#remot excavator

[darrellenjoyer]

i cant be around people with acne i just wanna reach over and start popping those things

[great-and-small]

I was walking on a rather remote beach when I came upon this Whip eel drying up in the sun. These are intertidal eels that can actually handle themselves out of water for a bit, but it’s not normal for them to be fully exposed in direct sunlight like this. The tide was at least six hours from coming in and I felt like this eel was in distress, so I made the decision to dig him out and return to the ocean. His body was too delicate to be simply pulled from the hole without injury, so I got to digging.

This endeavor took about 40 minutes as the eel was quite long and difficult to excavate. Also had to continually refill my temporary eel pond to keep him from drying out entirely while I worked.

If you are an eel aficionado like myself, please enjoy this silly little video of the relocation process set to some jaunty royalty-free disco music.

[peacefulharu]

AU Idea I recently had when I saw this post on X:

Nepo baby/ultra rich CEO Jean falling in love with local villager Mikasa when she stages protest of Jean's company's plan to get rid of the hilly area of Shiganshina for development.

[gloomwitchwrites]

I would love to read an imagine of TF141 and what they’d do together with the reader on vacation and you can choose any destination of your choice! Hot topical to glaciers!

Thank you!

I could have gone spicy with this. The fact that I didn't is a testament to my self-control. While there is a little heat, most of this is just straight up fluff. It's all cuteness. Good feelings only. Pure comfort. Enjoy!!

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader (can be read as gn!reader)

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, fluff, flirting, kissing, mild suggestive themes, brief mention of alcohol

Word Count: 1k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

The stars above you are white against the dark sky. The crisp, cool Pacific Northwest air sends a slight chill across your skin. A shiver passes over you, and you snuggle closer to John, seeking his warmth. He sighs contentedly, arm tightening as you press into his side. The swimming dock rocks softly, lulling you toward sleep.

It’s quiet out on the lake. No lights. No noise. It’s nice to get away from everything—to spend time with your husband that doesn’t involve home.

“I’m happy we came, John,” you sigh.

“You like the cabin?”

You nod. “It’s peaceful.”

John's lips lightly press against your temple. "I'm happy you joined me."

Whenever John leaves for a trip to the cabin, it’s almost always a hunting or fishing trip with his team. Even they need to cool off after a mission. But John didn’t ask them to come. He brought you to his favorite place.

His fingers lightly curve under your chin, tilting your head upward. Closing the distance, John greets you with a kiss that melts you down to your toes.

He smiles softly. “Up for a little swim?”

You laugh. “It’s a bit chilly. And it’s dark!”

John grins and then pushes up to his feet, removing his clothes until he’s down to absolutely nothing. His pale butt is on full display in the moonlight.

"John!" you protest, but he’s already diving in.

You sit up, startled, watching the rippling dark water. A beat, and then he resurfaces. “Join me.”

With heat rising in your cheeks, you follow his lead. You do not dive as gracefully.

As you resurface, treading water, John cozies up to your, reaching for you beneath the surface. Your legs wrap around his middle, the two of you silently floating under the stars. The water is cold but you hardly care. John is warm, and so are his kisses.

They are cute at first, little peaks that become deeper, making your core clench with anticipation. The chilly water is a distant thing in your mind. All you know is John, and this moment, and all the days you have ahead with him.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It’s hot in Miami. The beach is packed.

But Kyle is uncaring of the crowd, too busy with the remote-control toy excavator you bought him just for this beach trip.

“How’s the digging?” you ask, flipping a page in your book. You lounge under an oversized umbrella.

Kyle moves the joystick with his thumb. The yellow toy excavator picks up a chunk of sand and dumps it to the side. “I’m going to have the biggest hole on the beach.”

You nod, and lightly pat his shoulder, returning to your book.

There are a few minutes of silence between you before Kyle puts the remote control down and turns to look at you.

“What?” you prompt as Kyle continues to stare.

“I’m bored. Wanna go play mermaids in the ocean?”

Inserting the bookmark, you close your book and set it aside. “Absolutely I do.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“I’ve never done this before, Johnny.”

“I know, love. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Johnny holds your hands in his. "Being scared is nothing to be ashamed of."

Before you is a mountainous slope covered in snow. Plenty of people are already on it, descending to the bottom on skis and snowboards. Some are lightning fast with others meander slowly. It looks fun—really, it does—but this is completely new to you.

When Johnny said vacation in the Alps, you didn’t think this. You were imagining a fancy cabin with nice food, a hot tub in the snow, and steamy sex next to a roaring fire.

“I’ll hold on to you. The whole way down. We’ll do this together.”

“You won’t let me fall?”

Johnny’s gloved hands squeeze yours in reassurance. “It’s just the bunny hill.”

“For children. I’m not a child.” "Oh, aye. It's for wee ones. But also, for newbies. Besides, I'll be with ya." He winks. "Won't let anything happen."

"That is not reassuring," you mutter, the snowboard wobbling slightly under your feet.

Johnny is the only thing keeping you upright. He grips you tightly, completely at ease in the snow.

“Do you promise?” you ask.

Johnny releases one of your hands to move his goggles into place. He lightly taps his helmet against yours.

“Promise.”

Simon "Ghost" Riley

"Her sisters are in Greece."

"You Brits like to steal everything."

Simon chuckles. "Throw a rock in here and you'd hit something that came from somewhere else."

He steps away from the statue, turning to move on to another. You follow him, trying to see what he sees.

“I wouldn’t take you for the museum type.”

"Why?" asks Simon, arching an eyebrow.

You gesture at him, and Simon snorts. “Fair point,” he replies, glancing down at himself. He looks more ready to jump on the back of a sportbike rather than tour a museum.

Simon moves on to a new statue, head titled slightly as he peers up at it. “I like museums. They’re calm. Quiet. I can take my time. No one needs me. No one expects anything from me.”

He says it so casually, but you hear the underlying sigh. There is something heavy beneath it. A weight he carries but you can’t identify what it may be.

“I can be here for hours,” he murmurs.

“So…no pub crawls?”

Simon attempts to stifle a laugh. “Love a good pub crawl. Johnny and I go on them all the time. He always thinks he can out drink me.”

“Does he?”

“Never,” grins Simon.

He holds out his hand, wiggling his fingers. You slide your hand into his, the warmth of him chasing away your worry.

Simon pulls you in close, two of you leaving the statues behind.

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[blueiscoool]

How Hadrian’s Wall is Revealing a Hidden Side of Roman History

A party invitation. A broken flipflop. A wig. Letters of complaint about road conditions, and an urgent request for more beer.

It sounds like the aftermath of a successful spring break, but these items are nearly 2,000 years old.

They’re just some of the finds from Hadrian’s Wall – the 73-mile stone wall built as the northwestern boundary of the Roman Empire, sealing off Britannia (modern-day England and Wales) from Caledonia (essentially today’s Scotland).

While most of us think of Pompeii and Herculaneum if we’re thinking of everyday objects preserved from ancient Rome, this outpost in the wild north of the empire is home to some of the most extraordinary finds.

“It’s a very dramatic stamp on the countryside – there’s nothing more redolent of saying you’re entering the Roman empire than seeing that structure,” says Richard Abdy, lead curator of the British Museum’s current exhibition, Legion, which spotlights the everyday life of Roman soldiers, showcasing many finds from Hadrian’s Wall in the process. A tenth of the Roman army was based in Britain, and that makes the wall a great source of military material, he says.

But it’s not all about the soldiers, as excavations are showing.

A multicultural melting pot

Hadrian, who ordered the wall to be built in 122CE after a visit to Britannia, had a different vision of empire than his predecessors, says Frances McIntosh, curator for English Heritage’s 34 sites along Hadrian’s Wall.

