#phalanx operative

[nebsis]

when the Muse lyrics slap so hard you gotta make OC art with them

[probablyasocialecologist]

Despite Sparta’s reputation for superior fighting, Spartan armies were as likely to lose battles as to win them, especially against peer opponents such as other Greek city-states. Sparta defeated Athens in the Peloponnesian War—but only by accepting Persian money to do it, reopening the door to Persian influence in the Aegean, which Greek victories at Plataea and Salamis nearly a century early had closed. Famous Spartan victories at Plataea and Mantinea were matched by consequential defeats at Pylos, Arginusae, and ultimately Leuctra. That last defeat at Leuctra, delivered by Thebes a mere 33 years after Sparta’s triumph over Athens, broke the back of Spartan power permanently, reducing Sparta to the status of a second-class power from which it never recovered. Sparta was one of the largest Greek city-states in the classical period, yet it struggled to achieve meaningful political objectives; the result of Spartan arms abroad was mostly failure. Sparta was particularly poor at logistics; while Athens could maintain armies across the Eastern Mediterranean, Sparta repeatedly struggled to keep an army in the field even within Greece. Indeed, Sparta spent the entirety of the initial phase of the Peloponnesian War, the Archidamian War (431-421 B.C.), failing to solve the basic logistical problem of operating long term in Attica, less than 150 miles overland from Sparta and just a few days on foot from the nearest friendly major port and market, Corinth. The Spartans were at best tactically and strategically uncreative. Tactically, Sparta employed the phalanx, a close-order shield and spear formation. But while elements of the hoplite phalanx are often presented in popular culture as uniquely Spartan, the formation and its equipment were common among the Greeks from at least the early fifth century, if not earlier. And beyond the phalanx, the Spartans were not innovators, slow to experiment with new tactics, combined arms, and naval operations. Instead, Spartan leaders consistently tried to solve their military problems with pitched hoplite battles. Spartan efforts to compel friendship by hoplite battle were particularly unsuccessful, as with the failed Spartan efforts to compel Corinth to rejoin the Spartan-led Peloponnesian League by force during the Corinthian War. Sparta’s military mediocrity seems inexplicable given the city-state’s popular reputation as a highly militarized society, but modern scholarship has shown that this, too, is mostly a mirage. The agoge, Sparta’s rearing system for citizen boys, frequently represented in popular culture as akin to an intense military bootcamp, in fact included no arms training or military drills and was primarily designed to instill obedience and conformity rather than skill at arms or tactics. In order to instill that obedience, the older boys were encouraged to police the younger boys with violence, with the result that even in adulthood Spartan citizens were liable to settle disputes with their fists, a tendency that predictably made them poor diplomats. But while Sparta’s military performance was merely mediocre, no better or worse than its Greek neighbors, Spartan politics makes it an exceptionally bad example for citizens or soldiers in a modern free society. Modern scholars continue to debate the degree to which ancient Sparta exercised a unique tyranny of the state over the lives of individual Spartan citizens. However, the Spartan citizenry represented only a tiny minority of people in Sparta, likely never more than 15 percent, including women of citizen status (who could not vote or hold office). Instead, the vast majority of people in Sparta, between 65 and 85 percent, were enslaved helots. (The remainder of the population was confined to Sparta’s bewildering array of noncitizen underclasses.) The figure is staggering, far higher than any other ancient Mediterranean state or, for instance, the antebellum American South, rightly termed a slave society with a third of its people enslaved.

[fairygodsystem]

Do you have any system names for just the grouping that aren't system or collective?

We are really wanting a one worded collective name

♡ Alternatives to "system" or "collective" Master-list ♡

Association　　Assembly　　Aggregation　　Assemblage　　Assortment　　Array　　Alliance

Band　　Body　　Batch　　Battery　　Bunch　　Bundle　　Battalion　　Bracket　　Brigade

Class　　Club　　Chain　　Circle　　Crew　　Collection　　Cluster　　Clutch　　Clique　　Clump　　Clot　　Combine　　Conglomerate　　Congregation　　Crew　　Crowd　　Company　　Collaborative　　Communal　　Cooperative　　Common　　Corporation　　Compilation　　Collation　　Caboodle　　Convocation　　Cumulation　　Constellation　　Clan　　Consort　　Crop　　Coalition　　Classification　　Conspiracy　　Cabal　　Coven　　Corps

Division

Establishment　　Enterprise

Faction　　Function　　Formation　　Foundation　　Fellows　　Fellowship　　Family　　Force

Group　　Gathering　　Grade　　Gaggle　　Grouping　　Gild　　Guild　　Genus　　Generation

Herd　　Horde　　Hoard　　Heap　　Huddle　　Hodgepodge

Institute　　Institution

Lot　　League　　Legion　　Layout　　Lads

Mass　　Medley　　Mess　　Miscellany　　Mobilization　　Muster　　Mess　　Melt　　Mutual　　Mob

Number　　Network

Operation　　Outfit　　Order

Platoon　　Party　　Parcel　　Posse　　Phalanx　　Pack　　Personnel　　Pile

Round　　Ring

School　　Squad　　Squadron　　Set　　Species　　Syndicate　　Staff　　Stack　　Stock　　Suite

Team　　Troop　　Trust

Union

Variety

[howtofightwrite]

I don't know if you covered this before, but how does being left-handed effect handling weaponry? I imagine it doesn't impact too much with guns, but I've heard it can alter how using a sword works. How true is this, in the end?

That's sort of backwards. With a handful of exceptions, being left-handed doesn't do much to how you handle most melee weapons. The big exceptions are if you're wielding a shield, and in some medieval siege assault situations. Being a left-handed shooter, on the other hand, comes with a host of considerations, and in some cases, requires modifying your firearms so that they're convenient to use, or in others, it straight up requires learning to shoot right handed.

So, the part about this that is true, has nothing to do with which hand is dominant. Speaking from personal experience, it is much easier to accurately shoot with your off-hand, than it is to wield a melee weapon off-handed.

So, the issue with being a lefty with a shield is that your shield will be on the right side of your body while your opponent's shield will be on the left side of theirs. This means you're mirroring each other, and blocking an attack with your shield (or your opponent doing the same to you) is far more vulnerable to stepping out of line slightly and striking your opponent's weapon arm. This goes both ways, though a left-handed fighter is more likely to be prepared to immediately exploit this opening, simply because there are more right handed fighters, so they'll be encountering this situation more often.

The second exception is architectural. We've mentioned this on many occasions, but medieval castles were designed to favor the defenders. This took multiple forms, but among them were stairways designed so that someone invading the castle would have their right arm pressed up against a wall, while their left hand was free. (This was true both with open stairways, and also with spiral stairways inside the keep.) The assumed word here is, “designed to favor right-handed defenders.” A left-handed assaulter would be able to use their dominant arm freely as they assaulted, because the keep was (accidentally) built to favor them. In some cases, they might even have advantages over the right-handed defenders, such as being able to attack freely from above as they descended.

I'm been mostly thinking about the standard infantry sidearms of the era, but is worth remembering that a left-handed spearman would be a problem in a tightly packed formation (such as the phalanx), because their arm would be running extremely close to their fellow fighter on the left side of their battle line, while leaving a gap to their right.

It's also worth knowing that most lefties train (often involuntarily) some degree ambidexterity. Everything from doorknobs to jars are built for right-handed people, so, you learn to do things with your off-hand that a right-handed individual would never even think about. Hell even just putting on your clothes in the morning will train some dexterity in your right-hand, which a right-handed individual would never do with their left. (Amusingly, the major exception to this would be some articles of women's clothing, which were originally oriented opposite a man's clothes so that a servant could fasten her clothes for her, using their right hand for the more dexterous bits.) (Actually, if you know your Latin, there's a pun in the previous sentence, and I am truly sorry for that.)

Now, when it comes to firearms, being a left-handed shooter can be annoying. It also means you're far more likely to write about firearms in some public capacity. So, that's a weird trend.

The biggest problem tends to be the controls. A lot of firearms will position their controls to be convenient for a right-handed operator. If you're left-handed, you'll find yourself having to reach over the weapon, or break fire position, to interact with those settings, more than a right-handed shooter would. This can include safety switches, fire control groups, magazine releases, slide/bolt catch releases, and even decockers.

It's fairly rare to encounter a handgun where the slide release and safety are ambidextrous. Ambidextrous mag releases are a bit more common these days than they used to be, so that's always nice. But, whenever someone breaks out a 1911, yeah, that's really expecting you to be right-handed.

This isn't just with modern firearms either. One of my favorite handguns is the Colt SAA. The gun is over 150 years old, and if you're left-handed, reloading it will see you dropping spent brass onto the back of your hand. (Or cradling the gun, and clearing the cylinders that way, which is entirely valid.)

Sometimes, you can modify a gun for left-handed use. This will often involve things like replacing the magazine release (and praying that the mags' manufacture considered someone would switch the release button, or cutting new release notches into your mags.) Revering the safety (which in some of the most obnoxious cases, also means replacing the grip paneling.) This is all doable, but you're going to put a lot of work into making the gun comfortable for your left hand.

Though, there are other solutions. The H&K USP's massive slide release leaver, designed for use with gloves, can easily be operated by a left-handed shooter's index finger. (Also, the USP has an ambidextrous mag release, and the safety/decocker is positioned so that you can, at least, safe and unsafe it with the first knuckle of your index finger, though, good luck decocking it, without moving your left hand out of the way entirely), and in other cases, you can flip your thumb over the slide to adjust it.

In the case of most push button releases, you can simply eject it by drawing back your middle finger and pressing the button directly. Though, this does lead to another problem. Your hand is not supposed to be right over that button at all times, and until you learn how to manage the recoil on a gun, it can very easy for a left-handed shooter to accidentally drop the mag after they fire. This is especially an issue for Glocks and SIG P220 series pistols. (Ironically, this is less of a problem with the Beretta 92/M9 family of pistols, given how the push button sits in the grip.)

If you what a modified left-handed pistol can end up looking like, McClane (Bruce Willis)'s Beretta from Die Hard was modified to accommodate his left-hand dominance, with the major differences being the slide release being modified, and the mag release being replaced with one that was easier to reach.

Behind the controls, is the slightly less common non-ambidextrous grips. I still remember this MP5 variant with a contoured thumb rest on the left side. Perfect for a right-handed shooter, but if you're a lefty, it would dig into your palm. This is slightly more common with hunting rifles, and sporting guns in general, but as the MP5 above indicates, it's not exclusive to them.

It's also worth remembering that this last issue can pop up with melee weapons as well. If a rapier is designed to be held in the right hand, it might not be compatible with your left hand. I've never seen this personally, but it's something worth remembering.

The end result is, a lot of left-handed shooters learn to shoot right-handed for situations where the firearm simply isn't compatible with their dominant hand. (Cue: multiple people saying, “hey, I never learned to shoot with my right hand.”) I don't know who those individuals are, but, frankly, unless they've only handled customized, left handed guns, I'm dubious about that one.

So, it is certainly a thing, but it affects firearms far more than melee weapons.

-Starke

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[whencyclopedia]

Draco's Law Code

Draco was an aristocrat who in 7th century BCE Athens was handed the task of composing a new body of laws. We have no particular clues concerning his life and general biography and the only certainty is that, as an aristocrat and an educated man, he was in the right place at the right time in order to take his opportunity and legislate. During the infancy of the Athenian legal system Draco composed the city's first written law code with the aim of reducing arbitrary decisions of punishment and blood feuds between parties. Ultimately, though, the laws aided and legitimized the political power of the aristocracy and allowed them to consolidate their control of the land and poor. Famously harsh, the laws were ultimately replaced by Solon in 594 BCE.

Historical Background

Αfter the creation of city- states (πόλις - κράτος, polis - kratos) in Greece, around the 8th Century BCE, sovereigns in major cities like Athens started losing power. The king, in order to maintain power and safety in his city started sharing the land with various noblemen, that in the first place, had been members of his council of war. Later, these noblemen created the hoplite phalanx (οπλιτική φάλαγγα, oplitiki falagga). The phalanx was not only a military group of men but gradually shaped into a political body and eventually gained power from the King. Thus, an aristocracy was born. In Athens, the aristocrats controlled the land and they had most of the privileges, the political rights, and, of course, the money in the polis. The law was held by them and was only written for their own purposes and from their own perspective. Most Athenians had to live in relative poverty and under this regime simple workmen and farmers had no choice but to be ruled by the aristocrats. Gradually the Athenians found themselves in a city where very few held political power, money, land and, most importantly, control of the (unwritten) law.

