give you a few pointers."

You look up at him, grinning.

"Simon, eh?"

He smiled. His gaze was still intense, but its stifling mixture of pity and worry was replaced by something warmer that made your chest flutter.

"Can't promise I'll be there, but the lady at the desk should be able to tell you when I'll be back."

You folded the blueprints, neatly passing them through the cell bars.

"Well, Simon. Here's your translation. Give them hell."

----------

Chaos. Complete and other chaos.

Smoke and bombs and bullets. You agonized over whether or not to look out the window. The unknown of what was happening was almost scarier than the reality. In the few furtive glances you spared, you caught the bodies. So many bodies. The only relief was that all of the dead seemed to be guards.

You thought back on Simon, dressed in the guard’s garb. These are probably his people. He must’ve gotten out and they must’ve gotten the intel. By now he’s probably on his next recon mission. You were able to learn a little about military structure from what the other hostages told you about their families. If his specialty was infiltration they probably weren't going to waste him on a direct assault like this.

Manchester. Stuart's. Simon.

You didn't need to see him before then. You just needed him to stay alive, wherever he was.

The cacophony slowly grew closer. You didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing.

A loud buzz rang out as the power grid malfunctioned and the hallway outside your cell was plunged into darkness.

Something was happening and all you could do was sit back and listen.

There were screams. Some seemed to be of pure joy, others of painful death. Many you couldn’t tell apart.

There were gunshots. Often followed by gurgles and the sickening sound of someone falling to the ground. There were footsteps. Heavy ones. Slowly drawing nearer.

Someone jostled the cell door. You froze, holding your breath. Maybe they wouldn't even notice you.

The darkness outside your cell moved. A single blue eye peered through the grate, surrounded by black.

"Stay back," the eye commanded. You were all too happy to oblige him.

There was a quick bang and the cell door swung open, revealing a man. A large man.

He bent down to enter the cell before standing up to his full height. Clad in black with a mask you'd expect on a cartoon executioner, he unfolded like an eldritch piece of origami. He just seemed to keep on going.

“Are you Elisabeth?” Hearing it again, you realized his voice was accented. Up close, his demeanor transformed. He seemed... nervous. Incredibly so, barely even able to get the words out.

“Yes,” your voice is almost as hesitant as his.

“I— I am— Ah—” his feet shuffled about anxiously. Any bravado he had from battle has melted away, leaving him almost curled against the wall. You catch sight of a patch on his left side. Red. White. Red. The Austrian flag.

“Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” ( Do you speak German? ) you asked. Maybe talking would be easier in his native language.

The man perked up, surprised but excited.

“Ja! Du auch?” ( Yes! Do you? )

You nod, “Mein Vater war Österreicher.” ( My father was Austrian. )

You knew this was a possibility. Even with the covered face and the giant height difference. Still, his next words caught you off guard.

“Ich weiß. Ich bin dein Halbbruder.” ( I know, I’m your half-brother. )

----------

The tall man, your brother, escorts you out. He promises to tell you everything and more once you’re away from this wretched place wo die Wände haben Ohren ( where the walls have ears ).

After being cooped up for so long, your legs protest the walk, but you pushed through. You were a free woman and you would never take that for granted again.

The exhaustion was worth it to step into the daylight with your own two feet.

Once your eyes adjusted, you realized that two portable camps had been set up on the perimeter. As predicted, there was no sign of Simon. You did see a couple familiar faces though, along with a plethora of heavily-armed strangers (including a man wearing a skeleton mask of all things!). Eileen was deep in conversation with a mohawk-ed man, but she threw you a warm smile as she spotted you heading to the other wolf-emblemed camp.

"Are you alright?" a voice called out at you. It was British: Northern, but rougher and gruffer than Simon's had ever been. Still, you allowed yourself to revel in the fantasy for a moment before you had to face the speaker and ruin the illusion.

You didn't know who you were expecting when you turned around, but it certainly wasn't the skull-masked man.

Up close he was even more striking. You could just barely make out his shaded eyes, alone in a void of black and white. He was shorter than your brother, but still tall by any measure. Even at that size he managed to sneak up on you two.

Your heart was racing. You didn't know why.

"Ye—yes," you managed to stammer out.

Your brother noticed your distress. It seems to give him a confidence to act that he couldn't summon for himself.

He wrapped a protective arm around you and began to lead you away.

“She’s with KorTac,” he said, like that explained everything.

During your confinement, you had plenty of time to think about what you would say to whoever got you into this mess by joining the military. You had dreams of really digging in and tearing them a new one. All of those dreams flew out the window now.

It wasn’t like you couldn’t or were afraid to antagonize someone as big as your brother. But, seeing him… you didn’t want to do that, or anything that could hurt him.

You wanted to talk to him. To get to know him. To—silly as it was—protect him.

After all, he was about the only family you had left.

[theesirenteller]

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐑

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗; 𝕱𝖆𝖚𝖝 𝕭𝖊𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖞𝖆𝖑 | Masterlist

BETH sat in her car, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence as she stared at the dimly lit apartment building where Epiphany lived. This plan had been brewing in her mind for weeks, festering like a dark seed. She had watched Epiphany closely, memorizing her schedule, waiting for the right moment. Tonight, Epiphany was out with Rio, and that meant Beth had her chance. She adjusted the black gloves on her hands, checked her watch, and glanced at the small bag sitting in the passenger seat. Inside were the tools for her deception: a lock-picking kit and a few small bags for what she intended to take.