“All the emperors before him were about expanding the empire, but Hadrian was known as the consolidator,” she says. He relinquished some of the territory acquired by his predecessor Trajan, and “decided to set the borders” – literally, in some cases, with wooden poles at sites in Germany, or with stone in Britannia. Where those poles rotted thousands of years ago, the wall is still standing: “A great visual reminder” of the Roman empire, says McIntosh.

It’s not just a wall. There’s a castle every mile along, and turrets at every third-of-a-mile point, with ditches and banks both north and south. “You can imagine the kind of impact that would have had, not just on the landscape but on the people living in the area,” says McIntosh.

And thanks to the finds from the wall, we know a surprising amount about those people.

Although historians have long thought of army outposts as remote, male-dominant places, the excavations along the wall show that’s not the case. Not only were soldiers accompanied by their families, but civilians would settle around the settlements to do business. “ You can almost see Housesteads as a garrison town,” says McIntosh. “There were places you could go for a drink and so on.”

The Roman rule of thumb was not to post soldiers in the place they came from, because of the risk of rebellion. That meant Hadrian’s Wall was a cultural melting point, with cohorts from modern-day Netherlands, Spain, Romania, Algeria, Iraq, Syria – and more. “It was possibly more multicultural because it was a focus point,” says McIntosh, who says that the surrounding community might have included traders from across the empire.

Soldiers were split into two groups. Legionaries were Roman citizens from Italy, who had more rights than other soldiers and imported olive oil, wine and garum (a sauce made from decomposing fish).

They worked alongside auxiliaries – soldiers from conquered provinces, who had fewer rights, but could usually acquire citizenship after 25 years of service.

Soldiers carved their names and regiments on stones to show which part of the wall they built – around 50 of them are on display at Chesters fort.

But the wall shows that women and children were equally present.

McIntosh says that pottery brought to the camps – from the Low Countries and North Africa – shows that the soldiers “brought their families, who cooked in traditional style.” Archaeologists have found what seems to be an ancient tagine for North African-style cooking.

A tombstone from Arbeia fort for a woman named Regina shows she was a freed slave from southern Britain who was bought by – and married to – a Syrian soldier.

Another woman buried at Birdoswald fort was laid to rest with chainmail that appears to be from modern-day Poland. “Perhaps she married someone in the army,” says McIntosh, who calls the wall a “melting pot of people from all over the world under the banner of the army.”

“They brought their own religions, as well as worshipping Roman gods and adopting local deities,” she adds. At Carrawburgh, a temple to Mithras – an originally Persian deity – sat near a spring with a shrine to a local water spirit.

‘Wretched little Brits’

Some of the most extraordinary finds from the Roman empire are coming from one site on Hadrian’s Wall: Vindolanda. Here, archaeologists have found a wealth of organic remains because of what curator Barbara Birley calls the “unusual conditions onsite.”

At Vindolanda there are the remains of at least nine forts over 14 levels. “When the Romans would leave, they would knock down timber forts, and cover the area with turf and clay, sealing the layers underneath,” she says.

“Because it happened so many times, the bottom five or six layers are sealed in anaerobic conditions, so things don’t decay. When we get down there, we get wooden objects, textiles, anything organic.”

Vindolanda has the largest collection of Roman textiles from a single site in western Europe, as well as the largest leather collection of any site in the Roman empire – including 5,000 shoes, and even a broken leather flip-flop. “We probably had a population of 3,000 to 6,000 depending on the period, so 5,000 is a lot,” says Birley. For Abdy, the shoes evoke the conditions of the wet borderlands. “Women’s and children’s shoes are hobnailed – you needed it in the mucky frontier dirt tracks. They’re very evocative.”

There’s even a wig made from a local plant, hair moss, which is said to repel midges – the scourge of Scotland during the summer. A centurion’s helmet is also crested with hairmoss – the ancient equivalent of spraying yourself with insect repellent.

The first woman to write in Latin

One of the most famous finds is the trove of wooden writing tablets – the largest found anywhere.

“They give a snapshot of what life was actually like,” says Birley. “We understand so much more from written correspondence than from ‘stuff,’ and, archaeologically, it’s the stuff that usually survives – things like metals and ceramics.

“These were written in ink, not on a wax stylus tablet, and we believe they were used for what we’d put in emails: ‘The roads are awful,’ ‘The soldiers need more beer.’ Everyday business.”

The tablets – or “personal letters” as Birley describes them – were found on the site of a bonfire when the ninth cohort of Batavians (in the modern-day Netherlands) were told to move on.

“They had a huge bonfire and lots of letters were chucked in the fire. Some have been singed – we think it may have rained,” she says. One of them calls the locals “Britunculi” – “wretched little Brits.” Another talks about an outbreak of pinkeye. One claims that the roads are too bad to send wagons; another laments that the soldiers have run out of beer.

Among the 1,700 letters are 20 that mention a woman called Sulpicia Lepidina. She was the wife of the commander of the garrison, and seems to have played a crucial role. There’s a letter to her from another woman, Paterna, agreeing to send her two medicines, one a fever cure.

Birley says it’s similar to today. “If you’re a group of moms, still today we say, ‘Do you have the Calpol?’ It’s very human.” For Abdy, it’s a sign that women were traders. “She’s clearly flogging her medicines,” he says. “It’s really great stuff.”

Another tablet is an invite from Claudia Severa, the wife of another commander at a nearby camp. It’s an invitation to a birthday party. Under the formal invitation, presumably written by a scribe, is a scrawl in another hand: “I shall expect you, sister. Farewell, sister, my dearest soul.”

Presumably written by Claudia herself, it is thought to be the earliest example of a woman’s handwriting in Latin.

Without the organic finds – the shoes and the letters that indisputably belonged to women, unlike jewellery or weaving equipment – it’s difficult to prove conclusively that women lived in significant numbers. Vindolanda “illustrate the missing gaps,” says Abdy. For Birley, they prove that women were as crucial a part of army communities as men. “Before the Lepidina tablets were found we didn’t really understand the interactions between the soldiers and their wives,” she says. Another tablet is written by what is thought to be a Spanish standard-bearer’s common-law wife, ordering military equipment for her partner.

“The Vindolanda collection is showing that there weren’t just camp followers and prostitutes; women were part of everyday life, and contributing to the military community in many ways,” says Birley.

Abdy says that Hadrian’s Wall is interesting because the resident women span “all classes of society,” from Regina – the dead freedwoman, who would have been “bottom of the heap” – to the trader Paterna and the noblewoman Lepidina.

And of course, there’s the wall itself.

“In the Netherlands and Germany the finds are often stunning and better preserved – you go to museums and are bowled over. But in terms of structural remains, Hadrian’s Wall must be among the best,” says McIntosh, modestly, of her site.

Abdy agrees: “I can’t think of many symbols so redolent of imperial will than that wall.”

By Julia Buckley.

[jxwl4k]

Beach Day

Plot: Bakugou and YN enjoy a fun, relaxing day together at the beach, making simple moments special.

It was a sunny day, and the sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air as Bakugou and YN arrived at the beach. The golden sand stretched out before them, and the sparkling ocean seemed to call their names. YN immediately smiled, excited to feel the soft sand between her toes, while Bakugou gave the water a wary glance.

“C’mon, Bakugou! You love the beach,” YN said, grinning as she ran ahead, throwing her towel down on the sand.

“Tch, I like the beach, not the water,” Bakugou grumbled, following after her at a slower pace. He loved the calm of being near the ocean, but swimming wasn’t really his thing.

YN giggled, understanding. She knew how much Bakugou adored the outdoors, but getting him in the water was a rare sight. “Wait right here,” she said, running off toward one of the nearby beach shops.

