Plank Sinatra

REBOOT COMING SOON. INVITE ONLY.

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Location | Red Rock
Los Angeles Time | 8:41 PM / London Time | 4:41 AM / Moscow Time | 6:41 AM
Interacting with | blackjack and hookers / pink starburst
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Las Vegas. How quaint.

Aleks had spent many of his formative years in London, a city as refined and stuffy as the collars of its monarchs; any gambling would have been done from the safety of a laptop, numbers punched into a keyboard where only the computer screen glowed. Las Vegas, the mythic neon city on the hill, sang of vices untold - as a child who would toss pounds away casually while learning the ropes of blackjack, he dreamed of a city where everything from the buildings to the asphalt of the streets glowed radioactive with neon and promise. Throwing in his lot with Yessi upon his arrival in California meant that every break from school was practically a roulette (ha, ha) - a "Papi, where are we going?" and a curt "It's your jet." in reply. One of the only destinations Aleks had suggested over four years of misadventure was Las Vegas. Yessi's roots ran deep there, and her father owned a casino and hotel that Yessi promised could be their playground.

If it was a playground, then Aleks was the kid who found joy in trying to climb up the slide backwards, while Yessi was the girl who rose too high while on the swing and flew off, eating shit in the sandbox. If they wanted to watch boxing? Fine. Yessi just had to make off with one of his favorite pairs of sunglasses in order to afford the best seats. He would never see their like again. If they wanted to gamble while underage? It was no problem; her father wrote the rules. But the longer Aleks sat at the tables or machines, tap dancing on the tightrope of his good luck, the more bored Yessi grew sitting and watching him. The blackjack and poker hungered for his chips, but Yessi hungered for his attention. They spent fourteen nights and thirteen days rolling dice by day and rolling around a king-sized bed by night - and the windows were tinted the bronze-and-gold of Yessi's tan, so it was impossible to tell which was day and which was night unless they walked outside. By the time their plane touched down in LA again, the suspicion that there was more to do in the City of Sin was gnawing away at him.

Perhaps a larger group meant it would be easier for him to slip off and burn some money.

That was the best that could be said of the exponential growth of their travel group, sadly. Aleks had no real problem with any of the motley crew they had rescued from the RV, and a few of them he even liked - Val was ten feet of best friend wedged into a three foot tall body, and he and Jules shared similar temperament and tastes - but overall they had proven sullen about the loss of their road trip, and their rabid attitude towards AJ hadn't helped matters. Aleks and Yessi had managed to soothe the trust fund kid; Yessi had done so with words and Aleks by pushing Starburst into AJ's mouth with a long, dextrous index finger, pinks and reds, all the colors of Communism. But the truce that fell over the trenches was a Christmas truce, clearly temporary. Before long, the tempers would flare again. Or the tears. The blonde girl, Emilia, had broken into several crying fits; they made his heart hurt almost as much as they made the space behind his eyes ache.

Perhaps Vegas would be good for everybody. At least until every one of these misfits had cleaned out their savings accounts to try and buy a newer, shittier Winnebago and were reliant on the Gearheads for rides the rest of the way. Fuck, they should have just gone straight to Thailand. But they were long miles away from any airport, and the thought of Vegas was enough to keep Aleks patient and polite - it would be everyone else that was the problem.

He was biding the time by playing with a deck of cards he had brought along, practicing cutting the deck and various flashy ways of shuffling the cards. Yessi didn't have the patience to learn trick shuffling, or card or coin tricks, but Aleks preferred to keep his skills sharp - and keeping his attention on the deck to avoid an impromptu game of 52 Pickup was easier than paying attention to the fraying dynamics between the Gearheads and the Misfits.

frrrrrrrrrrip

shuffle shuffle shuffle

And at least he had plenty of Starburst left. For himself and for AJ. Would that Aleks had decided to be a mechanic.

Mass Effect: Renegade

Been a while since I've done anything with Mass Effect, and I have a character I think could suit this.

ASoIaF Roleplay: A Fistful of Dragons - A Sellsword Adventure (Closed for the moment)

Well I'm onboard.

| City of Dreams |

well, what choice do we have

A Certain Parallel Cosmos

Interested.

REBOOT COMING SOON. INVITE ONLY.

&

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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
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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

“ALL IN THE BACK SEAT OF YOUR CAR!”

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

“OHH, BUT YOU DON’T KNOW THE TRUTH!”

