#spartan executive

[emeraldexplorer2]

Spartan Executive the Lear Jet of the 30's faster than airliners of the day 200 mph cruise 1000 mile range 5 pax, a personal favorite. Only 40 examples made.

#vintage #aircraft #airplanes #vintage airplanes #spartan executive #1930's

[theamandacollection67]

December 3, 1934

On the back it has the name Laura Ingalls (2nd from the left) who was a pilot and earned her a Harmon Trophy. She flew from Mexico to Chile, over the Andes mountains to Rio de Janeiro to Cuba and then to Floyd Bennett Field in New York, marking the first flight over the Andy’s by an American woman, the first solo flight around South America in a land plane, the first flight by a woman from North America to South America, and setting a woman’s distance record of 17,000 miles. Aircraft model Spartan Executive

#1934 #year: 1934 #decade: 1930s #1930s photography #1930s #1930s vintage #laura ingalls #spartan executive #yesterdays #found photo #vintage photo #old photo #as they were #vintage snapshot #the past #on this date #otd #yesteryear #history #vintage planes

[welcometogrouchland]

[ID: an 11 panel comic featuring characters from the owl house. Panel 1- a cloaked Darius sneaking around a wall. panel 2 he peaks around the corner, saying "well? Did you retrieve...the package?". Panel 3 Hettie Cutburn (who has old Hollywood style text announcing "surprise Hettie Cutburn!" next to her) says "Darius! Of course! Took some digging but I found them eventually. Tell the boy I say 'hi!'". Panel four- she hands documents labeled "classified" to Darius. Later, Hunter (post timeskip) walks through a door in Darius' home, saying "hey Darius, hey Eber, I'm ba-". Next panel- Darius, Willow, and Eberwolf on the couch. Hunter says "...willow?", She replies "hey hunter!", he asks "what are you guys doing?

Darius says "oh nothing...except looking at pictures of you as a baby!" Holding up the documents from earlier. We see two pictures of a younger hunter framed like panels- the first is of hunter as a baby/toddler aged hunter freshly sprouted out of the ground with a blanket around him, covered in dirt, while the second one shows a young scout Hunter covered in bandages receiving his sprig plushie. Darius' narration reads "courtesy of Hettie Cutburn- she found the only surviving copy of your early life medical records and gave them to me". Willow says "aww, you were so cute!". The final panel shows Hunter looking embarrassed/stunned as Willow takes a photo of the documents, and Darius says "I'm considering it an early father's day present- so, thank you, Hunter". End ID]

MERRY DADRIUS WEEK!!! Thank you to @sergeantsporks for hosting! There's other prompts I wanna do but they'll probably be late (maybe I'll do them in bulk and upload them on the final day). Til then here's a silly comic!

#the owl house #toh #dadrius week #hunter toh #hunter deamonne #darius deamonne #won't tag eber and willow cause they're barely there #also i realize that op isn't really a fan of hubtlow i. literally forgot while making this the brainrot was so strong #it's not explicitly romantic though so hopefully it's not obtrusive. i know ships are allowed but i don't wanna annoy anyone yknow? #anyway this was 90% an excuse to draw baby hunter even though it was 90% me practicing drawing Darius #he's fun to draw! i just struggle w drawing him consistently but like. i do that w/ most characters from illustration to illustration #i finished this right under the wire. executive dysfunction and exams really got my ass #but it's finished now! not perfect but i haven't really made a proper comic since my final piece this year #on account of that one took me like 6 months #i needed comic recovery time 😭 #also hope the ID isn't an issue for anyone since it's a bit spartan. i was trying to trim down it's length since a) it's long as fuck #and b) this fandom is- respectfully- whimpy as hell abt image IDs #but anyway yeah! happy dadrius week #and also happy fathers day if you celebrate! #i got my dad 'do androids dream of electric sheep' and he was really happy w/ that :]

[bigglesworld]

Spartan 12W Executive. Personal luxury transport. First flew in 1945. Only one example was built.

#Spartan #Executive #light aircraft #general aviation

[the-man-in-the-wind]

Spartan 7W Executive

At Shuttleworth Race Day 2023

Taken by @the-man-in-the-wind

#my photography #Spartan 7W Executive #spartan #executive #aircraft #Shuttleworth #pinned post

[airmanisr]

Spartan 7W Executive ‘NC17615’ by Alan Wilson Via Flickr: c/n 7W-14 Built 1938 The Spartan Executive has been described as the most sought after of antique aeroplanes. Only 34 were built, between 1936 and 1940, and remarkably 21 still survive. Owners of the type included Howard Hughes and King Ghazi of Iraq. This example was built in 1938 as NC17615. In September that year she was reregistered as NX17615 and flown in that year’s Bendix Trophy Air Race by John Hinchley and Charles Lajotte. Wearing the race number 72, she achieved 177.449mph before returning to the Spartan Aircraft Company that November as NC17615. In February 1942 she was impressed into military service as a UC-71 with the serial 42-38368. In October 1944 she became NC49075 with the Airpath Instrument Company. In March 1970 she became N111PB and then briefly returned to her original N17615 in July 1973 before being registered as N22JP in March 1974 and then finally back to N17615 again in January 1975. Now UK based, she is seen landing after displaying at the Shuttleworth Collection’s 2022 Season Premiere Air Show. Old Warden, Bedfordshire, UK. 1st May 2022

#Spartan 7W Executive #aircraft #UC-71

[darksekiryuuteiz]

I have to share this thought or imma gonna explode, English isn't my first language so bear with me

So...

Genshin Sagau right?

Imposter Au right?

But what if, just hear me out, WHAT IF

The reader, the creator, was from another universe/game.

Let me explain.

(From halo) Spartan!reader fall in Genshin with their armor and all.

They're alone and all that, so they start searching around and while walking in the shadows they see from a distance someone with their own face being worshiped like a god by all the characters.

So they step up to see to discover why the fuck this person is being worshiped and has their face.

Everyone is shocked upon seeing this person, that freaking tall and has an armor no one has ever seen and why do they feel both drawn to them by their aura but at the same time intimidated?

The imposter (the real one) notices this and orders, out of fear, for someone to attack them.

So the acolytes do just that...

The problem?

Reader is absolutely fast, they just see a blur everytime they move, and when someone manages to attack them, let's say, with a hydro attack...

Their power shield fucking protects them from the attack, redirecting it and they didn't even flinch or move a single step so everyone is, yet again, shocked.

The reader, tired of the imposter bullshit moves even faster until they are Infront of the imposter, who cowers in fear, they pick them up and pull out their magnum and they shot the imposter right in the head, killing them in a flash and revealing they weren't the creator.

Everyone stands there shocked and horrified until they connect the dots and...

