#helljumpers

[therainjumper]

Kill ‘em all!

[johnsonarms]

Here's a good duo to share! This is B-312 (Noble 6) and Mickey from H3 ODST. I hope you like how they came out and have a great weekend! Mk5b casting courtesy of @stony_props_jim of Icon and Stony Props! ODST casting courtesy of @hyperballistik! If you're interested in a commission for yourself, feel free me directly at johnsonarms76@gmail.com for custom orders, thank you! #odst #halo3odst #helljumpers #halomickey #odstcosplay #feetfirstintohell #halo #haloreach #mk5b #mkvb #nobleteam #noblesix #noble6 #halocosplay #cosplay #customhelmets #xbox #xboxseriesx #shutupandtakemymoney https://www.instagram.com/p/ClH_6b9IGh7/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[superintendent-b]

You heard the man

[tvckerwash]

nobody understands wash/south friendship. anyone not in the know thinks they hate each other, but they don't. sure, they think the other is the single most annoying person in the known universe, but when push comes to shove, they're an okay team so long as they both understand that things are going to become extremely chaotic, they will be screaming at each other non stop, and as the guy who's really, really good at getting out of bad situations where death is almost certain alive, wash (generally) takes point.

[dagger6art]

Floodfight

[halo-smashorpass]

[biomecharnotaurus]

Flynn Halo

[bloodgulchblog]

everything extremely heterosexual in this halo tonight

[azzy-the-christian-furry]

Okay.

New Vegas: Helljumper

It begins after cardio today.

The goal is to build my character like an ODST.

Primary gear will be the things found in the SOEIV, plus an AK or M16 to last until I can acquire the gear (probably an AK, we’ll see)

This makes my firearm selection a bit limited.

-TacMag

-DMR

-M7 Caseless SMG

Ammo will be expensive due to the types used.

Stealth and endurance build. Things will get a bit tactical here, like No Stim Jim. This is like the opposite of the Bologna Bob build.

Hardcore mode is a maybe.

[borealtwilight]

⛈🌹💝 for Khyl & Grace, 💐🎭🎈 for Hunter & Jeannie :3

⛈🌹: I think it’s safe to say that Grace has the most nightmares. That’s not to say Khyl doesn’t have any, but... He’s had significantly less of A Bad Time In Life than she has.

As for how they deal with them, well... Something I’ll have to ponder, I think. I’d imagine Khyl wouldn’t necessarily know how to comfort her, as such; it’s not really her strong suit. He would most likely utilize distraction tactics; get her to take her mind off things. Or cuddle her, if it helps ( and if he isn’t doing so already :P )

💝: Khyl is fascinated by Grace’s curly hair. And he admires her tenacity and ferocity. That’s probably what drew him to her in the first place...

As for Grace, I’d imagine she would most admire the fact that Khyl is a surprisingly gentle and supportive Sangheili, particularly towards humans. Helped in part by the fact that he’s immensely fascinated by them... but fascination doesn’t always lead to gentleness; with Khyl, however, it does. That’s just my best guess tho XP

————————————

💐: Probably Jeannie, seeing as Hunter is, uh, something of a dumbass... XDD Not that he’s unintelligent, or anything, he just tends to be reckless

🎭: Gooood question.... I think Hunter’s the dramatic one, if only playfully. He’s something of a gremlin, likes to be chaotic

🎈: Hunter. No doubt about it

( from this ask list here )

[modern-inheritance]

Modern Inheritance: Cadence

(A/N: The cadence used here is the Helljumper cadence from Halo aka ‘helljumper, helljumper, where you been?’ I’ve never been able to figure out what goes down between Islanzadi and Arya after Arya gets back with Eragon and co., but I know that it would not be a ‘all is forgiven’ type thing. Islanzadi refuses to accept any responsibility and Arya is done giving a shit about what Izzy wants. So things aren’t all hunky-dory between them right off the bat. 

