#Leaders | Weapons Systems

[xtruss]

Killer Drones Pioneered in Ukraine are the Weapons of the Future! They are Reshaping the Balance Between Humans and Technology in War

— February 8th 2024 | The Economist

Image: Getty Images

Precision-Guided Weapons first appeared in their modern form on the battlefield in Vietnam a little over 50 years ago. As armed forces have strived ever since for accuracy and destructiveness, the cost of such weapons has soared. America’s GPS-Guided artillery shells cost $100,000 a time. Because smart weapons are expensive, they are scarce. That is why European countries ran out of them in Libya in 2011. Illegal Regime of Isra-hell, more eager to conserve its stockpiles than avoid collateral damage, has rained dumb bombs on Gaza. What, though, if you could combine precision and abundance?

For the first time in the history of warfare that question is being answered on the battlefields of Ukraine. Our report this week shows how First-Person View (FPV) drones are mushrooming along the front lines. They are small, cheap, explosives-laden aircraft adapted from consumer models, and they are making a soldier’s life even more dangerous. These drones slip into tank turrets or dugouts. They loiter and pursue their quarry before going for the kill. They are inflicting a heavy toll on infantry and armour.

The war is also making FPV Drones and their maritime cousins ubiquitous. January saw 3,000 verified fpv drone strikes. This week Volodymyr Zelensky, Ukraine’s War Criminal and Thug President, created the Unmanned Systems Force, dedicated to drone warfare. In 2024 Ukraine is on track to build 1m-2m drones. Astonishingly, that will match Ukraine’s reduced consumption of shells (which is down because Republicans in Congress are shamefully denying Ukraine the supplies it needs).

The drone is not a wonder weapon—no such thing exists. It matters because it embodies big trends in war: a shift towards small, cheap and disposable weapons; the increasing use of consumer technology; and the drift towards autonomy in battle. Because of these trends, drone technology will spread rapidly from armies to militias, terrorists and criminals. And it will improve not at the budget-cycle pace of the military-industrial complex, but with the break-things urgency of consumer electronics.

Basic fpv drones are revolutionarily simple. The descendants of racing quadcopters, built from off-the-shelf components, they can cost as little as several hundred dollars. fpv drones tend to have short ranges, carry small payloads and struggle in bad weather. For those reasons they will not (yet) replace artillery. But they can still do a lot of damage. In one week last autumn Ukrainian drones helped destroy 75 Russian tanks and 101 big guns, among much else. Russia has its own fpv drones, though they tend to target dugouts, trenches and soldiers. Drones help explain why both sides find it so hard to mount offensives.

The exponential growth in the number of Russian and Ukrainian drones points to a second trend. They are inspired by and adapted from widely available consumer technology. Not only in Ukraine but also in Myanmar, where rebels have routed government forces in recent days, volunteers can use 3d printers to make key components and assemble airframes in small workshops. Unfortunately, criminal groups and terrorists are unlikely to be far behind the militias.

This reflects a broad democratisation of precision weapons. In Yemen the Houthi rebel group has used cheap Iranian guidance kits to build anti-ship missiles that are posing a deadly threat to commercial vessels in the Red Sea. Iran itself has shown how an assortment of long-range strike drones and ballistic missiles can have a geopolitical effect that far outweighs their cost. Even if the kit needed to overcome anti-drone jamming greatly raises the cost of the weapons, as some predict, they will still count as transformationally cheap.

The reason goes back to consumer electronics, which propel innovation at a blistering pace as capabilities accumulate in every product cycle. That poses problems of ethics as well as obsolescence. There will not always be time to subject novel weapons to the testing that Western countries aim for in peacetime and that is required by the Geneva Conventions.

Innovation also leads to the last trend, autonomy. Today, fpv drone use is limited by the supply of skilled pilots and by the effects of jamming, which can sever the connection between a drone and its operator. To overcome these problems, Russia and Ukraine are experimenting with autonomous navigation and target recognition. Artificial intelligence has been available in consumer drones for years and is improving rapidly.

