#Olivia G291

[magellanicclouds]

hi, i've been following you for years and i just need you to know that you're one of the actual best artists ive ever seen at drawing strong, muscular women who are actually strong. its so exhausting to see characters like linda and kelly constantly be drawn/potrayed with supermodel bodies while only the dudes get to have real muscle. you draw them with all the muscle and strength theyre supposed to have!! it's a breath of fresh air honestly, thank you for your work :))

Thank you, anon! ; o ; This was so sweet and kind and gave me such a smile, you just have to know that! ; v ; 💙 Powerful frames on women are so beautiful to me. When it comes to Spartans, I am firmly on the side of people conveying them in any way which feels meaningful to them, but I do personally feel similarly to you in that I am not a fan of Spartan women being given the Blizzard treatment and illustrated in a way that does not feel functional and in-line with the narrative to me. Forgive me to taking a few days to get back to you about this, but it meant a lot to me, and I wanted to convey that properly with some gift art for you. ' u ' You inspired it after all!

[doom-dreaming]

take my humble offering of various low-quality halo character textpost memes

Ferrets under the cut

and as a gift for @poisonheadcrabsalesman

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

For @magellanicclouds - I wish it was happier but I am still thinking about the Gammas on that ship after being undercover for so long.

-

As soon as they're well enough to do so, the Gammas start patrolling.

The impulse is instinct beaten into them. Establish a basecamp and then monitor it and its surroundings. Two go and one stays with Mom. She nods and lets them because recon is important and just because ONI isn't on the Spirit of Fire doesn't mean they're safe. Someone is always watching.

The captain. The AI. The medical team. The IIs.

Red team may be apologetic about the circumstances they met under but IIIs don't do manners. Or socialization. It's why during a scouting trip past the onboard gym they heard themselves described as "feral".

At least you could count on marines to be too dumb to be anything but loose lipped and honest.

Years undercover aren't undone overnight. The tangled strands of who they were then and who they are now can never be the same. Some strings are cut to survive. Some parts lost. Habits that kept them alive are viewed as nervous tics and hypervigilance by people who had the luxury of sleeping through the worst of the war.

Maybe that's unfair, but so is their existence. The Gammas are the most volatile of the IIIs. They can never forget it. Revealing their need for smoothers meant handing over their leash. The need for a chemical tether never bothered them so much as the supplier. Nothing is ever certain but the mission. The mission's over now. Everything is uncertain and without each other to ground them, the Gammas would be lost.

Ash thinks of Onyx and Kurt. He thinks of being a leader and what sacrifices are necessary.

He listens to his brother struggle to breathe and wake up choking in the night. He holds Mark closer these days. He hears the sacrifice in his slower words and sees it in his far-away look.

"Exitus Acta Probat" - the ship's motto haunts his thoughts. Exploring yet another colony ship retrofitted for war should stir something in him, but Ash is tired. They're all so tired. Livi had gathered information on one of her patrols and then she had returned to their quarters and slept. And slept. Exitus Acta Probat: the end justifies the means. But what is the end? And where is the limit?

Ash doesn't know, but he'll lead his team as long as he draws breath. He makes Mark lean on him on the way back from patrol, shouldering his brother's weight with his head still on a swivel.

Eyes on them. Rescuers and witnesses to the means. In the end the mission was a success. Intrepid Eye was no more. The Keepers failed. Life goes on, for most.

A young man tucks his family in and then sleep takes him. He dreams of caves and phantoms and the sight of Mark still in the water.

Tomorrow he will get up and walk the ship again. There is no end, only the means and the ever growing middle.

[empresskadia]

I choose to believe that the Spartan IIs and IIIs are not used to normal acts of domesticity outside of the military. If you made them dinner, they would be absolutely blown away by the quality simply because they're so used to MREs.

For them, it was the best meal of their life. For you, it was lasagna day.

I love this and I fully agree. Very few of them recall home-made meals as children but it’s a very distance memory, Fred happens to be one of them. Like certain smells will click that memory in his head but he can never fully grasp it. Kelly teases him about it and tries to figure out what food he’s talking about but they can never put two and two together. It happens to be Blue Team’s greatest mystery they can’t solve.

