#reference to Andrew’s abuse

[allfortheslay25]

Well Both Be Fine chapter 25, 29, 31, 39 spoilers

Milo and Andrew in the chapters vs how it looked in my heart

[againstpollutions]

everyone wants to talk about neil and jean being foils but what about riko and andrew

[relaxxattack]

Can you elaborate on what you meant with that ashen post? What do quadrant misunderstandings have to do with Eridan

oh my god, absolutely.

first of all, the fandom seemed to take eridan at his word when he said moirallegiance was a lesser romance akin to a friendzone; that's its own problem.

but in relation to blackrom: the toxic, horrible behavior that eridan displays in his flirting is often taken by fans to prove that kismesissitude is an inherently abusive, unnatural quadrant that the empire forces young trolls into. but this is incorrect.

as stated by multiple characters in-text AND by andrew hussie later: this behavior is not pitch at all. it's ashen flirting.

feferi calls out how transparent this bullshit is instantly. terezi, too, gets caught up in this when eridan decides to drag her into it, but she is also not having his shit. both of them read him for how fake he is. and that's not even going into how completely uninterested sollux was in this “rivalry”.

hussie, in the commentary, also states that eridan's obviously outrageous behavior is basically textbook for an ashen solicitation.

i feel that it's also worth mentioning that when eridan had a real kismesis, his relationship with her was amiable, and they even supported each other as teammates and allies in their campaigns. the second she gets bored of him, eridan starts pretending their relationship is volatile and going to “become murderous” to get kanaya to auspistize for him… sound familiar? 

and now here is what eridan looks like when he's actually pitch flirting. notice how despite his obvious assholery, eridan also tries to treat her with weird respect and pay her compliments? there's a noticeable difference between how eridan treats someone he actually has a pitch thing for and how he treats sollux.

with sollux, eridan is intentionally going way over the line, to goad people into stopping him. i discussed this before in reference to vriska/kanaya/tavros, but trolls actually obviously don't want their relationships to become unpleasant. they have an entire quadrant dedicated to intervening if they think a relationship isn't healthy. and the relationship going extremely toxic is attributed to a failure of auspisticism, not a natural facet of pitch romance.

this is what eridan's treatment of sollux is. it's unhealthy, by troll standards. which is saying something! it says that trolls have standards for blackrom; standards that make them think trolls like vriska, gamzee and eridan are going too far. 

so that's what my funny little image was trying to encapsulate. that fandom has such a blind spot when it comes to ashen relationships that it makes them misinterpret pitch romance as well. they forget that it's literally proven in-comic that trolls don't accept shit tons of toxicity as normal in their romance. (of course it gets a little more complicated when caste dynamics are introduced, but in the end other trolls still wish to auspistize in cases like terezi/gamzee.) 

ashen romance has a purpose, and people straight up refusing to acknowledge one of the four romances in the four romance system throws their perspective of the entire thing off balance.

[feverdreamsandlucidnightmares]

Okay!!!! I finished TGR!!! I’m never going to shut up about it!!!! But first order of business, and this should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me….

[SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT, I MEAN IT, SO MANY SPOILERS]

JEANEIL BESTFRIENDISMS COMPILATION 🎉

Starting off strong, Jean finding out Grayson is dead and quoting what Neil told him when Riko died. Both of them physically forcing the smile off their faces when their abusers die. Grayson being dead because of Neil, Neil keeping his word and protecting Jean without needing to be asked. I’d die for them both.

Next! Cat asking Jean what Neil did to him when he visited and Jean being offended! Only Jean can insult Neil’s character. JEAN SAYING OUT LOUD THAT HE TRUSTS NEIL. Moreover, Jean saying the Trojans should trust his judgement on Neil.

Now!! The moment I’ll never ever recover from!

Genuinely how am I meant to recover from that? I won’t. Ever. Misplaced forever partners making me cry always.

Sweetheart, that’s not even remotely the same thing.

Neil giving Jean hope for his own future by refusing to hide. Neil being Jean’s first point of reference that he doesn’t have to just accept how he’s been treated. Neil being proof that he could have a relationship without retaliation from his team.

Yes!!!! Yes, you do deserve to get better! And you have people who love you now!!! (And you can call Neil your friend, he’s literally killed for you.)

I am distraught???? This is just like Jean watching the finals match and trying to save Neil, begging for Andrew to get there in time. Psychic damage.

Tbh I think there are more, but I’ve been reading all day. Just know that I love them and they’re best friends in my head.

(maybe I’ll make a compilation for Cody and Jean’s friendship next because they’re sooo so sweet I love them, Cody is my new child)

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Part 2 - Work Introductions

Autumn Embers Masterlist

CW: Mentions of child loss, mentions of medical neglect/abuse, mentions of reproductive abuse, mentions of pregnancy complications and death, mentions of racism, sexism (in an omegaverse way), Brandon (unfortunately living), real world references

Data entry and analysis isn’t the most exciting job in the world, no matter what kind of fancy title you’re given, but it pays the bills. Working on a military base isn’t ideal, but the benefits are nothing to sneeze at. And most days, you get to sit alone and uninterrupted, in your own office, instead of in a cramped cubicle.

On Tuesday, you’re startled out of your audiobook by a gentle knock on your desk. Sherry, your immediate superior, gives an awkward little wave and waits for you to finish your line and mute your music.

“Hey, I’m so sorry about this,” she says, as soon as your headphones are clear. “You remember those port reports from Honduras? Some of the senior analysts have some questions for you? They’re currently in a meeting and requested some clarification…?”

You wait, but she doesn’t say anything else. “…what do they want to know?”

“Oh, they didn’t tell me, I’m sorry,” Sherry says. “They asked if you could… Well, they need you to attend the meeting. Right now.”

“Do I even have the clearance for that kind of meeting?” You stand without waiting for an answer and disconnect your laptop from the dock. With it tucked under your arm, you grab a notebook and pen, as well as your water bottle.

Sherry leads the way out of the office. “I know you submitted these reports two weeks ago, and your notations are excellent. I think the problem is with one of the flagged ship manifests, but they wouldn’t clarify why they were concerned. Couldn’t get a word in edgewise.”

Her apologetic air suddenly makes sense. “Brandon’s in there, isn’t he?”

Sherry grimaces. “I’m so, so sorry. It’s him and a few alphas. There’s an American CIA agent as well.”

“So I absolutely don’t have the clearance for this meeting,” you sigh. “Great.”

A short elevator ride and two halls away, you take a fortifying breath before you step into an occupied meeting room. Brandon’s is the first face you see, and when he sees you the corners of his lips turn up in an infuriating smile. Next to him, another senior analyst’s eyebrows pop up, but Andrew actually looks happy to see you.

Before the door can close behind you, a blonde, American alpha stands and offers her hand in a no-nonsense shake. “Kate Laswell. We appreciate you being so prompt.”

“Of course,” you answer. Unfortunately, your attention is a little torn. All four members of the 141 are sitting at the table, looking at you curiously. Sergent MacTavish grins like a wolf. Captain Price tips his chin up just enough that you know he’s scenting you. Lieutenant Riley, face covered from the nose down in a black neck gaiter, gives you a quick once over that makes you want to shiver. But you’re a professional, so instead of fleeing you take the nearest seat, across from a smiling Sergent Garrick. You fold both of your hands on top of the table, the very picture of accommodating and helpful, “What can I assist you with?”

“Why’d you flag this shipping manifest,” Brandon asks. The projector at the front of the room switches to a document that would be barely legible, even without the distortion of zoom.

“You’re going to have to be more specific,” you tell him, flipping your laptop open. “What’s the file name?”

“Honduras,” Brandon says, Port Cortez.”

“Puerto Cortes,” you correct. And seeing as it’s the largest seaport in Central America, I’ve combed through literally hundreds of manifests, you think, but don’t say. “I’m going to have to ask you to be a bit more specific. The projector isn’t easy to read.”

“You flagged this manifest for a Korean ship.”

You jump when Sergent Garrick says, “Christ, mate, just give her the file name.”

Lieutenant Riley gives a cough that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. You think you see MacTavish still grinning at you out of the corner of your eye. Laswell rattles off the document name without looking.

As soon as the document loads, you know exactly why Brandon and Andrew are confused. And you know that the following conversation is going to be so unpleasant that you shoot off a quick email to take the rest of the day off once this meeting ends.

You take a deep breath, let it out slowly. “The manifest is inconsistent with previous patterns from that particular port and that particular captain and crew. As I noted, the four containers from Venusian Pharmaceuticals wouldn’t have made it on the ship do to political and economic pressures.”

Brandon doesn’t bother to look at you when he asks, “What pressures?”

Laswell interjects before you can answer, “Leaked internal communications provided evidence that Cloudstone Pharm was selling tampered heat suppressants and birth control in various black markets. The 4B movement in South Korea had been calling for an investigation for years by that point. A lot of omegas were killed because of mis-labeled medications. Pregnancy and birth related complications.”

“I remember that. It was, what, five, more years ago?” Lieutenant Riley asks. “Had an entire re-brand. Cloudstone to Venusian. Everything went from blues and whites to greens and yellows.”

“Okay, so the containers had a bit of extra security to get onto the ship,” Brandon says, before you can get over the shock of two alphas in a room who know anything about even the broad strokes of omega health care. “There’s protesters at every major port for one thing or another.”

“Even if they’d gotten on the ship, they wouldn’t have made it to Puerto Cortes,” you counter. “The captain lost two of his kids because of their medications. He’s had his crew dump the containers and alter manifests before. He was investigated for it, but his crew wouldn’t speak against him.”

Brandon frowns. “How do we know he didn’t get paid off?”

How do we know the omegas weren’t worth less than a cash payment? Your throat feels like closing in on itself. You keep your voice as steady as you can. “He wouldn’t have been.”

“How do you know?”

Andrew, eyes darting between you and Brandon, tries to interrupt. “Well-”

“Because he made the autopsy reports for both of his sons public,” you answer. You have to force your jaw to unclench. “Along with pictures and videos of how sick they were before they passed, before anyone knew what was really wrong with them. And the executives of Cloudstone, an American company, laughed. Called them slurs and ignorant animals in emails and meeting memos that were later leaked to the public.”

Across from you, Garrick is not smiling anymore. “That’s… disgusting.”

“Cloudstone struggled to recover in eastern Asian markets, even with the re-brand,” you continue, then take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And all of this was in my report.”

“Your job isn’t to provide those kinds of references. You’re not trained for it. There were a couple of links to articles,” Brandon dismisses. “Not enough to-”

“One of his sons experienced total organ failure,” you interrupt, closing your laptop. You know your scent must be all over the place, but the subject matter was already touchy. Now he’s questioning your work and misrepresenting your job duties? Oh, fuck him. “Because he was on incorrectly administered fertility treatments that were disguised as birth control, he had a high-risk pregnancy with multiples. And then his medications were switched with heat inducers. His other son had rapid onset neuropathy and multiple strokes within a week. Neither of his sons wanted to have children. One of them couldn’t, biologically, because it would have killed him anyways. And their partners decided that they didn’t care.”

Brandon wrinkles his nose at you. “No need to get so worked up.”

You practically feel the way your scent goes hot and acrid. Where most omegas have a distress scent that is sickly sweet, yours is much closer to an alpha’s shock scent. Your parents used to call you “Wildfire” because of it. You watch the hairs on Garrik’s arms stand up.

You can barely smell Andrew’s nervous distress over your rage. “Okay, yeah, that’s plenty. The captain wouldn’t have taken the containers.”

“Is there a reason you didn’t consult the references I added into the report?” You know the sudden calm in your voice, the relaxing of your posture, is at odds with the way your anger scent gets stronger. You’ve been told it’s a sensory nightmare, so you only do it when someone tells you you’re not calm enough. You fold your hands on the table again. “Because I included original and translated sources, according to the standards of the department.”

The room is silent. All seven alphas are agitated. You can only pick out MacTavish’s scent, muddled and frustrated. Andrew opens his mouth, closes it. Finally says, “I didn’t receive the references.”

“Senior analyst Lawrence received the full report directly,” you say, holding eye contact with Brandon. “But I know how emails can get lost. I would be happy to send them again. I’ll CC you, and request that your access to the full drive be confirmed. Sir. Is there anything else I can assist the team with?”

Laswell scrawls something on a sticky note and passes it over to you. “Please also include me on those emails.”

You give her your most demure smile. “Unfortunately, Agent Laswell, I don’t have the clearance to send reports outside of the department. I would be happy to help you coordinate that with senior analysts Lawrence and Bennett.”

