caseyhxndrix-blog

[caseyhxndrix-blog]

striker-brayden‌:

“Yeah, it does,” Brayden agrees flatly. Most of his sessions with Betsy start out with him talking about mundane shit like classes or Exy, until she directs him down a different path. After his more difficult sessions, it always blows his mind that they can go from talking about his class project to his deep-seated abandonment and trust issues. That’s therapy, he guesses. 

He gets why Casey’s instinct is to avoid talking about trauma. There’s something about opening up like that, that still feels wrong to Brayden, like he shouldn’t think about that sort of thing or keep it all to himself. He didn’t come from a family who shared their feelings. When he was at his worst, his mom looked the other way, pretending it wasn’t happening, and Landon seemed to flip between punishing him or ignoring his existence. Brayden doesn’t know what Casey’s home life is like, but if theirs is anything like Brayden’s used to be, opening up is something they’ll have to learn how to do as they go. He still has a long fucking way to go himself.

Even though, he was just telling Casey about his milestone, being praised for it still makes something squirm uncomfortably in his chest. He has to fight back the instinct to tear himself down for having something to overcome in the first place. Brayden used to be so ashamed of his addiction, his mind a constant loop of punishing himself for being so stupid. Even today, he hides the track marks with long sleeved shirts, but he doesn’t hate himself for it as much as he used to. 

Clearing his throat awkwardly, his voice comes out all weak and hoarse when he finally speaks. “You will,” He tells them simply with a half-hearted shrug. “And if you need like–I don’t know, talk to someone who’s been there or whatever, I’m around.” He can’t believe he even put that offer out there, but he didn’t feel as terrible about it as he thought he would. It’s been long enough that he feels like he can talk about the past without spiraling.

The thought of confronting everything that’s happened, and actually having to be honest about all of their failures, more so than they were already forced to be, having had such a public fall, is terrifying. But they’re also self-aware enough to know that there’s no way to truly move forward if they don’t, and that’s something they need to do with professional help, unlike when they were forced to get clean on their own back in Oklahoma a year and a half ago. It’s hard to break habits, and they’d grown up being silently told that keeping things to themself was for the best; the last year spent stuck at home just confirmed that, don’t talk about the tough things, it’ll only make it worse. It’s hard to rewire your brain when you grew up with those thoughts.

It’s a surprise to hear the offer from Brayden to talk about things. No matter how far they’d heard he’d come, they couldn’t really imagine it ever got easier to talk about all of the shit that he’d gone through, just like they could still barely think about everything they’d dealt with themself without the anxiety brewing up, and the worry of failure all over again settling in their chest. But that’s the difference between the Foxes and the Buckeyes, weirdly enough. Even though the world might see them all as fuckups, they actually want to help each other get through it, be better, even if it’s sometimes in their own bizarre ways.

The Buckeyes can’t say they ever did anything like that, as much as they think they’re so high and mighty. No, instead they all just turned their backs, pretending not to see anything, as long as everyone was playing well on the court, and winning for the team. They’d push you, yeah, but for the wrong reasons, in the wrong ways. And that’s why they were here now, and not there. Funny how that was probably a good thing, all in all, even if it didn’t feel like it.

“Thanks, man, I really appreciate that. I might have to take you up on that, to be honest. It’s a weird thing to say, but...it is nice to know there’s someone around who’s been through it, too. Hopefully I’ll get to that point for someone else one day, I guess,” they shrug, trying to play off some of the emotion behind the sentiment.

[caseyhxndrix-blog]

averyneel‌:

Neel smiles softly and rubs the back of his neck, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He fights the urge to press the pad of his thumb against his bottom lip, where the phantom weight of Casey’s mouth still lingers.

“You…” He hesitates, heart constricting in his chest as it speeds up, urging him in an endless litany to say it, say it, say it. “You’re just… you.” And, God if that’s not the most mediocre, inadequate thing he could have said, right now. 

He’s being a coward. He knows it. But, fuck, he’s scared. Even though he knows, somehow, that he shouldn’t be. That it’s okay. That Casey…. Casey feels the same way. He knows, because he’s seen it - in the way their grin goes a little crooked when they catch sight of him on campus. The way their whole body sags in to meet his when they hug. The way they touch him, quiet and reverent - so intently that it hurts.

He knows he shouldn’t be afraid-

but that’s not how fear works.

It doesn’t cow to logic or facts, evidence or reason. It creeps and it gnaws. It slips through every crack and it feeds. On his doubt. His insecurity. His vulnerabilities.

It chokes him, when all he wants is to speak.

“I just… wanted to show you,” he manages after a moment, reaching out to grip Casey’s hand, “how I feel.” He pauses, unconsciously tightening his hold, before stepping back into Casey’s space. He presses his forehead against their chest and breathes. “It’s a lot,” he whispers. “How I feel.”

The way Neel hesitates, the weight of each word he struggles to find feels palpable, it makes them smile softly, fondly. It’s endearing, how words can fail when there’s just so much to say.

“You make it feel like just being me is actually something worthy of that. It’s a new feeling,” they say softly, hand moving up to brush fingers over his jawline.

