Fabricant451 — Roleplayer Guild

@Universorum and @Fabricant451
Location: The Karaoke Room
Featuring: Kit “Pick Me Up!” Thomas and Sam “Sing With Me” Lassiter
Interacting with: The crowd, man! It’s rock n roll life.

Kit wanted to watch the speech. She wanted to participate, to enjoy the show, and support her friend and her friend’s new boyfriend on their adventure! Unfortunately, Kit had a minor issue with that. She was too small! She couldn’t see a damn thing with the sea of people that walked the halls of her school, she could only assume this would be even worse. There were certain to be way more people at this party than at school! People liked parties. They hated school! So, Kit decided she needed a vantage point of some kind… She had found her way to the stage and looked around for a vantage point, and hadn’t found any of them. As far as she could tell, this section of the boat was not made with short people in mind.

Kit was fucked.

She hadn’t seen any of the tall people that she knew on this stupid boat! No Owens, minimal Scotts, exactly zero AJs, not even a Marshmallow! She was convinced that some of that list wasn’t even at the party; she had physically been with Marshall, so she knew he was there. She had heard what she thought was Katie Callaghan screeching like a banshee earlier, and Kit figured that Scott would be in that vicinity. He usually was. AJ she hadn’t seen, and AJ didn’t like to really ‘spend time with people’ ever, so Kit assumed he wasn’t there either. Owen? Owen hated everything so he definitely wasn’t there!

WAIT.

There was one last person she knew that was tall! One last bastion of hope. The really tall girl that hung out at the combat club! She’d be perfect for Kit’s needs. She just had to think of where she might find her… What was her name? Sam? Sammy? Same? Yeah, that was it. Sammy. There were like a thousand ways to say Samantha, but Kit liked Sammy the most; and she was rather confident that Owen was autistic, considering the way he called her Same. Where could she possibly be, though? Kit wished she was better about keeping numbers and updating her contact list, it certainly would come in handy now.

WAIT AGAIN.

Sammy liked singing! Karaoke and stuff. Kit remembered that from the get togethers. She would get on stage and sing, though her skill was debatable, she certainly did her best. Kit remembered the performances fondly, and knew that anyone who embarrassed herself that much and that happily consecutively at family gatherings wasn’t a karaoke casual. She was a professional, a true machine.

Kit beamed, a bright toothy smile. Her problem was solved! She just had to remember where the karaoke machine was… By the gameroom! But not in the gameroom, because by some grace of God, whoever designed this boat was intelligent enough to know that you needed to keep those things separate. Sounds in games was fucking core, and no karaoke machine should hurt that. Once Kit made her way to the room with the kegs, and the karaoke machine, she scanned the people in the room. It wasn’t hard to find Sammy; she towered over most everyone in the room, and once Kit found her, Kit used the Kit method of getting her attention. That is to say, instead of walking over to her, she just yelled.

“SAMMY! I NEED YOU!” There. That should do it.

The best thing about karaoke was it had a habit of letting people know exactly the kind of person you are, and Sam, being something of a karaoke god, was quite familiar with the type of people that populated around a karaoke machine. There were the ‘Vanilla Lattes’ as Sam called them because they only ever sang top 40 songs and they had a high likelihood of being blonde or as smart as one. There were the Mumblers who didn’t really want to be there but were dragged along to make everyone else sound better. There were the Steves, so named by Sam because they were people who sang rap music and had no idea what flow was and every single time they dropped their voice when the language turned a bit racial. Sam’s favorite group was the Belters, the people who sang loudly and didn’t care about their score, they were just there to have fun. 

Now that Sam had been the one to kickstart the karaoke, the room was somewhat lively; it helped that Sam was insistent on bringing a few kegs into the room even if she had to carry them herself. Nothing helped people sing in front of people quite like lowered inhibitions and red solo cups. Sam was picking out her song, her third of the night, and was just about settled on a rousing rendition of the seminal piece of turn of the millennium pop punk that was Fatlip when her attention was taken by the dulcet shouts of another freshman. This one at least didn’t spill her beer. 

The voice belonged to Kit, someone who showed up to the combat club and ate all the best snacks from the vending machine, which was only slightly more annoying than when she shouted at Sam. It was probably because Kit was naturally loud but Sam couldn’t help but to think it was because of the height difference, like when Sam had her growth spurt and suddenly everyone was asking how the weather was up there, before she realised that shoving and slapping people made sure they never asked that again. 

”What do you want, dude, I’m about to go on.” Sam called over the crowd of people; if Kit wanted something she would have to come to Sam. 