You pluck the sticky note from her hand, stand, and gather up your laptop, notebook, and water bottle. When you have everything, you pass behind her to where Brandon and Andrew are sitting. Deliberately putting yourself at Brandon’s back, you hand the note to Andrew with a placid smile. “Agent Laswell requests that you provide her with the full report.”

Brandon smells disconcerted, trapped in his seat with your scent roaring as you stand just inside of his blind spot. Andrew, for his part, only hesitates for a moment before taking the offered sticky note, looking from you to Laswell to Brandon and back. “Thank you.”

“Of course, sir.” Butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. “Is there anything else I can assist you with?”

“I… believe that will be all…?”

“Of course, sir. Thank you, sir.” You cement your little performance with a perfectly deferential partial curtsy to Andrew, then to the rest of the room. “Please do not hesitate to let me know if there’s anything else I can do the support the team.”

As the door shuts behind you, you hear Captain Price’s voice for the first time. “Goddamn. That is a woman capable of murder.”

[bunnynoise]

Wait… How is it a critique of Christianity and the patriarchy? I got the other things it’s critical of, but not those two.

The critique of Christianity is mostly confined to Episode 3 as of yet. In the flashback where the Graves kids visit their grandparents, there are crosses over the beds the kids are instructed to sleep in, the TV shows evangelical broadcasts (I think it's mentioned that Leyley gets some of her more colorful language and ideas about women from them), and the grandfather talks about giving his life savings to the church after he dies. Grandpa Graves is a vile person. He makes derogatory statements about his wife and children, he's definitely beaten Andy and probably beaten Leyley as well, and he urges Douglas and Renee to beat Leyley and send her to boarding school. To justify his cruelty, he references tenets of his faith.

As for the critique of patriarchy, the worst characters in the game are mostly misogynists. Grandpa Graves is verbally and physically abusive to every woman within reach, and the Surgeon refuses to acknowledge Renee in their conversation and tells Douglas to "calm his woman." Andrew abused Julia and pressured her into sex, and in the worst endings, he becomes a wifebeating rapist.

The only characters who have a somewhat happy relationship are Douglas and Renee, whose characterization defies traditional gender roles, apart from Douglas being the primary provider for the family. Renee makes most of the decisions in their lives. Renee is more outspoken, and Douglas is more quiet, except when he's telling other men off for condescending to his wife. And they do femdom stuff in bed. They're awful people like almost everyone else in TCOAAL, but their relationship seems to be genuinely healthy and loving.

[aftgficrec]

Anonymous asked: Hiiii is there any andreil fics with a medieval or post apocalyptic setting? thank you in advance

We are pretty loose with what constitutes medieval and tend to include fics with swords and steeds unless the author specifies a different time period. For more stories and pairings try these ao3 aftg tag searches: royalty here, kings and kingdoms here, fairy tales here, medieval here, and fantasy here. 

Andreil apocalypse aus will follow in another post. -A

previous recs:

‘An Assassin's Guide to Romance’ here 

‘eclipse’ here

‘The boy is a pipe dream’ here

‘Vanilla Twilight’ here

‘All the King's Men’ here

‘On the Edge of a Knife’ here

‘One page prompts’ ch 6, ‘Admirers And Visitors,’ ‘Knights of the Fox Table,’ ‘Silver, Secrets and Steel’ series, and ‘this isn't home (but it's close enough)’ in our foxes with swords! ask

you may also like:

‘That One Time Neil Ended Up In a Fairy Tale’ series here (updated)

‘Winter Woes’ series here

‘If I Don't Keep Up My Light’ here

our tags for medieval, royalty, historical, dragons, fantasy, and fairy tales

A Cruel Twist of Fate by nvrhrdofhm [Rated M, 10941 Words, Complete, AFTG Reverse Big Bang 2024]

Twenty years ago, Aaron’s mother had become pregnant, the father was unknown, even to herself. Fearing for what the birth would mean for her future, she sought counsel from a soothsayer. She stole away in the middle of the night and received the curse; “Started as one but separated soon. A reflection of the other, always to be doomed. Stolen too early, returned far too late. The two’s lives will be a cruel twist of fate.” A fantasy AU focused on the Minyard twins. It's a short but fun time. Yes, I know that sounds like an innuendo, let's just ignore that.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

NB: fic art by @flightyfoxart here

Reign & Fall by maydaykevin [Rated M, 32847 Words, Complete, 2017]

“It is quite simple what I am asking of you, Neil.” Stuart’s voice, however pleasant, was laced with an underlying venom. “Retrieve what they have wrongfully taken.” Neil is given a quest. Chaos ensues.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: canonical character death, tw: blood/gore, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: choking, tw: noncon kiss

NB: the major character death tag refers to a series villain

Land of Reverence series by shadowdreams [Rated G/T, Collection, 2 complete works, Updated 2022]

Part 1: Would You Rescue Me [G, 37691 Words] Previously recced here His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Nathaniel of Baltimore has been tasked with rescuing the shy Princess of Palmetto from a dragon as part of a marriage ritual as old as time. The only problem? That’s definitely not a princess waiting for him in a dingy cave in the mountainside.

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Part 2: I'll be there anytime you call [T, 31264 Words] Previously recced here “You have to go back to Baltimore.” Andrew looked up at his brother, halting his move to reach for one of the water pitchers. Watching Aaron nervously shift in place, Andrew took in the uncomfortable silence settling over the large room they all had gathered in. This couldn’t be good.  Or, what happens after Andrew and Neil finally make it to Palmetto after the Royal Liberation.

tw: violence, tw: implied/referenced abuse

All for the Royal Court by AL_fiction [Rated T, 75902 Words, Complete, 2023]

Previously recced here 

“Abram has recently fled to Palmetto, the capital city of the vast country of Foxcourt after the loss of his mother in Troy. Earning himself the title Library Thief and a wanted poster with his name on it in his first few days, Abram survives by pickpocketing and hiding, skills he's gotten good at on the run. This all changes when he gets himself hired by Day, Head Assistant to King Wymack himself

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: graphic injuries, tw: blood/gore, tw: implied/referenced drug addiction, tw: nonconsensual drug use, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: canonical character death

Queens by Fire_Bear [Rated M, 10110 Words, Incomplete, Updated 2020]

The courts of the kingdoms hold great power, from the rooks to the bishops, the knights to the kings. But none are as powerful as the queens. Anyone with the magical power levels of a queen is highly sought after in the courts. They are coveted, revered, feared, hated, loved - and trapped. There was once a kingdom that held four queens, some hidden, others known.

tw: implied/referenced abuse

Of Dark Wizards & Knights by justdk [Rated T, 3400 Words, Complete, Andreil Week 2019]

Previously recced here

Neil just wants to live in his cave and do magic and raise his cute little fox kits but nooooo. In which Neil meets the legendary Sam of Wilds, Tiggy, and Gary... and a short knight with blonde hair and great arms

tw: scars

Of Solstice Sweets & Kisses justdk [Rated T, 1940 Words, Complete, 2020]

A companion piece to Of Dark Wizards & Knights, above

When Andrew had asked for leave to visit Neil, he had not expected them to spend the entire day roaming the Dark Woods collecting branches, greenery, holly, nuts, and rocks. He had assumed they would spend the day and night tucked away in Neil’s cave, eating, cuddling in the surprisingly comfortable nest of furs, and playing with Sir and King, Neil’s domesticated foxes. Neil had assured him that all of that was still on the menu but that first he needed to prepare for his annual Solstice rituals. [or magical Midwinter fluff]

pre relationship andreil

Doubt Truth To Be a Liar by sunrise_and_death [Rated T, 793 Words, Complete, Andreil Week 2018, Locked]

It was the ghost that tipped Neil off. Or, a snapshot of All for the Game meets Hamlet.

tw: implied/referenced murder

becomings by jemwrites [Rated M, 3310 Words, Complete, 2020]

A Witcher, a Mage, a Fox Cub, a Warmonger: four individuals in a horrifying world, and how they came to be. (In other words: how Andrew became a monster, how neil became a sorcerer, how Kevin became a legacy and how Riko's bloodthirst will lead to chasing all three) No knowledge of The Witcher (tv show, game or book) required.

tw: violence, tw: blood, tw: vomit, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: child abandonment, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced torture

Art

Aftg, Empire and palace dramas AU art by @anthemisarts: headcanons and character sketches | Lady Renee and Lady Allison | Kevin, the young emperor | Neil, a fugitive prince | Andrew and Neil first meeting preview | Andrew, knight of the fox kingdom detains a suspicious Neil

AFTG Royalty/Medieval AU art by @nicknizzard: Andrew swearing his oath to Neil | Aftg medieval AU part 2 | KevAaron in the medieval AU | more Medieval Andreil

[tetric-electric]

tbh I think that the way Ashley Graves is so mischaracterized by the fandom says a lot about how people view grooming (or any type of manipulation) survivors (and autistic people). Let me explain:

Obviously, huge spoilers for Chapters 1 and 2 of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley. This is just a psychoanalysis of Ashley, however to do so involves a LOT of lore.

To start off, I'm just gonna put a trigger warning right here for LOTS of talk about psychological manipulation, as well as neglect and ableism. If you feel uncomfortable reading about these subjects you are more than welcome to click off. Please stay safe.

What made me decide to do this rant:

A few months ago, I got a text from someone who was upset about me having Ashley as my PFP. I was initially like "okay, they don't like TCOAAL, so what", and then immediately after I got a text from them responding to an Instagram story I had basically saying that Ashley was "so me fr fr".

"Let me guess, you also kin Valentino"

Valentino, from Hazbin Hotel, as in the blatant physically + verbally + sexually abusive piece of shit who is in no way redeemable.

I had brushed this off as "maybe they just don't like Ashley", until they listed why.

...all of the reasons they gave fell under the main categories of "she's clingy, she's flirtatious with Andrew, and her sprites are made for the male gaze."

The male gaze thing was because she didn't appear to be wearing a bra. Which like... sexualizing much? For fuck's sake, she's locked in an apartment about to die, do you think wearing a bra would be a priority?

Secondly, her behaviour.

Admittedly, she's not a great person. But that's because she never learnt how to be.

In-game there is so so so SO much emphasis on how she acts childish, and how literally no one gives two shits about her. It doesn't take a professional psychologist to figure out that she never was able to develop properly. That's why she's so clingy, because Andrew is the one person who at least pretends to care about her. And then there's her flirtatiousness.

It's revealed in several flashbacks that the only way she could ever get Andrew's attention is to do something fucked up, as seen by her as a child killing Nina. Andrew then gives her attention for this, which establishes the connection that homicide -> attention, and attention = care and love and affection.

Due to the fact that she never had any friends, she never was able to have any type of love (whether that be platonic, romantic, etc.) reciprocated. Except for Andrew.

Andrew, throughout the game, proceeds to subtly encourage Ashley's flirtatiousness. She has no reference of this type of stuff not being okay, and thus her social isolation made her the perfect target.

Social isolation, gaslighting, coercion, threatening to hurt the person if they don't do the desired behaviour. You know what those are?

Textbook signs of manipulation.

I realized that people hate Ashley so much because since she's not aware of her situation being bad, she's unable to come to that realization. She's not perfect, let alone a 'good victim'. She only sexualizes herself because that's how she learned she can get affection and care.

So... where does the whole "Ashley is autistic" theory come from, then?

As stated by Renee Graves, Ashley was "a lot of work" as compared to Andrew (guess what, kids take work). Now, this alone wouldn't be any indicator. However...

It's shown that she was unable to make friends because she was "weird" and clearly didn't have an understanding of social cues and rules (which honestly hit close to home for me). It's also shown that she problem-solves differently (or at least differently than Andrew, who is seen as the "logical sane one") and also seems to be more of a hands-on learner (I forget if there's any actual proof of this, however upon analysis she is an ESFP, and ESFPs tend to be more hands-on (yes I'm aware that MBTI types are the psychology equivalent of horoscopes, but there is some truth to them)).

Not to mention how she's shown to have extreme emotions, and tends to have meltdowns (I apologize if this isn't the right word, I'm not sure what the term would be). The extreme emotions part can be part of how blatantly of a pwBPD she is, but BPD also tends to have a higher frequency of showing up in autistic people, especially autistic women.

In conclusion, people hate Ashley Graves because of how well-integrated ableism is in society, as well as the concept of a 'perfect victim'.

**Revision (30/12/2024): While I don't think Andrew is a full-on groomer, I do think that he was manipulative towards Ashley. I changed the wording to be more clear of that. Sorry for the confusion, everyone!

