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In BHHS: Limitless → 5 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay



“A-ho Charlie,

I still don’t fully understand this whole need of yours to communicate via letters…well I mean I do, it’s because you’re a nerd who loves to read and you’re also terrible at answering your phone but I digress. It’s been a little while since we last spoke, the move out west was hectic and trying to slot myself into a brand new life has been tough. Tell me again why I decided to do this? Anyway, Decky and the crew say hi! Aunt Jadyn says don’t knock Poppy up. Seriously though don’t do it, we can’t afford a baby. Wrap your tool big brother. Also tell her I love her and miss her.

Well what can I say really? Beverly Hills is a completely different animal to the Reservation and Gravette. We thought we had it rough, these kids, by the Creator, they are an absolute mess. Seriously, Charlie Jay, I am absolutely surrounded by Alexis and David Rose’s. You would have a conniption and probably wanna pull guns. Not even kidding, my first day here I saw a group of girls doing a choreographed dance number on the roof. Like who even does that?

Once I got all my stuff moved into Jadyn’s I decided to go out and look for a job before the first week of school started. Luckily, most places here are always hiring part time staff, so it didn’t take long for me to get signed up to this little coffee shop called Plouf. I know Jadyn said I could stay with her free of charge but I’m not gonna let auntie take me in and not pay her something back. I wasn’t raised like that.

Still trying to get a bead on the social situation here. There’s a lot of cliques and clubs here, it’s damn near tribal. We’ve got the Hive, there’s an Elite here too! There are literally two open drug running groups called the PLC and the Toxic Twins, like how even does that work? Fucking white people. I’ve met a few people who seem cool, like my new colleagues at Plouf, Penny and Kim. This girl, Isla, is absolute adorbs. There’s also a lot of potential here for me to get my flirt on. And before you roll your eyes like I know you are absolutely doing as you’re reading this; your baby sister is single and allowed to mingle. Not all of us get to live next to our soulmates all our lives. There’s some big party tonight, maybe I’ll meet someone or someones. You know me, love enough for everyone.

The homesickness is getting real now. I know it’ll pass in time, I know I’ll find my people here and I can grow towards the light with them like a bundle of flowers but it doesn’t mean I miss everyone any less. Topanga, Heather, Forrest and you, you stupid shitass. I wish you were here but I know you’ve got your senior year to deal with too and obviously your time is consumed with Pops and writing the next great American novel. Still, if at any point you wanna come visit, I wouldn’t be against it.

I guess I’ll leave you with this quote I found the other day from Chief Dan George of the Tsleil-Waututh Nation;
May the stars carry your sadness away. May the flowers fill your heart with beauty. May hope forever wipe away your tears. And, above all, may silence make you strong.

It made me think of you, you know since you can’t go a single conversation without quoting something from a dusty old book. The libraries are huge here Charlie Jay, you’d love them.

Konoronhkwa
Your sister,
Mitena.”


With the letter safety deposited in the nearest post box and her latest big hat purchase safely adorned on the top of her raven head, Tena tapped the side of her AirPods, the song playing a gentle reminder of those she left behind. Paint the Silence was going to be her brother's wedding song someday. She tightly held the string of her satchel with both hands and began the short walk towards her new school.

Her outfit of the day was bold and would no doubt draw some attention to her but that didn’t much matter to her. Mitena was a quick study and an avid learner. She knew that the majority of her new compatriots loved to have all eyes on them and that was fine. She hadn’t joined the student body of Beverly Hills High to steal a crown or win a popularity contest. She had done so in search of that elusive thing called adventure.

Life in its early stages had not been too kind for Mitena Strongbow. Her father James had already breathed his last breath in this world before she had taken her first. The Reservation that was raised on didn’t have much, most kids were sent away for schooling. It was truly destitute but Tena was happy there. She had her Mom and her aunties and the community always looked out for its own.

Then her Mom got the diagnosis that they had all been dreading; cancer. She fought with all she could but soon she was gone and Tena was alone.
She bounced around from there; house to house, friend to friend, then one day she received a letter from a boy named Charlie. He spoke like someone with a vast education and claimed to be her brother through James, born a month before her. It was the curiosity and want for excitement that led her to jump on a train to Gravette to meet this boy. When she arrived, Tena didn’t find her long lost brother in the throes of high society, a tortured poet amongst the upper class, she found a boy, in dirty black jeans, a leather jacket and deeply embedded in the underbelly and macabre landscape of a forgotten time and place.

She loved him instantly.

After that, Mitena regularly took the train to see her brother and his friends, some of whom became like a new family for her. Before the end of her junior year of high school, she received a call from her aunt Jadyn; who asked if she wanted to come stay with her and experience her senior year under the shining light of the Hollywoodland sign. At first she was unsure but Charlie told her that some of his friends had moved out that way so she wouldn’t be alone. Plus he reminded her of a promise Tena had made to her mother once upon a time; a promise that she would never allow adventure to pass her by. So, she accepted and after selling most of her belongings, the young indigenous girl found herself on a plane to the land of make believe to see truly how the other half lived.

With the song still reverberating in her ears, Tena wandered the halls towards her homeroom, her eyes dancing like flickering candles as she watched the people around her. There were young couples, lost and in love, like the theatre girl and the metal head, there were boys up to mischief, there was whatever the fuck that Addie girl was, truly if BHHS was an island it would be one for misfit toys. Perhaps it was Neverland and she was now wading through the armies that called themselves the Lost Boys?

Wherever she was, Mitena Strongbow was ready to take it on head first. Like her brother always said ”There was a tide in the affairs of men.” And when that tide became a wave, she intended to ride it all the way to the end and see what was beyond the horizon.
In BHHS: Limitless → 9 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
LOCATION: Kim's Residence ➜ Plouf ➜ School Hallway
TIMESTAMP: Early morning, before Homeroom.
Text to Katie at the end @smarty0114

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@BrutalBx & @LovelyComplex

One thing that someone could never accuse the Osso household of being was quiet. Vincent and Capri knew that they wanted a big traditional Italian family. So when they moved from New Jersey to LA when Vince got a big promotion, they knew that was the time to get started in fulfilling their dreams.

Robert was first, every inch looking just like his father: same temperament too. Quiet, subdued but authoritative. He served in the marines and was now working in private security, Clarissa was their darling, bright and clever. She was essentially a mirror to their mother. She was a teacher. Sienna was the middle child, a creative and highly intelligent young woman working in law. The baby of the family was Richard, a sophomore at BHHS, he was treated as such by his family, much to his own chagrin. Amidst the sea of Osso’s there was one more sibling, Anthony or as he liked to be called, Oz. The Osso’s did not believe in the concept of a black sheep in the family but if ever there was one, it was Ozzy.

With a wild mane of frizzy chocolate brown hair, tattoos on his arms and chest and a wardrobe that would not look out of place in the 1980’s, Oz was entering into his senior year of high school no longer the devout Italian catholic choir boy he was raised to be. Vincent blamed himself for this. Antonio Tiziano Osso had two Godfathers, one was his fathers best friend of many years, Tiziano Belmonte and the other was Jon Bongiovi, yes that Bon Jovi, whom Vince was neighbors with back in Perth Amboy, New Jersey. It didn’t take a genius to work out who was the bigger influence on young Anthony.

The large house was always in great chaos, with kids running around, grandkids running around, different genres of music blaring from every bedroom. It was messy and it was hectic but it was also fun. Ozzy was usually the last of the family to wake up, normally because he’d been out partying the night before or his Dungeons and Dragons campaign ran into the wee hours. However this first week back at BHHS had been different to the norm, Oz was one of the first up and out of the door. What changed this year? Well he had something to wake up for.

Her name was Kim.

Ozzy’s vintage Harley Chopper purred through the gleaming and shining streets of Beverly Hills as he rode his way towards his First Lady of Rock. He had his Rich Warlock guitar slung around his back, the stereo cranked up to eleven and the wind throwing his hair back like a God. Kim and Oz were two people that you could never picture together but then when you see them, they make all the sense they can in a fucked up world. She, the theatre beauty, perceptive and wise beyond her years. Somewhat of a wallflower in comparison to some of her more dramatic compatriots. Ozzy, a throwback rabble rouser with an army of freaks and geeks who hung upon his every word like he was the messiah of the misfits.

They were not meant to be together.

Yet on that fateful summer night, Kimber found herself alone at the Drive In, at the exact same time that Oz was called to help fix a mechanical fault. There she was, by herself, watching a damn monster movie. Maybe it was the way the old projector lit up her smile or that cute red skirt she was wearing but Ozzy couldn’t help but invite himself into her parents’ car that she had taken for the evening and find himself falling in love instantly. He had been touched by some ancient runic magic or maybe he had just listened to too many power ballads that day but either way, the last ceased to exist when he looked at her face.

The bike began to slow as Oz pulled into Kim’s street. He slowly came to a stop outside her house and already her neighbours were poking their judgemental heads out of their curtains to see the reprobate in their way to pristine looking cul-de-sac. “I’ll show you, ya fucking shitsticks.” With a wry smile on his face and throwing up the devil horns in full view, Ozzy turned up his radio and began to belt out the lyrics of Meatloaf's Bat Out Of Hell. Opera Rock was rock too bitch.

“The sirens are screaming and the fires are howling
Way down in the valley tonight
There's a man in the shadows with a gun in his eye
And a blade shining oh so bright.”

Where there was chaos, there was order. Disorder had a secret order, purpose and meaning and at times, chaos was more organized than order. Order could be too restrictive, rigid, and rigorous, while chaos could be too complex, confusing, and challenging. Together though? They made sense. They needed one another and balanced each other out in the end. Order, no matter how Kimber Benson looked at it, was an absolute necessity. She needed a routine. She needed her checklists. She needed minimal blemishes and minimal wrinkles. She needed things to make sense.

Reason being? Kim was never one for change or disruption during her day. Everything she did had a distinct flow to it. Her mind was chaotic enough with ideas constantly hitting her at random times that she absolutely needed everything else to stay in their place. Growing up it was her and her mother versus the world. She was able to dream big, create worlds and play make believe in her favorite place in the world: home. Things were simple. Her mother would write and she would curiously ask her questions and listen to her stories. She’d also scribble her own stories which at first was illegible because she didn’t know how to write. As she grew older and became literate, what she wrote was clear as day. When her pen met paper the ideas flowed like a free and flowing stream. Sometimes the ideas rushed out and spun like a whirlpool. And other times? The ideas fell into a black hole never to return again. Her chaotic mind, dazed and confused, overstimulated at the most inopportune moments. Her chaotic mind existed because she couldn’t help but dream. Her chaotic mind needed order.

When her mom met her step dad, which included a step brother, her world came crashing and she found herself outside her house, more often than not, with her best friend, Katie, who was a constant in her life. Constants were good. Constants were great. Constants meant nothing’s changed. In time she was able to adjust and accept her new family but it still took time. The next challenging obstacle that forced her to adjust was when Katie met Scott. Imagine having a friend for so long and then a boy comes around and takes her away from you. That, of course, was only how she perceived it due to her inability to accept change right away. Thankfully she had Niles who became a constant gradually and steadily freshman year. His mom’s death was a hard thing to process but she allowed herself to show up and be his constant, because as fragile as she can be, he needed stability, repetition and uniformity more than her. She’d like to think her hate for change became more manageable after that tragedy. Change was inevitable and it was up to her to continue onward and adjust. She had no choice but to adjust.

Now Kim was dating a boy, who she got more acquainted with during the summer, that was mayhem and madness incarnate. She didn’t expect to have company while watching Godzilla. He saw her and asked if he could join. She was lost for words and before she knew it, he was in her car, giving her a goofy smile and they were sharing popcorn. This simple chance encounter led to them exchanging phone numbers, texting all summer, and going on more dates than she could count. This was different for her. It was clearly a change but she liked it and that was new.

While she was more willing and open minded, there were times where Kim knew she was going to malfunction from his unpredictability, from his randomness, and from his rowdy behavior, and during those instances, he somehow knew how to handle her with care. It was different. It wasn't a bad different. It was just different. With her brother off to college and her parents on their annual anniversary trip, Kim had the house to herself. She didn’t tell her boyfriend because there were many factors she needed to consider like what if he wanted to stay over the night? What if she was tossed around by fate and suddenly they both were in the same bed and things escalated? What if they had… sex? Yeah, no, she couldn’t have that happen. Not yet. She didn’t know if she was ready or not.

It wasn’t that she was defensive either. Kim was a cautious girl and it seemed that Anthony Osso gave her this unusual impulse where she wanted to throw all caution out the door. With him, she could never predict what happens next and Kim liked knowing what happens next. She liked having a hold on the chaos. She liked the peace in knowing what to expect and understanding what she was feeling before she felt any feeling. With Anthony Osso, she was completely and utterly out of her element and the only thing she could do was go with the flow, hoping she didn’t drown in the process.

