#and neil and andrew are too short for basketball

[yourcrumblingsaikiisnotmyproblem]

Being a writer means I can think about writing an aftg fic where the only major plot twist from canon is that they do ice skating instead of exy

[jemej3m]

Yo. Yo. Yoo. A Highschool musical au. Yeah you heard me.

bruh cross clique relationships are my jam

pt. 1? maybe

*

When they’d first met, Neil had been hiding from everyone else on the roof of the ski lodge. Wymack had brought him on holiday and encouraged him to join in with the teen party going on in the karaoke lounge with Dan and Kevin, but he’d taken one look and noped the hell out. 

Curled into a ball, he had never expected his angsty teenage silence to be broken by another short, bad-mannered boy, equally as distasteful of loud gatherings and soda-stupid teenage shenanigans. 

There had been something very familiar about him, like Neil had seen him before.

He also had a pack of cigarettes. 

Neil had yearned for one, like he yearned for his mom, and Andrew had asked for his name in exchange for the lighter. They’d sat in silence, letting the dulled sounds of music and cheers wash over them like a particularly persistent draft.

When Neil flinched away at the first pop of the fireworks, Andrew had frowned. And when Neil had explained they sounded too much like gunshots, Andrew gave him his number, scoffing at Neil’s old flip phone. 

Then he’d proceeded to bitch about his cousin, the one who had dragged him and his twin brother on a ‘bonding’ trip, and was then forcing him to move across the country so they could all live together. it distracted Neil from the gunfire overhead: whether or not that had been Andrew’s intention, Neil thought he’d never know. 

He assumed he’d never see Andrew again. 

But then school started up again.

Guess who was the new kid?

*

Andrew didn’t think that high school movies were actually grounded in reality till he moved to Palmetto State high. But the minute that he walked in through Palmetto State High’s front doors, he was instantly proven wrong. 

Aaron, who had already done his freshman year and half his sophomore year here, seemed unfazed. He was a generally unfazed person, expect when Andrew purposefully ignored him and then smashed his ass at Mariokart. Then he’d lose his temper but ultimately be angrier at himself, because he didn’t want to be anything like his mom had been. 

Andrew never had the chance to meet Tilda. She’d died just before they met: her will was the only reason that Aaron had found out about Andrew in the first place.

Aaron shoved his glasses up his nose and neatly ducked past a set of boisterous jocks who were bouncing a basketball to one another. 

“I already hate it here,” Andrew muttered, following after his brother. 

“It gets worse,” Aaron sighed. “Wait till you see the Exy jocks. The cheerleaders are - ” his face screwed up for a second. “Not all bad.” 

“What are you?” 

“We,” Aaron insisted. “Are nerds. Did you think you’d be able to escape the fact that we’re identical?” 

“I’m not a nerd,” Andrew muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets to hide the bracelet he wore. Bee had given it to him as a parting gift: it was the solar system, to scale, with the space between the planets made out of carbon fibre. 

“Are you kidding? The only thing you moved in with was a box of books.” 

“Whatever.” 

They brushed by the office, Aaron ignoring the freshman’s offer to take Andrew on a tour of the school. Her name-tag read Robin and she was clearly unfazed by their complete disregard of her presence. 

“History first,” Aaron huffed, squinting at Andrew’s timetable. “Good, we’re together. History sucks: we have Mr Moriyama, and his shitty nephew Riko is in that class too.”

“What’s so shitty about him?” 

“You’ll see.” 

Fantastic, Andrew thought. The day was shaping up to be an absolute nightmare. 

“Mr Minyard,” drawled a nasally man who lingered by the door. When he saw Andrew, his eye twitched. “And Mr Minyard. So the attendance sheet wasn’t an error.”

Aaron just muttered something under his breath and dragged Andrew by the sleeve. The tables were set up in spaced-apart rows, but the back was already claimed by a group of delinquent-looking attention vacuums. The others were all crowded around one boy, who had his feet kicked up on the table in front of him and an uncanny resemblance to the history teacher. 

He looked between Andrew and Aaron and sneered. Before he could open his mouth to say something, his uncle clapped his hands and called the class to attention. 

Just as Mr Moriyama was about to start the lesson, what could only be described as the human embodiment of disaster. 

When Andrew recognised him, his cheeks went red. 

“Mr Josten,” Mr Moriyama said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How is it that you are always late to my class, when your brother’s already here?” 

The brother in question looked nothing like Neil. He was taller, paler, with black hair and green eyes. He was also glaring at Neil, like that was going to make a difference. 

“My bad,” the red-head shrugged. 

“Detention,” Mr Moriyama said. 

“I have practise,” Neil retorted. And - oh, god, he was a jock. A smart-mouthed sporty boy. Fuck. Andrew thought he’d never see the boy from the rooftop again, but here they were, sitting in the same history class. 

“Should have thought about that before you were late,” the greasy man sneered, sending Neil on his way. Neil slumped his way past the desks till he saw Andrew sitting behind his brother, eyes widened with shock. 

Andrew, involuntarily, found himself giving Neil a small salute. Neil’s lips quirked up as he slid into his chair, letting the first lesson of the day finally begin. 

*

Neil jogged into practise late. This wasn’t surprising to anyone, least of all Wymack, who was leaning against the plexiglass with a knowing frown. 

“Could you stop antagonising Mr Moriyama’s own nephew in his class?” 

“In my defence,” Neil admitted. “Today’s detention was because I was late, not because I accidentally spoke my thought about Riko out loud instead of reciting them in my head.”

“Get on the court, you little shit,” he said, though not without fondness. Neil had been adopted by the Exy coach at the end of his freshman year, when he’d figured out why Neil was breaking into the changerooms to sleep. 

He jogged up to Kevin, who was less than impressed as he stood by the goal. 

“What the hell, Neil?” 

“The only reason I was so late was because Gordon still hasn’t forgiven you for getting him kicked off the team and he likes to hang around my locker to take it out on me!” 

Dan, Wymack’s other adopted child and team captain, was standing nearby and laughing. “Don’t try and flip this on Kevin: you just like picking fights with Seth.” 

Neil grinned at her. “It’s so easy.” 

“Oi!” Wymack called out. “We running drills or not?”

When he saw the blonde head of hair bobbing up and down, Neil’s grin faltered slightly. He was still in shock that Aaron had a twin, that the twin had moved here, and that twin had been the exact person Neil had met on the roof of the ski resort a few weeks ago. 

No wonder he’d found Andrew’s face so familiar. He was truly an idiot for not picking up on it.

Andrew sat down, high in the bleachers. Neil felt a strange prickle at the back of his neck, like he had when they’d talked for hours up on the roof. 

Practise went too fast after that. Neil stayed behind to help his coach pack up, Kevin and Dan bickering about plays as they went off to the showers. 

Coach went off with the equipment, giving Andrew a cursory glance. Perhaps he recognised Aaron’s face: the boy had nearly done tryouts for the team at the start of freshman year but chickened out. 

Neil skipped the steps, leaping up three at a time. Andrew was lounging on the bleachers, head cocked to the side. 

“So,” Neil said. “You never mentioned that you were moving to Palmetto.”

“We were in a random Colorado ski lodge,” Andrew rolled his eyes. “What were the chances?” 

“Clearly high enough.” Neil perched on the seat beside him. “So, Aaron’s brother, huh?” 

“Obviously.” 

Neil grinned. “Give me some slack: it was dark. I suppose you’ll be following him around, at first?” 

Andrew just shrugged. “I don’t have anything better to do.” 

“Do you like Exy?” 

His eye twitched. “I’ve played before. Why?” 

Neil felt his grin widen. “You should try out.” 

Andrew crossed his arms over his chest. “Aaron says I’m doomed to be stuck with the nerds, so long as I look like him. Apparently that’s a big deal here.” 

Neil faltered slightly. “Well, yeah. Everyone kinda sticks to their own. I’ve always wanted to join the Olympiads, but they’d never let me on the team. I’m good at math and physics, but I’m on the Exy team. They don’t associate with jocks.”

“Olympiads,” Andrew mumbled. “Jesus Christ.” 

“Hey!” 

“This entire school is a disaster,” Andrew said, notching a cigarette between his lips and spun the lighter between his fingers. “I don’t give a shit about their stupid cliques.” 

Neil felt something warm in his chest. He’d always felt the same. “Careful. If Riko thinks you’re kicking up dust, he’ll retaliate. He likes to think he owns the place and prefers that everyone just sticks to their own.” 

