#halo new blood

[monitorchakas]

Im at this part of the Halo Book New Blood

[superintendent-b]

A collection

[sleep-deprived-person]

Why the actual FUCK did 343 greenlight killing the Rookie from ODST, the main(-est) protagonist of that game, in a fucking book?

Why did Mickey join the same terrorist cell that kidnapped and killed Rookie, *which he caused by not wanting to hurt a human*!?

[oni-official]

Is Vergil (or Quick to Adjust) still okay? Are they aware of what happened to the ODST operative designated as "Rookie"?

Vergil continued doing well with Sadie Endesha as its handler. It worked with ONI, came to be quite popular in the Office. It joined other Huragok serving the Office and would schedule time with researchers to work on problems and calculations.

It's last known location was aboard the UNSC Infinity. While it did have contact with former members of Alpha Nine prior to this, we are not aware if it was informed of the fate of the "Rookie".

[simplicity73]

Gdi I can't believe I'm listening to new blood

I hate this book but I need Jun content

[crafteeauthor]

Honestly I have to wonder if Charles' immense repression doesn't just come from a place of growing up in Thatcher era England with an abusive father (although that is certainly a lot of it), but also from putting Edwin on a bit of a pedestal?

They're on equal footing in terms of just about everything but there's a hint of a dynamic there (they've got a bit of a prince/knight thing going on) that points towards Charles looking up to Edwin in some capacity. It's a little hard to get (laughably easy to get, really hard to register) a dumb teenage crush on someone who appeared to you in your last hours bathed in soft light like death herself and showed you the sort of kindness you thought only angels could show; it's too deific a mental image if that makes sense? I imagine directing romantic feelings towards such a monumental figure in his life (death) would feel like looking at the sun too long

[just-rainbow-thoughts]

*puts leshy in the shrek outfit instead of the maid outfit* I’m nothing like y’all 🐠

[snails-in-spaceships]

So. I'm coping.

[doom-dreaming]

Stars!

"Chief, you have to find cover. Now."

Black spots are swimming in his vision, pinging around his HUD, melding and diverging and zinging and popping. Cortana's voice sounds light-years away.

"Another hit like that and we're toast. Literally. Move!"

Instinct is the only thing kicking his legs into motion, straining against the pain. His shield warning is blaring inside his skull, he can feel portions of his undersuit melting against his skin, he's still seeing stars. A wave of nausea swells and threatens to break, but he swallows it down, collapsing behind a pillar.

The enraged Hunter bellows somewhere close by—too close. He hears the heavy clang of its weight moving around the room, searching him out. He doesn't have long. He grits his teeth, tries to focus on his breathing, reloads his rifle. His shields begin to recharge, not nearly as fast as he needs.

Two grenades left, that was something. He yanks the pin out of one, counts to three, then lobs it around the side of the pillar. The Hunter howls over the sound of the blast.

John hauls himself to his feet and runs, shoving aside the searing pain of the plasma burns. Cortana was right, he couldn't take another direct hit. He sprints through the dissipating smoke, past the Hunter, and launches himself onto a platform on the other side of the room, pivoting on his heel the second he touches down.

The Hunter's back is still turned, but it's starting to shake off the shock of the explosion and swing around to face him, plasma cannon already glowing—his window of opportunity is getting smaller by the second. He fires a burst from his rifle, aiming for the sliver of squirming orange worm-flesh under the armor. The Hunter stumbles as the bullets connect, just long enough for John to fling his final grenade.

The explosion thunders through the room, amplified by the residual energy from the half-charged cannon. White-hot fire roils against lime green smoke. A satisfying splash of rust-colored viscera coats the walls. The Hunter crashes to the ground beside its fallen sibling, twitches, then lies still.

His shield alarm is sounding again, he must've been caught by the fringe of the blast. Nothing pings on his motion tracker. The adrenaline that'd been carrying him through the last brutal fifteen minutes starts to fade, making room for all the stress and pain he'd been ignoring to come screaming back with renewed intensity.

He barely manages to unseal his helmet and rip it off before he vomits. It doesn't make him feel any better; the convulsion tears at his blistered, charred flesh, sending a fresh spike of pain through his chest. The air tastes like metallic smoke, but he takes a minute to just breathe.

"...we've gotta keep moving, Chief." Her voice is closer again, but tinny, projected through the helmet's external speakers. "We can rest when we find a medkit." Authoritative as always. But he hears the concern.

