#96th task force | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

starcrossedxwriter · 2 years ago

Text

Oscars Night Part 1 (MBJ/Famous Black OC)

A/N: Warning - NSFW… My favorite Black power couple are back at it againnnn… took some creative liberties with this one lol but hope you enjoy and let me know if you want to be tagged! There is a part 2 with Charlotte's win but I wanted to start with MBJ.

***

"Welcome back to the 96th Academy Awards. And now to present the Academy Award for Best Director, please welcome two-time Oscar winner Charlotte Elsbeth Jordan."

Charlotte forced her face to remain relaxed with a bright smile despite the nerves coursing through her as she glided up to the mic. She was far more nervous than she should have been for a category she was not even nominated in. And it was not because of the bright lights, sea of her peers, or the millions of people watching that she could not see. No, it was because who won this category would be a defining moment in her life.

She took a deep breath and pushed her long hair behind her ear before smiling and reading her lines. “As actors, we know that our work would mean little without strong visionaries at the helm. Our directors set the tone for our work and are tasked with bringing complex stories and characters to life and creating new worlds for us to escape to. Whether we are watching a coming-of-age story or a man fighting his past both in and outside of the ring, these five directors brought to life stories of joy, grief, heartbreak, and compassion. Their innovative visions for their films created both windows into the lives of people we may never know, and mirrors into our own lives so we may better know ourselves. Here are the nominees for Best Director.”

Charlotte waited as the lights dimmed and the video started playing a scene from each nominee’s film. She wasn’t listening really until she heard it, the performance she really cared about it, the one she prayed with her all might would win one of the biggest awards of the night. "Michael B. Jordan, Creed III.” She listen to the short snippet of Michael and Jonathan’s fight on the beach from the film, which remained - even a year later - one of her favorite scenes. She wished she could see his face in the darkness, from his seat on the front row, she knew he absolutely hated watching himself back. Her mind allowed her to be transported back to the moment right before this.

"You ready?" She whispered to him during the commercial break, only having a few moments before the showrunners would whisk her backstage to fulfill her role as a presenter. She had not really wanted a role at all, except the one of a doting and supportive wife, but the world had other plans. When the original presenter for the award fell through, the Academy called Jordan and asked her to step in. It was not ideal as her husband was nominated, leading to a true test of their cardinal rule: their relationship would never interfere with work.

Charlotte immediately informed her husband, letting him know that her intention to politely decline. She did not want to announce the award because, while she felt he deserved to win (and voted as such), statistically, he had a 20% chance. She had been in his shoes before, knew the odds were never truly in anyone’s favor when it came to award shows, and would rather sit beside him and support him whichever way the wind blew.

Michael, on the other hand, couldn’t have disagreed more. He insisted she accept, citing that cardinal rule they had always abided by since they started dating nine years prior. This was work and presenting at the Oscars was a promotional opportunity. And he knew Marvel would not appreciate her turning down an opportunity to promote her recent project, the Marvels. She could not say no simply because of his feelings. He also believed that he would rather hear the news, either way, from his wife. Charlotte did not necessarily agree with his logic but who was she to argue with him? It was his night after all and this was what he wanted.

Michael kissed the back of her hand. "Babe, stop stressing. I am not as worried as you and I am the one nominated," he chuckled. Charlotte narrowed her eyes at the way his hand gripped and released the meat of her thigh, exposed by the high split in her dress, a tell that he was similarly riddled with anxiety.

"Yea and I am sure you aren’t nervous at all," she retorted, pointing at his active hand and jiggling leg.

He sighed, "I just don’t want to get too caught up in it, you know? You said so yourself… shit doesn’t really change. Being one of the only sports movies nominated is an honor in and of itself. So many directors and actors don’t win this shit anyway so if I don’t, I’ll move on.”

Charlotte could not disagree with him there, she understood all of this too well. In 2018, she became the first black woman to win two Oscars in one night for Best Song and Best Actress, cementing her place as the youngest EGOT winner in history. And while it was a moment she had dreamed about her entire life, aside from the phone ringing a bit more, nothing truly changed. The work was still the work and people did not treat her any differently.

"Well just know that whatever name I read up there, you are the best director to me," she offered as security came to transition her backstage. She placed a kiss to his cheek and lips before heading to get mic’ed up.

Charlotte’s hand trembled slightly as the lights came back up and the camera’s transitioned back to her. This was it, the moment of truth. "And the Oscar goes to…"

It took a moment to open the envelope and pull the card out. She read the name twice just to ensure she wasn’t hallucinating, unable to stop the gigantic smile that spread across her face or the tears that started to fall earnestly. “Get on up here, husband.” She laughed, the entire crowd immediately erupting in cheers. “Michael B. Jordan, Creed III.”

Loud cheers filled her ears and the crowd rose to a standing ovation as Michael made his way up to the stage. It took a minute as he gave a quick round of hugs to a couple of their friends who sat along the way to the stage.

Charlotte could barely see through the tears that clouded her vision by the time he was in front of her. Michael did not care about the golden statue in her hand as he swept her up into a hug and deep kiss, the audience also forgotten until a wolf whistle and whooping filled their ears. To him, this moment was well worth the anxiety he felt for the last week at the idea of her saying someone else’s name. This was more than he could have hoped for.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered as she broke away from their hug and kissed him softly again. He squeezed her hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss her ring finger, their signature move. She quickly moved off to the side to stand out of the shot so he could give his speech.

He stood there stunned for a moment, staring down at the statue and over to his wife. He truly had not thought he would win. So few directors receive the honor in their lifetime, let alone for their first movie. And a sports movie at that? He was shocked to be nominated. He truly had simply enjoyed the journey of being a nominee and was resigned to being nothing more. He had not even written a speech just in case. However, tonight was simply further proof that the only person ever putting limitations on his dreams was him. Tonight, he held the highest honor one could receive in his profession in his hand and it filled him with a pride he had never known.

"Wow… Els… this is something else. Um… first I want to thank God, without him I wouldn’t be able to be here and do what I love day and day out. I want to thank my parents, who made it possible for a young man from New Jersey to be in and make movies and make it to this stage tonight. You both always encouraged me to follow my dreams and my passions, I’ll never be able to repay you for that." There was a light applause and cheering at the heartfelt tribute to his parents.

"I want to thank everyone involved in this project - from the entire crew to my amazing cast, particularly Charlotte Elsbeth Jordan, Jonathan Majors, and Mila Davis Kent - I wouldn't be up here without you all. Thank you for putting your heart, soul and dedication into this project and showcasing the importance of vulnerability, love, and family in this film. Thank you to every director who has inspired me and helped me in this journey… Ryan, Stephen, Denzel… you all gave me so much insight and support throughout this process and I couldn’t be more appreciative.

