#when is the second coming coming Neil…. WHEN

[neowqing]

Wymack was Kevin's father, and a father figure to Neil and Andrew. Aaron watched the coach watch the three, gently pushing them to their limits and then pushing them beyond because he knew they were capable. The way David cares for Andrew makes Aaron's heart clench, his brother has the ghost of a smile when Wymack is arguing, but without the bite or accusations, it's a beautiful picture hardened in his memory before he leaves Palmetto.

Aaron spends years at university, good studies, lack of sleep, energy, five times facing stomach pain, he doesn't tell anyone about it, everything that will lead him to the end of the road, his diploma, internship, and graduation, he is tired of everything but happy, with a bouquet of flowers from Katelyn, and she has a similar one in her hands, they take pictures together as she walks on to greet her friends, kisses Aaron on the cheek, and Aaron sits down in a chair, putting the bouquet down on the next one, tired, with a slight headache.

"Aaron" comes from his left, and Aaron turns round.

Wymack, with the potted violets, had come up without Aaron noticing.

"Coach..." Aaron stands up, confused, as the man embraces him, hugging him, rubbing his back and shoulder.

"I'm not your coach anymore. You did well, good job." Aaron freezes at the words before hugging David back. "You worked hard, didn't you?"

Aaron nods, clears his throat, and sniffs. Wymack hands over the flowers, ruffling Minyard's hair.

"Was it hard?"

"A little easier than exy" Aaron replies, looking at the violets. Wymack snorts.

"You did well, son."

"Son", Aaron tries not to think about it, it's just a friendly nickname, like when Waimak used to call him "kid", but his cheeks seem to be burning.

Aaron gives him a tour of the corridors and halls, he briefly describes the teachers and subjects, and maybe the coach is just pretending, but he is very convincing, as if he is interested and wants to know how Aaron has been all this time. Minyard also asks about Palmetto, and laughs when Wymack swears at the players.

They walk back into the hall, still full of graduates and their families and friends, when Aaron sees Andrew. He knows Andrew had a game today and honestly wasn't expecting to see him, especially not at his graduation, Andrew crosses the path in a matter of seconds, they stand awkwardly, Andrew with an unseen nervousness reflected by the twitching of his hands and Aaron with a question in his eyes and the pot in his hand and the diploma between them, as Andrew makes one last move, hugging Aaron.

It's unexpected. The 16-year-old Aaron had little knowledge of consent, so when he sees his twin, whom he has known for 3 years, he rushes forward, hugging Andrew. Then Andrew froze for exactly a second and relaxed, it was instinctive, he wanted to throw Aaron away, as he later did with Nicky, who tried to touch him, but for some reason Andrew couldn't do it. They hugged once, because then Aaron realised that Andrew didn't like it.

But now Andrew does it first, not just hugging him back, but initiating the hug, something he had never done in his sober and uninjured state.

"You?" Aaron is confused, he raises his free hand but does not touch Andrew.

"I was in therapy," Andrew grumbles softly against his ear.

"You wanted to hug Josten?" Aaron knows Neil is around, so he looks for him to confirm.

"Neil and I do other things" Aaron hears Andrew's cheeky grin.

"Ew, gross."

"I wanted to give you a hug" Aaron stops squirming.

"Then can I touch you?"

"Go ahead."

Aaron puts his hand on Andrew's back, moves it up and down tentatively, and then stops.

"And why?" Aaron wants to know why Andrew would want to hold him.

"Because you like the way Nicky and Eric hugged you, because when you hugged me I felt safe, and if you feel the same way, then I'll do it for you."

Aaron leans into his brother's shoulder. To him, this doesn't feel like something Andrew would do for a deal, it feels like something Andrew would do for Neil, as his exception to the rules.

Aaron didn't really hug Andrew after the first time, but he was the one who touched Andrew, lightly, unobtrusively, reminding Andrew, who might have fallen out of reality, that he wasn't alone, they didn't have conversations, they were just there for the other. And Andrew had never flinched, he hated being touched, without warning, without permission, but with Aaron he didn't feel the same way.

Andrew, Neil, who later came into view standing next to the coach, and Wymack didn't stay long, Aaron didn't keep them away from all the greetings and conversations.

"Coach, what made you want to come here?" Andrew leans on the door of his car as Neil takes a picture of Aaron on Andrew's phone.

"I can't come to my child?" Wymack replies. "Send me his photo later."

Andrew stands up straight.

"Yes, Father" and nods like a promise, Wymack rolls his eyes at this.

"Maybe Andrew should have worn your robes, it would have been nice," Neil says as he and Aaron approach.

"Your hands are crooked, you can't do anything right," Aaron complains.

