Festive

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

C H A R A C T E R S H E E T T E M P L A T E:
C H A R A C T E R S H E E T T E M P L A T E:

^{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

M A N N Y
M A N N Y

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_{^{"Man, why can't everything just shut up."}}

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C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ Immanuel "Manny" Blaylock _________________________________________________________ August 12th , 2004 | 24 | African-American _________________________________________________________ Single | Male | Heterosexual _________________________________________________________ St. Louis | Missouri | The United States _________________________________________________________ House Alces | Team 18 - Eclipse C H A R A C T E R S T A T S C H A R A C T E R S T A T S _________________________________________________________ ◼ B U I L D || Muscular ◼ H A I R C O L O U R || Black ◼ E Y E C O L O U R || Dark brown ◼ H E I G H T || 6'3 (192 cm) ◼ W E I G H T || 214 lbs (97 kg) ◼ S C A R S || N/A ◼ T A T T O O S || N/A ◼ P I E R C I N G S || N/A ◼ O T H E R || N/A

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T ________________________________________________________________________________________ Immanuel was born into the system, as child of two parents who knew each other for but only a few weeks, he never knew those who held the title. A quaint little baby left alone within safe haven box on the side of a branch station of the St. Louis fire department, whose last sight of his mother was the backshot of her running away, although it's not like he had the cognitive ability to understand the situation. It was not soon after his abandonment that the little boy was found by the captain of the station, sitting solitary in the box with but light green blanket wrapped around him, and a note from his presumed mother dictating her grievance at the situation. His life was no easier from this point on, like many kids in the system, he had no structure. Even as a little baby, he bounced around from foster home to foster home. This cycle went on for years, they would take Immanuel in, host for a few weeks, hell, even months, and when he finally thought this was his forever home, the foster parents would decide he wasn't the right child for them. After a while, it got dull. Immanuel no longer cared, accepting the fact that he would never find a forever home like his caseworker so joyfully tried to preach to him. And after one nasty few-month stint in an abusive foster home ruined his hearing, this thought was cemented in his brain. The Blaylocks were like his saving grace, light in the long harrowing path that had led his life up until this point. A deaf family who had taken him in for the long haul, teaching Immanuel how to now navigate the world with his newfound disability. As the months past Immanuel grew warry of his imminent abandonment, like the rest of them had done. But that day never came. The last day he saw his caseworker was the day of his adoption, as a kid who kept to himself, he had never cried so hard until that day. That day was the start of many days of what he would consider normal. He lived a normal kid life, and for the first time ever he actually felt as if he had a family, as if there was a structure in his life. Good things never stay good, that was a lesson Immanuel learned on the eve of his 15th birthday. It was a normal day, just like any other, Immanuel had just returned home from school. The smell of his adopted mother baking him a cake for the next day was still fresh in the air as he entered the home. Before he could even drop of his bag, it was like a switch flipped in his head. It was immediate, the silence he had come to take comfort in disappeared in a single second. Everything. He heard everything. From the sound of his own heart pounding in his ear to the faintest whisper of schoolchildren in the Siberian tundra, he heard it all. It was overwhelming, Immanuel was drowned in the sound of everything, in the sound of the world. He collapsed to the floor, and even with his hands over his ears sounds continued their war effort against the ears he had though he would never use again. His power had manifested. Immanuel didn't know what to do, and neither did his adoptive parents. Hot tears rolled down his face as his family tried to help him but to no avail. Several trips to doctors led nowhere but to the dreary faces of his adoptive parents and the shaking heads of doctors, who had no clue why a hearing-impaired child now claimed he could hear it all. Eventually, the curious medical miracle of one Immanuel Blaylock caught the attention of agents at H.E.L.P., assisting Immanuel by fitting him with an inhibitor. Now knowing what he is, and being outed as a hype to his family, the fear of being dropped by the people he now called his parents reared its head once again. Thankfully to the worried soul of a child who has lost too many homes, the fear was a baseless whisper that floated through the mind that hears all. His family did not let him go, not leaving him because of what he was, to the advisement of the H.E.L.P. agents, they helped enroll Immanuel in P.R.C.U., and after that, the rest is history. M A N N E R I S M S & P E R S O N A L I T Y M A N N E R I S M S & P E R S O N A L I T Y ________________________________________________________________________________________ Immanuel still stands as rather closed-off, quite. Despite learning how to love, and feel loved by Blaylocks, the everlasting fear of losing everything on a whim sticks with him to this day. He started this world with a bad hand, and he has continued to keep his poker face high. Immanuel finds it hard to truly trust a lot of people he meets. His early upbringing in tandem with his powers enforces this, unintentional eavesdropping can reveal things one would never want to hear. Disipline has been a core part of Immanuel's life ever since he started at P.R.C.U. To work with his power he needed to keep his mind sharp, to strive through the noise of the day with a steady focus. To those who Immanuel is able to place his often conservatively held trust into, he's talkative, a kind soul that rarely gets its chance to shine, and often helpful to his friends. He values his held friendships with the utmost reverence, and does his best to return back everything he has received from them plus even more.

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A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S ________________________________________________________________________________________ H Y P E R H U M A N A B I L I T Y || Auto-Absolute Auditory Perception __PRIMARY CLASSIFICATION || Esoteric __SECONDARY CLASSIFICATION || Somatic __POWER SCALE || 2 __THREAT CLASSIFICATION || Σ Auto-Absolute Auditory Perception is a hyperhuman ability in which the parts of the ear and brain responsible for hearing are enhanced to experience an amplification of all sound waves to a magnitude where it can be heard at an inteliable level. Through current observations, there appears to be no range limit for sound that can picked up through this ability, no matter how low the sound is. As stated by the user of this ability, Immanuel, with a heavy stream of concentration his ability is able to pick up radio wavelengths, although currently at a volume lower than that of default sound waves in the air. However possible, this use of his power is the most mental straining on Immnanuel, with him only being able to hold the sound for a short period of time. L I M I T A T I O N S || D E A F E N I N G C A C O P H O N Y / F O C U S O F T H E M I N D As stated in the name, Auto-Absolute Auditory Perception is a continuous ability that is not able to be turned off by its user. This fact leaves Immanuel under near constant barge of unintelligible sounds and noises from every direction. This constant state of distraction when not equipped with an inhibitor comes at the cost of a harder time focusing on a give task or on the pursuit of controlling his power. In order to make effective use of his power, Immanuel needs to hold a level of complete focus/concentration on what he is attempting to hear. This focus is used to help tune out the rest of the background chatter flooding his eardrums. It is on the record that the further away a sound is from Immanuel the stronger his focus must be to achieve a clear, uninterrupted stream of sound into his ears. His focus also determines how long he can hold a steady sound in his ears, this is why he is able listen in on conversations surrounding him for longer and more clearly than a conversation happening miles away from his current location. Immanuel's ability is also confined by the knowledge he has for the sound he is looking out for. To listen and focus in on a sound Immanuel must know what exactly he is looking out for to able to pick it from the ocean of sounds he is hearing. Distance is also a factor in this process, as the further away a sound is the harder it is to solo it out from the rest of the chatter. W E A K N E S S E S || C L O S E P R O X I M I T Y N O I S E Although Immanuel has the ability to tune out other noise through the means of focus, this stream can be interrupted. Noises within a close radius of Immanuel are amplified far beyond the normal extent of his power, if one were able to set off loud sound around him it would have the power to completely knock his focus and even disorient him for a while.