Bakugou furrowed his brows but sat down on the towel, watching as YN darted off. He crossed his arms, leaning back on his elbows as the sun warmed his skin. The sound of the waves was nice, but he couldn’t deny that he was getting bored just sitting there.

After a few minutes, YN returned, a huge smile on her face as she hid something behind her back.

“What’s with that grin?” Bakugou asked, raising a brow.

“I got you something! You said you don’t like the water, so I figured you’d need something else to do.” YN pulled out a small, bright yellow toy excavator—complete with a remote control—from behind her back. “Ta-da! You can dig around in the sand with it. It even has a controller!”

Bakugou blinked, staring at the toy and its controller. “Are you serious?”

YN nodded enthusiastically. “Yup! You can make it dig, move sand, and build little sand mountains with it. Just like a real excavator. Trust me, it’ll be fun!”

Bakugou stared at the toy for a moment, looking between it and YN’s hopeful expression. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Maybe, but I bet you’ll like it.” YN winked before plopping down next to him, pushing the controller into his hands.

He grumbled but took the remote. At first, he simply poked at the sand with the excavator, unsure of what to do. But after a few moments, he started driving it around, making little piles and scooping up sand. YN watched him, a soft smile on her face as Bakugou gradually got into it.

“Look at you, Mr. Excavator Expert,” YN teased, leaning over to give him a playful nudge.

“Shut up,” Bakugou muttered, but there was no bite in his tone. Instead, he kept playing with the toy, maneuvering it to make small sand hills and trenches with precision.

YN laughed, watching the normally tough and serious Bakugou focus on his tiny remote-controlled excavator. It was so simple, but so adorable. She couldn’t help but snap a quick picture of him, saving it for later.

After a while, Bakugou paused, catching her sneaky move. “Oi, what’re you taking pictures for?”

“Just a cute memory,” YN said with a grin. “You look so happy with your toy excavator.”

Bakugou scoffed, but there was a faint blush on his cheeks. “Whatever.” He reached out and pulled YN closer, his arm wrapping around her waist. “Next time, we’re getting you a toy. I’m not gonna be the only one playing.”

YN giggled, resting her head on his shoulder as they both looked out at the waves. “Deal. As long as you keep having fun.”

Bakugou smirked and kissed the top of her head. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make this a habit.”

“Too late,” YN whispered, giggling as Bakugou gave her a playful side-eye.

The two spent the rest of the afternoon sitting in the sand, Bakugou occasionally using the excavator and its controller to dig around while YN watched, basking in the warmth of the sun and the cuteness of the moment.

[metamorphesque]

For those who are confused about the situation in Artsakh (part 1)

To anyone even remotely knowledgeable about the history of the region, the azerbaijani claims that Artsakh belongs or belonged to them, or that they are the natives of the land, sound not only incorrect but also hilariously pathetic. The earliest evidence of Artsakh’s ancient history dates back to the earliest stages of the Stone Age, specifically the Acheulean and subsequent periods (800,000 to 100,000 years ago). These include stone and bone tools found in the caves of Orvan-Msoz, Tsatsakhach, and Khoradzor. Excavations of settlements and tombs from the Bronze and Iron Ages (Stepanakert, Khojaly, Karkarjan, Amaras, Madagis, and the valleys of the Khachenaget and Ishkhanaget rivers) indicate that this area was part of the Kur-Araxes cultural system formed in the 4th-3rd millennia BC. The Kur and Arax are rivers in the Armenian Highlands; Arax is even considered the “mother river” of Armenia and is referred to as “Mother” in many Armenian poems and songs.

Artsakh was the northeastern boundary of the region where the Armenian people formed ethnically. This has been mentioned many times in the works of Strabo (64 or 63 BC – c. 24 AD, a Greek geographer, philosopher, and historian), Ptolemy (c. 100 - c. 170 AD, a renowned Greek geographer, astronomer, and mathematician), and many other non-Armenian geographers and historians. For over 3000 years, Artsakh has been inhabited by its natives, the Armenians.

You might ask, what do these historians write about the azerbaijanis? Well, nothing—because azeris did not exist back then and wouldn’t exist for at least the next 3000 years. How, then, could they have been the natives of the land?

Furthermore, aren’t azeris Muslim? In that case, how is it that right after Armenia adopted Christianity as its official religion—being the first nation to do so—many churches were built in Artsakh, not mosques, but churches? For example:

Gandzasar Monastery (4th century) and St. John the Baptist Church (1216-1238)

Dadivank (4th century) and Katoghike (9th-11th century)

Amaras Monastery (4th century)

St. George Church of Tzitzernavank (4th-5th century)

Gtichavank (4th-13th century)

Monastery of Apostle Yeghishe (Jrvtshtik) (5th century), Mataghis

Vankasar White Cross (5th century)

Kataro Monastery of Dizapayt and Holy Mother of God (5th century)

Mokhrenis Okht Drne Monastery (7th-17th century)

Kolatak St. Hakob Monastery (9th century)

Tsori Holy Savior (9th century)

Tsamakahogh St. Stephen (9th-10th century)

White Cross Monastery of Vank village, Hadrut (10th century)

Desert Monastery of Elisha Kusi, Chartar (12th century)

St. George Church of Jankatagh (12th century)

Khotavank (12th-13th century)

Holy Mother of God Nuns' Monastery of Karvachar (12th-13th century)

St. Savior Church of Poghosagomer (12th-13th century)

Shoshkavank Holy Mother of God of Msmena (13th century)

Horeka Monastery (13th century)

Kavakavank (14th century)

And many, many more. It pains me to tears to say that these churches, along with hundreds of others, are being destroyed by azeris to wipe out the evidence that Armenians lived there, pushing their false narrative that they are the natives of the land. Since the 2020 war, azerbaijani forces have destroyed over 570 Armenian cultural sites, with 3 to 4 monuments being demolished weekly—not to mention the desecration of both old and new Armenian graves.

So, the next time an azeri tries to argue that they are the natives of Artsakh and Armenia, just laugh at their faces. I’m sure I’ve got socks in the back of my drawer that are older than their “nation.”

[thejujvtsupost]

Collar Crimes Part 1 -> Ease A Heavy Soul

This is honestly just self indulgent, the requests I have left are more long form content and I have a section for that in the guidelines of my pinned, just keep that in mind if you haven’t seen yours come up yet. I gotta be able to feel it out before I give it a shot. Anyway think of this as an opener to a new little series <3

Notes: F!reader, yakuza!Geto, fluffy, reader is a sleepy type of gf & soft girl- think Sanrio/hello kitty aesthetic? heartwarming, no dialogue for this part, mention of violence(blood), Geto is so soft for his girl -> gets filthy in later parts.

The stress of being head of the Yakuza wasn’t foreign to Geto.

What was foreign, was coming back to his penthouse apartment to a girlfriend.

And his penthouse apartment was no longer his, it was your shared home. You were impossible to say no to, and now the place he furnished with top of the line luxuries and various other signs of wealth; was riddled with cutesy soft things.

The leather couch he spent an obscene amount of money on and had custom made for his living area? Covered in the softest pink blankets, fluffy pillows, several large stuffed animals that he thought you might like (you did). The bookshelves that once held “big fancy classics”, now sported knick knacks and some of your own college texts. The remotes had glow in the dark silicone covers on them, there was a new plush area rug… you were everywhere he looked.

His bed had even more of you, from more of your blankets to the scent of your perfume. You had a side of the bed, and a nightstand with its own lamp to match his.

There was even a nightlight plugged in on the far wall, fairy lights were tacked up by the headboard. No, of course you weren’t afraid of the dark, in fact maybe he’s the one afraid. He’s the one that bought a cute nightlight after all.