"Lastly… I want to thank my wife, the love of my life, mother of my children. Els… whew," he paused as a wave of emotion hit him. He turned away from the audience to look at Charlotte, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Everyday with you is a gift and a blessing. From the day I met you at a chemistry test for Creed to today, you’ve pushed me to be the best version of myself, to take risks, and to chase dreams that felt impossible. You love so fiercely and with your whole soul and that has sustained me through it all. My greatest role in this life is being your husband and partner on screen and off.” He paused and gestured to the award and said, “When I think about what Adonis Creed and this franchise have brought to my life, the first thing I think is that it brought me to you. And for that, I’m forever grateful. I love you to the moon and back a hundred times over again, honey bee.” His voice broke slightly as he voiced his immense admiration for his wife, who could not try to hid the tears streaming down her face even if she wanted to.

"Thank y’all!" Michael raised the small statue up before walking toward Charlotte.

***

“Damn I’m exhausted,” Michael muttered as he unzipped Charlotte’s jumpsuit in their hotel room. He was happy they decided to just stay in their hotel for the night, his parents having offered to babysit. The drive back to their house at 4 am would have been hell after all the liquor the pair had at the two Oscars after parties.

“I knowwwww. You were the life of the party tonight. Didn’t realize you could party that hard at your age, old man,” she teased causing him to chuckle.

“You weren’t calling me old man last night,” he joked.

“Hate you!” She called from the bathroom as she hung her jumpsuit up in its garment bag. “Law already sent me a couple photos from the Vanity Fair red carpet. Said people are calling us the best dressed couple of the night. But I really want our photo booth photos from Jay and Bey’s. Those were so cute. I think we should get a couple framed for the house.”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

Michael shed his clothes and stretched back on the bed. His eyes drank in his wife as she walked around their suite in nothing but her lingerie.

“Liking the view?” She teased as she grabbed her pajamas.

“Always.”

“Well… as an Oscar winner, I recall someone once telling me that you get anything you want.” Michael smiled and nodded as she reminded him of what he told her the night she won. She sauntered over to him and slid down to her knees. “So, what do you want, Mr. Jordan?”

He slid his boxers down and gestured toward his manhood. He knew he did not have to say it, she already knew. And he knew she would likely enjoy the task just as much, if not more, than he did.

Charlotte’s mouth watered at the sight. Michael spent a great deal of time worshipping her body during sex, however, she was a giver too so she loved any excuse to fall to her knees and suck her husband’s dick. She took half of him into her mouth, her tongue rolling over his tip. She savored the taste of him as she moaned around his dick, the vibrations causing a moan to escape his lips.

She took her time with her task, massaging, licking and teasing the sensitive spots that would elicit the greatest response from the love of her life. People said sex would grow stall years into a marriage. However, Charlotte and Michael found that theirs only continued to improve as they knew exactly what the other needed.

She took a deep breath before taking him as far as she could into her throat. She relished in the feeling of his tip hitting the back of her throat and the praise that came with it as she took him as deep as she could. She felt her own desire pool between her legs as she listened to his moans and outpourings of adoration and praise.

“F-fuck… that’s it baby. Feels so… fucking good,” he breathed, his fingers tangled themselves in her long hair as he fucked her mouth. She loved this part, relinquishing control to him so he could fuck her as he desired.

And though his wife’s ministrations felt like pure bliss, all he wanted was to be buried deep inside her. He sat up and let his dick fall from her mouth, her lips immediately curling into a cute pout. He knew she was hoping he would cum down her throat but he didn’t want that tonight.

“I wasn’t doneeeee,” she whined playfully.

He merely laughed and helped her to her feet.

“Get on the bed, baby. You said whatever I want, remember?”

She could not and would not argue with that. “How do you want me then, love?” She knew the answer before it left his mouth.

“You know what I want, baby. Deep arch like I like it.”

Charlotte could’ve orgasmed right then and there at the command in his voice. She immediately moved and got on all fours on their bed, assuming his favorite position: face and chest down, ass up. She moaned as she felt a featherlike touch against her clit.

“P-please,” she whimpered, her need for him to stick something in her growing to painful levels.

“What do you want, baby? Want me to fuck you?”

She nodded fervently, her need clear in every syllable. “Y-Yes… please. I need you.”

As she felt him line himself up with her entrance, she almost willed him to ram it into her. She gasped and buried her head deep into the bed as he pushed into her. Her fingers clutched the white comforter tightly as she felt him fill her, a feeling that never got old, a high that she would chase day after day after day.

“You like that baby?” He asked as his hips started a relentless pace as he fucked her.

She could barely formulate words to answer him as she got lost in the pleasure he gave her. The only sounds filling their suite were the sounds of his hips smacking into her ass and her constant and loud moans.

She yelped as he smacked her across the ass, the sharp bite of pain pushing her closer and closer to her orgasm.

“I said, do you like that?”

“Y-Yes… fuck… I-I love you so much. D-don’t stop.”

An unnecessary direction because Michael had no intention of stopping. They could catch up on sleep tomorrow. Tonight? He planned on fucking his wife senseless until the Sun was back shining bright in the sky. After all, an Oscar winner gets whatever they want.

Taglist: @certifiedlesbianbaddie

#michael b jordan x reader #michael b jordan smut #mbjordanedit #michael b jordan #creed 3 #creed iii #black panther #black writers #Michael b Jordan x oc #Michael b Jordan fanfic #adonis creed

390 notes · View notes

militaryleak · 1 year ago

Text

Kratos XQ-58A Valkyrie Unmanned Aerial System Completes US Marine Corps PAACK-P Program

Kratos Defense & Security Solutions, Inc., a Technology Company in the Defense, National Security and Global Markets and an industry-leading provider of high-performance, jet-powered unmanned aerial systems, today announced the Marine Corps XQ-58A Valkyrie, a highly autonomous, low-cost tactical unmanned air vehicle successfully completed its first test flight October 3, 2023, at Eglin Air Force Base, Florida. Kratos partnered with the Marine Corps, the Office of the Undersecretary of Defense for Research and Engineering (OUSD (R&E)), the Naval Air Systems Command and Naval Warfare Center Aircraft Division to facilitate the ongoing research, development, test and evaluation of the Marine Corps XQ-58A Valkyrie. This joint collaboration was supported by the 40th Flight Test Squadron, 96th Test Wing and the Naval Air Warfare Center Aircraft Division. This flight marks a key milestone in the Marine Corps’ Penetrating Affordable Autonomous Collaborative Killer – Portfolio (PAACK-P) program. Future test flights inform Marine Corps XQ-58A Valkyrie requirements for the Marine Air-Ground Task Force Unmanned Aerial System Expeditionary (MUX) Tactical Aircraft (TACAIR).

