pilikia

Kent Cheong • junior • striker So the boy is not a w o l f—but he bites like one. When you tell everyone he has teeth, he just smiles and smiles.

[kentcheongs-blog]

sashahartashby:

“It’s you. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s exactly what you did,” Sasha commented as she inspected her nails out of boredom. Kent seemed to be ready to fight at any moment, so she wouldn’t put it past him to start off his morning by breaking things to satisfy the rage. Not that she had any right to judge at this point. If anyone was competing for his red card record, it was her. “I mean, you’re not wrong. Then again, they actually win games. So, who can blame them?” They had yet to start the season, so maybe she was cutting them down too soon, but they were the underdogs of the school–of the ERC. She didn’t have high hopes.

Kent’s threat was weak, but she didn’t like being threatened, in general. She gave him an unimpressed look before grabbing the metal from his hand, judging the weight of it. It was heavy enough to do major damage if it actually hit student after breaking off. Kent had a point. It was the school’s fault for not inspecting the equipment, and it was a huge liability. She immediately began concocting a viable threat towards the school board. One that involved lawyers. 

“How willing are you to get a black eye?” She finally asked before handing the piece back to him. “Get a black eye and tell them it fell on your face while you were using the equipment. They’ll probably end up paying you to both keep you from suing and to cover potential medical expenses.”

“Why the fuck would I break something I need?” asked Kent, folding his arms over his chest. While Sasha was right, Kent could be destructive towards just about anything unlucky enough to feel the brunt of his anger, there were still a few people or things the very small rational side of him was able to keep him from taking his rage out on. Breaking his phone was a no-go, knowing he couldn’t afford a new one. Throwing his fist in the direction of Wymack, no matter how tempting it was in the past (not so much now as he’d gotten at least somewhat in check), was obviously forbidden, especially if he wanted to keep the roof over his head for the next two years. The gym equipment wasn’t something he thought he could break, actually, and when it did a pretty good job of helping Kent blow off some steam when it was fully functional, why would he ever feel the need to break it? “I don’t give a fuck what they win, I care about the fact that no one thinks to fix the broken shit in here,” he argued. Really, Kent didn’t care if other sports did better than the Foxes, because he wasn’t one of them and they didn’t give him temporary security like the Foxes did.

Kent looked at Sasha like she was ridiculous. No one was ever willing to get a black eye. Kent had accepted that injury came with the consequences of a fight, but the more he fought, the less he cared about injury. Besides, the pain gave him something to keep his mind on other than his guilt. He’d gotten his fair share of shiners in his years, but none he’d ever asked for (though the others he’d fought might have argued otherwise). “Why the fuck would I give myself a black eye? You think I need Abby lecturing me again? Because you know I’m gonna get my ear chewed off the second Wymack sees me show up like that to practice and forces me to her office.”

[kentcheongs-blog]

cadxmitchell:

Cade tossed his small towel around his neck, tugging on both ends as he glanced over the equipment. It really was a wonder how the piece could have broken so easily. Maybe Wymack had settled on only bringing on incredible hulks onto the team. At least that would put the Foxes at the advantage over the other teams but didn’t really get rid of the whole… well, anger issues. Or it could be as easy as Kent had said and cheap equipment. That wouldn’t really have surprised Cade. He didn’t have to know much about the Foxes to know they tended to be hend at the end of the totem pole when it came to Palmetto State sports. Even if he didn’t fully understand Exy, he’d rather watch a came of that rather than football or soccer. Except tennis. Tennis would always win for Cade. Damn sentimental attachments.

“Nah, you could put it back and no one would ever know. Not till someone else uses it and then suddenly it becomes their problem rather than your problem.” That seemed like a fool-proof method. “Still wanna know how the hell you managed to do that.” Cade held out his lanky arms. They were thin, but Cade had muscle hidden that came in handy for tumbling and being a base. Holding up an entire person required upper arm strength. Didn’t mean he was strong enough to break exercise equipment. “I have some muscle, but not nearly that damn much. Might have just been cheap equipment, I guess… don’t tell your coach I said that.”

Chuckling, Cade moved off to the side at a clear spot where he could sit down and start doing sit-ups, an easy workout that’d give his arms a break. “If you wanna just put it back, go ahead. I won’t tell anyone.”

Kent passed the metal piece between both hands, twisting it as he did so, examining the metal triangle. His hand was a bit red, still, from how hard he gripped the black material that covered one side of it as he pulled hard enough to break it. His fingers grazed the tip of the triangle attached to the thick cord, its broken ends obviously sharp, even with the lightest of touches (something Kent doesn’t normally give, though it was good he took caution for once in this moment). Beads of sweat still lingered on his forehead from his workout, a few remaining drops of it still ran down the curves of his bicep. He knew he was strong—he’d proven that many times before, whether in the gym or in fights—but this was a new level, something he couldn’t chalk up to his own strength, but to faulty equipment. Though, when this all eventually breezed over, Kent’s tune would change, boasting about his own strength and how the gym equipment was no match for him. For now, though, a mixed bag of emotions swirled about his head, most of which he’d rather avoid.