He nods. Spits. Takes one last deep breath before fitting his helmet back on and willing his battered body to carry him to the next room. He's still seeing stars.

[spartansagas]

Tactical Debrief part 1: Operation COALPEPPER

•OBJECTIVE: Recover Huragok ‘Quick to Adjust’ and his handler Sadie Endesha

•YEAR: 2555

•Location: Talitsa, Sverdlovsk system

•Outcome: Success

EVENTS: Spartan IV team ‘Alpha Nine’ deployed to Talitsa. Made their way on foot to an insurrectionist stronghold believed to be holding Endesha and Quick to Adjust. Whilst surveying the camp, Spartan Crespo went Stolen Gauntlet and betrayed Spartans Buck and Agu, holding them at gunpoint whilst insurrectionists surrounded them. They began to march down towards the camp, when Spartan Buck provoked Spartan Crespo into engaging in a brawl that successfully distracted the insurrectionists long enough to allow Spartan Agu to escape. He proceeded to engage the hostiles with rocks, killing several. Spartan Buck incapacitated Crespo and the insurrectionist leader. The pair then made their way to the compound, recovered the targets and returned them and Spartan Crespo to UNSC custody.

[bloodgulchblog]

Hey wanna see some stuff about Spartan-IV augs?

*nervous laughter*

*NERVOUS LAUGHTER INTENSIFIES*

[monitorchakas]

I'm not buying Musa's bullshit about Spartan IVs being better than Spartan IIs.

I don't like his implication that Spartan IIs aren't human.

I also am not buying the whole "spartan II would have killed Mickey unlike spartan IV" its a miracle that Buck didn't kill him, Romeo probably would have...

Spartan IIs are more in control of their emotions than IVs, they are more professional. Spartan IVs are too undisciplined. How many times have we seen them mouth off, disobey orders, go on emotional tantrums? Not even talking about just these guys, look at fireteam majestic.

I think they are making too many "spartans". I think the selection process should be much less forgiving. Like Halsey said "some are closer than others" (to being spartans).

[superintendent-b]

The post-halo 3: ODST, pre-new blood vibes must've been abysmal

[eschatonjudge]

[boyheros]

I have SUCH a good character design idea rn but i have to do FUCKING HOMEWORK!!!!! making this post to remind myself later: blood halos. ok.

[awxcoffeexno]

ain't gon' ever deserve you

mutant!loganhowlett x human!reader one shot

fic masterlist | nsfw claw worship

summary: logan has a nightmare and hurts you by accident - or - the one where you worship his claws the way they deserve.

content: mostly family-friendly claw worship. logan believes in the animal accusations but reader fixes it. reader is human, logan and reader have an established and v loving relationship, lots of reassurance and comforting for logan.

warnings: logan has nightmares, mentions of blood, logan self-hate, family-friendly knife play??????.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: listen, claw worship has been on my mind for a looooooong time. I'm too chicken to put up any of my nsfw writing yet so here's an sfw version with affirmations for poor baby lo-lo. also this is super inspired by logan and kayla's relationship and even uses some quotes from them.

you're deep asleep, dreaming of everything and nothing when you feel the sudden sharp sting in your arm.

eyes flying open, you open your mouth to hiss in pain but logan's lips are at your ear, snarling and grunting in his sleep again.

you look down to find his claws out, the metal tips digging into your arm. you exhale sharply, watching the warm blood seep down your arm and onto the new white sheets.

"no! n– no!" he growls, and you're forced to bite your lip as you try to pull away from his vice grip. when that doesn't work, you sink your nails into his arm.

"logan–"

"victor, NO!" he screams and sits up, yanking his claws from your arm and stabbing at the air in front of him.

victor creed. logan's brother and the bane of his existence. victor who haunts his dreams every single night, victor whose name you can never forget, victor who is now the reason logan's hurt you.

you sit up with him, aching for him, wrapping your arms around his torso. the burning pain in your arm an afterthought, you hear him swallow and gently let out a breath. he's sticky with sweat and the dry radiator air in the room isn't helping, the moon glowing through your glass walls, creating a halo around his head.

"nightmare." you state, letting him catch his breath and take in his surroundings.

he nods even though what you said wasn't a question but a statement. he twists around and pulls you into his lap, hugging you like he does near every night – chin tucked into your shoulder, arms wrapped all the way around your torso. he smells of soap and cigar smoke and the faintest hint of your shampoo. you smile to yourself and press a kiss to his hair.