S K I L L S & T A L E N T S S K I L L S & T A L E N T S _________________________________________________________ S K I L L S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ M E D I T A I O N || Meditation has been one of Immanuel's only form of escape from the overwhelmingness of the sounds of the world. A time where he sits with the sound, he doesn't resist it. He allows it to pervade his mind focusing on keeping a steady head instead of blocking it out. ◼ P E O P L E R E A D I N G || Picking up on people's body ques comes with the trade of having hyper hearing. Immanuel can hear the beat of one heart, the slight raise in one's tone, the increase in their breathing. If it can be heard, Immanuel can pick it up. ◼ S T R E N G T H T R A I N I N G || Much like meditation, training his body aids Immanuel in dealing with the noises in his head. With the main effect of improving his body and capabilities, it also enforces his disipline. T A L E N T S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ W R I T I N G || Through out his life the one thing that has been a constant in his life was writing. He always wrote, it was like he was drawn to this archaic form of expression, and from what people who read his writing has said, he has a talent for it. C H A R A C T E R A R S E N A L C H A R A C T E R A R S E N A L _________________________________________________________ A T T I R E ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ W A T C H || Immanuel still wears the watch his adoptive father gifted him before he left for P.R.C.U., apparently the watch had been in the Blaylock family for a long bit, and he trusted it in the hands of his adoptive son. It is a classic wristwatch, apparent age, and another special but the love held in its history. I T E M ( S ) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ A H I S T O R I C N O T E || The same old note left with him when he was a baby in the safe haven box, tucked away in his wallet. T O O L ( S ) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ P O C K E T K N I F E || Nothing really special. A small little pocket knife he bought a while back. A D D I T I O N A L N O T E S A D D I T I O N A L N O T E S _________________________________________________________ [+] - M I S C E L L A N E O U S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Sleep has never came easy to Immanuel, to sleep through the noise is a task he has yet to master without any power dampeners. Although hard it is a possible endeavor. ◼ Fluent in ASL. -

P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S
P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S

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_{E N T E R I N G I N T O Y O U R F I N A L Y E A R, W H A T A D V I C E D O Y O U H A V E T O A N E W S T U D E N T?}

"To quiet down that little voice in your head. This is were you belong. Get out of your comfort zone, do things you have never done before, have fun, make friends; the usual spiel, y'know? Go where the wind takes you and make the best of every second of it. Time is a fleeting thing."

_{W H A T W E R E Y O U R A S P I R A T I O N S W H E N Y O U S T A R T E D H E R E? W H A T C H A N G E D, W H A T S T A Y E D T H E S A M E?}

"My aspirations? I can't really say I had any besides learning to quiet the noise without the inhibitor or limiter. Nowadays I guess my aspiration is to be a caseworker? Yeah, a caseworker. My old caseworker was such a steller woman, and honestly I just want to help kids who are in the same situation I was."

_{I F Y O U C O U L D M A K E O N E C H A N G E T O Y O U R T I M E A T P . R . C . U ., W H A T W O U L D I T B E?}

"I wouldn't say I want to change a thing. Everything happens for a reason, right? We stand, we fall, we get back up. That's life. You learn from everything you experience, and I can't say that if I changed anything I would be the same man I am in front of you today..."

"Okay, maybe I would change missing out on meals to meditate, God, the food is divine."

R E L A T I O N S H I P S H E E T
R E L A T I O N S H I P S H E E T

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_{☯ NEUTRAL ☯ || ☮ FRIENDS ☮ || ♫ BEST FRIENDS ♫ || § TENSE § || ♥ CRUSH ♥ || ☠ ENEMIES ☠}

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☮ Boyd, Cleo ♫ "Cleo's a kind soul. Truly, a joy to be around after all these years." ______________________________________	☮ Blay, Lucas ♫ "First person I taught ASL, pretty blunt but wouldn't have him any other way. Lucas is a great guy, for sure." ______________________________________ ______________________________________

^{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

Commencement: A Foundation Institute RP

Immanuel "Manny" Blaylock

C H A R A C T E R S H E E T T E M P L A T E:
C H A R A C T E R S H E E T T E M P L A T E:

^{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

M A N N Y
M A N N Y

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_{^{"Man, why can't everything just shut up."}}

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C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T C H A R A C T E R P O R T R A I T _________________________________________________________ _________________________________________________________ C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y C H A R A C T E R S U M M A R Y _________________________________________________________ Immanuel "Manny" Blaylock _________________________________________________________ August 12th , 2004 | 24 | African-American _________________________________________________________ Single | Male | Heterosexual _________________________________________________________ St. Louis | Missouri | The United States _________________________________________________________ House Alces | Team 21 - Blackjack C H A R A C T E R S T A T S C H A R A C T E R S T A T S _________________________________________________________ ◼ B U I L D || Muscular ◼ H A I R C O L O U R || Black ◼ E Y E C O L O U R || Dark brown ◼ H E I G H T || 6'3 (192 cm) ◼ W E I G H T || 214 lbs (97 kg) ◼ S C A R S || N/A ◼ T A T T O O S || N/A ◼ P I E R C I N G S || N/A ◼ O T H E R || N/A

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T ________________________________________________________________________________________ Immanuel was born into the system, as child of two parents who knew each other for less than a day, he never knew his parents. A quaint little baby left alone within safe haven box on the side of a branch station of the St. Louis fire department, whose last sight of his mother was the backshot of her running away, although it's not like he had the cognitive ability to understand the situation. It was not soon after his abandonment that the little boy was found by the captain of the station, sitting solitary in the box with but light green blanket wrapped around him, and a note from his presumed mother dictating her grievance at the situation. His life was no easier from this point on, like many kids in the system, he had no structure. Even as a little baby, he bounced around from foster home to foster home. This cycle went on for years, they would take Immanuel in, host for a few weeks, hell, even months, and when he finally thought this was his forever home, the foster parents would decide he wasn't the right child for them. After a while, it got dull. Immanuel no longer cared, accepting the fact that he would never find a forever home like his caseworker so joyfully tried to preach to him. And after one nasty few-month stint in an abusive foster home ruined his hearing, this thought was cemented in his brain. The Blaylocks were like his saving grace, light in the long harrowing path that had led his life up until this point. A deaf family who had taken him in for the long haul, teaching Immanuel how to now navigate the world with his newfound disability. As the months past Immanuel grew warry of his imminent abandonment, like the rest of them had done. But that day never came. The last day he saw his caseworker was the day of his adoption, as a kid who kept to himself, he had never cried so hard until that day. That day was the start of many days of what he would consider normal. He lived a normal kid life, and for the first time ever he actually felt as if he had a family, as if there was a structure in his life. Good things never stay good, that was a lesson Immanuel learned on the eve of his 15th birthday. It was a normal day, just like any other, Immanuel had just returned home from school. The smell of his adopted mother baking him a cake for the next day was still fresh in the air as he entered the home. Before he could even drop of his bag, it was like a switch flipped in his head. It was immediate, the silence he had come to take comfort in disappeared in a single second. Everything. He heard everything. From the sound of his own heart pounding in his ear to the faintest whisper of schoolchildren in the Siberian tundra, he heard it all. It was overwhelming, Immanuel was drowned in the sound of everything, in the sound of the world. He collapsed to the floor, and even with his hands over his ears sounds continued their war effort against the ears he had though he would never use again. His power had manifested. Immanuel didn't know what to do, and neither did his adoptive parents. Hot tears rolled down his face as his family tried to help him but to no avail. Several trips to doctors led nowhere but to the dreary faces of his adoptive parents and the shaking heads of doctors, who had no clue why a hearing-impaired child now claimed he could hear it all. Eventually, the curious medical miracle of one Immanuel Blaylock caught the attention of agents at H.E.L.P., assisting Immanuel by fitting him with an inhibitor. Now knowing what he is, and being outed as a hype to his family, the fear of being dropped by the people he now called his parents reared its head once again. Thankfully to the worried soul of a child who has lost too many homes, the fear was a baseless whisper that floated through the mind that hears all. His family did not let him go, not leaving him because of what he was, to the advisement of the H.E.L.P. agents, they helped enroll Immanuel in P.R.C.U., and after that, the rest is history. M A N N E R I S M S & P E R S O N A L I T Y M A N N E R I S M S & P E R S O N A L I T Y ________________________________________________________________________________________ Immanuel still stands as rather closed-off, quite. Despite learning how to love, and feel loved by Blaylocks, the everlasting fear of losing everything on a whim sticks with him to this day. He started this world with a bad hand, and he has continued to keep his poker face high. Immanuel finds it hard to truly trust a lot of people he meets. His early upbringing in tandem with his powers enforces this, unintentional eavesdropping can reveal things one would never want to hear. Disipline has been a core part of Immanuel's life ever since he started at P.R.C.U. To work with his power he needed to keep his mind sharp, to strive through the noise of the day with a steady focus. To those who Immanuel is able to place his often conservatively held trust into, he's talkative, a kind soul that rarely gets its chance to shine, and often helpful to his friends. He values his held friendships with the utmost reverence, and does his best to return back everything he has received from them plus even more.

