#fred/kelly

[helix-enterprises117]

Halo Reloaded: Advice... Again

Fred-104 was sprawled on a moth-eaten couch that had seen better days, probably around the time the Covenant thought humans were an easy target. He was idly flipping through a digital magazine, "Cuisine for the Super-Soldier Soul," a title so absurd it had to be military issue.

Kelly-087 was beside him, her legs thrown over his lap in a casual display of affection, her attention on a holoscreen displaying a list of 'Top 10 Quiet Getaways for the War-Weary Soldier.'

"Look at this," Kelly said, pointing at a blip on the screen. "There's a place that serves a dish called 'The Master Chief.' It's essentially a steak so tender it sneaks up on your taste buds."

Fred chuckled, the sound gruff but warm. "Sounds like something John would accidentally invent and never realize it's named after him."

Their banter was abruptly interrupted by a sound resembling a Warthog crashing through a supply depot. Except this depot was their living room window. Glass sprayed across the room, a makeshift reminder that peace was always temporary.

John-117, the epitome of Spartan stoicism and the most unlikely window-smasher, lay amid the chaos he'd created, looking momentarily perplexed by his own entrance. Fred and Kelly, veterans of countless battles, could only stare.

"John, ever heard of knocking?" Fred finally said, his tone dry enough to make a desert jealous.

Kelly, ever the pragmatist, was already calculating the cost of replacing the window. Again. "Or, you know, using the door like a normal person?"

John rose, shaking off glass like a dog shedding water. "Apologies for the dramatic entrance. I require... assistance."

Fred raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. "Did you run out of doors to knock on?"John's gaze was serious, a storm brewing over an ocean of uncertainty. "It's Linda. I need to ask her out. On a date."

Silence enveloped the room, punctuated only by the distant hum of the station's life support systems. Kelly and Fred exchanged a look, a silent conversation passing between them.

"You flew through our window... for dating advice?" Kelly's voice was a mix of incredulity and amusement.

John, unfazed by the absurdity of his actions, nodded. "Yes."

Fred stood, adopting the stance of a mentor about to impart wisdom upon a wayward student. "Well, step one: don't start by breaking her personal belongings. It tends to set the wrong tone."

Kelly, finding her voice again, added, "And maybe try using words. 'Linda, I value our time together both in and out of combat. Would you be interested in exploring a more... personal mission with me?' See? Easy."

John considered this, his brow furrowed in concentration. "No tactical overlay? No mission brief?"

"Definitely not," Fred deadpanned. "Try to sound less like you're planning an assault on a Covenant stronghold and more like you're, you know, human."

A moment passed, then John nodded, a determined glint in his eye. He turned, assessing the room with a tactical eye that unfortunately included the remaining intact window.

"Not again," Kelly sighed, already knowing what was coming.With the grace of a Spartan (which, in domestic settings, translated to 'bull in a china shop'), John made his dramatic exit through the second window, leaving a trail of destruction in his wake.

Fred and Kelly, now facing the prospect of explaining to UNSC property management why two windows needed replacing due to 'Spartan relationship advice,' couldn't help but laugh.

"Dinner and window shopping, then?" Fred quipped, offering his hand to Kelly to pull her up from the couch.

"Let's just hope the restaurant has a discount for heroes," Kelly replied, accepting his hand with a smile. "Because at this rate, we're going to need it."

[labyrinthofstreams]

Pages from Cecil Beaton's scrapbook(s).

[turtletoads]

halo on my mind

[fredswrite]

Anyone saying he didn’t age is wrong, but anyone saying he’s not attractive anymore is a LOUD INCORRECT BUZZER

[confusedhostage]

Dev art of Scooby Doo gang

from their newsletter - thought others might want to see it if unsubscribed. (I find the matchups funny) - Art by Abby Howard of Black Tabby Games.

[helix-enterprises117]

Halo Reloaded: Shut Up & Dance With Me

The Marathon Infinity is a place more accustomed to the clang of armor and the buzz of orders than anything else. But today, a rather unusual sound was cutting through the usual cacophony of militaristic-industrial efficiency.

Spartan Fred-104, known amongst his peers for his tactical brilliance and less so for his musical talents (which he absolutely has, let's not kid ourselves), had somehow found himself lost in the rhythm of a catchy tune. "♪ Oh, don't you dare look back, just keep your eyes on me. ♪" The song slipped out, wrapping around the cold, steel corridors like a warm blanket, a sharp contrast to the usual ambiance.

Master Chief his footsteps silent, a ghost among men. Stopping DEAD in his tracks, Chief tilted his head as Fred's serenade unwittingly continued. "♪ I said you're holding back, ♪" Fred crooned, completely oblivious to the audience he'd acquired.