In a red cardigan, black skirt, knee high nude nylons, and ankle boots, Kim inched the front door to her house open to see Oz waiting for her on his bike (god, she still wasn’t used to riding on a motorcycle to school). He was howling and roaring, causing a mild disruption in her quiet, little neighborhood. He was unabashedly himself and he was happy. Handsome. Taking a quick breath, the dainty writer nodded, building up the courage to approach him, like she did everyday since they started to officially date. Exiting her house, closing it behind her and making sure it was locked, Kim met his gaze and gave a little smile. After tightening her backpack straps and securing her bag, she strolled to the boy, her heart skipping a beat the closer she got. “Good morning, Meatball,” she coyly greeted and teased. “I hope the ride here wasn’t too rough.”

"My dearest lady, what is life without a few speed bumps?” Ozzy smiled that goofy smile of his as he responded to his girlfriend in a mock English accent, which admittedly was not terrible. He climbed off of his bike, took one hand to his chest and swept the other out as he bowed his wild head of hair to the throne of his beloved.

Anthony knew Kim to be sensitive but had never truly understood the ins and outs of it until they began talking over the summer. It was part of the reason he was taken aback when their relationship progressed to where it currently was as boyfriend/girlfriend. Ozzy was mad, bad, dangerous to know and had been accused of everything from vandalism (he did it), theft (only a candy bar or five) and starting a cult (it was just a dungeon campaign but the nerds would do anything he said). If Beauty and the Beast truly existed, they were standing outside of Kimber Benson’s, out blasting classic rock.

Oz placed his hands on his girlfriend's waist and leaned on to gently kiss her soft cheek. “You look really pretty today.” The reality was simple, Anthony had fallen hard and fallen fast for Kim. The last thing he ever wanted to do was pressure her or make her feel in any way uncomfortable around him. He knew that PDA was not her thing, especially since there were so many who didn’t even know they were together yet, including Kim’s best friend. For her, the metal man was as soft as butter. On their first “date” at the drive in, when he invited himself to watch Godzilla with her; she said she thought he might be mean and scary, that stung. Even with his brand of chaos, the one thing Oz prided himself on was being a good man, a nice guy. He was always a gentleman, always polite, he just had a habit of unleashing a rabid tribe of frustrated geeks and freaks onto the populace. But mean and scary? That was an eye opener for sure.

"You ready?”

For this matter specifically, riding a motorcycle, Kim was wearing shorts under her skirt. She also made sure it was slim and straight fit to prevent flapping. She didn’t own many black articles of clothing and she didn't necessarily like wearing jeans. She made it work even if it was a little embarrassing. Nodding at her boyfriend, she grabbed his helmet hanging off the handle (he only brought one for her, which wasn’t safe at all since he should be wearing one too!) and gradually put it on her head, hoping her hair didn’t get ruined that much. She waited for Oz to get on his bike mounting from the left side. Watching him quietly, he shifted the bike upright and kicked up the side stand. He proceeded to glance at her which was her signal to get on. With Oz balanced, she did just that, following the steps he had gone over with her when they first started going to school together. As both of her feet rested on the foot pegs, Kim’s petite arms wrapped around his waist, holding him tightly. She was secured and: “Ready,” she finally answered.

”Then let’s rock.” Ozzy revved the engine multiple times before throwing up the devil horns and letting loose a Gene Simmons-eaque tongue for the neighbors to grimace at. He kicked the pedal and the Harley roasted into monstrous life. Anthony pulled the bike around the smooth circle that was the cul-de-sac before opening up the gas to allow for them to shoot out towards the rest of their day.

It might seem to most that Oz rode like a madman and in some respects he did. However with Kim on the back, he was not no way no how risking her safety. He just wouldn’t do it. The steel horse which acted as the young couple's chariot was his most prized possession next to the vintage guitar and leather jacket that Kim got him. Oz took such care of the beautiful machine, treating it finer the more gentle than he would a child. And he would know because he used to throw his brother Ricky around like he was a potato. It was fine, he had that disease that made his bones all weird, he could take it.

After a relatively short ride; Oz stopped the bike outside of Plouf, this hot little cafe just shy of the school grounds. Kim worked there, along with a few of their friends and it had the best breakfast pastries. Kimmy always liked to be early, so the early dawn couple had time before they had to be at school. The metal Lord hopped off the bike and once he had dusted himself off, slowly removed Kim’s helmet as she remained seated and hung it on the handle bars. “Look at you, absolutely perfect.” He smiled at her as his large hands came up to pat down a tiny amount of stray hairs adorning her auburn hair. “”You want breakfast or a coffee? My treat.”

Actively skipping over the compliment, she looked up at him. “Breakfast. Bacon, egg and cheese on an everything bagel, with OJ, please and thank you.” Kim was quick to answer, having finally gotten into a place in their relationship where she was willing to let him treat her. A month ago she would’ve rushed to pay and tell him that he didn’t need to, she could take care of herself, but with time she was able to put her pride down and let him treat her. She would be lying if she said she didn’t like how it made her feel, being taken care of. “We can get my discount too.” she said matter of factly, happy about the perks that came with the job. Intently their gaze lingered on one another. She wanted to kiss him but didn’t have the courage to initiate. Instead she gave him her sweet, serene and shy simper and broke the tension by heading in first. “Your lady is waiting and hungry.”

In some ways, it was the innocence of Kimber that really drew Oz in. It was captivating to watch her discover and feel things for the first time, things that she had walled herself off from. There was a kind of magic in the beholding of a person truly experiencing something that they never had before. There were small moments, like the one they just had, where he would look at her lips and she would look at his and he could tell by the sparkle on the big brown eyes that she wanted to kiss him but didn’t bring herself to. Not because she didn’t want to but the moment, the need and yearning, she hadn’t had that before. Oz was her first boyfriend, the first real one and he didn’t want her to regret that. The future was the future and he didn’t know what it held or what experiences were to follow for them as individuals and as a couple but he wanted to wait and find out.

He followed her into Plouf and watched her hand over the sexy ass black card which got her a decent discount. Usually it was Kim on the other side of the counter, or Penny or that new girl whose name he hadn’t learned to pronounce yet. Of course she ordered her breakfast bagel and juice without even a second blink, Kimmy was a creature of habit after all. ”Fried egg sandy for me, grazie gentilmente.” Ozzy tapped his phone on the card reader after the cashier had rung up their order and then returned his attention to Kim. ”They’ll bring it out to us, come on. I want to sit outside.” He nodded to the server with a smile. ”Cheers kemosabe.”

Oz soon led Kim to a tiny garden to the side of Plouf, they were the only ones there and the sun was perfectly glowing around them as he took a seat but kept a hold of her hand. ”Come here, sit.”

As they sat down, Kim took a moment to breathe and relax, placing her backpack by her foot. Her shoulders eased, her lips parted, and her heart steadied. The sun was warm. It gleamed down on her face and made her comfy and cozy. It wasn’t blinding, not yet at least. It was too early for the sun to be at its peak. She took in the fresh air and smiled to herself. She loved mornings. The quiet, the nature, and the peace of it all. This would be her favorite part of the day when she could sit, whether alone or with Oz, and enjoy the calm. Mornings were lovely and it made her appreciate the little things. It made her happy.

Daydreaming was something that came often to Kim, so much so that she sometimes didn’t realize when she was in a trance, stuck in her world of imagination. It wasn’t until she brought her attention from a flower with a bee resting on it to the person sitting across from her that she noticed how careful Oz was watching her. How focused and unwavering. His mind didn’t wander when he was with her and that was different to say the least. To be all someone thought about in a moment, she couldn’t really fathom that he loved her like that. Why would he love her like that? She was average. Nothing special.

Warm blood was sent to her fair cheeks when their eyes met again and she suddenly felt hot, and not just because of the sun. She didn’t want to look like an unsophisticated fool unable to hold a conversation with a boy she cared about deeply. Kim struggled. When she was with Oz she was tongue tied and she couldn’t think straight. She didn’t want him to regret ever taking a chance with her but why was it so hard to act normal? Was this how they were going to be for the rest of the year or was this the feeling you experience during the beginning of all relationships where you learn to adjust and get used to affection from someone else? Kim didn’t know. She may never know. Why couldn’t she know? God, she was so out of her element.

Clearing her throat, Kim modestly began, “Katie is caught up with Jamie and AJ again… I’m hoping this weekend, maybe even at the game today I can tell her about you. It’s so easy to get Niles to listen. Katie. Well, obviously, not so much. But I really want her to know we’re dating. I’m sorry if I’ve been making you feel any type of way. It’s not that I don’t want to, I promise.” It was the mere fact she didn’t know when was a good time nor did she want her friend to think she was taking the spotlight from her. Katie was a busy girl, and with the student election approaching, that was keeping her occupied. Add her time with Scott and her brother’s drama, that left little room for Kim to bring up anything about herself. Lately, their relationship felt one sided but that could be Kim’s insecurities getting the best of her. Katie was her best friend, no doubt, and she knew if she just spoke up she’d listen. She just had to… speak up. “I really like you, Anthony.” She admitted, trying her best to not look away like the blushing bride that she was.

”And I really like you too, Kimber.” Oz teased. Kim was one of only a few he would allow to use his Christian name. Hell, she could even use Antonio and he wouldn’t hate it. Every word sung through her ruby painted lips were hymns and gospel to his ears. “Listen.” He used both of his hands to cover hers and held them together in unison, entwined like their lives had become. “I don’t know if you’ve realized this about me but…I’m a fucking weirdo.” Oz’s grin widened from ear to ear; despite his admittedly scary visage, his smile was always warm and welcoming. “Katie is your best friend and she will love whatever choices you make in your life. You can tell her about me tonight or you can tell her about me a year from now, honestly it doesn’t bother me because I either really like being your dirty little secret or I just like being with you..”

He picked Kim’s hands up to kiss her knuckles; the heat of the growing sun baring down like a comfort blanket. “I have never needed anyone’s approval in my life. Babe, my family wears suits at the dinner table. I ain’t conforming to that shit and I’m sure as shit not going to conform to the rules and regulations of a high school teen drama. OK?” Ozzy let out a short, stifled laugh. “I want you, like to infinitum but I also want you to be happy and comfortable and safe. So you gotta' do things in your own time.”

The server brought out their breakfasts and placed them in front of them. As she did, Oz let go of Kim’s hand for a second to rip the girl cash before she moved on. “One day; you are going to find something, that same something you use when your writing and your gonna bask in it and you’re gonna grow in it and this fucking world isn’t gonna know what hit them and I’ll be behind you every step of the way. Shredding my guitar and riding your coattails. Cos we fucking rock babe, you’re my lady and I’m your meatball.”

“You say that so assuredly,” Kim impulsively responded. The doubt setting in, after hearing all the sweetest little things that Oz believed and felt. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe him. She had no reason not to. She wanted to fully give in and let all these positive emotions take hold of her, grabbing the wheel of her heart, while it drove them toward paradise. For some reason she was programmed to be hesitant, cautious and a little afraid. Not of him but of the idea that someone genuinely liked her for her and not just in a platonic sense but as lovers do. Still the doubt questioned what he saw in her. Why was he so committed? He made it sound like he was there to stay. What made him believe it would all work out in the end? What made him believe she was right for him? What made him believe there was no one else that would suit him better? There was nothing there. Just a girl and her pen, but beyond that? She was normal. A backdrop in someone else’s story.

Nursing her glass of OJ in her hand, Kim peered down, getting lost in the liquid. Clarifying her thoughts out loud, she anxiously asked, “What makes you so sure you’ll be with me every step of the way? Why would you even want to? I’m not like a star or anything. Aside from my writing, there really isn’t anything unique about me. Your weird life is yours and it’s so different from mine. I just… I feel like you’re going to get bored of me. I mean look at me.” Kim released the cup to clasp her hands together, looking at him thoughtfully even if her beautiful, hazel eyes were searching for answers. She was in her head and being a little self degrading, the fact that she hadn’t told her best friend yet about him was weighing heavily on her mind, but her focus, attention, and most importantly, heart was all on him. “I’m not pretty or interesting. I’m mediocre at best.”

“Mediocre? Ozzy shook his head in disbelief. “Mediocre,” He repeated, hanging his head and staring at the warm yolk leaking out of his breakfast sandwich, just like his Mama made them. “MEDIOCRE!” With pure recklessness Anthony flung himself backwards in his chair, sending his body flying away from the table where he would hit the ground. He rolled to his feet in a grandiose performative masterpiece, spreading his arms wide to soak in the adulation of his crowd of one.

“My dear lady, mediocrity is a social construct designed to keep the geniuses and artists of the world locked in their cages of self defamation and doubt. Mediocrity is a word, a racial slur used to stop the mad ones, the ones mad to live, to chase, to dream, to fucking rock and stop them from taking over.” Oz hurried around to the west facing part of the table, kneeling swiftly at Kim’s side. “Mediocrity, is a tool that they’re trying to use to stop you from being the you, inside your heart. The you I see. It’s all there babe, in your writing, in your words. The one thing you wield more powerfully that anyone else. Your skill with the quill is undeniable, like you and me.”

