feel the fury closing in

Sasha Hart-Ashby | 21 | Offensive Dealer "Nowhere to run from all of this havoc."

[sashahartashby]

nguyenalanna‌:

Whatever Alanna expected, it isn’t to have two fingers down by the time the game circles back to her. There  are far too many things she’s never done—but of course she’s shopped at a Walmart. Similarly, she once tried, and yes, failed, to dye her hair with a cheap box of hair-dye from the corner drugstore. It had been with her mother’s blessing, a mistaken attempt at bonding as Alanna explored the way she wanted to look. In the end, they’d been forced to cut her hair off entirely. It was the only time Alanna’s had short hair since she was old enough to tell her mother she wanted to grow it long. 

“Never have I ever cheated on a test,” Alanna says. She’s a little surprised to see Eileen put one finger down at that. She’s also embarrassed, at least for her own sake, at least within the privacy of her own thoughts, because she also wonders if Eileen got away with it—if she’d be able to help Alanna do the same. 

Alanna knows, of course, that she would never actually cheat in a class. She’d be far too afraid of getting caught. Far too afraid of what it means if she can’t even get through her freshmen courses without sinking that low. More importantly, it’d be letting her mother down, whether her mom found out or not. It’s just hard, knowing how terrible her grades are, and knowing it’d all be so much easier if she could pull up notes or a textbook during her tests. “Anyone out yet?”

Sasha isn’t usually desperate enough to cheat on a test, not because she’s afraid of getting caught, but because she doesn’t need to. Maybe, she’ll never be a fucking neurosurgeon like her brother, but tests generally come easy for her. There was a time, however, when she was out all night partying instead of studying, and she’d show up to school barely awake and too hungover to concentrate, and that’s when she’d peek at the person’s answers next to her instead of try and bullshit her way through the test. Sighing, she lowers her last finger. They didn’t even get to the scandalous stuff yet, and she’s already out. 

“You got me,” Sasha holds up her hands in feigned surrender before taking a sip of her drink and drawing the next card, a King. She smirks as she brainstorms for a fun, but difficult rule for everyone to remember. “Everyone has to talk in a British accent--doesn’t matter how bad, but if you forget you have to drink,” Sasha decides before placing her card down. 

Sasha is pleasantly surprised by how not juvenile this is. Sure, it’s tame compared to her past experiences, but her days of dancing on tables, stumbling down the streets of Malibu are over. Not only because she has to follow Irina’s rules, but she feels like she got it out of her system early. She still wants to rebel, she still wants to break the rules when she can, but not to the same degree as she did leading up to her being kicked out.

[sashahartashby]

raleigheverhart‌:

sashahartashby‌:

Sasha can’t stop the grin from forming on her lips in response. When she first met Raleigh, she was so focused on their differences, the put together cheerleader versus the blood thirsty Exy player. The more they spend time together, the more Sasha realizes they’re not so different after all, and not always in ways she likes. But things like this, where they both want to be in charge, and they’ll push people out of the way to get there. It makes her crave more moments like these, when it’s just the two of them, and she gets to find out more things they have in common.

“She likes the spotlight in any form,” Sasha replies with a shrug, “She’d just prefer something less bloody and unrefined.” Anya was her perfect runway model, beautiful and polite, while Nikolai is the successful Neurosurgeon and the genius of the family. Sasha doesn’t fit in, but she likes it that way. She wants to hold onto her role as the black sheep and play Exy as long as she can, as long as she can do it without being disowned. 

“I don’t think any of the pro teams have a Wymack equivalent,” Sasha gives a bitter smile. “I’ll still try, but I doubt anyone would willingly invest in someone with so many red cards. So, I have a backup plan.” She’s not as smart as Nikolai, but she has an affinity for languages, and she thinks she has good business sense, so maybe that can be her thing in the future. Sasha Hart-Ashby, CEO.  

Luckily, she still has two full years to put together some sort of five year plan. Maybe, some team will be desperate enough to sign her on, and she won’t have to worry about it. Sasha suddenly lets out a short laugh, shaking her head, “Look at us. We’re in Vegas and we’re sitting here talking about the future instead of doing body shots or whatever.”

She doesn’t think about it much, what will happen when the Foxes aren’t Foxes anymore. Who will make it, and who won’t. Why would she? It isn’t her problem. 

But she can see the Foxes that try to be serious, responsible, professional, like that could be enough to wash the stain of this team, and wherever else they came from before it, off of them. Sasha isn’t like that, though. With the red cards, with the fights. She’s a loose cannon, but what a professional team might see as a liability is what Raleigh—who, granted, doesn’t know much about Exy—likes most about it.

And if she had to give that up in order to play professionally, then would it even be worth it?

She listens to Sasha with a hum, surprised at how quiet and comfortable she feels sitting out here with her. She’s not sure how long they’ve been sitting out here: it feels like no time at all, but between the wine and the company, she’s not sure if she can really tell. She looks back at the party inside, and wonders if they’ve been noticed, wonders if she cares. 

But there’s something about this warmth in Sasha’s company that feels a little bit unsettling—this isn’t what they do together, it isn’t what Raleigh does. Or, at least, it hasn’t been. “We could do body shots,” she says with a laugh, a raised eyebrow. “Or we could get out of here. I think I’ve had my fill of your team’s company for the night.”

[sashahartashby]

leodxarte‌:

“You’re only saying that because you know you’re probably gonna win,” he complains. But it’s mostly for show: he likes high stakes, he likes playing games. Mostly, he likes to win them, but it’s not like he can’t stand to lose—especially if this is just between them. It’d be hard for Sasha to make his humiliation too public, or too overt, when she’d stand to lose more than he would if someone just asked: So, what bet did you lose?  

