5/10/24 Update

Medium articles can be found here and here. This document will no longer be updated.

5/2/24 Update

I’ve added screenshots of Anna Zabo’s twitter thread, screenshots from Freydís’s former agent at Weaver Literary Agency backing their connections to other pen names, and several reactions/articles in the appendix.

This document contains evidence that links Jupiter Wyse, one of the many pen names of Taylor Barton, to Freydís Moon, despite Freydís’s frequent claims they do not know Taylor Barton or any of their aliases.

Evidence compiled in this document was a dual effort between a long-time peer of Freydís Moon and someone who was close to Jupiter Wyse during their active period. The latter has chosen to remain anonymous at the time of this document’s creation, so names and emails have been censored to protect that person's identity.

All screenshots include a link to the image hosted on a public google drive.

For a rundown of what occurred with Taylor Barton/Taylor Brooke/Jupiter Wyse:

https://www.fanficable.com/post/fake-names-brownface-why-queer-fantasy-author-taylor-barton-has-been-accused-of-catfishing 

I’ve included my profile pic in the top right of most email screenshots to show they were taken from my inbox:

A screenshot of Google account info for Elle Porter showing ellepotererotica@gmail.com as their email address.

On 9/3/2021 @AlertsBarton accused Freydís of being Taylor Barton and by extension, Jupiter Wyse: https://x.com/AlertsBarton/status/1433903940370841609?s=20

In case the callout thread is for some reason deleted, screenshots can be found in APPENDIX (CALLOUT THREAD) at the end of this document.

Freydís has claimed several times, publicly and privately, that they have no connection to Taylor Barton or any of their pen names.

A screenshot of a Twitter quote retweet by Freydís Moon dated 9/3/2021. The original tweet from taylor barton alerts (@AlertsBarton) reads: We believe Taylor Barton is masquerading in brownface again as Hunter Taylor/Stacey Anthony on ig @staceyanthony_ and Freydís Moon on twitter @/freydis_moon. Thread. Freydís’s QRT reads:This was just brought to my attention. This is not me. My legal name is Daniella. That can be confirmed by at least one critique partner/beta reader. I don’t know what to say. I’m heartbroken to have been targeted like this, but I don’t know a Taylor Barton or Stacey Anthony.

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/11IBcW7enXoXm4fHPSE7--I-3BZIBU9Gv/view?usp=drivesdk

A screenshot of a Discord chat dated 2/11/2024. Freydís: Like?! That’s another thing! Some of the people in my network (like you) I’ve been talking to FOR YEARS. How could I possibly construct such a devious plot to create some weird empire or cult while catfishing as a whole white personA screenshot of a Discord chat in Freydís’s private server dated 4/15/2024. Freydís: Yep. I wish I knew a single person who has read Taylor Barton Mars Lies or whatever so they could tell me our writing is different at this point. Because I don’t understand why this is still ongoing in the YA community. I DON’T EVEN WRITE YA. I HAVE NO YA CRITIQUE PARTNERS.

Screenshot 1: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ALRXe3B12cHW_S8V9PtyVT6KoXYBZ4w7/view?usp=drive_link

Screenshot 2: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1jaCHocfGrMY--3XZaxYkLaJWXqjynUpN/view?usp=drive_link 

EXAMPLE #1

On 3/24/2024, Freydís posted in their private author server of around 30 members about a new WIP they were starting:

A screenshot of a conversation in a Discord server dated 3/24/2024. Freydís: Not me starting a vampire book in the middle of several other projects. [REDACTED]: FREY VAMPIRES?? Freydís: Rockstar vampires to be exact (eye emoji) inspired by Camazotz [REDACTED]: ooooooh!!! I’d be so interested on your vampire take [REDACTED]: VAMPIRES!! [REDACTED]: I need Freydís: I’m going for something different and a bit off-the-wallo, but basically a Maker and Creator system where Creators are the ones who commit the act that summons the power of Camazotz and vampires can only become immortal once they become Makers and turn another person. So, like, a blend of fictional Maya-inspired magic and classic bloodsuckers. [REDACTED]: oooh yess. I’m all for different takes on vampires (can’t wait for y’all see [sic] my mananaanggal in book 2) Freydís: Creators must kill to create a vampire, vampires must turn someone to reach eternal life. Creators typically aren’t vampires. It’s going to be interesting! We’ll see if I stick with it

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Y6uPE9ZT0RSfgYhG638XRhpWyHqcvVyG/view?usp=sharing 

They then posted two snippets of the new WIP in a separate channel:

A screenshot of a conversation in a Discord server dated 3/24/2024. Freydís posts a snippet that reads as follows: Gabriel Castillo searched the sky and found the blood-stained hunter’s moon looming behind a sheet of coastal fog. Its orange face pushed through the cloud-cover, distorted yet still bright beyond the mist, signaling the start of an impossible night. HIs book clipped a rock, then another, sending stones toppling over the edge of a mossy cliff on the outskirts of Malibu, California. The rich didn’t waste their time wandering the Ocean Grove trailhead. It was, at once, too harshly overgrown, and too moderate. People walking purebred Malinois would linger in the dirt lot, satisfied with a Facebook check-in and a portrait-mode snapshot of their running shoes. Fitness junkies sneered at the bumpy trail and complained to their friends over post-workout juice-brunches about “forestry maintenance” and “where do my taxes even go” and “it’s not that good of a burn, anyway.” No one worth a damn swatted their way through the trail’s spindly branches unless they were looking for a place to get off, get well, or get worse, but he certainly hadn’t lugged a backpack full of store-bought pig’s blood and freshly plucked dove feathers to the cliff for nothing. [REDACTED]: your descriptions are superb, how do you just draft like this? (emoji) [REDACTED]: ugh I love how I can just feel the atmosphere here Freydís: We’ll see if it gets off the ground! I have to get back to my DA, but this is a fun side project to play with. [REDACTED]: ooooooooooh very nice!! Freydís: I have written more words! Might get an anchor chapter done before I, like, maybe outline it The snippet that follows reads: Gabriel knew, as well as anyone who’d ever wanted something bad enough, that a sacrifice only worked when love was an ingredient.

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1_mV0ZJIfNrDey6sS6t63FVoS02J03y30/view?usp=sharing 

Snippet #1:

Gabriel Castillo searched the sky and found the blood-stained hunter’s moon looming behind a sheet of coastal fog. Its orange face pushed through the cloud-cover, distorted yet still bright beyond the mist, signaling the start of an impossible night. HIs book clipped a rock, then another, sending stones toppling over the edge of a mossy cliff on the outskirts of Malibu, California. The rich didn’t waste their time wandering the Ocean Grove trailhead. It was, at once, too harshly overgrown, and too moderate. People walking purebred Malinois would linger in the dirt lot, satisfied with a Facebook check-in and a portrait-mode snapshot of their running shoes. Fitness junkies sneered at the bumpy trail and complained to their friends over post-workout juice-brunches about “forestry maintenance” and “where do my taxes even go” and “it’s not that good of a burn, anyway.” No one worth a damn swatted their way through the trail’s spindly branches unless they were looking for a place to get off, get well, or get worse, but he certainly hadn’t lugged a backpack full of store-bought pig’s blood and freshly plucked dove feathers to the cliff for nothing.

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Y7K2J6f-CQ5QDBUR4Kzr8r3aC4ffUHc-/view?usp=sharing 

Snippet #2:

Gabriel knew, as well as anyone who’d ever wanted something bad enough, that a sacrifice only worked when love was an ingredient.

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1hXi8rjNcQmhAS9UC8VdC13iNNtwi1fPs/view?usp=sharing 

These snippets were eerily similar to a document that was first shared with me on 10/18/2022. The WIP was called NEVER SAY DIE, written by Jupiter Wyse.

