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Recent Statuses

3 yrs ago
Super busy with work and holiday aftermath. tomorrow is my day off so I'll be taking care of all my responsibilities here then :)
3 yrs ago
Pretty busy at work right now, with Rogue One coming out, and also coming to grips with a lot of...weird personal stuff. I hope to get most of my responses and what not taken care of by tomorrow :)
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3 yrs ago
Busy as all hell right now. Working hard to get responses up!
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3 yrs ago
Home from vacation, should be catching up on all my roleplays over the next few days :)
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3 yrs ago
Gonna be gone camping until tomorrow evening. I'll try to keep up with things via phone, but I definitely won't have any posts up until tomorrow
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Bio



Heya! I'm Smarty and I'm just a dude who likes to write. That's really about it. I'll pretty much join anything and everything if I'm being honest, as long as it looks interesting. Don't hesitate to PM me if you wanna chat or something :) I promise I don't bite, I'm just very awkward that's all :D

Most Recent Posts



A @smarty0114 and [@Tootsie Pop] collab
Featuring: Jamie Callaghan & Beatrix Kingsley
Location: Starbucks, Saturday Morning




Sitting inside a mostly empty Starbucks in Beverly Hills, Jamie’s fingers rapped a quick rhythm against the table. It was Saturday morning, and Trixie had agreed to meet him here. He’d hoped that sleep would give him a clearer head, but he was just as angry as he’d been the night before. Angry at Owen Lyon, angry at Trixie, and most of all, angry at himself. That said, he wasn’t about to continue this mess. He’d done what Trixie wanted, and whether or not she was pleased with the results wasn’t his concern. This was just him collecting. She could fuck off to Timbuktu for all he cared, as long as he got the paper when she left.

On hispanic time, Beatrix Kingsley, recovering from her first stoner night, threw the Starbucks door open, wearing shades to hide her droopy eyes. Her hair was in a high ponytail and her body sported activewear. With her, on a leash, was her husky, Atlas, who she had been neglecting for a week and kind of hated herself for it. “Heyyyyyy, Mitzy. It won’t be long, I promise. I know your animal policy. I’d just prefer him to be here with me rather than outside, ya know?” The dog had his tongue out, breathing heavily. He had gone on his morning jog with his mistress and was the happiest dog on the planet. He sniffed around and ultimately found himself licking Jamie’s shoes.

“No more than ten minutes, okay? My boss will kill me!”

“That’s more than enough time. Hey, Atlas. Stop that.” The husky whined, but obediently went beside his mommy. Not once did he bark out of turn. He was a good boy. With her reusable Starbucks cup, she quickly requested the barista to top it off with Passion Fruit tea. Mitzy eyed the high schooler because of what was already in the cup, but… she wasn’t the police. For whatever reason, the girl needed this and so, she didn’t stop her. Keeping quiet, the barista did her job. In no time, Trixie was sitting in front of Jamie with the dog leash tied to her chair. Atlas laid down beside Trixie and rested. He looked up at the boy with kind eyes before widely yawning. He was so tired. He did so much play. Now it was time to rest. And then play some more. “Try this. It’s delish.” There was vodka in it.

Jamie eyed the drink suspiciously but nevertheless, brought it up to his lips and took a quick sip. The taste of vodka was a surprise, one that made him wrinkle his nose, but he set it back down without much more fuss. “Rough night? Maybe almost as rough as mine?” Jamie fixed Trixie with a steely glare, his arms crossed over his chest. “Your boyfriend came to my house last night, pretty livid about an article that you commissioned,” Jamie said. “Weird, huh?” Jamie cocked his head, sarcasm dripping off his words.

“Aw, honey.” Trixie took her drink back and gave herself a delicate sip before chuckling, “You really don’t know how to own up to your fuck ups, do you?” She teased her dear friend, who she had no doubt was dealing with his own set of problems. “I might’ve given you permission, but you wrote it. You published it. Own your work. But I’m not here to give you grief. I’m sure Marshmallow has done that enough, which by the way congratulations.” Cheers to her gay bestie’s success! “As for my night, I wouldn’t say it was rough but I do have a bit to clean up and until then, I won’t be getting any sex. That’s okay though!” She gleamed at the angry Newsie, bringing her Problem back to her lips. She’s been using alcohol as a coping mechanism since the break up. It wasn’t like she could just break the habit. She needed it.

Jamie scoffed, and rolled his eyes, but he held his tongue. He wasn’t here to defend his position, he’d done that enough with Marshall. “We made a deal. You and Owen are back together, which is grand, really. I hope the wedding to BHHS’ resident psycho goes well, but I want the paper. I did what you wanted, and I took a lot of shit for it, not including what I got myself into,” Jamie said. “I’ll be damned if I come out of this with nothing.”

“Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.” Trixie shrugged in nonchalance at his desperateness. It was charming how hellbent he was to have the paper. His baby. Her’s too. And yet here she was holding the keys to a nice, pristine sports car as her like minded frenemy eagerly jumped for it. Of course, Trixie wasn’t anything but honest. If there was one quality she could say was good about herself it was she could never tell a lie or break promises. “Thanks to your lack of class, no subtleties or use of factual references — just harsh ‘rumor has it’— the principal wants to shut down our paper near immediately and have our members, the few that we have, join the Morning Show crew. We did get a lot of traction, and I thank you for that. But like a double edged sword, we also got backlash. So, here’s my solution. You and me will set up a board meeting to discuss the integrity of the paper and why this creative outlet should stay alive. I will put all the blame on myself for your article because I wanted to shame Hailey and Ophelia, and then the paper is all yours. With the condition, you clean it up, because I have no doubt we’ll be on probation for the rest of the semester. Sounds good?”

Jamie sighed, and leaned back in his chair. Did it sound good? No, not at all, but he wouldn’t deny she was right. He’d jump through these hoops, and then the paper would be his. Cleaning it up, that was easy. He’d made plenty of messes, how hard could this one be to clean? “Fine. You take the fall, the entire fall this time. I don’t need Owen showing up to my house to complain to my mom about how I stole your job. Actually, speaking of Owen, let your boyfriend know that if he comes around my house again, I’ll turn his life into a fucking reality show, that would put the Kardashians to shame.” Jamie said. He had no desire to continue his feud with Owen Lyon but he wasn’t about to seem cowed by his stunt last night. At the end of the day, the worst Owen could do is kill him.

You do realize his mother as a teenager and her family were the stars of Living it Up with the Lyons… Trixie kept her personal thoughts to herself. Technically, the Lyons had a far better drama show than the Kardasians, but that was just her opinion. She supposed since Kardasians were what was ‘hip’ now, of course he’d reference that. Anyways, if she weren’t tipsy, she might’ve gotten offended but that was more of the reason she should drink. So she could be a diplomat and not a bitch.

Coming prepared, Trixie reached for her gym shoulder bag, which was on the floor beside her dog, and pulled out a folder. She retrieved a contract she written up and slid it over to Jamie, “This here explains the terms of our agreement. You promise to no longer interfere with Owen Lyon, and his personal affairs, which includes me. We can talk, we can mingle, but it will be strictly in a professional setting. You will keep Marshall Radley away from Owen Lyon. If you care about your boyfriend, you will do so at all cost. I will publicly apologize on the Morning Show, taking the full blame, and in return, you will no longer be under the protection of Owen Lyon under any circumstance. If you get bullied, or pushed in the corner, that is your problem. Not his. I will also not advise you for the paper and since HOT is dead, I am no longer a threat to the student body so using my name to ‘blacklist’ other students is no longer applicable.” She gestured for him to take the pen from her hand, “Break this and I assure you, you will come to learn that my boyfriend isn’t the only one that can get ‘psycho’.”

Jamie eyed the contract with a look of distaste. He picked it up and thumbed through it, confirming the clauses that Trixie had mentioned were all included. The part concerning Marshall was questionable. He wasn’t sure his new boyfriend would be jumping to get to Owen, but if he was, he surely wouldn’t appreciate Jamie interfering. Other than that though, there weren’t any noticeable hiccups or riders that he could see, but then again, he wasn’t a lawyer. A part of him, the one who’d seen way too many TV dramas, wanted to take this home and have a lawyer look over it, to talk it over with Marshall. Another part though, the one that hungered for this reward, for the position he’d waited for, for over two years, grabbed the pen and signed. He looked up at Trixie, and smiled. “A pleasure doing business with you,” he said.