And that’s why he’s going to lose, probably. He isn’t hiding. He’s just—being careful. Taking his time. Playing, as he said to Sasha, a long game. He’s never minded his conquests being public: he wants people to see him as desirable, as a heartbreaker, just another part of that Leo Duarte mythos. His flings were usually fierce and fast and, when they ended, it was clear that he wasn’t too torn up about it. That it wasn’t like he was rejected, or anything.  Maybe he’s just worried, now, that it wouldn’t be like that. That he still could be. 

But if that changes, all bets are off. For all that he’s been trying it out, subtle isn’t really part of his playbook. 

“Name your terms. Here are mine: if I figure it out, then you have to come visit me in Vegas this summer.” With the Championships, it’s been easy to push to the back of his mind. What comes after. The summer. Being home again had made it feel more immediate: reminded him of how much he had avoided going home since the summer, how it can be tolerable when someone else is there but unbearable when he’s alone. Sasha had saved him from that once: over Christmas, with their ruse, when he went home with her. Maybe he can make her do it again. 

And maybe he’s stacking the deck. Setting the tone. If he isn’t going too hard on her, with his terms, then maybe she’ll return the favor.

“Probably,” Sasha says smugly, though she doesn’t feel as confident as she appears. In fact, she feels borderline anxious about it. She tells herself that Leo has more than prove that he’s trustworthy--that there aren’t any big consequences to him finding out about Raleigh, but trust isn’t an innate thing for her, and she can’t quite get herself to fully believe it. 

She’s preparing herself for Leo to decide something humiliating or tasking for her if she loses, and she can’t mask the surprise when he settles on visiting him in Vegas. She would’ve done that if he just asked her. She doesn’t know how long Irina plans to be in Malibu over the summer, but she’s sure she’ll need to get away for a few weeks, and she likes hanging out with Leo. She parts her lips to tell him that’s a waste of a best, but quickly stops herself. Why would she stop a win-win situation? 

“Done,” Sasha agrees with a shrug. She realizes she’s at a loss for her own terms now. It feels unfair to choose something horrible for him when he gave her Vegas. She also feels less desperate to win, when he’s obviously so lonely in that huge house that he’s trying to get her to visit. 

“If I win, you have to go on a trip with me over the summer. Wherever I decide,” She finally lands on, hoping she’s not too transparent. This way, they’ll be together over the summer no matter what. And isn’t that just so Sasha and Leo? Using a bet as an excuse to hang out instead of just asking the other. 

[sashahartashby]

raleigheverhart‌:

Location: Hotel Date: Friday, March 29 Time: Post-Game (@sashahartashby​)

There’s a party, and Raleigh should be there. Leave it to the Foxes to fail their way to victory. 

She should be there, but she doesn’t want to be. Sasha had been knocked down and couldn’t get back up. Raleigh had to look away, sitting on the sidelines with her grip on her pom-poms turning her knuckles white, as Sasha leaned on Abby to make her way off of the court. Raleigh isn’t squeamish. Raleigh had watched Sasha fight and draw blood before this season, and she’d been on the edge of her seat and cheering her on. But this isn’t Sasha kissing her with a split lip, bloodied but still victorious. 

This is something else, and she doesn’t like the way it makes her feel. 

She’d had to ask around, to figure out what room Sasha had ended up in, gritting her teeth behind her smile and hoping that nobody asked too many questions. 

Even now, standing outside of the hotel room door, she doesn’t know what she’s doing here. This isn’t what they are to each other. And, in just a few short months, whatever it is they are to each other now will cease to exist. Raleigh will leave Palmetto. Raleigh will move on, and this year with the Foxes will be nothing more than a memory. 

Funny, at the beginning of the year, she wanted nothing more. Now, she’s not as sure.

But she’s come this far already. Embarrassed herself this much. She raps her knuckles against the door, trying to keep it as quiet as she can. “You weren’t answering your texts,” she says, when the door opens. “And then I realized you probably couldn’t, so—” here I am. Like that’s any explanation at all.

Usually, Sasha would resent the fact that she has to stay in a quiet, dark room, while the rest of her teammates party it up, especially when she spent their last loss wishing they’d stop sulking. But she feels so awful that she doesn’t even have the energy to be jealous. The delirium and pain has eased somewhat since Abby first helped her off the court, where she spent a good hour getting sick between Abby asking her questions and checking her vital signs, but there’s still a constant ache in her head and she feels exhausted enough to sleep for a week.  

It didn’t take take long for the nurse to diagnose her with a minor concussion. She kept Sasha in the quiet room for as long as she could before escorting her back to the hotel with strict instructions to rest in her room. She doesn’t know how much time has passed since then, but she’s been in and out of a fitful sleep, too tired to do anything but lay there, but also in too much discomfort to actually sleep it off. 

When someone knocks on her door, she winces with a groan, her head vibrating with the noise. She assumes it’s Abby coming to check up on her, so she slowly pushes herself to her feet, pausing when a wave of dizziness hits her. When it finally passes, she finally opens the door, squinting wearily against the sudden light. 

It takes longer than it should for her to recognize Raleigh on the other side of the door, and she’s too surprised and out of it to come up with a smart comment. She steps aside to let the Vixen inside before closing the door behind her, trying to get out the light as quickly as possible. “You were texting me?” She asks quietly as she sits on the edge of her bed. “I haven’t checked. The light kind of hurts...”