“Good point,” Kent agreed with a nod. He didn’t care what poor sap was blamed for breaking the equipment, so long as Wymack wasn’t chewing his ear off for it. Kent had been taught as a teen to only look out for himself—he hadn’t been that way, not for the most part, until the looming threat of being cut off, of being homeless at eighteen was held over his head by his step-dad. Then, he was reminded of how no one was looking out for him anymore, and the only logical conclusion was that Kent had to look out for himself, and he questioned the point in looking out for others, when he knew the courtesy wouldn’t be returned. He was on his own. He believed it was him against the world, when really it was him against himself, against the guilt that followed him like a shadow he could never truly escape, no matter how hard he tried. Kent shrugged. “It wasn’t moving, so I pulled harder. Thought I just set the bar too high.” It seemed like an honest mistake, the way it was worded, but it was Kent’s lack of oversight that got him into this. “What does Wymack care? He’s not the one buying the equipment—but he will be the one to chew my damn ear off if he hears about this, and I’d really rather not deal with his shit.”

Kent looked from Cade to the place where the equipment broke to the broken piece in his hand. “If you think it won’t look completely busted...” he trailed off as he moved back towards the gym equipment, placing the piece where it would have naturally been on the bench, pushing together the broken strands of the rope in the hopes that it wouldn’t look so broken. “How’s that look?”   

[kentcheongs-blog]

raleigheverhart:

So many times, in the past two weeks, she’d almost picked up the phone and called the Everharts. It was an impulse she’d trained herself out of, the urge to run to her parents when any little thing went wrong—because she hadn’t had parents to run to. The Everharts changed that, but in some ways she still feels like she can’t: not when her problems are of her own creation, not when confessing them would paint her in such an unflattering light.

Sometimes, the Everharts’ advancing age makes her worried: they’re home alone, what if something happens to them? (What if they leave her?) Sometimes, though, it’s a blessing: they love her, but they’re less engaged in her life than they could be, more forgetful. They know that she’s a cheerleader, whether it’s for Exy or football makes no difference to them, and they don’t know about the Foxes’ reputation. And from their loving distance, Raleigh’s life still looks perfect, even as to her it feels like it’s falling apart, hanging by a thread. 

So she’d left her phone buried at the bottom of her bag, bit her tongue to silence. There was no one on the squad or on the team that she could confess in, either—not that there had been on her old squad, either, because Raleigh wasn’t the kind of person who showed her heart to other people. On the Foxes, Kent might be the closest thing she has to a friend so far—they’d done the shots to prove it—and so may be the best person she could come across right now, when all the frustration she’s been biting back feels so close to the surface, with one more loss heaped on top of many.

“Be my guest,” she says, stepping back from the machine to give Kent some room to work, giving him a smile even though it feels a little brittle around the edges. “Honestly, even if you don’t rescue my chocolate, It’s pretty cathartic.”

When Kent was angry, when Kent was stressed, he had no one to turn to. At least, that’s what he believed. He never really thought to turn to anyone in the first place, turning his back on everyone out of fear of confronting the grief he’d been trying for years to outrun. The idea of turning to another, the worry in the very back corners of his mind that it could make everything he wanted to avoid spill out and demand to be addressed, was something Kent couldn’t fathom, something Kent’s thoughts immediately avoided, just like everything else.

He had someone to turn to, growing up, but now she was gone. When he’d been angry as a kid—which was much less frequent than the times he’d been as a teen and adult—his mom always knew how to calm him down, to make him see things rationally, to deal with issues properly. Sometimes, he could even tell his step-dad about those things, too. But when she was sick, it was as if Kent forgot everything she’d told him, fear consuming him as he did everything to avoid thoughts of the inevitable, which included avoiding her, his biggest regret. Then, he simply couldn’t stop avoiding, as if pushing down worry and guilt had become something his brain became hard-wired to do. He avoided the guilt, the tears at her funeral, his step-dad, and the thoughts dripping in self-hatred at the monster he feared he became. However, the more he avoided thinking of that monster, the more it seemed he would become it.

He could seem like a fairly normal young adult, at times. When he was making stupid jokes or barely taking things on the court seriously or trying to show off in a multitude of ways, he seemed like every other college jock that cared more about athletics than he did academics. When he was angry, however, he was a whole other beast. The anger had time to cool down, but he still burned hot, and it showed as he made his way towards the vending machine wordlessly, shoving his body into the side of it as Raleigh spoke. “Huh?” he asked at her words between shoves. His body weight was enough to lift the vending machine onto its side two stubby legs, and it jostled considerably when he stepped back and allowed it to fall back onto four legs. It took a couple of tries, but eventually the chocolate fell from its spiral prison. The anger seemed to be concentrated in Kent’s now-bruised shoulder, and he seemed to be at least a slightly calmer man after that display. “There ya go. Anything else you need me to almost break? I’m in the mood for it.”

[kentcheongs-blog]

raleigheverhart:

Location: Hotel Hallway Date: September 1st Time: 12:30AM (open)

She didn’t want to admit it, but she’d wanted the Foxes to win. After the mess at the Vixen Den, after the whispers, after fucking Foxwatch, she’d felt like she needed some kind of sign, something to tell her that this wasn’t as pathetic as it felt. 