Success! She had attention, which was the important part. Kit pushed and shoved her way as best she could toward the stage, calling to Sam all the while. “I need to sit on you! Kinda like a chair? While I watch Min and Henry do their thinger!” By the end of her statement, Kit had climbed atop the stage beside Sam, though her volume didn’t really change. Kit was one of those kids who suffered from a lack of volume control, and as such her entire thing was heard by everyone in the room, some of whom snickered and some of whom looked on in disbelief.

“You’re really kinda my only hope.” Kit muttered in shameful defeat, kicking at the ground. “I can’t do this alone, and I can’t sit on AJ, Scott, or Owen, or Marshall! They’re all gone. I knew you’d be here though; your number one defining character trait is the love of karaoke!”

There was something to be said for Kit’s tenacity; a lesser favor might have meant giving up and waiting for the crowd to thin but given that Kit was coming up to the little stage must have meant it was important. If Sam were to guess, someone had bullied Kit - which was only acceptable when Sam did it - and now Sam was going to have to go punch a person. Sam would, of course, but she didn’t want people to assume she was some kind of muscle for hire. Of course, when the request happened, Sam could do little other than roll her eyes. Of course it was something silly. 

”Dude, why do you wanna watch Henry get his fuck on? That’s weird. I don’t wanna be there for that. Go find like a deck chair or something, there’s probably a couple somewhere.” Sam could hear the snickering from the request and one glowering look at the crowd was enough to stifle the majority of it. ”And for the record, my defining character trait is my being a fucking badass, thank you very much.” 

Kit was silent after the admonishment from Sam at first. How else was she supposed to react? It seemed that Sammy had massively misjudged Kit’s intentions; maybe she should work on her phrasing in the future? That was something to keep in mind, but for now she has to clarify things. “What? NO. That’s gross, Henry probably smells when you take his pants off. I need to sit on your shoulders because I’m too short to see the stage over everyone else, duh. Aren’t you gonna go watch the speech? I bet it’s gonna be cool.”

Kit pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time. By her reckoning, she had time. “It’s cool, though. I got some time, so you go ahead and finish your song before we roll out like the Autobots.” Lame reference? Maybe, but Kit didn’t give one single fuck. She liked the Transformers.

Henry was doing a speech? What was the point of that? What was it with these people and speeches? Not even the President made this many speeches unless the world was absolutely on fire. Sam found that to be the worst part about being in The Elite: speeches. ”Dude, there’s no way I’m going to listen to Henry jerk off this party.” And honestly, she wasn’t. As far as she was concerned this party was just an excuse to belt out karaoke and have a few beers. 

”But if you really, really wanna see it then you’re gonna have to do me a solid first. You’ve got time, right?” Sam grabbed the spare microphone from the second stand and tossed it down to Kit. ”Put those pipes to good use for a change.” 

“It’s important that I be there! Henry is dating my best friend!” Kit protested. As the mic came falling from the sky toward her, though, she snatched it out of the sky and squinted at it. “What, like, sing?!” Kit couldn’t sing! Not very well, anyway! And she didn’t want to just embarrass herself in front of all these people that she’d be seeing every day for the next few years of her life. She found herself stuck between a rock and a hard place, which always seemed to happen when she spent time with… well, anyone from the Combat Club. They were sort of demanding, those guys. ‘If you want this, do this!’ ‘You gotta work for it!’

Goddamn gym rats!

Kit didn’t have a choice in the matter, she finally realized. She needed Sam’s help, sure, but did she need Sam’s help enough to override how little she wanted to embarrass herself by singing?

She thought about it.

“Okay, okay. Let’s sing. Then I can sit on your shoulders?”

Sam had almost thought it would’ve been harder to get Kit to stick around and belt one out; this speech clearly meant importance for the freshman and Sam could respect that enough to where she could consider suffering through another speech. If it got too boring she could just put some music on and drown out the words of wisdom. Sam turned to the machine and swapped over to the duets now that she had an agreeable partner. It wasn’t going to be easy, of course, Kit would have to earn the privilege to be on Sam’s shoulders and that meant a nearly ten minute ballad with both singers often harmonizing and coming together. 

”You sing the whole song, and I mean actually sing and none of that mumble crap, then I’ll be your shoulder chair, dude. You can have the girl part.” Sam was already grinning as the machine loaded up the next song and the screen came to life and the first notes of the ballad started up. 

