@magellanicclouds is an absolute gem! Starting off our spotlight series strong with a master of anatomy and one of the sweetest people I've had the luck to meet! You can find her here on tumblr as well as her ko-fi.
seen from United States
seen from China

seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia

seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from United States

seen from TĂŒrkiye
seen from United Kingdom

seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia

seen from France
seen from United States

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Latvia

seen from TĂŒrkiye
@magellanicclouds is an absolute gem! Starting off our spotlight series strong with a master of anatomy and one of the sweetest people I've had the luck to meet! You can find her here on tumblr as well as her ko-fi.
POV for the writing meme? ' v '
Giuseppe's POV of this bit:
So far he knew three things about John: He was very large, his eyes were alarmingly blue, and he was very quiet. All things Thomas had mentioned beforehand in some form or fashion. But Giuseppe was also expecting something more in line with other UNSC personnel he'd met through his wife, who usually came in two flavors: outrageously foul-mouthed bawdy people who loved a good, loud party and meticulously well-mannered creatures of habit. 'Starched', he called them.
'Stars', for the word prompt, please. (I wanted to do both these and the flower, because I love everything you write.)
The Warthog sputters and dies just a mile out from their own âhome.â As far as breakdowns go, itâs easily one of the better ones Fred has been through, but he also knows that deep inside his bones, this oneâs not his fault. He was driving normally this time.Â
âItâs not my fault,â comes out of his mouth regardless though, an expression of determined defiance on his face as he turns to look at Veta Lopis. âI swear.â
She just raises her eyebrows. Sheâs not quite disbelieving... just amused. Her eyes sparkle with it.Â
Itâs distracting.
âI wasnât going to say it was,â she says. âUnless thereâs something youâre not telling me?â
I have come for your headcanons, frand! ' W ' Please - â: for Natalia / âŸ: for Linda / and â : for Mark
â -Â for Natalia
When John was Nataliaâs mentor, he got her an ice cream after a training session went well, itâs the only thing heâs ever bought out of his own money and the moment Natalia realised how much she meant to him. Itâs a very small gesture to any outsider but to them it means the world :3
⟠- for Linda
Linda likes to make a nest out of her blanket to curl up in and sheâll sleep silently, like a contented cat.
â - for Mark
(why a sad headcanon whatâd he ever do to you lmao)
Mark is always scared that everyone he cares about will die but he doesnât tell anyone this bc heâs been taught to expect just that bc heâs a Spartan 3 so he worries in silence, hoping against hope it doesnât happenâš
đč (đ)
Imagine having a fandom legend pop into your asks to want to see your terrible writing đ
ââââ
âSierra-117 to Infinity. Target is marked. Fire on my position.â
The bridge crew froze, and Commander Sarah Palmer blinked. No....
âRepeat your last, Chief?â Tom asked- pleaded more like.
âWe canât let the Flood escape. I say again: Fire on my position.â
The bridge was silent aside from the assault rifle fire and rage-filled howls of the Eternally Damned coming from the comm channel. Lasky rested both hands on the holotable in the center of the bridge and leaned on them slightly, knuckles going white and eyes squeezing closed.
âCaptain?â
Sarah felt her heart rate pick up. She wanted to cry and tear apart the entire damn ship at the same time.
âCaptain!â Johnâs voice came more urgently.
âWeapons Officer.....â Lasky began, looking up and opening his eyes, making eye contact with Sarah. The look in his eyes said it all. â..... fire.â
The deck shook, and two blinding golden flashes erupted from Infinityâs bow, 600 ton slugs rocketing into the atmosphere towards the Forerunner facility. Then came the energy projectors, and thousands upon thousands of missiles.
Iâm sorry.
âââââ
For context, I came across a Sarah/John fic about six months ago and have not been able to stop with this ship since.
Please go read âCheeky Intrudersâ by MagellanicClouds D> Please! Kitties and pining and coffee and kickass skill
Kim Henry by ericpare
I crave your brilliant writing, Stumpy. How about #14 for the Things You Said prompt, "...when I wasn't meant to hear." ' v '
Very much inspired by your art and writing! My brain fully derailed on the tone but I love the Gammas and I bet they will have issues adjusting to the SoF and letting their walls down while they lick their wounds. I did crack open D*vine Wind again and that was a mistake so apologies for the tone.
-
Being a Spartan, an alive one, meant having near perfect situational awareness. It was beaten into you at a young age. Like a lot of other things.
You and your siblings were the last of your unit. Your pack, your family after the one that borne you died in fire and plasma, were clinging to life by the skin of your teeth.
You looked out for each other. You learned from your elders. And you always knew where the exits were and who held the keys. You and your siblings watched the docs and nurses and orderlies. You watched your mom sleep heavily under the drugs keeping her from feeling the skull fracture. You watched the IIs with open curiosity - how could they be so similar and different from Blue Team. You all knew it was time, but seeing it in person was strange. They were rough around the edges, eerily similar to you and your siblings, not fully tempered like Blue Team. Not yet.
You heal fast. The doctors whisper. You try their synthesized smoothers, under observation, and feel the world slip into focus a little more with every adjusted dose. You feel their eyes on you. You hear their fascination muddled by fear and discomfort. They're not a green crew but they only had 3 Spartans before and now they have 6.
And you're not like other Spartans. Not even like the rest of your generation. Gammas were something else. IIIs aren't as polite as IIs, there wasn't time in the suicide trainings for manners or etiquette or scholarly discussions.
Your team has specialists in stealth and information so it's only a matter of time before you heard it all. Gross devaluation of human life, ethics violations, just kids with scarred tissue aged at least a decade. Ticking time bombs, drain on resources, maybe not in so many words but hearing what they didn't mean to say, reading between the lines, knowing who on staff would break first was important to keep them alive. None of them were in top fighting form.
But not for long.
Still when you are welcome and abhorred by the same doctors that had one of your own under observation you had to play it safe.
The fighting was never done. Playing for time and breathing room was standard operating procedure at this point. ONI had made them see enemies in allies and vice versa.
All they could do now was wait. Time would iron out the rest of the details.