((Mason Ross debut))
The gym was empty; a common occurrence at Silver Dragon Academy. A school founded on tenets of academia and the fine arts, there weren't too many bodies that found themselves in need of a workout or sports. Even the school's athletic teams didn't tend to practice all that much.
For the most part, Mason was happy with it. On his free periods, he mostly spent his time in here, working on his shot or pretending he had an actual team there with him, running the drills he half remembered from his time on the middle school basketball team. But he was getting tired of that. He wished he had more people here, someone to pass the ball too, someone to practice picks with, someone to take up a goddamn team spot in this farce he starred in every weekday.
He was standing a few feet away from the 3-point line at one of the school court's hoops, dribbling the ball back and forth from hand to hand, then between his legs as he started advancing to the paint. The flow of the ball seemed like liquid. That was the one thing he'd managed to improve since going to SDA; he spent a lot of time working on his ball-handling since he had no one to work with, and he felt like his control was smoother with each free period practice session.
"Mason Ross has the ball, he's got three guys on him, what's he gonna do? He doesn't have anybody on his team open, and the shot clock's running down." He muttered to himself as he bounced the ball against the gym court. It was a game he played, imagining that he was a big name player on a pro team, in the dire situations. Made him feel like he wasn't just wasting his time.
Suddenly, Mason's body exploded. He pump-faked the ball to the left as if feeding one of his defenders a false pass, slid to the other side. He spun, imagined he was shaking off his stymied defender. He pressed on into the paint, driving forward powerfully. His shoes squeaked in frantic accompaniment as he attempted to clear the imaginary opposing team. In his mind he saw another defender lose their balance trying to keep up with him, saw him fall to the court and scrabble on hands and knees to try and get up.
"Two seconds on the clock, is he gonna take the shot?"
Mason did.
His body coiled, the ball resting on his right hand as he guided it with his left. Shot lined up, the spring of his body uncoiled and he jumped, his core powering his shot. The power of it came from the ground, through his legs, and went up through his arm. His wrist was relaxed as it followed through, putting the ball up into the air and sending it almost floating in a lazy arc toward the hoop.
The ball clacked on the rim, spun around, and bounced out.
"Fuck. Just lost the playoffs." Mason said, shook his head, and went to retrieve the ball and restart the process.
Above the Rim
Open Thread (SDA)
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Pippi
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(Inglorious debut of Glen Bole)
Glen wasn’t entirely sure why he was going to the gym. The equipment was subpar, there was barely anyone there, and when there was they were normally too fit and imposing to insult. Glen sighed slightly as he turned the corner to the gym. Maybe he could do some exercises or something...
“Mason Ross has the ball, he’s got three guys on him, what’s he gonna do? He doesn’t have anybody on his team open, and the shot clock’s running down.”
Glen wasn’t sure if he was more surprised that someone was actually in the gym, or that said someone was actually pretending to be a professional basketball player. He vaguely remembered the name Mason from a couple of his classes. “Well, this should be interesting” Glen thought as he pushed through the gym doors.
Glen recognized Mason as soon as he walked into the gym. He’d frequently made fun of Mason’s unusually long arms and legs, and Mason had never been fast enough to catch him. A grin crept onto Glen’s face, and he was about to yell some sort of insult at Mason, when suddenly, the tall boy took off like a rocket, dashing around the gym floor, accompanied by his squeaking shoes and continued commentary. Glen had to admit, the guy seemed pretty good. “Not as good as I’d be, obviously. Although if he was playing for a proper team, I bet he’d mess everything up” Glen thought. “Bet he screws up the shot as well.”
Sure enough, the ball clattered against the hoop’s rim, and bounced away. Glen let out a cruel laugh at the boy’s failure. “And here I thought I’d found someone with actual talent in this school” he said, striding towards Mason. “And really, that pro basketball player shit makes you seem even more stupid.”
