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@smarty0114 & @Hey Im Jordan
TIMESTAMP: 7:25 AM
BHHS Parking Lot
Introducing: Katie Callaghan & Scott Lyon





Scott had parked his car near the back of the parking lot, near the G Spot (she hated the name, for the record, but AJ had denied all her formal requests to change it and she wasn’t sure it was worth it anymore) partly because he didn’t want anybody to ding his darling, but probably mostly because Katie didn’t like to make out at the front where the whole school could watch. She did have some class, after all.

Music poured from Scott’s speakers, but Katie wasn’t especially concerned with it. She was more focused on Scott’s lips on hers, and the nagging realization that her hair was going to be completely fucked. She didn’t care. When Katie had first gotten dropped off here, nearly four years ago, she hadn’t really envisioned herself becoming known for her (somewhat surprisingly) stable relationship with one Scott Lyon. And yet, here she was, making out with this beautiful boy while they listened to music her parents had loved. She wouldn’t have called it perfect, but it was pretty damn close.

You should probably tell him about the Juilliard interview, or else you’ll wait another two months, you big fat liar.

Okay, so it was maybe farther from perfect than she would like, but she didn’t want to focus on that. She shut her eyes tighter, leaned harder into the kiss, and pretended that highschool would never end.

Once upon a time, Scott had made a point of making sure his car was parked at the front of the row, near AJ’s. The first time he and Katie got a little hot and heavy in the car before school, AJ had only had to knock on the fogged up window once before Katie insisted that if he was going to get touchy-feely then they were going to park in the back where no eyes would pry. It was almost the very next day that Scott started making a habit out of parking in a dark corner where no one could see them.

Sure, no one could see his darling - but no one could see his queen either, which meant getting hot and heavy before school quickly became a habit. Scott was a young man, he was never going to say no. Even thinking it in his head, it sounded ridiculous. What? No, honey. I want to go into the school instead of seeing what your cherry lip gloss tastes like.

Still, they’d kissed enough times that Scott could tell when things weren’t quite right. Sometimes, kissing was a distraction; Scott had used it as a distraction many times over the course of their relationship, especially back when he was fighting with his father more often. He pulled away from the kiss, breaking it prematurely (which was a landmark moment for Scott). “Babe, are you okay?” Before Katie could protest, Scott hooked a finger in his own mouth and fished something out, eventually holding out a piece of gum on his index finger. “I wasn’t chewing gum.” He said, unable to hide the grin that crept on his lips as he teased her.

“Scott, what the fuck?” Katie said in between laughs. She’d gotten better than she should have been, at brushing off her boyfriend’s concern. She had her excuses, of course; her interview was hardly an acceptance, she didn’t want to tell him anything that wasn’t a certainty, she didn’t want to get her own hopes up. The list went on and on, but they were all just lies she told herself to feel better about her continued secrecy. The truth was that they had plans, plans that involved the Peace Corps and gap years and an apartment of their own. She didn’t want to be another person who abandoned him. She didn’t know if she even wanted to go to Juiliard, if she even wanted this life her mother had begun to lay out for her, but she knew that she didn’t want to hurt Scott. So she smiled and threw her brother under the bus.

“Jamie and AJ are back together. Well, not back together, I guess, but…y’know,” Katie said, gesturing into the air at the anomalous relationship that her brother and Scott’s best friend had developed. Jamie would be annoyed with her, but he would get over it. He was chained to her, whether he liked it or not. “It’s very hush hush right now, so don’t go telling the whole fucking garage. I’m just worried about them. Not everybody can be as perfect as us,” It worried her a bit, how easy lying had become. It really wasn’t much different than acting, she thought it was easier even. She looked down at the radio, saw that they had five minutes till the first bell, and leaned back in towards Scott, close enough that he could smell the lavender perfume she’d put on. “Are we going to keep talking about my brother, or are you gonna kiss me?”

Katie had a good point. It was hard to be as perfect as their relationship was, especially for two people who were very un-perfect in their own unique ways. Even so, Scott couldn’t help but think something was wrong with his girlfriend; losing your gum was a rookie mistake, and there was no way Katie was so invested in the relationship of her brother and his bestie that it would impact her kissing skills. She was a good actor - hell, Scott would even say she was one of the best. A future Oscar winner for sure, but that made it harder for him to take her at face value, when there were signs.

Internally, he took a breath and reminded himself that the last time Katie had done something hurtful toward him was in the 8th grade. They were a team now, and that meant he had to trust her. Which was a whole lot easier to do when she was telling him to kiss her, but Scott held out for a second longer. He had to choose his next words carefully, and there was a noticeable pause. He’d just have to trust her.

“Wait, wait, wait. Again?! Katie, we’re not babying them this time. When they break up AGAIN, which they will, I don’t wanna go on some wild goose chase across Los Angeles county to make sure AJ is fine. And don’t get me started on Jamie interrupting us because he’s petty that we’re happy.” Scott’s mood had soured a bit, a combination of thinking about the last time he had to deal with Jamie and AJ’s catastrophic breakup and that lingering thought in the back of his mind that there was something wrong.

Katie rolled her eyes and smirked, all too happy to believe that her tracks were covered. “When they break up, Jamie’s gonna owe me dinner at Nobu. Half because he’ll need it, and half because I like dinner when I do emotional labour.” She tilted her head, clearly proud of herself and leaning into it. “You don’t need to baby AJ, you’ll just have to like, take his phone for a day or two. Maybe introduce him to some new dick. Preferably one that comes with less baggage than Jamie.” She kissed him again, quickly this time, before pulling back and holding up a finger, a stern but playful warning. “Don’t tell either of them I told you, or I’ll hear about it and I’ll have to start carpooling with Jamie again until he’s not pissed.”