He bought it after the first time you spent the night at his place and he woke up to you huddled up in his bathroom with the overhead light on. He didn’t bring it up or chastise you, he simply brought you back to bed and cracked the bathroom door so it wasn’t so dark. The next night you slept over there was a bear and stars themed nightlight plugged in. Three more have joined the collection around the apartment since you officially moved in. That shitty apartment of yours had gotten broken into way too many times.

You were everywhere and he wouldn’t deny that you made everything feel okay. When he walked through the door he let through the gentle parts of his heart and gave every single one of them to you.

He loved it.

So yeah, he couldn’t deny you anything. Not when you were so perfect, loving and adorable in every way. And you were doing your very best as a college student, he was so proud of you. You studied so hard to get to where you are now.

(He just spoils you constantly and you’ve never actually asked him for anything.)

Coming home to you is a breath of fresh air.

Tonight was no different. He walked in, took off his shoes and jacket, and found you passed out on the couch- swallowed by your many soft blankets.

Oh his little songbird…

Turning off the tv and extra lights you left on, he was careful when he excavated your body from the pile of softness and picked you up to take you to bed. You didn’t want to let go of him when he tried setting you down though; he missed your hand clutching his shirt in your sleep.

So fucking cute…

Geto pried your fist away slowly and got you settled, then disappeared into the connected bathroom to wash the blood and grime from the day down the drain.

It’s not his blood of course.

You knew what he was, what he did; but he was the sweetest person (to you, you were the exception) you’d ever met. You didn’t ask questions when he came home covered in blood or was stuck ‘working’ all hours into the night. As long as he texted you when he could to give you a heads up it was good enough for you. It was better this way, you didn’t need details and he didn’t want to give them.

To him, that world has no business involving you. It had no business tainting the life you lived with him, safe in the comfort of your home.

Coming out in clean boxers to sleep in, he dropped his dirty clothes in the basket. Thats when you greeted him with a sleepy smile. You were sitting up and waiting for him to come to bed, excited to see him but still so tired.

Your smile was returned easily and he slid into bed, not a second of hesitation passed when he pulled you down close to him and kissed your lips, then head.

You took your rightful place, sleeping on his chest. Having the weight of your body pressed against his and your head over his heart eased his stress away in waves until he was as boneless and relaxed as you.

You were safe, both physically in your home and as a haven for him- the one person who was privy to his very soul.

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[ikkosu]

psst. if you want, do you think you can write some headcanons about Skylynx from the TFP: Predacon's Rising movie? if not him, predaking would be fine too. need more love for the predacon bois

a/n : ahhh! Predacons! I love them 😭 but I haven’t watched Tfp in a while and predaking is the only one I’m familiar with. I think I went a little haywire on this,,,,

PREDAKING HEADCANNONS

you’re working with robots now, huh. er, autonomous sentient, lifeforms—say it right or shockwave will have your head— and, simply, you’re going to lose your itty bitty mind

the fact is this: you’re an archaeologist, stationed in the raging hot deserts of Nevada, as per your own request, for a find many people in your career would die for. that is, excavating a site that would definitely hit a Jack pot load of bones. can you believe that? prehistoric bones! imagine the things you could do with it. new species to discover, new ecosystems, new—

for unfortunate reasons you’re not disclosed with , it appears you wouldn’t be the only one dying for a find like that

in a desert, remote region in Nevada night had plunged the horizon. the crew had clocked out in their respective tents, and the flaps billowed as a cool breeze pass

”c’mon, kid, we can continue tommorow.” one of the guys said.

but you, the ever so persistent little idiot, were too preoccupied dusting this strange rock you’re certain is a bone,,,it’s a bone! to hell with whoever says it’s not. you’re a hundred percent certain it is,,,,you’re also guts deep below ground, dusty, sweaty ,,,and christ, who’s flaring this red light into your site, it’s hurting your eyes—

with a scowl, you swivel up — then , stoned up and cold like the bone you’re holding

oh, those are someones’s eyes

not very,,,mhn,,, not very friendly eyes, you see, eye? light bulb?

either ways, there’s too much purple, and the darkness had elevated it’s glaring stare and— you’re greeted with the sight of something swirling, yellow, as bright as the sun — is that a gun?!

you try to scream.

yeah, not very effective since claws had already sprung out to latch onto your body, yanking you out with its thumb against your lips, preventing you any ability to shout. hence, with the tried.

the creature, really you’re going to settle for robot, but you know it’s scientifically inaccurate given that it’s intelligence and emotional—

“it appears you have excavated the very piece I am looking for.” it hummed and you stilled, blinking, wide eyes and frantic. oh, god help me it can talk. its claws plucked the bone you were clutching close, ignoring your protesting hands trying to grab it back.

“most certainly logical, how did you find this?”

you’re going to die. you’re going to die. You’re going to die, but hey you replied anyways

"W-we take pictures above ground t-then scan the photos. S-sometimes we use remote sensing techniques when—“

“us that so? perhaps you can have some use with your hands then.”

— that’s how you find yourself in a laboratory, tinkering away on projects by his behest.

you’re not even sure if you’d call it one, given how many ethical protocols shockwave, he said his name was, had already breached. hell, the list can go on and on until it stacked up ‘till the height of the himalayas. you’re sure he doesn’t care. Why would he? He’s not even giving you proper safety gear.

at least, when you told him to he acted like it wasn’t a priority in the first place. and imagine this! there’s others like him too! others that are way too annoying to be considered a decepticon second in command

‘he’s a walking problem, purposely pestering you, disrupting your projects, calling you fleshie and how you’d look perfect as a red stain on the cave floor…

and then there’s this other problem,,,

“your fear for such a creature is illogical.” shockwave had brisked away without much of a glance when you tried to latch onto his pedes. “even your desperation to get away from it so. are you sure you wish to be left alone?”

“don’t be a prick! you can’t keep me with that thing forever!” you pointed at the glowering beast stalking you from behind the beams

“innacurate terminology.’’ He simply said. “a ‘thing’ would assume he’s an inanimate object.”

“ he’s a dragon!”

“innacurate, he’s a predacon.”

“I— what the hell even is that?!”

‘before you could plough a rock to his face you feel something hard, almost like tendrils, wrapping around your body

warm, misty air hissed at your face and you quivered, limp in their hold.

“do not make me repeat myself as I have always done so before." he said stiffly, "be gentle, predaking. I wouldn’t want my assistant to be damaged — a quest to find another is not an easy task.”

then turning on his heel, he left.

bastard had left you alone with this abomination.

Oh, joy.

You can’t get a sense of peace

everywhere you walk it follows. Why? You don’t know why. is it because you pat its head once and called it a good boy? Or that other time you tickled it's jaw and it purred? Though, in restropect you were a bit drunk off your ass ingesting Cybertronian booze by accident — as per Starscream request and amusement.

And now it won’t stop pestering you

You really wish it did.

He does this thing where, oh look it's waldo! And tackle you to ground, even thought you've told the dragon many times not to do that lest you're churned into a splatter of red on the surface

He'd also do this thing where he'd dangle you off the edge pretending to drop you,,,and when he does you're soaring towards the ground at god knows what mph before getting swooped to safety by the same dragon that tried to kill you

For a Predacon he's incredibly...sentient in a way it's aware of what he's doing most of the time

Feral cat behavior

A blurred line between black cat plotting to kill you and golden retriever,,,plotting to kill you with affection

And incredibly possessive at that

Talking to a vehicon? Oh, dear there you go again, hanging by his maw, shirt clamped between his teeth as he drags you away to that horrible, horrible cave

It's damp and it stinks! And he's nestling you like you're some egg desperately in need of protecting

And everytime you'd wrangle out of its— his— you're not even sure anymore — chest , the Predacon simply, with a pinch of his claws on your shirt, tugs you back into his embrace

Sometimes, if he's feeling mirthful he'll fall asleep with his fangdclamping down on a bit of your shirt to prevent you moving

"Let me go god damn it!"