Stepping out of the car, Beth slipped into the shadows, careful to avoid the security cameras. She had paid attention to every detail of Epiphany’s life, knowing her routines, and some of her secrets. When she reached the apartment door, Beth worked quickly, picking the lock in under a minute. Once inside, she felt a strange sense of calm wash over her. She moved through the space like a ghost, her gloved fingers brushing over Epiphany’s belongings, her clothes, her shoes. Beth opened the closet and pulled out a leather jacket Epiphany often wore, followed by a pair of jeans and boots that would complete the look she needed. With everything carefully folded into her bag, Beth left the apartment as quietly as she had entered.

The next phase of her plan was more delicate. Beth had spent time finding a girl who looked remarkably like Epiphany. It hadn’t been easy, but desperation made people do strange things. The girl was younger, maybe a little slimmer, but with the right clothes and under the right light, she could easily pass for Epiphany. Beth had arranged a meeting with her earlier that week, explaining that she needed her help for a "photography project." The girl, a struggling actress, jumped at the opportunity. She had no idea the role she was about to play in ruining someone's life.

Two days later, Beth met with the girl in a dingy motel room on the outskirts of town. She handed her Epiphany's clothes, watching as the girl slipped into them, adjusting the jacket and smoothing out the jeans. “You look perfect,” Beth murmured, circling her like a director inspecting a scene. The resemblance was striking, enough to make Beth feel a twist of satisfaction in her gut. She had set up a meeting between the girl and a detective who had been investigating Rio for months. Ever Since the assination of agent Turner and his group of undercover detectives, another detective had replaced him. Of course, the girl didn’t know who he was—she believed it was all part of Beth's elaborate photo series. Beth had arranged everything so the meeting would appear secretive, suspicious even.

That night, Beth positioned herself in a car across from a small diner where the meeting was set to take place. She watched as the girl, dressed in Epiphany’s clothes, entered and sat at a booth. Moments later, the detective walked in, and Beth’s heart raced as she watched them shake hands and sit down, their conversation hidden behind the glass. Beth raised her camera and began snapping photos, capturing the way the light hit the girl's face, making her look so much like Epiphany that even Beth had to blink twice. The detective leaned in, speaking closely to the girl, and Beth took more photos—perfectly staged to look like they were sharing confidential information.

After an hour, the meeting ended, and Beth continued snapping pictures as the girl and the detective parted ways. She had what she needed. Later that night, in the solitude of her home, Beth sifted through the photos, editing them carefully. She adjusted the lighting, blurred some of the details, and most importantly, altered the timestamps. She wanted it to look like these meetings had been happening for weeks. The final product was a series of damning images that could easily be mistaken for Epiphany betraying Rio with law enforcement. Satisfied with her work, Beth transferred the photos onto a burner phone she had picked up earlier that week.

Beth hesitated for a moment, her finger hovering over the "send" button. This was the moment of truth, where everything would either fall apart or go exactly as she planned. With a deep breath, she pressed send, watching as the message was delivered to Mick. The photos, carefully staged and edited, would tear his world apart. Beth knew him well enough to know that trust, once broken, could never be fully repaired. And this? This would break him in ways he couldn’t even imagine. With a smile, Beth tossed the phone into a nearby trash bin and walked away, feeling a weight lift off her chest as she disappeared into the night to accompany Ruby to a bar.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city, Epiphany was swallowed by the sea of people on campus. A few classmates from her psychology class had invited her to their pre-Christmas bash, and after weeks of being alone in her apartment, she couldn’t resist the temptation. Rio had been in Tokyo for the last three weeks, and although she had once been thrilled by the idea of some quiet time to herself, the loneliness had quickly settled in, like a heavy blanket she couldn’t shake off. 

The party was a welcome distraction, a chaos of lights and music that buzzed through her body, pulling her out of her thoughts. As the techno beat thumped against her chest, she felt herself lose the grip on everything else—her worries, her doubts—swept away in the rhythm of the crowd. The pressure of the bass vibrated through her feet, making her legs move without thinking, her body slipping into the groove effortlessly.

Her hips swayed against the bodies of her classmates, her raven curls bouncing in time with the beat. The music surrounded her like an ocean tide, pulling her further from herself with every thump of the bass. She caught flashes of faces around her—grinning, carefree—and for a moment, she felt part of something bigger, the chaos of the crowd absorbing her. But then, as quickly as the euphoria came, it retreated. 

Her mind wandered back to Rio. Three weeks. Three weeks since she had felt the warmth of his touch, heard his voice beside her at night, tangled in blankets. Was he thinking of her, or was Tokyo keeping him too busy? She should’ve been happy he was away, letting him get his own space. But tonight, as she danced with strangers, she couldn’t ignore the gnawing feeling that she was simply filling a void until his return. 

She closed her eyes, losing herself to the beat again, but this time, her movements were just a little slower, a little more deliberate. Was she dancing for herself? Or was it for Rio, in some strange way, a dance she could give him when he came back? Her classmates were laughing around her, but she wasn’t sure if she was laughing with them—or at herself.

One of her classmates, Jessica wrapped her arms around her waist and whispered into her ear, “ Hey Piffy, wanna bump a line? You’re looking too sober for this kind of night."

Epiphany shot her a smile. She’d been avoiding drugs lately—she didn’t want to lose control, didn’t want to feel any more disconnected than she already did. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt. She took a breath, about to accept, when a thought struck her, sharp and almost funny. She twisted around in an exaggerated spin, her body brushing against Samara’s, her hands snaking up to loop around Samara’s neck.

“No thanks, I’m trying to get pregnant,” Epiphany murmured into Samara’s ear, her voice dripping with a playful, flirtatious edge.

