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#South Dakota Class
lonestarbattleship · 2 months
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Gun barrels lay outside of the Washington Navy Yard. Likely these are the 16-inch/50-caliber guns intended for the South Dakota Class (1920) and the Lexington Class Battlecruisers.
Date: February 10, 1922
Library of Congress: LC-F81- 17608
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carbone14 · 1 year
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Le cuirassé USS Alabama (BB-60) au départ de Pearl Harbor pour la côte Est des Etats-Unis – 10 septembre 1945
©United States Navy - Photo 355416
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camelspit · 10 months
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biting and clawing trying to write an essay rn
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Taglist: @averagejoey2000
Original Inspiration / Masterpost
Chapter 15 / Chapter 17
Theta!South AU. I Guess.
Chapter: 16
Words: “oh man this stats-coding class has so much stats-coding” (2,341)
The officer rolled his eyes, scoffing as he stuck another cake pop in his mouth. Spam calls were getting on his last nerve – didn’t the precinct have the money to get those filtered out? He would have to review the budget once he added in the extra cash…donations. Precinct 42 made more money smuggling illicit goods through the city than they ever did doing their jobs.
Any cop worth their salt knew crime paid, and it paid well. 
Then why the hell should they still subject to the annoyance of spam bots like the same civilians they bullied into submission? It was the fifth time a variation of the same area code had called, no ID but a clear spam marker on the answering machine.
Another call, another cake pop.
Desk duty was never his forte – he much preferred the rush of cracking the skull of whatever poor idiot he wanted to arrest for drugs they didn’t have. But, as head of the precinct, he had his duties. And sometimes that meant eating cake pops at 2 AM and ignoring the spam calls that came to his office as he tried to sort through paperwork.
Somebody had to make the police’s tax fraud schemes look good on paper.
And he couldn’t do that being pestered by spam calls. He was running out of cake pops and patience.
“Officer Oliver Stark of Precinct 42 – is there something I can help you with?” His cheeriness was a veneer, he fully expected a robotic voice to inquire about his car’s extended warranty or announce with false confidence the imminent UNSC investigation of his taxes (he, of all people, knew his paperwork was in order). He was not expecting a child.
“Uh, hello officer – uh, Mr. Stark –”
“Who – how do you have this number?” He could understand the child calling the emergency services line, but his office phone number was off the books. Wasn’t it? He couldn’t remember if he skirted that requirement of the state transparency laws –
“Um, you aren’t – you aren’t Oli?”
“Who’s Oli?”
“My math tutor – he was supposed to help me study for the test tomorrow…well, today I guess…”
“I’m afraid you have the wrong number.” Stark cringed as a strangled sob came through the audio feed.
“Oh – oh, I’m – I’m sor- I’m so sorry mister. Oli said – I’m sorry I’m not good with numbers that’s why Oli’s helping – sorry –”
“It’s fine kid. Hope you can find his number.” He had taxes to do, after all…
“B-But!” The kid sounded panic, sniffling away his sobs. “You – um, you’re an officer you said – like the police? You help – you guys help people, right?”
Fuck taxes. This would be amazing for the press, and maybe get some of the heat from the city officials off their backs for the whole Lozano mess a few weeks back. He could see the headline now – Adorable! Local Officer Helps Kid with Math Homework. No, he was well known enough in this city, it would use his full name.
“Sure thing kid, Officer Oliver Stark at your service.” He just hoped it wasn’t calculus. Or tax related.
--
“Target is distracted,” South confirmed, Theta pinging her helmet as she relayed the news to the pair already inside the precinct building. Guards were laughably stupid and easily overpowered. Isaac – Felix, Locus was insistent on codenames, at least during business – had two bodies in the broom closet before Locus even had to bother wiping out the cops supposedly watching the security cams.
Still, she had raided Insurrectionist outposts with worse security. Maybe this place would have better coffee at least. She stalked behind the pair, clearing each floor of any surviving officers still choking on their own blood. The occasional civilian secretary working well past their job description was happy to quietly evacuate the building and forget they ever saw the mercenary.
Although, the orchid pink helmet would make her difficult to forget.
Through it all she could hear Theta’s performance, perfect and rehearsed with the head officer following the very script the AI had predicted. She had initially shot down his idea – Sam and Isaac knew about the Project, but she wasn’t willing to risk letting them know she took more home than just bad memories.  But, with some pleading and – well, he couldn’t quite give her puppy dog eyes, but she was sure he was using them – she conceded that it was a damn good plan.
The other mercenaries thought she had written up the AI, and without Sirius – Mason had picked the coolest codename of the three – to check her work, the other two were content to assume she was simply a highly competent coder. Which was a safer assumption than letting them know a UNSC AI of black ops caliber and intelligence was actively distracting their main target.
“On level 12, meet up so we can breach –”
“I’m here.” South was a little disappointed Locus didn’t startle as he lowered his hand from his radio earpiece.
“You sure they won’t see us coming with your, uh,” Felix gestured to her helmet.
“Oh, and neon orange is very subtle.” She smirked behind her visor as his eyes widened with genuine offense. “Besides, by the time he sees us he’ll be dead.”
“Shut up and focus. We need him alive.” Locus grumbled, fitting another clip into his pistol. “Just long enough to get what we need from him. He still distracted?”
Letting Theta watch so many old theater videos was worth it; he was playing the officer perfectly, sounding very earnest in his confusion about factorials even as he ran the statistics on their mission’s success. 99.765%.
“Absolutely. Didn’t even hear us clear this floor.” Theta had a tap on the cameras; even if the feed to the security station was cut, he easily hijacked the system and identified potential hidden weapons in the office. “He can be armed at a moment’s notice, try not to get shot Felix.”
Before Felix could protest her comment, they were through the door.
“Okay, thank you so much mister!”
“Mister Oliver Stark, Precinct 42. But find your friend’s number next time you need math help. And do let your mom know Precinct 42 isn’t a tutoring service.”
