Fabricant451

What shows/movies are you watching?

I hate that we've reached a point where I could just wait three weeks for a movie to go from theaters to on demand. The theater experience sucks, but it's part of the experience, dammit

BHHS: Limitless

As Vazira followed the path of destruction, fallen log by fallen log, and drew closer to the city, her nose twitched like she was holding in a sneeze. The air around Marindor was foul with smoke, salt, and secrets, none of which made for an appealing aperitif. The young girl had heard stories of this place, but none of them ever mentioned the smell. From a distance, the sight of Marindor could inspire awe. In the center of the city stood a tall, spired building that towered above every other structure, even the lighthouse at the far northeastern tip. This building, from which the rest of the city spiraled outward like the shell of a nautilus, had its front facing the east, its windows overlooking the docks from which the city earned the majority of its coin. Even at this early hour, with the sun only barely breaking through the horizon, blue and white merchant sails could be seen in the docks and more were soon to be arriving. Curiously, the piers furthest away from the docks, towards the west, looked thrown together with twine and twigs and stood in stark contrast to the sturdy, immaculate piers closer in.

But Marindor was a city of contrasts. Behind the central spire were houses and buildings whose white stone construction shone with the morning sunlight and were built in ascending rows, spiraling towards the top of a hill where an impressively garish manor house stood as if overlooking the port city; the contrast came with the buildings elsewhere in the city, their dull greystones were ravaged by the sea air, several windows were broken, and the outwardly spiraled construction made for confusing alleys and densely packed footpaths that made unsuspecting or unprepared sorts easy pickings for salty-faced cutpurses.

Vazira was not so easily swayed by appearances. The city smelled of lies and blood, a faint redolence of sin lingered on the nostrils and pickled the lips more sour than any mug of swill that flowed from the ale houses populated by sailors and nebbish merchants both looking for a good pricking. But somewhere in this city was the man responsible for killing her betrothed, and so Vazira entered Marindor in search of the trail that had led her here.

Rare was the time when Vazira was glad for the uniqueness of her birth. Though it was not uncommon to see the short and stout figures of the mountain dwelling dwarves in a human settlement such as this, the only elves this far south were ones who abandoned their homelands and grew plump and complacent right alongside their human compatriots. But someone like Vazira was an anomaly all her own, for orcs were savage, uncivilized brutes and the child of an orc mother and a human father was akin to laying with a beast in the eyes of those who made the laws of the land. An offspring of an orc and human was an impossibility, and yet here she was.

While Vazira’s ears were more rounded like those of a human (albeit with a pointed lobe), her skin was a harder sell. Among orcs, her pale complexion earned her ridicule and ire; among the civilized, she would no doubt appear to be sallow and thus unnatural and so Vazira drew her hood taut over her head.

The sound of fishmongers shouting at passersby held her attention as she stepped through the docks, already finding herself lost from the entrance. Her eyes poured over a pinkish fish displayed on a tray of ice, the seller holding a larger fish with gray skin out in front of him as he joined in the chorus of voices broadcasting their stock and their affordable prices. She’d never seen such a colorful fish. She’d never seen any fish before it was burnt brown with a stick stabbed through it, which was about as appealing to the mouth as it was to the eyes.

“You’ve nae geld, d’ye?” a voice aroused Vazira from her piscine reverie. The voice was thick of brogue and husky of tone and Vazira didn’t know quite how to respond, mostly because she didn’t quite understand what was being asked of her. “Jus’ ye’ve been’ starin’ awful lot at tha’ fish, gel. Ye nae go’ geld’ta buy it, have ye?”

The voice clarified, though it took Vazira a moment to put together that geld meant gold and from there it was easy enough to parse. Her response found itself hanging in her throat as she turned to look at the speaker. Standing next to her but not looking at her was a tall figure with hair the color of burnt strawberry and tightened into a braided tail. They wore a shirt of gray linen and black trousers tucked into leather boots. Around the waist Vazira could see a coin purse and, more importantly, a flintlock of which she was certain its twin was attached to the other leg. The one eye the half-orc could see was an emerald green that lit up as the figure smiled and the lack of three teeth in the back of the mouth was as enticing an imperfection as Vazira had ever known.


_{A Shot in the Arm}

During the Pep Rally

The letter arrived four days ago but Penny Amato still hadn’t opened it.

It was such a simple thing, opening a letter, Penny had done it so many times over the years, from birthdays and holidays to pay stubs and report cards, there was nothing to it. And yet the first day they got the letter, all Penny could do was put it on their desk and look at it from the safety of their bed. Periodically their eyes would drift from the show they were watching to the desk and at the damned letter, head swirling with the ringing belief that the contents inside the envelope were judging Penny in a silent chorus. More than once Penny worked up the courage to go a step beyond hovering their hand over it and actually held it in both hands - but every single time that happened, Penny looked at the sender’s address, looked at the logo in the corner, looked at their name smack in the center, and back to the desk it went. If it had been a college acceptance letter it would’ve been done and dusted, but college was whatever; inside this letter was Penny’s future.

Up until the letter arrived, Penny’s room was a place of comfort, a sanctuary where Penny could rest, recover, and revive. It was a shrine to Penny’s personal interests, posters for Game of Thrones were placed next to signed posters of the Lord of the Rings trilogy hung across from wall scrolls depicting anime robots which draped next to a cork board containing commissions of Penny’s various table top characters and on her desk, along with that damned letter, were notebook pages and notebooks proper, above which stood a shelf lined with miniatures and sets of dice. But the letter took the comfort away. Even when Penny put it inside a drawer or inside a book, its presence still loomed like that creepy feeling when you enter a house and just know someone died inside it. That feeling was one of the many reasons Penny never visited their mom at work at the hospital.

The longer Penny took to open the letter, the more it had a hold on their life; it hadn’t gotten to the point where it was keeping Penny awake at night but were they really about to let it get to that point? By the third day it almost became a comical routine. Penny would wake up, do their morning routine, and as they were putting on a shirt a size too big, the letter would flash in the periphery and Penny would pause, look towards the envelope, and for a brief moment it seemed like they were going to open it. But the moment passed, Penny sighed, and closed the door on the letter. Why was it so difficult? Penny already knew the contents, no letter that small and thin contained good news and of course they were prepared for that outcome but it was that preparation that made it such a difficult task. It wasn’t as if Penny had never faced rejection before, hell Penny had rejected people who thought that the best time to ask them out, in so many words, was when Penny was working at Plouf all because putting a heart in a latte sent people mixed signals.

Rejection was nothing new, but rejection via an impersonal, probably from a damn form letter, was painful.

But there was also the other possibility, that it wasn’t a rejection letter. That it was a letter of congratulations and that brought its own anxieties with it. It wasn’t even a complete work that Penny submitted but what if a full, finished sample was requested? No one even knew Penny was working on something so…well they hesitated to call it cliche but…uninspired? Even at school, Penny’s association with the literary magazine was more as an editor who read through submissions rather than someone whose work was featured. Penny was a theater kid, a stage performer, they didn’t write scripts. Could they even handle the responsibility if their sample was accepted? That was pressure that Penny didn’t need.

That damn letter was going to give them a panic attack.

On the Friday before Homecoming, Penny took the next best step to just opening the thing and getting it over with like a bandaid: they put it into their backpack and were determined to open it at lunch, because nothing soothed bad news quite like cafeteria tater tots. Lunch came and went and the letter remained unopened. And Penny didn’t even have tater tots. Friends could tell something was bothering Penny, but any time someone asked, Penny simply shook their head and said they were fine before changing the subject or finally contributing to the conversation.

What Penny needed was something to take their mind off the letter, or, better, someone to just open the damn thing instead. Or, as Penny spotted a familiar face as they deposited their garbage in a can and heard the sound of wheels on asphalt; the face in question quickly met the ground after she collided with another student, but by that point Penny was already formulating a plan.

While students were shuffling towards the pep rally, Penny told some people to save them a seat as they left the building, mentioning having forgotten something in their car. In the back of their mind Penny wondered if the resident skate punk would be at the pep rally thus making this entire endeavor even more pointless than it seemed, but those concerns were squashed as Penny crossed the parking lot desert towards the figure sitting on a bench, her skateboard leaning against the open spots on the bench next to her, fingers digging inside a small bag of chips.