It feels a little unreal, when they actually take the time to think about it, that they somehow managed to fall into this so perfectly. It makes it feel like fate, that moment a few years ago when he stopped them in the empty hallway of the stadium, when he seemed to see them so clearly, when everyone else who knew them refused to. It feels like every moment was leading up to that meeting, and then every moment in between was so that they would meet again on the couch at that first party in the Vixen’s Den.

In a way, it makes it feel like it’s all okay, in the end, all of the mistakes, all of the failures, all of the pain, it’s okay because it’s lead them right here, to this moment, where for once they feel like being themself is not just enough, but good. 

They want to make him feel like that, too, they hope they do. Because he deserves it more than any other person they’ve had the pleasure of meeting, not just because of what he’s done for them, but because of how genuinely good he is, as inadequate a word that feels. What they’re thinking, at their core, is that he deserves everything in this world that he wants, and more.

When he takes their hand, they squeeze back, trying to convey that they feel the same way, even without words. Neel moves back into their space, burying his head against their chest, where it fits so perfectly, and they wrap their arms around him, holding on tight.

“I know the feeling well,” they whisper, letting their eyes close briefly, savoring the closeness. “It’s kind of overwhelming, to feel so much for someone, but, like, in a good way. In a better way than anything else. Haven’t really felt like this before, if I’m being real.”

[caseyhxndrix-blog]

raph-peruggia‌:

Raph doesn’t often think about how Exy places himself and his teammates in the public eye. He’s only recently been forced to consider that fact and its implications at all. His teammates all have histories that are, at least partially, public knowledge. And the longer he stays with the Foxes the more his name and face filters into the public sphere as well. 

It is jarring to know that Michael Cheng has been following many of his teammates’ career trajectories for much longer than Raph has known him. He may know Casey Hendrix better than Raph does himself. He certainly seems to, given the way he and Casey immediately fall into conversation about their previous accomplishments with the Buckeyes. Raph can feel his lip curl. The term “Buckeyes playing shape” is obsolete. It implies somehow that they were better with that team. That the person they were at Ohio State is someone they want to become again.

But Casey Hendrix will never need to be in “Buckeyes playing shape” ever again.

“You are a Fox now,” Raph says in a low growl. “Attempting to recreate how you played with another team is a waste of time.”

“Huh, that’s a way to think about it!” Michael Cheng says, tilting his head in thought. “New team new way to play and all that. Guess you had a pretty similar experience when you transitioned from the Rattlers to the Foxes.”

“No,” Raph says, blunt as ever. “I was not good as a Rattlesnake, only more aggressive. It was not until Palmetto that I began to play as part of a larger unit.”

“Which is whyyyy,” Michael Cheng hums, eager as ever to spin what Raph says into a more positive light. “You should take Casey here up on those extra practice sessions. Even if you two aren’t doing full-contact it’d be good to go over a uh, less intense ways to be aggressive now! For the team!”

Raph turns to face Casey Hendrix. “Is there a way to teach me without making physical contact?”

They can’t help but blink at the insistence that it’s not worth it to try to play that way again, caught off guard by the truth behind the words. Leave it to Raph, though, to so easily see straight through to the true issue of something, without even giving it a second thought. They wish that it was that simple, that they could stop thinking of how they’ll probably never be quite as good as they were when they were a Buckeye. Even during the bad months, at least a first, they were better than they are now. It’d be easier if that wasn’t true, but it is, in their eyes.

New team, new way to play. That’s certainly true at least, although they’re still convinced it would be easier to move between teams if they had the same skill level still, if they hadn’t been forced to take a year off, forced to practice alone as they recovered alone, nothing to think about but how their fall was still happening.

But there’s no point in thinking about that now, because tonight’s game was good, even if it wasn’t as good as even half of their Buckeyes’ games. But it was a good game, and here they are, with someone who they have grown attached to, even if it’s a bizarre and complicated situation, and maybe being here with people who want to help, and want them to help them, means more than being in Buckeyes playing shape.

“That is a good way to think of it,” they mutter, as the two go on. It’s pretty easy to see why Michael Cheng has been able to have the effect on Raph that he has; hell, they’re sure he’s done it for dozens of other kids, too, even if maybe not quite as intensely. It makes them wish they’d had a Michael in their life a few years ago, before things had a chance to get bad.

“Yeah, I don’t see why we couldn’t figure something out,” Casey replies, coming back to the conversation. “Talk through things on the court, maybe even get a third friend involved, so that it’s easier to practice. It takes practice to get there, so we could even build up to things, start slow. And I think it’d do us both good.”

OPEN STARTER

[caseyhxndrix-blog]

The change in classes from last semester is wild, finally having chosen an actual major that they care about, finally diving into classes that aren’t just requirements or gen ed. It’s like up until now, they hadn’t even realized that wanting to go to class was an option for them. Even from a young age, they’d just kind of accepted that school was something they had to do if they wanted to keep playing exy, and so they tried just enough to get the grades to keep their scholarships so they could do that, and nothing more. They were never going to be the top of their class in anything, but they were good enough to coast through without too much worry, that is, when they actually gave classes even a hint of the attention they gave exy.

It’s different now, though, which is kind of a revelation, to know that this whole time they didn’t care because they were doing the wrong things. But here they are now, literally looking forward to their Tuesday morning dance classes, even if the first half is spent sitting in front of a white board, going over technical names, and muscle groupings, and so on. It’s worth it, for how they feel once they get to start moving.

