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poisonheadcrabsalesman · 1 month

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Making the Most of It

A follow-up to Blown Lightbulbs by bellygunnr featuring Lasky, Palmer, and Roland and the ever-present passage of time. Here's 3.4k words of AI Possession, brunch, banter, and salvaging your precious time together after a trip to your childhood home.

Also on ao3. This work is mature but not explicit.

The trip to Mars wasn't a total wash just because of the disastrous meeting at the Lasky Household. They still had a few things left on the itinerary that Sarah and Roland had put together without Tom's knowing. And Roland wanted to try those mimosas.

There's some movie droning on the wall sized TV in the background, screen dimmed along with the lights in the room, casting gentle shadows on cream colored walls. Half the pillows are arranged in a comfortable nest, propping them up while the other half are piled on the overstuffed recliner in the other room. They're too high up for street noise, but every so often the passing engine sounds of a ship taking off rumbles through the thick walls of their hotel room.

It’s a little ridiculous, a huge room high above the sprawling landscape of a bustling downtown, views of the shipyard and further out the edge of the terraformed greenery giving way to natural Martian red-brown. A penthouse suite complete with minibar and a bathroom bigger than his quarters on the ship. Beyond excess, but he knows they picked it out for him. Just like they both came along, and comforted him when the house and everything related to it was so damn cold.

The sheets are soft and clean, and the comforter light yet warm, like a cloud surrounding them in their small bubble. Pressed against each other, skin on skin, her mouth moving from his ear to the back of his neck, trailing kisses as they entwine and exist.

He's two people right now and also just one, experiencing the feeling of being held, of warmth and love made physical as she crawls closer and pulls him back against her, their surroundings and worries forgotten as she pets his head, his hair, fingers scratching lightly as her other hand soothes and squeezes his arm, his stomach, his chest. Their legs tangle, his cold feet making her hiss before sighing as they settle down again.

There’s no Mars, no shipyard, no botched family reunion or ghosts of his past haunting them. Just the sounds of her heart beating slow and steady and the dual warmth of being pressed against her and the feeling of his passenger heating the CNI with his presence.

Dozing for a short time, they awaken as the movie ends and another one starts. The reminder that the time they have together is passing makes them oddly emotional, a swelling melancholy that stoppers their throat and leaks out their eyes. They sniffle quietly, blinking away fat, hot tears that slide down to pool on the arm holding them close.

Quiet concern murmured into the spot where two become one makes them fidget and turn, burying their face into her neck and squeezing her tight. She reacts with a forceful hug, one hand coming up to wipe their tears. Rolling over to her back, she allows them to sprawl across her while they sigh and wheeze as the roiling emotions of two beings settle again. Warmth and a steady rhythm of her breathing soothes them slowly. She waits until their stuttering breathing evens out and kisses their forehead and then both their hands.

There's no hiding here. No need to. No ranks or titles. A brief respite against the rising tide and ticking clock. They may starve for touch outside the four walls of this borrowed room, but here and now is an oasis of privacy. Embracing away from prying eyes, a chance of catching their breath without some threat hanging over their heads, not choking on the signs of their stations collaring them. No need for armor.

Her hands squeeze and let go of theirs before tracing feather light touches down their back and up their sides, teasing spirals and swirls into twitching skin as they struggle to stay still. Retaliation comes too late even as they try for the spots on her side that make her laugh; she flips them and drags the cover over their head.

Cocooned in the glowing warmth of the backlit blanket, they are pinned by her weight and by her mouth on them. Kisses and raspberries attacking any available skin, their wrists in her hands, their legs pinned by her sitting atop them. They laugh and struggle against her, bucking their hips against the onslaught before she pauses. Her smile beaming down on their flustered face, her hair messy and ringing her sleep-lined face.

"Vacation's not over yet. You can't get weepy on me after one nap, boys." Her voice rasps out of her throat, still thick with sleep. She releases their wrists and drops her arms beside their head, holding the majority of her weight off them as she boxes them in. Her chest presses against theirs, hearts pounding together and she looks them in the eyes and smiles with teeth glinting in the low light.

"We still have plenty of time, and I have a few things in mind." She whispers, grinding her hips down on them as she mouths at their neck, grazing her teeth along the junction between throat and shoulder. She doesn't wait for a response as she moves lower and laves at a nipple. Words seem out of their reach so they make some kind of noise, halfway between a question and an affirmative. She moves to their other side, repeating her actions with teeth and tongue, making them gasp, before she purrs in their ear. "You two should tell me what you want to do. We should make the most of this."

They remember their hands are free and take a moment to figure out where to put them. She notices their slight hesitation and lets them figure it out, only to be surprised when they grasp her face in their hands and pull her down for a kiss.

It's slow and sweet and lingering as they figure out who's driving. Waiting with a patience solely reserved for them, she lets them explore and hums her assent when they do something she likes. After a moment she kisses them back, gently leading this time, growing more forward and licking at their lips til they part; deepening the kiss til they draw back for air.

Their lips are wet and swollen and their eyes are blown wide, rings of gold still shining around dark pupils. Tom's face is flushed and wearing Roland's half cocked grin and she wants to eat them alive and hold them close and never let go all at once.

It must show on her face.

