playing with fire

sasha hart-ashby. 21. palmetto state foxes offensive dealer

[sash-ha-blog]

marleyrxid:

Marley sat on the bench in the courtyard, textbooks on one side of her and backpack against the bench resting on the ground. She’d had one class after morning practice, but her head hadn’t really been in the classroom but somewhere else. It took her professor whom she’d had last year asking her after class if she was okay for Marley to realize that maybe she needed to take a moment to herself.

It was on her way to lunch that she’d made the decision to go to Betsy rather than to eat. She’d sent a quick text message to Wymack telling him she might be a little late for practice and exactly why before she headed off. Marley hardly went to Betsy. It was usually only the mandatory meeting that brought Marley to Betsy’s office, hot chocolate in hand and casual conversation about everything else in the world but herself. But she’d been making small progress and this was another step in the right direction.

She’d gotten back in time for practice, went through the motions and threw herself into Exy without thinking about anything else. Wymack only asked once if she was okay and Marley gave him a smile before carrying on. After practice, she’d changed and headed for the school’s courtyard rather than Fox Tower, watching the sun setting slowly over the horizon. Everyone had their bad days and Marley was certainly having her own.

With their first game of the season so close, training had been intense to say the least. If Sasha thought too much about her post training aches, she wasn’t sure she’d even make it back to Fox Tower. It was then, as she thought about the hill the dorms sat on, that she wished she hadn’t been so stubborn and had just accepted a ride back with the others. A walk was a good way to clear her head and curb her mood though-- for her own sake she had to be on the team’s good side for a few more days.

Not knowing if her mother or her brother would be at the game was driving her mad, putting her even more on edge than she ever wanted to let on. She’d been adhering to her mother’s terms - attending her weekly meetings and taking her tests, proving her sobriety over and over again - but she knew that meant nothing. All she had to do was breathe in the wrong direction and her mother could bring her entire world crashing down. Exy was supposed to be her escape, but it had become another prison.

Sasha had never made an effort to befriend any of the Foxes, knowing they’d just become one more avenue of control for her mother, but they were still her teammates. They were probably the only people in the world who could come close to understanding each other on some level. So when Sasha saw Marley, she didn’t hesitate to dump her bag and sit beside her. Silence hovered over them for a few moments, until Sasha eventually became bored with it, “You’re gonna seize up if you stay still. Should at least get home before that happens.”

[sash-ha-blog]

“adam-radford:

The foxes were a challenge. Something about them made it difficult to keep his temper, their inability to just let him be a dick frustrating. It was new, something his past teams, all groups of well-bred students didn’t pose. In Texas, his teammates just avoided him u til they learned how to work around it; ignoring his snide comments, putting their hands up when he got in their face, leaving the room when he got out of control. At Blair, they encouraged it. His friends would get back in his face, smiles plastered across their own and tell him to fight. They would cheer him on in the halls as he pushed others, laugh when he made a crude joke at someone who didn’t deserve it. At Palmetto though it seemed all they actually wanted to do was fight him back.

Normally, he would brush them off as annoying and continue on; at least that would have been the approach a year ago. Now though, the sculpture made of a mild raged that had once been simply added onto by determination was distorted. The rage grew to twice its size, tripling even, hot molten formed clay bubbling and spilling over the edges in places while the determination grew hard, trying to hold the rest together. He had had little to be mad about back then but now he had the world. Mostly, Adam had himself to be mad at though but he could hardly accept that hardly look the fact in the face and so he refused to consider it. He found others to hate, his father, his mother, his coaches, refs. Adam had been wronged by the world because it refused to just accept the fact he would eventually get his way. It was more difficult than that now though, he had a long way back to his starting point, the only steps taken having been backward. 

Adam stared at the girl from under his dark brows a long moment, blue eyes hard and unmoving. His expression would have appeared slack, the muscles limp on the bone they hung too but the annoyance added a tension that diluted the expression. Much like his roommate, Adam wasn’t impressed by her.  

