Make Believe
Title: Make Believe
Author: Kyrianne
Fandom: Red vs Blue
Pairing: Red team bromance. Chyeah.
Rating: PG for language. Hmmyes.
Word Count: 1140
Summary: Red Team is converted by Donut's awesome new game.
Disclaimer: RvB ain't mine, folks.
Author's Notes: I used my girly borders this time. You'll see why. xD
---
Ordinarily, the mornings at Red Base were deathly silent. Even the soldiers that woke up at the crack of dawn (Sarge, for his morning routines that nobody had ever completely understood, and sometimes Donut when he wanted to get in a good long stretch of yoga before breakfast) made absolutely no noise, so as not to wake anyone else up ("anyone else" being really only Simmons for Sarge's part. He always made sure to stomp his boots louder when he was passing the lazy orange soldier's room, but the dirtbag never seemed to stir).
It was to this end that the blaring music and noise from the Rec Room at the ungodly hours of the morning was completely unexpected.
Simmons slammed his pillow over his head with a feral groan, his internal clock display reminding him that he wasn't supposed to get up for another hour. He tried to drown out the sound short of actually turning off his ears (he didn't want to be completely deaf if he was going to be asleep), but the obnoxious lyrics continued to filter down the hallway, through his door, and into his complaining ears.
Of course there was only one thing he could do.
And that was, naturally, to go yell at the perpetrator until his voice went hoarse and they were effectively deaf for the rest of the day.
Considering how loud the music was blaring, that would probably take less work than it usually did.
Throwing the covers off of himself in a heap (he could fix them later), Simmons swung his legs out of bed and then stomped irritably toward his door, wrenching it open and stalking angrily with a purpose down the hallway. The music was overwhelming, almost creating a physical buffer between him and the Rec Room, but he pressed on, grimacing at the cheesiness of the lyrics and the horrible sound of someone screeching along that could only be Donut.
He slammed the door open when he got there, recoiling slightly from the sheer volume of music that filled the room. It seriously felt tangible; the floor and walls and ceiling thrummed with the beat, and the song had barely any bass anyway, if any at all. Simmons immediately dashed to the computer, where Donut was perched in front of, still belting the song out at the top of his lungs.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" Simmons roared, reaching to turn down the song.
Donut pouted with a drawn-out whine. "Awww! You made me screw up my wish!"
"What. The fuck." Simmons looked incredulously at the computer screen, repeating his question from earlier. "What the fuck are you doing?"
With a simple press of the 'z' on the keyboard, Donut was able to show him.
"Holy shit, scoot over and give me the controls."
~*~*~
Grif prided himself in being able to sleep through anything. That being said, it was four hours until he'd planned on getting up (early!), and he could do nothing but lay in his bed with his pillow over his head, listening to the music and horrendous singing coming from down the hallway. He was trying to wish himself into nothing, so he wouldn't have to endure the torture any longer without actually having to do any work.
Needless to say, it wasn't working.
With an over-dramatic groan, Grif rolled out of bed and padded reluctantly out to the hall.
The music wasn't as loud as it had been when Simmons had braved the corridor, but it was still enough that Grif had to plug his fingers into his ears to drown most of it out. He could feel the cells in his ears dying as he drew closer, their ringing almost as offensive as the repulsively flamboyant song and the untrained voices belting it out like two cats fighting over an old fish discovered in a dumpster.
He yanked open the door moodily. "Shut up!"
He found himself blinking in surprise when he saw that it was Simmons sitting next to Donut and wailing along to the song. He'd expected it to be that retarded blue, since he'd be easily brainwashed into doing gay things with Donut.
Grif stepped carefully into the room. "Simmons, why are you doing gay stuff?" His voice cracked slightly, incredulous.
"It's not gay!" Simmons defended himself, offended.
The game on the screen might have been something, but that something was definitely not "not gay."
Grif snorted. "Wow, this is the gayest thing I've ever seen--" His insult was cut short as a whinny followed by an explosion lit up the screen and rattled the speakers.
"Oh my god, this is the best game ever. Scoot over."
