don't start none, won't be none

dominic murphy, 21, team manager for the foxes.

[dominic-murphy]

colinjessup:

Normally, a hint of vulnerability is the kind of thing that Colin seizes upon. It’s like blood in the water, he can almost smell it, and yet he chooses to let the moment pass him by. It’s too early for that. And even if it wasn’t, even if he were more than half a cup of coffee into the day, he’s pretty sure he’s better off resisting the temptation—easier to keep things surface-level while he’s still figuring out how to orient himself around Dominic, now that he’s staffing his team and living in his dorm. He shouldn’t make it any more difficult on himself.

Dominic, however, hasn’t gotten that memo, because he’s definitely making things more difficult for Colin.

It’s a play—swaying close, smirking afterwards like he knows just what he did. It’s not the first one, not the first time, but Colin still doesn’t know what to make of it. Or, maybe he does, but he’s just unsure what he wants to do with it. What he’s willing to do.  

He’d taken a chance before and been burned by it—he’s not doing it again. And the worst part of it had been that he had thought he was being so careful, not taking a step or making a move unless he was sure it would be matched. It hadn’t mattered in the end, how careful he was—and there was something especially stinging about being bested at his own game. And when he wasn’t even playing, for once. And now he won’t be the first one to crack again, show his cards first.

So he’ll maintain the status quo, which seems to be this dance they’ve been doing around each other for the months it’s been since the year started, and see what happens. If anything happens, or if this is all there is.

“Right,” he says, keeping his tone level and light as he downs what’s left in his mug before retreating back into the bedroom part of their suite. Trying not to let his belongings spread out as much as they usually do means that it’s a little harder for him to find a shirt somewhere among his crap to pull on for just as long as it takes to get to the court, but he manages, tugging it into place as he heads out to find Dominic again. “I’m dressed, I’m as decent as I’ll ever be, and I’m ready for my daily ass-early workout.”

end.

[dominic-murphy]

akiraxsato:

It felt like ages before Akira felt calm enough to look over at Dominic without fire in his eyes although he knew it couldn’t have been more than a few moments. He watched him out of the corner of his eye, half convinced he’d just given Dominic a good reason to leave him to his own devices. He’d made it abundantly clear earlier he hadn’t really wanted to be helping him. It was a surprise when he finally spoke, using his name. He’d been pretty sure Dominic would have just called him Justin to spite him. He was immensely grateful he had not. It did little to soothe the sting though. He grinned, eyes alight with determination, smoothly (and surprisingly) sinking the next ball into the bottom left corner.

He lowered his racket and turned to look at Dominic. “You could have asked.” Akira said, voice soft. He was still angry but less at Dominic and more at himself. “You’d save yourself a lot of headaches if you just asked us what to avoid.” He brought his stick back up and turned to the goal. He couldn’t speak for the whole team, no, but he figured most would rather set the boundaries before Dominic blasted over them with a snide remark.

Akira thinks it’s that easy. It’s funny that he does, for a moment. Maybe Dominic is the one that’s wrong, maybe it would be that easy. But he doesn’t really think so. At the end of the day, most of the Foxes have heard of him even if they couldn’t put his name or his face to the stories they’ve heard about his numerous and vicious fights. All of them have experienced his temper at some point or another, even if it was just telling them to get the hell away from him so he could work.

Dominic was not someone they would just spill their secrets to.

And at the end of the day, if they all hated him, at least they’d be united in something.

“I could have asked, maybe with you, maybe with one or two others. But most of you are just one big landmine in the first place and even asking could take us out. How many would’ve even answered me, huh?” His smile was quiet and self-depreciating. “I’m no one’s friend here.” He threw out another ball, calling for a spot between the middle and the upper right corner.

[dominic-murphy]

vivbrooks:

Colour her surprised. Usually Dominic’s appearance was casual, very sporty and in Viv’s opinion pretty typical. So to see him in the opposite had given her quite a shock. It doesn’t last long though as the usual ‘Vivian Brooks Persona’ thrives again. “Well look what the cat dragged in.”  Sipping her drink with raised brows and playful grin. “Good look Murphy, you’re almost as hot as I am right now.” 

