EVERYTHING I AM WILL BE BOUGHT AND SOLD

And they say in the end, you'll get bitter just like them. And they steal your heart away. When the fire goes out, you better learn to fake. It's better to rise than fade away. Colin Jessup. Twenty One. Junior. Backliner.

[colinjessup-blog]

teddyryker:

There’s probably a couple of people that could’ve turned up then and made Teddy feel a bit better and Colin was definitely at the top of that list. He’d taken Teddy in a bad numerous times by now and if he hadn’t been able to cheer him up, which was rare, he’d at least kept him company. Sometimes Teddy just wanted company which was considerably easier to handle than his terrible, drunken ideas.

He figures right now that the last thing the team needs is for Teddy to go on one of his rampages. He’s got classes he should be studying for, games he should be preparing for, so they don’t lose again, and one of these days his antics are going to get him in trouble that could take all of that away from him. He knows he needs to stay focused or, in this case, get re-focused.

Teddy was still shaken up from meeting his step-dad, even though he really had no reason to be. It was a lot of take in, he’d heard about him and his half-sister over phone calls with his mom but it was weird knowing that they were, like, definitely real. He figured maybe he was just upset because it was a reminder that whilst he’d been stuck in Oakland, with a psychopath for a father, his mum had been rebuilding her life without him and that hurt.

“You did? Wait, I turned it off…” He reached for his phone and switched it back on, briefly catching a glimpse of Colin’s text as a string of messages from his mom and various group chats lit up the phone. “Oh my god, stop,” he muttered, turning the phone back off and shoving it underneath one of his books. “I wasn’t avoiding you,” he quickly assured Colin. Teddy patted Bacon to get him to move then held up the other end of the blanket towards Colin. “Come here, distract me from studying before I lose my mind once and for all.”

Sometimes it hits him all over again how hard everything is. He’d learned charm and manipulation from his mother, and lived a life where that was enough to get him by: arrive in a new town, make an entrance as something new and mysterious, and watch the curiosity and admiration roll in. But he’s on his third year in Palmetto and his superficial charm has long since stopped being enough. What he has now is better, even he can admit it. It’s what he’d spent so many years on the road longing for: something real.

But sometimes it’s hard to exist like this, to be himself instead of some perfect shallow persona he’d created for himself, as real as the fake pyramids on the Vegas Strip. Hard to believe that that could ever be enough to get him the things that he wants.

He knows it makes him clingy—and to Teddy in particular. He can’t figure out a way to make everyone like him—(not without sacrificing his new found authenticity, now without getting caught in a lie)—and so he holds even tighter to the people that do. What he haswith Teddy isn’t uncomplicated—there’s been too much raw emotion, too many of the problems of real life for that. But just because it’s messy doesn’t mean it isn’t solid—that’s something Colin doesn’t really doubt. Which, again, is something different: when he got friends and admirers through manipulation, he always worried that, one day, they’d see through him. That the house of cards he’d built would come tumbling down.

“You couldn’t avoid me if you tried,” he declares airily as he drops himself down to sit next to Teddy, drawing the blanket over himself and giving Bacon a few pets to make up for the fact that he’d evicted him from his spot. “Why would you want to study? Consider me your 24/7 on call study distractor, always ready to entertain.”

[colinjessup-blog]

cecil-james:

Cecil can recognise this easy enough – Colin placing his footing carefully so not to be the one to fuck up. He’d seen it in the way Colin had asked Cecil to make the first move back when kiss me was their biggest problem, and then again in the way Cecil had to be the first to ask a truth or dare – and it’s so tempting to take it and run with it, to see what he’d do if he asked for something so out there that it would probably be exactly what Colin was expecting – but he knows he has to be more careful. Knows that their friendship is still shoddily stitched back together after too many fuck-ups. Knows that he has to play it as safe as he can for as long possible.

And he knows that he’s led Colin to be cautious – and that hadn’t been his intention by any means, but he thinks it’s easy enough to play on and show Colin that it’s not like that. So he grins, like he’s planning something – like Colin should be concerned, and then undoes it all as quickly as he can with, “Money, duh. I’m broke and I figured what better way to fix that than with some Mario Kart. Risk of alcohol all in. I’m thinking, like, twenty dollars would do me, but that number depends on what you’re after in return.”

It’s all unfamiliar territory: Colin has a lot of experience with cutting and running when things get difficult, Colin has a lot of experience with things that break—but he has no experience with this, with clumsily trying to knit something back together, with trying to find a way back to some kind of equilibrium after things have gone so wrong. And Colin doesn’t like uncertainty, Colin doesn’t like being out of control,  and yet that’s the position he’s consistently finding himself in: he expects the worst from Cecil, and is surprised when Cecil doesn’t give it to him, unsure of whether or not to trust it, and unsure of how to proceed.

Covering it all up with bravado—because that’s better than admitting that he doesn’t know what he’s doing. 

“You after my money, Cecil? That’s a little rude—we’re all fucking broke.” Or not all, but Colin is, living hand-to-mouth on the small stipend that the most desperate students get on top of their Exy scholarships—and even that feels luxurious, now that it’s just him, now that he doesn’t have to worry about the weight of his mother’s habits and debts, the feeling of constantly being in a hole they can never dig their way out of. “Should at least try to rob someone who has parents to mooch off of.” But he’s really just giving Cecil a hard time, and doing it in a superficial way, because it’s better than oh, so you don’t want to know what the worst thing that ever happened to me is? “We can do the same terms. Twenty bucks to start—and then, after that, we’ll go double or nothing.”