Glen wasn’t entirely sure why he was going to the gym. The equipment was subpar, there was barely anyone there, and when there was they were normally too fit and imposing to insult. Glen sighed slightly as he turned the corner to the gym. Maybe he could do some exercises or something...
“Mason Ross has the ball, he’s got three guys on him, what’s he gonna do? He doesn’t have anybody on his team open, and the shot clock’s running down.”
Glen wasn’t sure if he was more surprised that someone was actually in the gym, or that said someone was actually pretending to be a professional basketball player. He vaguely remembered the name Mason from a couple of his classes. “Well, this should be interesting” Glen thought as he pushed through the gym doors.
Glen recognized Mason as soon as he walked into the gym. He’d frequently made fun of Mason’s unusually long arms and legs, and Mason had never been fast enough to catch him. A grin crept onto Glen’s face, and he was about to yell some sort of insult at Mason, when suddenly, the tall boy took off like a rocket, dashing around the gym floor, accompanied by his squeaking shoes and continued commentary. Glen had to admit, the guy seemed pretty good. “Not as good as I’d be, obviously. Although if he was playing for a proper team, I bet he’d mess everything up” Glen thought. “Bet he screws up the shot as well.”
Sure enough, the ball clattered against the hoop’s rim, and bounced away. Glen let out a cruel laugh at the boy’s failure. “And here I thought I’d found someone with actual talent in this school” he said, striding towards Mason. “And really, that pro basketball player shit makes you seem even more stupid.”
Mason couldn't see who it was that was letting off the peal of laughter at his expense, but he recognized it anyway. Glen Bole was a prick. A prick that found it prudent to unleash his prickery on Mason every so often. He had the ball back in his hand before he looked over his shoulder, resumed dribbling it before turning around to look at Glen. He made it a point to look disinterested in the kid, even as he wanted to punch him in his fucking mouth.
"Good to have goals, you know? Keeps me from wasting time." Mason said, and turned his back to Glen again.
He backed up to the 3-point line, and, following his own advice, wasted no time. He put the rock up right from line, and it went through the hoop, barely whispering as it made no contact with the rim. He walked, almost sauntered over to retrieve the ball.
Don't give him anything. Fucker'll start in if you give him anything.
He dribbled the ball up from the ground before popping it between his legs, casually, like he always did. He kept up a light, easy dribble as he walked back to the 3-point line.
He turned on the hoop, jumped, shot. The ball bounced off the backboard and sank. Three more points.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Mason asked as he went over to recover the ball once more.
"Good to have goals, you know? Keeps me from wasting time." Mason said, and turned his back to Glen again.
He backed up to the 3-point line, and, following his own advice, wasted no time. He put the rock up right from line, and it went through the hoop, barely whispering as it made no contact with the rim. He walked, almost sauntered over to retrieve the ball.
Don't give him anything. Fucker'll start in if you give him anything.
He dribbled the ball up from the ground before popping it between his legs, casually, like he always did. He kept up a light, easy dribble as he walked back to the 3-point line.
He turned on the hoop, jumped, shot. The ball bounced off the backboard and sank. Three more points.
"And to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Mason asked as he went over to recover the ball once more.
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Pippi
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Glen’s arrogant smirk started to fade at Mason’s calm answer, and disappeared completely as he managed to get the ball straight through the hoop. Damnit, since when had Mason Ross been able to stay this fucking calm?
“Meh. You got lucky with that one” Glen sneered, as Mason fetched the ball. Things just weren’t going his way today, and they got worse when Mason walked back to some line in that irritatingly calm way. Glen felt his hands bunch into fists, but forced himself to stay calm as well. Don’t even think about hitting him. Pampered little rich bitch’ll probably run off to the principal or something.
Glen noticed with dismay that Mason had managed to sink another shot. And he was still so goddamn calm! Forcing the smirk back onto his face, Glen answered the tall boy’s question.
“Oh, nothing much. Thought I might see how the pampered daddy’s boy deals with some actual hard work. Might do some running exercises or something. But if that ball comes anywhere near me, I swear, I’ll shove it up your rich, video game playing ass.” Glen’s grin had truly returned as he walked back to the side of the gym. Hopefully that’ll rattle him.