Here’s the original email I received:

A screenshot of an email sent to Elle Porter (elleportererotica@gmail.com) on 10/18/2022. The sender and signature have been censored. The body of the email reads “eek”. The attachment, named Rockstar Demon WIP, shows a preview of the document’s title being NEVER SAY DIE.

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1hFqnjwwCVFFR_JiRis2MboCAP0b5qxbx/view?usp=sharing 

Preview of the attachment sent on 10/18/2022:

A screenshot of the Rockstar Demon WIP document preview that reads: Title: NEVER SAY DIE Chapter One Aiden Moore was absolutely certain the moon would show up for a ritual sacrifice, but instead, the bright, white face loomed behind rainclouds high above the ocean. Simply put, the moon was a fucking coward. His boot clipped a rock, then another, sending stones toppling over the edge of a mossy, black cliff on the outskirts of Malibu. Thankfully, rich folk didn’t waste their time on the Ocean Grove trailhead. It was, at once, too harshly overgrown and too moderate. People carrying purse-dogs would linger in the dirt lot, satisfied with a Facebook check-in and a portrait mode snapshot of their running shoes. Actual fitness junkies sneered their noses at the bumpy yet simple trail, and complained to their friends during post-workout juice-brunches about forestry maintenance and where do my taxes even go and it’s not that good of a burn, anyway. No one worth a damn swatted their way through Ocean Grove’s spindly branches unless they were looking for a place to get off, get well, or worse, and he certainly hadn’t lugged a backpack full of store-bought pig’s blood and freshly plucked duck feathers to the cliffs for nothing.

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1XQuVEO-Jmkm2pwmuAz--iJO6TjZlDFaS/view?usp=sharing 

I asked the person who sent me the document on 10/18/2022 to forward the email they’d originally received from Jupiter, which was sent to them on 9/16/2020:

A screenshot of an email forwarded on 9/16/2020 from Jupiter Wyse to a recipient whose name has been censored. The email was forwarded to Elle Porter on 3/24/2024. The subject reads NEVER SAY DIE and the body reads: No rush and incomplete! But here ya go :) The signature reads: Jupiter Wyse, They/He, @JupiterWyse The attachment shows the Rockstar Demon WIP.

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1cme8Y6rVgWIsO0OOLg2Hhd4yX460o8bc/view?usp=sharing 

This is the preview of the document attached to the email from JW:

A screenshot of the Rockstar Demon WIP document preview that reads: Title: NEVER SAY DIE Chapter One Aiden Moore was absolutely certain the moon would show up for a ritual sacrifice, but instead, the bright, white face loomed behind rainclouds high above the ocean. Simply put, the moon was a fucking coward. His boot clipped a rock, then another, sending stones toppling over the edge of a mossy, black cliff on the outskirts of Malibu. Thankfully, rich folk didn’t waste their time on the Ocean Grove trailhead. It was, at once, too harshly overgrown and too moderate. People carrying purse-dogs would linger in the dirt lot, satisfied with a Facebook check-in and a portrait mode snapshot of their running shoes. Actual fitness junkies sneered their noses at the bumpy yet simple trail, and complained to their friends during post-workout juice-brunches about forestry maintenance and where do my taxes even go and it’s not that good of a burn, anyway. No one worth a damn swatted their way through Ocean Grove’s spindly branches unless they were looking for a place to get off, get well, or worse, and he certainly hadn’t lugged a backpack full of store-bought pig’s blood and freshly plucked duck feathers to the cliffs for nothing.

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1iGrLf_y8gC9euNoGHR_jDKgeclxJAgiS/view?usp=sharing 

Here’s the first snippet posted in Freydís’s server side-by-side with the opening paragraph from NEVER SAY DIE:

A side by side comparison of Freydís’s first snippet and the chapter one opening of NEVER SAY DIE. Freydís’s snippet: Gabriel Castillo searched the sky and found the blood-stained hunter’s moon looming behind a sheet of coastal fog. Its orange face pushed through the cloud-cover, distorted yet still bright beyond the mist, signaling the start of an impossible night. HIs book clipped a rock, then another, sending stones toppling over the edge of a mossy cliff on the outskirts of Malibu, California. The rich didn’t waste their time wandering the Ocean Grove trailhead. It was, at once, too harshly overgrown, and too moderate. People walking purebred Malinois would linger in the dirt lot, satisfied with a Facebook check-in and a portrait-mode snapshot of their running shoes. Fitness junkies sneered at the bumpy trail and complained to their friends over post-workout juice-brunches about “forestry maintenance” and “where do my taxes even go” and “it’s not that good of a burn, anyway.” No one worth a damn swatted their way through the trail’s spindly branches unless they were looking for a place to get off, get well, or get worse, but he certainly hadn’t lugged a backpack full of store-bought pig’s blood and freshly plucked dove feathers to the cliff for nothing. NEVER SAY DIE opening: Aiden Moore was absolutely certain the moon would show up for a ritual sacrifice, but instead, the bright, white face loomed behind rainclouds high above the ocean. Simply put, the moon was a fucking coward. His boot clipped a rock, then another, sending stones toppling over the edge of a mossy, black cliff on the outskirts of Malibu. Thankfully, rich folk didn’t waste their time on the Ocean Grove trailhead. It was, at once, too harshly overgrown and too moderate. People carrying purse-dogs would linger in the dirt lot, satisfied with a Facebook check-in and a portrait mode snapshot of their running shoes. Actual fitness junkies sneered their noses at the bumpy yet simple trail, and complained to their friends during post-workout juice-brunches about forestry maintenance and where do my taxes even go and it’s not that good of a burn, anyway. No one worth a damn swatted their way through Ocean Grove’s spindly branches unless they were looking for a place to get off, get well, or worse, and he certainly hadn’t lugged a backpack full of store-bought pig’s blood and freshly plucked duck feathers to the cliffs for nothing.

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1qt95CYP9udq_nEobDQO6PyOEBPIDdLjL/view?usp=sharing 

NEVER SAY DIE document: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1rmEGC6pbiD0ilyY9nYxShxKMYsDFQuLF/edit?usp=sharing&ouid=110236194525220842699&rtpof=true&sd=true 

Aside from the name change and paragraph break, the second snippet matches almost word for word to the highlighted line in NEVER SAY DIE:

Snippet: Gabriel knew, as well as anyone who’d ever wanted something bad enough, that a sacrifice only worked when love was an ingredient. Rockstar Demon WIP, the highlighted line that resembles the snippet: Aiden knew, as well as anyone who’d ever wanted something bad enough, that a sacrifice only worked with love as an ingredient.

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1JlmizpPuwINYJ3fMG6lfoXak9IIeaNBE/view?usp=sharing 

Here’s the same paragraph shown in the document preview from the email that originally came from Wyse:

A screenshot that shows the NEVER SAY DIE document preview sent from Jupiter Wyse. The visible excerpt reads: There. Aiden’s pulse doubled. His lungs squeezed on fragmented breath, cautioning against the next two choices. They were still just that—choices. Decisions he hadn’t made yet. He could change his mind. Tell Shay to go fuck himself. Again. Get gross-drunk at the bar across the street from his apartment and forget about rituals and sacrifices and everything he’d ever wanted. Everything he’d almost had. Everything Shay had taken from him. He watched Shay snort another bump, and exhaled. “You sure this is coke?” he asked. Aiden shook his head. “Ketamine.” Shay furrowed his brow, shrugged, and inhaled another mound from the hollow of his thumb. That should’ve been enough to get him woozy, numb the pain, make what was about to happen a little less awful. Aiden had always assumed shit like this would be easy. Shit like soul-selling and sacrificing, specifically. Find a person, make them disappear, follow the instructions, find out how much life was really worth. But he’d done the research, read the books, scoured the internet, and Aiden knew, as well as anyone who’d ever wanted something bad enough, that a sacrifice only worked with love as an ingredient. Aiden thought he’d probably loved Shay Bennett. At one point, a long time ago, back when things were good and hard and wild. But now, he hated Shay more. “We could’ve been something.” He hadn’t realized he’d spoken until Shay laughed, shooting him a curious glance. “We were right there. Right there, Shay.” “No, we weren’t. You thought we were. Just you. Everyone else knew we were destined to be a six o’clock opener, Aiden. You’re the only one who thought we’d be anything else.” “We had seven years under our belt. Packed signing lines, hungry fans, sold-out venues—” “Sold out bars,” Shay corrected. He stepped forward, jamming his pointer finger against Aiden’s sternum. The movement startled him. Thrilled him. “I did what I had to do, like I’ve…

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1e1S1m2tkyIy9pb-dOlJNnzTm11qfQXBg/view?usp=sharing 

EXAMPLE #2

On 7/18/2023, Freydís mentioned a novella they’d been working on in their server, followed by the fact that they’d been working on it for two years.