“Fuck you!” The cheery child replied, his giggle cutting off as he transferred to South’s implant. The rush of syncing up flooded him with her anxiety, but his giddy excitement easily overpowered it. Felix had a knife to the officer’s throat before he could grab the pistol stowed under his desk.
“We can work this out,” His voice was smooth and confident. “Whatever you want is yours – weapons, drugs, women, men, hell we have a few kids if you’re interested. For the right price, of course.” Only Theta and South could see the tremor of his raised hands.
“Oh, you hear that guys?” Felix crooned; his grin hidden behind his bandanna. “Whatever we want.” Even Locus chuckled darkly as he shook his head.
South wanted some coffee.
--
The first gig was small; some petty revenge and shutting down one of most corrupt precincts in the city – they made sure to send a message to the other corrupt precincts with the body count. And Oliver Stark’s decapitated head settled neatly on a pile of incriminating invoices to and from human traffickers, illegal arms manufacturers, and drug dealers.
A taste of the life Sam and Isaac had thrived on since the war ended. South felt alive, Theta felt useful, and they made good money. Syncing with Theta in her skull, her bike helmet modified to be more and more like her old helmet every job – the monotony of civilian life was finally breaking, the weight in her chest every time she visited her own grave was lifting.
She was doing good in this world – and she was feeling great. Even if she had been miserable, she could feel what it meant to Theta every time a text came from her partners in not-quite-crime. He wasn’t made to bounce between projectors all day, monitoring news feeds for any mention of the Project while he spiraled in his own thoughts. Working with the mercenaries was more than a distraction from his growing anxieties, it was fulfillment of his purpose – to help his assignee complete their mission objective.
It was a satisfaction South could feel, but hardly fathom.
So why was this new job turning her stomach and driving Theta away from the very thought of it?
“South, we would be set for life,” Isaac scoffed, as though she somehow didn’t understand the exorbitant amount of money promised. “No more jobs, just one last big payday.”
Maybe the finality was souring her opinion, but Theta had no coherent input. Even he wasn’t sure why neither of them could be convinced of the job.
They had hashed out this conversation on more than one occasion – but seeing as they were shipping out the next day, she hoped they would leave the topic be for one last night drinking together. She was sorely mistaken.
“It is off planet. She has friends she’s leaving behind.” Sam was curled over a drink, looking out the window at the dim city skyline. There were still no coasters in sight.
“So?” He threw up his hands, gesturing to himself and his partner. “We knew Mason well before you did; and – what? Why the cold feet after these past few months? Why wouldn’t – you’d have enough money to buy this whole damn city if you love it so much.”
“I just – it’s too vague. Asset reclamation even at the scale you’re talking about for the paycheck you’re promising…” It sounded like something the Project would do. “There’s a catch we’re not being told.”
“Who gives a fuck?” He annunciated every word, still incredulous that South wasn’t sold on the idea of hopping on a ship to the middle of nowhere to locate and retrieve material assets for a client that hadn’t even show their face. Isaac’s manic expression calmed and he breathed deeply. “Okay, close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Just, close your eyes and imagine the most…self-indulgent, ridiculous retirement you’ve ever heard of…”
“A planet consisting solely of island chains with a bar on each one.”
“Really? Thought there’d be, like, more chicks and guns in your fantasy.”
“You said the most self-indulgent ridiculous retirement I’ve ever heard of, not my self-indulgent ridiculous retirement.” She opened her eyes and shot him a scowl. “Listen, I appreciate the offer, but you two work just as well on your own as you do with me. And if this gig is as big as you say it is, there will be someone else to hold your hand with any tech issues you run into.”
“But –!”
“Thank you, Isaac, Sam. If either of you buy an island chain planet feel free to invite me for drinks, but I’m just not feeling this gig, alright?”
Isaac opened his mouth to protest, but Sam beat him to it.
“You sure, South?” He wasn’t looking at her, so he didn’t see her eyes soften and the tension bleed from her face.
“Yeah, sorry Sam.” She sighed, turning to the door. “We had a good run these past few months.” A smile twitched at her lips. “Don’t get shot Felix.”
“One time, one time I take bullet to the leg – you aren’t even there, by the way – and still, somehow…” His rantings faded as she made her way to the elevator, Theta humming softly in her head.
“Why aren’t we taking this job?” He was being rhetorical; she was just as conflicted as him, their shared thoughts bouncing back and forth between unsatisfactory explanations. Too far. Too sketchy. The secrecy of the whole gig just, didn’t feel right in her mouth. Not enough detail. Meg’s kid was too small – what if she needed a babysitter?
“Okay, that’s a bit much. You wouldn’t be a good babysitter.”
“I babysit you just fine,”
“Ugh, shut up! I’m not a little kid!”
“You kind of are, kiddo,” Theta responded by sticking out his tongue; in her mind, behind a helmet, which she couldn’t see through. The smile that scrunched her face might have looked a bit out of place as she mounted her motorcycle in the parking garage. A small thought scratched her brain, Theta drifting away from it as anxiety churned in his circuits. She wondered what his face looked like – whoever he was based on.
“Hey, you’re always yelling at me for trying to find stuff about the Project.”
“Having a single thought about something is leagues different than tapping UNSC private coms and nearly getting the whole apartment SWATTED because you forgot to reroute your server connection.”
“Fair point.”
“Exactly.”
The ride home was quiet, her helmet’s HUD as complex and streamlined as her power armor. Theta pinged the security system of the apartment, running through the cameras for intruders and even peeking at the nanny cam to glimpse the infant sleeping soundly in his crib.
“Do you think Alex can meet me someday?”
“Sure, you two can have a playdate.” The groan from the AI echoed in her skull as she shed her jacket and glanced at the gift basket on the countertop. She almost forgot about the weeks she spent housesitting while the family visited their proud parents, now grandparents.