”I remember every little thing as if it happened only yesterday…” Sam was already getting into the song, singing like the room was full of a thousand screaming fans, shooting her gaze to Kit when the first chorus came up and they had to harmonize. ”THOUGH IT’S COLD AND LONELY IN THE DEEP DARK NIGHT…” 

At least when Owen demanded stuff, he just wanted her to do flips or something. That was easy! Kit shot Sam a look as the song cued up; this wasn’t one song! It was a three parter! A threepeat! What a brat, Kit would have to complain about this later. Kit shot Sam a look, but she obliged. Kit turned around so her back was to the crowd as it built up to her part, even going so far as to take a knee. As it came to her turn, Kit jumped up to her feet and spun on one leg (going a little fast and almost falling), before she belted out her lines.

“I CAN SEE PARADISE BY THE DASHBOARD LIGHT!”

Kit wasn’t perfect, but she tried. She’d played Rock Band once or twice in her life, and this was pretty much the same deal. It was just a game with an added point mechanic: an actual crowd watching them. That just meant bring energy, which Kit luckily had in seemingly endless bounds. Kit stepped forward toward one of the speakers, and mimicking Bruce Dickinson like she’d seen in the Aces High and Powerslave videos, Kit put her foot on the speaker and leaned forward, resting the elbow of her mic hand atop her knee.

“Ain’t no doubt about it, we were doubly blessed! Cause we were barely seventeen and we were barely dressed!” There, Sam. Kit surely wasn’t mumbling. She was doing it right.

Sam wasn’t easily impressed when it came to karaoke but Kit getting into it and not being absolutely terrible was worthy of consideration. Sam wasn’t about to be outdone by a freshman, especially not in her natural habitat. When the verse repeated and they sang together, Sam held the microphone like she was Meatloaf himself - though considerably less winded after three minutes - and rocked her torso back and forth in time and tune with the music. Her part was considerably larger in the first act and she rolled onto the next verse. 

”Baby doncha hear my heart? You got it drowning out the radio! I’ve been waiting so long for you to come along and have some fun!” Sam didn’t miss her mark even as she started to dance around the stage like she was Mick Jagger and Keith Richards rolled into one. Sam didn’t forget to play to the crowd, either, extending an arm towards them before dancing a circle around Kit as the song rolled into the act one breakdown. 

”We’re gonna go all the way tonight, we’re gonna go all the way and tonight’s the night…” 

Singing in tandem as the song reached the interlude and transition to the next act, Sam made a split decision. She’d seen the video, she knew what happened at this part; if Kit hadn’t that could be a problem, but as the song entered the funk instrumental, Sam whispered to Kit what came next and if she wanted to just dance around instead of go for authenticity. Otherwise it was probably going to lead to Sam getting slapped which would really dampen the mood of the song. 

After Sam whispered down to Kit, Kit glanced back and said back in a hushed tone. “Only if you touch my butt.”

When the song started to go into an extended monologue about baseball, Sam made the move, hoisting Kit up to make the height difference a bit more manageable, and to a raucous cheer from the crowd, Sam kissed Kit like they were going steady in the era when this song came out. 

Hey, two kisses in one night! Not too bad! This counted right? Kit decided it counted, as far as she was concerned. Honest, it was way better than the kiss she’d stolen from Selena earlier that night. Like miles, and miles better. Kit kept her hands on both sides of Sammy’s face as they kissed, still holding the microphone in one hand. 

Kissing owns. That was the lesson of the night.

And, as promised, Sam grabbed Kit’s butt like Sam was grabbing a lover she hadn’t seen in months. A firm squeeze and a final slap as the song transitioned back to the vocals and the somewhat intense slight makeout session came to a close.

Holy cow I think he’s gonna make it!

Kit broke away from the kiss with wide, almost accusatory eyes. Keep it real, right? “STOP RIGHT THERE!” Dumbass dadrock song… Kit’s father loved this kind of music, so she luckily knew the song.

Now came the part of the song that was largely Kit’s solo section, at least until the following verse, and Sam did her part well. Her face twisted and wore an expression like she’d been caught red handed stealing from the corner store while also trying to move in for another kiss like she was an eager, horny teenage boy. The constant cries from Kit asking for eternal love was met with Sam lifting her mic for the follow up verse. ”Let me sleep on it. Baby, baby let me sleep on it. Let me sleep on it, I’ll give an answer in the morning.” 

This hadn’t been her initial song choice but damn if she wasn’t loving the alternative. No one ever wanted to do power ballads! 

Kit squirmed in Sam’s arms and pushed herself away, landing on the ground with a surprisingly loud noise, before she turned her back to Sam, shaking her head, with one hand on her chest as if she were filled with regret after the kiss. “I gotta know right now! Will you love me forever?? What’s it gonna be, boy?! What’s it gonna be?! Will you love me forever?”

