Plank Sinatra

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

my daddy taught me not be ashamed of our bacon strips

especially since they're so crispy and all

@HereComesTheSnow

well my daddy taught me things too

like how to make it even crunchier by putting it between some buns

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

<Snipped quote by HereComesTheSnow>

It's harder to self-insert as Ben.

@Crimmy

every six weeks, crimmy's shit taste pops up again. if it sees a shadow of an ahoge it decides to reveal itself in the OOC, if not, it bides its time

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

I Put A Spell On You

Days ago.

( @Write, @HereComesTheSnow, @Crimmy, @Silvan Haven )

"I just don't appreciate being tinkered with, that's all."

The route through Downtown down to Portside was infamous throughout Atlas. In its heyday, it had been a crowning achievement of infrastructure - a straight shot from the heart of a fledgling city down to the coastline of Mantle, a working artery of trade and prosperity that helped to build Atlas from the dirt into the most advanced kingdom on the planet. Now it was the road less traveled. The ride was bumpy even within the confines of Heinrich's plush domestic sports car, and there were long strips where only the LEDs on the dashboard and the occasional twinkle of headlights flashed by like a firefly. It was perfect drag racing territory - a test of skill and a promise of speed.

Jericho Piper had been driving this road since he was five years old, when he and his twin would sit on each other's shoulders to see through the windshield. It was so comfortable to him that even a paragon of law and order such as he felt comfortable pushing speeds of...very high speeds, suffice it to say...on their drive down to the cruise ship Sleipnir. His passenger, however, seemed to prefer nannying him to death over surrendering to the Zen of triple digit speeds on a long-dead road.

One gloved hand tightened on the steering wheel.

"Yes, well. You do have the right to complain a little more loudly, you know," Heinrich griped. He was staring at Jericho's arm in resentment. "You are a man of high standing in my court. If I had my way they would have never grafted that damned thing to your hand in the--"

"I don't want to talk about this again, Heinrich. If I believed there were any use in whining like a little kid, I'd be doing it." Jericho's right arm reached out and pushed Heinrich into the shotgun door, a rare moment of physical contact. "I shouldn't even have brought it up. I'm feeling alright by now. It's mostly just...an ache."

"An ache?"

Jericho was quiet for a second before removing his hand from his team leader's shoulder. Two fingers locked around the volume knob on the car's sound system and turned it to the right.

"You know, there are seventeen trained masseuses on board Sleipnir," Heinrich suggested after a second's pause to listen to music. "If you're aching, I have half a mind to send one to you by proxy."

"You won't know where I stay."

"You underestimate a King's knowledge of his Kingsguard, dear Jericho. I know you better than you know yourself. You'll find a nice little nest in the cargo hold out of people's luggage, and damn the strain it puts on your poor, supple back. Because I'm Jericho Piper, and I'm scared that if I ever enjoy a warm bed or human contact for once in my life, I might forget to put on my frowny face--"

"I never forget my frowny face. As you love to remind me."

"Yes, well, it's going to leave wrinkles one day."

"It will not." Jer put his elbow to the wheel and gently touched his face, stroking back long, dark hair from his eyes. Heinrich's own eyes, blue and twinkling, grew wide as saucers.

"Oho! Is that a hint of vanity from the Young Devil of Atlas?"

"Don't call me that," Jericho grumbled. "No one calls me that."

"It was in the school newspaper and everything. Maybe if you didn't want a moniker, you shouldn't try so hard to dominate in all the gauntlets. Or at least cut off the devil horns in your hair."

"Horns don't point down, idiot." Nonetheless, Jericho's posture had straightened up, and he turned his head away from Heinrich to stare at the not-too-distant lights of Portside across the overpass. He was always touchy about the hair.

"You're an elite member of the school's ranks - a knight, even. You were chosen for an indefinite solo operation within the belly of the beast. You get to spend as much time as you want on a cruise ship, getting class credits, with no one you know around to irritate you," Heinrich Gault pestered. "And you're still finding reasons to pout."

"M'not pouting." In the darkness, it was hard to see Jericho's face, which was usually set in the same default expression anyway. But he sounded pouty.