“You’re about as creative as you are attractive, you know that?” He didn’t pose it as a question though. It was a cheap shot,  a shallow cut too probably given the girl wasn’t ugly to begin with but it was an insult none the less. He could have gotten more creative himself, pushed further with colorful words but it was too early and he wasn’t exactly angry enough to verbally shove her head through a wall. 

Sasha wasn’t so much riled up by what he’d said - because everyone knew a prerequisite to becoming a Fox was having thick skin, and a shot at her looks was the furthest thing from a weak spot for her - but by the fact that he’d bitten back at all. It was like taunting a lion; aside from the fact that Adam was huge in comparison to her, his irritation was practically crashing over her in waves if the way he was looking at her was anything to go by. If they’d been on the court she was sure they’d have already exchanged blows. Hell, maybe they still would. Training could be just as brutal as the real thing.

“You can talk,” she shot back with a razor-sharp smile, doubling over to touch her toes, still pushing the idea that she was warming down after her run. While she was down there, she decided to re-tie her shoelaces, stalling simply because he was being an ass and she was curious to see whether he was going to turn green and start beating his chest if he didn’t his way.

Not much intimidated Sasha, but that wasn’t necessarily a positive character trait. She was combative because she hated losing, hated feeling under someone else’s control. It made her a perfect candidate for the team in theory, but in practice she knew her volatility had her balancing on a knife’s edge. Between her mother’s continual meddling, vanity and greed and vengeance keeping her attention on her daughter and every move she made; and Coach always reminding her not to bring her shit onto the court, when the court was the only place she felt like she had left... it kept her in a precarious position, like a cornered cat, knowing she only had herself and her claws to rely on. Keeping people at arm’s length, keeping them deterred, was safest for everyone.

All good things had to come to an end though. Not to mention Sasha had more important things to be doing than standing there having a staring competition with a guy she’d never gone out of her way to get to know. At least with that stand off she could add one more thing to the short list of facts she had on Adam: he had no trouble working a pair of sweatpants and bed hair. 

Sauntering over to the door, she nudged him out of the way with her elbow, not trusting him enough to part with the key and risk him locking her out or dropping the key down a drain, or something equally meat-headed and annoying. “How’d you get locked out anyway? Are you just a dumbass or did you wake up duct taped to a couch in a tree or something?”

[sash-ha-blog]

adam-radford:

With a violent swing of his arm Adam tossed the blankets off of himself, his legs finding their way off the bed so that his feel hit the floor with a thud. He leaned forward, his hands rubbing his face as he assessed the damage to his head from the previous night. His fingers pressing into his eyes, pals harsh against his cheeks checking for sensitivity. There didn’t seem to be any.

Perhaps it would have been more of a relief but the chill in the room was at the front of his mind, agitation causing him to glare at the other beds as he slipped his dark slides over his white tube socks. He didn’t know which of them set the thermostats so low and he didn’t care. While he didn’t avoid his roommates in the slightest, Adam didn’t bother trying to hide the fact he wasn’t impressed by them. He’d most likely bitch to them about the temperature later. In all honesty, it may have been him, an act of drunken stupor but that barely crossed his mind.

With a heavy, annoyed sign he bent over, his hands rummaging the pockets of his jeans from last night till he found his keys. Once he found them he all but slammed the door on his way out, not bothering to look at the thermostat on his way by. He trudged down the hall groggily, his light gray sweatpants almost dark in contrast to the pale, exposed skin of his bare chest; his hair still well maintained despite the night’s rough sleep. 

As he shut the main door behind him he almost wished he smoked. The action would give him good enough reason to stand on the side walk, to soak in the warmth of the sun. As it was though, Adam didn’t smoke. He actually looked down on those that did, claiming it was disgusting; the smell that lingered being enough of a turn off that he never desired to try it. Instead, he dragged himself over to the night sweeper and slipped in the driver’s side, his key unlocking the dashboard so he could pull the paperwork out and sift through it.

He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, more or less trying to look occupied while he warmed himself before going back in but he paused at the paper that settled half way through the stack. The gold outlining of the sticker stared at him, the sticker itself missing from the place as it sat at the back of his license plate. His registration was up this month.