[teddyryker-blog]

The roof of Fox Tower was a place of comfort for Teddy which was odd for someone with a small fear of heights. He’d been spending a lot of time there since the game; it was quiet, it was secluded, it was a good place to clear his head and usually people that if you were on the roof, you didn’t want to be bothered.

Teddy had been, for lack of a better phrase, kind of a jerk since the game. He was pissed off that they’d lost and he’d been snippy the past few days, walking around with a face like thunder and snapping at anyone that looked at him for too long, even the other Foxes or the Vixens. It wasn’t usually this bad, lost games happened but it didn’t help what had happened after.

He wasn’t mad that his mom had turned up and he wasn’t mad that she brought along Jake, his step-dad. He was mad that they hadn’t warned him they were coming and that it’d thrown him off during the game, he’d been so worried about having to talk to them after that it completely blew his concentration. Jake wasn’t even a bad guy, quite the opposite actually; he was friendly and talkative, he wanted to know about Teddy and made every effort to let Teddy know he was a good person. It wasn’t enough for someone who grew up with a dad like Teddy’s.

It was dark now and Teddy had been on the roof for ours, Bacon lying on one side of him and on the other was his flask of coffee, a few books, a crumpled cigarette packet and his phone, which he’d switched off to avoid having to talk to anyone. It was getting colder these days too so he had a blanket around his shoulders that swamped his smaller frame. He was engrossed in the school work he’d fallen behind on and the sound of the door made him jump.

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that!” He exclaimed, looking up and huffing out breath to recover from the surprise. “You scared the shit out of me, what do you want?”

[colinjessup-blog]

It’s not like Colin thought that they could make it to the Championships without ever dropping a game. He might have wanted to, wanted to believe in his teammates because it felt like he owed them at least that much, but it wasn’t something he just couldn’t bring himself to do, not that whole-heartedly. Doubt protects him. Besides, he’s not sure if there’s anyone on the team who had believed it: Colin isn’t sure if even Grant does, or if it’s just his job to say so. To pretend.

But it sucks. Losing. Sucks wondering how much of it is his fault, when so many of their backliners are newer than he is, relying on his experience on the court. After a game like that, it’s hard to feel like that’s anything but a joke: After a game like that, he misses playing with Zia more than ever. After a game like that, he wonders if he’s really as good as he thinks he is, or if a better backliner partner had just elevated his play.

A loss makes him feel adrift—so many of the Foxes tense and snappish, avoiding each other in their bad moods, even when it seems like they should be doing the opposite, coming together when their chips are down, to make sure that it doesn’t happen again. But then again, they’re Foxes—if they always did the right thing, or the smart thing, they might not be where they are.

It doesn’t mean Colin likes it. He doesn’t like the cloud hanging over Fox Tower, their practices. He doesn’t like it when everyone’s disparate, scattered to the winds, when he knows that he isn’t enough to pull them back together. That there isn’t enough of him. That he wants to at all is maybe the thing he likes the least—it feels like the opposite of self-preservation. Feels like asking for disappointment—something he never did until he became a Fox.

So when he’s bored and he’s alone—(which are both basically the same thing for him)—he can’t stop himself from going looking. The roof is a natural first place to look and, lo and behold, he hits the jackpot: it’s Teddy. Even if Colin apparently scares the crap out of him. “Yeah, well, maybe if you checked your phone, you would have known I was looking for you,” he says, with a hint of a whine in his voice. “I texted you.”

[colinjessup-blog]

cecil-james:

Cecil can’t help but find that last year feels strangely distant now, between their constant problems and consequent make-up-break-up nature. Everything feels closer to where it should be – closer to their freshman year, where they didn’t have any troubles fitting together. And it’snot like he can see any of the underlying conflicts – he knows he should, knows there should be something to look at below it all. But he’s pretty sure he learned his lesson the last few times they drunk together – just watch what you say and it’ll be fine. Though having a filter has never been something Cecil’s found he’s particularly skilled at and he’s already half-tempted to half-seriously suggest truth or dare as a way for them to actually get drunk.

“Are you kidding? Mario Kart is my calling in life,” He says instead, figuring it’s more acceptable, before further amending it, “Sober, at least. I guess there’s only one way to find out if that carries over or not. But if you really are so confident you’ll win, then surely you’d be willing to wager on it.”

Times like these make him feel a little better: he can look back at himself last year, who was obsessed with wondering what Cecil thought about him, who kept trying his luck over and over and over again, and give himself a break—Cecil encouraged it, it wasn’t all him. But then, it also makes him feel angry: for every time Cecil pulled out the wide-eyed innocent look—who, me?—like he didn’t know exactly what he was doing, stringing Colin along. 

He doesn’t know how he feels now: he knows this is a game that he can’t win, and so he’s trying—(he’s been trying)—to just let himself stop playing. He’s cautious. He’d gotten burned last year, and not just by Cecil. He’s not trying to walk into any more traps, he’s going to try to do what he thought he’d do when he came to Palmetto in the first place: focus on Exy. Learn to measure himself against himself, instead of what other people thought of him. If they wanted him.