“Actually, babe, I do have to baby him. He’s very unstable,” Scott protested, but couldn’t fight the smile on his lips. One quick kiss and a teasing tone, and Scott very quickly remembered how wildly in love with this woman he was. She didn’t have to tell him then, but he wasn’t going to make a big deal out of it - trust was the most important part of any relationship, and theirs had plenty. “I won’t tell a soul. Come on, Katie. You can trust me! I earned it when I jumped into the ice cold fucking ocean to pull you out.”

He leaned forward and gave her a kiss. “You can literally trust me with your life. And if you don’t agree? Next time you’re drowning in the ocean. Call Free Willy. Let Willy set you free.” Scott stole another kiss from his girlfriend without another word and then threw open the car door to step out into the outside world. Unfortunately, this was where they split off, unless Scott could convince her to meet him in the janitor’s closet for a quickie. He had about a forty percent success rate which… wasn’t that bad, all things considered!

“I can’t believe they split us up for homeroom. It’s targeted right? It has to be targeted.” Scott glumly pouted, unable to help himself. He and Katie had been together so long now that even the hours apart in the morning were agonizing. What was the point of coming to school if he didn’t get to hang out with Katie for the entire day?

“Babe, I’ve told you this, I can swim,” Katie said, while she checked her makeup and smoothed her hair using the reflection on her phone. “They’re just looking out for your academic future. Would you really pay attention to anything if I was there to distract you?” Katie teased, before stepping out of the car. She gripped her bag tighter, swallowing any anxiety that threatened to rear its ugly head. Confidence was just a mask, and it was one she wore well. She tucked her blonde curls behind her ear, and met Scott at the front of his car, squeezing his hand tight. “I’m running lines at lunch today, but I’ll see you for the rally?”

“You are so pretty, I literally didn’t hear a word you said. Was it something about me being distracted if you’re around?” He smiled and squeezed her hand, kissing her on the cheek before he nodded. “If AJ and Jamie are back together — again — you’d better be sitting with us at the rally. I can’t handle it alone.”

Katie smiled. How could she ever even think about doing anything other than kissing this beautiful, lovestruck boy? How could she ever even think about being anyone other than the beautiful, lovestruck girl who kissed him? “Of course. I wouldn’t be the best girlfriend ever if I didn’t, would I?” She smiled harder, even as the lie sank its teeth into her gut. She ignored the pain, and told herself she had it under control. This year was going to be everything she wanted it to be, because she was Katie Callaghan and she got what she wanted. “Let’s go kill this shit.”

TIMESTAMP: 7-7:30 AM
Location: Aunt Gina’s Aviary → Ms. Belmonte’s Classroom
Starring: Benjamin “Benji” Mayhew
Special Guest: Aunt Gina







Benji Mayhew had grown awfully fucking tired of birds. He hadn’t felt that strongly about them before this year, in fact, he might’ve even had a soft spot for them. That was before he and his mom moved into his Aunt Gina’s house, and his mornings were filled with the endless tweeting of her birds. Thirty parakeets, named for different musicians Aunt Gina claimed to know (in the “Biblical sense,” as she liked to say) back in the day. He could hear them in the kitchen, he could hear them in living room, but most importantly, he could hear them in his bedroom while he was trying to get some fucking sleep. Gina said she liked the way it made her feel like she was living outdoors, and she didn’t appreciate Benji pointing out that she lived in a very expensive home made of concrete, steel and glass. The only outdoorsy thing about it was the smell of bird shit.

As he lay in bed, staring at bare walls and a floor still covered in half-unpacked boxes, he wondered if he was destined to end up like Aunt Gina: living alone in a big, cold house with a menagerie of animals that would probably eat him when he died. At least Aunt Gina had money. He’d probably end up working at Sunshine Diner for the rest of his life, surviving on tips and an inevitable cigarette habit.

The thought process had become something of a reoccuring anxiety over the last few months, but it had grown more relentless as the homecoming game approached. With barely twelve hours until kickoff, he felt sick, unable to escape the idea that he was going to fuck it all up. The Benji of last year wouldn’t have thought twice about potential failure. Now, the vision of his classmates’ disappointed faces was consuming him.

You could pull a Mom and just hide in this stupid house until tomorrow. Tell everybody you’re sick. Or dying. Or in jail.

He snoozed his alarm three times before he finally got up, put on his jersey and a pair of wrinkled black pants, and trudged out into the hall. He ignored the low thrum coming from his mother’s room, the tell tale sign of another sound bath. They’d become part of her morning ritual, an attempt at wellness that only made him raise an eyebrow and scoff at the ridiculousness that had taken over his life. Liana Mayhew had always been out there, but recent events had truly sent her spinning.

In the kitchen, Aunt Gina was dancing between a frying pan and a cutting board, humming along to Bob Marley while she slipped pieces of fruit to a bird on her shoulder. The bird chirped as Benji approached, hunting for something he could eat on the drive.

“George Michael said ‘Namaste, Benjamin,’” Gina said, setting down a large knife and spinning around to face him. Regina Lowe was one of those women who always wore a smile, even during a tragedy. Benji had always found it unnerving, especially when she got upset. She had a nervous energy that came off of her in waves, while also espousing the many benefits of her New Age spiritual practices. Benji found it hard to take yoga tips from someone who popped Klonopin when she thought nobody was looking, but he did his best to humor her.

“Namaste, George Michael,” Benji said, his tone so dry that you could hear his eyes roll. He didn’t consider himself an expert on social issues, but he did think there was something weird about white people from the Hills saying ‘namaste.’ He opened the fridge and gave it a cursory glance, praying that something good had found its way in there since he’d checked it last night. Nothing had.