Not even that they’re particularly good. The modern class is one thing, but ballet at this level might as well be a foreign language, even though they’ve taken a few classes. It’s tough, and a lot of work, but they feel good about it, even when they’re fucking up. And that in and of itself is an entirely new feeling for them.

So they’re riding high when they come out of class, not bothering to change from their dance attire, sweatshirt pulled over to shield from the cold, but mostly enjoying it after sweating buckets in the studio. A nice long shower, then a nap before practice, and some time with Neel, the perfect afternoon. Lost in their thoughts as they head back towards the Tower, they let out a curse when a longboard crashes into their shin. Instinctually they stop it with their foot, looking around for the owner. When their eyes land on Alanna, they can’t help but smile, even if they do see that she’s definitely just dealt with a crash. They pick up the longboard, and go over to her.

“That’s cool! I’m impressed you’re even going for it, to be honest, I think I’d be too afraid of crashing like that to try,” Casey smiles, offering her board back to her. “Are you alright, though? I think I have some bandaids in my bag if you need any...”

Location: Campus Date: Tues, January 22 Time: Early afternoon (open)

“Ouch,” Alanna hisses, as she topples off the longboard for the third time this afternoon. It’s been trial and error, despite Cade’s lessons. Alanna always starts small, but it only takes a few successful seconds for her to think oh, I’ve got this, I can go faster. It’s downhill from there—literally, sometimes. She stands up gingerly, investigates herself for any new bruises or skid marks. There’s nothing, other than an especially tender spot on her elbow from another, more dramatic, fall earlier today.      

Well. It’s only dramatic if she’s generous with the term, to be fair. She’s hardly going fast enough to hurt herself, although it’s not for lack of trying. She normally falls long before that point. Alanna wants badly to do this right, and for the few moments where she succeeds it always feels amazing—somewhere along the line this stopped being about what seemed cool and became something genuinely interesting. She wants this, and she thinks she should be good at it. After all, she’s agile enough on ground and in the air thanks to cheerleading. She’s not afraid to get injured if need be. Alanna isn’t confident about much, but she’s in control of her movements during a routine, at least.

Even that confidence disappears once she’s on the longboard though. There’s the ground and there’s the air, and this is thing on wheels is neither. And so far? She sucks at it.

Alanna squares her shoulders, and steps back onto the longboard. It shifts beneath her, but Alanna’s done this beginning part enough times to keep her balance. For now, at least. Carefully, Alanna kicks off the ground with one foot—a bigger push than normal, borne out of frustration for the fact that she can’t get this right, especially when Cade makes it look easy. 

And, oh, she shouldn’t get ahead of herself, but then she’s moving down the pavement and it’s too encouraging. She’s learned nothing apparently. This is the exhilarating part though, the thing that makes her try and try again. She won’t be cliche and call it flying, because she does that with the team already, but Alanna thinks maybe she loves this too. 

The board wobbles underneath her then. That’s happened before, but with the extra momentum this time around, Alanna panics. She corrects—no, overcorrects, and hits the ground again. The board goes skidding off without her. This time it stings worse, and when Alanna’s done mentally berating herself, she realizes there’s a new hole in her jeans and her knee looks red and angry through it. 

“Oh, come on,” she snaps, standing up. She still isn’t ready to call it a day, but then there’s someone in front of her. Someone she recognizes, actually, now that she isn’t worried about the longboard or a crash. Normally she likes finding familiar faces around campus, but they’ve seen her completely fail at this. Beginner or not, Alanna doesn’t like being bad at something. It’s worse that someone’s caught her in the act. “I’m, uhm. I’m still learning,” she says, as if to ward against their judgement. “I just got it for Christmas.”

[caseyhxndrix-blog]

Beretta → Casey Hendrix

Beretta: if you don't want it that's fine

Beretta: it's not my thing, but might as well use it if you won't

Casey: i mean i didn't say no...

Casey: just don't know if i'll actually use it

Casey: the option tho ig that might be nice to have

Casey: just in case

[caseyhxndrix-blog]

striker-brayden‌:

Brayden’s jaw clenches as he thinks back on the last few years in Betsy’s office. He’s not sure when he stopped resenting his sessions. He wouldn’t say he enjoys going even now, but he also doesn’t think of a million excuses to get out of his next appointment anymore either. Shrugging, he stares fixedly at his worn shoes as he rolls his cigarette between his fingers. 

“Dunno,” He mumbles. “I stay with Betsy over the summer, so I had to get used to her faster, I guess. She’s not so bad. She knows how to get you to think about shit you don’t want to think about, but that’s her job. And there must be something to it…” Brayden pauses as he does the mental calculation in his head, “‘Cause I’m four years sober and it looks like I’ll graduate.”

He never thought he could do either of those things. He was lucky to even graduate high school. He had a feeling some of his teachers passed him just so they wouldn’t have to have him in their class again. Wymack did something no one else bothered to do, but when Brayden started at Palmetto, he felt like there was no way he could spend five years on this team. Now, he’s actually trying, and he cares, even if it’s for the wrong reasons. 

“Not saying you should try living with her,” Brayden snorts. “But yeah. It gets easier the more you go, I guess.” 