So maybe cautious means boring, but it just seems prudent—to protect himself, because he knows that Cecil won’t, whether it’s intentional or not. “Name your terms first, and I”ll tell you if I agree.”

[matt-daddario-deactivated201803]

What traffic sign would you be? +

[colinjessup-blog]

kentcheongs:

It was difficult to tell whether it was Kent’s hot temper getting him in trouble again, or if it was his cockiness that caused his undoing, this time. The Foxes shouldn’t have been surprised that a fight got Kent sent off the court—it wasn’t the first time, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last—but this was a fight he didn’t start. Sure, he had too much rage within him to back down, strengthened by whatever pride he had, but still, he was not the one inciting unnecessary violence, for once. If only he’d known to communicate that better, instead of spewing curses at the refs when they wouldn’t listen,but that was the anger that had taken control, pulling at his strings as if he were a puppet, a robot programmed to do nothing but destroy.

But moments before, he’d been happy. He’d been cheering and celebrating his goal, making it obvious to the other team that this wasn’t the first of its kind, and he intended to make sure it wouldn’t be the last. It wasn’t Kent’s fault they were apparently so sensitive to it. This was exy, after all; Kent couldn’t have been the only person with buttons to press, with skin to get under. 

Though he looked nothing like the man who cheered and flashed a cocky smile around the court. His brow was still furrowed in frustration, his body tense with anger—at the refs, the players, anyone who would be around to receive it. So maybe Colin wasn’t making a wise decision when he approached Kent. The striker had already taken frustrations out on the backliner, years ago, and though they were more drinking buddies than anything else, the anger that wrapped its thorny vines around Kent’s mind reminded him that it didn’t make Colin exempt from anything.

“If I’m getting drunk,” he stated, his expression certainly not celebratory, “I’m sure as hell not paying for it.” Besides not having much money to spend, Kent mostly wanted to drink so he didn’t feel the burning anger, though it would likely still linger in the drunken haze. Misery loves company, after all.

Sometimes—(a lot of the time)—he’s glad that he’s not a coach, or a captain. If he were, he thinks he’d have to be mad at Kent for the way he played tonight, the way that he got himself thrown off the court—and Colin doesn’t want to do that, because he admires the way that Kent plays. He’s skilled and he’s aggressive, the flashy player that Colin often wishes he could be.

The backline is a little bit less showy than the strikers, it’s just the nature of the game, they’re the ones that are holding down the fort while the strikers are out there scoring all the goals. And Colin likes playing as a backliner because it lets him be something he’s never really felt he was off the court: steady, stable, steadfast—unafraid to take a hit, or to dole one out. Off the court, he’s always been so careful: not to make anyone angry, making people happy so they’d never want to hurt him—but on the court it’s easy to be reckless: any fight he gets into, there are six referees just outside the doors waiting to bail his ass out.

It’s make him kind of like fighting; and he can’t quite bring himself to blame Kent for fighting tonight, for getting caught up and getting thrown out of the game. Though the ref hadn’t wanted to hear it, it is true that he hadn’t started it. And, especially when Kent seems so surly, Colin’s glad to not be harboring any ill will—and he thinks or hopes that Kent must know that, that Colin’s one of the last people who would chew him out. That Colin, like always, is the person you go to if you want a good time. Perfectly fun, and perfectly shallow.

And that he’s probably also one of the Foxes most likely to have stashed alcohol in his travel bag, ready for a party, win or lose. “You’re not paying for anything tonight—I came prepared. Go ahead, tell me I’m your alcohol savior.”

[cecil-james-archived-deactivate]

colinjessup: send 🐾 for a starter at Fox Tower send ❌ for a starter not involving exy

In all of Cecil’s experience with the foxes, the one thing he’s learned, above all else, is that an open door is just as good as an unspoken invitation. And being as needy for attention as he is, it goes without saying that he almost always accepts. Even if that means he first has to run the risk of missing the window of opportunity to go and get one very essential item first.

“Colin, Colin,” Cecil says, walking into his room without so much as a hello and taking up the seat beside him on the couch, “I know that at this point it’s probably like—written in blood somewhere that we’re not allowed to drink together anymore, but–” And he’s already reaching into the backpack that he had not-so-stealthily shoved some booze into not five minutes ago, “–But, I’m not joking when I say that I still haven’t found a drinking buddy as good as you so c’mon, don’t lemme down now. And I know that it’s like the middle of the day and that’s like—frowned upon, or whatever—but tipsy Mario Kart is absolutely an option here and it’s been too long.”

[colinjessup-blog]

He doesn’t know why he does this to himself, or to Cecil, backs them both up into a scenario where neither of them can win: if Cecil seeks him out, like he’s doing now, it feels like having his poor judgment thrown back in his face, or like Cecil trying to keep him around as a back-up or an ego boost; but if Cecil cuts him off, or ignores him, then Colin will feel just that—ignored, which is not something he’s ever learned how to handle. 