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A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S A B I L I T I E S, L I M I T A T I O N S, & W E A K N E S S E S ________________________________________________________________________________________ H Y P E R H U M A N A B I L I T Y || Auto-Absolute Auditory Perception __PRIMARY CLASSIFICATION || Esoteric __SECONDARY CLASSIFICATION || Somatic __POWER SCALE || TBD __THREAT CLASSIFICATION || TBD Auto-Absolute Auditory Perception is a hyperhuman ability in which the parts of the ear and brain responsible for hearing are enhanced to experience an amplification of all sound waves to a magnitude where it can be heard at an inteliable level. Through current observations, there appears to be no range limit for sound that can picked up through this ability, no matter how low the sound is. As stated by the user of this ability, Immanuel, with a heavy stream of concentration his ability is able to pick up radio wavelengths, although currently at a volume lower than that of default sound waves in the air. However possible, this use of his power is the most mental straining on Immnanuel, with him only being able to hold the sound for a short period of time. L I M I T A T I O N S || D E A F E N I N G C A C O P H O N Y / F O C U S O F T H E M I N D As stated in the name, Auto-Absolute Auditory Perception is a continuous ability that is not able to be turned off by its user. This fact leaves Immanuel under near constant barge of unintelligible sounds and noises from every direction. This constant state of distraction when not equipped with an inhibitor comes at the cost of a harder time focusing on a give task or on the pursuit of controlling his power. In order to make effective use of his power, Immanuel needs to hold a level of complete focus/concentration on what he is attempting to hear. This focus is used to help tune out the rest of the background chatter flooding his eardrums. It is on the record that the further away a sound is from Immanuel the stronger his focus must be to achieve a clear, uninterrupted stream of sound into his ears. His focus also determines how long he can hold a steady sound in his ears, this is why he is able listen in on conversations surrounding him for longer and more clearly than a conversation happening miles away from his current location. Immanuel's ability is also confined by the knowledge he has for the sound he is looking out for. To listen and focus in on a sound Immanuel must know what exactly he is looking out for to able to pick it from the ocean of sounds he is hearing. Distance is also a factor in this process, as the further away a sound is the harder it is to solo it out from the rest of the chatter. W E A K N E S S E S || C L O S E P R O X I M I T Y N O I S E Although Immanuel has the ability to tune out other noise through the means of focus, this stream can be interrupted. Noises within a close radius of Immanuel are amplified far beyond the normal extent of his power, if one were able to set off loud sound around him it would have the power to completely knock his focus and even disorient him for a while.

S K I L L S & T A L E N T S S K I L L S & T A L E N T S _________________________________________________________ S K I L L S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ M E D I T A I O N || Meditation has been one of Immanuel's only form of escape from the sounds of the world. A time where it's just him, and his mind. Using full concentration to block out all sounds when from his head. Although, most times, sound still seeps into mind. ◼ P E O P L E R E A D I N G || Picking up on people's body ques comes with the trade of having hyper hearing. Immanuel can hear the beat of one heart, the slight raise in one's tone, the increase in their breathing. If it can be heard, Immanuel can pick it up. ◼ S T R E N G T H T R A I N I N G || Much like meditation, training his body takes Immanuel's focus off of the noises in his head. With the main effect of improving his body and capabilities, it also enforces his disipline. T A L E N T S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ W R I T I N G || Through out his life the one thing that has been a constant in his life was writing. He always wrote, it was like he was drawn to this archaic form of expression, and from what people who read his writing has said, he has a talent for it. C H A R A C T E R A R S E N A L C H A R A C T E R A R S E N A L _________________________________________________________ A T T I R E ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ W A T C H || Immanuel still wears the watch his adoptive father gifted him before he left for P.R.C.U., apparently the watch had been in the Blaylock family for a long bit, and he trusted it in the hands of his adoptive son. It is a classic wristwatch, apparent age, and another special but the love held in its history. I T E M ( S ) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ A H I S T O R I C N O T E || The same old note left with him when he was a baby in the safe haven box, tucked away in his wallet. T O O L ( S ) ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ P O C K E T K N I F E || Nothing really special. A small little pocket knife he bought a while back. A D D I T I O N A L N O T E S A D D I T I O N A L N O T E S _________________________________________________________ [+] - M I S C E L L A N E O U S ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ ◼ Sleep has never came easy to Immanuel, to sleep through the noise is a task he has yet to master without any power dampeners. Although hard it is a possible endeavor. ◼ . -

P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S
P E R S O N A L P R O M P T S

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_{E N T E R I N G I N T O Y O U R F I N A L Y E A R, W H A T A D V I C E D O Y O U H A V E T O A N E W S T U D E N T?}

"To quiet down that little voice in your head. This is were you belong. Get out of your comfort zone, do things you have never done before, have fun, make friends; the usual spiel, y'know? Go where the wind takes you and make the best of every second of it. Time is a fleeting thing."

_{W H A T W E R E Y O U R A S P I R A T I O N S W H E N Y O U S T A R T E D H E R E? W H A T C H A N G E D, W H A T S T A Y E D T H E S A M E?}

"My aspirations? I can't really say I had any besides learning to quiet the noise without the inhibitor or limiter. Nowadays I guess my aspiration is to be a caseworker? Yeah, a caseworker. My old caseworker was such a steller woman, and honestly I just want to help kids who are in the same situation I was."

_{I F Y O U C O U L D M A K E O N E C H A N G E T O Y O U R T I M E A T P . R . C . U ., W H A T W O U L D I T B E?}

"I wouldn't say I want to change a thing. Everything happens for a reason, right? We stand, we fall, we get back up. That's life. You learn from everything you experience, and I can't say that if I changed anything I would be the same man I am in front of you today..."

"Okay, maybe I would change missing out on meals to meditate, God, the food is divine."

^{________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________}

BHHS: Limitless

_{TIMESTAMP: Sometime after Good Enough Reasons
LOCATION(s):Revolution Record, Beverly Hills
SONG: Potentially The Interlude
STARING: Kelsey Devon & Isaiah Strickland}

The sweet smell wafted out of the break room in waves, an aroma that assaulted the nose despite the flowery smell it produced. The open window only did so much for the stench of smoke that lingered in the air like a miasma, permeating every nook and cranny nestled in the quaint room. Kelsey’s index finger held the trigger of the lavender Febreze can with a vengeance, no part of that room was left untouched by her onslaught of fumigation, today was not going to be the day she got caught smoking by her grandparents, or worse, her mother. The Devon family weren’t exactly big fans of smoking weed, although they let her grandfather smoke a pack of whatever cigarette brand he bought a day and saw no problem, her small little indulgences would be such an incident she does not want to deal with. Thus are her days of gassing the break room with whatever air freshener she could find. The streaming sound of gasses being propelled out of the purple can in her hand was interrupted by the rumbling of her stomach. She was hungry before, she is even more hungry now, and the probably year-old snacks that lay laden in the small kitchenette weren’t going to help at all. That was no matter though! She had the insight to order food soon after her friend’s departure from the store, usually, she would’ve got something for Lucian, but he had somewhere to be, or so she was told. She felt happy for her friend’s opportunity, Kelsey knows he will do amazingly, that passion she had seen him place within that drumset was one she had never seen before.

