Tumgik
aquared46 · 2 days
Text
Are you worried about signing up?
Don't be! This event is very relaxed and deadlines are not harsh. You are welcome to sign up and then later drop out (just send me a dm so I don't accidentally allocate you a beta)!
All fics and artwork should be posted by October 31st, but it is totally okay if you go over this deadline. It just means that your beta may not be willing to read past the end of October.
If you have any concerns, please feel free to reach out. No question is silly.
37 notes · View notes
aquared46 · 2 days
Text
I've see a lot of people taking about Jeans prospective of Andrew hauling ass to get to neil to save him. People saying that he can tell that Riko was going to hit Neil because he's been in foster homes and such but I just know that Andrew took one look at Neil and Riko together and was like yup he's gonna run his mouth shit shit 🏃 shit 🏃 shit 🏃
1K notes · View notes
aquared46 · 3 days
Text
Tumblr media
#ME
2K notes · View notes
aquared46 · 8 days
Text
when is comes to asexuality and aromanticism you have to be okay with contradiction. one ace person will say asexuality is about not experiencing attraction, another will say it’s about not caring to act on attraction, another will say it’s not experiencing arousal. one aromantic will consider themself queer, one won’t. two people with seemingly identical experiences will use two different labels. aro people will be in romantic relationships, ace people will have sex. you get it.
16K notes · View notes
aquared46 · 8 days
Text
Stuff kids on tumblr better relearn
1. You are responsible for your own media experience. 
2. There is such a thing as a healthy level of avoidance towards topics that make you feel unwell or even (in a real-life clinical definition of the term) trigger you - but you are the one to actively take care of what you view.
3. Avoiding does not mean policing others.
4. You have no right to tell artists to censor themselves - you may criticize what others do, you may dislike it, that’s fine - but actively asking for censorship when you could easily unfollow or block a person just makes you look incompetent in your use of the internet.
5. Do not give people on tumblr or /any/ website the responsibility for your emotional well-being. Because these people do not even know you so no, you have no right to ask them to take care of you.
393K notes · View notes
aquared46 · 9 days
Text
Cult Tips for AFTG writers
notes from the resident ex-cult pastor
If you’re in the cult, there is nothing bizarre abt what’s happening and in fact the normal stuff that happens outside of it is what’s bizarre to you. Target? Weird. McDonald’s? Even weirder. I can like guarantee Jean and Kevin never had McDonald’s until they left the Nest.
When you leave, you’re gonna be paranoid as fuck. All the time. Ngl at least for weeks but sometimes for years. Nightmares and insomnia 24/7. Hallucinations too lmao Riko is in every corner of empty rooms and you can hear his voice echo in the confines of the lockers.
I see a lot of Jean wanting to go back to the Nest, but not a lot of Kevin wanting to go back. He definitely struggled, 100%. In fact when he was in the pits of agony from his broken hand, was when he probably wanted to go back the most. Cult is home, cult is safe. Four walls you’ve always known and while it’s a cage at least it’s dependable. They hurt you but by god it always works out and the reward of pushing through this tragic incident is greater than the terror it caused in the first place. It’s a gift, actually. A gift from Riko. He saved Kevin. Cults save you. Cults make you wanna return to them like damn homing pigeons bruh. Give me more shattered hand Kevin screaming at Wymack to let him go back home and having a breakdown when he’s denied fics thanks
Piggybacking off the last one: cults are saviors; you’re nothing without them and they make sure you truly believe that; that everything that is done to you is for you and you’re blessed for it to be happening. You’re lucky even, to be allowed in it. Everything is as it’s supposed to be and order must never be challenged, because it works, and you’re the Edgar Allan Ravens, and this is the most honorable place you could be. All the pain you go through is you earning the right to be saved and to prove your worth every day on court. Only the worthy are honored.
You justify everything that happened and you will start fights and get angry with people who try to correct you and tell you it was wrong what went on.
On the other hand, you blame yourself for everything ever that happened there whether you were at fault or not. Hurting others, hurting yourself, gaslighting the fuck out of yourself over things maybe you could’ve prevented and over things you never could’ve stopped. The guilt is crippling and it eats you alive and haunts you.