Justice has not always been dispensed by judges operating under a written or common law equally applicable to all. In early Athens, justice was not a matter of applying a written standard to any situation or dispute. There were no explicitly written sentencing guides or judicial precedents on which to call. Rather, the victims themselves were responsible for exacting retribution or compensation for any crime. If the victim was dead, the family was left to take revenge or seek compensation. These blood feuds could last for generations as families sought to avenge a loss, rarely admitting fault and always seeking absolution. (Salowey & Northen Magill).

Continue reading...

[judgemark45]

USS Monterey (CG-61)

The USS Monterey (CG-61) is a Ticonderoga-class guided-missile cruiser in the United States Navy. It has a displacement of approximately 9,600 tons, measures 567 feet (173 meters) in length, 55 feet (16.8 meters) in beam, and has a draft of 34 feet (10.2 meters). Powered by four General Electric LM2500 gas turbine engines, it achieves speeds over 30 knots and has an unlimited range due to its capability for underway replenishment. The crew consists of 33 officers and 327 enlisted personnel. Armament includes two Mk 41 Vertical Launch Systems, two Mk 45 5-inch guns, two Mk 38 25 mm guns, eight Harpoon missile launchers, two Phalanx CIWS, and various machine guns. The ship also supports two SH-60 Seahawk helicopters. Built by Bath Iron Works, it was commissioned on June 16, 1990. The USS Monterey has been involved in numerous deployments and operations, showcasing its versatility and importance in modern naval operations.

[arkiwii]

ARKNIGHTS Rhine Lab AU - Role Swap

A Role Swap AU is an Alternative Universe were the characters roles are swapped! It can be just swapping the roles around, or two characters roles with each other, while keeping their personalities. In the case of this AU, I did the second, finding it way more interesting in the context of Rhine Lab. So I'll present the characters swapped, and what they became!

Saria <--> Silence

Saria now takes the role of the new and basic researcher of the Structural Department. She is now Infected - which does not have much relevance outside of the fact that her Arts are much stronger -, and joined Rhine Lab with the goal to seek a cure for Oripathy. A born leader who seeks to help and protect the weaks, she is much more colder as she has spent the most of her life alone.

[Gameplay] Saria would be a 6* Dualist Defender, with a move pool moreso based on healing and buffing herself, as well as debuffing the enemies.

_____________

On her side, Silence became the co-funder of Rhine Lab, as well as the Director of the Structural Department. She is very appreciated by the company for her optimistic behavior and love of science, although she may appear naive. Uninfected, she is more lively, and possesses strong Arts that she uses with the mean of her drones.

[Gameplay] Silence would be a 5* Mech-Accord Caster, with the unique ability of being able to heal with the drones she unleashes during her skills.

Ifrit <--> Rosmontis

Ifrit has became the subject of Williams Loken's experiment, with the goal to recreate a Diablo with the shard of their remains. It caused the Loken Watertank incident, where Ifrit destroyed the laboratory and was found by the Maylander Foundation. Sent to Rhodes Island for treatment, she became an Elite Operator for her dangerous fire Arts, as well as a very close friend of Amiya and Blaze with her strong personality.

[Gameplay] Ifrit is now a 6* Phalanx Caster, with the talent to lower the resistance of all enemies in her range when off-skill, and to cause destructive Arts damage when using her skills.

_____________

Rosmontis is now the child of Parvis' experiment, with the goal to create a Chimera. The experiment gone horribly wrong, Rosmontis has destroyed the Haydn Laboratory, and was found by the Columbian Military, before being sent to Rhine Lab where she will be under the care of Saria and Silence. Amnesiac, Rosmontis's strong post traumatic stress disorder has caused her to lock her emotions and to show little to no emotional responses, unless when stressed, where her destructive powers show up.

[Gameplay] Rosmontis is now a 6* Arts Guard, her playstyle taking a lot of inspiration from Saria, her powers allows her to debuff and deal enormous amount of damage to enemies.

Magallan <--> Mayer

The member of the Engineering Section Magallan is a simple researcher with the dream to explore the world, but the unfortunate fate of being constantly busy. Her most prided creations are drones taking inspiration on the fauna from places she has dreamed to visit when she was younger, with quite some freedom in their appearence.

[Gameplay] A 5* Summoner Supporter, Magallan can summon drones that will debuff and give invisibility periodically to nearby units, making her a really good support.

_____________

Mayer is considered a mystery by most employees of Rhine Lab, and it's mostly due to her weird explorations to Iberia and its surroundings... Very praised explored, Mayer specializes in submarine explorations, and studies the Seaborns as well as their biology very closely, feeding particularly interesting data to Rhine Lab. She posseses robots, courtesy of Magallan, her close friend, who are more opted for battle and protecting her against the Seaborns.

[Gameplay] 6* Summoner Supporter, Mayer possesses melee summons who can deal significant damages, especially against Seaborns type of enemies, as well with their auto destruct when defeated.

Ho'olheyak <--> Muelsyse

The last member of the Kul'kuk'an has joined Rhine Lab with the hope to find the answers behind her race and achieve truth. Throughout the extensive knowledge of her ancestors, particularly on the subject of stars and constellations, she became a very close assistant of Kristen and a strong asset for her to achieve her dream. Director of the History of Sciences Section, she learns about the story of Terra as a whole to gain knowledge.

[Gameplay] Ho'olheyak became a 6* Mystic Caster, who can apply weightless and Levitation based on the amount of stored attacks, with skills that emplified these abilities.

_____________

Muelsyse was one, if maybe not the only friend Saria had during college. An Elf with a cheerful attitude, her search of her race as well as engagement for children's protection, herself an orphan, as led her to meet and be recruited for the Maylander Foundation. Her ability to sneak around, spy, create clones and harvest previous information make her an extremely good asset, and she has been able to help many cases, as well as discovering the projects Rhine Lab has been hiding.

[Gameplay] Muelsyse is now a 6* Ambusher, with the fun ability of being able to place a clone of herself on the battlefield, with skills tuned to this one.

Astesia <--> Astgenne

Opposite to her sister, Astesia decided to follow the paths of science to discover the truth behind the stars and most of all, behind the false sky. She is a calm, elegant woman who joined the Originium Arts section under Dorothy Franks, with who she became a close friend. However, her unprompted Infection after a failed experiment had caused Astesia to lose faith in her researches, and she had become more reserved, but thankful for her sister and her friend for supporting her no matter what. Astesia left her family after these ones rejected her views, and has found her new place at Rhine Lab.

[Gameplay] Astesia is a 5* Splash Caster, using her Arts to attack the enemies. Her attacks have a light chance on stunning the opponents, and her skills will cause great crowd control AOE damages.

_____________

Astgenne followed the path of her family's heritage by learning their traditional sword techniques with the usage of the astro globe. Energetic, full of promises, she has an optimistic faith and belief in the stars and astrology, as opposite to her sister with who she might often debate. But both cares a lot about each other, and after Astesia got infected, which infected Astgenne as well due to their nature of twins, Astgenne has gave a lot of support to her sister, and places her hopes in her, believing that the stars will save them. She currently manage an occult society around the stars, in collaboration with Rhine Lab.

[Gameplay] A 5* Lord Guard, Astgenne will use her Arts to launch ranged attacks at the opponents. Her melee attacks turn into Arts damage upon the activation of her skill, and will stun everyone in her range the moment her skill is activated, her damage emplified on stunned enemies.

Robin <--> Kafka

Desesperate after her dad's company, BlackCloud Trade, went bankrupt from a competition against Simon Co., Robin seeked for help everywhere to make money and pay the medical bills for her father. When the situation seemed lost and Robin was close to give up, she met with Saria, who were able to bring her back on the tracks and give her a reason to fight. When Saria found out about the involvement she had with Simon Co., she proposed a deal with Robin; to help her infiltrate Mansfield's Jail and save Anthony Simon, the man Robin despise the most, so Robin can see if he's a good person who deserves to be forgiven, or someone who should be guilty for his family's actions.

[Gameplay] Robin is a 5* Agent Vanguard, able to use ranged attacks with her throwing knives. One of her skills will boost her attack on deployment, while the second will place mines around her, dealing damages while generating a good amount of DP upon explosion.

_____________

An orphan from Columbia, Kafka always had lived in criminality and gang battles. While she is not entirely found of this life, she made herself a reputation in the grey zone of Columbia, despite her claims to be a simple gardener. When Anthony Simon's head was given a price, many criminals went to try and kill him, unsuccessful. Kafka would had not paid interest if Jesselton did not employed her to help him kill Anthony. Kafka accepted, the price of his request being a non neglectible one, but had no actual intentions on killing Anthony on her own, but rather try to pocket the promised money with no harm involved.

[Gameplay] After joining Rhodes Island, Kafka applied to become a 5* Dreadnought Guard, with the talent to become invisible when unblocking enemies for enough time. Her skill causes Arts damages, hitting everyone in range with her large shredders.

Unchanged roles

Kristen remains the founder of Rhine Lab, and still pursue her dream to carry on her parents' goal, with the strong support of Silence. Both have lost contact with their time at Rhine Lab, but they keep good terms... Until Silence finds out the horrifying projects she agreed on, that is.

Ptilopsis is still a subject of Dellareed's experiment, which has failed, but without any care from the Structural Department, she has been deeply conditioned to behave and act close to an artificial intelligence. While Silence deeply wishes to give her proper care, her busy schedule rarely allows her to, and it's as an assistant of Parvis that Ptilopsis found her role, under the trust of Silence. Thankfully for her, Saria disagreed deeply with the views Parvis had on his "assistant", and brought her to Rhodes Island for help. Silence feels deeply guilty for not having noticed it sooner.

Dorothy remains the Director of the Originium Arts section. Daughter of two pioneers who lost their lives in a Catastrophe, Dorothy strives to create an ideal world where everyone can live in equality, and where she can protect the pioneers. Helped by Astesia, she gives value to her assistance, and hope to help her as well with a dreamed world where infection would not exist anymore.

Parvis is now a simple assistant of Silence at the Structural Department, who acts more as an executive assistant than anything. Silence being horribly busy, she entrusts him for most cases, which turned being a horrible idea when Parvis saw this as an opportunity to carry his researches on the chimera project. He took on the role of Director when Silence left.

Jara, Nasti, Ferdinand, Justin Jr., Loken, Tin Man, Jesselton, Domma and Mountain have no noticeable change in their characters.

Summary of the timeline

At the young age of 10, Kristen Wright learned the horrible news of her parents' death in a flight incident, which led to the dishonor of her family to the scientific community. Helped by Jara, she continued her education and met the young Olivia Silence during high school. The two young women had originally nothing in common, but their love of science and search for the truth. It did not took long for the two of them to become best friends, and for Olivia to turn into an important person for Kristen; dreaming of achieving what her parents had failed to achieve back then, she found hope to continue to go forward with Olivia's optimistic nature and support.

After both graduated and finished their studies at Trimounts' Institute of Technology, they decided to found Rhine Lab together, a promising future for the two rising stars of the scientific community. While the first year was rough between the struggles against concurrence and the little financial help they had, they got nonetheless joined by bright minds like Ferdinand Clooney, Ho'olheyak and Dorothy Franks.

As time went on, Rhine Lab has became one, if not the biggest scientific company in the span of ten years. However, Silence, who became the Director of the Structural Department, and Kristen, as the CEO, both fell apart of each other with their busy schedule. It's until Silence got to hear about an incident happening at a nearby laboratory, and got the sole survivor transfered to Rhine Lab with the help of the DOD, that things got a turn. The young surviving girl, named Narcissa, has been deeply infected and bear heavy traumas, and with the help of Saria, a Rhine Lab researcher who agreed to help her, she gradually unpacked her locked memories. Silence, trying her hardest to be there for the girl, also insisted on investigating the truth behind the event, with the help of Ho'olheyak.

She soon disvovers the horrible reality, and how Narcissa happened to be the subject of a human experiment, and that Ho'olheyak was sent with her to make sure none of the secrets would be undiscovered. Silence fought her way out of it, with the help of the Maylander Foundation, and tried to warn Saria about it. However, she arrives too late, and Narcissa lost control in yet another treatment phase. Saria manages to calm her down, but blames Silence, herself having learned the truth and realizing that Silence has been part of it, maybe even hiding it from Saria to continue the experiment, and she leaves Rhine Lab with Narcissa.

