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well, what choice do we have


Location | you're still in the middle of the fucking desert
Los Angeles Time | 1:22 PM / London Time | 8:22 PM / Moscow Time | 11: 22 PM
Interacting with | Each other / AJ @TootsiePop / Val @Dirty Pretty Lies / Sami @BrutalBx


Inside the Lotus, the cold war over the cupholder situation had become untenable; what had begun with some lighthearted jabs and whining about where to store Yessi’s drink had grown heated when Aleks refused to let her set her water bottle, dripping with condensation, onto the leather seat of her true love’s race car. That had sparked a fresh torrent of Hispanic sound and fury in his ear, more gripes about the Roadster, more blah blah blah. Finally, he had reached a compromise with her and stuck out the back of his hand, perfectly balanced, for Yessi to store her drink upon. The water rested perfectly within the contours of his tattoo like a rocket on its launch pad, at a perfect level for Yessi to grab and sip from at her leisure. Maybe it wasn’t as preferable as having the convenience of a cold drink gripped between her thighs, but if the petulant bitch kept this up she wouldn’t be squeezing Aleks with them either for a while. Besides, by now, he had demonstrated with a sniper’s precision that his hand was incapable of budging, even at this speeds.

I am a fucking amazing cupholder.

Aleks had rolled the window down and crooked his left elbow on it, so that he could steer and feel the desert breeze on his bare forearm at the same time. It was not unseasonably hot yet, and the heat on his skin was still dry and comfortably arid. It also served to carry his voice out of the car, a barometer for the enjoyment he took from whatever particular song happened to be playing. Sometimes that was Gwen’s radio station; sometimes it was a mix from his own phone. The latter was currently on the docket.

I found blood, and I saw stars


Aleks’ lilting accent had risen high, audibly straining to be heard over the music and the California wind buffeting the Lotus, crawling through his window, angrily mussing his hair with fifty-fingered tendrils; it blew away from his forehead in large tufts, the way that girls liked to push it away from his forehead.

He turned to Yessi.

And I told you it was love


The Cold War kid winked at his best friend playfully, tilting his head away from the road and towards his passenger, so the wind couldn’t hurl his blown kiss from the window.

How could she ever be mad at such a polite boy?

I’m a young man, in my prime


And it goes on clear!

The unusual quietness of a particular brat should have been a clear giveaway to the second most precious human being on the planet, that she was up to her usual antics.

The scrolling through the phone in her hands, that was obviously not her own, (as hers was protected by a custom case sporting a collage of pictures she had ‘stolen’ of Aleks), was easily going over Aleks’ head, between balancing her water bottle and battling the music coming from the speakers of the not Roadster with his off-key singing, he was perfectly occupied.

First thing on the agenda was to add a touch of Astraia to the device he always tried to keep her away from. How bold of him to put the most important person in his life as a simple “Yessi”, lame, none of that shit. Those bitches that somehow managed to guilt him into their beds would know she was that bitch when they looked at his phone. Speaking of, his lock screen needed a little refresher…

With the first of two missions complete she turned her gears to the music selection, while she could not deny how much she adored seeing him like this, MGMT was sadly not on her list of road trip ‘bops’. A small smile found her lips as her thumb hovered over the theme song of her life, with a smooth motion she returned that kiss blown her way with a quick peck to his lips while switching the tunes of the car from the rock band to the current queen of pop.

“Yeah, breakfast at Tiffany's and bottles of bubbles.”

Well, he could take the thot out of the city, but...

Who the fuck was he kidding. Ariana was Ariana. God bless American pop princess number one!

This opened up a whole new trap, though. Yessi was known for her coordination and poise in almost any position, but if she was sitting upright in a vehicle and attempting to dance, Aleks had learned to avert his motherfucking eyes and keep his extremities to himself all the time, lest he wind up being Fabioed by a stray rich girl limb. With his arm outstretched and Yessi's water balancing on the delicate bones of the back of his hand, a veritable plastic house of cards, his eyes glazed over with all the possibilities of dashboards, t-shirts, jeans, all being soaked through with one stray elbow during that infectious fucking hook...

Ah, shit. At least it's only water.

Unless she soaked his phone. Then she would be less Ari dancing in the car and more Pete, stranded on the fucking highway.

Stranded on the fucking highway?