Arya’s open to some reconciliation, but she has boundries and isn’t going to accept being talked down to or used as political fodder. Islanzadi needs to learn to talk to her daughter as equals, and sometimes a grumpy old man can help just by stating the obvious.)

~~~~

MODERN INHERITANCE: CADENCE 

Islanzadí leaned her elbows on the knotted railing and stared out through the expanse of pines. It was still dark, the barest edge of light detectable to the east as dawn considered its approach. Despite the darkness, the queen could see everything clearly, down to the scatterings of bark below the massive trees and the needles that graced the forest floor. 

She wasn’t usually up at this hour. Islanzadí preferred to rise with the sun and greet the day with warmth on her face, accompanied by a mug of tea and fresh toast. The occasional paperwork or reading that followed were much easier to greet that way.

Others, though, seemed to prefer this hour for waking. The voices were quiet but unmistakable, coming closer and bouncing through the trees before being absorbed by the mist that clung to the ground. One would call and the other would respond, a perfect two person cadence.

“Wolfcat, wolfcat, where you been?”

“Wolfcat, wolfcat, where you been?”

“Dash down through the hells and back again!”

“Dash down through the hells and back again!”

Islanzadí couldn’t help but shake her head slightly, a little grin twitching the corners of her lips. They both had picked up so much over the years, becoming more human than elf in some respects. The smile fell when she remembered it used to be three voices, a twinge of near guilt remembering when it had been only one in the past months.

“When I die please bury me deep!”

“When I die please bury me deep!”

“Put my B85 down by my feet!”

“Put my B85 down by my feet!”

“Why the hell does she insist on doing this every bloody morning?” The queen looked over to find a haggard looking Brom trudging towards her, steaming mug of coffee in one hand and customary morning scowl on his face. 

Islanzadí turned her nose up at the pungent smell of half burnt brew as Brom joined her at the railing and ignored the man’s slurp and quiet curse at the scalding liquid. “It’s your fault she’s like this.” The elf replied. Her tone was light, almost joking, but the edge was unmistakable. “You took my daughter and brought me back a soldier.” 

Brom’s scowl deepened. “Majesty, with all due respect, don’t start with that till I’ve had three more of these and a good five hours of sunlight.” He risked another sip, tongue already burned. 

“Don’t cry for me, don’t shed no tear!”

“Don’t cry for me, don’t shed no tear!”

“Just pack my box with my PT gear!”

“Just pack my box with my PT gear!”

The line reminded Islanzadí of why she initially came out in the first place. “Has Arya had any physical therapy since she arrived back with the Varden?” Still far in the distance, Islanzadí tracked the two shadows jogging through the mist. “I saw some of her scars. Her movement must be restricted.”

Brom gave a negative grunt, peering into his mug. The steam was enough of a pick-me-up for now. “Ask her yourself. She’ll tell you.”

“We’re not…there yet.” The bark along the railing crackled as the queen tightened her grip. Brom was one of the few people that could be so curt with her without reprimand. He had earned as much over the years, and to be completely frank, Islanzadí preferred his blunt honesty in private over his polite respect in public. “She acts like nothing happened. But she still won’t talk to me.” She gave a hollow laugh. “We exchanged more than six sentences yesterday. That was the most we’ve said to each other all week.”

“She’s not the talk about feelings type.” Brom took another cautious sip and, finding that his brew had cooled to a bearable level, gulped down half the mug. “Have you tried hitting her?” 

“Have I what?”

“One early morning ‘bout zero-five!”

“One early morning ‘bout zero-five!”

“Ground will rumble, lightning in the sky!”

“Ground will rumble, lightning in the sky!”

Brom gestured with his mug. “Sparring. Arya’s a bit more receptive when she’s fighting.” He shrugged. “Or you could just maybe…talk to her.”

Islanzadí massaged the bridge of her nose, frustration growing. “I just told you, I’ve tried, Brom.”

“Then stop trying. Talk to her like anyone else.” The Rider knocked back the rest of his coffee, grimacing at the acrid taste of grounds at the bottom. “Actually, don’t do that. That will make it worse. Talk to her like you talk to me.”

“How will that help?”

Brom leaned on the railing next to the queen. “She’s not as fragile as you think, Iz. She hates formality, and you’re trying too hard to fix everything in an instant.” He nodded out to the mists. “Let her go at her own pace, talk things out naturally. Don’t try to sit her down and talk about Gil’ead, or Fäolin, or the war, just…ask her what she’s been up to.” Brom suddenly chuckled. “Ask her what it was like trying to wrangle Eragon and Saphira in Tronjheim.” 

“Don’t you worry, don’t come undone!”

“Don’t you worry, don’t come undone!”

“It’s just my ghost on a PT run!”

