While I’m still actively working to finish my longest story yet (Commitment), I spun the whump wheel and the word just wouldn’t leave me alone - so I had to write it. It way less whumpy, and way more steamy though. Need a hot story about this sexy man to start or end the day, read The Unmaking of Control on A03. Leave me a comment with your thoughts!
So, today, I'm wondering if I'm wasting my time with "The Ties That Bind Us." I mean, I'm having fun writing it, but the whole "we write for ourselves, not for others" is kind of bogus, IMO. I mean, yeah, we write for ourselves to an extent, but there's not much purpose if no one else sees it. If that was the case, I could just journal...
If no one else reads it, though, is there a reason to keep going with it? It's kind of like that "If a tree falls in the forest, but no one is around to hear it" philosophical question. If a writer writes a story, but no one reads it...
Apparently, I'm feeling quite morosely philosophical today. Ugh. Philosophy is not my thing.
Why am I getting slammed with 'ads' for military calisthenics for women over 40?! I mean, yeah, okay, social media, I know I'm a bit pudgy, but...I mean, damn! I don't think I need to be inundated with another video for a military calisthenics program that sings everytime I scroll!
So I'm far from a Halo expert, but can anyone tell me why the photoreceptive panels on the Spartan IIIs' SPI armor weren't added to MJOLNIR armor plates? Wouldn't that be helpful for Spartan IIs to have camouflage capabilities...especially if they're wearing some of the more outrageous armor colors (hot pink? seriously?)? The MJOLNIR is already hella expensive, so would it really be that much of a stretch to add something else? I mean, why not?
Chapter 18 of "Unsteady" is posted! I thought I'd never get through it!! Hope you all like it! Enjoy the AI image of Jorge (portrayed by Alan Ritchson), John, and Six!
Rules: Make a poll with 10 of your favorite shows; they can be just 10 shows you loved watching or your top 10 shows of all time, and have your followers choose their favorite then tag 10 people.
I think of the few 'followers' I have, they're mostly all mutuals, and I don't want to tag people who've already been tagged...so I'm gonna skip the tag part but honor the spirit of the post. Feel free to jump in!
Chapters: 2/?
Fandom: Halo (TV 2022), Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: John-117 | Master Chief/Original Female Character(s)
Characters: John-117 | Master Chief, Kai-125 (Halo), Vannak-134 (Halo), Riz-028 (Halo), Original SPARTAN Character(s) (Halo), Val-015 (Halo), Yaz-112 (Halo), Karim-002 (Halo), Grace-093 (Halo), Daisy-023 (Halo), Naomi-010 (Halo), Joshua-029 (Halo), Original Female Character(s), Kurt Ambrose | Kurt-051
Series: Part 4 of Unsteady Verse
Summary:
Stuck on standby with Silver Team indefinitely, John-117 suddenly gets a comm from Kurt-051, who is calling in an old favor. Now, John finds himself with a young, belligerent Spartan III on his hands, and he has to somehow find a way to make a new face mesh with an old team. Set in my Unsteady 'Verse.
A counterattack on @kaiyescaptain for his kind gift of blorbo angst,
A Dagger, A Dagger, A Delicate Matter, We'll Follow the Script to the Letter
This is also named after MCR lyrics, from Kill All Your Friends. This work picks up right where Sarnakh's ends :o)
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Head injuries and Spartan Time are a cocktail of confusion bubbling around like jelly in his head. Nausea wars with numbness. The Commander is here? There's blood smearing her white and red with purples and blues. The bridge is a smoking haze in his narrowing field of vision. Nothing feels right. It's quiet. A silence extends and the feeling of wrongness increases as his off-kilter world shifts further and further off its axis until-- his brain chugs, thoughts are viscous and slow, sloshing slowly in the leaking vessel of his mind as his eyes lose focus and drift. The bridge is a smoldering mess and he wonders which Fireteams were supposed to be guarding it in all this mess, where the MedEvac would be taking the Captain, and what they would do now. They needed a plan, his head tips up out of habit and his lips move to the familiar "Ro-" as his eyes fall on the ruined AI docking interface.
Clarity hits him harder than the gravity hammer had. White hot panic shoots up his spine and throbs in time with the rapid heartbeat in his skull. His ears are ringing, a shrilling painful cry echoing in his brain that is nothing in the face of what he's done. He can barely stand with the Commander's help. The armor stabilizes him even as his vision swims, fractured visor showing him a split vision of the scorched remains of the bridge. Plasma had melted and twisted the housing-turned-cage of his once and only friend.
Spartan Miller had successfully carried out the Cole Protocol. Roland 0205-4 was no more.
His HUD, warped, flashing, and throwing up error codes lets him know he has a message. The little yellow notification is a warm amber, perfectly suited for human eyes. It sears itself into Miller's brain.
Part of him is aware of the Commander turning away, but he can't focus on her obvious disgust as he's falling to his knees and ripping off his helmet to vomit. His vision blurs as bile burns its way up his esophagus. His helmet rolls and the fractured faceplate reflects his grief stricken face back towards him.