Samara blinked, startled at first, and then let out a loud, infectious laugh. Her hands came up to push Epiphany lightly in mock protest, but there was an underlying curiosity in her eyes. “What, you think you’re going to get knocked up here?” she asked, her tone teasing but with an edge of seriousness.

Epiphany let out a laugh that wasn’t entirely real. It was a joke, of course. At least, that’s what she told herself. The idea of wanting something so tangible, so real, something as permanent as a baby, had crossed her mind more than once, but she quickly pushed the thought away. It wasn’t even practical. And yet, the words hung in the air between them like something she couldn’t erase.

She swirled her drink in the air, pretending to focus on the rhythm of the music rather than the growing tension between her and Samara. The laughter around them seemed louder now, more distant. Samara was easy to be around. She wasn’t trying to fix Epiphany, or ask too many questions about Rio or why she was here, alone.

Epiphany met Samara’s gaze again, suddenly aware of how close they were, her arms still loosely draped around Samara’s neck. It wasn’t the first time she’d found herself drawn to someone like this—not a romantic attraction, but a kind of magnetic pull. Samara’s proximity felt strange, not like the tension she had with Rio, but it was enough to make her skin buzz, her heart racing in an unfamiliar way.

“Seriously, though,” Samara said, her eyes narrowing, studying Epiphany with a mix of amusement and curiosity, “is it just me, or are you way too quiet tonight? You’re not usually so reserved.”

Epiphany hesitated for a moment, her fingers tapping lightly on Samara’s shoulder. “Maybe I’m just not feeling it,” she said, her voice quieter now, the humor fading slightly. It wasn’t a lie, exactly—she was just hiding the deeper things she didn’t want to confront. She didn’t want to talk about Rio or what was left unsaid between them. She didn’t want to think about how empty this all felt.

The song changed, the tempo shifting to something slower, more sultry. The crowd around them seemed to melt away as the night wore on, leaving just the pulsing beat and the dizzying effect of the flashing lights.

Her gaze drifted, and she spotted a group of people huddled by the bar, laughing with the kind of carefree joy she hadn’t felt in a long time. Was she jealous of them? Or just of the idea that they could be so free, so unburdened? She wasn’t sure, but she felt a pang of longing that she quickly masked with a smile.

Epiphany shifted, stepping back slightly from Samara, feeling the disconnection creep back in. It was as if the night had gone from a blur of excitement to a moment of painful clarity. She could almost hear her own thoughts, loud and intrusive. What was she doing here?

“Anyway,” Epiphany said, her voice lighter again as she stepped back, raising her hands in mock surrender. “I think I’ll stick to the caffeine for tonight. Who knows? Maybe I’ll start making my own little army of babies later, after all.”

Samara laughed again, and the sound was like a momentary escape. But as the music pulsed on, Epiphany felt the familiar ache settle back into her chest. She was surrounded by people, but still, somehow, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being alone.

Epiphany wasn’t the only one who felt empty and alone without their lover, Rio had felt the same,despite successfully securing a transportation of machinery and new-age technology. As he sat cozily in first class, rio sulked in his feelings of longing for Epiphany.his relationship with Epiphany had only deepened, solidifying the partnership he never knew he needed. She was unlike anyone he'd ever been with—smart, fierce, and loyal. Trust was hard to come by in his world, but Epiphany had earned it, and that made her the most important thing in his life. He took a sip from his glass, his mind drifting to the plans they had for the future.

A tap on his shoulder interrupted his thoughts.”You gotta see this,” Mick informed him as he passed Rio the phone.his brow furrowing as he scrolled through the photos that appeared. The first image showed a woman, wearing a familiar leather jacket, sitting at a diner. He blinked, his pulse quickening. The jacket was Epiphany’s—he had seen her wear it a hundred times before. He swiped to the next image, his grip on the phone tightening. The woman was shaking hands with a man.

The next few photos made his stomach drop. The man was Detective Hawthorne, the very same detective who had been hounding him for months, trying to bring him down. And the woman—he squinted at the screen—looked too much like Epiphany for it to be a coincidence. The clothes, the way she held herself, the shape of her face. But there was something off, something that made him hesitate. The photos were blurry in parts, the lighting soft and grainy, but it was close enough to plant the seed of doubt.

Rio swiped through the images again, each one more damning than the last. The timestamps were from different days, spread out over weeks. How could he not have noticed? The girl in the photos—Epiphany—looked deep in conversation with Detective Hawthorne, almost intimate. His chest tightened, rage bubbling beneath the surface as his mind raced. He thought about the nights she said she was out with friends, or running errands, or busy with work. Could she have been meeting with a cop all this time? He slammed the phone down on the arm rest,as he fought to keep his composure. 

His mind whirled with possibilities. Was this a setup? Could someone be trying to get inside his head, break the trust between him and Epiphany? Or worse—could it be true? He had enemies, plenty of them, but the photos looked real enough to make him question everything. He didn’t want to believe it, but he’d seen enough betrayal in his life to know how easily things could turn.

The spark of warmth within his heart told him his thoughts were of paranoia and that this was more elebroate plan from someone else.

He stared at the last photo, the one that sent a jolt of pain straight to his core—Epiphany, or someone who looked exactly like her, leaning in close to Detective Turner, as if whispering something in his ear. The image was grainy, but the implication was clear; someone was trying to frame Epiphany.

“What are you thinking, man? It looks fraudulent.” Mick commented. 

“It is fraudulent.” Rio agreed, he then proceeded to pass Mick the phone,”Which is why it’s time to tie up loose ends and clean up this mess.”