They say goodbye, promising to meet up later when Aaron finishes his internship, when he should call them to celebrate and Nicky and Eric will be coming from Germany. Andrew does indeed send photos of Aaron in his gown, with his diploma and bouquet in one hand and a pot of violets in the coach. Andrew posts one with a composed, serious Aaron on his Instagram, to which Nicky sends a crying emoji, and puts a photo of a smiling Aaron on his phone's desktop screen, with Neil on his lock screen, cuddling their two cats, the three of them sleepy and just waking up to the rays of the sun.

[just-a-pollicle]

Image descriptions for all photos and text.

[Image Descriptions: Four images of a news article, each with text and pictures. Each one has a black border that says 'The Weekend Australian Magazine' in the bottom left corner, and has the Cats The Musical logo in the bottom right.

Image one: Large picture of a handful of Cats actors mid-song, captioned 'Hit: Cats on Broadway'. On top of the picture it says:

'Story by Ariela Bard, Photography by Neil Bennett.

Cool Cats. As it opens on its 40th anniversary tour, we uncover the secrets of the beloved stage musical bouncing back from film failure.'

Image two: Four pictures with text surrounding. Two small images in the corner; headshots of a man and a woman, captioned 'Before: cast members Leigh Archer and Jarrod Draper'. Underneath is a larger picture of a table covered in the makeup used in Cats, along with a reference picture of the character Jennyanydots. To the right is a picture of, presumably, rehearsals.

Image three: four pictures with text surrounding. Top left picture is reference photos of Cats makeup and costume design. To the right, two photos of makeup artists applying makeup on Archer and Draper. In the bottom left corner is a picture of Judi Dench as Old Deuteronomy in the 2019 Cats movie. All photos are captioned: 'Transformation: Archer and Draper having their makeup applied. Bottom, Judi Dench in the movie.'

Image four: four images with text surrounding. Top left corner is a face-first picture of Draper in Munkustrap makeup. Underneath is a picture of both Archer and Draper in front of a mirror with finished makeup. To the left is a picture of many Cats actors standing, looking surprised and happy. These are captioned "Big reveal: Archer and Draper; fellow cast membrs react to their transformation.' At the bottom of the page, there is a small still image of the cast on stage and in costume, mid-song. End image ID.]

[Text ID: "There are several ways in which this might be a failure," T.S. Eliot wrote of his strange little book of cat poems, Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats. if Andrew Lloyd Webber didn't necessarily utter those same words 40 years later when he came up with the idea to turn Eliot's whimsical poems into a musical, plenty of other people would.

Writing in his memoir, Unmasked, Lloyd Webber says his idea for Cats - which has to date earned approximately $3.57 billion world-wide, making it one of the highest-grossing musicals of all time - was "spurned by theatrical investors as madness" and "scoffed at by critics". It's not hard to see why: the show had no plot, all the characters were cats and the score was a hallucinogenic ride of Moog-synthesised pop via opera, jazz, music hall and rock. It proved well-nigh impossible to find backers and Lloyd Webber would end up taking out a second mortgage to finance what he had come to describe as his "suicidally stupid musical".

But when Cats premiered on the New London Theatre on May 11, 1981, it defied every expectation of what a successful musical could be. The Sunday Times declared it to be "among the most exhilarating and innovative musicals ever staged". The Guardian described it as "an exhilarating piece of total theatre," with "dazzling staging" by director Trevor Nunn and "brilliant choreography" by Gillian Lynne. By opening weekend the theatre was fulled with patrons leaping to their feet to deliver three-minute standing ovations. The show would run at the theatre for almost 9,000 performances, and win the Olivier Award for Best Musical.

It stayed in the West End for a record-breaking 21 years and was a raging success across the pond, running for 18 years on Broadway. A Japanese production a the Shiki Theatre has been running for 41 years, making it one of the longest-running theatre shows in history. The show has been translated into 23 languages and seen by over 81 million people worldwide. Despite the initial doubts and financial risks, Lloyd Webber's spectacle of a clowder of cat-people singing poetry, gyrating in unitards, crazy wigs and painted faces tapped into the zeitgeist and quickly became a theatrical juggernaut. How?

"It;s a complete piece of theatre," says Chrissie Cartwright, who has worked as associate director and choreographer on productions of Cats since 1986. Cartwright is on video call from her home in the UK and getting ready to travel to Sydney to oversee rehearsals of the 40th Anniversary Australian tour of the show, which begins its run at Sydney's Theatre Royal in June. "It has beauty. It has compassion. And that central story of someone who's fallen on hard times is something we can all identify with. As long as we tell that story in a compassionate way it has something for everyone. We make sure its child-friendly. Even people who might be dragged along to see it reluctantly can't fail to clap along to Mr. Mistoffelees. I think it draws everyone in."