He could not hide the adoration in his eyes for her, he wouldn’t want to anyway. Oz was honest and unashamedly himself at all times. Mediocre was not in his vocabulary. “Yes I did just quote Hamilton, you’re rubbing off on me, Kim. And I wouldn’t want it or you any other way.”

If she wasn’t blushing now she certainly was after that showcase. She surrounded herself with actors and immersed herself in theater like her soul depended on it but nothing on her lengthy resume prepared her for Anthony “Oz” Osso. “You didn’t answer the question of what makes you so sure about me, Sir,” She protested, clearly probing for validation. She crossed her arms and looked away from the boy kneeling before her. This was a strange image for any person that passed by; she was sure. Goodness, her next shift would come faster than she wanted and there was no way her coworkers wouldn’t talk and ask her what happened this lovely Friday morning. She could already feel their eyes on them. On her. And her sandwich was certainly getting cold. “All this fluff.” She grumbled, trying to be stubborn and not give into his sweet nothings. “You see me as a talented writer. Whoop-dee-doo. I write, it’s my passion. I know.” Her inner brat that only he got to see came to the surface. She was an only child for most of her life until she gained a step brother. The brat was there even if she tried to hide it with class but only Oz knew how to bring it out. Her voice dropped into a mutter and she pouted, “Me not being mediocre has nothing to do with your feelings for me.”

“Mmmm, ‘Kay.” Typical Kim. Oz had come to expect in their short time together that she would dissect his words like a surgeon, looking for any loophole her brain can use to self sabotage. She couldn’t help it and he didn’t blame her, that was just her mind. He got to his feet and made his way behind her, placing his hands on either side of her neck. “You wanna know what makes me so sure? Fine.” Anthony’s fingers gently tapped and danced around her neck and lower skull, tickling, teasing and massaging. “How about the simple fact that being around you makes me feel like there’s a swarm of butterflies just flapping around in my gut? Or that when you're deep in thought, day dreaming, you chew the end of your pencil and it makes me smile more than anything else in the world? Or perhaps, dearest maiden…”

Oz span her chair with sheer force to face him and with a smile he pulled her into his arms. Kim latched onto him for dear life as he hoisted her up and placed her down on a table. With their faces inches away from each other, Ozzy raised his hand to caress her cheek and lip. “When you look at me, with those big hazel eyes and you smile, I literally can see only you. The world just falls apart and it’s just you. I can’t explain it, words aren’t my thing. Like when you kiss me, you’re a fucking goddess and I’m your humble servant.” His voice lowered into a whisper as he spoke directly into her mouth. “I’m sure because I’m sure.”

For a beast, he really knew how to make a girl melt. Effortlessly he moved her to the table, pushing her food so her skirt didn’t get any yoke on it. Her legs were open with him in between them, his face so close to her’s that all she could do was look up and see him. Kim had forgotten that she was outside her workplace. She had forgotten what she was complaining about. She had forgotten that today was a school day and if they didn’t start eating soon, they would be late. She had forgotten where she was at because she was happy to be wherever he was. What a strange feeling, to find someone you can’t get enough of. This was her boyfriend and he adored her.

Wrapping her hands around him, tangling her hands with his hair, Kim brushed her lips with his, teasingly, and then she closed her eyes and kissed him. She savoured their kiss, having thought about it all night. Her body leaned into his and her legs tightened around his waist. She could feel the heat and electricity course through her body. It went from gentle to rough in a matter of seconds and as a reward, she made an unexpected, delicious sound in his mouth. Her face beamed red when that happened and she pulled away, “W-we should eat.”

“I feel like I just did.” Ozzy chuckled as he licked his bottom lip, catching a secondary buzz from the residual taste of Kim’s mouth on his. “But yeah, I can totally go for some eggs.” The way she was in that moment; staring up at him, wrapped around him, that was the real her; the Kim only Oz truly got to see. She was wild, there was fire in her just burning away in her chest trying to spread into something resembling an inferno. He couldn’t deny it in moments like this, he had utterly fallen in love with her. It had only been two months but to him, Kim felt like the missing piece of his heart puzzle and now it had finally been fit.



Having finished their breakfast, Kim and Oz hopped back on his Harley and made their way towards Beverly Hills High. Once his baby was locked up tighter than a chastity belt, the metal head walked hand in hand with his girl down the hallways. It was safe to say both were walking in a bubble of their own making, a bubble of bliss and need. If any eyes were staring at them, Ozzy didn’t care because by the axe of James Hetfield he was fucking happy.

Once they were outside of Ms. Belmonte’s class, he felt that horrible pang in his heart, he knew it was time to say goodbye, at least for a little while. Glancing over to his right, in the distance stood a handful of alternatives; an audience of goths, rockers, nerds and misfits: Ozzy’s people. “The unwashed masses await me, my lady. And your adoring public await you.” He took off his leather jacket and offered it to his beloved. “You’ll never catch me dead in a Letterman but I can offer you this. In case you’re feeling like rising above mediocrity.” He smiled, his gaze never leaving hers. “And if not, well you can give it back after lunch and we can go make out in the drama room. Your choice.”

Switching her backpack for his jacket, she took his armour and put it on. It was huge on her. If Katie didn’t think she was dating someone when she saw her wearing this, then her friend was clearly delusional and caught up with her own agenda. Grabbing her backpack from him, she bit her bottom lip, debating something. Once a mental battle with herself came and went, a good sparring match inside her head where only one thought would remain victorious, she blurted, “Do you want to come over, tonight? To watch a movie? My parents aren’t home for the weekend and the company would be nice.” This could be a great way for her to officially introduce Oz to Katie, if the jacket wasn’t a dead giveaway. “I’ll make a nice spread for us and get the best blankets and pillows… it’ll be really comfy.”

Oz was no fool, irregardless of how he was perceived sometimes. A lesser man would assume that this was Kim asking him over for sex but he knew her better than that. When the time was right for them, the time would be right. This was her reaching out and allowing him to take a step further into her world, it was a sweet gesture that he very much appreciated. The more time he could spend with his lady, the better. Kimber had been quite guarded for much of their dating, a far cry from Ozzy had his Ozness, so any glimpse he got into her life was one to be cherished. “I’ll be there. You want me to bring anything?”

“… something sweet?” Kim offered, taking a mental note of everything she was preparing. Sure there would be popcorn, mocktails and a charcuterie board, but she didn’t consider dessert. Cannolis maybe? Or a cake. She was sure whatever Oz brought it would be yummy. She couldn’t wait. Kim wasn’t one to indulge in her cravings often but tonight she’d treat herself. It was a big night after all. If Katie was down for a movie party, tonight would be the night she disclosed her two-month long secret, who was standing in front of her with long hair, ripped jeans, and metal in his soul.

“That I can do.” Oz leaned in and kissed his girlfriend's full red lips; talking of sweetness, she was the sweetest thing he’d ever tried. There was order and there was chaos, one could not live without the other, to feed and take from one another in symbiosis and harmony. It was fucking metal, man and so was love. Love was sweeter than honey and harder than steel. So were Kim and Oz. “See you later?”

Breathlessly, Kim replied, “Yeah, of course.” She embraced him one last time, nuzzling her face against his chest and squeezing him, not wanting him to leave but knowing they had to go about their school day. This was the worst part of the day. “See you, Meatball.” And with that the metalhead was off and Kim entered her homeroom, which happened to be more eventful than she anticipated. Chaotic even, and that was okay.

As she sat in her chair, she smiled, peering down at her phone tapping it against her hand, in thought.

She texted her best friend.

TO: Kater-Tater
Are you free tonight?
For movie night? My place?
It's been awhile since we had one. 🥺
Kim
In BHHS: Limitless → 11 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

In BHHS: Limitless → 12 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Timestamp: 7:15 AM
Location: Beverly Hills High Gymnasium
Romi Rae Carling
@Brutalbx


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Romi Rae spun her body to the seductive synth rhythm that was dancing in her ears. Gripping the oak panel walls of the gymnasium with her violet colored nails, a bead of perspiration dripped down her neck and collarbone, down towards the sports bra that protected her modesty. She sharply and swiftly lowered herself down and back up into a smooth as silk body roll. Light fingertips traced bronzed skin as Romi felt herself to the beat. Post homeroom, there was time for a quick session, time enough to work up a decent sweat and burn off any extra unneeded calories. She had to keep the machine in perfect working order.

“GU-MI-OOOOOOH!”

“GU-MI-OOOOOOH!”

“GU-MI-OOOOOOH!”

There was absolutely nothing in this good world better than the roar of the crowd. It was like a drug, one taste of it could send one deep into the throes of addiction. To claw at their own skin, to thirst for that indescribable feeling, to breathe the rarified air which only comes from the voices of a brotherhood of misfits and miscreants chanting a name; cheering or booing dependent on their own deep rooted feelings of worth and want. No chemical substance could replicate such a rush. It didn’t matter if the crowd was a hundred or a hundred thousand, the craving, like Angelica Skylar, would never be satisfied.

Romi Rae could vividly remember the first time she had ever been struck by the bolt of lightning that for the rest of her natural born life she would be forever chasing. She must’ve been about five years old. It was Starcade, AWE’s biggest show of the year. MetLife stadium. She had been taken to a few shows in her young life but this was something different; there was magic in the air, you could smell it.

Her parents were so busy that day. Romi would come to know later in her life that every match day was like that for them. She remembered waking up that Sunday morning in the hotel room, snuggled up and bundled in bed. She opened her eyes and the first thing she saw was her dad scribbling on his notepad, he did that all the time; still did. Her father John Paul was always writing, always creating. Entire rooms in their house were dedicated to his creative process, mirrors, walls, napkins, if it could be written on, it was written on. Hotel rooms were no different. She held herself tighter into a ball and that’s when a thick lock of neon pink hair fell across her face and she felt the comfort, the warmth of her mother, squeezing her tiny frame with love.

Mileena Jayne Winslow, a goth girl outta Fairfield, Connecticut and the daughter of AWE legend The Faceless. To her adoring fans, she was MORGANA, the high flying technical wizard who enticed, delighted and destroyed all those that were graced with her presence. To Rosemary, she was just Mom. The day flew by quickly; with her Dad shooting off immediately at their arrival at the arena to go let the wrestlers know their creative for the night. Romi stayed with her Mom for the most part, at least until it was time for Mileena to go and get ready for her own match; a women’s title bout against Barbie Summers and yes, her gimmick was exactly what you think it was.

Romi Rae, sat on the lap of her parents' good friend the Death Adder and watched on the monitors in what’s known as the Gorilla position, the place just before the curtains where wrestlers await their entrances. Seeing a sold out crowd turn electric when the lights turned off and a single beam illuminated the most beautiful woman in the world, she was in awe. Even to this day, Romi remembered every move, every bump, every submission and hold like it was what she ate for breakfast. Then the bell rang and her mother hoisted the title above her candy floss hair. Rosemary looked up and saw her dad standing behind her, she didn’t even know he was there and he was crying. The little firecracker could not contain herself and took off through the curtain, she sprinted down the runway, security frantically chasing her until her grandfather, still a mountain of a man and a producer for AWE stopped them. Romi jumped into the ring and wrapped herself around her mothers leg and the sound in the stadium was deafening.

That’s when she knew that she was going to do it too.

Be a wrestler.

Be like her hero.

Be like her Mom.

The last twelve years, Romi Rae had dedicated everything she was into being a pro wrestler. As soon as her mother would allow her, she was in the ring which sat in their garage, running the ropes, taking bumps and watching lots of tape. She took martial arts lessons, worked summers at a trampoline park and then there were her favourites, gymnastics and dance. Over the years, Romi had honed her body into a walking weapon. Many of the other girls she came to know as friends and peers were gifted with fat asses and big tits but Romi Rae was something else altogether. She was a cardio machine, blessed with abs that would make grown men weep, beautifully toned legs and glutes and a work ethic that could not be matched, nobody could out work Romi Rae.

When she was sixteen, she asked her parents if her could go get her wrestling licence and start full time training with the AWE, her dad said yes, her mom said no. Undeterred, Romi knew what she wanted from life and if she had learned anything from anyone, it was that you take what you want. With her father in tow, Romi Rae got her licence and decided not to tell her mother. Soon after, she began working independent shows under the moniker of Gumiho, the Toxic Idol. A gimmick inspired by ghost stories her grandma back in Korea used to tell her and following the family tradition of macabre characters like her mother the witch and her grandfather the serial killer.

“GU-MI-OOOOOOH!”

“GU-MI-OOOOOOH!”

“GU-MI-OOOOOOH!”

Sweat clung to her body as Romi placed her hands behind her head and rolled her hips to the beat of the song. She didn’t know how it caught on but fans chanting her name like Rufio from Hook had become an internet meme, not that she hated it mind you, it was kind of cool. Although it had also generated a concern within her that Morgana herself would find out that Romi was wrestling illegally. Hell, when she got that tattoo last year, she was grounded for a month. Of course, Rosemary wore a mask in the ring but she knew that even shrouding her face would not stop a mother recognising her daughter. She just had to last until her eighteenth birthday, then it would be fine. A few more months and she could stop having to perpetuate the lie. Plus, she didn’t want to get her dad in trouble. Romi loved her dad, he was an absolute idiot but he adored her and only ever meant the best.