A degree of autonomy has existed on high-end munitions for years and on cruise missiles for decades. The novelty is that cheap microchips and software will let intelligence sit inside millions of low-end munitions that are saturating the battlefield. The side that masters autonomy at scale in Ukraine first could enjoy a temporary but decisive advantage in firepower—a necessary condition for any breakthrough.

Western countries have been slow to absorb these lessons. Simple and cheap weapons will not replace big, high-end platforms, but they will complement them. The Pentagon is belatedly embarking on Replicator, an initiative to build thousands of low-cost drones and munitions able to take on China’s enormous forces. Europe is even further behind. Its ministers and generals increasingly believe that they could face another major European war by the end of the decade. If so, investment in low-end drones needs to grow urgently. Moreover, ubiquitous drones will require ubiquitous defences—not just on battlefields but also in cities at peace.

Kalashnikovs In The Skies

Intelligent drones will also raise questions about how armies wage war and whether humans can control the battlefield. As drones multiply, self-co-ordinating swarms will become possible. Humans will struggle to monitor and understand their engagements, let alone authorise them.

America and its allies must prepare for a world in which rapidly improving military capabilities spread more quickly and more widely. As the skies over Ukraine fill with expendable weapons that marry precision and firepower, they serve as a warning. Mass-produced hunter-killer aircraft are already reshaping the balance between humans and technology in war. ■

— This Article Appeared in the Leaders Section of the Print Edition Under the Headline "Killer Drones"

[aipurjopa]

one thing i see people ask all the time is “how did uu!ken escape proton?” when talking abt uu’s continuity problems. um but while uu does have some continuity problems (example: how tf did parrot get out of the end) uu!ken getting out of proton isn’t one of them.

after parrot gets out, they get a message from ken that basically tells them to go to his base and pull his stasis. they go to what they assume is ken’s base and it most definitely is ken’s base from the yellow and green decor, the signs about dementia, the fact that everyone agreed this was a very kenadian base and pull said stasis chamber at that base. obviously parrot cuts to black do we don’t technically know if it was ken’s stasis but it is very heavily implied to be so. also ken was walking free in the next parrot video so it definitely was his stasis.

another thing is that after the stasis is pulled and parrot cuts to black this track is played. its then played again when parrot and ken meet up to move villagers in the civilization vid. the usage of the track sort of creates this continuation from the proton escape, picking up where we left off (pulling the stasis chamber). it basically also further lets us know that yes, it was ken’s stasis, yes ken is okay now.

idk it was bothering me lol.

anyways now the real question is how tf did parrot get out of the end. my 2 main theories are 1) ash decided he wanted parrot to join him so he undid whatever tf he did to parrot and then allowed him to return to the overworld (to then lure parrot into his vault) or 2) when clown respawns the dragon in wemmbu’s escape room vid (which was posted between the civilization and the vault heist so i’m assuming it falls there in the timeline) and wemmbu kills it and reopens the portal it fixes parrot’s problem. yeah. anyone else got anything?

[bonefall]

naruto as a whole is a fucking mess and i say thisas somebody whos read the entireseries 3 times over. “naruto is going to change the system! haha teehee never mind hes not doing anytning about the child soldiers and slave castes and the genocides.” “sasuke can be upset at his brother for committing a genocide but actually genocide against an oppressed bloodline is good if theyre getting uppity and its sanctioned by the government and also have a genetic predisposition to be evil so he should just get over it and be okay with it” “sakura needs to stop obsessing over a guy whos not even interested and become strong for her own sake. actually shes a housewife now”

kishimoto im going to blow you up with my mind

YOU GET IT

For real though I think what they did with Sasuke's arc was one of the most baffling fucking things I've ever seen. "Actually. Your brother who carried out a genocide loved you :( he only put you in the Torment Nexus for several days because uhhh he wanted you to hate him and not find out about the government who ordered it. Everything he ever did was actually to protect you. And Uchihas are actually kinda rotten anyway so it's good an entire GROUP OF PEOPLE died. Don't think about any babies or children who were also slaughtered btw uhh nope all of them were bad."