But she’d gotten a sign all right, and it had been loud and clear: 6-2. The Foxes were just as pathetic as everyone had always said. Raleigh no longer cheered for a winning team, which meant that she was as pathetic as they were, plastering a smile on her face and chanting with the rest of the squad while the score got worse and worse in front of them. After everything she’d heard about Exy, she couldn’t help but wonder: is that it?

She’d known better than to say anything to anyone. Bit her tongue all the way from the court, to the bus, to the hotel, so sure that anything she said would only make things worse. But she’s simmering with something—she’s sure the Foxes don’t care that she felt like she’d needed a win, but she had needed one, and she didn’t get it. 

And now it’s late, and she’s still awake. Her wanderings of the hotel halls have led her to the flickering lights of the vending machines, and now she’s staring at a bag of M&Ms holding on by a corner—it figures. It’s quiet enough that it sounds like a gunshot, when she slams her fist into the side of the machine, but still it doesn’t budge. “Fucking piece of shit.”

This loss was no stranger to any Fox Kent’s age or older. His freshman year held disappointment and loss a plenty, though it didn’t mean there wasn’t rage in response to those scores. He already knew what it was like to lose, what it was like to be denied the scoring opportunities he so desperately sought out whenever he was on the court; that didn’t mean he wasn’t pissed now, that he wasn’t full of enough anger and frustration today to earn himself his first yellow card of his season (and knowing it wouldn’t be his last).

Perhaps the frustration and anger in regards to losing were worse because he knew what it was like to win. In high school, none of that mattered—Kent never expected to get recruited, so while he still felt the same rage and energy on the court, there wasn’t a lot at stake, the intensity more like the calm waves hitting the shores in the morning. Collegiate Exy was much different in pace and intensity. Even though Kent’s life didn’t start or end with Exy, on the court, he was aflame, not necessarily because there was this deep obsession with the sport, but because his energy longed to be there, longed to run and shoot, and his anger fueled a competitive nature within him.

Tonight, that anger fueled him to walk around the hall of the hotel, unable to remain cooped up in his room. He figured he could grab a snack on his walk, as well, though that fate was uncertain as he walked by Raleigh, frustrated with the machine. He almost laughed upon realizing the sound was her fist against the machine, comparing the grand sound to the lack of action that resulted. “Want me to try?” he offered. Hell, he still had some anger to get out, so he might get at least a little satisfaction from this.

[kentcheongs-blog]

sashahartashby:

Sasha looked at the broken piece in his hand and shrugged. Luckily for her, what Kent did with it wasn’t her problem. She wasn’t the one that was going to get fined hundreds of dollars for breaking gym equipment. She could only imagine how well that would go over. Her mom would fork over the money, obviously, but only after she ranted about how out of control Sasha was. If anything, she should get away from Kent before he got caught and somehow roped her in. 

“I don’t know. Maybe, you should’ve thought of that before your broke it,” She pointed out. “Bury it, hide it, frame someone else, it doesn’t really matter. I’m pretty sure there’s security cameras in here that caught the whole thing,” She waved a hand. Sasha wasn’t absolutely certain that was the case, but it should be. Given how many times the Ravens used to fuck up the campus back in the day, she’d think they would’ve upped their security a little since then. 

“Just put it down and walk away,” She finally suggested, disinterest clear in her tone as she looked back at her treadmill, eager to return to her workout. “Either they don’t catch you and you get away with it or they do and you owe a few hundred at most. Maybe, a thousand if you’re really that unlucky. From what I’ve seen at practice, I’d say that’s the case.”

If Kent was more focused on throwing someone else under the bus, he could have probably roped Sasha into this, saying she didn’t warn him or she didn’t do anything or whatever would have gotten Wymack pissed at someone other than him. He wasn’t really one to play the blame game, though he would certainly be aggressively defensive if someone of power approached him with the subject. In that case, he would be blaming the equipment for being broken, or the school for allowing broken equipment to sit in the room unchecked. Blaming his teammate didn’t make sense, though Kent didn’t always do things that made sense.

“You think I came out here thinking, ‘Hm, let me break some expensive shit in the gym for no fucking reason whatsoever?’“ asked Kent, his tone annoyed as he rolled his eyes. “Not my fault the school can’t front the money for better fucking equipment. I’m sure if the football team or the baseball team asked for new shit, we wouldn’t be dealing with this problem.” Typically, Kent couldn’t give two shits about the other teams, but with his anger already staring to drip from every crack, it was easiest to direct it at other people than the inanimate objects in his hand and by his side, as he wouldn’t exactly be able to transfer that anger to the equipment, especially not in its broken state.

“Gee, thanks for the comforting advice,” Kent replied sarcastically. “I’m not paying for their mistakes in not replacing their shitty equipment before it got to this point.” His voice was stern, anger blanketing the worry of knowing he couldn’t pay whatever they may charge. “You feeling lucky today, Ashby? I’m not here for this shit. Either help me hide this damn thing or get out of my face before your own luck runs out.”

[kentcheongs-blog]

cadxmitchell:

Long gone were the days of spending free time vegging out in front of his television for a scary movie marathon or crashing on one of his friend’s couches for an intense video games session. No, Cade was back to fitting in workouts in his schedule to keep up with the Vixens. It wasn’t that Cade never worked out… he’d just happily use his free time for things that mattered more to him. Practicing new songs on the guitar, beating that unbeatable level on a video games, skateboarding around campus, studying… anything but working out. It had become obvious last semester that while he could still pull off cheerleading, he was out of shape. A large part of his summer break had been dedicated to getting back into shape.