As for the plot (which unfolds in defiance of musical convention, with no love story), its one night in the lives of a quorum of cats who gather for the annual moment when their guru, Old Deuteronomy, announces which cat will transcend to the "Heaviside Layer" afterlife. Will it be Rum Tum Tugger with his eroticised Jagger-esque swagger? Or the bedazzled Mr. Mistoffelees? Could it be Grizabella, the former Glamour Cat whose life of excess has left her ravaged and vulnerable, stalking the stage wide-eyes in a tattered coat? Old Deuteronomy listens patiently to each cat's story, before one of them, after belting out the shows musical altarpiece Memory, ascends to heaven.

"It's all of the forces coming together," Cartwright says. "It's visually beautiful. The set and costumes and makeup are brilliant. And all of those original creatives, who were absolutely at the top of their game, being together... It just works to bring all those incongruous elements into one piece."

Except when one doesn't.

It's a Tuesday morning in Sydney's Waterloo as a bunch of young performers in leotards and leg warmers end a grueling round of rehearsals and take a break. Before they can get to their water bottles, two actors spill out of the back room with full faces of makeup. They're the first cast members to have been transformed into their characters, and are set upon by their co-stars who paw them and coo with delight.

"You can never have too much powder," says Kellie Ritchie, head of wigs and makeup for the production. "It's a very sweaty show." Ritchie has spent the morning teaching two of the performers how to apply their own makeup - first applying flat layers of color and blending, then the individual markings that bring out each cat's distinct character. The marks need to line up with the details in the characters wigs, which are designed to blend into the makeup and are hand-knotted into each performer's hair before every show.

Leigh Archer, who has been cast as Jennyanydots, is about to have her first crack at copying Ritchie's work. The makeup artist has finished one half of Archers face and is encouraging her to finish the rest. "Press the brush flat at the hairline and then turn it as you get closer to your face," she says. It's harder than it looks.

Jarrod Draper, who plays Munkustrap, the show's narrator, has had one side of his face done and is now standing up close to the mirror trying to get his brushstrokes right on the other side. "It's going to be like a top-tier designer on one side and then the Temu version on the other," he says, laughing.

"When you first put the makeup on you actually have to look really hard to see the persons face," Archer adds. "But then after a while, you see the persons face straight away."

Draper describes the process of being made up as "like putting on a suit of armour... its a fully transformative experience", he says.

The 22 cast members will all learn to apply their own makeup, and will do so eight times a week. "They call them triple threats," Ritchie tells me. "But they have to be makeup artists too, so we call them quadruple threats." She says that, among makeup artists, Cats is seen as the "holy grail" of productions.

Theatre designer John Napier's creative vision is often described as key to the show's success. The original set (inspired by Eliot's poem The Waste Land) was a surreal landscape, an oversized junkyard filled with tires, pipes and old boots. He dressed the performers in body-hugging unitards that allowed them to move with balletic fluidity (Lynne's choreography - fusing classical ballet, modern dance, jazz and animal movements - is considered to be along the most challenging in musical theatre) and designed wigs and makeup to shapeshift them into cat-human hybrids.

"John's design was to identify both the cat and the human in each character," says Cartwright, who worked alongside Napier, Lynne and many of the original creators. "He didn't want it to look like face masks that would hide the person playing it. And it's the same with the whole costume. It's so important that the cats keep their humanity."

And yet it was the cats' complicated relationship to humanity that led to the catastrophic flop of Tom Hooper's 2019 film adaptation starring Judi Dench, Rebel Wilson, Jennifer Hudson, Ian McKellen and Idris Elba. The film was a total failure, not just critically but financially too - its budget was reported to be $95 million and it make $75.6 million worldwide.

Arguably, it all went wrong when the film decided to eschew Napier's original designs and digitally graft feline features, tails, and fur onto the actors' bodies. The moment the words "CGI digital fur technology" reached the internet, the film seemed predetermined to become the biggest Hollywood bomb since Waterworld. When the trailer dropped in the months leading up to its Christmas release, the world watched aghast as a strangely catified version of Judi Dench lifted a leg and licked her nether regions. (Nobody wants to see Dame Judi like that, I recall someone writing beneath the trailer on YouTube.)

Writing in The New Yorker, critic Anthony Lane posed a series of questions: "Few of us go to work in suits made of human skin, so why would a cat, even a cold cat, wear a fur coat that appears to have been fashioned from more cat?

"How to respond to such a spectacle? Will you be amazed, bemused, or agog? Many people, I suspect, will lean forward in their seats, peer at the peculiar creatures that romp around onscreen, and ask, 'What in God's creation are they? If they're talking cats, why do they have normal hands? If they're men and women, how come they fit through a cat flap?'"

Speaking to Variety, Lloyd Webber remarked: "I saw it and i just thought, 'Oh, God, no." It was the first time in my 70-odd years on this planet that I went out and bought a dog."