[sashahartashby]

nguyenalanna‌:

“It sounds fun,” Alanna says, although she knows she would’ve said that no matter what, simply because Sasha is the one suggesting it. She thinks Eileen must feel the same way, because her lab partner is nodding excitedly before Sasha’s even done explaining King’s cup to either of them.

“I’ve totally got cards,” Eileen says. “And drinks, duh. One second, okay? Don’t go anywhere.” It doesn’t take long for Eileen to return, fresh deck in hand and more of Alanna’s freshmen cohort in tow. It’s obvious that Sasha’s the main draw rather than the game, but Alanna can hardly blame them.

They settle down around a red solo cup and Eileen spreads the cards out around it. As the host, Eileen goes first—and when she pulls an eight for mate, it isn’t surprising that she promptly chooses Sasha. “So every time one of us drinks, so does the other, right?” Eileen says, looking far too pleased with herself. 

Alanna’s next and she pulls out a Jack. From Sasha’s explanation of the rules, that means it’s time for a quick round of never have I ever. “Uhm,” Alanna says. There are far too many things she’s never done. “Never Have I Ever…stolen anything?”

“Right,” Sasha tells Eileen with a nod, resisting the urge to laugh as she takes a sip of her own drink. When Alanna picks a Jack, she holds up three fingers, already brainstorming what she can do for hers. There isn’t much Sasha hasn’t done, whether she’s proud of that list or not, including Alanna’s choice that leads Sasha to lowering a finger. She never had to steal, not until Irina banned her from the house, but sometimes she shoplifted out of sheer rebellion. 

“Never have I ever,” Sasha begins before pausing to wrack her brain for something she managed to avoid trying. The circle of freshmen are staring at her anticipation, probably wondering what the hell Sasha Hart-Ashby hasn’t done, and she can’t say she isn’t basking in it a little. She hopes whatever she comes up with entertains them enough, but knows she can’t reveal anything too damaging.

“Never have I ever shopped at Walmart,” She finally decides on with a little shrug. Eileen and the others immediately lower a finger, prompting her to smirk a little with pride, because at least she won’t lose by default. 

When it’s Eileen’s turn she blushes and looks at Sasha before averting her gaze to the floor. “Never Have I ever dyed my hair,” She decides on. Sasha lowers her second finger and tries not to cringe. Luckily, she mostly stuck her to her natural hair, but she did have a phase where she tried to be blonde.

[sashahartashby]

glxryhoskins‌:

Sometimes it’s enough to make her head spin, how she can share a court and the moniker of Fox with so many of her teammates, and yet have so much of their lives be foreign to her—like Sasha. 

Sasha with her Bentley. Sasha with her money, that she seems willing to spend on Glory—just for a bet, just because something about Glory’s ripped-up hand-me-down clothes offend her.

Glory’s never owned a car, learning how to drive bumping over dirt roads in her father’s old pickup truck, where the inside was always coated with dust because the air conditioning didn’t work, and so they had to keep the windows rolled down in the sticky summers. She’s not sure how many clothes she’s ever owned that weren’t owned by someone else first, whether it was a thrift store or just one of her siblings.

Right now, the only thing that’s coming to mind is that shirt she bought in the airport with Jen. Something tells her Sasha wouldn’t like that one, either, even after Glory and Jen cut ‘em up into matching crop tops. 

She shouldn’t be proud. Or, she’s proud, but that doesn’t keep her from letting her teammates buy her drinks, dress her up for banquets so she doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb any more than she already does. And if Sasha wants to throw her money at her, that’s her prerogative. She’ll take it, and then she’ll keep on being herself.  

But she still stretches her legs in her ripped black tights out, crosses one battered combat boot over another, being difficult for the sake of it and not because she’s actually offended as she drawls: “There something wrong with how I dress?”

Sasha gives an amused smirk as Glory makes a point to show off her worm combat boots. She’s never been quiet about her opinions about her other teammates. She’s pointed out when someone has worn the same shirt twice in the same week or when an article of clothing looks like it’s about to disintegrate in the wash. Brayden, for instance, wears sweats more than any human should, and she shows her distaste by wrinkling her nose at the sight of him.

Sasha is a snob, she’s spoiled, and she’s rich, and she has no desire to change any of that. Which is why she follows her mom’s rules even if she fakes her way through it, because she’d rather give Irina a sliver of control than lose her her name or the money that comes with it. And while she may turn her nose up at her teammates, at least she offers to use that money to improve their wardrobe or gives away the makeup and clothes she doesn’t use anymore. 

The thing is, she doesn’t have a problem with Glory’s style, it’s more to do with the fact that she has a feeling that the freshman has never owned something that was just hers in her life. Everything about her screams thrift shop and hand-me-downs, and everyone deserves to at least have a shirt that was theirs first. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the grunge aesthetic you have going on,” Sasha begins smoothly as she gestures to her boots. “But what if you had a brand new pair of boots? Ones that aren’t worn or frayed, and that you know will last you a good few years before they start falling apart?” She asks pointed before raising her own black ankle boot, “Versace. Expensive, but quality enough that I could own these until I was thirty. Not that I’d ever keep them that long...” 

[sashahartashby]

raleigheverhart‌:

“I’ve been before,” she says. “When I was younger, though, so it’s been a long time. Thanks for the tip.” A long time and a different set of parents, and everything that came in between. She wants a do-over: like if she replaces all the treasured memories of her parents—all of the family trips and the birthdays, the dance recitals where they were sitting there in the front row—with new ones with the Everharts, then maybe she won’t have use for them anymore. Maybe she’ll finally be able to let them go, like they did to her so many years ago. 