The moment Fred caught sight of Chief's towering frame, the song died in his throat, replaced by a strangled sort of gurgle. Imagine, if you will, the color draining from someone's face. Now imagine it trying to find a way through a Spartan's helmet. That was Fred.

"Chief!" he sputtered, voice cracking like a teenager's. "I, uh, didn't hear you come in."

Chief stood motionless, yet the air around him seemed to vibrate with mirth. "I gathered," he replied, his voice betraying a hint of amusement that one might miss if they weren't paying attention.

Caught in the headlights of Chief's undivided attention, Fred scrambled for an explanation that sounded less like a schoolboy caught passing notes. "It's just a song, Chief. Nothing to read into," he stammered, hoping the floor might open up and swallow him whole.

Chief, however, wasn't one to let things slide so easily. "Fred," he said, that one word carrying a weight that could crush a lesser man. "Fess up."

Under that gaze, Fred felt his resolve crumble like a cookie in a Spartan's grip. "Okay, okay," he relented, the words tumbling out in a rush. "It's Kelly. I've got it bad for her. Like, really bad."

The confession hung in the air between them, a tangible thing. Chief's reaction, however, was not what Fred expected. There was no reprimand, no lecture on Spartan decorum. Instead, what came was advice, served straight up with a side of sincerity.

"Freddie, look," Chief began, his voice adopting the tone of a mentor rather than a commander... which is funny because John is younger than everyone else, Fred notwithstanding. "This might be the only time you'll hear me say this, but it's okay to have feelings... I know. I'm a hypocrite."

Fred blinked. This was not the conversation he'd anticipated having today, especially not in the bowels of the Infinity, and especially not with Master Chief playing the role of love guru.

"Take it from me, your feelings for Kelly don't make you weak," Chief continued, his voice steady and sure. "If anything, they make you more of who you are. And for what it's worth, I think she could do a lot worse."

Fred's mouth twitched, a smile fighting its way through the embarrassment. "Thanks, Chief. I think."

As they resumed their journey through the ship's labyrinthine corridors, Fred felt a weight lift from his shoulders, his steps lighter. The absurdity of the situation wasn't lost on him—a Spartan supersoldier getting relationship advice from the most decorated warrior humanity had ever known, all because of a song.

"Chief?" Fred ventured, a thought striking him.

"What is it, Fred?"

"Do you... ever sing when you think no one's listening?"

For a moment, there was silence. Then, Chief replied, "That, Spartan, is classified."

[itsbasil]

"So I heard you guys needed a pilot?"

John doesn't really make friends too often, so learning that his new boyfriend bestie is a civilian contractor he met on Zeta Halo has Blue Team more than a little curious.

I need Esparza to meet Blue Team so goddamn bad but 343 denies me this so I'm playing dolls in blender about it

[musicalfilm]

musical films leading men [pt. 1]

christopher plummer, the sound of music fred astaire, you were never lovelier danny kaye, on the riviera gene kelly, for me and my gal donald o’connor, call me madam bing crosby, here is my heart

[femmefatalesmag]

Vol 1 No1 1992 | Brinke Stevens, Monique Gabrielle, Kelli Maroney, Roxanne Kernohan, Michelle Bauer

[amirasainz]

hi i was wondering if you could do a max x kelly x amira where she’s in the red bull paddock and she just gets showered with attention from everybody and carlos gets a bit jealous?

You don’t have to do it if you feel uncomfortable!

Hope this is what you wanted. Enjoy reading and don't be shy to send me some requests!!!

-XoXo

No Part 2!!!

Mango-Dragon Fruit Refresher

“- and here is a hot cup of chocolate for you. Oh, and a blanket, so you don’t get cold,” said GP. “If you need anything else, let me know and we will get it for you,” added Christian. “Christian, she isn’t going to stay here. Her and Kelly—” Max started before Geri interrupted him. “While we wait for the food to arrive, let’s do some online shopping with Christian’s card.”

To be honest, it was quite a funny sight in the Red Bull garage. Max and Kelly didn’t realize that the situation would escalate like that. When the couple first woke up, their bodies were filled with excitement. Today was finally the day where Amira would spend her day at the Red Bull garage. They had asked her yesterday when they took her out for dinner. And like the sweet angel she is, she answered with a soft “I would love to spend the day with you guys.”

This morning, everything was fine. Kelly and she got ready together, while Max ordered breakfast for all of them. Afterwards, they drove to Starbucks where Amira got four “Mango Dragon Fruit Iced Refreshers.” They obviously didn’t want their love to get thirsty on their way.