Being back on campus gave Cade little to no excuses to avoid working out. The gym was right there available to him and his classes were spread out in a way that gave Cade plenty of time to fit in a workout. That’s how he ended up in the gym, first taking up the Vixen’s practice area to work on some of his tumbling. That was enough of a work out for his entire body, Cade finishing up having worked up quite a bit of sweat and his muscles were starting to get shaky. He took a break, grabbing his bag to head to the equipment room. If he could get in just a bit more time, he’d be able to have a reasonable excuse for skipping tomorrow.

Slipping into the door, Cade dropped his bag to the side along with his small towel. His arms felt a bit better, most likely the safest bet for not pulling a muscle. He hadn’t expected to walk into a crime of…workout? Cade stopped in his tracks, his eyes shifting from the metal piece of the equipment to the other’s face and back again. That childish urge to say ‘oooo, I’m telling’ kicked up in Cade, but he settled with giving a smile and holding his hands up defensively. “Hey, what happens in the gym, stays in the gym. Might wanna take it a bit easy there, not sure Palmetto wants to replace every piece of equipment.”

Kent had tried a bunch of different hobbies growing up, but it seemed that the ones most worth his time were the ones that were the most active, the ones where he was running or swimming or whatever the hell else his body could burn a lot of energy doing. Playing an instrument never held his interest for long, because it required practice and focus and staying in one place for a while. Reading never took off for the same reason of staying in one place when his body ached to move, to always be doing. Besides, he was a natural at most sports, and whichever ones he didn’t get right away, he could usually improve upon in a week or so. Exy was one that came naturally, combining similar foot skills needed for a striker that once lead him down fields of all different types as a kid with the anger that was much newer to his persona. Add in a few elements to show off, and it became a perfect sport for Kent to play.

Of course, he couldn’t be doing Exy all the time, and even if he did, Kent might even find himself bored by the same motions, regardless of whether or not the motions burned the energy he seemed to have an endless supply of. The gym helped with that a little; he could easily switch between different machines to challenge different parts of his body all while training and toning him for the sport he played. It was a win for Kent, burning time and energy, and it was a win for Wymack, who didn’t really have to yell at Kent over conditioning (he did have plenty of other things to yell at the striker for, though). 

It wasn’t a win, however, to imagine the shit he would have to deal with for this accident that didn’t seem like such an accident to the outsider. Cade’s attempts at humor weren’t going to sit the easiest with Kent, not after something like this, but of course, he always had to comment. “They should if it’s gonna be shit enough that I can break it without even trying,” he commented. Okay, maybe he was a bit impressed with his strength, but that wasn’t the point. “I just don’t need to get shit for it. Think it’s noticeable if I just put it back?”

[kentcheongs-blog]

gloryhoskinss:

When you try so hard to prove yourself, the only thing you get in the end is disappointment.

It was her first college level game, after all. She knew that her behavior both on and off the court was hankering to get her into some trouble out on the court, but she found herself caring more what her team-mates thought about her getting kicked out the first game rather than the loss that already seemed to pull a thread from the loosely sewn together team of misfits.

It wasn’t the first time she had lost, and this wasn’t the most important thing she had lost but it felt like it was. There was something inside of her, the vicious side, that said the Jackals that come after her had deserved it - and given more time, she would’ve taught them a lesson in messing with her. The other side however (that she had absolutely no clue where it was coming from), was obviously upset with the chain of events that happened that night.

She’d fucked up, and she knew it too well.

She couldn’t go back to the hotel. She wasn’t in the mood to defend herself, and she could already feel the energy during the handshakes she had to begrudgingly give the Jackals. Instead, she sat outside of the hotel, fiddling with her cracked phone, debating on whether she should just turn it off or smash it against the wall. 

Amidst the debate in her head, she could feel a presence looming over her shoulder, one that made her knuckles turn white as she grabbed her phone.

“What do you want.”

Kent didn’t care about the Foxes in the way some of his other teammates did. The Foxes weren’t his life; they would be yet another thing in his rear view mirror once he graduated, he assumed. He wasn’t one clinging to the dream of a Fox championship, just clinging to the blessing that was the scholarship and dorms given to the players. They were his ticket to a roof over his head and some food in his mouth for the next five years, and getting to let out steam by playing Exy was almost all he had to do in return, so it seemed like a good deal.

Still, that didn’t mean it sucked to lose a game this badly. Part of that might have fallen on Kent’s shoulders, given that he was a striker known for his shots and yet didn’t get to take many this game—and the ones he did take didn’t end in the delightful wail of the buzzer. That was mostly what had him pissed, that his opportunities were squandered, that try as he might, he kept failing, and it showed during the game, his frustration building enough to result in yellow card-worthy actions. He didn’t regret those—no, the assholes on defense deserved it, especially if the refs weren’t going to call half the checks they claimed were legal (not that Kent played fair, either). But the buzzer that ended the game sounded like nails on a chalkboard at the end of that game, a reminder of the shortcomings Kent couldn’t face and the general disappointing loss for the Foxes.

