#p: casey

[averyneel-blog1]

LOCATION: The Court - After Media Training DATE: Saturday, Jan 12th TIME: Early afternoon STATUS: Closed @caseyhxndrix

Media training was, as he’d expected it to be, horribly awkward and ridiculously nerve-wracking. The trainers were kind, and did their best to coach him through his (many) mistakes, but he can’t say he’s not relieved when he’s finally dismissed. 

He’s just... never going to be comfortable talking in front of more than two or three strangers at a time. After this training, he might be able to manage it in a pinch, but it’s not going to be elegant. Or even very coherent, for that matter. (There’s a reason Wymack’s never forced him to do it, after all.)

He knows it’s kind of pathetic, for a senior - a leader, of sorts - to stumble and stammer and refuse to look into the camera or met a reporter’s gaze, but it’s not like he can help it. For a good portion of his life, he’d avoided talking to people altogether, for fucks sake. He’d learned to adapt to silence. To sink into the background. To become as unobtrusive and unremarkable as possible.

Those kind of habits - that kind of behavior - is something he’s not sure he can ever unlearn. (And really, he’s not sure he wants to. After all, it kept him alive, didn’t it? Helped him survive when he was homeless and alone.)

He’s okay with being quiet. It doesn’t bother him anymore. And, besides, he speaks freely when it matters. To his friends. His teammates. To Casey. 

Speaking of, after putting up with this bullshit for most of the day, there’s only one person he really wants to see. Neel rifles through his pocket for his phone as he heads out of the Court and into the mild winter sunshine, squinting against the glare as his eyes adjust. 

As stressful as today has been, he know’s it’s likely been worse for Casey. Winter break wasn’t exactly what either of them had expected, but it had been especially hard on Casey. Neel had spent most of the holiday in a state of perpetual worry, and that hasn’t eased much since their return to campus. 

He just... really cares about them. 

Loves them, even, as he’s come to discover over the past several months. He hasn’t said it out loud yet (doesn’t know how - too terrified to try) but it makes itself known every time he see’s them. It’s in the way his chest constricts. The way his palms start to sweat and his pulse picks up. The way his world narrows down to the slope of their jaw. The fullness of their lips. The faint laugh-lines that bracket their eyes.

He’s in so fucking deep that he’s only just now been able to admit to himself - to parse through what he’s feeling enough to make sense of it. 

He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to tell them. How he’s supposed to risk changing everything for this. Especially when Casey has so much going on already. It feels selfish, to even be worrying about it. 

Neel sighs lightly, trying to shake off some of the tension that’s crept up his spine, and awkwardly types out a couple of one-handed messages to his partner while he fumbles with his bag.

neel: please tell me you’ve finished up with the media circus already neel: i need three things to recover from this day neel: 1. you 2. a nap 3. you neel: that okay?

[averyneel-blog1]

LOCATION: Inside the visitor’s locker room  DATE: November 16th TIME: Directly after the game STATUS: closed @caseyhxndrix

In all honesty, he hadn’t wanted to take the shot.

He could not have given a fuck less about the shot.

All he’d wanted, after guiding an injured Casey into Abby’s welcoming arms, was to follow them off of the court. To sit by Casey’s side, hold their hand, and make sure they were okay. That they were gonna be fine. 

He hadn’t wanted to step foot back on the court. Not after that - his hands still shaking from residual adrenaline, heart pounding away painfully in his chest. 

But Wymack had chosen him, and Neel wasn’t naive enough to have to wonder why. He was angry. Beneath all the shock and worry and fear, he was fucking pissed. And if he didn’t get that out in a constructive way - funnel his need for petty revenge - then he might very well have taken it out on that Eagles’ striker later.

So he took the shot.

As soon as he’s able, Neel is off the court and in search of Casey. He misses the traditional post-game handshake routine, but in all honesty, he’s not exactly broken up over it. As far as he’s concerned, the Eagles can go fuck themselves. 

He wrenches his helmet off as he walks, navigating the unfamiliar corridors back to the visitor’s locker room. His hair is a damp, tangled, sweaty mess  and his mouth tastes stale as he swallows, pulse still thundering away in his ears, drowning out the boos from the incensed crowd somewhere above him.

He doesn’t care about the win. About his own contributions toward it. 

For once, he doesn’t care about exy at all.

By the time he reaches the locker room, his nerves are shot. Though Casey had been able to, thankfully, walk off the court with a little help, there had still something wrong. Neel knew it. And, not knowing the extent of it, has been driving him insane.

He rounds the corner and spots Casey sitting on a bench and Abby leaning over them, and his heart constricts painfully in his chest. He hesitates near the doorway for a moment before clearing his throat, shuffling awkwardly.

“Hey,” he says quietly, ignoring the way his voice cracks “Is it... can I come in?” 

He wants to say more. He wants to scoop Casey and never, ever let them go again because fuck if that hadn’t been the most terrifying thing to happen to him in years. He wants to kiss them. He wants to do so much, but he doesn’t want to overwhelm them. To quit keep Abby from doing her job. So he hovers and tries to ignore the weakness in his knees. The pressure in his chest reminding him how close he just came to losing this.

Losing them.

[averyneel-blog1]

LOCATION: Fox Tower (Room 317) DATE: Halloween Night TIME: 11:20 pm STATUS: Closed @caseyhxndrix

Predictably, he doesn’t last very long at the party.

A couple of hours in and he’s had two drinks spilled on him, been whacked on the back of the head by a stray soccer ball, and, somehow (against literally all odds) won a category in the costume contest.

Enough excitement to last a lifetime, surely.

