kentcheongs-archive-blog

[kentcheongs-archive-blog]

caseyhendrix:

It’s a cliche at this point–a losing effort, a bottle of something strong, the roof of Fox Tower. But it’s the best he can do tonight with residual anger buzzing in his head, and a distinct desire to not be found by any of his teammates or anyone at all for that matter. He guarantees that if he opens his mouth right now what’s going to come out of it is going to be sharp, so he’s heading this whole thing off and just keeping it shut–removing himself until tomorrow when this might not hurt so much. He wants the sounds of passing cars below him and the lights in the distance to do something–to drown out everything else and just leave him with a comfortable numbness–but instead he’s still holding himself tightly, like the next person that walks through the door to the roof is going to start a fight. 

When did it get to be like this? Lately every time he takes the court it feels like throwing his body at a brick wall over and over, hoping for something to break and instead just coming away bruised and angry. It’s all the worse because there isn’t a solution in sight at the moment; he’s not anyone’s coach, he’s not a one man defensive machine, how is he supposed to right the ship when no matter how hard he fights it just keeps hitting the rocks? He takes a long pull from the bottle he has with him and exhales, runs a hand through his hair–and of course the old metal door slams. He doesn’t make an effort to move and see who it is, just leans his head against he brick wall and pulls his knees up to his chest, offers up the bottle.

“Save the pep talk, if that’s why you’re here.” He says lowly, his voice rough from disuse. 

Losing sucked, obviously. Goals didn’t matter when you lost – all that mattered was that there simply weren’t enough of them to constitute a win. Kent was never extremely hard on himself after a loss, specifically; rather, he was angry in general, angry at things he could not control, at luck he simply did not have. He could have scored more, yes. But the backliners could have stopped more strikers. The goalies could have saved more goals. The other team could have been slower, or less accurate, or hit with less ferocity. They weren’t. Kent could only control his own actions, could only celebrate his own achievements, but there wasn’t much worth celebrating when this game only put the Foxes behind in the division standings, and when the media was looking for a reason to knock the team down a few pegs, to put them back where they believed the Foxes belonged. Kent couldn’t fault himself for that, and he couldn’t exactly blame one teammate or group of teammates in particular, but he could certainly be angry, as he typically was.

“Does it look like I’m in any shape to give a pep talk?” asked Kent with a scoff, his arms gesturing to his battered body. He was in no mood to try and make the situation seem as if it wasn’t bad as it was, especially when there were a few indents on his shoulders and collar bones where the pads were slammed in too hard, cuts on his sides and hips where ends of sticks dug in (either by accident or when the refs just weren’t looking), bruises on his back, arms, and legs where he was slammed into walls and other bodies. Kent wasn’t a man who injured easily, which meant his appearance tonight spoke volumes, not only in those physical wounds, but also in the exhaustion plain on his face. Tonight, he felt spent, a rarity for a man who seemingly had an endless supply of energy. “We fuckin’ lost, I dunno what sort of pep talk anyone can give right now.”

[kentcheongs-archive-blog]

gloryhoskinss:

@kentcheongs asked 📖 Our muses tell scary stories!

There was something that irked Glory about the general vibe of halloween. All around campus (and especially in the dining hall,) it was littered with all things Halloween. Pumpkins lined the student union that had been carved by classmates, cookies were cut into the shapes of ghosts, and if anything, Glory couldn’t wait for it all to be over. Looking at all of the festive bullshit and listening to people talk about their costumes was starting to give her a migraine. All she wanted to do was to eat her food in peace, and have food that didn’t involve something for halloween. 

It wasn’t that Glory minded the holiday. In fact, she never really thought about it at all until she came to Palmetto. It definitely wasn’t her first priority at home, and she could only remember trick-or-treating with her siblings on one occasion, and she was past the age that it was fun (even though the free candy was a benefit.) She remembered when her brother used to try and scare her siblings (and her, for that matter), by telling them extremely dumb urban legends. She remembered the one that made her cry, and she also remembered the ones she would laugh about when she would run from the house. Justice had a terrifying presence, but his stories never failed to make her laugh.

She was only reminded of one because of the gross food in front of her, and when she looked to who was getting it, she wrinkled her nose slightly. It was Kent. He was her teammate, after all… they’d have to speak sometime after the benefit. “That rice looks terrible. Didn’t you ever hear about the maggots in the rice?” She said in deadpan tone, her eyebrows furrowing at his stone-sour face. “It’s an urban legend, idiot.”

Halloween wasn’t Kent’s favorite holiday – if anything, it was an excuse to party during the week, and to have free candy. As a kid, he really only liked the freedom to run around the neighborhood and the reward of sweets, but after his mom died, there wasn’t much spirit left on the holiday, not after his step-father made it clear that he was no son of his. The freedom of going through the neighborhood lost its luster when home didn’t care if you were in it or not. 