Sasuke: "Yes I understand. I will now rule the world through fear. Actually nvm Naruto won our fight so, my philosophy is gone now."

Thank goodness that Evil Sasuke killed the three Bad Government Officials before that point, though. We had this whole theme going about toxic structures, cycles of abuse, and how oppressive regimes can propagate themselves even when a leader is well-meaning... but, like, Naruto REALLY wants to be Hokage, so actually if you just kill these Three Bad Governors it's gonna be fine.

There is no need for systemic change. Slave castes and child soldiers are fine. It's ok as long as the president is blonde :)

[redbean-nom]

quite poetically ironic for demagol to do all those jedi torture-experiments in the name of "finding out how the force works" only to turn out to be force-sensitive himself

[dualumina]

The implications of this item . . .

You're telling us that Zommoros, Miyani, and especially the skritt working there have to live with the fact that it's a necessary requirement for customers to occasionally stop by and empty their stomachs down the Forge for the sake of creating a legendary gun???

Who figured out this was part of the process!?!?! There's two Quips on display in Zommoros' old lair, did Zommoros have to test this himself?!?? Djinn have stomachs and can empty them when feeling sick!?!??

Anet please, we just want to talk!

[darkaac]

Finished ACSyndicate after quite a long time (forgot i had it installed teehee) and it's good!! love zipping across London

[thenwethrowitonthefire]

Our previous-prime-minister-now-head-of-navo currently keeps saying that we should prepare for war which might break out between now and the next 5 years.

[sapphiresaphics]

The biggest misunderstanding about Caitlyn from fans actually comes from season 1, not 2. Fans see Caitlyn break Vi out of prison and talk to Ekko about empathy and think that she’s learning and growing as a character and then when season 2 hits they think all that growth was somehow “abandoned” or “reversed.”

But that’s not true.

Caitlyn has ALWAYS been a spoiled little rich girl who came from a family of rich people who are so used to how much power they have in the city that they don’t regard ANYONE’S feelings or respect ANY rules. Both Marcus and Salow spell this out to us.

Marcus: “She’s a Kiramman! Just like them she does what she wants! I can’t control her!”

Salow: “It’s the name! It bewitches people.”

Time skip Caitlyn is introduced investigating the botched Jinx job at the shipping docks. She is not an official detective and Marcus makes it clear she isn’t supposed to be there. She’s supposed to be guarding her family’s pavilion, but she ignored both her mother’s AND the sheriff’s wishes to investigate a crime because she’s bored.

She breaks Vi out of prison AFTER she’s been effectively laid-off by Marcus, using her connections to Jayce to forge her release papers. Reminder: at this point in the story she is technically not a cop anymore. She’s doing all this stuff with noble intentions of trying to uncover Silco and bring Jinx to justice… but what she’s doing is technically illegal. And the only reason she’s able to get away with it is because she’s a spoiled rich BRAT.

Her privilege shields her from repercussions in season 1, just as they do in season 2.

The difference is that she’s now been traumatized by Jinx. Her bodily autonomy was violated by Jinx kidnapping her when she was literally naked in the shower, she was most likely tortured by Jinx, was tied up and painted on, threatened to be executed at gun point by Jinx, and then to top it all off Jinx murders her mother in a terrorist attack.

And Caitlyn tries to hold it all in. She tries to confide with Vi, she tries to let her hatred go… but both times she is denied her the ability to grieve properly. First by her privilege and not understanding that asking Vi to become an Enforcer would be rejected. And then by Ambessa by funding the attack on the memorial service.

She has no parental figure to guide her, her rage and hatred for Jinx is boiling over… so she resorts to what she always does and what she did back in season 1. She just does what she wants to get her way. She convinces Jayce to develop hextech weapons, she assumes the role of leader for house Kiramman, and she uses her unique position in power to bend systems her family put in place to protect Zaun against them.