Andrew trotted down a few steps before looking back over his shoulder at Neil. “Well, he can just get in line.” 

Huh, Neil thought, when he couldn’t get Andrew’s smirk out of his mind for the rest of the day. This is new.

*

gosh, teenagers r so melodramatic 

@filteredred don’t call me out on hypocrisy 

[allthefilmsiveseenforfree]

Teen Witch

Controversial opinion: stories about witches are the best stories. Just look at WandaVision - bitches ate that UP because it’s about WITCHES, which means it’s ultimately about loss and trauma and female (literal) empowerment in the face of those tragedies (and I mean there’s some complicated stuff in there about inflicting trauma upon others, even accidentally, and that’s kind of a witch thing too). And Sabrina is all well and good and everything, but what if you want your witch story to be a little less Dark Arts and a little more candy-coated? Have I got the film for you! Wes requested Teen Witch as part of his quest to expand my cheesy 80s cult classic knowledge, and boy did this one deliver. How 80s-tastic are we talking? Well...

The basic story is this: Louise (Robyn Lively) is a typical teen girl who occupies the nerd level of the high school hierarchy. You know the type - soft-spoken, nerdy best friend, has a crush on the cutest guy in school (Dan Gauthier), made fun of in gym class by all the cheerleaders. One day she crashes her bike in front of a psychic’s home/place of business and goes inside to use the phone, but gets her palm read first. The psychic, named Madame Serena, (Zelda Rubenstein, playing, I’m assuming, herself) tells her she will soon come into some witchy powers on her 16th birthday. When Louise’s birthday rolls around, you guessed it - witching aplenty. She gets the popularity, she gets the cute guy, she ditches her nerdy friend; it’s basically The Princess Diaries without Queen Julie Andrews. But then, y’know, she learns a valuable lesson about the high price of popularity and how important it is to be true to yourse--wait, no she doesn’t, she takes off her magic necklace and smooches with the boy she likes at the school dance and that’s how it ends.

Some thoughts:

This slow motion credit sequence is incredible. See, we just don’t have this anymore, where the movie starts and you have no fucking idea what’s going on. The 80s really knew how to draw an audience in. Is this a dream? Is this a music video? No one knows! That’s why it’s exciting!

Why are tv and movies so obsessed with a completely made-up depiction of what takes place outside a high school’s entrance before the first bell? Apparently there’s a busker festival going on at this high school every day - there’s guys doing BMX tricks, an all white rap group, I think I saw some jugglers.

I’ve actually taught in both middle and high school, so I know this English teacher (Shelley Berman) wouldn’t be fired for being such a shitty teacher, but he should be. 

Is this like...a musical? First there was the terrible rapping, now there are cheerleaders doing “the new cheer” which is literally a song just saying “I...LIKE...BOYS!” and there’s a dance routine on top of lockers - there’s a lot of towel choreography. It feels like a musical in the sense that it’s nonsensical, but I don’t actually think it IS a musical. Genre-defying!

It’s kinda creepy that Louise is watching an extended montage of Brad (Gauthier) working out shirtless from the shadows but like...same, girl. Damn, Brad.

Aw, at least Brad is reasonably nice. Louise, show some backbone! You shouldn’t have been too proud to let him drive you home after he ran you off the road on your bike accidentally!

I am just mystified by the market for roles that were appropriate for Zelda Rubenstein in the 80s. What is this niche? Which came first, Zelda Rubenstein, or these characters? 

I am also mystified by this gremliny little brother (Joshua John Miller) who seems to be obsessed with eating cake and never washing his hair. He’s like a goblin trapped in a diminutive nonbinary body made of pizza and spite. [ETA: I now feel a little bad for finding him so repellent in this, as the actor wrote one of my favorite meta horror movies, The Final Girls, in 2015. So at least he grew up and made something cool of himself.]

OMFG did Brad just hit the soda machine for her like the fucking Fonz? 

There is (temporarily) a Very Good Dog who is not harmed in any way.

In what universe does Louise see what her date, David (Jared Chandler), is wearing and be like “he’s such a geek” when she looks like an extra from Leave it to Beaver. 

The DJ just said “OK guys, grab your wallets, it’s a slow song.” What...does that even mean? Is he implying that slow dances are expensive? Ooh or even more nefarious, that there’s a rampant pickpocketing problem during slow dances?

Did Louise...just imply that the number of light years away a star is dictates how soon a wish you make on that star would come true? Listen. I’m no astrophysicist. But I have read enough Neil Degrasse Tyson tweets to know that that’s not how any of this works. 

OK I take back what I said, David is a fucking CREEP. Drag his ass, Louise. However, I think she may have straight up murdered him by making him disappear. David is never seen or heard from again in this film. 

Obsessed with the dad’s sweaters both because they are ridiculous and because he is the lesser Darren from the original Bewitched. 

It feels weird that Louise’s revenge involves forcing Mr. Weaver to take his clothes off in front of the class.Who wants that? Like I get that it’s humiliating for him, but really, you’re only punishing yourself here Louise. 

There is a rap-off that is meant to convey electric sexual tension between two nerdy ass white kids. 

I don’t know what it was like at your school, but I can tell you for sure that at my high school no one ever applauded when the most popular girl in school walked into the classroom like she’s Kramer making an entrance on Seinfeld.

Why is Brad taking her to an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere? And why is she wearing heels?

Oh god she took the heels off and now she’s barefoot in this decrepit house, that’s so much worse! TETANUS EXISTS LOUISE.

Wait are they going to fuck in the abandoned house? Brad has a girlfriend! You brought heels, but did you bring condoms?? I guess she has bigger concerns than tetanus now. Also I feel so bad for these actors, they are both DRIPPING sweat. That must have been a miserable shoot.

I’ve said this before, but the 80s were such an incredible time for himbo fashion. Crop tops, those tank tops with the giant holes for the arms, teeny little basketball shorts. In the 90s all we had were JNCOs and weirdly “urbanized” Looney Tunes characters on baggy t-shirts. Gen X has no idea how good they had it re: male fashion. 

I’m genuinely obsessed with the idea that popularity means the school just has banners all over that say “LOUISE” and she gets like, cards and fan mail that say “Louise U R the best.” This feels like if you ask a kindergartner what being popular means.

Madame Serena just said “the real magic is believing in yourself” which is exactly what Louise’s dad said like 15 minutes ago, but I guess he wasn’t a 3-foot-tall witch so no one paid attention when he said it. 

Y’know for an 80s prom outfit, Louise’s dress is pretty cute. 

I cannot stress enough that Brad’s girlfriend is at this dance while he and Louise are kissing! Does no one care? Were high school attitudes toward monogamy just way more flexible in the 80s? 

Did I Cry? Shyeah, right. 

This is such an odd, mostly charming, but wildly perplexing little movie. There was no antagonist or real conflict here, at all. Louise barely struggles with any sort of tension or remorse about having her powers and what it means for her life, she just kind of decides at the end that she’s over it, and she still gets the guy and no actual negative consequences from bending the entire school to her will for the past few months. I mean, in The Craft, when people use magic for their own gains, other people fucking DIE. I was definitely entertained, but a lot of it was due to me saying, “What? How? What?” loudly at the screen. I can see how this has gained a cult following in much the same way that other oddball 80s fare like Better Off Dead or Girls Just Wanna Have Fun did. Watch it once, then watch it again while you get drunk with your friends (in a post-Covid world, obviously) and you’ll probably have a pretty great time. 

If you liked this review, please consider reblogging or subscribing to my Patreon! For as low as $1, you can access bonus content and movie reviews, or even request that I review any movie of your choice.

[thegreenerartist]

Okay okay guys wait

Just I M A G I N E

The Foxhole Court,,, but set in the Philippines (they’ll all still be the same characters but it’ll just take place in the Philippines!)

The Filipino & Filipina Foxes!

Okay so Neil is still on the run, with 5 mil ($) in his pocket, but think about it. There are 7,641 islands. 7,641. His father would have absolute HELL trying to find him and his mother (until she died oop) (probably somewhere where they are trying to sneak into Luzon?) So then Nathan will be stationed, not in Baltimore, but maybe somewhere in Luzon (it being the central island and all)

Neil would know how to speak English (universal language duh), Tagalog (common Filipino language) and maybe Ilongo? Or Ilocano? For Luzon, but then he’ll probably know the common languages too, like Bisaya and Cebuano for Visayas, maybe he’ll know Arabic or Islamic for Mindanao? (I highlighted the ones I think he would most likely know, but most Filipino langauges tbh sound similar. Takes maybe a few months, weeks if you’re good, to learn a language like a native)

So idk how to segúé (how to even spell??) to him meeting the Foxes bUT HE GETS THERE

Soo let’s say the Cousins (yes thats their official tital no I don’t take critisism) know how to speak Arabic while Kevin is the one who speaks Bisaya. Everyone can speak English and Tagalog because Filipinos are taught English and Tagalog early on oop

Okay fine this will still be an Exy universe (but can yall imagine? Street basketball?)