Maybe they’ll get to that point before they leave; hell, even getting to the point of actually going any time but the times they’re required would be a good first step, but that’s a lot of pressure for just now. It’s hard to unlearn everything they’d been conditioned to think about this sort of thing. The distrust of being open, the worry of disappointing people they care about, seeming incapable, weak. It’s hard to imagine putting themself in that position willingly, yet alone not hating it.

They nod as Brayden goes through the progression with them. Maybe in a way it would be easier for them, too, if it was something they were forced into. That’s part of the problem, after all, they never had to, and so they never sought out that kind of help themself. What they would’ve given for easy access to someone like Betsy a year and a half ago, when they were being forced to go cold turkey, all alone. “Yeah, I mean, I guess there’s a reason we have to do it, right? I just need to relax about it. I’m sure you know how much it fuckin’ sucks to be honest and actually talk about things,” Casey shakes their head, before taking a drag of the cigarette.

“It’s admirable, man, coming so far. I wanna get there too. I guess going more would be a good first step, probably. I’ll be real, I promised myself I’d try last semester, but then it just...didn’t really happen. Adjusting was enough already, guess I didn’t wanna face all the trauma, too,” they say with a wry laugh.

[caseyhxndrix-blog]

raph-peruggia‌:

Raph can feel the heat steadily rising up from his neck to his cheeks, along his ears, and down his chest. He’s being attacked from two fronts, by Michael Cheng and Casey Hendrix. Both of them are babbling on about pride and improvement and him. It makes him want to recede, hunching down and staring at the floor until both of them stop talking to him.

“I was sufficient, nothing more. Don’t do that,” he  demands gruffly, eyes trained on the floor

“Aw bud I’m sure they were just trying to be nice, Michael Cheng says, eyeing the way that Raph folds in on himself. He shifts a little on his feet, edging between him and Casey Hendrix until his body is a physical barrier between them. It’s a protective gesture, made nearly invisible by the congenial way he smiles at Casey Hendrix.

“You’re the infamous Casey!” Michael Cheng says brightly, hands fluttering in excitement. “Oh, this is so cool. I’ve been following you since Ohio. Your work with the Buckeyes and the Foxes has been so stellar. If I could get one backliner on the Rattlers with the same skills as yours our defense would be set.” He glances over his shoulder at Raph, smile shifting from friendly to reassuring. “Raph said you offered to teach him how to do checks a little bit more uh, gently That’s really nice of you.” “I have not decided whether or not I want to take them up on their offer,” Raph says, relaxing slightly as it becomes clear that they won’t be talking about his perceived merits anymore.

They can tell that all of the compliments are making Raph uncomfortable, but before they can reply, try to smooth things over, Michael does instead. It’s interesting to see how they interact, different than how they’ve seen him interact with most other people, and yet it makes sense.

Before they can think too hard on it, though, he goes on. The mention of him having followed them since Ohio sets off the typical sinking feelings in the pit of their stomach, just like it does anytime someone mentions the Buckeyes. It means he knows how badly they fucked up, means he’s seen every skeleton of theirs laid out bare, without them wanting it. That might be the worst part of it all, at least if it had been private, they’d still have some of their dignity, it wouldn’t follow them around, rear it’s head in the happiest moments. But like this, it feels like the media took away that privacy, the chance to move on, when everyone knows.

At least he doesn’t mention that part of things, though. No, instead he’s complimenting them, saying he wishes he had a backliner like them on his team, and Casey understands instantly just why Michael Cheng was able to help Raph so much. It makes them wish they had had a coach like him before now. 

“I don’t know about that, but thank you. Hopefully I’ll get back to Buckeyes playing shape soon... we’re gonna need it if we wanna keep going,” they nod with a smile. They’re not sure they’ll ever get back to playing as well as they did at OSU, but they can hope.

“Oh, we’re teammates, that’s what teammates do! It’s a standing offer, so no worries about deciding now. We could practice together again, though, even without working on the checks; it’s championships, after all, every little bit helps.”

OPEN STARTER

[caseyhxndrix-blog]

cartermaddx‌:

That certainly was something. What does that say about the world when the Foxes become more stable and accepting than their own families? Carter always hated thinking about that though… his mind started to wander to all the kids in homes where they were hurting and had no way out. Wymack gave them a second chance, but who was there to give the other kids a second chance? In a perfect world, Carter would open a home for kids who needed a new life, teach them Exy and the important lessons he learned during his life.

“Yeah… that is wild, but that’s a good thing, right? We’re here for a better life and a second chance. This is the family that should stick with you for good…  help each other out and be there whenever we need one another.” Carter chuckled softly. “Can’t say we’re all there yet…”

Maybe one way they would be, but Carter had to hope for it for the future Foxes.

“We are young as fuck. We seem like old people after all the shit we’ve been through but we’re still young and have a whole life ahead of us. But I’ll make sure to send postcards to ya’ll. Show you my wonderful free life!” He’s teasing partially. He doesn’t know how wonderful and free it’ll be. “Honestly, I’d rather just make the draft and spend my time after graduation practicing Exy and gearing up to see all of you win a second championship in a row.”

“Oh, yeah, definitely a good thing,” they mutter, with a nod. Imagine that, a family that sticks with you for good, no matter what happens. Everything in their life had made them believe that wasn’t really possible. First, their dad, then friends, teammates, finally, the rest of their blood family. What would it feel like to have a home that stayed a home? They couldn’t really imagine it, and they couldn’t let themself try, too afraid of losing something again, being hurt all over, letting more people down.