[leroiestmortvivelareine]

On the corner / the red string theory

What if Wymack met Andrew when he was a kid?

Intro

A while ago, seized by inspiration, I wrote a 16,500 word au fic after this beautiful prompt took my brain hostage. (It also provides the dialogue for the first conversation in this fic.) I don't do Ao3 so in a fit of courage I decided to post it here, in the hope it resonates with some of you.

I wrote it as Andrew's alternative origin story: different to the one we know, but still bringing us towards the Andrew we end up seeing. Wymack is living peacefully as a high school coach in a small town. Most of the others are technically ocs but heavily inspired by canon characters. The sport could be exy or some more mundane form of stickball.

Oh yeah and no Moriyama / mafia angle. They have more than enough problems without it.

Please know the fic makes no attempt to be a textbook for how things should be done. I'm aware some of it is definitely not how things should be done, but this is how the story rolls.

TW - same as for canon Andrew Minyard ie. references to sexual abuse, and even though it's more implied than explicit he's also much younger. Also violence and tragedy in various other forms as this is, after all, aftg. Please take care.

More official TWs (plus related fic recs!) are here.

(all chapters)

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

Chapter 1

The sky is luminous yellow as only winter skies can be, the smoky yellow of baked custard. If you half-close your eyes, the glowing sky merges with the glare from the sodium lights and feels like a scene from an alien world.

In the yellow twilight kids from the neighbouring school laugh and tease each other outside the corner store. Making the most of their transitory world, halfway between day and night, halfway between school and home.

Coach smiles faintly as he walks past them with a new packet of cigarettes. He remembers this - the precious fleeting feeling of independence. He leans against the low brick wall of the For Sale house next to the store and turns his attention to his purchase.

He is currently in the third stage of quitting: buying cigarettes a few blocks away and smoking them on the spot. Smoke hanging around the house doesn't send a good message for a sports professional.

It's not the best neighbourhood. Times have been tough and houses are getting boarded up, even ransacked. Yet Coach doesn't mind. There are nicer places to sit and smoke, but most of them he’d gone to with her, and can never go to again.

He listens as the kids laugh and posture and provoke each other, reading the power dynamics with a coach’s trained ear.

Darkness falls, and now the little circle of yellow from the sodium lights belongs to older, tougher teenagers, a world you need street cred to step into. The tall one resting his back against the wall has already sent two kids hurrying into the darkness using nothing but a scowl. Finally, even the older boys shuffle off home.

One kid still lingers by the wall, nursing the very last breaths of a dead cigarette.

He’s dressed like the hoodlums, but he’s far too small to be out this late. Too small even to be in high school yet. Dirty blonde hair, sullen expression, pierced eyebrow. That kid at the back of the room who always seems about to set fire to something, the kid even the teachers are secretly afraid of.

Coach has a couple like that on his team. They're some of his best players.

The kid looks ill at ease as the last of the older teens leave. He clearly isn't with them. He isn't with anyone. He glances around, as though wanting to draw the last remnants of company from the evening the way he’d drawn the last gasp from his cigarette.

His eye falls on Coach, who raises his own stub casually by way of greeting.

"You ok there?"

The kid just stares, wary, suspicious.

Coach waves his cigarette to indicate the deepening night.

"Bit late," he observes conversationally. "You need to call someone maybe, get picked up?" He holds up his phone in invitation.

The kid stares at him as though memorising every detail. The buzzcut hair, the tribal tattoos, the lounging posture. Those thunderous brows and impatient jaw.

Eyes that had seen many boys going through many different hells, and had never looked away.

Eventually the kid says: "I don’t want to go home."

Coach doesn't want to believe the worst but the flat, dead tone in the kid's voice tells him he probably should.

"That’s ok. I don’t mind company."

He adds, by way of explaining his presence here so late: "My wife doesn’t like me smoking."

It’ll do as an explanation, and it’s technically true. She’d never liked it.

The kid's as skittish as a wild animal, no way he’s coming close, but he clearly doesn’t want to be alone. It’s not too surprising, this isn’t the safest neighbourhood.

The boy’s gaze rests on the nearly-full cigarette packet.

Coach doesn't try to move closer. He tosses the kid the packet, then the lighter.

The boy takes a cigarette and lights up. His fingers hover longingly over a second one for the road, but he leaves it and tosses them back.

Coach explains he's a coach for a local high school team, as if this isn't written all over him, and rambles on comfortably about his sport and his kids.

The boy doesn’t lose his guarded, watchful expression, and he doesn’t speak. But he doesn’t leave, either.

Eventually - reluctantly - he turns to go. Maybe he knows it will be worse if he goes awol. Maybe he feels he’s stayed out past the danger period.

Coach watches him walk away.

—

The kid only makes it few blocks before some wannabe gangsters start to hassle him, poking him, laughing.

His limbs tense, and not only from fear. Despite being half the size of the older boys he welcomes the idea of violence.

"Enough."

Not a loud voice, but it has command in it. The kid doesn’t recognise the easy-going coach at first. There is nothing easy-going about his stance or his expression.

The toughs forget about the kid and square up to the newcomer.

"You want some, asshole?"

One of them holds up a lead pipe and swings it meaningfully.

Coach, unmoved, pulls out a gun. He angles it above their heads as a warning, but this scans as knowledge rather than reluctance. It’s the action of a man who knows not to aim a gun at a person’s face unless he’s prepared for the worst to happen.

The attacker drops the piece of pipe and puts his hands up in a vaguely placating gesture.

"Whatever, pops."

They step back, smiling sarcastically like they’re doing him a favour. Coach doesn’t move until they’re well and truly down the street.

He holsters the gun. It’s then he realises the kid is nowhere in sight.

Neither is the lead pipe.

The blow comes from behind - blackness falling before the pain can be properly felt.

When Coach finally wakes in an agonised fog the kid has gone, and he’s stolen the gun.

—

(next chapter >)

(all chapters)

[deeppenguinstudent]

I don't think we talk about kevjean in the banquets enough

Kevin is soft with Jean's name in his mouth. Jean had to smile at Kevin to taunt him at the bequest of Riko, probably to show faux hatred towards Kevin for leaving the Ravens so no one catches on what exactly he felt for Kevin. Happiness he left Riko and could finally prove he was better but bitterness because he left Jean there in the Nest, knowing damn well what Riko would have done to him.

The fact that both of them stared at each other with nothing to say. Kevin and Jean, who used to never have enough time to finish conversations and never sat in silence in the Nest when they were alone, turned into strangers overnight. They had to wait until Riko was away to actually indulge in meaningful conversation that was so rare yet grounding for both of them in the Nest.

Jean was probably forcing himself to tear his eyes away from Kevin as he spoke to Neil and let his eyes roam when Riko was distracted in antagonising the Foxes.

This was probably something he was forced to say. Do you think Riko made Jean do the talking first because he maybe knew that Kevin had a soft spot for him? The You won't stay might be referring to how Kevin wouldn't stay with the Foxes, but I like that it also implies that Jean maybe still has some hope that Kevin would come back to them, to him. It sounds like most of his words are straight from Riko, but you can see the underlying plea in Jean's words.

He antagonizes Andrew mainly because he doesn't understand why Kevin would leave him for Andrew. He doesn't understand their relationship, and it gnaws at him that maybe Kevin meant much more to him than he ever did to Kevin. He's reminded of how Kevin used French against him and wonders whether their little tryst was nothing but a closed off street at Kevin's end. Spiralling, Jean allows himself to unfold and spit out his venom and jealousy to the Foxes; particularly the one that stole Kevin away from him.

This is arguably my favourite scene in the second banquet. Although it's short, it really puts into perspective their entire relationship within like 2 paragraphs. (That's reaching but you get what I mean.)

First off, let's talk about how Jean doesn't register Riko's words at first. He doesn't respond to 'Take Kevin and leave us'. I believe this is because previously, Riko would rather tear his own hand off than allow Jean and Kevin to be in the same room alone without Riko. So this comes as a shock for him. It's a fleeting moment, and he thinks he probably just imagined Riko's words.

Seized is a strong word, and I believe it speaks a lot at how desperate Jean was to even converse with Kevin in the banquet at all. Perhaps he gave a wide berth because he half expected Riko to strike him down for even attempting to seize Kevin and take him away. Seized literally means he forcibly pulled Kevin's arm towards him, and Kevin did not budge. He didn't complain, grunt out, or even do anything as he let Jean grab his arm. (I can just imagine Jean with his chest pressed against Kevin's arm speedwalking away, and I find it so adorably heartbreaking)

Jean also moves as fast as he can, showing that he wants to get away as soon as possible with Riko far, far behind them. He wants alone time with Kevin. He just wants to talk to him without the Ravens or Foxes breathing down his neck.

I genuinely wonder what Kevin would be thinking at this moment. What would he feel as the boy he left behind the Nest is taking him by the arm and pulling away from his abuser; this time, when he leaves, Jean was with him. Does he think about how easy it is to just leave with Jean beside him? Does he also want to grab onto Jean and not let go of fear of what Riko would do to him when Kevin is not there? Can he feel Jean's body heat as a stupid reminder that he's still alive and not bleeding out from Riko's scars?

Jean, going still at Dan and Matt's approach, could also signify that he fully expected to be punished for even latching himself onto Kevin, like Kevin was a sin he was foolish enough to be addicted to. I just want to know Dan and Matt's expression as they see Jean grasping onto Kevin so tightly, like, what do they see? Do they see Riko's dog doing it's masters bidding, or do they see Jean for who he is; a boy irrevocably in love with someone he can never ever have. A boy so desperate that even few seconds in the banquet keeps him going for a few days after.

Jean grasping onto Kevin could honestly mean a multitude of things, but I like to see it as Jean finally understanding that Kevin is not meant to be in evermore, isn't meant to be a comforting solace patching up his wounds when his thumbs were broken and unable to stitch himself up. But Jean still wanted to be selfish. He wanted to be in Kevin's life. He wanted Kevin to see him as Jean Moreau, a hopeless boy in love with the only person that ever gave him care. Not Jean Moreau of Perfect Court, number 3 the country's greatest backliner because Kevin only saw him on the court after he left evermore. So he stubbornly clung onto Kevin as his past as his future, aka the Foxes, came to collect his due from Jean; essentially handing over the one thing that kept him going throughout the Nest.

And I find it cute that Matt and Dan didn't shoo Jean off. They let him stay with Kevin. Maybe because they could see the tragedy in his eyes or the way Kevin was calm and placcid beside him, which was weird because Kevin gets anxious literally around EVERY Raven.

[ashley-kins]

1 month, 24 days, 18 hours, and 34 minutes later...

I'm back. And woo what a episode Decay is. I had to process a lot, hence why I was silent on it for so long. Alright. Let's talk about Decay and what that means for Burial.

Let's go over what we know Decay is and what Burial isn't

Decay is actually referring to the moral decay of Andrew

And of course we see that quite a bit. Andrew grows to be an abuser and rapist in Shots and Such and reverts back to being Andy to pretend he's a victim of Ashley and does no wrong at all in Bitch in a Box. Morality is gone and out the window. Except... that's not all the endings, is it? No, there's one that leads to a cliffhanger for episode 4, and guess what that's called.

Decaying. Along.

That's right, Shots and Such, Bitch in a Box? These aren't Andrew's morals decaying. These are endings to an Andrew whose real morals are being shown. We know that these are his morals because even Lord Unknown almost gets deceived by Andrew's facade in the PAST of all things. Even as a 11 year old boy, Andrew Graves' morals were so bad that he was a grime soul.

Now, what is it, that we leave off with in Decaying Along? Lord Unknown telling Andrew that it can take away Andrew's thoughts and feelings that he wished he never had. Guess what makes up your morality.

What I'm suggesting is that Andrew's "moral decay" is actually him turning into a clean/pure soul. And what's interesting is that we can actually see something like this happen if we bottle Renee's soul, Douglas' clean soul becomes a grime soul but when Renee's soul comes back, his soul becomes pure again.

It's possible that Andrew's moral decay is in reference to his grime soul decaying into a clean soul. It's not something we would consider decaying, but that's because we, the player are looking at this from a perspective that is outside the scope of the Graves' reality. For them, this is probably a decaying process, especially since we have no idea how Lord Unknown is going to get rid of these thoughts and feelings.

Now, the big question is, what does this mean for Burial? What do we know about Burial? Well, according to Nemlei...

There's a reason we're being shown Decay and the flashbacks first. Hell, when tCoAaL updated, Nemlei added a "this is not what you think this will be" when you go down the "Questionable" route of Burial. Nemlei is telling us that Decay is actually going to be the better route, the good route, the happy ending route, whatever you want to call it.