He could tolerate October 31st, especially with a chocolate bar in one hand. It was 24 hours out of a year, and there was likely a party to look forward. What he wasn’t a fan of was the whole Halloween obsession weeks (and now months) before the actual day. All the hype for one day was simply something Kent couldn’t get behind; he was like a flash of lightning, living in the moment, however brief it was. To drag his interest out, one had to hold it first, and Halloween didn’t do that, he wasn’t sorry to say.

Glory, however, did. There was some sort of tension he felt, like a thick fog between them, mysterious, warning, and somehow inviting. She was interesting – he felt a fire from her, both on the court and off, and Kent could certainly handle some heat, or at least he’d been dealing with it ever since the guilt mixed with his energy to spark a flame of his own that has yet to be extinguished. Either way, there was a heat he felt in her presence, and Kent wasn’t exactly a stranger to playing with fire.

The look he first gave her was confused, his brow furrowed and his lips turned into a line. He didn’t even have to ask what? when his expression said it all, and it appeared as if Glory picked up on it. “Never heard about it, but honestly the food poisoning I could get from this food is probably scarier than the rice turning out to be bugs,” he stated with a shrug. “Besides, I’ve heard way scarier urban legends in my day.”

[kentcheongs-archive-blog]

isadoraelbert:

                   She still hadn’t gotten to know the Fox line up, despite being a Vixen for long enough to at least know all the Foxes. That was mainly because she spent most her time with her friends and not worrying about the Foxes or the Vixens. She wanted to get to know them eventually, but she did rank her studies higher than anything else. As much as that might have annoyed some of the members of the Vixens – she liked cheering, but it wasn’t her whole life and she was sure that she rubbed a few people the wrong way. Isadora was the type to sit in silence if she felt that’s what someone wanted. She didn’t blame any of the Foxes for not having time to learn her name because she hadn’t learned all the Foxes names yet either.

                  Most people assumed that Isadora was here on an athletic scholarship, but she wasn’t. Part of her money came from her parents – because they were pretty well off, the rest of it was an academic scholarship. Which meant that keeping her grades up was more than important, it was essential. She did her best to keep all her grades as perfect as she could. Isadora also spent any of her free time tutoring those that needed it, especially in math and science. It was her goal in life to become an earth scientist and that didn’t come without work. She loved college – and half judged people that didn’t feel the same way as she did.

                   Isadora had been on the other end of aggression before and she didn’t like it. Not at all. Of course, her old bullies mainly were passive aggressive or just downright mean, she knew how to handle herself around anger and aggression of any sort. She wasn’t going to take it from anyone no matter who they were. She didn’t care if someone had just lost something important to them, she was not going to let someone walk all over her – not again. Though Isadora knew that the Foxes had a tougher time than other people, it didn’t give them a free pass to treat others poorly.

                   “It’s not like two people can’t be in the same place at once,” she muttered under her breath. Isadora didn’t care if he heard her or not. Instead, she blinked in confusion. “Going for a walk. Didn’t realise that it called for permission to be within five feet of someone.”

Kent was pretty sure the Vixens didn’t get a similar scholarship to the Foxes – not because they were any less talented, but they tried out once they had already been through their freshman year, after they had already accepted the academic scholarship. They didn’t go to their own competitions, and there were seemingly multiple squads on campus, their attention focused on one sports team. They deserved compensation and praise for being Vixens, of course, but he assumed many of them did not have the scholarship the Foxes had. 

Of course, without the money behind the position he played, Kent wouldn’t have even come to Palmetto, or even college in general, so he wasn’t one to judge anyone’s situation. He would have been teaching tourists to surf by day and couch-surfing himself at night without the scholarship, which at least put a steady roof over his head for five more years before he was forced to navigate the world on his own. Fortunately, Kent was talented enough to keep up his scholarship, but he also needed to keep grades up... somewhat. Of course, as he progressed through his business major (which he still wasn’t sure what he would use for come graduation), classes became more difficult, but athletes brought money and students to the school – he couldn’t fail that easily. He always had a few extra classes that boosted his GPA, though Kent would complete all the hard work eventually – it would just take a bit longer than the rest.

He wasn’t the most intelligent Fox, or person in general. He was a slave to his emotions, to his anger, with little rational thought in sight. His mind was always racing, with rationality unable to keep up, and focus not having much luck, either, especially when it came to class, when he could be daydreaming of some future greatness and his next step, next shot, next hurdle instead of calculus. He could have easily fit into the category of the dumb jock bully, but as mean as Kent was, he never tried to go out of his way to make fun of someone. Of course, he wasn’t the nicest guy, but he tried to avoid those he disliked – if they couldn’t get close, they couldn’t find his vulnerabilities, his guilt, then there was no problem. He only lashed out, he only got violent, if things got too close. 

With Isadora, while it seemed as if he was lashing out, it was really Kent trying to avoid a conversation in the first place. It seemed as if she was looking at him at first, which made him assume she would start a conversation, and then worry it would be about his performance in the game. He didn’t want to talk about it, and certainly didn’t wanna have an altercation with the Vixen, so Kent tried to get her to go away before any of those outcomes could even have the chance to occur, though it didn’t seem like it was working. “I mean, isn’t that just the general rule of personal space? Looked like you wanted something.”