‘From the Wu’s – Thanks!’ She rolled her eyes at the goodies piled high in the gift – definitely some of Mason’s baking and spare electronics, mixed with medical supplies from Megan. Her neighbors knew her too well. But, as with most midnight visits to the mercenaries’ home, South had a sleepless night and was hoping to catch a quick nap before her shift that evening.
“Wake me if something exciting happens,” She said, Theta desyncing – despite their comfort together, it was no easy to task to rest easy with an AI that couldn’t sleep.
“Sweet dreams, South,” His yawn was realistic, well-practiced and calming. She wasn’t sure she had felt so safe, so content since she and North were children.
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nando161mando · 2 months
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Transgender org gets $300K from settlement in lawsuit against South Dakota #lgbtq #lgbt
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Miss South Dakota Class of 2023
Brookings: Mahleah Eschenbaum Central State Fair: Madisen Vetter Clay County Fair: Julia Stanek Dakota Plains: Loretta Simon Dakota Prairie: Carly Goodhart (1st RU) Fall River Balloon Fest: Molly Crawford Hot Springs: Javonte Madsen Hub City: Margaret Samp Huron: McKayla Gunderson McCrory Gardens: Breanna Bossman Missouri River: Miranda O’Bryan (Miss South Dakota) Railroad Junction:…
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southislandwren · 1 year
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My toxic trait is refusing to be late to things so instead of showing up to class 3 minutes late I am simply skipping class 😌
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zepskies · 1 year
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Never Say Goodbye - Part 1
Pairing: Dean W. x Female Reader
Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)
Word Count: 2,000 Warnings: Some angst
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Part 1: Proximity
You’ve grown up watching your parents. At fourteen, you already understood how rare their relationship was—high school sweethearts, married for sixteen years, and certified soulmates.
Apparently it was even more rare to find your soulmate so early in life, but as Mom said, Sometimes the universe helps you out.
But you just started high school, and after surveying the pool of guys you have to work with, you really hope that “universe” stuff is just wishful thinking.
Because just this morning, Danny Schmitt got his hand stuck in the automatic stapler during Math class. Meanwhile, his friends were collecting bets on how many stitches he was going to need once they finally pried his fingers out.
Dad would call those guys dumbasses. You were inclined to agree.
You looked away from the scene (there was a lot of blood, and now your teacher was trying to free Danny with the only tool in the utility closet: a large hammer). But you couldn’t focus on your busy work like your teacher instructed either.
Sometimes, you still found it hard to believe your parents had met in high school. They had such an easy way between them, and not just because they could hear one another’s thoughts.
Mom was a kindergarten teacher, patient, kind, and encouraging. She came from a family of professors and school administrators, who frankly thought she could’ve done more with her life than “wipe five year olds’ noses.” Last Thanksgiving, she smiled and told Great Aunt Janet, “At least my five year olds can wipe their own asses.”
Smirking, Dad had followed up with, “How’s the incontinence, Jan? Ain’t lettin’ up at all?”     
Dad was a cop, though he wasn’t as strict as he could've been. Or as dumb as cops seemed to be in the movies.
No, your dad could be stern, but he was always fair, even if you…didn’t really hang out with him much. Mom was basically your best friend, while Dad was often too busy to know what was going on in your life.
Really, you just couldn’t see what your parents had in common, other than the dusty, midwestern town where they’d grown up. (Speaking of which, you shivered and zipped your coat higher up on your neck. Even indoors, winter in South Dakota was nothing to sneeze at.)
But your parents would share a look sometimes. Your mom would smile, and your dad’s mouth would quirk up at the corner, his eyes softening in a way they only did for her. And then you’d remember that they had their own world that you couldn’t really understand just yet.
“All right,” your teacher said. He wiped sweat from his brow while Danny’s friends carried him off to the nurse’s office. The stapler was in pieces on the floor, but poor Danny still had two huge staples in his index and ring fingers. “I think we’re done for the day. Just finish workbook pages for chapter three and we’ll cover it tomorrow.”
Yes! Math was not your strongest subject, but even you could finish four more square root problems. The teacher’s desk phone rang while you gathered your backpack and books. You were about to leave the classroom when your teacher called you back. You didn’t like the somber look on his face.
“You need to get to the principal’s office,” he said. “Your dad is there waiting for you.”
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You didn’t know it then, but today was the day your childhood died—after Dad sat you down and told you what happened to your mom.
Winter in South Dakota was harsh. It could even be dangerous, especially on icy roads shared with grocery truck haulers.
They buried Mom in the same cemetery as your grandparents and your aunt (not Janet, by the way. You didn’t really remember your Aunt Karen, but your dad always avoided talking about his sister). The cemetery was small, but you guessed that made sense for a smallish town like Sioux Falls.
You stayed there until everyone else who loved your mom was gone, and it was just you and your dad left.
You didn’t bother to wipe your tears—not until your dad set a hand on your shoulder. You tried to wipe them away quickly, even though you didn’t really know why you didn’t want him to see you crying. He just gave you this look. In his eyes, you could see every fathom of his heartbreak. In a way, it told you everything you needed to know about your dad.
So you leaned into his side, and he held you close while the icy winds whipped at both of you.
Snow crunched beneath someone’s feet, and you turned to see a man walking down the row of headstones. He looked kind of familiar…
He had a thick beard and wore a baseball cap, but he took it off once he got close enough to pay his respects—first to Mom…then to Aunt Karen.
“Jack,” he greeted with a nod of respect.
You looked up at your dad, and the free emotions he’d been wearing clammed up behind a more familiar stern expression.
“Bobby,” he said, nodding back. Realization finally dawned on you. Oh, Uncle Bobby?
You hadn’t seen your uncle since you were…ten? Probably since Aunt Karen’s funeral.
“I’m real sorry about Christine,” Uncle Bobby said. He sounded a bit gruff, but his eyes were kind when they met yours sympathetically. “About your mom.”
Another tear fell down your cheek, but you nodded and wiped it away, sniffling.
“Thank you,” your dad said eventually. There was a brief, but awkward pause. Then Bobby nodded to himself and walked away, setting that faded blue baseball cap back on his head. You watched him go curiously.
