Plank Sinatra

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Lauren Negasi

"She's laying over in our dorm right now," Lauren replied after swallowing her bite. There was a dab of mayo on her upper lip that she scooped off with the flat end of a piece of bacon, and she popped the crunchy sandwich meat into her mouth with a pensive smile. "She should be alright with some sleep. She was pretty messed up...dunno how I'd feel about having a semblance that heightens everything like that. I think I'm happy with just a strength and durability buff, you know? Keeps fighting simple. But Desire's tough, too. She'll be okay."

Negasi opened up her bag of chips, already wishing she'd chosen double chocolate cookies instead. She was in the mood for something ubersweet. Shrugging her shoulders, she popped a couple ruffle-cut chips into her mouth anyway and felt them crunch between her teeth.

"Thanks again for taking notes for us, Sangue. I really like history, but I'm uh...not so great at it. 'Specially not at the speed Oobleck flies through at. Missing a class might have really screwed me." She beamed her appreciation at the red-headed woman before taking another hungry bite of sandwich. "So thanks."

CLOSED

no he means he's on wi-fi in france and can't type up a profile right now

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Lauren Negasi

Amy Desire was tucked safely into the protected, silent enclave of Bastille's Bastille (Bastilleception! as Lorena herself had coined it) by the time that Lauren went to go get lunch. Her mood was a little bit stormy - least of all to the pounding that echoed in her unmedicated head, idiot that she was - and she'd ended up skipping history class as a whole in order to help Ben make sure that the half-Faunus girl on their team was properly cared for. Even that wasn't the sole root of what bugged her, though. What bugged her was...was...her mind kept going back to Amy's feathers, ruffled in agony, cringing underneath headphones, and the way that the bombastic music had suddenly just given out. Then there was Sangue, alone, dutifully taking notes for her absent, wayward teammates. That troubled her, too. Had she expected them to show up at all?

There was the root of her trouble. Lauren Negasi was a tank. A laughing, carefree tank in dark skin and a bleached leather jacket, sure. A tank with a weakness for a pretty face? Could be argued. But she was a tank, and she was put in this life - put into Beacon - to grab whatever threatened those she cared about at both ends and rip it in half.

But there were some things you couldn't grab, no matter how good you were in close quarters. And Negasi wasn't so great at that. Not like she could tell anyone that though. Amy was asleep, Ben would just tell her she was tough enough as it was, and Sa--

Sangue!

The lunch bell had rung five minutes ago. She was probably waiting for them at lunch. The thought of the 'S' in Bastille (a pretty vital letter!) sent a twist through her stomach that wasonly tangentially related to hunger.

If I were a soft-spoken altruistic cutie who liked putting the team on her back, where would I eat?

With Ben

Hrmm.

At lunch, Lauren immediately began seeking out the distinct red hair and claw that marked Sangue Naga. Finding the girl by herself dissecting a slice of pepperoni pizza with the care of a biologist, the hyped up, concussed addition to BASL grabbed herself a BLT and a bag of chips. Sauntering over to Sangue was a woozy experience; getting walking was hard by the hour [wait, what does that even mean? was she even thinking straight? freaking ben], but she kept her legs steady with the power of all the lunchtime idle chatter and sat across from Sangue with a wave.

"Hey, babe." She grinned impishly as she unwrapped her sandwich. A small piece of lettuce, flecked with a couple dots of mayo, tumbled out onto the wax paper, and she popped it into her mouth before taking a voracious, crunchy bite of lunch. Her grin found itself directed at the greasy cheese-meat-sauce hybrid in Sangue's hand, and she nodded at it with a wink. "Discovered anything new about the makeup of a piece of pizza?"

@NarayanK

CLOSED

Dallas Relo and Tara Niklos

My Hider

Location: The Relo-pad
Interacting with: Each other

A bottle flew across the room, smashing into the wall behind Dallas' head.

"RELO!" An angry voice followed it. "The next one won't miss. I knew you were weak, but daaaaaang. I thought you were above giving alcohol to twelve year olds."

Notice me, Tara-chan!

...Oh, god damn it, Jonas. Should've never let him plant that foreign Toonami shit in his head in the first place. Now it was spreading. Dallas nimbly brushed broken glass into his sink and cleaned the beer off the side of his hand as thought it were an open cut. The taste was hoppy in his mouth. Dammit, Tara, why'd you have to throw one of the good ones?

Undeterred, Relo leaned back over the counter and flipped the leather collar of his jacket.

"Is that what this is about?" Dallas asked, grinning at the sound of the ferocious female voice that had rang out from near his door. "Did you steal my church key, too? You know, Tara, that's a family heirloom. If you want some jewelry, babe, all you gotta do is stop lying about your birthday."

The next one didn't miss.