They’ll probably be learning somewhere in Luzon, most likely NCR for plot because it’s probably where Nathan and his men are too

They meet and stuff, cool shenanigans

(Their backstories might be a tad rougher than in canon because,,, yeah. It happens here)

Okay so I just wanna get to the fun stuff, since that’s what I originally planned for this post

Nicky and Allison will deffo be like those ladies who wash clothes and gossip, i.e. spreading chismis

Nicky reminds me of the gays here that go “oH HEY MGA BES!”

Andrew is THAT dude who goes up to an ice cream guy and asks for, “Cornetto. The sweetest one you have”

He wouldnt like dirty ice cream. It’s too bland and milky, not sweet

Neil would fit right in. Everyone here wears shirts and pants/shorts. Some guys dont even bother putting a shirt on

Dan and Neil go bonding to the palengke (wet market) since most of the other foxes have been raised in middle class

Matt buys those birds in the cages so he can set them free like the good boy he is :)

Renee is a BOSS in chinese garter

Allison was the heir to,, idk probably something like SM or something

Aaron is every asian parents’ dream tbh

Also I love the idea of them getting houses since Filipino houses here look basic as heck but look SO authentic, as in yall could go, “wow that looks like a normal house” but then,,, yall would know. That’s a Filipino’s house right there

Everyone get’s THOSE houses where there are literal bars on the windows and the fence is so goddamn tall

Except for Kevin and Allison

Those two would get the classy stuff

Like Allison would probably be living in those houses that were during the Spanish Colonial Period (with Renee because duh)

Kevin will get a private resort or something somewhere in Boracay or Palawan or something (with no one because I fully support aro ace Kevin [ but bi Kevin is awesome too though don’t get me wrong {sorry Thea}])

I would love to propose the idea of Neil calling Andrew ‘mahal’ or ‘love’(THEY ARE MARRIED HERE LET ME LIVE) (ILL JUST SAY THEY GOT MARRIED IN THE US OKAY)

In the morning, when they wake up and Neil goes, “m’hal, pakibukas ung bintana” “love, can you open the blinds?”

(Fun fact, the prefix paki is a polite way of asking someone to do the action, the same way you say ‘may’, ‘can’ and ‘please’)

But then ‘mahal’ ALSO means ‘expensive’ in Tagalog. I find it funny because Andrew is truly, very, absolutely expensive

“My god napakamahal naman yan’ Drew’!”

“Oh my god Drew’, that’s so expensive!”

“mAy stAnDArdS akO excUSE Me!!11!”

“I have standards excuse me!”

“M A H A L ‘W A G”

“L O V E , N O”

I love the idea that they play basketball in their free time with neighbourhood kids, as in street basketball

It starts with Andrew and Neil

They were outside, holding hands (it’s ok Philippines isn’t SUPER homophobic) (and even if someone was stupid enough to talk them down, they have knives :)

And these,,, kids go up and be like, “laro?” “play?”

Because kids right?

And BOOM it becomes a thing (usually on their breaks :)

Renee joins because Peace Corps (actually no. She did it out of the kindness of her own heart)

Then Dan, Matt and Nicky wanted to join

Allison was dragged there by Renee

Katelyn wanted Aaron to come too

Kevin decided to go since it’s the off-season and he has nothing to do, yaba daba da he actually misses his foxes

He keeps mumbling, “buti pa kapag nilaro nila an Exy *grumble grumble*” “it would be better if the played Exy instead *grumble grumble*”

They are happy :D

Okay so yall know how Kevin is a health freak

So one day Andrew will eat one too many goSH DARN AICE AND KEVIN WILL HAVE A F I T

Andrew doesn’t care

Until he does

Kevin can go on and on about how unhealthy some foods are and blah blah blah

But yall cANNOT TELL ME that that boy does NOT eat those streetfoods

Im talking about fishballs, squidballs, siomai, tokneneng, ALL OF THAT JAZZ

(That’s what happens when yall let a person who never played in the neighbourhood try streetfood) (they get OBSESSED) (I can tell from experience lol)

Then Andrew keeps that footage for blackmail

Just imagine. Kevin Day. Eating. The oiliest. The most unhealthy. Goddamn streetfood

I’ll probably make more :P it was fun to write this!

I would love it if this were liked and reblogged 🥺👉👈 I would appreciate that very much because I spent some time on this and I need validation 🥺🥺

[bloodthirstyreviews]

The Raven King (aftg 2)

★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆ 

Neil joins Foxes, for the most part they don’t like/ don’t trust him. They really suck as a team. Lots of mystery backgrounds and identities. Some Yakuza for whatever reason on the east coast. I still want to know what sort of medication makes you manic for a couple of hours and then wears off and makes you murdery. Like I’m pretty sure you would suffer from severe (circle all that apply) liver/organ/tissue/nervous system damage from something like that but okay. I’ll let you have your plot device until I get a decent answer. 

Spoilers my dudes. 

I like how the apathetic guy on said drugs is kind of holding them all together. Kevin is his bitch, Neil confides in him with the almost truth first. Andrew is usually the voice of reason? For how uncaring he’s described, it really doesn’t show in actions/dialogue. I do really love the dynamic of Neil and Andrew’s relationship, however. I was super sad that Andrew kinda got benched as a character for the last stretch of the book, he’s really the redeeming factor for this series. 

I feel like a lot of the character originality was lost. The dialogue had more effort put into it in book 1, even if it was sloppy. Now it feels like “you know who the characters are and enough about their personalities, so put their emotions in it yourself”. It’s also quite choppy like thoughts got derailed and she went on a tangent and the editor clipped it instead of merely rewriting. The first half+ was snorezone littered with enough interesting tidbits to keep you going. ugh. It was choppy and awkwardly fast-forwarded through parts to get to the “interesting” parts. She improved her writing in parts, definitely grammatically, but more issues popped up. I guess you can’t win them all.  or can you with a decent editor

Even if character originality is lost, we really get to dig into the plot. Tragic backstories are what I live for, and this is rife with them. Like dude, shit gets real. like in the end. way late. but at least we got there. The end was extremely awkward. Neil is getting tortured and bam! suddenly he’s home. It had the potential to be a beautiful climax but really, it fell short. It felt like she just wanted to be done with it and get it published. Like nah we don’t really need to say what happened between point A and point B it’s fine. We’ll probably get more of an explanation in #3 but still. I feel like we trudge through so much boredom and then the last 3 pages are like !!! action. it happened in tfc too. 

I was definitely glad to see an explanation of Exy at the end of this book, though I still don’t completely understand how Lacrosse On A Basketball Court became as/more popular than football in a short span of 30 years. Why didn’t we get this on book 1...? unless my copy was just bizarre. Maybe it took her 2 books to figure out herself. 