Silence tried to face Kristen, and swear to stop her, leaving Rhine Lab. She finally joins Rhodes Island, to seek help from them, but soon meets with Saria and Narcissa, now codenamed Rosmontis. Saria, scared that Silence followed them, refuses to have her approach her or Rosmontis, firmly keeping her distances. Silence struggles to hide her fear, and is left alone to fix her own mistakes.

I couuulld say more but, hey, I am cooking! All the events that follow, so Mansfield's Break, Dorothy's Vision, Lone Trail, they will greatly change and I could give a quick summary, but hey, surprise!! (I'm lazy)

I will eventually make designs of the swapped versions, but I'd love to explore the characters' new dynamics. Like how Saria's hard nature ends up having a negative effect on Rosmontis, how Silence tries to help her and bring Saria to realize what she's doing, while also struggling with her own powerlessness. Or about Ptilopsis, how this one is struggling more deeply with her issues, but tries to help Saria and take care of Rosmontis a lot, both relating to each other. I could also talk about Ifrit, now an Elite Operator, with all the shenanigans she has with Blaze and how cool she is, but also how she will try to help Rosmontis later! Or even this absolutely cool Mayer who would be an amazing character for IS3, cause hell yea deep sea horrors!!

Anywayyy, it's a lot lot, I sometimes think about this new timeline and I think there can be something really cool to be done with it, maybe a series of fics, who knows! It's just a project for fun, simply playing around with the characters, there might be a lot of flaws and things missing, I'll try my best to make everything make sense.

So hum, yay! feel free to give me opinions, for fun :]

[your-local-bookworm]

Forgotten Faults.

PERCY JACKSON × DAUGHTER OF ARES!READER.

Summary: Things get confusing when the son of Poseidon grows an unexplainable liking for a daughter of Ares who seems to be adamant on ignoring him.

Part 2

Warnings: Battle in Camp ?? Reader is hurt. Kampé. I don't know, honestly. Percy is a very confused teenager.

Note: This part is more focused on the battle than Percy and Reader's relationship, because it will only seem realistic as they're not yet very close.

Fourteen year old still, but Percy is preparing for his first real battle. He wonders if it'll be like the ones he watched in movies as a kid or that gory movie he watched with Paul when his mom wasn't home. He hopes it's not the latter.

It was the biggest military operation he'd ever seen at camp. Everyone was at the clearing, dressed in full battle armour, but this time it wasn't for capture the flag. The Hephaestus cabin had set up traps around the entrance to the Labyrinth razor wire, pits filled with pots of Greek fire, rows of sharpened sticks to deflect a charge. Beckendorf was manning two catapults the size of pickup trucks, already primed and aimed at Zeus's Fist. Apollo's and Hermes's cabins were scattered in the woods with bows ready. Many had taken up positions in the trees. Even the dryads were armed with bows, and the satyrs trotted around with wooden cudgels and shields made of rough tree bark. Annabeth went to join her brethren from the Athena cabin, who had set up a command tent and were directing operations. A grey banner with an owl fluttered outside the tent. The security chief, Argus, stood guard at the door. Aphrodite's children were running around, straightening everybody's armour and offering to comb the tangles out of the horsehair plumes. Even Dionysus's kids had found something to do. The god himself was still nowhere to be seen. The Ares cabin was on the front line, drilling in phalanx formation with Clarisse calling orders. He failed to track Y/N, though. Also Grover and ... where's Nico??

It appears all of Percy's friends chosen to disguise themselves. Or not, he spotted Nico exiting the Apollo cabin, followed closely by Y/N. Nico took positioned himself beside the Dionysus kids while she came running up to where Chiron was next to him.

"We're all ready, Chiron." she said, boldness radiating off her like moonlight. It set her aglow. It was a nice thing to remember if he died in this battle. He thought of his mom and Paul, Annabeth and Grover, Tyson, Luke, Clarisse and her. So many lives at risks just because some lousy gods got into a fight with their father... grandfather... whatever.

Y/N took a place beside him. "You alright Jackson?"

"Couldn't be any more prepared for this"

When it began it was unlike anything he'd been in before. But much more like the kid's movies, must be because of the monsters. Paul's movie was only humans and horses. When Kampé attacked the Athena tent, Percy and Annabeth stroke back, but the poison was clouding them both.

"Come on" he shouted "We need help!"

But no help came. Everyone was either down or scared or fighting. And when Kampé took a go at Annabeth, Percy was convinced he'll have to witness his friend die, because Chiron's arrows were too late and so was Percy.

Then a sword sprouted through Kampé and Percy saw your figure emerge from behind. Kampé fell and last of Chiron's arrows hit Y/N instead.

Y/N let out a scream as the arrow bit into her flesh and blood streamed down her arm. Her knees hit the ground splattered with her own blood. Percy's heart plummeted.

"Now" Annabeth shouted, eyes trailing the fallen figure beside her. She rose and almost hit Kampé. Almost. But Kampé was fast and in the next five seconds, Annbeth too rolled onto the ground, crying in pain, with blood pouring from the side of her head

To Percy's great, no, huge .. wait. Provoking every bit of satisfaction in Percy's heart, the next cry he heard was from Kampé as Mrs. O'Leary threw her away like a discarded can of soft drink.

His eyes followed upon Daedalus and Briars the hundred handed one charging into battle

When the chaos deceded and night sky ruled over them, Percy retured to his friends. He was more glad than he can express when he found them all on one piece.

Dinner had no order and class, every demigod sat with their friends and Percy found Annabeth, Grover, Nico, Y/N and a Apollo guy, Will Solace? Will Slice? Will Whatever. Sitting on the Poseidon table. His pride soared but that was before his brain clicked and concluded that the Apollo cabin were treating to everyone and had set up their agenda in the dining space.

He took his short stroll up to Cabin 3's table.

Y/N, Will and Annabeth were indulged in conversation Nico tried to fight of his fatigue while Will bandaged around Y/N's shoulder, the gaping black hole now under protective layers of gauge.

"Not a summer goes by that I don't have to treat your bloody wounds." Will scolded her

"You humour me, Solace. This is only my second summer in camp half-blood."

"And you've got yourself in trouble at least a dozen times. Your arms are all scarred"

"It's because I am a dutiful camper. A born warrior. I wear my scars like badges of honour and braver--."

"You are born clumsy."

"I can still punch you."

"Not with a shoulder like that."

"Hey there everyone?" Percy announced his presence

'He-Hey seaweed brain." Annabeth smiled

"Hello Jackson."

"Hi Percy, now before everything else. You got any injuries I should know about."

"Oh, no i don't " Percy replied, "Could've just taken a shower if I did anyway."

"You know what Will?" Y/N turned to the said boy, "Never thought of it this way, but what if I throw myself in a fire pit and see if it heals my injuries?"

Percy wasn't sure if he's ever seen her joke.

"And what if you don't?" Will replied, tugging the last of gauge around her shoulders. He sat beside Nico.

"You shouldn't, really" Annabeth added, looking genuinely concerned.

"Alright." Y/N shrugged.

"I'll head to my cabin. See you lot later" Annabeth stood up. "Thank you once again Y/N, goodnight. You too Percy."

"Goodnight, Wise girl."

"Goodnight Anne, don't worry about it too much."

Percy turned to Y/N when Annabeth departed, "What were you talking about?"

"Luke."

"Oh" Percy didn't want to think of him now. " Can I ask you something?"

Percy knew he shouldn't. Speaking facts, every bit of conscience that remained inside his head bargained not to. But he did anyway.

"Why do you hate me?" No no no. That came out wrong. He resisted from face palming into the table.

"What?" Y/N stared at him. Similar expressions were to be casted upon the two boys sitting with them.

"You.. you always seem to uh, ignore me." He stumbled upon his words. Not as bad as his heartbeat though.

"The Ares and Poseidon children don't have the best relationship now, do they?"

"It feels more than that."

Y/N remained silent. Engulfed in her thoughts.

"When I first came to camp, last summer. A few week after that, you dropped a wave on me. By the lake."

Memories flooded his brain, that was her?!

"Never apologised." Y/N added.

"I didn't know it was you!!"

"You completely ruined my sketchbook!"

"Unintentionally! I am sorry." Percy was redeemed speechless.

"As you should be."

"I am. Really. I'm sorry."

"I forgive you. But if you're looking for a way to pay me back, could you please bring me a glass of water?"

"Sure"

Moments later when Percy came back with a bottle full of water. Y/N was once again engaged in talking with Will Solace. He handed it to her.

"Thank you."

"Thank you too. For saving our heads back there."

"We're all in this together, Jackson."

"So, peace?" Percy suggested, thrusting his hand forward. Excitement erupted in his chest when she took it.

"For now, Goodnight boys." And she walked of i to the night.

"Goodnight!" Will called back.

'Now that is a win." Percy thought to himself on his way back to Cabin 3.

Well, percy and reader are friends now, i do have plans for a few mort parts to this.

[drinkyourvillainjuice]

who do each of the altruists view as the most dangerous/formidable hound to fight?

I have a few Hounds-thinking-on-Altruists asks! They're all on my radar but for now I'll address one of the easier ones (need to keep my actual writing time in mind!)

Portrait - depends how exactly his encounter shook out. If Ghoul absorbed a construct, he has them SUPER high on his list, otherwise it'd be competing between Paradigm, Ghoul, and Architect (i.e. if Paradigm got the drop on him, they're higher, and so on)

Surpass - usually Dime unless they ran away or she completely kicked their ass, otherwise Architect.

Vantage - Architect unless Dime is very violent. (otherwise, she views Architect as more dangerous for having a powerful underling)

Arcade - Rampage, as she significantly counters him.

Enfilade - Hand-to-hand specialised Paradigm, otherwise Fracture because he can tank her shit.

Phalanx - Architect, since she considers him the brains of the operation.

[moodymisty]

Alright I gotta represent for us in the Rogal Dorn Simp Nation, Misty! This idea fell directly on my head from my old history nerd childhood, we’ve got stories of queens holding down the fort and being badass while the king is away so why not let the lady of the House of Dorn and the Imperial Fists kick some ass??? Dorn’s off doing y’know crusade shit etc etc and gets a frantic vox hail from Inwit (or whatever fortress world she was on) that they’re under attack. Luckily he’s done with whatever his assignment was or has somebody he can trust and leave it to so he can flip Phalanx in reverse and hop back to make sure nothing goes wrong. Only to find his beloved commanding the standing force of guardsmen and marines, not just holding it down but WINNING. On the outside he’s his usual stoic self like “psh yes of course I wasn’t worried, I never worry, this is something I expect her to be able to handle. I am proud tho” but internally he’s like “oh no this is hot” XD. Indomitable warrior queen decked out in armor he probably commissioned for her (always gotta be prepared) making battle plans and laying the verbal smack down on any captains or commissars who are questioning the competency of somebody ROGAL GODDAMN DORN chose to be with. Yeah I think that’d do a whole lot for him 😂

Having soft moments of reflection on his humanity matched against his beloved’s is delicious of course but so is meeting him where HE’S at, seeing how loving him and learning about him would change somebody. And getting to commit some grand old grimdark 40k VIOLENCE is always fun lol

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: We are on the front lines for Wall Husband I will go down with this ship. Boring this bland that fuck everyone else we're right I'm stacking bricks around them

Summary: Stuck in a violent snowstorm on an Imperial Fist controlled planet being sieged, you take command for the first time while waiting for Dorn.

Relationships: Rogal Dorn/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Dorn is your future husband and Alexis Polux is your battle husband it's like a work husband but much more violent, Mentions of battle and death, Typical 40kness, I think I blacked out while writing this I'm sorry

Word Count: 2566

You had known from the very beginning of your courtship that Dorn had wished for you to be a link in his chain of command.

What you hadn't expected, was for your first time in leadership to be completely alone, surrounded by no less than fifty Astartes waiting for orders, and five hundred or more Guardsmen half frozen due to the horrid weather; With a multitude of tech priests working on the various machinery and equipment.

This sun up makes it a week since the siege had began, the distant sounds of bolter fire constant. Sometimes the ground shakes from explosions, pulling dust off the cracks in the brick walls.