“Like what you see?” The words tumble breathlessly out of Tom’s mouth, but the confident little smirk doesn’t falter.

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Their next quip, either Tom’s or Roland's, is lost as Tom’s stomach growls in defiance. The sheepish grin is Roland’s while the embarrassed flush on his ears is all Tom.

“Room service?” She asks, inches from their face. A nod and she kisses them again before pulling back. “You’re buying, Lasky. This place is too rich for my blood.”

She rises, taking the comforter with her as Tom-and-Roland squawk at the rush of cold air. She laughs and throws it back at them as they grumble.

Going to throw on one of the too-small complimentary robes that came with the room, she chucks a pillow at their surprised face while they bundle up in the regained comforter.

Yes, Tom could afford to cover the cost. Captain's salary he never spent. The place was expensive, and she was the one that booked the room. Least he could do was pay for the food…and drinks.

They splurge. The numbers on the right side of the menu sit there politely in neat font while she fights her rising blood pressure. They want how much for a burger? She’s out of touch with the cost of tea in civilian populated areas- her own food and nutrition coming straight from the UNSC for so long now. Her main concern was sending money back to Luna for her dad and squirreling the rest away for some inevitable emergency. It’s fine, it’s a vacation, but she can’t imagine spending that much regularly.

Tom can afford to splurge and being planetside means fresh food. Fresh food alone makes it worth the price. That and Roland's eager to try almost anything. He's practically chomping at the bit for new experiences.

The food arrives on a cart left at their door; the wheels sinking into the plush carpet under the weight it bears. It's covered in silver serving dishes complete with cloches, looking like it's straight out of an old movie. They aren't dressed like it's an old movie though, but it's their vacation. Food tastes better lounging in a robe or half wrapped in a duvet anyway.

Roland delights in revealing their brunch- brunch! Isn't that neat? A meal for people who don't start their day at 0500- and they dig in.

She can't keep the grin off her face as she watches them eat and talk between themselves in one body. Roland seemed to lose most of his usual issues about crumbs and mess in his mission to try as many foods as possible.

She ends up having to hide a laugh in a sip of coffee as Tom reins him in and redirects them away from the mimosas.

She wonders how long that will last.

Tom's trying to tell Roland that his- their tastebuds didn't like hollandaise sauce, but he's bound and determined to try it all. Watching the usually more reserved duo decimate the plate of bacon and eggs was cute. She was endeared and trying not to be annoyed about it. Her chest felt full and she couldn't stop grinning.

So the hardened Spartan Commander shoves half a bagel with lox in her mouth and starts fixing a third plate instead of dwelling on it. Hashbrowns and cholesterol will change the funny feeling in her chest. No carefully planned meals here.

The eggs benedict are tried, despite Tom's warning. It has their nose wrinkling in something close to defeat before she distracts them with another dish and finishes off the plate herself. She was never picky about food, couldn't afford to be, but now with free time and Lasky's paycheck, she could agree it was a little weird. Wouldn’t stop her from cleaning her plate.

They start digging into a grapefruit and making faces at the tartness. Fresh fruit was a treat aboard a starship, and most of Roland's secondhand exposure had been so processed or refined, it's no wonder the preconceptions he had were a bit off. She and Tom were having fun forgetting to warn Roland about certain sensations. Sarah was waiting til they switched who had Roland to introduce him to the wonders of capsaicin.

Still, seeing Tom's face squinched up made her chuckle and lean over, cloth napkin wiping the juice dribbling from their chin.

She's in rare form, so she doesn't insult them. Maybe she's getting soft. Instead, she offers the fruit platter up as a better option.

"Here. Try these, they're sweet." She holds up a grape, round and cool and much nicer than the ones she's had in the past. So much sweeter and real, no chemical aftertaste or electric purple dye clinging to her tongue. Leaning forward she takes their chin in her hand and feeds it to them, thumb brushing their lip as she waits for their judgment.

They chew and brighten, eyes darting towards the plate in front of her and her face as a blush forms. She leans closer, chin on her hand. "Well, did you like it?"

Tom-and-Roland swallow and nod, and grab a glass of water to wash away the lingering tartness. Their eyes flicker from plate to plate and back to her face. A hand sneaks forward and wraps around the delicate flute of mimosa and she rolls her eyes.

“I want to try it! You’re both making a big deal out of nothing.” Roland says, eyeing it with burning curiosity.

Three glasses later, they’re giggling as Tom mentions there might be more champagne than orange juice in there.

“I hadn’t noticed.” She says smoothly, stabbing a waffle off their plate and stealing it before they can respond. The pitcher is on her side of the table, out of their reach, next to her own empty glasses. “Drink some water.”

They smile broadly at her and dutifully sip some water. She can’t take her eyes off them, it’s how she knows they haven’t stopped smiling since they woke up.

Roland reports he likes the mimosas more than scotch. He also reports he wants to order Irish coffee but she and Tom shoot that down.

“It’s not like we’re driving!” Roland pouts with Tom’s face, but the furrowed brow is all Tom.

Sarah swallows a half chewed bite of food and it goes down jagged and prickling. “I’m driving, you two can argue who gets to navigate.”

Their eyes light up and Tom’s mouth struggles to hold two different smiles.