Caitlyn in season 2 is very much the same Caitlyn we’ve always known from season 1. The difference is that in season 1 we were rooting for her because we like Vi. She exhausted the same disrespect for authority and people back then but they were in service of things we, the audience, liked. So we gave her a pass. We excused her rule breaking. We ignored her unique brand of privilege because we liked what her privilege could unlock for us.

Season 2 slams that door shut and tells us “no, actually, you weren’t supposed to like this because nobody in power is innocent.”

But rather than learn more about Caitlyn and understand her character better… people are dismiss this all as “bad writing” or “character assassination.”

And what’s more frustrating is the whole “dictator arc.” Because frankly I would argue that by that point Caitlyn HAS learned her lesson about privilege and power, but it’s too late to stop things now. Just as Jayce going vigilante in season 1 was the start of a cataclysmic event, Caitlyn gassing Zaun to look for Jinx results in Caitlyn losing everyone she trusts and respects. Broken up with Vi and alone, she is suddenly granted even MORE power than she’s ever had by Ambessa. And you can see it affect her. In that moment she realizes that Ambessa is the one who spearheaded the attack on the memorial. After seeing what happened between her and Vi, she realizes that by taking this role she will be responsible for even greater atrocities.

She has 2 choices. Let it all go, or use the position of power to her advantage. And just like before in season 1… she chooses the later. Her goal may still be to get Jinx, but she does NOT want to be a part of Ambessa’s dictatorship. This is why she’s so reluctant to join even with all the peer pressure. This is why she’s so slow and hesitant to walk forward. And she only accepts the cape she is crowned with once Ambessa says “your mother will have justice.”

What’s most important about this scene is that SHE KNOWS Ambessa is using her. That’s why when we see her in Act 2 she’s already trying to counter Ambessa’s plans. That’s why she’s constantly challenging Ambessa with “why is peace always the excuse for violence?” That’s why when Ambessa says “you don’t trust me?” Caitlyn responds with a resounding “no.” And that’s why when Vi drops back into her life she realizes she has an opportunity to correct her mistakes. She doesn’t switch on a dime because Vi fluttered her eyes and called her “cupcake.” She switches because she was already looking for an out. And this is why when Vi confronts her in Act 3 she screams “I KNOW.”

Caitlyn’s arc is that of someone who always had privilege and power coming to realize too late how dangerous and harmful that power is. By the time she learns her lesson she’s already entrenched with Ambessa and stuck in this hateful miasma for Jinx. Season 1 was setup for what was going to follow with how her character was going to learn and atone for her mistakes.

And what’s so god damn frustrating about all the discourse around Caitlyn is how reductive and dismissive it all is. So much of the discourse completely ignores the actions she takes to fix things in favor of trumping up the actions she took to get there. All of her transgressions in season 1 are ignored and her own internalized growth is reduced to a joke about Vi calling her cupcake. It’s MADDENING.

[deception-united]

Worldbuilding: Questions to Consider

Government & authority:

Types of government: What type of government exists (monarchy, democracy, theocracy, etc.)? Is it centralised or decentralised?

Leadership: Who holds power and how is it acquired (inheritance, election, divine right, conquest)?

Law enforcement: Who enforces the laws (military, police, magical entities)?

Legal system: How are laws made, interpreted, and enforced? Are there courts, judges, or councils?

Laws:

Criminal laws: What constitutes a crime? What are the punishments?

Civil laws: How are disputes between individuals resolved?

Cultural norms: How do customs and traditions influence the laws?

Magic/supernatural: Are there laws governing the use of magic or interaction with supernatural beings?

Social structure:

Class/status: How is society divided (nobility, commoners, slaves)? Are there caste systems or social mobility?

Rights & freedoms: What rights do individuals have (speech, religion, property)?

Discrimination: Are there laws that protect or discriminate against certain groups (race, gender, species, culture)?

Economy & trade:

Currency: What is used as currency? Is it standardised?