“It’s just my ghost on a PT run!”

Arya and Glenwing emerged from the fog, jogging side by side. Their backpacks were laden with weights, muffled and wrapped in blankets, the burden an old equalizer from their time training alongside Varden recruits. With the cadence ended, both were letting out short, huffed breaths. It was evident they had been at this a while, sweat dripping down their necks. 

Glen suddenly jabbed his commanding officer with his metal elbow. “I’m beating you this time!” He took off at a sprint, aiming for the two banner draped pines that heralded the edge of Ellesméra’s training fields. 

“Oh, like hell you are!” Arya bolted after him, the scowl at her lips offset by the wild glee alight in her eyes. 

Brom shook his head. “There they go.”

Islanzadí leaned over the railing to watch the end of the race. Glen looked to be a clear lock for victory, his bionic prosthetic and remaining arm pumping hard as he neared the finish line. Arya wasn’t all that far behind, and, with a yell, yanked the release straps on her pack. It dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. Free from its extra weight, Arya suddenly leapfrogged over the medic’s head with a quick “Alley-oop!” 

Thrown off balance, Glenwing plowed face first into the dirt just inches away from the goal. His muffled, exasperated laughter floated on the mist to the balcony where Islanzadí and Brom watched them, Arya jogging in circles around her fallen friend with fists raised in victorious exaltation. 

Islanzadí pushed back from the railing. The spectacle had shown a different side of Arya that the queen had yet to witness after all these years apart. Despite her experiences in war and the decades behind her, the elf was still young. She was barely out of the stage that her people considered her an elfling. Her eyes hadn’t lost that wild, brilliant fire, her face that bared-tooth, feral grin of life worth living and experiences, good or bad, worth having. 

She was still, in a way, that barefoot, skinned kneed elfling scrambling around the branches of Tialdarí Hall. Sure, Arya and her mother had never been the type to chat easily, but there was a time when Islanzadí had known just how to approach her, how to casually ask about her daily adventures, that set the girl beaming and happily sharing all her latest stunts. 

“Alright.” Islanzadí nodded, determined to try again. “I’ll talk to her.” 

Brom rolled his eyes. He lifted his mug, feigning examining it while hiding his grin behind the ceramic. “Good. While you’re at it, tell her to stop asking me if I want to join them every morning.” The Rider turned and began trudging back to his quarters. “Four in the bloody morning…insane, the both of them.”

[therainjumper]

Thanks to Helldivers, my ODST art would have Helldiver references in the future!

Idk it suits Buck a lot.

[bigautomaton]

As one great furnace flamed, yet from those flames No light, but rather darkness visible Served only to discover sights of woe,

Paradise Lost - John Milton

Helljumpers, right?

[superintendent-b]

Babe wake up

New meme format just dropped

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

stumpy i like receiving damage from your writing so i will submit "things you said when the world was ending"

“Captain Lasky to all hands! Battle stations! This is not a drill!”

Alarms blare and emergency lights flash. The room is doused in red and the sirens wail like banshees. He drops his datapad and looks at the ceiling in horror before his coworkers' cries snap his attention back into focus. Something terrible was happening and there was no time to stand around and wait for the news to reach them.

Voices yelling in the hallways turn to screams and he ducks down behind the desk with his teammates. Clanking metal, flaring like flames walks into the room before exploding into a burst of cinders as gunfire erupts behind it. Yells echo again, this time orders to move.

This was supposed to be a safe contract. The Infinity had an army onboard! and Spartans!

But now things out of his nightmares were teleporting onto the ship! At least the aliens boarded via the hangars, but this new hell had Esparza scared out of his mind. He followed a handful of others being hustled from the crew quarters towards any place with armed comrades. They were sitting ducks otherwise.

Marines corral the unarmed crew members to whatever passed for safety as their flying fortress is boarded by machines that can ghost past their defenses. Esparza follows them to parts of the ship he's never seen before. He usually stayed in engineering and his brain is in overdrive as adrenaline floods his system.

His eyes see nothing and everything, fixating on the way the doors are too big and the way his brain cannot remember which hallway they took to get here. Blurred vision and detailed memories mix in his mind as his heart beats rabbit-quick.

They're hustled quickly into some kind of communications room. A holotable sits with it's display updating in real time as ships approach the Infinity. The marines nod to a Spartan and then turn back to the hallway, already moving towards their next objective.