And you know shockwave knows. He doesn't say a horse cobbler about it because it has it's uses

when Predaking decides havoc is what he needs on his agenda today shockwave will simply pluck you up from the ground and hold you to him like a candle

Most often than not the dragon will stare at you like dogs do when presented with a chew toy

and, technically, you are in some aspects

forget transportation, what better vehicle do you need when you can just hang from a dragon's maw as he brings you to the decepticon leader?

Starscream, hell even airachnid, would've exterminated you if not for your darling dragon by your side

and, to be honest, you did kind of grew fond of him. he'd take you on rides up in the air, and he'd nuzzled you close on stormy, cold days. Sometimes, you clean away the rust on his plating when you're free from Shockwave's obviously illegal work conditions

That's until he became a fucking robot

you didn't realize it was him at first, hearing a new rhythm of footfalls echoing across the cave, until the familiar paint scheme slapped you with the answers

What do you mean you're not a dragon this whole time?!?!?!?

you back away from him against the cave wall. you're not sure what to feel as he saunters towards you.

It ties between disappointment and embarrassment because did you really say good boy in a baby voice to a fucking man this whole time?;?-?-??&?

"Do not fear." His voice was far from sweet, god was it rough and deep,

It made your stomach do a 180 backflip and cracked it's head wide open

"Do not try to run."

when his talons curl around your waist, lifting you up to his eye level and the imperceptible smirk on his face is present, you knew you were fucked

"How obedient you are, my little pet."

[pokemonshelterstories]

Were/are alpha pokemon real?? I grew up with my mother telling me stories about an alpha ursaring that totally definitely lived in the woods and would come eat me if I didn’t sleep at my bedtime. I grew up, thought it was completely fake, then my grandmother casually mentioned the TEN FOOT TALL ursaring skeleton excavated in the woods decades back?? So. I have questions?? Are they any different from weirdly big pokemon? Why don’t we see them anymore? Or . Maybe we do? I’m so out of the loop man what

alpha pokemon are a documented occurrence, yes! the term is used to refer particularly large, aggressive pokemon found in hisui before the region was industrialized. there's evidence of their existence in other regions, but hisui is where we see some of the best observations about them.

there is a marked difference between them and just particularly large individuals of a species, as we have notes distinguishing them by their territorial behavior and aggression towards both humans and pokemon. based on those qualities, we can guess that alpha pokemon likely had some sort of hormone imbalance causing excess testosterone- similar to the effect that pokerus has on a pokemon's system. there are even some scholars who theorize that alpha pokemon were wild pokemon that were infected with pokerus early on and survived to maturity!

as for why we don't really see them anymore, it's probably because being that large is...well, it's really tough on the body! being bigger and stronger means you need more resources, and it's not a guarantee that you're going to impress a potential mate to pass your genes on. being conspicuous can also have its downsides, especially as humans have expanded into formerly-wild areas. it doesn't matter if you win a lot of fights if you don't survive long enough to reproduce. it's possible there may still be some alpha pokemon out in more remote parts of the world, but if someone found them today, we would definitely hear about it.

[manga-and-stuff]

Source: The Art of Nausicaä of the valley of the wind

by Hayao Miyazaki

Link to the full Artbook

Text transcription under "keep reading"

The Valley of the Wind where Nausicaä lives is a small kingdom With a population of a mere five hundred people in a remote region; it just barely manages to avoid harm from the miasma of the Sea of- Decay, thanks to the wind blowing in off the ocean.

Anti-sand slats have also been built at the entrance to the valley to prevent clouds of miasma sand from blowing in.

As the name suggests, the wind always blows here, and the people pump water from underground and supply it to the fields using windmills all over the valley and large windmills on the castle, the valley's main feature.

The citizens mainly farmers, coexisting peacefully With the Sea of Decay, and are led by Nausicaä's father, Jihl, Who is the tribe Chief; the five old men of the castle; and the old woman, Obaba.

But they face an unfortunate crisis when the Giant Warrior excavated from beneath the city of Pejite is brought into the valley by the Tolmekian army.

[annabelle--cane]

rifle through DVD box. find old being human s2 DVDs. excavate old dual region DVD player and tv monitor. spend several minutes de-cobwebbing them. find the remotes. de-cobweb remotes. replace batteries in remotes. plug in and hook up DVD player and monitor. put in first DVD. it works! score! problem: you don't know how you'll transfer the cenSAA special features to your computer if these turn out to be the right DVDs, but that's a future step. the menu screen plays on the tv, you prepare to let it loop a few times. the music is Loud. there's someone else in the next room and you cannot in good conscience have sound playing at this volume. you try to turn it down with the tv remote. tv remote does not work. DVD remote works but doesn't have a volume button. the little buttons on the monitor itself do not control the volume. monitor refuses to turn off. turn off DVD player in a panic.

reassess situation. inspect DVD player, it has an HDMI port. okay. workable, your desktop has an HDMI port, too, and if you connect it there then you can transfer the special features right away. go out in 20 degree F weather to get your desktop out of the car where you left it after coming home from school because it was raining and you didn't want to get it wet. lug desktop inside. disconnect monitor. acquire HDMI cable. plug in desktop. connect DVD player to desktop with HDMI cable. desktop registers Nothing. do spin attacks and kill things. spend twenty minutes poking at your desktop to see if you can make it work. fail.

reassess situation. inspect DVD player, it has a USB port. okay. workable, you have a USB to USB C cable, and your laptop has a USB C port. unplug and disconnect desktop. get out laptop. connect DVD player to laptop. laptop registers Nothing. begin bleeding from the eyes and ears and nose and mouth. spend twenty minutes poking at your laptop to see if you can make it work. fail.

reassess situation. inspect monitor, it has an HDMI port. okay. not workable exactly, but you can at least perform an experiment to see if this old DVD player is simply incompatible with newer technology for some reason or if all its other ways of connecting are janked and it can only work via VIVO. sit in your little ring of scattered devices and cables and wireless add-ons for several minutes. decide actually you would rather explode into a shower of viscera than spend any more time disconnecting and reconnecting monitors. explode into a shower of viscera.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

One thing that TotK does constantly but really doesn't land for me when compared to BotW is that every NPC loves Zelda so much.

She is the sweetest, and she loves animals and is the very best at them, and she goes to every major landmark to spend time there and also she teaches the people secrets about the lands they have always lived in and they're like woow thanks zelda incredible I'll change my entire ways because you were just SO enlightening (Lurelin + Gerudo Town feeling particularly questionable here for obvious reasons), and she's so wise and beloved and talented --to the point that nobody (beyond the Zora King) even dares to question her actions when she starts acting off.

(Yunobo please stop letting her walk all over you, like it's alarming that you understand she basically brainwashed you and your entire race, and you're still running after her like a lost puppy for an explanation that will surely make everything make sense instead of, like, punting her into the sun? I know it's the eeeevil zelda, but that this situation could even remotely begin to happen feels... so offputting.)

In BotW, the rare mentions of Zelda worked because 1) she was an ancient figure and the modern hylians knew very little about her and would build her up as a legendary figure accordingly, 2) she was literally giving her life for them (I mean she kind of still does here but people do not know that or cannot infer that in any way --which is its own sort of problem), 3) she was extremely hard on herself, felt like a failure and... kind of was one (and she was given shit for it).

(also in BotW we are in a post-Hyrule kingdom world, while here we're living its re-foundation, and so it feels very... convenient that they excavate a previous version of their perfect kingdom to boister up the hylian claim upon the lands also --but that's beyond the topic)

So for anyone to give her grace and compassion in BotW, while a little eyeroll worthy at times, was endearing and made sense. None of this was her fault; she may have extreme power, but she didn't directly yield it --her imperfections the byproduct of a stressful situation every champion was being forced into due to the tides of fate. Also the king was criticized for being a little ruthless and asking too much of his subjects, including his own daughter. There was solidarity between you and everyone else at the same level.