[kentcheongs-archive-blog]

colinjessup:

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

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

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

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

Kent on and off the court weren’t vastly different people. On the court, he was a a bolt of lightning in the sense that he was quick, full of energy, and flashy. Off the court, Kent didn’t slow down even for a second, his energy still propelling him to keep sprinting from one thing to the next, but here he just had less to be flashy about. There wasn’t much to show off when he didn’t have a racket in hand, unless you were talking about his physique. His personality wasn’t exactly sparkling or magnetic (in fact, it could be the opposite sometimes), but he could be fun if that’s what he dialed his mind in for, and he certainly didn’t have any material possessions to show off. He could also be just as aggressive off the court as he could on, but at least his first thought was to avoid whatever obstacles were in his way off the court, rather than fighting them. Unfortunately, those obstacles tended to be people, and people tended to ignore his hints that he didn’t want them to trespass into uncharted emotional territories, so he tended to get harsh more often than not.

He didn’t exactly care if Colin was that type of person though; he didn’t care about the differences between Colin the guy living a few doors down and Colin the backliner. Kent simply saw Colin as a good player and a good time, and never really saw anything suspicious or noteworthy in the fact that those two things could be detached from one another, separate entities forming one chameleon of a man. He helped the Foxes win, he helped Kent loosen up, and neither of those things were bad. Plus, Kent figured it made him someone who could easily separate from Exy if he wanted or had to - he was his own person outside of the sport, and Kent respected that. Financially, for now, Kent would be tethered to it, himself. 

“I’m gonna need at least two shots to compliment you right now, Jessup—three if you want me to call you my ‘savior.’” He moved a bit closer to the backliner, unsure where Colin’s room even was and thus where they would be forgetting the night’s events. “So c’mon, Jesus, let’s go turn that water into wine—better yet, turn it into Fireball.” 

[kentcheongs-archive-blog]

akiraxsato:

Akira’s eyes narrowed as he looked a Kent. He’d made it pretty clear from day one of his being here that names like superstar weren’t his thing. And honestly, they were the most un-creative thing. “Don’t call me that.” He looked away, pretty sure if he kept looking at Kent he’d end up saying something stupid. Probably about his lackluster performance at the last game. Kent’s only saving grace was that he was a striker and Akira didn’t want to get paired up with him in the next game only to have him decide he didn’t want to work with him. He pulled out some of his books and roughly flopped a notebook onto his lap. “I don’t have an answer for your question anyways. It’s not like I came down here to talk to you specifically.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, finally feeling in control enough to look back at Kent, if only briefly.��“I don’t care.“ He shrugged. “Guess I just wanted to know what bug crawled up your ass and died.” He looked away and forced himself to look at his notes for a second. A part of him wanted to be considerate and caring and another part of himself just wanted to be that asshole. Kent deserved both but Akira couldn't’ decide what he deserved more. He sighed and started to re-write his notes more legibly. “If you’re going to let the game bother you this much after the fact you’re going to drive yourself crazy. Just saying.”

Kent really shouldn’t have had any beef with Akira; they had a lot of opportunities where they could possibly share the court, or at least be paired up for practice drills, so out of all people he probably should have kept his cool around, it would have been wise to have made it the guy he would have to hone his skills with. But that wasn’t how Kent’s temper worked. He thought he would have had at least a few more moments of alone time to avoid his teammates before someone ultimately found him and dragged him off either to bed or to some party (because dagers were a thing now, meaning there was a reason to party no matter what time it was), and that was his first line of defense: avoiding. Just like he could do on the court, where he could easily shoulder past bodies, light on his feet as he zipped towards the goal. When that didn’t work, he fought, like he did now with Akira, and like he did in the game when the backliners decided to drop their sticks.

“Jeez, no nickname sits well with you, huh? Still doesn’t mean you’re not here for a reason,” Kent replied with an eye roll as he gestured to the space they stood in. His eyes tried not to look in the other striker’s direction, but they couldn’t help but glance to challenge the other Fox at his next words, which made Kent scoff. “Obviously you care if you want to know, but trust me, a dead bug up my ass is the least of my problems. Not when Wymack’s up there, too. I can’t exactly let shit go if he’s gonna keep bringing it up.” But, then again, Kent had a hard time letting things go. He could avoid them as long as he wanted to, sure, but in the end, it would all creep up on him and eventually consume him, like the guilt that had been plaguing him for so long.

[kentcheongs-archive-blog]

arlobooth:

Arlo gave Kent’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze as he passed, smiling softly. “Hey. It’ll be fine. Let’s just get in, answer a few questions, and get out. No throwing tables, flipping chairs, or storming out, okay?” His eyes crinkle and he snorts, rolling his eyes fondly. The Foxes… well. They were the Foxes. And, Arlo had been around long enough now to witness his fair share of press duty meltdowns. 

Arlo takes the lead and steps into the room. The noise ticks up a notch and he smiles, pleasantly, before making his way to the front of the room and taking a seat. He doesn’t look in Kent’s direction, but instead gives a small wave to the respectable crowd of flashing lights in front of him. 