There wasn’t much that would help Kent out of this mood, other than time. A quick shower back at the hotel occupied him for a few minutes, long enough to keep him from throwing his fist through the drywall. The only other thing that could settle him for even a moment was food, and he figured it was a good idea to get some—not because it would make him less likely to leave his room and start a fight with the first thing he saw, but because his stomach was starting to ache from the hunger he felt. So, he placed an order for delivery, on account of not knowing where a damn place in this town was, and found his feet carrying him outside the hotel a few minutes later to wait for his dinner, still restless even though they were surely at least a little tired from the game they’d played.

Kent was greeted very kindly by a familiar voice in a familiar tone—he was all too used to Glory’s attitude now, as she was to his, but that didn’t mean he dealt with it with any civility. “My orange chicken,” he responded dryly. “But you don’t look like a delivery driver, so I guess I’m stuck here waiting. What, do you own the sidewalk now? Do I need your permission to stand out here and sulk, too?”

[kentcheongs-blog]

ripleyvansant:

         If there was anything Ripley hated most it was being at the gym. He’d rather do exercise outside than be trapped in a building. Being a Vixen though, he had to go to the gym at least a few times a week. He could do his runs outside and work on cardio outside of the gym, but he had to lift weights inside the gym. When the semester started, Ripley knew he’d find more excuses not to go, so he promised that he’d stick to the strict schedule he made for himself. Gym in the mornings on the days he had a light class schedule. He’d learned to make sure his classes were mostly on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He was still in general education classes, so he was taking a variety of different classes. Today was one of those days where he had an 8 AM class, so he was already awake. Instead of using that time to do homework, he had scheduled some time at the gym this morning and if he didn’t go, he’d put off going again the next time. So, he might as well get it over with now.

         Ripley knew that he needed to work on his upper body strength. Lifting people into the air took a lot more strength. Ripley had been cheering for long enough to know what kinds of workouts he needed. He’d always enjoyed cheerleading. For some reason, learning the routines and cheers and pretending to be happy all the time was something he was good at. No matter what kind of day he’d been having, he went out and did the routines with a smile on his face. He wasn’t sure why he enjoyed that as much as he did. He’d been enjoying his time so far at Palmetto. He knew that a bunch of the Foxes probably used the gym and he was bound to spot one of them. Ripley knew by the end of the year, he’d probably know several of them – especially if things kept going well with Cameron. Mindlessly heading towards the area where he would work on his upper arms, he didn’t pay attention to what was around him or who was around him.

         Someone was at the piece of equipment he was about to use, so he just stood and watched from the side, not really staring, but casually turning his head occasionally to see if the other was done yet. He didn’t see whatever happened, but when he looked up after hearing a noise, Ripley noticed a piece of the equipment in the other’s hand. When the boy spoke, Ripley raised his hands and didn’t say anything. Ripley knew that the boy was a Fox, but they hadn’t been introduced yet. He awkwardly stood there, waiting for him to say something else because he didn’t know what else to do. 

For once, somebody listened to Kent. It was probably the smartest thing Ripley could have done; Kent was unpredictable in circumstances such as this one, easily prone to joking about his strength but also snapping at anyone who so much as looked at him the wrong way when he was caught red handed. Because he and Ripley barely knew each other, as well, it made Kent only more likely to snap at the Vixen without the other man knowing how to avoid Kent’s bursts of anger. Those he was close with, though the list was short, knew at least how to avoid his rage, since no one really knew how to stop it. Those who were relatively unfamiliar to Kent took a good amount of his anger, considering there wasn’t as much holding him back when they angered him and his conscience’s voice was even quieter than usual around them. However, none took the brunt of Kent’s anger like those he couldn’t stand, those he had already made enemies out of, and it was safe to say he had his fair share of those. Ripley was fortunate to be in the second category, giving him at least a small chance of avoiding the anger that so readily flowed in Kent’s veins

However, it was likely that anything Ripley said or did (or didn’t say/do) would have resulted in a negative reaction from Kent. A situation like this, with consequences on the line and an accident looking like a purposeful move, had Kent on the defensive, and while he would certainly joke about his incredible strength down the line, now was not the moment to do that. His priority was getting rid of the piece of equipment, or at least making the machine look like it wasn’t broken so some other poor soul did it. He was only more volatile, his energy even higher than before. His words, actions, and tone weren’t from a place of shame—no, Kent had little of that, if he had any at all. He couldn’t feel embarrassed, but he could feel the desire to avoid punishment for an accident, for in the back of his mind, he knew few would believe him, especially those with the authority to do anything about it.

So, as he stood there, noticing Ripley staring at him with his arms up in defense, Kent stared back for a moment, the two standing in silence, the situation looming over them. Now, knowing he was caught, he had to do something. Kent was always one to act, even when he was simply in the act of avoiding things, like homework or the ever present feeling of guilt that ate away at him. Now, he had to avoid the potential of punishment, and he probably wanted to avoid Ripley’s gaze, as well. Ironically, his attempt to get the other man’s gaze off of him contradicted his first command to the Vixen. “Are you gonna just stand there staring or are you gonna help me hide this thing?” asked Kent, his words more demanding than a normal question might have proposed. 