"you're so cute." you mutter and a small smile spreads across his lips.

"cute?" he repeats, amused. "that's new." he pulls you closer, further down his lap and you can feel his heartbeat start to steady again.

"you used my shampoo again, and don't you deny it this time."

he scowls at you but lets you kiss him anyway. "reminds me of you," he sighs when he realises you won't stop until he admits it.

"but i'm right here," you giggle, running your thumb over the shell of his ear.

he opens his mouth to explain further but that's when he smells it. the blood he's drawn from your arm in his nightmare-fuelled anger at victor. his jaw tightens as he looks for the source of blood, finding three uniform slices on the outside of your forearm.

"no," he gasps, a thousand emotions crossing his eyes.

you try to wiggle your arm out of his grip, the blood running down your arm now. "hey... i'm okay."

"like fuck you are," he snarls, angry at himself.

how could he have possibly hurt you?! was this a thing now?? was he a danger to you even in his sleep?! god, he'll have to put you to sleep and then figure out a way to declaw himself. maybe if he just slices the back of his palms open–

"james..." you break him out of his thoughts, hand on his cheek. "baby, i'm okay. really. it looks worse than it feels."

"i'm going to rip these out." he whispers, holding his fists up, the back of his palms facing you. his words are as much a promise to you as a command to himself.

you grab his fists and glare at him. he blinks at your expression, looking at you over his hands.

"don't you dare say anything of the sort. these are a gift."

"a gift," he scoffs, "you can return a gift."

"these are a gift," you repeat sternly. "and i will not let you do anything to them."

he opens his mouth to protest but you aren't done. how dare he even think of hurting himself, of declawing himself when you love his claws as much as you love every last part of him.

you run your fingers over the back of his palms and whisper, "take them out."

"sweetheart..."

"take them out, my love" you repeat, kissing his knuckles because you know it hurts every time he does.

he carefully and very very slowly bares them and you look at him from between the blades.

not breaking eye contact, you lean in and press a soft kiss to the base of the middle claw on his right hand. you catch him shuddering and your eyes widen in surprise.

"you felt that?"

you can see him redden even in the dark. "'course i did," he grunts.

"what does it feel like?" you ask, fascinated. everyday you learn something new about him and it never fails to delight you.

you kiss the base of another claw on the other hand and see him inhale sharply.

he groans deeply, humming to come up with the right words. "like... you're stroking every nerve in me to life."

that makes you sit up on your haunches and wrap your fingers around his wrists. he freezes, bracing himself to yank the claws back in the second he thinks you might hurt yourself on the sharp ends. you carefully lick along the length of the claw between his pinky and ring finger on his right hand, making him exhale shakily.

"tryna kill me, sugar?" he says through gritted teeth, every muscle in his body tense.

"trying to show you how much i love your claws, lo. even if they hurt sometimes."

you loop your right hand between both of his, gently pressing the tip of your thumb against the sharp end of a claw. you run your finger up the blade, making him whine in protest as you draw blood.

his eyes implore you, pleading, but you simply take your hand up to his mouth, pressing your bleeding thumb against his lips. he relents, sucking it into his warm mouth and licking it clean.

"logan?" you whisper and he hums around your thumb.

despite the heat in your core, pooling between your legs, you need him to hear this. you'll have time to fulfil that need later.

"every part of you means everything to me. but your claws, especially your claws, have the most special place in my heart. they protect me. they make you feel good. and most of all, they're fucking cool."

and that finally makes him crack a smile again.

"y'think so?"

"mhmm."

"c'mere." he says finally, pulling his claws back in and tugging you back into his lap.

he makes you straddle him and kisses you warmly. he looks into your eyes with such fondness, it squeezes your heart. carefully he pulls his first claw out on his right hand and uses it to gently push your hair out of your eyes. your eyes flutter shut in response, leaning into his metal touch.

he brushes the back of the claw across your cheek and your lips part prettily for him. the air doesn't feel so thick anymore, the quiet humming of the refrigerator in the kitchen not overwhelming him the way it was when he snapped awake.

ever so carefully, pushing his own boundaries, he turns his wrist and pushes the flat of his claw onto your tongue. it's warm and tastes of him, salty and musky and like metal.