“We do get a lot of pleasure from this, don’t we?” Trixie slid the signed document back in front of her and gave Jamie a last goodbye, “Good luck with your future and all. I only wish the best for you.” Atlas went to a standing position and stretched his body, sensing it was almost time to leave this popsicle stand.

“Same to you,” Jamie said, unsure if he really meant it. Trixie left him sitting where she’d found him, and flashed him a playful wink as she pushed out the Starbucks doors and into the rest of the world. Jamie shook his head, while his face broke out into a grin. He’d done it.


A @smarty0114 & @Hey Im Jordan collab
Featuring: A Double Bishop, Quincy Hart and Wyatt Durand
Location: Dreamland




Wyatt was lying on one of A Double’s many couches in Dreamland, his feet high in the air. He raised a joint to his lips and inhaled, and then blew out the smoke in a series of rings that eventually dissipated into the air. “I don’t know what to doooooo!” he whined. He lolled his head to the side to see Quincy and A Double standing in front of an old whiteboard, scribbling down words he couldn’t read. “One of you, tell me what to do, please! I’m begging you!”

The young stoner’s date with True had gone well, but he’d been left with an unshakeable anxiety since they’d parted. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he should be doing things, when to kiss her, where to put his hands, did she like holding hands, or would she rather he shoved his hand into her back pocket, or was that too much? He’d hoped his friends could help him, y’know since they’d done all this shit with each other, but they were currently engrossed in planning the Tekken tournament.

“Wy, I’m telling you, just be yourself! The girls fucking crazy about you,” Quincy said. She walked over to Wyatt and plucked the joint from his fingers taking her own hit before handing it to her boyfriend.

“It’s true, dude — haha. She really is… it’s kinda sweet,” A Double said, taking the joint and hitting it before he turned to look at the whiteboard. Stepping toward it, he erased a bit, carefully holding the joint in between his lips. With his other hand, he scribbled something on the board himself, before squinting and shaking his head. He pulled the lit joint out and blew out the smoke before he headed over to Wyatt, and held it out to his best friend.

“Hey do you think we should have peanut butter swirl brownies, or just regular fudgy brownies? This is non-weed brownies.” Wyatt’s opinion on the matter was of the utmost importance, especially with how stoned he already was — he’d know what sounded best to a high guy who was about to watch people play Tekken.

“Easy. Both.” Wyatt took in another lungful of smoke and blew it out. “I knowwwww she likes me! I just don’t want to scare her off!” There were so many things he wanted to do but no idea when to do them. He’d almost kissed her the other night, but he didn’t want to seem too forward. He wasn’t going to be the guy who just swung in for sex, although sex was very much on his mind at the moment. How the fuck could it not be?

Quincy rolled her eyes and peered down at Wyatt. “Dude, as long as you don’t just whip your dick out in the middle of dinner, you’re fine!”

Wyatt looked up at Q. “So don’t whip my dick out at dinner, got it.” Wyatt went into his phone and began tapping out a page in his notes, while Q turned to A Double. “How are we spreading the word about this? Flyers? Snapchat? Personal invites?” she asked, walking back over to the whiteboard.

“Dude, if she likes you, just like… kiss her, man. That’s all Q did, because I liked her and then she kissed me, and now we’re like… together and all.” A Double offered in advice to his friend, shrugging his shoulders. Kissing was the secret solution, wasn’t it? After he and Q kissed for the first time, it was like all they did was kiss! He had a feeling that was what Wyatt wanted… Without waiting for an answer, A Double spun on his heel to look at his girlfriend again, “I think we should do all of them! True said she was going to invite her friend, since she probably knows who the one that beat all our scores is… So we just have to fill the rest of the bracket, right? I think we can do it… If we advertise on everything, I mean!”

Quincy nodded and scribbled the word “everything” on the whiteboard in her messy handwriting. The whiteboard was covered with multicolored thoughts and blurbs of ideas. To anybody else, it might look like the workings of someone with a debilitating psychosis, but to Q and A Double, it was a plan. This tournament was going to fucking rock.

Meanwhile, Wyatt was grappling with the reality his friends had thrown at him. It made sense, but at the same time, he was pretty sure it was insanity. How could he just kiss her? The more he thought about it, the more confusing it became, until he realized, finally, that the only way to simplify the problem, was to just do it. “I’m going to kiss her.” Wyatt’s voice rang out after a moment, drawing a stare from Q.

“Good for you buddy. Go for it. I’m glad it only took you an hour and a half to figure that one out.”

“Man this whiteboard is totally cool… do you think we can use it for other stuff?” A Double asked Q, before he looked over at Wyatt and squinted. “Hey, man, why don’t you call her and meet up and like… kiss her? Oh, by the way, will you help me do commentary? The real Tekken tournaments on YouTube have commentary, so I think we totally should too.” A Double said, before looking at Q for confirmation, and then scribbling it onto the board without waiting for her to nod or not.

“Well, I can’t just say that? Can I?” Wyatt looked confused and finally, an exasperated Q came over to solve his problems. “Phone,” she said, extending her hand towards him. He hesitated for a moment, but handed it over, looking over to A Double. “I can do commentary! I love commenting!” Meanwhile, Quincy’s fingers flew across the screen and hit send before Wyatt even realized she was typing. She handed the phone back to him. Intrigued, he looked at the screen and saw one text, sent to True.

To: True
Wanna kiss?


His mouth fell open, and Quincy shook her head. “Thank me later, Lover Boy.”








A @smarty0114 & @Hey Im Jordan collab
Featuring: Connor Prince, Owen Lyon, Damian O’Connor & Henry Green
Location: The Green House





“Why do you got me carryin’ this fucking thing? It’s heavy, dude.” Owen complained from the back end of a huge, heavy CRT TV that Henry had himself and Damian carrying up the stairs. Henry, standing in the back of the Elite, looked over at Connor, and shrugged his shoulders. The truth was, Henry didn’t want to carry the goddamn thing, because it weighed like a thousand pounds. Owen and Damian were both ripped to the fucking gills, why wouldn’t he have them carry it? Owen, of course, was probably just bitter because he had to carry the heavy part.

“Because, dude! Shit’s heavy. I ain’t gonna carry it, I’ll drop it like a bitch. You and Dames, though? You guys got this. And before you ask, this guy here, dude’s a guest. He ain’t liftin’ shit so we can play Melee and Double Dash. Which, by the way, took a while to find and buy. Seven gotdamn months I been huntin’ this T.V. down, now we finally got a CRT to play old ass GameCube games on. You’re in for a treat, brother.” Henry said, glancing over at Connor.

“I shoulda took my shirt off… Geezus, I’m building up a sweat.”

“Great, now I’m gonna have shirtless, sweaty, glistening, Chad McChad in my room playing video games.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Connor’s first week at BHHS had been eventful, what with basketball tryouts and a certain blonde who was playing hard to get like it was an Olympic sport. Damian inviting him to Henry’s was a nice break from reality. He’d been moping over his involuntary relocation to California, until he’d come to the realization that his dad had sent him to the party capital of the world for a detox. If this school was good for one thing, it was a good fucking time. Damian and his friends seemed to be the best time of all, and so he’d seized the opportunity.

“Where the fuck did you find this thing anyways? It’s ancient,” Connor said, following behind Damian and Owen as they climbed the stairs. He said a silent prayer that neither of them slipped and came tumbling down. Crushed by big ass TV was the least cool way to die.

“Flew to Florida. Made a couple of contacts. Found a fatass Smash nerd, traced him to his locals. Bought some shitty ass Florida weed, banged a pretty fire Florida line, and bought their tournament TV. Now, we’re carrying it up to the game room so we can plug a console from 2001 into a TV from 1990 and play a game that’s only fun when you’re high. Any questions?” Henry asked, leaning forward toward Connor slightly with a raised eyebrow.

“One,” Connor said, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a dime bag stuffed with weed. “You got a bong?” He cracked a cheeky grin, because of fucking course Henry had a bong. He’d known the guy for all of ten minutes, and there was nothing he was more sure of. These dudes might be obscenely rich in the way that makes you question the wealth divide in America, but they were chill as fuck, he’d give them that.