View On WordPress

0 notes

yandins-beleagured-historian · 6 months ago

Note

With proper application of leverage, and a blade wedged under the rim of the lid, the sarcophagus is opened. In battlefield conditions, such a breach would be inadvisable at best and sacrilegious at worst, but impact forces have ruptured the sarcophagus' gas-tight seals in a dozen different places and shaken the rest of the welds halfway to failure. Considering the crash damage, exposure to the air should be the least of the occupant's worries. There is precious little left of the Iron Fist interred within the sarcophagus. Those organs not replaced by bulky life-support components are a jumbled mass of flesh swimming in a translucent armaplas tank, and where a face might have been is half metal plating, half blackened skull. Finding more than a square inch of bare skin is a task in itself, but before long, the melange of sedatives and coagulants are getting to work. It's a temporary fix, insufficient to stave off death on its own merit, but it'll buy the dreadnought's occupant a couple more hours of life. Or rather, what passed for life as little more than a brain in a metal coffin. The Iron Fist twitches as the vox-modulator crackles out another sequence of words. At first, it sounds like a trick of the senses. The audio is jumbled, heavily laden with signal noise and interference, no doubt a consequence of damage to the mind impulse unit. But as the vox-modulator hisses and fritzes, there is the faintest indication of other words, contradicting answers floating like shadows beneath the original. "Command Support, Second Company, Iron Fists. Fourth Squad, Second Company, Iron Fists. First Squad, Eighth Company, Iron Fists. IIIrd Clave, Clan Raukaan, Iron Hands. VIIth Clave, 96th Company, Clan Atraxii, Tenth Legion." "000.M42. 798.M40. 629.M37. 405.M35. 006.M31." Cognitive degeneration is not uncommon in those entombed in dreadnoughts. Nor are dreadnought chassis that date back hundreds or even thousands of years. But as this dreadnought's words echo and recycle, there is something distinctly odd about the phantom answers. It's at this point that one of the nartheciums pings with an anomaly from the organic tissue scans. Like most of the day's harvest, there is some deficiency in the geneseed: malfunctions or omissions of minor organs such as the betcher's gland, mutations in the melanchromatic organ, and a litany of other minor errors. The anomaly exhibited by this warrior, or what remains of them, is significantly more developed. The nerve bundles of the Omophagea, normally an addition to the brainstem that reads the genetic material of consumed flesh, run much less smoothly through the body. These nerves entwine around not just the stomach, but the lower progenoid gland, which the narthecium highlights as showing signs of significant degradation, almost as if the former organ is consuming the latter...

There was laughter on the wind here, out on the fringes of the Opphon plain, as the veil began to break down. Warpfire, re-entry heat and the cataclysmic death of titans had burned back the snow as far as the northern foothills, where the Iron Fists had died. The path of their retreat was marked by a trail of broken bodies and smoldering tanks, a fresh road stretching out from the wreck of the Cestus Relictor, to the ugly looking barbican that guarded the mountain pass. The broken ship squatted darkly amidst a forest of smoke columns; the first wave landing craft downed by its colossal guns, but even now, lesser warbands were no doubt crawling through its halls in search of prizes, plunder and prisoners. The sons of Fulgrim had watched the battle from afar, like vultures waiting to see which duelling beast became carrion. There had been a pleasance to the ebb and flow of it, the way the line of grey bloomed and sparkled with muzzle flashes and detonations each time the infernal tide rolled in upon them. Each murder of a titan was a slow, graceful affair, punctuated by energy discharge that dazzled and slashed their way through the smoking air. The dreadnought was not hard to find. They'd watched as the gunship was gutted as it tried to hasten survivors back to the safety of the mountains. The bodies had scattered like dark pollen from the riven craft, but the single fruit, the larger shape, had fallen faster, throwing up dust and soil as it bounced and rolled and ploughed its way across the plain. There was not much left of it at the end of the furrow such fall had carved, but there was still a sparking, guttering sense of life within the crumpled wreck. The golden gauntlet sigil of the Iron Fists chapter had been torn off along with its arms, but the name, 'Syrak', was still legible on the sarcophagus lid, in spite of the dark, viscous fluid that marred the lettering it as it trickled from the vision-slit down into the dark earth. As the figures approached, there was a whine of broken servos and a series of unpleasant clunks from within the wreck. Slowly, falteringly, the mangled vox-modulator churned out a stuttering sequence of words, carrying neither emotion nor any sense of recognition of the figures that surveyed it. "Cousi-i-i-ns. Do not. Lea-ea-ea-ea-eave me hhhhhere."

"Of course it's far from me to pass a verdict here … I'm not someone who needs to pass judgement on others …" A brief silence, then a harsh laugh at his own joke, which continues for quite a while before it dies away with a chortle. Accompanied by quiet words in a language that is more of a hiss than actual syllables. "… but in general, I wonder whether earlier intervention would not make for a much better harvest. Not to mention the fact that we are damaging other people's image here."

The person at whom the words are obviously directed due to sheer physical proximity does not reply. Instead, he continues to work on finding a good approach vector to the dispersing battlefield that won't cause the aggressive gunship to rebel too much if he denies it prey, while remaining inconspicuous.

Instead, an answer comes from further back: "And by better harvest, you don't mean select cruelty and silly new skin garments, do you?" - "Pah! I'm always fighting prejudice here." Waving it off and then ramming the midnight blue helmet with the bat wings onto his head.

"There's a very good reason why the Chief Apothecary didn't send any of our purple friends here. All tactical discipline falls out of their heads as soon as they see the opportunity to interfere in a battle and make a spectacle of themselves. Waiting and striking surgically - that really doesn't suit them anymore." - "Yes, yes, yes. Precision and boredom. When did that happen?" - "You can discuss it with him when we get back. I'll make some popcorn and watch this conversation from a safe distance."

For a while, there is only a busy silence as the three Apothecaries finish equipping themselves and force the angrily protesting gunship to land in a crater left by a Titan's footstep in the churned-up mud of the battlefield.

Everyone not only arms themselves, but also adds several extra canisters for Gene Seed to their belts. Then they open the ramp, taking advantage of a moment of distraction when the ship wouldn't shoot at them out of sheer fury and spite, and run crouched to the nearest remnant of wall. One shadow in scuffed black, one in well-maintained metal with yellow and black accented stripes, and one in midnight blue.

They orientate themselves and then start systematically scanning the battlefield. Their prize is what is always needed in the Eye of Terror. Harvested compassionlessly but not cruelly. The last mercy given without engaging in the maelstrom of mysticism that has spread tumour-like through the galaxy in the time since their rebellion failed so resoundingly.

None of the three believe in anything that could be called fate or predestination. And yet, after about half an hour, the small canisters full of dripping tissue, they find themselves almost simultaneously at what is, in a strange way, a burial site. The second time.

„Cousi-i-i-ns. Do not. Lea-ea-ea-ea-eave me hhhhhere.“

"Huh," Skalagrim mouths in astonishment.

"Look at that, a playmate for Diomat! Can I keep him?" laughs Duco, his rasping laugh once again making him so uncomfortably similar to his Sire.

Tzimiskes sighs.

Finally Skalagrim steps right up to the fallen dreadnought. Tilts his head. Looks to Tzimiskes, "Can you do anything with him?"