There’s a lot of shame too. I see more guilt written than shame but shame is a huge portion of emotions that cult survivors have. Shits embarassing dude like “god how did I end up thinking this wack ass shit was normal” 😐 Shame comes later in the healing process usually, it’s after you have come to terms with shit that’s happened and you understand it. Looking back, you go “Jesus fucking Christ that was a red flag what the hell. Should’ve left then, or then, or then, or then” and then you’re just plain fuckin embarrassed.
Please look up how hive minds and brainwashing are created and work; also Stockholm Syndrome; understanding these would be incredibly helpful tbfh.
Diets are big; everyone eats the same thing; food is used as a reward and a punishment.
Hype hype hype. They whip up a frenzy of one singular emotion and use that to push you into a blind hysteria because you’re more suspectible to their influence when you’re out of your mind.
Drugs. Depends on the cult. But yeah these little bitches can be a huge factor for shit and can help with the brainwashing and hysteria and stockholm. Sometimes you don’t even know you’re being drugged or poisoned until you leave.
OH I ALMOST FORGOT. Dehumanization and then being treated like a person again can be traumatic as fuck yall!! Holy shit! Sometimes it feels worse than being dehumanized!
EDIT AGAIN: you don’t know what mental illness is !! Cults don’t fucking tell you these things lmao. if you show symptoms it’s your fault. Kevin being depressed his mom died was gonna get blamed on him and he was never going to be told grief is normal and it’s okay to be insanely sad. Jean also never got told his anger was correct or his trauma responses to being raped were realistic! They just got blamed for any reactions ever that weren’t neurotypical !! that is all; do with that what you will.
Idk if I think of anything else I’ll write another one but that’s all for now; I haven’t slept much lmao 🫡
522 notes · View notes
aquared46 · 9 days
Text
820 notes · View notes
aquared46 · 12 days
Text
I have a lot of feelings about the rise of he would not fucking say that attitudes in fandom spaces and the paralysing effect it can have on creators. As a writer i think it’s important to just write what feels true to you and not what you think others will “approve” of. Like even as a reader i have enjoyed a variety of different characterisations that all work because the writer makes them work for a particular story. And a fic that’s written out of character to some will be in character to others. Writing fic is not your job you’re not being paid it’s your hobby please. Make them as close to canon as possible. Make them completely different. Who cares! Have fun! Have so much fun! There is an audience for every kind of fic and every kind of character interpretation i promise
16K notes · View notes
aquared46 · 17 days
Text
Tumblr media
Missing Aloy. Waiting for Horizon 3 🧡💙
600 notes · View notes
aquared46 · 20 days
Text
Tumblr media
Do you love AFTG? Do you love the paranormal? Then this is the fest for you!
The AFTG Paranormal Fest aims to inspire fanfics and artwork based on all things supernatural.
You can sign up as a writer, an artist or both! Express your interest by filling out this form now! Sign-ups begin May 1st.
Please reblog to spread!
Tumblr media
What content is allowed?
Anything and everything paranormal, supernatural and AFTG. All we ask is that it is tagged correctly when posted.
All transformative works will be accepted. All relationships, tropes and ratings are accepted. There are no limits, other than the paranormal!
You may use themes such as, but not limited to:
Vampires
Werewolves
Witches / Magic
Ghosts / spirits
Superpowers and/or abilities
Reality shifting
Mermaids / Sirens
Ressurection
Demons / Angels / Devils
Time Travel
Seers / precognition
Faeries / Fae
Dragons
Aliens
And more! If it is supernatural, it counts!
If you have any questions. do not hesitate to reach out through our inbox, asks or discord!
FAQ
Q: Am I allowed to sign up as both an author and an artist? A: Absolutely!
Q: Can I finish my WIP for this event? A: Absolutely, as long as it is completely unpublished (i.e. is not already up on AO3).
Q: Can I write a sequel? A: You can write sequels to already-existing fic! However, it must also be possible to read as a standalone. If you are writing a sequel of someone else's fic, you must have their permission.
Q: What kind of art is accepted? A: Everything! Drawings, paintings, fan videos, podfic, edits, everything in between!
Q: Can my friend and I sign up as a pair? A: You absolutely can! Can't wait to see your collaborative efforts.
Q: Are crossovers or fusions allowed? A: Yes, as long as AFTG is the main focus.
400 notes · View notes
aquared46 · 21 days
Text
"A cishet person must have made this, no queer person would ever portray queerness in this way."
"This artist must be white."
"No SA victim would ever handle the subject in this way."