Glad to have someone reply her comment with the right amount of wit, Vivian chuckles. “True, the poor little Ravens should burn instead.”  A slight nod is given towards a couple of Vixens as they dance with other Exy players from different schools. “Thanks, Wymack might know about Exy but he’s as clueless as the movie when it comes to banquets.”

“Nice job complimenting yourself, there. I guess you’ve got to make sure you hear it even if you’re the one having to say it.” A little of his smirk showed around his cup, and he lowered it, one hand sliding down into the pocket of his suit pants. His eyes skimmed around the room, settling on the Vixens she’d indicating before counting out the Foxes he could see, making sure everyone was accounted for and not causing any trouble.

“Well, you definitely saved him.” He mock saluted her with his cup, and then shook his head with another small smirk. “Have you made anyone cry yet, little miss pom-poms, or are you saving that for later? You could probably get the Ravens if you tried hard enough—they’re looking particularly fragile.”

[dominic-murphy]

rollinsgrant:

@dominic-murphy·

Like most things in his life, Grant’s mornings followed a strict routine.  He’d wake up, change into gym clothes, and head out for a run, all before the sun was even up. It didn’t matter if he’d only gone to bed a few hours ago, kept up long after dark by homework or pages upon pages of strategy. The lack of sleep rarely caught up with him, and if it did, he’d just pour himself an extra cup of coffee. He liked the peace and quiet of the mornings. He liked feeling productive, even when most people were still asleep. Grant had it down to an art by now, waking up without an alarm more often than not.

Of course, that routine hadn’t developed out of nowhere, and it wasn’t new to Grant’s life as a Fox. It had started in foster care, when going to sleep felt dangerous, and staying asleep long was just asking for nightmares. Those feelings were rarer these days, but they weren’t gone, and sometimes Grant still found himself blindsided.

Like now, for example. Because tonight hadn’t been a good night. Tonight had been a very, very bad night. 

Grant glanced over at his phone, deciding it was close enough to morning to justify getting out of bed and getting started on the day. He could slip back into his routine if he tried hard enough, and then he’d just…ignore tonight entirely, until it was time for his weekly appointment with Dr. Dobson. Grant dressed quietly, more considerate than normal to his sleeping roommates, and headed towards the dorm’s living space—only to shudder to a halt when he registered that there was someone already out there. 

For a split second, being caught unawares by a tall, shadowy figure felt too similar to his nightmares, and his heart sped up again against his will. Only a second though, thankfully, and then Grant unfroze as he recognized Dominic. He relaxed minutely, and carefully schooled his features into something that was, ideally, more collected than he felt.

Seeing the team manager in his dorm at ungodly hours wasn’t an uncommon experience, not when he was roommates with Kent. Normally though, Grant wasn’t shuffling out of his room with eyes that felt swollen and achy from exhaustion. He was fairly certain he hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep since the summer, since Zia’s apartment in Georgia, but tonight he’d only drifted off long enough for a nightmare. He’d spent the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, feeling somehow perversely grateful that he’d dreamt about the same thing (same person) for long enough now that he could wake up mostly quietly anyways—a sharp gasp instead of a shout, swallowing down on unnecessary panic. It prevented the awkward conversation that would’ve inevitably occurred if he’d woken Kent and Logan up too.

“You know, Kent is supposed to tell me when he has people crashing here,” Grant said, his voice coming out rougher than anticipated. He cleared his throat, steadying himself. There was no real danger here, only unwanted memories, and he could handle those. More relevantly, Dominic was in his room, and Grant felt like shit. Fine. Grant could handle that too. “Do you want coffee, as long as you’re here? I need coffee.”

Grant and Dominic didn’t necessarily talk. Dom had more often than not felt a sense of disapproval from the Exy captain since he and Kent had become friends and he’d started spending time in Kent’s dorm. Since Dominic had become the team’s manager, he’d been forced into conversations with Grant again and again, and the two of them butted heads. Grant basically had the entire sport of Exy shoved up his ass and Dominic wasn’t shy about sharing his hatred of team sports and their often toxic mind spaces.

So no, Grant and Dominic didn’t talk and maybe they didn’t like each other.

But they had a truce.