Why? Because Andrew is burying the moral decay that he needs. Hell, even Ashley in Decay is actually growing. She apologizes to Andrew, like an actual apology. She's learning that Andy and Leyley don't need to exist. The phone call, the one to Julia that is completely optional gives us so much information and is showing that Ashley is growing. Or, I guess in this sense decaying.

"It's never Ashley, only Leyley." Andrew is finally getting Ashley and Ashley is finally letting go of Andy and Leyley.

It's not the moral decay of Andrew Graves, it's the growth of Andrew and Ashley, something we will not see at all in Burial

Expect more from me soon.

[lambtotheslaughterr]

Sycophant

An Andy Barber Oneshot

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 9k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

            It was hard work being a young woman in your field, the youngest—in fact. You worked your ass off at a young age to get where you were, to earn the respect & regard for your expert opinion. Graduating high school at 16, accepted into Harvard Law by 20, passing your bar exams with flying colors at 23. You won your first case before your 25th birthday & completed your judicial clerkship position under a highly respected lawyer in your field of interest by the time you were 27. By the time you were 29 you had published a handful of essays that were used as reference by professors beyond your years in their own teachings & then secured a tenured position at the law school of your choice shortly after turning 31.

            Now, you were 32, still in your first year as a full-time professor. The lecture you gave once a week was on the History of Evidence. It had been amusing the first couple years at the wide-eyed gazes you often came across during your years of assistant teaching, a majority of them finding it unbelievable that someone as young as you would be teaching them—after all, a handful of the students were only a few years younger than you. But now you had grown used to the stares, & made it a point to either ignore them or address them head-on.

            Your most challenging student in your first year was a young man named Andrew Barber. He was in his 20’s & often sat as near to your lecture podium as possible. You had grown curious about the student & looked him up in the school system only to find that he had no reason to be taking your class. He was in his final year of law school & was due to graduate at the end of the year. Your lecture was only worth 2 credits & was often taken by first year law students. Of course, the lecture was open to any students, but most got the historical aspects of law over with in their first year. But not Mr. Barber.

            Today, he sat in his usual seat near your podium as you gracefully crossed the front of the room, your eyes moving from the PowerPoint back to your students as you spoke. You often felt his eyes on you during your lectures, & found yourself being held after class by his questions & sometimes, his challenges to test your credibility. At the beginning of the term, it had been entertaining, to say the least, though you never showed it, but now with the term nearly over & Mr. Barber due to graduate in only a few weeks’ time, you looked forward to not having him in your class any longer.

            “As you prepare for your final papers, I urge you to reflect on the progression & philosophical underpinnings of evidence itself. Whether you choose to focus on trial by ordeal, the complexities of trial by jury, spectral evidence, or the modern implications of polygraph statistics & anonymous sources, remember that each form of proof carries with it both strengths & vulnerabilities.”

            It was common knowledge that when students signed up for your class there would be no formal exam but a final paper, so you didn’t understand the few groans of misery at your announcement. You had been a law student yourself once, sure, but you enjoyed your academics & honestly, you believed that no one should pursue law if they were going to bitch about it.

            “Your papers should be no less than 25 pages, exploring a topic of your choice from the list provided earlier this term.” You approached your laptop & closed down the PowerPoint before using your mini remote to retract the overhead panel. “You must critically engage with the historical context & modern applications of your chosen form of evidence. Be prepared to defend your analysis as I’ll be meeting individually with each of you before the final due date to discuss your progress.”

            Closing your laptop, you rested your forearms along the edges of the podium as your eyes met with those that were willing to engage with you, “Don’t forget to double-check citations & include at least three primary sources. Misattribution, as you all should know, can be just as damning in academia as it is in the courtroom.”

            You paused, glancing around the room as a few nervous eyes shifted away, “Any questions before I let you go?”

            When no one had any, you gave a small, professional smile, “Enjoy the rest of your week & I’ll see you all next Tuesday at our usual time.”

            With that, your students began to gather their things & talk amongst themselves. Of course, you heard a few speak under their breath about the weight of your paper. You ignored such talk, knowing full well that while your class was only 2 credits, they needed to do well on the paper to pass. Otherwise, they would be back in here for their second year.

            You slipped your laptop under your arm & approached the nearby desk to pull out your fashionable briefcase. It wasn’t that you were much of a fashionable person yourself, but throughout your years of pursuing law you made it a point that you were a woman. The youngest woman at that. It was important for you to dress professionally but also femininely, unlike a lot of your female predecessors before you who often wore their pantsuits to dress like their male counterparts.

            Today, you wore an outfit that was both clean & serious yet young & simple. You once wrote an essay that was published by your alma mater about how more women in the field should embrace feminine attire in their careers, allowing women to redefine professional expectations on their own terms, ultimately strengthening their authority in the courtroom. It had received many reviews & you were pleased to see a few other women take after you & begin leaving the pantsuits at home.

            You had nearly gathered all your things to head back to your office on campus when you felt the presence of another sidle up to the desk you stood at.

            “Mr. Barber,” You began, not even bothering to confirm it was him, “may I help you?”

            He chuckled lightly at that, resting one of his legs on the corner of the desk as he sat his bottom on the edge of it.

            “Are you going to the Trials & Tastes luncheon?”

            Ah, yes. The fundraiser. You wouldn’t have forgotten about it, but you were not much looking forward to small-talk & forced niceties, though the benefits & proceeds of the fundraiser would go to a respectable program.

            “I will be.” You revealed, your tone clipped & distant.

            “Good, I was hoping you would say so.”

            If you didn’t know any better, you would think the young man had developed a crush on you, but after your many debates in class—in front of his peers, no less—you knew Mr. Barber simply enjoyed challenging you, like most men did, to shake your foundation.

            You said nothing in return & grabbed the handle of your case, preparing to leave. As you reached the door to your classroom, all of your students having escaped to their short-lived freedom, you were greeted yet again by the young man as he beat you to the door & held it open for you.

            “Thank you.”

            Unfortunately, Mr. Barber followed you out & walked alongside you as you navigated through the hallways to the stairwell.

            “I saw your name on the roster for the panel but seeing as you often avoid events, I wasn’t sure how accurate it was.”

            “Mr. Barber, may I remind you that paying such close attention to one of your professors is reasonably suspicious?”

            “What can I say,” He shrugged, & you caught a peek as he grinned down at you, “I admire a woman in power.”

            It was not sexual harassment, it wasn’t even harassment, but given the status of your position as well as his, it was pushing the boundaries only slightly. But you took it as a compliment, though you likely knew it was far from one. He often tried to humiliate you but had yet to succeed. After all, you were a lawyer. Very few things could scare you.   

            “Professor Connors is also speaking at the luncheon, have you expressed your admiration for her as well?” You challenged.

            Mr. Barber made a playful sound of disgust, “No way in hell. She ripped apart my mock trial my second year. The last thing I feel towards her is admiration.”

            “I see.” You had reached the top of the stairwell & turned to face your student, “So a woman in power is not what you truly meant, otherwise you would’ve respected her opinion.”

            “Except her opinion was bullshit.” He quickly countered, his eyes gazing deep into your own.

            “Fortunately, Mr. Barber, a lawyer’s opinion matters rarely in their cases. It’s all about—”

            “Evidence, I know.” He finished for you, “I may not look like I’m retaining anything you say in class but I keep every single word that leaves your mouth locked away in here.” He tapped on his temple.

            “Well, I must be going now. It’s getting late.”

            You turned away from him, not caring to continue the conversation given that it was shortly after 8 in the evening & you still had to work to do in your office before heading home.

            “I’ll walk with you.” He shared, quickly following you down the steps as he did.

            “Don’t you have other matters of more importance to get to, Mr. Barber, than following around your professor like a lost pup?”

            He chuckled once more before beating you to the double doors at the front of the building to hold them open for you yet again.

            “You know, you’re kind of funny when you want to be.” His compliment was taken with a grain of salt. You knew he was making fun of you internally. They always did.

            You stopped abruptly, narrowing your eyes at the young man, “Your persistence may be welcome elsewhere, but it is not welcomed here. Class is over. My office hours are done for the day. I have work to do & you have a paper to write.”

            He cocked his head knowingly at you, “You & I both know well enough I don’t need to pass your class to graduate. I took it for fun.”

            “Fun?” Now, that was an insult. And he damn well knew it.

            “What is the significance of the Brady rule?” You shot out.

            Mr. Barber was caught off guard by your question, but wasn’t quick enough to answer, though he did look foolish as he opened his mouth to counter you.

            “What is the ‘fruit of the poisonous tree’ doctrine, & why is it critical to the Fourth Amendment?”

            “Well, hold on a minute—”

            “How do standards of proof differ in criminal versus civil trials?”

            “Now, that one’s easy—”

            “In a federal criminal trial, under what specific circumstances can the prosecutor introduce a defendant’s prior bad acts as evidence, despite the general prohibition against character evidence under Federal Rule of Evidence 404b?”

            His gaze darkened as you stood their pridefully. When he said nothing, it was then your turn to muster an unimpressed chuckle.

            “Are you having fun now, Mr. Barber?”

            The young man scoffed before pressing his lips together.

            “Good. And now that I’ve made my point, I expect your paper to be highly researched with a damning analysis that makes your presence in my class all term worthwhile.”

            When he said nothing, you nodded once, “Have a good night, oh, & more importantly, have fun.”

            With that, you spun on your heel & began walking through the courtyard to your building across the way. You listened as Mr. Barber’s footfalls carried himself in the opposite direction. While he may not have enjoyed the lesson just then, you certainly couldn’t deny that you yourself were now having fun.

            The luncheon was exhausting. You enjoyed most of your colleagues & considered one or two of them decent friends, but otherwise you loathed social events. If the head of your department hadn’t approached you to ask you to speak at the luncheon, you likely wouldn’t have even attended, but you never turned down an opportunity to speak to the masses & have your voice heard.

            The panel was brief but impactful. You & a few others spoke on the importance of community, justice, & the power of philanthropy. Afterwards, the main event began & you kept yourself busy by going to different stations to sample the wine & spirits & food pairings, all of which, of course, were named after famous trials.

            The dress code for the luncheon was business casual. The outfit you wore was fitting for the event &, of course, feminine. Though it was the middle of May & the event was taking place on the third floor terrace, the blazer you wore was lightweight & didn’t make you overheat under the Massachusetts sun.

            After gathering a small plate of finger food, you sat at an empty table near the edge of the terrace that overlooked the campus courtyard below. Your eyes danced around as you watched faculty, students, & guest speakers alike mingle amongst themselves. You were relieved to be a professor now rather than student, having disliked networking when you were a student & having to impress to succeed. Those days were over. Now it was your time to be impressed.

            But as you picked at your food in silence, & cast your eyes out to the courtyard, you were disgruntled when you heard someone sit down in a chair at your table. As you turned to face the arrival, you had expected either a colleague or the head of your department, but what you didn’t expect was your pain in the ass student, Mr. Barber. But, of course, you should have known better.

            “Mr. Barber.” Your appetite dissipated at the sight of your ornery student.

            “Just spoke with your assistant, emailed her my paper for you to review before our one-on-one.”

            “Excellent. I look forward to it.” You replied coolly & dismissively.

            “I have an answer to your question.” He then revealed. He was not all smiles & playful chuckling as he usually was.

            “That is…?”

            “Federal Rule of Evidence 404b allows evidence of a person’s character to be admitted if it is offered for a purpose other than proving character.”

            “Such as?”

            “Motive, opportunity, intent, knowledge, you name it.”

            “Name a trial where Rule 404b was successfully used.”

            Mr. Barber grinned, “Gacy. It proved motive & intent & a pattern of behavior.”

            You opened your mouth to test his knowledge further when he answered the question you were already preparing to ask.

            “And yes, it passed Rule 403’s balancing test. They found that the relevance of the evidence outweighed the risk of unfair prejudice.”

            A smirk tugged on the corner of your mouth but you snuffed it out, not wanting to give your student the satisfaction of actually impressing you for once.

            “Good, Mr. Barber, I now know you can research.”

            “My paper will prove that, too.”

            “And I look forward to discussing it with you.”

            Silence fell between the two of you & you sat comfortably in your chair, unperturbed by the young man’s unwavering gaze.

            “You’re impressed.” He finally said, his tone filled with finality.

            You quirked a single brow, “Is that so?”

            “You’re too prideful to admit it, but I know.”

            “Without my confirmation, I suppose you’ll have to make do with just your belief. And we both know how little belief gets one in a court of law.”