Later on, once the plane landed and Rio was situated in his car his fingers tapping against the steering wheel as the phone rang. When Epiphany picked up, her voice was bright, excited, even playful.

"Hey, Papí! Thought you’d forgotten about me. How was Tokyo?"

Rio felt the familiar warmth of her voice but forced himself to keep his tone steady, detached. “Productive. Got what I needed done,” he replied, his words clipped, almost rehearsed.

“Productive, huh?” she laughed softly. “That’s all you got for me? I was hoping for a little more than that.”

“What else is there to say, Piff? It was business,” he said flatly, his eyes narrowing as he stared out the window, his mind still buzzing with the images he’d seen.

There was a brief pause on the other end before Epiphany’s voice came back, softer, cautious. “...Is everything alright? You sound… off.”

Rio swallowed, feeling the familiar knot tighten in his stomach. “Just been thinkin. A lot can happen when you’re away, yea?”

Epiphany’s laugh was shaky. “Guess I can relate. You’ve been gone almost a month. I’ve… missed you.”

“Yeah, it’s a long time,” he said, his voice quiet, almost hollow. He’d thought he’d feel better being back in the same city, but the doubt gnawed at him, sharper than ever.

Her tone softened, laced with concern. “Chris, what’s going on? You don’t sound like yourself.”

He was silent for a moment, choosing his words carefully. “I just have a lot on my mind, Piff. We all make choices, don’t we?”

A beat of silence hung between them before she spoke again, her voice trembling. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” he replied, his voice guarded. “Just a reminder that trust isn’t something to take lightly.”

The hurt in her voice was unmistakable. “You’re talking in riddles. Just tell me what’s really going on.”

Rio clenched his jaw, his hand tightening on the phone. “I will. Soon. But for now, I need to think some things through. Without distractions.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper, a hurt edge seeping through. “Am I a distraction to you now?”

The question caught him off guard, slicing through his resolve. He fought to keep his tone even. “I’m just saying I need space. Clarity.”

“I thought we were clear, Rio. I thought we were solid…” Her voice broke slightly, and he felt a pang he couldn’t shake, but he forced himself to ignore it.

“I thought so too. But things change. Like I said… people make choices.”

“Then just say it,” she whispered, barely audible. “If I did something wrong, just say it.”

Rio exhaled, trying to keep his voice steady, his tone neutral. “Let’s meet next week. We’ll talk. Figure it out.”

The line was quiet for a moment before she responded, her voice low. “Yeah… alright. Be safe.”

“You too, Piff.” He hung up, the hollow echo of her words lingering in his mind.

TAGGED

@ravennaortiz @darqchilddaydreamz @nobodygetsza @lovedlover @fvckthisbxtchup @hausofmamadas

@secretlifeofmarii

[silverflameataraxia]

Tamara may be a side character, but she:

1. Helped Harper prepare Lucy for undercover work in Triple Duty

2. Helped plan Lopez and Wesley's wedding in Threshold (bonus points for introducing Tim to Cardi B and needing Tim's badge for something)

3. Helped get Nolan elected as Union Rep in Breakdown

4. Helped Chenford and Lopez solve Becca's murder in End Game

5. Helped to get Chenford together by purchasing the car that ultimately led to them going undercover and discovering their feelings for each other in Day in the Hole

6. Helped figure out why Beth was working with Rosalind in Double Down

7. Was the first one to figure out that Chenford were dating in Death Notice

8. Encouraged Lucy to sleep with Tim in Death Notice, and

9. Brought attention to and helped Lucy, Thorsen, and Lopez solve Sonia's abduction in Death Sentence

[sugarfreesucrose]

Smoke & Leather & Sulfur

Relationship: Rip Wheeler x Beth Dutton x GN! Reader)

Fandom: Yellowstone

Summary: Y/N 'Cricket'L/N is no stranger to travelling, between the foster system and their stints in the Military, Firehouses, and odd jobs, they love the freedom that the open road can give them. But when their roads are cut short, they aren't given much choice but to pick up an incredibly odd job; go undercover as a farmhand for the largest ranch in the United States.

[drinkyourvillainjuice]

Drink Your Villain Juice - FAQ

Contains mild spoilers.

What is the story about?

You play as a science experiment turned undercover supervillain, charged with gathering information on a mysterious new villain group in town. With many skeletons in your closet and mixed allegiances, whose side are you really on?

Genres: Horror, action, traumatised people trying to heal (or get worse)

Who is involved with this IF?

There's the writer, and there's her wife (the secretary!). Both of us are active on the blog, so you may sometimes see posts unrelated directly to DYVJ, usually tagged #unrelated.

What are the protagonist's powers?

The protagonist/MC can grow a protective membrane over their body, forming two tendrils from their shoulders. The membrane makes them stronger, faster, and more resilient.

MC can also select one of three power specialities: inducing wild and uncontrolled mutations of their body, creating small creepy-crawly minions (referred to as 'nodes'), and growing an armoured carapace.

Will we be able to gain multiple powers/will you add new powers?

No: both would add too much complexity and also detract from the significance of the choice.

Will our powers get stronger?

Yes, to an extent, but I don't write based on power levels anyway. :)

Who is this Paradigm/Dime person people keep talking about?

Paradigm, AKA Dime, is the MC! It's their codename with their 'true' faction.

How long will the story be? Is it going to be a series?

Length: I have no idea! I'm not intending to get completely bonkers, but I want to ensure all the ROs get their time in the sun too.

Series: I suspect this will be a duology, but I can't be certain yet as we're not deep enough into the narrative.

Did you say Romance Options!? Elaborate!