He saw the familiar highlighter-colored Benz pull to the side of the road up ahead of him, parking on the shoulder in front of an absolutely blown-the-fuck-out recreational camper. The low, desperate wail of a banshee would have risen up from the throat of a lesser human, one perhaps less accustomed to the high maintenance cost of that messy pansexual tornado currently trouncing over to the RV. Whoever was in the driver's seat seemed less than enthused by AJ's charm offensive; yelling, AJ yelling back, more yelling, fourth verse was same as the first. Aleks had seen this show before.

The Mexican munchkin bouncing out of the RV and rolling up on AJ was an unforeseen variable. That wail threatened to well up in his chest; Aleks managed to crush it without a sound, although the effort it took would probably come back to give him a heart attack by the time he was 45. He heard the characteristic sound of a slap on one of AJ's pretty cheekbones. Ah, fuck.

He muttered his next curse in Russian. It was...worse than ah, fuck.

Unbuckling his seat belt and casting open the door, Aleks gently lowered the water bottle into the driver's seat, all fear of a moisture ring on the leather evaporating with the same ease that the condensation itself likely would. He slammed the door shut, Yessi and his phone and all of his concerns still sitting inside with the air running, and started advancing on the scene of the accident. The raised voices were about what he expected.

“Your face looks busted as hell, I’d only make it worse. Like, man, if I had a face like yours, I’d fucking sue my parents.”

Ah, no, no.

”You’re dead, pendejo.”

no no no pleaaaaaaaaaaaase

The sound of a low, soft whistle cut through the stifling desert air as Aleks approached, like the sound of a tea kettle slowly coming to boil; Aleks' long pianist's fingers were miming turning down the dial on a stove, attempting to relieve some of the pressure inside his friend's hot head before he wound up dehydrating himself.

“--ove you, J. But damn, man: you really are a pain in the ass.”

The fingers on the dial outstretched and turned into a silent wave - before patting the midget on the head and ruffling her hair.

"Sssh. Please. You're all okay?" the Russian asked softly, crossing his arms across his chest and reaching out with a foot.

He nudged the RV with a toe to see if it would do anything. More steam. He didn't need Chris for 'steam = bad.'
A friend and I have a pair of students who study aerospace in Academy City that might fit in this RP. And as it happens we're in search of a Toaru game.


"Ah, who fucking cares," Dallas demurred, although his eyebrow seemed to cock upwards in some mild display of trepidation at the new kid's bad touch vibes. If it fixed whatever dark, monstrous CTE ravaged Viv's head to the point where she could just spit out words like 'dandy' without a hint of shame, then keep on keeping on, whatever. "You came. You saw. You conquered an incisor or two. We'll laugh about this story together in a few years, as long as you don't fall asleep with a concussion and wind up a vegetable. But I guess you have a friend for that now."

He had been about to press a cold one to Viv's head as a temporary measure, but now that Dr. Phil had stepped in and cleared up everything in Viv's head but the sunshine and rainbows, he cracked it open and prepared to polish off the whole can to ease the throbbing in his own temples--

“Hey, JoJo.”

Is that a motherfucking--

“I'm surprised you're not on security detail this time around, sweetie! Does this mean you finally have some time to hang out with me?”


Then the implication of the words struck him like a cannonball to the chest, and Dallas paused with the beer can held to his lips. For a cautious second, he waited - held his breath to see if the words were just a hallucination brought on by some of the pot smoke in the air, or maybe bran damage he'd done by watching more than one anime in a year like he had when he'd first started attending Olympus. Maybe it was just a herald that something had gone wrong in the Matrix, like a black cat walking by twice through the same hallway. Were half the people at this lake about to start turning to dust?

There was no way they could. He felt way too good.

"Ahem. Better watch where you point that thing. I can't summon my own, but that might count as a weapon."


Beaming, Dal turned around and took up a position between Marcella and Kelsey; it was a comfortable spot between two friends, neither of whom he'd be opposed to waking up with tomorrow morning, and more importantly it was the best perch at the entire lake to watch Jonas humiliate--


"Ah. Ariana."