~*~*~
Generally, when Sarge woke up early to go tinker on the Warthog outside, he was greeted by silence and maybe home-cooked breakfast (courtesy of Donut) upon going back inside.
Today, this was not the case.
As soon as the Red Team's C.O. opened the ladder hatch on the surface, he knew something was wrong. His helmet kept the noise out for the most part, but he could feel it in his bones: there was something he'd have to fight down there.
He scrambled down the ladder, taking off his helmet upon reaching the bottom (so that the enemy could see his triumphant grin and hear his clever one-liner before they died), and was immediately buffeted with the loudest, most horrible yowling he'd ever heard. It took him a good minute to figure out it was supposed to be music.
The lyrics didn't so much drift down the hallway as stampede, filling Sarge's head with lyrics that were sure to brainwash him if he didn't take the right precautions.
"ALWAYS, I WANNA BE WITH YOU! AND MAKE BELIEVE WITH YOU! AND LIVE IN HARMONY HARMONY OH LOVE!"
The right precautions, logically, were to cover his ears with his hands and continue a manly mantra in his head as he took crushing steps toward the Rec Room.
He flung the door open, ready to attack the dirty Blues that had infiltrated his stronghold -- only to find the rest of his team, arms slung around each other, Grif and Simmons sharing a chair as Grif's fingers moved deftly across the lower left of the keyboard, eliciting whinnies and sparkly noises from the computer.
"Oh mah whiskers," Sarge started with a choked sob. "Pinky's finally managed ta convert ya both!" He clomped closer, looking over their shoulders at the game.
A unicorn pranced across a surreally-purple landscape, leaping over endless abysses and catching fairies from the sky. Sarge let out another choked noise.
Until Grif used his rainbow ramming power and sent his unicorn headfirst into a giant star, which shattered it into a huge purple explosion.
Sarge blinked once, then leaned closer. "Do that again, dirtbag. Ah wanna see more o' those explosions."
---
Author's Notes: The game, for anyone who is interested (hurrhurr I say that like there's gonna be someone who isn't), is called Robot Unicorn Attack and it's here.
Author: Kyrianne
Fandom: Red vs Blue
Pairing: Red team bromance. Chyeah.
Rating: PG for language. Hmmyes.
Word Count: 1140
Summary: Red Team is converted by Donut's awesome new game.
Disclaimer: RvB ain't mine, folks.
Author's Notes: I used my girly borders this time. You'll see why. xD
---
Ordinarily, the mornings at Red Base were deathly silent. Even the soldiers that woke up at the crack of dawn (Sarge, for his morning routines that nobody had ever completely understood, and sometimes Donut when he wanted to get in a good long stretch of yoga before breakfast) made absolutely no noise, so as not to wake anyone else up ("anyone else" being really only Simmons for Sarge's part. He always made sure to stomp his boots louder when he was passing the lazy orange soldier's room, but the dirtbag never seemed to stir).
It was to this end that the blaring music and noise from the Rec Room at the ungodly hours of the morning was completely unexpected.
Simmons slammed his pillow over his head with a feral groan, his internal clock display reminding him that he wasn't supposed to get up for another hour. He tried to drown out the sound short of actually turning off his ears (he didn't want to be completely deaf if he was going to be asleep), but the obnoxious lyrics continued to filter down the hallway, through his door, and into his complaining ears.
Of course there was only one thing he could do.
And that was, naturally, to go yell at the perpetrator until his voice went hoarse and they were effectively deaf for the rest of the day.
Considering how loud the music was blaring, that would probably take less work than it usually did.
Throwing the covers off of himself in a heap (he could fix them later), Simmons swung his legs out of bed and then stomped irritably toward his door, wrenching it open and stalking angrily with a purpose down the hallway. The music was overwhelming, almost creating a physical buffer between him and the Rec Room, but he pressed on, grimacing at the cheesiness of the lyrics and the horrible sound of someone screeching along that could only be Donut.
He slammed the door open when he got there, recoiling slightly from the sheer volume of music that filled the room. It seriously felt tangible; the floor and walls and ceiling thrummed with the beat, and the song had barely any bass anyway, if any at all. Simmons immediately dashed to the computer, where Donut was perched in front of, still belting the song out at the top of his lungs.