A screenshot of a conversation in a Discord server dated 7/18/2023. Freydís: I sort of did this with my gothic angel master/slave. The novella I’m holding onto for dear life. There’s, like, an angel auction where Bad Angels who have sinned are auctioned off as playthings to demons and archangels. It’s bad, I’ll be cancelled [sic] so fast.

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1qwQhDZkcrEvJoc2DbzjQ6Knj6OwwysiC/view?usp=sharing A screenshot of a conversation in a Discord server dated 7/18/23. Freydís: The last time I worked on this I was in Peru. Does anyone actually want to read it?!?!?! I found it [REDACTED]: Please (praying emoji) (kneeling emoji) Freydís then posts a snippet that reads: Once a year, every year, the Celestial Auction showcased a prime selection of Fallen and Damned, allowing angels who had tumbled from their heavenly pedestals and humans who had landed in purgatory the ability to expedite their hellish consequences… Briar Wright, a fallen War Angel, has sold his body and soul in a Celestial Auction. His buyer? The Great Duke of Hell—Astaroth. As Briar explores the gothic estate he’s expected to call home, he wrestles with nightmares of past abuse, blooming curiosity about his recent buyer, and an uncomfortable, yet insatiable, feeling attached to the idea of desire. Empowered and free, he decides to enter a heated courtship with the demon duke. Questioning everything he's been taught leaves him reeling, but soon, Briar finds himself in the middle of a sexual awakening and a spiritual revelation. UNTITLED is an erotic romance that works to subvert the Master/Slave trope, and focuses heavily on healing, queer found family, and the importance of consent. [REDACTED]: YES

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1w9Hgjn4Er32JSr6V9wC2IT4UUgNX4bWJ/view?usp=sharing 

Several others, myself included, expressed interest in reading it.

A screenshot of a conversation in a Discord server dated 7/18/23. [REDACTED]: YES I DO WANT TO READ IT Freydís: I WILL SEND IT TO YOU (it’s unfinished) [REDACTED]: THAT IS FINE [REDACTED]: It’s like Docile with an angel. (crying emoji) (heart emoji) Freydís: I can send it to you, [REDACTED] (crying emoji) it’s a WIP that’s been in progress for two years [REDACTED]: (dancing blob emoji) [REDACTED]: [replying to Freydís] frey im going to eat you alive. I said everyone GET OUT OF MY WAY

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1x0QqnTD7RNY-3AKB7s9yRqk-v1iKcswJ/view?usp=sharing 

That same day, I received the following email from Freydís with the attached story:

A screenshot of an email sent to Elle Porter (elleportererotica@gmail.com) on 7/18/2023 from Freydís Moon. The body reads: It’s untitled! It’s unfinished! I hope you like it anyway! Signature: Freydís Moon (They/Them) @freydis_moon https://freydismoon.carrd.co The attachment shows AngelDemon_Working.docx with the preview showing the word UNTITLED.

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ccYsj_y7_mzHTLpL83-KkWziUJDdqQzj/view?usp=sharing 

Here’s the document preview from the email attachment:

A screenshot that shows the AngelDemon_Working.docx preview sent from Freydís Moon. The visible excerpt reads: Briar was bought on a Wednesday. Heat poured through vents in the ceiling, tempering the indoor climate despite the mid-winter freeze outside. Unfortunately, the artificial air did nothing to dry his sweat-slicked palms. This moment was a reckoning. Regret neatly packaged and expertly tied with a bow. Briar touched the tip of each finger to his thumb, poised beneath a yellow spotlight, center-stage before an audience filled with shadowed silhouettes. Someone’s wrist swayed, tipping away from a sturdy armrest. Two fingers flicked upward. The auctioneer’s voice sliced through the air. “Another offer! Seven hundred thousand for Briar Wright.” A bidding war. Briar shifted his weight from one bare foot to the other, hyperaware of the meaty stumps jutting from his shoulder blades. Wings used to perch there, flecked beige and white, hollow-boned and beautifully feathered. The loss of them, and the scars he carried in their place, deemed him an expensive prize. “Going once, going… Oh, right, yes. Another bid. Seven hundred and fifty—” “One million,” the buyer said.

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1LucUN8n3NryC-V1B9CvFZFE6RTUr3jiY/view?usp=sharing 

In compiling the evidence for this document, I was also sent another story of JW’s called ASTAROTH, which was originally sent on 8/23/2020 to the same person who forwarded me NEVER SAY DIE:

A screenshot of an email sent from Jupiter Wyse dated 8/23/2020, forwarded to Elle Porter (elleportererotica@gmail.com) from [REDACTED] on 3/24/2024. The body of Jupiter Wyse’s email reads: Hi [REDACTED], Thank you again for offering to beta read my novella ASTAROTH! Content Warnings are on the first page of the doc. Any and all notes/comments are welcome. I super appreciate all your input about NineStar and, again, for reading early! Signature: Best, Jupiter Wyse, They/He, @JupiterWyse Signature of the redacted sender has also been redacted. The attachment shows ASTAROTH_Wyse.docx with the preview reading “ASTAROTH, The Concubine Cycle, By: Jupiter Wyse, jupiter.wyse@gmail.com”

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Al0buZo4hQQaNCZz97f4VDsk55TmfyoU/view?usp=sharing 

Again, for transparency, here’s a preview of the docx from the email’s attachment:

A screenshot that shows the ASTAROTH_Wyse.docx first page preview in the email forwarded from Jupiter Wyse. The visible excerpt reads: ASTAROTH, The Concubine Cycle, By: Jupiter Wyse, Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content, References to abusive behavior and physical abuse, Mention of cannibalism, Mention of infant death, Descriptions of anxiety and panic

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1aof44vv4bJsE8kSJWQValLeBnHm4Dsz8/view?usp=sharing 

Here’s the first page of the first chapter:

A screenshot that shows the ASTAROTH_Wyse.docx chapter one preview in the email forwarded from Jupiter Wyse. The visible excerpt reads: Chapter One Briar was bought on a Wednesday. Heat poured through vents in the ceiling, tempering the indoor climate despite the mid-winter freeze outside. Unfortunately, the artificial air did nothing to dry his sweat-slicked palms. This moment was a reckoning. Regret neatly packaged, and expertly tied with a bow. Briar touched the tip of each finger to his thumb, poised beneath a yellow spotlight, center-stage before an audience filled with shadowed silhouettes. Someone’s wrist swayed, tipping away from a sturdy armrest. Two fingers flicked upward. The auctioneer’s voice sliced through the air. “Another offer! Seven hundred thousand for Briar Wright.” A bidding war. Briar shifted his weight from one bare foot to the other, hyperaware of the meaty stumps jutting from his shoulder blades. Wings used to perch there, flecked beige and white, hollow-boned and beautifully feathered. The loss of them, and the scars he carried in their place, deemed him an expensive prize. “Going once, going… Oh, right, yes. Another bid. Seven hundred and fifty—” “One million,” the buyer said. “My, my,” the auctioneer purred, “what a substantial offer. Do we have a higher bid? Let me remind you, Briar Wright is newly expelled, pure as a lily—albeit rebellious—and is available to retain, exclusively, for one decade.”