"that okay for you, pretty girl?" he mumbles and you can hear the strain in his voice. he's terrified but he so badly wants to be brave for you.

you wrap your lips around the claws and suck softly in response, drawing a groan of pleasure from him.

he shudders beneath you, every inch of him tense and trembling with restraint. you slide your tongue along the metal, tracing the edge of his claw with reverence, savoring the taste of him.

logan’s breath catches in his throat, and you feel the warmth of his exhale ghost across your face. his other hand, free of the adamantium blades, finds its way to your waist, gripping you tightly.

"god," he breathes out, voice rough and filled with a raw vulnerability you hear only at night. "you have no idea what you do to me."

you slowly release his claw from your mouth, letting it slide out with a deliberate slowness that has him biting back another groan. his eyes are locked on you, dark with need.

you reach up, cupping his face with your now clean thumb, and brush your lips against his in a featherlight kiss. "i think i do," you whisper against his mouth. "i want you to feel how much i love every part of you, logan. even the parts that scare you."

his claws retract with a soft snikt, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

"you're something else, darlin'," he murmurs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. you can feel the smile playing on his lips. "you make me feel... whole."

you nestle into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. "and you make me feel safe," you reply, closing your eyes and letting the furnace heart of his presence envelop you. "always."

you feel his grip tighten, his hand trembling slightly against your waist. he's always been the warrior, the weapon, the animal, but here in your arms, he's just logan, just a man who’s been through more pain than anyone should endure.

"people see the claws and think i’m nothing but a beast," he murmurs, his voice thick with self-doubt. "like i’m more metal than man. they look at me and all they see is the damage i can do."

you pull back just enough to look into his eyes, your hands framing his face. he tries to look away, but you won’t let him. you press a soft kiss to his brow, then his cheek, and finally, to the corner of his mouth.

"they don’t make you an animal," you whisper, your voice even and filled with conviction. "they make you strong. they’re not just weapons, they’re part of what makes you you."

his breath hitches at your words, and you feel him struggle against the years of conditioning, the years of being told that he’s nothing more than a killing machine. but you won’t let those words hold power over him anymore.

you reach down, gently taking his right hand in yours. with care, you press a kiss to each knuckle, feeling the warmth of his skin under your lips. then, you look up at him and slowly, deliberately, coax his claws out again.

you run your fingers lightly over the metal, tracing the curves and edges with the same care you’d give to a delicate piece of art.

logan watches you, his expression shifting from uncertainty to something deeper, something like awe. "you don’t see me like everyone else does," he says, almost to himself.

"no," you agree, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of one of his claws. "i see you, logan. the real you. and what i see is a man who’s fought for so long to protect the people he loves, even when it’s cost him everything. your claws, they’re not just about hurting or fighting. they’re about protecting. they’re about survival. and they’re about who you have been for so long."

his chest rises and falls with each breath, the tension slowly easing from his body as your words sink in. for once, he doesn’t feel like an animal. he feels like a man, just a man. and it's nice.

"besides," you say, tone lightening. "so you really think I'm such a baby i can't handle three little cuts?"

you both know you're underplaying it and though he would never admit it in the day, the moonlight across his face betrays his grateful expression. it's easier to believe that he hasn't hurt you too much when you're saying it yourself.

you lower his hand, resting it against your chest, over your heart.

he swallows hard, holding you as if he’s afraid to let go. "ain't gon' ever deserve you," he whispers, his voice thick.

"you deserve everything," you murmur back, holding him just as tightly. "and i’m going to keep reminding you of that, every day."

for a moment, he’s silent, just holding you close. then, in a voice that’s barely more than a whisper, he says, "you almost make me feel human, darlin’."

you pull back just enough to kiss him again, only because you know he'd much rather feel than hear. your kiss is slow and tender, letting him feel the truth in your touch.

he doesn’t say anything more, but the way he kisses you back, the way he holds you, tells you everything you need to know.

he'll be okay. you'll make him okay. you gently push him to lie down and rest your head on his chest.

you love him, you love how he wants so badly to believe you, and most of all, you fucking love his claws.

--

this stemmed from a very nsfw thought™ but here we are, all warm and fuzzy. a mostly non-angsty fic is new for me!!

hope you liked this x

love, d <3

--

edit: i wrote an nsfw claw worship fic too 🤠🤝🏽 >> unholy