There are currently 7 romanceable characters in DYVJ. You can also play the MC as aromantic, asexual, or both. The ROs are explained in more detail on choice of games, but briefly:

Mallory (non-binary), Wilson/Wilma/Willow (gender-selectable), Kay (female), Teddie (male, men only), Control Group (female), Alistair (male), Beth (female, women/nonbinaries).

I'm intending on including at least one poly route, featuring Wil and Kay.

I've heard there's a choice to have a previous RO in the past?

Correct! There's a flashback sequence with MC and some friends before the supervillainy. You can choose to have MC dating or crushing on Prii (nonbinary), Shauna (female), Grant (male), or Beth (female). This doesn't prevent you from romancing someone else later on!

Will the characters from the flashback show up again?

I can promise some level of closure! There won't be romance routes though. (Beth notwithstanding)

Will you make [X] an RO?

Seven is already an awful lot! I don't want to overcommit by adding more!

Can I select all the options for the Juice changing my character's appearance?

I'm presently not planning on adding this. I'd have to alter some code in an annoying way and I enjoy it being a choice with intent instead of an 'all of the above'.

Will we be able to get off the Juice/free from control?

Keep playing and see. ;)

How villainous can I get?/Do I have to be a villain?

There will be opportunities to leap off the proverbial slippery slope, but also to be unhappy and conflicted about what you're being forced to do.

Drink Your Villain Juice! is kind of a goofy name.

So I've heard! I know it's given people the impression that this is a comedy, which it, uh, very much is not. Honestly Drink Your Villain Juice! was the only title that popped for me in the conceptual stage: everything else felt much more bland or generic.

I've found a bug, how can I let you know?

First, please make sure you didn't resume playing on Dashingdon from an old save: updates to Dashingdon tend to break a lot of stuff in the backend and that's been the root of a lot of errors in the past.

If you're confident this isn't the problem, then just send an ask or post on the COG forum! I'll look into it.

I'd like to give feedback on the game!

Once again, send an ask, or post on the COG forum. I also have a feedback form I'm trying out for each chapter, so you can fill that out if you like!

Can I support you?

That's very kind of you! Support from fans is how I can work on the game and update as frequently as I do. I have a Patreon and a Ko-fi, but honestly, I'm grateful just for your feedback. :)

Do you have a discord?

Yes, it's tied to Patreon membership. However, if you have sent a tip/donation/etc, please reach out to DYVJ requests to talk about an invite. :)

[zeebreezin]

I’ve been thinking about Shaw’s hidden desires (tm) on and off for a while, mostly because he decided that going undercover in the Moth Pavilion is a great idea and will have no consequences (He definitely doesn’t have an ulterior motive for volunteering whatsoever. Totally.) and @the-dye-stained-socialite ‘s RHQ posting has motivated me to try and get some of these thoughts on paper, because like… the idea of having desires pulled out and made manifest is something that’s very interesting for Shaw in particular. He does after all believe that his wanting (specifically his ambition and desire for luxury and comfort, especially for people he loves) is what caused all of Nemesis to happen to him. But even outside of that… I feel like his deepest, darkest desire that would fuck him up most to have pulled out of him… is the fact that he wants to rest.

He’s so, so, so tired. He’s constantly taking on more and more and more, because he feels like he has to. Because he’s not doing enough if he’s not doing everything for other people. And so his darkest desire that he just… wants to know that everything’s alright. That he doesn’t have to worry. He can just relax, for a moment. Or forever. He’s done enough, and he’s done well. Now all he has to do is rest, and let someone else handle the rest…

This is part of why he’s. Abnormal about the Beth.

[angelf1re]

Undercover Care

as a young, broke senior in high school, you take up a babysitting gig, not knowing you’d be babysitting a mafia bosses sons.

That morning you woke up at 5. The drive to his house was about twenty minutes so you had so if you wanted to get there in time you would have to leave by 8:35. That meant three hours to get ready and 35 minutes to relax. You spent the first 35 minutes in the kitchen, sipping at a warm cup of hot chocolate. You never really liked coffee, so you just stuck to hot chocolate.

After that you spent the first hour trying to put together a nice outfit. After a bit you settled on a nice pair of loose jeans, a simple t-shirt, one of your dad’s old jackets, and your old pair of converse. You played it all out on your bed before hopping in the shower, spending a little extra time to make sure your hair would look nice. After the shower it was about 7:00, meaning you had an hour and 35 minutes left.

You yawned quietly, quickly making yourself some scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast with a yogurt cup on the side. You ate slowly, trying to drag the time out a little. You didn’t really have anything else to do, so dragging the time out seemed to be the only thing left. After eating you cleaned all the dishes you used, putting back the plate you had used last night before checking the time. Only 7:43, which meant you had about 50 minutes just to yourself, give or take. You hummed quietly, going to the living room and turning on the tv. You flipped through channels before finding a cartoon, Monster High. You set the remote down, watching the episode. You were starting to feel anxious.

What if they didn’t like you? You needed this job if you wanted to go to college. Right now you were barely scraping by. Yeah your dad helped occasionally but it wasn’t enough sometimes. You sighed, messing with the hem of your t-shirt as you go lost in thought. You bit your bottom lip, lost in thought for majority of your time left. Once it was time to go, you got up and put your shoes on before going outside, making sure you had your car keys in your pocket before you left.

You got in your car, connecting your phone to the car to play your music. You hit shuffle on a random playlist before starting to drive, the directions pulled up on your phone screen. You yawned, still slightly tired. You never were fully a morning person, not even when you were a little kid. You bopped your head to the music playing, smiling when Beth (Eric Carr’s version) by KISS started playing. You had always loved older music, especially songs by KISS. You turned the volume up, mouthing the words as you followed the directions your phone was giving you.