So maybe they were part of that group of people that wasn’t all there yet, but maybe eventually that would change. That was something they would like, to be proven wrong. “It’s tough, but, hey, at least we’re trying, right?”

They laugh, something maybe a little sad to the sound. That’s the sort of life they’d hope for after graduation, too, but it feels so far out of reach that it’s hard to even imagine, they wonder if Carter feels that, too. And that’s without even thinking of what’s happening in the now. They’ve still got the rest of the season to worry about. It’s a big enough surprise to them that they’ve made it this far, it feels like every moment they’re just waiting to be disappointed. But maybe that’s just the lingering feelings of pessimism from thinking about Oklahoma. It’s hard to be hopeful, when you can’t escape all of your own failures.

“Yeah, all the shit really ages you like fifty years, doesn’t it?” they laugh. “But no, that sounds like the ideal. I hope that’s what happens. We win this one, you all get drafted, and we keep going strong... You’re a really talented player, I’d be shocked if someone didn’t snatch you up for the draft.”

[caseyhxndrix-blog]

Beretta → Casey Hendrix

Beretta: yo

Beretta: it's beretta

Beretta: remember what we talked about?

Casey: how could i forget?

Casey: i mean, i'm all healed up now tho, you know

[caseyhxndrix-blog]

striker-brayden‌:

Brayden used to hate how much Wymack involved himself in their lives, keeping a close eye on them all like he was their father instead of their coach. It was hard from him to go from a family who looked the other way as he wasted a way to a coach who took one look at him and demanded he go to rehab. Now that he’s sober and confident he’s going to stay that way, he realizes that Wymack was exactly what he needed at the time–someone who didn’t write him off as hopeless and invested in him getting better.

“Guess they could actually learn something from us degenerate Foxes,” Brayden comments, his words muffled by the cigarette between his lips. The ERC loves to paint them as the team full of troubled players, but they’re the ones who took Casey and Olivia from teams that didn’t care enough about them to keep them safe. 

“I used to hate this shit,” Brayden admits, surprising himself by the confession. It’s not like it’s a secret, but he isn’t the type to talk about his feelings–any kind of feelings. “I tried to skip my first session, which went over really well,” He snorts with a roll of his eyes. “At least he gives a shit, you know?” When Brayden relapsed, Wymack could’ve kicked him off the team. He had one condition to being on the team and he failed. But he didn’t. He gave him another chance, and here he is. Still a mess, but at least he’s a mess who’ll graduate. 

It probably says something about them that they have to remind themself that this is a good thing, being required to actually talk about things, and have a professional make sure they’re relatively fine. But that doesn’t make it any easier, when one of the only through-lines of their life has been ignoring problems and having those problems ignored, in turn, by everyone else around them. Not that that’s ever gone well, but they’re still learning this whole openness thing.

“Yeah, that’s the truth. Who would’ve thought the Foxes were going to be a shining example of support?” they say with a little laugh. Despite the struggles, despite the distances they still felt from most of the people surrounding them here, they’re well aware that all in all, it’s probably the best environment they could’ve asked for, after everything. People who care, no matter what, people looking out for them, even when they don’t want it. They’re just not used to it yet, aren’t sure they ever can be, after everything.

Casey lets out a breath of smoke, in a half laugh. They can imagine him doing that, maybe they would’ve, too, in different circumstances, too afraid of honesty to face it. “I’ll be honest, can’t really say I’m a big fan of it...but I get it. And I know I should probably be trying harder, or something...” they trail off. “You’re right, though. At least they give a shit. Doesn’t really happen many other places, I’ve noticed... What changed? I mean, when did you stop hating this?”

[caseyhxndrix-blog]

jenbrookhart‌:

“If your family will let us keep you then you definitely should,” Jen teases with a dimply grin. “It would be nice to have some more friends around here for the holidays. Arlo will be around, but so will Brayden so…yeah,” They trail off with a quiet laugh. They know that Arlo would sacrifice some alone time with Brayden to be with Jen, but they also don’t want to ruin his chance to have a dorm room to themselves. If Casey stayed in Palmetto, Neel probably would too, so their situation wouldn’t be that different, but still, it’s nice to be surrounded by people they care about when they can’t go home. The reminder that they’re missing someone who’s incredibly important to them niggles at the back of their brain, but they stubbornly ignore it and focus on the ball.

“Really?” Jen asks in surprise, “More teams should do that.” Ballet is great for coordination and form, and they’d all probably be better players if they took it. It definitely would’ve saved Jen a lot of trouble if their dad was more open to it. They wouldn’t have had to sneak around just to go to a dance class. But asking Jacob Brookhart to be more open is apparently asking for the impossible. 

It’ll be good for Casey to have something outside of Exy. It’s not like Jen doesn’t think they won’t make pro after graduation, but they know what it’s like to have their life to be consumed by Exy, and it’s just healthier to have other hobbies to turn to. “I bet you’ll be amazing,” They give them a reassuring grin. “Really, I think it’s a great idea. Maybe, I should look into it for my own major. I still haven’t decided what to choose…

They laugh, but just shrug a little. The thing is, they don’t think their family would mind at all, at least most of them, if they did stay here instead. That’s what hurts so much, knowing that the reason they’re going through the torture of going home is because of some fucked up attachment to people who didn’t even know how to care for them anymore. Only Mallory would’ve cared if they didn’t come, and they’re pretty sure they could convince her to come here instead. But they can’t. They just can’t let go yet. “Maybe next year. I think I’d like to be part of a Fox and Vixen Christmas. Different sort of family drama,” they tease with a small smile.