The Iron Warrior shrugs his shoulders, but nods. All three look at their Narthetica at the same time, check their readings and begin to stabilise the fallen old man. They don't have to coordinate much. Every move is perfect. After a while, Tzimiskes rises and disappears in the direction of the hollow, where Butcher Bird is bored and probably in an even worse mood than usual.

Duco injects several different sedatives and coagulants and says in a paternalistic manner: "Well, my old friend, now tell Uncle Doctor - where are we from and what year are we living in?"

#warhammer #the consortium #roleplay #Skalagrim #Duco #Sons of Horus #Tzimiskes #Night Lords #Iron Warriors #Iron Fists #Taralus

15 notes · View notes

planesawesome · 2 years ago

Text

A U.S. Air Force B-52 Stratofortess from the 96th Expeditionary Squadron approaches a KC-135 Stratotanker for air refueling after departing Andersen Air Force Base, Guam, for a Bomber Task Force mission Feb. 24, 2022. Bomber Task Force deployments support National Defense Strategy objectives of strategic predictability and operational unpredictability through the speed, flexibility, and readiness of strategic bombers. (U.S. Air Force photo by Staff Sgt. Lawrence Sena)

106 notes · View notes

mayhaps-a-blog · 3 years ago

Text

So when exactly does Thrawn take place?

I am struggling with the lack of timeline and my own perfectionism, so here we go.

We have a few hints about Thrawn’s time in Imperial service- he spent 3 months at the academy, 18 months with Virgilio before Rossi, and some months before the tibanna incident with Nightswan. Then about a year on the Thunder Wasp as a Captain.

We have our strongest clue when Thrawn is promoted to Commodore, as Vanto states that he has served with Thrawn for “nearly 4 years,” which would span their entire Imperial career.

While Thrawn is promoted, Pryce becomes Governor and serves 1 year before returning to Lothal, then three months plus proposal time bringing down Renking.

We don’t really know when Botajef occurs after this. Assuming there’s no notable timeskip, it’s probably at most 1-2 years after Pryce’s chapters. Then we skip again to the leadup to Batonn with Admiral Thrawn, when he was “recently assigned” to Task Force 96. I imagine this could be anything less than a year, which would still leave him the “rookie” compared to the other admirals.

While he could have served elsewhere, or been promoted later, the context suggests he was promoted for his success on Botajef and assigned to the 96th.

That’s 4 years to Commodore + 2 years of Pryce + 1 to 2 years until Botajef + 1 year until Batonn = 7 to 8 years of Imperial service. Maybe 10 with some years around Botajef.

And then Pryce grabs him for Lothal, which brings us to Rebels Season 3 in 2 BBY; from this, we can count backward and say Thrawn starts in 12-10 BBY.

And he goes from Lieutenant to Grand Admiral in perhaps 10 years.

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #chiss #star wars #eli vanto #things i think about when i should be working #pryce #governor pryce #arihnda pryce #rebels #star wars timeline #i feel like there's already an official answer somewhere #oh well

57 notes · View notes

bonzu-of-omashu · 3 years ago

Text

In the deserter episode, Book 1 Episode 16 of ATLA, you might have noticed Aang and the Blue Sprit. But you'll also find that Chey and Jeong Jeong are on there as well. There are also other wanted posters include in the series.

Aang's poster reads, “Wanted: The Avatar. This fugitive knows airbending, can create whirlwinds and flee like the wind. Hunters be extremely cautious!”

Iroh and Zuko’s poster reads, “The Fire Lord orders the arrest of Iroh and Zuko, the two rebellious traitors. General Iroh was once the Dragon of the West. Prince Zuko was Crown Prince to the Fire Lord. Both traitors violated imperial orders to exterminate the Water Tribe barbarians as well as capture the Avatar. Permission is granted to kill them on sight.”

The Blue Spirit's poster reads, “Wanted, by order of the Fire Lord: The so-called Blue Spirit. He is a thief, guilty of stealing the Avatar from the fire nation. Wears a traditional Earth Kingdom opera mask. His true identity is unknown, but disregard the rumors that he is a ghost. If you locate the Blue Spirit and attempt to apprehend him, you are advised to use as many forces as you can gather for the task.”

Chey's poster reads, “Wanted: By order of the Fire Lord: Chey, former captain in the Fire Nation army. He is a deserter, traitor, and a coward. He is 30 years old and skilled with explosives. Be warned that he is mentally unstable.”

Jeong Jeong's poster reads, “Wanted, by order of the Fire Lord: Joeng Joeng, former Admiral in the Fire Armanda. He is a deserter, traitor, and coward. He is 61 years old, with white hair. Although he has taken the wretched path of pacifism, he is a master firebender and should be approach with extreme caution.”

Appa’s poster reads, “Have you seen my flying bison? His name is Appa. He has six legs and weighs ten tons. If you have any information, please contact Avatar Aang in the Upper Ring, 96th District, House #217.”

Toph’s poster reads, “WANTED: THE RUNAWAY- Authorities are looking for information leading to the arrest of a twelve-year-old girl who pretends to be blind in order to take advantage of people and their money. Despite her small stature, this fugitive is considered VERY DANGEROUS. Reward for her capture: 1,000 gold pieces.”

Source: Avatar: The Last Airbender: The Art of the Animated Series

8 notes · View notes

usafphantom2 · 5 years ago

Text

Two B-52H Stratofortress aircraft assigned to the 96th Bomb Squadron fly in formation during Bomber Task Force Europe 20-1 over the Baltic Sea, Oct. 23, 2019. Strategic bombers contribute to stability in the European theater as they are intended to deter conflict rather than instigate it, demonstrating the credibility of U.S. forces to address the current global security environment. (U.S. Air Force photo by Airman 1st Class Duncan C. Bevan)

28 notes · View notes

kaikahuna · 4 years ago

Text

Task 010: Blast from the Past

Dylan was his best friend. Dylan, six years his senior, taught him everything from how to sneak about the house after bedtime to how to keep your eyes open underwater. Dylan looked out for him like a big brother would. Dylan would insist that Kai come over every night to play, making excuses that cousins needed to be together all the time. Dylan was still teaching him how to surf. Dylan’s name was only in the bowl once for the 96th Games, his first time being eligible. Dylan’s name came out of the bowl despite there being so many others. Dylan didn’t have anyone pity him or volunteer to take his place. Dylan, all of four foot nine, walked up to the stage without protest and even smiled down at his mom. Dylan told his family not to worry. Dylan said he would be ok. Dylan made several appearances on Capitol t.v. Dylan scored a 5. Dylan made Caesar Flickerman laugh and ask how someone so young could be so kind. Dylan waved to his family from the camera. Dylan told Kai to go to bed. Dylan wouldn’t ever say anything to Kai ever again.