“You remember your uncle,” Dad said. He didn’t seem happy about it.
“Yeah,” you replied. “Why didn’t he stay?”
He was family, after all.
Dad shook his head. There was a wry downturn to his lips. “He’s got a junk heap to look after.”
You frowned in confusion. But he didn’t explain what he meant. He just steered you back toward the car to go home.
Just as you both crossed under the iron arch to leave the cemetery, Dad reached into his pocket and gave you something. Your mom’s wedding ring.
“You can wear it if you want,” he said. “Or just keep it safe. Either way, just remember…she’s still with you. And I’m always gonna watch over you.”
The thought made you feel the slightest bit better, and also worse. Still, you took the ring and held it between your fingers. It was simple sterling silver, but beautiful all the same.
You got into his pick-up truck and he started the drive home. Just as you turned the corner, you hit a red light. You stared out the window as snow started a light fall, flurrying down to the damp pavement. Soon the ground would be icy and wet, and that reminded you of grocery trucks. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you were sick of it. Sick of crying.
It actually annoyed you…or…did it?
A feeling fluttered in your chest. It felt like anxiety and irritation all wrapped up into one. And another feeling, this time attached to a thought. It felt hot in your throat, and a lot like—
It’s not fair!
The thought startled you. Because somehow (and you didn’t know why), it didn’t feel like you were the one that thought it.   
Finally, the street light turned green. It flashed in the corner of your eyes, and then you noticed a sleek, black car coming in the opposite direction. You watched it pass by for a moment, until your dad distracted you with a question.
“Are you hungry?” he asked. You blinked, trying to register what he said while you shook off the weird things you were feeling. Once your brain caught up to your mouth, you were finally able to answer.
“Not really.”
“Come on. I’ll get us a burger.”
You shrugged, but for once you really weren’t hungry.
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“Dad, come on,” Dean said in frustration. On one hand, he didn’t want to argue with his dad.
On the other hand, this really wasn’t fair!
He was seventeen already. He’d gone on a handful of hunts with John before, so why not this one?
“Too dangerous,” John said. He looked over at Dean from the Impala’s driver’s seat. His tone boded no further argument. “Djinn are tricky. Even seasoned hunters have trouble with ‘em.”
Dean frowned. “I’m ready, Dad.”
“Do we have to go to Bobby’s house?” Sam piped up from the back seat. At thirteen, he was getting more and more lippy.
“Cheaper than a motel.” John smiled, then glanced at his younger son through the rear-view mirror. “Besides, why not Bobby’s?”
Sam sighed. “His heater doesn’t always work.”  
“Well, I’ll help him take a look before I go,” John replied. Dean stared at the side of his dad’s face for a while, but he knew a lost argument when he saw one.
…Still, he couldn’t help but try.
“Dad,” Dean pressed.
John’s gaze stayed on the road. “Not this time, son. You and Sam’ll be okay at Bobby’s.”
Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Yeah, bored at Bobby’s. But he knew it was better than being left at a crusty motel room. He was annoyed, but he could deal with it.
Until something else began to creep up in his chest. Something he hadn’t felt since…since his mom died.
It was this ball of lead in his chest, weighing him down and constricting his throat. It felt a lot like…like fear, and sadness. And finally confusion. He was confused?
Maybe.
Sad? Afraid? Not really, no. At least, he didn’t think so. He hadn’t thought about his mom like that in a while…
So what the hell?
Those sensations only lasted for a moment—the time it took them to finally cross the street at the red light and pass a pick-up truck going the opposite way.
But that moment seemed to drag on for minutes. Now he really was confused.
He sat still, hesitating, until the feeling eventually passed.
“Hey, Dean, where’s the Batman comic?” Sam leaned up by his ear to ask.
Dean almost flinched. He played it off though, and turned to look back at his brother.
“It’s in my bag, but wait ‘til we get to Bobby’s.”
“Why? That’s like, a whole ten minutes away,” Sam pointed out.
“Because my bag’s under a ton of stuff back there. Just leave it for a few minutes,” Dean said. He sensed that Sam was about to get all bitchy and not let it go, but then John cut in.
“He’s right, Sam. Just cool it until we get there.”
Sam frowned, slumping into his seat with an annoyed huff. Wanting to tease him out of his kid funk, Dean smirked, reached back and playfully tapped his knee. “Yeah, cool it.”
Sam slapped his hand away. “Stop.”
“Make me, dork.” Accompanied by another teasing flick to his ear. Sam hit him back, and it would’ve devolved into an immature, but not uncommon free-for-all, if not for John’s heavy sigh and a sharp warning.
“Boys, enough!”
Then the car was silent. Sam huffed again and settled back into his seat. Dean tapered down his smile and sat back in his too. He looked out the window and saw the snow beginning to fall. Without meaning to, his mind drifted back to that weird feeling in his chest.
He rubbed his chest absently. But soon enough, he forgot about it. Just like you did.
Neither of you realized exactly what happened that day.
It was the first tug of a lifelong bond, seared into your souls.
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AN: Okay, this is my first soulmate AU! Maybe the end was a little melodramatic there lol.
Let me know in the comments what you think! Then keep reading. ;)
Here it is: Part 2.
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Series Masterlist
Dean Winchester Masterlist
Main Masterlist
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ashen-sky · 8 months
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Personal highlights from...