“Meh. You got lucky with that one” Glen sneered, as Mason fetched the ball. Things just weren’t going his way today, and they got worse when Mason walked back to some line in that irritatingly calm way. Glen felt his hands bunch into fists, but forced himself to stay calm as well. Don’t even think about hitting him. Pampered little rich bitch’ll probably run off to the principal or something.
Glen noticed with dismay that Mason had managed to sink another shot. And he was still so goddamn calm! Forcing the smirk back onto his face, Glen answered the tall boy’s question.
“Oh, nothing much. Thought I might see how the pampered daddy’s boy deals with some actual hard work. Might do some running exercises or something. But if that ball comes anywhere near me, I swear, I’ll shove it up your rich, video game playing ass.” Glen’s grin had truly returned as he walked back to the side of the gym. Hopefully that’ll rattle him.
"Moved on to sodomy already, Bole?"
Kevin Fielding did not like Glen Bole, and the feeling was probably mutual. Anyone who'd ever seen the two in the same room together knew that much. There were multiple reasons for this, any one of which Kevin could go on at length about, but a large part of it boiled down to the smaller boy being a mockery of everything Silver Dragon Academy stood for. He was a cowardly, classless little worm whose very existence lessened the Academy for it, and nothing seemed to make the boy understand what he was doing to himself, the school and every self-respecting SDA student. What was so hard to get?
Sure, Kevin wasn't a target of such foolishness himself - nobody wanted to try anything on someone his size - but the bullying and insults... they were just so beneath anyone who got into the Academy he couldn't quite put it to words. It manifested as a sort of bile instead, eating at the back of his mind and making his knuckles itch madly. His eyes narrowed, and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up on end. How dare Glen make them look so common? Where did he get off repaying the Academy like that? They were the ones who actually had a future, who would run this damn world, and there he was throwing it back in everybody's face.
It's treason, is what it is...
Whatever one called it, if Glen were to look behind himself while taunting Mason he'd see Kevin's big form entering the gym just in time to hear the smaller man's threat. A distinctly unimpressed look appeared on his face as he stalked over and addressed Glen, an unspoken challenge in his tone. It was almost more barked than said, as the large Junior straightened up and fixed his gaze on Glen, all but daring the troublemaker to turn round and face him.
He'd not had any intention of forcing Glen back into line when he came down to SDA's rather sad-looking gym, having been hoping to keep busy during his free period and maybe clear his mind a bit, but it seemed whatever powers were watching deemed it necessary to derail his plans for the moment. No matter, it was old hat for them anyway; knowing Glen he probably wouldn't stick around long enough to be put back in his place anyway. He rarely did when someone like Kevin turned up, to his knowledge.
Of course, usually that was fine with him; Bole's type weren't worth risking his future over by smacking them around too badly. Even if they really deserved it or it'd be particularly funny watching them squirm. He simply didn't want to go through the trouble, but every now and then, as he watched one of their lot scurry away, part of him stirred. A part that wanted an excuse to go after them; discipline was ideally under the staff's purview, but what could they do about someone who wouldn't settle down until someone showed them exactly why such behaviour wasn't acceptable?
No matter, it'd still be assault, legally speaking, and it wouldn't do for a lawyer to themselves have a criminal record, would it? So he just crossed his arms and waited to see what would unfold, adopting a cold sneer.
Kevin Fielding did not like Glen Bole, and the feeling was probably mutual. Anyone who'd ever seen the two in the same room together knew that much. There were multiple reasons for this, any one of which Kevin could go on at length about, but a large part of it boiled down to the smaller boy being a mockery of everything Silver Dragon Academy stood for. He was a cowardly, classless little worm whose very existence lessened the Academy for it, and nothing seemed to make the boy understand what he was doing to himself, the school and every self-respecting SDA student. What was so hard to get?