Their mornings, when Dominic was staying in Kent’s dorm, were often spent quietly adjusting their routines around each other and orbiting together. Dominic knew Grant’s coffee order, and knew his routine just as well as he knew Kent’s or Colin’s, and he certainly wasn’t going to look into either of those things. The morning wasn’t for thoughts like that. The morning was for the quiet. 

But something was off.

Grant looked like shit.

Dominic shifted where he was standing, his eyes narrowing just a little as he crossed his arms over his bare chest. He jerked his chin towards the coffee maker, which he’d just started. “It’ll be ready in a minute,” he said, and his voice was rough with sleep and the things he was trying to outrun by sleeping in Kent’s dorm and not in his own. He was avoiding Colin. It was stupid, it was so stupid, but after their hookup in the hotel, which had been so entirely different than the first one, he’d panicked.

And now here he was, faced with a team captain that looked like death and they were standing in the quiet which was usually uninterrupted, just the two of them—and he couldn’t not say something. “Rollins...you good?”

[dominic-murphy]

arlobooth:

@dominic-murphy

Somehow, during the chaos of the floor re-set, Arlo lost sight of Brayden. Which, normally, wouldn’t be such a big deal but, tonight, it’s Very Much a Big Deal. Somewhere out there, Landon is probably loitering stoically with the rest of the Ravens, being a total douche and waiting for Brayden to unsuspectingly wander by.

Arlo’s supposed to look out for him. Be his “buffer” (or, whatever the hell Brayden had called it instead of just asking Arlo to be there for him and support him like a normal person). 

Arlo really doesn’t want to mess up.

Not tonight. Not with this.

Plus. If he’s being completely honest? …He just wants to hang out with Brayden. For one thing, it would make the banquet go by faster. So far, it’s been a struggle just to stay conscious and make small talk with his own teammates (not to mention players from other teams who he really doesn’t have the patience for.) For another, he kind of wants to show Brayden that… he’s serious. About this whole thing being a “date.” 

Because… he really, really wants it to be date. In fact, he’s surprised at how much he really wants this to be date.

Sighing, Arlo plunges into the crowd, hoping beyond hope he’ll find Brayden quickly and be spared the torture of mingling. 

He doesn’t get far.

He’s only halfway across the room before he gets distracted and runs straight into someone’s back. Groaning internally, he straightens up and is about to start in with a slew of apologies before he recognizes who, exactly, he’s plowed into. 

“Dom! Hey!” He smiles, surprisingly genuine, relieved that he doesn’t have to engage with someone from another team. (Though, to be fair, listening to some random stranger drone on might be preferable to talking to Dom, depending on his mood).

Either way, Arlo really doesn’t mind too much. He actually likes Dom, oddly enough. The team manager is smart and methodical and good at his job. Sure, he can be… prickly at times. But, Arlo has two mini-cactuses and he still manages to love them despite their thorns. So. He’s got some practice.

“Sorry, man. Didn’t mean to run you over. I got distracted by that backliner from the Jackal’s team dumping her drink on that poor dude. Did you see it? Also, and more importantly: have you seen Brayden anywhere?”

Dominic had been surprisingly social the whole night, shuffling through the room and carefully checking in on each and every single one of the Foxes at one point or another. He kept swinging back around to Kent, laughing and joking around with him. He danced with a few people, found his eyes on Colin once or twice and felt a fierce pang of longing at the fact that they hadn’t spoken—and then he shoved that all down and focused on the job because now sure as shit wasn’t the time to be having a crisis about Colin Jessup of all people.

He’d been just about to start another round when Arlo slammed into his back, and Dominic couldn’t help stumbling a step forward. He twisted around, his nose wrinkling a little, but as the striker started to speak. Dominic squinted at the other for a minute, and then chuckled as he finally asked about Brayden, but he had to shake his head.

“I didn’t see the drink spilling or Brayden. He’s probably found a nice little corner to lurk in, hopefully one where no one tries to talk to him.”

