#and the potential of neil and Jean????

[amalias-whatsoever]

question for the aftg fans. how come that neil says he has no friends but he is bestie with everyone?

[willofred]

literally the funniest part abt the perfect court is the height dynamic cause u would think between Jean, Kevin, and Neil that it’s Neil and his scary dogs but it is Neil, the scary dog, and his two trauma bonded ride alongs

[crazy-fangirl2524]

Kandrew is doomed as soon as Andrew choked Kevin the same way Kevjean is doomed as soon as Kevin left Jean behind

[purpleelephantsocks]

What I really want to know is after Neil came back from his Cali visit-a-friend take-out-a-hit piss-off-the-FBI One Day Holiday, what, if anything, does he tell Kevin??

When Kevin asks "how is he?" How does Neil answer?

Did he tell him that he showed up to Jean beaten and bitten and terrified? That he left him with the knowledge that his little sister that he hoped was safe had been sold and killed?

Did he tell Kevin that another of his former teammates was going to end up in the ground? That he made sure of it? Did he tell him before it was plastered on the news, or watch for his reaction?

Did he confront Kevin, asking if he knew? If he knew what Grayson did? What he was to Jean?

[jeanmoreaue]

Different anon, but how do you think Kevin would rank the characters as players?

ooo i want to say that Kevin would be objective about everyone’s abilities and i think he largely is buuut i think he lets some bias sneak in there with Riko, Neil, and Jean so his list in order of talent is:

1. Kevin

2. Riko

3. Neil

4. Jean

5. Andrew

6. Jeremy

everyone else is on a separate list to him

[kevindavidday]

will graham 🤝 andrew minyard

collecting strays

[bisexualfagdyke]

Neil & Jean brothers. Neil & Jean sibling dynamic. Does anyone hear me.

[unwillingtoreachout]

Yapping warning but I've been thinking of an aftg x soul eater fusion and just.... ✨The Possibilities✨

Like at first I was like meister Neil with twin weapons Aaron+Andrew (like death the kid AND them being guns would make sense too bc then you can parallel that scene where Neil reaches for his pistol and knocks Andrew's arm instead). But then I pondered further and realised that Kevin as death the kid would make more sense (which would make asura Riko I guess) and you know what? That opens the door for NEIL AS CRONA, like that could be so interesting to explore

To be honest, some part of me wants to inject this with the neilaaron worms so maybe Neil as maka and Aaron as soul could work too, and maybe his struggle with the madness could be related to his relationship with Andrew in some way (*cough cough* his inferiority complex and resentment about tilda mayhaps)

[aalyre]

WHAT KILLS ME ABOUT LOST FOREVER PARTIER NEIL JOSTEN AND JEAN MOREAU IS THAT NEIL WOULD HAVE TAKEN NUMBER 3 AND JEAN WOULD HAVE BEEN NUMBER 4

[exy-shmexy]

you know what i need? andrew joining the same pro team as jeremy in his first year as a pro player and the both of them unexpectedly forming some kind of weird friendship no one understands. grumpy and sunshine but purely platonic

bonus point if they end up roommates for a bit

[ionlydrinkhotwater]

See one of the unrealized beautiful things about Jean and Neil's friendship is that the more they hang out, the more their boyfriends have to hang out, too. Andrew and Jeremy actually have a lot of potential as friends, Andrew actually likes nice people, i think Jeremy is capable of getting Andrew to talk with him, they are both blonde Californians with dark taste in partners, they hate cops, they have weird relationships with their siblings, but they take mental health seriously, and they dont make Exy their whole personality. While Jean and Neil are having a complicated crime filled lovehate, "we are brothers from the same messed up family" friendship. Jeremy and Andrew could actually develop a really nice, uncomplicated friendship where they babysit the others' bf when they are in town.

[waestlandbaby]

The way Neil Josten switched into Nathaniel in order to process and handle the abuse and trauma of being found by his father's people and the reality of his looming death will never not fuck me up, he literally said I can't handle this but maybe the Butcher's son could. And then. And then!! The way those two versions of himself coalesce into Neil Abram Josten (legally recognised) after Nathan is dead and the truth is out? The Neil Josten we see in The Sunshine Court has all of the attachments of Neil Josten, the slow unraveling of family and care but all of the hard edges of Nathaniel, unflinching from the reality of the world he lives in and the decisions he has to make to keep his life. Nathaniel would never have stuck around long enough to care about Jean Moreau and call a hit out on his abuser. Neil would never have trusted those resources available to him (or potentially the trail it could leave) in order to deal with the problem in one brutal but efficient move. But Neil Abram Josten reforged could, would and did.