Kelsey relocked the door to the breakroom to let the open window and Fabreze work their magic, she couldn’t risk any spillover into the front room, to which she saw as barren as it was before, nothing new. She peeked her head out from behind the counter to see if Lucian had flipped the sign as she had asked and there it was, indeed flipped. Kelsey laid back into the office chair that sat behind the desk, sifting her hand through the crate of records that sat beside the gramophone, finally, her hand landed on the one she wanted, “Ooo, Sundial!” Kelsey sat up, replacing the long-finished vinyl on the player with the one she had selected. The sound of the record melted like butter in her ears, closing her eyes as she fully laid back in the chair, awaiting the sweet noise of the shop door opening with the delivery guy, God, the food was about to be just heavenly to the taste buds of Kelsey. She couldn’t wait.

Isaiah had tried to sit and get ready to enjoy the game after his conversation with Spencer. He tried. However, he couldn’t reach down deep enough to find the will to pretend that he gave even a little ounce of care for what was about to happen on the Pirates field. Zay was gone before the first whistle even sounded. After leaving Beverly Hills High, the school's resident activist wondered what to do with his sudden free time? He could follow his best friend to the diner and play wingman for the Russian girl he was in love with? Or he could’ve gone straight home and spent the evening with his dads and sister watching some old eighties movie and eating popcorn? Maybe he could even reach out to the man from the letter? The man that claimed to be his father.

Zay wasn’t sure what to do or where to go. So far, his new year, new him motto hadn’t really come to fruition. Nobody had noticed him, nobody had acknowledged him. So far he was still just Isaiah, that black kid in class. He found himself in one of the few places that he could consider a place of peace; the record store. Amongst the sea of vinyls, retro sleeved art and glittering vintage disco balls, Zay found quiet. He was a creature of habit; seeking out new releases from up and coming hip hop artists before inevitably making his way to the classics section. PAC, Biggie, NWA, they were men of the streets, men of the game, men who once upon a time someone like Isaiah; a voice with something to say, a voice struggling to say it,

The bell above the shop door rang as he entered his Mecca. His dark eyes glanced at the solo employee sitting at the desk before he made his way across to his usual perch at the New Release Bin. The smell of the vinyl filled him with a feeling of comfort, like being wrapped in a warm blanket on a cold winter night. He pondered whether any of these new players would strike a chord in his heart and help him find the next words for his own opus at the Dolla Lounge.

The chime of that old bell above the door could not be stopped. A sound that pervaded the ears of Kelsey each time it rang without fail, capturing her attention in one fell swoop. Her eyes jumped open, repositioning herself in the car in order to see who walked through the door of the establishment. It was a regular, and one of the few she was rather disappointed to acknowledge that she didn’t completely know as well as the rest, even more so given the fact she might have shared a class with this one. “Oh, you’re not the Chinese food guy. But still! Welcome!”

Kelsey gave the boy a soft wave and smile as she watched him head over to the bins. A fair few students from Beverly Hills High found solitude within the walls of the store, they made up one of the most consistent customer bases for the store, funnily enough, it is also why some people in the school know her face, not a lot know her name though. That seemed to be the same problem she was having right now. “You’re the boy that always comes in here for Hip-Hop right? Reggae and Jazz too I think. I doubt you’ll find too much in there, I think my grandfather already emptied it for the next shipment. You like the older stuff right, 90s and back? If you look way down that row there is a shelf packed with stuff that might suit your fancy.” Kelsey pointed her hand out to the box she had mentioned, giving him an easier path than her instructions may have offered. “We also likely have something in the back if you can’t find what you are looking for. My grandparents also keep a lot of signed stuff back there they wouldn’t mind to sell, so if you are looking for something special like that ask away! If the name tag hasn’t given it away, my name is Kelsey, this is a bit embarrassing to ask since I’ve seen you come in here a lot, and we literally go to the same school, but what’s yours?”

Wait.

Hold up.

What?

She actually knew his genres? Now that was some good customer service. The amount of times Isaiah had stepped foot in the record store and not once spoken to the girl behind the counter beyond a pleasant nod and a thank you when he purchased something was beyond surprising. Now that the wall of customer service silence had been broken down, he finally got a good look at her, like really looked. She was right! They did go to the same school, they were in a lot of the same classes. It didn’t surprise him though that they hadn’t really crossed paths, no one really knew who he was and well, how could anyone not look at her?

She was stunning.

“My name? Uh MY name?” What on Earth was he doing? Why was he stumbling over his words? Zay considered himself a highly skilled orator, a lyricist, he was on the debate team, young politicians and he rapped on stage in front of hundreds and yet he couldn’t even remember his name when asked by a pretty girl? What the actual fu… “Isaiah. Isaiah Strickland but most of my friends…ugh, sometimes people call me Zay.” He quickly shuffled his attention back to the dusty old vinyls on which his fingertips were lightly tapping with a fervent nervousness. “Thank you for all the advice but honestly? The most I just got from you was that now I’m craving some Chinese food.” Isaiah turned back towards the girl and offered up his widest brightest smile. He did not for much consider himself an attractive boy, especially not in comparison to some of the other men in his class and school but he was always proud of his smile. The first thing his grandmother ever said about his birth father was that Zay and he shared a smile. “I was surprised to see the place open. I thought maybe like everyone you’d have shut up shop and gone to the game.”

“I can’t blame you, the food I ordered had been on my mind before you even came in here!” Kelsey chuckled a bit, she felt good to finally put a name to a face, especially one that was handsome to look at as well. She wasn’t the best with names, but she sure as hell tried her best to remember the names of the regulars. “And Isaiah, that’s a nice name, I’ll make sure to remember it! And honestly, I was never the biggest fan of sports. Win or lose, it’ll be some big unnecessary spectacle that wouldn’t change my school pride one bit. Why be there when I could be somewhere I actually enjoy? How about you? Not many as crazy as us to be at a record store.”

His smile, God, his smile. It glowed like the beams of sunlight that often penetrated the front glass windows of the shop, descending from his visage like light did from the sun with a warmth that seared into the mind of the beholder, one unmatched in the archives of her memories. They had been going to school together for nearly 4 years, and he’s been to the shop for a time around that number but this had been the first time Kelsey had really, truly noticed Isaiah Strickland. “Off topic but, I doubt you haven’t been told this over a million times Isaiah, or can I call you Zay? I like nicknames. But! You have a truly amazing smile, I am talking like top tier!” Kelsey felt her ears burn with the heat that surged onto both sides of her head, she moved her hands from the wooden desk they had rested on to her hair in an attempt to quietly cover hear ears which were glowing with the blush that avoided her face. She had only formally introduced herself to the guy only minutes ago, and her ears were over here shining as red as a ruby, God she was helpless.

Isaiah was taken aback by the fact that Kelsey was even giving him more than a courteous time of day. In this environment, it was her job to enquire about a customer's needs and wants and feelings on a particular stock but the look in her eyes, the cadence of her voice, could it be? Was she actually interested in something he had to say? “Honestly? Football was never my thing. I’m very much a basketball kind of guy.” It was a secret of a different kind. To most, if not everyone, Isaiah was but a face in the crowd but the boy could play ball. He was on the BHHS basketball team but he didn’t get much play time because it conflicted with the debate team and despite his love of hoops, he knew where his true passion lay.

Social justice. Reform. Change. They were all things, all callings with intention that acted like a chain around his heart. His entire life, Isaiah had suffered prejudice of some form. There was racism for the color of his skin. There were those that mocked him for having two homosexual fathers. There were even those that dragged him through the dirt and broken glass for being adopted. Zay wanted to be the change that he sought in the world. He opened himself up to activism and for the last four years, he would always find himself walking the halls of Beverly Hills High or standing in the quad with a clipboard; fighting the good fight and waving his petition in the faces of all to try and make the world a better place. The causes he fought for were numerous but he was dedicated to every one of them.