Nor can he say which is better: to pretend like everything last year hadn’t happened, or to constantly talk around it like they do now—we’re not allowed to drink together anymore. Honestly, it seems lie the only thing that would save Colin’s already badly-damaged dignity is to go back and time and change just about everything about their interactions last year, and if he can’t do that then maybe the only thing to do is just deal with it.

It’s not like he hasn’t ever made a complete fucking fool of himself before. It’s not like he hasn’t done it since.

"Pretty sure you never will—I’m the best at all times, in all things.” It’s easy to just let his mouth do the talking—rampaging, overblown egotism never fails him. “And that includes tipsy Mario Kart, so let’s do some shots and get your abject humiliation started.”

[colinjessup-blog]

camtrask:

Cameron can’t say she regrets taking a chance on her ex, even if she feels absolutely awful at the moment. She never really felt like she was missing out on something growing up. She’d even had a few crushes before her mom died, back before her survival hadn’t depended entirely on Logan and herself. But once they were on their own, she stopped really paying attention to her classmates in any capacity outside of necessity. There were boys and girls she thought may have liked her, had an interest, but she was always too focused on Logan, keeping him positive and supporting him as he worked himself to the bone for her. So starting a relationship hadn’t felt like a finally, but rather just the next logical step in accepting that she was okay now, that nothing was looming over her shoulder to take it all from her. It is hard, however, to ignore the tiny twinge of regret that said relationship happened with someone who ultimately hurt her. That was the scary part about bonding with other people. It would either end or it was forever, and both were scary in their own ways.

She doesn’t normally let people get away with masking their feelings around her, not when it comes to her friends, but Colin has always been someone she approaches a little differently. She recognizes that it takes a lot for him to be so open with her, that it doesn’t come easily, and that feels like a privilege. It’s also a privilege she doesn’t want to lose. So when it seems that maybe he’s said enough, that he doesn’t want to go any further, she rarely pushes him. She’s an open book, always has been, but she knows not everyone is that way. “I’m sure your own depth is far beyond even my recognition, so if you ever feel like getting deeper, you know I’m always here. With cool brand deals that let us smash shit, apparently. If this is the reputation I get, I can’t say I’ll be too mad about it.” Thanks from Colin means a lot to her in this context so she flashes him a smile, actually pausing in the destruction to attempt to convey to him that she understands and that it’s more than enough for her. “Anytime,” she says, and that she means just as much as he meant his thanks.”

She’s not sure he means to, but Colin kind of hits the nail on the head, getting to the root of why she’s been feeling the way she’s been feeling, besides the obvious, of course. She feels unappreciated. It was monumental for them, when she had decided she was ready and trusted him enough to take that step. And now it’s like he forgets that happened, that she shared that part of her with him, and it just hurts, plain and simple. “I know that it’s really not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, and it’s not important to like, most people, but it was important to me. So it’s just shitty. It’s nice to say that sometimes, that something is just shitty.” His words are comforting, picturing a future where her ex means nothing to her. It’ll take time, but hearing someone say that day will come is helpful, whether Colin thinks it is or not. “Thanks. I’ve never really considered myself to be spiteful but… him feeling like nothing to me sounds good.”

He doesn’t usually feel like he has much in common with Cameron outside of Exy, outside of the team—it’s never stopped him from liking her, though. Exy and the team are more than enough and, besides, he likes it when people are different from him—he doesn’t think he’d like hanging out with himself very much: there’d be too much competition, too much one-upping each other, just too much in general.So it’s a little surprising to feel like, beyond just the shared experience of heartbreak, he’s seeing something of himself in her.

Colin’s loud, everyone knows that. But it’s all performance. (And he’s pretty sure everyone know that too, because it’s not like it’s a secret.) The stuff that really hurts him, he keeps under wraps and buried deep. He’d learned to please people early, learned to always be happy and smiling and fun to keep them around. There had been a point that it felt like a choice, but at some point it had stopped feeling voluntary. And then, when he got older, his mother had made his hurt feel like a betrayal of her, Colin being unappreciative, like he didn’t have permission to feel that way.

He’s not used to admitting when things are shitty, or when he’s hurt—and it’s nice to know that,  maybe, he’s giving Cameron permission to feel that way, as much as she needs it, as much as she’s doing the same for him. 

"It is shitty. Though maybe less shitty with company, so thanks again, or for the first time, if I haven’t said that yet. This is—good. You’re a goddess of unconventional coping mechanisms.” He’s still hurt, and he can’t deny that smashing shit makes him feel a little bit better—it’s easier than trying to sort out his own feelings, when he’s not even sure who he should be mad at, who’s fault it even is that he’s feeling that way. It’d be easy, maybe, to pin it all on the other person: he was the one who left. But there’s a part of Colin, so used to predicting what people will do or feel, that can’t help but feel that, if someone left him, it was because he hadn’t done enough to make them stay. To make them want him enough. If someone left him, and it was his fault, then maybe if he worked harder, it could have been different. But then, of course, that’s assuming that the reason was something he did or didn’t do, rather than just something he is. He can’t help but feel like that might be the real reason, and he doesn’t know what to do about that. He doesn’t know how to change, especially when he’s not sure who he’d want to become.

“I keep thinking that I should, like, swear off guys for awhile,” he says, focusing on where he’s jabbing at some dangling piece of plastic with the edge of his bat, trying to make it fully detach and fall to the ground. “Focus on me, or whatever. Kind of thought that was what I was going to do, when I got to Palmetto. But it’s like, I can’t do it, and I can’t figure out how make what other people think of me not mean so much to me."