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

“THAT’S FINE, BUT MY HEART’S STILL FILLED WITH FEAR!”

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 Certain Liberated City

Brennan Griese

"JUST POOT ME IN A WHEELCHAIR, GET ME ON A PLANE--Agh, fook off, Kawaguchi, I can't work to your nerdy shit. Turn my music back on."

Registration Fields

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_Names

Griese, Braonán

_Nicknames

Brennan

_Gender

Masculine

_Nationality

Irish

_Ability

Kinetic Energy Absorption

Characterization

---

_Affiliation

Daiseki Academy, Class 3-A (Aerospace student)

_Personality

There is clearly something ticking the wrong way in Brennan Griese. He seems to act as if he's the centerpiece of his own gangster movie, a hypercompetitive jock living by a strict code of honor in his personal and academic lives but reacting with frothing, white-hot rage when he is treated with dishonor in turn. A fiercely proud individual who will react to the faintest of slights with vandalism and butchery, Brennan has been a rough-and-tumble individual who possesses the charm to turn enemies into friends but lacks the emotional self-control to refrain from beating them into a bloody heap first. Renowned in his high school as a violent force of nature, it's a moniker he owns proudly.

Internally, however, even the violent youngster has a privately tender nature. Brennan has a precocious fascination with science, particularly the tech sector and aerospace. This is part of what fuels his playfully aggressive (t/n: bullying) fondness for his lab partner; their shared interests and tastes have helped unite them on their project, but otherwise their interests are too diametrically opposed for them to be able to stand each other when they try to do things for fun.

_History
Brennan is clearly not native to Academy City; he lacks any Japanese ancestry to speak of. In fact, when he arrived in Academy City eight years ago as a young trust fund lad with a bottomless pit of a savings account and a rowdy temper, there were rumors that he was somehow connected to the still-burgeoning Irish organized crime scene. Brennan himself is mum on his family's money or his history in the old country. What is important is that, for all his endless attitude issues and bratty nature, he proved himself highly adaptable and even eager in a classroom setting. His grades soared in the competitive district he attended middle school in, and this intellectual prowess, combined with his financial resources and his zealous love of aviation and spaceflight, led to him attending school in District 23 when it came time for his high school years.

His academic supremacy found itself threatened, however slightly, upon arrival in District 23 however. Sharing his first year and second year classes with his rival, an otherwise-friendless robot otaku by the name of Kawaguchi, proved to be one of the highlights of Brennan's stellar high school career. It's only now, in his final year of high school, that the one-sided rivalry between him and Kawaguchi is reachings its climax - they've been assigned to work together as lab partners to develop a space probe, and thus far, their ideas on aesthetics and naming conventions have clashed even as their ideas on technology have been a surprisingly effective blend.
​

Gemstone

---

_{Moon Walk - Level 4}

Brennan is able to absorb the kinetic energy of objects or attacks being thrown at him and store it within his own body. For a time, he will appear to be physically supercharged, resulting in a slight increase in his natural capabilities, but in short order he will release that kinetic energy into another object, overclocking it and supercharging its own natural motion.

_{Expertise Kit}
Gifted with the silver tongue of a born salesman and promoter, engineering acumen, and the leadership skills necessary to survive in the battle royale of the boardroom. Will probably end up a tech entrepreneuer in his own right someday. Loves to fight. Loves to scream. Getting tsunderes hot under the collar. He's slowly learning how to cook for himself. Has been boxing since the age of seven.

Relationships

---

_Family

[N/A AT THIS TIME]

_{Peers and Foes}

Brennan makes friends and adoring followers out of all he meets, save for those who need be ground to dust for opposing him. Umeko Kawaguchi is a prime example of both these extremes; she's currently the person he spends the most time with thanks to their As depending on each other.

Workshop

---

_Plotting

PM forthcoming.

A Certain Liberated City

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.

@Krayzikk

Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

Approved.

Olympus Academy // A School for Demigods and Demigoddesses

@Altered Tundra @HereComesTheSnow @NeoAC @Dirty Pretty Lies

"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?”

...mediocre...

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."

He's DOING IT!! FITIZEN! FITIZEN!

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."

...Arthur?

"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."

---

@Krayzikk @Dirty Pretty Lies @HereComesTheSnow

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?

BECAUSE HE'S FUCKING STUPID!!!

Why should she be forced to explain that!?

"Onii-chan..."

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."

PIGDOG SUCK MY DICK