[fairvstairs]

You just don't get him like I do.

Wymack pulled a bottle of vodka out of the bag and put it down beside Kevin. “You have ten seconds to inhale as much of this as you can. I’m timing you. Go.” It was alarming how much a man could drink when he needed an emotional crutch. Wymack had to pry the bottle from Kevin’s desperate fingers afterward.

Kevin was silent for an endless minute, then said, “You should be  Court.” It was barely a whisper, but it cut Neil to the bone. It was a resentful goodbye to the bright future Kevin had wanted for Neil. Kevin recruited Neil because he believed in  Neil’s potential. He brought him to the Foxes intending to make a star athlete out of him. Despite his condescending attitude and his dismissals of Neil’s best efforts Kevin honestly expected Neil to make the national team after graduation.

“Good thing you’re not there anymore.” “Jean still is.”

“Let Riko be King,” Kevin said, with the exaggerated enunciation of the thoroughly sloshed. “Most coveted, most protected. He’ll sacrifice every piece he has to protect his throne. Whatever. Me?” Kevin gestured again, meaning to indicate himself but too drunk to get his hand higher than his waist. “I’m going to be the deadliest piece on the board.”

Before he stepped on Kevin tapped the butt of his racquet against the floor and passed his stick to his other hand. He stroked to half-court head high and left-handed and the crowd went wild.  

[margareturtle]

Just thinking about how Jean Moreau is one of the best backliners in Class I exy but I don’t think anyone has even seen his peek potential yet

Just thinking about how Neil is able to match Riko at every turn with his speed at the Final Raven v Foxes match and he catches Riko by surprise since Riko is not expecting Neil in top form as when Neil was at the nest he only got on the court after being beat and his physical condition only got worse as the weeks progressed.

So just thinking that about how Jean has never played an Exy game not in pain. He is one of the best even while always playing in pain somewhere on his body. So I can’t wait to see Jean realize what he can do when he finally gets to play when he’s not in pain.

And for everyone to realize that they’ve seen Jean Moreau play but they haven’t seen Jean Moreau play

[transform4u]

A Wish is a Dream Your Dick Makes

Neil is the epitome of bright-eyed enthusiasm and unbridled optimism. His personality is cheerful, with an infectious, bubbly charm that lights up any room. As a cute, twinky Disney gay and aspiring actor, he carries a wholesome, carefree attitude that makes him a delight to be around. With his effervescent smile and twinkling eyes, he seems to float through life, his every gesture imbued with a vibrant energy that's as endearing as it is genuine.

However, Neil's acting career has hit a frustrating snag. He often finds himself pigeonholed into roles that emphasize his youthful, adorable demeanor, reducing his range to the "cute, twink" stereotype. It's a limiting typecasting that stifles his dreams of exploring more diverse and substantial characters. He often wished he could be taken more seriously, more a leading man.

One afternoon, while working from home, Neil’s agent calls with a spark of excitement in their voice. They mention a new role and promise to send over the script immediately. Just moments later, Neil hears the doorbell ring. Bounding to the door with his usual vivacity, he finds an envelope waiting for him. The envelope, crisp and pristine, contains the script that his agent promised.

He eagerly tears open the package, his excitement palpable. Without pausing to fully take in the details, he unfolds the script. The first line of dialogue catches his eye: “We’re about to hit those PRs like it’s no big deal, fam.” He reads the line aloud, his lisp giving it a playful twist. He attempts to repeat it in a deeper voice, trying to adjust his tone to fit the character, but his attention is abruptly seized by a strange sensation.

As Neil continues to hold the script, his delicate, thin hands start to tingle and pulse with a peculiar energy. The feeling intensifies, and he finds himself sinking to his knees, overwhelmed by a wave of transformation.

Before his eyes, his once slender frame undergoes a dramatic metamorphosis. His skin, previously fair and smooth, darkens into a deep, rich brown tan. His body begins to shift and grow, muscles expanding and reshaping with an almost surreal fluidity. His physique evolves into a monument of gym dedication and protein shakes.

