Hello Rvb Fandom, Take My Quiz And Share Ur Results With Me

hello rvb fandom, take my quiz and share ur results with me<3

Technically not rvb but close enough, finally had some time on my hands and did a few armour studies on the different halo games :]

I actually really enjoy drawing armour and I spent a while drawing Halo 1 armour when I first got into rvb so it was honestly really nice to go back to it, but I think Halo 2/3 ranks as my favourite model and the one I stick to nowadays lol.

You live in a house decorated according to your url. What does it look like

Wash remembers the first day he saw Tucker without his armor.

They were at Valhalla, long after the fight with the Meta, finally settling down into a routine that felt… natural. That being said, Wash was still a little stiff around base, unsure what to do or how to act with nobody around to give him orders.

Well, Tucker would give him the occasional order, but it was more of a snarky request he never expected Washington to complete or a bitchy reply to whatever melodramatic comment Wash had made.

Besides, Tucker seemed hesitant to give any actual orders despite being the highest ranking on base, leaving Wash to just… hover.

He’d train in the morning, going on simple runs while he healed up from fighting both Tex and the Meta before gradually moving back to his regular training regimen. Sometimes Caboose would join, giving Wash a run for his money with how difficult he was to take down in a spar.

Tucker never seemed keen on joining, not much of a morning person himself, though he obviously trained at some point since Tucker could wield his plasma sword like a pro.

It was a shame they trained at different times. Wash would really like to wage his knives against Tucker’s sword.

It was that fateful sunny day, however, that finally gave Wash that chance to wager.

It was early, even for Wash. The sun had barely made it over the horizon, the canyon still quiet as most of its residents slept.

Wash was practically buzzing in bed.

He didn’t want to wake Caboose, couldn’t even if he wanted to. When Caboose was asleep, he was dead to the world until he got his eight hours. (Like clockwork. Wash was impressed.)

He also didn’t want to wake Tucker, but the itch in his skin wasn’t going away even after pumping out enough push ups to make his arms sting or running around the canyon enough to get his legs aching.

No, what he needed was a spar. And a good one at that.

Tucker seemed like the kind of guy to understand that kind of itch. Wash thinks he’s seen it in the few times he’s caught him practicing katas with his sword.

Angry and rushed and hard, yet still powerful and firm and artful.

Wash would like a fight with that. Wash would really like a fight with that. Which is what got him into this situation.

In his defense, he did knock on the door.

He just also… forgot to wait for an answer.

He was antsy, alright? He hardly had the patience to wait for Tucker to wake up enough to answer him.

He really should’ve waited.

Tucker laid there bare, the only thing covering him up being the blanket tangled around his middle (and thank fuck for that). Miles of dark skin that Wash didn’t even think to consider was under that aqua armor shined softly under the morning sun along with the long connecting marks of gentle blue tattoos covering his body. Wash trailed them up and down the length of Tucker’s body, dully noting the two marks that curled over his face.

That must’ve been a bitch to get.

Tucker definitely worked out to some degree if the lean muscles covering his body were anything to go by, Wash noted with a mild appreciation—

Wait. No. That’s not what he’s for.

He snaps his eyes back up from where they were, admittedly, staring at Tucker’s thick thighs up to his face and—

Were Tucker’s eyes always open?

“Enjoying the view, sweetheart?”

Wash flushed from head to toe as Tucker flashed him a lazy grin and oh fuck Wash can see the sharpness of his canines from here.

“Uh.” He said dumbly, brain still figuring out how the fuck Tucker’s voice was so grumbly even though he wasn’t wearing his helmet. “I was just— I just wanted to know if you wanted to have a spar with me?”

The end of his sentence trailed off as Tucker sat up in his elbows, blanket falling further down his stomach to reveal some thick, jagged looking scars of blue. It took all of Wash’s willpower to not just stare at the artwork across Tucker’s skin.

Focus.

“Dude, it’s like, butt-fuck o’clock. And not the fun kind. Why are you even awake?” Tucker didn’t sound annoyed, just curious, mostly groggy and maybe a bit amused.

Wash shuffled as Tucker blatantly checks out his own armor free body, feeling a little self-conscious about the sweat making his shirt cling to his chest.

“I uh, couldn’t sleep. ‘M a bit restless.”

Tucker looks him over a bit more critically, taking note of the way Wash practically vibrates out of his skin. He flicks his eyes up to Wash’s and all Wash sees is plain and simple understanding. His shoulders drop a bit.

“Hm. Yeah, sure. I could go for a spar.” Tucker’s gaze shifts again and Wash feels like he’s pinned to floor with the intensity of it. Tucker leans back on his elbows more, shifting just enough to make the blanket fall just between his legs, leaving very little to Wash’s imagination.

“I could go for more than a spar, if you’re up for it.”

Wash blinks.

Blinks again.

Did he mean…?

His body buzzes in excitement at the implication, his fists squeezing tight to keep it from spilling out of him. “I’ll get my knives. Meet you out in the yard in ten.”

Wash is bolting out down the hallway before he can spot Tucker’s confused expression.

He’s finally going to be able to test Tucker’s swordplay.

This was gonna be fun.

+++

Tucker watches with mild interest and confusion as Wash slips from view before letting himself plop back down onto his bed.

When he had awoken to Wash eyeing him up, he thought it was gonna end with both of them in here. Apparently, Wash is a lot less observant than previously thought. Or maybe he was just stupid oblivious.

Spending years with the same group of people while in the middle of a military operation was not indicative of good flirting skills and comprehension.

Tucker would know, he had to relearn so many things about sex and the art of seduction after all the years he spent in Blood Gulch.

Maybe he could give a fee pointer to Wash.

In the meantime, he had a freelancer’s ass to kick. Tucker didn’t spend all that time playing with his sword for nothing.

This was gonna be fun.

you can screw Navada, mess with Maine…

Couchboose Wars are Blue Team Problems™