So does a show as weird as Cats only work when you don't mess with the original formula - wigs, makeup, unitards and all? Perhaps. Rehearsals in Sydney will continue under the seasoned eye of Cartwright, who understands exactly what makes Cats work and what does not. "I saw the film in a little cinema in my village, on my own," she tells me. "I was going to resist it but there are some wonderful people - friends of mine - in the film, and, of course, they were all brilliant. I think, with Cats... it's a fine line. I've seen productions where I've thought, "They've missed it tonight'. And it's to do with the belief in the animal, that you are that animal. If you stray from that, then you're just playing at something. I remember Andrew Lloyd Webber talking to a company and saying, 'We have to believe that you really are cats."

There are lots of people who can sing and dance it, but there aren't lots of people who can really believe in it... that's the joy of Gilly's choreography, it never strays from the shape of a cat, if we get it right."

Cartwright speaks reverently about the choreography of Lynne, who died in 2018. "If you look at a cat, it is very elegant, very neat, but then it will suddenly turn into something feral. And, that's what Gilly managed to capture. There are very sensual moments. It flicks from sensuality to savagery constantly."

John Napier's show "bible", created during the pandemic, will ensure future productions don't go off the rails - a template of sorts, Cartwright says. "While 'template' might sound in-artistic, the choreography is the choreography and it stands the test of time. And the story is the story." It's a story, she notes, that includes characters like Gus the theatre cat (His name as I ought to have told you before / Is really Asparagus, but that's such a fuss), based on the 1939 poem infused with longing, "That''s a story about life." says Cartwright. "It's a story about the elderly and how, if we bother to listen to them and listen to the stories of many generations, we learn, and we become better people.

"There's nothing out of date about this topic. It's a very current subject matter. It's about redemption, and in this world that's vital. It's about leaning to forgive, learning to accept, learning to tolerate differences and finding out how to redeem."

End ID]

A news article on the musical returning to Australia in honour of the 40th anniversary in the country.

[geekyanglophile]

God dammit… I’m gonna have to start reading Good Omens fanfiction again

[ingravinoveritas]

A couple of thoughts on today’s events in the GO fandom:

- OMG

- I did see it, but in the interest of keeping things under wraps until July 28th, I will not share any leaks or spoilers publicly, but at the same time...

- How did that even happen?!

- Amazon Prime is to blame for the leak, not the fans. There is no faction of “good” GO fans who haven’t shared the spoiler vs. “bad” GO fans who did because they were genuinely excited and saw something shared by an official source. People have the right to be excited after months (years, even) of no content of any kind, just as much as people have the right to be disappointed or not want spoilers.

- ...But Neil reblogging and agreeing with this post is almost certain to create division and once again sets up fans as targets. The coddling of Neil is also disconcerting to witness, as if he is a child rather than a grown adult man. There was no context for the spoiler and nothing else to give us clues for what was happening and while yes, it’s understandable that he feels frustrated/upset, that does not give him the right to further punch down on the fans (who are undoubtedly easier targets than his boss(es) at Amazon).

- We absolutely must have promo interviews with Michael and David in the weeks leading up to July 28th because they will be the stuff of legend and if we do not get any interviews, I will simply perish.

- In conclusion, Michael Sheen’s face in this picture:

[virtualdespairr]

good omens fandom we are getting jesus in s3 what does it mean

[ellabswilliamson]

Just noticed in the episode Left Behind the song that plays in the background while Ellie and Riley explore the mall is 'Take On Me'

And the song that Ellie sings to Dina around the campfire and in Seattle in Part II is 'Take On Me'

[edgarallennope]

They're giving it the Sense8 treatment I'm going to combust

[dayurno]

Kevin being aro would explain why he keeps accidentally baiting people into homoerotic friendships

kevin 🤝 kayleigh

yeah yeah you can fall in love with me whatever i got a game in five minutes

[daily-all-for-the-game]

"Are Andrew and Renee...?"

"Better not be."

"Renee promises it'll never happen. I believe her.”

[viir-tanadhal]

no no listen i see the vision

what were the other ones then

[ohfallingdisco]

so many iconic important secondhand foxes moments in TGR. i’m thinking…

AARON DRIVING THE MAS??!!

Kevin bringing Andrew to California

Matt Boyd rushing the goal with Aaron to stop the Ravens from killing Andrew

Neil with two broken ribs is better than Neil dead

Andrew clocked Jeremy IMMEDIATELY lmaoo

Agent Browning: "I hate this sport. Explain to me why they’re all like this."

Kevin kneeling by Neil the whole time he’s in pain on the Court

Aaron kicking Kevin’s thigh as reassurance and/or an order to follow

Kevin telling Jean how Abby helped him !!

Neil being utterly insufferable to the freshmen, by all accounts

Neil answering Jean’s call with ‘Neil.’ Letting Jeremy’s go to voicemail.