Adam punched the seat, the back of his hand hitting the passenger side as if to stab the fabric with an invisible knife. The strength behind it was weak. He was too tired and not quite pissed enough to exert the energy necessary for a show no one was watching. Even if he paid it now it would be sent to his mother’s house. She’d have to forward it and there were at least two weeks between now and when he’d get it.

His sigh was loud, obnoxious even, as he expressed his annoyance to no one but himself. The idea of texting his mom to forward it was a hellish prospect but the idea of getting pulled over was worse. Throwing the papers back in the glove box, he slammed the box closed with a flick of his wrist and locked it.

It wasn’t until he reached the front door again that he realized his dorm keys weren’t on his key ring. He pulled the door handle a few times, each pull more violent as the previous and he racked his brain as to why his key was missing in the first place. The party he invited himself to last night was the football teams. No, maybe it was soccer. He wasn’t sure, the only clear memories were of himself stalking around the room, downing drinks that no one was paying attention to and an almost fight with a lacrosse player that was keen on arguing the differences between exy and his own sport. Someone broke it up and the rest was a blur.

He heard the foot steps behind him and turned, his head moving before any other part of him to stare down the passer by. “Do you mind?“ He barked out as if he had already asked several times and this was the last attempt, his hand waving out to his side at the door.

Sasha wasn’t always angry. If someone had seen her slipping out on her run, they might have even picked out a spring in her step. It was one of the few solitary pleasures she had anymore-- the chance to put her earbuds in and run until she got bored, or her body called it quits, whichever came first. That morning, she’d been especially cheerful after remembering the hangovers her teammates were going to be dealing with. Taking pleasure in their discomfort was a small shred of petty entertainment, considering the undesirable terms of her own sobriety.

She’d planned on being out for longer, avoiding anyone and everyone until she absolutely had to deal with them, but her phone battery had died and she hated running in silence. That much time alone with her own thoughts was a surefire way to ruin her own good mood. So, after a brief stop for coffee - the strongest substance she was allowed anymore - she reluctantly set off back in the direction of Fox Tower.

If she was lucky her roommates would still be asleep, giving her the chance to shower in peace and call dibs on the TV. If she was even luckier they’d be awake and have to suffer with how great she looked in comparison, even after running for miles. In all honesty she couldn’t say she disliked her roommates, or any of the other Foxes, but in her years as a Fox she hadn’t decided she actually liked anyone either, which left everyone open to being on the receiving end of her tumultuous personality.

Sasha wasn’t always angry, but when faced with someone barking orders at her... Unless it was Wymack, who she still toed the line with as often as possible, the result wasn’t usually pretty.

“You’re supposed to turn the handle and push, fuckass.” She said, stopping a few feet away to finish her run with some final stretches. On one hand, it was almost a relief to have run into Adam first, his attitude burning with a similar intensity to her own; rather than someone who would have opened with the kind of polite small talk that drove her even further up the wall.

All it would have taken was half a second to dig her key out of the pocket in her running tights. Open the door. Let him in. Go on her way. Of course, pushing was what Sasha did best-- boundaries, luck, people. If she could push it, she’d give it everything she had.

[sash-ha-blog]

Mass Text.

Meredith: HAPPY NATIONAL RASPBERRIES N’ CREAM DAY.

Meredith: I found it important to remind you all.

Sasha: Who the fuck are you and why the fuck is that a national day?

[akanesource]

adelaidekane 💀

[sash-ha-blog]

colinjessup:

There’s an urge that he has to fight: the urge to pour himself into this team, to keep pouring until he has nothing left to give. Until he’s used up. People other than him—better people, probably better players—have done it before him and hadn’t had much to show for it. People other than him are doing it now, and he isn’t sure if that makes them brave or stupid or just stronger than him. Colin’s always afraid—he feels like he’s given so much of himself before, to people and to places, and they’re parts he hasn’t gotten back. Like there’s less of him. Like he doesn’thave much to spare.

But he doesn’t anyway. He doesn’t have it in himself to stand on the outside of this team, or any team, always feels the urge to put himself in the thick of things, make himself the center of attention, make himself needed and necessary. He’d be the glue that held the team together if he could—but that seems like a task that’s much bigger than him.