"You're being churlish, my dear boy."

"M'not churlish."

"You are. You're being churlish about three weeks off."

"It is not three weeks off. It's an important mission and a threat to Atlesian diplomacy. I'm not going to be sunbathing and hitting sambuca with Mistralian girls."

"What a specific denial, brother," Heinrich chortled. "Only you make an extra three weeks away from class sound like water torture."

"I like being water tortured," grumbled Jericho Piper. "It's rhythmical. Gives me time to think."

Heinrich Gault opened his mouth to respond to that, but closed it after a second, and his eyebrows bobbed. No doubt he knew better than to follow that line of conversation any further.

"I told you we'd keep up with the workload for you."

"That's not what I'm concerned about. It's the team. They're..." There was a moment of tense silence in the car. Jericho's hands were both clutching the steering wheel tight as an old woman's before his next outburst: "Did you know Speer drew a frog with my hair on it in the front cover of my history book?"

Loud, honeyed laughter began to rock the car violently.

"Did he really? Oh that is pricele--"

The car's sudden brake pump put a sudden stop to the rich Atlesian's mirth, replacing it with quiet breaths for air as he checked to ensure his precious whip hadn't been involved in an accident. Neither Huntsman was wearing a seatbelt, but Jericho had time to brace himself for a break in the momentum, and looked to Heinrich with a stoic face and a coquettish glint in the eye that wouldn't look out of place in any other member of HJNS. The dock Sleipnir was moored at was still three or four blocks away, but this was as close as Jericho dared get inside Heinrich's gauche gold coupe. His left hand made for the door before Heinrich stopped him.

"Sure you don't want me to walk you to your bike?"

"I'm not Babylon, Rich. I don't need the chivalry shtick."

Heinrich Gault gauged that and then tilted his head, reaching over and ruffling Jericho's hair despite his grouchy protests (_{"ow stop you're gonna mess it all up OW STOP you're making it glowwwww"}) with a crooked grin.

"Very well. Fare thee well, Jericho! Live, laugh, and learn to love while on your sojourn, and we shall meet again on the morrow!"

Jericho rolled his eyes.

"Are those my orders?"

"Yes!" Heinrich Gault beamed.

...

Jericho's chin met his clavicle in thought for a long second before a faint, gentle smile finally graced the face of the Young Devil.

"Acknowledged. Take care of yourself, brother. I'll be back in no time - with flawless results and no crazy stories. As per usual."

Jericho stepped out of the driver's seat and began to walk down the street, slowly fading from Heinrich's view as the black-clad Huntsman ebbed into the midnight hour. Rich got the faintest glimpse of Jer's back, lit up by the hot-red taillight of a custom motorbike, before it peeled away from the rendezvous point and towards the cruise ship.

...

Ahh, who am I kidding.

Heinrich Gault slipped into the driver's seat with a rueful grin - and, this time, he grabbed his seatbelt.

He's not gonna have any fun.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Lauren X Ben = Glaze Steel

@NarayanK

They're just Bengasi.

Sangue X Ben = Very Unlikely

@NarayanK

Fuck you.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

I Put A Spell On You

@HereComesTheSnow @Silvan Haven @Crimmy @Write @Onarax

"Bring whomever you so choose," Vivianne Laurent said flatly, already turning on one boot heel to leave the assembled group. "I couldn't care less who goes, so long as you prove less wasteful than you look. I expect you to thank Pressman in person on Monday. I'm her team leader - not her voicemail."

Vivianne began to stride down the hallway, as cold and confident as she'd been when she arrived...before stopping in mid-step and turning her right head, so that her chin almost touched her shoulder. She didn't look the rest of the way. Even she looked faintly surprised that she wasn't fleeing the scene as brusquely as she intended.

"Oh, by the way," she started before grimacing. "Your teammate. The one you call the cheese boy. He's to remain here for the weekend. It's Pressman's one condition. Good day."

The Mistralian Huntress turned her face forward and began to walk again, pace increasing just a hair before she rounded a corner and disappeared from view.

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Ben and Lauren, sittin' in a tree...