            “This isn’t a courtroom.” He rebutted.

            “Perhaps.” You grabbed your nearby glass of wine & took a sip, “But it is life.”

            Again, that darkened gaze from earlier in the week appeared. Mr. Barber then leaned forward, lowering his voice, “You may be hard to impress, but you’re not impossible to break.”

            Your mouth went dry at his words, & you jumped slightly when you felt the heat of his palm capture the flesh just above your knee under the table.

            “Even the sharpest minds have their faults.” His eyes met yours, “It just takes the right pressure.”

            As if to drive his point home, he squeezed your thigh harshly, & you made to shove his hand off. But before you could, he stood up & grinned down at you, “Thank you for your insight, Professor _____. I’ll see you in our one-on-one.”

            A spell of dizziness fell over you & you vaguely remembered Mr. Barber departing your table. You paid no attention to where he went, but his words stayed with you. The heat of his palm could still be felt on your thigh & you rubbed absent-mindedly at the space.

            In all your years of working hard, surpassing expectations, & even competing against a thousand others in one of the most competitive fields in the world, never left you feeling the way your student just had.

            It was a threat, that much was clear, but what kind of threat you were unsure of.

            The rest of the term came & went without issue & you never saw Andrew Barber, not since the luncheon. At first, it had unsettled you. After all, his subtle threat remained with you the first few days. But when he quit coming to your lecture & never arrived for his one-on-one, you eventually pushed any thoughts of him to the back of your mind.

            His paper, like most students in your class, was well-researched & the analysis was crisp. For once, you had not planned on debating him, now wary of him. But it wasn’t the first time you had been threatened by a man in your field of work, however, it was the first time a student had.

            Nonetheless, you graded his paper accordingly & Mr. Barber passed the class with the highest marks. You expected to hear from once grades were released but still nothing. It kept you on edge but at the same time, you were relieved to never have to deal with him again.

            Classes had ended earlier that week but you still had grades to enter into the system & class notes to provide to your head. The last week of school was also often followed by student reviews. Every faculty member that taught a class was to be reviewed by their students, a way to make note of progress for department heads. As it was your first year as a tenured professor, you were curious as to what your students would say.

            You had been in your office all day, busying yourself with tasks you needed to complete before the summer break. Of course, work never ended for you. During the summer you would be leading a mentoring program to students who wanted to take the fast track to graduating early. But that wouldn’t be for another week or so. You would only have a few days to yourself before you would report back to work, so you were eager that night to finish as efficiently as possible & get home.

            Your assistant had left only a few hours ago, she was graduating as well, & had left you with no goodbye. All year she had been an excellent assistant & you appreciated all her hard work. You had planned on sharing with her that you would write her a letter of recommendation if she requested one before she left for the evening but you never had a chance. She had signaled her exit by slamming the door shut. It was strange & unlike her, but you figured perhaps she was having a bad night. You would email her in the morning.

            There was maybe twenty minutes of work left when a knock sounded in the distance. Frowning, you eyed the clock on the wall. It was nearly 11 at night. Standing up from your desk, you rounded to the door & peeked out into your waiting room. The desk that your assistant usually sat at was empty & clear of any personal items. But perhaps she had indeed forgotten something.

            Your heels clacked & the dress you wore brushed against your calves as you approached the frosted glass door to your office.

            You immediately froze where you stood as your eyes landed on those of another, one you hadn’t seen in the last few weeks.

            “Mr. Barber.”

            “Professor.” He greeted, but his tone was clipped, much like how yours typically was.

            “What are you—”

            “I missed our one-on-one, I was hoping we could reschedule for right now.”

            You felt your brows crinkle, “Mr. Barber, grades have been posted, your paper along with it. You passed the class with full marks. The one-on-one is redundant at this point.”

            “I understand.” He nodded once but made no effort to move from where he stood, “I still would like your thoughts on it.”

            You inhaled sharply, straightening your spine as you peered up at him, “Unfortunately, that opportunity has passed. My office hours are closed. I’m about to head home. In the fall, if you’d like to schedule an appointment with me, I’d be more than happy to discuss it then.”

            “I think now is a good time.”

            A small gasp escaped you as the young man welcomed himself into your office, his broad chest easily knocking you out of the way as he entered.

            “Mr. Barber—”

            “It’s Andy.” He cut you off, his eyes finding yours, “I’m no longer your student, Professor _____. Or I should say _____, since we’re on first names now.”

            Annoyance bubbled within you as you stared openly at him, “Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

            You watched as your now former student eyed the space before approaching your recently graduated assistant. His fingers danced along the desk, a small smile gracing his lips.

            “You know much about your assistant?”

            “Miss. Parker?” What the hell was he getting at?

            “Of course you call her that.” He chuckled darkly, before turning around to face you, resting his bottom on the edge of the desk. “I call her Melissa. Or ‘slut’, she likes that a lot when I fuck her.”

            Your eyes widened at the sudden breach of information.

            “We fucked here a lot, ya know.” He revealed, a devilish smile on his face, “Had to wait till you went home, which I gotta say, Prof, you sure are a workaholic.”

            “Excuse me?” You were seething. “I think it’s time you leave. Right now. Before I call campus security.”

            He laughed then exhaled heavily, his eyes dancing from the toes of your heels to the top of your head, “Go ahead, but you’ll only implicate yourself if you do.”

            “What are you talking about?” Your voice began to rise, “Get the hell out of my office!”

            “Melissa isn’t very bright.” He began, ignoring your demands for him to leave, “Very eager to please. I’m actually surprised you accepted her application to be your assistant for the year. I thought you wanted to mentor ‘strong’ women. She’s very… submissive. You really should’ve picked a man, that would’ve made it harder for me to set you up.”

            Your heart was beating wildly within your chest as you watched him.

            When he glanced at you he laughed openly, “You should see the look on your face. Priceless.”

            “Mr. Barber—”

            “Andy.” He clicked his tongue at you, winking once. He approached you then & you took a step back, bumping into one of the leather chairs. An unsettling smile split his face as he bypassed you to your office door, swinging it close before locking it.

            “What are you—”

            “Let’s go into your office.” He gestured with his arm for you to enter the room behind the assistant’s desk.

            “Andy—”

            “Now.” The smile dropped from his face, “Before I get really mad.”

            Biting your tongue, you marched into your face, heading straight for your cellphone buried in your bag. But just as you grasped the bag sitting on the floor by your desk, Andy appeared beside you, ripping the device from your hands before throwing it into the waiting room & slamming the door.

            “We won’t need that.” He shared, his chest just barely brushing against your upper arm.

            “Whatever it is that’s bothering you—”

            He chuckled, shaking his head. Then his hands found your arms & turned you to face him, “You bother me.”

            “So, what? You’re angry because I didn’t fall for your attempts to humiliate me in front of my students? You’re upset because I accepted your challenges? Because you haven’t defeated me? Tell me what the hell this is about!”

            His lips parted as you spit your frustrations at him, glaring hotly into his eyes.

            “I was a student in Duran’s class my first year. You were his associate teacher.” Andy revealed. You recalled working under Professor Duran, one of your least favorite years in your career. He was often drunk & smelled like a skunk. He also never learned to keep his hands to himself.

            “I was younger than, easily impressed & excited about law. Duran had a long history of being one of the best professors at this school & yet he was rarely around to teach. That was up to you. You picked up his slack, taught us in areas that should’ve been well beyond your years. But you did it gracefully, intelligently. Didn’t look a day over 20 & had the brains to outsmart more than half the faculty.”

            As he spoke, his hands moved from your arms to your waist. You immediately made to move out of his grasp but his hold tightened, keeping you in place.

            “And then came that eventful day. I know I don’t need to remind you.”

            It was true. He didn’t.

            Duran had come to class in the middle of your teaching, stumbling into the class before falling in front of everyone. He had approached you, slurring & reeking of whatever bottle he crawled into. He shoved you off the podium & made blatant sexist remarks. At the time, you knew it was because you had rejected his advances for the umpteenth time & threatened to report him. Then he came to class & verbally assaulted you with nearly a hundred witnesses. He was removed from the school effective immediately & you were given the chance to teach the class rest of term.

            “I told you,” Andy’s fingers played with the fine fabric of your dress, “I love a woman in power. The way you called him out in front of his students, mocked his legacy, & held your ground. Fuck!”

            Andy leaned in, his nose brushing against the shell of your ear, “I’d never been so hard in my life.”

            You shook, attempting to pull yourself out of his grasp but he forced you back, catching the back of your head with his other hand as he peered down at you with a heated gaze, “I’ve wanted you ever since. It’s why I took your class my last term. I thought you’d appreciate my challenges, be impressed, see a bit of yourself in me, view me as a respectable adversary. I thought we could be friends, if not more.”

            A groan of disgust sounded from you as you turned away from him.

            “But no.” His hand at the back of your head gathered your hair & wrapped it around his fist, forcing a hiss through your teeth, “Your pride, that goddamn fucking pride of yours. What more do you need to prove? You’re the youngest success story in your field. Shouldn’t you oughta relax once in a while? Or are you scared of losing your crown?”

            “Let. Go.” You winced, trying to make your voice as hard & even as possible.

            Andy laughed lightly, biting his lower lip as he stared openly at your face, “No, no. I’ve worked too hard to get you right where I want you.”

            “Where’s that?” You glared up at him, practically balancing your weight on your toes as he had you lifted almost by your hair, forcing your face closer to his.

            “At my mercy.”

            Then, before you could protest, he caught your mouth with his, smothering you in a suffocating kiss. You whined into it, attempting to shove him off you, but he was quick to secure his other arm around your waist, lifting you effortlessly before placing you down on your desk, his hips placed expertly between your knees.

            “No!” You managed to turn your face away, your hands & fingers grasping at the fabric of his shirt, trying to push him away from you.

            “You really have no choice, Professor.” He spoke, his breath fanning your face, “You deny me, I’ll have you removed from the faculty just like you did to Duran, & I’ll still have my way with you.”

            At that you froze. Slowly, you blinked, peeking at him confused. “What do you mean?”

            Andy produced a winner’s smile, “I’m talking about all the evidence I fabricated that implicates you in an on-going sexual relationship with one of your students: me.”

            Your heart fell to your stomach, “What—why, did—what are you talking about?”

            “The way your chest is heaving right now is making it really hard to control myself.” Andy commented, his eyes falling to the opening of your dress near the top.

            “Andy!” You spoke harshly, “What are you talking about?”

            His eyes met your own, “Melissa. Or Miss Parker, as you say. Like I said, she isn’t very bright. Likes to leave her laptop unattended while she sleeps, doesn’t even password protect.”

            Where he was going was conjuring a nauseous feeling within you.

            “Your email.” Andy brushed his lips against your cheek, “There’s a whole slew of emails between you & I. Intimate ones. Ones with scheduled ‘one-on-one’s’ at your home. In your office. I even had to break up with Melissa for you. She knows everything.”

            “You…”

            He grinned, nodding, “I pretended to be you wanting to fuck me, yes. And it’s all backed up. You can go through your email & delete them all you like but I have all the evidence on a drive in my apartment. Along with a few articles of your clothing, some of your DNA in my bed. The proof’s all there if you want to go to that extent.”

            You stared at him wide-eyed, “How did you…?”

            “Melissa also has a key to your home, does she not? In case you leave an important lesson plan behind or need her to pick something up on the weekends. You sure worked her hard.”

            “But she…”

            “Hates your guts. Even more now that she knows the truth about us.”

            You glared at him, angry tears breaching.

            “Why?”

            Andy breathed out, his hands going for the top of your dress, “Because… you. I wanted you, & I always get what I want.”

            You remained still as he slipped the dress of your shoulders, exposing your bra-clad breasts to him.

            “This isn’t exactly how I imagined it going. Like I said, I thought you’d like me. So, I had to take a different route, & this one, at the end of the day, is a route I know you’d respect.” Andy caught your chin, forcing you to look at him, “It’s like you always say. It’s all about evidence.”

            You said nothing, could say nothing.

            Then, much to your relief, he backed up, allowing you a moment of space to breath. But it was short-lived as he stared at you.

            “Take your dress off.”

            Your eyes flashed to his.

            “No.”

            He cocked his head at that, an audacious look of surprise on his face.

            “Now. Or I’ll tear it to shreds.”

            “Do it.” You challenged, “Just more evidence for me.”

            Andy chuckled darkly at that, his eyes narrowing, “That really the route you want to go? I’m not your only threat anymore. Let’s not forget about Melissa. She could ruin your life as much as I could. It’s two against one.”

            “She’s smarter than you give her credit for.”

