RP Open Post

[goddamngrenades]

Smut, Gen, Angst, Fluff, Anything, Everything.
PFL era, Post war, Pre Canon, AU, whichever
Brackets or Prose whatever you're comfortable with
Tag and go, baby!

Comments

[goddamngrenades]

"She." It depended on the pilot and sure, the engineer always called Lockdown he, but Carolina, Delta, and york knew better. She was a lady. A valkyrie. An avenging angel. "Yeah. She was a Mark 2. One of the fastest, you know?"

[beforeblue]

It freezes him for a moment, makes his breath stutter and halt and his eyes sting. It shouldn't. He knows that. Knows that this shouldn't be anything to get that much of a reaction from him. But it's been a long time since anyone has asked him what he wanted. They'd told him he was going to have Epsilon. They'd told him helping Charon was the only way he was ever going to be free. They'd told him to come to Chorus.

He can feel York's breath against his chest, over scars that he'd never had back then. He slides his fingers into York's hair, scratching lightly against his scalp. "Christ Taylor...You are about a million times too good for me. You were always too good for the Project."

He can't help but be awed by how York... Taylor... has come out of all the shit they've gone through and is still this kind of person. A good person. It makes his own actions that much more sickening.

"I want you to kiss me again. Can we start with that?"

[tactical_alert]

"And then along comes something better. But never the same." He won't ask what it felt like. He never does.

"I apologize for the way they stare. Hard not to notice someone like yourself around. I could put a little fear of god into them if it bothers you."

[goddamngrenades]

"They're less vocal about it than the last Shatterdome." All the recruits that knew him. knew THEM. It's- easier here. sure there are rumors but most of it is new. "It's alright. I'm just too pretty not to look at."

[tactical_alert]

A light scoff. But no comment otherwise. "I hope you're keeping track of where we are so you don't wander off and get lost again, Mr. Murray."

[goddamngrenades]

"If I get lost I'll just call you." He shrugs, light and easy and almost feeling it. Every day it's a little easier.

[tactical_alert]

"I'm hardly going to be your personal butler. Or GPS system." He makes a motion to the bustling room ahead of them. "Mess. Usually this busy, but god help you if you keep regular hours for this time zone; it's a madhouse."

[goddamngrenades]

"I haven't really kept regular hours since I signed on." Almost all of their drops had been at ass o clock in the morning. They got good at low vis high impact. "Do I smell bacon?"

[goddamngrenades]

"Debateable." He shrugs and tugs himself up, nosing along the line of David's jaw. They all did things they weren't proud of. The trick is that he recognized them for what they were, what he could help, what he couldn't, and moved on from there. But right here, right now, that doesn't matter. What matters is what was done to them- and what he can do to make David forget.

"Whatever you want." Like it's a burden to slot their lips together. To let all that manic, painful need fall to the wayside to focus on the brush of skin to skin, the hitching of breath, the lazy pass of his tongue.

[tactical_alert]

"Or something like it," he chuckles. "The food is edible. Sometimes it even passes for food."

[beforeblue]

"No, I know it," Wash replies, deep and heartfelt. Taylor had been the best of them. He closes his eyes when York nuzzles against his jaw, letting out a shuddering breath and sliding his arms up to hook against the back of York's neck when they kiss.

It's a good kiss. Slower this time, taking their time to enjoy it rather than the desperate need they'd had up until now, although that still colours it. "Feels good," he says when they finally part and York is very very close. There's a warm flush on Wash's cheeks.

[goddamngrenades]

"If you have actual cheese I might kiss you. Or the cook. Whoever's closer." How long since he had some that didn't come from a can? Jesus.

[tactical_alert]

"Go, fill your tray and your play to your stomach's content. I'll grab us a seat. Don't go overboard now."

[goddamngrenades]

"Thanks Mal." He pats Malcolm on the shoulder, a tentative, barely there thing before he settles in line. As much as the scars marked him for the recruits, the other pilots didn't give him trouble. In fact they pointed out what was good, what was awful. He returns to Mal's table with a glass of juice, an actual for real cheeseburger, and a salad.

[tactical_alert]

It's been some time since anyone's called him that. The more formal types just go with Reed, the students Mr. Reed. The few friends he has, Malcolm. Mal? Not for a while.

He nods approval at the choices made. "I'm sure you'll be melting into bliss in no time, hm?"

[goddamngrenades]

"You have no idea. I was lucky to get bread back in the other Shatterdome. Better food's reserved for recruits and actual pilots." Not ex pilots trying to recover. Or at least not ones that spent their nights at the bottom of the bottle.

[tactical_alert]

"Well, we aren't in Alaska of all places. Shipping food is easier. Stays fresher." A shrug. "A luck of location, really. We'll fatten you up in no time."

[goddamngrenades]

"You call'n me skinny?" He smirks around his burger before taking a bite and- oh god damn that is so good. His moan is nothing short of obscene.

[tactical_alert]

ignore it ignore it ignore it ignore the glancing eyes just cover your face and look at your notes

"Medical records indicate some weight loss. But if you'd rather keep that off, then we can work those calories and more off."

[goddamngrenades]

"I need the cushion. I'm gonna have bruises like you wouldn't believe from those hits to my ribs. Used to be able to shrug 'em off but I'm already feeling them." He manages once he's calmed down from the first bite. Though the moan isn't much more decent after the next bite.

[tactical_alert]

"I won't be going easy on you. You could say that bruises build character. We'll try to work on that left side of yours. You may not be able to see, but if you reduce the chances of being attacked from that angle, or if you can predict an attack from that angle by reading your opponent, then you should be in better shape in that regard."

[goddamngrenades]

"Are you saying you're gonna literally beat me into shape?" This makes him put the burger down, all his attention zeroed in on Malcolm rather than the food. For a moment he holds the frown, brow furrowed, jaw clenched before he snorts into laughter. "Sounds like a plan."

[tactical_alert]

He's really about to do something about that serious look, but it turns out that York is...perfectly fine with it.

Not sure what to make of this one. He's a different breed altogether. Not new. Lost his partner. By all means he should be washed up or too depressed to go on, but here he is.

"Until you aren't covered black and blue from head to toe, because then it will mean you're catching on." A light, polite smile.

[goddamngrenades]

"It does take time to kick some sense into me. Clair has-" A beat, he swallows, some of the humor dries up. "Had. A hell of a time with that."

[tactical_alert]

"Miss Moran, yes. From what I heard, quite the firecracker." A beat or two passes. "I'm sorry. If there's a way I can help you work past her as well..."