A Spartan. A real Spartan, kitted out in the legendary armor, is in the room with them. He can't help the nervous exhale as his nerves calm and his shoulders drop a fraction of a millimeter from around his shoulders.

The Spartan is focused, eyes glued to the multiple screens at his station. He offered them a nod as the contractors had been shepherded in and dropped off like lost sheep.

Esparza watches him in lieu of watching the door or straining his ears to hear the not-so-distant sounds of battle.

“Roland, sitrep on our invaders.” The Spartan asks.

“Prometheans appearing all over the ship. No means to stop them at the moment.”

The Spartan takes the info in stride and shifts to the teams under his command. He radios pilots and Spartan Fireteams and reacts faster to this mess than Esparza can even respond. Things might be okay, his brain traitorously thinks too early.

God or Roland must hear him because then a warning comes across the live feed. “Spartan Miller, you’ve got Prometheans near Ops command!”

Esparza's heart stutters and someone next to him grabs at him. There's a flutter of nervous gasps as their Spartan, Spartan Miller simply nods and keeps working.

“Acknowledged, Roland. I’ve got my sidearm in hand.” He does. It looks like a toy in his hand.

Esparza wants to laugh. It's such a funny gun for a Spartan to have. He's seen the super soldiers from a distance. Larger than life, looking like automatons. He's seen more marines and helljumpers up close, and they had rifles that could take down the killer robots faster than the sidearm could.

Spartan Miller turns to the civilians huddled in the corner and walks towards them. His brow unfurrows and his face softens enough to look almost sheepish as he gestures for them to move to the other side of the holotable and further away from the door.

Esparza studies him. Miller is younger than he thought. Seeing him this close, without a helmet, reminds him of people he's lost, of what he's seen. The manic fear sours into a deeper grief and near-acceptance about what's coming.

Their eyes meet and Miller's face hardens again, back to business, but he watches Esparza.

Something explodes onscreen behind him and the civilians flinch. Miller looks over his shoulder and smiles. "That's Crimson for you, they're on their way home to help us clean up this mess."

Esparza feels his face shift into something incredulous as helmet cams show a battle that looks more like a light-show than what he's seen. Miller catches him and the smile broadens. "They're some of our best." He gets serious again and holds up the sidearm Esparza was judging earlier. "This is the M6H, it takes a few rounds to get through Promethean shielding, but after that they pop easy. Anything tries to come through that door isn't getting further than me."

Esparza finds himself nodding. He joins his fellows and braces for whatever comes next.

“Murphy?” Miller touches the comm device in his ear and nods back at Esparza. Whatever intel he gets must be good, or maybe he's being brave because he smiles at him again. It seems real enough that Esparza's stomach stops doing flips.

The Spartans are here. Maybe things would be okay.

[empresskadia]

Part I (Probably OOC, probably crap):

There was something about the stars that had always brought Naomi-010 peace.

She couldn't explain it, not verbally, not to anyone. Something about being able to look up and gaze into that endless sea had calmed her even during the worst of the war. Despite the war, and the mud and the blood and the dead and the dying, despite it all, the stars were peaceful. She could look up from any planet she was on, and they'd be there as always: silent, enduring specks of light in a limitless, shapeless void of possibility.

"Ah, there you are, Naomi."

She was pulled away from her reverie by a voice, her lips ever so slightly curling into a small smirk as she turned to you. Even in the dark, your eyes had that same twinkle she had seen when she first met you. She couldn't place what it was but it had drawn her to you like a moth to light.

"May I join you?" You had asked, and she feigned like she had to think about it before she nodded. You checked over your shoulder for any other members of your squad before crouching down next to her, crossing your legs as you sat down. "I was wondering where you'd gotten off to."

She shrugged. "A bit too crowded for my liking."

You nodded. "Yeah, I don't blame you. Had I known before becoming a Helljumper how often you'd be making a hammock sandwich with your squad mates, I would've been a pilot."

Naomi snorted a little when she laughed. Only you could get her to do that. "No offense, but I've seen you fly. You would've crashed and burned before you even got your wings."

"Psssh, I'd be fine." You pointed to the Ace of Spades on your pauldron, the playing card so worn that you put it in a card protector so it didn't away completely. "I'm lucky, aren't I? As long as I got this with me, I'll make it."