“Yeah, it was super helpful, to be honest. And I think a lot of the assholes secretly enjoyed it,” they laugh. Everyone they had mentioned the switch to had been so nice about it, it was just another reminder that they were in a completely different place than they had been a year and some change ago. It’s a little strange, to realize that people here will actually accept things like that with a smile and excitement, instead of judgement and disdain. It makes them wonder if they’d made the wrong choice over and over again up until now, like maybe even thought they’d thought this was going to be another in a series of mistakes, it was the one good thing to come from everything else.

“Thanks, I really hope so,” they grinned, unable to hide the genuine happiness at hearing their reaction to it. “You should! We could be dance major buds! I can only assume it’d help even more with the Vixens stuff, too.”

[caseyhxndrix-blog]

averyneel‌:

Neel’s already on his way back to the tower as he shoots Casey a couple of hasty replies, grinning softly as he does so.

neel: god, same neel: i could never talk in front of that many people  neel: i’d spontaneously combust neel: or melt into the floor neel: or, you know, just walk away without saying anything which i’m sure wymack would love neel: anyway. on my way now. i can’t wait to see you

He shoves his phone into his pocket and picks up his pace, ducking his head against the chilly breeze blowing through campus. He contemplates stopping off at his own room long enough to dump his stuff (and maybe take a shower, or at least re-apply his deodorant) but eventually decides against it - all he wants, right now, is to see Casey, and he’s sure they feel the same. If he smells a little like stale fear-sweat, it won’t be the first (or the last) time.

They answer the door after the first knock and he can’t help the small, satisfied noise he makes when they reel him in. Their lips are soft and warm and he melts into the gesture, gripping their hip with the hand that’s not tangled in the strap of his duffel bag. 

“Yeah,” he breathes, idly tracing circles into Casey’s hipbone through the soft fabric of their lounge pants. “Doesn’t matter anymore, though.”

And, fuck, he means it. As soon as he’d seen them, something had unfurled inside him. He feels lighter. Loose. Happy. It’s like the entire first half of his day hadn’t happened. Like he hadn’t been about to vibrate out his skin under the scrutiny of a dozen different reporters. Like he hadn’t questioned his entire worth as a person just for his inability to answer a few questions without stumbling through them.

It all seems so distant, standing here with Casey’s hand on his arm and the phantom feeling of their lips still lingering on his skin. It feels insignificant, in the face of this. Unable to hurt him, now that he’s surrounded by something so warm. So accepting.

He wants to tell them everything. Right here, in the middle of the hallway for everyone to see. He wants to tell them - that’s he’s never had this. Never felt anything like this, and god, he never wants it to go away. He wants to tell them that he’s been searching for something, desperately reaching, all of his life - and this is it. 

He wants to tell them he’s found it.

But he can’t. His lips feel too heavy and his heart is beating too fast and Casey smells too good and he’s so, so fucking aware of how fragile it all is, so he does the only thing he can, and kisses them.

His bag falls to the ground and he ignores it, backing them up until Casey’s back gently comes to rest against the doorframe. They taste crisp, when he licks into their mouth - like fresh air and cold water and waking up. He lingers for a few moments, breathing them in, before shifting back on his heels, suddenly feeling like an idiot. 

“I-… Sorry,” he shrugs. “I just really wanted to do that.”

It’s wild how even just seeing Neel can make everything feel a little bit easier, like the air is suddenly clearer, easier to breathe. His hand on their hip, thumb rubbing circles over the spot, makes everything else feel far, far away, distant worries.

He says that it doesn’t matter anymore, and, god, he’s right about that. How can any of those trivial worries matter when they’ve got something so perfect right here between them. 

Maybe, a few years ago, this sort of feeling would’ve scared them, maybe, then, they would’ve been terrified to feel that vulnerable around someone else, that one person could have such an effect on them just by existing, and giving them a bit of that existence. But now? Now it’s a comfort, especially with everything else so damn hard.

They just smile at him for a second, the happiness coming so easily now that they’re near him, and don’t have to worry about the rest of the world. There’s a word for what this feels like, a word they hadn’t ever really attached to another person like they would to Neel now, and it’s just there on the tip of their tongue. 

And they don’t want to be presumptuous, but it feels a lot like looking back at Neel, into his eyes, that he feels something like that, too.

It’s a surprise when Neel’s suddenly kissing them again before anything else can be said, this time hungrier, full of a need they know just as well themself. There’s a lot in the kiss, unspoken words full of meaning that tell them just how much this all means to Neel. Their back against the doorframe, Neel’s lips on his, for a moment everything feels so easy. One hand grips Neel’s arm tighter, as if to keep him there, the other goes to his neck, pulling him closer all the same, enjoying the sensation of being known.

Casey’s pretty sure they could stay like that for hours, without ever needing anything else, but eventually Neel pulls back just a little, and, of all things, apologizes, which makes a laugh bubble from Casey’s lips.