When she was younger, she liked to imagine them missing her. Liked to think about how much it must have hurt them to leave her behind, their beautiful baby girl. But that was because she liked to think about them coming back for her, rescuing her from the foster homes and the misery and the fights. 

But they hadn’t come back for her, and so she started telling herself a new story, the one she needed to hear: that they didn’t miss her at all. 

Now she’s somebody else’s daughter. The Everharts wanted someone to leave their legacy to, and they had picked her. At first, she had seen only a meal ticket, but now she feels something a little bit less selfish—she doesn’t just want their money, and the security it brings with it, she wants to continue that legacy, the things that matter to the Everharts, the things they cared about and devoted their life to before she came along. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want the money, too, and the power that comes with it. She laughs along with Sasha, because the image doesn’t feel that far off: “Yeah, that’s the dream, right? You know I love to ruin someone’s day.” 

It’s different for Sasha. Raleigh thinks about her graduating, trading in her defiance on the court for whatever her mother wants for her—whatever that might be—and it feels sad, to her. Feels like a waste. “I’m guessing none of those are Exy, right?” She says. “Would you even want to keep playing?” 

Sasha can’t stop the grin from forming on her lips in response. When she first met Raleigh, she was so focused on their differences, the put together cheerleader versus the blood thirsty Exy player. The more they spend time together, the more Sasha realizes they’re not so different after all, and not always in ways she likes. But things like this, where they both want to be in charge, and they’ll push people out of the way to get there. It makes her crave more moments like these, when it’s just the two of them, and she gets to find out more things they have in common.

“She likes the spotlight in any form,” Sasha replies with a shrug, “She’d just prefer something less bloody and unrefined.” Anya was her perfect runway model, beautiful and polite, while Nikolai is the successful Neurosurgeon and the genius of the family. Sasha doesn’t fit in, but she likes it that way. She wants to hold onto her role as the black sheep and play Exy as long as she can, as long as she can do it without being disowned. 

“I don’t think any of the pro teams have a Wymack equivalent,” Sasha gives a bitter smile. “I’ll still try, but I doubt anyone would willingly invest in someone with so many red cards. So, I have a backup plan.” She’s not as smart as Nikolai, but she has an affinity for languages, and she thinks she has good business sense, so maybe that can be her thing in the future. Sasha Hart-Ashby, CEO.  

Luckily, she still has two full years to put together some sort of five year plan. Maybe, some team will be desperate enough to sign her on, and she won’t have to worry about it. Sasha suddenly lets out a short laugh, shaking her head, “Look at us. We’re in Vegas and we’re sitting here talking about the future instead of doing body shots or whatever.”

[sashahartashby]

nguyenalanna‌:

By the time Sasha returns, Alanna’s halfway through an intense, if quiet, conversation with Eileen about why Eileen is being absolutely mortifying right now. Alanna isn’t sure any of it sticks, but at the  very least, her lab partner doesn’t say anything new and embarrassing right away. That’s something, isn’t it?

It isn’t anyone’s fault but Alanna’s in the end though. She’s the one who’s talked Sasha  and the Foxes up so much this entire year. She’s the one who’s convinced people to come to their games, pointed out her favorite players at every chance. The one who’s used the Foxes’ newfound popularity for party invites, just like this one. She should’ve known that would backfire on her eventually. Sasha’s graceful about it, at least. Alanna doesn’t miss the amused expression on Sasha’s face, but the older woman doesn’t say anything either, and that’s enough for Alanna.

“Thanks,” Alanna says, taking the offered solo cup from Sasha. Alanna takes a drink, hiding the wince as the vodka hits her tongue. By now, she’s tried enough drinks that she doesn’t cough or look mortified by the taste, but she still can’t tell them apart well. One vodka is the same as any other. Really, one hard liquor is the same as any other, because it’s never about the taste. It’s about the subsequent warmth that spreads through her body, the dizzying, exciting feeling that comes from being tipsy and closer to fearless than she ever is sober. 

“Kings? I don’t think so,” Alanna continues, resisting the urge to lie. As much as she wants to seem worldly and knowledgeable to Sasha, it won’t do her any good  if Sasha actually wants to play this game next. “I just know, like, beer pong and flip cup. How do you play it?”

“It requires a little more thinking and it’s less messy than beer pong and flip cup,” Sasha explains before sipping her own mixed drink. It’s definitely freshmen party quality, but she knew exactly what she was walking into when she agreed to follow Alanna. And there’s something about being the oldest and wisest in the room that makes that’s already making her night. She revels not at all subtle looks of awe Alanna’s friend keeps giving her, and there’s a few other people in the room that keep staring. 

“We need a deck of cards and a drink for the middle,” Sasha instructs before explaining the rules of the game. She always liked Kings, because it required to be quick thinking even as her brain grew slow and fuzzy, and her movements uncoordinated. Also, after everything was said and done, the floor wasn’t left so sticky that her heels stuck to the floor every time she moved. 

“What do you think?” Sasha asks after she’s done explaining, looking between Eileen and Alanna expectantly. “Then again, there’s always the ones that don’t require any extra supplies, like Truth or Dare or Never Have I Ever,” She points out with a shrug, feeling like she’s at a middle school slumber party now. The vibe is definitely similar from the ones she went to as a preteen, in which she elected herself as the leader then too.