[colinjessup-blog]

caseyhendrix:

The fact of the matter is that Casey hasn’t played this much Exy since before the overdose, and while he’s absolutely buzzing with the fact that Wymack trusted him to be out on the court when everything was on the line in overtime, he’s running on fumes now that he’s back at the hotel. He doesn’t even have the energy to go find Joel at the moment, he wants at least an extra hour in a warm shower and then ice everywhere that he can possibly put it for the rest of the night. His exhaustion is settled in his muscles, but it’s coupled with this weird mix of anger at the fact that he couldn’t do something more about the defense tonight, and a kind of joy at the fact that this is the most like–who he was before–that he’s felt in a long time. There was a reason that he ended up at Ohio State in the first place, there was a reason that Wymack decided to take a shot on a player who had spent a year off of the court, and that that underneath all of this other stuff he’s good at this. 

He doesn’t dare collapse onto the hotel bed for even a second, and throws his bag on a chair before dragging his feet in the general direction of where he saw an ice machine. He hears a voice from somewhere behind him and wants to groan in protest, to fake like he has his earbuds in underneath his hood, but he’s kind of been meaning to talk to Colin since the end of the game anyway. He turns and faces his teammate with something that approximates a smile, and pushes a hand through his hair. “I’m pretty sure alcohol will kill me at this point, so you’re on your own on that front.” He raises an eyebrow and leans against the wall. “You should take the night for yourself man, we played a hell of a lot of Exy today. And on that note, I wanted to say that I enjoyed being out there with you at the end. Probably wouldn’t have picked anyone else.” 

It’s hard not to compare this season to last season. Three games in last season, he hadn’t known yet what the Foxes’ season would become. None of them had, even the Foxes like Grant who told them they they believed in them, believed they could do it: it had all been blind optimism, blind faith, the kind that Colin could never bring himself to feel. They hadn’t known they’d make it to Championships, nor how far. Then, every win had felt like a pleasant surprise, a dawning realization: they were something worth talking about, they were good. This season feels different. The weight of expectation is heavy; the potential for disappointment much greater.

Last season, it would have been Zia at his side on the court. It’s only three games in, it’s still hard not to miss that, still feel like he’s finding his game again, finding his spot on the court, bouncing in between backliner partners in hopes of finding something that’ll stick. He doesn’t know if it will. He and Casey held things together during overtime, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be together on the court again next game, not when there are freshmen that still might need a more experienced partner on the court—which, somehow Colin qualifies as. It still feels strange. 

But if he focuses on the present: not last season, not next game, but just right now, he realizes that what Casey’s saying is true. “Yeah, same,” he says. Sincerity isn’t his strong suit, it’s easier to bury it under something more casual and hope that Casey gets his meaning anyway. “And since we managed to avoid shaming our entire team, I’m gonna enjoy it. You should too—think of it as cementing our backliner bond or whatever. Besides, sleep is for the weak.”

[colinjessup-blog]

01 / BASICS

Full Name: Colin Jessup Nickname: N/A Birthday: July 27th Gender: Cis Male Sexual Orientation: Gay Astrological Sign: Leo (Leo I, The Week of Authority) Spoken Languages: English Birthplace: Las Vegas, Nevada Relationship status: Single (+ Looking, but prone to self-sabotaging his own potential relationships)

02/ PHYSICAL TRAITS

Hair Color/Style: Brown, usually “artfully tousled” (meaning he spends a lot of time on it but he doesn’t want you to know, but you can totally tell) Eye Color: Hazel Face Claim: Matthew Daddario Height: 6′3″ Tattoos: None (but considering something trashy, Exy-related, or both) Piercings: None Unique Attributes: Small scar through his left eyebrow, the result of a mugging during his senior year of high school

03 / PERSONALITY TRAITS/TYPES

Positive Traits: Charismatic, fun, loyal, adaptable, quick-witted Negative Traits: Manipulative, selfish, jealous, dishonest, impulsive Hobbies/Interests: Exy, socializing/parties, road trips Insecurities: Colin has a near-compulsive need to be the center of attention, and to be liked. He tries hard to read people and situations and molds himself to fit them, but then he also worries that people only like him because he’s somehow tricked them into it. He tends to feel threatened by other people’s relationships and friendships, and tends to have an all-or-nothing approach to relationships: if someone doesn’t like him best, then it’s almost like it doesn’t count and they don’t like him at all. He knows that he’s manipulative, and worries that, deep down, he isn’t a good person, and that that if people really know him they won’t like or love him. Quirks/Eccentricities: He likes to fit himself into small spaces despite his not-so-small size (especially cuddling, he’s the german shepherd who thinks he’s a lapdog), has a tendency to take innocuous items from his teammates’ dorm rooms (batteries out of a tv remote, a spoon from the kitchen) just to see if they’ll notice, really loves knickknacks and assorted kitsch and will make sure to get something from every city/state they travel to for games. MBTI Type: ESFP-T, “The Entertainer” Enneagram Type: Type Seven, “The Enthusiast” Moral Alignment: Chaotic Neutral Temperament: Sanguine