Sure, Kevin wasn't a target of such foolishness himself - nobody wanted to try anything on someone his size - but the bullying and insults... they were just so beneath anyone who got into the Academy he couldn't quite put it to words. It manifested as a sort of bile instead, eating at the back of his mind and making his knuckles itch madly. His eyes narrowed, and he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing up on end. How dare Glen make them look so common? Where did he get off repaying the Academy like that? They were the ones who actually had a future, who would run this damn world, and there he was throwing it back in everybody's face.
It's treason, is what it is...
Whatever one called it, if Glen were to look behind himself while taunting Mason he'd see Kevin's big form entering the gym just in time to hear the smaller man's threat. A distinctly unimpressed look appeared on his face as he stalked over and addressed Glen, an unspoken challenge in his tone. It was almost more barked than said, as the large Junior straightened up and fixed his gaze on Glen, all but daring the troublemaker to turn round and face him.
He'd not had any intention of forcing Glen back into line when he came down to SDA's rather sad-looking gym, having been hoping to keep busy during his free period and maybe clear his mind a bit, but it seemed whatever powers were watching deemed it necessary to derail his plans for the moment. No matter, it was old hat for them anyway; knowing Glen he probably wouldn't stick around long enough to be put back in his place anyway. He rarely did when someone like Kevin turned up, to his knowledge.
Of course, usually that was fine with him; Bole's type weren't worth risking his future over by smacking them around too badly. Even if they really deserved it or it'd be particularly funny watching them squirm. He simply didn't want to go through the trouble, but every now and then, as he watched one of their lot scurry away, part of him stirred. A part that wanted an excuse to go after them; discipline was ideally under the staff's purview, but what could they do about someone who wouldn't settle down until someone showed them exactly why such behaviour wasn't acceptable?
No matter, it'd still be assault, legally speaking, and it wouldn't do for a lawyer to themselves have a criminal record, would it? So he just crossed his arms and waited to see what would unfold, adopting a cold sneer.
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Slayer.
Glen's comment about shoving the ball into a certain orifice almost made Mason lose it. As it stood, he had to stop in mid-shot and go back to dribbling, his eye twitching but hidden as he kept his back to the asshole. He was seriously pondering turning and punching him in his bitch mouth when he heard another voice, another one that he was familiar with.
Most people knew Kevin Fielding, knew he was all about maintaining 'class' and 'civility' among the private schools. A model old-money student. Mason didn't talk to him that much, didn't have a -whole- lot against him (Probably because he kept to himself half the time). And now here he was backing...backing him up?
Not really. He just seemed to be peeved at Glen. Whatever, Mason would take whatever he could get. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Kevin standing with arms folded and sneer firmly entrenched on his face. He tried to catch eyes with Kevin, let him know he was some kind of grateful, but he didn't think it took. Then he turned and fired off another shot, this one a little loose on the way from his hand to the basket. It bounced on the rim a few times before rolling in, barely.
Most people knew Kevin Fielding, knew he was all about maintaining 'class' and 'civility' among the private schools. A model old-money student. Mason didn't talk to him that much, didn't have a -whole- lot against him (Probably because he kept to himself half the time). And now here he was backing...backing him up?
Not really. He just seemed to be peeved at Glen. Whatever, Mason would take whatever he could get. He glanced over his shoulder, seeing Kevin standing with arms folded and sneer firmly entrenched on his face. He tried to catch eyes with Kevin, let him know he was some kind of grateful, but he didn't think it took. Then he turned and fired off another shot, this one a little loose on the way from his hand to the basket. It bounced on the rim a few times before rolling in, barely.
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Pippi
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To Glen’s delight, Mason finally seemed to have cracked, as he had stopped in mid-shot. Come on. Just try and insult me, bitch. But then, to Glen’s disappointment, Mason simply went back to dribbling. Seriously? Seriously?! How the hell are you so calm?