"No woman would ever write women like this."
"This creator is obviously neurotypical. Everyone with autism/ADHD/depression understands-"
Nope.
People who make these blanket statements are very frequently proven wrong when the creator comes out as a member of that group. And even when they aren't proven wrong, even in cases where the creator isn't from the group in question, actual members of the group who don't fit whatever arbitrary criteria are being expressed will see these statements and feel excluded and erased.
Not everyone in your group is going to share your experiences. No single individual gets to personally decide what does or doesn't count as a "valid" expression of trauma or being part of a particular group, and creators are also not obligated to out themselves in order to "prove" their validity.
If something doesn't resonate with you, all that means is that it doesn't resonate with you. You don't have to like it. But you don't get to decide what it means to someone else.
11K notes · View notes
aquared46 · 22 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Exy Fans on Twitter (Championship Final Edition pt.3)
1K notes · View notes
aquared46 · 26 days
Text
scattered & unhelpful updates to distract me from the fact I am Not At All Ready
1 bc I've been asked more than once: it's not a sun on the cover bc the sun & moon motif is yalls thing. it'd feel weird to me if I stole it when I don't have any attachment to it
2 I would've rather overturned years-old lore than write something I couldn't believe in. I have zero regrets about sticking to the original plans of the EC, & I hope we are all happy with where this goes
3 there'll probably be at least two posts on Saturday: one with the pics from LA and one that's a cry for help. if yall notice any glaring typos in TSC that we missed during edits and don't mind sharing 'em, pls leave 'em on that second post. I'll leave it up for about a week, and then I'll edit the digital version one last time (I think all ebook sites allow a free download of an updated file?) and will reformat the book for print.
4 once those posts are up, both tumblr & twitter will slide into updates-only mode until TSC2 is out at the very least. sorry not sorry to throw a book at you & run, but I want to avoid too much outside influence & make sure the story I'm telling stays mine <3 <3
2K notes · View notes
aquared46 · 1 month
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
new challenge draw your comfort character wearing their most traumatic experience on a t-shirt but its neil and baltimore :)
1K notes · View notes
aquared46 · 1 month
Text
i only need the working of my hands
Pairing: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard Rating: Teen and up Word Count: 20673 Summary: “Are you planning on telling me any time today who the fuck Neil is or am I just supposed to figure it out for myself?” He opens his eyes to see Nicky gaping at him before he starts spluttering over an answer. It’s Kevin who responds first though. “He’s our other starting striker. You came with me when we went to sign him. Do you remember?” Andrew remembers the file, remembers Kevin’s conviction that there was potential there and Wymack’s relief that Kevin actually liked one of his recruit suggestions for once. Andrew could’ve sworn he had dark hair though. “I remember Wymack booking our flights to Arizona. Now derail your one track mind from Exy for five minutes and tell me who he actually is.” Kevin glares at him and Andrew matches his stare. “He knows I don’t like to be touched, he’s here with my family, he smiled when he realised I was awake, who the fuck is he, Kevin?” “He’s your boyfriend.” * Andrew gets injured during an Exy game and loses almost two years' worth of memories. It leaves him with a nasty pain in the head and far too many questions. Namely, who the fuck is Neil Josten?
read here on ao3
106 notes · View notes
aquared46 · 1 month
Text
lazarus
March 2007
---
            In the predawn light, Edgar Allan wasn’t much to look at.
            On paper it wasn’t far behind Palmetto State in terms of enrollment and campus size, but whereas Palmetto State was built on sprawling land with low buildings and open lawns, Edgar Allan had taken a compact, vertical approach. That wasn’t to say the architecture wasn’t to be admired; even Renee, who had no eye for such things, could see the meticulous and ostentatious care put into the school’s appearance. A pretentious coffin, Jean had called it a month ago, when Renee asked after it. Fanciful and grim, she’d thought then, but now she understood.
            Her phone hummed in her hand, but Renee finished her slow sweep of the area before looking down at it. At this hour it would only be one person: she’d kept Stephanie up all night, needing another pair of eyes to guide her and lay the groundwork for this reckless stunt. Their call lasted most of the five-hour drive here from the cabin. Later Renee would apologize for the hours of lost sleep, and Stephanie would brush away her guilt and concern with the same easy care she always did. Now was too soon for any such kindness.
            “It’s sent,” Stephanie’s text said.
