Idea About The New Halo Game

A Deal With The Devil

The deal was simple, we’d get to ask him a couple of questions and he got to ask us a couple of questions. A bit odd if you ask me. What could The Devil possibly want to know from us? I couldn’t tell you.

“Is heaven real?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice like dying embers in a fireplace, “and so is hell.”

“Who goes to heaven?”

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Good Boy

It began on a Tuesday. Later, she would tell people that this made sense. Nothing bad happens on Tuesdays. He knew better, but he was far too polite to contradict her.

The offering had changed. Usually it was the standard bowl of cream, which he ignored. He wasn’t a cat. There was one outside almost every door. Not hers.

He knew what it was long before he found her door. Floating above the heavy, yellowing smell of dairy, twisting through the shimmering scent of the Fair Folk – leaf-mould, rainwater, Sambuca and not enough sunlight – was the tang of blood. Meat.

His ears twitched. His maw began to slaver. He was hungry, so hungry. There were no offerings for him. He took what he could get at The Hunt, but it was never enough.

He followed his nose. There, outside a door that smelled greenish-blue and soft. It sat raw and wet in a little dish, piled up like rubies.

One of Them was crouching over it.

They didn’t eat meat. It was poking at it with one long, long, long finger, disgust twisting all four of its mouths. It hissed, clicked, and all the quills on its spine bristled with fury. Not the cream it was used to.

He growled.

It turned. Shifted so it was blocking the meat, just out of spite. It wasn’t going to eat the meat, but it certainly wouldn’t let him eat it, either. It shifted its smell – something the Fair Folk always did when they wanted to give him a headache – and waited for him to leave.

He snapped at it. It shrieked, flapping backwards, and scythed out a claw. He lunged forward and bit, jaws tight around its arm. There was a crack and it came away in his mouth. He shook it around, just to show the thing who was boss, and it ran shrieking down the corridor.

He spat out the arm by the greenish-blue door. He wasn’t going to eat that. The bones felt like bark and tasted like mouldering leaves, and there was fresh meat waiting for him.

He settled down to his dinner and licked the bowl clean.

There was more meat the next day. The arm was gone, though. Ripples and dents spattered the floor from where the thing had bled, but the corridor was empty. Good. Sometimes the Fair Folk needed reminding of what he could really do. Too many of them saw him as another of their shiny, knife-like hounds. He was another thing entirely.

He’d left scorch marks on the floor too. The RAs wouldn’t like that. One of them had tried to chase him off with a broom when he’d been at his weakest and the whole experience had been very undignified.

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You humans are strange, you know that? You have all this technology but you’re so primitive. You can travel worlds, turn a dead husk into a vibrant oasis, and you still use the tools you used where given at birth. not to mention your short lives. But I think that’s why you lasted so long in this cut-throat universe, you live for the moment.

The biggest example of this is adrenaline, your bodies manufacture and release a deadly toxin, and it makes you fearless, think, this causes some horrible problems, it can kill you, but you make it and release it to ignore pain and fear so in one moment you are not primal creatures you are gods immune to pain and fear.

Remember 5th Battalion at Kr-Zii?

They were beaten down, entrenched against huge odds, so what did you do? Surrender? No you attached your knives to your rifles and CHARGED at the masses, and slaughtered them!

Perhaps that’s what makes you so interesting. Most species only think about the future, but you think of the now, you are Children of The Moment, no matter what happens, you can make actions of unimaginable bravery, forget all fear because of your primal connections to adrenaline, we Ak'xell could do with some ourselves!

Blue Team and Osiris facing impossible odds

Locke: I suppose it's useless to tell you to leave.

John-117: I wouldn't miss this for anything.

Locke: You're funeral.

John-117: Already had one.

Hi

Children’s play grounds

We willing put our kids in spot where they can get hurt and consider it a lesson to the kids when they get hurt. We have spinning platforms. Ramps. Swings all of these are very dangerous and can harm kids. I think that Aline’s would be super protective of their kids imagine them seeing all the pain kids go through and how often they get hurt.

“Please, let him be soft. I know you made him with gunmetal bones and wolf’s teeth. I know you made him to be a warrior a soldier a hero. But even gunmetal can warp and even wolf’s teeth can dull and I do not want to see him break the way old and worn and overused things do. I do not want to see him go up in flames the way all heroes end up martyrs. I know that you will tell me that the world needs him. The world needs his heart and his faith and his courage and his strength and his bones and his teeth and his blood and his voice and his– The world needs anything he will give them. Damn the world, and damn you too. Damn anyone that ever asked anything of him, damn anyone that ever took anything from him, damn anyone that ever prayed to his name. You know that he will give them everything until there is nothing left of him but the imprint of dust where his feet once trod. You know that he will bear the world like Atlas until his shoulders collapse and his knees buckle and he is crushed by all he used to carry. Dear God, you have already made an Atlas. You have already made an Achilles and an Icarus and a Hercules. You have already made so many heroes, and you can make another again. You can have your pick of heroes. So please, I beg you– he is all that I have, and you have so many heroes and the world has so many more. Let him be soft, and let him be mine.”

— Please, let him be happy ( j.p. )

Random Headcanon: That Federation vessels in Star Trek seem to experience bizarre malfunctions with such overwhelming frequency isn’t just an artefact of the television serial format. Rather, it’s because the Federation as a culture are a bunch of deranged hyper-neophiles, tooling around in ships packed full of beyond-cutting-edge tech they don’t really understand. Endlessly frustrating if you have to fight them, because they can pull an effectively unlimited number of bullshit space-magic countermeasures out of their arses - but they’re as likely as not to give themselves a lethal five-dimensional wedgie in the process. All those rampant holograms and warp core malfunctions and accidentally-traveling-back-in-time incidents? That doesn’t actually happen to anyone else; it’s literally just Federation vessels that go off the rails like that. And they do so on a fairly regular basis.

Turns out humans were just a discarded attempt at making lab grown soldiers. The rest of the galaxy is surprised and terrified to see us alive.

I really want a science fiction story where aliens come to invade earth and effortlessly wipe out humanity, only to be fought off by the wildlife.

They were expecting military resistance. They weren’t counting on bears.