Dylan looked so strange in the outfit they forced him into. Dylan looked so small on the platform that seemed to rise from nowhere. Dylan was the last one off the platforms after the timer ended. Dylan didn’t make it far. Dylan became surrounded by mutts sent to accompany the bloodbath. Dylan’s eyes were filled with fear instead of the brightness they usually were. Dylan’s dark black hair disappeared as the mutts swarmed him. Dylan’s screams were broadcast for the world to hear. Dylan was ripped to shreds. Dylan’s cannon sounded first. Dylan’s body came home, or what was left of it did. Dylan was dead. Dylan was gone. Dylan wouldn’t ever get to teach him how to surf.

#ruleandtask #tw: death #troubled waters

2 notes · View notes

contentment-of-cats · 2 years ago

Link

"I prefer men on my bridge, there are fewer distractions to hamper efficiency. Still, she did admirably as one might expect of an Ascension Games winning team member."

In Wullf's opinion, if a bridge officer was too busy thinking with the little head about female officers, the big head ought to pay the price. "It seems to work well with Faro. The Chimaera has the highest complement of women in the fleet, and the 96th keeps shellacking everyone else. Sartan seems happy to let them go their way."

"Sartan's counting down to retirement and nobody wants to be that far out from the core lest nobody of importance miss their preening." Importance being the IHS and Emperor Palpatine himself. "The Seventh is a holding area for oddballs and off-centers - such as aliens and female crew members."

No wonder the man couldn't get laid.

#fic #fanfic #96th Task Force #thrawn #karyn faro #pyrondi #agral #nerd herd #shore leave universe #life in the empire

15 notes · View notes

worldofaviation · 5 years ago

Photo

U.S. Air Force 1st Lt. James Bell (top) and Capt. “Jefe” (bottom), 96th Bomb Squadron pilots, adjust the throttle and yaw of a U.S. Air Force 2nd Bomb Wing B-52H Stratofortress in support of Bomber Task Force Europe 20-1, Oct. 25, 2019, over the United Kingdom. This deployment allows aircrews and support personnel to conduct theater integration and to improve bomber interoperability with joint partners and allied nations. (U.S. Air Force photo by Tech. Sgt. Christopher Ruano)

#b-52 #bomber #cockpit #pilot #usaf #stratofortress #air force #aviation

31 notes · View notes

ultimavolatusrpg · 5 years ago

Text

ACCEPTED // FALCO FIELDS

35 years old, Father to Aspen Fields, Fc: Jay Ryan

Humble, loyal, closed-off, idealistic, intuitive

tw: murder, execution, death

As a boy growing up in District Nine, Falco Fields thought that he would do what every boy in District Nine would do. They would be born, they would go to school, meet the woman of their dreams, get married, have a baby, work in the fields, and eventually die. It was a typical circle of life in the Grain District. At first, that was how his life started out. He was born as one of three boys, him being the oldest of them. However, at his youngest brother was born, his mother died shortly from birthing complications, leaving him and his brothers with his father.

Their life didn’t end up as different as he would have thought it would, looking back on it. He started young in the fields with his father, learning quickly how to harvest grain and the proper methods. Due to how badly they needed help to put food on the table, he rarely went to school so his brothers could have the privilege of doing so. At the time, he didn’t mind it. It was his duty as the oldest brother to help provide for them since their father didn’t have their mother to help with everything that should have been helped with.

As he grew older, he took the mantle of caregiver seriously, and that branched off to when he met Orla when they were fourteen. As much as he wanted to take care of his newfound love, she had made it an impossible task for him to take care of her. She was headstrong and spritely, bringing out the adventurer in him. She made him care about what was happening beyond the bounds of their village despite the Peacekeepers always looming around them. Every time she took his hand, he knew it would be an adventure in of itself.

Their young relationship had blossomed overtime, creating love from the two of them. Orla gave Falco a reason to want to see a bigger picture while Falco had given Orla a reason to stay still for a moment and see the world as it was in that moment. Falco loved her more than anything else in the world -- until they found out at seventeen that she had gotten pregnant.

It wasn’t uncommon for many people of District Nine to have children at such a young age, but they normally waited until after they were freed of the Reaping. Of course it wasn’t on purpose, but his family was supportive and offered to help each other when they could. It was five months into the pregnancy at their final Reaping that everything seemed to shift and then right itself all at once. It was the second loss that Falco would experience in his life, and something that he still to this day felt he needed to repay.

His name was pulled from the bowl, only to be saved within seconds by his best friend, Harlon. The amount of shock that pummeled through Falco in that moment was enough to make him quiet for days, even as he watched the screens and saw Harlon try to charm his way into sponsorship, only for him to die at the hands at the Victor of that Games on the second day -- Fell Vasile.

Falco didn’t have long to grieve after Harlon’s body was brought back to Nine. A few months later, his girlfriend had gone into labor and she delivered twin girls. First came Aurelia, and then came Aspen. Falco was an eighteen-year-old father that was attempting to navigate a new world of parenthood. Orla never lost her spirit. In fact, she gave some of it to her daughters, especially Aurelia. While Falco spent most of his days in the fields attempting to get some money for his family and put food on the table, it was Orla who stayed at home and raised their girls. Before long, it became apparent that the two girls, while they were identical, had very different personalities.

There were days that Falco and Orla would lay in bed, talking about how much alike the girls were in comparison to them. It was obvious Aurelia had taken after Orla, while quiet little Aspen had taken after Falco. It was extraordinary to them at the time, but that was a time long passed. They spent a lot of years happy, but Falco knew that Orla was not someone to abide by the law of the land. She was rebellious and outspoken and always had been. Falco knew of his wife’s allegiances and never spoke about them. He stayed quiet, but encouraging. Then, ten years into their marriage, tragedy had finally struck them.

Someone had ratted out the family as being of a rebellious nature. However, as they hunted them down, Orla had taken the blame, leaving him nearly blameless. They rounded her, her parents, and him and dragged them out into the open in the middle of District Nine while their daughters were at school. As they tore Falco’s shirt off, they chained him to the pole and forced him to watch as they executed Orla’s parents first. As they put the woman to her knees, facing him, Falco plead and cried for them to spare her life. The last words upon her lips was ‘Falco, I love’ before the trigger was pulled. She couldn’t finish her words as her blood sprayed him in the face.

Falco was lashed thirty times as he cried and screamed in his emotional and physical anguish. It didn’t take long for him to realize that his twelve-year-old girls had walked up while he was still being lashed. It was the only time in his life where he couldn’t bare to take care of anyone else, even his own children. After that, it felt almost like he lost half of who he was. It was only after his wounds began to heal thanks to the help of a local nurse and his daughters that he managed to get out of bed at all.

It took a long time for Falco to get back on track, but he dove into taking care of Aurelia and Aspen to the best of his abilities as a single, young father. Having just turned thirty and already being a widow, it was hard enough as it was. His best friend was dead and all he could do was try to take care of his daughters. Then, shortly after the incident, his father had a heart attack and passed away. It felt like one thing after another that kept assaulting his heart. He thought that the tragedies were over, until one day, Aurelia had turned up missing. He spent weeks trying to find her, trying and praying that she didn’t get caught by Peacekeepers, but nothing turned up. She was gone too. Just like Orla. Just like his mother. His father.

