Vash 🌿 The Stampede (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
plantussy) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
themnemosyne2025-03-03 09:59 pm
plantussy) wrote in themnemosyne2025-03-03 09:59 pm
Entry tags:
Potatoes?
CHARACTERS: Vash & You
TIME: Today
LOCATION: Mess Hall
WARNINGS: Alcohol and being blackout drunk
[ There's a bit of a mess in the cafeteria, and the mess is named Vash Saverem. Slumped over the table like an oversized toddler, the engineer is clutching a pail like it's the most important item in the world.
Whatever is in it smells awful. Like straight up death and dumb ideas. Trying to grow potatoes from synthesized ones was one horrible mistake, and trying to ferment them into alcohol an even worse one. How he's even managed to drink himself stupid on it without throwing it up from the taste alone is impressive.
He just - he needed to get that image out of his brain by any means possible. His twin, filling the sky with blades, slicing through stone like it was butter. His laughter. So yeah, he might have been binge-drinking from a pail of cloudy death vodka.
...the only redeeming quality in this pathetic display is the P-HYMN-1.A on the table next to him, showing acceptable levels of methanol. He'll live, but he'll be wishing he didn't when the terrible moonshine has run its course. ]
TIME: Today
LOCATION: Mess Hall
WARNINGS: Alcohol and being blackout drunk
[ There's a bit of a mess in the cafeteria, and the mess is named Vash Saverem. Slumped over the table like an oversized toddler, the engineer is clutching a pail like it's the most important item in the world.
Whatever is in it smells awful. Like straight up death and dumb ideas. Trying to grow potatoes from synthesized ones was one horrible mistake, and trying to ferment them into alcohol an even worse one. How he's even managed to drink himself stupid on it without throwing it up from the taste alone is impressive.
He just - he needed to get that image out of his brain by any means possible. His twin, filling the sky with blades, slicing through stone like it was butter. His laughter. So yeah, he might have been binge-drinking from a pail of cloudy death vodka.
...the only redeeming quality in this pathetic display is the P-HYMN-1.A on the table next to him, showing acceptable levels of methanol. He'll live, but he'll be wishing he didn't when the terrible moonshine has run its course. ]