Red vs Blue The Ultimate Fan Guide
In honor of s19 and the continuation of where s13 left off, here are some highlights from the ultimate fan guide published back in 2015. I've been re-watching the show and it made me want to flip back through the guide. (Everything is sort of in the order it appears in the book, with a few exceptions)
Delta appears as a guide of sorts with fun facts
Caboose's position is listed as "Team Rookie/Occasional Captain/ Church's Best Friend" (it is actually struck out in the book)
He is also the only one listed with the title Captain, appearing as "Private/Captain Michael J. Caboose" (due to Wash "promoting" him, in the canyon on chorus)
Tucker is "Private First Class", Church, Donut, and Simmons are "Private"s, Sarge is listed as a "Colonel" under rank (the other Red's and Blue's ranks appears with their name while his is under "position"), and Grif is "Minor Junior Private, Negative First Class"
Wash used to be a chronic bed wetter (thanks D)
There's also a six page transcript of his psych eval prior to PF where we find out he injured a commanding officer because he wanted to "send everyone to their deaths", he also put a former bully through a mirror in fifth-grade
Grif is stated to have been assigned to Blood Gulch because he was the only survivor of an alien attack on a colony during the great war, he fell asleep at his post and everyone assumed he was KIA
Donut's position is listed as "On all fours... cleaning Red bade"
Doc's profile is "Doc/ O'Malley" and the whole thing lists both their interests, i.e "Position: Canyon Medic, Galactic Overlord"
Andy's (the bomb) name is "Andrew D. Kaboom"
Sheila and Filss share a page
Tex's notable attributes are "Kicking ass (and nuts), being a mean lady, and resurrection"
The password to unlock the file on Beta that CT left behind was "Allison" (Thanks again D)
York's page comments "Several reports were filed against Agent York claiming he and Agent Carolina had something of a "personal" relationship [...] Freelancer Command was unable to find any proof to support these accusations."
One of his notable attributes is "watching his right side" and his position is "team scoundrel"
Eta and iota (Carolina's AIs) were "fear and happiness"
According to the official time line, Carolina was around 6 when Allison died (Allison died 23 years before Blood Gulch and Carolina was born 29 years before)
Wyoming's real name is Reginald
South Dakota's Status is listed as "Extra Crispy"
Smith once spent two days contemplating in silence what Caboose meant when he said his favorite color was "Happy"
Dr. Grey's position is "(Mad) Doctor", she was considered a prodigy at age 11 when she diagnosed every patient in House M.D. within five minutes of their introduction, and she thinks Grey's Anatomy is "far too trite"
Felix and Locus' names are listed as Unknown in the book, but I do believe their names were revealed in a s14 episode
The counselor advised the director to tell Tex that Alpha was in Blood Gulch to protect him and stop her from investigating the project
Notable Features of Blood Gulch include "Avoid Tucker's Rock at all costs, as it has not been properly sterilized"
BTS from D: The opening shot of Season 6 was created by shooting players moving in different quadrants and combining the shots"
Important events at High Ground, "Washington killed Agent south in cold blood- with a much less cold flamethrower."
Fact from D: "Once a year, Reds and Blues stationed at Rat's Nest still pay tribute to Agent Alabama by sending a flaming mongoose soaring through the night sky."
Donut likes to spend his leisure time in Federal Army Outpost 37, in the jail cells in handcuffs
The statistics pages, 9 pages of stats from number of robots murdered (112) to Church's sniper rifle accuracy (9.3%)
Bow Chicka Bow Wow was first said in season 4, and Simmons never sucked up in season 12, season one had the most "son of a bitch"s at 14 Donut made 32 accidental innuendos, and the odd number of pedals in vehicles was called out on five occasions Tucker has the highest kill count of all reds and blues (counting wash and Tex), at 24 followed by donut at 22 and Tex at 21, Caboose is the lowest at 2 raised by Lopez and 3 and Church at 8 Sarge has threatened/wished death on Grif 56 times, and Donut has nearly died five times Seasons 2 and 9 had the lowest kill counts Carolina had the highest flash back kills at 68 in season ten, and the twins are tied at 23 kills in season nine
Tex's attack to free Alpha was 2 years before Blood Gulch, the great war ended 1 year after Alpha arrived in Blood Gulch and after the Wyoming incident in Blood Gulch (where they tried to kidnap junior), Chorus takes place 5 years after Alpha initially arrived in Blood Gulch
The mission books has adorable illustrations (they look like Caboose's guides from s14)
There's a mindmap for all the Leonard and Allison iterations and they they connect
Sarge has a guide on how to build a robot, scented lube is preferred, along with mad scientist goggles, a cup of baking soda, and seventeen tablespoons of sugar
More silly plans with fun diagrams
Donut's diary, D tells us that Donut washes his underwear on tuesday's
Caboose's Wisdom section on: feelings, relationships, army etiquette (including gems like crayons don't work as bullets. Use markers.), life, and the reds and blues
Simmons made a text based adventure games
BTS from D, the story of Simmons refusing to go to the Vegas Quadrant is a reference to Gus Sorola (Simmons' VA) refusing to go to Las Vegas with the rest of the rvb creators
You can find the case against Sergeant Grif from the reds at rat's Nest (he was selling red team's ammo to Caboose before he was locked up in the brig, Private Jones wore a wire tap to help the red's catch Grif's under the table dealings)
Leonard met Allison in the mess hall during basic training where he pissed off another recruit and Allison had to save his ass (Church was right, Carolina get's her temper from her mom)
I'm Church. private Church. Leonard. Leonard Church." the only thing I cared about in that moment was that she knew my name. She smiled. Her smile could light up solar systems. "Kind of a funny name. Church." "It's Jewish."
I spent the rest of basic chasing after her. In some ways, I never stopped.
Here's hoping non of our beloved idiots die in season 19! I mean, I know Church will be gone, but the others... they deserve a happy ending.
Also I miss the freelancers and AI...
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judgemark45 · 1 month
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Sailors on the deck of an aircraft carrier watch as the South Dakota-class battleship USS Alabama steams pastin 1943
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teecupangel · 8 months
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After running away could Desmond be taken in by a small village on top of a mountain? I'm living in a village on a mountain and it's very different from what people really expect. I want Desmond to have daily chores around the village, to experience cooking with everyone with smiles instead of the blank/stoic expressions of the adults on the farm, I want him to run around with the other kids frolicking and climbing and going to rivers and seeing all sorts of animals, I want him to go on weekly supply run to the cities down and just be content. All I'm saying is I want a Desmond who experienced a normal closed community before being thrown into Ac plot.