Abby getting a second opinion on whether Andrew needs surgery…

Dan getting red-carded for decking the Ravens

Renee laughing at Andrew’s joke that the cameras couldn’t hear

The whole team being depressed when Aaron’s on trial

Wymack calling Jean to check on him after the fire

Kevin clocking Renee’s cross necklace

Kevin telling Neil on camera that he’s the least honest person he knows

Aaron chauffeuring hurt Andrew and Neil to go see Wymack

Twinyards & Neil interrupting Kevin and Thea’s interview by screeching up in the Mas

Katelyn respectfully not coming to the trial on the day Andrew testified

Nicky getting into a violent screaming match with his parents outside the courthouse

Andrew stepping in to protect Kevin but letting him stand up for himself when he said he could

Renee subtly telling the reporters to fuck off and talk to the right Ravens

Kevin and Neil joint press conference. Andrew and Renee together.

Kevin in actual anguish when Neil was hurt during the game

Andrew needing to know if Grayson had hurt Neil

Andrew asking if Neil killed Grayson

Kevin and Andrew both getting mad at Neil for going to see Jean alone

Dan running to defend Neil (after checking on Matt in the goal)

Andrew going outside with Jean during the interview

Kevin playing stylist for Jean’s first interview

Aaron trusting Andrew enough to deny a jury at his trial

Kevin mentioning Wymack canceled practice after Aaron won his trial

Jean casually referencing Andreil and Jeremy having no clue

Wymack calling the Foxes his kids

Betsy being there for Andrew at the trial when he testified

The upperclassmen having a bet whether Neil or Jack would fight the other first

The Foxes not having to deal with the Ravens at the banquet

Aaron getting cleared of all charges

[joejhang]

andrew is so real for thinking neil is a hallucination cos now that we have outsider pov on him it's actually insane that he's a real person. like this is neil josten: he's the prettiest boy you've ever met. he's the runaway son of a serial killer. he has a million dollars but is afraid of spending money. he folds his clothes a specific way so he can tell when someone's gone through his stuff. he keeps a stalker's journal on the two greatest exy players of all time. he wears coloured contacts and they're brown. he paid a busboy $100 to knock him out cold. he insulted a celebrity athlete on live tv after trying to keep a low profile. he says he's trying to stay alive while running towards death like it's a race. he mouths off to the mafia. he respects your boundaries and is the first person ever to take you at face value and not consider you an out of control psychopath. he orders hits on your abusers. he has the most electric blue eyes you've ever seen. he looks great in clubbing clothes but dresses like he's homeless. he insults someone for their "intricate and endless daddy issues" while his father is a convicted mobster and serial killer. he didn't give a fuck when his teammate was killed. everyone seems to like him even though it's clear he's hiding a million secrets. he doesn't catch on to the many many hints you're giving him. he calls you out not for being a danger to others but for being a danger to yourself. he thinks you should be protected as well as trusting you to protect him (and you think, how can someone be a victim and a protector?). he doesn't give a flying fuck what literally anyone thinks about him. he comes back from being waterboarded and tortured and abused for weeks (to protect you) and is still as feisty and bitchy as before. except now he's a redhead and has many more scars. he is possibly the first person to ever make the active decision to protect you. he's willing to put himself in harm's way again and again and again so he won't lose you. he always has a cigarette but he never smokes. he says "you're not actually a sociopath are you?" and "the next time someone calls you soulless i might have to fight them". even though he's messy and a little oblivious he's sees you. he might be the only person to ever want you off your drugs. he wants to see you lose control, is aware that you're not out of control, you're actually so controlled and restrained all of the time and he wants to see you feel something, he wants you to be angry, be angry at him. he riles you up on purpose to see you show emotion, feel something. he's a runner and yet he's still possibly the bravest person you've ever met. he gets kidnapped and comes back even more bruised and battered than before and he's still a mouthy little shit who bitches at the press and cuts deals with the yakuza. he's most of the reason why the worst team in the nation ends up winning championships. he shoves a guy clean off his feet because they body checked you. he punched celebrity athlete riko moriyama in public, for you. he threatens him, for you. he's almost killed on live tv. he mouths off to the fbi. he watches the (second) best exy player in the world get shot. he also watches his father, notorious serial killer and gangster, get shot in front of him. and he laughs. he smiles. he kisses you and is never gonna run again and he's free and he wants to be with you, he wants you.

[kairospy]

AU:

Neil doesn’t meet the foxes, he’s instead caught by the FBI

He helps them catch his father and bring down his empire.

One day he’s brought in to Andrew’s lecture as a guest speaker

The Q&A at the end:

Student: Have you ever killed someone?

Neil: There’s two FBI agents at the door who advised me against answering that specific question. There’s your answer.

Student: What’s the best way to get fake documents?

Neil: I’m legally required to say “don’t”.

Student: What’s the most illegal thing you’ve ever done?

Neil: See, that’s a trick question, because if I answer it becomes the most illegal thing I’ve admitted to.

Student: What’s the hardest lie youve ever had to tell?