Eventually, you pulled up to the house. If you could call it that. It was practically a mansion with how huge it was. You stared in shock as you turned your car off and got out. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. What if you were too underdressed? What if they thought you weren’t professional enough? Or maybe they would think you were too young and couldn’t take care of them. Your hands shook as you walked towards the door, raising your hand to knock somewhat loudly. You took another deep breath, still trying to calm your nerves. You were definitely under dressed. What were you thinking! Jeans and a t-shirt? You cursed yourself out in your head, biting your lip again. Maybe this job wasn’t such a good idea. Your thoughts were cut off when someone opened the door. A young blond wearing a red and white baseball tee with some grass stained jeans.

“O-oh. Hello. Is um, Philza here?” You asked nervously, doubting that the boy in front of you was the man you spoke to on the phone last night. “Dad! Someone’s here for you!” The kid called into the house, still looking at you a bit suspiciously. “Why are you here?” He asked suddenly. “I’m here for a job?” You said, cursing yourself out for sounding so nervous. “What job?” The boy asked, scrunching his face up in confusion. “Um-“ “Tommy leave the poor girl alone.” An older voice said, sounding just like the man you talked to last night. You immediately stood up straighter, biting your lip nervously. “You must be Y/n. Come on in.” The man said, gently ushering the blond kid away.

You nodded and stepped inside, looking around a bit. The hallway you were in didn’t seem too fancy, as there was shoes thrown all over the corner and some sports gear draped over a bench. “I apologize for Tommy, he’s fast when someone’s at the door. We usually don’t get visitors or guests, so he gets excited.” You jumped when you heard his voice. “Oh, it’s alright. I was young once too.” You said, trying to be playful. Phil smiled, starting to walk further into the house. You quickly followed, keeping an even pace behind him. Not too far behind, but still a bit behind.

You looked around more as Phil led you through the house. “I apologize for any mess you see, mate. The cleaning lady hasn’t gotten here yet.” Phil said suddenly, noticing you look around. You smiled slightly. “No worries. Kids make messes, it’s understandable.” Phil smiled when you said this, leading you into a fancy looking office. You bit your lip. What job did this man have that allowed him to have this much money? Maybe you were biting off more than you could chew…

(Here’s part two! Sorry this one took so long, I had a bit of school work to catch up on and it took some time.)

[mermaidsirennikita]

Hi there! I was just curious do you happen to know of any romance novels where the heroine is Scottish instead of the love interest? I’m Scottish and would love to like them but tbh a lot of the Scottish romances written by Americans give me the ick because of the trend of Scottish women being shunted to the side and portrayed as petty jealous bitches in comparison to the usually english or american heroine

Thanks for your help!

Yes, for sure! And I totally get what you're talking about. I'd love to have more Scottish heroines, personally. I don't really get why so many American writers do the "jealous Scottish witch" thing, because like...

A) we have no skin in the game as Americans for the English

B) if anything, a lot of Americans are of Scottish heritage lmao

Sooo I'd immediately recommend A Kingdom of Dreams by Judith McNaught if you're open to an old school. This one is kinda famous for its heroine, Jennifer, known as "the Merrick bitch". She's defiant and outspoken and never goes quietly, and I love her. You can definitely see the new ground she broke at the time. Her hero, Royce, is English—it's a medieval Scottish/English conflict book. So so good.

Jennifer Ashley's Mackenzie and McBrides series has a LOT of Scottish heroines, and I adore them. In this case, the heroes are also Scottish (a lot of these have Scottish heroes and heroines—I hope those might work too, so I'm including them for the sake of variety). In particular, I recommend:

The Many Sins of Lord Cameron—Ainsley is a Scottish heroine with a Scottish hero. She's a widow who had a brief encounter with the slutty, slutty widowed father to a teenager Lord Cameron, and now they're sort of brought together due to this zany plot where Queen Victoria is getting blackmailed and Ainsley (a lady in waiting to Victoria) sort of has to cover for her? The lady in waiting to Vicky thing can be a turnoff, but she's not on the page much and is presented in a very ambivalent manner (as opposed to a lot of historicals which present her positivel). She's basically there to give Cameron and Ainsley a reason to orbit around each other. They're HOOOOOT.

The Duke's Perfect Wife—One of my all time favorites. Hart is SCOOOOOOTTTIIIIIIIISH in her terms of his identity, but not in a traditional way? The Mackenzie have their title and are very Englishified on the surface, and Hart is actually planning on running for PM... IN ORDER TO DISMANTLE THE ENGLISH FROM THE INSIDE AND GET A FREE AND INDEPENDENT SCOTLAND. It's insane. But for real, I don't think Hart could deal with ending up with an Englishwoman and it's a part of his character lol. Fortunately, he never got over his very Scottish ex Eleanor, who dumped him and broke off their engagement years ago and is now back in his life as a roving girl reporter (by girl I mean she's def late twenties/early thirties and I love it) because someone is sending her nude photographs taken of Hart lol. This is a fabulous book and I have nooooo notes.

I belieeeeeve Rules for a Proper Governess has a Scottish heroine as well, Lady Isabella's Scandalous Marriage has an English heroine, and I'm not 100% sure where The Madness of Lord Ian Mackenzie is. Could go either way. Isabella being English is mentioned a lot, so I'm not sure if Beth is as well.