“Bit on the nose, isn’t it?” Penny asked as they stood in front of the bench, backpack around their shoulder, hand rubbing their forehead and looking around as if what they were doing was some illegal act. To an outsider, Penny looked like someone who was worried that a cop would pop out of a bush and slap the cuffs on them, which they were willing to blame purely on the fucking letter. Why were they so nervous? Penny had bought weed before! They hadn’t been this nervous since the first time they went to a dispensary.

“What? My nose?” Everly Rigby looked up at the shadow standing in her sunlight, squinting until her eyes came into focus. Penny Amato. Not one of the regular customers, but with the way they were frantically looking around, Everly had to wonder if they’d even done this before. Which of course they had, Everly had been there. It was at a party after a school play - Everly wasn’t involved nor was she invited to the party but that hadn’t ever stopped her, and she distinctly remembered Penny hitting the bong like a real fiend.

“Oh. You’re eating baked chips. I thought, because you’re, you know…baked.” Penny shook her head. Was this what it felt like to cringe? How did people ever think they were cool? Everly looked at her bag of chips. Baked Lay’s, barbeque flavor, and gave Penny the world’s most obvious pity chuckle which only made Penny feel even more embarrassed. This was a stupid idea. It wasn’t too late to abort.

“Oh. Yeah. They taste better than the regular ones. And you get bigger chips.” Everly proved her work by pulling out a flat chip that resembled the shape of burnt cheese in a pan but in cracker form and took a crunch-filled bite. “You want one?” Everly held the bag to Penny, who held up a palm and shook her head.

“Can I ask you something, Everly?” The nod of agreement and the continued crunch of approval had Penny taking a deep breath. “Do…do you think you could…open a letter for me?” Just saying that out loud only deepened the skin crawling feeling of embarrassment that Penny was not used to feeling.

“Do your fingers not work, dude? You just lift the edge and pull, it’s real easy.” Everly began to mime the act of opening a letter and in the process spilled a chip onto the ground. “Shit.”

“No..I know how to…look, it’s a long story and I’m kinda embarrassed and you’re gonna laugh at me and I know it’s stupid but…I don’t have anyone else I can turn to, my friends would make fun of me, my mom would-”

“Your mom’s like James Bond, right?”

“What? Everly, what, what the fuck are you?”

“I got a bet going. No one really knows anything about your parents and my money is on them being, like, spies.”

“That…look, can you focus?”

“Can you?” Everly’s comment came from nowhere but it succeeded in getting Penny to pause and take a breath. Once again Everly offered Penny a chip, and once again it was turned down. Everly took the last chip in the bag and crunched down while crinkling the bag into a neat, compact square. “You’re bein’ really weird, dude, which is super weird cuz you’re, like, cool enough that I hear people say they’ve never seen you shaken up. I’m not a therapist or nothin’, but I think you need to step into my office.”

“You have an office?”

“Hell yeah, dude. It’s metal four ick hole.” Everly stood up and before Penny could piece together what the hell that meant, she was skating away at a pace meant for Penny to follow. It was only after a sigh that Penny did follow.

Vazira was getting distracted. She wasn’t here in Marindor to socialize or join in the chorus as mugs of ale were clinked together and spilled onto tables and fingers pinched at dress bottoms of a bonnie dwarven lass who, more than anything, wanted to bash the mugs over the heads of people whose hands wandered. And yet here she was, an untouched mug in front of her, hands balled into clumps in her lap while all around her the sounds of drunken revelry pricked her ears. Cooling on the plate in front of her was the salivating scent of crimfish, though her eyes weren’t drawn to the fish as they had been when she spied it in the market; no, the half-orc’s eyes were drawn to the emerald eyed woman at the head of the table. As they had been since the first honeyed words slithered into her ears.

Of one thing Vazira was certain. The men she was sharing a table with were pirates and they were captained by Kherington, the emerald eyed and strawberry haired, but the why of it all escaped her. Why was she here, amongst the rowdy crew, why had a pirate seen fit to buy a fish for her, and why was Vazira so…enraptured. Every second here was a second kept away from her goal and though Kherington’s words were true, truer still now that Vazira’s stomach rumbled as if a cannonball was fired upon an enemy vessel, that didn’t change the fact that if she didn’t excuse herself after the piscine dinner, the already lukewarm trail would grow frigid.

“Oi, Cap’n, s’with the cloaked weirdo?” A thumb with a red splotch akin to strawberry jelly in place of a thumb poked towards Vazira’s direction and the sickly stench emanating from the pus around the edges was enough to overpower and ruin the appetite.

“She’s a guest’o’mine.” Kherington snapped back, wiping frothed foam from her upper lip, a gesture so normal and ordinary that only Vazira watched it with a quiet intensity. Every action the pirate captain took was curious to the half-orc. “And she’s part’a’the plan.”

For the first time since being set at the table, Vazira appeared to blink and move. “I’m…I’m what?” Her voice was lost amidst the howl of the alehouse and even speaking up seemed to do nothing. “I’M WHAT?” She shouted. More, she roared. Silence filled the alehouse as one by one every head and eyeball in the establishment turned towards her. Vazira was still cloaked, but in that moment it felt as if everyone could see beneath the linen.

“Found yer voice, didja?” Kherington cackled, leering towards Vazira, an intensity in the singular eye that bespoke interest beyond simple curiosity. “Now where’d that come from, gel?” The heavy way in which the captain called Vazira ‘girl’ took a different connotation here. Back in the fish market it sounded playful, almost flirty; here it almost seemed threatening. Vazira began calculating her chances of getting out of here unscathed, even if she could set some of the ale-soaked beards on fire with a twist of the wrist, the door might as well have been kilometers away, and just escaping the alehouse didn’t mean safety. They would pursue her, especially if they decloaked her.

“Surely ye didnae think the fish was outta the goodness of m’heart?” Another cackle from Kherington which had the voices of her crew joining the chorus. “Silly gel. I got no heart at all.” The laughter roared louder and Vazira knew any chance of escape was a childish notion. The damning part was there was a side of her that didn’t want to escape. There was a part of her that wanted to follow Kherington to hell.

“So, let me see if I understand.” Everly took a drag from the blunt and held it out to Penny as she exhaled a pluff of smoke. The two were seated beneath a cottonwood tree on a small hill just barely within the BHHS grounds. From here they could see the parking lot, the quad, and the school building itself; it was a good place to hold an office, Everly explained on the way, because if anyone tried to interrupt then they’d be spotted well enough to hide any evidence of wrongdoing. Between the pair of them, music played from a phone - they couldn’t smoke without music - and Everly took her shoes off to enjoy the grass. “You submitted parts of a story to a publisher and you can’t handle the rejection? And that’s why you needed to relax? I didn’t even know you wrote stuff. What’s it about?”

“I don’t know.” Penny shook their head and began to puff the joint. “That’s part of the problem. Because there’s a small chance they liked it, but I don’t really have any idea of where to take the story. But…it’s meant to be like…a fantasy romance thing. Like an orc falls in love with this pirate captain while she’s on the trail of the man who killed her betrothed. It’s…it’s stupid.” Penny passed the blunt to a nodding Everly.

“Yeah, it sounds boring.”

“Thanks.”

“No, I mean, I don’t really care about shit like that. Fantasy and orcs and warriors and stuff. I got bored with Game of Thrones once Daenerys’ actress decided she was above getting railed by Jason Momoa.”

“Kind of a gross misunderstanding of the story but…sure.” The blunt continued to be passed between the two of them, and now that Penny had her mind occupied by a simple conversation, they didn’t realize how much they needed it. They weren’t even thinking about the letter right now even though it was still lingering in the recesses of the mind. “It’s just…I don’t know.”

“The view is nice here, isn’t it?” Everly seemed to change the topic but Penny turned her gaze towards where Everly was looking. As far as views went…it was probably fine. You could get a similar one from one of the windows on the third floor of the school, but from this vantage point the field of view was wider. Right now on the quad there were students ditching the pep rally and in the parking lot they could see Ellie Walters strumming her bass while sitting in her car’s open trunk with a melting blue slushie next to her. Behind them was a tree that had initials of couples of BHHS past carved into it.

“Sure? It’s…passable.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice view. You know, I wanted to bring Stella here but then I realized that taking her to basically look at the school we go to is a terrible idea.”