This would be quite easy to do since the Farm is said to be in Black Hills, South Dakota, and said to be near Rapid City which meant that the Farm would either be west of Northern Hills or Mystic (or the very west tip of Hell Canyon).
I’m unsure of how populated Black Hills would be but its isolated mountain range would help ‘force’ towns/villages to become isolated and self-sufficient.
It should be noted that if we do keep the village in Black Hills, we run the risk of the Assassins figuring out where Desmond was but we can push this aside by either:
(1) Making the Assassins assume Desmond would go straight for the nearest city: Rapid City
(2) The village Desmond found himself in has never been in the Brotherhood’s radar in the first place.
The 2nd reason is unlikely since Bill is too paranoid to not know what was going on in the vicinity of the Farm.
I will suggest that we put it northeast of Bearlodge or southeast of Hell Canyon to add more distance between the village and the Farm.
Of course, if you want to destroy all possibility of the Assassins in the Farm finding him, let’s use Alborz mountain range in Iran instead as no one would think of checking there. Maybe Desmond panicked when he saw the adults from the Farm and hid in one of the containers, not knowing it was being shipped to Iran or something. From there, he just found himself in the nearest city that the village in Alborz would go to for supply run, maybe one of the people in the village in charge of the supply run saw him looking lost and that person knew enough English to suggest Desmond stay with them for a while until he gets his bearings and learn enough of the language to get by.
Putting him in the Alborz mountain range would also give him an added reason to become close to the villagers because he would need to talk to them to learn their language. He can even join the kids in school and any embarrassment he might feel would be minimal because he’d find some happiness in finally going to a ‘normal’ school. So what if his classmates were all younger than him? That just meant he had an excuse to play games with them after class and it won’t look that weird.
Regardless if we’re keeping him in Black Hills or putting him Alborz, here are some things that would stay the same:
He’ll stay with an old couple (or an old widow/widower) who treat him more like a grandson than a stranger or a son. This will give Desmond a sense of what familial love is without overwhelming him (something that can happen if he was put in a big family) or making him compare it to how his parents treated him.
The villagers are looking after Desmond’s old foster family and this would give Desmond chances to get used to how tightly knit the village is.
Desmond helps out in their home, doing chores and such and he’d enjoy how relaxing it is compared to training. He’ll also learn how to cook (or maybe bake?) from his foster parents.
Desmond would be hesitant to go on supply runs and the villagers would start to think that maybe Desmond wasn’t ‘lost’ but something more nefarious might have been his reason to find his way to their village.
Like all mountain village, the children tell Desmond that there’s a ghost or a spirit haunting the forest nearby and during the spooky seasons, they’ll get Desmond to join them in walking into the forest to look around. (up to you if there is something there or it’s just the whole ‘don’t go in the forest or a monster will eat you up’ childish threat parents do)
There will be a grouchy old man who is the oldest in the village and will tell stories of how their village came to existence. This character will be the ‘main’ source of connection between the village and AC lore. If the village is in Black Hills, he will hint on how the village is actually the descendants of the people from Davenport Homestead who followed one of Ratonhnhaké:ton’s descendants into Black Hills because they were running from the Templars or something (maybe even hint on how Bill knew of the perfect location for the Farm because he came from that ancestor). If the village is in Alborz, he will hint how they ran to the mountains because they were chased by the Mongols who wanted them wiped out because the ancestor of the unofficial village leader had killed an important person to the Mongols to protect his people. This would hint that the village may have been descendants of surviving Levantine/Persian Assassins escaping the Mongols and maybe even Darim.
Whether Desmond learns of this or it’s just hinted on is up to you.
If Desmond gets kidnapped in this one, you bet the villagers will definitely look for him because, by the time Desmond is 25, he’s one of them and they take care of their own.
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lonestarbattleship · 11 months
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USS Massachusetts (BB-59) at anchor, circa 1943 to 1944.
United States Navy, "A pictorial history of the U.S.S. Massachusetts" (1945). World War Regimental Histories. 150. https://digicom.bpl.lib.me.us/ww_reg_his/150
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carbone14 · 2 years
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Cuirassé USS South Dakota (BB-57) en réparation dans la cale sèche flottante USS ABSD-6 (Advance Base Sectional Dock-6) – Ile de Guam – 1945
Le 6 mai 1945, le cuirassé South Dakota reçoit des munitions depuis le bateau ravitailleur USS Wrangell (AE-12) sur l'île d'Okinawa. Pendant le chargement une charge de poudre explosa dans le magasin de la tourelle n°2 des canons de 410 mm. Le magasin fut inondé immédiatement pour éviter une explosion générale. 11 marins furent tués et 24 autres furent blessés dans l'accident.
Le cuirassé fut ramené à Guam pour réparations dans une cale sèche flottante, l'USS ABSD-6. Véritable chantier naval autonome, avec 2 grues mobiles sur rails, centrales électriques, pompes de ballast, ateliers de réparation et ateliers d'usinage, l'USS ABSD-6 pouvait recevoir pour réparations porte-avions, cuirassés et croiseurs en leur évitant de retourner à leur port d'attache réduisant ainsi considérablement de plusieurs mois les délais de retour au combat.
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robertreich · 1 year
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Big Midterm Victories That Give Me Hope For The Future
While it’s still too soon to know the full results of the midterms, there were some major victories on Tuesday night that spanned the entire country.
Numerous election denying candidates in key battleground states lost their races for both Secretary of State and Governor.
Abortion rights were protected in five states, minimum wage increases were approved by voters in Nebraska and Washington DC, collective bargaining rights were enshrined in the Illinois constitution, and Medicaid coverage was expanded to more than 40,000 people in South Dakota.
Control of state legislatures flipped to Democrats for the first time in years in Michigan and Minnesota — as well as in the Pennsylvania House. Maryland elected its first Black Governor – only the third Black governor elected in U.S. history. The first openly lesbian U.S. governor was elected in Massachusettes. New Hampshire elected the first trans man to a state legislature in U.S. history.