It’s not a long drive, but traffic and checkpoints to get out of the city delay them long enough for Tom to relax again. She’s glad to see his posture relax and his eyes turn from her to their surroundings. Mare Erythraeum still sported wounds from recent battles. Dotting its landscape like bite marks were great gouges in the ground from ordnance and Jiralhanae ships.

It was more of the same. Signs of war everywhere they went. Signs of the UNSC and its progress were everywhere too. The choking miasma of fuel and engines from the shipyard stunk up their warthog’s cabin for the first few minutes of the drive.

Eventually gray gave way to green gave way to brown. Mars’ red brown soil had been carefully cultivated to support terraforming and human industry before nature had taken its own course back and flourished in an unproductive manner a few kliks out.

Past the old rundown towns that orbited big shipyards where the old hands used to live. It reminded her of Luna in a way. The atmosphere was nice, no fear of failure there, but the signs of age and neglect on old homes next to poorly maintained roads with bright new billboards showing off the latest ads and propaganda. Same everywhere she went. Sad and comforting in a way, as long as you stay useful, you stayed fed, and your home wouldn’t end up boarded up and abandoned.

Now she was overthinking things and being morose, what the hell?

Sarah eases the ‘hog out of the slower speed zone of the small town and back out onto the open highway towards their destination. Few others were on the road this way so she looks over at Tom-and-Roland with a smile, rolls down the windows, and guns the engine.

It takes off with a delayed roar and the wind greets them with its own roar in return.

Her passenger whoops as the warthog shudders and revs under her demanding hands. She wouldn’t push it too hard, not when they had the drive back to the hotel ahead of them. Sarah took care of her equipment and it took care of her - she just expected performance out of the damn thing for the price it cost. That’s what you get with a rental, she thinks with a sigh.

Tom’s hand rests on her thigh while he and Roland watch the road disappear under them. There’s a strange pause in their body language she can see out of the corner of her eye and then they’re sticking Tom’s head out the window.

She laughs, loud and clear at the moment. It’s a good day, beautiful even. They sit back in the seat after about a minute and Sarah smiles at the state of Tom’s hair. She ruffles it with her hand, pleased with the chilled feeling and their sunwarmed face and that she can touch them without looking over her shoulder.

They arrive at their destination with enough time before sunset. The Martian day was nearly identical to an Earth one, and she and Roland had researched their options when Tom had told them about his upcoming trip. Though it seemed Roland kept his thoughts quiet because Tom looks around in quiet awe as they clamber out of the warthog. Their boots crunch on the gravel parking lot and he takes in the trail signs and information boards.

“The Olympus Highlands Nature Reserve?” He says in a quiet voice. “I’ve never been. Never really left New Harmony until…”

“I always knew you were a city boy.” Sarah says with a nudge. “And we don’t get enough time planet-side. Love the atrium, but I thought we might like something a little more real. Don’t worry, I’ll still go slow.” She smirks at him and swallows her own uncomfortableness at Tom’s emotional display.

“Thank you, Sarah, Roland, I mean it. I-” His eyes shift and he swallows. Sarah allows him and Roland this brief mental scuffle while she unloads the packs.

“You won’t be so grateful after I make you hoof it up the trail. You’re pulling your weight here. The both of you.”

“Yes, Commander.” They say together. She turns on them, glowering at their wry smile and warm eye contact.

She scoffs and slaps the pack into Tom’s hands. “Maybe I’ll lose you on the trail, be free of this. Officer types never listen to me.”

“But then you’d be in charge.” They say, tilting Tom’s head to look at her with his stupid brown eyes wide and pleading.

She looks away from them playing dirty. “Damn, you’re right. I need you two around to do all the boring work. I guess you’ll survive the trip.”

“You always say the sweetest things.” They say as they put on the pack with a huff.

“Shut up and get walking. Roland needs to see how plants fix our monkey brains so he stops bothering the crew.”

“I ask a few questions and everyone gets so offended!” Roland whines, throwing Tom’s hands up before crossing his arms.

“Come on, I want to get moving.” She calls over her shoulder, three strides ahead of them and already ducking into the tree lined path.

They follow without complaint. The trees swallow the road noise and then they are left with only the soft orchestra of the park. Wind rustling the leaves as the sun dapples them with faint light, bird and bug calls echoing from all angles, and the sound of flowing water from somewhere down the path. There’s a low call from the valley where the Reserve houses its animals and information center. A strange baying noise that sounds like the braying of cattle crossed with an elk’s eerie keening voice. They stop and listen. The wind blows an answer that whips their hair and clothes around. Sarah and Tom inhale in unison and release the breath before turning back to their path.

Roland chuckles with Tom’s voice. “I think I get it.”

Sarah takes their hand and they climb.

The path snakes up the incline, grasses and tree roots anchoring the loose red brown soil while they slowly turn the whole hillside green. Rocks rounded by water and time glisten on the creek bank while dark shapes dart just below the waterline. Dragonflies and other insects flit around in an unknowable dance while larger wildlife scurries into their holes and hiding places amongst the decaying logs and nest-heavy tree branches.

Sunlight dims as time marches on, but it has been time well spent. Tom-and-Roland still feel the ache at the reminder, but the sadness is no match for the warmth of Sarah’s hand in theirs.