“Stella…Manning. That Stella?” If Penny had the blunt they would’ve coughed. “You’ve got it hot for Stella? Get in line, man, you and like every straight dude and bisexual person walking the halls.”

“Dude, what? No, I’ve got, like, a crush on her.”

“That’s…that’s what I…never mind. Stella…I mean, yeah, she’s nice.”

“Beautiful.”

“Sure, beautiful.”

“A goddess among mortals.”

“Okay, reign it in, Ev.”

“Gorgeous.”

“Yeah, sure, can I finish?” Penny took a look at Everly, who was looking down at the quad, her expression weirdly wistful, which was not an expression she thought Everly, she of eternal good vibes, could make. “Yeah, Stella’s nice and I’ve never disliked sharing the stage with her, I mean I prefer Katie but don’t tell Stella that, but I don’t think she’s capable of, like…I mean..isn’t she dating Ethan Green or something?”

“Yeah, I think so. And, like, I get it. Henry Green is a Green and I’m a drug dealer. He can open a lot of doors for her, career wise, and all I can do is open actual doors for her. But like…our Freshman year I saw her do the fall play and she just…became the character. People always talk about her appearance but it’s not about that for me. I believe she could actually be famous and I want to support that, and she’s not just her physical beauty, you know?” Everly had the blunt in her hand but didn’t take a hit. She just held it while keeping her gaze forward. “I know we walk in different circles and I know that I have no shot with her, but if I let that take over my thoughts then I’d be..well…I’d be a wreck.”

Penny listened to Everly’s words and wrestled with the idea of putting a hand on Everly’s back. The way Everly spoke, it was like listening to someone talk about the one that got away but Penny believed they were seeing a side of the school’s resident skateboarding drug dealer that not many people ever saw. If they weren’t getting high and here under unique circumstances they’d be a bit flattered to be trusted enough to see such vulnerabilities. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were, like, into her into her. But…what does this have to do with, well, anything?”

“And people call me a dumbass.” Everly smirked and took her last hit from the blunt, handing it off to Penny, who was damn near offended by the implication. “If I asked you to, would you put in a good word about me to Stella?”

“I mean…yeah, but-”

“But it wouldn’t be the same as if I just talked to her.”

“Well…well yeah.”

“Your letter is like Stella Manning.”

“It’s a decent actress with nice tits?” Everly looked towards Penny like Penny had just kicked a puppy. “Sorry.” Their apology came with the punctuation mark of the final hit on the joint.

“I could open the letter for you. And I could read you the contents. But it wouldn’t be the same as doing it yourself. I know when I do tell Stella my feelings that she’s gonna reject me. But I don’t let that stop me from having those feelings. I’m not afraid of rejection, Penny. And you shouldn’t be either.” Everly stood on the spot and stretched her arms over her head. The school day was going to be over very soon and customers would be arriving. Everly would be there for them. She always was. The sad part was that she might always be even when everyone else was gone to bigger and better things.

“We’re kids, Penny. We don’t have to have it all figured out,”

“Everly..” Penny paused and Everly, who had grabbed her shoes and was starting the descent down the hill back to the quad, looked over her shoulder. “You’d make a pretty good cleric with that wisdom.”

“I don’t know what that means, dude.”

With a shared moment of laughter and a departing wave from Everly, Penny was left on her own again, with their backpack slumped against the tree. Penny waited until they saw Everly’s baseball cap wearing head reach the parking lot before grabbing their backpack and taking out the letter. There wasn’t any hesitation. No nervous, shaking fingers as she turned the envelope over and opened it with a tear. Inside was a folded letter and Penny’s fingers began to shake as they removed the letter and began the process of unfolding it.

As their eyes scanned the words and the truth she expected was confirmed, all they could do was smile.

BHHS: Limitless

Abby!

_{Ashley "Abby" Beswick}

17 • Female • Asexual, Panromantic • She/Her • Single

(FC: Chloé Hayden; Dialogue: 86EDE8)

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Ｉｎｔｒｏ

► reputation

There are two camps of thought when it comes to Abby, three if you count the people who are confused why she goes by Abby even though her name is Ashley: the people who think she's weird and the people who think she's weird but use language like 'quirky' to sound nicer. Abby is weird, sure, but she's the kind of weird that is uniquely freeing in an environment like high school and especially a high school where reputation is everything. Abby is the kind of girl who seems absolutely unaware of social expectations at BHHS to the point where she has, on more than one instance, seen an open seat during lunch and sat down even though it would be at the Hive table or the Elite table and anytime someone said "Excuse me" to her in an attempt to get her to leave, she would just look at them with her mouth full of drink or sandwich and ask "Why, did you burp?" If it was anyone else her words might've been seen as mocking. Maybe they were. But Abby just wanted a place to eat her lunch, what does it matter if it's where someone who was late to lunch was 'supposed' to sit?

When she isn't causing international high school incidents, Abby is often found in the art room getting paint on her clothes as she works on her latest piece, failing that she's on the quad, sometimes twirling until she falls into the grass or other times just laying on her back - possibly even napping. She doesn't quite like the party culture that makes up interactions at school, preferring to spend her weekends at a gallery or eating rainbow sherbet and popsicles until her brain freezes. People haven't seen her at parties, but they have seen her at BHHS because it's hard to miss someone who is so loud without even having to say anything.

► current dilemma

Abby, like any respectable high school student, is freaking out over life after high school. She hasn't applied to colleges because none of them really have any programs that interest her and she doesn't think art needs to learn math or other gen eds when she can just get some canvas, paints, and see what happens after six hours. But societal pressures mean that she has expectations of getting a career if not a college education but that is an equally daunting prospect. It may not be as dramatic as some students at school, but behind the ever present smile is the mind of someone who sees the future and for the first time in their life doesn't see a bright spot ahead.

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Ｄｅｔａｉｌｓ

► social media handles

Abby doesn't use social media because she's seen people who take it very seriously and they always seem like they're a drug addict but their drug is online interaction. The most she has is a phone for group texts. She has considered starting one for her art but she doesn't think there's much of a point to posting pictures of her paintings on the internet. She doesn't need those strange people who negatively comment on everything someone works on.

► style

If there's a brand associated with the clothes Abby wears, it's not one of any real note. It's not that she isn't fashionable or stylish, it's just that her wardrobe is very...pastel. Someone once described an outfit she wore as "if mint chocolate chip ice cream was clothing" but she was wearing a very nice bright green that day. Abby often wears overalls that have paint on them - but only on days when she intends to paint. She always wears different eye shadow shades on both eyes, and they're always analogous or triadic colors. If one eye is bright blue, expect the other to be yellow or pink.

► ride & everyday items

Abby doesn't have a driver's license so she often has to ride with others or get dropped off by a parent or guardian. She'll take public transportation but only when other options have been exhausted.

► occupation

She doesn't have a job but she does frequent the Creamistry a lot. A scoop of rainbow sherbet is her go-to.

► extracurricular activities

She's a member of the art club and once got into a misunderstanding with another member who really wanted to only draw something called a 'doujinshi'. She didn't know what it meant and still doesn't.

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Ｑｕｅｓｔｉｏｎｎａｉｒｅ

Friends would describe me as _______.

"A pronoun used by a speaker to refer to himself or herself as the object or verb or preposition. That definition seems a little outdated in regards to modern understandings of personal pronouns but other than that it's a pretty textbook definition and description of the word 'me'. It's all hypothetical anyway, I don't know if I have friends but it's okay! I mean people are nice to me but I'm not getting invited to sleepovers. I have a pet frog, if he could talk I hope he'd describe me as a good mom."

In my free time I like to _______.

"Well I like to paint and eat ice cream but everyone already knows that. I really like space I like to imagine I'm in space not like in a rocket ship or on Star Trek or something but just like...floating in space without a suit and helmet. But...yes mostly I like to make art, look at art, and eat ice cream."

I would like to learn _______ in the next year.

"How to draw hands. Hands are tough. Well they're soft to touch. At least mine are. I think other peoples hands are also soft. I think I'd like to hold a hand to confirm."

This is how I define success and failure:

"I don't actully define success or failure, those words are already defined. I don't believe I can define them any better than the experts already have. Success feels better than failure but failure leads to success so you need both, I think."

I'm inspired by _______.

"Nature, space, the sky, life. Life is beautiful and messy and disguting and wonderful and interesting and so many people are willing to let it pass them by. All my most creative artworks come from life."

