flood form

Daily Drawing Challenge 2: It’s a new year and that means new fanart! I gotta say, I don’t see enough flood/mark V art - basically The Battle of Alpha Halo needs more fanart because it’s sick! A guerilla warfare campaign on a giant ring against alien maniacs and space zombies! 

and we can talk about the prometheans until the end sum of living time itself, but are we really gonna pretend that bungie didn’t come out with some terrible enemy designs in their time?

the drones that nobody liked yet bungie never altered across 2/3/odst/reach (they even gave them SHIELDS)

the infamous insta-kill jackal snipers

the bullet sponge brutes that never really found their gameplay niche and were never as interesting to fight as the sangheili (who themselves had insta-kill melees on NORMAL)

the flood in-general in halo 2 just WEREN’T fun to fight ever

the cheap-ass flood ranged forms in halo 3

reach’s elites which had their variety of behaviours considerably tuned down

So, John has a hallucination of Cortana’s chip and presence, and she tells him to go to Meridian which kickstarts the events of Halo 5′s story.

Weeeeeeeelllllll, remember the last time somebody used hallucinations of Cortana to try and manipulate John?

Considering the foreshadowy nature of this scene in Origins…

Considering how Frankie said just how much of the imagery in Origins is foreshadowing for the Reclaimer Saga…

Considering that this takes place on GUARDIAN, where you were meant to fight a GUARDIAN Sentinel (the design of which has partially inspired the Guardians themselves in Halo 5)…

Considering that the Domain is “open”, the presence of which is perpetuated by Precursor constructs which the Flood in their transcendent form, can use…

Considering that we’ve known the Flood is gong to return since Primordium released in 2012…

I think Gravy might be trying to be a bit more subtle about it this time.


Per Kristian Nygard - Not Red But Green, 2014.

About : “ He filled the whole space of No Place Gallery in Oslo with a bright green meadow, sweeping and swerving throughout the space. Lush vegetation floods in every direction, forming a rolling landscape, conflating the boundaries between indoors and outdoors. The installation raises questions about the way we commodify natural phenomena for human consumption.”

DAY 2497

Jalsa, Mumbai           Feb  14,  2015            Sat  9 : 55 pm

Ishtar : happy birthday for the 15th .. love and blessings and many more ‘Deewar’s’ top occupy your long life .. love from all of us …

Just because you decide to wear a few more astrological necklaces and stones, it does not mean that fate shall change the course of your life river .. that 'flood lakes’ shall form during the times when the rivers are filled with excess … course changes in the river stream becoming strong enough to suddenly follow a different path resulting in changed contours says nothing for the quality of the river or the stream of change or the residue of the natural lake form ..

Nature shall beckon, shall evolve, shall dictate irrespective. Be in preparedness for its acceptance and do the deed, do the life, do the will .. they shall bring the required peace and prosperity … the stars of the astrological charts shall prevail, shall decipher, shall measure your days and dates .. they shall indicate .. you shall still have to work for it … 

Fine .. so am prepared to accept the fate of what the stars foretell, but also willing to not allow that to influence superstition and lackadaisical temperament. Nothing is going to get achieved without effort .. get it ..

Right sir .. shall abide .. can we now having understood you well enough move to other spheres ..

Cool ..

OK so its been one of those days when what the ’sooth sayers say simply selects sensible strains selectively, satisfying sacred sacrosanct sayings systematically !!’

Phew  !!! Never thought I would ever go beyond two words in this rabid test of alliteration .. pretty good eh ..??

This is indeed a most comprehensive and just and delightful medium, where each breath of the other is felt and observed in the greatest of detail and delight. Even a short moment in front of the cameras, when asked to comment upon past associations, or to be involved in the greetings of those that turn a birthday is recorded for posterity and review ..

Like so ..

Yes … its a game tomorrow of the World Cup 2015 and its India vs Pakistan and its a commentary moment for me, sitting in the studios of Star in Mumbai and hoping against hope that I get those directions right for the cricket ..