This person with this armor MUST be their creator, their aura and moves and everything just reveals it.

So now you have a confused Spartan!reader being worshiped and being prayed on and receiving apologies and stuff from the acolytes.

Ooooor on the other hand...

(from Warframe) Tenno!reader who somehow ended up here in teyvat, in their drifter or operator form and they're exploring around teyvat and all that stuff. Maybe they even befriend the Traveler (for this imma gonna use Lumine cause I love her)

Then

They get captured and jugged at Fontaine, their sentence being death, obviously because HoW dArE ThEy To StOlE tHe CrEaToRs FaCe?

So they get executed by a sword on the chest. Lumine being second judged for protecting the imposter and everyone is looking dissatisfied and disappointed at her while she and paimon are trying to explain that they're the real creator but no one listens

So everyone at first cheers on until they see the gold blood start to fall to the floor, then all the characters are like What have we done?! And stuff.

The imposter is laughing like crazy because they won! Yay!

BUT THEN...

Tenno!reader wakes up and pulls the swords out of their chest and throws it away.

Everyone is like, shocked and even more when they see their wound heal.

Reader is absolutely pissed at the imposter because HOW DARE THEY TO TRY AND KILL THEM AND THEY TRY TO KILL THE ONLY PERSON WHO DIDN'T TRY TO KILL THEM BECAUSE OF THEIR FACE?!

So they transform into their Warframe, let's say... Excalibur umbra.

They unsheathe their sword and activate the Exalted blade, surprising everyone by their power, before they move as fast as the wind towards the guards around them (none being any character) using Slash dash and stuff showing their power.

Finally, they are covered in blood and get to the imposter, who tries to fight them but nothing comes out of it because with a quick movement they decapitated them, showing their red blood and proving even further they're the true creator (thing they don't know they are)

Finally, they clean all the blood that feel upon themselves and walk towards Lumine and paimon, helping them to get on their feet, before the reader picks up Lumine I'm their arms and starts to walk away, ignoring all the characters who try to plead for forgiveness

The just start to sprint away with the traveler in their arms, paimon following them.

The characters (specially the archons) search for them for a few days until they find a place with the creators aura all over, so they enter and see Tenno!reader is sleeping in that weird the tenno sleep, alongside si Lumine who's sleeping peacefully.

When they approach reader is quick to shoot their head up and stand up, placing their hand on their swords should any of them try something.

But they don't, hurt because the creator saw them as a threat, they all kneel down and beg for forgiveness once again.

Tenno reader does not say anything but let's them be, as long as they don't cause them trouble they're free to do whatever they want.

So now you have all the acolytes being jealous of Lumine who's treated by the creator as she was a dear friend, them helping her search for clues to find Aether.

Also I can imagine the archons following the trio (reader, Lumine and paimon) around, looking to win the creator's favor.

Tenno!reader wouldn't engage in conversation, only nodding, shaking or shrugging as a response to questions, until one day, when Lumine was feeling down upon not finding her brother, creator readers kneels down besides her and offering a reassuring hand they speak.

And everyone hears their voice and in a instant they are (more) over the heels for their creator, because their voice is soothing and beautiful.

They then only speak to Lumine.

And so the drill goes like that, the acolytes trying to win readers attention but they are too focused on helping Lumine and finding a way back home, to the lotus/margulis.

#genshin impact #genshin self aware #genshin sagau #genshin cult au #genshin x reader

[rosemary-rothlorein]

Victor Hugo: not relevant but there is an urgent need for a close-up shot of Enjolras.

Text was copied and pasted from wikisource.

3.4.1, introduction paragraph

Woe to the love-affair which should have risked itself beside him! If any grisette of the Place Cambrai or the Rue Saint-Jean-de-Beauvais, seeing that face of a youth escaped from college, that page's mien, those long, golden lashes, those blue eyes, that hair billowing in the wind, those rosy cheeks, those fresh lips, those exquisite teeth, had conceived an appetite for that complete aurora, and had tried her beauty on Enjolras…

Poor Enj, walks on the street and gets harassed by random passers-by.

Also Victor Hugo, next paragraph: now let’s talk about Combeferre, “He was less lofty, but broader. That’s all. Thank you.”

Enjolras, the believer, disdained this sceptic; and, a sober man himself, scorned this drunkard. He accorded him a little lofty pity. Grantaire was an unaccepted Pylades. Always harshly treated by Enjolras, roughly repulsed, rejected yet ever returning to the charge, he said of Enjolras: "What fine marble!"

Grantaire, are you sure you are there for Enjolras’s faith and (chaste, healthy, firm, upright, hard, candid) nature NOT FOR HIS FACE???

3.4.5, Combeferre’s être-libre big show

Enjolras, whose blue eye was not fixed on anyone, and who seemed to be gazing at space, replied, without glancing at Marius:

Thanks, Victor, for reminding us of something you said four chapters ago.

4.12.3, basically Grantaire’s love confession

Enjolras, who was standing on the crest of the barricade, gun in hand, raised his beautiful, austere face. Enjolras, as the reader knows, had something of the Spartan and of the Puritan in his composition.

Maybe the reader also knows Enjolras has a beautiful and austere face.

4.12.7, Javert’s identity is discovered.

"Spy," said the handsome Enjolras, "we are judges and not assassins."

Javert: …Why?

4.12.8, Le Cabuc’s execution

Enjolras, pale, with bare neck and dishevelled hair, and his woman's face, had about him at that moment something of the antique Themis…

Victor Hugo: I know one minute ago you were not doing anything intense, merely talking to Javert, but now I need you to cosplay Themis, so please get rid of your cravat and dishevel your (beautiful, golden, shining) hair.

Enjolras: …okay.

His dilated nostrils, his downcast eyes, gave to his implacable Greek profile that expression of wrath and that expression of Chastity which, as the ancient world viewed the matter, befit Justice.

Victor Hugo: Killing in the name of justice can easily get us into endless and heated ethical debates, and the issue is further complicated by the very situation, given it is a revolution, where a judicial system has not really been established. Let’s not get into deep water but make our life easier: this is divine justice.

Le Cabuc attempted to resist, but he seemed to have been seized by a superhuman hand.

Le Cabuc: I am armed, and I am evil and impetuous enough to murder someone without a second thought. Am I not supposed to fight this schoolboy?

Victor Hugo: No. You are supposed to be shocked by his beauty. And chastity.

Le Cabuc: Is that something I can tell by LOOKING AT HIM?

Enjolras ceased. His virgin lips closed; and he remained for some time standing on the spot where he had shed blood, in marble immobility.

Marble x2.

Jean Prouvaire and Combeferre pressed each other's hands silently, and, leaning against each other in an angle of the barricade, they watched with an admiration in which there was some compassion, that grave young man, executioner and priest, composed of light, like crystal, and also of rock.