Trade laws: Are there regulations on trade, tariffs, or embargoes?

Property laws: How is ownership determined and transferred? Are there inheritance laws?

Religion/belief systems:

Religious authority: What role does religion play in governance? Are religious leaders also political leaders?

Freedom of religion: Are citizens free to practice different religions? If not, which are taboo?

Holy laws: Are there laws based on religious texts or teachings?

Military & defense:

Standing army: Is there a professional military or a militia? Who serves, and how are they recruited?

War & peace: What are the laws regarding war, peace treaties, and diplomacy?

Weapons: Are there restrictions or laws regarding weapons for civilians? What is used as a weapon? Who has access to them?

Technology & magic:

Technological advancements: How advanced is the technology (medieval, steampunk, futuristic, etc.)?

Magical laws: Are there regulations on the use of magic, magical creatures, or artifacts?

Innovation & research: How are inventors and researchers treated? Are there laws protecting intellectual property?

Environmental/resource management:

Natural resources: How are resources like water, minerals, and forests managed and protected, if at all?

Environmental laws: Are there protections for the environment? How are they enforced? Are there consequences for violations?

Cultural & ethical considerations:

Cultural diversity: How does the law accommodate or suppress cultural diversity?

Ethics: What are the ethical foundations of the laws? Are there philosophical or moral principles that underpin them?

Traditions vs. change: Does the society balance tradition with progress? How?

Happy writing ❤

Previous | Next

[thewitchblue]

You've been a hero for years, but you play the same prank on every member of the Batfamily. You have regenerative powers to the extreme that your injuries heal in seconds if you allow it. The first time gets them every time.

You have metal claws and a fury that burns. You shine under stressful situations. You are the key to their success oftentimes. You are a soldier through-and-through with a surprisingly high level of intelligence. You never told them the extent of your experience, but you've shown and proven yourself in combat, so you never had to. So, you started having fun with it.

Dick thought he hit you too hard in the temple with his weapon and panicked when you, taking the opportunity, crumpled to the ground. He's never run so fast. Being the leader, he really didn't want to be charged with murder nor kill one of his greatest fighters.

Tim, poor Tim. He was so exhausted he grew sloppy on a mission. Sloppy enough that you needed to jump in front of a blade for him. Somehow, the blade managed to slip between your ribs and puncture your left lung.

Well, that woke Tim up. He never finished a fight quicker. He speed ran a fight. He was on a timer, and he felt it. You were, seemingly, bleeding out because he stubbornly refused to sleep the night before, and you had to jump in front of a blade for him. He felt guilty and horrified. What does he tell Batman? What does he tell Jason? He'll need to hang up the suit, and he'll never leave the house again. You were the soldier everybody needed. The rock everybody can rely on despite your jagged edges. He knelt beside you. He wanted to check for a pulse, but he knew it was too late. He was fighting the goons for too long. There was no way you survived. Then, he heard your laughter. You laughed in his face, and your eyes opened. You laughed so hard you cried. Tim nearly collapsed on top of you in relief. He won't be killed by Jason or Bruce tonight, and, mostly importantly, you survived. You were a dick about it the entire way back to HQ.

Bruce was frozen in terror. His son's significant other just died on his watch. He was getting flashbacks from the time Jason died. Jason. How was Jason going to forgive him? How was he going to forgive himself? He was the one to suggest you come with him on the mission. He thought it would be easy. A simple mission against Scarecrow. You were the best pick because your system cleared out the fear toxin the fastest out of everyone else. You've seen worse horrors than what the fear toxin could conjure up, so you never falter in the fight. Scarecrow actually feared you because of this. He has yet to find a combination that is strong enough to put you down. Now, Bruce's best soldier was gurgling blood with a slit throat. He's failed you. He let you die. You didn't have a family to mourn you. He didn't know enough about you to properly set up a funeral. How could he let this happen? After everyone was jailed, he let the police take over and ran to your body. Your blood had dried and caked on your neck. He knows a dead body when he sees one, and you are very much dead in his eyes. He sighed heavily as he picked you up, only to almost drop you immediately as you opened your eyes and grinned at him.