"You guys should tune in for this," he stage whispered to the beer-besotted valkyries on either side of him. "This is about to be a fucking treat. Look at him. Those vacant eyes. That dumb grin. Brainpan thick like a fucking bank vault. It's all a ruse. He knows exactly what he's doing. This guy fucks. He doesn't sleep with us demigods because he thinks we're all too spoiled as it is, but I've partied with him during summer breaks. Five girls, back to back, when we turned twenty. They still have a sign of him up in the VIP lounge of the club we crashed at. There's a fucking titanium nameplate underneath it with 'Immortan Joey' etched into it. The backs he blew out that day laid the foundation for what this party is now. And blowing weed in his face? Fucking a. Like giving Shendu all twelve fucking talismans. He's either about to humiliate her or cut a sex tape you'd need the fucking Fram Cam to appreciate. If he humiliates her then Jesus returns by Christmas. If he gets laid then you can use my shirtless body for the beer pong table."

He finished his can of beer and watched Joey blunder his way through what would have been a very simple "get the fuck out of my face, Arthur" if Dal were in his shoes. It was hard to stop a grin from unfurling on his face, or keep the twinkle out of his electric blue eyes. If any of what he had said was a lie, it was rattled off convincingly - and without any hesitation.

"Look at him go. It's like watching Scott Summers try and take a fucking eye exam."

This cannot be happening to me.

She was not the sort of woman without honor, the kind of coward, who would slay her own beloved older brother. The fact that he was a faithless American pigdog that teamkilled his own little sister in 2v4 situations in video games was irrelevant. The blood that ran through his veins was half hers, and even if her remaining blood was redder and hotter and more valuable than his, the shared variable was still enough for her to feel protective of Jonas Highwind. Boys were for slaying, not for laying, indeed...but Jonas wasn't for slaying or laying. He was for...saying.

Saying important things. Like.

Oniiii-chan. Dana needs money for shopping. Give her yours.

Oniiii-chan. Dana is going out with Bekah for the evening. She will need a set of keys for the truck. Give her yours.

Oniiii-chan. Dana's controller batteries are dead. Give her yours.

Oniiii-chan. Dana wants to practice her fatalities and will be taking a spine spine. Give her yours.

Oniiii-chan. Dana should not need to tell you that Ari-chan is not for riding. Give her nothing!

Had Ariana not wanted to come to the party after all? A simple no would have sufficed. Why would the daughter of Aphrodite force her friend to watch idly as her lunkhead older brother was tortured like this? A dog did not understand why a cruel owner would strike it. A deer could not comprehend the headlights hurtling towards it. Jonas was going to politezone Ari so hard! Dana would be forced to cringe until her fingers dug all the way through her arms and back into her wrists!

Kaz would be loving this.

But she was not as cruel as Kaz.

"I appreciate the offer, but if you're worried that you'd be taking the other Ares kid from her post, don't. Dana'd be free to hang out with you so long as she keeps an eye on everyone else, so you don't have to make do with me or anything like that."

"Hm? Oh."

TRAITOROUS NII-CHAN? YOU THINK TO FUCK ME? HUH? HUH? AFTER ALL I DO FOR YOU! BBBBBBBBBḆ̭̞̲͖ͪ͑̈́ͅA̭̩͛͑̄͒̾̑K͕̦̬̙͕̗̐͛̐̈ͤ͋̌̽A̤̻͙̙̗̘ͪ͑͋͂ ̯͓̞̬̜͍̥̈ͬͤ́ͥ̍B̲͚̺̦̳̜̞͉̗̍̃ͨÄ̙̤͍̳̜̘́K͓̞̙ͣͮ̓ͬͩA̞̗͍͓̖̞̞͐ͅ ̥̍̈̿ͫͩ͗̆ͬ̓Ḅ̖̙̯͕̘̹̉̈̂A̩̓ͯ́͌̊ͬ͗̍K̭̞̲͓ͩͤͤ́̌ͨ́̂Ȧ͚̟̲̫̝͆͐̓!͈̘̹̱͔͎̖̹̖̈́ͧ̊

Bad enough that the kiss Ariana had blown Dana still lingered on Dana's fingertips, where the Japanese girl had playfully caught it and meant to mime returning it - before Dana had deduced where Ari was sauntering, of course. She was supposed to be working security so Dallas could waste his life in sin and iniquity, for fuck's sake! She did not want to have to spend half the night distracted, explaining to her spurned friend why her fucking traitorous idiot pigdog onii-chan thought his dick was supposed to be used like an alarm clock! Why he thought babies came from fucking C-130s! Why else would he still be a virgin at the age of twenty?