Neil: “Sure, I’d love to do a Q&A with a bunch of people who are weirdly obsessed with my father and decided to study crimes because they don’t have the balls to commit them.”

Student: Are you afraid your father’s people will come after you?

Neil *at the end of his fucking rope*: No, I feel completely safe. That’s why I’ve got armed federal agents waiting outside.

Student: How’d you get caught?

Neil: First of all, rude. Second, the FBI made a very compelling argument

Student: …which one

Neil: “cooperate or find out exactly how many laws you’ve broken” - said by a guy holding a very thick file. Direct. Effective. Hard to argue while zip-tied to a chair.

Student: What’s something you miss about your old life?

Neil: being able to leave a room without seven cops and a judge asking where I’m going.

Student: If you could do it all over again, would you?

Neil: I’d rather set myself on fire. I know you don’t understand that reference, but trust me when I say it’s funny.

Student: how many identities have you had?

Neil: Simultaneously or in total?

Student: …total?

Neil: enough that I had to check my ID before answering roll call

Student: what’s the worst crime you’ve ever committed?

Neil: do you want me to answer this as Neil Josten or Nathaniel Wesninski? The distinction matters.

Student: Have you ever made someone disappear?

Neil *looking over his shoulder at Browning*: goodness gracious no

Student: How many languages do you speak?

Neil: enough to talk my way out of things… mostly into them, though

Student: Why did you agree to talk to us?

Neil: it was this or community service

He’s as unhelpful as possible.

His entire goal is to waste everyone’s time while making it just interesting enough that no one can call him out on it.

And Andrew? He’s watching. He’s enthralled. He’s interested, and isn’t that odd.

The professor looks like she regrets her entire career. Half the class is too stunned to speak. Browning is wondering if the punishment for beating up the most valuable witness the FBI has in custody would be worth it. (It would)

Anyway long story short. 5 minutes in Andrew’s in love

[nanamisgirly]

pussy slapping with your maths teacherྀི

based on this ask (I hope the anon will like it🙂‍↕️)

next part

you knew the email meant trouble the second it landed in your inbox.

subject : “Homework 6 — Integrity Dicussion.” from : Gojo.Satoru@college.ct

so now you're standing outside his office door, palms sweating, thighs pressed together in your miniskirt like that might save you from the cheating homework you assigned. it's not like you're scared of Gojo. he's just your goofy annoyingly attractive nerd math professor. the man wears Gundam socks with his loafers, makes calculus puns, and has a signed photo of Neil deGrasse Tyson on his bookshelf like it's a family heirloom.

but he also happens to have shoulders like a swimmer, hands big enough to palm a basketball, and a mouth made for sin that he hides behind dump jokes with his stupidly slutty glasses. you're not into him or anything tho, you're just not blind.

your knuckles tap against the door.

“come in,” he calls, voice low. too low actually.

you step in, closing the door behind you. 

the first thing you see are the posters of fractals and famous math equations—not surprising. in the other hand, what is really surprising is the life-size cardboard cutout of the pokémon Blastoise. what the fuck is that?

your surprise doesn't stop there, as your eyes land on the chunky old Casio calculator sitting on his desk next to a mug that says, “i'm a cute professor <3”.

he's seated at his desk, glasses on, sleeves rolled to the elbows showing strong forearms scribbled in veins, one ankle resting over the opposite knee like he's got all the time in the world. a lopsided smile appears as he asks “you're nervous ?”

you scoff, clutching your handbag a little tighter. “i'm not.” he's the one to talk—how would anyone look comfortable in a office looking like this?

“mmh. tell yourself that.” he leans, pulls open a drawer and slides out your homework. he taps the edge the paper as he hold it in the air. “you handed your homework last week. and you scored…a beautiful 97.” he tilts his head, gauging your reaction. 

you're feeling a bit too hot now, sweats trickling down your spine, but you try to hold it together. you feign innocence, “yeah, incredible isn't it?” you say, rolling your eyes to play it cool.

he hums thoughtfully. “sure… if you hadn't cheated.”

you swallow, crossing your arms as you cock a hip “a girl scores high and suddenly some old grump of a man's offended by it. what a world we live in.”

gojo leans back in his chair, gaze sliding over your form—lingering a bit too long on your thighs. “is that how it is?" he hums, eyes flicking up to meet yours "just a bitter old man then?” the corner of his mouth twitches like he's trying not to grin 

he clicks his tongue and leans back further, arms spreading across the armchair like he owns the place. he does, actually. his knees spread too—annoyingly wide, “look, we both know you didn't do these problems yourself. and you're gonna redo it. right here. right now. on me.” 

your lips part. “gojo—”

“professor gojo,” he corrects, tone maddeningly even. “you don't want me to call the Academic Integrity Committee, do you?”

you glance down at his thighs, then back up. “you're a math professor. Not my—”

“—brat tamer?” he cuts in smoothly, raising a brow without blinking.

you go still. your jaw clenches, heat crawling up the back of your neck. he's so smug. smug and patient and infuriatingly unfazed.

you step forward and settle on his lap—hovering, refusing to fully sit. if he thinks you're gonna give in that easily, he's dead wrong. you don't care if your thighs start shaking. you'll squat until the apocalypse if you have to.