[dominic-murphy]

cadencelowell:

She nodded in agreement even though she knew he didn’t mean it. It still felt true. “I would rather be run over by a car than be here,” she corrected because a straight death was much less painful and didn’t compare to the nature of an event like this. “It’s a nightmare. I’m being forced to mingle, Dominic. I mean, you’ve had a conversation with me. You know how bad I am at this.” Of course, it was possible but she detested forced conversations with strangers. They were always full of questions. She glanced his way, trying to decide if he was kidding. “Didn’t you just say God was laughing at the dancing idiots? Now you want to be one of them?" 

“Maybe a train, if you’re going to be that dramatic. Go out with a bang. You’ll make the news. Fox jumps in front of a train instead of mingling. The horror.” His voice was utterly dry, and he rolled his eyes at her before a huff escaped him. “If you just stare at them they’ll most likely walk off. Alternatively, you could perch yourself in a corner and stay there until all this dies down so you’ll be safe from all the strangers out there.” He shrugged, and then Dominic slid his hands down into his pockets. A brow cocked up as she spoke again, and the manager quickly shook his head. “There’s a difference between being a dancing idiot that God laughs at and being a good dancer, Lowell.”

He offered her his hand, and a small smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “I won’t let you make a fool of yourself, and if you’re dancing with me no one will want to talk to you. Scary looking team manager for the Foxes, remember?”

[dominic-murphy]

text ✉️ kent 💪🏽💙

kent: idk i didn't die on the literal opposite side of the country somehow so that's an achievement

kent: yeah i can work that as long as you've got the vest and tie

kent: okay then i'm doing something stupid in those pictures and you can't stop me

kent: just gotta figure out what

dom: if you do anything flirty mama will assume that we're dating and she will start planning a wedding

dom: i'm pretty sure she's already started so there is that

dom: can't stop won't stop i guess she's a mess

dom: get a really bad stand in. ask the little trask if she'll wear your suit for five seconds for a picture

dom: pops will laugh at least

[dominic-murphy]

mass text

viv: I'm sure , pretty boy

viv: hm, nah not really. I'm usually hard to impress anyways so it would be unfair to the party-goers and whatever

viv: I take that as a compliment

viv: fineee, you got a leather jacket?

dom: of course you do

dom: and of course i do. who the hell do you think i am?

[dominic-murphy]

caseyhendrix:

He looks up with a jolt and manages a small smile when he sees Dom’s figure standing a few feet away from him, looking at him with something near to concern. It’s nothing more than performative at that point, nothing inside of his body or his brain is connected anymore, it’s all just empty gestures and hollow words. “Oh, I was just looking for my room key–I think.” He doesn’t really remember if that’s what had carried him to the door, or maybe it’s just muscle memory kicking in and directing him to the right place. He had been caught up in a memory, or at least it felt like a memory–his head is pounding at this point, matching his arm beat for beat. “I don’t really actually know. Damn–” He runs a hand through his hair and exhales, gives up rifling through his pockets and slides down the wall until he’s sitting against it. 

He knows Dom well enough to know that he probably has read Casey’s file, and though it might not be the entire truth (Wymack alone probably knows that, other than the people Casey has told himself), it’s something close to it. Close enough that the manager probably doesn’t have to stretch to answer his own question. “It was the same arm y’know? For a second I thought–again–” He doesn’t want to talk about this, he doesn’t want to have to admit to this weakness, admit that even after almost a year of playing in a different uniform he still can’t get over this thing that happened. “I wanna play pro, and every game count towards that. I can’t get hurt again, and I came pretty close tonight.” 

His file on Casey Hendrix was pulled out, and the world was put on pause—what felt like a few minutes as he went over it in his head was a breath, a heartbeat, between the two of them in the real world. Injured in their championships, a strange year and a half long gap where everything was rumors and lies and only grains of truth—generally cheery, not ghost-eyed like he was right now. Dominic's brows furrowed slightly, and he stepped forward. He wasn't Abby, he wasn't Betsy, but he was the manager, and his job was to keep them physically and mentally able to play when it wasn't so drastic that Betsy and Abby needed to be involved. Casey looked as if he weren't even present, lost in something in his own head. "Hendrix," he repeated, his voice strange and soft as Casey slid down the wall.

Dominic slid down the wall as well, elbows resting on his knees, and he twisted his wrist around once so that it popped before he laced his fingers together in front of him. He didn’t look at Casey as he spoke, but he nodded, and the hallway felt smaller for a few moments.