Walking down the east hall, you step into the large room that has been made into a sort of 'central command' to coordinate the current forces, stuffed tight with a massive holotable and various tech priests scattered around it. Some are working on fixing any malfunctioning machinery, such as the vox equipment that has had trouble maintaining a signal even on-planet through the storm.

You look around to see if anything drastic has changed in your absence. In the moment, you notice a familiar face; A commissar from the beginning of this week. He has the most command over the Guardsmen under you, having been their only superior before the invasion. Any captains or other commissars had been made to report to him, up until now. His closest in rank subordinate had been killed in an explosion on the first day, and in a morose thought, you wonder if they had been any more palatable than he is.

"Any progress hailing the Phalanx?"

He gives you a curt shake of his head, looking over the shoulder of the tech priest operating the vox equipment. Another harsh whip of wind batters against the walls, howling and shaking the glass windows. It rattles them almost just as bad as the distant explosions do.

"Nothing more than a few seconds at a time. But it should be enough of a message for them to understand the planet is under siege." The Commissar speaks short and stiff, face frozen in a neutral, stoic gaze underneath his uniform and few day old facial scruff. You cross your arms.

He's on his best behavior now, considering his disrespect shortly after you'd taken command had nearly gotten his head rent from his shoulders. He hadn't realized he was speaking to the Lady of the Imperial Fists, but the Astartes that had been in your company to deliver the news of your ascension in duty hadn't given him the leeway he might've thought he deserved. He acquiesced command of his guardsmen to you quite quickly, after that. There has been nary a squeal from him since, nor any of his fellow commissars or guard captains.

"Good. Then we will hopefully have aid soon. For now we need to push them back from the storage buildings before my men run out of bolter ammo."

Not that they can't work with just their chainswords, but long range options remain vital considering the hostile terrain you're all working with.

You hear the sound of heavy footsteps approaching.

Alexis Polux, a veritable giant of a man, is nearly unable to get through even a doorway meant for fellow Astartes; Though not of his size. His armor is packed with snow at the seams, pauldrons slick with snow melted into a sheet of ice. His thin, blonde hair is quickly becoming wet at the tips, from where snowflakes are melting in the slight heat of the room. Anywhere he walks, he leaves chunks of melting sleet right behind. It has to be almost packed a meter high at this point out there, judging where the worst of it ends on his leg armor.

"Welcome back, Captain Polux." You smile in spite of the situation. It's something that Dorn had said he found- in his own words- 'curious' about you.

He holds his helm in his hands, walking closer to you. He brushes past the Commissar with not even the slightest tilt of acknowledgement. Unsurprising. He'd been there when the man had questioned your acting in Dorn's proxy. Polux is a man of a surprisingly amount of humility and softspokenness, but he is rarely forgiving.

"The storm is getting worse."

You hear another bout of wind howl through the brick and stone, as it continues to dump more snow onto the ground. While the Astartes can traverse it without much issue, it's becoming one for the Guardsmen. They've slowed their advance significantly as the snow reaches their knees.

"Even if we do get aid, they're going to be hard pressed to get anything more than small gunship planet-side; Though it goes both ways. We're all stuck out here in this mess." You open your mouth to continue, but Polux cuts you off.

"They are not built for the cold like we are."

You look up to the massive marine who's been serving as your second in command. Perhaps it wasn't an officially given title, but he's taken it well, and you could think of no better man for it. Especially given that the other Astartes respect him- which makes your orders have less of a weight to them, given they still have a degree of unfamiliarity with you. Your hands rest on the rim of the holotable.

"Finished my sentence for me." He hums as an odd sort of apology, the humor of your response going right over his head. When you let out a soft chuff of a laugh a few guardsmen curiously look at you for a moment.

"It was a compliment, Polux." He stares, eyes flicking across your face as he loudly thinks.

He really is a Son of Dorn.

You resist the urge to smile again, and look down at the holotable. It's been quite the week, but what was once another language has now become nothing but second nature. Putting theory to practice has proved quicker and less frightening that you'd thought, a week ago.

Though you still hope Dorn returns to you soon, turning away from the holotable to receive an update from a guardsmen holding a dataslate.

If anyone had ever asked, Rogal Dorn has remained no different than the stalwart nature he's always had. Though his captains and commanders can hear tenseness in his voice. No matter how phenomally well the Primarch can mask it.

It's been there since they'd first gotten the first of multiple emergency vox hails, only a few seconds long with a barely stable connection. But the few words that had gotten through had made it obvious that the planet was being sieged.

One of their bases was being sieged, a spit in the face of the Imperial Fists.

Even worse, Dorn has no idea as to your welfare.

He'd thought you safe there, the safest you could be other than with him or on Inwit, and now you stand on a world being laid waste with no way to contact anyone off world. He wonders deep in a part of his mind if it was an error on his part.

They're less than a day out now, watching the warp tear by. Dorn stands at the ship's bridge- unmovable. He'll see the planet any moment now when they leave Warp travel, and then can he prepare for what all is ahead of him.

He has the utmost faith in his men and you. However that doesn't mean that a small, human part of him doesn't worry at the idea of you being stuck mid-siege in an unknown location.

He taught you well. He taught you well. A mantra in his head no one else can hear. It is up to yourself to survive without him.

The siege isn't visible from orbit when they arrive, given the massive storm blocking large swaths of the land in a white blanket. It will making landing difficult, but the storm is clearing- at least according to the tech priest currently in charge. Not long after orders are given to begin battering the enemy's battleships as they strike back, shields taking a sizable hit. Nothing the Eternal Crusader and it's crew cannot handle.

But it doesn't feel as if the ice storm is clearing with the way the gunships struggle to remain stable, even with the most competent of pilot. Though they still manage to land on solid footing in one piece, the wind whipping their armor like a flog. Sheets of snow blow across snow already heavily packed onto the ground, covering up the large footprints of Astartes that had been here moments before them. The stone of the steps is barely visible through it all.

Dorn strides forward, the snow sticking to his boots as he trudges through it. He can hear bolter fire in the distance, as well as what seems like the highpowered cannon of multiple Baneblades. A small team of five Astartes follow behind him, two on each side and one directly behind. They have their bolters raised, ever vigilant even well in the safely of their own area of control. Wind rips through his cropped hair and howls in his ears, and for a split second, he perhaps regrets not wearing his helm. Even for a man of Inwit, this cold stings; He can hear the ice and snow crunching in the seams of his armor.

Stepping inside the cathedral, the first thing he notes is the myriad of supplies stacked inside in the aisles, safe from the elements. Guardsmen are looking after them, divvying them out amongst themselves, or delivering them to the Astartes in need of them. Of which there are a few- Imperial Fist guards from before the siege began. Most seem in decent condition; Dorn notes a lack of injuries amongst the Guardsmen and Astartes alike, and how there seems to be an established system amongst them.

He keeps walking through the nave, passing Guardsmen and Astartes who all give him a drop of the head when he passes.

"Primarch Dorn!"

An Imperial Fist Lieutenant calls to him, helmet in his hand. He has blood on his lips from where his skin has split, the cold having whipped his skin dry. Going down the few steps of the ambulatory, he gives a curt nod.

"Lady Dorn and Captain Polux are in the east hall. Central command has been established there."

He affirms to the warrior and turns, walking through the transept and down the hall. The one who'd spoken to him seems to have other duties, and stays behind on the ambulatory.

He can hear chatter in the large, arched hall- it increases until he reaches the door it's bleeding from, and he opens it and ducks to come through. It's just too short for him, but the ceiling inside can thankfully handle someone of his height. It's a thought that is always in the back of his mind.

When Dorn enters the room, the first thing his eyes focus on is you; Leaning over a massive holotable with Captain Alexis Polux standing firmly at your side. He stands like an unmoving guardian, a hand on the pommel of his chainsword. He's the closest to you out of anyone in the room- either out of his own will, or the gargantuan Astartes has incidentally created a personal area of clearance around you both with his presence alone.

"Dorn!"

You say, an audible pep in your voice. The Primarch walks closer and examines the scene in front of him. You appear uninjured, apart from your skin being slightly pallid from the cold.

The Primarch notices how everyone operates around you with a level of assiduity and efficiency, having been giving clear cut duties. There is no arguing, no fighting, everyone both in this room and all around the cathedral operate smoothly. You have a perimeter established, and you’ve been careful to push the advance but not stretch yourself too thin.

You've done well. That much is clear. A part of him wonders if you'd be able to clean this all up on your own, had he decided to simply give you the reinforcements and leave.

Dorn watches as you momentarily turn away from him to speak to an approaching commissar, and he finds himself listening to your confident and assured tone of voice. A thought crosses his mind.

You look beautiful.

All of your inquiries, curious questions and shaking confidence in your ability to lead have all mixed together, and while you might have made different choices than him, he cannot deny your effectiveness.

Dorn decides to speak before he distracts himself within his own mind further. A hold of your hand or to take a kiss of yours are things reserved for private, not here. As much as he might wish to.

"You appear to have done well for yourselves."

You look up at him and give a wry smile, while he glances at the holotable in-between you both.

"It could be worse. I have a squad of Astartes stuck behind enemy lines, but we've pushed the enemy back from the supply warehouses."

This planet has large city buildings that the wind rips around through, unlike the shorter ones of Inwit. The Astartes are fine in their sealed suits and higher body temperature, but the Guardsmen are all struggling. You more than likely are as well, despite holding strong. He can see the chill on your skin, the cracked skin of your lips.

Dorn's reinforcements will provide valuable support to yours, and with their might together, this planet with be rid of the siege.

You turn to order that the men currently in the battlefield get notice that Primarch Dorn has arrived, and that reinforcements are coming. Besides the soon coming tactical advantage, it will provide a well needed boost to moral. With the intense weather, it has surely been lowering. Though your smile and optimistic look in your eyes prove to be a valuable motivator.

No matter how good the orders, often times the way they're said and the person giving them are what matter most.

The Primarch looks to Captain Polux, and gives him a curt nod. The Astartes politely returns a dip of his head in thanks to the silent compliment of his duty. Dorn then looks back to you.

"You and any men injured will return to the Eternal Crusader." You let out a laugh and shake your head. He can hear the rattle of the bolter on your hip.

"Well now that I've started this, I'm kind of keen on seeing it finished before I leave."

Dorn's eyebrows raise ever so slightly, amused by you. He taught you well, he repeats again. Your command over a such a less than optimal situation has proven as such.

The Lady of the Imperial Fists has proven herself not only to be smart, beautiful, and full of humility, but to be stalwart and confident as well.

"Very well."

He'll stay at your side, and judging by his solid stance, Polux will as well.

Dorn very rarely has doubts, but your confidence and ability to adapt have solidified his thoughts that he had made the right choice in you. His 'sons' taking well to your command makes it far easier.

They will have to when you officially become his wife, after all. You have already accepted the title of Lady Dorn, he has no reason to not seal your bond. There hasn't been much else in his life he has been more sure of.

Ignoring any of his more personal desires in the back of his mind, Primarch Rogal Dorn abides by your request, eyes focused more on your lips as you smile at him.