“Uh. I guess we should go ahead and begin? First off, thank you guys for coming out today and watching the game. It’s always appreciated. Hopefully we can do your questions justice.” 

The crowd murmurs a (vaguely positive) response and that’s that. Arlo casts about for a moment before honing in on a patient looking male reporter on the front row. He points to him and gives a thumbs up.

“Go ahead, sir.”

“Easier said than done,” hissed Kent as he forcefully pulled his shoulder from Arlo’s grip. He was tense from the game, still, of course, and didn’t want nor need the contact from his teammate. “I’m not here to sit around the campfire and sing kumbaya with them. You’ll be lucky I stay in my seat.”

Kent didn’t have the best track record for this sort of stuff, especially not after an incident like today’s. He knew the options: there was the chance they’d lead with the question about his yellow cards, but there was also a possibility (a more likely one, at that) that a more seasoned reporter would try and ease him into such a question, knowing if they came out with such a provocative question out of the gates, Kent would likely do something dramatic and storm out, cutting the session short. They wanted all they could out of them, including maybe a meltdown, so those who knew their stuff would just bide their time.

Kent would try and refuse to fall for it, this time, but he was a slave to that anger. In this room, he could not run. He could not avoid, not even verbally; if he tried, they would keep asking, finding different words to phrase the same question over and over until he finally snapped. At least Arlo could try and diffuse some of this, he hoped.

A woman in a blue dress stood, her brown hair tied back neatly in a ponytail, the age in her face telling Kent this wasn’t her first rodeo. “How do you feel about the Fox win today? What does this say about the Foxes going forward?”

Kent thought that maybe, by taking the question, they would see something more professional in him and be respectful enough to not ask the questions they knew would set him off. Of course, Kent wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. “We’re proud of the Foxes for the win we pulled off today, and you can only expect more wins. No game is perfect, so we’ll take the mistakes from this one, work on them, and come back even stronger for the next one, you can be sure of that.”

Press Duty || Arlo & Kent

[kentcheongs-archive-blog]

striker-brayden:

Brayden gave a short laugh, wanting all those things as well. Wymack was beginning to lay off him now after he behaved at the banquet and didn’t fuck up during the game, but he was never truly off his coaches radar, especially not after press duty. “Looks like we want the same thing,” Brayden smirked before pulling out his phone and opening the Dominos app. “If you don’t fuck up for at least two weeks, he’ll let up. Wymack is all about second, third, and fourth chances,” Brayden rolled his eyes. He acted nonchalant about Wymack around the others, because he wasn’t willing to admit how much he actually appreciated his coach. Brayden didn’t enjoy disappointing the man. It always sat wrong with him. It was always easier to play it off like Wymack was an inconvenience in his life, rather than the one who saved him from a shitty situation. 

“What kind of pizza do you want?” He asked Kent, peering up at him from his phone. “Might as well get one of three things you want, right?” He didn’t know how the other Foxes reacted to Kent’s performance at the game, but Brayden didn’t give a shit about it. It would be hypocritical of him to get pissed off at someone for getting a yellow card when he landed one during the very first game at of the season. He was surprised Kent wasn’t given a red card instead, actually. 

He didn’t want to talk about Wymack. He didn’t even want to think about their coach, but apparently his tone didn’t imply that enough. Kent just wished to be rid of the nagging; he knew what could have been done better, but he didn’t do that. It happened, it was done with, it was now in the past. They won, after all, and thanks, in part, to him so Kent didn’t see the reason Wymack thought it so important to give Kent a lecture on his temper, one he’d heard a thousand times over. “That’s a load of bullshit,” he stated. He didn’t have many issues last year, and yet now, slipping up once, Wymack was ready to rip him a new one. The coach never seemed to forget, did he? His tone wasn’t angry at Brayden, it was annoyed with Wymack and the way he conducted himself, instead. Of course, Kent still couldn’t (and refused to) see things through the coach’s eyes, so it wasn’t like his opinion was fair and balanced, either.  “Yeah, yeah, and all that ‘believing in the underdog’ Disney Channel Original Movie shit. Whatever.”

After a deep breath, Kent answered, “Hawaiian, but I’ll eat pretty much anything. And if you laugh about that, I’ll kill you.” The threat was empty, of course, and on most days, he would joke about how stereotypical it was that he liked pineapple on pizza, but Kent wasn’t exactly in the mood, right now. “If you were a genie, I could’ve had all three, but I’ll settle for one.”

[kentcheongs-archive-blog]

biancashay:

Reactions flooded Bianca’s mind. One after another her options flickered in front of her and when they came to a brick wall in the creativity department they looped back around to begin again. It was frustrating. None of them had a quick solution and none of them guaranteed anything. Disappointment was new to her, a concept that she should have started to come to terms with the past few years but as it was, she wasn’t. Each new denial was as hard for her to accept as the first, stubbornness and determination flooding the gates of emotion, stopping her mind from accepting any fate that was not decided by herself. Still, part of her knew and it caused an internal battle every time. Her chest tightened, the muscles there frustrated in equal amounts with her mind.