“Dude… I got like, seven. Don’t even worry about that. Take a left here, I opened the door for you guys.” Henry said, directing traffic to the two muscleheads that sighed as they followed orders. Heading into the room that Henry had designated, they placed the TV on the ground in the center of the room, and found themselves face-to-face with a giant, wall mounted, modern TV.

“Oh, you MOTHERFUCKER!” Owen snapped, turning to glare at Henry, who frowned, wondering what the problem was.

“What, dude? That little blonde nerd kid you’re always hanging out with TOLD ME that I need the CRT to have an authentic Smash experience!” Henry said defensively, and Owen just seemed to get more mad.

“Yeah, if we wanna play the shitty ass one from the 2000s! What, did Zach tell you not to play Smash Ultimate, too? He’s a fucking idiot, Henry! He’s like a goddamn twig. Why would you trust him with anything?!” Owen demanded, and Henry shook his head.

“He plays Smash! We don’t! He knows things we don’t about this kinda thing, and he said Melee is the best, and that it’s best played on a CRT TV, so I hunted one down!” Henry snapped defensively.

Connor laughed. “Henry, I’m not gonna lie, I don’t think Smash is like, something you get a degree in. I’m pretty sure the bar for being an expert is pretty low. I mean, yeah there’s techniques and shit, but like, it’s a video game. I think their enjoyable on like, any TV.” He walked over to the fat box of plastic, glass and metal and gave it a slap. “Plus, there’s a reason these things were left in the Stone Age. But, I mean, since you got it, and y’all hauled it all the way up here, we might as well put it to some use.” He shrugged and took a seat on the couch in front of the TV, taking in Henry’s room. The place was nice, he couldn’t deny that.

“I mean, I guess you’re right, but I trust that dude. He’s good at it, dude. Yo, Damian, help me move this — yo, what the fuck dude! I thought we agreed, no strippin’ down in my house!” Henry complained, but it seemed like it was all in vain. Damian had already discarded his shirt and was taking off his belt to get out of his jeans, leaving Henry to drag the T.V. to the wall by himself. There was a designated spot for it, with its own entertainment center, but Henry didn’t seem like he was going to lift it up on his own.

“Hell nah, brother. I ain’t about to do all of that, and then try and relax while wearing my goddamn shirt and pants.” By that point, Damian had stripped down to his boxers, dropping his jeans and shirt on the ground. Stretching to either side, Damian sighed as he rolled his neck side to side. “That’s so much better… I don’t know how you guys can live without taking your fucking shirt off, at least.”

Connor’s gaze fell on Damian, damn near naked and covered in muscles. Jesus, how did a dude even get that ripped? He hadn’t quite realized how closely Damian toed the line of nudism, but this was as clear a sign as he could get. Looking over Damian’s body, he was greeted with that all too familiar discomfort in his stomach, yet admiration held his gaze steady. He was just forcing the discomfort down when he felt an unwelcome twitching and-HOLYFUCKINGSHIT. His dick had decided that now was a good time to stand to attention, for whatever reason that might fucking be. Leaning forward ever so slightly to hide his situation, he looked over at Owen and Henry. “So, we Smashin’ or what?”

“We can get to the Smashin’ here pretty soon, calm down, turbo. Henry’s gonna wanna get ripped, and I gotta get comfortable.” Damian said, pulling over one of the huge Lazy Boy chairs in the room over, sitting down in it and folding his hands on his stomach, and closing his eyes. Damian and his perfectly chiseled body seemed like it was gearing up for a nap. Owen was moving toward the minifridge, and Henry was approaching Connor with his bong for the night in his hands.

“Yo, you okay, bro? You were starin’ at Dames pretty hard there, bro, don’t think no one noticed. I noticed, I’m a very observant motherfucker. Gimme your weed.” He said, holding out his hand. For the most part, Henry at least seemed to not care about the staring. In fact, he might have just been bluffing — it was tough to tell with him, and it always was. “I got a lighter, don’t worry.”

Connor pulled the weed out of his pocket and handed it to Henry. “I’m chillin. I was just, like, thinking and shit. Sometimes, to everyone’s amazement, I think,” he said with a chuckle. His situation had resolved itself, thank God. That had been weird. Connor obviously knew when a dude was good looking. For instance, he was currently surrounded by good looking dudes, hell, he was a good looking dude. He might even go as far as to say that he had an appreciation for a hot guy, but popping a boner over his new homie taking off his clothes? Yeah, that was whack.

Alright, fine. Henry was going to give it to him. He’d let it go, if he didn’t want to admit that the real amazement in the room was Damian’s iron corded muscles, especially when coupled with the lighting (that seemed to always hit him just right, that fucker) and the slight sheen of sweat he had on from heaving the TV up the stairs… what? Henry may have liked girls, but that also meant he knew what girls liked. And, the reality was, Damian was what girls liked. Girls and… very possibly Connor. But hey, Henry wasn’t one to judge — his daddy had taught him better than that.

As Henry finished up packing the bong, Owen approached with a couple of bottles in his hands, and he glanced over at Henry, “Seriously? No beer?” Owen asked in a standard Owen voice — a grumpy, stilted, and gruff one. Regardless, Owen held out one of the bottles of coke to Connor. “Drink.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking one of the bottles and twisting off the cap. He took a sip from the bottle, thankful that Henry had dropped his staring episode. Despite that, he couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling in his stomach, the one that told him everyone knew. “So like, how do you guys all know each other?” he asked, both out of curiosity and an effort to divert attention away from him.

“For the most part, we sort of grew up together. Our dads were, and mostly still are, pretty close when they were younger. We didn’t really have the same type of bond that they do, at least not at first, but after I had a pretty bad breakup, Damian suggested that we make a ‘thing’ like our Dads had.” He paused to take a sip of his drink, and glance over at their glorious leader — who was currently lightly napping. “Damian’s a good dude, and he’s a helluva leader. He got kicked off of the football team because of some dumbass shit I did at a party he threw… I don’t know how they’re gonna go without his… energy, I guess? I dunno. Anyway, Henry here, he’s not really in the group.”

Henry’s eyes lifted up from the bong and he pulled his mouth off of it. Keeping the smoke in his lungs, he spoke in a slightly strained voice. “That’s cuz I ain’t wanna be in your little boy band,” the smoke left and Henry coughed, still trying to speak. “I’m just your consultant since none of ya know how to deal with my bitch ass sister.”

Owen shook his head and looked back at Connor, “we call ourselves the Elite because we think we’re clever.”

Connor chuckled. The Elite was about as melodramatic a name you could get, but this was a melodramatic school. After this last week, he wouldn’t even rank that on his top ten weirdest things list. Henry passed him the bong and Connor grabbed it gently, and brought it to his lap. “Your sister’s Hailey, right?” he asked, before lighting the bowl and taking in a deep pull of smoke. The politics at BHHS were hard to follow, especially considering how many people seemed to be related in this town. He’d slowly been getting the hang of it though, and Hailey Green had been hard to miss.

“Yeah, un-fucking-fortunately. We’ve made.. amends, I guess, but sibling rivalries run deep and burn hot, so dinner was fucking awkward. Christ.” Henry ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, thinking back to the Saturday night to himself, and realizing he did need a fucking beer. His sister was an easy trigger point for him, and he was realizing now that he was sitting with someone that didn’t have any idea about her. “Hailey’s alright, she’s just… very dedicated and kind of a control freak. She did Owen dirty, but I think time heals all wounds. Funny thing? Only reason she and I made up is we’re both fucking Korean girls. Shit.”

“Well, that’s one way I guess. Korean girls could probably give us world peace, let’s be honest,” Connor said. He had half a mind to ask them about Selena, but he refrained. He’d already brought her up to Damian the other day, and it seemed like she wasn’t exactly well liked within this circle. He handed the bong towards Owen, who gave him a short shake of his head, so he passed it back towards Henry, and took another sip of his Coke. “I won’t lie, this schools kinda fuckin’ crazy. I mean, back in New York, I went to this private school that was all senator’s kids and shit, and even they didn’t get into the shit you guys do. Guess it’s a west coast thing,” he said.

