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!

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[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..."

[goddamngrenades]

"Best Pilot in our Dome. Even the twins couldn't quite keep up." Not for lack of trying. Him and Clair had just- meshed on such a level. It didn't end even when they were out of the drift. "I don't know if you can. We were still hooked together when she fell. Half the time it's like there's a hole in my head and the other half it's like she's still here."

[tactical_alert]

"Distraction. That is something to try and work on, if at all possible. Not banish her entirely, perhaps, but allow you to ignore the intrusions." He hasn't dealt with a case like this before.

[goddamngrenades]

"It's not really intrusive- but that probably doesn't help." He misses her. HE clings to the scraps that he gets and tucks them away so he won't ever lose them. "You got a shrink or something here?"

[tactical_alert]

He nods. "I'll introduce you. Can't have a war on without someone to deal with the psychological fallout."

[goddamngrenades]

"Good. I'll- yeah that'll help." And it'll get Delta off his back. Get Clair to quit worrying.

[tactical_alert]

"Anything they can do about the scarring, you think? If you want it gone."

[goddamngrenades]

"Doesn't bother me." He shrugs. "It is what it is. I can still feel just fine. NO reason to worry about it. Besides- i hear guys dig scars."

[tactical_alert]

"Guys, is it?" He smirks to himself and busies himself with the charts and notes. "A sign of manliness, to be sure."

[goddamngrenades]

"Girls will love the broken bird thing I've got going on. Like a three-legged puppy." He grins and it's just on this edge of sharp, not unkind but not entirely harmless.

[tactical_alert]

"You're a fair bit more dangerous than an injured bird. Unless it's an injured bird of prey. Believe me, I will be sporting a bruise or two myself." He throws a look York's way, not quite lifting his head to do so. "In fact, your situation is more of a warning sign, isn't it?"

[goddamngrenades]

"Gonna use me as a lesson to your little chicklets, drill sergeant?" The humor's a little more strained here, edging on wary. "I didn't sign on to be an after school special."

[tactical_alert]

"I don't plan on having our lessons so close to one another, no. I just meant, people see your scars. They know you lost something very dear. Might make others think twice in approaching you for anything more than merely social."