04 / FAMILY & HOME

Immediate Family: Mother, Father How do they feel about their family?: Colin did not meet his father until he was around ten years old, and hasn’t seen him since he was eleven. His feelings towards his father are uncomplicated contempt—his father was verbally and physically abusive toward Colin’s mother, and occasionally Colin himself, and used Colin as a pawn to attempt to control his mother. His feelings towards his mother are much more complicated. For most of his life, she instilled a belief in him that it was them against the world, and their transitory life prevented him from forming other strong relationships, meaning that Colin felt like she was the only person who really knew, understood, and loved him, a sentiment that she encouraged. His dissatisfaction with their lifestyle, and his anger with her, grew throughout his teen years, and reached a breaking point when she pushed him into prostitution to pay their debts—she argued that it was nothing that she hadn’t done for him in the past, and he tried to believe her and not feel angry and betrayed, but that was a losing battle. He left his mother at eighteen, partially in an effort to leave before all the love he’d felt towards her turned to hatred and keep what good memories he had of her intact. He hasn’t spoken with her since, as they have no means of communication. Though sometimes he considers trying to find her, it’s not an impulse he’s followed through on, and he generally considers those desires a sign of weakness. How does their family feel about them?: His father likely hasn’t thought of Colin in many years—when he couldn’t find Colin’s mother and Colin, it was only a matter of time before he found someone else as vulnerable as Colin’s mother, and perhaps easier to control. He doesn’t pay attention to Exy, and so he has no idea that Colin is no longer off the grid and at Palmetto. Colin’s mother harbors a lot of guilt: she’s always wanted her son to have a better life than she could give him, and most of the arguments that she and Colin got into were her trying to rationalize her own behavior—to herself more than to him. Colin believes that she’ll respect his decision to leave and not seek him out, though she likely is paying attention to him and the Foxes from afar. Where do they live?: Colin’s suite in Fox Tower is the only semi-permanent residence he has. For the past two summers, he put what he didn’t need in a storage unit and lived out of his car until summer practices began, though that won’t be a possibility this year. Description of their home: See above Description of their bedroom: Colin’s claimed a bottom bunk for himself—he wants to be able to sneak in late or get up in the middle of the night without having to worry about waking somebody else up by climbing into a top bunk. Used to living out a backpack and not having many possessions, he’s collected a bunch of odds and ends since coming to Palmetto, some of it functional and some of it not, and it has a tendency to spread itself out throughout the suite’s bedroom and into the living areas. His clothes are never in their hamper, whether they’re dirty or clean, and the rest of his belongings seem to spread themselves out like they have a life of their own. If you ask him about it, he says that he likes having his stuff where he can see it. Or that he likes marking his territory.

05/ THIS OR THAT

Introvert or Extrovert? Extrovert Optimist or Pessimist? Pessimist Leader or Follower? Leader Confident or Self-Conscious? Externally confident, Internally more self-conscious than he lets on Cautious or Careless? Careless with his actions, Cautious with his expectations Passionate or Apathetic? Passionate Book Smarts or Street Smarts? Street Smarts Compliments or Insults? Compliments

06 / FAVORITES

Favorite Color: Green Favorite Clothing Style/Outfit: His style is actually pretty basic. Outside of practices, he wears a lot of Palmetto gear, sweatpants and obnoxiously orange sweatshirts. Even when he’s trying, he still mostly wears jeans and v-necks that are somewhere in between fitted and slightly too tight, mostly in neutral colors. When it gets cold in Palmetto, he’s the douchebag that will resist wearing a coat for as long as humanly possible. Favorite Bands/Songs/Type of Music: Will listen to just about everything, but has a special affinity for classic rock/Americana that makes him think of his mother, and likes pop/EDM to work out to and listen to psych himself up for games. Will sing terribly without any shame. Favorite Movies: If it isn’t funny or full of explosions, he’s not sitting through it Favorite Books: Colin has a very short attention span, and doesn’t really read for fun. If asked, he’d probably say Harry Potter, but that’s mostly because he’s actually read it and he knows everyone else has too Favorite Foods/Drinks: Junk food, mostly: bring on the french fries, pizza, and ice cream Favorite Sports/Sports Teams: Exy—that’s about it. He’s loyal to the Foxes, of course, and the U.S. Court. His favorite professional team is the Atlanta Thunder, and he’s definitely hit up Zia for gear that he wears around Palmetto to give himself a break from Fox Orange. Favorite Time of Day: He’s absolutely a night owl, and has his alarm in the mornings timed perfectly so that he gets as much sleep as possible before rolling out of bed and making it to practice on time. Favorite Weather/Season: Summer, but he lets everyone know that he’s from a desert, and doesn’t fuck with humidity. Favorite Animal: In general, foxes. But more specifically, Bacon.

[colinjessup-blog]

striker-brayden:

It wasn’t the smoothest game they played, but it also could’ve been worse, which is usually how he feels after each game. They’re Foxes, so it’s rare for them to go through a game incident free, but they won, and no one got injured this time. Arlo won them the game. After he was unable to make it through his half of the last one, he managed to give them that final point they needed. When he saw it happen, warmth filled his chest, and there was no denying he was proud. Part of him wanted to say something to him after the game, but he resisted. It worked in his favor when Arlo was chosen to do press duty this time around. Brayden’s been avoiding him, and Arlo hasn’t made any effort to reach out to him either, so maybe he managed to end whatever was going on between them by walking away.