Hold up now. Wait a minute. Did she just….compliment him? Now this was the truest test to date of the new Isaiah. He had promised himself that senior year would be different, that this year he would take chances. Once upon a time, he had a brief relationship with Kimber Benson. They had been friends for a long time and it seemed like a natural step but in reality, it was the most forced thing either of them had ever done. They did it because it was expected of them, not because they wanted to. Luckily, Zay and Kim were on the same page and ended it before it got too out of their control. Relationships had a tendency to do that in Beverly Hills. Did he need to put on some act with Kelsey? Should he pretend to be more like Ethan? Or Theo? Did she think he was somebody else?

“You can call me Zay.” He smiled again before continuing. “And thank you! Apparently I get it from my dad? My birth one, not either of my white ones.” Isaiah chuckled softly to himself as he lifted his hands from the record and wrapped his fingers around his backpack straps. “I’ve never met him so I couldn’t tell you for sure. But my smile is nothing really in comparison to…well your everything.”

Kelsey felt as though she wanted to sink right into the chair she sat upon, sink right out of view. She questioned what powers that be gave her the confidence to spout such words out loud for him to hear. Kelsey was never the most brazen person, but in that moment the words flowed from her like water down a dainty stream. She wasn’t one unfamiliar with giving compliments to people, she felt no type of way giving one to any of her close friends, but to new people? That was a different story. She wasn’t the old social butterfly her mother and Grandparents used to know her as, she wasn’t that little girl anymore, that part left with her father. She was more secluded, if not on one of her A.W.O.L. drives to wherever the highway took her, one could know exactly where to find her, and that was where the two were just now.

Kelsey felt the subtle rise in her heart beat, like the rising of the drumline that hummed out of the gramophone besides her ear, her heart jumped slightly at the advent of Isaiah’s words and didn’t dare to retreat from the peak. Her nails softly scratch against the grain of the desk as she looked at Isaiah. There goes that smile again, who would’ve thought something so simple as a smile would’ve drawn her in, certainly not Kelsey for sure, but she’d likely never forget his name after today. “My…everything? I- Wow, I don’t even know how to respond to that one. N-Not like in a bad way, like in a way where I am genuinely at a loss for words. I’ve gotten pretty and cute before but to be compared to a smile as amazing as yours, that's a different one for sure. I like it! Thank you, Zay!”

Kelsey smiled back to him, although all the smiles she gave to the customers were genuine, there was something more to this one, one she couldn’t exactly pinpoint to herself. This was the first time she had ever smiled so wide at a compliment, it felt different than the ones she would receive from friends and family, it made her feel giddy, more than usual compliments, like it had seared itself into her brain along with the smile he had flashed towards her. It was a good feeling, no, a great one, and she liked it. “I know this may be off topic but you're adopted? Not asking in a rude way or anything, just genuinely curious.”

“Yeah!” Zay wasn’t even sure how to take offense from such a question, let alone such a question being uttered from this girl. Even though he had his issues, like most children who were chosen and tossed aside, he was very thankful that someone had taken him in, that someone had provided him with a family. “I was a baby. So I don’t really remember anything different than the life I already know. My Dad’s are great, they’re really just such sweet guys. Suuuuper white though, one’s Italian and the other’s Irish. And they run a furniture making business together.” At this point he wasn’t hundred percent sure what to do with his hands, so Isaiah swiftly stuck them in his pockets. Was that normal? “I’ve got a sister too! She’s annoying but yeah, she’s family. I’ve only recently really started looking at where I came from, like originally.”

Something about chatting with Kelsey, as nervous as he was, made him feel incredibly at ease. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to tell her everything and tell her now. If anything he was holding back because he wanted to have more than just the one conversation with her. “What about you? What’s your hero origin story?”

So cringe, Zay. So cringe.

“Hmm, I would like to think it's similar to Spider-Man’s, but really there's a lot different. Like him, I am also a New York baby, born and sort of raised, but not in Queens though! Manhattan was my home for a while, which is obviously the best Borough by the way, but anyway, I lived there with my parents until the 7th-ish grade, a lot is pretty hazy from back then. My father managed my grandparents record label while we lived there, both of my parents are just great people.” one of Kelsey’s hands slipped into her pocket to pull out her wallet, a pale, forest green faux leather thing she was never caught without. Inside the wallet, besides the assortment of bills lay two solitary photo strips. Kelsey pulled out the more worn looking one, unfolding it, and holding it up for Isaiah to catch a view of. It was a simple strip of cascading photos, one after another in an even row depicting Kelsey and her parents, and the contents of the photos were naught but utter randomness. The three of them took on a different pose in every picture, silly faces galore as the photos showed out the life she once had, the life she yearned to experience if but only one more time. “These are my folks, I bet you've seen my grandparents before, the tall older dude and my short older lady? That's them. Back on track now! My mother and I moved to California in that 7th grade year, after my father. He… he passed that year. I try not to think about it too much, it was a lot then, still a lot now. But, everything led me to where I am now, in this shop right here with you.”

Kelsey brought her arm down and turned the photo back towards herself. It was one she had seen a million times, a set of photos she looked at practically every day of her life. Those photos she kept in her wallet meant more to her than a lot of things in her life, memories of people she loved, people she can never see again. Kelsey folded the photo back up again, sliding it back into position besides the other photo in her wallet. She couldn't get herself too worked up, she didn't want to cry in front of Isaiah, especially not right now. “So yeah, unfortunately no siblings, though sometimes I do wish I had some, being an only child gets boring sometimes, though now I got this shop to keep me occupied. Y'know they had me working here when I was twelve?! That can't be allowed right?” Kelsey laughed a bit, trying to lighten the mood if only but a bit. “Honestly, it's cool that you are looking into your origins, I hope it's been going well for you, I can't imagine where I would even start if I was in your shoes so definitely props given.”

Isaiah was taken aback by how open and honest Kelsey was being. For all intents and purposes he was nothing but a stranger. Then again, sometimes a stranger can end up being exactly what you need at the time you need it. Strangers can be the most impactful people in your life and you may not even know it. Zay felt like a stranger in his own life, like he didn’t belong where he was, like he was simply a placeholder until the real person whose spot he took would arrive to claim what he had taken. He didn’t doubt that his adopted family and his few friends loved him, for each of them, strangers, took in someone that shouldn’t have been there and welcomed him in, just like Kelsey was doing at that moment.

“I’m sorry to hear about your Dad. That must be really hard.” Isaiah wanted to reach out and put a hand on her shoulder. He could see in her pretty eyes just how much pain she was carrying, pain hidden by the scratches of old vinyl and drowned out by the best and rhythm of the music she wrapped herself in. “If it’s any help, I’ve got three dads apparently, so you can take your pick of one of those.” He awkwardly smiled again. He was not good at this. In the slightest. “What I mean, like, you know I’m not saying replace your dad or anything but…sorry. Just…sorry.” Isaiah Strickland, the great orator. “Working since you were twelve? Yeah definitely not legal. Though I was helping my dads do their taxes when I was like seven. Somehow neither of them are particularly math orientated. Must be something I get from my genetics.”

“You don't have to apologize, Zay. I get you trying to comfort me, thank you.” She knew he was only trying to help, and to be fair, she wasn't the best comforter herself. Kelsey never wanted to burden anyone with her problems, they didn't deserve to carry the weight she carried, it was her trial, and hers alone. Like Atlas, the weight she bore on her shoulders was the most she could bear, plus a little more. A weight that threatened to topple off her small frame at the slightest bump on the road, unleashing the floodgates that were fastened locks that cracked and squealed under the bulging hurt burrowed in her mind. “And hey! We have more in common than I thought initially, I get my impeccable skills to run a record store all by myself from my genetics too. I wonder how we haven't talked to each other earlier.”