The pause felt like too long with the speed of her heart, the way it pounded in her ears making the moments elongate out in front of her. She was sure he saw her contemplation, her eyes flickering over his face as her lips pressed together against her will. It couldn’t have been as long as it felt but she still thought he knew. “We aren’t anything.” She shrugged casually but her words were laced with tones that didn’t match the gesture. “I just thought maybe we could at least be friends. I don’t want anything from you- not anything real anyway.” The wording wasn’t quite right but she was at a loss for words. She didn’t want anything tangible, nothing that he could hand over for her to hold between her own narrow fingers. She wanted to exchange words, perhaps for long periods of time. She could live without ever being hugged or called sister, live without ever being playfully punched if it meant that he could tolerate her enough to give her a chance. “I just want to know.”

Kent tried to be nice. Okay, he didn’t try very hard, but there were many harsher things he could have said, and he didn’t just pick up and leave (like every nerve in his body was screaming at him to do), so that had to count for something, right? He didn’t know Bianca, didn’t know how she handled rejection, and yet he couldn’t find it in him to care. He wanted her away from him as soon as possible so he could work on forgetting her, rather. He wanted to forget he ever had a half sister; Kent had gone his whole life without this information, and he was pretty sure he could go on for the rest of his life ignoring it now that he was aware of it. Of course, that depended on whether or not Bianca would let him ignore it, or if she would continue to force him to confront his identity as the bastard son his father never cared for nor wanted (which he was previously okay with, because he never wanted to know his dad, not knowing he would never get that opportunity, anyways), to confront his identity as an orphan and accept the fact that she was the only family he had. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He’d sooner run away.

“Why can’t you get it through your head?” asked Kent, his voice frustrated. “I don’t want to be your friend, just like I don’t want to be your brother. I don’t want you in my life at all!” Was it harsh? Yes. Did Kent care? No. It seemed like it was the only way he would get his point across, and the sooner he got Bianca to leave him alone, the happier he would be, and the more comfortable he would feel. “What do you even want to know? Where I’m from? Who dad,” a name he spat, “fucked first? Who he decided he didn’t want? I don’t care about him. I never wanted to know him, and I never will.”

First Encounter (Flash Back): KentxBianca

[kentcheongs-archive-blog]

isadoraelbert:

                   When it came to aggression, Isadora didn’t have much of it unless passive aggression counted. She tried to not even be passive aggressive, though that was difficult with lots of people testing her patience. Honestly, she understood those people that could act out and be aggressive. But it wasn’t like she was an expert when it came to anything except math and earth science. Isadora didn’t know everything, even if she pretended that she did. She wasn’t an expert at people in general.

                   Watching the Foxes was an experience every time. Isadora’s first year at Palmetto was filled mostly with academics rather than fun. She’d front loaded all her classes at the beginning of her freshman year. Now she was taking classes more in her majors. Although Isadora never believed in a weekend of chilling, she was actually enjoying watching the Foxes play. The passion they all had for the sport could be seen even from the sidelines. She was proud of them, even if she wasn’t a Fox herself. They didn’t care about their reputation; they just wanted to win and prove to the world that they could do this. It was inspiring.

                   She didn’t know much about Exy, but she knew the game had been a bit tense. A bit was being modest. Most people seemed to be in a better mood after this game at least. There were weird moods last game. This time Isadora noticed that people were at least feeling better. She hadn’t brought her homework along this weekend, but she wanted a day of rest from it all. Isadora had gone back to her room bored. The Discovery channel in the hotel room was playing some stupid show that she didn’t want to watch and she didn’t want to go out. Instead she decided to wander the halls of the hotel room, looking for someone to keep her company.

                   No one seemed to be doing the same thing as her, but she talked to a few of the strangers in the hotel. She was that bored that she was talking to strangers. Isadora talked to her dads for a little bit but not for long, she knew it was late and both of them had to work in the morning. She was walking down the hall of the hotel when she spotted one of the Foxes. She hadn’t introduced herself to him yet and decided now was better than ever.

                   “Whoa dude, chill. I don’t want anything.”

Isadora was one of the few Vixens Kent wasn’t familiar with. Part of it was because she was new, and it took time for him to get to know the newer Vixens, but another part of it was that he didn’t expect to be as busy as he was this semester. Maybe it was because the Foxes now had a reputation to uphold, based on how far they got in last year’s Spring Championships, which meant more practices and more training sessions and more time revolving around Exy (as if enough didn’t already). Maybe it was because he was caught off guard by the coursework he had to complete for his classes, especially as the middle of the semester meant more test and due dates. Either way, Kent was surprised by how little time he spent in his own bed, and how little time he could spend in the Vixen Den.

If Kent could skip classes, he would, but it was a condition of the scholarship that the athletes couldn’t be on any sort of academic probation, though their classes were made to be easy to avoid such a consequence. He wasn’t sure what he wanted out of life, just kept running through it head-first until he hit a wall he could not break. Really, college was a way to bide time instead of couch-surfing and trying to find a way to live on his own without help from his step-dad, and Exy was the reason he could afford to bide that time in the first place, so he kind of owed it to the Foxes.