It’s tiring. It’s much less tiring to just pick up his racquet and play when he has to, put it down once he’s done, leave it all on the court when he goes. Investment makes it more rewarding when they win—but more devastating when they lose. And Colin’s only about half as reckless as he pretends to be—he prefers to gamble when he knows the weight of the dice, when he knows he’s stacked the deck. With the Foxes, he’s sure things aren’t rigged in their favor. Sometimes, even if it makes him feel guilty to think it, believing in them seems like the stupidest thing he could do. Setting himself up for disappointment. But there’s something about this team that makes him want to do it anyway. Makes him feel like he’s failing them if he can’t.

“Who would you put your money on?” He asks, eyebrow raised, helplessly and morbidly curious. He can speak Sasha’s cynical language even if it feels like a habit he’s trying to quit, the relief when he indulges followed closely behind by a vague guilt. “Would it work?“ He turns it around on her, an imitation of her imitation of him: “don’t fuck it up for me, you loser.” It couldn’t have passed for stern to begin with, but even if it could, he ruins it a moment later by cracking a grin. “Holy shit, maybe you should give the pep talk. Forged in fire? I couldn’t come up with that. I feel inspired now.”

“You think I’ve been paying attention to the newbies?” In truth, she’d done her fair share of observing, but she didn’t want Colin to know that-- to know that she paid attention to her teammates, that she noticed and remembered and knew them better than she allowed them think she did, or allowed them to know her. It was stubborn as all hell, but what use was it to her to shed her aloof personality and make friends? The Foxes had her loyalty, in her own screwed up sort of way, but she was still unwilling to let anyone close enough to gain anything from her.

It was almost confusing when she started to laugh-- a sound that came short and sweet and cut off when she realised it had slipped out at all. There was no harm in it, she told herself. She was allowed to enjoy the company of others. Laughing at one little joke wasn’t handing Colin the key to ruining her. He wasn’t her mother, he was her teammate. They were supposed to trust each other.

“I was bored all summer... Watched Game of Thrones,” she shrugged and looked away, trying to act nonchalant when she felt anything but. That flash of spirit had nothing to do with a TV show and everything to do with her true heart. One that belonged to Exy, and ignited at the thought of the victories that lay ahead. “But good. Starting the year inspired can’t hurt. Maybe you should go ahead and repeat it to everyone else, borrow some pom-poms from the Vixens, get everyone fired up. They’ll eat it up coming from you.”

[sash-ha-blog]

colinjessup:

“What can I say, I’m a lover not a fighter.” His grin is crooked, the words something he can remember saying to enough teammates over the years, always with that same smile, the wink-and-a-nudge that comes from playing one of the most violent sports there is to play. But he used to feel like it was true: on the court, he liked being someone who never shied away from a hit, being the immovable wall that someone had to try and get past in order to score—it had made up for the fact that, off the court, he never stood up for himself at all. Always bent, always apologized, always accommodated, always agreed. Who took hits, instead of giving them out. Or who just watched and did nothing. Maybe it’s the Foxes’ influence, good or bad, but it doesn’t feel quite true anymore—last year he’d gotten into more fights than he could remember, both on the court and off.

Doesn’t mean he isn’t going to still say it, though. It’s true enough. He doesn’t want to fight Sasha.

Colin’s played on losing teams as often, if not more often, than winning ones. It had never seemed to matter much to him—he knew that he wouldn’t stick around long, never spent a whole season or whole schoolyear in one place, and so he’d just refused to invest in his teams’ success. Invested in himself instead. Separated his performance from the overall performance of his teams, found a way to measure himself that let him feel like he won even when his team lost. It was good that way—even though he embraced the measure of luck and uncertainty that came from sports, he still always liked things he could control.

He doesn’t feel like he can do that with the Foxes anymore, though. He’s invested, even if he didn’t mean to be, even if he can’t pinpoint exactly when it happened. His success and the team’s success are one and the same, and it scares the shit of him to know that he can care more than he’s ever cared before and in the end it still might not matter. They still might lose.