But you make them food after they come back from a mission, and they are shocked. For Spartans, being cared for is alien to them, so they happen to be touched by this gesture. John and Kelly cannot sit together cause they will try to steal each other food, Kelly’s worse about this and you have to call her out cause she will try with Fred and Linda [who just about stabs Kelly’s hand with her fork.] when they aren’t looking. John will swipe a bite from Fred’s and Fred pretends not to see. For whatever reason when you make food for them, hell breaks loose and they will fight, Linda always ends up winning.

If you ever did this with the Ferrets, they get so quiet and kinda of just stare at the meal waiting for a trick question. Like why would you do this? All three of them are quiet while eating, but Ash is the one who asks if they’re allowed to have seconds and his eyes brighten when you say yes. Olivia gets a core memory unlocked and ends up sharing it at the table when Mark asks if she’s okay. They are seriously moved by this gesture and don’t know how to react but you’ll notice they go out of their way to stop by and say hello between missions. Mark ended up coming to you for advice once and continues to do so, he enjoys helping you in the kitchen too.

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

@mlgssy asked for the prompts "Those rumors about us are getting annoying. How many times do we have to tell them we aren’t together?" and "Come back to bed." for Fred/Kelly (and you all know how much it pains me to write some Fred/Kelly) from a few different prompt lists that I didn't actually recognize, but they looked like a lot of fun.

So anyway! Here goes.

---

Olivia-G291 bounced nervously on the balls of her feet out in the hallway. She had been tasked with what was probably the most dangerous mission of her life, and it took a few moments to amp herself up and get enough courage to actually go through with it.

After several moments of hemming and hawing, the young woman finally decided that enough was enough. It was time to bite the bullet - hopefully only figuratively - and get things done. With only a slight tremor, she lifted her hand and knocked gently on the door to the quarters she had been squatting outside for nearly twenty minutes now.

It took exactly forty-eight seconds for the door to slide open a few inches. "It's 0230," came the gruff voice of Kelly-087 from in the dark recesses of her personal quarters. "What do you need?"

O swallowed nervously. "Ash and Mark had a question for the LT," she said, quieter than she had meant to. Her palms were sweaty and her throat was suddenly very dry.

Kelly poked her head out of the door to raise one eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. Her hair dangled loose, for once not in her signature ponytail, and the blue-dyed ends shone in the fluorescent hallway lights. "If you're looking for Fred, why are you at my door?" she demanded.

O swallowed again. "Well, he wasn't answering at his quarters, and he wasn't in the gym or the cafeteria, so we figured - well, Ash figured, really - that he might be..." she was jabbering now. For someone who had such a skill for silence, she couldn't seem to shut up at this point. "Well, I told Ash that he should come knock, since it was his question, but he told me that I'm the only one that Fred wouldn't kill tomorrow morning if I happened to interrupt you two. You see, he seems to think that I'm Fred's favorite, which is ridiculous because-"

"Enough," Kelly said firmly. O found herself very grateful for the excuse to actually close her mouth. "First," Kelly said, raising a finger to count her points, "Fred isn't here. Second, of course you're his favorite, don't be ridiculous. And third, those rumors are starting to get annoying. How many times do we have to tell you that there is nothing going on between he and I? Honestly, it's-"

Kelly fell silent when the distinct sound of a tired groan echoed out from the room behind her.

O, momentarily forgetting her abject fear of the older Spartan in favor of her ravenous curiosity, leaned forward slightly to try to get a peek into the room. "Was that...?"

"It was nothing," Kelly answered sharply. The look in her electric blue eyes dared O to challenge her.

O did not take that dare.

"Kelly come back to bed, it's cold," Nothing rumbled, its voice sounding shockingly similar to what O imagined one Lieutenant Junior Grade Frederic-104's voice might sound like if he were woken up in the middle of the night, his voice rough and his mind slightly disoriented from sleep.

Kelly's head drooped and she sighed dejectedly, pinching the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. "I don't know why I bother," she muttered under her breath.

The younger Spartan took a step back, her hands raised. "Well, I think I'll just... go tell the others that he wasn't here," she said quickly, already turning and jogging back the way she had come.