Leaping forward, the performer pressed her left foot to the flat surface of the wall and pushed off it with a three hundred and sixty degree kick and mid air tornillo before landing low with her long leg outstretched in her best Black Widow pose. ”Fuck.” She said to herself, the exasperation in Romi’s voice was thick as she tried to catch her breath. Placing her hands on her waist, she wandered towards a nearby bench where her bag awaited. Picking up a towel from the top of her holdall, she revealed a glint of purple, the mask of Gumiho, smiling at the world. Another thing her mother taught her, never leave home without your gear. You never know when you might get booked.

Drying off her face and dabbing her lithe body with the soft white cotton, Romi looked around the room with the soft brown eyes, just to make sure she had no unwanted guests. Loving the whole Hannah Montana double life thing was undeniably exciting and fun but the wrestler knew that it couldn’t last forever. Anyone at any time could figure out her secret and then her whole world would come crashing down. No more wrestling, no more dance, no more MMA.

Romi couldn’t think of any more of a tragedy than losing the things she loved.

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Timestamp: Following Zooted
Location: Beverly Hills High Hallway > Gymnasium
Romi Rae Carling & Diana Green-Locke
@Brutalbx & @Aewin




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Shotgunning felt like such an intimate thing. To take a puff then breathe it out into someone’s mouth. It felt more than a kiss, something that would make even a seasoned degenerate fanfic reader like Diana blush. Well, not that it was difficult to do so, but considering the kind of content she consumed on the regular? It was surprising she never came across anything like it before.

Now, why was shotgunning on her mind? Diana wasn’t exactly a stoner, despite her family being rather weed positive and plenty of dealers within her peer group alone. No, in reality, Diana saw the light.

The light being Monarch Wilson and Beatrix Kingsley shotgunning under the stairs. Before homeroom. Whew.

Diana left the scene with her heart racing and face buried in her phone, lit up by the reflection of Archive Of Our Own and scrolling through all the fics tagged as shotgunning, a new hyperfixation found. Maybe even—god forbid it—inspiration. Her butler remained stoic as ever beside her, keeping up with her hurried pace with ease. A silent sentinel to protect her who happened to be born into the Green family.

“Oh my god…” Diana turned to Butler in disbelief. [color= 69353f]“Over three thousand works and I’ve never encountered—NARUSASU?!”[/color] Diana cut herself off with a gleeful huff, thumbing her screen to open the yaoi fanfiction without a second of hesitation. Butler seemed unphased, too used to Diana’s many special interests.

Before shotgunning, it was Call of Duty fanfics (Diana understood the mask girls a little too well). And before COD, it was wrestling. Thanks to Romi Rae, Diana was introduced to the world of physical soap opera and she was obsessed. Diana particularly took to one Gumiho. Maybe it was the way she moved in the ring, or how powerful she seemed. Or, also a very valid option that Diana had come to learn, she really liked the mask.

“What… what if I write a Gumiho shotgunning fic…? Butler, thoughts?” The man remained silent, which Diana took as a sign. Yes.

So that is how the Green heiress found herself in the gymnasium, Butler standing guard at the entrance. Not for Diana to work out her very unholy thoughts, but to seek out the one person that seemed to know the most about Diana’s favourite wrestler. The young woman in question sat on the bench, dabbing away sweat as the music swelled around them, clearly having just finished her workout. Diana stood beside the bench, swinging on her heels as she captured Romi’s attention. Silent as a mouse, no doubt taking her pensive friend by surprise by getting straight into the topic as a greeting.

“I… I have an idea.”

“Fuck me sideways!” Romi had been lost in her own world until the moment the Green girl made her presence felt. “Where’d you come from?”

She had grown close to Diana over the last little while, she wasn’t exactly sure why. Romi Rae always had a heart for the lost and lonely things and Diana always seemed a little of both. God, she was talented though. Di had such a creative mind and watching her work was fascinating. Sure, some of the stuff she made up was not Romi’s speed or particular interest but she was still vaguely obsessed with her beautiful friend all the same. Recently, Diana had started asking questions about Gumiho and Romi Rae was sure that her fellow Korean queen had figured out her other identity.

“Idea? What idea?”

Diana's cheeks flushed a rosy pink as she fiddled nervously with the hem of her plaid skirt. Her doe eyes darted around the gymnasium, carefully avoiding direct eye contact with Romi as she tried to gather her courage. Come on Di, you can do this!This is just Romi.

“Home. S-so, I was thinking...” Diana began, her soft voice trailing off hesitantly. She took a deep breath, squaring her petite shoulders as she forced herself to meet Romi's curious gaze. “You know how I've been really into Gumiho lately? I had this idea for a new story...” She paused briefly, nose wrinkling. How the fuck was she supposed to bring this topic up like a normal person?

Granted, was she ever ‘normal’? Romi knew what she was signing up for when she befriended Diana.

“I-I wanted to write about Gumiho... you know...” Diana made a vague gesture, her slender fingers fluttering like pale butterflies. “Shotgunning? With another girl?” The last words came out in a single breath, almost too quick for even Diana to understand what she was saying. But maybe Romi would understand, she never judged her tastes before. Maybe she'd be the voice of reason that warns her that it would be totally ooc for Gumiho to even do that kind of thing.

But that's the beauty of fanfiction.

Diana ducked her head, dark lashes fluttering against her heated skin as she peeked up at Romi through her feathery fringe. “I just thought, since you seem to know a lot about Gumiho... maybe you could help me? With the details and stuff?”

Gumiho? Shotgunning? With another girl?

Romi had known that Diana’s kinks were pretty harmless and from what she had learned over the course of her friendship with Di, she wasn’t trying to be weird; something had just inspired her. Part of Romi was unsure about her friend's recent obsession with her alter ego but she also didn’t hate it. As a wrestler or performer of any kind would tell you, they love attention. To put oneself out there in front of whatever God was out there, if any and a billion people, you had to have an ego. Diana was certainly someone who stroked Romi’s.

She was slightly taller than the Green, not by much but she still found herself looking ever slightly down as she played with her cute skirt. “Well, from what I know…” There was a sparkle, in the bottom corner of Romi’s eye. She slightly glanced leftwards and noticed the Gumiho ask she had previously found herself admiring. Shit, what if Diana would see it? She quickly tossed her towel onto the bag to cover it up. Now standing slightly closer to Di, Romi also became very conscious of the fact she was barely wearing any clothes and her activewear was riding up in all the wrong places.

“Gumiho has never really, er, well I don’t think she can actively promote shotgunning but I wouldn’t be surprised if she has.” If Romi was to fill in Gumiho’s backstory with her own then the truth was yes, she had definitely shotgunned with another girl but if she was to follow the true history she then also slept with that girl. Diana would have a fit if she knew the truth.

Romi Rae placed her hand on Di’s soft chin and pulled her face up to meet hers. “Hey, I’ve told you to stop looking at the floor when you’re talking to me. Or anyone for that matter. This face is too beautiful to hide.”

Diana's breath hitched as Romi's fingers gently grasped her chin, tilting her face upwards. The wrestler's caramel eyes bore into hers with an intensity that made Diana's knees feel weak. She swallowed thickly, pulse fluttering wildly beneath the hollow of her throat like a caged bird desperate to take flight. Whoa... is this what it's like when the bishi does The Thing? No wonder the ML fangirls get the flutters and uwaa everywhere.

“O-okay,” Diana managed to squeak out, her voice barely above a whisper. She was acutely aware of Romi's state of undress, the way her taut muscles glistened with a sheen of sweat, how little was left to the imagination in that form-fitting sports bra and shorts. Interesting...

“So...you think Gumiho might've done it before?” Diana asked tentatively, trying to steer the conversation back to safer territory even as her mind raced with scandalous possibilities that could fry her brain. “Maybe with like, a really cool rival or something? I bet it'd be super dramatic, all that tension finally snapping...”

Oh she could picture the scene already. Close proximity with a rival, maybe smoking to take the edge of and having to share the only blunt between them, but instead of offering the blunt Gumiho reaches forward an—

Ahem. Railroaded.

“Who would be THE rival?” She asked instead.

“I don’t know.”

Romi Rae suddenly became very aware of just how close she was to Diana’s face, her fingers curled around the Green’s alabaster chin, soft spheres of chestnut staring up at her. She had often thought just how breathtaking Di really was and up close like this. It was cemented. She had learned that as Gumiho, she found her confidence had increased ten fold. By no means was the daughter of the women’s world champion shy, if anything many considered Romi to be quite bold. However it was all controlled and manoeuvred by a stream of conscious thought. There was a freedom beneath the mask of the Toxic Idol which allowed her to do pretty much anything. Gumiho could say what she wanted, take what she wanted and be whoever she wanted to be. In this instance they were talking about shotgunning and Romi’s eyes could not help but fall towards Diana’s lips.

There was an age old question asked in comic books, who was the real man? Bruce Wayne or Batman. Romi was starting to understand that more and more. The lines between herself and her alter ego were blending further and further. “I don’t know. She repeated. “She hasn’t had that big feud yet, she’s still really early in her career. Well at least I think she is. In Lucha Culture, anyone under a mask’s legal documentation is not a matter of public record unless they consent or lose their mask.”

Much like her Diana, when it came to wrestling, Romi Rae had tunnel vision. So when she opened her mouth, sometimes she just vomited hyperbole. “I mean she’s still waiting for the one that could really challenge her. So you may have to use that big brain of yours to make something up.”

Diana's heart fluttered wildly in her chest as Romi's gaze drifted down to her parted lips, the air between them simmering with an unspoken tension. Her mind raced with a dizzying array of possibilities, each more scandalous than the last. What if Gumiho's rival was a childhood friend turned bitter enemy? Or a smouldering antihero who couldn't decide if they wanted to fight or...

Ahem.

“Y-yeah, I guess you're right,” Diana stammered, ducking her head shyly as a rosy blush bloomed across her cheeks. “Gumiho is still pretty new to the scene. I'm sure she'll find her ultimate rival soon enough!” She bit her lip, worrying the tender flesh between her teeth as she peeked up at Romi through her lashes. Ideas swam in her head, her imagination taking over as she began to plot the one shot now turned multichapter angst in her mind. Maybe she could even draw her own art of it to enhance the written medium of the fanfiction? “Maybe it'll even be a super cool unmasking storyline, you know? Where the rival is someone Gumiho knows in their unmasked life!”

Diana trailed off, her voice barely above a breathy whisper as she lost herself in the fantasy. In her mind's eye, she could see it all so clearly—Gumiho, standing tall and proud in the center of the ring, her sleek mask glinting under the harsh spotlights. Across from her, a shadowy figure emerged from the smoke, their face obscured by a mask of their own. They circled each other like predators, muscles coiled tight with barely restrained aggression.

Until finally, in a moment of shocking revelation, the mysterious rival reached up and tore away their mask, revealing...

God, Diana couldn't wait to make this damned OC.

She was so precious. God, Romi would probably do anything for this girl.

“Let's hope it’s not too soon.” She didn’t find the idea of unmasking eventually a bad thing. She had already seen on some of the wrestling forums out there that there were several theories as to who was under the Gumiho mask. Many centered on it being a Joshi wrestler from Japan under a learning excursion. There were also a handful that had accurately guessed it was the daughter of Morgana, mostly in part to her penchant for purple and her use of the Anaconda Squeeze during her matches. Luckily, most had debunked that theory thanks to Romi only being seventeen. “There’s still some mileage in the character. Maybe once she gets signed to an actual contract she can unmask?”

Moving away from the girl who was walking temptation, Romi Rae sat back down on the bench next to her bag and reached for her phone. She felt a twinge in her lower back, a reminder of the match she had the previous weekend where she took a suplex across a crowd barricade. Although the pain was unwelcome, it did give her an idea. “You know Di, if you want some face claims for your thing, I’ve got a few here. Some female wrestlers that I follow.” Double R handed Diana her phone and motioned for her to swift left to see a few of her more recent opponents.

1, 2, 3

“You've also got to remember honey..” Absentmindedly, Romi reached up and touched Diana’s leg. “Gumiho is a heel. So whoever her rival is would have to be a babyface.”

Diana swallowed thickly, her mouth suddenly dry as she tried to focus on the phone screen Romi held out to her. The images of the fierce, beautiful women in the ring swam before Diana's eyes, blurring together as her mind raced with possibilities. All so pretty... Diana cursed herself for not joining her Mom sooner on the wrestling hype.

A heel and a babyface… The classic dichotomy, the yin and yang of professional wrestling. It was a tale as old as time, the villainous rogue facing off against the noble hero. “I think I'm getting some ideas,” Diana murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she handed the phone back to Romi. “Maybe Gumiho's rival could be like, a childhood friend who always looked up to her. But then Gumiho betrays her, and she has to fight to bring her back to the light…?”