People still doubt them, people will probably always doubt them, and Colin wants to use that as fuel, but sometimes it feels paralyzing. Wanting something so much, knowing that he might not get it, that people might sneer and be smug about it when he doesn’t. When they don’t. If he were willing to admit it, maybe he’d talk to someone about it, but he’s not sure what he’d say, but Sasha’s question skirts right up to the edges of it, makes him choose his words a little more carefully to try and keep them seeming light. “Don’t know. Guess we’ve gotta see how much the freshman suck, first.” Or throw off the team dynamic, even if they don’t seem to suck at Exy, which had settled into some kind of groove last year. “I hope we can. I don’t want everyone to be right about us, you know? And I want to go pro, when all this is done. Can’t do that if we’re all fucking losers.”

Sasha stared back at Colin, seeing his smirk, knowing it was a harmless joke, registering that she should just laugh and roll her eyes and play along for the sake of it, but maintaining her stony expression. Despite the amount of times she could remember launching a ball or a racquet, or herself, at him on the court (which, she would argue, was a fairly distributed habit toward all of her fellow Foxes), he was probably one of the less annoying of her teammates. It boiled down to the fact that when everything that happened on the court was set aside, he seemed to absorb or dodge most of her heat rather than trying to meet her head on. If she wasn’t so stubborn, she might have noted it as something to learn from him. At the very least it might save her a bruise or two.

“Are we taking bets on who’s going to bail first?” It was counterproductive to be talking about the potential of who might drop out of the team, but Exy wasn’t a kind sport, and being a Fox was one hell of a departure from any high school team. This, she could vouch for personally. Having come from a private school, from a team with the best equipment and the best coaches, nothing had been adequate preparation for becoming a Fox. What her high school had in their suffocating haze of entitlement, the Foxes matched in hunger-- pushing themselves beyond breaking point to earn each and every win, to prove the entire world wrong.

Colin’s comment lit a spark within her, making her nod to herself. With her mother on her back, trying to mould her into yet another perfect child for her snooty friends to envy, Sasha was more determined than ever to win on her own terms. “Probably shouldn’t use that as a pep talk,” she pursed her lips in resistance for a split second, then let herself smile, putting on a blatant, and absolutely terrible, imitation of Colin’s voice, “Don’t ruin this for me you fucking losers.”

Beneath her poking fun at him, his comment hit closer to home than she cared to admit. Not once had she said she wanted to go pro, and she truly didn’t think she was good enough, but what else did she have? Exy was her passion, the thing that made her feel like she had a purpose. If she lost that when she graduated, she’d be back to square one with nothing but her former bad habits to fall back on-- and even then she was certain her mother would find a way to keep those from her so she could clamp her down in shackles and parade her around like a show pony.

“We’re gonna be fine. We’re forged in fire and all that poetic, heartwarming shit.” Sasha stood, half the size of Colin but with a fierceness within her that made her height irrelevant, “By the end of the season we’re gonna have everyone who doubted us lining up to kiss our asses.” Sure, the Foxes were turbulent at the best of times, but they’d hit on something good the year before, and no one was on the team with the intention of losing.

[sash-ha-blog]

colinjessup:

Sometimes Colin thinks the best trait one can have when dealing with Foxes is stubbornness. If it is, Colin’s got it in spades. What he wants, always, is to be liked—and then, more than that, to be liked best. But he can appreciate a challenge, most of the time. He looks at people like puzzles: with enough studying, and enough patience, he can figure them out, put them together, find out what makes them tick. He can win them over, he can get what he wants. And when he’s done, he might feel like he’s somehow tricked them into liking him, but he’ll still feel the payoff that comes from putting the work in.

When it comes down to it, Colin doesn’t like people like him. People who are always on, always smiling, everyone’s best friend. You never know where you really stand with people like him. People like Sasha, who don’t bother pretending to like you, might take more work to crack open, but they’re more honest. And it makes it more worthwhile when you win their affection.