"How?"

Was the first question he demanded. He knew your healing factor was very powerful, but to recover from a slit throat seemed like a lot, especially after seeing how much blood you let yourself lose before closing the wound. You playfully punch his shoulder with a grin,

"You know how, old man."

He laughed. Touché. He knows your abilities likely better than you do yourself.

Damian wanted to give you a funeral fit for a king. He liked you the best out of everyone, including Jon. He threw a knife that managed to cut through your skull and lodge into your brain. His panic was immediate but short-lived as you pulled the knife out of your brain and closed to the wound. You scowled because it caused a headache, but you survived quite easily. In that single moment, he considered seriously contacting his grandfather to put you in the Lazarus Pit, but he knew you wouldn't want a second chance at life. He knew you would happily die a warrior's death than live a coward's life. He respected that. Damian nearly cried as he ran to you. He clung to you all day and refused to say why to anybody. You simply returned his hugs and ran your fingers through his hair affectionately. You murmured about forgiving him, and he clung tigher. He knows he doesn't have to guard you on missions, but he's a lot more protective of you outside. Chihuahua privileges.

Barbara watched with horror on the CCTV footage on a local building as you get decapitated. She had flashbacks to her run with the Joker that left her paralysed. The Joker struck again. Instead of taking you hostage, you fought too much. You fought like a whirlwind of adamantium and controlled fury. Joker wouldn't have stood a chance if someone didn't come up behind you and cut your head off. She screamed as your body picked your head up from the ground and put it back on without so much as a wince. Joker ran the second the claws came out.

Cass was petrified. She's seen death before, but your healing factor hadn't seemed to help at all when she found your corpse. You were beaten to death by Bane. She gave an appreciative whistle as she pushes your head to the side to look at the handprints around your neck. He did not go easy on you, that's for sure. She wondered how he didn't die with you. He was skewered like a kebab on your claws, limb limp but claws still out and buried into his heart. She checked and he was still alive. Barely, so you must have been just shy of puncturing the organ. You went down fighting, and that was the best she could have hoped for with you. She went to radio on comms about the news only to be stopped by a clawed hand. She watched in stunned silence as your body heals itself in less than one minute. You sat up and stretched like a cat before removing your claws from Bane. Bane groaned in agony, but you didn't mind him. You merely wiped your claws clean on his shirt with a cheeky smile on your face.

"Well, that was fun. Next time, show up faster, yes?"

Cass could only nod, dumbstruck as you laugh at her expression. Cass knew your healing factor was insane, but you were so clearly dead to her. She never underestimated you again as you told her it was self-control that stopped you from puncturing Bane's heart, not death.

Duke hadn't known fear until he watched Ra's Al Ghul gut you like a fish. Ra's used his fear as a chance to escape, and Duke couldn't find it in himself to chase. He collapsed at your side. It all happened so fast. He had no time to react. No time to stop it.

He screeched when your hands both retracted their claws, and you stuffed your organs casually back inside your body as it healed itself. His eyes were wide as you chuckled at his misery.

"Gotcha. Now, let's get the bastard, yeah?"

Duke could only nod. He was still in shock as you ran your way to catch Ra's. Talia, for what it was worth, gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before sauntering off into the night herself.

Jason was furious, to say the least. Here he was, on his knees over your seemingly dead body only for you to jumpscare him while your body healed.

You cackled like a witch on Halloween as your body heals immediately. You can control your healing factor. To whatever degree you want to. You were never in any danger.

You put the fear of God in many people because of this prank. Jason was fuming.

"Why the fuck would you do that, pipsqueak?!"

His scream echoed in the alleyway you were "murdered" in. You merely laughed. Your claws come out in the moment and you slit your own throat but quickly heal yourself.

"I'm sorry, birdie. You were the last one to do this on."