“Here take this,” Gina said, pushing a cup of some mysterious greenish-brown liquid into his hands. He looked down at it, suspicious. He didn’t trust much of anything she made anymore, not after she served half-cooked chicken a few weeks ago. “It’s kale, beet juice, some ginger, cayenne, and pineapple.” Benji glanced down at the smoothie one more time before taking a cautious sip. Surprisingly, not the worst thing he’d ever had. xx

“Not bad,” Benji said, as he popped a piece of whole wheat bread into the toaster and set it to char. He would’ve loved to sit there in an awkward silence, but Gina didn’t understand the benefit of silence.

“Big game today! I put a few crystals in your backpack for good luck. They got their moon bath, so you don’t have to worry about any bad energy,” Gina said, returning to her breakfast. “I thought me and the girls from yoga class might come out for it, and cheer you guys on.”

Benji pursed his lips in between sips of his smoothie. His mother, unmentioned, hung between them like a ghost. “Is she going to come?” Benji said, gesturing down the hallway.

Gina sighed. “Your mom is just taking everything really hard.” George Michael chirped in agreement. “I don’t know if that’ll be the best place for her. You know how the Hills can be, right? We just got the reporters to stop hounding the house, I don’t know if we should give them more reasons to.”

“Yeah, no, of course,” he said, cold and detached. Benji knew exactly how the Hills could be, it was why he wanted his mom to come. While she had been stowed away from the tabloids and the socialites, awash in good vibrations and manifestation rituals, Benji had been forced back to the feeding ground where all the Hills’ spawn grew fat on rumors and scandals. Naomi and the Hive had iced him out of the social scene, Jamie and Trixie had blasted his dad’s indictment all over their socials, and his only saving grace was Ethan Green and the Elite. He was being eaten alive out there, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d last. He was closer to college than elementary school, but his life was falling apart and he wanted his mom. “Guess the homecoming game isn’t the best spot for fucking meditation,” Benji huffed.

“Benji, I–” Gina’s consolation was interrupted by the toaster, and Benji took the opportunity to run. He chugged the rest of his smoothie, grabbed his toast and gave his aunt a quick side hug before making a beeline out of the kitchen.

“I’ll see you tonight,” he said, before rushing out the door and hopping into his car. He knew it was an impossibility, but as he pulled away from Aunt Gina’s home, he wished for things to go back to the way they were six months ago, when his most pressing issue was who he’d be taking to junior prom. He and his dad still had one thing in common, at least: the two of them were both paying for his crimes.

Twenty minutes later, Benji pulled into his parking spot with only minutes to spare. Ms. Honeycutt, the school’s underpaid and overworked resource officer, was waiting out front, shaking her head as though she might be able to shame Benji into punctuality. He ignored her, the same way he’d done every morning, and rushed towards Ms. Belmonte’s class, thankful that at least people still moved out of his way when he came down the hall.

He took a seat in the back, with a spot next to him for Mac, and tried very hard not to imagine all the ways he could fuck things up tonight. He would be fine. Everything would be fine. Probably.
@smarty0114 & @Hey Im Jordan
TIMESTAMP: Between 7 AM & 7:30 AM
The local Quick Quack -> BHHS Parking Lot







It was a Friday. Everyone knew what that meant. It was the day! The day was today, and today was the day. A day of a time honored tradition, spanning back to the very Friday Nicky Snyder had decided to anoint Dylan Hearst his one and only passenger princess. There was something special about their bond - they weren’t quite dating, but their bromance certainly transcended the regular friendships their peers had. For their whole lives, they had been homies, besties bound by the eternal flame of the never ending grind to ascend the ladder.

It sounded dramatic, but it was how Nicky would have said it if anyone ever asked him, not that they ever did. Nicky and Dylan may have been lightyears apart in skill, but that didn’t change the fact they were two peas in a pod. The most dynamic duo in the history of dynamic duos - it was a common joke in their own friend group that everyone needed a girl who looked at them like Dylan looked at Nicky.

They were best friends! That was why Nicky didn’t care that Dylan didn’t drive. It wasn’t that big of a deal to be someone’s personal Uber driver when they had basically dedicated their life to being your personal hype man. For the rest of their lives, probably, Nicholas Snyder would be dutifully transporting Dylan from place to place, and he was completely and honestly okay with that.

The car rolled to a stop as he pulled into the carwash, he put the car in neutral and killed the engine. Nicky disengaged his seatbelt and twisted his body in his chair as he spoke. “Time to play one of my - sorry, our favorite games. That’s right!” He sat back up, holding his treasured position. The one and only ceramic bong they were fortunate to have. With a bowl already packed, it was somewhat questionable where he’d been storing it, but it wasn’t like Dylan was about to ask. “Are you ready for the real Friday night lights? Testify, my brother, because it is time to play: Let’s See How High We Get From Hotboxing the Car in the Car Wash.” A lengthy title, but it was still a working one.

As the sudsy water began to crash on the windshield
while they rolled through the car wash, Nicky held the bong out to Dylan. “You can take the first one! You got a lighter, right?”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be me,” Dylan said, channeling all the ancient wisdom of the teenage stoners who had come before him. Sitting there, in black and red sunglasses that read “Seniors!” on either arm, and a wrinkled class shirt he’d almost certainly pulled out of his hamper, Dylan Hearst was the picture of chill. He didn’t think there’d ever been anyone more chill than him, except for maybe Nicky, and that was close. The chillness he exuded made it all the more startling when he bounced into action, fishing a lighter from his back pocket so fast, you’d have thought he lost his vape.

Two flicks and one drag later, and Dylan was blowing smoke up and smiling as it ricocheted off of the ceiling. He was a simple boy; all he really needed was this. He passed the bong and his lighter (wrapped with a picture of the happiest golden retriever to roam the earth) to Nicky, and cupped his hands around his mouth. “Good stoners of the world, the soap is falling, the bowl is packed, and the absolutely stunning Dylan Hearst, has started us off with a perfect rip,” Dylan crowed, morphing his voice into his best imitation of an overzealous announcer. He’d never really picked up on the difference between an “indoor” and “outdoor” voice.