But here? I don't know, it feels like the entire kingdom is terrified that the sheikah secret police will drag them back in the Bottom of the Well if they breathe wrong when talking about their beloved princess, it's so unsettling. I liked BotW Zelda, but... I don't know, I'm literally more comfortable around fake Zelda than the real one. Fake Zelda feels more like a real person that she does.

[theology101]

A Simple Financial Decision HFY - 1/3

Aboard the Command Ship Mother of Invention

>>> FTL JUMP SUCCESS

>>> BEGINNING SYSTEM SURVEY

>>> ERROR; INTERFERENCE

>>> ANALYZING INTERFERENCE

>>> CHEMICAL AND FISSION EMISSIONS DETECTED

>>> ERROR. PARAMETER ‘uninhabited’ NOT MET

Junior Commander Wa’l Hildnid was not having a good first night on duty. Despite serving on the bridge crew several times, tonight - or what passed for it in the carefully controlled light system meant to match their circadian rhythm - was the first night that Hildnid had command of the bridge. Which of course meant that the first (and hopefully only) unexpected problem came up on his shift. Although perhaps the Celestials were playing a joke on him - after all, the fierce and ruthless Foreman Wa’l Sonogth in charge of this operation, was his uncle. 

After a firm rapt on the door and announcing his presence, the door was opened from the other side. Already - or perhaps still - awake, he was hunched over with one of his three eye stalks on a different display. “Report,” he said simply.

“Capt-“ He cringed, reminding himself he was no longer in the Navy, “Master Foreman, - one of our long range probes has encountered an error.”

The question hung for a moment - Sonogth turned one eye towards his nephew. “And?” he asked dryly.

“Oh! Apologies uncl- sir. The system-“

“Which system, Junior Captain?” Foreman Sonogth interrupted, crossing his bulky arms over his chest and foremen’s pin. “Our charter is to strip mine any system within a hundred square parsec region. So far, we have sent out four hundred drones and most have already reached their secondary target.”

“Of course, sir, sorry sir.” 

“Make sure it doesn’t happen again - which system?”

Grimacing at failing to answer with his apology, Hildnid was pleased the correct screen was ready. “The star has been codenamed as ZN0-52081, sir, and the error was unexpected life form contact.” Songoth’s eyestalk returned to its central monitor at that.

“Two ice giants and gas giants, an asteroid belt, a habitable planet, and a deathworld, on top of a few dozen barren moons…” his uncle thought aloud, his voice sonorous as he dropped into a contemplative tone. “Too remote for pirates, too much work for colonizers, and not near anyone who could’ve taken it…” 

The eyestalk came back up. “Were the life signature Bioforms?”

“No, no sir.” He knew that one, at the very least. There were several ways to tell if one of the Old One’s children was lurking, and none had been present. “What little evidence we have at the moment suggests the usage of traditional, albeit old, spacecraft. No psionic resonance or evidence of interstellar gas manipulation.”

The eyestalk bobbed a nod. “Good, at least we won’t need to deal with any damned Citay.” Wa’l Sonogth sighed, leaning back in his chair and finally turning all three of his eyes to his nephew. “They’re either smugglers or political dissidents illegally occupying our territory. If it’s smugglers, we can pay them off and give them one of our empty systems, if they’re rebellious colonists…”

Wa’l Hildnid swallowed so hard that it seemed to travel through his neck and into his shoulders and chest. 

At that, his uncle laughed. “Don’t get squeamish on me, boy! Your mother told me about what a brave military man you are, don’t tell me you never killed before?” The black of his sclera seemed to grow even darker, “if it’s easier on your soul, I’ll make it an order. It’s a simple financial decision.” 

“Yes, Master Foreman.”

“Good. Send the probe to its next target, and…” The left eye moved back towards its screen, “order ED-3 to move in. Clan Gis also were a gang of firebreathers…”

“If that will be all, sir?”

“That will be all”

Aboard Mining Ship Salinonk

Captain Ghis Halnfur was looking forward to an extremely profitable day. 

In charge of “ED-3” - Excavation and Demolitions Team 3 - and the seven ships that made up that command. Two of them were traditional deep space mining ships, barely a hundred meters long, three more were of the wide bowed transport ships that would carry full loads for processing, two hundred and twenty meters long and capable of safely transporting its precious cargo without additional protection. And of course, his flagship, half again the size of the transports and the most heavily armed, was to act as the command and operations hub for the mining operation, as well as transporting any workers or engineers to ground-based projects - in this case, a legion of Galfrei-class combat units and a platoon of enhanced mining equipment retrofitted into combat-ready suits. And of course, the final ship, and Halnfur’s personal addition to ED-3 - the screening ship.

Taken from his days in the Navy, the idea of point defense protection against fightercrafts and gunships would also work when it came to asteroid mining. Halnfur himself captained the first one deployed, and saw to his immense delight that it could cut through those asteroid fields like air… it simply made it harder to collect them afterward - so instead his poor Lii’lya had been reduced to operations like this, where collateral damage was expected. 

Blinking out the white that always came from leaving faster than light, he kept his eyes on the stellar horizon while his communications officer began a survey. “Near distance, clear. Middle distance, clear. Far distance… occupied.”

“Occupied?” Ghis Halnfur’s second in command, Ak’no Jel, asked as he moved to take a better look at the display.

“Yes ma’am,” comms responded. “By… a battle, it looks like,” she paused, another bright flash of light from the viewport, this time significantly smaller and at range. “Yes, it’s a battle, ma’am. The fission signature we just picked up was equivalent to one of our class-4 explosives.”

“Who’s fighting?” Halnfur felt obligated to ask, if no one else would.

“It’s hard to tell from this range, sir, but I’m seeing two distinct ship design styles, maybe three.”

“Are you ready to go in, Captain?” Jel asked, back behind his command chair.

He surveyed the scene for a moment longer, tapping his chin dramatically. “Yes… I believe we shall. Navigations, plot me a skip-jump, pull back a hundred fifty kilometers from the plotted edge of the battle. I want them to know we’re there, but don’t fire yet.” He’d never believed Sonogth’s predictions - and he knew who was behind this whole damn thing - the Citayans. If he could get proof, solid evidentiary proof, that they had not only moved into the Celestia Republica Castelleum, and that they fired first, it would be the airtight justification they needed to finally wipe the Citayans off the galactic map, then their unevolved Citay vermin, and then all the other Bioforms. At least the Citayans didn’t use bloody animals for space-craft.

The flash was proportionally weaker this time - but the battle was not what he expected.

Aboard the War Ship Antioch

Aleksandrya Sokolov-Meyer of the United Nations of Terra and Venus Navy, and captain of the Zeus-class Antioch, was having a terrible day. “Status!” she barked, leaning over the massive command table and wincing at each new red mark on her ships. And they weren’t even supposed to be her ships! “I need those torpedo tubes unjammed!” she yelled to no one in particular.

“Torpedos still down, ma’am, repairs underway!”

“Rio’s Pride is requesting additional firing support!”

“Acknowledged, patch me over to the captain.” It wasn’t looking good for Rio’s Pride. The only destroyer she still had on her left flank, Rio was built for capital ship combat, and the swarm of Jovian Stinger and Biter drones that had just polished off her support ship. “Captain Holt,” Meyer said when she saw a flicker in her periphery. 

“Damn, Meyer, its a bloody mess that Gilly left us, isn’t it?” Despite herself, she let out a low chuckle, glancing up through the loose strands of red hair to look at her friend’s face on the screen. He wasn’t looking good, behind him the devastation of his ship was obvious, lights flickering and a disturbingly loud shudder. She was tempted to pretend that this was a simulation again, that this wasn’t real and she had enough time for a clever comeback.