“You came pretty close, but you didn’t get hurt. You’re okay, Hendrix.” Dom tipped his head back against the wall, and then glanced towards the man beside him. “Abby looked you over. She’ll do it again if you want. I’ll march the whole damn team out here to test it for you if you need it—but you’re fine. I promise.”

[dominic-murphy]

colinjessup:

It’s hard to reconcile: the way Dom that’s touching his face so gently, looking at him like that; with knowing that Dom had played some small part in Teddy looking the way he’d looked earlier tonight, when Colin had took his hand in both of his and felt worried and guilty, a way that he’s not used to feeling often. Not about anyone else. But that feels far away, now, easy to ignore in favor of being here, of feeling this. Maybe he should feel guilty, maybe he’s making a mistake—but he’s selfish, he already knew that, and he can’t bring himself not to take this. Not when Dom’s offering. Not when Dom wants him. He’s never been built for having principles: he always bends, he always folds. He’s too hungry—he can’t deny himself something he wants, even if he should.

Dom’s talking, but Colin doesn’t care: this night has been shit, this week has been shit, he’s been feeling like shit since the semester started and trying to hide it—he’s going to grab onto something good when it’s in front of him, use it to chase everything else away, beat it back. It’s simple, and it’s always worked for him before: being close to someone, being seen, being wanted, has always made him feel settled in his own skin. Made him feel a little bit more real, like he doesn’t really exist when he doesn’t have someone looking at himlike this, like he’s the best thing they’ve seen.

He remembers that about Dominic, how focused he was, how attentive. It’s hard not to want that again.

Dom’s leaning in, so close that Colin can hardly keep his eyes focused on him without them crossing, but he’s still hesitating, and Colin lets the icepack slip from his grasp and fall wherever it lands in favor of grabbing onto Dom with that hand as well, fisting tight in the fabric of his shirt over his ribs, like he could keep him from going anywhere that way. He doesn’t think they could kiss very well without blood between them, torn skin catching on torn skin, and maybe that makes things more complicated, but it’s not enough to make him want to stop.

So it’s barely a kiss, just a brush of lips off-center against Dom’s mouth, as far away from where a fist met his face as he can. He’s careful. It doesn’t hurt, except for the part where it makes him want more. “You’d hurt me more if you did nothing.”

The ice pack is cold, close enough to his thigh to almost startle him. His breath caught, and his hand automatically moved to push it away from him. It was a stark opposite to the heat between the two of them, building up higher and higher. For once, Dominic can’t focus, can’t make his memory rewind far enough back to compare this moment to the last time.

Was it this intense?

Was Colin’s voice that heavy, that warm?

Was he this breathless the last time?

And the ultimate kicker, did he want it this much the last time?

“Colin,” he murmured, swallowing, the brush of their lips setting his heart off on a race like it hadn’t been marathoning already. He doesn’t want to think about the game. He doesn’t want to think about the last guy he’d brought back to their dorm, to try and make Colin jealous of all things. He doesn’t want to think about Colin not calling. He doesn’t want to think about the other morning, with Colin so close and still so far. He doesn’t want to think about how much he still thinks about Colin, without his permission. He doesn’t want to think of the fact that he’s been holding a candle for Colin, quietly burning and refusing to go out once they’d moved in together.

He shouldn’t be doing this.

“Colin-” and there’s a note in Dom’s voice that could be so many things, desperation or despair, heartbreak or need. So he doesn’t talk. He can’t talk. Because if he talks, he’ll wake up, and they’ll go right back to dancing around each other and he’ll never get to have this again. So instead, Dom shifts his head, pressing careful kisses to the side of Colin’s mouth that isn’t hurt, his hands sliding from where they’d been framing his face and finding a home at his ribs, at his hips, then carefully under his shirt. Dominic’s head tilted, his lips finding a home against Colin’s jaw, his throat, while his hands shifted higher. Every move he makes is too careful, too soft for the fire burning in his chest.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeated, head lifting so he can brush another kiss against Colin’s lips. “What do you want, Colin? What do you need?” Kisses, soft and sweet, lining up against Colin’s jaw as his thumb swiped across one of the backliner’s nipples. “You’ve got to direct me here. I don’t want to make you feel worse in the morning than that shiner already is.” He pulled back, and his eyes were heavy-lidded, lips parted around a shaky breath.