The path leads them to the treeline and beyond. A few more steps up the ridge has them standing on the precipice of one of Mars’ many craters-turned-valleys. They sway in the last of the sunlight as their star edges ever closer to the horizon, dyeing the skyline a cool blue.

Dust particles and Martian atmosphere, Roland thinks, but the scene is all too familiar to Tom. It hurts less than he thinks it would. Being on Mars, seeing the same sunset he watched disappear into darkness when he was left alone. Time passes, but it doesn’t have to hurt. At least, not all of it.

He-and-Roland inhale and exhale, a deep lung-filling breath that nearly escapes them without shuddering. The wind is chillier up this high, but Sarah’s there. Her hand is warm, and so is her arm as she draws them in close to watch the horizon.

They look up at her face and smile.

It’s her first Martian sunset, they’d missed yesterday’s at the house. Her eyes are clear and her shoulders lower in the most relaxed body language they’ve seen all trip. She needed this too.

“You know,” She swallows, uncharacteristically quiet. She mulls over her words even as she doesn’t take her eyes off the sky. “I could get used to this.” She says with a squeeze of her arm around them. The wind is chilly and night will be too, but it’s not so bad. He’s not alone.

“Me too.”

#my writing #Sarah Palmer #Thomas Lasky #Roland the AI #Halo fanfic #Look at my prose boy #palmsky

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vibe-spartan-nostalgia · 6 months

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY HALO 4!!

On this day, November 6 2012, Halo 4 released, forever changing the landscape of Halo

#halo #halo 4 #master chief #cortana #ur-didact #catherine halsey #thomas lasky #librarian #jul 'dama #sarah palmer

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doom-dreaming · 4 months

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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.”

#halo #my writing #halo fanfic #s2blueteam #sarah palmer #fred 104 #ash g099 #olivia g291 #kelly 087 #just tagging characters with the most screen time bc Everybody is here #also don't ask me when this takes place #bending the timeline to my will #everyone's here at the same time and that's what matters #mainly i just wanted to write something cute and let them have some playtime #this was somewhat prompted by the exchange in the fall of reach that haunts me #where kelly mentions snowballs #and john gets salty because she puts rocks in them #IMPLYING THEY HAD A SNOWBALL FIGHT AT SOME POINT #can you imagine mendez like 'you know what these little war machines need? Snow Time'#anyway happy holidays #also yeah. yes. the title is a shitty pun #that's the kind of person i am #and yes this takes place somewhere in the PSEU (palmer sandwich extended universe)

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superintendent-b · 11 months

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I've been pushing myself to finish old WIPs

Getting back into the art swing + a new signature. Aw yeaah!

#halo #spartan ops #halo 5 #halo 4 #sarah palmer #my art

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space-sheep08 · 2 years

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Twin peaks : Fire walk with me (dir. David Lynch)//Perhaps the world ends here (Joy Harjo)

#twin peaks #fire walk with me #laura palmer #leland palmer #sarah palmer #sheep stuffs #web weaving #sometimes I'm smart :) don't know if it was one of these times but anyways #I still made this and now I'm sad chdksmsmq

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fablepatron · 5 months

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@poisonheadcrabsalesman asked for this wonderful image and who am i to deny…

#normally i dont do armour when drawing requests. but stumpy gets friend privileges #SP #my art #digital art #gaylo gart #Sarah palmer #it can go in the tag #cuz i spent too long on this

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moviesycho · 1 year

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TWIN PEAKS: SEASON TWO (1990-1991) "Lonely Souls"

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thehushedcasket · 8 months

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Wet rag of a little ai man

#halo 4 #sarah palmer #halo roland #palmland #I’ll make it a real tag 4 u stumpy

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cut-me-and-call-me-yours · 5 months

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MY BLOODY VALENTINE 3D (2009)

Usually, I don't tend to watch re makes of horror movies, especially when it comes to classics like My Bloody Valentine, just because they never seem to deliver on the same level as the originals. This remake, however, made the original look weak. I love how it took the classic and the characters involved and gave it a fresh spin. The characters have much more substance to them in regard to personality and motives. The plot twist in this film is way harder to pick up on than the original and makes the film much more intense. In true remake fashion, everything is amped up to 10, but it's done in a way that feels right and not too flashy. There's a lot more blood and gore in this installment. I loved that they kept the dryer kill but reimagined it in a way that fits this version of the story. Let's be honest. That was an iconic kill.

#horror #horrormovies #bunnytalks #movie recommendation #2000s horror #slasher fandom #slasher movies #harry warden #tom hanniger #axel palmer #sarah palmer #my bloody valentine #my bloody valentine 2009 #horror remake #valentine horror #valentines day #heart shaped box #pickaxe

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poisonheadcrabsalesman · 1 year

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#Spartan Ops #Halo 4 #this is not a halo blog #I worked. for so long on this.#it's going in the tags #Thomas Lasky #Sarah Palmer #Roland the AI #Catherine Halsey #Spartan Miller #SpOps is a treat #halo shitpost #my writing

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empresskadia · 14 days

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Round 4 because Part III was that good, holy crap. Hear me out:

Linda-058 has a secret sweet tooth. Growing up in the Spartan program, sweets were usually fought for if they weren't given out as a reward or hidden well, so she learned to hide hers the best. (She also learned where all the other candidates hid theirs.) Even outside the program, she kept it a secret because she had a reputation to keep. She couldn't be Linda, the Sniper Goddess if she was caught eating ice cream. Then, she met you. You had never seen her blush before, but her face was as red as her hair when she shared a chocolate milkshake with you. When you both finished, she kissed the leftover whip cream off the tip of your nose.