Diana trailed off, lost in the fantasy unfolding in her mind. She could see it so clearly—the heartbreak, the angst, the simmering tension between the two rivals as they clashed again and again in the ring. And of course, the inevitable moment when that tension boiled over into something more. Somehow, somewhere, Diana had to squeeze in that shotgunning scene that got Diana hyped up for this creative madness. Self-indulgent for sure after seeing how Monarch and Trixie seemed to... well, enjoy it.

The thought of Gumiho doing that to her caused Diana's vision to spin like some heroine in her favourite shojo. Thankfully with no nose bleeding. Would Gumiho be gentle? Or would she TAKE? God, when was it going to be her turn?

“I wish we knew what Gumiho looked like under that mask.” Diana threw herself onto the bench beside Romi with a pitiful whine. As much as Diana had a thing for her mask, Diana also had a thing for wanting to know things. And what Diana really wanted to know—for science, of course—is what the elusive Gumiho looked like under that purple mask.

Romi Rae couldn’t help but see this as an opportunity to mess with Diana a little bit, to tease her. The pining whine from the smaller girl's mouth was enough to let the girl know that at least she had one dedicated fan. “Let’s look at some facts.” She said, as she leaned back on both of her palms. “The name, Gumiho. It’s Korean for Nine Tailed Fox, so there’s a high chance that our girl is one of us. Though her skin is a shade darker than say yours, though I’m also pretty sure she uses a touch of body paint. So she’s likely mixed, like me.”

When under the mask, it was true that Rosemary did go to great lengths to hide her identity. She did paint her body, she wore contacts and hair extensions. She covered up her inner arm tattoo with her elbow pad. It took a great deal of time and effort but so far, it was successful in keeping her secret alive.

“She’s playful, a trickster like the Gumiho of legend but you can tell from the grace of her movements that she’s had more training beyond just wrestling. She moves like a dancer and a gymnast. Her footwork, impeccable.” Romi could see Diana hanging in every word she was saying and it made the butterflies in her stomach even more ferocious. “She flows and crashes like water. Her strikes on point and her submission, clean, crisp and tight. Our girl likely got martial arts training.” She did. Romi had been trained in Taekwondo as a girl and had taken some classes with Adam in Brazilian Jujitsu. “Lot there for you to follow, Sherlock.”

Diana's eyes sparkled with fascination as she absorbed every detail Romi divulged about the enigmatic Gumiho. Her mind raced, weaving together the tantalising tidbits into a vivid tapestry. Mixed race, a trickster's grace, the discipline of a martial artist... Each new fact was another vibrant thread taking shape in her imagination. It not only helped Diana with Gumiho's characterisation (so she's more canon, of course), but it just solidified Diana's need to know more.

Leaning forward eagerly, Diana tucked a silky strand of ink-black hair behind her ear, exposing the elegant line of her porcelain neck. Her nose crinkled slightly as she pondered the delicious riddle Romi had presented. “So you're saying she's like a kunoichi?” Diana breathed, a giddy smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Beauty, brains, and brawn... Guh!” A total heart-throb. “How old do you think she is? She doesn't seem that much taller than, say, you, but it could be a video thing.”

”I’d say she’s around five foot four, give or take a big breakfast.” Romi followed Diana’s laugh with one of her own. She truly did enjoy the girls' company, her creative whims and funny soliloquies about her latest craze and obsession. It was even more fun to know the current one was her. Romi couldn’t deny that she enjoyed the attention and watching Di tuck that little strand back, all hers was on the girl sat next to her. “She hasn’t been around too long and there’s definitely some room for improvement so I’d hazard she’s maybe twenty to twenty five.”

Diana processed this tantalising new information about her wrestling obsession, her breathing heavy. It was certainly a weird sight to anyone not familiar with Diana’s ‘quirks’. Twenty to twenty-five, huh? The gears were already turning, piecing together a profile of the enigmatic Gumiho.

But why the secrecy? What was she hiding behind that sleek purple mask?

The questions swirled in Diana's head, stoking the flames of her insatiable curiosity. She had to know more. No, she needed to know more. It wasn't just about crafting the perfect fanfiction anymore. This was a mystery begging to be unravelled, a puzzle that called out to the depths of Diana's very soul.

Leaning in close, the Green heiress fixed Romi with an intense stare, her voice barely above a conspiratorial whisper. “Romi... We have to find out who she really is. Imagine the story I could write if I knew the truth!” Her eyes were alight with a feverish gleam, a woman possessed by the thrill of the hunt. Romi had goaded her too long, giving her just enough information to tantalise the curious mind, and now the need had grown into a full blown itch that she couldn't scratch. She had the resources—the Greens were filthy rich. Not that Diana intended on using them... yet. She wanted to lead the charge herself.

Butler shifted beside the door, no doubt steeling himself for another wild goose chase stirred by Diana's hyperfixations.

“What do you think? Wanna join me, Ro?”

“Why the hell not?!” Romi returned Diana’s excited whisper with a twinkle in her eye. Had she really just agreed to find herself? Isn’t that what college was for? Not that she planned on going to college though. “If I get the time, of course I will. You know how my schedule is.”

It was true, her schedule was always jam-packed. When she wasn’t wrestling, Romi Rae was always busy. Dancing, gymnastics, MMA, rock climbing and none of that even included the stuff she did with the Adventure Club. It was part of the reason that in her years as a BHHS Pirate, she hadn’t really found anyone to truly say she connected with, save Di. Sure, she had friends, former lovers and exes but the real connections? She was extremely lacking in that department and it was her own fault.

“Okay!” Diana exclaimed, practically vibrating with giddy anticipation. Her mind was already racing, piecing together a plan of attack for their thrilling new mission. “First things first, we need to gather intel. I'll scour the internet for any clues about Gumiho's identity—social media, fan forums, wrestling databases, the works.”

She whipped out her phone, slender fingers already flying across the screen as she opened a new note titled 'Operation Sly Fox'. “I'll get us tickets to Gumiho's next match. Live. Best way to learn is to see her in action.” Getting said tickets would be no problem considering Diana's surname alone. She could get anything, and right now Diana wanted nothing more than the know. Diana Green-Locke was on the case, and there was nothing stopping her from finding out the truth.

At this stage, Romi Rae didn’t know whether to be frightened or excited. Was Diana really the person that would reveal her secret? Or would she play right into Romi’s hands? All she had to do was keep her off the trail for another few months then she could reveal the truth herself! Oh, she could just picture Diana’s reaction when she found out that the girl she was sitting next to was her beloved Gumiho. In a way, Romi felt almost guilty keeping the secret from the Green but she didn’t have a choice. She couldn’t risk her Mom finding out. She couldn’t risk losing the one thing she loved most in the entire world. Not even Diana was going to stop her from achieving her destiny. From being a pro wrestler.

Wait, did she just agree to go watch herself in a match? How the hell was she going to get out of that?!!
In BHHS: Limitless → 14 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
TIMESTAMP/FLASHBACK: Before start of school


____________________________________________________________________



@NeoAJ & @BrutalBx
____________________________________________________________________

The universe has a way of putting order to all things. Every organism, every molecule has a place to be, a role to fulfill unique to itself in what it does. That’s what’s right and just in the world.

It hasn’t felt that way for Lex Stratton lately.

Another fall day was starting to hit Beverly Hills, and it was another day where Lex Stratton seethed to begin her ritual. Things had not been going according to plan at BHHS, there was no order lately. The natural selection had been upended and she was still feeling the reverb. It made each of her actions carry that latent tinge of aggravation. Looking at the sun, picking out her clothes, applying her makeup, all was scored with the undertones of anger at the loss of her position.

As she came downstairs, there was one little bit of joy that was keeping her intact, but even that upending of the natural routine was coming to an end. While the Van Cise Promotional Agency required occasional tending from its CEO, Jacob Van Cise was never one to stay too long in the sunshine. He was a man who worked best in the shadows, making deals and securing roles for his clients and acts while taking none of the spotlight for himself. Not anymore. He didn’t have to. He had his legacy secured. He was one of the wisest men in the game.

And he doted after his granddaughters. One of them was interning at his New York office, the one Jacob would return to later today. But the other two were here, and one of them was already smiling at him in the breakfast nook. “Good morning, Grampa,” Alexandria offered to her elder. “Ready to fly out today?”

“Honey, Gramps is always ready to fly.” Jacob Van Cise had made his fortune as a young man. His mother was a holocaust survivor and his father a World War II veteran. Through their hard work and dedication, Jacob had learned the skills he needed to survive a dangerous world as a short, fat Jewish kid growing up in Yonkers.

His family's company, the VCP, goes all the way back to the days of PT Barnum. Albert Van Cise was a poor German immigrant looking to make a quick buck when he fell under the learning tree of the illustrious showman. Through Barnum, Albert learned the art of the deal and the power of promotion. Soon he gathered his puppets and playthings and opened the first Van Cise Cabinet of Curiosities in Coney Island. Albert soon branched out into a burgeoning sports world and eventually began promoting Boxing and even the Olympics. Since those gold dust days, a Van Cise has always had a hand in promoting sports, music and culture in the Western world.

In the modern era, Jacob was the patriarch, his son Kip, was making waves after a stellar basketball career, his daughter Penny was still training the future stars of women’s basketball, even his son’s brother-in-law was working for them as a promoter for nightclubs. What made him most proud was watching his grandchildren follow in his footsteps. Scarlett was studying business at Columbia, Theodore was the best high school Middle Linebacker in the country and Bronwyn was creating a name in the ice skating world. The twins however, Alexandria and Tallulah, were his favorites, in them he could see so much of himself.

“Are you ready to make those rich bitches bow at your feet today?”

“We’re always ready, you taught us that.” From behind Lex, Tally turned the corner into the kitchen. Her bright orange hair was illuminated by the California sunlight but sat in stark contrast to the harsh black make-up she had applied to her stunning face. The twins were not identical; with each taking various aspects from their mixed heritage but what they lacked in mirrored features, they made up for in presence and personality. There was a reason that Lex and Tally were known as Toxic. They were dangerous to touch, deadly to love and they would burn you from the inside out.

“And if those bitches aren’t ready, we’ll swiftly teach them that they should be,” Lex confirmed, even if the subtext seemed to be less smug and more angry. While her makeup was usually a little more subtle than her twin sister’s, that was like saying a lion was more gingerly ripping up your torso than a bear. Both aimed for lethal damage, and they knew they had the ability to flaunt it. “You’ll have to give Scar our best, Grampa. Miss her sooooo much, but I know she’s getting ready to take New York by the balls and make it her own.”

Scarlett was a big reason the Toxic Twins had the success they did from the second they entered BHHS. The groundwork that the eldest Stratton had laid out enabled them to build their network quickly and assert themselves as the source for all the devil’s pleasures that could be had under the sun. Lex missed that every day guidance, but every Stratton had to be able to fend for themselves at some point.

“Your sister is on the thirteenth floor, Alexandria. I barely see her but I’ll make sure she gets the message through one of my assistants.” Jacob straightened his tie as he meandered around the kitchen nonchalantly. It was a beautiful tactic, appearing absentminded and wispy when facing down a fellow predator. It lulled one into a sense of security before their inevitable end. Those of the Van Cise blood were born to take what they could and give nothing back. They were pirates, they were an encroaching nation, they were inevitable. “I hear you’ve been losing business. That’s not really becoming of one of us, let alone two. What’s happening girls?”

Tally bunched up her fists, her painted nails digging into her palms. She knew Grandpa would ask about this. He knew everything, hell she wouldn’t be surprised if he had a spy somewhere in the school. He’s played dirtier games before that was for sure. “It’s this stupid southern bitch, she’s got some product that we just can’t compete with and she ended up stealing our fucking patzy too.”

Of course Talullah was pissed, she and her sister had worked to earn their patch in the parking lot. They’d spent years building clients and keeping their name alive. However, Tally didn’t really mind as much as Lex did. The younger Stratton enjoyed what she did as much as her twin but recently she had really began to feel a pull on her mind. A pull towards something else beyond the realm of business in which she was raised. She would never admit it to her grandpa but Tally had simply outgrown the brand and wanted to do her own thing, out of the shadow of the VCP.

“Both our fall girls,” Lex confirmed. “The one we burned and the one we hadn’t yet.” There was always going to be a cost to doing the business that they had chosen, but that cost was easily mitigated if there was someone else to take the blame. Nevaeh was gullible enough to think her status in the community and as a cheerleader would protect her from the police, but she was wrong. She served her purpose. Losing Everly though? That stung. She was the perfect person to set up if they needed to take some heat off. It’s why Nevaeh was thrown out first. She was never believable as someone who would fully break bad. Plus, getting Everly to come out of the closet was the bit of altruism that Lex felt made their “partnership” worth it.

“That Texan trailer trash just seems to be one step ahead of us. She got the drop on our business by bringing in our dead weight, and then she got a hold of this new strain that’s become the people’s choice. It was not a part of the plan.”