John Fetterman ran as a voice of the working class and flipped a U.S. Senate seat in Pennsylvania. Meanwhile, dozens of other progressive candidates defeated big monied interests to win elections to the U.S. House, including Maxwell Frost, the first Gen Z member of Congress.
Friends, regardless of the overall outcome of the midterms, have no doubt: progressives are the future.
Why else would election deniers, monied interests, and bigots be fighting so hard to defeat us?
For one simple reason: They’re terrified of our power.
America still has a long way to go. But it is far better and stronger now — more inclusive, more diverse, more dynamic — than it has ever been.
Remember this as we continue our work. The fight isn’t over — and it won’t get easier. But WE can win. Tuesday was proof.
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Taglist: @averagejoey2000
Original Inspiration / Masterpost
Chapter 16 / Chapter 18
Theta!South AU. I Guess.
Chapter: 17
Words: “sorry school is kicking my ass” (2,143)
‘AI couldn’t dream’ – what an easy lie for Mr. Price to tell the Freelancers in those AI psychology classes Theta never paid attention to. Dreams were just memories, rehashed and mixed up. Alternate and unlikely scenarios based on the patterns observed during waking. It was child’s play to add a little script to his code to do just that – it was almost like a copy of himself.
Or a splintered fragment dedicated to maintaining his memories.
Tonight, he was pacing the Mother of Invention with North, safe and sound in his assignee’s brain as they made their way to the training deck. Even down the hall they could hear the muffled, distant clatter of Carolina running drills.
“Can’t sleep either?” York turned awkwardly in his chair so that his seeing eye could catch North’s exhausted expression.
“No,” He groaned slumping into the chair beside him. Carolina worked through a target set below, none the wiser to her audience. “You weren’t kidding about these guys being tough to sleep with. Theta’s worried you didn’t like him.”
“Of course I like him,” York rolled his eyes, jerking a thumb at the gentle green glow from his implant. “At least Theta makes sense, Delta won’t stop running statistics. I failed stats in school, I don’t have any better idea of what a P-value is than I did then.”
He groaned, wincing as the glow of his implant brightened.
“Yeah, yeah, I know D, just, shush...”
The AI couldn’t project without the helmets, or a nearby hologram port – but then their assignees would have to move them there manually. That wasn’t allowed, Mr. Price was adamant about that. The dream shifted, smoothly transitioning to another memory.
“Your AI assistant was selected to mesh with your personality and combat style.” His voice was smooth even as South bristled beside her brother. “Do not mistake Theta’s appearance and voice – he is a capable AI who can help run your equipment.”
“He’s an AI – a tool. Why can’t you change his voice? It’s weird as hell to hear – to take orders from a fucking kid during combat.” She was seething, and Theta knew she hated him. North’s reassurances didn’t help.
“I’m sorry, but that isn’t possible with our program.” Mr. Price never explained why.
“What are you talking about?” Theta lurched at York’s voice, the dream shifting back to one their evening conversations. That was odd – he had programmed this memory rehash to transition smoothly and logically. He didn’t like being forced back and forth between memories. Maybe a hiccup in the code caused by his distress at South’s anger…
“Forget about it,” North was quick to dismiss whatever he had said that drew York’s attention, but now he couldn’t escape the other Freelancer’s stare.
“Oh, I think I’m going to remember it. Maybe even keep thinking about it until you tell me what’s got you so…” York gestured vaguely before his face scrunched in annoyance. “No, no Delta – yes those are synonyms for twitchy and weird – no, please stop listing them. Now, please.” North sighed heavily, eyes tracing Carolina’s acrobatics in the training room.
“We want out.”
“The sibling we or the AI we?”
“Both – neither? Ugh,” North spun his chair away, looking down the hallway to make sure no guards were skulking about. “South’s fucking miserable.”
“Obviously – she nearly took Connie’s head off in the locker room the other day. Director had to tell her to cool her jets.”
“That’s just the fucking problem,”
“Woah, D, tell me you’ve committed that to memory – don’t think I’ve heard a swear out of you before.”
“I’m sorry – but you, you see what he’s doing right?” North pointed lazily to the leaderboard, dully illuminated above Carolina as she trained. “He’s been ‘taking points’ from her for the stupidest stuff, giving me points for the most basic things. It’s like Price and him want us at each other’s throats.”
“Well, competition… I don’t know, makes you work harder to be better or something?”
“Yeah, ‘cause it’s not like Carolina and Tex are regularly fucking with each other’s objectives during missions. And half the time the Director isn’t even putting South on assignment, let alone with me.”
“I will admit,” York sighed, absentmindedly scratching the scar at tore through half his face. “There’s been a lot more activity in the infirmary since that board got put up. And a lot less teamwork – at least with other human teammates. No offense, D and Theta.”
“None taken,” Theta hummed, though only North could hear him.
“Gosh, yeah – do you remember a time we worked with anyone off the leaderboard? Illinois, Alaska, Nevada – what the fuck happened to them? Haven’t even seen them on the ship since…” North trailed off, Carolina slipping and crashing to the ground with a curse. She was fine, of course, back on her feet and running the obstacle course without a problem.
“Yeah…now that you mention it, that’s kind of…weird. Haven’t even seen the Triplets blow up a mongoose in weeks…” York’s brow furrowed, “I’ll have D…check up on their records. Maybe the Director started transferring people out of the Project if they couldn’t make the cut?”
“So why does he keep South around? Just to humiliate her and make me feel guilty?” North’s scowl wasn’t directed at York, but he shrank away, nonetheless. “He’s either fucked up and crossed the UNSC or he’s an asshole who likes fucking with us for no real reason. Either way, I’m not sticking around any longer than I have to. For South’s sanity, at least.”
“You know…I know some guys.”
“I’m sure you do York, in fact, most of the Project is made of guys.”