“Dude, this school is retarded. Beverly Hills High School has more like… espionage, and political intrigue than a fuckin’ James Bond movie. Everybody here thinks they’re way more important than everyone else on the gotdamn planet because they’re lucky enough to be born and bred into rich ass families. They all think high school never ends. I’m over here just tryna make it through this shit, get laid, get high, get drink, rinse and repeat, and my sister is here makin’ this into damn near Game of Thrones shit. Now, I ain’t ever watch Game of Thrones, but I can only assume.” Henry signed and shook his head, hitting the bong and blowing the smoke out, “I gotta say, I’m at least happy that she’s done being a bitch, but I already know that someone else is gonna fill the void.”

“They’re animals. Leeches. They live for this drama shit, and the rest of us have to die for it. Try to avoid it if you can, but the reality is… it’ll come for you, buddy.” Owen said, looking up at Connor. BHHS was a terrible place, and they were all equally stuck in it.

“It’s high school. I’m pretty sure it is legally required to suck ass,” Connor said. He took another hit and as he exhaled, he let the wave of calming euphoria rush over him. This was good stuff. Connor shrugged and said, “Bullshit comes and goes, but high school, that shit never ends. Maybe I’m biased though. My dad basically just plays the same game, with a bunch of adults.”

“What’s your Dad do? Mine hides behind his sister — my Mom’s wife, my Mother. It’s a whole thing, don’t worry about it — and goes to festivals. He also owns and runs one of the local pizza parlors, Captain Cuddles. It’s stupid, it’s named after one of his nicknames from the girls in his friend group… look, I hate my father.” Henry paused to take the bong and hit it, before adding. “I hate all my parents, we don’t get on so well, but I can’t complain. I got a credit card with no limit, and nobody asks any questions. I live with the girl I’m sleeping with… no real complaints. We just… don’t get on so hot.” Henry shrugged his shoulders, but the reality was that it was a touchy subject for the young man; weed, or no weed.

Hating your Dad? Connor spoke that language like a pro. “Mines a senator from New York. Timothy Prince, youngest governor of New York, current head of the Committee on Foreign Affairs, and asshole extraordinaire,” Connor said, chuckling before he took a hit. “He didn’t think my image was great for a presidential campaign, so here I am.” He shrugged. “I mean, now I don’t have to see him, or my mom, and I’m pretty much allowed to do whatever, as long as I keep it quiet from my uncle. Life could be worse,” Connor said, with far more nonchalance than he actually felt about the situation. In all honesty, that rejection had cut deep, but the boys didn’t want to know about his deep seeded issues with acceptance. That would just be a downer.

“I heard the image thing before. If you ask the newspapers I’m a ‘bad boy,’ whatever the fuck that means. Moms think I’d make a good reality show character, but that I need to tighten up my act before I ruin ‘the good name of the family,’ whatever the fuck that means. Fact is, it’s not my fault the company has my name in it… It doesn’t matter. Mom and Mother kinda ignore me, so I do whatever I want.” Henry shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, and checked his watch. “Yo, how long should we let that fucker sleep before we play some games? Real asshole, that guy is.” He said, gesturing toward the sleeping Damian.

Connor looked over at Damian, who was still looking like a Greek god unfortunately, and shrugged. “How long can the dude sleep? Dudes not even high and he’s passed the fuck out,” He laughed for no real reason other than the fact that he was high as shit. “I’d just blast some music in his ear and call it a day.”

“I dunno, probably a while. He’s a tired dude. It’s cool, we can just let him sleep… The rest of us can play, and he’ll probably wake up from the noises. No worries,” Henry shook his head, and stood up, wobbled from side to side, and headed over to the shelf that seemed to have one of every game console known to man. High off his ass, Henry paused and turned to look at Connor, squinting slightly. “Ay, bro, you gay? It’s cool if you gay. Pride!” Henry had lost all form of inhibition.

A nervous chuckle broke through his lips, and he turned that chuckle into a full blown laugh. “Nah bro. Thanks for the support though, I’m sure the community appreciates,” he said. Despite his grin, his cheeks were tinged red, and his stomach was doing flips. That was a normal response to being asked point blank if you’re gay, especially when you’re definitely NOT gay. Definitely, totally, one hundred percent, not gay. “Now, lets Smash.”



A @smarty0114 & @Hey Im Jordan collab
Featuring: Becca Helmsley & Brian Helmsley
Location: Helmsley Manor





Brian had to say, he was pretty freaking satisfied. So far, everything had just… worked out in his favor. He’d thrown a pretty successful party, sure. He’d worked things out with Hailey — sort of, he’d made a call. More importantly, and most annoyingly, he found himself stuck as the ‘producer’ of the Morning Show, which meant he had to work closely with Trixie. That, in and of itself, was frustrating, but he didn’t care that much, he’d deal with it. All that really mattered was that he’d gotten with Parker, finally.

And it was nice! It was mind-blowingly nice. They were happy together, and they’d went out together a few times now. Mostly to get ice cream, but it was the conversation and the way she was happy and so… relaxed compared to everyone else in his life that mattered. Brian was sure that Parker wasn’t the smartest person on the block, but she was special in all the right ways.

He was happy, and that’s what was important. He was so happy, in fact, that he wasn’t sure about talking to Becca. She wanted something, he could tell that much, and the truth was… Brian just wasn’t interest. He didn’t want to be ‘in the game’ anymore, so to speak, he just wanted to relax and spend time with Parker, but… that wasn’t an option.

He took a sip from his water, and looked at Becca sitting across the table.

Brian was right. Becca did want something. After her meeting with Principal Evans that morning, she’d gone full speed ahead with her campaign, and Brian and his show were another piece of the puzzle. Sure, he might not want to play the game any more, but she was his sister, and he loved her, in his own Brian way. She was pretty confident she’d come out of this meeting with something.

“Well, no need to pussy foot around this. I’m running for student body president, and I need your help,” Becca said. “Now, as appealing as a state run media sounds to me, I’m perfectly willing to accept that you might disagree with me on that point. I just need some time on air, and maybe a couple of endorsements from your anchors. Easy,” Becca said, grinning.

Some things never changed. When was the last time one of the Helmsley Three reached out to just spend time with one another? It must have been at least four years ago; being teenagers had really changed them, and hardly for the better. She was really still on this, crusade? “Becca… Hailey’s gone, she quit. She took a step back, she officially debranded herself as the ‘Queen Bee,’ which, by the way, has always sounded like some kind of early 2000s movie title, and it’s… over. Why can’t it just be over?” Brian paused, and took another drink from his cool, imported mountain spring water and shook his head. “How is there even an election for student body president? Shouldn’t Trixie be the one?” The politics of BHHS were worse than the crisis in the Middle East sometimes…

Becca waved a hand in dismissal. If she hadn’t shared a womb with the kid, she’d be certain he wasn’t related to her. Just because Hailey gave up, didn’t mean Becca had to. The thought was almost laughable. “I pulled the money card on Principal Evans. It was actually really easy. Considering my last request was landing the helicopter on the football field, I think he was just happy that this one didn’t involve flying vehicles. I may or may not have made some comments about Trixie’s mental state leaving her unfit for the responsibilities of such a taxing job. Oh, and I forged a bunch of signatures on a petition. That’s not really important though,” Becca said. “Hailey is gone, yes, but that doesn’t mean the game is over. If I don’t step up, someone else will.”

“Are you sure the game isn’t over? Because I’m pretty sure that you and Hailey? You were the only ones playing. With one person dropping out… fin. You’re done. Game. Over. Why do you want to drag it on further? Greed.” Brian drank the rest of his water, and considered his options as he slowly sat the glass down. Of course, it wasn’t surprising. They were raised around the very idea of greed, so it made sense that it was baked so heavily into Becca’s character. She wanted the power and control that Hailey had, and that Becca felt Hailey had never deserved. It was like watching a fucking TBS show play out before his very eyes. Truly, tragic. Forged signatures?

“I’m not sure I can have the show be so… openly biased. If someone else were to run against you, then… that wouldn’t be fair. I can give you five minutes on the next edition. Record it and post it to YouTube, that’s what I would do.” Brian shrugged, and stared at the table in silence for a few moments, “when others announce their intent to run, I, along with Trixie and Riley, will produce and host a debate between the candidates. And, yes, Becca, despite what you may think… someone else in Beverly Hills High School will be just as greedy and lustful for power as you are.”