[sashahartashby]

leodxarte‌:

“You can’t just—process of elimination it,” he protests. “Where’s the fun in that?” The Foxes have plenty of secrets in their pasts, but with all the time they spend together—and with Foxwatch breathing down their necks—it doesn’t seem like there’s much about their presents they can keep buried for long. 

Though, of course, there are exceptions to that. Leo and Sasha are one: that their relationship was fake, and that they might have real ones tucked away. 

But Leo likes the idea of playing detective: of digging through old posts on Foxwatch for clues, of paying attention to Sasha at parties to see who she talks to, who she sneaks off with. And maybe he likes the idea of Sasha doing the same to him—if something about what he’s doing with Louis feels like a game, then maybe he can pretend that it doesn’t feel like something new and unknown.

He doesn’t know why she agrees, but she does, and that’s what matters. He hadn’t really thought she’d refuse—they mesh pretty well; they help each other out. Leo already knows what’s really important here, what Sasha hasn’t told anyone else. And even if the person she’s interested in is similarly on the down low, Sasha already knows that Leo, at least, can be trusted. By her, at least. 

“Let’s, like—Nancy Drew this shit. Come back to me when you think you’ve really figured it out.” He smiles, wide and charming, still trying to sell it. “But I’ll give you a freebie: it’s not Emmett.”

Sasha thought he meant for this to be a silly guessing game, but now she sees there’s more to it. He wants more of an investigation, and she doesn’t know how to feel about that. She was banking on the fact that Leo would never guess Raleigh based on what he already knew, but if he actually starts digging then this might actually become real. They’ve been careful enough that she’s pretty sure he couldn’t find out based on what’s currently out there, but they’re not as private as they used to be. Sasha spent so much of the party at Leo’s mansion beside her at the pool. 

If she backs down now though, she’ll look weak--she’ll be a coward, and that doesn’t sit well with her. Besides, she can be careful. Maybe, she doesn’t have the best track record of keeping big parts of her life out of the public, but as a teenager she wasn’t trying very hard to hide her clubbing activities, and the crash couldn’t be kept quiet no matter how much money Irina threw at the media. That doesn’t mean she can’t win this little game. 

“Fine,” Sasha replies as she rests her hands on her hips, giving him her best imposing look. “You want Nancy Drew? I’ll give you Nancy Drew. And now I have the advantage of eliminating one person off my list,” She points out with a playful smirk. 

“Should we make it even more interesting? First person to guess correctly wins something?” Sasha adds. For two rich kids, the satisfaction of winning should be enough, but she always liked higher stakes. 

[sashahartashby]

jackfuckingmonday‌:

Jack shrugged, resisting the urge to say something rather nasty about Sasha’s attitude. Even though she hadn’t quite given them a reason yet, they knew it was coming. “A choosing beggar is better than a football player, when it comes down to it. Do you think their cheerleaders might be up to something? They’re usually a better sport.”

They rolled their eyes, but did their best not to make a worse expression than that. “I don’t have all those social website things, I don’t usually get the news on those– I’ve got enough roommates that I usually don’t need to.”

“A better sport?” Sasha repeats with a scoff. “You mean the cheerleaders who vandalized the Vixen Den?” Back then she didn’t think much about it, considering that kind of retaliation is something the Foxes have been facing for years, but she’s a little more connected to the Vixens than she used to be. Enough to know that willingly partying it up with the football cheerleaders would be like a slap to the face.

“Social website things,” Sasha mocks them with a roll of her eyes, “You mean social media? Which, by the way, I didn’t even mention. But go ahead and try and make yourself feel better for not going with the norm, I guess.” It’s safe to say that any of her remaining patience is now gone, and she doesn’t know why she’s still standing here having this debate. “You know what? Why are we pretending we actually want to spend more time together than we have to. I’m sure you’ll run into something on your own,” She snaps before stepping around them and heading off in the direction of the Tower.

[sashahartashby]

glxryhoskins‌:

When Glory plays, she tries hard not to think about the crowd, or the cameras. It’s easy: the court is its own world, when she’s inside the Plexiglass, everything on the outside doesn’t matter. But now, sitting in the stands and watching the players larger-than-life on the screen above their heads, it feels like it’s hitting her all at once: those players are just like her, when she plays, other people are watching her, a bright orange number 8 streaking down the court.

It still feels surreal. It still feels like something that wasn’t meant for her. She’s Glory Hoskins, from Owls Bend, Missouri. She was supposed to live her whole life there. She wasn’t supposed to get away. No one else did. Her friends, her siblings. It was only her, and Charity. She doesn’t know where her sister ended up, she only knows what Justice told them all, which sounded more like a cautionary tale than anything real. She wonders what he tells the rest of them, now, about her. If she’s working a truck stop just like her older sister. If she’s just dead.

They probably aren’t going to turn on their TVs and see her. They probably don’t have the channels.

Sasha always looks made for TV. Made for a runway, made for something more glamorous than Exy, no matter how hard she throws down when she’s on the court. Glory doesn’t envy her, except for sometimes when she thinks I bet Sasha doesn’t think that she doesn’t deserve to be here. But then, Glory doesn’t know that for sure. She just knows that she’s a wide-eyed freshman trying to keep her head above water, and almost everyone else is older than her, has been playing the game longer than her, and knows what they’re doing more than she does.

“You might, but I sure don’t,” she says, but there’s little shame in it. It’s nothing both of them don’t already know. “I’ve only got like five dollars, so what if we bet something other than money? How about, if the Sundevils win, you’ve gotta drive me to and from practice for a week.”