In all the years the Spartan had known you, that card had never failed to be on your person. She had always wondered what it was for, or what it meant, but there was never a right time. No time like the present, right?

"May I ask you something?" She had asked, and it was so quiet she wasn't even sure you had even heard it.

"Of course." You replied instantly, raising a brow. "What's on your mind?"

You had responded so quickly that she realized she didn't quite know how to ask you. The two of you had had your shares of personal talks before, but you had always been the one to initiate. And maybe, with the way you had quickly switched from joking with her to paying utmost attention to her had flustered Naomi enough that she didn't know how to initiate.

Fortunately, you threw her a lifeline as you noticed her eyes switching between yours and the card on your shoulder. "Oh, this?"

The spartan nodded quickly as you pulled it from the little clasp you had it on and handed it to her. "This little ticket is my lucky charm."

"A playing card?" She held it gently in her hand as if it were the most valuable thing she had ever held. The white of the card had been stained and yellowed from light. The black spade in the center had begun to fade, and she could just barely make out the letters UNSC SoF at the bottom.

"Yeah. You remember when I told you about my uncle, the one whose ship went missing with all hands early in the war?"

"I do."

"Well, I can't remember him as much as I like to. But I remember he carried a card like this on him everywhere he went - said it was his ticket to get Lady Luck on his side. Well, he gave me this card. And I carry it just like he did."

"Do you think it works?" She asked.

"Of course it does!" You replied confidently., beaming. "I got lucky enough to meet you, didn't I?"

She didn't know what to say to that. Any joke or playful tease she had ready was forgotten and the crisp mountain air was suddenly warm. Looking at you didn't help either because you kept that luminescent smile on your face. It was hard not to feel something when you looked at her as gently as you did now.

She gently returned the card to its spot on your armor and then turned to you. The care in your eyes was so visible that it was hard not to return it.

"You'd still make a terrible pilot."

You laughed, melodious and wonderful. "Yeah, you're probably right. But the view here is worth every second." She hummed her agreement before she leaned her head against your shoulder as you both watched the night sky in silence together. A moment of peace and quiet in a loud galaxy.

First of all, I'm annotating this while reading, so this is my genuine reaction, I waited to get home from work to read it. Second, I squealed when I saw this in my inbox earlier, my co-worker thinks I'm insane and doesn't understand why I'm giddy about this.

To start us off-

"There was something about the stars that had always brought Naomi-010 peace."

So glad you included her love of stars, I love her thoughts about them <3

"Even in the dark, your eyes had that same twinkle she had seen when she first met you. She couldn't place what it was but it had drawn her to you like a moth to light."

They're soulmates, your honor, I'm already kicking my feet. Like the 'being drawn to someone' troupe is my favorite thing. Especially for a Spartan, I'm having a brain riot moment.

"and she feigned like she had to think about it before she nodded"

Love that she's comfortable doing this with her partner, she's so cute.

"The two of you had had your shares of personal talks before, but you had always been the one to initiate. And maybe, with the way you had quickly switched from joking with her to paying utmost attention to her had flustered Naomi enough that she didn't know how to initiate."

Naomi, who gets flustered when having her partner's full attention!! Yes, please. Just imagine how seen she feels, like she isn't just a soldier in her armor but you make her feel like a person, dare I say, human. Personal talks with Spartans are important in my mind.

""A playing card?" She held it gently in her hand as if it were the most valuable thing she had ever held.""

Sweet baby angel.

and she could just barely make out the letters UNSC SoF at the bottom.

"Yeah. You remember when I told you about my uncle, the one whose ship went missing with all hands early in the war?"

DUDE I FUCKING SCREAMED, IS IT CAPTAIN JAMES CUTTER?? WAIT TILL WE FIND OUT OUR UNCLE IS ALIVE.

""I got lucky enough to meet you, didn't I?""

"It was hard not to feel something when you looked at her as gently as you did now."

I'm kicking my feet, looking at the Spartans as if they are the most precious people ever BECAUSE THEY ARE.

"She gently returned the card to its spot on your armor"

She put it back herself, your honor, she loves us T-T

""You'd still make a terrible pilot.""

Naomi, I just want to kiss you, thank you. She would be so sassy with her partner.

This was 10/10, I need more, I want to give Naomi all the forehead kisses until she's annoyed with me. Don't you say this is crap because this is gold and it made my night, I will be coming back to read this over and over again.