These songs are the soundtrack to my life:

"Europe Endless by Kraftwerk"
"It's Not Up To You by Bjork"
"Kill v Maim by Grimes"
"Gangsta by Tune-yards"
"Two Weeks by FKA twigs"
"Wouldn't It Be Nice by The Beach Boys"
"Haircut by Petey and Miya Folick"
"AMERICAN GURL by Kilo Kish"
"It's Not Just Me, It's Everybody by Weyes Blood"
"Abrasive by Ratatat"

My fondest memory as a child was _______.

"My parents wanted me to try an outdoor activity so I played youth league soccer. I played by the goalie because everyone had to have a position and that was the only one. I didn't do much except for one game where I got hit in the chest with the ball after a wayward kick which allowed our team to regain control and win the game. We got pizza and trophies at the end of the season. It wasn't until later that I learned all the kids on the team got a trophy but that didn't take away from the nice feeling of being a useful member of the team."

If I could tell my younger self something, I would say:

"Finger painting is a totally valid form of expression no matter what the babysitter said. But maybe get permission before doing it on walls, some people think it's vandalism."

The things that make me smile are _______.

"I'm always smiling, except when I'm not, but if I'm not smiling then it's because my eyes are closed and I'm trying to go back to my happy place."

My whole life story in one sentence:

"I am."

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► extra information

She has a pet frog. His name is Flapjack. He's a good frog.

What shows/movies are you watching?

Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes, while not as good as Dawn or War, is a totally fine start to a new trilogy and also the latest blockbuster movie to show Disney that if you're gonna use CGI for 90 percent of your movie, at least take the time to make it look fuckin good.

Video Games: The General Discussion & Community Thread Number Two

The Stellar Blade 'controversy' thing is hilarious and the Helldivers 2 thing is not hilarious but it's real funny how Microsoft is just the gold medalist in hitting themselves in the face with a pie whenever Sony tries to take the crown

BHHS: Limitless

Maggot Brain

As the faucet in the bathroom finished filling up the sink, Naomi Davis looked into the mirror and only saw cracks. The bathroom on this corner of the third floor at this time of morning was thankfully empty as she knew it would be. Bathrooms were always empty when Naomi Davis entered them, just that sometimes it took a moment of tapping her foot on the tile while one of her entourage cleared their throat in case the stragglers didn’t get the hint. Rare were the moments that Naomi used a public bathroom, but even rarer were the times when girls like Naomi used the bathroom for its intended purpose. When homeroom ended, Naomi told Lottie not to wait up but she didn’t care if Lottie understood or not. She might not have even said anything, she was out of the classroom with the speed of someone who was looking at the clock and packed their bags with five minutes left before class was dismissed.

Naomi left the classroom, closed her eyes, took a breath, and walked. Normally, whenever she walked these halls, the other students watched her move as if in slow motion, always looking forward, posture perfect, heels clacking, entourage matching her intensity, only the foolish and the ignorant crossing in front of her. There was something different about her gait, it was swift but awkward, as if she had barely walked in heels before and was trying not to show it. Her face was stoic, but even she could tell that her lips were quivering like her heart was racing and she was on the verge of breaking into a hyperventilated onslaught of tears. Her only consolation was that everyone in the halls parted in her presence like an emergency siren on the street or a police escort on a crowded road. With everyone getting out of her way, it meant less of a chance of anyone trying to be brave and speak up to her, but the closer she got to her destination the more she wished she had the support of her court to serve as a buffer.

Without them there was only Naomi and when there was only Naomi there was nothing to focus on, no conversation between Angel and Indy, no off handed remark by Lottie, no grounding hand on the back from Levi. Nothing. Just Naomi. Just Naomi and the students who were conditioned to get out of her way. Just Naomi and the crippling realization that she was alone in the halls, a boat adrift at sea that was taking on water. For one single moment Naomi paused and closed her eyes again. If Levi were here he’d probably find a way to ask what was wrong without asking what was wrong and Naomi would reply nothing and their procession would continue.

But there was only Naomi and as she opened her eyes and quickened her pace she was acutely aware that there were eyes watching, lips whispering, rumors spreading, questions being asked. Where was the rest of the Hive? Where was she going? Why was she walking so quickly. Was she shaking? Were her lips quivering? Did she really wear that outfit today? Who does she think she is? Does she know she’s worse than Satan? Why do you think she’s single? Did you know her last boyfriend broke up with her? Who would want to date her anyway? Did you hear her daddy bought her those lips? Have you heard her taste in music? What is she, like sixty years old? What a loser what a bitch what a loser what a phony what a loser what a BITCH what a PHONY what a LOSER what a -

The water in the bathroom sink spilled onto the floor as Naomi’s head dunked itself beneath the surface. Bubbles rose to the top as she opened her mouth and tried to speak. No words. No sound. Just the weight of the world keeping her head under the water while her finger gripped the corners of porcelain just hard enough to make her palms go white. If she were squeezing her hands any harder without the sink there to catch her ire, she would have pierced flesh. Naomi closed her eyes as more bubbles bounded for the surface. Even with eyes closed underwater she could feel the ripples and the splashes and the waves. When the bubbles left her mouth this time, they popped and her ears shook with what she heard. A voice not her own but calling her name. A voice belonging to a shadowed figure obscured by light. “naomi Na…O….mi naOMI…NAOMI!”

Naomi Davis lifted her head out of the water and looked around in a panic. Where was she? She didn’t like it here. She was going to die she was going to die she hated this she hate she hate she hate follow the voice what voice where’s the voice where… “Naomi!” Naomi lifted the goggles from her eyes and looked towards the light as the figure beckoned her with open arms. Naomi shook her head, teeth chattering, arms flailing, feet kicking back and forth but she was standing still. Floating still. “Come on, Naomi, you’re right there!” The voice continued, the arms of the shadowy figure slowly coming into focus.

The voice belonged to a woman and Naomi pushed and paddled her way towards the woman, who bent down and helped lift Naomi up into the warm embrace of a towel. The chattering of teeth stopped only to be replaced by the full body shivering as the gentle breeze of the open air made the water dripping from Naomi feel that much colder; but nothing was as cold as the gaze Vanessa Davis was giving her young daughter. “Dry off. Go again.”

“I don’t wanna.” Naomi was running the towel over her hair. The sound in her left ear was a little fuzzy but the book had said that could happen while swimming and the fuzz didn’t make it any more difficult to hear the sounds of laughter and splashes as kids did cannonballs and jumped into the pool and splashed each other. Out of the corner of her eye, Naomi could see the large banner hanging from the awning of the roof where the pool normally sold ice cream and soda pop. ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY NAOMI!’ it said, and behind the banner, working the grill behind the counter was an employee who drew the short straw as he flipped burgers and checked on hot dogs and fried chicken strips for the guests. It was supposed to be her dad handling the cooking, with a bottle of beer in hand, an apron with some funny saying, and flip flops with socks. But he wasn’t here.

Half the kids in the pool didn’t even know Naomi, they just had the good fortune to be in her elementary school class. The other half didn’t know her either, but they were told that Dwayne Johnson was gonna show up and for that level of fame they could pretend to be friends with Naomi Davis and even if he didn’t show up…it was an afternoon at the pool and it came with an ice cream cake. But Naomi wasn’t seeing the kids and how much fun they were having without her. At her own birthday party. All she saw was the look of utter disappointment on her mother’s face. “What was that?” She asked, snatching the towel from Naomi’s grasp so quickly that Naomi was worried it would be snapped against her.

“I wanna go play.” Naomi didn’t even want the party at the pool. She hated the pool. She wanted it at Six Flags and she didn’t know what her parents did but she knew they could afford to rent the whole park out for her birthday so she could go on all the rides and have a big cotton candy. They could take a school bus and bring her whole grade and for one day she’d be on top of the world in the eyes of everyone. But the pool was closer. The pool was cheaper. The pool was chosen for her.

“Play? Play with who?” Her mother asked and Naomi gestured towards the classmates in the pool who were having water wars by swinging pool noodles at each other like they were in Star Wars. “And how are you going to play with them? You can’t swim, Naomi. That’s what I’m trying to teach you.”