[dominic-murphy]

colinjessup:

“Probably a lost cause,” he quips. “Better give it up now. Or leave it to the professionals, like Betsy.” Not like he knows, not like he sees the team psychiatrist for anything other than the required meetings at the beginning of each semester. Wymack can keep him together on the court, Dominic can make sure that he knows where he needs to be and when, that he has the right equipment when he gets there—but if there’s anyone keeping him from falling apart off the court, it’s just him.  

Not that it always feels so bad—it’s an early morning, he’s half awake, he’s got coffee, and he’s got Dominic stretching in front of him. That’s all pretty good—especially that last one. He lets himself look, he’s not really shy about it—he wears flirtation like a second skin, but always with a joking edge to it, so indiscriminate and so overblown that it’s hard to take seriously. Hard to tell if he’s taking it seriously. It’s always more charged when it’s Dominic, though, because unlike anyone else on the team Dom knows what he’s like when he means it, how he is when he follows through. 

And Colin wants to know if he still thinks about it, can’t keep himself from picking at the thought like a scab. He can’t bear the thought of not being memorable. Of not being the best. Of anyone being okay with having him just once. He doesn’t know how to ask, because he doesn’t want to know if the answer’s no.

“Thanks,” he says, making no move yet to go back into the bedroom area, find a clean shirt to pull on before practice. Since he doesn’t have to worry about finding a ride, he’s probably got a minute or two more before getting out the door becomes really dire—and it’s not like Dom looks ready, either. So instead he stays in place—almost preening. Dominic noticed, after all. Dominic commented. “I’m sure Coach has seen worse. Besides, I’ve got a practice jersey waiting for me in my locker. I’ll be dressed when I hit the court. What about you?”

“Yeah, and half of the damn team won’t talk to her if I know anything about any of you. Refusing help and trying to do everything on their own is sort of a common Fox MO.” Dominic cocked a brow up, as unapologetic as ever about his harsh words. “Not that half of you will talk to me anyway. I guess I’m just supposed to be there to make sure the fall out isn’t as bad as it could be.” His broad shoulders rolled in a shrug, but his voice was surprisingly soft around the words, his eyes lowering to the floor between them. A yawn very nearly interrupted his next words. “Still not sure why Wymack even gave me a chance with this job. Not like I’m a people person.”

His grin turned self-depreciating, and he shifted forward, putting his mug down for a second. He stepped in close, close enough to feel body heat and feel a puff of air against his skin from Colin’s breath. Dominic leaned around him just enough that they didn’t touch, snagging his hoodie off of the back of the couch before he pulled back. This time, their shoulders brushed, and he stayed close while he pulled the jacket on and zipped it halfway up his bare chest. His head tilted, his eerily light eyes lingering on Colin’s as he smirked.

“Guess I’m the only one dumb enough to put up with all of you, huh?”

Dominic gently flicked Colin’s nose, and then turned to go back to his coffee cup. “Go get dressed, Jessup. You’ve got a practice to go to and I’m too tired to have any self control.” He waved his hand back over his shoulder, his other grabbing a pop-tart to eat once they were at the stadium.

[dominic-murphy]

gloryhoskinss:

His words stung. It wasn’t in the way that Justice would jab at her insecurities and call her an animal for hiding outside, but they stung because they were honest. It was her fault for being an idiot and getting a red card. She was used to playing the game rough and un-tailored. She lost her head when she was playing Exy, and it showed tonight. She had made a huge mistake in one of the first games of the season. If they had lost, she would have blamed herself for doing something so stupid. Now that she was benched for the next game too, she knew she had time to let that guilt sink in. It was going to suck.

Panting as she stared at Dominic while he chastised her, she looked to her hands that were idly dangling at her sides, knowing they were going to bruise later. Maybe it was a bit of self reflective punishment for her slip up. “I’m trying to get my shit together.” She grumbled hastily, as she threw her grass stained shoes into her bag, “and it doesn’t matter. Next game is in two weeks anyway and I’m benched for that one too so who cares about how bad my hands are.” She finished gruffly under her breath.