Glen heard the gym door open, but he was so annoyed he barely registered it. However, when he heard the slightly familiar voice behind him insulting him-Insulting him! Glen Bole, getting insulted!-he completely lost it. Turning to face whoever it was, Glen said, his tone louder than usual, “And what the fuck do you wan-" Glen’s voice trailed off, and his heart stopped as he saw who had been speaking. He knew he had recognised the voice. It was the huge, lumbering figure known as Kevin Fielding.
Oh shit.
OH SHIT.
Glen would never admit he was scared of anyone, but Kevin was one of the few people at Silver Dragon that could keep him in line. Taller and stronger than he was, Glen made sure he never did anything to piss Kevin off.
Except he’d just insulted him.
Stay calm, stay calm! Think of an excuse before he CRUSHES YOU.
Walking quickly backwards, Glen realised he was speaking at ridiculously fast speeds. “Uh, h-hi Kevin! So-sorry about that little remark there, j-just a small joke between friends, haha! Same deal with Mason, right?” Glen wished he had telekinesis right now, so he could convey to Mason his thoughts of If you don’t agree with me, you’re gonna watch a man die.
Glen heard the gym door open, but he was so annoyed he barely registered it. However, when he heard the slightly familiar voice behind him insulting him-Insulting him! Glen Bole, getting insulted!-he completely lost it. Turning to face whoever it was, Glen said, his tone louder than usual, “And what the fuck do you wan-" Glen’s voice trailed off, and his heart stopped as he saw who had been speaking. He knew he had recognised the voice. It was the huge, lumbering figure known as Kevin Fielding.
Oh shit.
OH SHIT.
Glen would never admit he was scared of anyone, but Kevin was one of the few people at Silver Dragon that could keep him in line. Taller and stronger than he was, Glen made sure he never did anything to piss Kevin off.
Except he’d just insulted him.
Stay calm, stay calm! Think of an excuse before he CRUSHES YOU.
Walking quickly backwards, Glen realised he was speaking at ridiculously fast speeds. “Uh, h-hi Kevin! So-sorry about that little remark there, j-just a small joke between friends, haha! Same deal with Mason, right?” Glen wished he had telekinesis right now, so he could convey to Mason his thoughts of If you don’t agree with me, you’re gonna watch a man die.
"Really? Mason doesn't seem amused."
In fact, Mason didn't seem to be paying any attention whatsoever, ignoring the two men in favour of continuing to shoot. For a moment, he thought the basketball player had shot him a look, so he gave Mason a quick nod, but it was gone almost before Kevin noticed. Fair enough, but it still left the matter of one Mister Bole. Glen hadn't scurried off yet like Kevin assumed would happen, stammering out what seemed to be a rather half-arsed apology and excuse. You couldn't trust anything Glen's ilk said beyond whatever they needed to save their own worthless hides, just like the vermin outside the Academy's walls. At least that could be turned to a proper gentleman's advantage, though...
"How about you try that again?" Kevin nodded to Mason, who still didn't seem very attentive, as his expression shifted to a scowl. "Man up and give a real apology for shooting your mouth off, before I get tempted to teach you some respect."
Kevin's posture tensed up, the look in his eyes silently daring Glen to give him an excuse to do just that. Runts like him weren't fellow classmates, they were mistakes to be corrected, especially when they got this uppity. His teeth ground together slightly, and a fist clenched, gripping his sleeve tightly. Would anyone really mind if Glen showed up to his next class with a black eye? He somehow doubted it...
Come on, Bole. Make your move...
((Was a bit stumped, made a quick post to keep the thread moving. Future posts will be better. Sorry.))
In fact, Mason didn't seem to be paying any attention whatsoever, ignoring the two men in favour of continuing to shoot. For a moment, he thought the basketball player had shot him a look, so he gave Mason a quick nod, but it was gone almost before Kevin noticed. Fair enough, but it still left the matter of one Mister Bole. Glen hadn't scurried off yet like Kevin assumed would happen, stammering out what seemed to be a rather half-arsed apology and excuse. You couldn't trust anything Glen's ilk said beyond whatever they needed to save their own worthless hides, just like the vermin outside the Academy's walls. At least that could be turned to a proper gentleman's advantage, though...