"H-U-N-T-I-N-G!"

From Ben's right, a dark shape - though one draped in blinding white from the navel up - pounced at Ben, sliding into him and locking one arm tightly around her team captain's waist. Lauren Negasi cast her head back and pushed her hair with the fingers of her free hand, wild grin slapped onto her face. Her head slanted slightly to wink at her eternally-flummoxed best friend.

"First comes missions, then comes riches! Let's make that money and fuck these bitches~!" Lauren's arm tightened around Ben, and her grin widened as it closed around a small piece of Ben's ear. "Hey, there, prettyboy! I was worried you'd try to hide from me!"

@Krayzikk

Phoenix Wing (A Fairy Tail RP-Always Open, Open)

Angel Ferrara - Sigh.

I'm actually not even that surprised...

He would have liked to believe it was his sunny, upbeat personality or gentle heart that kept the vicious cycle of his life turning, but Angel Ferrara possessed a hair too much self-awareness to truly believe that. He had spent the last few years flitting from inn to inn across Fiore, occasionally being manhandled by drunk patrons or harassed with things that chilled his blood upon Kaia's explanations. Grab-assing, hair stroking, neck biting, and yes, even the occasional guy like Rei trying to seize him and making a break for it...

It wasn't because of his personality.

It was because Angel Ferrara was such a good girl.

With his head tucked against Rei's chest, the forlorn trap let out another breath - for he knew this song and dance well. It was why he carried around a dagger at all times no matter what inn he worked at, or at least wielded a kitchen knife or makeshift cheese grater for effect. It was why he always waited until everyone around him had disappeared for the night before he slept - and why, when he did sleep, he was never lacking for either some form of pants and a lucky leather belt.

Luckily, Kaia's sightless eyes were unaccustomed to deciphering a buckle.

And speaking of the Horsemidget of the Apocalypse...

There she was, riding the mildly-equine brunette Angel had been spending time with since yesterday. Pursuing Rei. Haranguing him. Kaia Iona wanted her trap back.

Are they...

Racing for me?

Angel gulped. This was new. Kaia may be quick, but she was also cursed with small, klutzy legs, easily outmaneuvered by a lad of the wilds. Cyare, flawless as she was (Angel blushed), was a new addition to the equation. And, true to her equine lower proportions, she was (ahem) hoofing it towards Rei at a breakneck pace.

One which, Angel knew, the courier was all too willing to replicate.

This is gonna hurt.

The slender young mage whimpered softly into his captor's coat.

I just want money...

Σωτήρ: the Solar Age (Mecha) - Still Accepting

In the event that I do so, I request that it be treated as though the Paper Tiger team went back to X Corp having considered this the end of their field test. I do not give permission for the G-Valkyrie to be used after my departure, in the event that I do leave.

@Krayzikk

On that note, no one is to use Judah or any mass-produced Judah derivatives, either. I can't speak for @Onarax or @Silvan Haven, but chances are good that the Sword Shroud and the Ball are in the same boat.

Σωτήρ: the Solar Age (Mecha) - Still Accepting

She's Right, You Know, Father Joan!

Joan exhaled and nodded once, keeping her head bowed as her breathing continued to steady. Her job, she knew, was done; all the OSDT pilots had either remained by their HFVs or gone off to various debriefs, and her fellow Paper Tiger pilots would no doubt wish to remain with their prototypes and talk shop with the mechanics. Joan knew she should be among them - or, at least, detail her experiences with Judah to her own crew chief - but right now, revisiting the events of the last few minutes...

It seemed an insurmountable chore.

Until someone came to her for guidance, some rest and contemplation of her own seemed like the best course of action.

"Fair point. I'll be in the room," Joan agreed, lifting up her head again and drawing herself to her full height. "Try not to work too hard. And watch your tools more carefully, you little klutz. That little nose of yours isn't built to withstand many wrenches."

A quiet beat before Joan stopped fixing Sasha's hair, long fingers stroking the blonde ponytail one last time before dropping to her sides.

"My...my thanks, Sasha."

Heroes of Beacon - the Next Chapter

Luke's harem needs to stop.