But it was real this time. And with the death of Commodore Gilroy Faux and High Captain Tsoss, Aleksandrya was in command.

And she was about to kill a friend.

“Holt, we can’t send anyone to rescue you,” she said solemnly, turning back to her display and drawing her intentions. “If you yaw fifty degrees starboard and a few clicks further out-“

“I can hit the damn nest.”

“We’ll cover you for as long as we can.”

“Yes ma’am, over and out.” And just like that, exposing itself to more fire and making the battered destroyer even more of a target, Rio’s Pride followed orders. The swarm of drones saw that and gave chase, their hive programming convincing their fellows of better prey than the main battle group. No doubt some kid would notice and correct the mistake eventually, but it wouldn’t be immediate and every second counted.

“Comms Officer Henri, order picket group one to chase those fuckers, then patch me into the rest of the fleet.” The situation had already changed radically from the last time she checked - the enemy formation, surrounding them in a rough U, had begun to collapse inward on the port side as they moved in for the kill, while the automated Jovian ships - primarily their smaller ships though there were two cruisers in there. The Caliphate of Mars was stubbornly holding the rear line as a firing position, uncharacteristically cautious - especially compared to the Jovian Brillenschlangen, of all people - and the ship they were chasing, the only damn reason they were here, the Samel-Class Man of War Big Tex which should’ve been on death’s door, had yet to make an appearance. The only benefit to the situation was that another Jovian carrier had gotten speared through by a CAT-7 coilgun.

Again, the flicker in her periphery, again she began to speak. “Tighten up, those drones are going brainless in a few minutes and I don’t want any of them flying blind in between my ships, you hear? Good - keep your CAT-1s well-oiled, I want you all to coordinate on deflecting incoming projectiles” She glanced up, looking at the faces on her screen. Only thirty-three of the seventy-four ships that came out to Jupiter were still active, and soon it would be thirty-two. “Let’s see Rio be proud one last time and on my mark, I want complete offensive saturation on these targets,” Meyer selected them on her display for them.

Holt’s face popped up, his ship even more damaged with only the emergency lights active and a nasty gash on the side of Holt’s face. Meyer wondered how he got it - she figured that she’d never know. “On your orders, Admiral.”

Despite herself, she smirked. If she could manage to salvage this… but now was not the time to think of her career. Not when she was staring at the one who would give it to her. “Give ‘em hell.” And with a triumphant final firing of its massive primary canon, Rio’s Pride unleashed a two-hundred-ton rod of tungsten-depleted uranium alloy shell at a low, but not insignificant, percentage of the speed of light. The Nest - the hangar and control point for all the drones in the ether - was there one moment. The next, there was a blinding streak of white-yellow fire cutting straight through the thing, and then it began a cascade of errors as things meant to be held securely were suddenly and violently released.

Even knowing it was coming, she braced herself for the violent jerk of the main cannon. “Fire!” a second streak of light emerged, then another and another as dozens of missiles and high-category coil guns were launched at once - not targetting the battleships closest to them, but the undamaged secondary line. Expecting the luxury of a near-endless supply of drones the Jovians had programmed to make suicide rushes to intercept traditional and nuclear ordinance, the Martians were caught off guard by this sudden weakness in their defenses. Already, Aleksandrya could see their CAT-1s and teslogats ready for dealing with this, but not all at once and not nearly fast enough. And every second mattered.

And then, emerging off her starboard side, was a fleet of seven, massive ships. She had a moment of absolute shock and surprise. What? How did they move like that? But that quickly faded when the lead ship, a massive thing as long as her Zeus but much, much larger and heavier, rammed directly into Rio’s Pride.

Aboard Mining Ship Salinonk

“Blasted!” Captain Ghis Halnfur shouted, standing to his full two-meter height, his eyestalks pulled in tight to the skull. “Jel, I want to know what the hell is going on, Comms, tell the flotilla to open fire.”

“Captain-“ 

“They set a trap for us, Jel. I don’t know how, but they knew we were there...”

“Captain…”

“A damn trap, and Sonogth sent us-“

“Captain!” Jel said it forcefully enough that others stared - only for a moment before they risked one of her eyestalks finding them. “None of those ships exist in our records.”

“What?”

“They’re unknown configuration,” Jel repeated.

“I know what unknown configuration means, commander, what I meant was-“ One of the five ships closest, and turned directly to face Halnfur’s force, exploded as a few shots lanced from one of his transports. And at that, he grinned. “Ah, nevermind. We seem more familiar with their configuration now. No shields? How did they even make it through FTL?”

The Captain and Commander watched the battle for a moment, before Halnfur finally sat down in his chair, watching as the ships - and there were indeed three distinct designs, began to create a new line of battle. Clearly, whatever battle they had been fighting seemed to be forgotten against a superior enemy. A feral smile colored his face before Jel said something that made his heart stop.

“What if this is their home system and we made first contact?”

Aboard the War Ship Antioch

“I don’t care what you say, but that arschloch on this line, now!” Aleksandrya looked up just in time to see another CAT-9 shot get mostly disintegrated before whatever melted slag could be reformed in the coldness of space. “Come on you martian bastard, come on…”

“I assure you, ma’am, that Jamil MacCready is not here!” High General Sakira Morrison of the Jovian Coalition said. At least the fotze had picked up, which was more than could be said for that Martian Coward. “But the Martian troops have been placed under my temporary command while they recieve humanitarian repairs, as-"

“Humanitarian? He’s a murderer!”

“As we were given the right to by treaty. It was your forces under Commodore Faux that an illegal-“

“Halst den Mund! - Euphrates, Flaming Sword,” the two captains flickered on screen and this time, she did look at them. One clearly favored more of the Arab side of the “TexArab” people of Mars, while the other was more ambiguous - both were men, and oh what she wouldn’t give to hear them complain about being subordinate to two women. “One of those energy balls is coming at you both, nadir-starboard. I want to see how big of a coil shot it takes to defuse. General Morrison, are your crews in formation ready for a massed volley?”

“The battleships, yes, but it’ll take the drones-“

“Comms, patch me into all ships,” Aleksandrya said with certainty she didn’t have. Removing her officer’s cap to fix her hair, she instead tossed the damn thing away, pulled out her pins, and shook out her hair. If she was gonna die fighting an unknown evil from beyond God knows what, she wasn’t going to do it by regulation. “This is acting Admiral Aleksandrya Solokov-Meyer of the Antioch - on my first mark, coordinate Coil fire onto this target,” she tapped it on her display, “Upon my second mark, fire traditional ordinance - third fire nuclear. Ready… mark.”

There was the familiar lunge backward as the gun fired, joined in a loose arrowhead formation with the broken hulk of the Nest acting as their anchoring point. While not all ships could fire given the angle, the effect was all that she could’ve hoped for. As the first rounds made contact, they began to superheat, melt, and vaporize as before… but then the second, third, and fourth were all landing in the same spot too. And then, that etheric blue bubble that surrounded those ships began to bend inwards with a burning red fury… until it couldn’t bend anymore. The rounds hadn’t even all made their target before she called “Mark!” 

This motion was more subdued, as the still working torpedo bays launched too - straight into the hole they had just created in the shield, and not just the shield - somehow in that stream of light, they’d cracked the hull. Meyer imagined that the follow up missiles didn’t do much for the ship’s internals either, and this wouldn’t be much better. “Mark!” The barrier was already starting to close up, the cruiser was still opening fire… and then the nuclear missiles got inside the ship. Several dozen missiles exploded on the exterior of the shield in massive shows of light, but the dozen or two that made it underneath the shields before detonating?

