#anders.

[ofdamnation]

anders jansson , 34 , gang leader , heterosexual .

' no use in being shy now , sweetheart . ' sits back in his chair , low hum rumbling in his chest as eyes drink the other's frame in . ' you realise you've already agreed to this so you should do what you do best . ' smirk upturns edges , devious at that . ' serve us . ' / closed starter for @luvcrs , based .

[ofdamnation]

anders jansson, 34, rival gang leader, heterosexual based on this dynamic .

' did he touch you ? ' / closed starter for @starbrsts

[ofdamnation]

muse(s) : anders jansson , 34 , heterosexual plot(s) : this post possible connections : f / nb .

' that's not what i asked though , is it ? i asked if he touched you . ' / closed starter for @jawbrkrs!

[stillsmine]

closed    :    @promethaeus   .ᐟ‍ continued    from    here    .

the first cut may be the deepest, but that doesn't mean continued digs hurt less. final buzzer, match point, whistle– they all chalk up to one thing: loss. loss of his career, livelihood and a court that used to chant his name in the height of euphoria ( it used to be theirs, but that ship had long sailed ). a combination, two for one package deal that you never saw tethered; cut at the source, broken for however long it'd been now. but anders knew that going in– knew the risks and little reward in seeing the other male again… but, somehow, optimism ran deeper than before. now, it was all based on blind hope. he blames himself, really. whatever had happened, along with the certainty of reconciliation, were all too strong of ideas. especially with how the twinge in his chest is made all too aware the second the other male replies. it's a tone unheard of, spoken once or twice in passing, never to him though. well, not until now. fucking great. perhaps if he could run into the elevator that's closing in record time, he'd avoid some kind of embarrassment. roles reversed seem colder though. it isn't all too nice to hear.    “   well… yeah. i mean, it's a free country, isn't it ?    ”   there's a silent shrug, before he's mentally skipping through his rolodex of conversation. finds nothing, or at least, something worth saying. he's done with the back and forth, a volley on the court now of their tongues– speaking venom that causes injury with every pass.    “   no, luc, i'm trying to be the bigger fucking person and admit i was wrong.    ”   that he is. however, there's a phrase stuck in his throat, only more noticeable through a prolonged hesitation.    “   can we talk… and i mean for real this time ?   ”

[luvslorn]

@phantasism , cont.

              anders lives for the thrill before anything else. that's been excessively shown in past matches and present ones; explicitly with luc. would never put his finger on the pulse though, because why would it matter? he doesn't think it does, in the long run. the game was the game, that was the focus — everything to him — and most other things were put on a metaphorical back burner. he's noted the rush that comes from a volley, an out ball and a serve that erupts his eardrums for days afterwards — hours spent practicing for a few of play in return. whether that was alone or with the other male. he didn't know the difference anymore. but things change, as do people, and years pass quicker than court life, where he blinks and it's different. prime example: this interaction. beuchot and van doren. van doren and beuchot. no matter the way it was announced — although anders always silently preferred the latter — they once were a co-unit, a pair that were intertwined within every sense of the word. the resurfacing of past memories are always in his mind, but it seems more real the second luc's across from him, spinning some empty rhetoric where anders doesn't know if he'd somehow made it all up. but he knows this game too well, and unfortunately, he's stronger than to break at some kind of coercion. " against you, luc. there's a difference. " in reality though, he's not sure if there is one anymore. nonetheless, he retaliates. the same tone sharp on his tongue while he cocks a smile, expression never falters, because in anders's mind, he's already two steps ahead. however, doubtful, he doesn't realise he's holding a breath until it's been released quietly once spoken.

              however, in some ways he does understand the underlying need. now he's in the big leagues, up there with players passed down before him, or so anders thinks. but what good is his opinion? they're kept quietly to himself, only nodding a slow beat the second his ego gets hit. it's never good, but coming from him - it's somehow worse. you make me better. or was it made ? anders doesn't think he'd take credit — perhaps all the positive feedback from their coaches did get to his head — because the past was in the past. it's not stood on the court now, but anders is, enough so where he can feel his self image dwindle. every bit of praise and good fortune seems useless now. what good was it if it didn't come from him ? " then they're either really good liars or don't like hurting your feelings, " hitting that low was his only reaction, what once could be said in jest now comes with an undertone of spite, perhaps jealously on his own side. in fact, he doesn't even know why the words roll of his tongue with such ease. like a waterfall, anders doesn't even attempt to stop them before his shoulders raise, another shrug coming from the male. he's gotten him, that's for sure. " — i play as myself every game, you just haven't been around to see it. can you really say you're doing the same, luc ? 'cause the attitude is saying otherwise. "

[luvslorn]

closed for @respairs !

    anders   stands   courtside   ,   proving   ​​​​​​​that   ​​​​​​​sometimes   he   could   mimic   a   quiet   little   thing   ,   all   while   observation   takes   over   .   "   hey   man   ,   "   only   speaks   as   he   knows   he   can      ──​​​​​​​     doesn't   want   to   cause   such   interruption   ,   but   once   he   does   ,   voice   bellows   ;   would   echo   if   given   the   chance   .   grin   pulls   ,   signature   ,   before   head   canters   .   "   you   planning   on   beating   me   sometime   soon   ?   you're   practicing   like   you're   on   a   mission   here   .   "

[dhcmpirs]

Tana Boys

The modern Norse form varulv (Danish, Norwegian and Swedish) was either borrowed from Middle Low German werwulf, or else derived from an unattested Old Norse *varulfr, posited as the regular descendant of Proto-Germanic * wira-wulfaz. @andersxragnulf @danteragnulf @connorlang