Why should she be forced to explain that!?


Rebekah was going to kill something tonight.

"Ari-chan is good girl," she insisted politely, mustering all of her inner strength and her middling command of English. "But if you want to hang out with your friends tonight, I can hang out with mine. We can both keep eye on things together."


Location | In-N-Out Burger, short-term / which circle of Hell is bullying(?), long-term
Los Angeles Time | 11:54 AM / London Time | 6:54 PM / Moscow Time | 9:54 PM
Interacting with | he will kill us all @TootsiePop / Gearheads


Tantrum number one.

Aleks watched calmly, with only a quartet of quick blinks, as AJ stormed off in search of a toothpick and then off to the bathroom. He clocked that explosive tantrum at a mere...four minutes. How unfortunate. No wonder Jamie dumped him with that kind of stamina. But the Russian wasn't particularly bothered, nor did he take offense at the fries that showered upon the other side of the table, peppering Yessi, Chris and Aleks with the remainder of AJ's sides. One had landed on Aleks' left forearm; with precision, so that it didn't tip over and fall to the ground, he lifted his arm up as gently as he would cradle a butterfly - and then bit down on the end of the fry, balancing it between his lips like a cigarette before eating it hands-free.

"Spasiiiiiboooooo, braaaatááááááán~!" he called out when he had finished, watching the direction AJ had stormed off in. A wide smile broke out on his face as he turned to face the rest of his Gearheads, accent flowing with ease and patience. "This will be very fucking fun. I am very fucking excited."

It seemed like not everyone shared his enthusiasm for being trapped on the road with this convoy of heartbroken egomaniacs and spoiled trust fund kids. He faintly registered the familiar rhythm of Yessi's fingers drumming on his own, trying to stealthily weave them between each other. He held her hand back and squeezed, following her gaze up to Matt. He didn't know what was going on there. Personally, it didn't interest Aleks as much as the extra French fries that AJ had seen fit to dump into his and Yessi's trays. But he had seen her look happier at some false positives than she looked right now, and it seemed like Matty had been the tug that sent AJ over the edge, too.

Oh well.

"Privyet, Matty. You can have some fries if you want. Finder's fee. Monica, you want fries?"

Dallas beamed and winked at Milwaukee's Best, waving cheerfully at her from his perch upon the hood of Jonas' truck. Normally he'd be more than happy to team up with her and show everyone how a couple of truly alcohol besotted fuckups could marshal a beer pong table, but Marcy had finally arrived - and Dallas/Marcy were the fucking Road Warriors of this shit, five years running. As much as he would have preferred to make up the messy bitch tandem of Dustyn/Kelse--


"I gotcha, Kelsey," he crowed, clearly pleased at her name finally clicking in his head - even if he wouldn't let on that it had been plaguing him all day. "I gotcha on sex, too, if that's an open invitation, Dust. Marcy, form up, bitch. We march, we happy few, onto the battlefield ag--"


Dallas visibly deflated at the familiar sound of his little sister. Although she was the first person he'd invited, out of courtesy and a deep fraternal love for including his sister in things, he was hoping that Viv's general naivety and klutzy nature wouldn't go so far as to actively cockblock his dreams of a good night. Clearly he had chosen to put his faith in the wrong place again. Explained why he was still a Catholic.

"How hard did you hit your head, kiddo?" he called out. "Need any ice?"

Dana bobbed patiently on top of her keg. She had been given an empty one to sit on top of while she vetted people who were either not cool enough or too belligerent to be allowed near Dallas. He was mainly worried about the 'not cool enough' part; more than likely he would have thrived off of some belligerence at the lake this evening, but it was the first day of school and he had been convinced by onii-chan that he was already willfully toeing a number of lines this evening already. Instead the task of cleaning up the undesirables was left to Dana. Dallas had scribbled something onto a nametag and slapped it onto the chest of the coat she'd changed into.

C.G.B.G. Her mouth formed the letters with a faint wonder, trying to grasp the intricacies of both the acronym and the son of the sun's deranged, partied out, nympho-maniacal brain. She didn't know why he made such a big deal out of it. She hadn't even brought her biggest pistol, let alone her biggest gun. It was safe under her coat waiting.