After all of that time, after all he did to try and take care of the people he loved most, all he had left was Aspen.

And then weeks after Aurelia’s disappearance, she was Reaped into the 96th Hunger Games. The moment he heard her name over the loud speaker, everything came out from under him and he collapsed to his knees, the soul ripped from his very bones. It took three Peacekeepers to pry Aspen from his arms so they could take her to the train to ship her to the Capitol. Every ounce of Falco’s resolve was stripped from him until the only thing left to hold onto was his brothers, who immediately came to his aid as soon as Aspen had been shipped off.

While Aspen was in the Capitol, Falco didn’t leave the television screens. Whenever he wasn’t forced to work, he was in the Square watching the screens to make sure his daughter was doing okay. They had dolled her up, put makeup on her, paraded her around as if she were a toy. He would have felt enraged if he hadn’t felt as though he was losing his baby girl. Every night as he went to bed, laying in the dark, he would pray his heart out and apologize to his wife’s spirit, where ever she may be, that he couldn’t protect their girls.

As the Games progressed, no one thought Aspen would win, but her resilience and her ability to be faceless in the Games had benefitted her. As the Games continued, the longer she stayed alive, the more hope the man had. As it came down to the final Three, District Nine congregated in the Square. Then it became the final Two. As they watched the two of them running for their lives on the island, Falco standing alone in the Square with his brothers, he was suddenly surrounded by support. Strangers he only knew from passing by, grabbing a hold of him to keep him upright. It was a moment that he had never experienced -- a whole District coming together to take care of one of their own as it came down to the wire.

And then suddenly, Aspen was the Victor of the 96th Hunger Games, and Falco lost feeling in his legs all over again as he collapsed from relief and joy. He had never felt like that before, but all he could do now was hope he could have her back in his arms again soon. It took over two weeks until he could get her back into District Nine. As soon as she stepped off, he bolted to the stage and grabbed a hold of his daughter and fell to the floor with her, hugging her and sobbing from joy that she was still alive. The last little bit of his heart was still hanging on.

Eventually, however, he knew that he and Aspen had to leave District Nine behind forever to let her join the ranks she earned in Victor’s Village. Their arrival there was slow and steady, but getting moved in and settled was the hardest part. Falco knew it would be a weird change of pace for him, but it was a better alternative than losing his daughter forever.

PENNED BY: TABBY

#accepted #character bio #falco

3 notes · View notes

mariellewritesalot · 6 years ago

Text

In Conclusion, 2018

Goodbyes have always seemed second nature to me, but as soon as they happen, there’s either nothing, or so much more left to say. It’s one of those things that should come easy for writers with much pain and experience to show for, but decides to be a creative roadblock with a deadline. The end always does feel like a new beginning, if you think about it; partially because goodbyes are often times so sudden that we barely have the chance to take a breath before speaking. It could also be the exact opposite: a slow burn that gives us time to prepare, but still manages to completely take us aback on how real it feels, so we end up letting out what begs to come forth, without knowing that some things are better left unsaid. I am a firm believer that people only mean what they say the moment they say it, and as I am writing this, I feel the weight of the entire year on my shoulder about to be eased by the promise of consolation: what lessons were learned, and how do I apply them?

To tell you the truth, I’ve always had an inkling that 2018 was not going to be my year, but now I see that there were just a lot of battles that I won and lost, tragically. Most of the time chronically, so I truly felt whatever fortune life presented at that time. The first half of the year provided me with heartbreaks in the demise of a relationship, the death of a friend, and a rejection that threw my college future off-course for a while, before I was able to redeem myself: what’s meant to be, always will be. I graduated Senior High School with flying colors. I got into UPD through a talent test in writing. I watched LANY and Harry Styles live. I worked my first job at my cousin’s spa in Tomas Morato as their supervisor in the summer, met so many people I now can proudly call constants. I released a short story after a long writing drought. I learned a new thing or two, like how much I enjoy writing in Filipino that the course I never imagined taking gave me a mission to widen my writing span with a purpose. I joined the controversial 96th Philippine Collegian that raised eyebrows, but gave me a new family and so much insight on journalistic writing. I applied for UP Children’s Rights Advocates League (UP CRAdLe), my first org in UP, to give myself an avenue to help out. I gave my first talk on creative writing, alongside seasoned professionals, at PUP. I turned nineteen without much fuss, something my spirit animal Lily Aldrin-Ericksen (from HIMYM) will not approve of. I went out with my friends more, learned new ways to get around the city (and broke my curfew) at the same time. I decided it’s okay not to be okay sometimes, gave myself breathing space from my overachieving, perfectionist ideals and took care of my anxiousness rather than tolerating habits that contributed to its continuity. True to its promise, taking it day by day gave me the ride of a lifetime. I felt like I matured more this year than I ever have before, and I have that to be grateful for.

I also saw a silver lining when the next half of the year led me to the love of my life, only to fall short when I was doing so much for so little, and was given uncertainty and indecisiveness in return. It felt more than just saying goodbye to a person. There was too much on the line, so it started to feel like losing a part of myself especially because I found my best friend in the same person. But resiliency in two people can mean see you again or see you around, still, even in the attempt of friendship for the sake of the people affected. I never noticed how hard it was to fix things I can’t take the blame for; hence being forced to sit this one out because it’s out of my control. Forgiving myself proves to be a task I need to conquer in order to accept it. However, I can’t tell you how beautiful it is that even in hurt, just by looking back, I’m surprised of the love I’m capable of and the memories shared that no one else but the both of us know of. I will miss the people around us the most. What also adds salt to the wound is the fact that I’ll probably never have the chance to say my goodbyes or explain things from my perspective. I guess growing up means there has to be room for love to take shape in different ways, or for time and space to hone us into better people until we’re exactly where we need to be. If anything, I just have to let life run its course. Let the chips fall where they may (an ode to that iconic Gossip Girl Season 5 finale) until I get the winning hand. God has always had His own way of surprising me. If a love is meant to be, I’d know. I am my mother’s child, after all, born into a family that was favored by destiny and a lot of faith.

The lessons disguised as experiences I gathered this year were all pointing to the same virtue: patience. Let me tell you, for someone as anxious as I am, it’s hard to trust anything or anyone if I know I can take things into my own hands. I’ve always been the type to organize and plan whenever I could, I often feel restless because I choose to work for whatever I want and currently have. I guess that’s why even in different scenarios, a recurring theme I notice, in terms of learning, really, is to wait. In times when I don’t realize I am waiting, I wake up one day really happy because I got what I wanted, but I barely acknowledge all the times I had to sit still for it to happen. I truly want to forgive myself for ever trying too hard or not trying at all, for all the opportunities missed, and the embarrassing honest-to-god-knock-me-out moments I’d rather not relive. I apologize for any of it, because if you know me well enough, you’d know I thought about it over and over until I am certain of what to take the blame for and what to do next time I am faced with a similar situation. I will no longer punish myself for being too much, rather, I will redirect my energy to things and people that deserve it. It’s a long way to go, but what matters to me the most is that I’m trying to be better and acknowledging my wrongdoings along the way. I have the start somewhere, don’t I?