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1bxxwQ8HZ3b_leF1t-lR3bbBvbxBb6Ur8/view?usp=sharing 

Here are the document beginnings, starting with the docx from Jupiter:

The first two pages of ASTAROTH_Wyse.docx 1st Page: ASTAROTH, The Concubine Cycle, By: Jupiter Wyse, Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content, References to abusive behavior and physical abuse, Mention of cannibalism, Mention of infant death, Descriptions of anxiety and panic 2nd Page: Chapter One Briar was bought on a Wednesday. Heat poured through vents in the ceiling, tempering the indoor climate despite the mid-winter freeze outside. Unfortunately, the artificial air did nothing to dry his sweat-slicked palms. This moment was a reckoning. Regret neatly packaged, and expertly tied with a bow. Briar touched the tip of each finger to his thumb, poised beneath a yellow spotlight, center-stage before an audience filled with shadowed silhouettes. Someone’s wrist swayed, tipping away from a sturdy armrest. Two fingers flicked upward. The auctioneer’s voice sliced through the air. “Another offer! Seven hundred thousand for Briar Wright.” A bidding war. Briar shifted his weight from one bare foot to the other, hyperaware of the meaty stumps jutting from his shoulder blades. Wings used to perch there, flecked beige and white, hollow-boned and beautifully feathered. The loss of them, and the scars he carried in their place, deemed him an expensive prize. “Going once, going… Oh, right, yes. Another bid. Seven hundred and fifty—” “One million,” the buyer said. “My, my,” the auctioneer purred, “what a substantial offer. Do we have a higher bid? Let me remind you, Briar Wright is newly expelled, pure as a lily—albeit rebellious—and is available to retain, exclusively, for one decade.”

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1qFlY81anUR2_V2oWJp_7YUIkKxf-7tjw/view?usp=sharing 

And now the one from Freydís’s docx (two images for this one as some content was added/shifted around):

The first two pages of AngelDemon_Working.docx 1st Page: UNTITLED 2nd Page: Once a year, every year, the Celestial Auction showcased a prime selection of Fallen and Damned, allowing angels who had tumbled from their heavenly pedestals and humans who had landed in purgatory the ability to expedite their hellish consequences… Briar Wright, a fallen War Angel, has sold his body and soul in a Celestial Auction. His buyer? The Great Duke of Hell—Astaroth. As Briar explores the gothic estate he’s expected to call home, he wrestles with nightmares of past abuse, blooming curiosity about his recent buyer, and an uncomfortable, yet insatiable, feeling attached to the idea of desire. Empowered and free, he decides to enter a heated courtship with the demon duke. Questioning everything he's been taught leaves him reeling, but soon, Briar finds himself in the middle of a sexual awakening and a spiritual revelation. UNTITLED is an erotic romance that works to subvert the Master/Slave trope, and focuses heavily on healing, queer found family, and the importance of consent.

Screenshot link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1dk7v4ErwNmyBtVsKJKgp-ssqq1Yb-MDX/view?usp=sharing 

Continued:

The first two pages of chapter one of AngelDemon_Working.docx. Text of both pages: Briar was bought on a Wednesday. Heat poured through vents in the ceiling, tempering the indoor climate despite the mid-winter freeze outside. Unfortunately, the artificial air did nothing to dry his sweat-slicked palms. This moment was a reckoning. Regret neatly packaged and expertly tied with a bow. Briar touched the tip of each finger to his thumb, poised beneath a yellow spotlight, center-stage before an audience filled with shadowed silhouettes. Someone’s wrist swayed, tipping away from a sturdy armrest. Two fingers flicked upward. The auctioneer’s voice sliced through the air. “Another offer! Seven hundred thousand for Briar Wright.” A bidding war. Briar shifted his weight from one bare foot to the other, hyperaware of the meaty stumps jutting from his shoulder blades. Wings used to perch there, flecked beige and white, hollow-boned and beautifully feathered. The loss of them, and the scars he carried in their place, deemed him an expensive prize. “Going once, going… Oh, right, yes. Another bid. Seven hundred and fifty—” “One million,” the buyer said. “My, my,” the auctioneer purred, “what a substantial offer. Do we have a higher bid? Let me remind you, Briar Wright is newly expelled, pure as a lily—albeit rebellious—and is available to retain, exclusively, for one decade.” Briar’s heart climbed into his throat. He tugged at the sheer white linen draped over his lean frame. The garment pooled delicately around his ankles. Once a year, every year, the Celestial Auction showcased a prime selection of Fallen and Damned, allowing angels who had tumbled from their heavenly pedestals and humans who had landed in purgatory the ability to expedite their hellish consequences. Twenty-four hours ago, Briar Wright had shoved a bone-shard into his mouth, punctured his cheek, and blotted a sallow scroll with bright, crimson blood, signing over his autonomy, his agency, his soul, his… everything. He swallowed around a jagged lump. A century in here, Michael the Chief Prince had said, watching Briar through the slot on his steel cell door. Or a decade out there. Choose wisely. “Going once, going twice… Sold! Briar Wright, Fallen War Angel, to Astaroth, Great Duke of Hell, for the duration of ten human years,” the auctioneer said. The gentle rap of rich hands filled the auditorium. Briar stared at the place where Astaroth’s voice had manifested. One million. But the details remained hidden, cloaked by the shadowy stretch of broad shoulders. One of the demon’s polished dress shoes—Derby’s, perhaps—rested on his thigh, bouncing lazily, and he cradled a short, faceted glass in his palm. The scabbed mounds on Briar’s back fluttered helplessly; phantom limbs scurrying to the left and right, urging him to flee. Fly toward the sun, get away, go now. But the deal was done, Briar had been sold: his fate sealed in blood and disastrously undoable. ***** “Come here, dear. No, no—here, yes. There we are, no need to be shy.” Delicate hands clasped Briar’s forearms and hauled him to his feet. Water streaked his freshly polished skin. Remnants of almond scrub and rose oil clung to the bottom of the tub, leaving his body faintly scented. The fair hair on his legs and arms and between his thighs had been carefully sheared, plucked and waxed. His fingernails manicured. Toenails rounded with an emery board. Eyebrows shaped, chestnut waves clipped and styled, cheeks blotted with moisturizer and pinched until pinkened. He stepped onto gleaming black tile. The oversized washroom on the second floor of Astaroth’s estate was stocked with an assortment of expensive goods—perfumes, body oils, bath-bombs, fluffy towels, goat-milk soap. As surprising as the extravagance happened to be, Briar hadn’t expected to be guided there by servants. Nor had he anticipated the assisted bath, where a woman with her hair tied into a tight bun, and a simple, white cloth wrapped over her eyes, had attended to him. He twitched away from her when she draped a robe over his shoulders, coaxing his arms through the sleeves. Briar had given himself over to servitude. He had signed away his rights, his ability to choose, and he’d braced for a piece of his life to be chipped away and repurposed.

Screenshot link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1scVs45sTjXrRuIVhpgfg8a57IiPjUAYs/view?usp=sharing 

I compared several chapters side-by-side on the same screen.