            Renee held down until a heart appeared and slid off the car to her feet. Gravel crunched beneath her shoes as she went for the front door. There was an actual knocker on the door, but it wasn’t likely to get her far. Renee put her thumb to the doorbell instead. The carved wood muffled most of the noise, but she heard the distant tones echoing down the hall. Renee let them fade, then pressed again. Two seconds later, again. And again. And again.
            It took a few minutes, but at long last there was a sharp clack of the locks snapping out of place. Louis Andritch yanked open the door in a half-undone bathrobe, looking more like a harried professor than a campus president.
            “Yes?” he demanded. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”
            “Jean Moreau is dying,” Renee said.
            Andritch stared at her like she was speaking a foreign language, mouth still half-open on an abandoned tirade. She kept her stance neutral and her hands loosely folded in front of her as she waited for him to finally clue in on what she’d said.
            “Excuse me?” he finally managed. “What did you say to me?”
            “Jean Moreau is dying,” Renee said again, with an unhurried calm that ate away at her heart. Lashing out at Andritch prematurely would tilt this entire fiasco against her, she knew, but without Stephanie’s steady voice in her ear she had nothing to keep her fear at bay. Everything hinged on getting to Jean. If she could just do that, nothing and no one could stop her. This was the only part that Renee couldn’t control.
            Renee held Andritch’s gaze as she said, “Exy team, your perfect Court backliner. He is dead or dying as we speak, and I need you to take me to him.”
            “Listen,” Andritch said, putting a hand out like he could ward off anything else Renee had to say. “I thank you for your concern, Miss…?” She held out her student ID and driver’s license, but he only gave them a quick glance. “If there was a problem with one of my teams, my staff would have already informed me. I assure you I will look into it, but—”
            Renee saw the door start to close and moved into the doorway to catch it. “Mr. Andritch,” she said, in as pleasant a tone as she could manage, “I drove through the night for the slim chance of saving his life. I would prefer you escort me to Castle Evermore now, but if you would rather wait until your school makes the morning news that is your choice.” He frowned at her, not following, but Renee didn’t wait to be asked. “An article is queued to send to a half-dozen sites, and the author is prepared to give Kathy Ferdinand the scoop for her morning show.”
            “Where are you even getting this information?” Andritch demanded, and Renee tapped through her phone with her free hand to send a short X out. “These are some serious accusations you are leveling at me, young lady, and I do not appreciate being strongarmed.”
            “I would rather not do this,” Renee said. “We both know how much money is riding on championships this year regardless of the outcome. Our schools have too much to gain by seeing this through to the end. But I will not sacrifice Jean. Help me save him, and we can both forget this conversation ever happened. Please.”
            Andritch’s phone started ringing before she was finished. He ignored her in favor of answering it with a harried, “Yes?” He tried again to close the door, but Renee braced it with a hand and foot. He fixed her a warning look she wasn’t cowed by. “Yes, hello? Can you give me just a—”
            Andritch went still and calm as he listened, and Renee stared him down as Stephanie went up one side of him and down the other. She counted seconds between his “This is highly irregular” and “What proof do I have that this is not some cockamamie prank” protests, and they added up to so many minutes of wasted time Renee was tempted to leave him here.
            The first plan had been to bypass Andritch entirely and go straight to Evermore. Stephanie had talked her down from that, careful not to ask how Renee would circumvent the security system there. They needed Andritch on their side. They needed a credible witness. Without him they had nothing. Even if she could get to Jean on her own—they cannot stop me, Mom—how would she keep him? Renee knew Stephanie was right, just as she knew the nearest hardware store wouldn’t open for another hour. She was not above breaking into it, but the consequences would hurt them all in the long run.
            At last Andritch hung up. There was a sour look on his face that didn’t match the fear in his eyes, and Renee saw the tension in his imperious gesture to enter his front hall. The what if had taken hold; whether Andritch was more worried about his student or his school’s reputation she did not know or care so long as she got the desired results. Renee stepped in with a polite “Thank you” and stood off to one side so he could close and lock the door again.
            Andritch ignored her in favor of making another call. “Coach Moriyama, this is Louis. I need to have a meeting with one of your Ravens this morning, Jean Moreau.” He listened for a moment, and his eyebrows went up in surprise. “New York? Oh, I am sorry to hear that. Of course, family must come first. You have my condolences for your loss. Yes, of course. Yes, I can reschedule, it’s not that pressing. We can discuss it when you are back in town.”