5.1.3

Enjolras reappeared. He returned from his sombre eagle flight into outer darkness. He listened for a moment to all this joy with folded arms, and one hand on his mouth. Then, fresh and rosy in the growing whiteness of the dawn, he said:

…He literally says hey guys, we are going to die now.

Victor Hugo: Yeah I know. But light technician, light on Enjolras please!

5.1.5 barricade speech.

All at once he threw back his head, his blond locks fell back like those of an angel on the sombre quadriga made of stars, they were like the mane of a startled lion in the flaming of a halo, and Enjolras cried…

How can Victor Hugo forget to highlight his revolutionary gold boy’s beauty?

Enjolras paused rather than became silent; his lips continued to move silently, as though he were talking to himself, which caused them all to gaze attentively at him, in the endeavor to hear more. There was no applause; but they whispered together for a long time. Speech being a breath, the rustling of intelligences resembles the rustling of leaves.

No virgin lip this time. Good thing that Victor is learning self-restraint (but not for long, apparently).

5.1.8 the death of sergeant of artillery

And a tear trickled slowly down Enjolras' marble cheek.

Marble x3.

Victor you are using Grantaire’s vocabulary.

5.1.23 the martyrdom of Enjolras

The audacity of a fine death always affects men. As soon as Enjolras folded his arms and accepted his end, the din of strife ceased in the room, and this chaos suddenly stilled into a sort of sepulchral solemnity. The menacing majesty of Enjolras disarmed and motionless, appeared to oppress this tumult, and this young man, haughty, bloody, and charming, who alone had not a wound, who was as indifferent as an invulnerable being, seemed, by the authority of his tranquil glance, to constrain this sinister rabble to kill him respectfully. His beauty, at that moment augmented by his pride, was resplendent, and he was fresh and rosy after the fearful four and twenty hours which had just elapsed, as though he could no more be fatigued than wounded.

(The most obvious evidence that this guy is divine. Human biology DOES NOT work in this way.)

It was of him, possibly, that a witness spoke afterwards, before the council of war: "There was an insurgent whom I heard called Apollo."

Were you at the barricade for the revolution or for something (someone) else???

A National Guardsman who had taken aim at Enjolras, lowered his gun, saying: "It seems to me that I am about to shoot a flower."

Le Cabuc symptom: brain stops functioning properly at the sight of Enjolras’s beauty.

Noise does not rouse a drunken man; silence awakens him. The fall of everything around him only augmented Grantaire's prostration; the crumbling of all things was his lullaby. The sort of halt which the tumult underwent in the presence of Enjolras was a shock to this heavy slumber. It had the effect of a carriage going at full speed, which suddenly comes to a dead stop. The persons dozing within it wake up.

Now we have music fading into a suffocating silence, light focuses on Enjolras, twelve guns arranged in a way according to the rules of one-point perspective. Your turn Grantaire!

#les mis #enjolras #misinterpreting les mis

[specialagentlokitty]

Master chief x reader - shapeshifters fear

Looking at the man in front of you, your heart pounded in your chest, you cradled your injured arm as you felt the blood running through your fingers.

“John…” you whispered.

“My orders are to bring you in.”

“John don’t do this please… you know I’m not a treat…”

“My orders are clear. You are to be tried as a threat to reach, and for lying on your application forms when you applied to be a marine.”

You quickly shook your head.

“I’m not lying! I swear! They asked if I had any contact with a list of certain species and I didn’t!”

“You’re one of them!” He hissed.

“That’s doesn’t mean I’m in contact with them!”

“Then come in without a fight, answer the questions and maybe they’ll just give you time in prison.”

“I’ll be executed.”

He aimed his gun, and you took an unsure step away from him.

“John please… please I’m begging you…”

“Get on your knees, hands behind your head.”

You shook your head.

“John they’ll kill me…”

“I’ll talk with them, but you need to come in peacefully for me to be able to convince them.”

“Do you think that’s going to work?! You saw what they did to that man last week! I never did anything I swear!”

“Stand down.” He said.

You looked around for something, anything to help, and you saw a few barrels nearby but you had to act quickly.

You gave John a small smile, and you shook your head.

“I’d rather die.”

With that, you sprinted away, hearing a bullet go flying past your head.

All you had to do was get somewhere public, get lost in the crowd and go from there.

So all you had to do was get to the bottom of this building, which wasn’t an option with all the marines down there so you went up instead.

John was shouting your name as you ran, running over to the roof, then to the next one, and you jumped down a fire escape, running down the stairs.

You had the advantages of speed, and they knew that, if they lost sight of that then it would be over and you would be lost.

Ducking under the arm of a marine, you jumped down the rest of the way, rolling and you ran into the busy street below.

Weaving in and out of people, down to the subway where more people were and on to the tracks.

It wasn’t safe, but there were hiding places, empty tunnels that weren’t used anymore, so you made your way into one of them.

Creeping around, you crouched against a wall.

“I need help…” you whispered.

You knew they were here, it’s where the hid, and all of your species knew that there were a few who hid under the city for moments like this.

You heard some steps, and you looked to the side at the eyes peering back at you.

“Where to?”

“Just away from here.”

“Very well. Come with me.”

You were quickly taken away from the city, taken away from everything you knew, and taken somewhere else.

A different planet was all you knew, you were placed in a small and quiet town and given a home to share with somebody.

You were constantly on edge though, everytime a ship came in you were ready to run for it, and today was no different.

You were standing outside with the others watching as a ship landed, and you slowly began backing away through the ground when you recognised it.

“(Y/N)!” You friend hissed.

“I need to go.” You whispered back.

They glanced at you, then back to the ship, and you watched as the Spartans came out, two of them going to speak to the mayor.

You turned around, keeping your head down as you walked away, but you were fully aware that you were being followed.

“Stop running.”

You broke out into a sprint, jumping over a fence you ran through a field, and John nearly lost you in the tall grass.

You had changed, but he could see where you ran from the grass, and he began to track you.

You ran through the fields, heading for the mountains, John wasn’t far behind you.

“(Y/N)!” He shouted.

He could see the gleam of your fur in the sun just before you entered the trees.

You kept running, trying anything to get away from him, he was fast, you were slightly faster, if you could find a place to hide and lay low you would win.

While running, you could hear him shouting your name as you kept going, and you kept trying to get away from him.

Finding a wooden bridge, you dug your paws into the ground, coming to a halt and you covered the tracks with dirt, then crawled under it.

You listened carefully to the sound of his steps coming closer.

“(Y/N)!?”

You could hear him on the wooden bridge walking around, then you heard him stop.

“I’m not here to hurt you or arrest you.”