Chapter one:

Side by side comparison of the first chapters of ASTAROTH_Wyse.docx and AngelDemon_Working.docx. ASTAROTH chapter one: Briar was bought on a Wednesday. Heat poured through vents in the ceiling, tempering the indoor climate despite the mid-winter freeze outside. Unfortunately, the artificial air did nothing to dry his sweat-slicked palms. This moment was a reckoning. Regret neatly packaged, and expertly tied with a bow. Briar touched the tip of each finger to his thumb, poised beneath a yellow spotlight, center-stage before an audience filled with shadowed silhouettes. Someone’s wrist swayed, tipping away from a sturdy armrest. Two fingers flicked upward. The auctioneer’s voice sliced through the air. “Another offer! Seven hundred thousand for Briar Wright.” A bidding war. Briar shifted his weight from one bare foot to the other, hyperaware of the meaty stumps jutting from his shoulder blades. Wings used to perch there, flecked beige and white, hollow-boned and beautifully feathered. The loss of them, and the scars he carried in their place, deemed him an expensive prize. “Going once, going… Oh, right, yes. Another bid. Seven hundred and fifty—” “One million,” the buyer said. “My, my,” the auctioneer purred, “what a substantial offer. Do we have a higher bid? Let me remind you, Briar Wright is newly expelled, pure as a lily—albeit rebellious—and is available to retain, exclusively, for one decade.” Briar’s heart climbed into his throat. He tugged at the sheer white linen draped over his lean frame. The garment pooled delicately around his ankles. Once a year, every year, the Celestial Auction showcased a prime selection of Fallen and Damned, allowing angels who had tumbled ... AngelDemon chapter one: Briar was bought on a Wednesday. Heat poured through vents in the ceiling, tempering the indoor climate despite the mid-winter freeze outside. Unfortunately, the artificial air did nothing to dry his sweat-slicked palms. This moment was a reckoning. Regret neatly packaged and expertly tied with a bow. Briar touched the tip of each finger to his thumb, poised beneath a yellow spotlight, center-stage before an audience filled with shadowed silhouettes. Someone’s wrist swayed, tipping away from a sturdy armrest. Two fingers flicked upward. The auctioneer’s voice sliced through the air. “Another offer! Seven hundred thousand for Briar Wright.” A bidding war. Briar shifted his weight from one bare foot to the other, hyperaware of the meaty stumps jutting from his shoulder blades. Wings used to perch there, flecked beige and white, hollow-boned and beautifully feathered. The loss of them, and the scars he carried in their place, deemed him an expensive prize. “Going once, going… Oh, right, yes. Another bid. Seven hundred and fifty—” “One million,” the buyer said. “My, my,” the auctioneer purred, “what a substantial offer. Do we have a higher bid? Let me remind you, Briar Wright is newly expelled, pure as a lily—albeit rebellious—and is available to retain, exclusively, for one decade.” Briar’s heart climbed into his throat. He tugged at the sheer white linen draped over his lean frame. The garment pooled delicately around his ankles. Once a year, every year, the Celestial Auction showcased a prime selection of Fallen and Damned, allowing angels who had tumbled from their heavenly pedestals and humans who had landed in purgatory the ability to expedite their hellish consequences. Twenty-four hours ago, Briar Wright had shoved a bone-shard into his mouth, punctured his cheek, and blotted a sallow scroll with bright, crimson blood, signing over his autonomy, his agency, his soul, his… everything. He swallowed around a jagged lump. A century in here, Michael the Chief Prince had said, watching Briar through the slot on his steel cell door. Or a decade out there. Choose wisely.

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/10jGs_HiOlrC-9TZxL9KrPRRBOC9ayD4O/view?usp=sharing 

Chapter two:

Side by side comparison of the second chapters of ASTAROTH_Wyse.docx and AngelDemon_Working.docx. ASTAROTH chapter one: Briar’s heartrate spiked as he eased down the last two steps and followed Luca through a wide, square entryway adjacent the staircase. His boots clopped the floor like hooves, echoing through the quiet, dimly lit house. They made their way past the busy kitchen, alive with spewing faucets, popping oil and sizzling pans, to the dining room. He paused in the doorway, frozen in place by something akin to fear—a peculiar brand of curiosity. Why would the Great Duke of Hell, an original Fallen, require convincing to take a partner? His lungs tightened, as did the muscles below his naval. More importantly, why would a demon of Astaroth’s caliber choose someone as inexperienced as Briar to entertain him in bed? Luca set their hand on his tailbone and gave him a gentle push. “Go on.” He stumbled, but righted himself, easing toward an extravagant table draped in crimson cloth. Pillar candles reached toward the chandelier high above, and flames danced in a stone fireplace, casting an orange glow across the cherrywood floor. The room was silent and still. Besides the crackling logs, Briar heard nothing but the sound of his own thrumming pulse. He steadied his breathing, paying mind to how quickly he inhaled, how loudly he exhaled, and lifted his chin. There, at the head of the table, Astaroth sat with one foot propped on the edge of his chair, cradling a wine glass below parted lips. Demon king, Briar thought, snared in Astaroth’s cool, thoughtful gaze, you are not what I expected. Astaroth sipped his wine. His foot slipped and he kicked the chair beside him, pushing it carelessly. “Sit,” he said, inclining his chin toward the empty seat. Briar approached the table as he would a coiled cobra. “Lord Astaroth—” AngelDemon chapter one: Briar’s heartrate spiked as he eased down the last two steps and followed Luca through a square entryway adjacent the staircase. His boots clopped the floor like hooves, echoing through the quiet, dimly lit house. They made their way past the busy kitchen, alive with spewing faucets, popping oil and sizzling pans, to the dining room. He paused in the doorway, frozen in place by something akin to fear—a peculiar brand of curiosity. Why would the Great Duke of Hell, an original Fallen, require convincing to take a partner? His lungs tightened, as did the muscles below his naval. More importantly, why would a demon of Astaroth’s caliber choose someone as inexperienced as Briar to entertain him in bed? Luca set their hand on his tailbone and gave him a gentle push. “Go on.” He stumbled, but righted himself, easing toward an extravagant table draped in crimson cloth. Pillar candles reached toward the chandelier high above, and flames danced in a stone fireplace, casting an orange glow across the cherrywood floor. The room was silent and still. Besides the crackling logs, Briar heard nothing but the sound of his own thrumming pulse. He steadied his breathing, paying mind to how quickly he inhaled, how loudly he exhaled, and lifted his chin. At the head of the table, Astaroth sat with one foot propped on the edge of his chair, cradling a wine glass below parted lips. Demon king, Briar thought, snared in Astaroth’s cool, thoughtful gaze, you are not what I expected. Astaroth sipped his wine. His foot slipped and he kicked the chair beside him, pushing it carelessly. “Sit,” he said, inclining his chin toward the empty seat. Briar approached the table as he would a coiled cobra. “Lord Astaroth—” “Aster,” he corrected. Briar recognized the familiar rasp. One million. Except here, with candlelight jilting across his strong jaw and straight nose, the Great Duke was not confined to darkness. Like this, Briar’s buyer became fiercely handsome and deceptively youthful. He wore his hair short, buzzed close to his scalp, and was dressed simply, swathed in black from ...

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1gy-lk4TBB-CF10rRT4vHwPzKtqRIU_p5/view?usp=sharing 

Chapter three:

Side by side comparison of the third chapters of ASTAROTH_Wyse.docx and AngelDemon_Working.docx. ASTAROTH chapter three: Morning brightened Briar’s bedroom. He buried his nose in soft cotton sheets and tangled his legs in the plush down comforter draped over his mattress. Through the frosty window, fresh snow flocked naked maple trees and fluffy firs. His bones were used to thin barrack cots and hard concrete, leaving him strangely sore. He flexed his stiff muscles and curled under the blankets like a pleased cat. For a moment, he stilled, brought his wrist to his mouth and bit, trying to pinch his way out of a dream. But he was awake. Completely, unarguably awake. Footsteps padded the hallway and muffled voices echoed from the first floor. Otherwise, quiet filled the house. How have I landed here, he thought, and then he wondered, briefly, where Aster slept. He squeezed his eyes shut. How is this possibly my punishment? “Briar?” Mallory rapped her knuckles on his bedroom door. “Are you awake, dear?” “Y-yes, I’m—” The door flew open, followed by Mallory’s floor-length, paisley dress. “Good morning! There’s breakfast in the dining room. Luca assembled your closet—intimates in the dresser, finery on hangers, denim folded on the shelf. The washroom is down the hall on the right, in case you’ve forgotten. And… Oh, there was something else.” She tapped her mouth. Her brows puled together, wrinkling the white gauze tied around her eyes. “Right! Aster wants to take you riding! If you’re up for it, of course. He mentioned early-afternoon. How does that sound?” Briar instinctively burrowed under the blankets, and fought back a bout of embarrassment when he realized Mallory couldn’t see his bare skin. He cleared his throat. “Riding?” AngelDemon chapter three: Morning brightened Briar’s bedroom. He buried his nose in soft cotton sheets and tangled his legs in the plush down comforter draped over his mattress. Through the frosty window, fresh snow flocked naked maple trees and fluffy firs. His bones were used to thin barrack cots and hard concrete, leaving him strangely sore. He flexed his stiff muscles and curled under the blankets like a pleased cat. For a moment, he stilled, brought his wrist to his mouth and bit, trying to pinch his way out of a dream. But he was awake. Completely, unarguably awake. Footsteps padded the hallway and muffled voices echoed from the first floor. Otherwise, quiet filled the house. How have I landed here, he thought, and then he wondered, briefly, where Aster slept. He squeezed his eyes shut. How is this possibly my punishment? “Briar?” Mallory rapped her knuckles on his bedroom door. “Are you awake, dear?” “Y-yes, I’m—” The door flew open, followed by Mallory’s floor-length paisley dress. “Good morning! There’s breakfast in the dining room. Luca assembled your closet—intimates in the dresser, finery on hangers, denim folded on the shelf. The washroom is down the hall on the right, in case you’ve forgotten. And… Oh, there was something else.” She tapped her mouth. Her brows puled together, wrinkling the white gauze tied around her eyes. “Right! Aster wants to take you riding! If you’re up for it, of course. He mentioned early-afternoon. How does that sound?” Briar instinctively burrowed under the blankets and fought back a bout of embarrassment when he realized Mallory couldn’t see his bare skin. He cleared his throat. “Riding?” “Horses, dear. He’s quite fond of them.” “Right. I’ll… Sure, I’ll join him,” he said, licking away the sour sleep coated on his teeth. “Splendid. I’ll let him know. Your riding clothes will probably be marked, but if you ...

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1KSIxhA3QP-FY1vtBEYrlaRXppNLLA6QO/view?usp=sharing 

Chapter four:

Side by side comparison of the fourth chapters of ASTAROTH_Wyse.docx and AngelDemon_Working.docx. ASTAROTH chapter four: The library needed far more work than Briar had originally anticipated. He spent three days scaling the rolling ladders on each wall, pulling dusty books from bowed shelves and stacking them in skyscraper piles on the floor. A few portraits leaned against the wall beneath three oval windows, and he unearthed a leather couch under a pile of curled maps tied with burlap string. Once he had the secretary cleared, he used the desk as a workplace, sorting fiction, non-fiction and poetry into different areas, and marking each title in an empty spiral notebook he’d found tucked away in a drawer. At this rate, he’d have to fill four notebooks to keep any sort of inventory. He plopped on the couch, thumbing through an annotated poetry book. Fingers found the cursive scratched into the margins—promises, promises—written next to Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”. How long had Aster collected poetry? How long had he analyzed sonnets and lyrics? Briar set the book down beside him and grabbed another. The notes beneath the title of “Romeo and Juliet” read: And if we all fell as one where would we be now? Choked, I think. We would strangle ourselves with this inconceivable love, wouldn’t we? This overbearing love for each other. This love we can’t escape in a world we never wanted. This love bred into us. This grotesque, ancient love. We would die without it, we will kill because of it. I want to think I’d catch you, if you fell (will you fall?) but I don’t know, brother. I don’t know. Wind pushed hard against the windows, sending snow whipping against the glass, loud enough to mask Aster’s footsteps as he walked into the library. Briar didn’t notice him until his ... AngelDemon chapter four: The library needed far more work than Briar had originally anticipated. He spent three days scaling the rolling ladders on each wall, pulling dusty books from bowed shelves and stacking them in skyscraper piles on the floor. A few portraits leaned against the wall beneath three oval windows, and he unearthed a leather couch under a pile of curled maps tied with burlap string. Once he had the secretary cleared, he used the desk as a workplace, sorting fiction, non-fiction and poetry into different areas, and marking each title in an empty spiral notebook he’d found tucked away in a drawer. At this rate, he’d have to fill four notebooks to keep any sort of inventory. He plopped on the couch, thumbing through an annotated poetry book. Fingers found the cursive scratched into the margins—promises, promises—written next to Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”. How long had Aster collected poetry? How long had he analyzed sonnets and lyrics? Briar set the book down beside him and grabbed another. The notes beneath the title of “Romeo and Juliet” read: And if we all fell as one where would we be now? Choked, I think. We would strangle ourselves with this inconceivable love, wouldn’t we? This overbearing love for each other. This love we can’t escape in a world we never wanted. This love bred into us. This grotesque, ancient love. We would die without it, we will kill because of it. I want to think I’d catch you, if you fell (will you fall?) but I don’t know, brother. I don’t know. Wind pushed hard against the windows, sending snow whipping against the glass, loud enough to mask Aster’s footsteps as he walked into the library. Briar didn’t notice him until his tall, broad shape blotted the empty bookshelves to his right. “I hope you like stew,” Aster said, skimming his hand over the stacked books. “The storm put a stop to our grocery delivery this morning, so Clementine’s braising a sheep. She mentioned cognac, root vegetables and bone broth.” Briar wrinkled his nose. “The whole sheep?” “We’ll be eating from the skull, I believe.” “I do like stew,” he mumbled, stealing a glance at Aster. The Great Duke snatched a leather-bound book, flicking through the first few pages.

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1BzVB7Zw0M9GsusJDRzC9Sni9Zscze1Cg/view?usp=sharing 

This screenshot of JW’s twitter bio shows ASTAROTH was one of their WIPs at one point:

A screenshot showing Jupiter Wyse’s twitter profile, date unknown, borrowed from: https://www.fanficable.com/post/fake-names-brownface-why-queer-fantasy-author-taylor-barton-has-been-accused-of-catfishing It reads: Jupiter Wyse, @JupiterWyse, yeah, like the planet (wyse like [eye emoji]) qtpoc, gay writer of erotica, horror, paranormal, spec fic, achillean, they/he, current wip: ASTAROTH Location: (bat emoji)(swords emoji) Joined July 2020

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1iJpYVe-9iva82Okl_A94wqR1PyAYy4QQ/view?usp=sharing 

METADATA

Additionally, the docx’s original metadata remains intact when these files are downloaded. Note the “Content created” dates between “ASTAROTH.docx” and “AngelDemon_Wording.docx” - 8/23/2020 vs 7/18/2023. It should also be noted that the “Authors” fields on each document, including the one sent directly from Freydís, show Taylor Brooke, which has been confirmed as one of Taylor Barton’s pen names.

A screenshot of the metadata of Jupiter Wyse’s ASTAROTH_Wyse.docx. The relevant information is: Authors: Taylor Brooke Last saved by: Taylor Brooke Content created: 8/23/2020 10:52 PM Date last saved: 8/23/2020 10:52 PMA screenshot of the metadata of Freydís Moon’s AngelDemon_Working.docx. The relevant information is: Authors: Taylor Brooke Last saved by: H. L. Content created: 7/18/2023 11:51 AM Date last saved: 7/18/2023 11:55 AM

Screenshot (ASTAROTH): https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ubKpGPuuc7MhOvUqlkXGd53Wy4ofHj3F/view?usp=sharing 

Screenshot (Untitled/AngelDemon): https://drive.google.com/file/d/1SnfZ6gMbXz_Lb7-X8qj1W2RZJJ_F5Qxw/view?usp=sharing 

Here’s a video of me downloading a fresh copy of AngelDemon_Working.docx from Freydís’s email and viewing the metadata:

https://drive.google.com/file/d/1plDDeqPEGc-5CaT6dbqe3yISu95-6IO8/view?usp=drive_link 

While the snippets compared against NEVER SAY DIE did not have an associated document to check metadata, it’s still interesting to note NEVER SAY DIE’s content created date of 8/28/2020, dating it well before Freydís shared their snippets in the server:

A screenshot of the metadata of Jupiter Wyse’s Rockstar Demon WIP.docx. The relevant information is: Authors: Taylor Brooke Last saved by: Taylor Brooke Content created: 8/28/2020 10:31 AM Date last saved: 9/16/2020 12:41 PM

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1hesUAFSen1n-pACH5Ho5kYnIMIoAN3I7/view?usp=sharing 

I checked the metadata on every docx ever sent to me by Freydís. While there were no other occurrences of Taylor Brooke, there were a few that showed the initials “H. L.” which appeared alongside Taylor Brooke in the “Last saved by” field of the Angel/Demon WIP metadata.