[myblessedeyes]

Listen, I’m touch-starved and I can’t stop thinking about these Andreil headcanons, so I gotta write them out and hopefully someone else will like them as much as I do:

*This is all imagined to happen after “yes or no”s have come up less frequently when it comes to casual shows of affection because “no”s have been thoroughly proven to be respected*

Andrew getting into the habit of spreading his legs every time Neil makes a motion to sit down in their living room and any of the other foxes’s living rooms so Neil can settle on the floor between them and sometimes lean his head against his thigh and his fingers will tangle in his hair and sometimes Neil will lean his head back and sometimes he gets a kiss and other times he gets a roll of the eyes and a few times he’s gotten a slap on the forehead along with a mumbled, “Fucking junky”

After getting a “from the hips up,” Neil spending an entire morning just tracing the lines of Andrew’s spine, the curve of his waist, the bulge of his bicep, following the movement of his back’s muscles moving as he leans a little more into Neil’s chest with his eyes closed in his peace

Neil just slumping on top of Andrew’s back whenever and wherever their standing and nuzzling Andrew’s neck when he’s particularly tired and trusting that Andrew can carry him without particularly paying any mind to the stares

Does this a lot in the morning while Andrew’s fixing them their coffees

Winter is sometimes a moisture sucking monster and makes it impossible to go a day without lotion, so take the time to imagine Neil hearing the sound of dry hands rubbing together and bringing out the bottle of Bath & Body Works lotion Renee gave him for his last birthday and pouring a whole shitload on his hands, asking for Andrew’s hand and just rubbing the lotion into his hands and higher depending on the outrageous amount he poured out

Andrew Minyard walking around smelling like Japanese Cherry Blossom gives me peace alright

Limbs, everywhere:

Andrew’s leg over Neil’s shoulder as their sitting in the living room scrolling through their phones

Legs weaved together, with Andrew rubbing his foot up and down Neil’s recently shaved legs in bed while they’re doing homework

Allison “accidentally” switched his lotion for a Nair’s bottle

Neil laying on Andrew’s ass while Andrew’s reading out of his Advanced Psychology textbook out loud to help him concentrate with Neil’s hand massaging his hips and thighs after a particularly hard leg day and a “yes”

Andrew laying between Neil’s legs, head smooshed into Neil’s chest  and hands under his sweatshirt and following the outline of his back muscles as Neil watches one of Kevin’s many “assigned” Exy games to study

Neil laying across Andrew torso with one arm wrapped over his shoulder and the other around his waist with his head on his chest while Andrew smokes with the window in their bedroom open above him with a hand on his back tapping along to the rhythm of the music playing from one of their iPods

Neil in Andrew’s lap with his legs wrapped around his waist with Andrew’s hand up Neil’s basketball shorts indulging Neil (and not himself tysm) in a thigh massage

Arm over Neil’s shoulder with his hand inside his shirt

Arm around Andrew’s waist with his fingers curled around his belt loop and finger hooked inside the waist band of his jeans

Andrew just sitting on Neil’s lap, with Neil’s head leaning against the sofa’s backrest, eyes closed as he’s soothed close to sleep, and just spending a good hour just combing back his hair, eyes staring uninhibited at the small pimples on his chin, the car lighter scars, the knife scars; one goes from his eyebrow to the bottom of his jaw, the other one crossing across to the bridge of his nose and the deepest one going from his temple to the top of his cheekbone, his thick eyebrows, his long, thick eyelashes, the soft smattering of freckles from his runs outside in the middle of summer, the line of his nose, the way the sunlight coming in contoured the sharp line of his cheekbones, the way his square jaw looked from every direction he could look at it from, his beautifully stupidly marked cupid’s bow, the small scar at the corner of his mouth from the one time his mom had slapped him hard enough to bleed when he had screamed to loud when she was stitching up a particularly painful cut, the small nicks from where his mom’s nails had cut him on his jaw and cheek from his lessons. Every single detail, Andrew making sure to memorize

Neil returning the favor and helping Andrew in his shower 

Don’t think he’d ever do it while Andrew is injured... Too vulnerable. Triggers have a tendency to rise when feeling like injuries can keep you from properly protecting yourself

Andrew taking an Anatomy class and having Neil as reference because working out had helped in making his stupid muscles become obscenely marked and having Neil naked in his bed and draped in his cotton sheets as he follows the line of the muscles he’s trying to memorize really isn’t helping but god- does it make it hard to forget just where the semitendinosus or the sartorious is and- God, does he wish he was doing this with his mouth.

he passed the course with flying colors

he would have been able to do it with the book alone

would have definitely saved him the embarrassment of having an inappropriate boner in the middle of class that’s for sure

Andrew making a habit of braiding his hair after Neil had come back from a sleep over with the girls with a pair of french braids and had really liked how they looked on him

i just really like braids and i really like the idea of Neil walking around campus with long hair and braids in his hair ok

Neil making a habit of giving him head massages when they’re sitting side by side doing shit together

It’s 4 am and this is all I can think of.

Part II

[neilljxsten]

aftg dancer!au

dan is the captain of the dance team and she was chosen because she understands many dance styles. took ballet when she was very little but moved on to tap and salsa. is their most versatile dancer, though she specializes in jazz and modern dance. 

neil as a contemp/modern dance master. he travelled a lot on the run so he’s susceptible to many styles, but since he never stays long enough to master them, he’s learn to take what he learns and incorporate it into what he already knows.

aaron is classically trained. that means he’s been in ballet since he was six and if anyone gives him shit for it, he crushes them with thighs honed by 10+ years of plies. also does hiphop because his body coordination is 12/10

renee is all weirdly bent feet and skinny limbs as a result of years and years of ballet. is trained in russian ballet but is trying to break away from the strict structure and try more modern styles. can get down if warranted. breakdancer-in-training.

matt and nicky as your classic bboys with the basketball shorts and the too-long socks and the scuffed up shoes. kevin likes to say they have scuffed up heads as well. they specialize in props as well, and their hat trick routine has the most views on the foxes’ youtube.

speaking of kevin his mom has put him in dance classes since he was a kid and he’s convinced he knows all the right ways to do hiphop. is the most technical of the hiphop dancers. hates those dark contemp pieces with 40+ dancers and heavy beats with a passion.

allison is jazz/contemp oriented. used to be a cheerleader so she knows how to put the sassiness into her moves. hates the structure of ballet but cannot conform to the flowiness of lyrical. started in her early teens so she still focuses more on improving her technique. has the best basis for choreography on the team, though.

andrew is in charge of choreography, and he performs the least out of all of them. when he does, it’s with quick and powerful but detailed moves that draw from a variety of hiphop influences. by some ironic twist of fate he is the one who does trend dances the best, even though he does them once every blue moon and never where the public can see. can also tap dance, but no one but neil and aaron have seen this skill.

[takenews-blog1]

These Athletes Have Pre-Recreation Secrets and techniques That Maintain Their Heads In The Recreation

New Post has been published on https://takenews.net/these-athletes-have-pre-recreation-secrets-and-techniques-that-maintain-their-heads-in-the-recreation/

These Athletes Have Pre-Recreation Secrets and techniques That Maintain Their Heads In The Recreation

Sports activities video games are lengthy. MLB and NFL video games usually final 4 hours and NBA video games can push three. It might’t be straightforward for athletes to maintain their focus, particularly once they’re huffing and puffing on the sidelines. The important thing for a lot of athletes to remain targeted is to first hone their focus with their pre-game rituals. Listed here are a few of the finest, worst, and weirdest.

You gained’t imagine what Yankees catcher Jorge Posada used to do earlier than squatting behind the dish!

Mike Powell/Allsport/Getty Photos

Michael Jordan is arguably the best NBA participant to ever play. There are rumors that as a baby he would shoot 100 free throws in a row in his driveway earlier than going to mattress. Whether or not that’s true or not, one factor is true, Jordan by no means forgot his previous. In truth, the rationale he performed in such dishevelled shorts was that earlier than each recreation he would placed on his College of North Carolina shorts for good luck. That’s proper, Michael Jordan would play in each his faculty workforce’s shorts in addition to his Bulls’ shorts! There isn’t a affirmation whether or not he would additionally put on his House Jam shorts.

Chris Graythen/Getty Photos

Ray Lewis was an unbelievable linebacker and workforce chief. Successful the Tremendous Bowl in each his rookie and closing season within the NFL was no small process. Lewis, to his credit score, was not a small persona both, utilizing his vitality, lion volumed yell, and sheer presence to pump himself up, in addition to his Baltimore teammates throughout his pre-game speech. Requested about it, quarterback Joe Flacco claimed he by no means understood a factor Lewis yelled however knew the fiery linebacker meant each phrase. In Lewis’ case, his quantity spoke louder than his phrases ever may.

The linebacker developing subsequent didn’t have time to talk between cookies.

Jonathan Daniel/Getty Photos

Brian Urlacher recorded 1,229 profession tackles in his NFL profession. At 6’four″ and 258 kilos, each a kind of tackles should have harm. Earlier than video games, nevertheless, Urlacher was a delicate large, selecting rest over adrenaline. What was his weapon of selection? Chocolate chip cookies and nation music, after all! How else do you assume he made eight Professional Bowls? Figuring out he needed to watch his determine, Urlacher additionally practiced self-control, limiting himself to 2 cookies pre-game. He had his preferences too, solely munching on Well-known Amos snack cookies whereas jamming to Keith City. Actually a diabolical union that helped result in a sure-fire Corridor of Fame profession.