It was subtle but the roles in the performance had been reversed; where before Sam was the one acting like she had the power, like when she was dancing in a circle around Kit and initiating the makeout, now Sam was, because of the tone of the song, being indecisive while also essentially pleading with Kit. Sam went down to both knees - and was still taller than Kit - to round out the end of the second act. She was begging with her actions and her singing, pleading. ”Let me sleep on it!” And as the music swelled into the third act, so too did Sam rise to her feet and resume dancing around Kit. 

”I couldn’t take it any longer, Lord I was crazed! And when the feeling came upon me like a tidal wave, started swearing to my god and on my mother’s grave that I would love you to the end of time!” The final duet kicked in and Sam stood next to Kit for the final stretch of the song, giving it her all as the finish line was in sight. 

”PRAYING FOR THE END OF TIME, THAT’S ALL I CAN DO!” 

This was wild. Kit hoped that this wasn’t being recorded by anyone, because she wasn’t sure if it would be good or terrible for her budding reputation (which was already pretty shitty). However, she wasn’t the type to start something and then not finish it. So, with the passion she usually saved for when she played Tekken, leaning forward and belting out the final lines, “It never felt so good! It never felt so right! And we were glowing like metal on the edge of a knife!” The song came to a close now, and everyone exploded in cheers, and Kit looked up at Sam.

“Can I sit on you now!?” She yelled out, looking up at Sam expectantly.

It wasn’t often that karaoke inspired one to take a bow, but Sam felt it was well earned and she wasted little time in doing so. If only there were people throwing roses. Of course, she couldn’t take sole credit. Her singing partner for this affair had impressed her, and somehow, someway, Sam would make sure Kit sang with her again in the future. 

”Yeah, Kit, you can sit on me now. Just don’t fall off.” 

All in all, not a bad bit of karaoke.

Appearance: Tracy is somewhat slender though her height only adds to it. She's just shy of five foot eleven which, by her admission, is why she prefers to wear shorts to flaunt her height and the fact that if it weren't for the music thing she could probably find work as "like a leg model, those exist, right?" Her hair is a natural chocolate brown though she cuts it by herself, leading to her short style having uneven edges and trim to it. She's been considering dying it to really get that whole 'quirky musician' vibe down but she'd much rather be as close to natural as possible; that's also why she doesn't have any ink on her person or much in the way of scars. Her eyes are emerald green and she has a long standing habit of having a to-die-for application of smokey eye.

Age: 19

Instrument: Bass Guitar. She uses a Squier Deluxe Jazz Bass.

Description: Almost by necessity, Tracy has a very 'cool older sister' vibe that comes with experience. It's common to have 'mature' be thrown around but Tracy, for someone that's in the prime of her youth, has a maturity about her that can come off as being 'anti-fun'. The way Tracy sees it, she's more along the lines of 'firm, but fair'. She isn't controlling or domineering to others without cause and she will scold those who need it. But she's not above letting her hair down - metaphorically as her hair is quite short - and going with the flow when she's being a bit too wound up. Tracy wants this whole music thing to work out and given the infancy of the career the last thing she wants is to wind up one hit wonders doing one hits in an alley in a year or two. She isn't free of vices, however, and hers are potentially more devastating than drugs, booze, and rock 'n' roll. 

By her own admission, she's also the funniest member of the group. It's hard to say, she's awful at jokes but she has a very dry sarcastic wit to her that makes her a silent assassin in cracking wise. 

Favourite Genre(s)/Band(s): Jazz, Funk, Disco, Punk Rock | Parliament Funkadelic, Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Jackson Five, Psychic Mirrors

Brief Backstory: Tracy is the oldest of three and the only girl among them. Her mother had to work two jobs to support them since her father passed in a car accident shortly after the birth of Tracy's brothers, Ryan and Aaron. Twins. To help out, Tracy worked what odd jobs she could under the radar, things like sweeping the corner store after school or cutting lawns, and anything she made went to the family. When she turned sixteen she had to balance working as a cashier at a local store and school, which resulted in her grades slipping. Her senior year almost had her failing out as her attendance dropped substantially. Tracy managed to graduate but she didn't walk at graduation; she had to put in overtime. 

Having always been a fan of music, listening to her dad's old records and tapes from a young age, the greatest gift she ever got was on her thirteenth birthday when her mother pulled together some funds and favors and gifted Tracy a bass guitar, the very same one she uses still. 

Miscellaneous Info: Didn't really hang out with anyone at school and wasn't in any extracurricular clubs or groups. Most people who do know her knew her as the girl behind the counter at the Mom and Pop corner store, the one who sometimes practiced bass on her breaks.

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