“ah—!” a squeal rips out of you when his hands clamp around your hips, big and warm and decidedly firm as he drags you down until you're fully seated, straddling his lap. your miniskirt hikes up dangerously high in the process, your bare thighs pressed tight to his slacks.

his breath hitches, almost imperceptibly. you probably wouldn't have noticed if you weren't so hyper-aware of every single shift in the room.

“problem one,” he says, casually putting your paper on the desk like he isn't now rock-hard beneath you like a complete weirdo. his hands stay planted on your thighs, thumbs stroking idly, but his voice stays cold. unbothered, professional almost.

keyword : almost.

you swallow hard, cheeks burning from the sheer proximity—his firm chest pressed to your back, white fluffy hair brushing every time he leans in. his scent clings to your skin���clean linen, cologne, and chalk dust—it's driving you insane. and those damn impossible formulas staring up at you on the paper—differential equations, matrix exponentials, fucking laplace transforms. couldn't he have picked basic calculus ?

your brain is short-circuiting. and the little laughs of the far-too-good-looking-with-his-glasses-pushed-low-on-his-nose professor is doing nothing to ease your nerves. “solve the matrix for the homogeneous system.” your spine stiffens as his voice is nothing but hot air dragging goosebumps up your neck.

“c'mon, engineer girl. use that big brain of yours.” you let out a shaky exhale, trying to focus on the paper even while his fingers toy with the hem of your panties. he hasn't even really touched you, but you're feeling your panties clinging to you—embarrassingly wet.

“one over s-squared plus four?” you try something, mind too fuzzy to think. your breath catches as his fingertips trace your clothed slit—oh very so slowly. he doesn't bother pressing, just lets the fabric catch and soak even more.

“gojo, what are you—”

“professor,” he reminds you, tone suddenly sharp. “and…” he's turning his head, cheek brushing yours as he watches your teeth dig in your bottom lip “no guessing.” you shudder, thighs trembling on his thick one.

that’s ridiculous how sensitive you were from featherlight touches…you’re better than that..so why are your wetting your thighs by seconds ?

“from now on,” his fingers slip beneath the damp lace, two digits brushing your folds, “you get every problem right, you're so good at pretending to be smart—but be smart.” his hand curls back up—cupping your pussy, applying steady pressure to your aching clit through the underwear. your thighs squeeze together instinctively, the heat unbearable.

you stare at the same problem, chest rising and falling in heavy breath. “a-a inverse time b—?” you offer weakly.

a low, pitying sound escapes him.

smack.

“wrong again.” the sudden sharp slap on your cunt makes your entire body jolts in his lap, your ass pressing harder against his cock. your head drops forward, tears prickling your lashes, hips twitching in a pathetic attempt at friction.

it"s so humiliating. that nerd of a teacher. fuck.

“uh-huh, don't move, sweetie. who told you you get to grind on my thigh?” he grabs your jaw with his free hand, forcing you to meet his glacier-blue eyes glinting behind crooked glasses. “let's try again. if f(t) = sin(3t), then what's the Laplace transform?” his breath ghosts over your cheek, one hand directing your gaze to the paper like you aren't already losing your mind.

your mind scrambles, your pussy pulses, and you're cursing the world for putting you in this situation. you can't even help it, it just feels so good. 

your voice breaks on a moan, nothing reflecting your angry mind “three… over…squared plus n-nine—”

gojo groans softly, cock twitching under your ass. “there she is,” he mutters, hand sliding down to rub rough circles against your clit. “smart and fuckable? you might be my new favorite little project sweetie.”

and just as a whimper leaves your lips—the second your hips barely roll forward in a desperate grind—he yanks his hand away.

“what did i say?” he asks, calmly adjusting his glasses like he's not the filthiest thing on earth right now. “no grinding. one right answer doesn't mean you get to cum. you've got four more questions, we're far from done.”

he lands another slap on your clit—scarily precise. “i get to edge you again. and again. until your poor little cunt forgets what cumming even feels like.” you sob his name as he pulls your underwear taut between your fat lips, the soaked lace dragging cruelly against your swollen clit. you shove your fist into your mouth, biting it to stay quiet.

he dips his fingers back into the ruined mess between your legs. not inside—never inside apparently. he's probably a psychopathe who loves skimming his student's pussy entrance, circling it like a threat.