Billy Weiss/Boston Pink Sox/Getty Photos

One of the crucial superstitious Baseball superstars of all time was Wade Boggs. The Boston Pink Sox Corridor of Fame third baseman had the identical pre-game ritual for all 162 video games he performed a season. Sitting at his locker earlier than a recreation, Boggs would eat fried hen and write the phrase “chai” over and over. The Jewish phrase interprets to life, one thing the fried hen should have crammed him with as he completed his profession with greater than three,000 hits.

Whereas Boggs was scarfing down fried hen, one other athlete had a a lot weirder ritual a couple of hundred miles north.

Ezra C. Shaw/Allsport/Getty Photos

Steven “Turk” Wendell should have believed within the energy of the Easter Bunny throughout his enjoying days for the New York Mets. The quirky reliever didn’t have a pre-game ritual per se, however he did have a pre-appearance superstition. For an MLB reliever, that’s principally the identical factor. As he would come out to the mound to pitch, Wendell would leap over the baselines. Stepping over the white line and messing it up would have been again luck. Even stranger, Wendell wouldn’t go an inning with out brushing his tooth.

Then once more, brushing one’s tooth is extra sanitary than what our subsequent athlete did…

Mark Cunningham/MLB Pictures/Getty Photos

In the course of the Yankees dynasty of the 1990’s and early 2000’s, two issues had been sure; Mariano Rivera would shut the sport and Jorge Posada would catch the ultimate out. Posada, for his half, would inform you there was a smelly motive he was so good. Earlier than each recreation he would urinate on his palms, claiming it helped construct calluses. Oddly sufficient, Moises Alou would do the identical factor, however solely within the offseason. Who is aware of if the science behind the speculation is sound, however Jorge Posada behind the plate was completely sound because the ball would hit his glove for strike three.

Mitchell Leff/Getty Photos

Kobe Bryant’s identify will reside on for so long as the NBA exists, possibly longer even. The “Black Mamba” grew to become greater than only a participant in his 20-year profession, he grew to become a legend. His greatness prolonged the size of his profession, which he ended by scoring 60 factors in his closing recreation. Earlier than that recreation he carried out his pre-game ritual one final time, strolling on the stadium ground 4 hours earlier than tip-off. It’s there, alone, he may focus, solely caring concerning the sound of the ball hitting wooden, the backboard, the rim, and the web. This was Kobe Bryant’s peace, his “calm earlier than the storm.”

Kobe Bryant by no means performed a recreation with out his ritual, similar to this subsequent athlete would by no means begin a recreation earlier than consuming his signature meal.

Jason O. Watson/Getty Photos

The San Francisco Giants gained their second World Collection in 2012, and journeyman pitcher Ryan Vogelsong was a giant a part of that. Initially drafted by the Giants in 1998, he shuffled across the minor and main leagues earlier than coming again residence in 2011 and cementing his spot within the workforce’s rotation. In 2012 he would reside out his childhood dream, pitching 5.2 shutout innings in recreation three of the World Collection. When requested concerning the secret to his late profession success, Vogelsong thanked the ability of enchiladas. The evening earlier than each begin, together with the postseason, Vogelsong would eat the identical enchiladas from the identical restaurant. In 2018 he shall be inducted into the Giants wall of fame, proving his pre-game meal was price each calorie.

David Banks/Getty Photos

Retiring from the NFL whereas nonetheless in his prime, former Lions vast receiver Calvin Johnson was the perfect at his place for brief time within the league. He credit yoga as the rationale he tortured opposing workforce’s secondaries. Launched to Johnson by Cardinals quarterback Drew Stanton, Johnson is aware of yoga isn’t for everybody however says it labored for him. He would apply yoga earlier than video games and through warm-ups, utilizing it to loosen up, stretch, and relieve bodily ache. The one ache it didn’t relieve was shedding, which is the rationale it’s believed he retired at simply 30-years-old, lacking out on his probability to get into the Corridor of Fame.

David Madison/Getty Photos

Simply the best ladies’s soccer participant of all time, Mia Hamm can also be one of many best athlete’s of all time. Being the face of American soccer couldn’t have been straightforward, and Hamm reportedly had fairly the superstition to take care of her anxiousness, particularly earlier than video games. When she would lace up her cleats she must tie them proper lace over left lace each time. If the ritual was damaged she must begin over or face the results of enjoying a horrible match. Contemplating her two World Cup championships, that mishap not often occurred.

In case you assume that’s obsessive, simply wait…

Francois Nel/Getty Photos

Not a reputation acquainted to American sports activities followers, Neil McKenzie is a well-known South African cricket participant whose pre-game ritual was too unusual to not share. As a solution to put together himself for a recreation and rid himself of any unhealthy luck, McKenzie would tape his cricket bat to the ceiling of the locker room and put the bathroom seat down on each rest room. What’s actually nutty is that he wouldn’t simply do that earlier than each recreation, he would do it earlier than each at bat! In 2004 he was minimize from the nationwide workforce and returned in 2008 claiming he had recovered from his self-diagnosed obsessive-compulsive dysfunction.

Andrew Weber/Icon SMI/Icon Sports activities Media/Getty Photos

LeBron James is nothing if not probably the most polarizing figures in sports activities at this time. The Cavaliers homegrown famous person as soon as belted the town of Cleveland for the sunnier seashores of Miami. After enduring years of hate, he returned to open arms and introduced the town its first skilled championship within the fashionable sports activities period. When he initially left Cleveland, he additionally left behind his pre-game ritual, a powder toss designed to pump himself up. Not discovering the success he wished in Miami, James introduced the powder toss again and gained a number of NBA championships. In truth, LeBron James has appeared in each NBA finals for the final eight years. It’s clearly all as a result of he chooses to toss powder earlier than each recreation to rid the air of unhealthy mojo!

Nonetheless, some basketball gamers take their rituals a step additional.

Barry Chin/The Boston Globe/Getty Photos

Kevin Garnett will make the NBA Corridor of Fame, he simply won’t bear in mind the profession that received him there. You see, Garnett has one of many extra violent pre-game rituals, selecting to bang his head into the padding across the hoop earlier than each recreation. Whereas that may not sound very concussion-inducing, it’s in actual fact repeated head trauma for 82 days a yr, extra if his workforce made the playoffs, which they normally did. In truth, Garnett made the playoffs 14 occasions in his profession, profitable one championship. He may need a violent pre-game routine, nevertheless it unquestionably helped him earned his spot within the NBA Corridor of Fame.

Deal with Sports activities/Getty Photos

Curtis Martin is the fourth-leading rusher in NFL historical past with 14,101 profession yards. Over the course of an 11-year profession, he averaged 12,800 yards per season. If somebody had been to ask him what the important thing to his success was he would give the plain athlete reply of “God.” Not like most athletes, nevertheless, Martin took his devotion to the lord a step additional. Sitting at his locker earlier than video games, Curtis Martin made it his common apply to learn Psalm 91, a extra passive entry within the Bible asking followers to declare their belief within the lord. That belief helped lead Martin to one of many best careers for a working again in league historical past.

Our subsequent athlete believed one thing apart from God helped him run quick.

Michael Steele/Getty Photos

Usain Bolt’s legacy is simple. He usually made monitor races non-competitive along with his blazing velocity. He was, in any case, the quickest man on this planet. Earlier than a race, although, Bolt wished to speak about something apart from the game he was revolutionizing. A number of of his favourite issues to speak about had been music, ladies, and vehicles. We assume he favored his vehicles quick, however gained’t ask to be secure. The rationale Bolt refused to speak about racing earlier than a race was easy, he didn’t need to overthink it. All he wanted to win was his pure velocity, a really particular bodily reward.

Mead Norton/Getty Photos

One other lesser-known star with a giant pre-game routine, Jill Kintner is a BMX Olympic medalist and four-time BMX world champion. She retains her routine easy and tight, prepping together with her coach, she drinks half an vitality drink and rides up the chairlift to the place the race will begin. As soon as there she checks her gear; goggles, elbow pads, and footwear. After the fundamentals, she flicks rocks with the entrance wheel of her bike, actually getting herself within the zone. Proper when all that ends she strikes to the gate and begins her race. Possibly not the craziest pre-game routine, however the satan is all within the particulars on this one, and people particulars imply all the pieces to Kintner.

Hyoung Chang/The Denver Submit/Getty Photos

Three-time mountain biking 24-hour solo world champion Rebecca Rusch places on a present for her neighbors earlier than each race. Undoubabltly among the finest aggressive mountain bikers on this planet, Rusch takes her routine straight again to when she was child imagining herself profitable the large race. We’re not mendacity both, sitting on her bike within the driveway exterior her home, Rush pretends two little stone pillars are the end line. She visualizes the win as she rides via, going so far as to lift her arms in celebration of her pending victory.