Sasha slumps down lazily in her seat, kicking up her heeled boots to rest on the seat in front of her, like she’s at the movies rather than watching some intense Championship game. She pops a piece of popcorn in her mouth as she considers Glory’s offer. It’s not like it’ll require much work on her end. They leave from and return to the same place. “Deal,” Sasha agrees easily with a careless shrug, “But no spilling anything that isn’t water in the Bentley or I’ll end you.” 

She watches the game idly as she tries to come up with something if she wins. It’s hard when she kind of already has everything she could ever want. She glances at Glory from the side of her eye, and looks over her outfit. She has yet to take her shopping like she has with some of the other Foxes who clothes offend her. It’s not like Sasha has a problem with the grunge aesthetic, far from it actually, it’s just that she could elevate it with clothes that aren’t old and falling apart.

“And if the Buckeyes win, you have to let me take you shopping,” Sasha decides with a mischievous grin. “Which sounds like a reward for you, but trust me, it’s all for me. But don’t worry, I’m a great stylist,” She boasts before reaching for another handful of popcorn. 

She’s already planning outfit options in her head, she could get her a nice pair of designer combat boots that’ll last her for years. Maybe, they can even hit up Sephora and pick out a smoky eyeshadow palette and good eyeliner. 

[sashahartashby]

raleigheverhart‌:

She still feels a thrill every time she says it and gets away with it: my parents. There’s enough to question, if people look close enough: the Everharts are old, the Everharts are white. But people don’t tend to dig or to doubt unless you give them reason to. Play the act well enough, and they’ll never question a thing. 

She knows she could always say she was adopted. Erase sixteen-odd years of her life and say it happened when she was a baby. But there’s a part of her that just wants to pretend like she never had any other parents, like nobody ever gave her up, even in the made-up life she tells to people when she can’t bear them knowing about her real one. In her made up life, she gets to have it all. 

“I’m going to London right after,” she says, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice. “On a trip. After that, I’ll go back to Houston and then—I’m not sure. I’m thinking about applying to business school, though it’s too late for me to do it for next year.” There’s a part of her that maybe sees it as—insurance. When the Everharts didn’t cut her loose after she turned 18, offered to pay for college, she felt certain that she would have those four years, because she knew that they were kind, that they’d want to see it through. 

Everything beyond college feels like so much, so hard for her to believe in. If she stays in school, if she still needs them for something, then maybe she won’t have to be so afraid. 

“God, I can barely handle one year with the Foxes, how the hell do you put up with this for five?” She makes a face, but it’s mostly for show. Although she has things to look forward to, she’s afraid of what comes next. Afraid of the uncertainty. She doesn’t think she’d take a fifth year if someone offered it to her, but that doesn’t mean she won’t be—sadder than she thought she’d be, to see this go. And maybe Sasha is a part of that, though she doesn’t know how to say it. If Sasha would want to hear it.   

“Yeah?” Sasha asks as she perks up. She loves to travel, especially around Europe. It doesn’t matter how many times Irina has carted them around the continent, it never gets old. Maybe, she’ll do something similar as she graduates, take some time to travel solo--without Irina deciding everything for her. “You’ll love London, and as touristy is, you definitely need to check out Oxford Street.” 

She goes back and forth on what she’ll do after her time with the Foxes is over, it still feels so far way. That fifth year really makes a difference. If anyone would dare taking a player like her, she’d love to go pro and keep playing the sport that makes her mother wrinkle her nose in disgust every time she talks about it. But she has other options if her reputation prevents her from going further. Like Raleigh, she might go to business school or just see where she goes with her International Business degree, her name can carry her pretty far. 

“There’s nothing wrong with a gap year,” Sasha points out. “I could see it though. Raleigh Everhart, future CEO. Don’t fuck her coffee order interns or she’ll fire you before you walk through the door,” She jokes with a quiet laugh. 

“I don’t know. It’s kind of nice to have the extra year before I have to join the real world,” Sasha muses, shrugging a shoulder. “It’s a lot more fun to fight people on the court than worry about job interviews. My mom mostly leaves me alone while I’m here, but I’m sure once I’m out, she’ll be shoving job opportunities down my throat,” She says flatly with a roll of her eyes. She may be her least favorite child, but she’ll still do everything in her power to make sure she lives up to the Hart-Ashby name.

[sashahartashby]

nguyenalanna‌:

“Really?” Alanna says, her reactions too honest in her surprise. She’d invited Sasha out, but that doesn’t mean she’d actually expected Sasha to say yes. “I mean, yeah! It’ll be fun. They’re all super nice,” Alanna promises her. “Come on.” 

It’s a short walk to her lab partner’s house, but once they arrive, the doubts begin. It doesn’t look like a party from the outside. There are lights on, sure, and she can hear music, certainly, but it’s quiet compared to the parties Sasha must be used to. The lights and noise are self contained to the house and there isn’t anyone outside. Still, Alanna’s committed now, and she trips up the step to knock on the door.

It’s opened almost immediately, and Sasha watches as her lab partner’s gaze travels past Alanna and onto the elegant silhouette that is Sasha Hart-Ashby. Alanna doesn’t blame her. “Hi, Eileen,” Alanna says. “You said it was cool if I brought a friend, right? This is Sasha.” At least they’re rewarded with a blast of warmth and music with the door open now. In the background, there are a few people from her courses, obviously setting up some kind of drinking game. Not many people, but enough that this isn’t a total bust.