            “She really isn’t.” He countered.

            Silence lasted a beat before he spoke once more.

            “You really want to do this the hard way?”

            “You attack me right now & I’ll have all the evidence. The first thing I’ll do is report it, then have a rape kit performed. I’ll see you in court at the end of the month. You won’t even make it to your bar exams.”

            He glared, his face distorting to one of pure rage.

            “Didn’t think everything through, now did you?”

            “All the rape kit will prove is that there was intercourse. Everything else? A matter of ‘he said, she said’. And we both know how those often go. Really prepared to risk your career, credibility, position at this school for a case you will surely lose?”

            “Are you?” You threw back. “If you know anything about me, Mr. Barber, it’s that I don’t go down without a fight. So, give it your best shot.”

            Andy stilled for a moment, your eyes peering into one another. But then he smiled. A real one.

            “You should read the most recent email you sent me, Professor. Before you go & get all high & mighty.”

            At that you frowned.

            “What did you do?”

            He gestured to your laptop, “See for yourself.”

            Never letting your eyes fall from his, you slipped off the desk, uncaring to readjust your dress as you circled around to your chair. Your email was already open in another tab.

            “Where are you hiding them?”

            “Archives. Under ‘AB’.”

            Following his instructions, you found the folder & clicked on the first email. The subject line read ‘Tonight—My Office’.

            A shudder ran through you as you read the email. It was brief but damning.

            Andy,

            Tonight’s the night. I want you to come to my office & do what I’ve been begging you to do. Reference the links I sent you. It’s time to celebrate you no longer being my student. We are free to do as we please. Finally. I’ll see you at 11. I’ll be waiting.

            Yours, _____

            P.S. Bring my favorite tie.

            And then an attached file. A link to a website about different kinds of BDSM. The specific one in the link referred to ‘rape play’.

            “You…” Words failed you as your vision began to blur. Another spell of dizziness cast over you.

            You clocked the time the email was sent. Around 7 p.m. But you had been in your office all day.

            “When you went to get coffee.” Andy revealed, having read your mind, “I’m sure you noticed when you returned that Melissa was absent from her desk. She was busy crying in the bathroom. I had come up here & broke up with her, telling her everything, and showed her the emails from her laptop. Then she ran out, tears running down her face. Allowed me to send myself one last email. Quick but effective.”

            You shook your head in denial, “They’ll trace the email having been sent from her laptop.”

            “But of course.” Andy chuckled knowingly, “A law professor specializing in evidence would know to send the email from a separate IP address, should she of course want to accuse her partner of sexual assault.”

            Your heart was racing. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be.

            “It’s all…” Andy approached the desk, cupping your cheek to force you to look up at him, “Say it with me now, it’s all…”

            “Circumstantial.” You both said in unison, though your voice was barely audible.

            “And it’s all about the evidence.” Andy repeated.

            Tears finally escaped & you felt unable to move.

            “Seeing me in court sounds like a waste of time now, doesn’t it?”

            Andy circled the desk & spun your chair around before kneeling on one knee before you, his palm finding the same spot it rested on before at the luncheon.

            “I win.” He breathed, a gruesome smile on his face, “Finally.”

            When you continued to say nothing, only staring past his shoulder, you saw him reach into his back pocket, pulling out a piece of fabric.

            “Your favorite tie.” He revealed half-heartedly, as if the relationship he fabricated between the two of you was real.

            It had been his plan all along, after all.

            “Stand up.” He ordered, remaining on his knee.

            When you refused to move, he gripped a single calf & squeezed, “I don’t mind getting rough, Professor. I’m only giving you a chance to make this as easy as possible.”

            Eyeing him, you felt a shaky breath escape you.

            “Don’t.” You felt your strength lessen. Would you really be forced into begging? The you from ten minutes ago would never.

            “You can’t stop it.” Andy cooed, peering almost solemnly up at you, “If it makes you feel any better, you’ll never see me again.”

            You felt your brows crinkle at that.

            “We’ll break up.” He shared, tracing a single finger along the muscle in your calf, “I just want a goodbye fuck. Can’t risk continuing a relationship with you. You’re too smart. You’d probably mic your office or set up a nanny-cam.” He joked lightly as if you two were friends.

            “Give me what I want, & I’ll disappear forever.” He breathed out, catching your eyes. They started out soft but soon enough hardened.

            “Now stand up & remove your fucking dress.”

            As you weighed the pros & cons internally, you found yourself adhering to his demands. You stood up, your legs shaking slightly from what was to come.

            As you did, Andy watched every move, every muscle twitch, every change in breathing pattern. He was feeling powerful. And you loathed that you could do absolutely nothing. What would fighting back do? The end result would still be the same. And the evidence had set up. Your whole career, your name, reputation, fucking ruined. All you had to do… was let him fuck you.

            His hand grabbed the back of your legs as he leaned forward. You braced a single hand on the edge of your desk to stabilize yourself as he pressed his face between your thighs. You heard him inhale deeply.

            “You smell as good as you look.” He uttered, his lips kissing the tender skin of your inner thighs.

            You gasped softly, more tears escaping & you hated yourself. For crying, for not fighting back, for losing.

            His hands grew bolder, reaching up to cup the cheeks of your ass, molding them to fit his palms. You bit your lip, attempting to stifle the cries that threatened to escape. It was bad enough that he had won, it would be worse if he heard you cry about it.

            You then felt his nose brush against the front of your pubic bone & instinctually, you brought your hands down on top of his head, attempting to push him off. He was quick to capture both of your wrists, coming out from between your thighs to gaze up at you, a look of warning on his face.

            It was enough for your arms to go limp. Andy offered a small smile before he rose to his full height.

            “Been a long time for you hasn’t it, Prof?” He alluded, but to what you didn’t know.

            He reached around your waist to the button that secured your dress. It slipped down until it crumpled into a pile at your feet.

            “I think the last one was that guest speaker at the gala last year, right?”

            Oh.

            “You certainly made him work hard for it.”

            “How do—” You frowned as he cut you off with a kiss.

            “I’ve been watching you a long time.” He said, his deep blue eyes boring into yours.

            Before you could say another word, he spun you around so you were facing your desk, manipulating your body to bend you over until your ass was on full display. Goosebumps erupted behind every stroke of his hand as he felt your body from your upper back to the cheeks of your butt.

            “I can’t begin to tell you what a superb going away gift this is.” He shared lowly from behind you.

            Then you felt his hands expertly unclasp your bra & it fell down your arms. He gathered you up in his arms, pressing your back against his solid chest as he peeked down at you over your shoulder. Your body continued to shake no matter how much effort you put into not shaking.

            Andy was slow & sensual, & you wished he would just get it over with.

            His hands cupped either tit in his palms, groaning softly in your ear. You felt as he ground his hips into your backside, his erection apparent. You pressed your lips together to keep from sounding out your cries.

            Just get it over with & leave me be. You begged internally.

            Just then, he grasped the underside of your chin, angling your face upwards at a near painful angle. He stared down at you, his gaze hooded & full of lust. No words were said but you saw in his eyes how he had been planning this for ages, & now he was finally going to get what he wanted. You only wish it wasn’t your defeat.

            The hand not holding your neck slipped down your front until it reaching the lining of your underwear. Your fingers grasped the edge of the desk, bracing yourself for the worst part to begin.

            His fingers slipped inside & he was quick to find your bundle of nerves. A pitiful moan of protest parted your lips but you were swift to bit you lip, your teeth sinking into the flesh there. Andy smiled momentarily but he watched as your face contorted, attempting to fight off the sensations, to ignore them. But luck was not on your side. Your body responded to his touch & you hated yourself. Hated him.

            “There she is.” He growled lowly as your stomach began to knot. His fingers worked harder, faster in circles. Then right before you were to orgasm, he slipped further down & inserted a single finger into your cunt.

            You hissed, unknowingly gyrating your hips against his own as he stretched you around his finger. He pumped slowly at first, enjoying watching you come undone. Your eyes were squeezed shut, one of your hands hanging onto his forearm that continued to hold your neck in his grasp.

            Something wet touched your ear & a regretful pleasant sensation flooded through you as he licked & nipped at your lobe. A soft cry escaped you as you felt the walls of your pussy contract & shudder, your orgasm ripping through you. Andy released a satisfying breath of air as he let you go. You collapsed on top of your desk, your lower half shaking as the waves of your orgasm still rocked through you.

            Behind you, you heard the distinct sound of a belt clinking, coming undone.

            Suddenly, everything you had worked for flashed before your eyes. You hadn’t put up with years & years of hard work & sexist bullshit to succumb to this. In the corner of your eye, you spotted a letter opener, a gift from your mentor when you had been practicing law your first year after Harvard. It glinted in the lamp light.

            Before Andy could understand what was happening, you quickly snatched the small weapon in your hand & spun around, aiming for the closest fleshiest part of him. But he was quick to jump back. You had still nicked him, the sleeve of his shirt cut with some blood but it wasn’t enough.

            Andy glared angrily at you as he peered down at the flesh wound.

            You held the letter opener up in defense, bracing yourself for him to attack.

            A snarl appeared on his face, “Fine. I like it rough anyways.”

            He took a single step forward & you swung your arm, hoping to catch him with the weapon once more but he was stronger, faster. He quickly snatched your wrist in his hand & bent it an ungodly painful angle until you were forced to drop the opener.

            You whined openly, tears falling once more but these ones were angry.

            But just as you made to kick out at him, he swiped the back of his hand across your face & you fell against your desk before falling to the floor. Your cheek throbbed in pain but it was short-lived as he reached down & yanked you up by your throat. You beat against his forearm but your strength was nothing compared to his.

            “Fuck you!” You wheezed, your verbal assault coming out as a choke.

            “I plan to.” He gritted out before spinning you around & slamming your upper body on top of your desk.

            Andy was no longer slow & sensual. His movement was rushed, harsh, & violent. You blindly reached out once more in search of anything on your desk you could use to attack him, but he easily secured you against the desk with his hips before yanking your arms backwards & tying your wrists together with a piece a fabric—probably his tie.

            As soon as he let go of your arms, you tested the durability of the knot & it proved to be tight & inescapable. Andy huffed behind you, his breathing hot & angry.

            The underwear you wore was quickly torn from your body, the seams stinging against your skin as they strained before snapping off. You attempted to lift yourself up with just your shoulders but he was quick to slam one of his arms on your back, trapping you there. In a last ditch effort to escape you screamed as loudly as you could.

            Your scream was hoarse & not as loud as you would’ve liked but short-lived. Andy was quick to shove your underwear in your mouth before leaning forward, his mouth at your ear, “Careful, Professor, your job is on the line.”

            You hated him. Deep down you thought you always had. But now you truly & irrevocably hated that man, that monster.

            You heard Andy spit before feeling something hot & hard at your entrance.

            Squeezing your eyes shut, whimpering into the fabric of your underwear, you braced yourself for what was to come.

            He entered you hard & far from gentle. A pained grunt sounded from behind the fabric in your mouth & more tears fell from your eyes, coating the hardwood your face was pressed against. Andy groaned out loud, stilling as he felt you slowly stretch & fit around him.

            You had not seen his size but you could clearly fill it & he did not lack in that department. You had wished he had been smaller, something to use against him psychologically, but what would it have mattered? He was raping you, just like he planned. He was winning, & you were the very sore loser.

            Not a moment later he began to thrust, his hands finding either side of your hips as his nails dug into your skin. The desk jostled beneath you as his movements were erratic & forced. Your pussy burned & ached as he fucked you relentlessly within your own office. You angled your head to peer out ahead of you, finding anything to focus your attention on, to remove yourself mentally from this moment. But the pain & discomfort was too great.

            You then felt one of his hands grasp the back of your head, tangling your hair in his fingers. A whine sounded but it was muffled as he practically broke your neck to raise your head so he could leave hot, sloppy kisses along your jawline.

            “You feel as amazing as I thought you would, Professor.” He gasped, his hips bruising against your backside, “No more nights of jerking off or fucking Melissa pretending she was you. Now I can lock this memory away forever.”

            His words disgusted you & you felt bile rise in your throat. You feared throwing up while fabric was stuffed in your mouth. Would Andy care? Would he allow it to go so far as to let you choke on your own puke, suffocating you? Considering how far he went to get you in this position you decided that yes, yes he would.

            Fortunately, you could feel as his cock began to swell inside you. His thrusts began to grow choppy & his moans of pleasure grew louder. He had let go of your head at this point & you rested your forehead against your desk, willing it to be over any minute.

