#the original meme is spongebob just ignore that this isn’t about him

[gracieblood]

[rosesisupposes]

62, Remile

62. “If you can’t sleep…we could have sex?” 

Did you know I’ve never actually written a bed-sharing scene? It’s clearly time and past. Thus, a bit longer than intended 😅

Word count: 1,462

Prompt List [Requests Closed]

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Emile tapped their fingers happily on the wheel, singing at the top of their lungs to the music blasting from his car’s speakers.

“I know a place that’s always exciting, the shows and the sights and the lights that are blinding: Empire City! I’m talking Empire City!”

“It’s the Empire State, hun.”

“Shhh, let me and Greg sing,” Emile shot back with a smile. 

Remy rolled his eyes fondly. “You know you won’t get to sing along with Ro, right?”

Emile grinned without taking their eyes off the road. “Yes, I do. Until Broadway finally starts those sing-a-longs we all really want!”

Remy leaned back, settling his sunglasses once more. “Sureee, yup, that’ll definitely catch on.”

“Roman could be the one to start them!”

“…look, I obviously believe in him and know he’s gonna kill it, but he only just got to the level of understudying with an original cast. It’ll be a couple years at least before he changes the literal face of Broadway.”

Emile bounced a little in their seat. “I know! But soon! I’m so excited, I haven’t seen him perform live since… oh gorsh, it must have been when he was still a freshman!”

“Was that when I last dragged you to a show?”

“No, that’s when you knew I would be incredibly disappointed if he was in Spongebob The Musical and you didn’t bring me,” Emile replied happily. 

“Hey, what’re former roommates for,” Remy drawled.

“Lending you a car when you want to get to your baby brother’s show with barely a full day’s notice?” Emile suggested impishly.

“Yeah, that’s a perk too. Thank you again, by the way.”

“Not a problem at all! I only wish we could make it up in a single day!” Emile said. They were somewhere in North Carolina, and the sun was about to disappear completely below the horizon. Emile had had clients until noon, so they hadn’t hit the road until one. 

“Eh, crashing overnight isn’t the worst thing on a road trip like this.”

“And we’ll even get to stop in the state’s capital city!”

“Really?”

“No, Raleigh!”

Remy fell dramatically against his window, groaning. “You set that up on purpose.”

“Mayybbbeee,” Emile responded, grinning hugely. “Also, I called ahead to a hotel that my cousin works at, they were able to get us a room despite the crowds this weekend. No motels for these two buds!”

“Oh bless you, babes, maybe we can even get some decent coffee in the morning,” Remy said reverently.

They’d driven in the dark an hour longer when they finally reached the hotel. Remy offered to carry both their bags (a small duffel for Emile and a lumpy backpack for Rem) as Emile went in to talk to the front desk.

When Remy caught up, Emile looked sheepish. They caught sight of Remy and waved half-heartedly.

“What’s up?”

“There was apparently a miscommunication with my cousin,” they replied. “She apparently didn’t get that we are former roommates, not current, and got us a single room.”

“Hey, that’s fine, you don’t snore, or at least you didn’t.”

Emile shook their head. “It’s a single room. With a single bed.”

Remy lifted his glasses. “You’re shitting me.”

“No, it’s just the only-”

“Shhh, Em, don’t speak,” Remy interrupted. “I’ve been waiting for this day my entire life.” He came up close to Emile and rested his head on their shoulder, before stage-whispering, “And there was only one bed!”

Emile snorted and reached around awkwardly to pat Remy’s head. “I’m not sure what you’re quoting but I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“All those cartoons, and you don’t know any memes?” Remy asked incredulously. “Anygay, yeah, it’s like a queen or king, right? We’ll be fine. It’ll be just like college.”

Emile smiled, taking their bag back from Remy’s hand. They accepted the key cards from the desk attendant and led the way to the room.

It took him three tries due to excitement, but Remy finally the got the door open, bursting through as he exclaimed, “And they were roommates!”

Emile passed him in a blur to dive onto the queen-sized bed, bouncing back with a cackle of glee. Remy dropped his bag and imitated his friend, completing his own reference with a whispered, “oh my god they were roommates.”

