#Future Of Warfare

[familythings]

The Debate Over Autonomous Weapons: Should AI Decide Life or Death?

In the U.S., a heated debate is brewing over the future of autonomous weapons—weapons powered by artificial intelligence (AI) that could potentially decide whether to kill humans without any human input. This issue raises deep moral, ethical, and technological questions. Should we allow machines to make life-or-death decisions? What Are Autonomous Weapons? Autonomous weapons, also known as…

[newsepick]

The Future of Warfare Technology: The Iron Dome

In an era where civilian safety is paramount, the Iron Dome is a beacon of hope. This advanced air defense system is a game-changer designed to intercept short-range threats like rockets, ensuring that families and communities can confidently go about their daily lives.

With its cutting-edge radar and interceptor missiles, the Iron Dome can detect and neutralize incoming projectiles in real time, boasting an impressive 90% success rate! This technology minimizes casualties and protects critical infrastructure, allowing nations to focus on peace and progress rather than fear.

Inspired by Israel, the first to harness this incredible technology, countries around the globe, including the U.S., are now enhancing their air defense systems. The Iron Dome is paving the way for a more secure future, demonstrating how innovation can transform warfare into a shield for civilians rather than a threat.

As we look ahead, let’s celebrate this remarkable advancement in military technology that prioritizes human life and community safety. Together, we can work towards a brighter tomorrow where security and peace are the norms.

[reds-skull]

I really should draw Soap more with his red mask, as you all can tell I love it

[mindie-arts]

Fuck it *ponifies your military men✨*

This might be my new obsession-

[audisive]

♪ WEST COAST. (💌) – next part

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: soap accidentally finds out about simon's girl.

tags: fluff, romance, simon is a big baby !! let us all accept this fact, soap and his assumptions, uh bad jokes, very rushed fic, crack ?, reader can indeed fix simon

Soap isn't sure when his assumptions started, nor is he sure how it got to Gaz and Price himself. 

Maybe it was when he started to notice that Ghost left base whenever he could. (How come ye never leave base? It's a hassle havin' to go back and forth for nothin', Johnny.) Maybe it was the smudged color of red and pink on his balaclava, the lingering perfume on his hoodie, or his new wallet taking the place of one that was once worn out.

"Wha's yer favorite perfume, LT?" "My enemies' sweat and tears."

(It's well-known that despite the fact that Ghost does consider the 141 to be his family, he keeps his personal life very private and away from them. They respect that, in turn, but let's face it, Soap is nosy.)

Really, it was an accident. Soap swears it was!

He just happened to be passing by his lieutenant in the bar where the team had all gone to celebrate a wreck of a mission that they've managed to successfully finish. Truly, it was an accident when his eyes caught a glimpse of Ghost's new wallet, and he really, very much so did not mean to watch a little too long – long enough for it to open and reveal a hefty amount of cash and a small square of colors, barely noticeable. 

Soap's feet move before he could quietly search for more.

"Got a new wallet, aye?" He slides beside the taller man smoothly, just as the Brit had grunted out another order of Bourbon. Ghost hums in acknowledgement.

"Y'got a crush on me or somethin', Johnny?"

Soap chuckles even if the other does not. "A just happened tae see it. Fancy little thing."

It doesn't take long before Ghost disappears into the night, but the Scot swears his pace was a bit faster than usual when he left the awfully-smelling bar, and Gaz would be lying if he said he didn't see the little picture of a pretty bird tucked away in his scarily huge lieutenant's wallet.

It's not that Soap often makes bold assumptions about people and their personal lives, not when they're out of reach from him, but can you really blame him for thinking that the words 'Ghost' and 'girlfriend' do not sound right in the same sentence? Would it be considered an assumption this time if he'd seen the photo himself? Surely, his superior isn't some perverted freak who keeps an image of a breathtaking woman he randomly found in his private items. Uh, he hopes not, at least.

"Bullshit!" is what a drunken Soap yells when the Brit nonchalantly discloses to the team, without hesitation, that he is simply not interested in dating. He spills everything he's gathered in the past few months, from the smallest hints to the biggest; the unfamiliar strand of hair on Ghost's hoodie to the wallet from months ago.

"A'm no crazy!" Soap convinces no one as he's ushered back to the barracks for making such an insane assumption about the lieutenant in his unreliable state. Ghost's lips curl up into a smirk against the cold glass of Bourbon in his hand, sat back and relaxed with his legs spread wide.

Call him a big baby (he is) for making a fool out of his sergeant instead of just telling the truth and bragging about his angel to the others, but can you blame him? He just wants to keep you tucked away in his pocket, away from everyone else. What are you talking about, lovie? 'Course 'm not ashamed of you. You're just too pretty for them, is all. Gotta keep m' girl safe, yeah?

Besides, they don't have to know the way Simon melts into the nook of your neck when he gets home from deployment or know that he uses your lavender-scented shampoo. And no, it doesn't matter that Johnny knows. It's his word against the lieutenant's. He spares his LT and turns a blind eye this once.

When the time is right, Simon is sure to properly introduce his heart to his unspoken family. For the time being, he just wants to keep you his pretty little secret.

    divider by @cafekitsune !