How many motherfuckers could say that the universe had given them their very own Samantha Irvin? Nicky Snyder never really realized how lucky he was, but he put a hand on Dylan’s shoulder and nodded enthusiastically, “bro. You should do voice overs for movie trailers. You know, like… In a world where high school never ends.” He said in a voice that he tried to sound like an old school movie trailer as he took the bong and lighter from Dylan. It was only a few seconds before a smoke cloud emanated from Nicky. In the midst of a coughing fit he did his best. “Naomi Davis and her galavanting band of sycophants do their very best to ruin our every living moment. Where OliCritz is too cool to ride to school with his buddies,” the last of the smoke left his mouth as he finished his hit.

“Dylan Hearst and Nicky Snyder continue their unending quest to find the Raphael and Donatello they’ve been searching for their whole lives.” He started to cough, hacking out his final words as he looked up at the ceiling. “Faze up.” As he spoke, he realized that he was getting baked.

“Damn. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say this was a bad idea.” He mused, passing Scooby-Doobie back over to Dylan. It was too late to back down now!

“No such thing as a bad idea, just bad execution,” Dylan said. He took another hit, and passed it back as the plain, white bubbles gave way to technicolor foam. This was his favorite part. “Voice actor… you think you gotta go to school for that? Probably not if you’re really good at it. I don’t think Troy Baker went to school, and he’s in like, everything. I’m pretty good, I probably wouldn’t need the school,” Dylan said, with all the unearned confidence of a rich, white, teenager.

For better or worse, Dylan had mastered the beast that was ego a long time ago, mostly out of necessity. Nicky had been better than him at pretty much everything that anyone cared about for basically his entire life. He had better grades than him, better aim, he even walked before Dylan did. He learned pretty quickly that their continued friendship was probably proof enough that he was good at something, and he felt like that ‘something’ was keeping his boy at his best. It was Dylan’s philosophy that a hype man who didn’t believe in himself, couldn’t believe in anybody. So, for better or worse, he believed.

“Or, maybe, I’ll graffitti my way up the coast. That definitely doesn’t need school, and I could live in a cool van.”

As he listened, Nicky dumped the ash out of the bowl and carefully disposed of it on the floorboard of his car (he’d vacuum it later if he remembered). “Live in a van? That sounds kinda wild, duder. I don’t know if I could handle it. I’d be all cramped when I try to aim… Can you imagine playing Valorant in a van? I’d prolly have to like… play Fortnite on my Switch just to be comfortable. And bro, that’s like fuckin’ Dante’s 12th circle of hell.” Nicky, of course, knew perfectly well that there were only nine circles of hell in Inferno, but his reasoning was that playing Fortnite on a Nintendo Switch would suck so much sweaty swamp ass that it would skip the 10th and 11th circles to take him straight to the 12th circle of suckage. He couldn’t help himself, he physically shuddered at the thought.

It was late, but Nicky finally did respond to Dylan’s question about if schooling was needed for voice acting. “Nah, no way you need to go school to voice-act. You just gotta talk funny, and you’re hilarious bro.” Nicky fished around in the center console as the car approached the end of the line. He eventually produced what he was looking for: his grinder. He opened it up and dumped what was left of the deliciously purply purple Cali Kush into his palm, before packing it into the bowl of the bong. “Here, bro. For the funniest dude I’ve even and my most righteous and best friend: the final bowl of Lemon Cherry Gelato. Cowabunga, brother.”

Once again, he held the bong out to Dylan, as the carwash ended and he got ready to start the car back up.

“I am pretty funny, aren’t I?” Dylan snapped the bowl as the blow-dryers whirred to life, and watched a housewife shake her head in abject horror at their delinquency. He laughed. He did not want to acknowledge that these days would be behind him sooner rather than later, so he reveled in this hotbox and the 90210 socialite they’d just offended. “Cowabunga, my dude.”




After fifteen minutes and a lively discussion about the finer points of the Power Rangers, the dynamic duo pulled into Nicky’s freshly painted, senior parking spot, probably too high for school, but definitely too high to care. “Do I smell like weed? I don’t think I do.” Dylan shrugged, nonchalant. He did smell like weed, and anyone who hadn’t been sitting right next to him would’ve been able to tell him that. “Eh, who cares, Phoenix won’t do anything, he’s a big softie.” He smoothly stepped out of Nicky’s car, and shouted out to his fellow peers, “Attention, attention, you all can rest easy, the most important people in school have arrived, safe and sound. I know you guys were all really worried.” His trumpeting did not garner much attention from anyone other than a handful of underclassmen. Damn. He really needed to get his megaphone back from the principal’s office. People always cared more when you had a megaphone.

One day, Nicky hoped he’d get to hear Dylan herald his arrival in front of thousands of screaming fans who were ready to see him raise the trophy above his head for the first time… But that day sadly wasn’t today. Today, he was yelling into the aether at people who didn’t really care about either of them. Nicky jumped out of the car and looked over at Dylan. “Here, bro.” Nicky reached in his pocket and pulled out a bottle of eye drops, which he used in each eye before tossing it over to Dylan.

“We don’t wanna show up to class like that meme with Sonic where it’s like ‘do I look high?’ Because man, do we look high or what? Hold on, I’ll show you.” He pulled out his phone and tapped away for a few seconds before he shoved his phone in Dylan’s face. “Like this.”

Dylan popped his sunglasses up and looked at his own image staring back at him with two bloodshot eyes. He smiled and waved to the mini-Dylan, before rolling his head back and dropping a few saline drops into his eyes. He looked back down at Nicky’s phone, blinked a few times, and watched the redness begin to fade. “Dope.” He slung his arm around Nicky’s shoulder and began marching them towards their eight-hour sentence. “Tell me Nicholas, who do we know that could get in and out of a principal’s office unscathed?”

















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click pictures below for some vibes


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𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬,
𝐰𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬.