She straightened her back proudly, gingerly crossing and uncrossing her feet at the ankles and staring at the surface of her boots. She was growing very bored waiting to prove her dominance over drunk people - and her favorite person was not quite drunk enough for Dana to accost her yet. She tilted her head back to Rebekah and Rhea; they were both still sober and watching Dallas uneasily, as if he would still be the biggest problem that evening. Maybe he would be. That would be very Dallas of him.

If only there were a way for her to start trouble, in order to solve trouble...without having to start or solve trouble with her friends...


Problem solver Dana-chan!

To: Ari-chan 💕 (For Shopping)
hello ari-chan!!

That was a very polite opening text, along the lines of what she usually sent. Dana waited a few seconds to imagine that Ariana had said hello back before she sent her second text.

To: Ari-chan 💕 (For Shopping)
the party at the lake is beginning. i am on security. unfortunately no one is fighting yet. so you should come! give boys reasons to fight! then we can slay them

To: Ari-chan 💕 (For Shopping)
metaphorically. for you. literally for me.

Bringing an Aphrodite girl would spark many fights. Then Dana's job as security girl could truly begin.

The Japanese girl grinned, feet kicking with excited little bangs against the empty metal drum where she sat.

Location | In-N-Out Burger
Los Angeles Time | 11:53 AM / London Time | 6:53 PM / Moscow Time | 9:53 PM
Interacting with | Fuck it, the Gearheads. / @Hoekage @CosmicComet @TootsiePop @GhostMami @BleedingLover


Aleks liked the way the ice rattled in his cup. It made him imagine the sound Yessi would make if he lost patience and started choking her. His fingers, clutching the pliable rim of the plastic lid, released their hold on his empty drink; the Russian reached his arm around and trapped Yessi's neck in the crook of his right arm, pulling her away from Chris and closer to him in a one-armed chokehold. Or an embrace, if you thought he was feeling particularly affectionate towards Yessi. Aleks chose to think of the involuntary motion as a hybrid of the two. It kept the bitch contained for a moment, long enough for him to plant a quick kiss on the top of her head that he was certain she would complain about. He was pretty sure she'd just had her hair done; doubtless, she would start complaining that his evil Communist lips and fingertips would only fuck it up. Fine. He was sure one of his other assembled best friends would be happy to be his go-to kiss.

AJ could have used a firm making out with, frankly, in order to bring him back to the plane of reality they all inhabited and not the one he had journeyed to where they all harbored Jamie in their shadows. Knowing him, he would argue that any kiss planted on him wasn't as good as one he could have planted, but Aleks let that slide like the bullshit it was. AJ couldn't even tie a cherry stem with his tongue, let alone do it on beat to most songs below 120 bpm.

Like Aleks could.

The surly Russian boy leaned forward on the bench, resting his elbow on the edge of the table and cupping two fingers under his chin. His food sat underneath him, momentarily untouched. If he didn't start going in on it soon, Yessi and Chris would begin to repurpose and cannibalize his order, flinging half of it at AJ while polishing off the remainder by themselves. He was hungry, too. But it would be rude to start digging in like he was at a trough - and especially after there were new arrivals present. Monica and Manda were connected like chain links at the elbow, so the smile and brief wink he directed specifically at Monica was aimed at both of them. He waved at them with his fingers before finally letting Yessi go and beating her to the punch by grabbing a French fry.

"Hey," he said in a simple, general greeting to the new arrivals, raising the fry and lowering it from horizontal to vertical, then back, then forth. His next sentence was directed to Monica specifically: "Should've brought my bike instead. I still need the practice."

❝Glad to see you springing back to your natural self. Oh, you.❞

Aleks' mouth tightened in mock severity.

"I am not joking," the Russian insisted, though his soft drawl made the j- sound more pronounced and gave it a faintly pouty sound. "It is bugging me."

There was a faint beat of silence as he kept raising and lowering the French fry, closing an eye so that he could imagine its shape was framing his bratán's chin, then his jawline. Then his wrist bent forward so that he could flick the spud at AJ's face, just as Yessi had. Aleks' mouth tightened again, this time into a coquettish smile.

"I raised you to have better table manners, God damn it."
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