Emile leaned back into the pillows, eyes closed. “Rem, are these more mey-meys?”

“…babe, you’re killing me.”

“So that’s a yes? What do they mean?”

“This one’s a Vine, that’s the whole thing, it’s kinda implied something gossip-worthy happened between said roommates.”

Emile nodded sagely. “And what’s the dramatic ‘only one bed’ thing?”

“It’s this dumb trope where convoluted events lead to two characters having to share a bed, and by the end of the night, they’re cuddling or, ya know,” Remy finished, waggling his eyebrows.

His friend giggled. “Aww, Rem, you coulda just asked, you didn’t need to plan all this!”

Remy shoved them lightly. “Hun, you’re not allowed to tease me. I dish it out, I don’t take it.”

Emile messed up Remy’s styled hair. “After all the times you sexiled me, I’m allowed to make fun of you all I want. And I’m taking the first shower, too, before you use up all the hotel’s hot water.”

That night, wrapped in unfamiliar sheets and the thick shadow of night, Remy cursed silently. He hadn’t shared a bed all through the night in… well, nevermind the specifics, it had just been a while, okay? Had it always been this distracting? He was aware of Emile’s every move, every little shift on the mattress as they clearly fell asleep without a moment’s thought. 

He moved carefully, shifting to his side, and immediately realized his mistake. Now he was facing Emile, and there was no way he’d be able to ignore how their breaths kept blowing that tiny piece of pink hair out of their face or how different their face looked without glasses. He sighed and slowly rolled over to lie on his other side, facing away. He tried to snuggle into his pillow, only to realize a streetlight was piercing the curtains at just the right angle to hit his eye.

He rolled fully onto his stomach and sank his face into the pillow with a defeated sigh.

“Are you still awake?” he heard from his right.

“Em? You’re ‘wake?” he mumbled back.

“‘M drifting in and out. Have you gotten to sleep at all?”

“No.”

“If you can’t sleep…we could have sex?” 

Remy’s brain came to a screeching halt. “Huh?”

Emile wriggled closer, smiling. “Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen? From your memes? We’re here together, just old roommates, and there’s only the one bed…”

Their closeness and innocent-seeming smile as they talked about this was keeping Remy’s brain solidly out of commission. “Buh?”

“Oh my goodness, I made him speechless,” Emile stage-whispered. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime event!”

That was enough for Remy to recover, somewhat. “Not your typical type of joke, Em, ‘m just surprised.”

“Who said I was joking?”

Remy looked up into Emile’s open face with wide eyes. Emile? The friend he’d made in the very first week of college? The one he’d roomed with for all four years? The one he’d crushed on so very terribly but suppressed it to maintain their friendship?

“You…? We could-? You meant it?” he stuttered out.

“I mean, I presume you still remember how it works, you had enough practice back in the day,” Emile smirked. Then their face softened. “But yes, I meant it. I’ve always meant it, Rem. Even though I knew I wasn’t fun enough for you back in undergrad.”

“But I thought I was too extra for you, too much partying and shit while you were still so sheltered?” Remy blurted out.

Emile reached out hesitantly and brushed soft fingers through Remy’s hair. “I won’t lie and say I wanted that lifestyle, but I was willing to try it out if it had been with you.”

“I… how did we both miss this, all these years?”

Emile shrugged. “We have a chance to fix it now, right?”

Remy nodded, smiling softly, and carefully looped his arm around their torso. “Despite the jokes- I don’t want to have sex with you tonight. I want to make this count.”

“Me too. How does cuddling sound?”

“Not to be a soft bitch, but that sounds wonderful.”

“Yeah right, you’ve always been a soft bitch.”

Remy blushed. “Only around you.”

Emile pulled Remy more properly into their arms and laid his head on their chest. “I’m honored, then. Let’s get some rest, yeah? Still gotta get to NYC to watch Ro kill it tomorrow.”

“Sounds good, hun. And Emile?”

“Yeah?”