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You’ve finally made it! With homecoming rapidly approaching, you and your peers have made it to the final year of high school. Attending Beverly Hills High has been almost like going to school in an active warzone; with never ending drama, fights both physical and verbal happening on the daily. After four years, it’s finally time to focus on graduating and leaving school in the past. Senioritis is infectious, and the whole class has got it.

After spending junior year focused on finding the right college and making sure you get in, senior year is finally a year of rest and relaxation. As long as you didn’t fuck up the last three years, it’s finally time for a year of nihilism and doing whatever you want. Just this once, it doesn’t matter if you don’t sign up for a full load of AP classes - take the photography elective you’ve been eyeing for a year.

If even more school doesn’t speak to you, that’s fine. The senior class this year is sure to have plenty of extra curricular debauchery for you to get involved with. It’s almost tradition at this point - for their last year, the senior class of Beverly Hills High School has always thrown parties of increasing intensity almost every other weekend. According to rumors, the seniors this year are planning to go even more over the top than those who came before them.

That only leaves one last question to be answered: What are you going to do next?

The answer is simple…

Whatever the f**k you want.
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𝗛𝗼𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝗥𝘂𝗹𝗲𝘀

  • A fair amount of us in this roleplay are old hats. That doesn't mean we don't want others to join. If you're interested, feel free to grab a sheet, make a character and apply. We want to run this roleplay as a community willing to grow, understand and support one another. No petty drama. We will not tolerate harassment and passive aggressiveness. If you're insecure, reach out and we will assure you and address your concerns. We are adults so lets govern ourselves accordingly, fostering maturity, grace and kindness as we handle issues we have with one another, with the story, and with anything guild related.

  • Communication is essential to creating a secure creative collaborative space. IRL life will always come first but if you can kindly let us know when you're not available, we will make sure to adjust as needed. In addition, issues can be prevented if you communicate with us. We as your GM team will go out of way to make sure this roleplay, and our server, is fun and safe. Personalities may clash but we will do our due diligence to help you where help is needed.

  • Ideally, we want to keep a tempo with this roleplay but we aren't really crazy on setting deadlines. Just know there will come times we may poke you and check on you/where you're at. Your character can only shine if you put content out. But like I said earlier, we understand if the inspo isn't there or if life is rough. Just keeps us updated and we'll try to help you out.

  • We encourage you to challenge yourself as a writer and explore honestly whatever the heck you want, with reason. This is a slice of life, coming of age roleplay in Los Angeles. Obviously keep to the genre but we want to see you flourish creatively. Let us provide you that space to do exactly that.

  • Be aware you're not the only writer in this story, which means others have triggers, interests, beliefs, views that aren't like your own. When you join our discord, we want to keep an open conversation with our group and share any necessary information you feel comfortable sharing, so we can provide a space everyone is comfortable to write in. As long as we remember we are a community and this roleplay is a collaborative effort, I'm certain we will have a wonderful time.

  • No posting order, just wait for the GMs to start the intro of the roleplay. Character cap at the moment is six but write what you can handle. We likely will bring the cap up eventually. Real face claims is a requirement and fyi, this is a sandbox style roleplay surrounding the seniors, Class of 2025, of Beverly Hills High. Please don't post WIP in the OOC. Once your character is done, post them in OOC tagging the GMs, and wait for our approval to move your character to the character tab.

  • Last but certainly not the least: Normal guild rules. No godmodding, no metagaming, don't be rude which means no cyberbullying, no perfect characters, etc etc. You get the drift. If you have any questions, please PM or DM me, Jordan and/or smarty.


Thank you so much and we can't wait to embark on this journey with you!
im here, im queer, i dont have another rhyme


an @smarty0114 & @Danvers collab
Location: Nightshade Commons
Interactions: Hyoon@Hey Im Jordan & Niko@Grimoire Gaming





Charlie's gaze snapped over to Teddy, oblivious to the scowl that appeared on his brother's face or his mutterings about going out to smoke another cigarette. It was always like that. When Teddy was around he found it hard to concentrate on anything else. And at this very moment he had more than one reason to want to look at him. He was still pissed off at the twat but the way his soaking wet shirt stuck to his chest was admittedly distracting.

"Oh why don't you go cry to daddy." He shot back, ignoring his rebelliously stray thoughts. Charlie wanted to revel in his success and it was difficult to control his amusement. He stuck his tongue into the side of his mouth to stop himself from smiling but when his eyes roamed up to the vampire's disheveled hair, a small laugh finally escaped his lips. "I think the drowned cat look kind of suits you." He added, ignoring the way his own hair was sending droplets of water down his back. "And apologies for not knowing you wear tighty whities. Next time I'll make sure to ask."

“Oh, fuck off,” Teddy watched Caleb leave before redirecting his gaze towards Charlie, teeth grinding together. The door shut behind the moodier, broodier twin and Teddy stepped forward, shortening the distance between him and Charlie. Caleb’s exit seemed to have turned the tension between them up a few notches, far past what felt decent. “I know you are capable of finding other ways to get my attention,” Teddy said, stopping himself before he got too close. He did not trust himself, or his hormone-addled brain.

When Charlie noticed that Teddy had stopped shy of him, he purposefully took a step closer. Enough that he could easily pick out the details of the subtle cologne he wore. Challenging him with the precarious lack of space between them. "Maybe I don't want to find other ways anymore." He muttered, practically pouting as he spoke. "Maybe--" The hybrid placed a hand on Teddys chest before pushing him with more force than intended, uncertainty flashing across his eyes in a brief moment of panic. "Maybe…maybe I've realized what an utter tosspot you are!" Charlie frowned, a small huff escaping his lips. The insult had no real weight to it and his eyes darted to the floor. He'd never been good at the being mad thing.