Monica McCarty's medieval Highland Guard series (aka: what if Robert the Bruce had a suicide squad?) has a lot of Scottish heroines! Even the ones who aren't on Robert the Bruce's side lol.

For sure Scottish:

The Chief—Very alpha leader hero, virgin heroine who's coerced by her father into trapping him into marriage, classic "cold man learns how to love" book.

The Ranger—Quiet hero with freakish sixth sense is behind enemy lines and undercover, but the enemy is another Scottish lord who's basically defected to work with the English (and he killed the hero's father). The heroine is that guy's daughter. Dun dun DUN.

The Viper—Sorta/kinda second chance between a dickish bitter hero who doesn't trust anyone and the woman he escorted as a part of the initial rebellion years ago, only for her to end up in the hands of the enemy in a CAGE for years. Now they're back in each other's orbits, and the beef is SO REAL and so is their desire to SMASH REAL HARD.

The Recruit—My favorite Highland Guard, a super slutty rakish one has a one night thing with a widow Robert actually wanted him to marry... But through a sequence of events, he didn't know it was her, he said something stupid, now she doesn't want to marry him, but ooooops about 4-5 months later they run into each other and he finds out she's pregnant and was totally planning on having the baby and hiding it from him, lmao. FORCED MARRIAGE A-GO!

They're all good, but of the ones I've read these are the top picks. Except for The Hawk, which I'd also highly recommend. However, that one has an Irish heroine.

Elisa Braden's Midnight in Scotland series has a couple Scottish heroines!

The Making of a Highlander—This has a Scottish heroine and an English hero. Everyone thinks she's crazy, and tbh she does talk to a ghost child a lot so... fair. But the ghost tells her to marry a lord so that he can be reincarnated as her baby, a lord's son (I'm serious) and she basically decides to use the English guy to My Fair Lady her while she prepares him for the Highland Games. It's so normal.

The Wickedness of a Highlander—The Scottish heroine was the sister of a previous big time villain (you don't have to read the previous book—they're good, but the two in between the above one and this one have English heroines) and she thinks the big, burly hero haaates her. And he kinda does? But he also wants her sO bad (the heroes in this book have a preternatural ability to immediately recognize their women, it's a Fated Mates vibe). She's in need of cash, so he takes her on as his "temporary" maid. But he has no intention of letting her go. It's very charming, very funny, and very OTT. This is one of my favorite Elisa Braden heroines, tbh. She's always like "Perhaps... I should have... dick....?" whenever there's a vague issue going on in her life.

The next book in the series is also clearly being set up, and whenever that happens the heroine is going to be Scottish.

Never Seduce a Scot by Maya Banks is a medieval with a Scottish hero and a Scottish heroine. They're sorta forced to marry to resolve a feud between their clans, but she doesn't speak and he thinks she has an intellectual disability and can't consent, so he assumes it'll be a marriage in name only. However, she's actually deaf and very much WANTS to consent lol. It's actually a very sweet, lovely romance (and I think it should be noted that the author's spouse is/was deaf, and she took his deafness into account when writing.

[t-homaswillows]

𝒯𝒽𝑜𝓂𝒶𝓈 𝒲𝒾𝓁𝓁𝑜𝓌𝓈

Pronouns: He/Him Birthday: 26th September 1994 (22) Species: Werewolf - Khaldun pack Occupation: Bartender at Franks' Alliance: Evil - Bad GuysTM (Undercover as Resistance) Location: Inside the dome - living in McReid house with Morales pack

So What Happened?

Thomas had always been a loner, a rolling stone, a 'mind-your-own-fucking-business' kinda scowler. Sure, in his heart of hearts, he has always yearned for a place to belong-- for a real family who would love him like his own couldn't (or wouldn't).

Prone to running from anything real, he'd never found a place to stick around before. Not when the Belhavens fostered him, not when he met Amber and felt like there was a chance. Thomas always runs and he always ruins his own chances at happiness. It's just how it is.

Out on his own at eighteen, being bitten by Frederick Bellefonte might as well have been the best thing that ever happened to him. He was slow to trust, but knew an opportunity when he saw one. Plus, being a werewolf? He felt powerful for the first time in his life. He felt like he had the upper hand and admittedly, he wasn't opposed to being a little cruel.

When D-Day (Founders Festival) finally hit, Thomas let out a sigh of relief. He was a part of something. He was taken fully under Frederick's wing and to this day, he's the closest thing to a father he's ever had. The one who chose him, cared about him, gave him a new life. Thomas is 100% loyal to him and this cause.

So when the idea was floated around that someone might try and infiltrate Lily Khaldun's pack, Thomas volunteered. It had been six months since the dome came down (roughly two-and-a-half years ago now). They really had to sell it, Frederick injuring Thomas before he ‘ran away’ to seek refuge from Lily who, of course, took him in.

It wasn't easy, though. Beth Morales' pack had joined forces with Lily's and they'd been hurt before (see: Drake). They were not prone to trusting some new guy who had been on the wrong side of the fight. Thomas more than had his work cut out for him. Here's the kicker, though... To get people to trust you- to love you- you have to let yourself feel it back.

Thomas was so hyper focused on the mission in the beginning, but over the past couple of years, he's softened. Here he is with a home, someone who treats him so kindly (like the mom he never really had). A pack of werewolves that could show him a different way. He is loyal to Frederick. He is.

But some days, he wonders if he made the right choice. Thomas has done some bad things in the past and if Lily and her pack- Beth and hers- ever found out the truth, he just knows they could never forgive him.

Wanted Connections

tba

[paledarklight]

That last anon - I think Rick as a character is geared to care for Beth platonically as a Greene and as his own 'family'. He was very close to Hershel and felt guilt over everything that happened to Beth etc.

