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

[tactical_alert]

"I always thought the communicating without actually communicating thing was strange, but that's just a side-effect of the drift."

[goddamngrenades]

"You learn to read postures. After you've been in someone's head a look is just about the same as saying something. The twins would have whole conversations with their eyebrows."

[tactical_alert]

"Also growing up together as twins has its advantages," he points out. "Uh...okay, fine, tell me about jaeger blood."

[goddamngrenades]

"Unique to each Jaeger. Mechanics know about it but keep quiet since it's kind of a tradition now. There's a bit of piping that's just there as insulation between the fuel lines and the coolant system and the neural gel. You install a cache there and make a mash with- well whatever you and your partner like. You a bourbon man or a gin man? ANyway. You put that in the still and don't touch it till you've been through three drops. Take it out and sure a little of the coolant's probably gotten piped in and a little of the neural gel but it's good." He taps the empty flask already on the bed. "Kinda helps the ghost drifting along, probably. Some people even bleed into the canister before they install it."

[tactical_alert]

"You put a still in the jaeger." This is not a look of belief. Not at all.

[goddamngrenades]

"Yep!" And he is way, way too proud of that fact. "Lockdown's went through the coolant and neural gel piping systems so if you get a bit of a tingle- that's what it is. Also if you taste strawberries stop drinking for a bit."

[tactical_alert]

"...This is going to kill somebody." He holds the flask away from him, as if it's going to jump out and kill him right now. "I'm certain people have died because you're drinking coolant and gel with a little alcohol mixed in."

[goddamngrenades]

"Nope! The coolant acts as a sweetener and it's only like, .05% in there anyway, and the Gel is nontoxic. We ran the numbers. Carolina was very competitive, had to have the best blood in the Dome." God the tests they did just to be sure.

[tactical_alert]

"...What was that about strawberries?"

[goddamngrenades]

"Sense memory. Carolina's house back home had wild strawberry bushes out back. You can keep drinking if you want but usually the next sip or so is gonna taste like a mouthfull of blood and shitty rum." A beat "That's me. Kinda had a delinquent streak as a kid."

[tactical_alert]

"Are you suggesting that someone could taste memories from people they don't even drift with?"

[goddamngrenades]

"Tell me when you taste strawberries." He shrugs. "After the blood and rum it's all chilies and chocolate and then this sort of vanilla backend that's too sweet cuz it's flavored lube."

[tactical_alert]

"If I want flavored alcohol, I think I'll go barhopping. And you willingly drink this? And you're sure there are no side-effects?"

[goddamngrenades]

"It's not intentionally flavored, it just kinda happens. Tastes like normal till you hit the strawberries." He holds his hand out for the flask, wiggling his fingers.

[tactical_alert]

Nope. Not yet. He's half thinking of just pouring it out, because why would you do this, but he'll just take a very cautious other sip before handing it over. Reluctantly."

[goddamngrenades]

York's fingers curl and brush against Malcolm's in a semi drunken fumble before he holds the flask. Lifts it up with a mumbled toast to Claire before taking a sip and wincing. "Ugh. Motoroil and gravel."

[tactical_alert]

"I suppose I'm lucky to just taste no memories yet." He frowns some, leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed. "And I suppose we're not going to drift tomorrow at this rate, are we. The next day suits me just as fine as any other day."

[goddamngrenades]

"If you really wanna hop in, I'm down." He shrugs and offers the flask back. "You are look'n at a heaping pile of 'nothing left to lose' here, Mal."

[tactical_alert]

"Of course we're going to do it. The problem is going to be you hungover as hell." Because he's already drunk now, and then he's going to drink more now. And god knows how much more he'll drink before the day is through. So Malcolm will take more. Because it's less for York.

[goddamngrenades]

"Pff. I am not gonna be hungover." he's drunk. Comfortably drunk. Not enough to be numb but just enough to not be so damn angry. It's a nice, fuzzy place to be. "This is the last flask. When that's done I'm gonna make coffee."

[tactical_alert]

"Uh-huh." Look who believes you. It's not him. "Maybe get some food in your system instead." When Malcolm next takes a sip, he spits it out in surprise, hopping to his feet. "What the hell--here, take it back; I'll start the damn coffee."

[goddamngrenades]

"What?" He fumbles a little trying to get the Flask back. "Wait- Mal what did you taste?"

[tactical_alert]

"I don't need to unexpectedly taste hotdogs while I'm drinking alcohol unless I'm eating a hotdog, thank you."

[goddamngrenades]

"Hotdo- oh. Post drop cookout." He snorts a laugh and leans back, taking a sip. "Mmm- yeah there it is. Hauled a grill out from fuck knows where while we waited for the helicopters to come get us after our first kill. Cooked up hotdogs right on the head of the jeager."

[tactical_alert]

"We're not putting a still in our jaeger. Or at least, I'm not drinking whatever comes out of it. That's...creepy."