Not a nasty solution to get able to race, not as bizarre as kissing your teammates earlier than video games both…

Bertrand Guay/AFP/Getty Photos

France is soccer world energy. Probably the most recognizable face of French soccer is Zinedine Zidane, who as soon as headbutted an opponent within the chest through the World Cup. A lesser-known French participant is Laurent Blanc, a member of the 1998 French workforce who had among the finest pre-game rituals ever. Earlier than each match, Blanc would seek out the workforce’s goalkeeper, Fabien Barthez, and plant a giant fats kiss on his bald head. Barthez should not have minded, and the pre-game routine labored because the 1998 French males’s membership gained the World Cup that yr. This routine goes down within the pre-game ritual Corridor of Fame!

Brandon Wade/Getty Photos

Texas Rangers pitcher A.J. Griffin is multi-talented and makes use of his many abilities to assist put together for a recreation. Very similar to Usain Bolt and Brian Urlacher, Griffin doesn’t need to take into consideration the sport earlier than he has to. To assist take his thoughts off issues he performs guitar. Whereas his teammates heat up on the sphere taking batting apply and enjoying long-toss, A.J. Griffin hangs again and lays down a couple of candy licks. Considered one of his favourite bands to play is Led Zeppelin, whose tabs preserve him targeted on something however Baseball. The technique labored whereas in Oakland for the primary two years of his profession, though his final two years in Texas may need him strumming a brand new tune with an ERA over 5.00!

Alexander Hassenstein/Getty Photos

Ending up our listing of pre-game rituals that vary from the distinctive to the bizarre is three-time world Ironman champion Chrissie Wellington. Figuring out how critically she takes her sport, she prefers to remain lighthearted and unfastened throughout her pre-game ritual, watching family-friendly motion pictures and writing poetry. Her favourite film to observe earlier than a race is “Seabiscuit,” the identical identify she gave her race bike. When she wants a bit of further assist, she writes down the phrases to Rudyard Kipling’s poem, If on her water bottle. The inspirational poem by the writer of The Jungle E book tells the reader to think about themselves it doesn’t matter what. The religion that Wellington has in herself, and this pre-game ritual, has taken her far in her occupation. In truth, all of the athletes on this listing used their pre-game rituals to attain success of their extremely worrying and aggressive sports activities. Who is aware of, possibly certainly one of their rituals will be just right for you too!

[jemej3m]

Professor - pt 3

ehhhh oops?

read on ao3

Neil bit back a smile and tried not to seem like he was running off, but his pulse skipped every second beat, and he hadn’t had this itch to go since he’d been on the run. 

But this wasn’t running away. 

“Meet y’all back at the hotel?” Maggie murmured, speaking to Neil only. Neil’s head jerked, not really listening to anything except for when his coach would say “You’re free to go.” 

And then he did say those words, and Neil was running. 

Four months. Four months and twelve days and however many hours and however many minutes and seconds. Neil burst out through the back door, escaping the security that was going to escort them to their transportation, and veered to the left before he could be caught in an onslaught of fans. 

It was barely a block away, where Andrew had promised he’d stand. He’d driven all the way from Columbia down to Florida, because it was unbearable. Four months was a long time, for them. Travelling and promoting and sponsorships and award ceremonies that Andrew couldn’t accompany him to, because no one knew and he had a job of his own. 

Neil stopped short, out of breath, when he was five feet away. 

There was nothing more comforting than seeing Andrew’s eyes soften at the mere sight of him, than watching his arms drop from crossed over his chest, one hand extended. Neil took it, and instantly, there was nothing left he had to keep bottled up. 

“Yes.” Andrew said. 

Blinding, bruising, intoxicating, yes, yes, yes. Andrew was leaning against the car and Neil was leaning over him, forearms braced against the windows. 

It was, in hindsight, reckless and stupid to do this so close to the stadium. Both of them were equally as desperate and depraved of each other, and they should have at least gotten into the car. 

Neil supposed they were lucky it was only one person. 

“Oops.” 

He was taller than both of them by far, lips rolled into his mouth and eyes wide. Sweater, jeans, lace-up leather shoes and a black scarf around his neck contrasting with the Sprinters cap he wore.

He smiled hesitantly, but that didn’t help with the sick feeling in his stomach. “Uh. Long distance must be hard.” So he knew who Andrew was. “I’ll let you two go.”

Andrew was under Neil’s frame one moment and standing in front of the man the next. “Tell anyone about this, snitch, and I won’t hesitate to carve you inside out.” He spun a knife between his fingers. 

The man’s eyebrows rose up, but he seemed unfazed by Andrew’s threat. “How’d you know I was a reporter?”

“Notepad and pen in your pocket. Nicely dressed: How many people’s private lives had you sold to dress like that?”

“None.” He smiled. “I have my standards.”

“You must be a shit reporter.”

He gestured to himself. “I have my ways. You can put the knife away, Minyard. This is all off record.”

“Nothing’s off record with you lot.” Neil said, bitter. 

“I suppose.” The man tapped two fingers against the bill of his cap. “Which means you owe me.”

Neil’s teeth ground against each other. 

“When -- or if -- you two feel like coming out, I can cash it in then.” He pulled out his notepad and pen, scribbling out his name and number. “Have a nice evening.”

Karter Guess.

“Pretentious name for a pretentious asshole.” Andrew muttered, when they slid into the car. 

They didn’t want to acknowledge the close call that it’d been. Neil squeezed Andrew’s hand, trying to shove aside the heaviness in his chest. 

“He’s genuine, Neil.”

Neil nodded. 

Chrissie Lauyier wasn’t a sports reporter, but RUN had seemed to want her, for some strange, unknown reason. Journalism was tough: you took any fucking opportunity that was presented to you.

Six months later, she’d wormed her way out of covering live baseball games and sitting with two other women rate the attractiveness of basketball league players. It’d landed her with Exy: specifically, writing about Exy’s infamous.

She hadn’t known Kevin Day, nor Neil Josten, or Jean Moreau. But it was an incredibly intertwined mess: She’d found herself buying an Allison sports bra, though she went to the gym only once a week. The Exy league stemmed from it’s college league, and those school’s teams had an oddly intense following, of which the media actually covered.

There seemed to also be a lot of confusing and dramatic history for a sport 40 years old.

Andrew Minyard’s name had been deeply buried, in the depths of college Exy stars and statistics a decade old, Californian news articles even older.

By the time the day was through she was sitting at her desk, her head in her hands, having watched and read about his brief career in Exy and his personality as a whole.

There was a knock on her office cubicle’s wall. She grunted and didn’t look up to acknowledge who had arrived.

“Heard you got Minyard.”

She grunted again.

Karter Guess crouched by her desk and glanced at her screen, then up at her. “I got Josten. I’ll help you out.”

She spared him a look.

He grinned. “He owes me a favour.”

“Neil Josten owes you a favour?” Chris echoed. “How did you manage that?”

He cocked his head. “Irrelevant. But he’s the only way you’re going to convince Andrew to give you anything but a scathing look.”

Karter was less the creepy colleage and more the overbearing one who organised the Christmas parties and the outings on Friday evenings. They’d worked together once before and it’d gone well and smooth, but Chris had always preferred working on her own. Karter’d respected that.

It was probably time to get over herself, though, if she wanted to keep her job.

“Fine. Fine. But shove any more Starbucks and Instagram Aesthetics down my throat and I’ll throttle you.”

“You liked it.” He said offhandedly, standing from his crouch. He was really, tall to most people but her, because she was also pretty tall. They were almost the same height when she wore her heeled boots. “I’ll try and contact him this evening, but you need to book us flights to South Carolina Regional.”

“Why?” Chris didn’t exactly have the money for cruising around the country on her own free will.

“We’re paying Dan Wilds a visit: Don’t worry, RUN’s paying. And don’t you know? Palmetto is where Minyard teaches criminology.”

Chris was sitting on the hood of the rental car, because Karter’s an idiot and locked her out of it. It’s a grossly humid spring morning, and that strange second skin she always feels after going on planes is only just starting to peel off. Claustrophobia, probably. Something about fucked up childhoods and trauma. Chris can’t stop itching through her clothes.

She liked the crisp springs of Chicago, dustings of snow that melted as soon as they fell into the puddles. She hated the feeling of suspecting the back of her neck was being burnt, but there wasn’t anywhere she could really take cover nearby. She had no clue where Karter was, or why he was taking a while, and didn’t want to give him her number by texting him (They had ten dollars over it).