Not that he’d know, yet, when it comes to Sasha. With too many teammates and only one of him, most of his relationships feel like half-finished projects. He’s spread thin, it’s too hard to focus, and he’s coming around to the idea that maybe, just maybe, he should focus his efforts, pick a few people who matter instead of trying to please everyone, be everything to everyone. But putting it into practice is the hard part—it all feels like a reflex, hard to turn off even if he tries.

“I’m pretty sure you don’t need the excuse of being dropped on your ass to go after a teammate.” And part of being stubborn is being nonplussed by the lack of a warm welcome, finding his way to the edge of the roof and standing by Sasha despite its absence. “I like that winning attitude,” he says, rolling his eyes slightly. “Personally, I think we’ve got a good thing going. Wouldn’t want us to go back to being the trainwreck everyone expects.”

Once upon a time Sasha had been a social butterfly, always out and about, always making appearances on anyone and everyone’s instagram feed. Life was like that in Malibu; everyone vying for attention in a desperate struggle to stay relevant. No one really cared about each other though, so her so-called friends were never real. They were just people she partied with, people who enabled her descent down the rabbit hole because it in turn enabled them to follow suit. Rich kids with too much time on their hands and nothing productive to do with it.

Now, ever since she’d joined the Foxes, she refused to go out of her way to be around anyone. Maybe it was because she was sober, maybe it was because she was so angry about the conditions of her being sober, maybe it was because she didn’t know who she was beneath that anger. Whatever the cause, it didn’t make her particularly welcoming, and most of the team respected that. Colin, on the other hand, seemed to either be stupid or didn’t care. Sasha could almost guarantee he wouldn’t find friendship in her - she was too difficult - but that didn’t mean they couldn’t talk.

“Good observation.” It bothered her, she realised, that she could never think of anything to say to her teammates unless it was a barb aimed to provoke. Never had she felt that way before, and the presence of the unfamiliar feeling only made her frown. It was probably just the spell of a new year and fresh start. It would wash away soon enough. “Sounds like the excuse of someone too scared to fight me.”

He had a point. They’d come so close to success last year, and now they had even more expectations to meet, more room to crash and burn. Logically she knew there was no room for her to be so volatile, not when the team was in such a precarious position. Would that keep her at bay though? Only time would tell.

“You think the good thing’s gonna last?” Small talk was far from Sasha’s style, but she figured Colin wasn’t going to let her have her peace and quiet. The least she could do was scope out the general vibe of the team going into the new year. Then she’d know who she was going to be having problems with. “I’ve got a few people I need to stick it to, so I’d prefer it if we didn’t implode, yeah.”

[sash-ha-blog]

striker-brayden:

There was only an hour left until they were all due to go to Abby’s for the annual team dinner, but Brayden already knew he was going to skip out on that. It wasn’t his scene, and he wasn’t ready to be thrown full force back in to the life of a Fox just yet. Instead, he planned to go to Eden’s Twilight that night, a bar he wouldn’t usually set foot in, but he needed to be away from campus and he needed a drink. He needed a smoke first.

With a quick pace, he headed for the roof, everything about his body language screaming “don’t talk to me.” He didn’t want to stop for small talk, because it would just lead to “how’s your summer?” and it was boring. He didn’t care about their vacations either, so he was going to avoid that conversation entirely. He made it to the door without an incident and worked the broken lock, using some strength to force the door open.

He knew he wouldn’t be alone, because he never was, so he barely reacted when he saw that Sasha was already there. Brayden gave her a bemused look as he sat by the edge, reaching for his cigarettes. “Who the fuck still does trust falls?” He asked with a snort. “I don’t think that’s a part of Wymack’s practice drills, and if it is, I’m fucking off the team. I wouldn’t trust anyone on this team to catch me, even if they were bribed with money.” Brayden wanted nothing to do with whatever was going on downstairs, so he definitely wasn’t going to convince Sasha to join in. 

“I thought we were on a roll,” she scoffed, “y’know, rebranding the Foxes. No more trainwrecks.” The idea was laughable in Sasha’s opinion, they were all as fucked up as they’d been last year whether they’d been winning games or not. Nothing was going to magically turn them into Exy’s wet dream, not with the roster they had-- unless everyone else had had a far more enlightening summer than she did, but with the teammates she kept bumping into as any indication, they were all still as caustic as ever.