His abs, now a landscape of sculpted granite, form ridges and valleys so pronounced they seem chiseled by an artist's hand. His biceps swell into massive, bulging forms, veins coursing beneath his skin like an intricate network of rivers. His chest, once slender, expands into a robust expanse, with pecs so prominent they create a formidable shelf. His shoulders are like massive boulders, each movement underscored by their immense strength. His traps rise with a power that suggests he has not just carried his own weight but perhaps the entire gym’s.

This new form exudes a swaggering confidence, an embodiment of raw power and dedication. It’s a striking contrast to the previous Neil, and it marks a dramatic shift not just in appearance but in the potential for his acting career.

Neil stared at the line, his mind turning to mush as he read the words "Gonna flex those muscles and flex my way into her DMs, you know what I’m saying?" over and over again. He felt his intelligence slowly slipping away, becoming dumber and dumber with each passing moment. The line was like a poison, infecting his brain with its crude and crude thoughts.

As he read on, Neil's memories began to change, becoming crude and rude. He remembered a kiss he had with his boyfriend, the feeling of his lips on his own making him shudder with pleasure. But this memory was quickly replaced by a snarl, his face contorting in disgust at the idea of sleeping with another man. The image of his boyfriend slowly morphed into a big-boobed, slutty white chick, her ample breasts and tight jeans making Neil's mouth water.

He flexed his muscles, feeling like a dumb, obnoxious fuckboi. Neil grabbed a beer from the fridge, the cold can feeling good in his hand. He cracked it open with a loud hiss, the sound making him let out a buuuurrrrp that echoed through the room. "Ah, yeah!" he exclaimed, feeling like the king of the world. Neil's mind was a mess, but he didn't care. He was too busy being a dumb, obnoxious fuckboi to worry about anything else.

As he sat on the couch, beer in hand, Neil's thoughts turned to the chick he had just imagined. He pictured her in his mind, her big boobs and tight jeans making him feel all hot and bothered. He flexed his muscles again, feeling like a total stud. Neil's mind was a jumbled mess, but he didn't care. He was too busy being a dumb, obnoxious fuckboi to worry about anything else. He could almost see the girl's face, her makeup smeared and her hair a mess. She was the epitome of everything Neil despised, a shallow, superficial creature who only cared about one thing. Neil's distaste for her was overwhelming, and he couldn't help but wonder what she would think if she knew how pathetic she was. "Gonna flex those muscles and flex my way into her DMs," he repeated to himself, his voice deepening slighlty.

His muscles responded to this newfound resolve with a dramatic surge. His biceps, already impressive, began to inflate even further, their size expanding rapidly as if they were inflating under the pressure of an unseen force. Each flex of his arms brought about a visible increase in their bulk, the veins beneath his skin becoming more pronounced as they snaked their way up his arms.

Simultaneously, his chest began to swell, his pecs pushing outward and upward with a forceful expansion. They grew so robust and full that they seemed to defy the constraints of his previous form, creating a massive shelf that commanded attention. His abs, once a well-defined set of ridges, began to expand and redefine themselves into an awe-inspiring landscape of muscular strength. Each muscle was honed to perfection, their definition more pronounced, their mass more substantial.

With this transformation came an intense, almost unbearable pain. It felt as though every fiber of his being was being stretched and restructured. Neil gritted his teeth as the pain coursed through him, his muscles burning with a fierce intensity that seemed to push against his skin, almost as if it were struggling to contain the newly burgeoning bulk. His breathing became labored, each inhalation sharp and ragged as his body adapted to the rapid changes.

As the beer finished, Neil let out another large buurrrrrrrp, feeling proud of himself for being so manly. He thought about his old friends, and how much they were losers. They were all gay, and Neil felt a wave of homophobia wash over him. He thought about how gross and disgusting they were, how they went against his faith. He thought about how he was better than them, how he was a real man and they were just a bunch of fags. The thought of them made him sick, and Neil felt a wave of disgust wash over him.

Neil's voice started to tingle as he read the next line, a sense of excitement building up inside of him. His eyes scanned the words quickly, but his brain picked up every detail. He could almost hear the deep, gravelly voice that was describing this swagger. "No cap, my swagger is as legendary as an Arabian stallion's!" he read, repeating the line in his head. Suddenly, his voice started to change. It got deeper, like a growl, and he could almost hear an accent creeping into his words. "No cap, my swagger is as legendary as an Arabian stallion's!" he repeated again, feeling the words taking on a new meaning. His mind started to shift, like a puzzle clicking into place. He could feel a sense of entitlement washing over him, a feeling that he was something special, something legendary. His personality started to take over, becoming the most obnoxious Middle Eastern douchebag.