It wasn’t like he was ashamed to wear the jersey or didn’t like playing, anyways. He didn’t mind being a Fox; it just meant there was more to fight for, and Kent enjoyed the rush of the fight when it didn’t pull at any of those uncomfortable emotional strings he tried to avoid like the plague. Sure, it could be frustrating, getting slack for any and every little thing he did wrong just because their team was so heavily associated with losing. People would use it as evidence to show the Foxes really didn’t deserve to be where they were now, and Wymack would use it as blame every time the Foxes didn’t do well (or that’s how Kent saw it, at least). It was frustrating, as was tonight’s decision by the ref, and he wasn’t going to let it go unchallenged.

Of course, the only thing more frustrating than one yellow card was two, and Kent still couldn’t get over it. Somehow, the boy who thought he was finally getting his anger under control found it slipping again - big surprise. “Then what are you here for, anyways?” he asked accusingly. It wasn’t like it was the weirdest hour, either - Kent just couldn’t help but display his anger, even if it was unjustified in its direction.

[kentcheongs-archive-blog]

aidenbotsch:

After the game, Aiden had some fun with some of the Vixens but then was quick to head to the Den to shower. He was hot, tired, and gross. The whole night he did exactly what was his job. He smiled, he cheered, he got the crowd roaring for the Foxes. The only thing missing was his head. It hadn’t been in the right frame of mind since earlier that day, a single phone call enough to throw him off. Aiden Botsch, the guy always ready to have fun and party it up just wanted to call it quits for the night.

He took his sweet time in the shower until he heard the loud voices of other Vixens and Aiden forced himself out of the shower, knowing others would want the bathroom eventually. He went to his room, roommate gone, and Aiden able to just get changed and grab his phone and keys before he headed out. Of course, like always, Aiden couldn’t just leave and turned with a big smile to tell everyone he’d be back before he let the door shut behind him.

The night air felt great, cooling Aiden but also warm enough it could dry his damp hair a bit. As he walked along the campus, Aiden had his phone out and was texting a classmate of his, a soccer player he’d become good friends with. That’s precisely how Aiden ended up stepping out from one of the rooms in the Fox Tower, running his hands through his hair and attempting to be quiet for the sake of whoever was actually on the floor in the dorm hall.

Aiden was making his way out when he saw Kent, a smile forming at the familiar face but it was quick to vanish as he raised his hands defensively. “Whoa, was just on my way out.” He lowered his hands, arms falling to his side as he sighed. From the sidelines, he knew Kent hadn’t had the best game ever. There had been a lot of anger from both sides and Aiden could feel tension even from where he stood on the sidelines. “Sorry ‘bout the game. Kinda bullshit what happened. I’d ask if you’re okay, but I’m gonna go with no…”

Aiden wasn’t the person Kent should have been angry with. He wasn’t the person he should have lashed out on. The only time the striker should have gone after the Vixen was when they’d planned to box at the gym, but even then, he shouldn’t be putting such bite behind his words or actions during their little scrimmages. The pair were friends, or at least close enough to friends in Kent’s book, which means he didn’t want to fight them over every little thing. But now, here he was, obviously hostile towards Aiden, though it wasn’t any fault of the Vixen’s. Kent just couldn’t control his anger, plain and simple.

There was part of him that thought he had his anger under control. That claim wasn’t supported by much evidence, other than the fact that he wasn’t the same person he was freshman year. He wasn’t so quick to lash out and stuck to the avoidance tactic that was often his default; Kent had only switched to violence as his first line of defense because he was in this unfamiliar situation, like a caged animal with his back against the wall. Now, at least, he wasn’t so quick to jump at everyone’s throats, but it didn’t mean he had a good handle on his anger, especially if today was evidence of anything.

His shoulders relaxed slightly as he realized it was Aiden, but Kent still looked nothing close to friendly. He didn’t need Aiden to go - after all, he could do what he wanted, it wasn’t like Kent had ownership over the whole hall - but Kent likely would have been aggressive towards anyone who walked in, so maybe it was best if he at least wasn’t in Kent’s vicinity, for everyone’s safety. At least he was more quick to avoid the harsher questions instead of lashing out because of them. “No shit. That ref was full of shit - we won, yeah, but that ref sucked.”

[kentcheongs-archive-blog]

camtrask:

Kent wouldn’t have been her first choice, simply because she didn’t know him the way she did some of her other teammates, but she was still pleasantly surprised when he was the one who opened the door. Having Logan live with someone was never really a bridge to getting to know someone considering her brother’s lack of social skills, so she tended to try to bridge that gap herself. Performing a mock physical on someone probably wasn’t the best way to start attempting a friendship but she’d made friends with Foxes in weirder circumstances. This was just another day, really.