A screenshot of the metadata of Freydis Moon’s KyeEli_ChristmasShort.docx. The relevant information is: Authors: H. L. A screenshot of the metadata of Freydís Moon’s KyeEli_ChristmasShort.docx. The relevant information is: Authors: H. L.  A screenshot of the metadata of Freydís Moon’s WOLF WILLOW WITCH_BetaMS.docx. The relevant information is: Authors: H. L.

Screenshot (Christmas Short): https://drive.google.com/file/d/1y3LVz70YO4SBk-sJXZoOPz55GHnpWpes/view?usp=sharing 

Screenshot (WWW): https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ceOWr3SifzJy6QZYtd5Qvndc7RnyMvVq/view?usp=sharing 

CONFRONTATION

On 3/28/2024, I confronted Freydís privately about the similarities I’d discovered.

A screenshot of a Discord chat dated 3/28/2024. em (elle porter): hey! do you have some time to talk something through with me? Freydís: I’ve got a bit! What’s up? em: it’s about those snippets you posted last sunday in the server Freydís: Oh, the new vampire WIP thing? em: something about the wording jogged my memory, like i’d read something very similar before? which seems weird because when you first mentioned the WIP it sounded like it was maybe new? (but entirely possible that i misinterpreted that though) em: yeah! Freydís Moon: No, it’s super new! I literally just started drafting it after reworking a short I had in the wings em: okay then i need to show you something because i’m struggling to wrap my head around this Freydís Moon: Like, a short from waaayyy back in Tumblr days A screenshot of a Discord chat dated 3/28/2024. Freydís Moon: Like, a short from waaayyy back in Tumblr days em: oh?? Freydís: Yeah! Freydís: Is there something weird about it? Or, like, inappropriate? em: well I read this WIP a while back, that’s what the snippets reminded me of, and i went and pulled the document back up and like? (two images attached of NEVER SAY DIE opening chapter and Freydís’s similar snippet) Freydís: That’s… eerie Freydís: Who did you get this from?! Freydís: I deleted my short off Tumblr years ago (it was a fanfic) Freydís: But that’s lifted, what the fuck em: i can’t say who forwarded it to me, but the author who originally sent it was jupiter wyse Freydís: Who is that?

Screenshot 1: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1FVdmbJExnzbMyS-B-Z1BCmVHkDlIZft1/view?usp=sharing 

Screenshot 2: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ztKAjxmvH2t4F6Leyd6iGsFb6l47ehZ4/view?usp=sharing 

A screenshot of a Discord chat dated 3/28/2024. em: i can’t say who forwarded it to me, but the author who originally sent it was jupiter wyse Freydís: Who is that? Freydís: WHAT IS THAT THE Freydís: FUCKIN Freydís: Okay, wait, is that the Taylor Barton pen name person? em: yeah Freydís: IS THAT WHY PEOPLE THOUGHT I WAS THEM Freydís: Like, I don’t mean to have an ego about this but did that person legit scrub my fanfic? em: you remember that angel/demon story you sent to a couple people in the server? Freydís: Yeah! em: they apparently also lifted that, because i also have an email forwarded from them that’s pretty much word for word your angel/demon story… Freydís: I can’t get out from underneath this person A screenshot of a Discord chat dated 3/28/2024. Freydís: I can’t get out from underneath this person em: is that one you shared on tumblr too? Freydís: I, like, can’t escape them Freydís: To be honest, I don’t even remember Freydís: Probably there or on Wattpad Freydís: Which is insane considering I wasn’t on Twitter or Instagram or anywhere near this person Freydís: But now it makes sense why people tried to attach me to them em: but when you posted it to tumblr, were you posting it under a name that could even be connected to Freydís? Freydís: Nope, literally did not have a pen name Freydís: I’m so confused and I don’t know what to do Freydís: Should I, like, make a statement or something?! I feel like I’ve already done that Freydís: I mean, at this point I’ll just trunk both those stories, I guess, and keep working on my other stuff. They were old anyway, but it feels extra weird to just have this come back over and over again. Freydís: It just feels violating at this point (frown emoji) Freydís: I never understood why Anna Zabo and QBU came after me but now it kind of makes sense if someone was just, IDK, lifting material from multiple people online. Freydís: I’m heading to dinner—if I go quiet that’s why!

Screenshot 3: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1pPJb9vLyhrzGxLJU9HEbLSrE2Bv9e1Tb/view?usp=sharing 

Screenshot 4: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1JgBI1JlU58LuSyuehOnyu5XgCLwE9wLK/view?usp=sharing 

A screenshot of a Discord chat dated 3/28/2024. Freydís: I’m heading to dinner—if I go quiet that’s why! em: no worries! Freydís: I’m really sorry this all came up—I can understand it being confusing and weird I’m weirded out too–BRB Freydís: Okay I’ve consumed tortilla soup, filled in my spouse, and now I’m home Freydís: Where should we go from here? em: idk, that’s all i got, really. i was concerned but sounds like it’s an awful coincidence. i guess it’s good the stuff that got lifted never got published! Freydís: I’m, like, kind of pissed, honestly Freydís: I don’t know this person and now I want to find them and sue them (I don’t think I could) Freydís: But now I know why they were sued before! For plagiarism! So! But anyway, if you do need any reassurances, I trust you, and I’m happy to offer it Freydís: I would just hope you would keep things like my legal name and such between us em: of course I would A screenshot of a Discord chat dated 3/28/2024. em: of course I would Freydís: Just to be clear, this is my recent contract with Bethany who legally has to know my legal name to advocate for me [attached screenshot has been redacted, and noted with: Censored screenshot of the first few paragraphs of Freydís’s contract with Weaver Literary Agency, which showed their last name blacked out.] Freydís: I blacked out the important bits but THE SENTIMENT STANDS! em: i understand! Freydís: Catch me trying to dig up that old fic, damn Freydís: But honestly, thank you for bringing this to me Freydís: It gave me a little bit of a heart attack but at this point, people either know who I am and know my character or they’ll believe I’m someone I’m not. I just kind of have to sigh at it now.

Screenshot 5: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1o0-9wMThgksoXz2mLBtbk5SljyUrqUiI/view?usp=sharing 

Screenshot 6: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1_qzqcRnrFXXRpa2hkjlXhrgSi9vguvzv/view?usp=sharing 

 SAINT HARLOWE

And finally, because I think it only solidifies the lengths Freydís has gone to deceive and manipulate those around them, it should be known they are/were Saint Harlowe.

A screenshot of a Discord chat dated 1/28/23. em: i saw you liked this already but HELLO (blurry eyes emoji) (The attachment is a link to a tweet from Saint Harlowe, promoting their book RAPTURE) Freydis Moon: (eye emoji) (knife emoji) (sparkle emoji) Keep my secret, tell no one, but that is me

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ELzGnXu3woKqW47L6pou6f_bcdsKGOeT/view?usp=sharing 

ANNA ZABO’S THREAD

(This section was added 5/2/24 for those who cannot access Twitter)

The day I made this document public, author Anna Zabo added additional context that backs up claims against Freydís’s multiple identities, including the reveal that Freydís was posing as Cordelia “Cordi” Lynne, an agent and PR representative, as well as connecting Freydís to the name “Hunter Lewellyn” which also connects them to the pen name Bailey Greene.