            But the moment you thought to yourself it would be over, you felt his fingers find your clit once more. Panic soared through you as you understood what he was attempting to do to you. Again.

            Immediately, you began to wrestle out from under him, or at least make it almost impossible for him to reach you there. But he only lifted you up higher, moving your hips onto the desk so he could easily access your most sacred part.

            A bout of pleasure shot up your spine & you felt your muscles tense.

            “No, no!” You tried to say but the underwear in your mouth muffled your pleas. Not again, please, not again.

            But Andy, of course, ignored your wants.

            He hissed as he continued to fuck you, his fingers working their godforsaken magic. Just as you felt your stomach begin to knot once more, he suddenly retracted himself from you before quickly spinning you around.

            Your arms ached as your nearly entire body weight rested on them. And horror flooded you as you watched through tearful eyes Andy fall to his knees to latch his mouth onto your cunt. His tongue swiped you & his fingers filled you & your thighs shook around his head. A cry erupted from behind the fabric & you came hard. Your juices soaked his face as he lapped up every drop, savoring the taste of you on his tongue.

            Your body was coated in a fine layer of sweat & the cool air in the room made your skin erupt in goosebumps. As your orgasm subsided though, your nightmare was not yet over.

            Andy was quick to tug you forward until you were forced onto your knees. Then he grasped the hair at the back of your head once more. His cock bobbed in front of your face as he pumped himself, his eyes staring into your own. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing it to be over, begging for it to be over.

            And then you felt hot threads of semen coat your face. Andy groaned loudly, almost growling as he came. You winced as his hold on your hair tightened, feeling a few strands of hair pop.

            When he finally finished, he stumbled backwards, bracing himself against the wall behind him as his own orgasm subsided.

            You remained where you kneeled, your tears mixing with his cum.

            A few seconds later, you felt him cup your cheek, demanding you to open your eyes. When you did they stung only a little bit, some of the semen having slipped in.

            But just as you opened your eyes, a camera flash went off. Andy had his phone out & had taken a picture of you covered in his cum.

            “For later.” He revealed nonchalantly.

            More tears cascaded down your face & he ultimately pulled your underwear from your mouth before pocketing them in his own pants.

            He pulled on one of your arms forcing you to stand before he shoved you to sit in your chair. He picked up your dress off the floor & tossed it into your lap. You tried to catch your breath as he reached behind you to remove the tie from your wrists. They fell limply to your sides.

            “See? That wasn’t so bad now, was it?” He joked, catching your chin in one of his large hands.

            You glared up at him but said nothing.

            “It’s not the first time I’ve left a woman speechless.” He grinned, winking down at you.

            Andy kneeled once more, rolling your chair closer to him as he gazed sickeningly at you.

            “I can’t thank you enough.” He spoke, shaking his head in disbelief, “You were worth the build-up. It’s just a shame it can’t happen again. I think we could’ve had fun.”

            He leaned forward, his eyes on your mouth & just before he intended to kiss you once more, you turned your face away.

            He chuckled darkly, “That goddamn pride.” He said more to himself than you.

            The next time he forced you to kiss him, holding your face in place as you assaulted your mouth one last time.

            When he pulled away, he gently knocked your chin with his knuckles, “I told you, it just takes the right pressure to break someone like you.”

            With that, he rose to his full height, eyeing you once more before he circled around your desk, “Well, Prof, I gotta be going now. Got big things planned. Try not to miss me.”

            You watched in the corner of your eyes as he exited you office closing the door behind him. You waited until you heard the secondary door close in your waiting room before you finally broke down. Sobs erupted from you as you held your head in your hands. You couldn’t even fathom looking down at yourself, only imagining how vile you looked.

            A ding sounded on your laptop then & you rose your head defeatedly.

            An email notification. From Andrew Barber.

            Your stomach knotted as you clicked it open. All the email contained was a single attached file image of your face. With Andy’s cum all over it.

            Then came another email.

            Missing you already.

finally got andy on here! love this man to death.

one of my favorite aspects about writing stories like this is researching! i don't do anything half-assed, especially when it comes to my writing. i tried to do my best to make any talk about laws or anything sound as realistic as possible with the research i had done so if any law buffs or law educated folk out there wanna give me some feedback i'd greatly appreciate it.

as always, please share your thoughts with me via dropping an ask in the ask box, commenting, or reblogging with reviews.

i will still be working on updating 'summit' but the next mini series i'll be working on is 'pure//violence' with our favorite bad boy: rafe cameron. so stay stuned!

thank you for reading

oona<3

Read this post on why doing more than liking a tumblr writers work is essential to our content creation.

[my love language is words of affirmation, it would make my day if you could comment your thoughts, reblog with tags, or drop an ask that shows your support. thank you for reading tumblr writers, we appreciate you]

taglist:

to be added to a taglist read rule 11 here. requests will be dismissed otherwise.

[sphacelating]

Just wanna come and say: FINALLY SOMEONE THAT DOESN'T EXCUSE ABUSE

like both the Graves siblings are bad for each other and victims of themselves, one another and their family and it's so fucked up when people encourage abuse either like "Andrew deserves this or that" or the same with Ashley like no?? Bc fiction is not an excuse and-- sorry I'm just happy someone gets me

it’s deeply disturbing to me as someone who’s been through severe abuse, which i certainly came out of mentally fucked up and maladjusted. abuse survivors often have coping mechanisms that make them ‘bad people’, an absence of empathy is extremely common, and then they are demonized for… being raised by abusers and not “breaking the cycle”. not to mention that the abuse is ongoing, and you cannot heal and cope with trauma that’s still being inflicted on you.

survivors of severe child abuse act in ways that are not palatable, rational or sane until they learn differently and we are playing a game where andrew and ashley both struggle to become people of their own rather than what they were forced to become to survive in their hellish environment, and i find it appalling that ‘this abuse victim is a bad person and deserves further abuse as punishment’ is such a common bullshit mindset in this fandom, whether that’s referring to andrew being horrifically abused by ashley or ashley being equally horrifically abused by andrew.

fiction or not, that mindset absolutely speaks volumes about how someone perceives real victims of abuse as well.

[luxcuriousao3]

Dove: A Zombie Ghost Story (Chapter Two)

Summary: He shuffled back some, giving her plenty of space. Enough that she could get out of her hiding spot and run away, if she wanted to. He would follow her again if she did, a hidden, monstrous protector. But he didn't want to hide. He wanted to be next to her, to have her ask him more questions, to not be alone, anymore… Word Count: 2129 Warnings: no smut this chapter (this fic is the slowest of burns y'all, strap in for a looooong ride), vague, brief references to unspecified abuse in the OC's backstory, semi-graphic violence, POV switches denoted by line breaks Notes: This is by far the shortest chapter in this fic as it currently stands. I am thinking of doing a double update today to make it up to the few of you who read this, whoever you are XD let me know if that is something y'all would like. AO3, Masterlist

Lelia woke up slowly, sore and confused. She wasn’t in the bed she shared with Andrew, back at the base, stealing precious hours of sleep in the time that he was gone, unable to relax when he was lying next to her. No, she was somewhere else, somewhere that smelled of damp earth and—rot?

Lelia opened her eyes, trying to figure out where she was—and then screamed at the nightmarish sight that greeted her.

Milky white eyes stared at her through a dirty, broken skull mask. The zombie’s jaw hung open, bloody, grey flesh peeled away from its sharp teeth and blackened gums, leaving them exposed threateningly. Lelia tried to back away, but she was cornered, stuck in a trap of her own making.

It was then that the events of last night came back to her, and she sucked in a breath as she realized the zombie in front of her, who was now groaning quietly as it—moved away from her? What?—was the same one from last night, the one that had scared off all the others that had left her stranded in a tree. The one that had almost seemed to understand her when she’d begged for help, and then for it to go away…

***

Ghost hadn’t left his little dove’s side all night, standing over her like her very own guard dog. The comparison would’ve bothered him, when he was human—but he was more beast than man, now, so he simply thought it was fitting.

The zombies he’d heard earlier had indeed caught his dove's delicious scent, but one deep, rumbling growl from him had scared them off when they’d gotten too close for comfort. He’d checked afterwards to make sure he hadn’t woken her, but the poor thing hadn’t so much as twitched. Her utter lack of survival instincts dumbfounded him. He had no idea how she’d made it this long. But he was oddly glad for it, even if it concerned him. The end of the world hadn’t taken her softness from her, and he knew it would have been just as intriguing to him when he was alive as it was now. Ghost had never had something soft in his life, and his undeath had stripped him of everything warm, too. She was both. It made him want to curl around her like a shield, and protect her from the horrors of the world. To keep that innocent spirit from breaking. And he could, now, in a way he wouldn't have been able to do before. Because he had no other purpose, anymore. She could give him one, and if only she’d let him stay, maybe she could give him some of that warmth and softness, too…

Hours later, he heard her begin to stir. He took another step back from her little hideout, but crouched down so she could see his face, his stiff knees creaking ominously. He knew it wasn’t exactly a comforting sight, but he hoped that she might be slightly less frightened if she recognized him from last night, the zombie that had saved her and then let her go, rather than thinking he was some random infected.

When she screamed bloody murder upon seeing him, though, he reevaluated. It had been quite a while since he’d seen his own reflection—maybe he looked even worse than he thought…

Ghost automatically raised his hands as if to show he wasn’t a threat. That only made her curl in on herself, though, like she was expecting him to lunge for her. Which, well, of course she was. He was a zombie. A flesh eating monster. And she smelled so good…

He grunted as he shook the thought out of his virus-laden brain. His little dove let out a small, terrified noise, burying her sweet face in her knees, so he stopped. He wished he could tell her that he wasn’t going to hurt her, but every noise or move he made only seemed to scare her further. How was he supposed to explain that he was different from the other walking corpses? That he wanted to protect her, not eat her?

He looked down at the dirt, and he had an idea. He clumsily swiped away the leaves and other debris, then began to drag his fingertips through the clean patch of dirt. He was trying to write a single word—safe—but as he went to draw the first letter, he realized he didn't know what it was.

The thought made him go still. How did he not know how to spell such a simple word? He was no genius, but he wasn’t a bloody idiot, either.

Ghost growled, frustrated and more than a little bit afraid. He didn’t want to admit what he knew to be true—that the virus had destroyed so much of his brain that he was now illiterate. It was maddening. It was terrifying. He’d already known he was just a shell of his former self, barely clinging to his humanity, and yet…

“Wh-why aren’t you trying to e-eat me?”

Ghost looked up so fast that his broken jaw wobbled precariously, almost looking like it was about to fall off. He reached up and tried to put it back into place, to seem just a tad more human, but it simply fell open again as soon as he let go, dangling uselessly. None of that mattered, though, because she was talking to him. For the first time since he’d been infected, he was having a conversation. He would have smiled if he could have, so bright that Johnny would’ve asked him who he was and what he’d done with the real Ghost.

Who’s Johnny?

Ghost didn't know the answer to that question, but he didn’t linger on the wisps of longing and grief that came with it, nearly giddy from his dove’s question. She looked like she didn’t truly expect him to understand her, let alone answer, but the fact that she’d asked at all was enough. This was his chance. He couldn’t fuck this up. He couldn’t.

He shuffled back some, giving her plenty of space. Enough that she could get out of her hiding spot and run away, if she wanted to. He would follow her again if she did, a hidden, monstrous protector. But he didn't want to hide. He wanted to be next to her, to have her ask him more questions, to not be alone, anymore…

He settled down onto the ground fully, and then stiffly patted the spot next to him, inviting her to come sit. He didn't expect her to, even if he hoped she would—he just wanted to show her that he wasn’t a mindless animal, nor a threat. He wished he had food to give her, or even just a blanket. Anything to prove that he came in peace, and that he was useful to have around.

***

“You… you want me to sit with you?”

Lelia could hardly believe the words coming from her mouth, or the sight in front of her. A zombie, staring at her rather than eating her, inviting her to come sit next to it. A zombie that bobbed its head at her question and let out a soft groan, like it was trying to say why yes, yes I do.

Lelia was officially insane.

“Are you going to eat me?”

She was crazy, and she was going even crazier for entertaining the notion that a walking corpse could understand her, could communicate with her. All the survivors on the base had said the infected ceased to be human the second they turned. The second they were bitten, in some of the more ruthless soldiers’ opinions.

She shivered at the memory. She didn't like soldiers. She didn’t trust them, not anymore. Not after what they’d done to her. And as she really looked at the zombie, she realized something terrible—he was one of them. Or he had been. It was all so confusing…

The zombie shook its head stiffly, broken, hanging jaw clacking as it jerked back and forth at the movement. It was incredibly disturbing. She looked away.