[eiraeths]

ghost: rock bottom isn’t a bad place to be if you’re into collecting rocks

soap: [holding an armful of rocks that ghost keeps stacking upon]

ghost: or if your partner also likes rocks

soap: they’re good improvised weapons

[soleilapproves]

Ghost x reader, but it’s analog horror(ish)

HEAR ME OUT

You are an indie game programmer who designed an online ‘choose your own adventure’ style game where the player gets to go on a journey of learning how to exorcise their dead ex boyfriend who keeps haunting them. The boyfriend is lovingly named Ghost because he’s always wearing a mask to hide his rotting face. The game has ten chapters and if you play your cards right, then you can be free of his haunting and live your life peacefully. The ending screen has a final dialogue from him that says “I will wait for you.”

The game is sensational. The entire world is playing it, and you’re getting job offers left and right. It’s all overwhelming at first, but you decide to get comfortable with your newfound fame by giving a guest presentation at a local university.

Except, a week before your presentation, while you are playing the game all over again to check for any inconsistencies in the code or story, you notice that Ghost doesn’t say his usual line in the last chapter. You message one of your programmer friends who helped you develop the code for the game and they deny changing the final dialogue.

Your followers on your gaming forum don’t seem to have similar complaints so you try to go through the codes again, only to find that it has been untouched. Weird.

You feel static on the back of your neck as you reread the final dialogue in the last chapter: “I will find you.”

[cycloneeddie]

A comic inspired by my dad and his weird way of admitting he’s wrong.

The girls are fighting.

Anyways, Leo sucks at admitting when he’s wrong in the series so I’d guess peepaw wouldn’t be that much better.

The first head pat!

[dispatchesfromtheclasswar]

[disk28]

[cultofthewyrm]

by Juan Richard Feliz

[temeyes]

salute

[reds-skull]

Sharing a mask is something that can be so intimate actually

[dragonkid11]

No one, not a single soul, absolutely nobody:

Me: What if, a mech with a big ass rifle that can stab it into the ground with its bayonet and use it as a monopod to stabilize its even bigger shoulder cannon.

[thegnomelord]

POV: Demon Simon Ghost Riley who becomes your 'husband' through some shoddy occult shenanigans.

Simon is a fallen angel turned wrath demon. Once God's exalted blade, he is now one of the fiercest barons in Hell and second to none in the gladiatorial pits. Some ancient tales amongst the angels say his wings and hands had been dyed red with sinner blood long before he fell.

Go on, take the poor sinner's hand (it's not like you have a choice — death will not part you after all~)

No one touches the hunter (You) but Him

[wyerintea]

Warm Winter Mornings and Cold Summer Nights

Summary: Captain John Price of the 141 adopts a stray. It goes about as well as one would expect. Part 1 of many

Lying on a flattened cardboard box, with nothing but a flimsy, worn-down cloth draped over their tiny body, a young child rests in the frigid cold. They are curled into themselves, knees drawn close to their chest, arms tightly hugging their shins—most likely trying to preserve warmth.

The child is awfully small; he doubts they are older than ten, give or take.

Now, here comes the dilemma.

It was supposed to be a quick trip to the store—there and back. His list consisted of chicken, green onions, and garlic—and it definitely did not include a stray kid.

Breathe out. Breathe in.

The movement of their chest is subtle, barely noticeable in the dark.

It’s only a matter of time before they succumb to the harsh, unforgiving winter night.

Today is a special day. Christmas.

Snowflakes drift leisurely to the ground in the form of fluffy, white pom-poms, shrouding the concrete below in a blanket of soft cotton.

Children should be safe in a house, surrounded by the warmth of their family and celebrating the holiday. But this one is not.

Instead, they’re curled up on a sodden piece of cardboard with a sorry excuse of a blanket in a filthy alleyway. Scared. Cold. Alone.

Yes. Alone. Just like him.

Perhaps it was the overwhelming need for comfort, for family, that he had been feeling. Maybe this young, scruffy stray was the last puzzle piece he has been missing.

A kid. He’s always wanted one.

After all, he is a lonely man, and he has been lonely for a long, long time.

So, against his better judgement, he enters the dark alley.

The child immediately stiffens, sitting up and pressing their back to the brick wall, trying to make themselves smaller. Narrowed eyes stare at his approaching figure, wary and prickly, ready to defend if need be.

He crouches down, resting on his haunches to make himself appear less threatening. Now, he has the chance to get a better look at the kid.

White, translucent puffs of air escape from their mouth with every exhale, and he can hear the tremble of their breaths as their small lungs fight through the biting, frigid air. The tips of their ears and nose are tinged red, numb from the cold—god knows how long they have been out here.

“Hello, little one.”

A smudge of dirt on their cheek, rags for clothes, and a deep cut on their right calf that definitely needs attention—but he doubts they trust him enough to let him get close.

For now.

“My name's John Price.”

He reaches out his hand, palm facing upwards and fingers curling slightly at the end in a natural, casual manner. The gesture is meant to be warm—inviting—but they flinch and cower away, their gaze sharp, brimming with distrust.

Undeterred, he continues to extend his hand.

“Let's get you out of the cold, yeah?”