[nebsis]

Some doodles of Rue, Alienfied Shea and my swarm OC!! I fully coloured and rendered the Swarm one ( second) but it looked rubbish and not what i had in mind at all😭😭

we need to start a thing where people draw their operatives on the tank in the Nemesis queue because its all i can think of

Im also trying to draw more of my Thorpe park OCS so comment any suggestions if you have any idk idk

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Imagine this: It’s exactly one year from today, Memorial Day weekend, 2025. It’s 94 degrees in the shade, but the fact that the world keeps shattering monthly temperature records isn’t even making the news — and that’s not what has Philadelphians so hot and bothered. It’s been about two months since Donald Trump, the 47th president of the United States, announced Operation Purify America in an Oval Office address, and about a week since a stunned Philadelphia watched an endless convoy of militarized vehicles and federalized troops from the Texas and South Dakota National Guards roll up I-95. After a week of setting up a base camp at the Air National Guard base in Horsham, the actual operation began at midnight the day before, as a parade of Humvees and armored personal carriers cornered off a wide area in Philadelphia’s Hunting Park section and supported federal immigration agents who went door-to-door in the predawn chaos, bursting into homes and asking Latino residents for their papers. Journalists who’d been kept blocks away by the troops now search for anyone who could confirm the rumors of screaming, scuffling, and dozens of arrests. As the hot sun rises, Mayor Cherelle L. Parker, Gov. Josh Shapiro, and several hundred angry protesters gather outside the Horsham gate to denounce the raids. A phalanx of helmeted troops pushes the throng back, firing tear gas to clear the road for the first busload of detained migrants. They are bound for the hastily erected Camp Liberty, an already overcrowded and decrepit holding center on the Texas-Mexico border that Amnesty International calls “a concentration camp.” This might sound like a page from the script of Alex Garland’s next near-future dystopian movie, but it’s actually a realistic preview of the America Trump himself, his cartoonishly sinister immigration guru Stephen Miller, and the right-wing functionaries crafting the 900-page blueprint for a Trump 47 presidency called Project 2025 are fervently wishing for. As polls show Trump in a dead heat nationally with President Joe Biden, and poised to win at least some of the battleground states where Biden was victorious in 2020, the presumptive GOP nominee is making no secret of his scheme for what he calls “the Largest Domestic Deportation Operation in History.” The audacious goal of tracking down and deporting all 11 million or so undocumented immigrants living and working within the United States is, experts agree, all but impossible. But even the forced removal of hundreds of thousands, or one million, would require a massive internal military operation on a scale not seen since the Civil War and Reconstruction. [...] What’s changed in 2024? Everything. Despite the Hannibal Lecter-ized outward chaos of Trump’s rallies, behind the scenes, Team Trump is focused and determined not only to name the most rabid Trump loyalists to key political posts but also todramatically strip civil service protections andremove recalcitrant midlevel government employees. And this time around, Republicans in Congress are going to be on board with whatever Trump wants. [...] It was somewhat amazing to watch the furious debate online and on cable news this week over the weird incident in which small text about a “unified Reich” found its way into a Trump promo video the ex-and-wannabe president posted on Truth Social. The perplexing part, for me, is that this was discussed as some kind of Sherlock-Holmes-magnifying-glass a-ha moment, revealing Trump’s secret plan for Nazi-style rule. Folks, he is screaming his plan out loud at his rallies! The Trump deportation scheme is really Trump’s blueprint for dictatorship.

Will Bunch at The Philadelphia Inquirer on how Donald Trump's proposed deportation plan is a pretext for a fascist MAGA dictatorship (05.23.2024).

Will Bunch nails it in this Philly Inquirer column on how Donald Trump's fascistic plan for mass deportations is a speed-run for a MAGA dictatorship.

[mariacallous]

The Athenian historian Thucydides once remarked that Sparta was so lacking in impressive temples or monuments that future generations who found the place deserted would struggle to believe it had ever been a great power. But even without physical monuments, the memory of Sparta is very much alive in the modern United States. In popular culture, Spartans star in film and feature as the protagonists of several of the largest video game franchises. The Spartan brand is used to promote obstacle races, fitness equipment, and firearms. Sparta has also become a political rallying cry, including by members of the extreme right who stormed the U.S. Capitol on Jan. 6, 2021. Sparta is gone, but the glorification of Sparta—Spartaganda, as it were—is alive and well.

Even more concerning is the U.S. military’s love of all things Spartan. The U.S. Army, of course, has a Spartan Brigade (Motto: “Sparta Lives”) as well as a Task Force Spartan and Spartan Warrior exercises, while the Marine Corps conducts Spartan Trident littoral exercises—an odd choice given that the Spartans were famously very poor at littoral operations. Beyond this sort of official nomenclature, unofficial media regularly invites comparisons between U.S. service personnel and the Spartans as well.

Much of this tendency to imagine U.S. soldiers as Spartan warriors comes from Steven Pressfield’s historical fiction novel Gates of Fire, still regularly assigned in military reading lists. The book presents the Spartans as superior warriors from an ultra-militarized society bravely defending freedom (against an ethnically foreign “other,” a feature drawn out more explicitly in the comic and later film 300). Sparta in this vision is a radically egalitarian society predicated on the cultivation of manly martial virtues. Yet this image of Sparta is almost entirely wrong. Spartan society was singularly unworthy of emulation or praise, especially in a democratic society.

To start with, the Spartan reputation for military excellence turns out to be, on closer inspection, mostly a mirage. Despite Sparta’s reputation for superior fighting, Spartan armies were as likely to lose battles as to win them, especially against peer opponents such as other Greek city-states. Sparta defeated Athens in the Peloponnesian War—but only by accepting Persian money to do it, reopening the door to Persian influence in the Aegean, which Greek victories at Plataea and Salamis nearly a century early had closed. Famous Spartan victories at Plataea and Mantinea were matched by consequential defeats at Pylos, Arginusae, and ultimately Leuctra. That last defeat at Leuctra, delivered by Thebes a mere 33 years after Sparta’s triumph over Athens, broke the back of Spartan power permanently, reducing Sparta to the status of a second-class power from which it never recovered.

Sparta was one of the largest Greek city-states in the classical period, yet it struggled to achieve meaningful political objectives; the result of Spartan arms abroad was mostly failure. Sparta was particularly poor at logistics; while Athens could maintain armies across the Eastern Mediterranean, Sparta repeatedly struggled to keep an army in the field even within Greece. Indeed, Sparta spent the entirety of the initial phase of the Peloponnesian War, the Archidamian War (431-421 B.C.), failing to solve the basic logistical problem of operating long term in Attica, less than 150 miles overland from Sparta and just a few days on foot from the nearest friendly major port and market, Corinth.

The Spartans were at best tactically and strategically uncreative. Tactically, Sparta employed the phalanx, a close-order shield and spear formation. But while elements of the hoplite phalanx are often presented in popular culture as uniquely Spartan, the formation and its equipment were common among the Greeks from at least the early fifth century, if not earlier. And beyond the phalanx, the Spartans were not innovators, slow to experiment with new tactics, combined arms, and naval operations. Instead, Spartan leaders consistently tried to solve their military problems with pitched hoplite battles. Spartan efforts to compel friendship by hoplite battle were particularly unsuccessful, as with the failed Spartan efforts to compel Corinth to rejoin the Spartan-led Peloponnesian League by force during the Corinthian War.

Sparta’s military mediocrity seems inexplicable given the city-state’s popular reputation as a highly militarized society, but modern scholarship has shown that this, too, is mostly a mirage. The agoge, Sparta’s rearing system for citizen boys, frequently represented in popular culture as akin to an intense military bootcamp, in fact included no arms training or military drills and was primarily designed to instill obedience and conformity rather than skill at arms or tactics. In order to instill that obedience, the older boys were encouraged to police the younger boys with violence, with the result that even in adulthood Spartan citizens were liable to settle disputes with their fists, a tendency that predictably made them poor diplomats.

But while Sparta’s military performance was merely mediocre, no better or worse than its Greek neighbors, Spartan politics makes it an exceptionally bad example for citizens or soldiers in a modern free society. Modern scholars continue to debate the degree to which ancient Sparta exercised a unique tyranny of the state over the lives of individual Spartan citizens. However, the Spartan citizenry represented only a tiny minority of people in Sparta, likely never more than 15 percent, including women of citizen status (who could not vote or hold office). Instead, the vast majority of people in Sparta, between 65 and 85 percent, were enslaved helots. (The remainder of the population was confined to Sparta’s bewildering array of noncitizen underclasses.) The figure is staggering, far higher than any other ancient Mediterranean state or, for instance, the antebellum American South, rightly termed a slave society with a third of its people enslaved.

The ancient sources are effectively unanimous that the helots were the worst treated slaves in all of Greece; helotry was an institution that shocked the conscience of Athenian slaveholders. Critias, an Athenian collaborator with Sparta, was said to have quipped that it was in Sparta that “the free were most free and the slaves most a slave,” a staggering statement about a society that was mostly enslaved (and about Critias as a person that he thought this was praise). Plutarch reports the various ways that the Spartans humiliated and degraded the helots, while the Athenian orator Isocrates argued that it was a crime to murder enslaved people everywhere in Greece, except Sparta. Sparta, with both the most slaves per capita and the worst treated slaves, was likely the least free society in the whole of the ancient world.

Nor were the Spartans particularly good stewards of Greek freedom. While their place in popular culture, motivated by films such as 300, puts the Spartans at the head of efforts to defend Greek freedom from the expanding Persian Empire, Sparta was not always so averse to Persia. Unable to deal with the Athenian fleet itself, Sparta accepted Persian money during the Peloponnesian War to build its own, selling the Ionian Greeks back into Persian rule in exchange for humbling Athens. That war won the Spartans a brief hegemony in Greece, which they quickly squandered, ending up at war with their former allies in Corinth.

Unable to win that war either, Sparta again turned to Persia to enforce a peace, called the “King’s Peace,” which sold yet more Greek city-states to the Persian king in exchange for making Sparta into Persia’s local enforcer in Greece, tasked with preventing the emergence of larger Greek alliances that could challenge Persia. Far from being the defender of Greek independence, when given the chance the Spartans opened not only the windows but also the doors to Persian rule. They also refused to join in Alexander the Great’s expedition against Persia, for which Alexander mocked them by dedicating the spoils of his first victories “from all of the Greeks, except the Spartans.”

Instead of a society of freedom-defending super-warriors, Sparta is better understood as a place where the wealthiest class of landholder, the Spartans themselves, had succeeded in reducing the great majority of their poor compatriots to slavery and excluded the rest, called the perioikoi, from political participation or citizenship. The tiny minority of Spartan citizens derived their entire income from the labor of slaves, being legally barred from doing any productive work or engaging in commerce.

And rather than spending their time in ascetic military training, they spent their ample leisure time doing the full suite of expensive, aristocratic Greek pastimes: hunting (a pastime for the wealthy rather than a means of subsistence in the ancient world), eating amply, accumulating money, funding Olympic teams, breeding horses, and so on. Greek authors such as Xenophon and Plutarch continually insist that the golden age of Spartan austerity and egalitarianism existed in the distant past, but each author pushes that golden age further and further into that past, and in any event, archaeology tells us it was never so.

And that lavish lifestyle was clearly very important to the Spartans because they were willing to sacrifice all of their other ambitions on the altar to it. Beginning in the early 400s, the population of Spartan citizens, defined by being rich enough in land to make the mess contributions that were a key part of military and social lfie, began to decline as Spartan families used inheritance and marriage to consolidate holdings and increase their wealth, from 8,000 Spartan citizens in 480 B.C. to 3,500 in 418 to 2,500 in 394 to just 1,500 in 371. The collapse in the number of Spartans who qualified for citizenship had disastrous effects on the manpower available for the Spartan army, causing Sparta’s strategic ambitions to all crumble, one by one. Yet efforts by Agis IV (245-241 B.C.) and Cleomenes III (235-222 B.C.) to arrest the decline were foiled precisely because the Spartan political system denied any political voice to any but the leisured rich, who had little incentive to change.

Sparta is no inspiration for the leaders of a free state. Sparta was a prison in the guise of a state and added little to the sum of the human experience except suffering. No American, much less any U.S. soldier, should aspire to be like a Spartan.

[sinsiriuslyemo]

For the #100 NSFW/Smut Dialogue Prompts, could you please do number 52 with Doctor Zachary Smith from the 1998 version of Lost In Space?

Thank you in advance

2060

When you agreed to allow Dr Zachary Smith onto the SS Phalanx, you had no idea what you were getting yourself into. 

   After the return of the Robinsons, Major West and Jupiter II, the United World Governments had ordered the production of ten exploratory ships to begin charting more of the galaxy in deep space. The idea was that it would help ensure safe travels for any future expeditions using warp speed. A few months later, you were the youngest woman in UWG history to be named Captain of a midsize exploratory ship: the SS Phalanx — arguably the best day of your life — until your commanding officer informed you that Dr Zachary Smith would be joining your crew as the ship’s doctor. At first you thought he might be joking, but it didn’t take long to realize that he was far from joking. Apparently the traitor doctor had negotiated a plea — save his life from the infectious spider bite on his back, and he would forever be in debt to the UWG. Of course, he was a liar, manipulator and opportunist. There was no way he could be trusted on a fighter ship nor could he be trusted to even run a lab on-planet. The only other options were to either send him to Lastrites, a prison planet where most criminals were abandoned, or to assign him a post on an exploratory ship, a low stakes assignment where he would have little to nonexistent opportunity for sabotage.