            Force, then, Renee thought wearily, but then Andritch hung up and pointed at her. “Do not leave this spot. I am going to get dressed and call security.”
            And check his email, most likely, because Stephanie would have sent him a preview of her page-long exposé. Abby had reluctantly loaned them photographs from Kevin’s first night with the Foxes, leery of betraying Kevin’s trust by releasing them but trusting Renee and Stephanie to win Andritch over before they were forced to go public.
            Andritch’s phone rang again before he was halfway up the stairwell. “Hello? Coach Wymack, you said?”
            The rest of the conversation was muffled by distance. Renee hummed quietly to herself so she wouldn’t ask him to perhaps be a bit more urgent about the situation, and then her phone buzzed against her fingers. She opened it to a query from Stephanie and tapped out a quick update. She didn’t mean to click over to Jean’s message next, but a second later it was staring up at her.
            Kengo is dead, first. And then: Thank you.
            Two words that meant nothing, that meant everything, when just a few days prior Neil had offered Andrew a threadbare smile and Thank you, you were amazing. before getting ripped out of their lives with violent force. Thank you, goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.
            Renee closed her phone and squeezed it until her knuckles ached. She looked toward the stairs again. She wasn’t sure if a “Hurry” or “I will meet you at the stadium” would make it out of her first, but then Andritch came down the stairs so fast it was a wonder he didn’t tilt forward and fall flat on his face. Renee made a note to gift Abby a spa day as soon as this was over.
            “You will follow my car,” Andritch said, snatching his keys off their hook with such force he nearly pulled the rack off the wall as well. He got the door and shooed her out, and Renee went for Andrew’s car with long strides. Andritch needed another moment to field another call, but he pulled his car door closed so hard Renee heard it over the Maserati’s engine. Finally, finally Andritch got on the road, and Renee pulled out behind him.
            Because Castle Evermore doubled as the home court for the national team, it was set a short drive from the rest of campus. Renee had never seen it before, but it was hard to miss the imposing building with its spired corners. There was no color on it; from the foundation to the towers it was painted a forbidding solid black.
            Pretentious coffin, she silently agreed, and then, But not yours.
            The entire thing was surrounded by a tall fence lined with barbed wire. Andritch passed a half-dozen gates before slowing to a stop at one, and he leaned out his window to tap away at a keypad. The gate remained closed, and Andritch tried again. After a few attempts he got out of his car, like somehow the angle of his arm was to blame for this. Renee assumed he had few reasons to come out this way, but that he hadn’t secured the codes on the drive over was frustrating.
            Movement in her rearview mirror had her glancing back as an unfamiliar car pulled up behind her. The driver’s door opened, and she saw enough lettering to guess it was campus security. Perhaps Andritch’s incompetence was just show, then, a means of stalling her until he could eject her from campus. She relaxed her grip on the steering wheel and waited for the guard to try her door, but he went past her without slowing. Andritch got out of his way to let him have a go at it, but he had no more luck than Andritch had. After two attempts, the guard had no choice but to phone his superiors.
            Renee glanced past them at the fence. She gauged the height and tugged idly at her jacket, wondering if it was thick enough to protect her from the barbed wire along the top. Likely not, but before she could commit to trying it out the gate finally rattled open. The guard went jogging past again so he could get back in his car, and the three drove into the Ravens’ guarded lot at last.
            The spots closest to the stadium were all taken by a line of identical black cars, so they double-parked behind them. The security guard sent a curious look at Renee as she joined him and Andritch at the door, but he was too busy trying to get them into the Nest to ask questions. Unsurprisingly he needed to call in for this access code as well, and he held the door open for both of them when he managed to get it unlocked.
            Renee expected to find a hallway; what she saw was a dark stairwell leading down. Red lighting on the ceiling did nothing to chase away the shadows. Renee was tempted to ask Andritch if he had honestly signed off on this thinking it was a good idea, but he looked just young enough she assumed he’d inherited this madness. Andritch led them down without comment or hesitation, so Renee trailed after him. One more door awaited them at the bottom, but the guard hadn’t bothered to hang up his call and he called out a code to Andritch from the rear.