Although their circumstances stood in a stark contrast, Kelsey felt that, in a way, they could relate. It was a weird sense, not backed up by a lot she knew about Isaiah but from that was what she got from their conversation. She felt like she could be more free, like she didn't have to put a persona around him and could just be open in a way. “Oh yeah! I know this is like a really big back track but back on music, if you look right above where I am sitting there is a photo of me and my grandparents with the members of Digable Planets. Though I might point it out because you give me the vibe you may know them, I wish I could remember the story behind it but I'm sure if he were here right now my grandpa would have some long winded tale that sounds way cooler than it probably was. Also do you have an Instagram or number I could get, I think I have a few playlists you would like!” That wasn't the only reason she wanted his number, but he didn't need to know that.

Did she? Did she just?

What?

“..y..ye..Yeah! O..of course you can have my number!” Now he just had to remember it. No one had ever asked Isaiah for his number before, let alone a girl! This was absolutely, unequivocally unheard of except for in his fantasies. “I’d love to hear your playlists!” He had chosen this year to be his year. This was meant to be the year that Zay finally found out who he was and stood out from the ideal that people expected him to be. So far it hadn’t gone to plan but in these brief moments with Kelsey, it felt like maybe it was finally happening? Pulling a slip of paper and a pen from his pocket, he scribbled his phone number and socials down. “My Insta and X are on there too. Zay4TC ... also I really love Digable Planets, that picture is so damn cool.” He handed the paper to the beautiful girl and directed his big smile towards her once again. “I should probably get out of here so that you can actually serve paying customers.”

Kelsey's eyes shifted from Isaiah's glowing smile for a moment to look at the clock that lay beside her, she hadn't noticed just how much time had passed while the two were chatting.“Hey, you are a paying customer too! But it is close to closing time so I should probably get ready for that before I have to hear an old man complain.” Kelsey shot a smile right back at the man before her, as she did a quick scan of the piece of paper before pocketing it. “Y’know I really enjoyed our conversation, Isaiah! Make sure to pop by again, I'd love to continue chatting, and I'll make sure to send them over as soon as I am done here!”

“I really enjoyed our conversation too Kelsey, I’ll definitely be back. You can bet on it.” With his smile glued to his face from ear to ear, Zay lifted his headphones back from around his neck, over his head and waved to the girl as he walked out the door. This was certainly something he did not expect when he walked into the record shop not a few minutes earlier. He wasn’t expecting the skin on the back of his neck to be burning or for his stomach to be filled with a swarm of butterflies but there he was!

As he walked up the street, his intended destination home, Isaiah reached into his pocket once again and was hit with a bolt of realization which struck him like a lightning bolt hitting a tree; he felt like he had been split in half. The page he gave to Kelsey, with his number and socials on, on the reverse of it were the lyrics to his next rap. He had not intended to share those with anyone yet, they weren’t finished and they didn’t have a beat. What could he do? Could he go back? But then he’d look desperate. He could leave it but then she would probably think that he was trying to be some sort of cool guy which of course he wasn’t.

“Oh God. No.”

Run Through The Jungle: A Vietnam War Anthology [INTREST CHECK]

So.anyone have any ideas for scenes they'd love to see?

@BigPapaBelial

I was think we could play a squad during Operation Starlite (one of the first major offensives by the US army)

Run Through The Jungle: A Vietnam War Anthology [INTREST CHECK]

Roughly how many players/characters are we shooting for?

@Smike

Roughly the size of your typical army squad, so about 6ish people

Run Through The Jungle: A Vietnam War Anthology [INTREST CHECK]

This is interesting, I'll throw in a tag here. Are we sticking to the irl timeline and history?

@Smike

We will try to the IRL timeline/history as much as possible but I am open to having deviations in the history if y'all would like to go out on a homebrewed mission

BHHS: Limitless

_{TIMESTAMP: Some time after Opening Act
LOCATION(s): The Revolution Record, Beverly Hills
SONG: Good Enough Reasons
STARING: Kelsey Devon, And
Lucian Bowers}

“Thank you again! Take care!” A different variation of the same phrase flowed from Kelsey’s lips with each exiting customer. The service persona had been drilled into her for years up until this moment. “Kind words and a smile” as her grandfather called, and those words held true in the smile she wore at that moment. Although, the outwardly kind gesture she offered to each and every customer of the store wasn’t the hallow facade plastered upon most retail worker’s faces and voices. Her words were authentic. Kelsey clung to the notion of the store like her life depended on it. From every particle of dust in the back storage room, to the vinyls that lined every foot of the front, she adored it. She loved the store more than her grandparents did, and they were the ones who had it built. Anything she did in the store, whether that be sweeping the hardwood floors that lined the building, stocking the shelves with whatever new shipment of vinyls her grandparents ordered, or even the simple act of interacting with customers, Kelsey put all her energy into it. The store was her home away from home; She needed it. The store was a reminder, but also a distraction from her father; anything to take her mind off the brunt of the pain.

Kelsey’s hand traced the abstract art piece that lay on the cover of the vinyl that played record player beside her. “The Moon and The Melodies,” an album Kelsey had heard plenty of times in the past, one of her grandfather’s favorites, and what he had decided to play for before he left on an errand. An ethereal concoction that comforted the ears, but Kelsey much preferred listening to one of the playlists she had painstakingly put together the day prior. The day was slow, and the music that poured out of the surprisingly well-maintained gramophone hadn’t worked to speed it up. Kelsey had started a habit of counting the number of new faces who had visited the store, and today her count stayed at zero, with joining the past two weeks streak of all zeros. Nothing could ever beat the day a couple of weeks ago where she counted at least ten. Now that was a monumental day. It wasn’t all empty though, the regulars came by here and there, satisfying their musical cravings with a dose of Revolution Records almost endless supply. Kelsey was sure there was almost nothing they didn’t have, Grandpa Grant always managed to find the most obscure things in the back with a random story to go along with it too. That, unsurprisingly, held true for almost anything you could find in plain sight or hidden within the store, it was laced with its own easter eggs so to say to find in unexpecting locations. The customer earlier was also a regular, a sweet old man who was a friend of the older Devons, just seeking to chat, he had talked to Kelsey for around an hour before making his exit with his purchase, she’d have to let her grandparents know he came by.

Kelsey’s ears perked up with the blissful ring of the bell upon the shop’s door, breaking the stream of music in her ear. Her eyes looked up from the desk, and saw another one of the shop's regulars, Lucian. “Hey! If it isn’t Lucian Bower seeking comfort in this shop once again. Looking for anything specific, Lucy? I saw a few new LPs from some bands I know you listen to while stocking today. Or are you just browsing?” It was a sight for sore eyes to see Lucian again, although he did come into the shop at least once a week, she meant in general. Despite the lives they had led up until this point the two kids were old friends, both a chip of the Harlem neighborhood both settled in Los Angeles. Kelsey had been a close friend of Lucian since their younger years. Before he and Rocky were truly involved in a life he’d rather not talk about, they were joined at the hip. They only started to drift away when that became his priority, and before they could fix anything she had already moved away. Their reconnection was one unexpected by both, before he had even seen the girl walking the halls of their shared school, his uncle had brought him to the store in which they stood on a day she was working. After the moment of shocked faces, and a storm of questions thrown at the other, the two had been reconnected.

“You hear my sister call me that one time and you stick with it for so many years,” Lucian sighed at the advent of the nickname he had desired she’d forget. One he had been called by few and one he’d never forget. He hated it, the name hung heavy on his soul as it was burned into his ears each time it was said. That was something he have to tell her another time, though. Lucian was here for music, and he’d be damned if he let anything put a damper on the day he was having. “And, nah, I’m just lookin’ around, Kels. Don’t really got much in mind but I do got some news you might wanna hear.” Those words caught her attention more than his own arrival had, Kelsey sat up in her chair, raising her eyebrow as she looked focused more on her friend. “Oh shit? What has been up with you recently, Lucy? And for the record, it was TWICE, not once I heard Eliza call you that.” Lucian sighed at the girl's last remark, his hands searching through the crate of vinyls on the stand in front of him, no real direction in mind just scouring for anything that looked good enough. “Well, I might be joining a band soon. Don’t get too excited now, nothing is set in stone but, I mean, it’s looking good.” His eyes focused on the records as he softly pulled one up from the rest, inspecting the cover, and reading the songlist on the back before placing it back into the slot it came from. “Y’know Helen right? The one with the jet black hair, and drives the sick hearse? Yeah her. She’s the one that asked me to join. Me, her, and this cat named “Yani” as the first three. Fire, right?”