   The initial decision was to send him to Lastrites, but apparently Professor Robinson had talked the higher ups out of it. Something about him being manipulative and intelligent enough to gather support among the other prisoners, build or hijack a vessel and attack Alpha Prime. The smarter decision was to keep the doctor under close watch. 

   You had reluctantly agreed, while inside you were fuming. You’d worked your entire life — busted your ass in basic training — to be assigned Captain of one of the new exploratory ships, and yet you were being made to play fucking babysitter?! What was worse was that Dr Smith was arrogant, selfish and one of the most obnoxious men you’d ever met. Not even his good looks made dealing with him on any level worth it. 

   Regardless, you had been given a direct order from your superior, there was no choice in the matter.

   “Entering sector 12b, Captain,” your navigator announced.

   “We’ve been charting new galaxies for two months,” your pilot groaned to himself.

   “Well, that’s part of our job, Stevenson. The whole point of exploratory ships isn’t just to discover new planets, it’s also to map out more of the galaxy and make space travel more efficient so that what happened to Jupiter II doesn’t happen again,” you replied, shifting to a more comfortable position in your chair.

   “With all due respect, maybe having the guy who caused that incident on our ship isn’t the best way to do that, Sir,” Stevenson replied.

   “Not my call. As far as the UWG is concerned, Dr Smith is far too dangerous to be left to his own devices on a prison planet.”

   “So they put him on our crew?” your security officer asked.

   “Well, that’s why we have you, Callister,” you answered, smirking over at her. “Unlike the robot on Jupiter II, you have no operating systems which can be tampered with.”

   “Sometimes I wonder if he even has morals at all,” Stevenson mused as his fingers busied themselves logging their traveled distance. “I mean, apparently the kid said he did technically save him once while they were stranded on Priplanus but was it out of moral instinct or did he do that because he knew it was in his best interest?”

   “Who knows,” your navigator replied, pushing the button on the console that took panoramic photographs of the surrounding stars and constellations. “Maybe when they sucked the spiders out of him, they managed to suck the evil out too.”

   “I wouldn't be so sure,” Stevenson mumbled.

   “Captain, I’m getting a transmission from an unknown planet in the Zeta Centauri system,” Callister said, turning to look at you with her eyes lit up. “It says, ‘Is anyone out there?’”

   You grinned as a bubble of excitement fluttered in your belly, and pressed the com button that would allow you to address the entire ship at once, telling them to prepare all stations for first contact. 

   This was it — the reason you enlisted in the Universal World Governments to begin with. Ever since you were a child, you had dreamed about getting to go out into space and explore new worlds, and now it was finally happening. There was just one last thing you needed to take care of before joining the landing party in the shutter hangar.

   You turned to your first officer sitting in the chair beside yours. “Take the com? I need to have a chat with our doctor and make sure he knows what's expected of him.”

   “Yes, Sir.”

   Standing, you left the bridge and made your way down to the med bay, where you expected to find Dr Smith. 

   You had done your best to maintain a professional niceness with him at first despite the fact that you didn’t trust him as far as you could throw him, something he seemed to pick up on no matter how well you tried to hide it. In spite of being given a second chance of sorts, his bitterness at being ‘demoted’ and assigned to an exploratory ship was palpable and he never missed an opportunity to suggest he was better than his station. If you were being honest, he was likely right, but that hadn’t been enough to simply forget the damage he’d caused. He was lucky to be alive, let alone the head Doctor on any vessel.

   As you turned a corner, the med bay doors slid open when you approached. You walked to the office in the corner of the room and found Dr Smith sitting at his desk, seemingly in the middle of paperwork.

   “Doctor, I’m not sure if you heard the announcement, but we need all hands prepping stations for first contact. You’ll be a member of the landing par —”

   “Yes, yes, I heard you,” he replied, waving a dismissive hand without once looking up at you. 

   “And yet, your team hasn’t begun to prep the med bay.”

   “You’re blaming me for their incompetence?” he asked, finally looking at you.

   “As their commanding officer, it’s your job to —”

   “I know what my job is, Captain.”

   You arched a brow at him. “Do you? Because it seems for the last year that you’ve been on this crew your time has been consumed with sulking like a spoiled child who had his candy taken from him.” You took a step closer to his desk until the edge was barely pressed into the legs of your trousers. “May I remind you, Doctor, that the United World Governments would’ve been in their right to send you to Lastrites for what you did on Jupiter II. As far as I’m concerned, you’re only here due to their willingness to have mercy.” You put a little more bass in your voice. “Now get up and instruct your team to prepare for first contact. I expect you to be in the shuttle hangar in five minutes.”

   The corner of his lips curled into an amused smirk as he looked you over. “Very well, Captain.”

   Turning on your heel, you left his office and went back to the bridge. “Callister, have you had a response yet?”

   “Nothing yet, Captain. It appears the message has been on a running loop for the last twenty years. Harold was able to pinpoint where the signal was broadcasting from.”

   Nodding, you reclaimed your chair and gave the order to your pilot to proceed to your destination. 

   The planet was a solid tan with slightly darker veins weaving all around it. There didn’t appear to be any form of life at all at first glance, something your chief scientist confirmed. After first double checking with your chief scientist that the planet had breathable air and gravity, you collected your first officer, second officer, and chief of security, leaving your chief engineer in command until you got back. As the four of you made your way to the shuttle hangar, your first officer leaned toward you.

   “Everything go okay with Smith?”

   You let out a sigh. “It’s incredible how he acts as if he didn’t try to assassinate an entire family and cause their ship to be stranded on a barren planet. If it weren’t for that little boy vouching for him, he’d be rotting away on Lastrites.”

   “So it went smoothly,” she teased.

   “If by ‘smoothly’ you mean I ripped him a new asshole and walked out; yeah, it went smoothly.”

   Walking into the hangar, you were pleased to see Dr Smith already waiting there with his gear. He tipped his head at you and your first officer. “Captain. Commander.”

   “Doctor,” you replied, walking past him into the shuttle. Once the five of you were buckled in, you took the shuttle down to the surface of the nearly barren planet. 

   “Might I ask why we’re even bothering to come down here when there is seemingly nothing to see?” Dr Smith asked.

   “Oh come on, Zac,” your first officer said playfully. “I thought you’d like getting off the ship for a bit.”

   “My name is Zachary, thank you very much,” he muttered to himself.

   “Harold says there’s a small area of plants growing here,” you said, checking your portable navigation device. “Besides, we already know someone was here once. It’d be good to try to find out what happened.” You turned to look at him. “Any ideas, Doctor?”

   Smith held your gaze for a moment before he looked around at the vast desert-like surface around them. “Well, assuming there was in fact life here, and not just someone that was stranded, my guess would be a lack of rain over a prolonged period, possibly coupled with a lack of other resources. No rain led to severe water shortages, which would lead to drought, crop failures and, of course, economic collapse. They might have been able to survive for sometime, but without the storms and rains, life would cease to exist.”

   “But Harold said there was plant life here. How can that be if there’s been no rain?” your second officer asked as you held up your navigation device, turning in place to find which direction the small patch of plant life was.

   “Maybe they had water reserves that they thought would last until they got help?” 

   “I imagine so, though it certainly would have run out before the plant life that is apparently growing here,” Smith replied.

   “It’s this way,” you said, pocketing your device. “Keep your eyes open. I doubt we’ll find much that we wouldn’t have seen on the scanner, but you never know.”

   The five of you began to walk through the dry, sandy desert until you came to a massive hill. Without much fanfare, you began to climb, your crew following behind, all except one.

   “I think I’ll just wait for you down here then!” Smith called out, one hand over his eyebrows to shield the sun above.

   “No, you won’t,” you replied, looking back down at him. “Start climbing or we’ll be taking one less person back onto the Phalanx.”

   Smith grimaced, stepping forward and pausing for a moment before he too began to climb up the sand hill. You waited for him as the rest of your party continued their journey up, glaring at him as he reached you.

   “We could’ve gone around,” he complained, passing you with great effort.

   “And it would’ve taken us longer,” you answered. “Look at it this way; at least you’re getting in some exercise.”

   He scoffed exhaustedly, grunting as he pulled himself up the hill. “I can think of much better things to be doing for cardio than this, Captain.”

   You didn’t respond, only glancing up at him as you continued your climb behind him while trying not to look at his ass. For as much as you couldn’t stand Dr Smith in many ways, you could admit he was an attractive man. In fact, it was only when he opened his mouth and spoke that your attraction to him dimmed. Still, you weren’t about to give him any sort of upperhand by telling him that you thought he was handsome.

   By the time you reached the top, you were all sweating profusely, each of you taking long gulps from your respective water cans as you took in the view. There was sandy terrain and other sand hills for miles, except for one vibrant green patch not far from where you were. It was a relief to not have to encounter anymore sand hills to reach it, and the five of you set off toward it, having to slide down on your bottoms after the hill became too steep.

   “Well, I’ve got my workout in for the day,” Callister said with heavy breaths as you all reached the bottom.

   “How is this even possible?” your first officer asked, taking a few steps towards the greenery.

   There were some plants that normally grew in the desert; Prickly Pears, Desert Willows, Pindo Palms and others, but some were trees and plants that weren’t in any registry — likely plants that were native to the planet. But without water?

   “As I said, these plants might have very well begun to grow after the society was eradicated. It’s possible this planet has seen some rain in the past few years, though clearly not enough to replenish the entire planet quite yet,” Dr Smith said, wiping beads of sweat from the back of his neck with a handkerchief. “It’s quite extraordinary actually. Most plants, without a water source, will die within a week, some after a few months. In this environment, I would expect the latter. The root will survive for quite a while afterward, but it will decompose over time. These clearly didn’t despite the dry heat and no rain for who knows how long — at least a decade though quite possibly longer. I’d like to take some samples back with us for testing.”

   You nodded to him, reaching for your earpiece. “Harold, there’s nothing here. Just a bunch of plants and trees. Can you check for thermal signatures below the surface? I wonder if some people tried to go underground, away from the heat when it became too much.”

   “Certainly, Captain.” you heard over your com.

   Dr Smith was beginning to gather samples of all the plants, going from one to the other. He was approaching a smaller plant with what appeared to be bright yellow six-petal flowers, and went to cut one off but the stem wouldn’t give beneath the sheer blades. He tried again and again, with no luck. Finally, apparently fed up with trying, he instead took hold of the plant’s base and ripped it from the soil, blinking several times as the dirt beneath kicked up slightly. Sneezing twice, he gave a sniff and pulled out a sealant from his bag, wrapping it around the root, which had come out in his efforts.

   Callister and your second officer were checking the perimeter of the green patch for any sources of water or indication of recent rain while your first officer took samples of the sand to take back to the ship. 

   “Captain, it appears you’re correct. About forty-seven feet South West from your current position, there are two distinct thermal signatures.”

   “Can you tell if they’re human?”

   “Negative. I would advise you to proceed with caution.”

   “Copy that,” you answered, feeling a pair of eyes on you. When you looked up, Dr Smith was staring back at you, his gaze slowly lowering over your frame, as if he was taking you in. “You alright there, Doc?” you asked, slightly dipping your head to bring his eyes back to yours, all while ignoring the shiver that was trickling down your spine.

   Smith cleared his throat, nodding curtly. “Just fine, Captain. Thank you.” He took a deep breath before he gestured to his backpack. “I’d like to get these back to the ship as soon as possible, so could we hurry it along?”

   Rolling your eyes as Callister and Briggs came back, you nodded to them. “Anything?”

   “Nothing that we could see,” Briggs answered. “Though there were some damp patches of ground on the North side of the greenery. It looks like a drying puddle, but no water left. Must’ve rained a few days ago, maybe a week.”

   “It’s like the planet wiped out existing life to make way for new life,” your first officer mused, almost to herself.

   “You say that like the planet is sentient,” you replied with a smirk. 

   “Well, no, obviously it’s not, but… it’s just interesting.”

   “Harold said there are two thermal signatures less than fifty feet from here to the South West.”

   “Human?” Callister asked.

   “Unclear. But if there are people down there, we should bring them back to the Phalanx with us. Maybe we can give them some supplies or just drop them off at the next habitable planet. Callister, you mind taking the front?” you asked, earning a nod of affirmation from her. “Great, Briggs, you and Halster fall in behind us, and Doc?” You looked to find Dr Smith staring at your body again with what you could swear was a lustful look in his eyes. “Dr Smith,” you said again more firmly.