He looked around, and you slowly backed up from the way you were going, crawling towards the other side of the bridge to get out.

You quietly made your way out, and you stood up, turning your go back the way you came from and John was in front of you.

“We know you had nothing to do with the attack, you’ve been cleared.”

You slowly began backing away and he rose his hands.

“No, no don’t.”

John reached up, taking his helmet off and he slowly knelt down, placing it on the ground, his eyes studying you.

“Please don’t be scared of me…” he whispered.

He reached out and you turned your head away, a little unsure and he paused.

“I’m sorry…”

You backed away even more, and then ran back the way you had come from.

John kept coming back when he could, each time you would run away from him, and after a few months you had thought he had given up.

But he hadn’t, he arrived again just like every other time out of uniform, and he walked over to where you were standing in your front garden.

You began backing away.

“I know you’re going to runaway, but I have something for you.”

He slowly reached his hand into his pocket and pulled something out, setting it down on the floor, then he backed away.

“I’ll be here for a few hours until the last ship goes back to reach.”

With that he walked away and you walked over to pick up what he had left.

It didn’t seem like much, just an ordinary hologram, but when you opened it you saw it was a picture of you he had taken when you were trying to teach him new skills.

You loved that memory, just you and him, learning different things and just having fun.

You turned it off, putting it in your pocket, and you went back to what you were doing.

John didn’t wonder too far, he stayed nearby, hoping maybe you would come and talk to him, but you didn’t seem to show any interest in it.

You knew he was still there nearby, and after a while of ignoring him you nervously approached him.

John looked at you as you walked over, but you seemed a little bit nervous, and possibly scared.

“Will you come back?” He asked.

You shook your head.

“It’s not safe for me there…”

“It is, I promise. We had you cleared of all chargers and they’ll reinstate you.”

“So what? I can be blamed again when a shifter does something wrong?”

“No. So you can come back.”

You shook your head.

“I’m not coming back, stop coming here.”

You went to walk away and John shot forward, taking your hand and he walked around you.

“I miss you…” he mumbled.

You stayed quiet, and you looked at his hand that was still holdings yours, and you noticed is bruised knuckles.

“You should be more careful…”

John sighed.

“I’m sorry… I should have done more to protect you… to stand up for you…”

“People don’t trust me, that’s okay…”

“It’s not. I trust you. I know you would never do anything like that, but I was made to follow orders, I should have questioned them but I did. And now I’ve ran you away…”

You sighed slightly.

John took your arm, and he ran his thumb along the scar going across it, from where you had hurt yourself trying to get away from him.

“I made you scared of me…”

John leant down, kissing the top of your head.

“I really am sorry…”

With that he let go, and he made his way back down the street.

“I’m not scared of you…”

He stopped.

“I guess I’m just… I’m scared it’ll happen again…”

He turned around and walked over over, taking your face between his hands.

“If it does I’ll be right by your side I promise…”

“You’ll have to follow orders.”

“I don’t care. I will stand by you.”

“John…”

“I love you.”

You blinked a little in shock.

“I love you.” He repeated.

John leant down, brushing his lips against yours before he pulled away.

His eyes searched yours and you sighed a little bit, tucking your head under his chin because you couldn’t stay away from him.

You had always felt safer with him, and right now you felt safest in his arms standing there.

John held you tightly, a hand on the back of your head.

He knew it was going to take a while to get you to feel safe enough to come back to reach, and if that meant he had to keep going back that’s what he was going to do.

He has screwed up big time, now he had to make it up to you

#halo #halo imagine #halo the series #halo x reader #halo x you #John 117 #John 117 x reader #John 117 x you #John 117 imagine #master chief #master chief x reader #master chief x you #master chief imagine

[halobirthdays]

Happy birthday to Sergeant Major Avery Johnson!

Today is his -451st birthday!

Johnson was born and raised by his maternal aunt in Chicago, who kept him in tidy hand-me-downs and dutifully brought him to church. He enlisted in the UNSC when he was nineteen, believing the Insurrection to be a threat to innocent people. He quickly stood out among his peers and was hand-selected for the newly-instituted ORION project, an attempt at creating a new form of biologically enhanced soldiers to quell the Insurrection.

Avery underwent the training and augmentations, well-exceeding his superiors' expectations. However, the program as a whole was not the success the UNSC was hoping for, and was deactivated, though ORION would be used as the blueprint of the SPARTAN project. Johnson was reassigned to the marines.

He was then deployed to Tribute, where he failed to prevent an Insurrectionist terrorist from blowing up a diner, leading to several dozen civilian deaths. These events left him shaken, and he returned home to Chicago, only to find that his aunt had died. He spiraled, falling into a drinking binge and only recovering when a recruiter stumbled upon him in a gutter. The recruiter convinced Johnson to reenlist, and he was deployed to Harvest.

While on Harvest, the UNSC made contact with Kig-Yar, the first ever interaction between humanity and the Covenant. However, peace quickly failed, and he was involved in the very firsr battles of the Human-Covenant war.

This early experience would prove invaluable, and he was deployed on several key missions following these events. During OPERATION: SILENT STORM, he met Blue Team for the first time, and they earned his respect, with Johnson backing up John as leadership became accustomed to the Spartans. He also helped protect them when he accurately deduced that the Spartans were being targeted by Hector Nyeto.

Johnson continued to serve all the way up to the fall of Reach and the discovery of Installation 04. When the Covenant attacked the Pillar of Autumn, Johnson, along with the rest of the crew, landed on the Halo. Johnson and Keyes investigated intel from a captured Sangheili about a weapons cache on the ring. They found the Flood instead. Johnson survived as the Flood infected his squad and ultimately survived Halo's destruction when he was later discovered by Master Chief.

Following these events, Johnson received a promotion and Colonial Cross for his bravery on Halo, but the award ceremony was cut short when the Covenant attacked Earth. After chasing the Covenant forces off of the planet, Johnson and the In Amber Clad's crew discovered a second Halo installation.

He joined Commander Miranda Keyes to the Halo in search of the activation index to prevent the Covenant from firing the array. However, they were ambushed by Arbiter Thel 'Vadam and taken hostage by Tartarus and his Jiralhanae.

Keyes was brought to the control room to activate the ring while Johnson was about to be executed until they were interrupted by an attack from the Arbiter and the newly-formed Covenant separatists. Johnson then convinced Thel to join forces to stop Tartarus from activating the ring, coordinating the first cease-fire between their species.

After learning the purpose of the Ark and the location of the portal on Earth that would take them there, Johnson, Keyes, and Thel raced back to warn Earth of the coming Covenant invasion. Johnson followed Truth after helping to coordinate a joint UNSC-Sangheili mission to the Ark.