“They’re in the not deep part. I’m fine in that part. I wanna go play.” As Naomi turned to join her classmates in the pool, a hand clamped on her wrist as icy as handcuffs. “You’re hurting, momma.” Naomi was pulled back and Vanessa Davis crouched down to look her daughter closer in the eyes.

“You don’t get to play. Not until I say so. You don’t know these kids and you don’t owe these kids your time. They’re not here for you, they’re here for that.” Vanessa pointed to the birthday cake on the picnic tables in the eating area. There weren’t even any presents, but Naomi suspected her mom kept them hidden from her. “Don’t waste your time trying to impress people who are lesser than you. But right now, you’re lesser than they are. Do you know why?” Naomi just shook her head slowly, her eyes looking down at the ground. “Because they can swim.”

“I didn’t want a pool party! I told you that! And where are my presents? It’s my birthday, there’s supposed to be -” Naomi’s protests were cut off by Vanessa gripping her fingers onto Naomi’s small, bare shoulder. “Momma, you’re hurting…”

“Stop complaining. You didn’t have to have a party at all. Throwing a tantrum won’t get you anywhere. You’re seven years old now. You’re a big girl, and what don’t big girls do?”

“Cry.” Naomi and her mother spoke at the same time and the grip to Naomi’s shoulder loosened. The seven year old on the verge of crying closed her eyes and pushed the tears back inside. Where they belonged. “Can I go play now?”

“No.” Before Naomi could protest, she felt the wind leave her lungs as her mother’s hands shoved into her chest. Naomi stumbled and fell backwards. The water slapped her body and her arms and legs jutted upward, putting her body in a ‘U’ shape as she sank. Deeper and deeper. The light overhead got further and further away until all she saw was black. Weightless. Deeper and deeper.

Down

to

the

bottom

When Naomi surfaced the sights were familiar. Salmon pink walls. The scent of lavender. Otis Redding playing from a speaker wired throughout the house.She looked down at the bathwater and didn’t recognize the legs in front of her. Her feet were bruised, her big toe was hanging on by a thread and the memories came flooding back. She was thirteen. It was her birthday. Her father had left half a carton of Haagen-Dazs in the freezer but it had been there for a week. Naomi knew one of her father’s credit card numbers and so for this particular birthday he had bought for her a small pizza, a slice of cake, and roller skates. The roller skates had been why her foot was so bruised; they had been a tight fit and by the time she realized her foot was swollen and her toe was fucked, it had already been hours. She skated through the pain, going so fast down the street that the wind wiped away her tears. She didn’t cry. She was a big girl.

In the bathtub she sank back under the water and the crooning sound of Cigarettes and Coffee became further and further muted and distant as once again she fell. The confines of the bathtub fell away and the bathwater joined the deep, dark depths of the ocean. Naomi was weightless but she kept sinking from the burden of responsibility. Again she heard the familiar voice beckoning her forward, that she was right there. Her name. Go again. Go again. Go again. Go. Go go go go go go go go go go go go.

Water splashed onto the tiled floor as Naomi lifted her head out of the sink and coughed. Her grip loosened on the porcelain corner as she took a step back, panting, heaving, face soaked with water that was dripping to the floor and expanding the puddle she had made. In the mirror her face was dry, her expression was cold and she was clicking the roof of her mouth; it was a stark contrast to how she knew she looked in the moment. A mess. A mess who needed to get a grip lest her own reflection continue to judge her just like her mother did.

“Fuck you.” Naomi spoke to the face in the mirror and the face responded in kind.

In her pocket was the phone with the unresponded message from Levi that brought about this particular episode. Running for office. Ever since freshman year, Naomi had been primed to be the next queen of Beverly Hills High School, a position she accepted without hesitation. She was perfect for it. People thought she was beautiful, she had money, she had connections, she could talk down to someone while staring them at eye level even if they were taller than her, she had people who opened doors for her in every sense of the word. Everyone knew her name, even if sometimes it was sandwiched between profanity and a hocked lob of spit onto the grass. But she could handle hatred. She wasn’t trying to impress the students she ruled over, but if they knew what a day in the life of Naomi Davis was like, they’d be impressed and not so quick to curse under their breath when she walked past.

Being at the top of the social hierarchy meant having to have fingers in every goddamn situation. Who was dating who while fucking who, who was persona non grata this month, who got on the lists, who to keep away from situations so as not to topple the balance of cliques and egos that was the ecosystem of high school. Was she perfect? No. Did things run smoothly? More or less. Did anyone even know how much she fucking did? No. They’d rather call her a bitch. That was fine. Words could never hurt her in a way that mattered and if they knew how difficult it was they would be apologizing. Not that she needed approval. She was taught not to worry about impressing people beneath her.

But social hierarchy was different from the political office of school. Naomi could make decisions on where to host parties but she could only merely suggest to the staff sweeping changes or policies. Previous student council leaders were content to let Naomi whisper suggestions and then take the heat when they got shot down or backfired. Maybe that was why no one wanted the damn job. When it came to being the president of the council it meant having to face the people she spent four years lording over. It meant having to stand in front of them and explain to them why she should be the one to dictate the next eight months of their lives.

It meant having to hear their words dead on.

It meant facing consequences.

It meant social suicide if she failed.

It meant having them push her into the pool.

It meant she had to impress people lesser than her.

The Naomi in the mirror could handle it. The Naomi in the mirror had already thought of a campaign and begun slandering her opponents. The Naomi in the mirror shook her head as she looked at the soggy-faced girl on the other side. The Naomi in the mirror was the Naomi that would leave this bathroom and be the Naomi that the staff and students interacted with. But that Naomi stepped away from the mirror and the one that took her place couldn’t tell if the water at the corner of her eyes was from the sink or her own tear ducts.

“Big girl. You’re a big girl. No tantrums. I can swim. I…I can swim.” Naomi closed her eyes and when she opened them the woman in the mirror nodded at what she saw. With a confident hand she reached into her pocket and looked at Levi’s message once again. There was only one response she could give.

To: Levi
They might as well start calling us Madam and Mister President

Before leaving the bathroom, Naomi took one last look in the mirror, but from her angle by the door the only thing she could see were the splashes of water streaking down the glass.

BHHS: Limitless

Penny Amato

_{Penny Amato}

17 • Fluid • Pansexual • They/She/He • Single

(FC: Ruby Cruz; Dialogue: 73997E)

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► reputation

As much as it is possible to be an enigma at BHHS, Penny Amato is one. It's a well known secret that Penny Amato isn't their birth name but most people, at this point, have stopped trying to work out the mystery of Penny's family and have just accepted that Penny is just another face in the halls. Albeit a very nice face, by all accounts. No one could deny that Penny is a bit of a nerd, they play TTRPGs and even have a character that they have played as for years and they have a decently well known Twitch stream where they just build and paint model kits while talking to the chat or reading things sent to them - because Penny's other well known feature is their voice. Penny has a unique voice, it's husky and smooth which Penny learned makes some people feral - one time they went on mic while playing Valorant with some friends and the randoms on the team spent the entire match asking her to say things like 'Hi honey' and 'Ara ara'. They didn't get it at first. That combination of voice and face was also what made them a bit of a mainstay in the theater department of BHHS, appearing in performances since Freshman year and auditioning for masculine and feminine roles.

Penny's reputation at BHHS is fairly positive. As far as they know they don't have any enemies but they're also savvy enough to know how to play the game - which only adds to the rumor that they have some knowledge of social climbing thanks to the mysterious family. Whether on stage or just hanging out, it's hard not to notice Penny whether they want it or not. Some want to be their friend, others just want to know what their deal is, but the only family Penny is interested in talking about is the families of the fantasy novels they read.

► current dilemma

Penny doesn't really have any post high school plans. They don't exactly want to get into acting but nor do they want to be a career barista. Penny would like to maybe be an author but they have no confidence in their own writing, even though they're part of the BHHS literary magazine and have helped with scripting in theater productions. Secretly, Penny thinks it'd be cool if they got to be in the running for Prom King or Queen but they're smart enough to know that those roles are basically filled before the prom even happens. But maybe this year is the year that the status quo is shaken up. It is the last chance, after all. Penny also has a wealth of expectations put on them by their family, but that's a can of worms that Penny refuses to open with classmates.

