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RedroverBlueBeaver

@redroverblubeaver / redroverblubeaver.tumblr.com

Talk RVB to me
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good red vs blue things

  • heegakergerk = possession
  • omalley’s evil plot to make them overpay for medical care by $20
  • the warthog music
  • herk bleh = dead
  • *literally anything at all happens* well i guess this must be because of time travel
  • lopez’s character is kind of like “what if alfred actively wanted batman dead and also he is a decapitated robot head”
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reeberry

RvB: Spacing

When she was a little girl, she fell out of a tree. It had branches spaced just right for her small hands to reach if she stood on her toes, and she wiggled up until a hand slipped, and she tumbled through the empty air and yielding wood all the way down.

In the hospital room her father tells her that she should be more careful, and says he wishes she was more afraid of heights.

It was the first time someone had wished fear upon her.

When she was in high school, she climbed the roof of the main building and stood on the edge, looking to the sloped roof of the shed serving as a weight room. It’s a height difference of twenty-five feet between the two buildings, but on the other side of the inclined roof is an open cardboard recycling container. A few of the kids from the nearby tennis court had stopped playing to look up at her, and she winked at them before moving back to get a running start.

She’d forgotten they emptied the recycling on Wednesday morning.

It takes months for her legs to feel whole again.

She tried college for a year and a half because the fat subsidizing student loan checks paid for flight school. Later, when she gets in the military and the war starts, her debts are erased.

“Project Freelancer,” she echoed and looked at the small pamphlet. The man in front of her with the glasses that seemed to have a permanent and perpetual glare effect smiled.

“Yes, we are looking for talented pilots, such as yourself.” His voice had a distinct accent to it, and it sounded reassuring. “Have you flown a Pelican dropship?”

She looked at the pictures of their fleet on the brochure - the headquarters of a ship that looks like a weapon to the point where she wasn’t sure if it was a surrealist painting. “No.”

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