Kelly-087's affections are usually expressed physically in a variety of ways. She has a tendency to lift you off the ground when she hugs you, playing with your fingers while holding hands, or "sneak attacking" you with kisses when she thinks you aren't paying attention. You know she's coming, but you don't have the heart to tell her that.

Cal-141 likes to carry you in the way one would carry a bride. She thinks it's cute, and it reminds her of the tales of knights and princesses from when she was a child before the Spartan program. One time, you had bought her a golden dress that would fit her because she had mentioned wanting one ever since she was a kid, and it was like the fairy tales had come true. Cal offered her hand to you after she managed to put it on, insisting on dancing with her knight in shining armor.

Sarah Palmer isn't the best with her feelings. Being an ODST during the war and the Commander of all the Spartan-IVs after the war, she tends to hide her emotions behind a mask. Fortunately, as her second in command, you're able to see past the mask she puts on for others. She shows her love in subtle ways, in ways your subordinates wouldn't notice. The way her touch lingers just a few seconds longer, the way her lips ever so slightly curl upward when she sees you, how her eyes tend to flick to you. She's a lot less subtle with her affections in the privacy of your own quarters though.

PART 3 WAS FREAKIN AMAZING, tell me more,

Linda would threaten you to never tell anyone, not even the rest of blue team can know. This is also where she would confess to stealing everyone else's sweets in the program. AND KISSES MY NOSE *FERAL NOISE* that got me good, I'm screaming, and I just tossed my laptop to the side in excitement. Linda <3, honestly, Linda is a beauty-

Kelly is the most affection spartan and she has moments where she looks at her partner and this unexplainable desire to shower them with kisses comes over her. She also likes holding their face in the palm of her hand and will say "my whole world fits in the palm of my hand" ALSO, I would really like Kelly to pick me up and hold me against the wall-

because she would just to see her partner get flustered as hell

omg Cal <3, sweet angel, she would carry you like a princess and even kiss your nose or forehead when she's getting overwhelmed with feelings. AND THE DRESS, first, she would look beautiful, and second, you would help her pin her hair up while you also kiss her scars.

I believe Sarah and her partner would have their own subtle way of their affections for Sarah's sake too. Roland is the only one who has caught on and has been threatened into silence not by the commander but by her second-in-command. Sarah thinks about her partner in the little things throughout the day and when they're in bed together, she will tell them about all the things that made her think of you with a small smile on her face and her ears turning into a tinted pink.

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doom-dreaming · 5 months

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The More The Merrier: Ch. 3 - Consummation

They’re not even five steps down the corridor when Kelly slams her against the wall, fingers twisted, tight with intent, into the fabric of her shirt. Adrenaline spikes through her, sharp and familiar and white-hot; a heady rush of arousal follows quickly on its heels. Lightning-fast, her own hands seek the straps of Kelly’s tank top. It would have taken much stronger alcohol—and a lot more of it—to dull her reflexes. Still, she should’ve known she wouldn’t be fast enough.

With a swiftness that's nearly impossible to track, Kelly swats her hands away. A heartbeat later, her wrists are clamped together over her head and Kelly is pressed against her so tightly she swears she can feel every layer of fabric separating the two of them. “This is for you,” Kelly whispers, chasing the words with her tongue, following the curve of Sarah’s jaw.

It was a bold move—she'd give Kelly that much—and boldness, while usually a risky strategy, was also (unfortunately) one of the very few keys to Sarah’s heart. She could already feel her sense of decorum starting to crumble. The firm curves of Kelly’s body fit so perfectly against her own and she allows herself a moment of fantasy, imagining those curves naked under her hands… She’d be damned if she was the only one getting stripped tonight.

“Taking her down right here in the hallway?”

Kelly hums; it’s halfway-adjacent to a laugh. “She might like it.” For a second or two—not long enough—Kelly’s lips linger on her skin. “But it’d be a shame to’ve kicked the boys out of the room tonight for nothing.”

Heat blossoms somewhere in Sarah’s gut and quickly sinks lower, and not just from the shock of Kelly leaving a parting nip on her neck. “You prepared for this?”

Kelly’s eyebrows arch. “You didn’t think we were just being friendly, did you?”

The heat between Sarah’s legs settles into a tight, heavy ache that makes the trek to Blue Team’s quarters more torture than it should be. Sure, when Roland had mentioned all three of their elevated heart rates, she’d expected some light flirting—or whatever passed as flirting for Class-IIs—not an entire contingency plan complete with semi-public foreplay and a conveniently-unoccupied room.

But Kelly and Linda were the core of the most competent Spartan unit to ever exist—should she really have expected anything less? Having Blue Team onboard the Infinity was teaching her—quickly—not to underestimate them. She’d watched them train, she knew how they approached a challenge, how they played when they could sense the odds were heavily in their favor, reveling in their skill and efficiency and ruthlessness. Really, it was her mistake for assuming this would be any different.