"What the fuck are you doing?!" Simmons roared, reaching to turn down the song.
Donut pouted with a drawn-out whine. "Awww! You made me screw up my wish!"
"What. The fuck." Simmons looked incredulously at the computer screen, repeating his question from earlier. "What the fuck are you doing?"
With a simple press of the 'z' on the keyboard, Donut was able to show him.
"Holy shit, scoot over and give me the controls."
~*~*~
Grif prided himself in being able to sleep through anything. That being said, it was four hours until he'd planned on getting up (early!), and he could do nothing but lay in his bed with his pillow over his head, listening to the music and horrendous singing coming from down the hallway. He was trying to wish himself into nothing, so he wouldn't have to endure the torture any longer without actually having to do any work.
Needless to say, it wasn't working.
With an over-dramatic groan, Grif rolled out of bed and padded reluctantly out to the hall.
The music wasn't as loud as it had been when Simmons had braved the corridor, but it was still enough that Grif had to plug his fingers into his ears to drown most of it out. He could feel the cells in his ears dying as he drew closer, their ringing almost as offensive as the repulsively flamboyant song and the untrained voices belting it out like two cats fighting over an old fish discovered in a dumpster.
He yanked open the door moodily. "Shut up!"
He found himself blinking in surprise when he saw that it was Simmons sitting next to Donut and wailing along to the song. He'd expected it to be that retarded blue, since he'd be easily brainwashed into doing gay things with Donut.
Grif stepped carefully into the room. "Simmons, why are you doing gay stuff?" His voice cracked slightly, incredulous.
"It's not gay!" Simmons defended himself, offended.
The game on the screen might have been something, but that something was definitely not "not gay."
Grif snorted. "Wow, this is the gayest thing I've ever seen--" His insult was cut short as a whinny followed by an explosion lit up the screen and rattled the speakers.
"Oh my god, this is the best game ever. Scoot over."
~*~*~
Generally, when Sarge woke up early to go tinker on the Warthog outside, he was greeted by silence and maybe home-cooked breakfast (courtesy of Donut) upon going back inside.
Today, this was not the case.
As soon as the Red Team's C.O. opened the ladder hatch on the surface, he knew something was wrong. His helmet kept the noise out for the most part, but he could feel it in his bones: there was something he'd have to fight down there.
He scrambled down the ladder, taking off his helmet upon reaching the bottom (so that the enemy could see his triumphant grin and hear his clever one-liner before they died), and was immediately buffeted with the loudest, most horrible yowling he'd ever heard. It took him a good minute to figure out it was supposed to be music.
The lyrics didn't so much drift down the hallway as stampede, filling Sarge's head with lyrics that were sure to brainwash him if he didn't take the right precautions.
"ALWAYS, I WANNA BE WITH YOU! AND MAKE BELIEVE WITH YOU! AND LIVE IN HARMONY HARMONY OH LOVE!"
The right precautions, logically, were to cover his ears with his hands and continue a manly mantra in his head as he took crushing steps toward the Rec Room.
He flung the door open, ready to attack the dirty Blues that had infiltrated his stronghold -- only to find the rest of his team, arms slung around each other, Grif and Simmons sharing a chair as Grif's fingers moved deftly across the lower left of the keyboard, eliciting whinnies and sparkly noises from the computer.
"Oh mah whiskers," Sarge started with a choked sob. "Pinky's finally managed ta convert ya both!" He clomped closer, looking over their shoulders at the game.
A unicorn pranced across a surreally-purple landscape, leaping over endless abysses and catching fairies from the sky. Sarge let out another choked noise.
Until Grif used his rainbow ramming power and sent his unicorn headfirst into a giant star, which shattered it into a huge purple explosion.
Sarge blinked once, then leaned closer. "Do that again, dirtbag. Ah wanna see more o' those explosions."
---
Author's Notes: The game, for anyone who is interested (hurrhurr I say that like there's gonna be someone who isn't), is called Robot Unicorn Attack and it's here.