Looking up to him, she gritted her teeth together as she met him at the door, trying to hold her tongue.

“I’d be just fine on my own. I won’t cause any property damage.”

“Trying and doing are two different things. Try harder so you can get your shit together and so I don’t have to clean up after your ass.” Dominic sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “Dumbass. You still have practices and if you hurt your fucking hands you won’t be able to hold a damn stick.” He waited until she got to the door before reaching out for one of her wrists. He gripped it none too gently, lifting her hand so he could quietly examine her knuckles. “Dumbass number eight,” he murmured, shaking his head. “When we get to the bus you’re going to sit down with Abby so she can get something on these. If you don’t I’ll make Wymack stop at the nearest convenience store and I’ll tape the most bulky cold thing I can find to these two keep the swelling down and you’ll look like even more of an idiot.”

Dominic dropped her hand, stepping back and rolling his eyes. He gestured past him sharply, cocking a brow up. “Get fucking moving.”

[dominic-murphy]

cadencelowell:

She rolled her eyes but didn’t make a comment about it in return, mostly because she knew he was right. It wasn’t like any of the Foxes was afraid to share their opinions. Instead of answering, she focused for a moment on her shopping. Money was… scarce; her parents only gave her enough to scrape by and there was no option to work when she had a full course load and practices. That meant bargains were the only way she could survive at Palmetto. She wasn’t going to complain, though. It was far better than being at home, even if the shampoo was cheaper. 

When he started talking about Wymack’s choice to bring her onto the team, she immediately regretted her honesty. Though, if there was anyone that would be understanding – or at least not care – it was Dominic. She didn’t respond right away, just raising her shoulders. With a sigh, she set another bottle on the shelf and moved on. "I mean, he must have but that just makes me more nervous.” The last thing she wanted to be was a disappointment to their coach. 

“I’m not saying I suck or anything.” Why she was feeling defensive suddenly, she wasn’t sure. She’d been the only one insulting herself, after all. “I know I’m not bad. I just… Well, I’m not Brayden or anything.” The other strikers had blown her away from her first day. 

“Well, none of the other strikers are Brayden either. They’ve all got their own playing styles, their own way of doing things. They’ve got their own particular talents, their own particular skills. You keep comparing yourself to someone else, you’re never going to figure yourself out.” Dominic pushed his hands down into his pockets, and couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “Listen, 28-” and the way his lips formed the numbers was clipped, not quite unfriendly but close enough, “you’re all numbers, positions, but if you all played exactly the same then you’d be some kind of weird aesthetic music video with Exy as the background.” 

The team manager reached out for a bottle on the shelf, quietly reading the label and checking the price before shaking it at her. “Cadence, lack of confidence out there is going to get your nose broken and your ass knocked to the bench. You’ve got to do better.” He finally snagged her basket from her, rolling his eyes.

“You’re also taking too long. Chop chop, or I’ll leave you here by yourself.”

[dominic-murphy]

teddyryker:

Teddy couldn’t relax, not even when Dom lowered his hands again and stopped yelling. He stood there with his back against the wall and his hands clenched at his sides, as rigid as he could be because he was still expecting the worst. He tried to look calm, like he wasn’t bothered by what just happened, but in his head Teddy was replaying his dad quite literally attacking him over and over again.

He didn’t know what Dom wanted to hear or what he hoped to accomplish by getting so angry with Teddy that he’d go for him like that. Teddy couldn’t take back breaking the Kindle, he hadn’t even realised he’d done it until Dom had him pinned against the wall and he hadn’t know how important it obviously was to Dom either. Of course he felt bad, Teddy was a slob but he wasn’t jerk enough to deliberately break someone’s things.

“I’ll get it fixed,” Teddy said again, meaning it. He didn’t have a lot of spare cash but he was responsible for this and he’d make it up to Dom by getting it fixed. Teddy had broken his phone enough times to know how much a cracked screen should cost to replace.