She risks a glance at the camera mounted over the door while Kelly’s fingers fly across the keypad. It was impossible to know where Roland was or wasn’t looking at any given moment, but she knows he’s too invested in this to allow his attention to lapse completely. They’d have an audience tonight whether she gave him permission or not.

The soft ‘beep’ of acceptance from the keypad is almost drowned by the hydraulic hiss of the door opening.

“After you,” Kelly chirps, punctuating the words with a firm slap to Sarah’s ass.

“I should write you up for insubordination.” Her tone stays stern and professional, but she’s betting they’ll pick up on the joke. …she hopes they’ll pick up on the joke.

“We’ll remind you in the morning,” Linda snipes back without missing a beat.

The lights in Blue Team’s quarters dim significantly when the three of them cross the threshold, almost as if on cue.

“Mood lighting, hm?” Kelly murmurs from somewhere over Sarah’s shoulder. “Thanks, Roland.”

Sarah grits her teeth. “Do not encourage him.”

The room’s holotank flickers gold, but that’s the only sign of acknowledgement the AI gives—no avatar, no pithy comment. Sarah’s almost impressed by his restraint. Almost.

The gentle ‘hsss-chnk’ of the door closing behind them may as well have been the starting alarm of a wargames match. All three Spartans burst into a flurry of motion, a storm of hands pawing, grabbing, tugging at anything within reach. Again, Sarah goes for the straps of Kelly’s tank top, and again Kelly slaps her away. It quickly becomes something of a dance, a rhythm, a give and take; Kelly yanks at the waistband of Sarah’s pants, Sarah takes the opportunity to slip her hands under Kelly’s top.

She knows it’s a losing battle; she’s outnumbered and outgunned and sure enough, with two against one, it doesn’t take long at all for Sarah’s—and only Sarah’s—clothes to litter the floor. Somewhere in the midst of the scuffle, her hair had been freed from its ponytail; she catches a glimpse of the band around Linda’s wrist.

Undoubtedly emboldened by the new vulnerability of their quarry, Kelly and Linda redouble the intensity of their attack, pressing in from both sides. Lips dance over skin, hungry, working their way up and down her neck, across her shoulders and collarbone, along her jaw, behind her ears.

Kelly drags her in by her bra straps, crushing their mouths into a rough, messy kiss. It’s not a good kiss—it’s mostly teeth and not nearly enough tongue—but it’s enough to distract Sarah from Kelly’s primary objective. Slim, quick fingers target the frontal clasp of her bra—a breath and a snap later, it’s open and Kelly is sliding the straps down Sarah’s arms for Linda to catch and remove from the other side.

Kelly’s teeth close down on Sarah’s bottom lip. “Looks like someone did a little planning of her own,” she notes, pulling away. “No way you just happened to be wearing that.”

Sarah runs her tongue over her lip and tastes copper. She smirks. “I had my hopes.” Despite all her best attempts at bravado, she’s embarrassingly wet by the time they actually make it to the nearest bunk. Kelly’s hands play cruel games at the junction of her thighs and she’s halfway made up her mind to just grab Kelly’s wrist and—

Kelly is on her faster than the thought can finish forming; a welcome weight settled on her hips, firm hands pinning her shoulders to the mattress. Another weight—Linda—slides onto the bunk behind her head and a second pair of hands takes the place of the first.

Kelly sits back on her heels, head slightly cocked, just the barest hint of a smirk on her lips. “How do you want to be fucked, Commander?”

Maybe it’s the use of the title, usually so formal, spoken so casually and in such a context. Maybe it’s the bite in Kelly’s voice, the way the words punch out of her. Maybe it’s the gentle, agonizing swipe of fingertips against her clit. Maybe it’s a combination of all three. Whatever the cause, there’s fire rising swiftly in her neck, threatening to spread to her ears. It’s damn near reflexive, the way she rocks her hips into Kelly’s hand, hungry for more pressure than the other woman seemed willing to give.

“You like that?” Without waiting for verbal acknowledgement, Kelly indulges her, tugging the damp fabric of her panties to the side and slipping two slender fingers into the slick heat between her legs.

Sarah can’t stop the growl that claws its way out of her throat, ears burning at the immediacy of the reaction. It wasn’t supposed to be this easy—she did this to herself on a regular basis, for fuck’s sake. But Kelly’s hands were not her own and that was making all the difference.

**********

Kelly curls her fingers on the return stroke before pushing deeper into the next thrust, studying Palmer’s body like a tactical map. Each twitch of muscle and every micro-expression that fluttered across her face was feedback for Kelly’s performance and so far, all Kelly could see were green lights across the board.

Palmer’s hips roll with the flow of Kelly’s fingers, her hands are gouging furrows into the sheets, and she’s blushing so hard Kelly swears she can feel the heat of it. Still, a change in tactics might yield better results... It was a risk she could take. Briefly, Kelly withdraws, switching fingers, pressing the heel of her hand into Palmer’s clit. The motion provokes an instant response, a shiver and a breathless, whispered curse.