Still, she could appreciate Brayden’s candidness. Too much of her life had been spent with serpents, sweet talking and smiling to her face until they had what they wanted, each time she'd been infected by their poison only helping her become the bitter, aggressive woman she was. She wouldn’t say anyone on the team was her friend, and sure as hell wasn’t going to fall for that sad-patchwork-last-resort-family bullshit; but at the root of it all they were all generally too self absorbed to be anything but honest with their opinions of each other, and they let her stay, even with her mood swings, and her swinging fists. It was more than anyone else had ever done for her, and more than she’d ever expected. So, for now, it would remain a harmless conversation, maybe even a fresh start until he, and everyone else, wore away the last of her relief to be back.

“Careful, that’s not the tone of someone who believes in his team,” she teased, kicking her feet back and forth through the air over the edge of the roof. “New year, new Foxes! We are one, go team!” There was a vague motion as if she were waving pom poms, but if Brayden told anyone she’d deny it. Then again, she was sure everyone had learned not to make jokes about mistaking her pretty face for one of a Vixen. If not, she’d have no qualms with going out of her way to make sure they did.

[sash-ha-blog]

fiinches:

People were overwhelming. She never understood how to connect to them or react appropriately to most of them. So with all the cheerful or glaring hellos going on down below, Olivia made her way up and away. She just wanted to properly to get to the court, but she couldn’t make it down to her car without a group of people cheering and chatting to one another, standing in her way. It got too annoying and so she made her way up the staircase instead of down with more ease.

Working the door open, the fresh air was a relief from how clammy it felt inside. She only noticed the other girl when she spoke, and even then Olivia didn’t appear too moved or hurt. “If we have quality team time to do trust falls and sing kumbaya, it’d be better spent on the court. At least on court, we can knock each other around a little bit,” she noted. “I’d be a hypocrite if I dragged anyone to something I also find pointless,” and then fell back into her silence as she stepped further onto the roof. She sat close enough to watch the parking lot down below as she quietly thought about the team this year. She wanted to get all the updated and new stats on everyone, to start formulating ideas to get everyone in tip top shape and ready win this season. It was going to be difficult, but at least Olivia had always liked a good challenge

If there was one thing Sasha could appreciate about her teammates, it was their drive to succeed in their sport. While they were all fuck ups in one way or another, Exy was their collective saving grace, a place to take their anger at the world and hurl it around with a purpose. Her teamworking skills might not have been the best - she spent almost as much time getting into scuffles with her own teammates as she did with the opposition - but when all the Foxes were lined up on the court... That was when she felt the least alone.

“Amen.” She hummed, resigning herself to the fact that her moment of solitude was officially over. At least Olivia wasn’t full of curiosity about her summer. The last thing she needed was to be bombarded with intrusive questions and reminded of the last thing her mother had said before she’d sent her off to the airport-- a reminder that her drug tests and AA meetings were still a fixed condition of her presence on the team, and that her behaviour last season was far from the kind of attention she should have been bringing to their family. As if that was going to do anything other than fuel Sasha’s anger, and leave her few ways to burn it off.

“How long before we head out to Abby’s? Maybe we can sneak out to the court and get everyone a few bumps and bruises to start the year off.” It was all hypothetical of course, she knew there wasn’t enough time to round everyone up and get to the court before they had to go, but just the thought of it had set off an itch in the very depths of her being. She needed to be a Fox. She couldn’t let her mother take that from her. “Are we roommates? I didn’t check, just dumped my shit and came up here.”

[sash-ha-blog]

colinjessup:

Colin knows better than to put too much effort into unpacking—why bother trying to put everything in its proper place when he knows that in less than a week he’ll have devolved into his usual state of chaos? Really, he’s doing his roommates a favor, showing them right off the back what they can expect out of living with him, if they don’t already know. And that’s Colin’s stuff all over the place. He likes to spread out. 