His eyes struggle to focus as he heaves what little is left in his stomach to join the aftermath of battle on the floor of the bridge. Tremors rack his frame and the armor locks him down even as heat floods his face. There are no coherent thoughts, just the racing mind of someone there and not, stuck between adrenaline, bewilderment, and the rising tide of grief and regret. Saliva pools in his mouth and he spits it out into the pool of bile, then nearly clocks himself in the jaw with his gauntlet as he wipes his face.
His pale visage looks back at him from his helmet and he can see the Commander approach before she hauls him to his feet.
He doesn't knock her off-kilter this time, but sways again. Something else is wrong with him. She shoves his helmet into his chest-plate and he stares at it and then her for several seconds. He hates seeing his face in her visor and shoves his helmet on.
"Commander-". He starts. What is there to say?
"You're concussed." She's glacial. She's standing in the bridge and Roland is dead and the captain is gone and the command crew is going cold on the floor around them.
"I-." He stutters around the taste of bile in his mouth.
Commander Palmer cuts him off again. "You've got a concussion and we need to move."
Alarms blare in the distance. The ship is still under attack. Awareness comes in waves, much like his balance. He's drowning in front of her.
"Spartan, I need you to move. Head towards the hangars, save who we can."
Nodding is a mistake and his vision swims for a brief moment. "Yes, yes. I can do that."
She stares at him and the moment stretches to infinity.
And then she's gone, leading with way out and leaving smears of alien blood on his armor.
Maybe because he feels untethered again as soon as she moves or maybe he needs to voice the growing guilt threatening to paralyze him. Something less like absolution and more like understanding what he'd just done, however unwillingly.
Maybe it's seeing the great bulk of the Brute Chieftain lying in a crumpled heap and that damn gravity hammer just out of reach.
Miller's chinning his external mics on before he even thinks to. "He told me-"
He thinks he imagines it, maybe the concussion makes his brain wobble and eyes swim, but Commander Palmer falters for a single step. His words sour in his mouth and the moment passes.
The Commander leads and he follows, struggling to find the words. The grenade, the primer, his armor still in standby should his own life end. Her back is the one thing he can focus on as they move through the emptying halls. The main artery is clogged with bodies and signs of battle, but no movement. The Infinity is bleeding out. How could she live with her heart and brain gone?
"I didn't move. I- He wanted me to do it. It was- I was the only one who could."
The words ring hollow in his ears, along with the tinnitus that's made itself at home in his skull. His head hasn't stopped aching.
"He wanted it to be m-me." Words were harder than usual. Right, he was concussed. That wasn't good. His visors fogs ever so slightly before clearing. There's moisture on his face.
"Eyes up, Spartan." The Commander sounds robotic. He's trailing far enough behind to cause concern.
Miller's still in a daze as they slink through the ship, faces and firefights sliding off his memory like rain on a windshield. He comes back to himself in a pelican, strapping himself into the co-pilot seat next to the commander. Flashes of memory and a glance backward let him know the scientists, marines, and crew they picked up were not a dream.
Explosions rock the ship, distant booms that he feels more than hears. He gives himself a once-over, movements still clumsy. It'd be bad to get another head injury so soon.
The message notification still flickers in his HUD, slightly distorted from the damage. If they make it to the surface, he'll read it. If he puts off reading it, he doesn't have to know Roland's last words to him.
The pelican's engine whir and groan as the commander eases them out of the hangar and into space. The silence that falls as they leave Infinity frees up enough space in Miller's aching skull so he can get hit with yet another painful epiphany.
"We didn't finish our show…"
More condensation on his visor. A small detail, the equivalent of a pin dropping amongst the literal bombs going off and leaving his home for the last few years.
Zeta Halo looms, growing larger in the pelican's windshield.
Miller's eyes are so heavy and the pain in his head is a distant swollen thing. It takes a backseat to his heart in his throat, heavy and broken. "We watched three episodes last week, for his birthday. We're saving the finale…"
The little amber light continues to flicker. One new message. Miller's eyes close despite the jostling of the bird and the sharp barked commands from Palmer.
Chapters: 1/?
Fandom: Halo (TV 2022), Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: John-117 | Master Chief/Original Female Character(s)
Characters: John-117 | Master Chief, Kai-125 (Halo), Vannak-134 (Halo), Riz-028 (Halo), Original SPARTAN Character(s) (Halo), Val-015 (Halo), Yaz-112 (Halo), Karim-002 (Halo), Grace-093 (Halo), Daisy-023 (Halo), Naomi-010 (Halo), Joshua-029 (Halo), Original Female Character(s), Kurt Ambrose | Kurt-051
Series: Part 4 of Unsteady Verse
Summary:
Stuck on standby with Silver Team indefinitely, John-117 suddenly gets a comm from Kurt-051, who is calling in an old favor. Now, John finds himself with a young, belligerent Spartan III on his hands, and he has to somehow find a way to make a new face mesh with an old team. Set in my Unsteady 'Verse.
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turnnoffyourmind
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vaporwave
stormborns