Spurred on by the encouragement, Kelly shifts her weight, bracing herself on one arm, sliding her tongue up the length of Palmer’s stomach. She slows herself down, takes her time, licking long languid stripes over salty skin, rewarded by the involuntary ripples of toned muscle underneath. She works her way higher—over the curve of a breast, around a nipple.

At the fringes of her peripheral vision, she sees Linda’s hand pressed firmly against Palmer’s jaw, tilting her head back, no doubt forcing eye contact. “All bark and no bite so far, Commander,” Linda purrs. “I think Kelly’s disappointed.”

It was a familiar trick. Even though their roles were usually reversed on the battlefield, Kelly knew when Linda was setting her up to take a shot. She closes her lips around the nipple she’d been teasing, sucking gently, swirling her tongue to match the rhythm of her hand.

Whatever retort Palmer may have had to the comment comes out as a whimper instead.

**********

They were unraveling her—fast. She knew they would and she wanted it, but…god damn. Every inch of her skin is on fire and the brilliant green of Linda’s eyes may as well have been the beckoning of a cold, clear pool. She can almost imagine herself diving in as Linda leans closer.

“Relax,” the sniper murmurs. “If you’re not gonna fight, you might as well enjoy it.”

The grip on her jaw loosens, but their eyes stay locked. She swallows, still intensely aware of Kelly’s mouth on her skin, her fingers curling and spreading and exploring. Sarah’s palms are sweaty, her hands are twisted in the sheets, and she’s not sure she could move them even if she wanted to—not against the ruthless tempo Kelly is currently torturing her with. Relaxing was easier said than done.

“Having fun yet?” Kelly flashes a grin that falls short of 'cheeky' and lands somewhere in 'predatory.' Lips at the wrong angles—again, too many teeth.

It’s hot. Sarah feels cornered. Her wildly-enhanced fight-or-flight response is wreaking havoc in her brain, crossing wires about what her body should or shouldn’t be doing. She pushes through the haze and focuses, managing to tilt her hips into a more agreeable angle. She hopes that’s enough of an answer.

Kelly makes some strange sound of approval, more animal than human, and the inferno raging under Sarah’s skin blooms to a breaking point in the pit of her stomach. Muscles tighten. Spasm. Release. Kelly fucks her through it, leaving a line of light kisses down her chest. Linda’s fingers are delicate and strangely affectionate as they comb through her hair. Gradually, the fire ebbs into a dull, heavy smolder that settles into her bones.

They leave her alone for a minute, enveloped in that warmth. Gracefully, carefully, they move over and around her, leaving her blissfully untouched as they switch places. Linda slots herself into the space Kelly had left, maneuvering until she can lay flat on her stomach. A sniper’s position, Sarah thinks lazily. The mental alarm bell of what that actually entails catches up with her a second too late. By that point, Kelly is already behind her, grabbing her wrists, pulling her arms over her head.

She squirms and tugs. Unsurprisingly, Kelly’s grip remains steadfast.

“Didn’t Linda tell you to relax?”

Yeah, because that’d worked so well the first time. But her head was clearer and she wasn’t balanced on the edge of an orgasm, being betrayed by her own muscles… She could try. She shuts her eyes and puts some effort into it, taking inventory of her body, trying to sink into each sensation. There’s a grounding effect to the pressure of Kelly’s hands around her wrists, it’s warm and comfortable, in an anchoring way. The sheets are soft under her bare back. Cool air blows across her stomach, counteracting the heat of her body.

She loses focus as Linda’s tongue leaves a hot, wet streak up the inside of her thigh—and another directly against the already-soaked crotch of her (still yet to be removed) panties. Linda’s fingers join her tongue a few seconds later, toying with the edges of the fabric, sneaking under for a touch before retreating again.

Sarah doesn’t know if she’s in any position to negotiate, but she tries anyway. “Will you get those damn things off me?” Her voice doesn’t come out nearly as strong as she’d hoped it would.

Linda’s only answer is a snort and a playful tug at the waistline that sends the elastic snapping back against Sarah’s hip. She bites back a groan and shuts her eyes again, doing her damnedest to be patient. Linda’s tongue works in slow strokes; it does feel good, but the flare of returning arousal is quickly burning off the effects of the afterglow and it takes significant willpower to keep Sarah from bucking her hips directly into Linda’s face.

They were right. She should be enjoying it. Her date nights with Tom had been few and far between as of late, and in the event there was sex involved, it was quick. Not unsatisfying, not at all obligatory, just…quick. It seemed as though everyone in her life, herself included, always had something going on, something they needed to be doing. Tom’s responsibilities only multiplied by the minute. Miller was almost always running an op—not that that ever discouraged her from screwing around with him if she had a few minutes to kill…

The point was, she hadn’t had a good, thorough fucking in what felt like an eternity. She could relax. She could enjoy this. Really, they were doing her a favor—

Without warning, Linda pulls her panties to the side. The sudden rush of cool air against hot skin instantly sends her train of thought crashing off its tracks and into a ditch. Linda’s tongue is back in action within seconds and Sarah’s fingers twitch, desperate with the desire to tangle into that gorgeous red hair and yank…but Kelly's grip on her wrists makes that impossible. At least for the moment.

The movement, of course, doesn't escape Kelly's attention. She leans down into Sarah’s line of sight, a dangerous smirk on her lips. “Need something?”