Kelly didn't answer; she just retreated into her quarters and slid the door shut behind her.

[whotookmytomato]

Veta: I thought I had seen a lot of destruction in my life but nothing prepared me for when the Spartans were given a ball to play with indoors

[caffeineyum]

this is gold. I’m laughing my ass off

for reasons unknown some errors i had with posting this video. anyway no one asked but i shall receive

[she-bear18]

Random Freta fanfic

Veta Lopis x Fred-104

Okay, first of all, ENGLISH ISNT MY FIRST LANGUAGE, I accept constructive criticism, but pls be kind :)

Secondly, this is my first time writing a Halo fanfiction, more specifically a Veta x Fred fanfic. There aren't enough of them out there, so I have to take the matter in my own hands !!

Thirdly, this is SHIT, no thoughts, no plot, warned you lol

MESSAGE 

Veta was still getting used to this new lifestyle. Missions back to back, little to no rest and endless paperwork. Sometimes, she longed for home back on Gao, her tiny appartment, her lovely neighbours, her remaining family...She wondered what happened to them, do they miss her ? Is her little cousin Arnie still hoping to become an investigator like her ? Does aunt Pattie still bake her famous pumpkin pie ? So many questions, no answers.  She shook her head refusing to dwell on the past, she had a report to write down, and Baby Dragon  wasn’t a very patient woman.  

She was seated in a room on a prowler (whose name she forgot as soon as her feet landed on the deck) that ONI kindly lent to her. It was small and dusty, its grey walls were tinted with some kind of whitish product that smelled like paint. There were only a desk and a chair in it, which was more than enough for Veta to write her report.  

Her ferrets were down the corridor organizing their gear and getting ready for their next assignement. A little smile crept on her lips at the thought of them. She grew pretty close to Ash and Olivia, bonding over some of their “non-classified” stories (which she found pretty terrifying considering their age). Mark was an another story. He was still very wary of her, and did’nt seem to accept her as a part of the team. Less than a few months ago, she suspected him to be a serial killer, so she understoood his reluctance towards her, but she hoped things would change for the sake of the team’s dynamic. 

She was chewing on the bottom of her pen, deep in thoughts, when her mind wandered on Blue Team. Several of her past missions involved both her Ferrets and Blue Team, it was always an honor to work alongside them.  

She continued to tap her report on her borrowed laptop when Fred’s face suddenly popped in her mind. She blushed, they grew pretty close during their short time together.    

She dared to say she missed him.   

This wasn’t an inappropriate thought...was it ? He was one of the only constant thing in her life at the moment, except for her Ferrets. They came from different worlds, and very opposite upbringings : she grew up on an insurrectionist planet who longed for its freedom, while Fred is the ultimate representation of the UNSC authority. Never in her life would she have dreamed of becoming friend with a UNSC thug. But there she was, missing him and his dry witted humor, and wondering if he was safe. 

She grabbed her commpad, oppened a private channel and wrote the following message : 

Dear Lieutenant, 

 I sincerely hope that you are having “fun” on your current classified adventure. On my part, the Ferrets are doing good. I was thinking about you lately, I dare to say I miss you.

I've got a lot to tell you, don’t go MIA until then.  

Take care, 

Inspector Lopis 

[undidiridium]

THE FERRETS

[trocadero-ghost]

double cheeked up on a thursday afternoon, hella ass

[amayavittori]

Linda-087, Kelly-058, Tom-B292 and Lucy-B019 during Last Light: *still on their feet getting things sorted out after the battle*

The Gammas: *a little worn out but doing good considering Olivia had a broken leg and none of them had their smoothers in a good while*

Lieutenant Junior Grade Fred-104: *high on meds getting transported to medical, just happy to think about his little sled journey where Veta was on top of him*

[doom-dreaming]

High Flakes Combat

“Blue Lead,” Linda’s whisper cuts across TEAMCOM, crisp and several degrees colder than the icy landscape. “Hostiles approaching your position.”

Fred, tucked behind the trunk of a towering pine tree, exhales a slow, measured breath. Waiting. Listening. Without his motion tracker, only the crunch of footsteps in the snow—and Linda—could tell him when their opponents were closing in.