“A class,” she said brightly, which admittedly didn’t really explain anything so she elaborated. “I’m a sports medicine major. We have to do practical stuff like, every semester for one of my classes and I guess we reached that point a little earlier this year. But really, if you don’t want me to, it’s okay. I won’t be offended.” She meant that genuinely. She understood that some people on the Foxes were uncomfortable about their bodies for various reasons, and even Abby’s physicals made some nervous. She could only imagine her complete lack of any actual medical qualifications wasn’t exactly appealing.

“Truthfully, I’m kind of glad you answered the door and not Logan.” Cameron flashed him a conspiratorial sort of grin. “I would just tell him his health is shit even if it’s not and I’d fail my class.”

He’d been playing with her for a year, now, and she’d been around since his freshman year, but Kent really didn’t know the younger Trask. Of course, when she likely first saw Kent, he had much less control than he did now (which was saying something), and he wouldn’t have been surprised if that impression had her keeping her distance. Kent would have just chalked it up to a difference in position, though, with them playing on opposite sides of the court and only ever getting physically close during scrimmages. Plus, he wasn’t exactly looking to reach out to any and every Fox in search of friends. He would be social - he had a life to live outside of Exy, after all - but Kent wasn’t the type of person to befriend every new Fox or take them under his wing. No, he was nobody’s brother figure, considering he refused to be somebody’s very real half-brother in the first place.

Kent nodded, his face a bit less puzzled. “Got it.I was wondering if you were just into some weird stuff - not that I would judge.” Lie. Kent would have totally judged, but it didn’t matter, it was for class. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ve got nothing else to do, and you need it for class, so,” he stepped aside, “come on in.”

An eyebrow raised at the mention of her brother, and how she would likely mess with him if he had been there in place of Kent. He didn’t know much about sibling relationships, didn’t know how they were supposed to function - he knew siblings who loved one another, and others who were at each other���s throats - so he wasn’t really sure about Cam and Logan, even after knowing them his entire college career (considering he didn’t know them that well). “So? What would the professor know if his health wasn’t as shit as you said? Maybe you’re diagnosing something no one else noticed.”

[kentcheongs-archive-blog]

akiraxsato:

Akira didn’t often come to the common room in Fox tower. It was always full of other athletes he didn’t really know and the TV was always blaring some stupid animated TV show he’d never bothered to watch at an obnoxious volume. Today was different however, thank God. The football team had practice and the baseball team was at some away function. When two teams were out of the tower it meant things would be substantially quieter. And Akira was taking full advantage of that. He’d packed his backpack with all the homework he hadn’t done yet and had headed to the common room to work on it. He didn’t think he was going to get much done, he rarely did when he worked in a public place, but he could at least look productive for a while, right?

Exiting the stairwell and opening the door with his hp Akira was in high spirits. Kent’s angry greeting put an instant damper on his mood and Akira barely held back a snarky reply back. Clearly the negative feelings from the Tornado’s game hadn’t subsided just yet. If at all with Kent. Personally Akira thought he was lucky to make it out of the game with only two yellow cards instead of red card but he figured telling him that would only make him angrier.

“Hello to you, jerk.” Akria said, breezing past him and dumping his backpack on the couch, grabbing the remote and turning off the TV. The room was empty aside from them and the quiet left in the wake of the TV getting turned off was profound, for a moment anyways. “Wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning or what?”

He should have been over it, should have been able to just go back to his room once they arrived back in Palmetto and let it wash away like the ocean waves he grew up around. Instead, Wymack had pulled Kent aside once they got off the bus to discuss his two yellow cards, only bringing forth a resurgence of the anger he’d felt right after the game. Then, he’d had to corral it for press duty, unless he wanted Wymack to bench him the next game or Grant to assign him more laps, but back at Fox Tower, he wasn’t in any situation where he had to stifle his anger. He probably should have around his team, but the striker simply couldn’t smother the flame so easily, and besides, it’s not like he was extremely close to most of the other players.

And Kent and Akira weren’t exactly close, despite how often they had to work together in practice. He didn’t care much if he had some sort of ideal relationship with his teammates, and he definitely didn’t need them to become some sort of “second family” to him. No, Kent Cheong was done with famly, biological or otherwise. It was much better to save himself the disappointment, frustration, and most importantly, the guilt in the long run.

Rolling his eyes at Akira, Kent shifted in his seat, his tense body language already setting the mood. “Doesn’t answer my question, superstar,” he replied monotonously. “What do you care, anyways?”

[kentcheongs-archive-blog]

striker-brayden:

Brayden couldn’t sleep the first night back in the Fox Tower, tossing and turning in his small mattress and staring at the numbers on the clock that only served to remind how much sleep he wasn’t getting. He finally gave up, tugging a sweatshirt over his head and grabbing his laptop before leaving the room. It wasn’t unlike him to have trouble sleeping, and he usually fixed it by drinking too much until he passed out, but practice didn’t stop just because they won, and he was on thin ice with Wymack, so showing up hungover wouldn’t bode well. Shuffling down the hallway, he made his way for the lounge when he found himself heading directly for Kent without realizing, the sudden cutting words throwing him off a bit with how sleep deprived he was.