 “if you get all the five right tho," he murmurs darkly, "i'll bend you over this desk and fuck you, raw, with your nose pressed onto that test," your walls clench hard at his words—and he feels it, obviously…

smirking into your hair, he adds, “you'd love that, of course you would. so go on, sweetie. show me you're not just a brainless little brat. show me how much of a perfect slut you are for good grades.”

you swear once you'll get all your mind together, you're gonna make him regret everything. that cocky, small-dick bastard—acting like he's got a big game between his thighs. 

a nerd like him, isn't packing enough to pleasure you. right?

^⌯𖥦⌯^

a/n aaaand we thanks my bachelor in engineer for my knowledge ☝🏼 tho i hope you enjoyed reading this, i don’t think it’s perfect buuut i tried :))) let me know 🫶🏻

[dtilmnh]

We all know that Neil has two smiles, his "Neil-smile" and his "Nathaniel-smile". I went through the books to see how many times Neil actually smiles, because god knows it's not that many.

His "Nathaniel-smile" pops up a few times, usually when he's around Riko, threatening someone, or daydreaming about his father's gruesome death.

"Are you threatening a federal agent?" Nathaniel smiled so hard his burns ached. "I wouldn't dare."

He smiles his normal or "Neil-smile" a total of eight times through the series. Never in the first book, twice in the second, and six times in the third. Out of these eight, four were towards Andrew, one to Kevin, one to Wymack, one to Nicky, and one to Matt.

Nicky subsided with a lightning-quick grin in Neil's direction. Neil managed a small smile back.

The original point of this post was that Neil really doesn't smile or laugh or anything as much as he does in fanfictions and stuff. Andrew and Neil are not a grumpyxsunshine trope, Neil is not the light to Andrew's darkness, they're both massively fucked up and Neil does his crazy serial killer smile more often than his regular one.

He couldn't sleep, but at least he could daydream his father's death over and over again. That was almost enough to make him smile, and eventually it thawed the chill from his veins.

Anyways, that 𝘸𝘢𝘴 the original point of the post, but now I'm stuck thinking about how cute it is that he literally smiles only eight times throughout the entire series, and 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳 of them are to Andrew. It's so fucking cute, especially when you consider the circumstances of the rest of them.

Andrew, who for once hadn't wasted their time denying that this thing between them might actually mean something to both of them. Neil hadn't even noticed the silence at first, too distracted by his dizzying thoughts. Now he couldn't help but smile and pull Andrew in.

He shares a tired smile with Kevin after the first Raven match. He smiles when Wymack picks up the phone when he calls him after he comes back from Evermore. He returns Nicky's grin with a small smile to reassure himself when Riko comes to watch their match against the Longhorns. And he gives Matt a tight smile during the final match against the Ravens.

"Neil?" All the gruff posturing left Wymack's voice; that sharp edge was all alarm. "Are you all right?" Neil smiled. It felt like it tore his face open. "No. No, I'm not. I know it's kind of sudden, but can you come get me? I'm at the airport."

With Andrew, basically every single time is directly 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 of him. Those smiles are some of the only times he actually feels or shows genuine pleasure or happiness, and I just think that's so cute.

It wasn't funny—none of this was—but that response was so obnoxious and so typically Andrew that Neil couldn't help but smile.

Technically he does smile a ninth time, at all of the Foxes, but since that was immediately after and because of Riko's death, I'm tempted to classify it as a "Nathaniel-smile" lmao.

Neil looked from one tired face to the next, soaking them in, reveling in everything they'd accomplished tonight and imagining how they'd react when they heard the news tomorrow. "What's so funny?" Nicky asked when he spotted Neil in the doorway. Neil hadn't realized he was smiling. "Life?"

(Also the word smile no longer feels like a word to me now. I never realised how often Renee smiled until I had to go through every single time any character smiled in the books)

[0bnoxious0range]

Neil strikes me as the kind of person that just like doesn’t blush. Like yeah sure he may get embarrassed a little at the Foxes’ dropped jaws when yet another pop culture reference flys over his head, but he’s so desensitized to things most people can’t fathom that I feel like he would never get flustered enough for his skin to flush.

But. Maybe it does happen sometimes.

Like when Neil complains that he feels like his feet are gonna fall off after night practice and Andrew just. picks him up. Bridal style with a deadpan face and bored eyes like he picks Neil up all the time. And Neil’s face goes red in seconds because he’s never been picked up and it was Andrew doing the picking up.

Or when Andrew shampoos his hair in the shower and takes great care not to get any shampoo in his eyes and Neil pinks at the sweetness that Andrew will deny later.

Or when Andrew insists on Neil actually using the curling gel Allison got him because his frizzy curls extend “a mile off his head”. Neil blushes when Andrew comes into the bathroom with him (cause he knows fuck all about taking care of his hair) and stares while he applies fumbles with the gel.

TLDR, I like the idea that Andrew is the only one that can truly fluster Neil and Neil is the only one who can fluster turn Andrew’s ears slightly red in turn.