“If you can’t compete with the product kids, then get a better product or better yet, take theirs.” Jacob pulled out his phone and began typing. “Everybody has a price, everyone. You get their supplier, you get their product and your business will be back up on top in no time. That’s not a prediction, that’s a spoiler.”

Lex smiled at hearing one of her grampa’s favorite lines. The elder Van Cise was always full of confidence, and it was something she tried to emulate in everything she did. When she started playing guitar in public, she made sure her persona matched that swagger that he embodied in everything he did, matched with her mother’s tenacity and willingness to play dirty if she had to.

Was that why it was so shocking that it wasn’t working in the face of this challenger from the South? Anyone else who had tried to horn in on their racket quickly wilted under the intense financial, mental and physical pressure that the Twins were able to put on people. Now, given the PLC boasted people who knew all sides of that triangle choke, what were they going to do? Again, Grampa had the answer. They had to find the source.

“I have some ideas on how to take care of that problem,” Lex assured her grandfather. “Their supplier is… erratic, but has a very exploitable weakness. We just need to figure out how best to coax her to our side. Once we do that, there is no way she can resist the… attraction.”

“Figure it out, girls. Make them acknowledge you.” Jacob finished typing on his phone and placed it back into his jacket. “I’ve got to go catch my flight but I just transferred you both some allowance and I left a new guitar and surfboard in Tallulah’s Jeep.” Leaving his post behind the kitchen island; the shyster from Bronx played a kiss on each of his granddaughters cheeks. “Don’t be good, my babies. Be better.” He turned towards the exit and waved one final time to his girls. “Top guy, out.” Jacob departed the Stratton house quite swiftly for a man of his portly size but the simple fact of the matter was if money was to be made, nothing would get in his way.

Tallulah let out a sigh as she felt her phone vibrate in her jacket; a notification to say that the money had arrived in her account. She glanced towards her twin with her pale eyes which she soon rolled. “So basically what he said is that he wants one of us to fuck that tiny blonde chick that’s always with the PLC? Rock. Paper. Scissors?”

Lex was checking her phone to confirm that Jacob’s gift was indeed in her account. Sometimes it was tough to tell, there was so much money in there. “I mean, I did say it was a very exploitable weakness. Feels like I can’t make it through the parking lot without hearing her making a pass at every woman from here to that shithole Fresno.” The older twin sister assumed the position for the RPS game. “One, two, three, shoot!” Alexandria, sharp as ever, decided to throw down the pair of scissors.

Tally shot for rock and smiled as she defeated her older sister. “On the bright side, I hear she’s a good lay.” She slapped her sister on the arm before taking a step back and picking up her car keys from the counter top. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll have yourself a good time being tongue deep in the pixie.” The orange haired Stratton lifted her bag from the floor and tossed it over her shoulder. “And if she sucks I’ll cook you a hell of a meal to wash the taste out. Come on sis, the peasants await.”

“Shit,” Lex cursed as she gathered the rest of her stuff. “You better not be lying about that. All that energy has to be good for something.” She grabbed a banana and a bagel before picking up her bag.

The trip to the school was uneventful, and Tally had a customer to take care of, so Lex solemnly headed to home room. It was mostly her clientele that had been suckered away by the PLC, so she had time to seethe and think about her next plan of action. Addie Davies-Jones wasn’t there, so she would have to be tracked down at some point. No small task given her penchant for flinging herself around the school like a drunken pinball. No matter. Grampa said it had to be done. She had to keep the business alive… right?

In BHHS: Limitless → 18 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay

In BHHS: Limitless → 19 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay






“AIS!”

As he struck the wooden training dummy, Adam could feel the sharp, knife-like sensation shooting down his inner forearm. He had learned long ago how to dull pain. Exhale through the mouth, release the feeling into the air to be carried off by the wind and centre yourself on something else, something that could flood your mind and wash away the sensations of agony and discomfort. In this moment, he thought of the wind in his hair as he rode a rail at the park. The sound of Everly bailing off to the side and Monarch cheering her on.

“AIS!”

Another strike, a downward pointed elbow. Adam’s mind drifted, unfocused into memory. He could see his opponents face contorted and grimaced as his patella tendon was ripped apart by the attack. It was almost like an out of body experience. Glancing up, he could see his father's steel blue eyes staring gleefully with mania at the carnage that was unfolding. No Mercy. Win at All Cost. Survive. Lessons learned at the Dojo were not lessons learned lightly. The whites of his father's teeth, the joker-like grin, it was encouragement to keep going. Adam repeated the elbow strike over and over. His enemy screamed. He whipped the boy around onto the floor and the ref charged the Omasta boy to the out of bounds section of the mat, separating the lion from his prey.

“AIS!”

Adam pressed a thrust kick into the centre of the dummy. Instead of simply seeing wood, the fighter saw his father, flying through the display window of his large trophy collection case. The glass breaking, shattering into a million pieces of stardust around the crumpling body of the senior Omasta, an image Adam kept in his head almost all the time. He ran from the scene, not stopping until he reached the beach, the ocean and a sense of tranquillity.

Pressing his head against the dummy, Adam gripped onto the bars for support to hold himself aloft. The sweat was pouring from his bare chest as he breathed out the pain, ignoring the swelling and bruising of his hands. Yet the lessons still remained, the teachings remained. He closed his green eyes and searched, he dove into the waters of his past to find a memory, to find his centre. As he searched for a face in the crowd, a hand to take his and pull him from the raging waters that swirled like rapids in his heart, he was snatched away by the alarm.

Stepping back and out of his mind palace, Adam breathed out and found himself once again in his basement bedroom, staring at his training dummy and probably late for school. Then he remembered, he had delayed his alarm three times already. He sprinted into the bathroom to grab a quick shower and wash away the blood that had stained in his hands from his early morning workout. After drying himself off, Adam pulled on a pair of tan cargo pants, black converse and a red v-neck tee with a black jacket.

He was definitely due a wardrobe overhaul as most of the young martial artists clothes were now too small, evident by his biceps and pecs bulging out of his current attire. It was his own fault, he had been on a bulk up all summer and gained a fair amount of extra muscle mass. Now fully dressed, Adam slung his satchel over one shoulder, his camera over the other and snatched his board from beneath his bed before exiting the house through the back door which sat atop the second set of stairs in his room.

There was no point in saying good morning to his parents. They wouldn’t be there anyway.

With bloodstream by Soccer Mommy playing in his ear, Adam rode his board through the streets of Beverly Hills, soaking in the sunrise and plastic popsicles that many called Beverly Hills Elite. This was a world he was born into but not one in which he ever truly felt that he had belonged. Graduation would creep up fast and as soon as it came around, he was riding his Birdhouse straight out of LA and into the great blue yonder.

For many, Adam gave off the appearance of a slacker. He barely spoke, was probably high most of the time and was just skating through life on his Shawn Hunter looks. He was ok with them believing that. Nobody needed to know what was going on beneath his bangs or behind his doors. It was his deal, not theirs. He was ever going to cry, woe is me, my life is so hard. That’s not how he was raised. Adam was raised to strike first, strike hard and leave no quarter.

CLICK
CLICK
CLICK

Rolling into the parking lot, the number one fighter on the amateur fighting circuit snapped photo after photo of his compatriots; not an unusual sight. Adam loved photography, candids mostly. He would say that he loved to catch the world unawares, in its natural state, as it was intended. His girls in the PLC were up to their usual mischief, so he offered them a thumbs up and a photograph. Hanging out of the window of Mrs Belmonte’s class was a tiny pair of legs in fishnets and big boots; could only be Addie, so of course he took a picture of that.

Adam stopped just short of the stairs and hopped off his board to take a photo of the school itself. A monster of a building, probably started very small before various donations from alumni feeling of desperation forced it to be added to until it became a shell that only Frankenstein's monster could truly love. Having it be struck by a bolt of lightning and burn to ashes to be swept away by the wind was not something, he suspected, most would disagree to. He kicked his board into his spare hand and climb the steps towards hell.

”One more year.” Adam thought to himself as he made his way through the halls. Everyone was so busy, everyone was always rushed and running and trying to find something or someone. He was too but he was taking it slow.

One only had to stand still to catch a butterfly.

To find a centre.
In BHHS: Limitless → 29 days ago Forum: Casual Roleplay
Timestamp: 7:30am
Location: Mr. Phoenix’s Homeroom
Theo Van Cise & Tatum Sterling
@BrutalBx & @Melissa
“A great numb feeling washes over me as I let go of the past and look forward to the future.
Pretend to be a vampire.
I don't really need to pretend, because it's who I am, an emotional vampire.
I've just come to expect it.
Vampires are real.
That I was born this way.
That I feed off of other people's real emotions.
Search for this night's prey.
Who will it be?”
- Brett Easton Ellis, The Rules of Attraction.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

Theo entered into his homeroom to a round of applause, or at least it sounded like that in his head. Mr. Phoenix was wasting his time breathing as usual so the Franchise didn’t pay him any mind, instead allowing his burned hazelnut eyes to fall upon the amassed group of student bodies that were taking their seats in anticipation of the English teachers latest pointless diatribe. Time withers souls, life withers bodies and in his gaze he scanned the faces of his peers to find any kind of light or spark that could ignite a feeling within him or at the very least, create a convincing enough lie that would allow for him to be sucked into a feeling of normality. When he caught sight of her by the window, Theo knew exactly how he wanted to proceed.

Tatum Sterling.

She was there that day when he and that druggie scum Raven broke up. It was just before the summer break and they were hanging out at a party when Raven got up to the bathroom; when she returned she was a mess and barely functioning. Theo wasn’t one to judge people on their habits but the girl was an absolute state, a fucking embarrassment. There was no way he could spin and justify this to better him so the best thing was to cut the head off of the snake before she decided to bite him. He saw Tate watching and knew then, in that very moment, exactly how he needed to spin it to make it work for him.

The doting boyfriend, the worried lover unable to speak up about his feelings in worry about how it would affect the missing puzzle piece of his heart. And of course it worked, Theo’s plans always did. Now there he stood and where was Raven? Rehab. All summer he had been speaking with Tate, she reached out to him of course to see how he was and that was all the opening he needed. He knew that he was in her head, soon he’d be in her heart and he’d be between her legs and the connections that the quiet little mouse had would work one hundred percent in his favour.

This would be easy.

Theo took off his letterman jacket, showing off his huge biceps could never hurt but he knew that to win Tatum, looks weren’t enough, he had to win her love. That was the only way this was going to work. He greeted a few friends nonchalantly as he made his way through the desks until he reached a seat by the window. He dropped his bag and jacket on the floor before taking a seat next to the brunette. The Franchise swept a hand through his red hair before offering up a smile to his sweet and shy prey. “Hey you.”

The brunette was in her own little world as she sketched, eyes darting back and forth between the paper and her reference. The stack of books piled high on Mr. Phoenix’s desk had captured her attention almost immediately - the colorful spines of the many different works of Shakespeare were positioned in a way that was chaotic and precarious. It piqued her creative eye; one wrong move, and the whole tower would collapse.

As she focused on perfecting her rough drawing, she could see someone approach out of the corner of her periphery, dropping their belongings in her line of vision. She let her gaze drift over to the letterman jacket and the familiar name stitched onto the sleeve before looking up at the red haired boy with a timid smile.

She was still unsure exactly how it happened, but somehow she had been convinced to attend a party at the end of the last school year. Tatum rarely made appearances at such gatherings, and it showed - she hung out against the wall for the majority of the evening, just observing. She seemed to be one of the only people amongst the revelry that witnessed Theo’s messy breakup and she saw firsthand how torn up he was over the whole thing. She felt badly for him and couldn’t believe how careless his ex had been; Theo evidently cared so much about her but her addictive habits were the straw that finally broke the camel’s back.

So, the brunette did what anyone with a heart would do: she checked in on him. Sure, she wasn’t entirely convinced that he knew who she was, after all, he was the star of the Football team and she was but a mere wallflower, but for some reason, she couldn’t idly stand by. Thus started their unconventional (and unprecedented) friendship.

“Hey,” Tate greeted, twirling her pencil nervously between her fingers. “Big game happening tonight, or so I’ve been told. You must be excited.”

“Honestly? I don’t get too excited about these things any more.” Theo slipped his arm behind Tate’s chair and rested it on the back of it as he leaned deeply into his own. “I spend a lot of time training, doing drills, lifting weights, studying the plays etcetera but at the end of it all that I know that when it comes to the game itself, all that matters is I see my target and I make the first move.” He inched ever so slightly closer to the shy beauty as he spoke. “It’s pretty boring really.”

Theo looked at the quiet artist with subtle confidence. He had learned over the years how to keep up appearances and manage perception. It was a skill gleaned from the learning tree of his grandfather, a hell of a businessman and wiseman to many. His cousins, the Stratton twins, were unabashedly themselves and didn't care about what people thought. Theo was different, he knew that what people thought was the difference between success and failure and TVC never failed, it wasn’t in his vocabulary.