Unfortunately, Teddy was amazing at it. Charlie’s hand against his chest threatened to break his resolve, but then he was being shoved backwards, stumbling and steadying himself in a motion he liked to think was graceful. There was a part of him that wanted to reach out and close the space between them, though he wasn’t sure which part would win out when he finally did. “Look, if I’d known…I wouldn’t have…” Teddy was practically choking on the vulnerability he tried to espouse. He was charming, he was smooth, but he was not kind, or good at pretending to be. For some reason though, right now at least, he wished he was.

“What I’m trying to say is that, we can at least keep things civil. Right?”

Hurt flashed across Charlie's face. The words confirmed what he had known all along; that Teddy did regret what had happened between them. It hit him harder than he thought it would. But being civil? Well, he couldn't let him get away with it that easily. "Worried about getting pranked again Douglas?" He forced out a smile, though all he really felt was an aching pit deep in his stomach. "Sorry but no can do. I enjoy annoying you far too much." He looked up, forcing himself to meet Teddys gaze. Part of him hoped to find some answers there but of course he could not. "Guess you're just going to have to get used to it."

Teddy scowled, and crossed his arms with a humph. “Very cute, Valentine.” Teddy shook his head, simultaneously disappointed and flustered. Charlie inspired a whirlwind of emotions in him, a storm that he could not quell. Bickering only seemed to spur it on even more, but giving into it… well he’d spent the summer being reminded about what happened when he fell. The simple truth was that one of them would be hurt by this. If he didn’t want it to be himself, then it would have to be Charlie, and despite his constant threats, he did not want to hurt Charlie. Not anymore than he had to at least.

“If you want to act like a child, be my guest. It won’t change things.” That was only partially true. Teddy had already changed things, when he’d pulled Charlie into the empty potions class room just before they left for the summer. It was true that Charlie’s tantrum would not change the past, but the implication that it would push Teddy away… well that was a lie the vampire told himself to feel control.

Hot tears pricked at the corners of Charlie's eyes. Tears of frustration that he brushed away with the back of his hand. " Oh don't worry, I know I'll never be good enough for the great and mighty Theodore." Charlie snapped back, "Wouldn't want to ruin that perfect reputation of yours." He knew he was saying things that he didn't mean or even believe, but he couldn't help it. He should've known better than to expect Teddy to act any differently and he was an idiot for even letting himself think so. Caleb had said that much over the summer. The fact that he wanted to seek out his twin at this moment felt dumb, but he couldn't deal with this alone. He didn't know what to do with himself in moments like this.

He looked back at Teddy, bitterness waning to be replaced by something more numb. Something colder. "Guess that's that then." Charlie shrugged, knocking shoulders with the vampire as he pushed past him.

“Charlie,” Teddy said softly as their shoulders brushed, a hand instinctively reaching out, only to retreat at the sound of footsteps and the creak of their door. Hyoon greeted them with her usual snark, and Teddy winced at her remark on Charlie’s feelings. Before he could say anything, a blonde stranger was shoving his way into the room, and snatching the pair of soggy boxers from his hand. Awkward, to say the least.

“Oh, so this is really a public forum now. Excellent,” Teddy scoffed and rolled his eyes. This conversation had hardly gone his way, the least the universe could’ve done for him was not expose it to the entire school. “You seem to have gotten caught up in the crossfire of Charlie’s joke. Apologies.” Teddy took a step, and gestured towards the pile of sopping wet clothes. “Feel free to sort look through that for your things. Mine are the nicer ones.” The vampire hazarded a glance at Charlie, but he didn’t dare try and pick their conversation back up.

The look wasn't reciprocated, Charlie instead put on his best 'my bad, please forgive me' face for the newcomer. "Sorry man. I didn't realize it was your stuff…nice boxers though." He teased, a small smile darting across his face. It definitely wasn't the time to start flirting but part of him wanted to try to make Teddy feel as bad as he did. Not that the git was likely to care. "Look, let me help you get them cleaned or whatever. I can totally convince one of the wood wielders to do one of their magic tricks." Before he could reply, Charlie had grabbed the guy's arm, yanking on it gently as he made to usher them both out the room. "Come on." He really really did not want to be here anymore.


A @smarty0114 & @Hey Im Jordan collab
Location: Nightshade Commons





Celeste did not care for the first years. They were darling, scurrying around campus with their eyes wide and their hearts full of ambition or whimsy or whatever it was they ran on, but they were also insufferable. They all had questions, and many of them were a bit stupid, so their questions were stupid, and Celeste just wished they would all leave her alone. Unlike some of the têtes de nœuds she went to school with, Celeste de Fontaine had been busy this summer. She was knee deep in a book of legal dueling curses, and the welcome ceremony felt very much like a waste of her time.

She’d heard this presentation six times now. Unlike some of her fellow sixth years, the fact that she would not hear it again did not fill her with some soft nostalgia. Celeste de Fontaine was destined for something amazing, she knew that deep, deep within her soul.

After the welcome ceremony, she found herself up in her room, enjoying the peace the other Hemlock girls had elected to give to her. Her clothes were folding neatly of their own accord, and levitating into their proper places, as if by a spectral hand. She was lying on her bed, still studying the same book, working toward that amazing something.

Today, however, it was not meant to be.

It may not have been a day to work toward Celeste de Fontaine’s pre-ordained greatness, but it was unfortunately yet another day for her to be annoyed by her older (by like twenty four minutes) brother. Nathaniel de Fontaine had been at the Academy for less than six hours, and he’d already kissed on not one, but two different girls. It was the start of a good year.

By the time he made it to his dorm, he was in a good mood with a bit of a pep in his step as he bounded up the stairs toward his target: the girl dormitories. There were no ill intentions! First time for everything. As he burst through the door, he was in his own little world. With earbuds blasting music in his ear, Nathaniel was playing an air guitar and singing along with his music.