Johnson and his squad were overwhelmed by the Covenant forces at the Citadel. His squad was killed, and he was taken hostage again because the Halos can only be activated by a human. Truth attempted to use Johnson to activate the Halo array, but was stopped by Keyes, who planned on killing Johnson and herself so there would not be humans for Truth to use. However, she hesitated, and Truth used the opportunity to kill her. His victory was short-lived, with Master Chief and the Arbiter arriving shortly thereafter, killing Truth and preventing the rings from firing.

With the pressing danger gone, the UNSC and Sangheili forces focused on Flood containment. Following Cortana's plan, they decided to destroy the partially-built replacement for Installation 04. While Guilty Spark initially agreed with this action, he did not realize that the UNSC intended on destroying his replacement installation--he thought they were going to activate the ring when it was complete. When Johnson corrected him, Spark turned on them, killing Johnson with a sentinel beam.

The loss of Johnson was mourned widely, especially for John but also by Cortana and Thel, who both expressed their condolences. At Johnson's request, John "kicked [Spark's] ass" and activated the ring.

#the GOAT!!! #its thanksgiving here in the US of A #so everyone say Thank you Johnson!!!!

[bloodgulchblog]

First section of Touchstone, insane Miller-has-a-crush-on-Master-Chief fic premise.

It is not currently nsfw. It is currently running away from me as I relish in the opportunity to flop around in this space in Halo lore like a crow in a rain puddle.

But anyway, here's how it's going so far. (Reprints the thing I posted before for coherency, mostly it's Miller suffering, eventually once I feel like I have a substantial amount of fanfiction built up here I might post it to ao3 but who knows)

—

Directing Blue Team is different from directing Crimson, or Majestic, or any other Spartan-IV team. It shouldn’t be. A Spartan fireteam is a Spartan fireteam, and Spartan-IV outcomes are equal or superior to Spartan-II. This is the official line. Miller has all the data rattling around in his head that would confirm it, all the performance metrics and wargames statlines and field reports.

But data’s only one piece of a puzzle. The other piece is the VISR feeds streaming across Miller’s display, pooling together the four perspectives that make up the whole of the mission. 

Kelly-087. Fred-104. Linda-058. John-117, the Master Chief himself.

They speak very little, they move in perfect concert, the whole execution of every objective the wargames protocol spits and Miller calls out for them is ruthlessly, antiseptically clean.

If Crimson is like a rocket launcher, the Spartan-IIs feel like a goddamn tactical nuke.

Directing Blue Team is a rush.

“Enjoying yourself?” Roland asks, the surprise lighting up all the muscles in Miller’s shoulders and making his teeth click together. The yellow figure of the Infinity’s AI, arms folded behind his back and brows arched, has co-opted the workstation’s holo display. He manages to project the full energy of someone leaning on the back of Miller’s chair despite lacking both the body and the weight to lean.

Miller feels his ears burn, like he’s been somehow caught doing… something.

He’s not going to analyze exactly what that something is or why he feels that way about watching Blue Team sighting in on a Promethean Knight, right now.

“...Sure. Just putting Blue Team through their paces,” he replies, starting off cautiously neutral. Roland hasn’t done anything yet. There’s a chance he won’t do anything, or say anything. Miller can be the bigger person. Miller can offer Roland the chance to better his track record vis a vis the doing and saying of things.

The Master Chief makes a hand signal, invisible on his cam but Miller sees it flicker in triplicate across team feeds before they all start moving. Fred-104 pops from cover to herd the Knight, tightly placed AR groups forcing it to move back before it has a chance to hit him with its scattershot. Linda-058, further off up a stone ledge where she’s been cleaning Watchers out of the air, fires a round that slices through one side of the Knight’s carapace and bursts out the other with a flare of damaged orange hardlight. It staggers and step-turns to hunt the sniperfire, and immediately gets hit from the back by Kelly-087, lightning fast with a shotgun blast that shreds the rest of the rear armor and exposes the Knight’s glowing core.

Then there’s the Master Chief. He slides in from the flank, closing immediately to drive in a knife. The Knight staggers forward and the Chief mounts up, tipping the big construct with a powerful twist of his body while he adjusts the angle of the blade. There’s nothing random about the stab, Miller can see him pull the Knight’s core with one hand while the other slices into the contacts along its rim. It screams as something pops with one disdainful flex of the Chief’s wrist, and he jumps away clean before the Knight dissolves into sparks and cinders under him.

Roland whistles appreciatively.

Miller swallows.

It’s here that he gets the first inkling that maybe, possibly, he might have a problem.

“Very nice,” Roland is saying. “Ooh, Miller. Miller! Can I tell Majestic how much this beats their time?”

“Good work, Blue Team,” Miller says, ignoring him. “That was the last target. Head back to the first waypoint, and we’ll pull you out of the sim.”

“Spoilsport,” Roland grouses. “I think a little competition would be good for Majestic! Light a real fire under ‘em.”

“Roland, clear the channel,” says the Master Chief before Miller has to do it himself. “Miller, it was a smooth run. Good job, Spartan.”

Miller’s heart doesn’t skip a beat, because that’s the sort of trouble reserved for mere mortals with organs not reinforced by polythread weave. 

And that’s the only reason.

“Thanks.”

It’s lame, Thanks, but the word gets out of his mouth in one piece and he couldn’t be more grateful.

Roland’s trying to lure the Master Chief into giving him some pointers that he can offer next time Thorne’s team runs this exercise, no doubt because he’s bored and would love to rile Majestic up, but the Chief can hold his own and Miller’s lost focus on it in the face of what he’s learning.

Because oh.

Oh.

He has a problem.

—

MJOLNIR variants, the names of specific patterns for alien weapons, the shape and flow of familiar combat situations. The ways his teams fall together, the ways the personalities play off one another or don’t. How something can happen, and someone can suddenly be different from how they were before.

The things Miller knows snap into focus every time he recognizes them, like the targeting reticle blinking awake on his HUD when the MJONLIR’s gauntlet contacts clock a supported weapon. He’s always liked knowing things, even made it his business to know things when he could be relying on a machine to pull up the details. Memory is faster, sharper, lets him fit facts together into something that might actually help. Maybe. Maybe it’s also just a certain amount of residual nerdery that the UNSC decided it liked enough not to sand off of him.

Usually, he likes this about himself too.

But right now, the new information slotting itself so helpfully into all Miller’s awareness is that the Master Chief is hot. The Master Chief is really really hot, and he can’t stop noticing.

Just not thinking about him doesn’t work. The Infinity is the biggest ship in the fleet and has a population to match, but in the grand scheme of things? She’s a small town, and Chief’s a big resident. People still talk over the rumors about the Biko peace talks, the whole slate of rumors about Requiem, about Cortana, about even quieter and older rumors only some of the Spartans are allowed to know and only most of them know if ONI isn’t asking.