He still wasn’t a fan of Dom’s tone. Teddy didn’t like being talked down to in general and he didn’t care if Dom was their team manager, he was still just a guy that Teddy had to share a room with and that didn’t make him any more superior than anyone else in Fox Tower. “I’ll stop being a slob and you stop thinking it’s okay to put your hands on people over dumb shit like this,” he snapped before he could stop himself, “the fuck would coach say if he knew you acted like that? Get it together, Dominic.” It sounded more like a threat than it should’ve but just like Teddy had broken the Kindle, he couldn’t take his words back either.

The team manager slid a hand along his jaw, flexing against the ache of it and then tilting his head back. He clenched his teeth for a moment as Teddy started to lay into him, and it fanned those flames in him sharp enough to make him want to go for the other again. But instead, Dominic shoved his hands down into his pockets, digging his nails into his palms. It had to be enough, it had to be enough.

He couldn’t lose this. If he fucked up, it was on him- and he had fucked up.

He didn’t get second chances. Wymack wouldn’t allow it.

He’d have to go home and see his mama’s face and know he’d fucked up.

“I’m fucking sorry,” he snapped out, throwing his hands up in the air. “I shouldn’t have- I shouldn’t have gotten as pissed as I did. It wasn’t-” He couldn’t make the words come out, and they tasted of ash in his mouth. Dominic didn’t back down from fights because it was always a weakness, it was always something someone else could use against him but he had to be better.

He couldn’t lose this.

“There were some fuckers who caught me on my way back from class. Friends of the frat boys who tried to get me kicked out at the end of last year and nearly did.” Dominic doesn’t know how much of his story Teddy knows and he doesn’t care, he’s got to say this and then he has to go. “I just wanted to come back and read and calm down so something like this didn’t happen. Jesus fuck, I’m sorry.” I responded without thinking, I let my temper get the best of me, I’m just another black kid with a bad attitude. 

Dominic crossed his arms over his chest, and for once his expression was more than apathy. There was genuine remorse mixing with the anger still there, and he lowered his head with a sigh. 

[dominic-murphy]

mass text

viv: no costume no entry murphy, I suggest you just put some fake teeth and come as a vampire or something.

viv: wow, I see you don't use your sense of humour to get laid.

dom: no, my face usually works for that miss pom-poms

dom: do we have to get costume approval because tbh i'm sure whatever i grab you'll find someway to make fun of

dom: that seems to be your talent

dom: just help me pick something idc

[dominic-murphy]

text ✉️ kent 💪🏽💙

kent: i was literally about to say you asked the wrong person to the banquet if you wanted 🔥🔥🔥 aesthetics because i got 1 option

kent: ya get what ya get and you don't get upset

kent: but yeah i'm down to coordinate if it just means borrowing a tie for the night - what do you have in mind?kent: also you're gonna have to teach me how to knot it again because i forgot already

dom: how the hell have you survived without me, cheong?

dom: mama decided to be extra when she sent me up clothes- i've got a white vest and a black shirt and a red bowtie.

dom: you've got a white shirt, right? i'll let you borrow a black vest and you can use the red tie she sent up

dom: she also demanded she be sent pictures so

dom: sorry for that

[dominic-murphy]

cadencelowell:

Music pulsed through her chest as she moved around the room, eyes sweeping from left to right. She felt dangerously out of place in the thin-strapped dress and heels. She longed for her sweats and her couch. There was no avoiding the event, though and she did her best to smile and chat until she found a familiar face. 

“If there is a God, he is laughing at me right now." 

“You’re the punchline of the year,” Dominic said blandly, before shaking his head. “If anything, he’ll be laughing at those idiots dancing out there. Don’t worry so much.” He flicked his eyes down her dress, and couldn’t help chuckling softly. “You look like you’d rather be dead than be here, Cadence. I know Wymack’s a hard ass but it’s not that bad. Just a few hours, and you don’t even have to mingle if you don’t want to.” He wasn’t meaning to baby her like this, it was just sort of happening.

“Come on then. You wanna dance?” Another thing, seemingly so out of character. But Dominic loved to dance, and had spent a huge chunk of his childhood having dance parties with his mama and his pops, just in the kitchen while they were cooking diiner. It was his mama who had taught him to two-step, and his pops who’d taught him the waltz, and he’d always laughed when they’d combined the two of them into some kind of strange tango which prowled through their whole house.