to log out of AO3 and turn to the Lavineas server instead. And once more, she ignored BAWN’s DMs, delaying what she needed to do and say.
Not much recent activity in the group threads. So far, they didn’t appear to have spotted any photos of her date with Marcus on Twitter or Insta, but that was only a matter of time. And if the server’s response to his public dinner invitation was any guide, she needed to prepare herself for one hell of an uproar.
Can you BELIEVE IT???!!! Mrs. Pius Aeneas had virtually screeched Wednesday night on her brand-new OMFG MC-R ASKED OUT A FAN chat thread, linking to the relevant tweets.
LaviniaIsMyGoddessAndSavior responded with an endless stream of heart-eyes and streaming-tears emojis, too emotional for mere words.
I TOLD YOU he was really a nice guy. I TOLD YOU! TopMeAeneas crowed. The way he defended her, I just— Her subsequent legs-spread, crotch-up gif said it all, really.
Did you see that awful thread? It really was kind of him, LavineasOTP wrote. That poor woman.
April had winced at LavineasOTP’s post. Taken off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, wondering if she’d made a terrible mistake.
Pity. Shit, she despised pity, and the last thing she wanted to be was that poor woman.
Then Book!AeneasWouldNever, largely absent from the server for a few days, had interjected. Why does everyone assume he asked her out of kindness alone? I mean, look at her. She’s pretty, and obviously very talented.
His comment had changed the tenor of the thread, which—after a flurry of posts agreeing with his take—had then shifted to speculation as to what the date might entail.
April had been tempted to post endless heart-eyes and streaming-tear emojis herself.
Instead, she’d simply DMed BAWN one last time before bed. Thank you. Just . . . thank you.
For what? he’d immediately responded, but she was too tired to explain.
We can talk about it this weekend. I have some things I need to tell you. For now, though, I have to get some sleep. If I don’t hear from you before then, have a safe trip home, okay? xx
The blinking dots had flashed and flashed. Okay. Sweet dreams, Ulsie. I’ll be back in your time zone soon.
They both lived in California. She knew that much.
She also knew he traveled a lot for work, something else they’d had in common until now. She got the sense he was a consultant of some sort, although she didn’t know for sure. In recent months, they’d both mentioned evaluating their career paths and their next professional steps. Finally, she knew he was a he, unlike the vast majority of Lavineas fans in their group.
As soon as he’d helped set up the server, in fact, he’d explicitly informed everyone, concerned they’d feel misled or uncomfortable if they found out later.
If my presence here ever makes any of you feel unsafe in any way, please tell me, and I’ll immediately bow out, he’d written. P.S. As a cishet guy, there are certain threads that may not be as applicable to me, so please forgive me for sitting them out.
Via DM, he’d said a bit more to April last year. If you notice me being inadvertently creepy or offensive in any way, please, PLEASE let me know. I might not see it.
She’d agreed, but so far, she hadn’t had to intervene. Not once. Other than the prompt way he bowed out of conversations about the hotness and fuckability of various actors, his maleness didn’t seem to influence his interactions on the server much.
Of course, he didn’t write sex into his fics either, which had made her wonder.
Maybe sex and sexuality in general made him uncomfortable. Maybe writing sex into his fics felt somehow predatorial or boundary-crossing to him, given his status as one of the few men in their group. Or maybe he just didn’t like writing explicit scenes. Some people didn’t.
Not April. She loved including the Bang That Was Promised in her fics. But she’d long ago decided to either steer those particular stories toward other beta readers, rather than BAWN, or redact any explicit sections in the drafts she sent to him, because she absolutely, one hundred percent did not want to cause him any discomfort.
Her latest story, accordingly, had been betaed by TopMeAeneas, not BAWN, even though—for once—she’d delved a bit into canon, or at least canon-compliance.
She shoved her glasses more firmly onto the bridge of her nose.
Okay. No more delays.
She could either sit against her headboard and think about BAWN, or read the man’s