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► social media handles

Penny has a Twitch stream where they build model kits and interact with chat. To their surprise, it has earned her a decently niche following and some extra pocket change - it turns out people on the internet will totally donate to get Penny to read fanfiction or tongue twisters or innuendo comments while they paint some tabletop figures or build a Star Wars ship. Their Twitch handle is 'PenNPaper' which is also their Twitter handle. On Discord they just go by Penny as their display name with the username being amatotomato.

► style

Some people put in a lot of effort to make it seem like they didn't actually put in effort, but in Penny's case they actually don't put in much effort at all. Penny dresses as if they buy their entire wardrobe from Goodwill or Salvation Army, a whole lot of old jeans and baggy shirts like hockey jerseys or button up flannel and khakis. If there is any regularity with their outfits, it's a preference for sleeveless shirts. They wear Converse shoes a lot but they will wear a pair of shoes until its falling apart. The only consistent aspect of Penny's style is that their hair, unless in a play, is always shaggy and unkempt, and yet even then their bangs always seem to be styled slightlt differently every day.

► ride & everyday items

Penny's car of choice is an Alfa Romeo Giulia but they don't have one. What they do have and drive is a Volkswagen Arteon R-Line in Kingfisher Blue. Even that car is a bit richer than they'd care to admit, but it was a sweet sixteen gift. Or so they say.

► occupation

Penny is a barista at Plouf Cafe and Bakery. Penny does not bake anything but does enjoy tiramisu and the croissants. They do latte art and have gotten better at it though most are satisfied with them just making a heart in the latte.

► extracurricular activities

Penny is a member of the BHHS literary magazine and is a known figure in the theater department. Even if they don't get a part after auditioning, Penny will still help put on a play even if in a stagehand role.

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Friends would describe me as _______.

"A rules nerd. No, seriously, I have a bad habit of annoying the DM because they sometimes don't know the rules of the classes in the group. I mean, I don't do it often but I've done it enough that it's kind of a running gag with my group. I don't know, I think my friends would describe me as nice or friendly or whatever, it's boring. I don't have anything more exciting or interesting than that. I'd describe my friends as annoying because some of them bother me at work which is cool and all but then they start asking for free cakes but all I can give them is a biscotto. No, I don't know why an Italian cookie is in a French themed cafe but I don't make the menu, I just brew the coffee and get awkward flirts from customers."

In my free time I like to _______.

"Read books. I'm working through the fantasy section at the book store. I also started writing my own fantasy stories but don't tell anyone, they're bad and I don't want people to think I'm lame."

I would like to learn _______ in the next year.

"How to be a good DM and run my own session."

This is how I define success and failure:

"Success is being able to go to bed at night with a smile. That's kinda corny. I don't know, man, who thinks about this stuff? I'm just happy when I get a B on a test I didn't study for, especially in science. Why do I need to know physics? I'm not gonna be a physicist and I already know what I need to about chemistry: fire is hot, don't touch it and if it smells like poison, roll a constitution save to not get poisoned."

I'm inspired by _______.

"I dunno, I guess Tilda Swinton and Naomi Novik?"

These songs are the soundtrack to my life:

"20 Dollars by boygenius"
"Life on Mars by David Bowie"
"The Narcissist by Blur"
"Snail by The Smashing Pumpkins"
"Feel the Pain by Dinosaur Jr."
"Spit on a Stranger by Pavement"
"The Bard's Song by Blind Guardian"
"Heaven on Their Minds by Carl Anderson (from Jesus Christ Superstar)"
"Scott Street by Phoebe Bridgers"
"Your Best American Girl by Mitski"

My fondest memory as a child was _______.

"In middle school I was cast in a pre-teen production of Treasure Island. I got to play the part of Billy Bones who, you know, is basically only in the play for one scene. I got to have a stage sword fight, it was cool. I got the part because no other kid, not even the boys, could have a piratey gravely rasp to their voice but I could even though I needed a lot of water and tea at home after. Anyway, the best part was after when someone in like third grade saw me in the hallway a few days later and said I was really good in the play. I never thought I'd consider stage acting until then. So I guess thanks to that kid, I hope they're doing cool."

If I could tell my younger self something, I would say:

"You don't have to hide, people are way more willing to accept you these days. Well, mostly. So don't be afraid to wear 'boys clothes' with 'girls clothes'."

The things that make me smile are _______.

"Rolling a nat 1 and having to embrace the chaos that brings. Getting a flower after a performance. I never know if that's, like, a flirty thing or not."

My whole life story in one sentence:

"Somehow won most of the charisma checks but failed everything else."

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► extra information

Really would prefer you stop asking about their parents or what their real name is.

What shows/movies are you watching?

Now that it's May 4th I am once again legally allowed to say that The Last Jedi is the best Star Wars movie

BHHS: Limitless

Tristan Rogers

_{Tristan Hope Rogers}

18 • Female • Bisexual • She/Her • Currently Single; Previously Dated Michael O'Connor

(FC: Alina Zagitova; Dialogue: 8E35EF)

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► reputation

If there was an argument to be made for sports to be co-ed, that argument would be Tristan Rogers. While her brother might be more known to the fans of high school athletics - if only because men's sports are always more popular - Tristan is no slouch in that department. She can turn almost anything into a competition, even something as simple as eating lunch; add in her hatred of losing and Tristan can come off as a little intense when she is 'on'. She likes to think of herself as driven, determined, but not obsessed. Yes, she absolutely hates to lose but she'd rather lose in a good, fairly fought contest than win in a complete shut out. Some people have mistakenly placed her as part of The Elite, but the only connection she has is being in a...beneficial relationship with Mikey O'Connor. They aren't dating (anymore) which is what makes their relationship beneficial. As friends. Tristan can sometimes come off like a bully but it's never her intention - she just hates when people give up or, worse, don't even try. But if you show determination and drive and a willingness to try, she'll support anyone. Those fortunate enough to be her friend also know that outside the driven, fiercely competetive exterior is an interior gentle soul who loves animals and enjoys lazy days. Don't ever tell her she can't do something, she will find a way to do it.

Her intense drive is also why she seems to have trouble maintaining a relationship. And she has a tremendous fear of public speaking.

► current dilemma

Being the best might not be all its cracked up to be, especially in the context of high school athletics and doubly so when her brother seems to just be so much more naturally adept at things. Tristan wants to be the best, but she needs to learn that she doesn't have to be the best right now and also that being the best doesn't mean having to kill yourself with training. She'd like to step out of the shadow that she believes she's been living in and find what makes her happy on her own terms, whether that means going for the gold or changing paths to something less...demanding.

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► social media handles

Her main social media handle is Twitter and TikTok, the latter of which she often posts workout tips and clips of her in the gym or doing yoga. Her handle on those platforms is @JusTris
Her Instagram, which is mostly candids of her with her dog, Chopper, is @chopandawww

► style

For someone who doesn't have a sponsorship, Tristan wears a lot of Puma athleisure clothes. It's not uncommon for Tristan to show up to school wearing leggings or bike shors (those especially if she's wearing a skirt) and some combination of halter tops, sleeveless vests, and tee shirts. She will, of course, wear jeans but she doesn't go in for expensive, designer clothes. She dresses for comfort and function more than she does for fashion. At home on weekends she will wear sweatpants and old graphic tees. A secret known only to a very select few is that Tristan has reading glasses and she looks absolutely cute in them. They embarass her (in the cute way) so she only wears them when she's actually reading at night or in the privacy of her own home.

► ride & everyday items

Tristan and her brother share a hydro blue Jeep Wrangler High Tide. Tristan wanted it in punk'n orange but they compromised on the blue. It has a sunrider (like a droptop) which is great for having her hair blow in the breeze. Tristan does not like to drive and in fact gets driven to school by her brother (she controls the aux, of course). She will always prefer being the passenger than the driver no matter what. Her gym bag is almost always in the back seat of the jeep.

► occupation

Would like to maybe find a job. Would love to work at a Chinese restaurant.

► extracurricular activities

As much as she would like to be in the Go Home Club, Tristan spends a lot of her time at the gym. She's not trying to be swole like a body builder but she definitely has tone and keeps fit for maintennce as much as anything else. She's on the varsity volleyball team and has played sports all her life (not always for school) such as football (the soccer one), basketball, gymnastics, running, and brief training in MMA from her dad. She also does yoga.

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Friends would describe me as _______.