[kentcheongs-blog]

sashahartashby:

Going to the gym between practices always seemed counterproductive. It wasn’t like she needed to work out, but when she couldn’t channel her anger into Exy, running always helped her cool down. Sometimes, practice was the recent she’d need to calm down, considering she tended to get into it with the other Foxes almost daily, and today was no exception. After summer under her mother’s roof, walking around like a ghost and dealing with her disgusted looks, she always had pent up frustration to burn the second she returned to campus. Her anger was always at it’s worst the first month back, not that it ever truly cooled. 

She had a favorite treadmill she claimed whenever she went to the gym. It was on the edge of the gym and directly in front of one of the fans, plus it had the best view of the campus. She was timing herself at her current speed before going back to a base pace, inhaling sharply through her nose as she tried to regulate her breathing. Now that she was jogging and not sprinting, it was easier to pay attention to the surroundings, and she could hear the clang of metal over her music. 

Putting the treadmill on pause, she turned to see what the fuck was going on when she saw Kent standing there with a clearly broken piece of equipment, causing her to raise an eyebrow, unsure if she was impressed or annoyed. “We get it, Kent. You’re strong. You don’t need to go around breaking things to prove it,” She commented, unable to help the short laugh that escaped. “You better get out of here and pretend that didn’t happen, because I don’t think Wymack is going to pay for the damage your monster arms caused.”

Kent had really only focused on himself when he was at the gym this time, not really checking to see if other Foxes or Vixens had been present when he arrived. Of course, that wasn’t the most oblivious Kent had been today—no, that title was reserved for moments earlier, when he didn’t bother to see if there was an issue with the equipment, only assuming he’d set it to the wrong weight and pulled harder instead. His mind had been focused on the workout, and it always seemed to be one-track at the worst possible moments, like when he was so focused on lifting those weights that he didn’t check if the pulley system was working properly, or when he was so focused on getting his energy out at the gym that he didn’t look around to see who else was present.

Turns out, it was Sasha who had been present, and had witnessed Kent’s debacle—or, at least she heard the sound of the equipment breaking, saw Kent with the piece in his hand, and could put the pieces of the puzzle together fairly easily. It wasn’t hard for someone who didn’t know what had happened to see Kent as guilty. He stood next to the broken equipment, holding the piece that had broken off—that seemed to be pretty damning. It truly was an accident, but how many people would really believe Kent?

Sasha appeared to be amused—at least, that’s how Kent took it when she laughed at the incident. If Kent had a shameful bone in his body (or, at least, didn’t try and cover those with anger), he might have been embarrassed. “Yeah, obviously I need to keep my superpowers under wraps a little better,” he replied, his words on a razor’s edge between cocky and sarcastic, leaving the tone up for interpretation. “Where the fuck am I supposed to hide this thing? This place is way too open for that shit,” he commented, looking around the room for some sort of nook he could slide the small metal triangle into.

[kentcheongs-blog]

mccraysydney:

Wednesdays were thankfully Sydney’s easy day. Minus practices, she only had one class which consisted of oil painting for three hours. It didn’t leave much wiggle room for anything besides a few quick meals and some extra time in the gym, but she didn’t mind. Being able to train for that extra hour was exactly what she needed to push her to the next level on the court. And she would do anything to get them back into the championships this year. 

She grabbed an easy and quick breakfast at the athlete dining hall, not wanting to bother with the lines in the regular ones, after their morning practice then headed back to the gym. Someone was already there when she arrived, so she slid in as quietly as she could. But it didn’t matter much since the second she turned to stretch she witnessed a part of the machine break off into Kent’s hand. When he finally spotted her, she deadpanned, unsurprised that it was him who broke the machine. “Is that why Wymack put a poster of you with the caption ‘DON’T LET THIS MAN IN THE GYM ALONE’ outside?” 

Her eyes went from the piece in his hand to his face then back again. “Do you really think I would be the one to rat you out?” She didn’t particularly care how it happened - whether Kent was the true culprit or if someone else did it and didn’t want to take the blame, didn’t matter to her. But, now she had been sucked into the whole thing and had to help him cover it up. Ideas started floating around her mind, figuring out which other Fox would be the one they put the blame on. More likely than not, they’d plant the evidence on a newer Fox but that was up to him. 

Accidents happened, but this probably didn’t look like an accident. An accident was knocking over a glass of water or dropping your phone on the concrete or leaving your notebook on your desk as you rushed out of the room in order to get to class on time, not breaking the pulley system on a piece of gym equipment because you didn’t bother to check that something was wrong the first time you yanked on it. Someone passing another person next to some spilled liquid or a cracked phone screen would have assumed it was an accident. Someone walking by and seeing Kent with the handle dangling from his right hand wouldn’t think it got there because of an accident, which made Kent hope nobody in charge was present right now.

Thankfully, it was only Sydney who approached him, one of the few people on this planet who might have understood when he claimed it was an accident. However, that statement still included the word might, because this was still hard to believe. Though he warned her to be silent, she still spoke, but at least she wasn’t running to tattle on him. “That’s me?” he scoffed. “Someone should enroll that man in an art class,” he joked, knowing there was no hand-drawn photo of him outside the gym. Though, that might be cool, to have a picture drawn of him, but that was besides the point.