Sarah opens her mouth to bite back, but Linda’s tongue sliding across her clit draws a breathless whine from her lips instead.

Kelly’s smile gets toothy and feral again. “Sorry? Didn’t quite catch that…”

“Just fuck me already,” Sarah hisses, jerking against Kelly’s restraint at the next flick of Linda’s tongue. To hell with relaxing; she was done being patient. “What do I have to say? Please?”

“Might be nice.” Linda’s tone is cool and utterly unbothered. The sensation of her breath is enough to send goosebumps crawling across Sarah’s skin.

“Tell us how badly you want it,” Kelly purrs.

Oh, she made it sound like such a simple request. No, this was a game for them. Sarah was nothing more than a mouse caught between the paws of two very cruel cats. She huffs. “You're sadistic, you know that?”

Kelly leans even closer, almost cheek-to-cheek. “You like it.”

Of course she did. But relaxing and enjoying herself was one thing. Admitting desperation was another. Besides, they didn't need her to vocalize anything her body wasn't already communicating; she may as well have been broadcasting her desire over open comms. And they were picking it up loud and clear.

“Alright then.” Kelly pulls back, smug. “We do this the hard way. I think she wants to sing for us.”

Linda answers with a low chuckle. “Let's hear it.”

**********

Kelly can't school the grin that crosses her face the moment Palmer finally breaks. Seeing her commander laid bare and vulnerable in front of her is akin to a battle-rush—that feeling of hot blood and razor-sharp senses at the first hint of danger.

She locks eyes with Linda over the writhing plane of Palmer’s body. Her sister was working her calculated, methodical magic and Palmer was singing. She’d been trying to say something for the past few minutes—something Kelly assumed was ‘please’—but hadn’t managed to make it past the initial sound without the word devolving into unintelligible moans. Linda’s head bobs, prompting the loudest cry they’d heard so far.

“Agh—!” Palmer doesn’t even have time to catch her breath before she’s gasping out another attempt. “Pl—p…” She’s staring up at Kelly with manic arousal. “Please! Please...”

Kelly cocks her head. “She’s pretty when she begs.” Even though she means it more as a taunt than a compliment, Kelly can admit there’s a layer of sincerity in the comment. Palmer has the beauty of a caged tiger, seething with powerless fury, hungry for control Kelly isn’t allowing.

“Fuck me,” she huffs, teeth bared, still clearly trying to capture enough air to form the words. “That’s a gah—ah!” Her hands tighten into fists as she fights against Linda’s distractions long enough to spit out the rest of the sentence. “...a goddamn order!”

Kelly’s gaze flicks from Palmer back to Linda. The sniper’s brows raise by mere millimeters, but Kelly interprets the question with ease. Should we?

She waits, counting heartbeats. One. Two. …three. She sets the caged tiger free.

**********

Her inhibitions and final shreds of professionalism tear to tatters as her hands find purchase in Linda’s hair. She needed more contact. Now.

With another low laugh that rattles Sarah’s bones from the inside, Linda obliges. Silent moans spill from Sarah’s lips, swallowed and stifled by quick, heavy breaths. She’s been stripped to raw nerves, capable of doing nothing but feeling. Linda seems determined to map out Sarah’s entire internal topography with her tongue. Kelly’s fingers dance over the ridges of her ribs. Stars bloom behind her eyes as she crashes—finally, mercifully—over the edge. She’s vaguely aware of Kelly crooning something into her ear, but she’s too far gone to actually parse the words.

She feels like she floats for hours, hazy and warm, suspended in honey. Kelly and Linda are speaking, but the conversation is distant and watery and it doesn’t feel like she’s included, so she doesn’t bother trying to understand any of it. Her muscles have turned to wet sand; she knows it won’t last long and doesn’t bother fighting it. Relax, they’d told her. Well, now she had no choice.

She’s not sure how long she lays there. Kelly and Linda’s words gradually sharpen as her mind clears, then fall silent as she forces herself to stir and stretch. It takes her a minute to realize they’re watching her with some flavor of expectation, so she says the first thing that comes to mind. “...is that it?”

Kelly scoffs. “And risk insulting your stamina? No. That was a warmup.”

Sarah’s face flushes with heat. Before the other two have a chance to comment on what she knows is a highly-visible blush, Roland chooses that moment to make an appearance. She’d never thank him out loud, but she's grateful for the distraction.

“Ahem.” He makes a show of clearing a throat he doesn’t have, a gesture made all the more ridiculous by the decision to speak without the added illusion of his avatar. “Apologies for the intrusion, Commander, but I’ve taken the liberty of rescheduling tomorrow morning’s drills with Fireteam Hydra. Hope you don’t mind. …have a good night!”

And just like that, her gratitude evaporates. The glow of the holotank doesn’t even fade, it just snaps off. Roland was, metaphorically, sprinting in the opposite direction. And for good reason. Sarah didn’t know how to strangle an AI, but she was sure with a little creativity she could figure something out.

#HUGE HUGE HUGE THANK YOU to my lovely friend @reidentifying #for looking at this with a set of fresh eyes and giving me suggestions when i forgot how to use words #halo #halo fanfic #my writing #sarah palmer #kelly 087 #linda 058 #palmer sandwich #kelly/palmer/linda

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