“Holy shit, Lucian! Finally putting those sticks to work. You really came far from the one music class in the 5th grade, huh? I remember when you barely even knew how to drum, and here you are about to do it for a band? God. When y’all have your first show, tell me, I’ll be the first one there!” Kelsey sat back in her chair, her smile was reinforced with Lucian’s proclamation. She was glad for Lucian, he needed something like this. What the store meant to Kelsey was similar to what drumming meant to Lucian. She knew he wanted to put it out there, to have his pain shown to more than just himself, so to see him finally have that outlet meant a lot to her.

“When we make it to the first show, I ain’t gonna let you miss it.” Lucian turned his head to look at the girl, returning a smile back to her before switching his search to another genre. “Off topic but what happened to to the Devons today?” Lucian realized, finally looking around the store for the short old man always spouting tidbits of lore about the store or his career. He was usually always around the front or somewhere hidden in the back, always popping up as soon as he heard his name. Grant Devon was quite an eccentric old man, you never really knew his next move. Laura Devon was always the one who brought the man back from whatever planet his mind inhabited, much like Kelsey she cared for all who entered the doors to her store, they were both a truly sweet couple Lucian had the blessing to interact with. Before Kelsey had a chance to get a word out to answer Lucian’s question, another set of words attacked her ears like a volley of arrows. “KELSEY, WHY ARE THE POTHOS DYING? ARE YOU OVER WATERIN’ THEM? I TOLD YOU ONLY ONCE A WEEK. HAVE YOU SEEN THE FUNGUS GROWTH IN THE POT??”

“HEY, I TOLD THEM ONLY ONCE A WEEK TOO. THIS ISN’T MY FAULT!”

“YOU’RE KILLIN’ MY UNCLE’S POOR GIFT.”

“BLAME MY GRANDPARENTS NOT ME! THEY ARE THE ONES WHO WATER IT.”

Lucian was distraught, well, not really, but the abuse of the poor vining plant he helped set up around the store for the Devins was a disappointing site. He was only playing around with his friend, letting out a faux sigh before speaking, “Christ, Kels, can’t even keep a pothos plant alive. I’ll have to help you repot it, the soil in these pots has too much fungi growth, and we’ll have to prune off some parts of the leaves too.” Lucian held one of the dead leaves in his hand, the yellow leaf laid in his hand under the Beverly Hills sun shining through from the window, the ends of the leave slightly curling up at the ends with signs of browning. Two years ago, Lucian wouldn’t have given a single care to gardening, his life here had given him so many opportunities to explore than he had in the past. Without the move? He would’ve most likely ended up like the leaf in his hand. After what happened to him? It was a shock he wasn’t like the leaf but still shining green. He counted his blessings every day.

“Yadda, yadda, yadda, talk to the hand buddy.” Kelsey thrust her palms from off the table they rested, hiding her smile behind her outstretched hands. It felt like the old times, back when they were just kids messing around with whatever, and doing random things together. Two-thirds of a former trio, if only he were here. Kelsey let out a laugh as she rested her hands back on the counter. “But in all seriousness, just call me whenever, dude. To answer your question before I was so rudely interrupted, they are out grocery shopping. Given this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and your talk of plants, you want to go spark up in the back?” Kelsey made the motion of striking an invisible lighter in her hand as she looked over at Lucian. “Don’t you gotta, y’know, watch the store?”

“I haven’t taken my break yet all day, plus, nobody will notice if the store is closed for a bit. I deserve some time for myself, this is hard work, Lucy.” Kelsey stated proudly, the smile still plastered all over her overzealous face.

“If you say so. I was just going to do the same shit alone at home later, so might as well.”

“Now that's more like it, Lucy! Flip the ‘out to lunch’ sign on the door, and lock if for me, my good friend.” Lucian followed his friend’s instructions, soon placing the records he intended to buy later on the counter before following Kelsey off to where they would smoke.

---

“Welcome back, my friend, to Revolution Record’s humble break room!” Humble was certainly the correct word to describe the room the pair stood within. The break room, if you could call it that with the size, was night and day compared to the shop floor. The desultory decorations found all across the front room were void as one stepped into the break room, alone sat a solitary table with a few chairs pushed under it, with a kitchenette set up to the wall beside them. The room sat with a stagnant air before the two rushed new life into its atmosphere. “Does anyone even come into this room? Christ.” With Kesley’s flick of the light, the two took a seat at the small table in the center of the room. “If they did they would notice I am the only one with a key, but as you can see barely even I use it.”

“Solid reasonin’. An’ I ain’t one to complain over free weed but bro, that shit you had last time was terrible.”

“LOW BLOW, WOW. We agreed never to speak on it again too. But rest assured, Lucy, this is of the highest quality!”

“Oh I hope it is.”

Kelsey’s hands were busy at work crafting the blunt for the two of them to pass as they chatted. The contents of the small bookbag that had sat on the table before their entrance was scattered around the surface. Kelsey placed the grinder in her hand back onto the table as she poured the grounded remains onto the woods she held in the other. The leaf was delicate, but she had rolled it so many times through trial and error it had become muscle memory. As her fingers rolled up the leaf she peered over at her friend across the table. This had become almost a routine for them, to come back here and reminisce over a blunt. Ever since he arrived in their junior year, it had always been the two of them in the back room just chatting about anything that plagued each other's minds. They were mutually each’s biggest supporter, closer than they were back when they were rowdy kids. Kelsey brought the blunt up to her lips, sealing it before placing it down on the tray before her. “You got a lighter, Lucy? I think mine might be dead.” Rummaging in her pockets in search of the light she had bought earlier. “I told you that them crackhead lighters ain't it.” Lucian slid his light across the table to his friend, he always kept working one on him, just in case. “Thank you!” With the blunt in-between her fingers she brought Lucian’s lighter up to light it, taking the first drag on her creation. The smoke permeated every part of her lungs before cascading out as she opened her mouth, handing the blunt and the light back over to her friend. Lucian took a hit on the blunt before speaking, the smoke filled his lungs like the thoughts did his mind. “You ever miss Harlem?”

“I mean, I guess? Not really the city, more my father and my friends, and I already got a part of that place smoking with me. You alright, Lucian?”

“Been on edge my whole life, Kels, you get used to it. An’ ion know, guess I just miss my peoples.”

“Shit, I know being here without father hurt me a lot, I can’t imagine how you must feel without Eliza.”

“Was supposed to be us two ‘gainst the world, and now we two different sides of the country.” Lucian took another drag before passing it back to Kelsey. This was the only way Lucian found he could talk about that life without breaking down into the mess that he kept locked within.

“I am so sorry, Lucian.”

“You ain’t gotta apologize, aint shit you did wrong. I blame my life-givers for that. An’ with Rocky, Christ, I don’t even wanna think ‘bout that. Makes my heart hurt in all the wrong ways.” Lucian rubbed his shoulder, lightly feeling over the scar that sat there through his shirt.