“I dunno, I can’t tell if you’re the type of friend to lie for me or the one who would sell me out for a bag of Goldfish,” he mused, though he was mostly teasing. “Look, it was an accident, and honestly, we probably need some new equipment in this place, anyways. Just... help me get rid of this, okay?”

[kentcheongs-blog]

When: August 22nd, 9:30AM Where: The gym Who: Open

Once the semester started, or came close to starting, Kent could often be found in the gym. It was a good place for him to stop by, because he could at least burn some energy with limited time before his next class or while he waited for someone to join him for lunch or for his laundry to finish. He could walk in whenever and leave whenever, and the gym was a lot closer to most of the buildings on campus than the court was. He could run, too, but Kent knew his feet tended to carry him wherever they wanted to roam, and before he knew it, he could be pretty damn far from where he needed to be. The gym was just all around easier - plus, being able to work out different muscles in between cardio and focusing on his shots was good, too.

When it came to working out on his own time, Kent tended to focus on whatever he felt didn’t get enough of a workout at that morning’s practice. He arrived again another hour after morning practice ended, with an hour to kill before his first class, in the hopes of working out some of his upper body muscles for the better part of the hour. Only, Kent’s workout only lasted about half an hour - he’d switched from a few machines during that time, mostly focused on working out different muscles in his arms. However, when Kent went to grab one piece of a machine, made for one hand to grip it as it attached to a pulley system, he didn’t realize the wire it was attached to had gotten stuck, an issue of the equipment that hadn’t been noticed (and thus hadn’t been fixed) before Kent simply approached it to work out. 

Tugging it, Kent was surprised when it didn’t move, but had assumed he may have just put too much weight on it accidentally. After adjusting the weight and giving it one more good tug, this one harder than the first, the grip came loose from the stuck wire, leaving Kent visibly stunned with the object in his hand. It was then he noticed someone else had been nearby and seen his act, and there wasn’t really a way of hiding the metal piece in his hand at this point. “Don’t. Say. Anything,” he warned.

[kentcheongs-blog]

mccraysydney:

Sydney was sure that if she waited for just a few seconds longer than one of the two would collapse and bring the other down with them. Her own desire to leave outweighed her desire to watch the two players make fools of themselves. She watched as one of their arms wobbled, eyes widening at the prospect of them finally getting to leave their spot. From what she could tell, both of them were getting antsy just standing in the Vixen’s living room. 

Sydney waved his accusations off as if they meant anything to her. “Listen, I’m willing to risk it for the biscuit when it comes to Keanu,” she rolled her eyes before continuing. “He’ll need a vampire queen to rule the world with, right?” Her love for Keanu Reeves was not to be truffled with - even if it was proven that he was some immortal vampire. Who wouldn’t want to hang out with someone as weird as Keanu Reeves for eternity? 

“Wymack looks like the Rock so it’d be like him showing up to a party. Have you thought about that?” A smug grin graced her face as she turned towards him. It was no secret that their coach vaguely looked like the Rock; some of the Foxes even called him that to get on his nerves. But, the last thing any of them wanted was Wymack to show up at one of their parties. If he saw how far any of them went, he’d be surprised that any of them showed up for practice the next morning.

Kent wondered if the remaining players had enough upper body strength to even continue, especially because they must have been at least a little bit drunk to agree to play. He watched arms wobble and knees bend, trying to catch a break from the stiffness that came with being in those positions for so long, waiting to see one of them falter. Finally, one’s knee gave out, sending them toppling down, their shoulder colliding with the other player and sending them both to the ground. Kent let out a relieved sigh to see that the game was over before announcing to Syd, “Finally. Took them damn long enough.”

“Of all people on this planet, Keanu?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. “I mean, okay, it’s your funeral—literally, since you gotta die to be a vampire.” Only with Sydney did conversations as out there as these warrant some actual logistical thinking, something Kent didn’t do often unless it suited his argument. “But whatever makes you happy, I guess. Just invite me to the wedding and make it a buffet, alright?” Kent had never actually been to a wedding, but he at least knew a bar of endless food he could go back for was way better, in his opinion, than some stuffy three course bullshit where his portions were limited.

“Okay, Wymack might look like the Rock, but he has the personality of an actual rock, so it’s not the same thing. Wymack would be such a buzzkill at a party, but the Rock would make it so much better,” he argued. With the floor clearing from those who had been standing around the Twister mat, Kent’s legs were itching to move, and right now they itched to carry him back to the kitchen from whence he came. “I’m gonna go see what kind of snacks they got—you coming?”

[kentcheongs-blog]

summermyburgh:

It wasn’t like Summer was the perfect roommate. He stayed up late and always forgot to use his earphones, he ate loudly in his bed and left crumbs all over the room, he used enough cologne and aftershave in the mornings to cause anyone in the room an asthma attack. In many ways, he was just as bad as Kent, but Summer was also a hypocrite who only really cared about room disturbances when it was him being disturbed.

He wouldn’t care nearly as much if his head didn’t hurt like it did. Normally, Summer would mutter a ‘shut the fuck up, please’ then roll back over and resume snoring. But his head did ache, as did his eyes, and his throat was so dry he could feel his breath travelling down his throat. Summer felt truly terrible and probably didn’t look much better, which became apparent when he pushed himself on his side to glare over at Kent with bloodshot eyes, wrinkles from the creases in his pillow over the side of his face, and his hair sticking up in every direction.