There. Fifteen meters out. He motions to John, positioned behind an adjacent tree. On my signal.

…ten meters…

Cover me. Go high.

…five meters…

John nods. Fred tightens his grip on his weapon.

Now.

As one, they pivot, breaching cover. Fred drops to a knee, attacking swiftly, before their adversary has a chance to retaliate.

The snowball hits Ash directly in the center of his chestplate. Active camouflage flickers briefly, then recalibrates, as the young Spartan crashes dramatically to his knees before sprawling backward, motionless.

Fred doesn’t let the theatrics distract him. The other two had to be nearby and the round wasn’t over until— A snowball whizzes past his head, followed by a sharp curse—out loud, close. He catches a shimmer of white on white as Olivia leaps to find cover and “reload,” but John is faster.

The snowball hits her thigh before she can complete her maneuver and she slides to a dejected halt in a snowbank. “Dammit! Mark!” she calls out. “You’re on your own!”

Fred doesn’t hear a verbal response. He knows he won’t, Mark’s too good to give away his position— Thwap. Fred’s vision goes fuzzy and white as Mark’s snowball connects with his visor, splattering on impact. Fred groans and flashes a red status light across his team’s HUDs. He’d be out until the next round.

“He’s on the move!” Linda barks over the comms.

Fred folds himself cross-legged into the snow and wipes his visor clean just in time to see Kelly bounding over a nearby ridge, clutching a snowball in each fist.

“I’ve got him!” She goes streaking across the snow toward a barely-visible figure—also sprinting.

Mark wouldn’t be able to outrun Kelly—a fact Fred knew the S-III was well aware of—but he was certainly trying his best.

Kelly nails Mark with both snowballs, one in the shoulder, the other in the back. He stumbles just enough that Kelly’s momentum sends her into him at full force. The clack of their colliding armor echoes like a shot as both Spartans go tumbling to the ground, sending up a minor flurry in their wake.

“Aaaaaaaand match!” Roland’s voice rings out over the simulation deck, followed by a buzzer. “Blue Team takes the win!”

“Again,” Olivia grumbles, pushing to her feet and dusting snow off her armor.

“It’s three against four,” Ash reminds her, still lying on his back a few feet from Fred.

Olivia crunches her way over and offers him a hand. “Can we make Kelly sit out the next round?”

“If you’re not having fun, leave,” John quips.

“Or maybe you should switch Kelly to our team and see how it feels,” Livi bites back, helping Ash haul himself to his feet.

“Fighting over me?” Kelly rejoins the group with Mark close behind. “I’m flattered.”

Fred chuckles. It was good to see Olivia trading barbs with John. The Gammas had warmed up to him quickly—and he to them—and it wasn’t hard to understand why. Fred was sure the S-IIIs had given him some new streaks of gray hair, but at the same time, they made him feel younger. He hoped they were having the same effect on John.

“So…” drawls a familiar voice, raised just loud enough to carry, “this is the reason my fireteams can't train today? A snowball fight.”

Every Spartan in the simulated snowscape whips toward the entrance. Commander Palmer stands at the far edge of the scene, arms crossed. She looks odd and out of place, a lone figure in a techsuit against the stark white surroundings, but no less intense than usual.

“Thought we’d try something different from the typical drills, ma’am,” Fred coughs. He’s not sure why he feels guilty; they’d requested the time and blocked out the schedule and followed protocol…even if they hadn’t said precisely what they’d be doing…

Before anyone else has a chance to speak, a snowball goes sailing over Fred’s shoulder, on a collision course for Palmer. She’s too far away to hit, but the aim is dead-accurate and it lands with a wet plap several yards directly in front of her.

Even at this distance, Fred sees her eyes narrow. The vague guilt solidifying in his gut crystallizes into ice. He knows who threw that and he’s already, reflexively, preparing for the necessary damage control—and for Linda, no less. Kelly he was used to, but Linda?

Palmer shifts her weight and fixes the seven of them with a hard stare that lasts long past the point of being uncomfortable. “Don’t go anywhere,” she eventually orders, leveling a finger in their direction. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Without leaving any opportunity for rebuttal, she turns on her heel and swiftly disappears from the deck.