Dallas picked up the can - thank Christ it was a can this time - and took a deep breath. No doubt that'll be a bruised sternum in the morning, he thought gingerly, breathing deeply. He wasn't letting himself get pissed off; it would mean another lecture from his sister, a party story for the ages, and - more importantly - it might mean a loss in his column. Lord knew he'd been drinking.

Dallas, however, was still a dirty boxer at heart, and after setting the can on the counter he dug his fingernails into his palms and felt his knuckles crack.

"The kiss of life," he deadpanned. "What is it, Tara? Can I take your orders?"

"Awful hard to do without this." Tara was twirling the missing church key around her fingers, clockwise, then counterclockwise. "Seriously, Relo. For the gods sake. A twelve year old?"

"Right? I think my bouncer must have been dreaming about me on the job." Dallas eyed the bottle opener, tracing its rotations with his eyes, and half his mouth quirked upwards in a dry smile. "Can I please have it back?"

"...one more line like that out of you and I'm using it to unlock your spine."

"Can I have a moment alone with my spine? We had some good times together."

"Your choice, Relo. The spine or the key."

Tara hopped down off of the counter she'd been sitting on, shaking her head. "I know what I'd pick, but I know you have different... Priorities."

"Orrrrr you could just tell me what you took it for, before I stop feeling so smiley," Dallas finished, looking over his latest patron's head to Tara Niklos. "Jonas'll just steal that back for me eventually, but I'd rather get this sorted out now. All the arguing's really not good for our relationship."

The smile dropped on his face, and he leaned against the counter - with his back - to look at Tara down the room.

"What do you want, Tara?"

"Numerous things. One of them being the cessation of any implication that you and I are together."

"Jonas says I should just ask you out and be done with it."

Jonas had said no such thing.

"...Well, I can guarantee your face a date with my fist."

Her furious brown eyes flickered to Jonas. He'd pay later.

"I'm probably your best option in this apartment, honestly." Dallas was having so much fun that a punch in the face might have been worth it. It was hard to keep his expression stony and his smile cool. "Handsome, quick-witted, been boxing since I was old enough to make fists. I like Lays, you like Fritos. I smile all the time and you look like someone's hung a shit-scented air freshener from the tip of your nose. We couldn't go wrong."

i'll miss you face

The date between face and fist went about as well as could be expected. Tara seemed to have pulled her punch-while it hurt like the dickens, she wasn't trying to break his nose or even really bloody it. She just wanted the pain factor.

With the counter behind him, Dallas wasn't in any danger of getting himself blown the fuck out; the blonde demigod took a step back and leaned on his elbows, slouching slightly, against his countertop. With a groan that Dallas, in his own humble opinion, thought disguised a laugh pretty well, he reached up with a thumb and held it to the side of each nostril at a time, testing his sinuses. When he took a breath with the left, a small stream of blood bubbled and trickled down to his upper lip.

Worth it.

"Thanks for coming out," Relo deadpanned.

Tara's fists fell back to her sides and she let out a long breath, tension fading out of her body. "Don't act like you enjoy me being here, Relo."

"You'd be face down in my sink with blood pouring out of your ear if I didn't enjoy you being here." Dallas gingerly wiped the blood away with a thumb and wrapped the digit in a napkin. With a twist, he got as much of the blood as he could off the nail and sucked the rest off. "Granted, of all the queens here tonight, I think you get the crown for shittiest bouncer, but it's not a Dallas Relo party without you to complete the team. I mean, shit, I haven't even needed light fixtures since you got old enough to glower at us."

"It's night, Relo. You can take me in the day, but not now. And since evidently your security staff is crappy... Plus that the team is only me... Means there's really nothing to back up idle threats."

A slight expression of disdain, then a smirk. "I'll take that as a compliment on my winning smile."

"No, no, I said you had a great glower. Your smile's fucking gruesome."

"...The last time left you with your teeth, Relo. The repeat might change that."

"Orrrrrrr it might not. I've taken worse gambles when it comes to you, and sometimes I don't even bruise." Dallas grinned and, still propped on his elbows, hopped onto the counter. He planted his right foot on the lip of the sink, a few inches to Tara's left, and crossed his left over his ankle.

The heady brew of testosterone at a boil drew Dallas' attention over the counter to Zeke - and then farther, to where Clarissa was making out with some beatnik Dal hadn't caught before.

"Sides. Silver lining."

He cocked his head at the liplock, and the son of Zeus not far away.

"We're not as gross as that accident waiting to happen."

"Well, Relo," Tara said, her eyes narrowing as she followed the cocked head.

"You're no longer the nexus of hate. Congratu-#######-lations."

...?

...

...!

"Aww. Thanks."

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

You've got a cooler team name than literally almost any other team save Bastille, Vignoble, or Swansong.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Drastic times

call for JURASSIC MEASURES

CLOSED

<Snipped quote by HereComesTheSnow>

You're not being very helpful you know.