"Intense, competetive, driven, motivated. My brother would say I'm a 'passenger princess' but I don't know if that's a compliment like everything else. I know I can be a bit much, but losers only get remembered in the movies. I'm working on toning down the intensity but...the lessons instilled by my dad stuck with me even if he's a lot more mellow these days."

In my free time I like to _______.

"When I'm not in the gym or practice, I love watching kung fu movies with Chopper and a big bowl of popcorn. Or practicing Mandarin, I'm getting pretty good at it. I don't just live in the gym, I spend a lot of time outside of it. Oh, I also do yoga. And I love Chinese food. Shumai is, like, the best."

I would like to learn _______ in the next year.

"To be fluent in Mandarin. Or at least able to do more than order food."

This is how I define success and failure:

"Is this a trick question? Success is when you win. Failure is when you don't."

I'm inspired by _______.

"Serena Williams. Florence Joyner. Clara Hughs. Amanda Nunes. Doctor Kureha."

These songs are the soundtrack to my life:

"Drop Out by Doechii"
"Watch Me by The Pom Poms"
"Heist by El Tigr3"
"Super Powers by V6"
"Face Off by Tech N9ne"
"Never Look Back by Run The Jewels"
"MILK by JOYRYDE"
"Beach House by Carly Rae Jepsen"
"Do I Wanna Know? by The Arctic Monkeys"
"Super Bass by Nicki Minaj"
"Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift"

My fondest memory as a child was _______.

"Beating my brother in a race. He swears that he let me win but I know I beat him. Also, going camping with the four of us, mom, dad, Tyler, and me. Tyler and I had a competition to see who won between me starting a campfire and him putting up the tent. He cheated and got help from our parents. I totally would've won. I caught more fish than him though. But he ate more than me. I made a better smores, though. Oh, and the first time Chopper greeted me when I came home. That was a great day."

If I could tell my younger self something, I would say:

"You do kinda look cute in those reading glasses."

The things that make me smile are _______.

"Chopper. Tony Leung, I swear if I had the chance... Obviously winning, good competiion. Chinese food after a game. Or any time. Old kung fu movies."

My whole life story in one sentence:

"Left the shadow to be on the winner's podium."

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► extra information

Her father, Sawyer (FC: Matthew Fox), was a former MMA fighter who was forced to retirement after a bad injury where he got super into medicinal marijuana and eventually recreational. This is thanks in no small part to his wife, Dawn Rogers (FC: Elizabeth Mitchell) who was his rehab trainer. The two of them own and operate a dispensary called Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood which has allowed the husband and wife duo to cultivate and sell their own strains.
Has a dog named Chopper. He's an Akita and yes he's named for the famous doctor of the Straw Hats.

BHHS: Limitless

_{Timestamp: After first bell, during homeroom
Location: The Morning Show news studio
Dani @Fabricant451, Sully and Rye @Aces Away}

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“Gooood morning BHHS and welcome back to another day of chaos and classes!" Rye opened up from his spot to Sully’s left, television smile in place and tapping fingers hiding safely behind the front panel of the newsdesk. Why had Sully had to bring up him and AJ literally minutes before airing and then leave him with no answers? The dude really didn’t know how to talk to people properly, he should know by now that leaving a conversation with no closure stressed Rye out. On top of that, he had clocked movement in the window of the door to the hallway and saw his best friend peeking through when she absolutely should have been in her homeroom. Oh god, what happened? The day had barely even started and he was going to end up hyperventilating in an empty classroom by the end of it. “What a week, and it’s still not done!"

“Nobody slept on Pajama Day, in fact y’all really ate with that pancake contest. Ate and left no crumbs, in the case of first place winner Dash Day," Sully stepped in, barely glancing at their notes. He couldn’t believe this was part of his work scholarship requirements.

“Everyone sported their best attire on Tuesday, really dodging embarrassment," Rye emphasized, doing his best not to roll his eyes at how cheesy they were being.

“I am legally obligated to say that on Wednesday you all dressed as cowboys." DJ, on the right of the broadcast table, was very clearly not reading from the pre-approved script. If she had, she might well have died at having to mention how well everyone lassoed up a fit for cowboy day. “You know the movie for Wednesday was Wild Wild West, right? That’s not even about cowboys! They’re cops! You can see Will Smith’s di-" The camera, naturally, abruptly cut away from the wide shot of the three hosts for the moment.

“And you were all super crafty on Thursday," Rye continued in a monotone, already dropping his cheek into his hand and flapping the papers in disgust. “Come on you guys are you trying to get us blacklisted from parties with this cra-"

“And today!" Sully cut in, smile still perfectly in place despite how much he wished to act like his fellow co-hosts. This position really was used as a punishment, wasn’t it? “We’re sure y’all’re really Bringin’ It On in your fierce red and black fits. Keep that pep up for the pep rally later today, you’ll be excited to know it gets you out of class early."

“Hear hear!" Rye chanted with little enthusiasm.

“Of course, attendance isn’t mandatory but it is highly encouraged. After all, the high school athletes really like having their egos boosted before they go off to college and fail to get scouted by the professional leagues!" DJ’s smile was as bright as Sully’s, though her tone of voice was so dipped in sarcasm that in a weird way she almost resembled a professional broadcaster in cadence if nothing else. “And for all you dateless losers out there, don’t forget that today is the last day to get tickets for Homecoming. And no, no one believes you that you have a girlfriend in Canada who couldn’t come to the dance because of travel issues. Sure, you might spend the whole time sitting by the wall, but at least the punch is free! You two have dates for the dance, don’t you?" DJ threw back to her co-hosts, her smile remaining so wide that it was almost starting to look deranged.

Rye went static next to Sully and the boy in a baseball cap tilted his head down so that the camera couldn’t capture his eye roll past the brim. That was just vindictive for no reason.

“You know we don’t," Sully’s smile never broke as he turned to stare Dani in the eyes, and he nudged Rye’s leg with his own beneath the desk so the other boy could cover up the look on his face. “I’m too busy buildin’ sets and fixin’ all the things people break around here to be askin’ someone out for a single night. Why would you ask someone out for one night?"

“Holy- wow I’m not touching that one, buddy. That was such an innocent statement," Rye cut himself off, trying to turn away from furthering the conversation. He grinned largely at the camera. “Speaking of innocence, if any of you are planning on losing yours at or after homecoming, condoms and other barriers are strongly encouraged. We Pirates support safe practices."

“You heard it here first, Pirates, we encourage a healthy sex life for the students!" Dani placed a finger to her ear and after an uncomfortably awkward pause turned to the solo camera like she was about to deliver a breaking news story. “I’ve just been informed that while BHHS isn’t an abstinence school, the affiliates of BHHS do not condone or endorse students having sex. And remember: if they keep trying after you say no, it doesn’t mean they love you and counseling is available during all hours of the school day." Dani turned back in her seat, facing forward as the feed went back to the wide shot.

“So, any announcements for the school, gentlemen? News for the student body?"

The Morning Show, as it was every day that DJ was in front of the camera, was chaos on one side of him and disaster on the other. Sully didn’t even want to be on the Morning Show, it had been a requirement, yet somehow he was working the hardest to keep this train on its track and he had no idea why that became his job too. Sully looked down at his notes, taking a deep breath.

“We do, Dani! In recent news, the Arts club set up a new mural facin’ the back lot, meant to represent the blossomin’ opportunities and friendships created and fostered by the school," Sully’s interpretation was that that was a bunch of bullshit. It was just a bunch of flowers and some sun rays but hey, whatever keeps your funding he supposed.

“The wads of gum stuck to the wall of the hallway leading to the boiler room have been cleaned off and the wall repainted, the maintenance staff has asked us to remind the students that there are trash cans every twenty feet in this place so really, no need to be so ratchet, y’all have so much access and amenities-"

“Don’t forget, Pirates," Sully cut off before the boy got on another rant about how rich kids treat the custodial and maintenance staff. It would run out the whole rest of the time limit. “That the theme of the dance is Hollywood! So bring your best and be ready to walk the red carpet for your paparazzi, played willingly by the Photography club underclassmen, so be sure to strike some killer poses for a chance to end up in the yearbook."

“And don’t make any scenes or mistakes, for the same reason!" Rye chirped with a large smile while Sully clenched his jaw in a sign of frustration. Ope, moving on then. “Dani? Any club cancellations or changes in schedule?"