But the moment the three of them entered Max’s garage, everything went downhill. The mechanics and the PR team cheered when they saw the Spanish girl. They stole her from Max and Kelly’s side, showing her the car. Amira, because she honestly is the most polite person on earth, paid attention to every single thing they showed her. Then, out of nowhere, Christian and Geri arrived, catching up with their favorite “daughter.” So one can understand why Kelly and Max are currently pissed off.

But the couple wasn’t the only one being unhappy with the situation. Carlos, who was passing by with Charles and Fred by his side, saw how everyone was hogging his precious little sister. The moment he heard Geri promise her to do some online shopping, he saw red. How dare they buy his sister things when she is only supposed to buy things with HIS money? And the audacity of the whole team has to give her a Red Bull branded blanket! She is the FERRARI princess, NOT the Red Bull one. It’s not Ferrari’s fault that the team doesn’t have any pretty princesses they can cuddle and love (Sorry Kelly.)

So like a man on a mission, Carlos marched into the garage. “Hey, you can’t b—” started one of Max’s mechanics before falling quiet under Carlos’ murderous glare. He marched towards his sister, “ripping” her out of Geri’s arms. “Sainz, you can’t just walk in here; this is not your garage,” said a furious Christian. “And this is not your sister, so you can’t have her,” countered Carlos. “Now wait Carlos; you know she is our guest today,” said Kelly. “Oh yeah? How about you all stop stealing our guest and try to find some fans for your own team?” answered Carlos.

Charles and Fred were heard from outside, both of them encouraging Carlos. “Yes Chilli! Don’t let them take your sister away from you!” Charles yelled. Before anyone could say anything else, Carlos gently took Amira’s hand, saying “Let’s get out of here, hermosa. We can do some shopping with Charles if you like,” receiving a smile from the girl.

The Red Bull team watched with bewildered faces how the Sainz siblings left the pit lane with Charles. Fred, who was still left at the entrance turned towards Christian, pointing his finger at him and yelled a loud and joyous “HA!” before skipping happily towards his team building.

The silence was interrupted when Kelly turned towards Geri and said: “This is all your fault!” “MY FAULT?! How can this possibly be my fault?” asked Geri. This was the moment cameras captured the biggest fight ever in Formula 1.

And Checo? He stood on his side of the garage, enjoying a refreshing “Mango Dragon Fruit Refresher.”

[helix-enterprises117]

Halo Reloaded: Puppy Eyes

In a cozy nook of New Mombasa, tucked away from the usual hustle and the occasional, unnerving peace that came after a particularly nasty Covenant invasion, was a diner. Not just any diner, but the kind with neon lights that had seen better days and a jukebox in the corner that was perpetually stuck on jazz standards from centuries past.

It was here, amidst the scent of overcooked burgers and undercooked fries, that Kelly-087 and Fred-104 decided to plant themselves for what passed as a date night in the Spartan handbook (not that such a handbook existed, but if it did, it would likely advise against anything that could result in fun).

Fred, the ever-dutiful Spartan, was halfway through a cup of coffee that could charitably be described as "motor oil chic." Kelly, on the other hand, was attacking a milkshake with the enthusiasm of a child who'd just discovered sugar was a thing. It was a rare moment of downtime, a slice of normal in lives that were anything but.

"Fred," Kelly said, sliding her milkshake aside with a look that meant trouble. Or fun. With Kelly, it was often both. "How do you feel about dancing?"Fred, whose experience with dancing was mostly limited to dodging plasma fire, nearly inhaled his coffee.

"Dancing?" he sputtered, trying to imagine himself in any scenario where that would be a good idea.

"Yeah, you know," Kelly pressed, her eyes gleaming with a mix of challenge and excitement. "Music, moving, maybe not stepping on each other's feet too much?"

Fred raised an eyebrow, putting down his coffee like it was suddenly made of live grenades. "Kelly, the last time I 'danced,' I accidentally dislocated an ensign's shoulder. You really want to unleash that on the civilian population?"

Kelly leaned back, giving him a look that was part amusement, part exasperation. "Oh, come on. I've seen you in a fight. You're all grace and lethal elegance. Just pretend it's a combat situation. Minus the actual combat."

Fred snorted, shaking his head. "Because nothing says romance like treating a dance floor like a battlefield."

But Kelly wasn't deterred. She employed the big guns: the puppy eyes. It was a low blow, and they both knew it. Those big, earnest eyes that said, "Trust me, what's the worst that could happen?" A lot, actually, but Fred found it increasingly hard to care.

"I can't say no to those eyes," he grumbled, though the fight was already leaving him. "This is going to end in disaster."