   His eyes snapped up to yours in shock.

   “You’ll walk between me and Halster, copy?”

   He swallowed, nodding once.

   “Alright, let’s move.”

   The sun seemed to be getting closer to the planet, making the air drier and hotter than even the hottest summer you’d experienced back on Alpha Prime. Your skin was beginning to become pink with the beginnings of a sunburn, and for a moment you hoped the Dr had managed to find some aloe that you could use once you got back to the shuttle. Drinking from your water can, you couldn’t help but feel Smith’s eyes on you as the five of you trekked through the sandy expanse of the desert planet until your navigation device began to beep.

   “It should be here,” you mumbled, looking around at the ground, but seeing nothing that stood out. Kicking some sand aside, you started to look for a latch, a lever, anything really to indicate an underground structure of some kind.

   “Captain,” Callister whisper-yelled, waving you over and pointing down at the ground once you looked up at her.

   Taking out your gun, you set it to stun and pointed it to the latch that was peeking out from beneath the sand. Slowly, Callister turned the handle, unlocking the latch with a thunderous snap, and carefully tugged it open.

   “This is Captain YFN of the SS Phalanx! Is there anyone down there?” you called out.

   “We’re here!”

   The distant voice was accompanied by scurrying footsteps that grew in volume as they got closer to the opening. Your trigger finger relaxed, hands lowering slightly as a skinny man dressed in what looked like a burlap sack appeared beneath the open latch.

   “Are either of you hurt?” you asked.

   “My partner — she’s unconscious! Please!” he answered.

   Glancing at Callister, you nodded once and looked back at the man. “Come on up, my security officer will go and get her.”

   You could feel a pair of eyes behind you, staring so hard that it felt as though flames were licking every inch of your skin, even beneath your clothes. Looking over your shoulder, you found Dr Smith, his face and neck glistening with sweat as he appeared to undress you with his eyes. Heat bloomed on your cheeks, a shiver crackling down your frame as his stare met yours and held it. 

   Your first officer and the man were talking but their words were muffled by the intense staring contest you and the doctor were engaged in. It wasn’t until one of them touched your shoulder that you tore your eyes away from Dr Smith’s and looked to see Callister climbing up the ladder with an unconscious woman on her back. Your first officer and the man helped pull her out so that your security chief could climb out.

   “She’s breathing, but her pulse is weak,” Callister said as she closed the hatch back up.

   “Let’s get her back to the ship,” you replied.

   It was another thirty minutes before you were finally back on the Phalanx, and it seemed Dr Smith was slowly going back to his normal, obnoxious self as he and Callister moved the unconscious woman to sick bay, while you and your first officer spoke with the man. Azile was his name, he had apparently been a scientist on the planet you and your party had just left. 

   He and his partner Dr. Shay had anticipated the drought just weeks before the last rainfall. According to him, they had tried to warn people, but their government refused to heed their warnings. They had built an underground shelter and put out a distress signal, hoping to reach someone before their civilization died of exposure and dehydration, but had heard nothing until the Phalanx answered their call.

   “I was sure we would be dead in a matter of weeks if not days,” he said as a nurse checked him over. “We got little rain just last month, and it helped us stay alive a while longer than we would have, but by then everything else had died.”

  “There was an area not far from where your bunker was. Plant life is beginning to grow back, but it’ll be years before it gets big enough to rebuild any form of civilization,” you said. 

   Azile’s eyes lowered, the corners of his lips drooping. “I expect you are correct.”

   Glancing at your first officer, you said, “You’re welcome to both stay aboard the Phalanx. We can take you to the nearest UGW station, where they can help you get settled elsewhere.”

   Azile cut his eyes to you. “You mean leave Copulas?”

   “Is that the name of your planet?”

   “Yes! And we cannot leave. It is our home —”

   “I understand it may be difficult to —”

   “I beg your pardon, Captain, but it is not so simple,” Azile said. “Unless you can take us somewhere where Flaming Blooms grow, we cannot survive anywhere but Copulas.”

   “Flaming Blooms?” you asked, wondering if that was the name of the plant that Dr Smith had taken from the plant area of the planet. 

   “Yes. They grow year round, and are an essential part of our ecosystem. Dr Shay is more knowledgeable of the science behind it than I am, but I do know that without it to permeate the atmosphere, we will die.”

   “What is it?” your first officer asked.

   “Bright yellow Turnera Diffusa.”

   Your first officer gave you a sideways glance, prompting you to clarify, “Flowers. Dr Smith collected a sample of one.”

   “It keeps our air safe to breathe. It is also what allows us to procreate year round,” Azile replied.

   “Captain?”

   Looking over your shoulder, you looked back at Dr Smith, who looked more like his usual self.

   “Dr Shay is awake,” he said. “She’s asking for Azile.”

   “I’m all finished here,” the nurse said. “He’s cleared to go.”

   Nodding to the nurse, you gave Azile a tight smile. “We can take you to see her.”

   After leaving Azile with Dr Shay, you turned to your first officer and Dr Smith. 

   “What do you think? We can’t just leave them here, right?”

   “Not now anyway,” your first officer replied. “There’s no telling how long it’ll take for the planet to become habitable again. They could be in that bunker for years.”

   You turned to Dr Smith as if to ask for his input.

   “It may be possible to leave them with something that could accelerate the plant-growth,” he said, his eyes lingering for a moment on the two rescued scientists. “I’d like to perform some tests on the samples I brought back first.”

   “They said that the flower you brought back keeps their air breathable,” you replied. “Start there.”

   “Perhaps you can leave the science to myself and the other scientists, Captain,” he snarked.

   “Good to see you back to your usual charming self, Doctor,” you quipped back.

   The corner of his lips twitched, as though he’d had an urge to smile but stopped himself. Without another word, he turned and left in the direction of his lab. 

You had contacted the UWG immediately after returning to the bridge, explaining the situation and informing them that you would be remaining in orbit for a few hours while the two Copulians recovered enough to return to their planet. You were authorized to leave them with enough supplies to accelerate the plant growth and begin rebuilding their ecosystem. Just as you were wondering how they would be able to rebuild their society, Harold informed you of three other heat signatures detected below the planet’s surface. In the end, six more Copulians had been rescued.

   It had only been an hour since you’d left Dr Smith to his testing when his voice sounded in your ear piece.

   “Captain.”

   “Everything alright, Doctor?”

   “I’ve found something that you may want to have a look at,” he answered.

   “Copy that,” you said, looking at your first officer. 

   “Go ahead, I’ve got the bridge,” she said with a nod.

   Nodding back, you stood and began to make your way to the lab, where you found Dr Smith leaned over the plant that Azile had identified as a Flaming Bloom. He glanced up at you, looking you over before returning his attention to the flower in front of him. 

   “The other plant life seem to be nutrients, likely what they ate when the planet was fully functioning. This one, however, as you… so eloquently put, indeed is what allows the inhabitants to breathe the air.”

   “How is it that we were able to breathe even though there was so little of it?” you asked.

   “I wondered the same thing, and so I ordered some blood samples and scans from our visitors and ran some tests. It seems that though their biological make-up is similar to our own, they differ in one area greatly. Their lungs have a sort of additional glan, which I believe stores the particles that emit from this particular flower. If they spend too much time without it, their lungs would collapse.”

   “That still doesn’t answer my question.”

   He arched a brow up at you. “While their lungs have the ability to filter and store the particles from this flower, our lungs do not have the gland necessary to do the same. If we breathe too much of it, it enters directly into our bloodstream and triggers a response from the central nervous system, specifically the hypothalamus.”

   “English, please.”

   “The hormone control center,” he replied. “It governs desires, lubrication, and arousal.”

   Your brows shot up above your eyes. That certainly explained why Dr Smith had been looking at you the way he had back on the planet. “Azile mentioned something about it being how they’re able to procreate.”

   “Fascinating,” he mumbled to himself. “I wonder if any of them would be willing to stay and provide additional data for me to study.”

   “You mean become your lab rat?”

   He narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn't put it so crudely, Captain. I’m sure the UWG would be delighted to know more about this new species as much as I would.”

   “Maybe you could ask them if they’ve done any research themselves then,” you replied. “I’m sure they don’t differ very much from humans in that regard.”

   His upper lip curled briefly into a snarl that was gone before it even fully formed. “I suppose that would suffice. In the meantime,” he turned back to the flower and began to try and remove the bud, “I can continue to run tests on this sample to determine what else it may be —”

   A small poof of pollen floated into the air as the bulb was removed, wafting under his nose and causing him to sneeze several times. He screwed his eyes shut and quickly shook his head before he moved it onto a petri dish. 

   “What else it may be capable of,” he said, sniffling once. 

   “Alright then,” you answered, a slight dizzy spell coming over you as the pollen particles drifted toward where you were standing. You took a breath to steady yourself just before a shiver ran over your frame, heat building beneath your collar.

   Your mind kept telling you to go back to the bridge, but your feet would not cooperate, keeping you planted in place as the heat beneath your collar spread to your chest. Your nipples hardened under your uniform as Dr Smith turned to face you with that look in his eyes again.

   “What is it?” you asked as a tingle began to bloom inside you. Your heart pounded in your ears, drowning out much of anything happening outside the lab, and air thickened around you.

   “Captain,” he said breathlessly, taking a few cautious steps toward you. “It seems as though I’ve… inhaled the pollen. Perhaps it’s best that you return to the bridge for the time being.”

   “I can’t.”

   “You…”

   “I think I may have breathed some in, too,” you replied, your voice nearly unrecognizable. 

   As much as you had managed to ignore your attraction to him before, now it was all you could see. The contrast between the brightness of his eyes and the darkness of his closely cropped hair, and the way his goatee framed his lips made you still. As he took another couple of steps toward you, your heart quickened, a flutter of what must have been butterfly’s wings blooming in your belly. Despite your attempts to avoid doing so, your eyes lowered to drink him in, pausing when they fell below his belt at the bulge that was forming there.

   “I insist that you go back to the bridge,” he said, his voice a bit more husky than before. His eyes still lingered on your body as he continued to move toward you, and he slowly licked his lips as he came to stand toe to toe with you, swallowing thickly. “Immediately, before I… Well, I’m just not entirely sure that I’m able to control myself at the moment.”

   Your chest was visibly rising and falling with every deep breath that you took. “I’m not sure it’s the best idea for me to be around other crew members while under the influence of this…” His scent suddenly overpowered your sensibilities, drawing you closer to him until your chest and his were but a hair's breadth apart. “How do we fix this, Doctor?”

   His gaze flickered down to your lips, the pulse in his neck throbbing visibly. “Well, considering that these particles are what allow the Copulians to procreate, I might hypothesize that coitus would remedy the effects.”

   “So if we were to fuck, we’d be back to normal,” you replied, the heat beneath your collar slowly beginning to cool.

   “That or… we simply wait until our bodies burn it off. For you that may be only a few moments. I, unfortunately, inhaled quite a bit more than I did while we were rescuing the Copulians. It may therefore remain in my system for a longer period.”

   You could feel the overwhelming lust leaving your system, still a small amount lingered, stoking the fire in the pit of your stomach that burned hotter with every moment that passed. You realized that although you always pretended otherwise, your attraction for the doctor was beginning to seep through, clouding the annoyance you harbored for him. His eyes really were breathtaking. If he hadn’t been such an arrogant prick, you might’ve slept with him a long time ago.

   “Well, I can’t exactly leave you in this state,” you said, the butterfly wings in your belly still fluttering insistently. It might’ve been the pollen particles that had broken through your stubbornness, but now that your attraction to him had tasted oxygen, it refused to be put back into a box.

   “Well then… perhaps… won’t you help me? Please?” His hands were balled into fists and seemed to be resisting the urge he had to touch you.

   As the corner of your lips curled up on one side, you broke the touch barrier, winding your arms around his neck and bringing him flush against you and your lips pressed to his. He moaned into your kiss, his large hands holding you to him by the waist as he tilted his head and pushed you up against the wall behind you. You could feel his erection pressed hard against your hip and arched your lower back to push back against it while your hands busied themselves with unzipping the front of his jacket. 

“There’s no bed in the lab,” he mumbled against your lips.

   “Who cares? Just fuck me, Doc,” you answered, pushing his jacket off his shoulders and tugging on his shirt next.