Eileen beams, obviously impressed with Alanna’s guest, and steps back to let them both in. “You hang out with Sasha?” she says, in what is potentially supposed to be a conspiratorial whisper to Alanna alone. The liquor on her breath explains why she says it a nearly full volume though. It also explains why she misses the pointed look Alanna gives her. Eileen keep going, to Sasha herself now: “I go to all the Fox games now. Alanna talks about you guys all the time.” 

“Cool, thanks, Eileen!” Alanna says, a touch too loud. “So, uhm, where are the drinks? Do you have games?” Anything to distract Sasha from the fact that rather than another true party, Alanna’s brought her to a ragtag gathering of freshmen, and one of them has obviously, obviously heard Alanna singing the Foxes’—Sasha’s—praises all year. In Alanna’s defense, she’d described this as only a kickback, but even still. Maybe she shouldn’t have let these worlds collide.  

Sasha’s idea of fun isn’t usually hanging around freshmen. They’re still fresh out of high school, and are overly eager about being away from home, drinking whatever cheap alcohol older students are willing to buy for them, like Pinnacle Whipped Vodka and UV Blue. It’s better than the Tower though, and as Sasha witnesses Alanna grow more and more flustered and her friend Eileen revel in her mere presence, she’s glad for the free ego boost. 

She’s always been popular, though maybe more-so out of fear, but she’s used to the look of awe people sometimes get on their faces when she’s around, and it doesn’t get old. She loves to be admired, loves to be feared, she just loves attention in any form. 

As Eileen gushes over her, an amused smirk reaches her lips, resting her hands on her hips as she takes in her surroundings. It’s not nearly as rowdy as the party she found earlier, but that’s not always a bad thing. It gives her the opportunity to stand out and teach these little freshmen how to have a real party. 

“Does she?” Sasha asks as she gives Alanna a knowing look. Her lips twitch in an attempt to fight a laugh when she tries her best to move past the subject, and Sasha decides not to torture her too much. She did rescue her from a miserable dorm after all. 

Without waiting for an invitation, Sasha breezes past them and heads for where she sees the makeshift drink setup. She decides to keep it simple and mixes together two red solo cups filled with vodka and coke, feeling eyes on her back as she prepares the drinks. 

She pretends like she doesn’t notice the extra attention as she brings Alanna her drink, passing it over with a cool grin. “So, games? Ever play Kings?”

[sashahartashby]

leodxarte‌:

The Foxes may have lost tonight, but Leo feels more content than he expected. They’re not out of the Championships, they have another game to rack up enough points to move on. And—some of the desperation that he’d felt to begin this season, to do something, to prove himself, feels like it’s lifted off his shoulders. He still has a long way to go, he knows, but he feels like he’s on his way.

And he has Sasha to thank for part of that. They both did each other a favor, gave the press something to focus that wasn’t Sasha’s sister, or Leo’s broken hand and spotty performance on the court. Their fiction did the job that they needed it to do, and now there’s just the aftermath, the way they can keep the press hanging on, waiting to see any glimpses of acrimony between them—or a resurgent romance. And it’s fun. He loves when the press is talking about him, when he feels like he’s in control of what they’re saying, like they’re eating up an image he works so hard to portray. 

Sasha’s fishing, waiting for Leo to confirm that it’s a Fox, and Leo can’t blame her. It does give him an idea, though:

“You wanna have a little fun?” He asks, grinning. “No clues, no hints, and we’ll see which one of us figures out who the other one’s interested in first.” 

He knows he’s at a disadvantage in his own game, that Sasha has more at stake than Leo does when it comes to keeping her real romantic entanglements on the down low. Leo isn’t trying to keep secrets, he’s just trying to be—careful. He’s usually flashy, but he doesn’t like to be embarrassed. He doesn’t want to start flaunting this before he’s sure that there’s something to flaunt. But it’s a game he wouldn’t mind losing, because it’s all in good fun, just between them. “What do you say?” 

Leo’s suggestion is tempting but dangerous. Letting Leo know the truth won’t only expose Sasha, but Raleigh as well, and neither of them are out. Then again, he has no reason to suspect Raleigh. They don’t make a habit of hanging out in public, and so far all their party trysts haven’t been caught by prying eyes. If she’s lucky, he’ll also assume hers is a Fox.  

It’s her need to be in the know that leads her to agree. She hates not knowing things, especially when this actually has something to do with her. Besides, if he somehow does guess correct, it’s not like she took a blood oath. She can always lie. “I say yes,” She gives him a coy grin before falling silent while deep in thought.

Her first guess would be Jen, but they’re dating Grayson, and she can’t see Leo wasting his time pining away or ending their arrangement over someone he can’t have. She mentally eliminates all the Foxes she knows are in a relationship, and decides to go for proximity first. It’s easy to hook up with a roommate if the others are out of the room, and out of the three, Emmett seems the most likely. He’s generally upbeat and seems up for anything Leo could potentially throw at him. 

If she thinks about standard romantic tropes though, then maybe he fell for someone who keeps him grounded--opposites attract and all that. She decides to go for her first choice though, since they didn’t put a cap on guesses. “Emmett?” Sasha asks. 

[sashahartashby]

raleigheverhart‌:

Sasha’s teasing her, but for once the stakes don’t feel so high—they’re not trading barbs designed to hurt, to find weaknesses, to strip each other back and find something vulnerable underneath. It’s just—Raleigh’s cat, Sasha’s hypothetical snake.

For all the ways they’re similar: their anger, the acts they have to play, this secret thing between them—they’re still different, especially on the surface, where Sasha’s a disgraced daughter, a quintessential Fox. And Raleigh is still trying hard to be anything but that. 