Her lack of comfort and boredom almost won out, but a tall (only an inch on her, though) man walking into the narrow path that lead to the Palmetto Exy stadium’s back door, where she assumed the Foxes got in an out. He paused and Chris heard a thump that sounded suspiciously like a fist on a steel door, and he stalked out again. 

Chris didn’t have the patience to deal with angry young men, but he bee-lined straight for her.

“Is that why you’re waiting?”

Chris cocked her head. “Not sure. Is what?”

“The door’s passcode’s changed.” He huffed and put his bag and racket down in front of Chris’ rental car, all green eyes and thick muscle wrapping around his limbs. There was a spot of concealer over his cheekbone.

“I’m just chilling here. Can I ask why your tattoo is covered?”

His scathing look transformed into something of mild surprise. “I just came from the airport. Most people don’t recognise me without it.”

“Unless they’re Exy addicts.” Chris’ head fell to the other side: She needed to work out the knots in her muscles, from being hunched over at her computer.

“Or reporters.”

Chris shrugged. “Guilty as charged. But it’s not you I’m interested in. Please, don’t look so surprised.”

“It’s not immodesty.” Kevin Day was a liar. He was as arrogant as a man could be. Which was very. “The lot of you usually are.”

“I don’t give a shit about your whole Raven scenario.”

“Well,” He said. “Makes sense. Not many people care about anything but the ghost over my shoulder.”

Chris felt a little bit bad. “I suppose it’d be the same for me, too. If I was famous.”

“Kevin Day.” He said, suddenly, offering his hand.

Chris took it. “Chris Lauyier. You don’t have to introduce yourself to me: I write feature articles for RUN: I know who you are.”

“Seems like you have a bad impression of me.”

“There’s a difference between real smiles and fake ones.” Chris smiled and pointed to it. “You’re pretty slick.”

Kevin’s smile wasn’t so much of a grin, but a stretch, where his lips thinned and his eyes narrowed a little. “You’re pretty observant.”

“What’re you doing down here? Path down memory lane?”

“Neil and I come back down every-so-often. Well, Neil’s here often enough.” His mouth twisted. “His team’s only the next state over: Spends a lot of time here. Off the record, right?”

“Do you see a pen and paper?”

“Some people have freakishly good memory.”

“Do not fear: I’m not one of them.”

Kevin nodded. “As I was saying -- Neil’s around here often enough, but usually doesn’t stop by Palmetto. We help out Dan.” Kevin arched his eyebrow. “And my father’s down here.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“Had a stroke two years ago. I think he appreciates the company -- and Dan appreciates the spare five minutes we give her.”

“Am I supposed to know who your father is?”

“Wymack?”

Chris shut her eyes. It took her a moment, and she nodded when she opened them.

“Strange that something so big to me, is completely nothing to you.”

“That’s generally how being strangers works.” He sent her a scathing look as she pulled out her phone and dialled the most recent number on her list.

Danielle Wilds picked up on the fourth ring. “Hello. It’s the reporter, isn’t it? Has your partner come back?”

“Not yet, but I’ve got a six-foot-two man with a high sense of self importance and a tendency to overshare with strangers angry about not being able to get through the door.”

Dan laughed. “I like you. Tell him I’ll be down in a minute.”

Kevin’s scowl was perpetually permanent when she hung up. “Rude.”

“They’re switching over security systems, so you can’t get through the door unless someone lets you in from the inside, or if you have the key. Have a nice day.”

“You aren’t coming in?”

“I’m waiting for my partner.” Chris tipped an imaginary hat. “Nice to meet you, Day. I’m new in sports, but expect me to be snooping around.”

“You lot always do.” He sighed, picking up his things. “Goodbye.”

Well, her pessimistic -- or was it sarcastic? -- nature could help but think: There’s the glorious Kevin Day. 

Karter returned approximately two minutes after Dan let Kevin through the door with two six-inch subs and two bottles of coke and joined her on the hood of the car.

“Have you been sitting here the entire time?”

“What the fuck were you doing?”

“Getting wifi at a coffee corner, down the road.”

Chris glared. “You could have told me. And given me the keys to the car, so I could at least have a nap.”

“Eat your sandwich.” He was smiling. “You were desperate to pee: I wasn’t going to distract you when I was sure you’d club me over the back of the head.”

Chris ate her sandwich, and kept her strange encounter with Kevin Day to herself.

It was set: Chris had a dinner date with the Andrew Minyard. Apparently a whole foot and an inch shorter than her, and as intimidating as he had been a handful of years ago, swatting exy balls like flies.

Chris would wear her heeled boots.

Karter was going for a more casual approach, meeting Neil Josten for coffee.

Dan Wilds, who also preferred a shortened version of her name like Chris did, was an incredibly pleasant woman, and Chris didn’t spare the word pleasant on just anyone.

“You’re worrying about what to wear.” Karter teased, in their hotel room. He was about to leave for late afternoon coffee, whereas Chris had a few hours left till their booking at an Italian place in Columbia. “This isn’t a date, Chrissie.”

“Enough with the Chrissie.” She snapped. “And I know it’s not a fucking date. Moron. I just -- I’m not sure if he’d appreciate casual or formal more. Don’t laugh, I’m trying to do my job! One wrong move and I’ll fuck this entire thing over, and won’t get a word out of him.”

“If you’re insincere, you won’t get a word out of him.” Karter said. “Don’t go out and buy anything: Don’t be ridiculous. That jumpsuit is fine. And the heeled boots.”

Chris stared. “Are you sure you’re not gay?”

“Are you sure you don’t play softball?” He threw back. “Maybe you should add a vest.”

“Fuck off.”

“And an undercut.”

“Fuck off.”

He walked out grinning.

When she walked in, Andrew was glad he was already sitting. Mostly because she was monstrously tall, though being short meant everyone was monstrously tall, but she was wearing heels on top of being over six-feet.

Excessive.

But Andrew was also glad to be sitting, because she was fifteen minutes late and he hated waiting around for people whilst standing.

He hated waiting in general, but he’d promised Neil to stick it out at least half an hour.

She’d already wasted 15 minutes, so Andrew only had to stare at her until she was too uncomfortable to say anything, eat his meal that he’d already ordered and she would pay for, tell her that Neil and him were married, and then leave.

Neil had already dealt with the other reporter, the one who’d already known about the two of them and had kept it quiet.

He was staring at her, but she was staring back. Level, unafraid, and most certainly not uncomfortable. Sometimes they started like that. Journalists liked to act more important than they were.

Five minutes after not back down, he slid the menu across the table. “Well played.”

“Thanks.” She flicked it open, scanned the menu and flipped it shut again. “Andrew Minyard.”

“Chrissie Lauyier.”

“It’s Chris.”

Andrew nodded. “I’ve already ordered.”

“Good.” She gestured to a waitress and didn’t smile, ordering one of the cheapest dishes and garlic bread for the two of them. Andrew appreciated it, even if he wouldn’t mention it. When the waitress left, she checked a watch on her wrist. “Karter’s already done hassling Neil, and he was oddly tolerant apparently. You just didn’t bother reacting or talking to the press at all, whilst in the spotlight back in the day, whereas Neil openly despises it.”

Andrew stared at her some more: She was fiddling with a thin silver chain around her wrist, flicking back the black hair cut to chin length with a jerk of her head. Fidgeting. “Bore me with more of your small talk.”

“Why does Neil owe a favour to Karter?”

“That’s a question your boy can answer himself, can’t he?”

“He’s refused, as of yet.” She flicked her hair again. The pendant on her necklace made a small tinkling noise as she moved her hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “You can’t tell me?”

Andrew could, but he didn’t want to spoil all the fun. “Why would I want to? Are you going to jump to the chase, or what.”

“I’m meant to get a full page interview from you about your views on Exy. How it worked into your life, why you chose it, how you played and why you continued to. Why you stopped, would you consider it again.” A curl of a single lip. “I’ve been told that exy is your absolute favourite subject.”

“If it was, I’d be teaching it. Speaking of -- is that bracelet from your mother? Which one?”

Chris froze.

Gotcha.

But he hadn’t snatched her for long: She eased up almost instantly. “Birth mother’s. Didn’t think anyone would bother digging down that deep.”

“Criminology professor.” He reminded her. “Did you kill your adoptive mother?”

“They thought I did, didn’t they?” Her knuckles were white. “Just because I haven’t had a nightmare about it for a little while now, doesn’t mean that I did it.”