“We were roommates.”

Emile grinned hugely and responded, “Oh my god, we were roommates.”

[amillingcove-blog]

amillingcove - 01

2017 (1st Quarter) Preview

The humble boxing blog. As in demand as an WBU title shot. Essentially, the written equivalent of the CSI franchise; once you've seen one, you've seen em all. This blog is in part the product of both a love for the sport and a searing dislike of the day job. More the latter than the former admittedly, but nevertheless I will try to articulate my love of the sport in a post at some point in the future. To inaugurate this fleeting blog though, which will presumably have a shelf life akin to Scott Quigg’s reign as World Champion, I have reverted to the Meat and Potato of sports writing. A tedious and ill informed look into what 2017 offers the Sport. And why not just focus on British fighters. In the spirit of our new Brexit Overlords, where internationalism is sadly deemed a dissent relic of the past.

Haye vs Bellew (March 4th 2017, 02 Arena, London)

Eagerly anticipating the expected announcement of Vince McMahon as guest referee, this bout should probably climax around the final presser in late February. Its a fight which fits the fashion of 2016. Not only is the underdog Bellew considered technically inferior to Haye, he is stepping up weights to take the fight. For me, there’s a clear bounty on Bellew’s head, and it fortunately for him, pays well for both fighters. As such Haye should be a step too far for the Liverpudlian. Think Everton/Villarreal in the 2005 Champions League playoffs. Could be mistaken, but I thinks that’s who Bellew supports, right? Yet maybe not. There could be a danger of perhaps underselling this. Both Chisora and Whyte can sit smugly as prima facie evidence that the ‘insight’ of the boxing fraternity can be proved so very wrong. Could there be a shock on the cards, could this actually materialise into an interesting fight?

An important side note is that Chisora and Whyte fought in the dying light of the year of our lord 2016. 2016, the year that Lucas Browne became Heavyweight World Champion. Yes Lucas Browne. World Heavyweight Champion. Donald Trump, Leicester City, Brexit, David Bowie. But more importantly Lucas Browne yeah. So the year should basically be written off as a stained outlier of our human epoch. One that should never be mentioned again. Probably on a similar tone nor should this fight. The hand speed previewed by Haye in that first press conference gave a frighteningly small glimpse of the physical proficiency of Haye. Assessing their relative records, Haye stands only to have been beaten once by a better fighter. He lost the Thompson fight because of ill discipline, a propensity to work too hard at the wrong moments. His only other defeat against the much bigger Vladimir Klitschko. Who at that time was surely at his peak. Bellew, naturally smaller than Haye, has been more active; and has fought opponents in the last 18 months with actual Wikipedia pages. But you do sense that both Flores and Makubu (Bellews greatest scalp) don't posses anything close to the speed, range or technical ability of Haye.

As you may denote, I am slightly pessimistic about both Bellew’s chances and the fight itself. A scripted rivalry which hinges on one incorrectly calling the other Spongebob Squarepants, and the other, perhaps correctly, a bellend. The state of boxing circa 2017. It can and probably will be rescued by a solid knockout. A hook ideally thrown from Haye’s hip. The type that gets written into future memes. The type of KO so brutal your da’ will be trying to show you it on Facebook three months later. Haye, even at 36 should demolish Bellew. And look to move onto Joshua in time.

Joshua/Klitschko (April 19th 2017, Wembley Stadium, London)

And so moving onto Joshua myself and to a heavyweight bout which should actually carry some significance. Klitschko, now 56 years old, sleeping rough in his car outside Matchroom HQ is expected to help break Carl Froch’s record (and in the process his heart) by boxing in front of 90,000 at Wembley Stadium. Yet even those 40 quid seats up in the high heavens of North West London should be able to anticipate whats coming. Vlad looks desperate for one last cheque. Fury, whilst technically impotent, proved in Germany the endemic frailties of an ageing Klitschko. Fury and Joshua are two polemic fighters admittedly. Joshua isn’t awkward nor will he be patient. No prior evidence suggests AJ will approach this fight in any other way to his previous 18. He will front up, throw a decent number of combinations and try to out-power the Ukrainian.