Kelly's grin could have powered the UNSC Infinity. "Disaster, adventure—it's all about perspective. Plus, it'll be fun. Promise."

Fred sighed, the weight of impending doom settling in. "You know, most couples would just go see a movie."

"And miss the chance to see you in dancing shoes? Never," Kelly shot back, her tone light, teasing.

They bantered back and forth a bit more, the diner around them fading into a comfortable backdrop. When they finally left, stepping out into the cool evening air, there was a lightness between them. It was the kind of moment that made all the chaos and destruction fade into the background, if only for a little while.

They made their way to whatever dance hall Kelly had in mind. Fred couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, dancing wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. After all, how hard could it be?

Famous last words, he'd think later, as he accidentally sent a fellow dancer spinning across the floor. But in that moment, with Kelly laughing beside him, it was all worth it.

@inthatfandom, @ionlymadethissoicouldleaveanask, @makowrites "I can't say no to those eyes."

[biomecharnotaurus]

😔

[haveyouseenthismovie-poll]

[empresskadia]

I have John-117 brain rot tonight and I'm sleep-deprived, so buckle up friends ;)

I've been thinking about how Spartans use their downtime after missions because regardless if they want it or not, they're gonna get ordered to take mandatory downtime. So it's not surprising when Captain Lasky tells Blue team to take a 48-hour rest period, even if John tries to protest and tell him they're fine. An order is an order.

So, Fred goes to catch up on paperwork, Kelly wants to go bully the IVs and Linda joins her on the promise that they'll go to the shooting range together and get a chance to play wargames, so she can test out a new modification she made to Nornfang.

But, all three know where John's going to go and that's to find his partner. They know the Chief won't admit it but they notice the slight slack of his shoulders as they leave debriefing and John's eyes flickering to the door as they get stripped from their second skin. They know the exact direction of your room and coincidentally that's the way Chief is heading after they've showered.

None of them say anything but exchange small glances of understanding. In a way, his partner was the only time he allowed himself to feel human, even if it was just a fraction. They'll all tease John about it in the morning when you both arrive for breakfast, but until then, they were grateful for the small reprieve you gave him.

So when your door swishes open after the bioscan confirms his handprint and the only light in the room is a dim glare from the projected screen playing a rerun of a show he's sure you've already watched and the body in the bed barely moving in response, he knows you're tired. There are no words said as he approaches, his partner giving him a simple hum of acknowledgment as you roll over to make room for his giant frame on the mattress.

John's movements are slow and careful not to disturb you too much. He sits on the edge, the familiar creak of the springs under his weight like a subtle greeting. You can hear the steady rhythm of his breathing as he begins to uncurl the laces of his boots as you instinctively reach out, fingers brushing against his forearm. It's a simple touch, but the question is there, asking if he's okay. He pauses for a moment, glancing back at you, and in the dim light, you can see those blue eyes soften slightly and the barest hint of exhaustion lay there.

No, he wouldn't say anything, but you could know and he lets you see.

He lies down next to you, his massive arm wrapping around your waist as you shift slightly for his head to rest on your chest. Your hand instinctively goes to his back, and running your nails up and down his back, taking a moment to gently brush over the divots of scars that you could tell apart from the augmentation ones to the ones he received from countless battles.

After a moment, you could feel him relax into your embrace, finding that perfect spot where your shoulder cradles his head. The gentle patterns on his back are seemingly like a lullaby for the Spartan. The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, the hum of the old show filling in as white noise.

John sighs, a deep, slow breath that you're sure he's been keeping in for a long time. You know he's holding a lot inside—memories of what happened to Cortana and the Didact, the constant need to keep going, and the result of New Phoenix. But here, in the quiet of your room, he can let go just a little, trusting you to hold the pieces together while he rests.

You keep tracing the lines on his back, your fingers gentle but deliberate as the room descends into total quiet and darkness. The air is warm, and the subtle scent of your shampoo mingles with the sterile smell of the Spartan's armor. You rest your head against his, the warmth of his skin bringing a small comfort to your tired mind.

It's not often you get moments like these—where the world outside doesn't matter, where you're not Spartans, but just two people sharing a quiet night together.

Downtime is as much a part of the job as the missions, and if it means spending it with you, he's not going to argue. Even if he had an easier time being a part of the armor, he could be human for a moment. Human for you.

[doom-dreaming]

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

Ferrets under the cut

and as a gift for @poisonheadcrabsalesman

[mostlydaydreaming]

Gene Kelly skateboarding with kids in NYC in the 1960s…

and Fred Astaire taking up the sport in the 1970s (in his 70s!) and taking that broken wrist in stride