“Sorry? I should be thanking you for a kiss like that. Like, holy shit, Neel, thank fuck you wanted to do that,” they laugh, a little dazed from the kiss, from wanting more. “What’d I do to deserve a kiss like that?”

[caseyhxndrix-blog]

They’d won. The first game of the championships is over and they had won. Part of them feels a little ashamed of how surprised they are of the fact, but a bigger part of them doesn’t care, because they get to keep playing at least a little bit longer, and they’ve doing well. Sure, they hadn’t helped as much on the court as they wished they could’ve, but this was their first game back, and they were trying, as hard as it was, to be easy on themself. 

After showering and changing, all of the typical necessities done, they’d started out of the stadium with everyone, eyes scanning the crowd for Neel, wanting nothing more than to run up to him and kiss him, and keep kissing him for as long as they could stand. Instead, though, their eyes land on something nearly as good, because they see Raph talking to a man, an extremely happy-looking man, who he seems to know. 

The good mood the game’s put them in makes them too excited not to take a detour to meet the man, the myth, the legend who they assume Raph is talking to. Casey stops just a little behind Raph, not wanting to disturb the scene, but the man sees him first, and he greets them before they can say anything. Raphie’s teammates. This had to be the coach that Raph had talked about with them before.

“Yeah, thank you! I’m Casey Hendrix. You must be Michael Cheng with the nice dogs,” they smile, offering a hand out to shake. Looking over at Raph, they give him a grin, too. “Good job today, Raph. You just keep getting better and better. I’m glad he got to see such a good game of ours!”

OPEN STARTER

Time: post-game Date: January 18th Status: Open

He knows that Michael Cheng will be in the stands. He promised. He’s been texting him regularly since they arrived in Davis, sending him pictures of the road as he draws ever closer. But the full reality of it does not hit him until he sees him there. He is acting foolish, as per usual. His face is pressed up against the plexiglass and he is beaming at Raph as if they’ve already won.

And Raph is filled with so much warmth that he is afraid he might burst with it. The feeling forces him to move, hand flying into the air in a sign of acknowledge. I see you. I know you. Thank you.Thank you.Thank you.

After the game is over Michael Cheng finds him in the crowd of athletes and spectators slowly filtering out of the stadium. He looks as if he wants to reach out and touch him but he doesn’t, stopping three feet short and grinning at Raph. “You were great out there kiddo. I’m so proud.” 

Raph ducks his head. He can feel his face growing hot in the way it always does when anyone talks to him like this. “I was sufficient. If I had done more our score would not have been so close.”

Michael Cheng looks like he has something to say in response to that but his attention slides from Raph’s face to someone standing behind him. He grins in the smaller, polite way that he does when he’s greeting someone new. “Hi there!! You must be one of Raphie’s teammates! Congratulations!”

[caseyhxndrix-blog]

cartermaddx‌:

There’s a clear look of understanding on Carter’s face. He’s well aware of what it’s like to need to get our the pent up frustration and the magic of the Court. It’s the only place that ever feels like home for Carter, the only place where he can safely let go of everything. For some people it might be a person or a home, but not for Carter… another reason he’s terrified of what happens when it’s all over.

“Family bullshit, we’ve all dealt with enough of it,” Carter mumbled to them before he straightened up and smiled again. “I’m sure if he’s got you, it’ll be a good break. And if your family becomes too much you can always just walk away. Both of you have your family here.” It didn’t matter if some of them weren’t that close… they were all Foxes and the Foxes would always be a family.

“I’ll try not to spend all my time babysittin’ but I gotta make sure I can at least tell Grant no one got into any serious trouble while he was gone,” he promised them. “But at least I’ve got extra cash and there’s always time for another trip, I’m still young.” Maybe he could finally buy a new pair of tennis shoes and some socks. He needed to get some food too. Shampoo. He could only add water to the bottle so many times before it was useless.

“Not sure where I’ll end up wanting to go. There’s so many places to see and I want to try to go to as many as possible.” Carter leaned back against the plexiglass wall. “I never thought I’d get to see the world. Kind of a bucket list now.”

Both of you have family here. Such a simple statement, but it was one that felt like it cut straight to the soul. Over and over again, they made homes for themself, and over and over again, they fucked it up, and left those homes behind. They never managed to keep a family, and it was one of the many reasons when they’d first got here, they had tried to keep their distance. Not making a new home, meant they couldn’t risk losing one again. But it hadn’t worked, they needed people too much, and here the Foxes were, accepting them for who they were and the mistakes they’d made.

They swallowed hard, tried to push down the emotion that threatened to bubble up, already too vulnerable as it was, having come to the court to try their hardest to forget about going back to a home and a family that hadn’t been theirs in a long, long time. “Guess you’re right. Kind of wild when the Foxes are a more stable and accepting family than your own, isn’t it?” they said with a little laugh.

It was probably a good thing that someone responsible would be here to look out for everyone who had to stick around. Knowing how everyone was, it’d be a small miracle to keep everyone just barely in line for the whole break, but if anyone could manage it besides Grant, it was Carter, they thought. 