   He seemed just as desperate to rid you of your clothes and a few flurried moments later, you were both topless, with your pants down to your knees. His head dipped to encase a hard nipple in his mouth, one hand massaging the other between two fingers. Groaning, you arched toward him, one hand holding his head to your chest while the other slowly reached between you to wrap your hand around his erection.

   Turning you to face the wall, he reached between your legs and groaned against your neck when he felt your slippery folds.

   “Fuck!” he hissed against your neck.

   “Yes, Doctor,” you groaned, rocking back against his hot erection. “Please.”

   You whimpered when his fingers left you, gasping loudly when you felt the head of his cock sliding through your slit, looking for your entrance. Mewling when he pressed against it, you held your breath as he pushed into you, moaning in an exhale as he slid fully inside. He groaned when his hips met your ass, leaning against you until his lips brushed over your ear.

   “Call me Zachary,” he whispered.

   “Oh Zachary,” you sighed as he pulled back slowly before pushing back in.

   He groaned in your ear, his hips building up to a steady pace while his hands moved to grab your hips, pulling you to him. His hips clapped against your ass, growing louder and louder as his thrusts became more insistent, demanding. This wasn’t about exploring the undeniable attraction between the two of you, this was about getting off, as quickly as possible. 

   The thought made your muscles tighten around him as a tingle swelled between your legs. You moaned helplessly, the side of your face slowly leaning against the wall in front of you as your eyes closed and your hips arched back. The cold, solid surface on your cheek did little to cool your burning skin, and sent a shiver down to your nipples. Fingers curling against the wall, you scratched against the surface as your breaths fell in time with each snap of his hips. His thick cock stimulated every inch of your tunnel, exciting the various nerve endings and driving you toward an orgasm quicker than you anticipated. Your walls pulsing around him again, you whined as he sunk all the way inside you, pressing forward until your hips moved toward the wall. You tried to spread your feet further apart, but your pants — still around knees — wouldn’t allow it, making the ache in your pussy build more.

   “Captain, you feel so good,” he purred in your ear, earning another moan from you.

   “Y/N,” you replied weakly, tilting your head toward his. “You need to hurry, I have to get back to the bridge.”

   He groaned in his throat as his hands slid up your ribcage to massage your breasts. “I would love nothing more than to take my sweet time with you, Y/N.”

   He gently pinched and twisted your nipples as he nibbled on your earlobe, his hips grinding against your ass.

   “Later,” you answered, trying to rock your hips back against him.

   Grunting in your ear, he moved his hands back to your waist, using his leverage to move you hard and fast on him. The new pace sparked more nerve endings inside you, quickly building you up toward the edge as a firm, staccato clap joined the sounds of heavy breathing and throaty moans. Flattening your hands on the wall, you tried to keep yourself in place, hoping that in doing so it would allow for his thrusts to hit you harder and send you over the edge. The tingles that had spread to your clit finally reached its peak, and you held your breath in anticipation. 

   One of his hands left your waist and found your hardened nub, rubbing tight circles over it. You gasped, your muscles throbbing with the orgasm that washed over you. 

   “Oh yes, Y/N!” he groaned, quickening his pace and following you into release. 

   He thrust through his orgasm, continuing to stimulate both of you as your tunnel milked his cock. With one final push all the way to the hilt, he panted against your ear, his fingers still on your clit while his erection kept his spend inside you. Your pussy still hugged him, as if trying to squeeze every last drop out of him. If it had been up to you, you would’ve stayed exactly as you were, pressed against each other with his long, thick cock deep inside you for much longer. But after a few blissful moments of riding the aftershocks of release, reality began to set back in. Your muscles squeezed him defiantly at the thought of you needing to get back to work.

   Opening your eyes, you savored the feeling of him filling you completely a bit longer before whispering, “I should get back to the bridge.”

   He nodded against your shoulder, his heavy breaths warm against your skin as his finger grazed your clit one last time, earning a gasp. His cock slowly retreated, making you whimper at the loss as your muscles engaged, trying to keep his release inside you while you bent slightly to pull your pants back up. Turning toward him as you both got redressed, you stared at each other, still catching your respective breaths. Where before, the sight of him annoyed you to no end, now you wanted nothing more than to spend the next several hours mapping the span of his body, of which you’d only seen so much of.

   “Obviously, you’re not to breathe a word of this to anyone, Doctor,” you said, trying to regain some semblance of authority.

   The smirk that appeared on his lips didn’t help. “Of course, Captain.”

   “And use a mask if you’re going to continue running tests on that flower,” you added, tugging at the hem of your jacket after you’d zipped it up.

   “Yes, certainly,” he replied with a single nod. 

   You turned to leave the lab when he stopped you with a hand on your elbow.

   “Um…”

   Turning back to face him, he stepped up to you and pulled you into a firm kiss, humming against your lips before he pulled his head back to look at you.

   “Permission to visit your quarters this evening, Captain?”

   You arched a brow though it did little hide the lust in your eyes. Swallowing thickly, you gave a curt nod and cleared your throat. “That would be fine if you prefer to give me the latest update on your testing, Doct—”

   “Oh come off it, Y/N,” he interrupted gently, the backs of his fingers sliding against your cheek affectionately. “I know you felt what I felt just then. I want you again without having the need to rush.” His fingers grazed down your neck, his eyes following the movements before coming back to look into yours. There was a warmth in them that you never imagined you would see in Dr Zachary Smith, and yet there it was, gentle and sincere.

   Not knowing what to say, you rocked forward and kissed him, humming against his lips when he cradled your face in both hands and kissed you back. Reluctantly pulling away, you silently nodded.

   You took a small step back, breaking your contact. “I’ll see you tonight then.”

   “Yes, Captain,” he answered, one corner of his lips slightly curled up.

   You turned and left the lab, running a hand through your hair as you made your way back to the bridge. When you were back sitting in the Captain's chair was when you felt the evidence of what had just happened dripping onto the seat of your panties, and you smiled to yourself.

*request from this NSFW prompt list

[usafphantom2]

Why, 100 years later, the power of aircraft carriers is still incomparable

The U.S. response to the recent attack on Israel highlights the lasting usefulness of aircraft carriers.

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 12/11/2023 - 18:57in Military, War Zones

On October 8, a few hours after the unprecedented attack on Israel, the Pentagon publicly resorted to its greatest military resource. While the clashes between Israeli forces and Hamas terrorists continued throughout southern Israel, Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin ordered the aircraft carrier USS Gerald R. Ford to enter the eastern Mediterranean Sea.

The mobilization made it very clear that the U.S. had become aware of the crisis and was preparing to respond. He also made it clear that - despite recent pronouncements that question their value, given their surprising cost and vulnerability - aircraft carriers are still part of modern war.

HMS Argus, widely considered the first aircraft carrier in the world in the 1920s.

The aircraft carrier is just over a hundred years old. Initially conceived as a warship scout to locate the enemy fleet with its aircraft, the Imperial Japanese Navy demolished this concept during World War II, uniting several aircraft carriers to create an attack force with greater range and heavier attack capacity than a line of warships.

The attack on Pearl Harbor, when six aircraft carriers attacked the U.S. Pacific Fleet in Hawaii, catapulted the aircraft carrier to the top as the dominant weapons system in the seas.

When a weapon reaches the top of your domain, it is natural to assume that someday your reign will end. The Greek phalanx, the knight, the battleship, the warship and other weapons dominated the land and the sea, only to be set aside - violently and unceremoniously - by a new and innovative weapon. Aircraft carriers have remained at the top of the war in multiple domains for more than 80 years, and not even a new weapon has been designed that could replace them.

USS Liscome Bay transporting aircraft to San Diego on September 20, 1943. (Photo: U.S. Navy)

Admirals like to point out that a Nimitz or Ford class aircraft carrier represents "4.5 acres of American sovereign territory". Aircraft carriers are owned by the U.S. government and are so large that they are effectively American territory - a floating island of American power that can move anywhere in the world's oceans. In addition, wherever they go, American territory remains, and their actions are not limited by anyone except the U.S. government... and the enemy.

This advantage is particularly evident in the Israel-Gaza crisis. The U.S. military maintains air bases around the world, but coverage is irregular. The closest American air base to Israel is the Incirlik air base in Turkey, at a distance of 300 miles away. Aircraft flying from Turkey to Israel would also have to fly over Syria, a hostile country with its own air force. Giving Syria ample space would require flying about 160 extra kilometers and fighter escorts, increasing the complexity of reaching Israel. Another layer of complexity is that the Turkish host government may not be politically in agreement with the U.S. government on the mission.

The aircraft carrier USS Gerald R. Ford, on the other hand, can anchor in international waters off the coast of Israel and get as close as it wants (although not very close, since Hezbollah operates anti-ship missiles). Ford's four F/A-18E/F attack fighter squadrons have a straight and uninterrupted line to any point on the eastern Mediterranean coast. The U.S. government can order Ford to do everything it wants, including ordering it to combat, without the need for coordination with a host government. This ensures that the U.S. government, which is not exactly known for making quick decisions, can quickly take unilateral measures when necessary.

The current role of aircraft carriers includes the carrying out of air strikes against terrorist groups such as ISIS, Hezbollah and Hamas, and the dropping of guided bombs on enemies who cannot really react. This was true 20 years ago, when the end of the Cold War and September 11 changed the Pentagon's focus from the war between great powers to counter-insurgency. But although the mission has changed, the broad capabilities have remained the same and the aircraft carriers are still able to face threats on a broad spectrum, from ISIS to the People's Liberation Army of China.

Combat is not the only mission that aircraft carriers can perform. Aircraft carriers can carry out humanitarian assistance and humanitarian aid missions in real time, such as those carried out by the USS Ronald Reagan after the Fukushima earthquake in 2011. While Japan and the United States mobilized to rescue survivors and assess the damage, the Reagan served as a floating helipad for helicopters from both countries in an area where local airports and airfields were destroyed by earthquakes and tsunamis. Nothing else can function as a mobile and disaster-proof airfield as an aircraft carrier.

The U.S. government uses aircraft carriers to communicate with both friends and enemies, both as an instrument of assurance and intimidation. Although the aircraft carriers had not yet been invented when Teddy Roosevelt first said, "speak softly and carry a big club", they are the great club exemplified. Nothing draws more attention than a full-fledged aircraft carrier attack group arriving in the neighborhood, with 44 attack fighters, a cruiser and two destroyers in tow, and a nuclear-powered attack submarine prowling somewhere nearby.

Aircraft carriers can signal the intention like no other weapons system. If an attack submarine appears on your shore, you will probably have no idea that it is there. If a B-2 stealth bomber crew is training to attack targets in your country, you won't know unless they execute the mission. But if an aircraft carrier appears on your coast, it's impossible not to know. It is also a clear sign that you are on Washington's radar - and not in a good way.

From time to time the usefulness of aircraft carriers is questioned. Usually, it is only a matter of months before something, such as the ongoing crisis in Israel and Gaza, proves its usefulness again.

Aircraft carriers have their problems: they are expensive to buy, expensive to operate and expensive to discard when they end their useful life. Still, in a crisis, there is no other weapon system that can do so much before even firing a shot. Someday, something will replace the aircraft carrier - but that day is not today.

Source: Popular Mechanics

Tags: Military Aviationaircraft carrierUSN - United States Navy/U.S. NavyWar Zones - Middle East

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Fernando Valduga

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has work published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. Uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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[judgemark45]

USS Monterey (CG-61) is a Ticonderoga-class guided-missile cruiser in the United States Navy. It has a displacement of approximately 9,600 tons, measures 567 feet (173 meters) in length, 55 feet (16.8 meters) in beam, and has a draft of 34 feet (10.2 meters). Powered by four General Electric LM2500 gas turbine engines, it achieves speeds over 30 knots and has an unlimited range due to its capability for underway replenishment. The crew consists of 33 officers and 327 enlisted personnel. Armament includes two Mk 41 Vertical Launch Systems, two Mk 45 5-inch guns, two Mk 38 25 mm guns, eight Harpoon missile launchers, two Phalanx CIWS, and various machine guns. The ship also supports two SH-60 Seahawk helicopters. Built by Bath Iron Works, it was commissioned on June 16, 1990. The USS Monterey has been involved in numerous deployments and operations, showcasing its versatility and importance in modern naval operations.