“Jesus christ,” Brayden mumbled, running a hand over his face, exhaustion clear all over his features. “I don’t fucking know. A nap and a pizza? What the fuck do you want?” He moved past him to collapse on the nearby couch, kicking his legs out and fixing Kent with a perplexed look. It’s been a while since he saw the unforgiving angry side of Kent, but he figured it was bound to come out sooner or later. They did joke about Kent getting a tattoo of a red card, because it was sort of what he was known for. Brayden was surprised that he managed to leave that game with only two yellows. 

Of course the events of the game still plagued Kent. Things like this could typically roll off his broad shoulders after time to decompress (and maybe a few drinks post-game), but it wasn't hard to catalyze the return of his anger, especially after something like this. Sure, he could start fights during a game, but it seemed he was the angriest when he hadn't started a fight, but was carded nonetheless for starting it. He couldn't even argue his own point (but, then again, he didn't exactly debate the card in a rational manner) before he was sent off the field, and though he might have been grumbling about it for the next couple of practices, that anger would have ultimately been stored away to contribute to the next outburst's fire had it not been for Wymack. The coach had a few choice words for the striker (who had his own choice words in response but knew better than to voice them), leaving him steaming once he left the coach's office to return to Fox Tower. Now, he was face-to-face with Brayden, when really Kent shouldn't have been allowed around another human being until he calmed down. His anger was like a piece of hot metal, currently - not hot enough to burn bright red, but enough to burn one in general. One simply saw silver, unsure of the temperature, and though it almost seemed safe to touch, it almost never was. He didn't intend to burn Brayden, didn't intend to start this. He just couldn't help who he was, a slave to his guilt and a puppet for his anger. "Honestly, for Wymack to get off my ass, and for everyone else to get off my damn case. Maybe pizza, too."

[kentcheongs-archive-blog]

rossbutler: Let’s just try to have some fun, shall we? #theouttakes

[kentcheongs-archive-blog]

colinjessup:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[kentcheongs-archive-blog]

Press Duty || Arlo & Kent

Kent was already fuming from that second yellow card he was convinced he didn’t deserve, so naturally, the best course of action was to put him in a room of flashing lights and people who loved to push his buttons. He knew his goal wouldn’t matter when all they wanted was a good story. “Fox Striker Scores Amazing Goal” doesn’t earn as many clicks as “Fox Striker Flips On Field And Reporters.” In his pessimistic mind, it seemed as if they only ever wanted to provoke the beast inside, not caring that there was a very real man somewhere in there, even if it was deep down.

At least Arlo might have been more level-headed, Kent believed. He scored the game-winning goal, after all, and most importantly, he didn’t get kicked off the court. Plus, he likely had somewhat of a better reputation with the press than Kent did (he was barred from press duty for a while following what he would only ever cryptically refer to as “the freshman year fiasco”), so when the door opened and the Foxes were allowed into the room of clicking cameras and mumbling reporters, the junior nudged the fifth year in front of him, signaling for Arlo to enter first. “Let’s get this over with,” he sighed to his teammate.

[kentcheongs-archive-blog]

biancashay:

His response sent her chest spasming, the muscles contracting against her will so that her ribs stuttered with the tension. She didn’t understand but that didn’t stop her body from hurting.  Her mind was slow, almost underdeveloped in comparison to her body which seemed to have a better instinct. Her brows pulled tightewr as she stared up at him, the confusion unyeilding benieth wide eyes.

There was never a consideration of Kent being anything but pleasent. She imagined he would be hesitent, distant even but her intepretation of distance wasn’t quite this drastic. She imagined he would want time to think, questions to ask, that after some time he would come to her and say he wanted to know about their dad or even her. His complete lack of even interest boggled her, flickering away the images she had painted for herself.She didn’t understand

 It was less hurt that filled her voice, the honest curiosity and confusion once again taking over the rest. The waves that came fluctuated in meaning. “Why not?”

Kent felt nothing, at least not as he spoke to her. He didn’t feel the same upset emotions Bianca felt, did not feel sad or concerned or worried. He did, however, feel angry. Angry as she presented him with a common bond, angry as she mentioned the man who left him before he even knew what his voice sounded like, angry as she thought the blood relation would earn her a one-way ticket into his life. Kent didn’t even have friends who were closer than surface-level, and he liked it that way. He didn’t need people diving into the deeper, darker parts of him, exploring the guilt that lurked in every crevice and the anger that budded from it like rotten spores.

And he definitely didn’t need to be reminded of that guilt as he looked at her. They shared a father. She didn’t know about his mother, how she’d been dead for years, how Kent had cut off all ideas of family when she was lowered into the ground and his stepfather couldn’t even bring himself to put a comforting hand on Kent’s shoulder. He’d done this, in part. He hadn’t been there. He ran from his problems, instead. So now, Kent wouldn’t be there, ever, and it was easiest when there was no family to be there for, in the first place.

“Because I don’t want a sister. I don’t need you thinking that we’re something we’re not, or I’m going to be something I’m not just because you start sniffling when I tell you this shit doesn’t get a fairy tale ending, alright?”

First Encounter (Flash Back): KentxBianca