“Is that all?”

Five minutes and hosting a debate? It wasn’t everything she’d wanted, but to be fair, Brian was a more principled man than Michael Evans. She shouldn’t have expected him to play anything less than hardball. “Five minutes is stingy, but I’ll take it. Who could possibly be dumb enough to run against me? I’m me!” She stood up and walked around the table, leaning over and hugging Brian from behind. “When I’m SBP, you won’t regret this. I owe you lunch.” Becca pulled away and paused. “Speaking of food, when are you bringing Parker around for what is sure to be the most interesting episode of Meet The Parents?” Their parents were weird, or maybe insane, and Parker was equally weird, and/or insane. There was no way that went off without something exciting.

“If I have anything to say about it? Never. But, I don’t, so more accurately probably later this month.” Brian was nothing if not bluntly honest, and the fact was, he didn’t want his parents meeting Parker. Not ever, if he could help it, but… he couldn’t. It could be delayed, or avoided, but it couldn’t be kept stalled forever. “I’m sure Mother will tell you before she tells me.”

“You ought to take a page out of my book. Hump and dump, then the parents never need to know,” she said, smirking. She neglected to mention that her current conquest had included a lot less dumping than humping, but this wasn’t the time to tell her brother that she was screwing another one of his friends. She’d just gotten a deal out of him, no need to jeopardize that. Becca strutted to the door that led into the west wing of Helmsley Castle and flashed Brian another winning smile. “Thanks again, Brother Dearest,” she said, and exited into the rest of the home, closing the door behind her with muffled thud. Mission accomplished.
Collab with @TootsiePop
and small FT from @Hey Im Jordan




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In The Secret Tea Garden, which was right behind Heartfelt Bites Bakery, both owned by his mother, Miles Michaelson laid his head on the table in absolute depression. He couldn’t believe he lost a whole volume. He hadn’t even scanned it to his computer yet. Why live honestly? At least he helped Nero out with his whole new band expedition. That gave him a little bliss, but, man, that doesn’t change the daunting fact that he had to draw 150 pages all over again, assuming he could even remember everything! This was the worst. The absolute worst. How did he lose it anyways?!

Across from him, with his laptop open and the school newspaper beside it, Riley went to grab a hand sandwich on the top tier platter between him and his friend. They both were here to study together, while Miles’ mother, Chrissa, who was a good friend to Riley’s father, Remy, hosted Afternoon Tea, which was a British tradition. It’s a mini-meal composed of sandwiches, delicately cut into fingers, scones with clotted cream and jam, sweet pastries and cake. It was midday on a Friday and Riley had a lot to consider.

Brian Helmsley had given him homework so that they could make The Morning Show polished, focused, and worth the legacy. Something that will live on forever even after Riley graduates. The Morning Show has always been a place for announcements and news, first the short-version going live in the morning, and then the full-length show being put on the school’s youtube channel later. Brian said he’d take care of the weekly special guests, since now the dude was the unofficial-official producer, but Riley had to give him a list of segments and ideas that he thought would benefit the school, while still keeping it thematic per week. So far, his biggest focus was being inclusive and getting another partner to stand beside him and Brynn. Plus, if one of them were sick, the other could pick up where they left off. This was Brian’s way of saying: you need help, don’t put all the pressure on yourself. On the doc, he quietly typed ‘Gwen?’ with his free hand, before his dark gaze went to the Newspaper that showcased Jamie’s article. They had a lot to clean up — especially if they didn’t want their school to get even worse.

That, of course, wasn’t all that was on Riley’s mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about the interaction with Hailey and her girlfriend, Hana. After the conversation they shared, he’d have to admit he actually liked her. It doesn’t excuse her for the fucked up shit she did because she disliked people telling her what to do and how to do it, which was not Jamie’s place to air out, but… he could see why Trixie and Ophelia like her, or well liked her. Like she wasn’t completely hellbent in making the school her’s. Like she was more down to Earth than people gave her credit for. Like she didn’t choose being ‘Queen’ it chose her. Now that he thought about it, the only reason why she took the crown was simply because people gave it to her. She was a Green. Only a fool would not take the opportunity to build their own legacy in this school full of legends. He knew for a fact, people will be talking about Hailey even after she graduates. She made her mark. For better or for worse. She did. So, does that really make her a bad person if everyone’s perception of her from the get-go was royalty? She was. And she knew it.

Taking a bite of his sandwich, Riley glanced up from his laptop and set his sights on his ridiculously talented artist friend, “You haven’t touched anything. Not even the cake. And you love cake.”

With a baby whine, Miles pouted, “I KNOWWWW. I DOOOO.” But he didn’t have an appetite, which was odd for him. “I just feel like this is the end. I put so much effort into my stories and then like the idiot I am, I lose my work!”

“I’m sure it’ll come around. You put your name on the binder right?”

“No… just my initials.” Miles banged his head on the table. He was defeated. Absolutely ruined.

Riley shaking his head at his friend, simply shrugged, and offered, “I can make an announcement all next week, if that’ll make you feel better.”

Suddenly, like a puppy, Miles perked up and his eyes widened, “You’d do that for me?!” Maybe his life wasn’t all over! Riley did have an amazing platform, after all. This could be the solution to all his problems! Even though he only had one!

“Yeah, of course. Now eat some of this food. I can’t do it by myself.” As if Riley had just given Miles the medicine he needed to feel temporarily better, the blonde dug in, immediately going for the last tier which had the sweeter things on it.

Elliott had decided on the drive over to The Secret Tea Garden that he desperately needed his own friends. Ivy had been talking for a solid fifteen minutes about Becca Helmsley and her date with Lawrence Townsend, which he had absolutely zero interest in. Of course, when he’d tried to mention that to Ivy, she’d hushed him, and continued on. It wasn’t like he needed a whole squad, just, people who were not his sister.

Tea had been Ivy’s idea, and while he’d done his best to refuse, preferring the comfort of his bed, she’d dragged him along anyway. Something about him being a homebody, and how tea was good for the imagination. He’d admit, he’d hit a wall on his novel, and he could use something to clear his head. Thus, he was standing at the counter with Ivy, waiting for a cup of green tea.

“So, don’t look now, but I think I see one Miles Michaelson out there,” she said, a playful smirk spreading across her face. Elliot flushed a deep shade of crimson, peeking out the glass door into the garden seating area, confirming his sister’s observation. He stared at his sister, scowling.

“You meddle. You’re a meddler, you know that?” he said as the woman behind the counter slid his and Ivy’s cups out.

“Oh my god, what, you think I planned this? You think I overheard Riley and Miles talking about meeting here after school and so I pretended to want tea to force you into interacting with Miles? Really?”

“That’s exactly what I think,”

“Well, you’re wrong about one thing. I really did want tea,” she said, laughing her mirthful cackle, and dragging Elliott outside. She skipped up to Riley and Miles’ table and pulled up two seats, grinning the entire time, while a mortified Elliott begrudgingly followed along. This was happening one way or the other.

“Hey Miles, Riley! Fancy seeing you guys here,” she said, taking a sip from her cup. Elliott gave a silent wave and a nod to the both of them, his face still flushed red. How could this get worse? “Whatcha doing?”

Oh great. Riley closed his laptop, not one to share his plans openly with others, and blankly stared at the Nichols. Both in his year. Both with vastly different reputations. The youngest one at this table now was the artist that only moments ago had a breakdown but found himself happily chomping at pastries. Or sad eating. Riley had yet to determine which one yet. The Wells boy took it upon himself to know as many faces as he could at their school and network with some of the more talented people, like Miles, because their talents might come in use in the future.

He didn’t find use in a party girl, who was in the shadows of Shauna and Not-Shauna in the theater club, and Cassie in the Fashion club. She was the token raver, but at a school like this… being someone that ‘partied hard’ didn’t really make you special. As for her brother, he was incredibly smart, matched Joy Darling in GPA, and if Riley wasn’t mistaken, he was in the Photography club with Rose Powers. Throughout the year, he did recall catching sight of Elliot writing in random places, privately. A loner that wanted to stay that way. Still, he seemed like an okay dude with skills that could come in handy for Riley, eventually. And, well, the moment Miles saw the boy with the beanie, he lit up even more. Miles was a good judge of character.