“I don’t know what to do,” she confessed in a whisper after a long moment, still not looking at the undead soldier. She didn't know why she was still talking to it. She should stop. She shouldn’t play into whatever delusion this was. But she couldn’t seem to control herself. “I don’t know how to survive out here. But I won’t go back. I won’t.”

The zombie made what could have been considered a questioning noise, if Lelia was insane. She turned to glare at its terrifying, rotting face and its black, bloody, ragged tactical gear.

“The military base,” she answered, like it had actually asked. Her narrowed eyes were haunted as she stared at it angrily, tears threatening to fall. “I know what evils you soldiers are capable of. And I won’t suffer them, not anymore. I’d rather be torn apart.”

The zombie groaned quietly, lowering its head, almost as if it was ashamed. Of what, she didn't know. Being military? Or its fellow soldiers’ cruelty? No. Lelia was just projecting. It was probably a groan of hunger.

She swallowed nervously at the thought, shifting like she was going to try and make a run for it, because she was. But the zombie’s gaze darted back up, and she froze. But when it didn’t move, she slowly began crawling out of her little tree hollow again, until she was standing over it’s crouched form, staring down into empty white eyes. Gathering her scraps of bravery, she turned her back on it and began walking away from it as quickly as she could, still too sore and tired to run like she wanted to.

She looked over her shoulder so many times during that first hour, she lost count. The zombie had followed her once already—what was to say he wouldn’t do it again?

That was, if it was even real. She had begun to convince herself it wasn’t, at least not this second time. It had to have been real last night, there was no other explanation as to how she was still alive. But today? There was just no way. It had seemed far too intelligent to be real, today. She’d practically had a conversation with it!

She shook her head, letting out a huff of disbelieving laughter. No. Last night had been an anomaly, a fluke, some sort of strange zombie infighting, maybe some territorial hierarchical dominance ritual…

Lelia was definitely losing it.

Finally, she felt confident enough that no zombie soldier, figment of her imagination or not, was following her, and she stopped bothering to check. She was on a mission to find… something. Something to eat, something to drink, somewhere safe and warm to rest. Just… something. Anything to help her live another day.

After several more hours, in which Lelia had truly begun to flag, fate took pity on her, and brought her to a run down cabin in the middle of the woods. She quickened her steps, stumbling through the door, desperate to get out of the cold.

She barely had a second to notice the infected waiting inside before it was upon her.

Lelia screamed, trying to get away, but the woman’s stumbling corpse held on tight, jaws snapping in her face. Lelia barely managed to keep it from biting her, using all her strength to hold it back. But her arms were already trembling, and with every second, the gnashing teeth were getting closer.

This is it, she thought, terrified. This is how I die.

Suddenly, the zombie was ripped off of her, and Lelia fell to the ground, watching with wide eyes as her zombie—the one she’d seen last night and hallucinated this morning—slammed the other against the wall, over and over again until it finally stopped moving. A dark patch of black blood stained the wood where its head had been after the undead soldier dropped it, and Lelia stared at it, dazed and confused.

Suddenly, she felt gloved hands on her body, quickly running up and down her limbs. She shrieked, kicking out as she tried to scramble away. Her foot connected with something hard, but it didn’t move. It just let out a familiar grunt and released her.

Lelia froze, her panic clearing enough to register her zombie standing over her, taking a step back as it let out a gurgling noise. It had touched her. It had killed the undead that was trying to eat her, and it had touched her. She’d felt it.

It wasn’t a hallucination. “You’re real,” she breathed, feeling dizzy at the realization. “You’re real, and you’re not eating me, and you’re— you’re protecting me. How? Why?”

[thesiltverses]

The Silt Verses Chapter 38 has arrived! (Well, last night.)

As ever, thank you for listening.

As the government strikes against the disciples of the Paraclete's Gulch, Faulkner seeks refuge and an untraceable hiding place at his old childhood home in the Whisper Plains - but he is not alone there.

Please enjoy, and be aware of the content warnings - this episode contains some distressing scenes and depictions of early-onset dementia and PTSD, loud noises, repeated references to childhood abuse, attempted suicide, and one short allusion to the risk of accidental deadnaming (which does not occur).

This episode features the incredible talents of B. Narr, H.R. Owen, Steve Shell, and Aud Andrews, with additional voices from Shaun Pellington, Sophie Lynch, Marlon Dance-Hooi and Rissa Montanez.

Transcript: https://www.thesiltverses.com/transcript-season-3-chapter-9

[karmacharmeleon18]

https://www.tumblr.com/karmacharmeleon18/783804827926937600?source=share

Why didn't he fall in love with neil then?

I can turn the question on you with: why didn't Neil fall in love with Kevin? Or Jean? Or Matt? Neil is demisexual and he needs a strong bond with someone in order to feel physical and romantic attraction, so why not him? Why not any of them? Why not Dan or Allison (or even Renee)? Why not any of the people that Neil has bonded with?

And the answer is simple: Neil doesn't want Kevin, or Matt, or anyone else. He wants Andrew.

🤷🏾‍♀️

Ok, so, you linked my theory that Jean was never "in love" with Kevin. Attracted to him? Yes. Trauma bonded to him? Yes. But in love? No.

He was a terrified 14yo kid who just clung to the first person that was nice to him, and once in the Nest, had Thea been nicer, less Thea, he would've had a crush on her as well

(and even if it had been love, how much can it matter now? He was a kid back then, he is a man now, people really think a childhood "love" can survive so many years, so many horrors, so many betrayals?)

Jean was a terrified 14yo who was sold by his family, trafficked into a foreign country, abused his whole life

So of course he developed a crush, maybe even hero worship (like for Thea? almost?) for the only person that treated him decently, that was nice to him

(and despite all that... he still looked at Jeremy's pictures, when Kevin was right there...👀)

So why did he not fall for Neil?

First of all, because Jean is different now

The Nest changed him

At 14 years old he was still fighting back, still clinging to hope, still defying the rules...

Then the Master beat that out of him, Riko bled that out of him

Now the rules are rules and must be respected

(we are 2 books into his healing journey and he's still clinging to those rules, he's just begun contemplating that they don't matter anymore)

Had Neil been kind to him, Jean simply would not have let himself fall for him imo

Jean is not a fool

In the Nest:

For those few weeks (that felt like years) they were both trapped, so what even was the point?

Besides, Neil was never "nice" with him

Neil was in survival mode, in a situation far too similar to Jean's, and Jean actually begged him to behave so they wouldn't get punished more

By that point Jean had already been betrayed by Kevin, there's no chance he was going to trust someone that much again just like that

And I honestly don't think anyone can "fall in love" in the Nest, there's just too much trauma, too much suffering, the only certainty is the Exy court and that's all you should (can) focus on

(Nora confirmed this, both in canon and in the extra content; in the Nest relationships are forbidden, and if they start, they either remain shallow enough not to draw the attention of the Master and Riko - KevThea -, or become obsessively codependent, to the point that one's suicide leads to the other attempting as well; Nora said that right now Thea is the closest person Kevin has to a "friend", but even then, it will take them years, well into their pro careers and living together, to form an actual loving, more conventional relationship; right now they care about each other but still, their main focus is Exy, that's what they love)

Even if Neil had given Jean something to cling to, Jean would not have let himself

Out of the Nest:

Again, Neil is not exactly nice, let alone kind

Neil is antagonistic, petulant, bitchy (I love him, he's probably one of my favorite characters ever)

And Jean has no reason to get attached to him because he is constantly surrounded by kind people that give him positive attention

The need to trauma bond with someone who happens to be bitchy and acerbic (Neil, Kevin) is not there anymore

Because now he knows what it's like to receive actual kind attention (Renee, Cat, Laila, Cody, Xavier, Rhemann and Adi, Jeremy)

And I don't think he was in love with Renee, either

Renee represented hope, a point of reference outside of the Nest, but still, too much trauma is attached to her. Jean sees her and sees the Nest, just like he sees Kevin and sees the Nest, sees Neil and sees his misplaced partner, and Riko's blades, and his own hands holding Neil down as Riko tortured him, back to a time when he was filled in equal parts with relief because it's not me and guilt because it's not me...

Jean definitely saw the potential, he knew he could fall in love with Renee, if he would only let himself

But at that point Jean cannot let himself, not even in Palmetto

He's just not ready

He doesn't know how

(again, 2 books into his healing journey and he barely feels ready to look at Jeremy)

Right people, wrong time

So if not even kind Renee can push Jean to try, how the hell could Neil? The abominable cockroach?

I think we all fell in love with Neil again during his stint in California, yes?

Ordering a hit on a rapist, and ACAB, and so was Elodie

But is that enough to make Jean fall in love with him?

Jean that now knows what kindness, respect, affection, trust feel like?

Jean who is constantly surrounded by sunshine?

Jean who doesn't need to cling to someone else in a bid to survive?

Jean who now can choose, and want freely for the first time?

It's not

(obviously, as it's not canon lol)

Wrong people, and the time doesn't matter because it would never happen anyway

(same as Kevin)

Jean is not in love with Neil, never was, and never will be

In the future:

Jean-Neil is actually one of the very few Trojan-Foxes relationships I can see developing into an actual friendship

(though not in the "bestieee! twiiins!", almost ridiculously conventional and "normal" way most fanfics portray it 🙄)

Nora said it'll take Kevin years to make actual friends, possibly he'll have to wait until he's retired, that any relationship he's in "will have to account for his narcissism", that not even Neil and Andrew are his friends right now, so I'm not sold on the Kevin-Jeremy friendship; Jeremy is friendly with him and cordial like he is with everybody, and probably considers Kevin a "friend" because that's just the way Jeremy is, but in canon they barely text and only speak at games + the interview plot

(but still, Jeremy heard Kevin dismiss the fact that Jean was raped several times, heard the way Kevin kind of? actually? victim-blamed Jean, saw Kevin get physically aggressive with Jean... it'll take him a while to see Kevin in the same light again, let alone become real friends with him... something something never meet your heroes...)

And the headcanons of other Trojan-Foxes friendships are fun, but I still don't take them too seriously because the Foxes are just so fundamentally different from the Trojans, have so little in common, so little overlap, I just can't see it, you know?

With a few exceptions: I can see Matt and Jeremy becoming friends for example, even though Matt's time in the national team and Exy in general is very short as he'll always prioritize his family life with Dan

But realistically, there is a point in time when they are on the same team and they have enough in common that they could become friends

(while none of the other Foxes besides Neil, Andrew, Kevin and Matt go pro, so I can't see where and how they would become bffs with Cat, Laila, Jeremy and Jean)

And in the same way I can see the potential in Neil and Jean (possibly even Andrew)

It will take time, and Jean getting over a lot of trauma and guilt, but I can see it

Especially if both make Court, I can see them spending time together outside of games/training once they're on the same team (still Exy-centric tho, like Exy games marathons or buying equipment... and gods, can you imagine all the snide comments they'd make about their rivals? and about Kevin? LMAO)

I see Jean and Neil as almost brothers in a way, and not like Kevin and the Moriyamas understand brotherhood

They're the same age but Neil has huge bratty little brother vibes and Jean that ever-suffering bitchy big brother aura

(Jean is a big brother, after all...)

In a way, they're too similar to ever be in love

But friends?

I can see them being civil with each other, not super close, texting a few times a year if they're on different teams, more frequenly when they're Court, and mostly about Exy, but still, I have your back and I'll order a hit on your tormentor and you don't even have to ask and I'll vanquish any threat that comes your way, on the court and off of it

I can see that

It's not a conventional friendship/brotherhood, but Neil and Jean are not conventional people

So it works

In conclusion:

Jean is not a fool

He might be starved for affection, clinging to any ounce in kindness, but he's not some pathetic puppy imprinting on the first person that pets him instead of kick him

(Again, think of it like Neil's demisexuality: does he fall in love with everyone he forms a bond with? No. Does Jean fall in love with everyone who's kind to him? No.)

Evermore Jean was a caged child

Nest Jean was an object

Trojan Jean is a free man

He's not gonna fall in love with just anybody that shows him an ounce of respect and decency

That's not how it works.

Love is hard work, it's constant confrontation, honesty, support, difficult conversations, reassuring hands and kind eyes that meet yours anytime you enter a room

Love is like gardening, you need to put in the work, the attention, the time to take care of it, or nothing will grow

And only now, for the first time ever, Jean has the chance to do all that

And he wants to do it with Laila, Cat and above all Jeremy

Love is a choice that you make constantly, every day

Jean has made his choice, and he will always choose them.

Right people, right time.