People wonder stuff about Master Chief.

“How’d he take it?” is what Carmichael wonders over lunch. 

Miller twists his fork in his noodles.

“He’s…” Miller searches for a word that has nothing to do with anything he has possibly felt ever in his life. “Professional.”

“That bad?” Carmichael’s eyebrows lift. It’s more than just thinking it’s funny, though.

“Not bad,” Miller clarifies, maybe a little too quickly. “It’s just…”

Carmichael’s scheduled to do some trial runs with Blue Team, too. Palmer hasn’t said anything, but Blue Team hasn’t had to work under a Spartan mission handler since John-117 came back from the dead. Blue Team also hasn’t been out in the field since the disaster at the Biko peace talks. Everyone on S-Deck is smart enough to figure out what’s happening without having their hands held.

Carmichael’s real question, the one Miller’s trying to answer, is: How is the legendary defender of humanity doing with his wings clipped?

The answer to that question should absolutely not be hot.

“If he’s upset about it – and I’m not saying he is – he’s not showing it.”

Carmichael nods, accepting this. 

“So, how do they run?”

This one’s worse to answer. It’s so much worse. Miller can hear his pulse in his ears and feel the fork digging into his hand.

He laughs nervously. He hopes Carmichael can’t tell.

“I won’t spoil it for you.”

He can feel Carmichael studying him. Carmichael’s older, all of the other mission handlers are older than Miller and most of them are from a Spartan-IV class or two before his.

It doesn’t bother him, most of the time, but it is enough to create a divide between him and the few other people who share this highly specific job.

“Alright Miller, keep your secrets,” Carmichael says. “May the best man win, eh?”

Miller manages not to choke. Oh. Oh, no.

“That’s not what I meant, I-”

“Don’t worry about it.” Carmichael’s tone is amicable, but a little of the friendliness has slipped back. They’re not in cahoots sharing information anymore. This has gone totally professional. 

Carmichael has completely misread this. Maybe Miller has too. He didn’t realize Carmichael might care about who gets assigned Blue Team?

Maybe it would be a prestige thing? God damn it.

He tries to think of how to fix this, to make it less awkward to share workspace with Carmichael for… for however long this might last? But he can’t do it.

Carmichael finishes eating and leaves the mess first, and Miller’s shoulders sink.

He goes back over the testrun in his head as he picks at what’s left on his tray, appetite gone. Did he miss anything during the mission? Any hesitations or bad calls? What’s Commander Palmer going to say when she finally records feedback? Was it a clean run? He thinks maybe?

Is this even a competition?

Is there any chance they’ll assign Blue Team to him?

Miller thinks about the hole in his roster that’s been there since February, and his gut still twists. Fireteam Castle, all six Spartans, lost to Covenant remnant shooting down their Pelican. All the arguments with himself about whether or not there was something he could’ve done better, arguments he’s had with himself hundreds of times since, start rising to the surface of Miller’s thoughts.

He forces them all away and rests his face in his hand, fingers on one temple and thumb on the other. He breathes out, long and slow, focusing on the transfer of air until there isn’t any left and his head’s quiet again.

No. They’re not going to put him in charge of Blue Team, and it’s going to be for the best for all concerned.

#my writing #touchstone

[yanderes-galore]

I know you've done Halo Infinite Sangheili so idk if you know this guy from the first Halo Wars, Ripa 'Moramee. he's been around years longer than the Halo Infinite guys but gets barely any content anywhere, so I'm curious how you'd imagine him falling for a human darling

Sangheili content my beloved... I'd love to! I have not played Halo Wars but I hope my research helps. Tried to stay in canon but was also creative.

Edit: I got carried away, this is long lol 😅 Guess I'm down bad 🤷‍♀️ I'd love feedback as this was REALLY fun to write. I also suggest having some background knowledge about Halo/Halo Wars to understand this more.

Yandere! Ripa 'Moramee with Human! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Violence, Murder, Religious themes, Manipulation, Internal conflict, Obsession, Human/Sangheili, Angst I guess, Violence against darling/wounds (You are enemies... it's only fair), Swearing, Denial, Feelings of betrayal, Kidnapping, Isolation, 'Moramee is losing his mind, 'Moramee is implied to have intimate thoughts, End is implied to also be intimate but nothing happens.

There's so much moral conflict in this pairing.

His whole purpose is to elminate the human race.

That's his whole purpose as Arbiter.

He thinks humans are weak, completely and utterly undisciplined in the ways of a warrior.

As Halo Wars is deep in the past of the Human/Covenant war, even before Halo CE, a pairing between Sangheili and human is forbidden.

Even more so if he's meant to kill them all.

'Moramee is known as ruthless with an insatiable bloodlust.

He's quick to anger and has a temper.

The moment he hesitates in killing you upon your first meeting... rage builds within him and tears him apart from the inside.

He's harmed humans, Unggoy, and Sangheili alike in his rage...

Why does he hesitate on a human!?

The Prophets demand your execution!

He's a savage beast even in Sangheili terms.

He knows nothing but anger and rage.

'Moramee has never had his own rage directed towards himself.

He likes victory.

The Sangheili had tried to hunt you down when he met you.

So when he finally cornered you on Harvest he was prepared to strike.

Why did he hesitate!?

He had one of his plasma blades lifted in the air, ready to strike.

Was he distracted?

Did you distract him?

Either way he hesitated enough to be hit by gunfire from your squad of marines/spartans, the Arbiter was forced to abandon his prey.

'Moramee is thrown into an enraging conflict with himself after this.

He doesn't dare tell The Prophets.

His subordinates notice his growing rage and keep their distance.

He's a yandere that would be driven to pursue his human through the desire to end his internal conflict.

He knows humans are weak and should perish in the wake of the Covenant.

However, the fact he couldn't slaughter you haunts him.

It scares him that you, as a human, make him weak.

He's a disgrace to The Great Journey....

He hates the fact you make him weak.

He doesn't even consider the idea of love... even if that may be what he's feeling yet can't understand it.

'Moramee loathes the idea of loving a human.

His moral and religious conflict make him volatile towards his own crew.

They already tremble before him.

Now when they hear him mutter to himself and roar in rage, they start to dread him pulling out his weapons.

If/When 'Moramee eventually tries to hunt you down again then he tries to do your abduction alone.

He can't have his crew find out about his true intentions with you.

Intentions he dreads but has to accept if he wants to regain his focus.

'Moramee intends to slaughter anyone he feels he needs to in order to solve his issue.

Expect him to send a small group of troops to remove your group.

Despite the order to kill your group and any humans they find aiding them, 'Moramee describes your appearance and gives the order to spare you.