That saying... Andrew Lincoln altered his scenes with Em unconsciously with this weird attraction thing he has like that season 3 scene NARGH. It was meant to be sweet and innocent and he's eyefucking her. That is on Andrew 💯 He should have kept any feelings off screen and to himself. It shouldn't affect scenes and alter the interaction. Em is a pro and played her role as it should be.

I have to be clear Rick's emotional direction and Andrew's do not align. I'm pretty sure if the crush scene was implemented then he would have pushed for it to change direction and become requited. But again that's on Andrew. Anyone else playing Rick would have had a totally different take on their relationship and played it as it should.

I am not getting into the age thing or anything via this because where I am, 16 is an adult. I just feel very strongly that it was Daryl who caught feelings for Beth season 4 prison era, possibly as jealousy at first because of Zac getting with Beth. Then it went full rein. But Beth seemed kind of oblivious until that moment in the kitchen but she seems kinda like wow, really, I mean so much to you? The idea seems entrancing. But I am really strong that Rick never seen Beth as anything but Hershel's daughter and as a member of his family. It was platonic and Andrew totally fucked that up with his weird feelings. He's trying to play oh Rick would be against Beth's crush but then Andy comes through and just ARGH. Rick and Beth are platonic, family. Daryl and Beth were on their way to being more.

I'm not hating on you for thinking Rick would be after Beth that way if that's your take. I just think there is a genuine distinction between the characters original arc which was platonic and Andrew just totally setting fire to it. I know people ship them but if we are going to be pedantic, there is nothing romantic in his relationship to Beth. Anything there is all down to Andrew.

I also say yeah, he is hugely attracted to Danai. I know Richonners say he was drawn to Michonne from the moment he seen her and he was checking her out in the prison when he restrained her. No. That was all Andrew again. Rick was driven mad by losing Lori like a couple of days before. He was grieving her and the loss drove him insane. He's not going to be looking at another woman. I know his marriage was over etc but he said he thought he could hold on and keep them safe etc, that he still loves her and just before Lori died, there was hints of a reconciliation. So the way Rick was looking at Michonne all the way through those first scenes is NOT Rick, that is Andrew fucking up those scenes because he's thinking with his dick again.

I have to laugh cause I agree, I think that Andy doesn't always know how to stay in character and he bleeds through into Rick affecting how Rick acts.

When I write and if Ricks is involved he is purely as a father figure , he loves Beth purely as a father loves his daughter.

But your right that I watch how Rick gives the smolder at whomever female he's in contact with and it's like Mmmm maybe ??

But then I have to remember that's Andrew not keeping himself in check.

Norman Reedus can eat peanut butter even if HE hates it, the scene of him escaping the Saviors calls for Daryl Dixon eating peanut butter so he eats it.

Similarly, Andrew....

I agree I definitely see Daryl being jealous, not understanding his feelings but there's definitely jealousy when he sees Zac, @twdmusicboxmystery said I think that he's postering at Zac when he is guessing Daryls past , Daryl gives him this made up story about him being a undercover ans it sounds very cool and tough and a bit showy which Daryl isn't... Except when he's bumping chests with someone he perceived as competition

[drewmoll03]

Ok guys I need your help!

I finished reading this awesome fancic: (I felt like the ending was a bit rushed, I needed wayyy more of the angst and slow burn and all thatt) and I tipically don't even like AU stories!

If you don't know the fic.. There's no zombies, Hershel dies and Beth gets assigned to undercover agent Daryl Dixon for safety reasons lol (also why Daryl being an agent is so sexy for literally no reason) 💀

But anyway just wanted to ask if you have any other recommendation similar to this story!! 🥹

[veiwryn]

spill the radioactive waste (tea) on the ezekiel plotline!

While I'm still plotting and rewriting the early changes (Aka Egypt and Japan), I would love to share some of the early Ezekiel plot.

Here's some passages I wrote in my notes.

Heather makes sure the stick would never go to Ezekiel. Out of everyone, she knows him the least, and there was no way she'd trust him with anything. Whether she keeps it or not—where it would go to Leshawna instead—the stick won't be lost. They won't lose a member.

The queen b might make a comment or two about Ezekiel's capability, mentioning he was the first to be voted off and how Zeke wasn't liked. It'd be out loud, either when the team first gets the stick or by the river. Regardless, it feeds into Ezekiel's insecurities—despite Lindsay coming to his defense—and Alejandro takes this opportunity to plot. If Ezekiel was vulnerable, he could have a man inside the enemy's line, find a way to take his largest threats down.

Ezekiel, from what we can infer before his departure in s3, is someone who craves support from his peers. And while he may have Lindsay (and Beth, had she participated and was on his team), it isn't enough. Almost everyone else couldn't care less about him and he hasn't been able to prove himself as someone capable. He wants to contribute to the team, and he's desperate. That's what catches Alejandro's attention. An outlier in a strong group, someone whom he could easily manipulate due to his eagerness to please.

Although Lindsay is still around, she needs to be taken care of. And with Tyler not being on his team, it makes the task easier to do.

Ezekiel unintentionally becomes Alejandro's pawn, believing the charmer wants to genuinely help him build a reputation. Although I'll explore that as I continue to rewrite the rest of the season.

This is also Alejandro's way of messing around with other teams without doing something directly. It helps him remain undercover for now as no one would think twice about Ezekiel's actions, and he's less likely to be caught red-handed by his team.

Will Ezekiel be the downfall for Team Victory, or will he break free from manipulation? Only time will tell!