Brayden doesn’t let himself think about it for too long and attempts to make himself scarce when they return to the hotel, never staying in one area for too long in order to continue avoiding Arlo. He spent some time in the lobby and then outside, finally returning to his room when he realizes he left his cigarettes. When he rounds the corner, Colin suddenly appears, unsurprisingly making a call to celebrate. Leave it to Colin to ruin the quiet by demanding socialization. He’s about to move on, but then there’s an offer of alcohol on the table, and fuck if he can use a drink, so he pauses. 

“Is there a catch?” He asks with a snort as he makes his way to Colin’s room, arms crossed over his chest. “Because I don’t need a mixer if the rest is free.”

Go fucking figure, the first time that Colin can remember Brayden being pleasant to him, and it’s because he wants something from him. (Go fucking figure, the only time Brayden wants anything to do with the team unity that Colin has espoused to him on multiple occasions, it’s when Colin has a bottle of vodka to offer.)

It’s so fucking predictable, and so fucking empty, that part of Colin wants to take it back—but there’s a part of him that knows better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’s felt a low-grade anxiety since the Championships Banquet last season: having Brayden on the team, in the locker room, in Fox Tower, knowing that he hates him, not knowing what he might be saying about him to anyone else, what poison he could spread when Colin isn’t around to defend himself.  

He’s not above seizing an advantage when he sees one. He’s not above bribery. Part of him almost wishes he was—that he could just let things lie, let Brayden not like him and not worry about it, not care. It’s not like it isn’t mutual, really, but Colin focuses less on that—his first thought is always about what other people think about him, if they like him, and not if he likes or dislikes them in return.  

But he’s also not above being a shit—taking the inch that someone gives him and trying to turn it into a mile. He holds the bottle of vodka he’d brought from Palmetto aloft like a talisman, like he’s proving that he can keep his word. His grin, as it usually is, is shameless. “I didn’t say free. The catch is you have to be nice to me. I’m thinking one compliment for one shot.”

[colinjessup-blog]

teddyryker:

This week felt…better. Teddy should’ve been pleased, happy, for a few weeks running now but this was the first time he’d experienced any real post-game happiness since the season started. He was a mess after their last game because he had no cause to celebrate; what was there to celebrate when Teddy hadn’t been able to make it through a half of the game?

He was genuinely a bit proud of himself tonight though. Getting a point was a big deal to Teddy, especially when he spent so much of their last season either getting injured or getting thrown off the court. Honestly, it was kinda nice to get ino the changing rooms without Wymack yelling at him for something. And even though it’d almost been too close, they’d still won and that in itself was incentive to be happy about the night.

In honour of this occasion, Teddy came up with a really, really, fantastic idea; probably one of the best he’s ever had. He’s got a fox tattoo and a bunch of orange clothes and stuff but…his hair. It’s always been black, always a bit unruly, and always near enough the same style. He needs to change it up, needs it to be orange as fuck, maybe needs an ‘F’ shaved into the side of his head. He needs to radiate Fox Pride to the absolute maximum

He’s walking back to his room and reading the instructions on the hair bleach he’s bought when Colin’s voice rings down the corridor after him and Teddy pauses, turning and frowning. “You have vodka!” He exclaims, “I can sense it. Like how a dog can sense a tsunami. Sharing is caring, Jessup.”

It wouldn’t take much for tonight to be an improvement from the aftermath of their last game. Tonight, the bruising on his face is almost a memory—he can see it when he looks in the mirror, but it doesn’t hurt unless he goes poking at it. Tonight, Teddy’s happy to see him—and his vodka—instead of whatever they’d been toward each other last game.

They’d worked it out in the end, ended the night on a more familiar and comforting note, but that doesn’t mean it’s something Colin wants to repeat. He doesn’t want to fight with Teddy, like, ever.  He wants, like, the opposite—he doesn’t know what he’s been feeling lately, besides like this year has gotten off on the wrong foot, like everything else is life is making him pay for having an undefeated season with everything else going wrong at once.

It makes him feel—clingy, is the only word for it, keeping the people he knows that like him close, reminding himself and trying to make them remind him that he is liked. That he’s likable. Maybe it’ll pass, but Colin’s expending all of his optimism on Exy, and he doesn’t think so. He doesn’t know what it is about him—that he’s stupid, that he’s selfish—but no matter how many friends he has, it still doesn’t feel like enough. Like he’s not liked enough, if he isn’t also wanted. Hard not to feel like no one wants him right now—even though he’s spent more time licking his own wounds than looking.  

And it’s maybe because he feels so clingy that he decides to play it cool—even when he knows that Teddy will be able to see right through him, that he’s shown his hand to Teddy long ago and is glad for it. That it’s practically not an Exy game until Colin’s hung out with Teddy afterward. “Hm, remind me again—do I care about you?”