Right on its a turmoil between midoffmidonfinelegshortleglongonlongoffcovercoverpointdoosrabouncerinswingoutswinggoodlengthshortdrivecoversboundaryfourssixes …. !!!!!

Get the drift ..

Dear friend .. Sunil Gavaskar, Ravi Shastri and all the Goliaths of the box and on the field from MS to Virat and Raina and Ashwin, Rajendra, Rahane, Rohit, Bhuvaneshvar, … and the entire team .. please have the utmost compassion and care towards me during my spell in front of the hand mic, and assist me in not making an utter fool of myself .. 

Bless you all .. thank you .. got your reactions real fast sitting here and you there ..

Love to all ..

Amitabh Bachchan

Thrice Fallen


The Cage. Of course she would put him here, of all places. Amara wanted Lucifer to suffer, and she knew well of his personal prison - the horrors that had been tailored specifically for the fallen Light Bringer. The archangel knelt upon the cold ground, his entire being filled with a raw and relentless agony. His Aunt had removed him so forcibly from his Earthly vessel, it had nearly torn apart his Grace, leaving him weakened and vulnerable. Not that any of that mattered. After eons in this box of horrors, Lucifer did not need to be at full strength to correctly anticipate the oncoming torture. 

As he pushed himself up from the floor, a sickening wave of foreign energy hit the angel like a shot to the chest. He drew his bowed head up quickly, a renewed sense of dread flooding through his tattered form. Something was different - and in The Cage, different did not happen. Not for the Morningstar, not after millennia of experiencing every fathomable torture the place had to offer. 

And yet, it was undeniable; something had changed. He could feel the dark tendrils of energy snaking around the Hell Fire his Father had created, working its way slowly toward Lucifer, the shadowy flames licking at his cold, dimly glowing Grace. He backed away quickly, knowing, logically, that his attempts to escape would prove to be futile. Even so, he moved until he felt his great wings pushing against the wall of his Cage, his bright eyes filled with trepidation as he focused on the silky black ribbons of energy. 

In the next moment, the smoke was upon him, around him, and within him. A growl of frustration rose up in his throat, followed closely by a strangled gasp of pain. His Grace strained against the opposing force, Light battling Darkness in a contained battle within his very being. The pain grew, escalating from a dull throbbing, to all-out agony, like a million shards of glass raining down upon him.

A Hell-rattling scream tore from the archangel’s throat, and he crashed down to his hands and knees. As he attempted to combat the torrent of pain crashing down around him, Lucifer was hit with a jarring revelation. Whatever Amara had done to his prison, she had done so with sadistic purpose. She wanted to have the Son of the Morning suffer, yes; but more than that, she wanted to strip him of all hope. She wanted to see him despair and be broken, having none of the short reprieves offered by his Father’s design. The torture would be relentless, his Grace whittled away piece by piece, until, at last, the Light Bringer would fall, laid to an agonizing and chaotic rest by The Darkness, itself. 

; close quarters

{ @oneshallstand​ }

Early. Far too early than any normal bot would care to wake at, but such was necessary in order to acquire hot water for morning showers. Given the number of mecha on base, if one waited until later, they risk having a frigid cold experience. A fate, Elita would prefer to avoid at all costs.

It was therapeutic almost, being the only one up at this hour - save for the monitors and security detail holed up in their lair. Stepping inside the far back washrack, a single dial was turned, and the warm water flooded over the fuchsia form.

Iridescent slitted closed, helm lolling back with a sigh. The feeling was heavenly. After revelling the sensation, solvent slowly piled in the palm of her servo, and she begun washing herself, singing a gentle tune of an old, old song.

“Γιατί εγώ ό,τι ονειρευόμουν στη ζωή μου
το `χω βρει σ’ εσένανε ψυχή μου κι έχω τα πάντα πια,
κι όταν σε κοιτώ, πάντα ανακαλύπτω κάτι ακόμα,
κάτι από τη μαγική σου εικόνα
που μ’ αναγκάζει να σ’ ερωτευτώ ξανά.”