“Elliot! Ivy! Please help yourselves.” The sophomore offered the food at the center of the table to his juniors. “If we finish it all, we can get more! My mum works here.”

“I was going to help him with his term paper on how pop culture trends influence youth but he’s been kind of too busy thinking about—”

“This paper is boring. I just want to draw, which reminds me why I’m sad.” He stuffed his face with a macaron. Okay, he was sad eating.

Ivy grinned. “Elliott, didn’t you do your term paper on that last year? Or was that mine? Either way, Elliott wrote it. He’s a great writer!” she said, playfully nudging her brother.

Elliott sighed, and leaned forward to grab a sandwich finger. “That was Victoria’s paper, which I also wrote. Honestly, Mrs. Hatchet needs to start offering new prompts, they’re always way too easy. But yeah, I got an A. I focused a lot on social media, and how distorted it makes our lives seem, and then tied that into some research I did on mental health in teens. Wasn’t too hard,” Elliott said, shrugging. School came easy to him, so much so that he often forgot that others didn’t feel the same.

“What’s got you down Miles?” she asked. Half of her wanted to mention how good Elliott was at making boys happy, but even she knew that was pushing it.

With that confidence, maybe Elliot should help Miles instead of Riley. Riley had enough going on and here he was worrying about the school image thanks to HOT, the Elite, Candyland, and fuck, just everyone at this stupid ass school. Finishing his sandwich, Riley wiped his fingers on his napkin and grabbed the school newspaper while all attention was on Miles. He scanned the article and thought back at the New Years party, the moment he shared with Marshall in the closet and then Jamie awkwardly witnessing it. It’s not what it looks like

“I misplaced my binder. With my most recent volume, for my pride and joy. Dread. I don’t know what happened to it. But it’s really the only thing I care about that isn’t my friends. School is boring so I have C’s in every class. Ma says if I don’t bring up my grades she’s going to take away my tablet. What’s the point if she takes away another thing from me!? First my binder goes missing. Next my mom gets all strict. What’s next?! My hands breaking????!”

Not looking away from the newspaper, Riley reached for his hibiscus tea and sighed, “Stop being dramatic. Your mother is too sweet. She probably just cried while looking at your grades and you felt bad.”

“Well yeah! Okay. She didn’t actually tell me to study harder… but I want to. I don’t like making her sad.” Miles frowned, as he looked to the Nichols with earnest desperation.

“Elliott could tutor you? Right El?” she said, looking over at her brother, a self-impressed look in her eye. God, she was smug.

“Uh, yeah, I could, if you wanted,” he said. His gaze drifted over to Riley and the paper, and he moved to bring up something that Ivy had made him all too familiar with, despite his disinterest. “That’s Jamie’s article? Talk about a shakeup, right?” he said, chuckling. He could talk schoolyard gossip with the best of them thanks to Ivy and Vic, and if they could go on for hours about it, it must be interesting to some people. He had been saying how he needed new friends.

Unfortunately for Elliot, Riley was far from the gossiper and he placed the newspaper down on his closed laptop, “Yeah, a shake up in poor taste.” With a distant expression, Riley scrutinized the bookworm with his dark, void-filled gaze, “I thought Jamie was better than this, but I guess we all get caught up with other people’s business.” Instead of making things right, the Newsie threw gasoline on the fire. A fire that Riley wanted to simmer down with his show.

While Riley wasn’t playing along with whatever Elliot’s goal was, Miles was oblivious and in his own world, “We should all study together! I know Riley could boost up his grades in math!”

“...you didn’t have to disclose that. Don’t worry. I can ask my brother.”

“But come onnnnn Riley, I just want a reason to go to your house and eat your dad’s food! Elliot would love your house! Please, pleaseeeeee, pleaseeeeeeeee.” Was Miles being serious right now? Openly inviting the Nichols to his house? Sure, his Dad would love it and cook for an army, but it wasn’t HIS place to do so.

“I don’t care.”

“I’ve had less enthusiastic invites,” Ivy said. The party girl smirked, and reached for a napkin. “Pen please,” she said, holding her hand out. She knew her brother carried a pen on him pretty much all the time, one of the quirks that made him so him. Elliott gawked at her, but Ivy pressed on, “Pen!” Elliott fished a pen out of his pocket, and placed it in Ivy’s hand, and she scribbled two numbers on the napkin. Ripping it in half she handed one side to Miles. “That’s El’s number,” she said, and passed the other piece to Riley, “and that’s mine.” She winked at Riley, as Elliott’s blush made a return. He’d thank her later. “Let us know when you guys want to get this little study group together again. Like I said, Elliott’s a genius.”

Taking the napkin from her, Riley gave her a half-hearted smile, not really knowing why she felt it was necessary to give him her number when it was Miles who needed the study help. Apathetically, he responded, “... thanks.”

“This is so exciting!” Miles gleamed, as he looked from Riley then to Ivy then to Elliot, “Maybe I can share with you my comics too! And Riley has a lot of Gundam and action figures!”

“Thank you, Miles…”

“Oh and if you’re dope at puzzles, so is my boyyyyyyy. I can never finish a puzzle. It’s sad really.”

“Can you stop?!” Riley hated having friends. What was the point when they shared too much?! Miles’ eyes widened and he gave a cutesy whimper, “I just thought it would be nice for you to have more friends.”

“I’d, uh, really like to see those comics. And, I’m not bad at puzzles. Actually, I’m like, really good,” Elliott said, looking between Miles and Riley. Ivy, soon to be known as the worst wingwoman ever, of course had to butt in.

“And I’m, really, really friendly,” she said. She wasn’t entirely sure what Gundam was and she didn’t play with action figures, but she liked boys, and Riley was a boy. She could pretend that she had a thing for edgy guys who wore leather, but the fact of the matter was, she’d swing for just about anyone once they’d piqued her interest. Riley’s general disinterest in her, and his apathy towards the entirety of the conversation was like it’s own sort of puzzle. There was nothing like taking a guy who seemed so aloof, and bringing him down to earth with her “skills”.

This was… exhausting. Riley felt so uncomfortable sitting at this table right now, and he was just about ready to leave, “Great, awesome. Yeah. I’m sure Miles will pick a date. Now.” He started packing up his things and putting it in his backpack, “I’m actually going to get going. Don’t want to miss dinner.” Even if his father was helping with the Captain Cuddles event.

“But.. we just ate?”

“And it was delicious. Here’s my portion of the bill.” Riley slapped a twenty on the table, stood up, threw his backpack over his shoulder, and then gave them a dismissive nod, “If you’ll excuse me.” And the Morning Show host was out of this place like a bat out of hell.

Miles would’ve waved but he received a text from Nero, “Oh snap! Neo got a band! I’m so proud of him!” And for a moment, Miles had the most earnest, and sweetest smile on, as he spoke about his best friend, Nero Frost. The kind that showed possible signs of admiration. A crush.

Ivy perked up at that. “Nero? As in, the drummer?” Nero was hot, and just because she had just been coming on to Riley like a dog in heat, didn’t mean she couldn’t double dip. “I play keyboard, if he needs some more members. I sing too. I’m great with my mouth, honestly,” she said.

At that comment, Elliott nearly jumped out of his seat, his knees banging against the table, nearly spilling everything onto the floor. Jesus Christ she was vulgar. “Wow, so yeah. Ivy has an urgent therapy appointment to attend, like now, so we better go,” he said, quickly standing up, and practically dragging Ivy to her feet. “This was fun, and I’m still, like, down to tutor you. Y’know, if you’d want that.” Based on the smile that had broken out on Miles’ face at the mention of Nero, and the sinking sense of disappointment that had taken root in the pit of his stomach, he was thinking that maybe he’d rather be tutored by the drummer. Somehow, Elliott was not surprised. After this trainwreck that Ivy had caused, why wouldn’t he?

Sitting not too far from the table that now had a loney artist, who was still staring at his phone, and had absentmindedly waved goodbye to his new friends, Mina Bellerose held a plate of cake in her hand, as she sat on the lap of her forever man. She cut a piece of it and brought it to his mouth, her eyes still heavily fixated on the scene. “Yooooohooooooo.” The Fashion princess called out to the sophomore.