This year also gave me a rude awakening on commitment and priorities. I think I’ve made myself ready for anything, especially long-term, if I deem it worthy of my time and effort. I also see myself as someone with good time management (aka my “I’ll complain about it but you’ll never see me not do it” complex) so my priorities were never an issue, however, even if my IQ doesn’t suffer, my EQ does. I can’t blame anyone but myself for being such a hopeless romantic because no matter how much I deny it, I quite like being all lovey-dovey. However, after a series of failed attempts and investments despite being in my best behavior, I guess it truly is the time to let love take the backseat for a while. I’m crossing my fingers that I won’t break my own rules this time. After all, I can stand on my own, and ironically, it’s what men always seem to love about me until it backfires drastically in different ways. I either stray away from my usual, uptight self, or stay in the upper hand, until they get tired of it. I guess there is some truth in the belief that you fall out of love for the same reasons you fell in it. For 2019, the only person I am looking into falling in love with (again and again) is myself. I still have a lot to work and reflect on, and stubbornness to let go of. For whatever it’s worth, I got to admit that though there is the aura of loneliness that clings on solitude, nothing feels as good as going to bed without worrying about another person. In return, I’ll cling onto any good feeling that comes out of this as hard as I can.

There’s something about the end of another year and the beginning of a new one that rouses everyone from their stupor (momentarily) until we’re all out for blood, or the best version of ourselves. At the very least, it’s always for the benefit of ourselves and those around us, lest we forget what we came in for. I have a lot of things planned out for myself in 2019, a new set of goals to achieve and dreams to pursue. I’ve always made myself busy to fill voids. I can’t divulge any further, since I somehow still have the tendency of losing interest whenever I tell people what I am up to. Maybe it’s because I live for the thrill of it all, and the shock from everyone, including myself, when I manage to pull things off. There’s a certain charm to things when you least expect them.

The only thing I want to attest to right now is my promise to write more for leisure and give you more content to look forward to, both in Filipino and English. I can never be too sure of myself, since a new year can also mean a new set of problems, setbacks, failures, and heartbreaks I may never be prepared for; but at least I know that come what may, I will always be provided with the strength and courage to get through. If I had known then that growing up meant more than just the no-fail linear path that includes the college-job-marriage mindset, I would have wanted to stay young longer. Adults have often tried to warn me and others, though, so it’s fair game. I just wish I wasn’t so in the rush. I’ve always thought I was mature for my age, but at nineteen, I feel more confused by the minute. There’s so much more to learn and experience before I ever deem myself worthy of honor. Sometimes I can’t believe I’m almost out of my teenage years when I know I still have my childish moments. This is a process I’m willing to see through, no matter how unbearable it gets. As a writer, it’s imperative for me to experience life in the extremities of emotions, more than just the gray areas I’m well acquainted with. It’s what helps with the craft, well, I can’t write about what I don’t know. If I could wish for something in 2019, it might as well be to regain my footing from the setbacks of 2018.

I’m ready if you are. Stay tuned.

*Let’s connect with each other through Spotify: mariellewashere.

#daily life blog posts #new year #year-ender #in conclusion #2018

2 notes · View notes

atlanticcanada · 3 years ago

Text

Queen Elizabeth II privately celebrates 96th birthday

Queen Elizabeth II is marking her 96th birthday privately on Thursday, retreating to the Sandringham estate in eastern England that has offered the monarch and her late husband, Prince Philip, a refuge from the affairs of state.

Elizabeth is expected to spend the day at the estate’s Wood Farm cottage, a personal sanctuary where she also spent her first Christmas since Philip’s death in April 2021. Philip loved the cottage, in part because it is close to the sea, she said in February when hosting a rare public event at Sandringham.

“I think the queen’s approach to birthdays very much embodies her keep calm and carry on attitude," said Emily Nash, the royal editor at HELLO! magazine. ”She doesn’t like a fuss."

This birthday comes during the queen’s platinum jubilee year, marking her 70 years on the throne. While Thursday will be low-key, public celebrations will take place June 2-5, when four days of jubilee festivities have been scheduled to coincide with the monarch’s official birthday.

The day marks yet another milestone in a tumultuous period for the monarch, who has sought to cement the future of the monarchy amid signs of her age and controversy in the family. After recovering from a bout of COVID-19 earlier this year, the queen’s public appearances have been limited by unspecified “mobility issues.” Prince Andrew’s multi-million pound settlement with a woman who accused him of sexual exploitation also caused unwanted headlines for the Royal Family.

But the queen got an early birthday treat last week, when grandson Prince Harry and Meghan, the Duchess of Sussex, paid her a joint visit for the first time since they stepped away from frontline royal duties and moved to California in 2020. Harry, in an interview with NBC, said his grandmother was “on great form,” though he added that he wanted to make sure she was “protected” and had “the right people around her.”

Britain’s longest-serving monarch, Elizabeth has spent much of the past two years at Windsor Castle, west of London, where she took refuge during the pandemic.

It’s been a little over a year since the death of Philip, her spouse of more than 70 years.

The queen said good-bye during a scaled down funeral in St. George’s Chapel at Windsor Castle. Coronavirus restrictions in place at the time limited the service to 30 mourners and forced the monarch to sit alone — a poignant reminder of how she would spend her remaining years.

Last month, with the pandemic on the wane and restrictions eased, the queen shrugged off recent health issues to attend a service of thanksgiving for Philip at Westminster Abbey, entering the abbey on the arm of Andrew, her second son.

Her choice of escorts was seen as a vote of support for Andrew following his legal settlement.

But the in-person appearance was rare. The Queen has increasingly relied on Prince Charles to take on public engagements in the twilight of her reign, most recently offering alms to senior citizens at the Royal Maundy service at St. George’s Chapel.

Charles took on the traditional task of distributing specially minted coins to pensioners who were being recognized for service to the church and the local community.

This year, 96 men and 96 women received the coins, one for each year of the queen’s life.

“She has a lot coming up in the next few months, so it absolutely makes sense that she enjoys her birthday quietly, privately at Sandringham,″ Nash said. “She will no doubt have quite a lot of time to reflect on her happy times there with Prince Philip over the years. But this is really someone whose focus is still on the future, even at the age of 96.”