[matt-daddario-deactivated201803]

[colinjessup-blog]

cadencelowell:

This was exactly why Cadence disliked pretty boys – at least, more often than not. Colin offered but a sweet smile and it seemed to negate any kind of negative reaction that she might have had to being called dramatic. She didn’t think it was dramatic to dislike party scenes but looking up at him, the argument she might have made for her case simply couldn’t form. She’d blame the desserts if anyone asked, though. No need to let him know he was getting to her. 

“Lead the way,” she decided, gesturing with a sweep of her arm toward the table in question. There was no use depriving herself of fun and cookies when she didn’t have to and having Colin as a buffer for anyone that might talk to her was as good an option as any other. “But I think you underestimate my ability to frown even in the best of situations. My mom got me a clown for my fifth birthday and I scowled at him through his whole act. She told me later that it hurt his feelings.” She just rolled her eyes at that, eyeing the dessert options as they approached. “Can you believe that? A grown man, hurt by a five year old’s indifference." 

It’s not like Colin loves the banquets—they feel a little bit like high school dances, when Colin felt like he’d already outgrown those even when he was in high school.But it’s part of the deal. He’s got a free college education and a chance to play Exy for five years—(and, after that, a chance to go pro, if he’s good enough, if he works hard enough, if he earns it)—and in return he goes to the banquets without complaint. He puts a smile on his face when he talks to the press.

It’s not a bad deal, not by a longshot; it’s better than anything he could have predicted for himself. And so if he, and everyone else in the team, is going to go to two—(but hopefully three)—banquets a year, he has no idea why they wouldn’t make it easier on themselves and at least try to enjoy it. Some people get a kick out of complaining, but Colin would rather have fun. Rather be around people who are having fun.

But if Cadence is letting herself be bribed with desserts, then maybe it isn’t so bad. And Colin is nothing if not persistent. “Maybe I am,” he snorts, “but it sounds like he was a shitty clown. And even a shitty brownie is still way better than a shitty clown. Maybe even a good clown. I wouldn’t know, I don’t consider myself a clown connoisseur.”

[colinjessup-blog]

jakefeldman:

     Jake’s smile is a little sheepish in response, and he can already feel the redness start to bloom in his cheeks. He doesn’t know what’s getting into him, this shouldn’t be hard, it’s just Exy, but there’s still something that’s nagging at the back of his head, telling him that Palmetto was the wrong decision and that he’ll never be able to prove himself… and honestly, he doesn’t know what he would do if he fucked up the thing he loved the most.

     “Something like that,” he replies, trying his best to smile at the light hearted quip, but he’s always been a terrible liar, and he’s sure his thoughts are portrayed on his features loud and clear. “Guess, it’s just nerves,” a small laugh edges its way out as he tries to cover his worries, “New team and all that…. y’know?”

Sometimes, Colin finds it hard to quantify his life: it’s all a whirlwind of different cities, different apartments, different schools, different Exy teams. He was always arriving somewhere, always leaving somewhere else, always something new and unknown—he’d found a way to manage it, learned how to make an entrance, learned how to take up space, because he’d learned that, if he didn’t, he’d be relegated to the sidelines. He’d be invisible. And he learned, too, how that was the last thing he wanted to me. 

Jake isn’t a freshman, but he may as well be one—and Colin remembers what it was like being a freshman, being so anxious to prove himself, prove that he belonged, that Wymack hadn’t made a mistake taking a chance on him. He thinks that most Foxes feel that way. And he remembers how overwhelming Class I was, how different from high school it was, how much more it was. 

It still seems absurd—to realize that he’s come out the other side of it, or something, that he knows his place on the team, has experience that he can share. It’s not really something that had ever happened before, when he was used to always being the newest thing, trying to hide under a guise of easy familiarity with everyone around him, like he’d been there all along, had always been their best friend. “I don’t know if you want my advice, but—you don’t get anywhere being tentative. You’ve just gotta—go for it. And I mean with the Exy and with the team.”

[colinjessup-blog]

Maybe this is what it feels like, when you start expecting something more than failure. A win is a win, he shouldn’t be looking a gift horse in the mouth, but it still feels like he’d set his expectations higher—like they all had—only to come up just a little short. 

Maybe it’s karma: after the last game he’d been uncharacteristically surly, hiding from his teammates, licking his own wounds. Being in another hotel again, it’s hard not to remember it: they all look the same. He’s not sure if that’s a good reminder or a bad one—it’s funny how distant just two weeks ago can feel. 

So he’s looking on the bright side, or at least he’s trying to—at least he got to play his entire half. At least he wasn’t taken off the court bleeding this time. At least Arlo scored and bailed their asses out. At least they won. Their path to the Championships continues, still unimpeded, and that’s all that really matters. If they’re playing in a Championship game come January, then they won’t even remember what it felt like to win but just barely tonight. 

Someone has to make sure the Foxes don’t fracture, someone has to make sure they treat a win like a win. It’s a task Colin usually relishes, being the life of the party, pleading and cajoling to get everyone to join him. But he can admit that lately it’s just felt so hard. He’s just felt so tired. But he also hasn’t felt like himself—so maybe he should just suck it up. Fill the role he’s meant to fill. 

And, well, he’d wrapped a bottle of vodka in his sweatpants, just for this occasion. No point letting it go to waste. “Hey!” he calls down the hall, head poking out of his room. “You better not think you’re getting out of celebrating. But if you want mixers, that’s on you.”

[fadedfemales]