Immediately, Linda’s status light starts blinking rapid-fire green across Blue Team’s HUDs. Kelly follows suit.

“Really?” Fred grumps over TEAMCOM.

“Can you blame her if it worked?” Kelly retorts.

“Yes! You’re making an assumption and setting a bad example.” He switches to his helmet’s speakers. “Gammas, don’t throw things at your commanding officers.”

“Unless you’re sleeping with them,” Kelly adds, with enough tact to keep the comment on Blue Team’s private channel.

Another green light from Linda.

Fred willfully ignores both of them.

“...we’re not in trouble, are we?” Ash removes his helmet and shakes out his hair. “To be honest…I don’t know what just happened.”

Kelly seats herself on a tree stump, legs akimbo, smugness oozing from every seam of her armor. “Palmer’s getting suited up to come play with us.”

Ash seems unconvinced but Mark shrugs. “She’ll balance the numbers. We might even start winning.”

Only Blue Team can see—and appreciate—the red light John flashes in silent response.

**********

As threatened, Palmer returns exactly ten minutes later, fully armored aside from the helmet tucked into the crook of her arm. “Okay, here’s the official story.” She strides up to the group. “We’re running an unorthodox but fully sanctioned training exercise all day.”

“I’ve cleared the schedule and put out an open invitation,” Roland chimes in. “As requested.”

Palmer nods her approval. “Figured I’d let you have your fun on the condition that the rest of us could get in on it too.” She raises an eyebrow. “Sound fair?”

“Fair enough,” Fred answers, echoing the array of green lights on his HUD. “Alright. Ground rules—we’re running blind for this, Commander. No motion trackers.”

She looks pleased. “I like a challenge.”

“If you get hit, you’re out for the round,” he continues. “Once you’re out, you can’t help anyone still standing. Round ends when a whole team goes down.” Fred nods toward the ceiling. “Roland’s keeping score.”

“Huh,” Palmer hums. “So you knew about this, too, Roland?”

“I…was informed the exercise would require a scorekeeper instead of a handler,” the AI answers, somehow managing to achieve the verbal equivalent of tip-toeing. “And I volunteered a mere fraction of my copious attention to the task.”

Palmer just rolls her eyes.

Ash clears his throat and steps forward. “If you wouldn’t mind, ma’am, we’d greatly appreciate it if you joined our team.”

“They’ve been wiping the floor with us,” Olivia adds, somewhat ruefully.

Palmer looks back and forth between Blue Team and the Gammas with a hint of a smirk. “Well.” She slips her helmet on. “Allow me to level the playing field.”

**********

And indeed, the tide began to turn. Quickly. It wasn’t that the Gammas couldn’t hold their own, but Palmer was a different flavor of ruthless and even numbers did make a difference.

Kelly, as Blue Team’s sole survivor, was in the midst of a valiant stand, but she was up against Palmer and Olivia and they were going in for the kill. Up to this point, Kelly had been relying on her speed to evade them, but Fred doubted that would be able to carry her any further.

Palmer and Livi split around the back of the snowbank Kelly had hidden behind, falling into synchronized step with each other, timing their paces perfectly. Palmer’s boots fall heavier and louder, covering Olivia’s near-silent glide around the other side.

The strategy is obvious, at least from Fred’s position of passive observation—Palmer would draw Kelly’s attention, Olivia would come up on her flank and take her out. And it would work, too…on anyone less observant than Kelly. Fred has a feeling she’ll see right through it. But one of them was going to hit her either way, so it didn’t really matter as far as the outcome was concerned.

Surprisingly, a third option presents itself. Fred realizes after a few seconds that he’s been holding his breath, expecting Kelly to explode out of the snow and make a run for it, but…she doesn’t.

Palmer reaches the other side of the snowdrift and slows, confusion evident in her body language. She paces around the area, making sure not to stay still for too long, obviously reluctant to let her guard down completely. Fred can see the hazy mirage of Olivia’s SPI suit still moving in with careful deliberation.