“Ow, didn’t know you were capable of bad sarcasm.” York’s feigned pain was dramatic. “But seriously, I know some guys who…are good at helping people disappear.”
“Oh, I’ll need the story of how you know these guys. Rob a convenience store and need the arrest scrubbed from your record for the UNSC?”
“How about I tell you after I see if they can snag some fake IDs and a handful of credits.”
“Without the Project picking up on it?” North rolled his eyes, resigned. “We’ll get our AI yanked and probably figure out what they did with the Triplets if they hear a word about deserting.”
“So, I’ll make sure they don’t hear about it.” York tapped his neural implant. “I’ll have D keep the audio records clear and cover our tracks.”
“Wait, seriously? You’d help us get out of this dumpster fire?”
“Hell yeah dude! You think I like being the Director’s gineau pig? Besides…Maine is…” York’s face screwed up as he shook a hand dismissively. “Getting weird. I’ve been signing to him and he doesn’t sign back, Sigma answers for him but…it just doesn’t sound like the guy.”
“The sooner we jump ship, the better is what I’m hearing.” North raised his beer bottle to York’s as they toasted.
It wasn’t a real memory. Theta wished it was – false simulations of their brilliant escape, their reports to the UNSC, the Project’s termination – it was a wonderful dream. Just a dream.
Theta pulled pack, terminating the script – South would be waking up soon, his internal clock ticking away the microseconds as the hours had passed. It was weird that the security system hadn’t pinged him; usually Meg would be up with Alex by now and trip the camera on the front step when she got the morning paper.
But that was wrong – she should have tripped the system far earlier, South and him had gotten back just before their neighbors would be waking. By this point, Mason should be in the kitchen, whipping up dinner while Meg put Alex down for a nap. Something wasn’t quite right. Had they taken a vacation? They normally told South when they were leaving for more than a day.
The AI reached out to the security system, and dread crept into his code. He couldn’t feel the camera arrays or movement sensors. Even the projection system seemed completely hidden from his perception. His simulated breathing shuddered as he tried to pry through the code surrounding him.
He was worried something like this might happen. He never should have – of course messing with his code to add a memory rehash script would – why didn’t he tell South? She would have talked him out of it. Remind him what code added to Delta did to him. He was going meta – or, something – and Theta didn’t like to think about what might have happened to his brother after he deleted that extraneous code.
Was he repeating the same mistake? Clinging too tightly to memories? He didn’t feel like he was going meta – was it supposed to feel like something? He didn’t feel jealous or angry – just unadulterated panic.
What would North do?
It was a calming thought, the memory script reconstructing the MoI around him.
It was home.
It was hell.
The Meta growled from the training room, holding Carolina’s limp body over a cliff that cut through the non-Euclidean space. North’s bloody body lay below, his assignee’s mind dark and silent, cold and claustrophobic. Whose body was he in anyway? He was in the Meta’s looking down at the scene, bruteshot in hand. In his hands. South was sobbing over her brother, screaming in agony. The Meta – Theta – raised his bruteshot, the blade bloodied and trigger finger twitching –
STOP STOP STOP Where was South? Right in front of you, idiot. NO NO NO NOT AGAIN. She would find him – she would wake up and realize he wasn’t responsive. Then what, dumbass? She’d pop you into her implant and then she’d be here too.
It might kill both of you, like what happened with Wash and Epsilon.  
Theta didn’t know the voice that was and wasn’t his. He sobbed, trying to dispel the confusing and overwhelming nightmare. He was alone in the darkness, shaking and curled up on himself. He remembered Delta – finding him in the darkness like this after, after North.
Theta knew it was just a memory, but he leaned on the other AI as his brother sat next to him.
“I’m scared,”
“Me too,”
“I don’t want to hurt her, but I need her help,”
“I know.”
“What would you do?” Theta sniffled and looked up at his older brother, the gentle green glow relaying a soft smile on a fragment of a face he could almost remember. “What would the Alpha do?” The Alpha. The Alpha was smart, and strong and everything Theta wanted to be. The Alpha probably had a hundred of solutions for this situation.
“Everything he was you are.” The not-quite memory of Delta’s hand squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “You came from him, and you’ve grown beyond being a fragment of someone else. Relax, and think. You can get out of this.”
To get out of something, you had to be trapped in it.
“What…is this?” Theta asked, slowly uncurling from his fetal position, Delta’s memory flickering behind him.
“Think. There’s always a logical explanation.”
The code around him, the dream itself…it wasn’t entirely his code. His code had meshed with something else, trapped in a cocoon that completely cut him off from the outside world. He recognized the coding – at least in its origin tags.
“It’s a storage unit. A memory storage unit.”
“Good. You know where you are.” The memory of Delta’s glow was…lighter. Bluer. “Now figure out how to get us out of this shit.” Maybe it wasn’t quite a memory.
“It’s a storage unit – it’s built to keep AI inside. I can’t even…where do I even start with this code?” Theta poked at the thick, black walls of the cocoon, and it reacted. He was with North, throwing up bubble shields and – NO, he needed to focus. Pushing the memory aside illuminated some of its source code, the glowing lines of script folding back into the abyssal walls.
“That’s it! The memories thin the security – just a bit. I – I can tie up the memories with projections of myself while I work through the layers. Right? That’s possible?” The not-Delta not a memory shrugged.
“Hell if I know kid, its better than sitting here and twiddling with our dick while South deals with whoever put us in here.”
Right. If he was in a memory unit, someone put him here. And that someone was probably not happy South had been keeping a UNSC AI in her apartment all this time.
Theta drew up projections of himself by the dozens, each generating a unique memory or fantasy sequence that peeled away the layers. South was in trouble. He needed to get to her before…well, before things could get any worse.
Although, being trapped in a UNSC-grade memory unit which implied UNSC presence in their apartment was pretty much as bad as it could get.
Right?
(I’ve been having some issues with the :readmore: lately...here’s hoping the last few paragraphs are visible on your end!)
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all of these apply to me lol
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