His face started to change, shifting into a thick, furry beard and piercing brown eyes. He felt his nose growing, his cheeks puffed out and his chin jutting out. His hair grew wild and curly, sticking out in all directions. He flexed his huge muscles, grinning as he felt their power surge through him. He turned to his side, picking up his Instagram and scanning through the pictures. "Ah, another day in the life of a legendary Arabian stallion," he said, posting a new picture of himself. His followers started to comment, congratulating him on his swagger. Neil grinned, feeling like he was the king of the world.

He started to dance, his hips swaying from side to side as he moved his body. "No cap, my swagger is as legendary as an Arabian stallion's!" he sang, his voice echoing off the walls. He was in his own little world, a world where he was the biggest and the best. No one else mattered, nothing else existed. He was the one and only Arabian stallion, the most legendary creature in the land.

Neil's dance turned into a run, his feet pounding the ground as he moved. He could feel his heart pounding, his body surging with energy. He was in his prime, the greatest Arabian stallion the world had ever seen. His muscles rippled beneath his skin as he ran, his sweat dripping down his face. He was untouchable, unstoppable, the king of the land.

Rami threw the script down, the page of the script for the character he was reading on the front page reading, "Rami 'The Sultan' Al-Karim is a 24-year-old muscle-bound show-off with a deep tan, perfectly styled hair, and an ego to match. Constantly flaunting his gym gains and cheesy pickup lines, he's the epitome of cringey Gen Z bravado with a Middle Eastern flair." Neil was dead, and in his place stood Rami, an obnoxious entitled middle eastern douchebag. Rami let out a loud scream, "Gah. What the fuck is this script, acting is for fags!" He jumped up from his chair, his face turning bright red with rage. He stormed over to his phone, his fingers flying across the screen as he scrolled through his Instagram and Twitter feed. Rami's fingers flew across the screen as he scrolled through his Twitter feed. He came across a tweet from a guy, "I love how gay men are always so sensitive." Rami let out a loud laugh, his fingers flying across the screen as he typed out a response, "Lol, what a fag. You must be a closeted homo, always talking about gay men." He sent the tweet, his eyes scanning the screen for a response. A few minutes later, the guy responded with a tweet, "At least I'm not a stupid Gen Zer who thinks they're a Sultan." Rami let out a loud laugh, his fingers flying across the screen as he typed out a response, "get bent, fag! You can't handle a real man!!!!"

Rami's eyes landed on a picture of a slutty white girl on instagram, her tits spilling out of her top. He let out a loud groan, his dick starting to get hard. He quickly typed out a message, "Hey cutie, what's up? You look so hot, I need to get you in my bed ASAP." He sent the message, his eyes scanning the screen for a response. A few minutes later, the girl sent him a picture of her tits. Rami let out a loud groan, his dick getting even harder. He quickly typed out a response, "Oh my god, you're so hot. I need to get you in my bed now." He sent the message, his eyes scanning the screen for a response.

Rami's dick was getting so hard that he could barely stand it. He quickly jumped up from his chair, his fingers flying across the screen as he snapped a picture of his dick. The picture showed his huge, hard dick, his balls hanging low. He quickly typed out a caption, "Just got so hard, I need to get laid ASAP." He sent the picture, his eyes scanning the screen for a response.

[simonsrosebud]

the reality of andrew and neil potentially marrying for benefits is that neil likely wouldn’t change his name because josten is his. it is this little bundle of feeling that he clings fiercely. he fought and struggled and suffered for that name and he got to keep it in the end. and yes, hyphenating it with minyard still means he gets to keep it, but it’s not the same.

neil wears josten across his back when he wins gold, writes josten on his first lease and contract when he finally makes a life for himself on his own in a new city again but this time as a real person. as someone who is known and hated and loved and seen.

neil is sentimental about keys, but we’ve seen the same importance of names- all of them. nathaniel, abram, wesninski, josten. “can i really be neil again?” and “Neil Abram Josten," Neil murmured, and it felt like waking up from a bad dream.” and “Are you going to keep it as-is, then? Jean Moreau?” and “I don't want to be Nathaniel. I want to be Neil Josten. ”

plus, i doubt either of them would care to change all that shit anyway. too much paperwork. they’re not showy with their affectation in public, so flaunting their relationship to the public by way of matching jersey names probs wouldn’t be their route regardless