There was no way Kelly could have moved. She hadn’t had enough time. More importantly, she would’ve been spotted if she’d tried to flee, so why couldn’t—

Palmer disappears. One second, she’s standing on the other side of the snowbank, visible from the waist up, and the next second she’s gone. Fred can’t see much of anything, but there are sounds of a scuffle and the blur of camouflaged armor as Livi sweeps in to assist with whatever the hell had just happened.

Barely a breath later, Roland announces the end of the match. “And Gammas-Plus-Palmer emerge victorious! …or should I say Olivia, specifically, seeing as she is the last Spartan standing. You know, you really oughta come up with a better name for your team—”

There’s a burst of indignant exclamations and flustered cursing from Palmer. She reappears only to rip her helmet off and kick some snow back in the direction from which she’d escaped.

Olivia removes her own helmet; Fred is surprised to see her laughing. “She got you good!” There’s a giddiness in her voice that Fred’s never heard before, but she seems to remember who she's talking to a moment later. “...ma’am.”

Kelly pops up beyond the ridge. She remains helmeted but Fred knows there’s a shit-eating grin on her face just from her posture alone.

“What happened?” He shouts the question out loud.

“She buried herself in the fucking snow and pulled my legs out from under me,” Palmer growls as she trudges over.

“And then I hit Kelly point-blank in the face!”

Olivia’s gleeful comment is backed by Kelly’s laughter over TEAMCOM. “Worth it.”

“Hey!” A different voice cuts into the conversation, once again pulling everyone’s attention toward the entrance. “Heard there was some kinda free-for-all goin’ on in here?” Gabriel Thorne stands flanked by the rest of Fireteam Majestic, all in full Mjolnir. “Got room for another team?”

Palmer waves them in. “Come on up, Majestic. We’ll get you briefed on the rules.” She sighs and fits her helmet back on. “Hope you’re ready to get your asses kicked.”

**********

An hour later, after Majestic had carved out a few victories of their own, Crimson shows up. Rules are recounted, home bases are realigned, play resumes. Within another two hours, there are four more Spartan fireteams on the field. Alliances are formed, both openly and secretly. Several hours are devoted to building snow forts. Play evolves. Forts are defended and captured, sabotaged and reinforced.

And then Lasky arrives.

“Captain on deck!” Roland bellows.

The silence that blankets the simulation deck is instantaneous and absolute. Nobody moves. If the snowballs already in flight could have frozen in midair, they probably would’ve. Instead, they land in a chorus of muffled thwumps.

Lasky stands there for a few seconds, small and unimposing by the distant doors, sporting his trademark expression of beleaguered amusement—presumably at being called out. “Don’t stop on my account,” he eventually says. “I just wanted to watch. …unless there’s a team looking for a liability,” he jokes with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Everyone on the field exchanges glances and shrugs. A sea of status lights blink across Fred’s HUD—most amber, some green. Finally, someone from Crimson waves Lasky over. “We’ll take you, Captain!”

He seems genuinely surprised by the invitation, but begins the trek across the snow. “Try not to kill me, alright?”

That draws laughs from most of the Spartans, but it’s John who actually banters back. “No promises, sir.”

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Continuing the Halo women posting just because 5 of the women in that offical graphic I edited have been sent to the Ark upstate until they might get their stories told some day.

Alice 130, Isabel, Olivia G291, Kinsano, and Lopis are all trapped at the end of Divine Wind and whatever short stories the writing team is allowed to elaborate with. I must stress that the latest one is before Divine Wind and not near the canon year at all.

They might not be dead, missing, or written out but they are on the shelf after getting a smidge of spotlight

It feels a way, you know?

[magellanicclouds]

Next up: Veta and The Ferrets. ‘ U ‘ 

[ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask]

I like to imagine that O knows about their relationship, but she’s too afraid of Kelly to say anything to anyone.

(Editing because my original wording was a mess)

Footage of Spartan-II Kelly-087 tackling and brutalizing fellow Spartan Frederic-104 during a secluded scouting mission inside the Shield World Trevelyan.

The Gammas can’t see them making out when they’re hiding in the tall grass.

[whotookmytomato]

Veta banging two cookie sheets together because the ferrets won't stop bothering her: I ain't get no sleep cuz y'all, y'all ain't get no sleep cuz of me