            If Renee had expected the Nest to be an improvement, she was immediately and sorely disappointed. The rooms they passed through in search of a stray Raven were spacious, but the ceilings were too low and the entire thing was done in Raven black and red. It was a minor blessing that these ceiling lights were normal, but whoever installed the bulbs had chosen a weaker wattage that let shadows collect in all the corners.
            Renee keenly understood why the Ravens spent so much time on the court, if this was their only other option. She had been here for only twenty seconds, and she was ready to never come here again. Jean had told her the Ravens only left the Nest for away games and classes, and she wasn’t sure if that made this better or worse: she couldn’t imagine coming back to this pit willingly, but the thought of being trapped here almost every hour of the day turned her heart cold.
            Raucous laughter led them to a kitchen at last, and the conversation died when Andritch stepped inside. Renee looked past him to the four Ravens gathered around a square table. She had one moment to note their identical black clothes and another to take in their stunned expressions before one got up from the table with lethal intent.
            “Who the fuck—”
            “Your campus president,” Andritch cut him off. “I am here to see Moreau. Where is he?”
            The four exchanged baffled looks before volunteering, “He’s in Red Hall.”
            “Show me,” Andritch said.
            No one seemed in a hurry to obey, but after a pointed, “You’re already up,” from one of the Ravens at the table, the first man scowled and crossed the room. He put a finger in Renee’s face as soon as he reached them.
            “You’re a Fox,” he said. “You don’t belong here.”
            She was idly impressed he recognized her so easily, but considering how sour things were between the teams now perhaps it was to be expected. “Neither do any of you.”
            “Right now,” Andritch said before the Raven could respond.
            He settled for giving her an ugly look and pushing her roughly out of his way. Andritch snapped at him for his aggression as he followed, but Renee let it go in one ear and out the other. Signage on the wall pointed out the directions to Red and Black Halls, and they went down the one that would lead them to Jean. Despite the name, there was no more abundance of color here than there had been anywhere else. Most of the doors they passed were open, but Renee only spared a couple glances at the dark bedrooms.
            Finally their unwilling guide stopped in a doorway and hit the side of his fist against the frame. “Andritch is your problem now,” he said to whoever was inside, and he flicked a last annoyed look at the president in question. “Zane is Jean’s roommate. He’ll find him for you. I’ve only got ten minutes left of lunch before I’m due on the court, so I’m leaving.”
            “Your name first,” Andritch said.
            “Williams,” the man said. “Brayden. Striker, number nineteen. Done here?”
            “For the moment,” Andritch said, with a tone that said this attitude was going to dearly cost Brayden when Andritch could spare enough time for him. Renee was expecting his shove as he went back down the hall the way they’d come, and she kept her feet planted so he couldn’t knock her over. She didn’t spare him another thought but followed Andritch to the doorway.
            Identical beds were set against opposite walls, with two nightstands and tiny desks between them. Only one man was inside, and he wasn’t Jean. Renee glanced toward the empty half of the room and was surprised to see Jean had decorations up. Postcards were pinned to the walls, and the top of his nightstand was littered with either stickers or magnets. The urge to study his precious possessions was as fleeting as it was inappropriate, and Renee forcibly returned her attention to the greater problem: Jean wasn’t there.
            “—he is?” Andritch was asking.
            Zane didn’t answer immediately, but the look that crossed his face told Renee everything she needed to know. The Ravens they’d met in the kitchen seemed more annoyed and bewildered by this intrusion than anything; Zane’s hesitation now was a deeper understanding. He knew exactly why they’d come. Renee assumed he had a better vantage point for Jean’s ongoing trauma as his roommate.
            “He’ll be with Riko,” Zane said at last. “They’re partners.”
            “I don’t care whose partner he is,” Andritch said. “Someone is going to find him for me.”
            Zane got up from his desk but sent a long look at Renee. “She shouldn’t be here.”
            Andritch snapped his fingers to get Zane’s attention. “That is not your call. Move it.”
            Zane led them to Black Hall. Another dormitory, Renee realized, with only one door closed at the far end. Zane knocked, listened, and knocked again. He checked his watch, tipped his head back to think, and said, “First shift, but what day is it? They might be finishing up on the court right now. Come on.”
            As soon as he stepped past her, Renee went to the door. The knob turned easily under her hand. For one moment she was surprised at Riko’s boldness, that he genuinely trusted people to stay out of his space out of some semblance of respect. Then she had the door open, and the sight waiting for her erased every thought from her mind.