For a brief moment, Jupiter had its own sun. And then the shield burst like an overfilled balloon.

“I want confirmation the second your guns are ready for another volley, we’re hitting him next.” She looked back at her display of Captains… having more faces with proportionally even more empty spots didn’t thrill her, but she knew the bastards could die. And that was good enough. “High General, I want an update on those drones, and for the love of God, someone get Jamil MacCready - or at least his ship!”

Aboard Mining Ship Salinonk

His flotilla was sent to pacify the whole system, Ghis Halfnur thought ruefully as he watched his last transport ship get destroyed. It was just him and the Screener left. “Jel?”

The woman had been trying to help coordinate fire with the weapon’s commander but came at his command. “Captain?”

“We never managed to do our full recon,” he said moreosely. It was his own fault, his own overconfidence. Removing his captain’s lapel from his uniform, he handed it to Jel. “Take one of our shuttles, take as much non essential personnel as possible, and then complete a survey of this system before reporting to your commanding officer.”

“Sir- that’s-“

“Foreman Wa’l Sonogth will want to know about this. And if you’re right about this being their native system…” Halfnur shook his head. They were doomed. No way about it now. Even if he could still win this fight - and given the numbers against him, he didn’t like those odds - as the commander on the scene who had belligerently initiated contact with a pre-uplift species, his life was forfeit. The Celestial Tribunal would ring him dry, probably most of his crew and commanding officer. “In your logs, write how you argued against my course of action, and wanted to file a report to the Castelleum and I countermanded you. Now go!”

Always a good sailor, Ak’no Jel did as she was told. He had confirmation that she and the evacuees made it on the ship, and waited another five minutes to make sure they were gone before he gave what would be his last, most bitter order. “We’re going in.”

Aboard the War Ship Antioch

The battlecruiser and spindly ships were the only two left - and for a moment, Aleksandrya had thought she had won. Or at the very least, was winning. For that act of pride, God decided that the placid, so far only supporting ships with its long-range fire. That seemed to be over now, now it was going to be a broadside. 

“Admira Meyer, the drones are online,” a both familiar and unfamiliar voice said over comms, the signal shakey and broken. 

“I want them running picket, sofort! If any fucking plasma gets through, it’s your ass!” Meyer was already turning to the weapons board, seeing that it was only at 90% charge… and the battlecruiser was getting closer with only missiles harmlessly bouncing off to show for it. But her secondary weapons… “Lower caliber until your main gun is fully charged, he’s not getting an inch without steel,” she ended that call, already having Comms initiating her second, “Admiral Meyer, do you read me Virgo I?”

“Loud and clear ma’am,” the voice sounded winded on the other side, the tight confines of a cockpit not allowing a view. “What can me and my jockeys do for you today?”

“That smaller ship, I want you to poke at it. Bring two squadrons with you…” she paused, thinking. With only teslogats and missiles, the hundreds of fighters wouldn’t do anything to the big ship. Short of just ramming it, she couldn’t see what the rest of the fighters would be doing. “Take as many as want to come.”

“Yes ma’am - think your Comms get can get me over to their jockeys?”

“She’s already on it - Henriette is very skilled.”

“Why thank you, Commander Henriette, over and out!” 

Meyer looked back at the display of the field - already she was down two of her bigger ships (a part of her wanted to add ‘thankfully, Martians’ but she restrained herself) and a dozen smaller ones. And her firing predictions still had it a click out from its maximum range. If those drones didn’t show up -

“Fighters pull back! Repeat, pull back!” It was a laser show over there. While having never taken a shot at any other vessels so far, it became abundantly clear why - it didn't have the range. The powerful plasma jets burned through any fighter unfortunate enough to get too close. “General, where are my drones? Fuck it, drones, this is your new primary target. Are all cannons ready? Good, on my mark - mark!”

Only this time, this time the brilliant display of light didn’t end with a hole. When the light cleared, it was the imposing blue of the shield bursting out through the debris cloud with only a few minor red spots, its impish friend chasing after her fighters untouched. “Prepare a second volley! Reroute power, shut down gravity for all I care, just get those damn guns ready or we’re all dead!”

“Don’t be so certain of it, Admiral,” the same voice from before, only far, far clearer now. And without the static and fuzz… she knew that voice. Thousands of drone ships came rushing by the viewport, creating a cloud of grey and blinking lights that covered the horizon before passing. “I apologize for arriving late but, my father always did teach me ladies first.”

“MacCready,” she snarled under her breath.

“Ah, so you remember me? As you can tell, my ship doesn’t remember either of ours from our most recent or first dance.” 

“Ma’am, a new signature just appeared as… leaving Jupiter’s upper atmosphere,” Henriette said hesitantly. “Samael-Class, and moving quickly. Designation-“

“Big Tex.”

“If you hadn’t done such a wonderful job damaging her, I might’ve been able to help from the beginning,” the man’s cocky voice echoed in the bridge speakers, Meyer’s face turning as red as her hair as his ship quickly advanced towards the enemy. She was going to kill that man. For his crimes, for the Moscow and her old crew, and for stealing her fucking victory! Already, she was watching as the drones broke against the enemy ship like the sea, dozens dying but always being just a few too many to get them all. And the shield was turning red. “Ganymede Spaceworks also added something new, I was hoping to surprise you at our next dance but… well, a Prince must make sacrifices for the good of the people, even if it scorns his lady love.”

All it took was a glance, and Henriette had cut off his comm. “Fucking prick,” she added for good measure.

Drifting into formation above the battered and broken Hive was a Samael-Class Man Of War. Over a kilometer long and with more than enough firepower to match three Zeus classes, the massive primary gun was its primary characteristic… only now it was even more massive, with two isosceles triangles coming from what should’ve been the barrel. And then, in a single shot, a massive round moved in an instant - she barely had time to see it before it had punched straight through the shield, the ship, and then out the other side of the shield. 

Not wanting him to get the last laugh, “Main gun on the spindly.”

“Yes ma’am.”

A rod of Tungsten later and Aleksandrya was mollified enough to call her query. The man she and all of Task Force Chancellor had been sent to capture in the first fucking place. “Jamil MacCready.”

“It’s customary to use my title when greeting me.”

“What was that?”

“Ah, you like my new tachyon-enhanced coilgun? It’s brand new! Honestly worked better then I could’ve-“ Aleksandrya ended the call herself. 

“Helm, take us to Venus Blue Dock. We’re going home.” To fix my ship, reconstitute my numbers, and figure out what the hell we’re going to do next. 

[blueiscoool]

Haul of Ancient Roman Coins Discovered in Sicily

A rare haul of 27 silver Roman coins dated between 94 and 74 BC has been discovered on the remote island of Pantelleria, the Sicily region said on Monday.

The discovery was made during a cleaning and restoration project by a team led by archaeologist Thomas Schaefer from the University of Tuebingen in Germany.

It was found in the Acropolis, part of the Archaeological Park of Selinunte, Cave di Cusa and Pantelleria, which is one of the largest such sites in the Mediterranean and includes the remains of an ancient Greek colony founded in the 7th century BC.

The discovery was on the same site where 107 Roman silver coins had been unearthed in 2010 and not far from where the three famous imperial statue heads of Caesar, Agrippina and Titus had been found a few years earlier.

The coins would have been minted in Rome and date back to the Republican age, the same period as the first find.

"This discovery … offers valuable information for the reconstruction of the events, trade contacts and political relations that marked the Mediterranean in the Republican age," said Francesco Paolo Scarpinato, a regional councillor for cultural heritage.

Some coins appeared in the loose soil after recent heavy rains while the others were found under a rock during the excavations and have already been cleaned and inventoried.

The archaeologist Schaefer speculated that the treasure was hidden during a pirates' attack and never retrieved.