“Actually, yeah, knock me, you’d be doing me a massive favour,” he grumbled, groaning and curling back up, curling one arm around his head, as if it would make it feel any better. Summer had never been good with hangovers and it was what always got him caught when he drank as a kid. He could fake being sober, he’d had enough encounters with foster parents and police to master the art of playing sober but he couldn’t hide the headache and the drained colour of his face. If Gwen were here then she’d be giving him hell, forcing him out of bed anyway because ‘you’ve done this to yourself and that is not my problem’. “How are you awake? I’m not even moving from my bed today.”

Kent normally didn’t get on Summer for the little things he did that others might consider annoying. He tended to be a pretty heavy sleeper once he passed out, and threw the blanket over his head if he needed a little extra darkness or quiet. He also didn’t really care about the crumbs, so long as they weren’t in his bed, and he was normally up and out the door before Summer even put on cologne, though he could sometimes smell it if he returned to the room at the right time. Really, nothing Summer did as a roommate bothered Kent enough to say something, which in itself said something, considering how easy it was to piss off Kent.

However, this morning, it seemed easy for Kent to piss off Summer. He was used to Summer’s mumbles telling him to be quiet, but he also noticed his roommate fall asleep right after that, so it was never a big deal and Kent carried on with his business, not really adjusting the volume. He honestly expected this morning to be the same, though Summer’s protest was louder and garnered a response from Kent, this time. He didn’t think it would be long before the other Fox would be rolling over, with his breathing deep in slumber not even a minute after that. However, it obviously wasn’t, as he continued to speak, his body twisting in the way only a hangover made you want to do (at least if you were Kent, who usually spread out when he slept).

“If you’re serious, I can have that arranged, but you might wake up with a worse headache than you have now,” Kent warned with a shrug. If he truly wanted to fight Summer, he wouldn’t have warned him, but he was only slightly annoyed with his roommate’s groaning, and since it was because of Kent, the striker didn’t have much of a right to get angry (not like that stopped him before). “I didn’t get shitfaced last night, that’s how. I’m always awake by this time, drunk, sober, or hungover. I was gonna go for a run in a few. You sure you don’t wanna join me?” teased Kent with a small chuckle.

[kentcheongs-blog]

☼ √

send☼ for a congratulatory text

[6:19PM] nice job today

[6:20PM] you’re getting faster... maybe someday you’ll outrun me

send√ for a long winded confessing text

[8:27PM] okay so don’t shoot the messenger

[8:31PM] but i totally heard the baseball guys bitching and moaning about their locker room even though they rly deserved that and they said something along the lines of coach was going to talk to campus security but let’s be honest campus security doesn’t do shit anyways so we’re probably fiiiiine even though they were also suspecting our team in the same conversation because now that the vixen den got trashed by the other cheerleaders they can’t know for sure if it was us or if it was one of the cheerleaders i mean i’m sure the baseball team has screwed a few of them over at one point or another maybe they’re on some huge revenge spree which would be fun to watch but also very besides the point

[8:32PM] i don’t remember where i was going with that

[kentcheongs-blog]

♠ ☠ !

send♠ for a drunk text

[1:02AM] graaaaaant

[1:04AM] yoire a okc aptsin

[1:05AM] dotn tell anuone i daid that

send☠ for misguided advice

[3:32PM] you should tell wymack to organize a halftime show during our homecoming game

[3:34PM] like yeah we have the vixens but we gotta go bigger

[3:35PM] what if we got a fire dancer

[3:35PM] i could so be the fire dancer

[kentcheongs-blog]

♣ ☠☢

send♣ for a text not meant for you

[9:12AM] dude can you pick your underwear up off the floor? i don’t need to see that shit

[9:15AM] oh shit sorry that wasn’t for you

[9:16AM] but bonus points if you can guess which roommate was for

[9:16AM] hint you know him VERY well

send ☠ for misguided advice

[4:51PM] okay but hear me out

[4:52PM] homework isn’t neeeecessary

[4:53PM] you can totally skip it for a night!

[4:55PM] besides we won’t have homework in the real world

send☢ for a desperate text

[9:09PM] hey what is hypotonic i literally have no clue

[9:11PM] shit wait what is HYPERTONIC

[9:12PM] those aren’t the same thing?????

[9:13PM] MAGGIE

[9:13PM] HELP

[9:15PM] ANSWER YOUR PHONE

[9:16PM] BIOLOGY SUCKS

[kentcheongs-blog]

☢ ☏ ✺

send ☢ for a desperate text

[7:31PM] bring food. now.

[7:31PM] hurry i’m STARVING

[7:32PM] if you could make it appear out of thin air that would be the best

send☏ for a vague text

[8:15PM] i think i fucked up more than usual

send ✺ for a saucy text

[6:29PM] don’t be mad but i dropped the pizza

[6:29PM] like face down. on the carpet.

[6:30PM] there’s gonna be a HUGE red stain

[6:31PM] why is tomato sauce so hard to clean

[6:45PM] ...