            Zane caught her arm to haul her back. Renee didn’t even feel his skin under her knuckles when she put everything behind her fist. Zane wasn’t expecting it and wasn’t at all braced for it, and he nearly took Andritch down with him as he was thrown back.
            The guard moved to intervene, but Renee was in the room and out of reach before he could get his hands on her. She let their outraged demands wash over her and was only distantly aware of how abruptly the shouting stopped when they followed her into Riko’s room. The only thing that mattered was the body on Riko’s floor.
            Not a body, Renee thought fiercely, and willed it to be true, but how could it be true when Jean looked like this? That Riko had just left him here like this was almost as horrifying as the state he was in, and she was trembling as she knelt on the ground by his head. She took five seconds to calm herself to stillness before reaching for him, and she pressed her fingers to his bruised throat in search of a pulse. The relief it sent through her was almost sharp enough to bite away her grief, and Renee sent up a quick and desperate prayer of thanks.
            “Jean,” she said softly, then louder: “Jean. Can you hear me?”
            “Good god above,” the security guard finally said. “Is he—”
            “Alive,” Renee said, and was just mad enough to add, “For now.” She looked toward the men standing across from her: the horrified guard who hadn’t signed up for this before he had his morning coffee, the Raven who looked uncomfortable but not surprised or upset, and Andritch, whose blank-faced horror could have been for his mangled student but was just as likely for his crashing career.
            “What happened here?” Andritch demanded.
            Zane lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Rough scrimmage, maybe?” At the foul look Andritch sent him, he scowled and looked away. “I don’t know, man. He hasn’t been my partner in a year now.”
            “I am taking him home,” Renee said. “Help me get him to my car.”
            Andritch didn’t move. “We need to call a doctor.”
            “Josiah lives on campus,” Zane volunteered. “I’ve got his number saved.”
            “He is coming with me,” Renee said.
            “You can’t have him.” Zane flicked her a venomous look. “He belongs here.”
            That he was angrier over her intrusion than had what happened to his own teammate shook Renee to the core, and for one frightening moment she felt all the years of anger management and therapy start to coil undone. Maybe Zane saw something change on her face, because he took a half-step back from her and tensed for a fight.
            “You cannot stop me,” Renee said, in a tone far steadier than she felt. “If you try, I promise you will regret it. Mr. Andritch, you know the terms for my discretion.”
            “Now listen,” Andritch started, but there was more uncertainty than bluster in his voice. If he actually had a coherent thought to follow that, he couldn’t seem to get it out. When Renee flicked him a hard look he was staring down at Jean’s broken, bloody form. “I don’t know if we can even safely move him. It would be best to get someone here first to make sure he’s stable. Josiah, you said?” he asked Zane.
            “Head nurse,” Zane said, digging his phone out of his pocket.
            “I left my team nurse at the hotel before coming over here,” Renee lied as she pulled out her own phone. She hated making Jean a spectacle, but she knew she needed evidence. She took a few pictures of his bloodied, broken face. “I can send these to Kathy Ferdinand for her morning show, or I can delete these in the parking lot. Give me one Raven, or I will take them all.”
            “I don’t appreciate your tone, young lady,” Andritch said. She half-expected him to try intimidating her to silence, but perhaps he knew it was useless. He could try to confiscate her phone and throw her off-campus, but she’d set too many pieces in motion already. She didn’t technically need Jean or these photos to destroy his school and he knew it. The best he managed was, “Let’s not jump to any rash action.”
            Jean’s fingers twitched against the carpet as their voices finally started to rouse him. Renee carefully peeled his hair out of the caked blood on his face and smoothed careful knuckles over his temple.
            “Hey,” she said, softening her tone immediately. “Jean, can you hear me? We’re going to move you just in a moment. I’m sorry, but it’s going to hurt. It’s going to really hurt, and I can’t stop that. I need you to bear it a little longer, okay?”
            At long last Andritch chose his side with a tense, “Let’s get him out of here.”
            The guard dragged Zane with him as he approached, and Renee moved out of their way. It took them a moment to figure out how they were supposed to get Jean off the floor. He didn’t stir at the feel of their hands on him, but as soon as they hoisted him off the carpet, he made a wretched noise in the back of his throat that had Renee’s eyes stinging.