“I feel you, we all miss him.” Kelsey held the blunt in her hand as she looked over at her friend. When Lucian had told her the news her heart was broken too, like it was smashed into a million pieces as the last vestige of hopeful belief that she would be able to see her old friend again faded away. He and Lucian were the brothers she never had, the pain ran deep and the fact that they never had the chance to reconnect stuck her deeper. She tried to understand Lucian’s pain, she hurt for Rocky as well, but to actually be there the moment it happened was a type of pain she could never imagine. Lucian was able to hold his pain just as well as her mother could. She wasn’t sure if she had ever seen Lucian cry over their friend but when he first told her the tears flowed like hot lava down her face. She didn’t know how he did it, to keep his pain bundled up so deeply in as big of a heart as he had still shocked her, in her own heart she wished she could handle her own pain as well as he appeared to be. Little did she know that behind Lucian facade of managed grief, he was still that kid frozen in the moment, his mind never truly having left that one street corner that altered his life drastically. She had yet to see little glimpses of his grief that punctured the surface when his ears were assaulted with sudden loud noises. The pain that showed through his eyes when he would fall to the floor winded, gasping for any air he could take in, and on the verge of tears. She never saw the tremors that washed through his body when he was awoken in the middle of the night by a nightmare he never dared to retell. After she took another hit, a light stream of hot tears rolled down from her eyes. “Ah fuck, I didn’t mean to make you cry, Kels.”

“You’re alright, Lucy. You know I’m a crier, and this isn’t making it any better.” Kelsey let out a light laugh through the smoke, and tears, passing back over to Lucian

“If this means anythin’ now, this is way better stuff than last time.”

“See! I told you.

“We’re still smokin’ my shit next time, this is still subpar.”

“Alright. You’re done.”

Another website for the books!

Welcome to the guild!

BHHS: Limitless

Kelsey M. Devon

17 • Female • Bisexual • She/Her • "Maybe one day!"

(FC: Beatrice Kristi Ilejay Laus; Dialogue: #98A38E)

► reputation

"I am known by most as the girl who works at the record store." Kelsey isn't one of the most well-known students at BHHS, but recognized by most for being the main face working the register at her grandparent's store. Although some may know her face, her name is remembered most by the students who regularly visit the store. She floats around groups, never in a set place per usual.

► current dilemma

"I know it's been a few years, I've been getting through it, but I still miss my father. A lot. He was always there, as busy as a man as he was with managing my grandparent's label, but no matter what my mother and I were always his top priority. To go from seeing him every day to never again still hurts even years after. The store too. I love it, practically my second home, but it's got its own problems. Lack of new customers, even regular faces fading away, we've been falling to bigger and better competition that's popped up in the city. I know my grandparents will be fine without the store, they have enough money, but to see their passion, their labor of love just fall slowly into obscurity like it has been really weighs on the soul."

► social media handles

"Well, my own social media have the same user, the.greenest.note, after one of my favorite jazz rap albums, The Bluest Note, and because I LOVE green. I also run the social media for my grandparent's shop, The Revolution Record, which unsurprisingly just uses its name as the handle."

► style

"My style isn't anything set. I just go with how the day feels, wear a lot of green though, even if it's a minor part of the outfit. Best color in the world."

► ride & everyday items

"I drive my grandpa's old '82 Pontiac Firebird like the fuckin' Knight Rider, it's so sick! Doesn't look exactly like the K.I.T.T. but it will one day, trust me. As for my carry, the classic stuff really. My backpack, phone, wallet, and the other odds and ends in my bag."

► occupation

"Jeez, y'know, I've been working in some part at Revolution Record since my mother and I moved back to L.A. in my 7th-grade year. That has to be illegal right? Unpaid child labor, I can't believe my mom allowed this to happen, and to make it worse my grandparents only started paying me LAST YEAR. All those hours spent behind the counter and stocking FOR FREE. I am only joking though, I love this store so much."

► extracurricular activities

"I spend most of my hours outside of the school building in my grandparent's shop, sat behind the counter or out on the floor. Nowadays business hasn't been... very active. I guess. Really just the regular folks, not many new faces anymore. Besides that I also curate the playlists that you hear in the store, it's very cathartic to do not going to lie."

Friends would describe me as _______.

"I don't know, hopefully they would say I am a bright person. Funny too. I know Lucian would say some bs like I am prideful, but we don't listen to him."

In my free time I like to _______.

"When not in the store? I just like to drive. No direction in mind, no location, just me, the road, and my music. At certain times of day, there are some really scenic places to drive around in L.A."

I would like to learn _______ in the next year.

"I don't even really know how to answer, to be honest. I guess how to take things so, I seem to be in the fast lane most times."

This is how I define success and failure:

"If you feel satisfied with where you are in life, you are successful. It doesn't matter what you have or what you don't, as long as you feel satisfied. And for failure? Probably when you just give up. You don't keep fighting, keep on going, you just give up."

I'm inspired by _______.

"My grandparents. They built their life up from the ground, and really got everything they wanted in their life. I am so glad I get to see them more. My mother too, she... she's such a strong woman. I wish I could handle everything that happened with Dad like she is able to. T- To keep going on with how she has, I have no idea."

These songs are the soundtrack to my life:

"Oh God, to ask this to someone who works at a record store. I don't want to drop the whole thing on you so I'll just give you five. For the first one, I'd have to say "My Old Man" by Mac DeMarco." This song is a part of one of, if not, the best albums Mac has in his discography, definitely not the best song on the album but it's the one I mesh with a lot. "A Hundred And Sixty Acres" by Marty Robbins too, I don't get a lot of the hate around country music, if you actually took the time to listen to some of it, you'd realize its not all that bad. Third is "Whales Tails" by Cocteau Twins, straight from Victorialand, my favorite, and what I think is their best album. All their music just sounds so ethereal, and the gibberish spoken in the back like a choir of singing angles, perfect. Can't forget "Back On My Feet Again" by The Foundations as well. I LOVE the Foundations, and to have someone like in the song? I'm dreaming. Lastly, my dad's favorite song, "Don't Push" by Sublime. The story I was told behind it was that my father knew Bradley Nowell back when he was younger in L.A., and he was one of the first people who Nowell showed the 89 Vision EP. I've got the CD up in my room, signed and everything. Dad had some great taste in music.

My fondest memory as a child was _______.

"A lot of the times we came to visit my grandparents here in L.A. are definitely on that list, although if I had to choose just one it would be the day my father took me to see the Statue of Liberty. I know, a common outing for a child in New York, but it was a moment I couldn't ever replace. It was the fourth of July, which, fun fact, is also my birthday. My father took me and my mother out onto the harbor on the yacht he had bought the year prior, and we had a dinner reservation at night right, so we would miss the fireworks show later in the evening. Apparently, he worked something out with the city to put on a show on himself earlier, without me knowing of course. Under the idea that we were just having a fun time out on the harbor, and slightly disappointed to miss the show, it's safe to say ecstatic when I saw the rockets fly. It was... It was perfect. The sunset sky, the explosion of color behind the statue, like wow. I balled in my father's arms for a good ten minutes after that moment. He really did a lot for us..."

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

"Value your time with him. Every single fucking moment with him."

The things that make me smile are _______.

"Watching people find as much joy in the store as I do. Watching the light just appear on my grandpa's face when anyone asks him about the story behind something in the store. Taking the plastic off a fresh vinyl, and seeing the production of the music in progress. A lot of things can put a smile on my face really, I'm not too hard of a person to make happy."

My whole life story in one sentence:

"Blasting music from coast to coast."

► extra information

► Granddaughter of Laura Devon (née Orquia) and Grant Devon, and Daughter of Maria Devon (née Villamor) and Morgan Devon.

Run Through The Jungle: A Vietnam War Anthology [INTREST CHECK]

I am looking for a small group of people who may be interested in a Vietnam War era RPG. To preface, it will be an anthology-based RPG. Instead of one linear story following a set cast of characters, there will be several lightly connected stories with a rotating cast of characters. This means we will explore different events, battles, and operations that occurred during the Vietnam War or were created by the group, from the eyes of different characters in each new plotline. The story will hopefully span from 65' to 75', allowing us an ample timeframe to explore whatever we may wish, I do not have a tentative first storyline planned, although I will set something in stone if there is traction, and if you have any ideas I'll be happy to have them thrown at me. I am not a master in the subject of the Vietnam War, and while I may find its history very interesting I am bound to make a few mistakes here or there, if you notice this please feel free to educate me on where I have gone wrong so I can course correct.

If you have any ideas or are interested in having your own run through the jungle, please let me know! And remember, mind the agent orange.