Snapping back to the present, looking away from his phone, Miles turned his head to see two familiar faces, and loyal customers at his mom’s tea house, “Hey Mina, Christopher, what’s up?”

Christopher knew what Mina wanted, because why wouldn’t he? It was almost in his job description to know what she wanted, when she wanted it. He gave Miles a smile when he spoke to the pair of them, and gestured toward the newspaper left abandoned. “Miles, be a doll and grab that newspaper for us, please.” He suggested; though he knew that Miles was going to do what he said. Miles was a good boy, and incredibly docile — it helped. “The cake is delicious, by the way.”

“Ah, that's right. You two haven’t been at school for a bit because of that… movie, right? What’s it called?” Miles got up, swiped the newspaper, and made his way to the super couple.

Mina swiftly answered, as she swiped the paper from the naive boy, “Years of Fire.”

Woah. That sounded dope. Maybe he and his parents can watch it some time. Maybe he’ll invite Nero over. Mina placed the plate down and focused in on the headliner article. Sheepishly, Miles scratched his head, “Yeah… things are kind of wild at school. It all started falling apart after New Years.”

“Is that right.”

“Thank you. I’m sure we’ll catch up some other time, run along now.” Christopher said, gesturing with his hand to wave Miles away. He and his better half had business to discuss, and it was very possible that they’d have to go… it didn’t seem like tea party business. Not a squabble between stuffed animals, but… something at the school. He was almost certain it was going to set Mina off. Better for the soft boy to not be caught in the crossfire.

“Sure thing! Catch ya guys later.” Miles gleefully gave his regards before prancing back to the table, grabbing his things, the twenty Riley left behind, and paying at the counter. It was time for him to see what Nero was up to anyways. As the artist walked out the door, Mina started aggressively and angrily shredding the paper.

“It might be time for me to give Emmy-Lou a call.”


Featuring: Becca Helmsley
Location: BHHS, Principal Evans’ Office




Hailey Green had fallen so far, and Becca hadn’t even had to lift a finger. Jamie’s article had effectively torn HOT apart in the eyes of the student body. Hailey’s resignation as student body president had come shortly afterwards, and the gossip mill had made that public almost instantly. Ophelia wasn’t about to win any popularity contests, and Trixie was a trainwreck. Becca’s opportunity had come.

The school was empty at 6:45 in the morning, save for the staff, which was just how Becca wanted it. She’d woken up early that morning, and dressed for the occasion. Her ripped jeans and dark blue blouse were casual, yet professional, and the cropped leather jacket and black Doc Martens gave her an air of authority that wasn’t likely to be dismissed. Truth be told, her name gave her an air of authority, more than any outfit ever good, but Becca would never let it be said that she did not dress to impress.

When Becca opened the door to Principal Evan’s office, his secretary was present, in discussion about something that Becca did not overhear, nor care about. Smiling, she took a seat in front of his desk, setting her tote bag casually on the seat next to her, earning a befuddled stare from the head of her school, and a moment of silence. To his credit, he recognized her, and her importance. “Bev, can you give me a moment?” The older woman nodded, and hurried out, giving Becca one last glance before shutting the door. “What can I do for you Becca?” he asked, a resigned sigh punctuating his question. Despite Becca and her siblings’ unorthodox attendance, Becca had visited Evans’ office with various requests and complaints a grand total of twenty three times. She was a frequent flyer in the administrative wing.

“So nice of you to ask, Michael.” Becca smiled at Principal Evans, before pressing on. “Now, as you know, Hailey Green has unfortunately stepped down as student body president. Of course, this wouldn’t normally be a problem, but I’m personally concerned for Trixie. Her mental state right now is questionable, at best. Even you can see that, right Michael?”

Principal Evans remained silent. He’d had enough meeting with the heiress to know that she had more on the way.

“I’ll cut to the chase. I think we need a special election. If Trixie wishes to remain as vice president, I’d be happy to have her, but I truly believe that she’s just not cut out for the demands of the job,” Becca said. Her tone dripped with false sympathy and arrogance.

“Becca, as much as I’d love to help you, I simply can’t hold a special election because you personally deem the vice president unfit. It’s just not fair to Trixie,” Principal Evans said, shaking his head. Somehow, he knew she wouldn’t take that answer so easily, but it was worth a shot.

“I anticipated that response, and I offer a rebuttal. The students have a right to choose their student body president, and I think you’ll find that both Trixie’s opinion of the job, and her peers’ opinion of her has changed dramatically since the election was held. The students deserve to choose based on their current knowledge. In fact, you’ll find that I had a petition signed, requesting a special election.” Becca reached into her tote bag and retrieved a paper, boasting one hundred signatures in various handwritings. In truth, many of those signatures were forgeries, but she was confident that Principal Evans would not resort to an investigation of the signees. Daddy had taught her to win, not to play fair.

Becca slid the paper across the desk and let Principal Evans study the paper for a moment before speaking up. “In the event that this isn’t enough to open your eyes, my father has told me that he doesn’t really feel secure donating to a school that doesn’t respect the wishes of it’s student body. He’s very supportive of youth involvement in politics, and doesn’t feel comfortable supporting a school that stands in the way of it.” Becca grinned at Principal Evans, her trump card played. At the end of the day, money talked, and she had plenty of it.

The middle aged administrator leaned back in his chair and let out a defeated sigh. He’d been worried about that. Becca always played the money card. The truth was, BHHS relied on donations from wealthy benefactors, and the Helmsley’s had poured plenty into the school. Their annual donations were generous, and losing the next one would be deeply unfortunate. “I can look into having a special election held,” Evans said, admitting defeat.

Becca grinned. “I knew you’d see it my way. A pleasure, as always, Michael.” Becca stood up and exited the office, waving to Bev on her way back into the halls of BHHS. Reaching into her tote once more, she pulled out a stack of papers with her face printed on the front. Underneath her smiling visage were the words, “Becca Helmsley For SBP: Integrity Is Key.” She hummed the tune to a certain Disney song as she taped them up around the school.


A @smarty0114 & @Hey Im Jordan collab
Featuring: A Double Bishop & Quincy Hart
Location: Captain Cuddles





In a perfect world, A Double would be cramming pizza into his mouth, but this wasn’t a perfect world, and his girlfriend had bigger concerns. He didn’t exactly have a choice; he’d learned like three days ago, that this whole thing was just going to go better if he did what she wanted. So, here he was, standing next to Q while she was hitting button on an arcade cabinet. She was almost five dollars worth of quarters into it, and A Double had at least one thing going for him: pizza buffet.

“Are you gonna need more quarters soon?” He asked, with a mouthful of delicious, gooey, greasy, cheesy, cheese filled crust meat lover’s pizza. At least he had pizza to make himself happy… not that Q was making him unhappy, it was just… she was so competitive. “I can get you some more. And some more pizza.” The reality was he was just using Q’s buffet plate to fit more pizza and cheesy bread sticks on.

A Double’s voice broke through the din of clicking buttons and distant shouts, bringing Quincy out of her Time Crisis zone. Her plastic gun still leveled at the screen she looked over at A Double for just a moment, but that moment was long enough to leave her open to an enemy shot. The “Game Over” screen flashed, and the young stoner muttered a curse. Sighing, her gaze returned to her boyfriend - she still couldn’t quite believe she could say that - and his very cute, very kissable face. “Yeah, more quarters. And I need another root beer float,” she said, wrapping an arm around A Double’s waist and heading towards the change dispenser.

The issue of the night was this: Q prided herself on two things in this world, her smoking skills, and her Time Crisis high score. It was an objective fact that she would never be able to smoke out A Double or Wyatt, so she held that Time Crisis score close to her heart. Except, it was not the high score anymore. In fact, it wasn’t even the second highest. Some game ninja had come along in the night, and beaten her score, not once, but twice. KIT, whoever that was, would be beaten. She hoped. The truth was, she’d yet to come close. Q was good, she’d practically lived at Captain Cuddles the past year or so, but this KIT person seemed to survive on Mountain Dew and video games, because no one else could possibly get a score that high. It baffled the blonde, but she was not about to give up. “Do you think I’d be better, or worse if I went outside and smoked a joint?”

