Good evening (slash potentially morning) ladies, gentlemen, those who identify as neither, you filthy reds, and the dirty blues.
I had a whole speech planned out - but then I started writing it and realised that nothing except my entire opening line was actually any good. So that whole thing went to the scrapheap, and you are left with what ribbons of words I could string together after that.
Firstly, we’d like to thank you guys for being amazing. We’ve only been open as an ask blog for less than three months (23rd of December, come on!) but you guys just kept coming out of the woodwork with amazing questions that made us laugh, made us draw, or write, and sometimes made us get into heated arguments that mostly lie around unresolved until we can be bothered diving headlong back into them.
So, for all 134 of you, thanks. It’s been an absolute pleasure to have you RvBers around!
Secondly, if you don’t have a round of applause for Mimi, I’m going to be shocked and appalled. This whole caper was her idea, and without her skills it would’ve long since died.
Which brings us to our third announcement.
It’s giveaway time, motherfuckers!
First Place: Your very own brand new copy of the RvB Awards DVD, the Forward Unto Dawn Halo Miniseries DVD, and your choice of a drawn picture (of your choice, though be reasonable)/a 1000 word fic/a Master Chief bobblehead painted in the RvB character colour of your choosing
Second Place: A copy of the RvB Awards DVD and a drawn picture or 1000 word fic of your choice
Third Place: A copy of the RvB Awards DVD
The rules are pretty simple:
- The giveaway is open from now until midnight, January 11th (PST). We realise it’s post-Christmas but we want to make sure it doesn’t actually get lost in the mail
- You don’t have to be following us to reblog, but we won’t complain if you are or do.
- You can reblog as many times as you like in the period leading up to the end date, but try to be reasonable about it, alright? You’re a great fandom, and we’d like to see it kept that way.
- We’re happy to ship to most places, so don’t worry if you live on the other side of the world, it’ll get to you.
- Make sure your ask is open to receive notifications if you win, so we can contact you for details
- That’s roughly it. Good luck everyone!
Guys, just a heads up, this ends in two days time, so if you want to do a reblog one last time, go ahead.
Jspx wanted some Wash + Church.
It wasn’t a long time that Wash carried Alpha on the way to the Freelancer headquarters, but it was enough. Time for the AI to settle in, become that cold, staticky feeling like a dead limb at the back of Wash’s head, although the static…
[tsk tsk, it’s Thanksgiving Wash. You should’ve just let the girls eat what they want.]
York has his tie. Normally this wouldn’t be an issue, except North only has one tie to go with his one suit (and he’s not even certain why he’d ever brought the suit with him; it’s not like they ever had any formal occasions) and now York has it. On his face. It’s tied around his head, covering up his bad eye and the scars trailing in tiny webs across his skin.
He’s grinning at North like a madman. So, like normal, really.
“Well,” Wash raises the bottle, swaying only slightly on the spot, “there was this one time that, we’d been – it was a terrible mission – and afterward, North decided that—“
North’s hand clamps over Wash’s mouth, fast, and he ignores the muffled yell of protest that reverberates against it automatically as Wash attempts to continue talking. “Shut. Up.”
“Aw, come on, North,” York whines lowly as he grabs the bottle out of Wash’s hand and takes a generous swig. One thing North had learned early on was that beer did not go to waste in York’s rulebook.
“If you let it go, y’know, to waste,” York had hiccupped one evening, “it makes you lowerer than the lowest scum on the Earth; also centipedes man, because who the fuck designs something with a million legs like that?’
That aside, he’s determined no one will know about that incident because, Jesus, it was a year ago, and it was embarrassing enough then. York’s never really forgiven him, and even then Wash just grins at him goofily sometimes, and North just knows that that’s what he’s thinking about.
Then there’s a wet tongue sliding against the dips in his fingers when Wash register’s North’s hand because drunken Wash apparently is a juvenile teenager.
“Stop that,” he hisses under his breath, “and I’ll steal York’s cookies if you promise never to bring it up again.”
Wash’s eyes go wide and he nods, one long wipe up North’s palm as a final fuck you before stopping. North’s not a big believer in any sort of cosmic entity, not after what he’s seen, but he still sends a quick mental thank you to whomever had the bright idea of bribery.
North tilts his head, slants his eyes so he’s staring at York who now has a finger curled into a merciless hook.
Maybe they shouldn’t have been drinking before doing this, he realises belatedly.
Maybe they shouldn’t have done this, period.
[from our Ask RvB BroT3 blog AGENTlemen’s Query]
I can’t believe it took me this long to come up with this. Even if I have been busy.
Washington: I think I’m going to be sick!
Carolina: You know these suits are supposed to eliminate all waste. You could probably throw up in your helmet and it would take care of it for you!
York: Nyeah! You should test that Wash!
Washington: You two are assholes!
Delta: Actually York, we were never able to get the vomit disposable patch beyond beta. Agent Washington would likely drown.
York: Yikes, way to kill the mood D.