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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Idea about the new halo game

The photo of chief does not really look like a dudes leg

It looks more like a girls I know it isn’t much but could it be a new female Spartan it could also be Cortana in spartan armor not Likely but any thing could happen. The face that the also don’t show the number of that spartan but show chief at the end number and all makes me think that it could just be a female lead protagonist spartan.

Any thoughts or criticism welcome

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.

Humans Are Weird

So there has been a bit of “what if humans were the weird ones?” going around tumblr at the moment and Earth Day got me thinking. Earth is a wonky place, the axis tilts, the orbit wobbles, and the ground spews molten rock for goodness sakes. What if what makes humans weird is just our capacity to survive? What if all the other life bearing planets are these mild, Mediterranean climates with no seasons, no tectonic plates, and no intense weather?

What if several species (including humans) land on a world and the humans are all “SCORE! Earth like world! Let’s get exploring before we get out competed!” And the planet starts offing the other aliens right and left, electric storms, hypothermia, tornadoes and the humans are just … there… counting seconds between flashes, having snowball fights, and just surviving.

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snoweternal

5 years ago

Godzilla is the king not because the other kaiju agree with him, but because no one has any fucking clue of what he's saying, but he's saying it with such conviction that no one dares question him.

The implications are just funny as hell. Like he could just be groaning that his feet hurt but everyone else thinks he's about to do an execution. Or trying to give a compliment yet others think he's about to slit their throat.

Godzilla: Listen Rodan, I'm disappointed but I understand why you did what you did. It was merely the nature of self preservation and survival. Nothing cowardly about that.

Rodan, who doesn't speak japanese and thinks Godzilla is threatening him:

Godzilla Is The King Not Because The Other Kaiju Agree With Him, But Because No One Has Any Fucking Clue

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snoweternal

5 years ago

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.

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