“I’m dancing with myself,
When there's nothing to lose and there's nothing to prove,
Well, I'm dancing with myself, ah, oh, oh-oh”


Maybe it was the Siren blood running through his veins, but most people would call Nathaniel a half decent vocalist and (in his opinion) an even better dancer. Even so, he knew his sister wasn’t going to stand having any fun so near her. After the chorus came to a close, he pulled his earbuds out and dropped them in his pocket - not their carrying case, he was too lazy for that - and grinned at Celeste. “Yo! How come you ducked me at the introductory speech? Professor Bellerose cornered me and was breathing down my neck - and not in the way I like her to - because she thinks I didn’t write my final last year about Magic Theory.” Which was true, because Celeste wrote it. But usually, the teachers didn’t catch on, so something somewhere down the line went wrong. “If she thinks I’m a cheater she might not let me…” He trailed off. Celeste didn’t like hearing about his adventures.

“Do you ever tire of being a walking stereotype?” Celeste scoffed, but kept her eyes trained on her book. “I promised to write your paper. I did not promise that you wouldn’t get caught.” The young witch had grown accustomed to these interruptions. Her brother had never been big on respecting space or privacy, and she did not expect him to start now. Celeste finished off the page and dogeared the spellbook, closing it and sitting up to face Nathaniel. “Besides, I think Bellerose has a bit too much self-respect anyways. You were never checking her off your list.”

“Wait, what? No one has too much self-respect for me.” Nathaniel said the self-report so matter-of-factly it was clear he didn’t even think twice about what he’d said. “Hey, don’t bend the book like that, Celeste. I hate when people bend the pages. It’s ugly.” In his defense, it was ugly. “Look, I’m really not asking for much, just… use smaller words when you write my papers. Is it that hard to pretend to not be a genius for like five minutes? Maybe I should just write it myself and have you edit it…” He paused to think to himself for a moment, before he started shaking his head.

“Nah, that’s stupid. I’d probably fail and then we’d both hear it from mom and dad. Or at least mom.” Nate wasn’t sure that his dad cared whether or not he graduated from the Academy. Nathaniel could get away with being a trust fund baby for the rest of his life. “Hey, do you think it’s out of line for me to hit on first years? I can’t decide.” Back to the important stuff.

“Morganna’s tits, yes, it is absolutely out of line. They’re practically infants!” Celeste shook her head, suddenly feeling very bad for the same first years she’d found so annoying earlier. Certainly they did not deserve to be added to the list of her brother’s conquests. “Also, asking me to use smaller words is like asking a bird not to fly. You fuck things, and I’m a genius, this isn’t news.”

Plenty of siblings wished that they could be more like their genetic counterpart, but not Celeste. She greatly preferred their own dynamic. She had little interest in the hedonism in which Nate indulged. “Has the upperclassmen pool really gotten so dry that you’re robbing cradles? It sounds like you’re getting rusty,” Celeste teased.

“Right, but I can clip a bird’s wings, right? Same idea, we’ll just get you high first.” Nathaniel was partially musing to himself and partially kicking around an actual idea, half judging the reaction to it. It was a decent idea, at least he thought so, but he knew Celeste would probably have seven problems with it, minimum. “I just think the freshies are easier, y’know? They’ll do more stuff with less effort. Plus, certain people our age are starting to think I’m a fuckboy, did you know that? This is my last year, my last chance to solve the race war.” Somewhere along the line, Nate the Great had truly convinced himself that if he could have the forbidden threesome, it was sure to ease relations between fang and… claw, or whatever.

“I’m just saying, it’s a lot harder to hook up with someone who’s immune to all my tricks. I have to get new tricks! But I can’t do that because I have to convince the professors I haven’t been cheating on all my term papers for the last six years.” He had. “I can only be so smooth, y’know?”

Celeste let out a rare laugh. “I hate to break this to you, but I don’t think your prick is going to bring about supernatural world peace.” She stood and busied herself with her bookshelf. That was an area that she wouldn’t even let magic organize. “Why don’t you look at this as a challenge? You just have to get smoother than ever before. Maybe try out a little romance. They say that a good date is the best aphrodisiac.” Celeste was not quite sure who “they” were, and she couldn’t say that she truly agreed, but she was an outlier. Her aphrodisiac involved pop quizzes and academic pretentiousness.

“I AM ROMANTIC. I take girls on dates! Going down to the lake to make out and skinny dip counts as fucking date, Celeste. Just because your dates involve you using Orion’s face as a study seat doesn’t make mine any less valid. Which, by the way, is fuckin’ weird.” He rolled his eyes and watched as she started to mess around with the books. Loathe as he was to admit it, she did have something of a point. Maybe spending the year convincing people he wasn’t a fuckboy was a good idea… He could always pick one girl and woo her then just… sleep with the one girl. Now that was just crazy talk. He made a face between a scowl and someone who just whiffed a durian. “Wait, can I date multiple girls at the same time? I mean, there’s no rule that I can’t, right? I just shouldn’t let them find out.”

“Hold on, this is a good idea Celeste. This is a big moment for you.”

“Is that really what you took away from that?” Celeste chose to move past the comment about Orion. Her sex life was not the one under the microscope right now. “Actually, you know what,” Celeste considered what she might be unleashing unto the world, and decided that the world would survive. “You’re right. That’s a stellar idea.”

“Just call me the two time.” Nathaniel grinned and snapped his fingers, shooting finger guns at his sister as he backed out of the dormitory and put his earbuds back in, with the next song in his playlist already playing. He had planning to do.



Location: Nightshade Commons
Mentions: Vincent Truelove
Interactions: Caleb & Charlie Valentine @Danvers





Theodore Douglas had realized when he was young, that the look of a vampire was one of poised disinterest. A gentle pout, and an air of nonchalance that could only be achieved by caring far too much about what everyone else thought. He had perfected this performance over the years, a lack of care so casual, it was anything but. He watched Headmaster Lightwood with cold eyes and wondered what secrets he hid. Not the ominous, magical type, but the illicit, scandalous type. He’d always suspected the wizard to have been the kind of man who woke up in a variety of beds when he was younger.