Spare... something that baffles both the Sangheili himself and his troops.

He was not one to spare.

However, in a way you can view his true intentions as not sparing

His troops knew better than to question the Arbiter's judgment.

The order was sent... then executed like your team.

'Moramee awaits the fallout of the skirmish.

By the end of it you're standing in the middle of corpses making up your team.

Your skin sizzles around your wound, a plasma burst being the cause of your agony.

His troop had withdrawn and left you there, a wound to your leg and you gasping for breath in fear... and pain.

So much pain.

Once his troops relay back to the extraction point, 'Moramee stalks closer before wrapping his hand around your throat and decloaking.

Shock and fear paralyze you, the recent trauma of watching your friends die still fresh in your mind.

Along with the blood from their demise still staining your skin.

"You..."

The Sangheili growls, tightening his grip.

He could easily snap your neck.

"A human such as you should be killed for The Great Journey! You've ruined me!"

Upon your struggling 'Moramee and you most likely engage in one-sided combat...

It's enough to make the Arbiter vent his rage.

The entire time he curses you.

Every bruise... broken bone... he deals it to you for a purpose you don't understand.

'Moramee fights with you to try and clear you from his head.

You're fighting him to survive at least a little while longer.

By the time it ends there's barely a scratch on his armor.

Your breathing is painful due to your heavily wounded body.

You can only stare at the Sangheili attacker whose orange eyes burn with confused anger.

You swore you saw the rage flicker into regret for a moment before he snarls again and picks you up.

Your body is so fragile in his arms while he drags you back to the extraction point.

Due to shock trauma you pass out in the Arbiter's arms.

To make a point to his troops (and keep up an act) he holds your limp body by the neck before his troops.

A message that humans will fall by his hands for The Prophets.

When you awake you're laying in some sort of cell on Harvest.

All except you.

Cheers congratulate him... even when it doesn't feel like a victory to him.

Your neck and everything hurts.

However you notice you've been treated... albeit clumsily.

Covenant know nothing about human anatomy.

It confuses you why they bothered to treat you.

You squint through your cell, you had been brought into a captured facility from what you could tell, repurposed to be a jail for the Covenant.

Your blood freezes when the Arbiter who fought you before enters the room.

"You are my secret from all the rest."

He stands in front of you, orange eyes glaring at you in hate.

"You are my only failure as an Arbiter. The human I can't kill. You are something that's tormented my focus for far too long. I never gave a damn about honor. However... you are a stain on my reputation I can't get rid of if the truth comes out."

"What truth, you ugly bastard... why do they care if I'm kept here?"

The Arbiter is silent... as if dreading the reasoning for your capture.

"Really now?"

"... my orders are to kill all humans. To slaughter humanity for the sake of The Prophets... and I can't kill you!"

He's seething, each word strained.

"I don't know why so I intend to keep you in secret. My troops don't dare question me. They fear me... which I will use to my advantage."

"Soft for your enemy now all of a sudden? My team would've laughed at a Sangheili's mercy if they weren't dead."

The Arbiter only glares at you and you see his hands clench.

"Watch your tone...."

"Or you'll kill me?"

With a frustrated scream of rage the Arbiter leaves the room.

Not only could he not kill you...

It's deserved but frustrates him all the same.

You taunt him.

He isn't sure what he was expecting.

You to be scared of him?

You to be over the death of your allies so quickly?

Was he expecting you to show something comforting to him?

He shakes his head and gnashes his mandibles.

He had a lot to learn about you.

He was never this invested in humans.

Yet after mission after mission on Harvest for relics to appease The Prophets, he found himself back in front of that holding cell.

The troops on guard cowered at his gaze.

What he wanted with you was none of their business.

The Arbiter struggled to understand why he kept holding onto this human.

His rage at your existence used to be hot enough to glass a planet on its own.

He continuously stood in front of your cell to chat, asking questions and learning how to keep you alive.

Learning about you in general even if your species was to be destroyed.

Each talk brought it down to a smolder.

You always hated him but your hostility also lessened with time.

Those who caught wind of his talks between you were quickly ended.

An Unggoy or Kig-Yar heard something they shouldn't have?

They're left at the Arbiter's mercy.

A Sangheili? 'Moramee threatens them into submission or sinks his plasma sword deep into their gut.

He wonders if you care he kills for you?

You're special enough to not only gain the Arbiter's mercy, but his casual discussion and attention.

Denial still burns deep inside him.

Despite this... acceptance is a quiet thought in his mind.

Each time he looks at you in the cell... he remembers both failure and discovery.

Was he simply exhausted?

He was starting to care for you like a fellow Sangheili... and he wasn't sure if he still hated it or not.

Perhaps he vented all his anger about you for weeks on end... leaving only forced acceptance.

He would laugh at this... his ego shattered and behavior pitiful.

He couldn't bring himself to do it.

Whenever he looked at you he saw his biggest failure of all...

Him feeling companionship in a weak human heretic.

He could not be feeling adoration for you.

The idea brings a sick taste to his mouth... but a nervous and warm feeling in his chest.

The heresy of humans seemed infectious like the newly discovered Flood that threatened to taint the relics he sought after.

Ever so slightly you consumed his mind.

The Prophets wonder about his sudden distracted mind.

He assures them he is simply annoyed about the UNSC advances.

A lie... somewhat.

All to keep his human secret under lock and key.

It's gotten to a point he only ever talks to you with hesitant respect.

No one has broken his ego and mind like this.

You are certainly an anomaly in his eyes as a human.

Through his holy missions he develops other thoughts involving you.

Ones that he feels are even more of a sign of disloyalty to The Great Journey than simply sparing a human.

He's thought of releasing you.

He's thought of other things that would be considered sin among Covenant and Sangheili alike.

He's thought of how it would feel to take a moment a feel your skin.

His turmoil is at an all time high.

'Moramee coming to the conclusion that he sees you as that kind of a partner makes him sick.

The Arbiter is speechless on the topic.

His peers have claimed to see a broken look in the Sangheili's eyes when he passes by.

When asked he responds with violence.

The entire time he experiences moral turmoil, you have no clue.

You simply answer casual questions and refuse to answer anything that gives valuable information.

You speak to him with no fear or anger anymore.

You've been here too long for that.

As Harvest dies all around you, you're forced to speak casually with a leader of its downfall.

'Moramee hopes you're happy to cause him this pain...

It's only fair due to the pain he caused.

He feels there's only one way to deal with his problems.

'Moramee couldn't focus unless he got it out of his mind and system.

Rage replaced with irritation... 'Moramee makes his way to your cell.

He calls off the guards and taps at the keypad lock.

You're struck with confusion when the Arbiter enters the cell.

"Is my execution finally here?"

His alien eyes glare... but there's a hint of amusement within them.