“The prettiest,” she says, definitively. “I never really thought about bringing her here. We’re on the road for games so much. And—my parents love her, they need someone they can spoil while I’m gone. They send me pictures, like, every day.” 

And Raleigh likes it, likes having all the things she loves in one place, knowing that it’s there and perfect and waiting for her. The Everharts send her pictures of Missy, show her on FaceTime after Raleigh taught them how to use it, and it’s a welcome surprise every time: two of the things that she loves most in the world at once, thinking about her. 

“You going to sneak a snake into the dorms? Terrorize your roommates? Or me, if you could ever get me to visit.”

“Adorable,” Sasha snorts sarcastically, but deep down she feels envy clawing at her chest. Raleigh’s parents send her care packages and updates of her cat just because. They care. They want her to know they care. Meanwhile, Sasha steps into an empty home on Thanksgiving and has to learn about her mother’s whereabouts through tabloids. Sasha and Nikolai aren’t Irina’s children to care over, but little prized possessions, only Sasha isn’t worth displaying, so she doesn’t even get feigned interest from her.

It’s fine, she tells herself, she doesn’t want doting parents. Being ignored by Irina means she has the freedom to do what she wants, as long as it’s not widespread enough to get to her. Sasha’s an adult. She doesn’t need care packages or daily phone calls. The only thing she needs is financial stability until she finds her own. 

Sasha doesn’t know if Raleigh means visiting her dorm currently, but, either way, her mind goes to the future. She knew Raleigh’s graduating this year, but it didn’t hit her until now, so used to the people around her staying an extra year. What will happen when she’s not on campus anymore? Will they text? It’s not like they’re...girlfriends or something, so they probably won’t have the long distance conversation.

“Any post graduation plans?” Sasha asks before realizing her question probably sounds completely out of the blue. At least, she managed to keep her tone neutral despite her unplanned outburst. “You have yet to punch a real, professional cheerleader,” She adds with an amused smirk.

[sashahartashby]

hwisaacs‌:

         When it comes to parties at Palmetto, the only group that he actually enjoys partying with is his own team. The football players are all dicks and their cheerleading squad is just as bad. Henry’s never hung out around them, even the ones that are in classes with him. He doesn’t like them, and he tends to stick to his own people. The Foxes are better athletes anyway. However, beggars can’t be choosers and on a night like tonight, a football party is better than nothing. He wonders what they’re celebrating—the Fox loss tonight? That seems, well like something they’d do. Henry almost bets that their party isn’t going to be fun before Sasha mentions it.

         “I was trying to not do that,” he shrugs, thinking that it might just be better to do that rather than attend a party with people he already hates. He wonders if the rest of the team is actually doing that and why. He’s upset about the loss as well, but he’s not going to mourn it by wallowing in self-pity. Although in a way, he knows that drinking is his way of wallowing. He can still have fun while he drinks. Henry usually doesn’t drink for fun, he drinks with the purpose of getting drunk. These days it seems to take far too much alcohol to get him drunk. He knows he should stop, but it’s difficult when he can’t let go of it.

         “I’d say Eden’s, but…” he trailed off. It was too far of a drive and he couldn’t think of another reasonable place to go besides the library, which was closed. He did suppose he could bribe the security guard to let him in. “I mean… yeah. Sounds like a plan. Mind if I tag along?” He looked back at the house. “What are they celebrating? Our loss? Or are they just being general morons?”

Sasha makes a “be my guest” gesture before walking again, expecting Henry to follow. She’s definitely doesn’t have a more the merrier mindset, but as long as he doesn’t give her a reason to hate the sight of him, she doesn’t see any harm in him tagging along. It’s not like she has any destination in mind anyway. Chances are, they’ll just end up back at the Fox Tower after realizing this is a lost cause. 

“Probably the second,” Sasha guesses. It’s not like they had banners hanging around the house stating the occasion. “It’s Friday, it’s a college campus, they’re young and free, do they need a reason to celebrate?” She points out as she finishes off her cigarette, letting the butt fall and smushing it with the heel of her boot. 

College students tend to go wild as soon as they step on campus, since they’re getting their first taste of freedom. No more parents to watch their every move or check the vodka bottles to make sure their kids didn’t add water to make it look full. That wasn’t Sasha’s life though. Between sneaking out at night and being banned from her home, she already learned the ways of binge drinking. She feels old and experienced compared to the other students on campus, even though she just turned twenty-one and should be celebrating the fact she’s legal.

[sashahartashby]

jackfuckingmonday‌:

“God, football players. Even worse.” Jack shook their head, looking around at their surroundings to try to come up with a better idea. Spending time with Sasha was not a better idea, they knew that, but nothing that bad had happened in the last thirty seconds. Maybe they’d get another thirty seconds before things went to shit.

They didn’t pay attention to their classmates off of the team, though, and so they had no idea who might be partying within the surrounding few blocks. “Know of anything else around here?”

“I have to agree with you there,” Sasha says flatly and takes another drag from her cigarette. “But beggars can’t be choosers, and our teammates aren’t really in the mood to party,” She shrugs. She doesn’t give a shit about football, and she hates the football team on principle, considering the campus treats them like their prized possession and the exy team like unwanted step-children. She was able to tolerate them for the few hours she drank their vodka though.

Sasha looks around the empty road as if a party will just grow out of the ground before giving Jack an impatient look. “Do you see anything?” She counters. “If I knew, I’d be there instead of out in the cold. I gave you information on the other party, it’s your turn to come up with ideas.” They haven’t given her reasons to snap yet, it’s just the sight of them that has her ready to out of habit.