Link to Anna’s thread: https://x.com/amergina/status/1781720283969212524

tweet thread from Anna Zabo (@amergina) that begins with a QRT: [quote retweet] Anna Zabo (4/20/24): Looks like I get to tell that story now. [original tweet] Anna Zabo (3/31/24): I have a story I will tell someday. But not now. [next tweet in thread, which is another quote retweet] Anna Zabo: Remember this? [original tweet] Anna Zabo (9/4/21: Re Freydis Moon. Did people inc. me wonder if Freydis was Taylor Barton/Brookyn Ray (Tay), etc? Yes. Did we chat about it? Yes. Were we 1000% certain? No. We decided if we said anything publicly, it would be attached to one of our names. That's only fair.

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1LLPeoU8Hx2ufs2UHwfylLA4Y0vAUHbMv/view?usp=sharing 

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1F1QyCl-Xa_mlEa69nRw9VdqMGzxM2Ccf/view?usp=sharing 

Attached image in last screenshot:  

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1yqMVvyLvNoWZj1aZl_p8QGHdAJ9JDnzH/view?usp=sharing 

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/19QGEmXO9tNEyolG8QF_P9uyd8UwSUcLg/view?usp=sharing 

Link in screenshot: https://fangirlish.com/2020/06/09/16-transgender-nonbinary-authors-you-should-be-checking-out-in-2020/ 

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1e7RUflnMXkwWEN1Q1hqYXKBcsnaLXCPc/view?usp=sharing 

Attached images in last screenshot:

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Zb4oq3XHdHQjl6lYCo6JVoeSAF2bjrGW/view?usp=sharing 

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/17ZlYB8hyXgllPnO8jGQfnyGpNRYefXPq/view?usp=sharing 

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Kau2GgN4IgqsO6QLk-iuY-6Vp7RHexe-/view?usp=sharing 

Links shown in screenshot:
https://www.google.com/books/edition/Exodus_20/dFctzwEACAAJ?hl=en 

https://www.google.com/books/edition/With_a_Vengeance/TMhIzwEACAAJ?hl=en 

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1p0Rj1_AFlOqNbQ6PKwO9tqFkBWuXAjsn/view?usp=sharing 

Link in screenshot: https://www.bizapedia.com/or/cordelia-lynne.html 

Attached image in last screenshot:

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/125YNtJ2dPtA1yMKblyoP5T7bnsrj62TX/view?usp=sharing 

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/19c9-HfqqMWI91iMRafAIeH6b83-Iu72z/view?usp=sharing 

Link in screenshot: https://absolutewrite.com/forums/index.php?threads/the-lynne-agency.356628/ 

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Kh9t0qopyMxzO8jmJs0HweQzdKCFlHh0/view?usp=sharing 

Attached image in last screenshot:

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1IHPc77g12x1qr-5cZl9H5FLVEsMMpFXM/view?usp=sharing 

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/11ZRDT_X3xdF3rEF8HVUbeIfPgD9m7Yvo/view?usp=sharing 

Attached images in last screenshot:

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/15Zo0W4p1vMDg2StV9Uqdwua7DI8cFTgo/view?usp=sharing 

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1Z4FI3clUNIxatdaIP-TCsmNbZQjAcShC/view?usp=sharing 

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1-OW7GAv3rsKdRqoG7Larb6sJaj8bm8AI/view?usp=sharing 

Link in screenshot: https://twitter.com/manic_femme/status/1702072589441548551 

Attached image in last screenshot:

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1uW8hdPK8Olox6PT_1hqCufy_eYl0DUes/view?usp=sharing 

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1I2_r7eOq7Ea6qlwtf1H-ys_Aq84_gSni/view?usp=sharing 

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1tOfpSmEQCa2-WT-8T0plccqOd5OzVMBf/view?usp=sharing 

Link in screenshot: https://www.facebook.com/people/Bailey-Greene/100083822074794/ 

Attached image in last screenshot:

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1CJiY6FuOIpWRtEMRNBdD8t8nKGVwQ5Xf/view?usp=sharing 

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1c3qtEAJ94KzxG_xamOs5GKkiejRI08ue/view?usp=sharing 

Attached images in last screenshot:

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/109NG1ou11pbTj4bNvdqPSemWqT2J-hcJ/view?usp=sharing 

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ioTmzYiFrSypwUW1iN3FywqS2hJJicam/view?usp=sharing 

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1wfziWPu7Q2525qJdb6T-zdKrXyZod_Ft/view?usp=sharing 

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1hYuXEnEkegqXHK89cH3uBgBjz0eWqBg2/view?usp=sharing 

Twitter threads linked in screenshots:

https://x.com/aidenschmaiden/status/1783010877131882596 

https://x.com/JudeSierra/status/1782419667413282841 

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1ffojoYJ79PPL7au4PSuSrCOoPxh5Ce24/view?usp=sharing 

WEAVER LITERARY AGENCY

Bethany Weaver, Freydís’s former agent at Weaver Literary Agency, confirmed that Freydís and Stacey Anthony are connected:

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1AfKn11Yx5vmVF5k7KXeecxbD2ZjXzs8T/view?usp=sharing 

Bethany also confirmed that the “contract” Freydís sent me when I confronted them was altered:

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1TCffYlKASdJodYTcPWach2dG6BqoeKTc/view?usp=sharing 

Here’s the “contract,” showing “Daniella” as the “legal name”:

Link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1g9Nw-07_10x0qW1p4Zye7DIBvX5rwXNW/view?usp=sharing 

APPENDIX (ALERTS BARTON THREAD)

The following screenshots are from the thread posted by @AlertsBarton on Twitter, accusing Freydís Moon of being Taylor Barton/Jupiter Wyse:

Original thread link: https://x.com/AlertsBarton/status/1433903940370841609?s=20 

Screenshot: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1vn7ni6B2MMHXIabMfSHjLg63yqC78rVH/view?usp=sharing 

Screenshot: https://drive.google.com/file/d/18t_tIbb_7CNrnFRbPlSACeAIXfRXRIW4/view?usp=sharing 

Screenshot: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1lyPUtjiGCPpIc0JVct4VcWEOj-gtqnrj/view?usp=sharing 

Screenshot: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1878J3F5Nci2Uz-C7QGZVICmkJjIVCmK1/view?usp=sharing 

APPENDIX (COMMUNITY REACTIONS)

Youtube:

“This author was caught faking their race with multiple identities: a deep dive into Freydís Moon” by ReadsWithCindy: https://youtu.be/9PnXKQt-pBY?si=c6fOQpp-cvDYWI13 

“Freydís Moon faked being latinx and has 10+ fake identities: a deep dive into the messy book drama” by Book Chats with Shelley: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PGioO6EzyEM

“BOOK COMMUNITEA: we going back in time re: Freydis Moon and then Readers Take Denver MY LAWD [CC]” by Jess Owens: https://youtu.be/hFNfCjRChsc?si=skkKriEhsnCinl-V 

TikTok:

Carter Kalchik (@carterkalchik): https://www.tiktok.com/@carterkalchik/video/7360087613736275242?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7164480770871363118 

Grapie Deltaco (@grapiedeltaco): https://www.tiktok.com/@grapiedeltaco/video/7360089798373018923?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7164480770871363118 

Adrian (@mousetache_reads) https://www.tiktok.com/@mousetache_reads/video/7360428876289281322?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7164480770871363118
https://www.tiktok.com/@mousetache_reads/video/7362336472772496683?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7164480770871363118 

Alex (@cemeterygay) https://www.tiktok.com/@cemeterygay/video/7360065568264801579?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7164480770871363118 
https://www.tiktok.com/@cemeterygay/video/7360092772054863147?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7164480770871363118