You struggle when his much larger body shoves you against the wall... the Sangheili craning his neck to growl at you.

"Not in the way you expect, human..."

The Sangheili Arbiter places a hand against the black body suit you wore, stripped of its heavier armor long ago.

"You've infected my mind long enough. I plan to end this and make you my newest victory instead of my oldest failure."

#yandere halo #yandere halo wars #yandere ripa moramee #yandere sangheili #yandere teratophilia

[helix-studios117]

Halo Reloaded: TV Show

The bustling heart of the Marathon Infinity's cafeteria is filled with the aroma of rehydrated eggs somehow always battled to a stalemate against the scent of industrial-grade coffee, the day's entertainment was in full swing. The room, usually a cacophony of clattering trays and grumbled complaints about MREs, had transformed into a makeshift theater. Its audience: a motley crew of Spartan-IIs, lounging in their sleek, almost-too-tight compression suits, and marines, whose fatigues seemed to have absorbed as much grease as valor, were united in their rapt attention to "SPARTANS," the galaxy's guiltiest pleasure.

"Man, oh man," a marine muttered, his eyes wide as dinner plates as an actor, decked out in a Spartan suit so shiny it would give the sun a complex, executed a leap that defied physics. "If I tried that, I'd need a new pair of knees."

Beside him, Kelly, her arms folded in a way that suggested she could bench press a Warthog if she felt like it, snorted. "Cute jump. Reminds me of my warm-up routine."

This elicited a round of snickers from the table, a sound that mingled with the crunch of someone bravely attempting to masticate the cafeteria's excuse for bread.

Just as another impossibly muscular Spartan on screen began a monologue about the "heart of a warrior," the room's metal door slid open with a hiss that sounded suspiciously like it was judging everyone's life choices. In strode John, fully armored as if he’d just mistaken the cafeteria for a warzone. Or perhaps he knew exactly what kind of warzone a cafeteria could be.

The remote control, previously the subject of an intense, silent battle of wills, was suddenly the hottest potato in the room. It flew from hand to hand, each marine trying not to be the last one holding it when the music stopped, so to speak. The channel switched with a speed that would make a Covenant Elite nod in respect—goodbye, dramatic reenactments of Spartan heroics, hello, galactic weather report.

"Nice timing, Chief," Fred said, a grin in his voice that his face couldn't quite make, given the situation. "We were just... um, studying... atmospheric conditions. Yep."

John paused, his helmeted head turning so slowly you'd think he was auditioning for a role in the next horror vid. Then, from within the confines of his helmet, a sound emerged—a chuckle. It was a sound so rare and unexpected that it might as well have been a unicorn tap-dancing across the table.

"As long as it’s not predicting rain on the parade, we're good," John’s voice, modulated but unmistakably amused, filled the room.

A collective exhale, sounding suspiciously like relief, whooshed through the cafeteria. Chairs scooted back as everyone relaxed, the threat of a Spartan critique apparently averted.

John made his way over, armor clanking with each step, the sound a stark reminder of the difference between the person and the persona. He pulled up a chair with the ease of a man who regularly bench-pressed fate itself.

"You know," he started, the casual tone almost jarring coming from the galaxy’s most decorated supersoldier, "I caught a bit of that show once. They got my armor color all wrong."

"That’s your beef with it?" Linda chimed in, leaning back with a smirk that could cut glass. "Not the part where you single-handedly arm-wrestled a Hunter?"

"Wait, that wasn’t a documentary?" another marine piped up, the mock seriousness in his voice drawing a round of hearty laughs from the group.

Just another day on the life of the UNSC...

#halo #halo fanfic #halo fanfiction #master chief fanfic #master chief fanfiction #master chief #john 117 #halo au #halo headcanon #halo reloaded #helix studios117

[girlactionfigure]

[Breaking News]

12:45pm Just in Time for Purim

Once again, you know a Jewish holiday is approaching when the IAA announces a relevant archaeological find.

A hiker in Tel Lachish found a potsherd with the name of the Persian king Darius the Great on it. (He found in Dec 2022, but it took time to authenticate, and by then it probably just made more sense to wait until Purim before annnouncing it).

The Aramaic inscription reads “Year 24 of Darius,” dating it to 498 BCE.

The short text thus records the name of the Persian king Darius the Great (Darius I), the father of Achashverosh.

Inscription Bearing Name of King Achashverosh’s Father Discovered in Tel Lachish

A 2,500-year-old potsherd that was found by visitors at Tel Lachish in Israel’s southeastern flatlands bears a brief inscription with the name of the Persian king Darius the Great, the father of King Achashverosh from the story of the Megillah.

Most researchers identify the biblical king of Persia Achashverosh who executes his wife, marries the orphan maiden Esther and is manipulated by both sides in the plot, as Xerxes I who reigned from 550 to 530 BCE, who burned down the city of Athens after his father had been defeated by 300 Spartans in Marathon. Xerxes was the son of Darius and Empress Atossa, daughter of King Cyrus.

In December 2022, Eylon Levy and Yakov Ashkenazi visited Tel Lachish National Park and chanced on a small potsherd with some inscribed letters, which they duly reported to the Israel Antiquities Authority. The piece of pottery was examined at the analytical lab by the IAA’s Saar Ganor and Dr. Haggai Misgav of the Hebrew University of Jerusalem, who realized it served as rare evidence for the Persian royal administration at Lachish at the turn of the fifth century BCE.

More: Here

The Muqata

#Israel #archaeology #Israel Antiquities #potsherd

[airmanisr]

Spartan 7W Executive ‘NC17615’ by Alan Wilson Via Flickr: c/n 7W-14 Built 1938 The Spartan Executive has been described as the most sought after of antique aeroplanes. Only 34 were built, between 1936 and 1940, and remarkably 21 still survive. Owners of the type included Howard Hughes and King Ghazi of Iraq. This example was built in 1938 as NC17615. In September that year she was reregistered as NX17615 and flown in that year’s Bendix Trophy Air Race by John Hinchley and Charles Lajotte. Wearing the race number 72, she achieved 177.449mph before returning to the Spartan Aircraft Company that November as NC17615. In February 1942 she was impressed into military service as a UC-71 with the serial 42-38368. In October 1944 she became NC49075 with the Airpath Instrument Company. In March 1970 she became N111PB and then briefly returned to her original N17615 in July 1973 before being registered as N22JP in March 1974 and then finally back to N17615 again in January 1975. Now UK based, she is seen taking off to display at the Shuttleworth Collection’s 2022 Season Premiere Air Show. Old Warden, Bedfordshire, UK. 1st May 2022

#Spartan 7W Executive #UC-71 #aircraft

[rainbowriderjt]

Spartan 7W Executive