“You were lucky.”

“To be adopted? I know.”

There was a moment of silence, a quiet understanding. The food arrived, prolonging the silence for a moment more.

“Why are you reporting sports?”

“Therapeutical.” She stabbed her fork into her pasta. “It has -- or so I thought -- nothing that people could connect to me -- or that I could relate to.”

“Welcome to the Foxes.”

And Andrew almost smiled into his food, but god forbid he smiled out here, and god forbid he smiled at anything other than Neil.

They finished in silence. Andrew could write 400 words on Exy, couldn’t he? That was simple enough, even if he loathed it.

He supposed he didn’t truly loathe it. He hated how it was what kept Neil alive, how he was merely a pawn in the Moriyamas’ twisted game. He hated how it had helped, in the end. It had been a stepping stone, a vital one, in meeting the right people, in getting better. Admitting it was proof.

He hated, though he wouldn’t say, and refused to regret -- but he hated how it took Neil away from him. He hated how it separated them.

And if he ever said that, Neil would drop everything for him. It was a mutual understanding: Nothing mattered more than the other.

He supposed that was love. Wouldn’t admit it. Wouldn’t dare.

When he finished, she was only halfway through. He traced the rim of his glass with a finger, and she looked up at him with pasta hanging out of her mouth with one eyebrow raised.

“You wanted to extract my opinion on Exy for your shitty magazine, didn’t you?”

She finished her mouthful, lifted her napkin to wipe her mouth and settled back in her chair, taking her time. “I did. It’s not, however, a shitty magazine. Think of it like the Vogue of the sports world: This is an Exy special.”

“And you wanted my opinion.”

“An abstract opinion.”

“Wymack.” Andrew held up one finger. “Danielle Wilds. Jean Moreau. Jeremy Knox.”

“Already being covered.”

“Then what’s the use for mine?”

“Abstract.” She reminded him. “Shortest goalie in Exy’s short history, and yet didn’t give a shit if strikers made fun of his height, shooting goals straight over your head.”

Andrew looked at her flatly.

“Or couldn’t you reach them?” She didn’t smile: She didn’t look smug. She did seem to be enjoying herself though.

“Do you want to keep your job?” He asked, after a moment of stretched silence.

She sighed. “Sorry. I’ll stop.”

He almost rolled his eyes.

“You’re welcome to call me a giraffe at any time, though.” She leaned over to rummage through her bag.

Andrew did roll his eyes. “I’m not immature.” He paused. “Empire State.”

She pursed her lips. “Funny.”

There was a thin folder slid across the table: She picked her fork up and continued to eat.

He flicked open the folder: It was a basic questionnaire. He looked back up.

“Figured you’d rather not talk so much. Write out your answers to all of those, and it should be enough for me to fill a page.”

“It’s quite a few.”

She gave him a flat look. “You rather I stretch things and fill the page with bullshit?”

Andrew noted the last question: Is there any presence of Exy left in your life now?

He could work with this.

He nodded: “I’ll give it over to you tomorrow.”

“You can email it, here, I should have written it at the bottom --”

He stood up with the folder, finished his glass of water. “You’re paying.”

She watched him go.

Is there any presence of Exy left in your life now?

It’d be hard to avoid, when your husband’s in the professional league. Josten’s team’s jerseys aren’t warm, or comfortable, so I usually wear his old Palmetto State hoodie. Up your standards, Sprinters. Deplorable.

“Oh.”

Karter grinned. Neil Josten had his arms crossed, unimpressed with anything this early in the morning. Andrew -- it felt weird to refer to him as anything but his first name, despite not being on a first name basis -- was watching the tendrils of smoke curl from one end of his cigarette, hanging loosely from between two fingers. Neil glanced at him and saw it’s dying embers, stealing it to take a drag and slotted it neatly back into where it’d been.

Professional athletes shouldn’t be smoking.

“Well, thank you.” Chris decided that was appropriate, but she was internally screaming. This was the biggest -- the biggest -- thing she could imagine, hope and dream for. Not only coming out, but a secure relationship status?

She didn’t stare at the two tiny men, who could probably both snap her in half, who had two cats and a home and probably sat in the quiet together, sharing cigarettes and talking about anything other than Exy. She didn’t stare.

“There’s plenty for me to work with here.” She nodded.

Neil nodded. Andrew’s gaze flitted briefly from the cigarette to Chris, and then to Neil. And then back to the cigarette.

“No problem.” Neil said, voice quiet.

“Tie it off with me, Neil?” Karter offered. Chris wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but they wandered off together.

“I don’t want to deal with them.” Andrew said. Chris glanced at him.

“I’ll keep as much of the press of your back as I can. It should die down eventually.”

“That’s all I ask.” His head tipped to the side. “Will it affect his career?”

“Hasn’t affected his performance, has it?” Chris shrugged. “He’ll probably lose some rednecks, but that’s probably a good thing.”

Andrew said nothing.

“Who proposed? Am I allowed to ask that?”

“No.” He said, coldly. “You are no more than acquaintance.”

“Oh, of course.” Chris promised. “Was it during college?”

He remained an emotionless slate. Chris was good at reading people, but not if there wasn’t anything to read. Not as of yet. Unless he wasn’t joking about the whole acquaintance thing.

“It was. Cute.”

“Don’t.”

She smothered a grin.

“Was he a good father?”

The grin fell. “Way to darken the mood, Minyard.”

“I have no emotions.” He said. “Was he?”

“Not my birth father.” She smiled. “Adoptive, however. Was good to me, even after his wife died. I was all her idea: I thought I’d be cast aside when she was gone, and when all the rush died down. Wasn’t, though. I was lucky.”

Another moment of silence.

“The sexual tension between you and your boytoy is almost intolerable.” He decided. “Act on that.”

She frowned. “He thinks I’m gay. And dating a coworker is never a good idea.”

“Not my problem, Lauyier. Just fix it by the time I see you again.”

“So we’re seeing each other again?”

He glared. “When’s your flight?”

She checked her phone. “10 minutes till check-in. Did you feed the cats breakfast before you left?”

Andrew stalked off. Chris allowed herself to laugh, just a little.

“Where the fuck is Lauyier’s article? The magazine is going to be printed in two days.”

“Tomorrow morning.” Karter said, calmly. He checked his watch: Half an hour till he could clock out, and then he’d asked Chris to give him an hour and a half to get ready, fill up his car with gas and swing by her place.

Dinner down on the Chicago river. It was going to be nice.

Karter had been in denial, and thinking Chris was gay had been a good mechanism. Turns out: He was wrong, and that was currently working in his favour.

“Why is she handing it in so late? In fact -- why is she handing it in with you? What’s so special about the two of you?”

Karter’s supervisor had no right to be snitching about Chris’ due dates, when she wasn’t Chris’ supervisor. Karter looked at her over the rim of his glasses. “That’s for me to know, and you to stop pestering me about.”

“I’ve had it up to here --” She motioned above her head. “With you.”

“Shame you're only the substitute supervisor: you can’t fire me.” Karter turned back around and started popping his fingers.

“I can, and I will.” She snarled, stomping away.

Maybe she didn’t deserve all the shit Karter gave her. Maybe only some of it.

He relaxed in his chair. They’d had a handful of editors look over each of their featuring articles, but it’d remained hush-hush. Karter was both looking forward to when it was released, and what it’d amount to for his career, but also remembered watching Neil and Andrew’s quiet: Their small, impenetrable space. It was about to be blown to pieces on Wednesday, when they would be meeting with Neil and Andrew after his game in New York, to plan the announcement. Wednesday evening they would post a cryptic photo with wedding rings and black-and-white filters, and Thursday RUN would be released.

It would go smoothly. Karter would make sure of it.

Something hit his chair, and he cracked an eye open.

And smiled.

“Hello.”

Chris was scowling, and kicked his chair again. “What should I wear?”

“I don’t know, Chris.”

“Is it a fancy restaurant?”

“Look it up?”

She huffed.

“Wear whatever you want, honey.”

“Call me that, and I’ll castrate you.” She stalked off.

“You’re sounding more and more like Minyard everyday, Lauyier!” Karter yelled after her. “Sounds like you two are getting even more buddy-buddy after every phone call!”

The distant “Fuck off!” made him grin wider.

A voice from the next cubicle over said: “Gross, Guess. She’s like a foot taller than him, and they’re both brick walls. They’re a match made in hell.”

Karter only laughed.

sufficient??? let me know :D