Ignoring the amount of time Klitschko has spent out of the ring, this will still be a great eye opener to just how good of a job Fury did in 2015. If, and for me this is a large if, Klitschko can establish his jab, allow the fight to tick on his time schedule, there is an air of intrigue added to the result. But I think it is an incredibly shrewd move by Eddie Hearn. From a purely promotional perspective Hearn has produced a fully operational machine. An animatronic knockout artist who has had his career moulded and protected as proficiently as any Conservative member of Parliament. I don't as such see this as a huge step up considering Klitschko’s inactivity. And as a result of the Molina fight, who happened to go nine rounds with Wilder, I’m not even sure Wilder is really at that elite level yet either.

Frampton/Santa Cruz II (January 29th 2017, MGM Grand, Las Vegas)

A World Championship fight I'm actually looking forward to! A rarity in a sport which feels like every other World Title fight is merely a promotional stepping stone for just one of the two competitors. This point was recently emphasised by Steve Bunce, writing in the independent, and essentially writing off (with a degree of truth) Anthony Joshua’s entire 2016. As a rule, it is mildly refreshing to see a world title contender fighting on odds lower 1/40.  

The first bout between these two created a spectacle which amalgamated two very different styles. Santa Cruz probably threw about 20,000 punches whilst Frampton boxed in beautiful flurries. Thankfully, the technique embroiled within these combinations won Frampton the fight. And as a caveat, I actually thought he won by more than two rounds. Yet the closeness of at least two scores (and maybe some contractual necessities) mean that we can see it again this January. For me, it was also my fight of the year. Whilst you are often presented with glorious slugfests like Whyte and Chisora, which are undeniably enjoyable bouts. They are not, in ode to the great AJ Liebling, a true articulation of the sweet science. Any fight of the year contender must be at world level for me. It has to accurately showcase elite boxers. I believe Santa Cruz and Frampton both slot neatly into this description. As such therefore, the sequel promises a great deal.

Santa Cruz has already offered a prelude to a trilogy, moreover has hinted at retirement if the bout goes against him. So whether spoken in the spirit of promotional hyperbole or even in sincerity, the stage is set. Cue a fucking dreadful fight…

Crolla/Linares II (25th March, Manchester Arena, Manchester)

At the risk of carrying a level of bias akin to the Sky Sports Boxing twitter feed, I have sought to incorporate another Matchroom show into the preview. Partly out of love for Anthony Crolla, and also an indictment of how few concrete fights have been made so far. I don't actually believe a rematch is a fair product of the original bout. Linares, looked a level too far for Crolla. Despite been tagged ‘the most genuine man in boxing’, you do sense that politics is ultimately preventing the most ‘genuine’ fight in the division, the dust up between Crolla and Terry Flanagan.

Nevertheless, I am not seeking to argue the first fight was not a quality affair. It was a frenetic fight which produced a lot of interesting moments. Crolla’s style as oppose to Linares’ expansive repertoire of punches is why the fight was fashioned in this manner. More to this point, it is his movements which are so integral to why most of his recent bouts have been fought in this manner. Even though the Columbian did throw the far slicker hits. Crolla, as instructed by a coach who as it happens is readily tagged the ‘greatest trainer in boxing’, kept his defence tight and was acutely patient to strike in his own right. This was the precedent set against both Perez and Barroso. And it was the latter fight in which he used it so effectively.

The problem is, and this is also a reflection of Bellew, as mentioned earlier, it is really hard to grasp any strategic path to victory. Bar any dramatic change in style, it is hard to see how Crolla will step up to a level that is seemingly beyond him. Of course it would make success even sweeter, victory even greater. A Crolla win would be on par with United winning the league come what May. United being who he supports, right?

Four fights there, involving British fighters in the first quarter of 2017. I could of attempted to write about five, but generally lost interest in the post. An apt written representation of over 50% of these fights. A tenner on a Frampton, Haye, Linares and Joshua four fold pays out 40 quid. So maybe stick to the horses.