“I’ll tell you what would get me excited.” He began, his voice melting into her ear like butter, his words soft and smooth. “Seeing you in the bleachers. You really kept me sane this summer and I think having you front and centre…well how could I lose with you smiling at me?”

Tatum could feel her body tense as Theo placed his arm along the back of her chair, oh, so casually. She tried to pay attention to what he was saying, she really did, but it was hard to focus when she was so consciously aware of how close he was, how he seemed to be moving even closer.

Now, it wasn’t that she was uncomfortable. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Of course she found him attractive, you’d have to be blind not to see his inherent boyish charm. But it was difficult for her to believe that someone like him could even be remotely interested in someone like her, so she tried to play it off as just him being nice. After all, his breakup was still pretty recent. She knew who his friends were, knew who he associated with. He was in the spotlight when she kept to the shadows, and for good reason. Tatum couldn’t seem to put two and two together.

She fought back a blush as he mentioned wanting her to be at the game. “Oh, I uh… I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m going. Well, I wasn’t planning on it at least.” She continued fidgeting with the pencil in her grasp, “If I’m being honest, I haven’t been to a football game since well, never.”

“First time for everything isn’t there?” Theo could read the subtle movements of her fingers around the pencil, the tenseness of her shoulders. Tate wasn't used to this kind of attention but she didn’t hate it. The fluttering of her big blue eyes staring at him; she was flirting or trying to. It was cute.

She was cute.

Tatum was something different than the other girls at Beverly Hills. She was beautiful, there was no doubt about that but she had spent years attempting to fly under the radar, to pass as one of them. The way she carried herself; hiding behind her overalls and bandanas, it was all an act. Maybe even she didn’t know it but Theo knew differently. He had been watching her, the same way he knew how to watch everyone else, to learn, to absorb their idiosyncrasies and their vibes. Knowing people was his business because if he knew them, he could control them and if he could control them, then there would be no stopping him.

Tate was the perfect first step in making his plan for the year happen.

“Listen; I would never force you to do anything you didn’t want to or felt uncomfortable with.” Theo shifted his body to face her, giving their audience the nod that this was a “private conversation”. He reached over and placed hand on her arm gently, his puppy dog face smiling at her. “It’s just an invitation, that’s all. You’ve really helped me this summer and I just wanted to show you how much I appreciate you. There’ll be a seat at the front with your name on it. You don’t have to take it, I won’t be mad if you don’t but seeing you there, I reckon I might just play my heart out.”

Tatum felt herself growing a little warm with all of his attention focused on her. It was consuming, in a way, how he looked her directly in the eye, how he placed his hand reassuringly on her fair skin, how the rest of the classroom seemed to fade into the background as he spoke. This was a new feeling, one she had yet to experience.

Maybe, just maybe, this could be good for her.

The brunette swallowed, her throat having grown dry, “I mean, I guess I could try and convince JJ to come with me… I’ll see what I can do.” She smiled shyly, “No promises though, but I’ll try. It is our last homecoming after all.”

“That’s all I can ask.” The red haired boy softly let his finger trace her arm, just enough to entice and only lightly tickle. “Bring as many friends as you want. There’s likely to be a party afterwards, so we could all go together.” Theo knew how to reel her in. It was all in the way she carried herself. “It’d be like our two worlds coming together. Plus if you come, I just have to take you to this little place on the beach, I think you’d really like it. You’ll want to paint it immediately…” The Franchise lifted his hand up from her arm and gently moved it to her face. “Speaking of, you got a little paint just there.” He gently wiped and caressed her chin with his thumb. “There you go, all gone.”

Theo’s touch sent goosebumps up Tate’s arm. She willed herself to play it cool, to not show her cards, but she was absolutely certain he could tell she was getting a bit flustered. The blush she had willed away was now blooming on her cheeks as he wiped away the stray paint on her chin. Bashfully, she turned her head and looked down at her desk, “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but I’m not much for parties, so that one’s another hard maybe.” Tatum stated, taking a moment before lifting her gaze back to Theo, “Besides, won’t your friends think it’s a bit odd that we’ve started, well, hanging out all of a sudden?”

“Who cares what they think?” Everybody did. Everybody cares what they think. Theo’s friends were the Elite, the Hive Five, the Jocks, the God damn Illuminati, they controlled everything. “Plus, what’s there to care about? We’re friends, you helped me when I needed it and I really enjoy your company. Don’t worry about anything anybody else is doing, Tate.”

His plans were working even better than he’d hoped. Getting into Tatum’s head wasn’t really the big challenge but getting her to see the world through his eyes? The veil lifted? The rose tinted glasses broken? To get her to see those around them for what they were, empty vessels void of anything remotely considered human decency. Nepo babies and troglodytes destined for internet viral videos and brief sojourns onto reality tv.

Now that was the challenge he craved.

“But like I said, I’m not forcing you to do anything. It would just make me real happy to see you there, that’s all.”

It was easy for Theo to not have to worry about what everybody else was doing, he was at the top of the food chain and didn’t answer to any higher powers. But Tate lived her life in constant recognition that she was at the bottom of the totem pole - not that she minded being there, it was exactly where she wanted to be- and thus was always thinking about how other people perceived her. “If you say so…” Tatum replied doubtfully, moving to close her sketchbook.

The girl had made it her goal not to attract any unnecessary attention over the past four years. Her philosophy about high school was simple: get in, get shit done, keep her head down, and get out. It’s what had always worked for her, what she needed to do to get by. But for some reason, the prospect of being around someone in the limelight didn’t scare her as much as she thought it would. Maybe it was the way Theo was looking at her, actively choosing to notice her and get to know her, that opened her up to the idea of not standing on the sidelines. “No, I know, and I appreciate that. I’ll think about it, really.”

“Alright then.” Theo’s face was chipper. He knew that he had won. Even if her words were dripping with self doubt, he knew that a few more words from him through the day would send Tatum off the edge of the map and into his world. By the end of Homecoming, she would be his.

Too many people overthought everything, life really wasn’t that complicated. High school certainly wasn’t that complicated. It was survival of the fittest, a Serengeti or jungle with its own ecosystem and wildlife fighting and fucking until they were dying or dead and the rules of attraction were built in primal instincts embedded into their very core. Theo was the master of those rules.

“So.” He leaned back; giving the artist her own space back. It was like a taster; Tate had experienced his touch now, his presence, she would miss it, crave it, want him. “What are you working on? If you don’t mind me asking?”

Tate gave the red haired boy a soft smile, opening back up to the page she had been previously drawing on. She held the book out to him so he could take a closer look, “It’s nothing special, I just saw the stack of plays on Mr. Phoenix’s desk and thought it looked interesting.” The brunette watched Theo’s expression as he viewed the sketch, taking the opportunity to get a better look at the boy while he was preoccupied. She took in his muscular frame, the way his chest moved as he breathed, and how his hair brushed over his forehead and eyes. “Shakespeare inspired me today, I guess.”

“Shakespeare, really?” Theo’s eyes didn’t leave the page for a moment. He could feel her big blue eyes staring at him. He let her see everything. He balled his fist ever so lightly to tense the large muscles in his arm. “Doubt thou the stars are fire, doubt that the sun doth move, doubt truth to be a liar, but never doubt I love.” He held a pause long enough for his words to sink ever so slightly into her alabaster skin. Everything with purpose. He lifted his head to meet her smile with one of his own. “Yeah I know Shakespeare. Mom is a big fan. Surprised she never forced me to do theatre.”

Tatum tried to stifle a laugh, caught by surprise from his words, “I would have never taken you for a Shakespeare enthusiast, guess you learn something new everyday.” She commented, mentally noting his choice of quote and the fact it was a deeper cut than your average ‘a rose by any other name would smell as sweet’. The brunette motioned to the tower of books that she was referencing, “Caught my eye when I walked in. Something about it being stable yet unsteady, haphazard but also orderly, kind of spoke to me.” Tate shook her head, realizing she was probably giving him much more context than he desired. “Or it’s just a pile of books. Dealer’s choice.”

Theo leaned his chin onto a balled up fist to look deeper at her, “You basically just described this entire class.” He chuckled lightly. “You know that right?” Tate carried an energy that not many of those that he actually knew possessed. Most of his friends, if you could even call them that, were vapid and plastic, Theo knew this. He knew by association he may be viewed as such but he did enough to differentiate himself from the norm, it seemed, at least to him, that Tatum was the same. At least in her eyes anyway. “Then again maybe you’re right, maybe it’s just a dusty pile of old books but beauty is in the eye of the beholder. So if you think there’s something there, there probably is. Connection can be an inexplicable and undeniable thing.”

“I mean,” Tatum looked around at their peers, contemplating Theo’s statement, “You’re not wrong, but I feel like there’s more to it than that.” She countered, returning her gaze to him. She placed her pencil down on the desk before clasping her hands together in her lap. “I probably sound a little bit crazy, but you learn a lot from just observing things. I’ve had nearly four years of practice,” A small laugh escaped her lips, referencing her quieter tendencies. “There’s always more to something than meets the eye.”

If only she knew. Theo too was a student of the human condition, probably more so than most. He had spent years learning body language, tone of speech, nervous tics, everything he could possibly read from a person he had studied so that he always had an advantage. Tatum didn’t have to know that though, she was trying to share with him. One of the things he had discovered is that women love to share, they love to just talk and they love it when they think you’re actually listening. “Oh really?” He increased his attentiveness, shifting his body around just a little more and leaning closer. “And what has all your observation told you about me, Tate?”

The brunette looked at him, really looked at him. If he had asked her that question before this summer, she would have cited him as the typical Elite archetype. She had seen him in the hallways between classes, joking with his friends and talking shop, and he always oozed confidence and privilege, the kind of guy who knew he was just that good. He was in league with Ethan Green and Jack McDonough, guys whose arrogance and ego preceded them. He fit in with them almost as easily as breathing, so she assumed he was just like them.

But he was asking her this post-summer, after she had seen him at quite possibly one of his lowest points. The girl was surprised with herself, someone normally so perceptive, at how she had put him into a specific box without scratching the surface, before she actually got to know him better. She was slowly realizing how wrong her previous observations were. “Honestly, I don’t know,” Tatum paused, a subtle smirk gracing her features, “Ask me some other time, I’m still trying to figure you out.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Theo took out the reading glasses from his letterman pocket and slipped them onto his face, letting his lips curl into a sweet, almost innocent smile. “It’s a date.” He was blessed by boyish looks, it was very hard to not smile with him. The Franchise knew how to turn it on and how to make them see what they needed to see. The glasses alone he didn’t actually need, they were all for show. A subtle way to pull those around him into security. It was a stereotype of course, the harmless glasses wearer but it was one that was ingrained into society that it was unavoidable. “I guess I better get my own list ready so I can read out and count all the reasons why I like you.”

A date.

Did she just hear him right? Tatum’s face went from playful to surprised in two seconds flat, an instant blush staining her porcelain skin. She quickly looked down at her clasped hands, hoping Theo wouldn’t see her visceral reaction to those three words he so nonchalantly stated, or how she somehow blushed more at the next sentence that flowed from his lips so freely. So maybe he wasn’t just trying to be nice… it seemed that he was genuinely interested in her. In her years at BHHS, she had never actually been asked out, always too much in the background to garner any admiration. Or, she would get asked out, but jokingly only because people thought she shared her mother’s well-known knack for debauchery.

Taking a breath, she lifted her head back up to Theo, biting her inner lip in an attempt to fight the smile that she so naturally wanted to show. She didn’t want to seem too eager or desperate. So as her baby blue eyes met his light brown gaze, she spoke softly, keeping her composure. “We’ll see.” The brunette picked back up her pencil and continued to draw, paying no mind to the way her heart was racing.

It was all there, the ringing of the hands, the subtle lip bite that she didn’t want him to notice; the smile. She was his. He had led the horse to water and it was oh so easy to make her drink. “I suppose we better start paying attention otherwise people are gonna start to think I’m a bad influence on you.” Theo smiled that damned smile. It was a mirror to the lips of a rattlesnake, enticing and deadly in equal measure. One just couldn’t look away. Theo was the apex predator of Beverly Hills High. He was Godzilla. He was King Kong; and he had found this night's prey, her name was Tatum.

He was going to ruin her.
In BHHS: Limitless → 1 mo ago Forum: Casual Roleplay






Odina was in that beautiful place between awake and asleep. She couldn’t open her eyes, lest she lose the visage of perfection which she was dreaming of. She couldn’t move too far in the bed or the perfect warmth that enveloped her skin. Odina’s hand reached across the bed to feel the warmth of the body that lay next to her, or that should be next to her. Nothing. She realised that she couldn’t feel any kind of dip in the mattress either, there was no one there but still; she didn’t want to open her eyes.

Then she felt it.

That unmistakable, unexplainable aura.

It sucked her in the previous night. Down by the beach, Odina saw those peroxide golden waves and that style all her own. Those big painted lips and a vibe that made absolutely no sense yet perfect sense at the same time. She’d heard the rumours of the manic pixie who was undeniable but she never thought she would ever meet her, let alone be seduced by her but yet she was and it was so damn good.