“Of course there are, Rye! The chess club has canceled its meeting today; no reason was given but it’s probably due to lack of anyone giving a crap about chess!" DJ paused long enough for what she imagined to be laughter from the audience watching in their classrooms. “The film club’s Friday screening has been postponed due to the events of Homecoming, because why watch something entertaining when you can watch the thrilling world of high school football - a sport that is beloved only by middle aged dads who peaked at their Homecoming game! I’ve also been told that due to the earlier schedule today that tutoring will be unavailable after the pep rally, so you’d better hope you’re prepared beforehand but if you need tutoring at this school it just means your parents don’t have enough money to bribe your teachers!"

Another pause, complete with DJ looking absolutely thrilled with herself, especially as she looked around to see the response from the behind the camera staff. Sure, she might get another detention out of it, but studies showed that students retained information when it was delivered with such sarcastic glee. The study, of course, was made up by DJ but pepper any bit of information with enough words and people would be willing to believe it as truth.

“For other club inquiries, check with your club advisors! And maybe tell them to let us know next time so you can cut out the middle man! Because we work for you, for free, which technically makes us slaves. Isn’t that right, Sully?"

“I think I’m technically an indentured servant," He answered plainly before he could think of what he was saying. Letting Dani’s last shot finally break his professional air as he realized what he said, Sully slumped over the desk on his elbows, hands grasping the back of his own neck desperately, kneading at the tensing muscles beneath. Staring blankly at the desk panel before him, thinking about the terms of his scholarship, his contract, he muttered, “Oh my god, ^{am I?}”

“While Sully has an existential crisis that should have come about when he first signed his soul away on the dotted line," Rye jumped in, patting the other boy’s back consolingly but not looking his way. The show must go on. “Remember upperclassmen, it’s never too early to send in your college applications but there is absolutely a point where it becomes too late, and your counselors will be getting a hold of you all for individual meetings regarding your life trajectory. Because that’s something to decide when you’re barely legal and up to your eyeballs in hormones, real great time to agree to spend tens of thousands in tuition and be sure of what you’re gonna do for the rest of your life. DJ," Rye turned to his best friend’s sister, happy to be matching energy with her now that he wasn’t the target of her comments. Sully was still staring blankly into the middle distance , and he’d certainly check on the other boy once the recording light turned off, but for right now they had a show to finish and Sully was not even here behind his eyes anymore. “any final words before we sign off? Sully tapping out gave us some free airtime today."

“For those in the know, I was informed that the theme of Saturday’s totally unsanctioned and unaffiliated event has a theme of Risky Business, because nothing says ‘good party theme’ like a movie where Tom Cruise has sex with a prostitute! If you’re not in the know, well ask yourself why that’s the case and then try to befriend someone who is! But finally, and this is straight from me, if I wind up in detention, please don’t talk to me because I hate you. You wanna sign us off, Rye, before Sully starts acting like Howard Beale from Network? Look it up, people, it won four Oscars." Dani turned her head towards her co-hosts, a look of pure satisfaction on her face. It was no wonder they rarely let her in front of the camera.

Rye grinned back while Sully honest to god groaned into his own forearms. Mr. Wells was giving him the cue to wrap things up and Rye had a lot of respect for the man, even if his actions in front of the camera never showed it. When you spent enough nights over someone’s house and in his daughter’s bed, you develop a weird understanding of each other.

“ARRRRRRRRRRRRRight Pirates! And yes, I have to do that per my contract, let’s seize this day and all the treasures it can offer us, plunder that booty well, and maybe find me at that party if you wanna make that more literal," Mr. Well’s hand motion became more demanding and sharp, telling Rye he may have pushed the envelope a bit, but honestly if Riley wanted the three hosts to follow the script he should demand the writing team do a better job, and if he didn’t want them saying lewd things then he should have someone at the ready for live censorship. “This is the slaves of the Morning Show, signing off for the day, see you psychos in the halls!"

As the cameras were cutting, Dani held up the back of an index card where her script notes were written. In bold writing were just the words ‘SEND HELP’ as Dani pointed at the message before the feed was cut entirely. As soon as she got the sign that the cameras were off, Dani once again placed her feet on top of the desk as she leaned back in her chair. “I think we’re gonna win the Emmy for that one, guys. Truly our finest work. I honestly thought you were gonna start screaming, Sully. Maybe next time." If today’s broadcast had been a trainwreck, then Dani was happy to have been one of the conductors on the train. In a weird way, she was gonna miss this job when she graduated.

“I’m gonna lose my scholarship in the last semester because’a you guys," Sully mumbled into his forearms before finally freeing himself of his own grasp and looking at the two creatures of misfortune that loved to sit on his shoulders. “What did I ever do to you?"

“Does rejecting my flirtations when we first met count? I didn’t take it personally, but that is something that you did."

“Your what? When?"

“Nevermind, buddy, stay pure. DJ, I’m gonna go see why your sister has had her eyes locked onto me through the door window for the past ten minutes, see you later," Rye popped out of his seat with no further fanfare and made a beeline for the exit, only stumbling once along the way as he got distracted trying to get his earbuds out of his pocket and connected to his phone. The silence after the lights go off always made the ringing in his ears much more apparent, and he had a feeling he couldn’t be overstimulated for whatever conversation had JJ literally waiting for him in the hall.

“Am I really an indentured servant?" Sully asked DJ quietly, managing to look like a kicked puppy and a aggrieved kitten in one fell swoop.

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way, Sully." DJ offered condolences by way of a patronizing pat on the back. “But if it makes you feel any better, you can call it an apprenticeship. You might save some dignity that way." DJ looked towards the door window but Rye’s swiftness meant she barely caught a glimpse of her sister. It had to have been JJ. If it was important, DJ would find out later. “Look, you didn’t say anything off color…for the most part. You’ll be fine. Buck up, or whatever. No one’s gonna even remember this by last period." She could not have sounded any less interested in this pep talk, but with Rye off flirting or whatever with JJ, the responsibility for perking up the sad puppy unfortunately fell to her. “Come on, it’s too early to be so depressed. Can’t you internalize it, like we all do?"

“What do you think I’m doin’ most of the time?" He asked back with little heat, releasing a heavy sigh and pushing his chair back. That was much less assuring than she probably thought it was, but he also didn’t think the girl cared much. Just as she’d suggested, he got to work on internalizing it and returning to his normal school persona. He didn’t care much for upholding reputation, but he also wasn’t a fan of open vulnerabilities. “I’m gonna go get another coffee before the underclassmen dump it, you want any?”

“Nah, one cup is enough for me. If I had any more I might lose my charming personality." DJ at least joined Sully in pushing her chair back from the table. As much fun as it was to be granted a late pass for class, she couldn’t stay in the broadcast room all day. She’d tried. “But seriously, Sully, don’t worry about it. Everyone could see you were trying to keep things on track or whatever. Every good entertainment act needs the straight man. I don’t know where I’m going with this but just…you know…relax. Because it’s really exhausting trying to cheer you up. I hate doing that. Cheering people up. Like in general, not just you specifically. You’re fine, okay?" Another pat on the back from DJ. It was the only move she had.

“I-" He had no idea how to respond to that, brows furrowing and head tilting to the side as words and reaction began to escape him. He wasn’t genuinely worried about losing his scholarship; slowly, he’d built up enough of a following that he was comfortably paying the majority of his uncovered tuition. If it truly came down to it, Sully could be dead broke for the rest of the year and put all his income toward paying tuition, but that would mean having nothing to make his ma’s life easier, and that shit could not slide. Add to all of that that Dani’s announcement of the Risky Business party reminded him of his deal with Ethan Green, and Sully was realizing that once he walked outside the studio doors there would be no peace or calm for the next forty eight hours in the very least. He needed that coffee.

Shaking his head to clear the fog that was rolling in, Sully just nodded to the shorter host and reached up to fiddle with his hat’s brim as he turned and walked away from her, no longer even connected enough to the conversation to remember to say goodbye. Coffee always helped when he started struggling with thoughts and words, just like anyone else. At least, that’s what he always told himself.

“I should be a motivational speaker. Every time I talk I’m motivated to never talk to people again. Nice." DJ looked proud of herself though kept herself from pumping her fist in delight. “Good show, Mr. Dubs. Let’s do it again some time, say, next week? Alright." Dani was out of the door before Mr. Wells could even think of giving her a detention slip.