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/PEQK3vD

#new brunswick #prince edward island #nova scotia #news #politics #canada #CTVAtlantic

0 notes

jettadarkwynd · 6 years ago

Text

Erdogan has limited options to save Turkey from financial crisis

New Post has been published on https://worldwide-finance.net/news/commodities-futures-news/erdogan-has-limited-options-to-save-turkey-from-financial-crisis

Erdogan has limited options to save Turkey from financial crisis

By Samia Nakhoul and Dominic Evans

ISTANBUL (Reuters) – After 15 years in power as prime minister and president, Tayyip Erdogan faced down a weak opposition in June elections that swept away any checks and balances to the unchallenged rule he wanted. In Turkey he appears lord of all he surveys.

But his victory could become a poisoned chalice if he cannot resolve an angry feud with President Donald Trump that is pushing his country towards financial crisis.

Erdogan has limited options. Most involve a loss of face or a loss of sovereignty for which he alone would be blamed, having successfully marginalized not just a divided opposition but his own Justice and Development Party (AKP).

His victories in June were decisive. Re-elected as president under a new order modeled more on Vladimir Putin’s Russia than France or the United States, he also secured a parliamentary majority by allying with far-right nationalists.

The role of prime minister was abolished, leaving Erdogan to dominate not just the executive – appointing ministers, chairing the cabinet and replacing top civil servants with political appointees – but also holding sway over the judiciary and the legislature.

Having chosen to rule alone from his vast neo-Ottoman palace in Ankara, he confronts the spiraling crisis alone.

The lira has collapsed by 40 percent this year. Turkish banks that borrowed heavily abroad now face the near impossible task of refinancing short-term debt in expensive dollars and euros.

RATTLED INVESTORS

Investors rattled by soaring inflation and a widening current account deficit were suddenly confronted by a row between Erdogan and Trump, who doubled tariffs on U.S. imports of Turkish steel and aluminum in an attempt to force Ankara to release Andrew Brunson, an evangelical Protestant pastor jailed after an attempted coup in 2016.

As the lira lost a quarter of its value last month alone, Erdogan accused the United States of waging “economic war” against Turkey.

Speaking last month at the anniversary of an 11th century Turkish victory over the Christian Byzantine empire, Erdogan told Turks not to believe the dispute with the United States was about him. “No, their issue is Turkey. The issue is Islam,” he thundered.

This plays well with his base and, since Trump has used tariffs as a political reprisal, means most of the opposition will line up behind the Turkish president.

But the issue Erdogan most urgently has to confront is cash.

According to JPMorgan (NYSE:), $179 billion in Turkish foreign debt matures in the year to July 2019, $146 billion of which is owed by the private sector – especially Turkey’s banks – which borrowed abroad but often earns mostly in lira, saddling it with a severe debt mismatch given the plummeting currency.

OPTIONS?

The question is now whether Erdogan will make up with Trump – as recently as July’s NATO summit they were seen fist-bumping – perhaps at this month’s U.N. general assembly. One source close to the AKP, speaking not for attribution, thinks he will.

“Brunson is a tool, cosmetic but important,” the source said, refusing to be drawn on whether Turkey would first have to deliver him back in a signal to Trump’s evangelical Protestant supporters ahead of November’s mid-term elections.

The source believes Turkey will tilt back towards the European Union, where its bid for membership has all but expired. Ankara has high hopes that Germany, which Erdogan visits this month, may lead European efforts to shore up Turkey financially.

But any EU aid is unlikely to be enough. A pledge by Qatar, Turkey’s closest Arab ally, to invest $15 billion has had little impact.

“The economy is a big concern because people are getting poorer” the source close to the AKP said. “In all these years we didn’t invest, except in construction, and we cannot eat that. We missed trains like investing in technology and industry.”

As inflation spikes, the central bank is signaling a rise in interest rates next week to brake the lira’s free-fall.

But given Erdogan’s belief that interest rates, which he calls the “mother and father of all evil”, are a cause of inflation, any hike may be too little and too late.

That increases the likelihood that Turkey may have to go to the IMF for the size of bail-out it needs. The government rules this out as an unacceptable surrender of sovereignty.

“I have no need of the IMF,” Finance Minister Berat Albayrak told Reuters on Sunday. The minister is Erdogan’s son-in-law.

“Going to the IMF would be a very big challenge,” said the source, “since we used to bash it frequently in our campaign slogans and we were very proud of ridding ourselves of the IMF burden” after the 2000-01 financial crisis shortly before the AKP came to power.

However the source said Erdogan is good at explaining things to the nation and has near total control of the media.

US WAR ON TURKEY

Mustafa Sentop, deputy speaker of parliament and the AKP’s former election campaigns chief, says the Turkish economy is in reasonable shape when benchmarked against comparable emerging markets. “We don’t believe Turkey will have a problem in funding this debt,” he said.

He says the real problem is a U.S. effort to control the region and isolate Turkey’s neighbor Iran. Erdogan is an obstacle in Washington’s path, and “Brunson is just a symptom of this”.

“This is not a conflict between Turkey and the U.S., it is a war by the U.S. on Turkey and other parts of the world, targeting Russia, China and even the EU. They are trying to use the economy and especially currencies,” he said.

“Either the world unites against the cowboy behavior and tyranny of Trump and fights back or we kneel,” Sentop said. “But Turkey will never kneel.”

Washington has turned the Brunson affair, one of several disputes it has with Turkey, into the central issue to be resolved as a condition of any armistice.

Last year Erdogan linked the cleric’s release to the U.S. extraditing Fethullah Gulen, a Pennsylvania-based imam and former AKP ally who Turkey says was behind the abortive but violent putsch of July 2016.

Trump last month demanded the unconditional release of Brunson, calling him a “great patriot hostage”, after the collapse of a deal that might have freed him.

In exchange, analysts say Turkey would have got three things: the repatriation of an executive from the state-owned Halkbank who was convicted of breaking sanctions on Iran, the reduction of a fine still to be imposed by the U.S. Treasury on Halkbank, and Trump’s intercession with Israel to free a Turkish woman held as a courier for Hamas.

Israel deported the Turkish detainee, Ebru Ozkan, on July 15 and later confirmed that Trump had requested her release. Ankara has denied agreeing to free Brunson in return.

The government may “muddle through” for a while, one academic says, but mass unemployment and unrest may result if Erdogan does not take action.

“This country is too big to sink with him,” said one liberal critic who requested anonymity, “But his power base will shrink with this depreciation.” Erdogan’s emphasis on foreign plots “translates into votes for the (ultra-nationalist) MHP, not the AKP”.

“I think it is impossible for him to maintain this level of support in the face of economic collapse,” said a former AKP activist.

Read More https://worldwide-finance.net/news/commodities-futures-news/erdogan-has-limited-options-to-save-turkey-from-financial-crisis

#crisis #Erdogan #Financial #limited #Options #Save #Turkey

3 notes · View notes

taylordmorris · 6 years ago

Text

Erdogan has limited options to save Turkey from financial crisis

New Post has been published on https://worldwide-finance.net/news/commodities-futures-news/erdogan-has-limited-options-to-save-turkey-from-financial-crisis

Erdogan has limited options to save Turkey from financial crisis