"How about you try that again?" Kevin nodded to Mason, who still didn't seem very attentive, as his expression shifted to a scowl. "Man up and give a real apology for shooting your mouth off, before I get tempted to teach you some respect."
Kevin's posture tensed up, the look in his eyes silently daring Glen to give him an excuse to do just that. Runts like him weren't fellow classmates, they were mistakes to be corrected, especially when they got this uppity. His teeth ground together slightly, and a fist clenched, gripping his sleeve tightly. Would anyone really mind if Glen showed up to his next class with a black eye? He somehow doubted it...
Come on, Bole. Make your move...
((Was a bit stumped, made a quick post to keep the thread moving. Future posts will be better. Sorry.))
This is an archival account used by staff to port posts belonging to the former handler Slayer.
Mason may have looked like he wasn't paying attention, but that was a front. He was definitely interested in whatever Kevin was going to, if only knock Glen down a peg. A prick getting the business wasn't something to be ignored, and by now Mason was dribbling slower, looking over his shoulder every so often. When he heard Kevin demand an apology, Mason smiled, just a little bit. He shot a glance to Kevin one more time, this one more definitive, let him see the smile.
After that, Mason took another shot, getting nothing but net. Having Glen get chewed out behind him was doing wonders for his game. Maybe he should have tried it more often. He ran over and retrieved the ball again, resuming dribbling but keeping an eye on the proceedings, wanting to see how Glen was going to try to get his way out of this one.
After that, Mason took another shot, getting nothing but net. Having Glen get chewed out behind him was doing wonders for his game. Maybe he should have tried it more often. He ran over and retrieved the ball again, resuming dribbling but keeping an eye on the proceedings, wanting to see how Glen was going to try to get his way out of this one.
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Pippi
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For some odd reason, Kevin didn’t seem to accept Glen’s well structured and thought out excuse, instead insulting him some more. If it had been anyone else, Glen would have insulted him back, and it would have gone on how things normally did; the tormented would have skulked off, and Glen would look for another victim. But, yeah. Kevin Fielding was certainly not anyone else. Although Glen’s urge to insult someone certainly increased when he saw Mason smirking like an idiot. He had to resist though, or risk a possible beating up from Kevin.
It was then that Glen noticed Kevin’s hands clench into fists.
OH FUCK.
OH FUCK QUICK QUICK THINK OF SOMETHING.
Glen couldn’t run; Kevin was directly in front of the Gym doors, and would probably break Glen’s neck if he tried to trick him. That left only one option: apologize to Mason. Seriously, this is such bullshit. Why the fuck should I apologize? Not like I hurt him or anything. Glen almost sighed deeply, but stopped at the last second. Might just tip Kevin over the edge. Instead, Glen simply turned towards Mason.
“So, uh, y-yeah! Mason, buddy! Sorry about that... remark back there. Just been having a, uh... bad day and all. So, yeah! Sorry, really!” There. Perfect. Satisfied with himself, Glen turned back to the towering figure of Kevin. “There. Can I leave?”
It was then that Glen noticed Kevin’s hands clench into fists.
OH FUCK.
OH FUCK QUICK QUICK THINK OF SOMETHING.
Glen couldn’t run; Kevin was directly in front of the Gym doors, and would probably break Glen’s neck if he tried to trick him. That left only one option: apologize to Mason. Seriously, this is such bullshit. Why the fuck should I apologize? Not like I hurt him or anything. Glen almost sighed deeply, but stopped at the last second. Might just tip Kevin over the edge. Instead, Glen simply turned towards Mason.
“So, uh, y-yeah! Mason, buddy! Sorry about that... remark back there. Just been having a, uh... bad day and all. So, yeah! Sorry, really!” There. Perfect. Satisfied with himself, Glen turned back to the towering figure of Kevin. “There. Can I leave?”