From beneath the bed, a mess of bleached hair rose up slowly, big blue eyes smiling down as Odina refused to awaken properly. Leaning in, she lowered her face closer. “Addie is about to go on the lamb.” She kissed Odie’s nose, causing the Hawaiian girl to sit bolt upright; headbutting the pint sized drug dealer and sending her crashing into a nearby desk. A photo came crashing down on top of her head.

Adelaide Davies-Jones was anything but normal but what was normal anyway? To look at her, the tiny girl was obviously very pretty, model-esque she had been told but her grunge aesthetic of torn tights, bomber jackets and baggy t-shirts vastly contrasted her almost valley-girl physical form. Then a further juxtaposition was her temperament. Even those who had never met Addie knew that she was absolutely crazy, hopped up on who knows what and completely non-stop. Yet she was absolutely utterly charming and intoxicating. It was hard not to love her.

As Odina leapt out of the bed to check on the blonde who was simply staring at the photo that had landed on her. “Shit me, is this your Dad? I thought this was like fucking Dwayne Johnson, holy fuck!” As the girl wrapped her arms around her to check she was ok, Addie couldn’t help but inhale. ”Wow, you smell really fucking good.”

Odie giggled, this girl truly was something else. It was hard to tell if she was even real. “Thanks honey and I’m glad you’re ok but you'll have to get out of here soon, my Dad no doubt just heard that clatter and he..erm…”

”He doesn’t know you're gay does he?” This was not Adelaide’s first rodeo. Over the years she had been many women’s first dip of the toe in the waters of sapphic glory. She didn’t mind it, in all honesty. Addie had known since she was very young who she was, what she liked and loved. Being sure of herself, some would call it delusional or overconfidence but she just was happy in her own skin and she knew not everyone felt the same. That’s why being used didn’t bother her, everyone had their own path to follow. ”I guess Addie’s work here is done. If ever you feel the need to hop on the good foot and do the bad thing, call me!” Pulling herself to her feet, she placed her the picture frame back on the desk and made her way to the window. She cracked it open and turned to sit on the ledge, gazing at Odina one more time. ”God your boobs are fan-fucking-tastic. Please call, I wanna smush em again. Catch ya later sexy.” With that, Addie flung herself backwards out of the window and down into the bushes below.

Emerging from the shrubbery, Adelaide dusted off her jacket as she looked around the unfamiliar neighbourhood she found herself in. It was still early and she needed to get to school before the bell. Her phone was dead, of course, so there was no way to call for help. There was no Uber or Lyft in her future. Dallas was a no go, her other sisters DJ, PJ and JJ had all probably left anyway. The PLC was likely already high. Addie could miss school but she really didn’t want to. She had learned prior to the summer that she was a few credits short for her college applications. The problem was, Addie was a genius. She really was. Much of school came so easy that she just didn’t try and now she was suffering for it. The goal was simple, this year she was going to be better and she was going to make all the strides possible so she could graduate and get the doctorate she so desired.

Now the bigger problem was finding a way to Beverly Hills in time for the first bell. Addie scanned the area for a bus stop or a taxi rink but this place was way to white picket suburban hell for that. Across the street, a young boy was wheeling his bicycle out of his garage, probably about to start his early morning paper round. There it was, Addiezms exit from the river Styx. She hurried across the street and waved to the youngster. “Hey can I borrow your bike? I promise it’s for nothing weird I just need to get to school.”

The little boy looked at the girl who was barely taller than him with a tilted head. There was something about the look on her face that felt incredibly innocent and genuine. He did not say a word as he pushed the bike forward into her waiting hands. Would he regret this? Probably. But she seemed sweet and gosh she sure was pretty…

“You are fucking amazeballs and Addie appreciates you little person to little person. Go buy yourself a biscuit!” Sticking her hand into her jacket pocket, Addie rummaged around trying to find any money that she might have, ”Aaah, here we go. Take this.” She handed the child a hundred dollar bill and saluted him as she spun the bike on its back end to wheel it down the driveway. The life of a drug baron wasn't a bad life. Then again Addie didn’t outright sell it, she grew it for the PLC, who then sold it. The pixie just got a cut of the profits.

Addie took a blunt from behind her ear and placed it delicately between her lips before lighting it and jumping onto the bike. The sad thing was she became an expert bike rider since her Mom took her moped away. All she did was take it to Vegas for a weekend, it’s really not that big a deal but noooooo, the Doctor just had to stick her stupid face into it and take Addie’s licence away. Her Mom sucked, she missed her Gamma. She understood Addie better than anyone. It was actually her Grandmother, the best psychologist in Massachusetts, who diagnosed Addie with ADHD and Hypersexuality. Her mother Wednesday was just happy to now have a label to explain her daughter's behaviour. Adelaide just thought it made her sound cooler than the voice of Matt Berry.

It took her a while but after what felt like an age, Addie managed to find herself on the right track towards school. However before she got there, she needed food, ya girl had the munchies. Stopping off at a breakfast joint about two minutes away from BHHS. She hopped off the still in motion bike and sauntered into the dinner, joint still hanging from her mouth. “Who does Addie have to screw to get some pancakes to go around here?…” Immediately as she said that a new waitress walked by and the big blue eyes of the suicide blonde widened intensely. “Oooh please let it be you.”

After being kicked out of the diner, with her pancakes of course, Addie knew the manager, she made the brisk walk towards the school, abandoning the bike she had borrowed. Arriving at the window outside of room 105, the rugby blondes wrapped her fists on the glass, awaiting one of her peers to open it up. Adelaide did not like doors. Doors let the monsters in. She was aware of how silly her fear was and she could and did use doors a lot but if a window was nearby, she’d much rather go through that. As for why she hated those room blockers? Well she wasn’t high enough to talk through that shit.

When the window above her opened ever so slightly, Addie took it as a sign. Grasping her last pancake between her teeth, she jumped up and grasped onto the ledge before pulling herself through the now fully open window. She dragged herself across her classmates desk before dropping onto the floor. She looked up at her disapproving peer and flashed the bird. ”YOU ARE NOT MY SUPERVISOR!”
In BHHS: Limitless → 1 mo ago Forum: Casual Roleplay



TRIGGER WARNING: POLITICS/RACIAL UNDERTONES


“Yo, let me talk to ya.”

Isaiah Strickland gazed at himself in the mirror, holding his hair brush in his dominant left hand, his walls adorned with his political dreams fading away in lew of a sold out crowd of like minded young men and women who wanted what he wanted, who felt what he felt and shared his vision. He looked out at their faces and saw the future, a better future for the world and everyone in it and everyone yet to arrive in it. This was the song, his one shot to make a mark.

“If you got no critics, you’ll get no success;
Don’t shoot yet son, don’t stress son,
Truth is on the side ‘o’ the oppressed
Be a Red man, yellow man, God be a black man,
Don’t matter what, just be a good man.

Don’t throw away your shot,
You got one, take aim, give it everything that ya got.
Don’t fire on your people, fire on society
Broker change, make it better, now that’s a priority.

Guns don’t kill people, black motherfuckers with guns kill people.
You see that on the news, you read that in the paper.
Don’t take that shit, it’s my world, your world, we’re the ones that gonna shape her”


“ZAY! YOU’RE GONNA BE LATE!”

A shrill voice cut through Isaiah’s daydream, almost causing him to stumble backwards over his textbooks. Steadying himself, Zay shook himself free of his fantasy and let his eyes fall upon the alarm clock on his bedside table. The wailing banshee downstairs was one hundred percent right he was going to be late! Scrambling around his room, the aspiring activist swiftly gathered some red and black clothes to stuff into his bag for the homecoming uniform before tossing it over his bare shoulder. As he prepared to exit, Isaiah picked an envelope up off his cluttered desk and stuffed it into his joggers pocket before leaving the room.

”Wooooooow, we get it Zay, you’ve been working out over the summer. Put a shirt on you whore.” Peri was Isaiah’s older sister. The only daughter of his father Tony. She graduated the year prior but had yet to do anything with her life, claiming a gap year. Most days she worked the phones at their Dad’s bespoke furniture company and then spent the evenings and weekends in the company of who the hell knows? She was her own person and Zay wasn’t her keeper. “Who’re you trying to impress huh? My baby brother got a crush? She teased as she took a bite out of her toast.

Isaiah shook his head as he picked up his earbuds from the kitchen counter top, narrowly avoiding a piping hot butter splash from Peri’s breakfast; the girl had no spatial awareness. “My business is my business, Peri. Same as yours is yours. But I know you’re just going to keep probing. I’m on a health drive at the minute so I’m jogging to school. Nothing more to it than that. Which also means you can take my car to work, you know if you actually decide to go. I’m assuming both dads have already left?”

Peri pouted her painted plump lips. Zay knew her too well. She was going to ask for the car tonight anyway so this worked out in her favour. ”Yas, Queen. Daddy Rich asked me to remind you to call…shit I forgot. What was that name?”

Sighing, Isaiah placed an earbud in as he looked at his older sister. “Montez. He wants me to call Montez. If you go in today, tell him I’ll do it when I get a chance. I’m booked up with tutoring and basketball and stuff. Don’t work too hard, Peri. Love you.” He popped the second bud into his ear and began to walk out of the house.

”Love you too, you fucking dingus. Go get laid! It’ll loosen you up!”

2Pac’s banger played in Zay’s ear as he ran down and out of his street and towards the school. As the heat in his body began to rise and the thin layer of sweat began to form, Isaiah had a thousand and one things on his mind. This was not unusual for him but normally those thoughts were centred around his grades and school. Recently though, there’s been a shift in his mentality.

Like the song was saying, all eyes were on him. When it came to his two dads, Tony and Richie, they had a lot of expectation on Zay and with graduation round the corner there was no doubt they would be piling on the pressure. They wouldn’t mean to, they weren’t troublesome parents by any means, in fact they were incredibly supportive of anything Zay did. Yet his grades were some of the highest in his class and his politically charged persona embodied Ivy League like nobody else. They wanted him to be a valedictorian; Isaiah meanwhile, wasn’t sure he wanted that.

Then there was the thing Peri said about having a crush. She wasn’t exactly wrong. For the last three years, Zay had very much flown under the radar of all the social cliques and houses. He was nice enough for everyone to get along with but not bold enough for anyone to take notice of. He had dedicated himself to his classes, his extracurriculars like teaching the ASL class, tutoring and basketball. It was cliche but Isaiah hadn’t really had the true high school experience of hooking up, dating, falling in love, having your heart broken or making what one could consider a true friend. This year he wanted to change that. This year he wanted his cake and to eat it too. He wanted to get the grades, get his petitions signed and he wanted to be noticed, he wanted someone to see him, the real him from behind the clipboard. So he had been walking out and he had freshened up his style. It was a new year but it wasn't a new Isaiah, just the real one.

As he rounded a corner, Zay narrowly avoided a woman with a child. He nodded politely in apology before carrying on his run. Seeing her, it reminded him of the biggest challenge on his mind, the one that felt like a noose around his neck, waiting to hang him for treason. The letter in his pocket, a note which arrived several weeks into the summer vacation from a man called Montez Bell; Isaiah’s birth father, or so he claimed. Zay had only ever met one member of his blood family and that was his mothers mother, Granny Hobbs, whom he still visited to this day. He knew next to nothing about his father, Granny wouldn’t share much, just his name.

Obviously as a child of adoption, there were huge parts of Zay that wanted to teach out, connect with the man and find out answers to all the questions he has had since he was six years old and his dads sat him down to tell him the real truth about his origins. Then there was the other part of him that didn't want to know. He had a good thing going, two Dads that loved him, a sister that loved him and yet curiosity was eating away at his gut like a disease. Identity. He wanted to know what his was; there had to be more to Isaiah than even he knew. Speaking to his father could be a way to find out.

Isaiah arrived in the parking lot with a decent amount of time to spare. He glanced up at the monster that was Beverly Hills High, his bare chest heaving as he caught his breath. He was getting some stares and looks but that was fine; it was what he wanted. New year, real me. He waved at an approaching vehicle which he knew contained the Hive Five for no other reason than being polite. Zay then quickly made a swift beeline to a bathroom to switch into his actual wear for the day which was a pair of black jeans and a white polo with a thin black cardigan with red trimmings. No one could say Isaiah wasn’t showing his school spirit. He left the bathroom with his bag and made his way towards his homeroom, it was time to quiet the overpowering and overwhelming noise in his head and focus.

Easier said than done.

Most of the kids in his class he had known for years, there were none that he could really say he had gotten close to. For a long time he had convinced himself it was because they wouldn’t let him in. In actuality, the more likely scenario was that Zay wouldn’t let them in. He was too guarded, too tightly wound. All that mattered was proving to his parents that he was worth the chance they had taken on him. Now he was going in with a fresh mind set and a new purpose. This year wasn’t going to be different. This year was going to be the best ever.

He was gonna graduate.
He was going to make friends.
Maybe he was even going to find love?
All that was for sure was that nothing was for sure.

And for Isaiah, that was fucking terrifying.
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