“Good, good. It’s true, we’re young as fuck. I forget that sometime. And, hey, traveling for a bit’s always a good graduation present to yourself. Feels like that’s one of the things all my rich friends back in New England did when they graduated,” they nodded. “Traveling around the world would be real nice. You’ll have to send us back postcards. I’ve been, like, three places all my life.”

[caseyhxndrix-blog]

text ✉ cade → casey

cade: bring on the sappiness, as long as you know you're not alone no matter what happens.

cade: i've been better but i'm doing okay so that has to count for something?

cade: just... a lot going on. and i need to talk to claudia but i'm so awkward. what happened to when I was cool????

casey: well then sounds like we'll just have to be sappy always then SHRUG

casey: okay is FINE, but i want you to be GREAT. i get that, though, it's a hard situation. you'll only feel better once you talk to her, i feel like, right? like having everything out in the open's a good thing

casey: sorry to disappoint, but you were never cool, i know the real you. but it's okay, you get by on the fake cool

[caseyhxndrix-blog]

striker-brayden‌:

As Casey takes a seat beside him, Brayden fishes out a cigarette from his pack and offers one to them. Usually, he’d be more stingy about sharing, but he knows how much these days can suck for the team and decides to give them a pass. He’s gotten too soft, and he’d even say too friendly…friendly for him, at least. Betsy would say those are good things, and that he’s finally learning to let his guard down, but whenever he becomes hyperaware of it he feels all prickly. 

“Yeah,” He answers flatly before pausing to go in for another drag. “At least, it’s actually cold enough for hot chocolate now. The last thing I want when I’m sweating my ass off in July is that shit.”  It’s supposed to be comforting while you talk about all your feelings, Brayden knows that, but now he just associates hot chocolate with therapy, which makes him never want to drink the stuff. 

“Did you have to do this on your last team?” Brayden asks, genuinely curious. He’s not sure what requirements the other teams have, whether once a semester therapy is just a thing for the Foxes because they’re all fucked up in their own way, or if all of college sports cares about the mental health of their players. 

They’re not expecting him to offer up a cigarette, but they accept gladly when he does. It’s that sort of day, after all, that sort of time in general. The beginning of the semester therapy checkin wasn’t exactly an easy thing for most people on the team, even if it was necessary. Maybe there was a part of them who regretted not having gone to Betsy again after the first summer meeting, maybe they’d force themself to do better this semester. But first, this, and to get through this, a cigarette.

“True. It’s the little things with something like this, I guess,” they say with a little laugh, before pausing to light their cigarette, taking a drag. That’s comforting at least, as much as it shouldn’t be. It’s a better bad habit than the other options, than the pills still sitting there, untouched, shoved in the back of their bottom drawer. Maybe today will give them the courage to just flush them all instead of hesitating.

The idea of their old team having therapy makes them laugh. “God, no. And if we did, then I’m sure the therapists would’ve been just as fucked up as our coaches were. No, the Buckeyes were more of a keep quiet, bury it down, nothing has to be a problem until you make it a problem sort of team. I made it a problem, obviously,” they said with a bitter laugh.

[caseyhxndrix-blog]

berettalepore‌:

Now that Casey gave her the answer she was looking for, she had full control over the situation at hand. And because of that, she can feel herself growing bored of this game she forced them into playing. There was no fun when she knew what moves were going to happen next. But, what did she expect? 

There’s a voice in the back of her head yelling to stop. It’s screaming at her to let them heal by themselves, stop provoking Casey into relapsing. But, it’s too little too late. Her plan is already in motion and there’s no stopping it now. She knows the risk that comes with this, knows that if anyone found out that she would have hell to pay. There’s a larger part of her subconscious that doesn’t care about that and drowns out all sense on the matter. 

“I’m sure the doctor has something that can help,” her boredom slipping into her tone. She waves it off before flicking the half-finished cigarette in between them. “I’ll text you when it’s ready. Unless, of course, you want to come with me?”

It’s dangerous for her to even think about going there. Beretta’s fully aware that whatever she asks for she’ll be able to get and that includes her own craving. Teetering on the edge was starting to be too much for her to handle. And with championships so close, she would need something to help. It couldn’t hurt if she used them for a few games, right?

It’s an interesting shift, and maybe they would’ve read into it more if their head wasn’t pounding, and it wasn’t getting harder to stand up without leaning on anything with the exhaustion. They can practically hear how little she cares when she replies, when she gets what she wants form them, the admission of their weaknesses. It makes them even more pissed, now maybe nearly as much at her as at themself for being here at all. She put them into the situation, they gave her what she asked for, and already she’s over it. Maybe, another time, they would’ve fought back, would’ve told her that, actually, they’d changed their mind...

Now, though, their head is too hazy and their body is too tired to be anything but angry, disappointed in themself for even setting this situation up, yet alone showing just how weak they are by asking for what they have.

At least it’s done for now. They’ve both played their hands, and now it’s up to her to decide whether she wants to go through with it or not. They’re got a familiar itch in the back of their throat, but just knowing that there’s a possibility they could have what they crave makes it lessen, and that’s enough, as pathetic as it is. It’s par for the course, anyway, the way things keep going.

“No, I don’t think I’ll come, but thanks, though. I’m more used to delivery,” they said wryly with a little shrug. Casey doesn’t wait before starting back towards the door. “I need to get back to my room, shouldn’t even be walking around. Guess I’ll talk to you soon, Beretta.”