He makes a strategically sneaky exit and books it for the tower, heaving a sigh of relief he hadn’t realized he’d been holding as he tromps across the dew-slick grass. When he reaches the tower he takes the stairs two at a time, grateful for the silence that pervades the building. Apparently, the dorms aren’t the “it” place to be at 11:20 on Halloween night -

lucky for him. 

He’s halfway down the hall, fishing his key out of his pocket, when he passes by Casey’s door. He slows to a stop, a pang of guilt lancing through him at just how awful of a date he is. Not only did he bail on the party, but he hadn’t even thought to text Casey and let them know.

Neel leans against the doorframe and types out a series of messages, one-handed, tugging his bottom lip into his mouth and worrying it between his teeth as he does so.

neel: Hey so. Worst boyfriend of the year award goes to me? neel: I kinda...bailed. On the party. I’m sorry. You know how I am with crowds and I just... neel: Needed to get out of there. neel: Plus people seemed to be really enjoying spilling their drinks all over me so I thought maybe there would be less of that happening back at the tower? neel: So I don’t even know if you will check your phone but if you do: please have a good time. You look... really, really good.  neel: Really good. neel: Not kidding. neel: I’m gonna go lie down and try not to think of you neel: Which I’m def gonna fail at, btw neel: If you need anything, give me a call. neel: Or, you know neel: If you maybe wanna change of scenery, you know where to find me.

By the time he types out the last text, his hand is cramping and he’s grimacing at the sheer amount of messages he’s bombarded Casey with. In all honesty, he really does just want them to have a good time tonight.

Even if it’s not with him.

(Though, he’s not too good to admit that he really, really wishes it was with him.) He pushes himself away from the wall and makes his way to his own room. Within minutes, he’s stripped down to a pair of black Nike training shorts and huddled in his bunk, playing some game about slime on his phone and... it’s not perfect. Not at all, because he really wants to be out with his team, celebrating and cutting loose like everyone else but that’s just not who he is. So. It’s not perfect but it’s... better. 

[milesjsullivan]

what's something you miss doing?

“Making people fight one another, yeah. I haven’t done that in awhile. Finnegan, where are you at, mate? He and drunken his lover are so easy to piss off and I miss seeing him bring hell onto people he shouldn’t even touch.” 

[clcbberinheath]

Ⓐ

Attractiveness:

repulsive || hideous || ugly || not attractive || unappealing || not unattractive || meh || no preference || ok || mildly attractive || nice looking || cute || adorable || attractive || pleasant on the eyes || good looking || hot || sexy || beautiful || gorgeous || hot damn || would tap that || perfect || godlike || holy fuck there are no words

Personality:

grating || irritating || frustrating || boring || confusing at best || awkward || unreasonable || psychotic || disturbing || interesting || engaging || affectionate || aggressive || ambitious || anxious || artistic || bad tempered || bossy || charismatic || appealing || unappealing || creative || courageous || dependable || unreliable || unpredictable || predictable || devious || dim || extroverted || introverted || egotistical || gregarious || fabulous || impulsive || intelligent || sympathetic || talkative || up beat || peaceful || calming || badass || flexible

How likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending || fuck no! || never || no way i’m gay || not likely || not sure || indifferent || I’m asexual || maybe || probably || it depends || fairly likely || likely || yeah sure || yes || would tap that || hell yes || fuck yes! || wishing that could happen right now || as many times as possible || we are already having sex

Level of Friendship:

never in a million years || worst of enemies || enemies || rivals || indifferent || neutral || acquaintance || friendly toward each other || casual friends || friends || good friends || best friends || fuck buddies || bosom buddies || practically the same person || would die for them || true friends || my only friend ||

First impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

Current impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them

How good of a kisser:

worst kisser ever || terrible || bad || awkward || just okay || alright || pretty good || good || makes me moan || excellent || exciting || oh god they’re good || I dream about it || fucking amazing || absolute perfection || we haven’t kissed

[lexierivera-blog]

Nothing Left To Lose || C & L

@jake-casey

Several weeks had blurred in motion, barely scraping the mere remnants of sundry months, where the raw memories of her arrival at Fall City had resurfaced the foreign aspect of socialisation; attempting to build up the dissembled structure of your once normal life. The female had arrived far worse than she allowed her stubbornness to confess; mottled flesh, threads of lacerations and the near possibility of the inability to walk with equal footing had devoured her from the inside out. She had ignored the pain, refused to bend and break at the agony which tore through her flesh, but it had manifested with such great detail that getting out of bed each morning had become the most difficult chore of all.

The most recent event had spiraled her further into turmoil, unearthing what she so proudly shrugged off, and thus she had no choice but to stumble towards the stench of disinfectant and the undesired helping hand. It was almost as if the particular guard, titanium in nature and unbreakable to the very core, quivered at the notion of her seeking the support of anyone other than her own self. Yet, even independence still became futile at the hands of stupidity.

A single palm had coiled itself around her strained thigh, providing it with the very support in which was necessary for this current scenario - pursuing down desolate streets and allowing the crescent moon to illuminate the concrete. If she could pretend she was far stronger than what her current weakened state would express, she would allow it to disintegrate for whoever remained sleepless among late hours.

Eventually, as if prayers had been answered in the most begrudging sense, a figure came into sight and her free palm soon found itself entangling around the bicep of her supposed victim.

“I don’t say this often,” she snarled, depending on unfamiliarity to be her saving grace. “Maybe today is your lucky day.” Hazel irises lifted upwards to inspect the particular person in question, but no names came attached with her discovery. “I need your help.”