@XxLyraxX

welcome to my life

CLOSED

Dallas Relo

Location: Relo-pad, manning Bartarus
Interacting With: Rozalia Éathliel @MiddleEarthRoze

"Peachy," Dallas drawled, turning around to face the party at large. His kitchen counter had served as a pretty good open bar throughout the night, so the son of the sun reached down reflexively to grab two beers - Christ, alright, he needed one too - and place them on the countertop. "You'd swear I was Atlas junior tonight, though. Hard to stay upright under the weight of all my altruism." His eyes found Jonas on the couch and he spared a quick upward head tilt and a grin.

Now, back to the question of these beers. With a sigh, Dallas unzipped his jacket and fished his silver medallion out from underneath the neckline of a black shirt. Slouching down over the bar to slip the edge of his pendant under a beer cap, he managed to pop it with a flourish. To emphasize the motion, he clicked his tongue loudly off the back of his front teeth, and then mimicked the motion with the other beer. He was halfway through sliding one over to the girl who'd walked up to him when he spared a glance at her himself. Slowly, one dark gold eyebrow lifted up.

...

"Okay. Soothe my weary conscience here. Lie to me and say you're at least seventeen."

Debasing Catholic saints to serve beer to little kids. The struggle between Mount Olympus and Dante's Inferno for his soul was gonna be R E A L.

His eyebrow lowered, and he slid the beer over the countertop to the girl anyway. He held back briefly on taking a sip of his own, spinning the St. Christopher medal on the end of the chain around his index fingertip. After it had made about three or four orbits, he reached over and grabbed the cold bottle by the neck, taking a drink. He felt his throat bobbing under the cold brew.

Aaaaand there were the familiar needles. Right through his eyes.

GOES

DOWN

SMOOTH.

CLOSED

Dallas Relo

Location: Olympus Academy, Relo Apartment
Interacting With: No one, open

Well, this had escalated. Not that Dallas wasn't one to adore some escalation, and not that he hadn't explicitly avoided moving in until the party started popping off; his apartment, devoid of one couch and a mattress currently without a bed frame, remained unmolested by such nuisances as furniture or school necessities or food. He had a phone charger, a sofa, and a place to sleep; until such time as the last guest had walked out and the last drop was dry, that was enough to sustain Dallas Relo through most things. The only problem was that, after all, he hadn't had a wink of sleep the night before, and that the party's higher and higher frequency must have been directly proportional to the dangerous spikes in his brain waves.

Not only had most of the class of demigods fit into his apartment and started burning through the beer (all praise to the football team, for augmenting his and Zeke's beer reserves with enough brews to float them through to homecoming) but it appeared that, as the night had gone on, only more and more people had started forwarding his group text forward, so that there was a constant stream of activity around the door. Originally the plan had been for an 18+ age limit, but Dallas had quickly scrapped that after Jonas' sister - whom Dallas, despite (and because of) the constant and violent threats towards his face, perennially flirted with - had showed up and declared herself bouncer of the party. When he'd seen Vivian, the reason he'd wanted to keep the party quiet in the first place, filter in with Delilah, he said fuck it to policing demigods and started letting whoever in.

Then there had been the case of his missing church key - not twenty minutes after he'd taken it off and left it on the counter where he would frequently serve beers to whoever asked, he walked up to grab a lager and found that his mother's bottle opener had been made off with by someone. For someone who was such a kleptomaniac himself, the reaction prompted wouldn't have looked out of place, if, say, a child of Ares was revealed to have a glass jaw within ten seconds of stepping into the octagon.

Or, you know. If someone had broken into da Vinci's flat and started wiping his ass on every drawing with an invention on it.

On top of all that, Zaheen, that Aladdin-looking motherfucker, had locked himself in Dallas' bedroom almost instantly. Probably just marathoning Diablo or something yet again. Now bereft of a bedroom and a family heirloom, a headache had started to churn behind his eyes like storm clouds, obscuring his very vision. The pain in his eyes only grew worse with beer - every cold drink felt like a needle through his irises. But drinking was the name of the game tonight, and by God, he was going to be the Tom Brady of tonight's game. Even if it meant that the normally quite-provocative demigod was reduced to responding to yelled greetings and high fives with a series of:

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Good to see you."

And, when thanked for the party,

"No prob. Thanks for coming out."

And the greetings and high fives were constant. Dallas' apartment had been the topic of half the conversations he was dragged into so far during the night, and the son of Apollo himself was unmistakable with his electric blue jacket, bold eyes, and face on full display. He managed grins when he had to, thanked the contributors when he saw them, and made an effort to float through this party as sober as he could manage.

Despite the temptation.

Which he could totally beat.

...Maybe.

CLOSED

<Snipped quote by Plank Sinatra>

Y E A H B O Y ! G E T T H E M !

Am I cool yet?

@karamonnom

never