“Better. Always better.” A Double said, sliding an arm around her shoulder as they moved toward the change dispenser. There were two reasons he gave that answer: reason one, he wanted to smoke a joint. Reason two… well, everyone played better when they were high! That was just like, a scientific fact. “Are you getting close? Her scores are pretty high, dude… It’s crazy. I can’t believe some random person just shattered your scores… She’s probably pretty cool, don’t you think? Or do we hate her? I can’t tell what we’re supposed to do…”

“Not even close,” Q said, scowling as she fed a five into the change dispenser. Twenty quarters fell out of the machine into a metal cup, jangling with the sound of money and hope for a win. “I haven’t decided if I hate her or respect the fuck out of her. It’s very confusing. I don’t lose often,” Q replied. She shoved the quarters into the pocket of her jacket, and when she pulled her hand back out, a joint was resting between her fingers. She held it up to A Double, and headed for the door, pushing out into the chilly LA air.

Outside of Captain Cuddles, cars crawled by, and the honking horns of LA traffic came from all directions, near and far. She turned down an alley to the right, where people young and old were posted up against the walls. The smell of cigarettes and weed was in the air, and Q fished out a lighter to add to it. Quincy lit the joint deftly, and took a hit off it before passing it to A Double. “If I can’t beat that score, my career as a gamer is done. I’ll have to retire. This could be the end of an era, babe.”

As A Double took it, he nodded as he held it up to his lips, holding in the smoke, he spoke. “Nah, it’s okay. You just gotta like…” A Double let the smoke pour from his lungs as he thought about how to phrase his next words. He didn’t want to come off like an asshole, especially not to Quincy, who was definitely fragile… A Double had to be careful! Women were hard, that much was true... he and Wyatt were both finding that out, in their own adventures. “What if you met her, right, and then you guys got the sickest co-op high score?”

A Double was treading lightly. He had to do his best, and make sure that he didn’t pick a fight… “Because like, that would be awesome. If you guys are both this dope at the game, think about what would happen if you combined your skills! It’d be like in Dragon Ball Z when Goku and Vegeta put on the Potara earrings and became one super powerful entity!” A Double hit the blunt again before he passed it back over to Quincy, all smiles once more. “I think that’d be great…”

Quincy inhaled, and held for a moment, mulling over A Double’s suggestion. Co-op high score? That could be something. Leave it to A Double to find the positive in this situation. Taking another hit, Quincy passed the joint back, smiling. “Have I ever told you that you’re like, the nicest person I know?” she asked, leaning into him as the calming effects of the marijuana worked its way through her body.

A Double frowned, confusion apparent on his face. He wasn’t sure where that had come from, or what he had done to deserve such nice praise, but he was at least smart enough to not complain about it. Compliments were compliments, and compliments meant so much more when they came from someone you loved! A Double just smiled and leaned back into her, stealing a kiss on her cheek. “See? Now we just have to figure out how to find her! Maybe we can like… lure her with Doritos? Do you think she likes Doritos?”

Quincy laughed. “Who doesn’t like Doritos? The real question is Nacho Cheese, or Cool Ranch? What if she’s a Spicy Nacho kinda girl?” Quincy plucked the joint from him and inhaled before passing it back. A wave of inspiration flowed over her and her face lit up with an idea. “What if we hold like a tournament at Burntown or something? If she’s that good, there’s no way she could resist, and if she doesn’t show, then how cool can she be? We could bring out a TV, hook up Mortal Kombat or something. I think my mom’s probably got a generator we could borrow.”

“Whoa… that could be cool! I have a PS4 we could use, but I don’t have, like Mortal Kombat… I only got Tekken 7, do you think that would work? I got all the DLC, though!” A Double seemed proud of himself for that fact, though the reality was he just had his mother’s credit card and he’d used it to buy a couple of fighters in Tekken. “I even have a T.V. we can use! It’s not the best, but it’ll work. I bet that could work…”

“Even better!”

He leaned back and tapped his chin, thinking to himself. “I mean, that just leaves one thing… what’s the prize?”

“Easy. We smoke ‘em out, and buy them tacos. What more could a person want?” Q replied nonchalantly. Hanging out with them, smoking their weed, and getting tacos? Really, what else could somebody ask for?
And just like that, that 465 becomes 466. Heres to us, and 465 more posts :)


Featuring Jamie Callaghan & Katie Callaghan
Location: Callaghan House





As the lights in the Callaghan house went out, and Alison and Henry slipped into a much needed slumber, Katie tiptoed down the hall, to her older brother’s room. She’d been listening to his fight with their parents, but she’d waited till now to go get the full story from him. Her parents were on edge right now, and considering her own escapades, she saw no need to draw any attention to her. At Jamie’s door, she gently turned the knob, and pushed it open, slipping in and shutting the door behind her.

Jamie was lying on his bed, eyes focused on his ceiling. He turned his head slowly to see who had entered, and propped himself up on his elbows once he saw it was Katie. “Come to see the prisoner?” he joked, letting his head fall back into his pillows with a sigh. He’d been lost in a haze of thought since his fight with his parents, his mind jumping from annoyance, to anger, to self pity, to guilt, in an endless cycle that had him wishing he could text A Double and pick up something to shut his brain off.

Katie rolled her eyes, and climbed onto Jamie’s bed, laying down next to him and resting her head on his shoulder. They hadn’t had a talk like this in years, and that time it had been Jamie in Katie’s bed, and he’d been coming out to her. Now, it was Katie who had something to say. “Do you love Marshall?” she asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

Jamie looked down at her from the corner of his eye, his face scrunched into a visage of confusion. “Well, I mean, no. Not yet. I like him a lot, yeah, but… love isn’t something that comes in a week, I don’t think.” Jamie said.

“What about AJ? You loved him, right?”

Jamie sighed. He mulled it over for a moment, his mind replaying his relationship with AJ, the ups, the downs, and everything in between. “Yeah. I did. Once upon a time. Maybe I still do. Love is confusing like that. No matter how much shit happens, it’s hard to forget what you loved about someone.”

“How did you know? That you loved him, I mean.” Katie was sitting up now, staring at Jamie intently. Her face was steely, like it normally was when she was upset, but her eyes betrayed her to Jamie. She was nervous about something.

“I don’t know really. We’d been dating for a few months, and one night he told me he loved me, and I just knew.” A pang of guilt shot through him, as visions of AJ morphed into Marshall, lying below him in the grass. He pushed it away, and turned to look at Katie. This wasn’t about his confusion right now. “Why?”

Katie chewed her bottom lip, her eyes finding her lap for a moment and then looking back up at Jamie, a nervous smile spreading across her face. “I may or may not have slept with Scott. Lyon.” She studied Jamie’s stunned face for a moment, letting them sit in silence for a few moments before the overwhelming discomfort forced her to speak. “Say something, for fucks sake!” she hissed.

Jamie’s mouth remained agape, and when it did shut, he kept silent, carefully choosing his next words. Part of him wanted to go toe to toe with Scott Lyon right then, but another part of him recognized that his sister was her own person. As much as he wanted to protect her, there were certain things she’d have to go through, and this was one of those inevitable events. “Okaaaaay. Didn’t you hate him, like, two days ago?”

“Well that’s the thing. I did. And now I don’t. I think. I’m fucking confused, Jamie!” she said, falling back down next to her brother, her hands flinging into the air in defeat. “He is confusing and infuriating but he’s also sweet, and funny, and smart, and very nice to look at and his dick is-”

“I’m gonna stop you there, because I absolutely have no desire to talk about Scott Lyon’s dick,” Jamie said, a comment which sent both siblings into a fit of childish laughter. For a moment, the years melted away, and they were kids again, laughing together, blissfully unaware of the pains that the future would bring. Finally, when the laughter died, Jamie spoke up. “My advice is to stop freaking out. If he’s really all of these things, you don’t need to worry about love and shit like that. Just, go along with the ride, and if it’s meant to be, the rest will come.”

Katie smiled softly, a warmth flooding her veins. She knew what she wanted, clear as day. It had always been right there, just in front of her. “Thank you, Jamie.” she said. Her head stayed resting on his shoulder, and he reached up and gently patted her head, smiling inwardly.

“Anytime.”
Who would thought that almost a year later I'd be writing a Jamie/Katie post. Life is gud
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