            “It’s okay,” she promised him, unsure if he could even hear her. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
            “—ry,” Jean mumbled, so faint Renee could barely hear him. “Sorry, I’m—” the rest got swallowed up by another pained noise as the guard shifted his grip, and Renee locked her fingers together before she could reach for him.
            Andritch sent Renee ahead of him so he could take the rear and focus on his phone. From the sound of it he was rounding up the Ravens’ other coaches and calling them back to Evermore for an emergency meeting. Renee kept moving, trying to ignore the agonized sounds Jean was choking on as he was carried after her. She wanted to ask them to be more careful; she knew just from looking at Jean that they couldn’t be careful enough.
            Getting him up the steep stairs was the worst part, and Renee’s cheeks were damp with silent tears when she finally pushed open the last door. As soon as the men were clear of the door she hurried over to Andrew’s car. It took only a bit of jostling to slide the passenger seat back on its rails, and she tugged the latch until she could lay it as flat as it would go.
            Jean was boneless when they finally got him settled. Renee saw the unnatural way his head lolled to one side and feared the worst, but when she squeezed past Zane to check on him, she could still find a pulse. Unconscious from the pain, then, which was only a half-step better. It was six hours and change from West Virginia to South Carolina. Abby had offered to meet her here, and Renee should have agreed, but she was desperate to get Jean out of the state before Riko and his uncle figured out how to respond.
            “You’ll keep us updated?” Andritch said. He sounded calm, but she saw the nervous way he turned his class ring on his little finger as he studied her.
            “Hourly reports,” Renee agreed as she pushed the passenger door shut. He was standing close to her, so she obediently tilted her phone screen his way and deleted her photographs in front of him. It wouldn’t stop her from taking more once she got somewhere safe, but it was a token of good faith and the best he could hope for. “We appreciate your cooperation. Please feel free to delete the email you received this morning and contact Coach Wymack if you have any additional concerns.”
            “You’re making a mistake,” Zane warned her. “You will regret this.”
            Renee met his cold stare with a cool look of her own. “Your captain is free to take his grievances up with me if he has something to say about it. I’m sure he knows where to find me.” She didn’t wait for a response but looked at Andritch. “If we’re finished here, I will take the code for the outer gate.”
            The guard had to call his office again to get it for her, and Renee committed it to memory as she got in the car and pulled away. She had six numbers tapped into the keypad when the stadium door crashed open, and Renee glanced at her rearview mirror to see Riko in the doorway. He was dressed in full court gear minus his helmet, and the distance between them couldn’t hide the absolute rage on his face when he followed Zane’s pointing finger to her car. He took a couple steps in her direction like he wanted to chase her down, and Renee quickly put in the last two numbers.
            The gate rattled open, and Renee flashed Riko a peace sign out the window as she put the pedal to the floor. Unnecessary, she knew, but she could worry about her attitude later. All that mattered now was getting Jean to South Carolina. She had the window closed before they reached the interstate and called Stephanie on speaker.
            “I’ve got him,” she said. “We’re on our way south.”
            “How is he?” Stephanie asked. “How are you?”
            “Oh, Mom,” Renee said, and risked a glance over at Jean’s battered form. With the windows closed the smell of blood was thick enough to choke on. “I don’t know how he’s still alive.”
            “God’s not done with that boy yet,” Stephanie said. “Drive safe, you hear me? I know you were up all night. If you start getting tired, you call me to keep you awake or you make sure you pull over and rest a bit. You can’t help him if you go off the road.”
            “I know,” Renee said. “I’ll be careful, I promise.”
            “I’m proud of you, honeybug,” Stephanie said. “I love you. Be safe.”
            “Love you.” Renee clicked her phone closed and dropped it into the cup holder between the seats. She reached out blindly for Jean, needing to check his pulse one last time, and thought she felt a hum against her fingertips as Jean tried to stir. “Sleep, Jean,” she urged him, thinking of the lone packet of painkillers in the bottom of her purse. “Sleep, and I’ll get us home.”
            “—ome,” was the slurred agreement, and Renee turned her attention back to the endless drive ahead of them.
5K notes · View notes
aquared46 · 1 month
Text
I don’t care if I know you bc we’re mutuals or I follow you or you follow me or if you’re just randomly on my dash/notes but if I see your url and I see that boop button you’re getting fucking booped
29K notes · View notes