When they were finally released, Teddy headed straight for the exit, moving through the crowd with a touch of vampiric speed. He’d been at Hawthorne long enough to know that he’d been placed in Nightshade, and the overwhelming scent of witch blood was beginning to give him a headache.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he freed himself from the crowd, and began making his way towards his dorm. He would never say it out loud, but he had missed the solemn, stone walls of Hawthorne. He’d missed the coppery, electric smell of magic, and the sense that adventures were around any corner. Douglas Keep was old and tired, and filled with ancient vampires who’d grown so very boring in their old age.

If he was being honest with himself, he’d missed Charlie too. Perhaps the most. That troubled him.

He’d heard of the disappearances over the summer, and his grandmother had warned him to keep an eye out at school. She felt something on the horizon, and she was expecting more reports than usual. The whispers seemed to have invoked a special kind of paranoia, and she expected him to help assuage it. Needless to say, this was not a year where he could afford distractions.

And yet, he found himself distracted.

His mind conjured the memory of his fingers running through dark hair, of lips pressed together in the quiet darkness of an empty classroom. All summer, that moment had lingered on the edges of his mind, never too far from the forefront. He knew why he couldn’t shake it, he was no fool. He couldn’t pursue that fantasy though. His family would never approve, and the school would gossip, and surely, Charlie would grow bored of him quickly. He was certain that anyone who got too close to him would see through the facade, and be disgusted by what they found.

Teddy wrinkled his nose as he walked by Truelove and the acrid smoke he blew out, but he did no more than scowl. He’d learned years ago that the smell of cigarettes was just a fact of life at Hawthorne. The smell had made it into the Commons as well, which meant only one thing: the Valentines had beat him to their room.

He entered the fifth year dorm to see Caleb helping his brother off the ground. He noticed the open window, and the cold breeze, and his suitcases, open and empty on the ground. His eyes darted to Charlie, the usual suspect, and suddenly, he wasn’t sure he’d missed the fucker all that much in the first place. “You can’t be serious,” Teddy muttered, beelining for the window and leaning out into the rain. Strewn across the rooftops, like very expensive trash, were his clothes, perhaps the only things he valued more than his fangs. Without a second thought, he clambered out onto the roof, moving with supernatural speed to scoop up the now soaking wet pieces of his wardrobe. When he came back through the window, he was dripping water onto the floor, eyes narrowed as he tossed a pile of waterlogged fabric onto the floor.

“Some of those were irreplaceable, you know. Do you think I built that wardrobe overnight? That was a decade of carefully curated fashion choices that you just drowned, mercilessly, might I add,” The vampire glared at Charlie, though his anger was somewhat undercut by the fact that he looked like a hitchhiker who’d gotten lost in the rain. He began sifting through the pile, in hopes that there was anything that had managed to stay dry. There was not. “Some of these aren’t even mine, Valentine!” Teddy spun around, holding a pair of boxers up, as if either one of the twins had seen beneath his perfectly pleated pants.

His eyes darted between the twins, finally landing on Charlie. He knew what this was about, it was obvious. It seemed that that moment in the empty classroom had been on Charlie’s mind as well. Teddy struggled for a moment, unsure of what to say. He finally settled on an insult. “You’re a real git, you know that Charlie?”

This was certainly shaping up to be a year without distractions. Clearly.



Location: Hemlock Hall





After his first few hours at Hawthorne, August could best be described as starstruck. The castle was far more impressive than anything he’d seen back home. He was used to tents and shacks and the great outdoors, not spires and gargoyles and stone. Everywhere he looked was a face more beautiful and intimidating than the last, somehow. He hadn’t even been there a day, and someone had already hissed at him. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

Falling in line behind a group of fellow first years, August went to find his dorm, locating his name just below his sister’s, on the list for Hemlock Hall. He couldn’t help the sigh that pushed its way out from between his lips. He had spent most of his life in Callen’s shadow, and he didn’t want that to continue here. Still, perhaps this was for the best. He supposed that living down the hall from Callen was better than waking up with puncture wounds in his neck.

Hemlock Hall was surprisingly welcoming. He’d expected the austere architecture of the rest of the castle to follow him here, but the dormitory was much warmer. The walls were lined with various decorations, remnants of students who’d long since graduated. The common area was already populated with older students, those who didn’t need a piece of paper to tell them where they’d be rooming, but they paid the first years very little mind. He slipped into his room without any hassle.

August appreciated the solitude. The unfamiliarity of this place was beginning to get to him. The plethora of foreign smells were assaulting his senses, and while he knew that one day they’d be as familiar as his pack, today they were overwhelming. He did not want his sister to sense his anxiety, or any of the other students for that matter. He wanted very much to be strong right now, to face this day of mingling with an about face, but the knot in his stomach would not undo itself. Fucking fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck! August picked an empty bed and threw himself onto it, groaning as his body sunk into the cushioning of the mattress.

At home, when his thoughts wouldn’t cease, he would’ve shed his skin and taken to the woods. He knew that that wasn’t an option right now though. He could hear Romulus now, telling him to stop running, to take this opportunity by the reins. He needed to make friends. He couldn’t prove himself to anyone if he didn’t get past the introductions first. Outside the dorm, the din of conversation grew louder as more of his fellow Hemlock Hall residents arrived.

The young werewolf took a deep breath, sitting himself up before getting to his feet. Whether he liked it or not, he was not likely to make many friends if he just hid inside his room. He practiced a smile in the mirror, played with his hair until his reflection satisfied him, before rejoining the Hemlock Hall fray, armored with a grin and as open arms as he could muster. This year was going to be great. Probably.
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