Unsurprisingly, Colin likes the chaos of moving back in to Fox Tower. He likes keeping all his favorite people where he can see them, having them right at the tips of his fingers, had missed the ability to just walk right into someone’s room and insert himself into their space over the Foxes’ short summer. Texting just wasn’t the same. But, more than just the Foxes, he’d missed Palmetto. He’d missed the court, obviously, but he’d also missed the familiar paths around campus, the hallways of Fox Tower, the roof that he’d spent a number of days and evenings on, whether that was just sitting next to Arlo while he smoked or chucking plates down to the ground below with Teddy. He likes coming back to a place with memories, because it hasn’t been often that he’s been able to.

So it’s some time before they have to head over to Abby’s that he takes the familiar steps up to the familiar busted door—just to see, just to say hello, start the year off right. He’s not surprised that there’s someone else up there, there almost always is. And he doesn’t let Sasha’s brusque tone persuade him from venturing out further onto the roof, letting the door bang shut behind him. “Wasn’t even looking for you,” he says easily. “And, if there are gonna be trust falls, I’m probably better off hiding up here. Doesn’t sound like an activity that would end well for Foxes, though I promise I’d catch you.”

Having roommates was mostly an inconvenience, but Sasha wasn’t going to go out of her way to have some sort of unpacking party with them. She didn’t even know who to expect when she eventually drifted back downstairs. Then again, as long as they stayed out of her way she didn’t care who she ended up sharing her space with for the year. All of the Foxes had baggage, all of them could understand each others’ varying levels of irritability to some degree. It wasn’t that she was always entirely unapproachable, there were simply a handful of variables that needed to be taken into consideration before one tried to initiate a conversation with her.

Like in that moment. She and Colin had been on the team for the same length of time, and while that hadn’t necessarily created a bond of any lasting significance in her eyes, she was sure he’d learned where to safely set his expectations. Disappointment wasn’t new to anyone on the team, even those who pretended everything was fine (did they forget which team they’d joined?), so avoiding it where possible was always key.

“Such a gentleman...” A commotion on the ground snatched her attention, until she realised it was one of joy, of friends being reunited; not a rivalry anyone could place bets on. How boring. Then, she looked back up at Colin-- still distant, but less venomous. If she didn’t act particularly engaging she would hopefully be left to herself sooner rather than later, because later was dinner at Abby’s, and dinner at Abby’s made her feel a lot like she was at one of her mother’s pompous parties. Like she had to put on a mask and suffocate for hours when all she wanted was the relief of being back on the court. The more time she had to steel herself for that, the better for everyone. 

“Maybe we should do that, drop each other on our asses... Start the year off with a bang.” Sasha extended her fist toward him, miming a punch. “On a personal level I am aiming to improve on last year’s total swings taken at team members count.”

[sash-ha-blog]

Being a Fox meant summers were short, and Sasha was one of those who had always counted it as a blessing. An entire month under her mother’s roof was equivalent to an eternity despite the preventative measures she took to spend as little time there as possible. 

Partying had been cut from the itinerary long ago - there was nowhere for her to hide in Malibu, everyone knew someone who knew her mother or her brother, and anything that looked even remotely incriminating would only end with Exy torn from her grasp - so she’d been left with nothing better to do than continue training. Running, swimming, breaking in a new punching bag; all of it simply to whittle away the minutes until she was back on the court with her racquet in hand.

Once she’d lugged all of her belongings up to her room, then given the driver her mother had sent an abrupt, and frankly vulgar, dismissal, there wasn’t much left to do-- with the exception of relaxing. Which, by Sasha’s definition meant dodging everyone else and going straight up to the roof. It was the first true solitude she’d had since she’d left Palmetto, just her and the dying daylight. Not even her mother’s little birds could get to her up there.

Of course, that wasn’t to say she was the only person who knew about the busted lock.

“What?” was her warm way of greeting the interloper, barely turning from her precarious perch on the edge of the roof. “I'm not interested in trust falls or whatever you're going to try and convince me into doing downstairs.”

[swimacrossthepartedseas]

[sash-ha-blog]

No, I don’t need no help. I can sabotage me by myself. Don’t need no one else. I can sabotage me by myself.