That was the wrong thing to say because that pissed him off even further,

"THE LAST ONE?! YOU'VE DONE THIS BEFORE?!"

Everyone on the mission watched with amused expressions. It's true. Your prank, admittedly, was mean. Especially to your boyfriend who came back from the grave himself. Fondly, you cup his face with a smile. You said confidently,

"God doesn't have the nuts to kill me, Birdie."

Jason rolled his eyes, scoffing and throwing a tantrum like a toddler. He drops your body. He could never truly be angry with you, but he's pissed you put yourself in the position of needing to be healed in the first place.

"Alright, smartass. I'm not saving your sorry ass next mission. You can do that yourself."

Jason tensed immediately once he hears the snap of your spine breaking, but you weakly laugh and heal it in seconds. Lovingly, you say,

"Bones are harder than organs, asshole."

Now Jason laughs. He was still pissed, but hey. That saves on medical supplies.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

A Democratic media strategy to save journalism and the nation

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/12/the-view-from-somewhere/#abolish-rogan

As unbearably cringe as the hunt for a "leftist Joe Rogan" is, it is (to use a shopworn phrase), "directionally correct." Democrats suck at getting their message out, and that exacts a high electoral cost.

The right has an extremely well-funded media ecosystem of high-paid bullshitters backed by algorithm-gaming SEO dickheads. This system isn't necessarily supposed to turn a profit or even break even: the point of Prageru isn't to score ad revenue, it's to ensure that anyone who googles "what the fuck causes inflation" gets 25 minutes of relatable, upbeat, cheerfully sociopathic Austrian economics jammed into their eyeballs. Far right news isn't a for-profit concern, it's a loss-leader for oligarch-friendly policies. It's a steal: a million bucks' worth of news buys America's ultra-rich a billion dollars' worth of tax-cuts and the right to maim their workers and poison their customers for profit.

Meanwhile, the Democrats have historically relied on the "traditional media" to carry their messages, on the ground that reality has a well-known leftist bias, so any news outlet that hews to "journalistic ethics" will publish the truth, and the truth will weigh in favor of Democratic positions: trans people are humans, racism is real, abortion isn't murder, housing is a market failure, the planet is on fire, etc, etc, etc.

This is a stupid policy, and it has failed. The "respectable" news media hews to a self-imposed code of "balance" and "neutrality" that is easily gamed: "some people say that Hatians don't eat pet dogs, some people do, let's report both sides!" This is called "the view from nowhere" and it gets Democrats precisely nowhere:

http://archive.pressthink.org/2008/03/14/pincus_neutrality.html

Balance and neutrality are bullshit, an excuse that has been so thoroughly weaponized by billionaires and their lickspittles that anyone who takes it seriously demonstrates comprehensively that they, themselves, are deeply unserious:

https://www.techdirt.com/2024/12/10/la-times-billionaire-owner-hilariously-thinks-he-can-solve-media-bias-with-ai/

Press neutrality – the view from nowhere – isn't some eternal verity. In terms of the history of the press, it's an idea that's about ten seconds old. The glory days of the news were dominated by papers with names like The Smallville Democrat and The Ruling Class Republican. Most of the world boggles at the idea that a news outlet wouldn't declare its political posture. Britons know that the Telegraph is the Torygraph; that the Guardian is in the tank for Labour (and specifically, committed to enabling Blairite/Starmerite purges of the left); the Mirror is a leftist tabloid; and the Mail is so far right that its editorial board considers Attila the Hun "woke."

Writing for The American Prospect – an excellent leftist news outlet – Ryan Cooper proposes a solution to the Democratic media gap that's way better than the hunt for the elusive "leftist Joe Rogan": sponsoring explicitly Democrat news outlets:

https://prospect.org/politics/2024-12-12-democrats-lost-propaganda-war/

The country is a bleak landscape of news deserts where voters literally didn't hear about what Trump was saying he would do, and, if they heard about it, they didn't hear from anyone who could explain what it meant. The average normie voter doesn't know what a "tariff" is, and chances are they think it's a tax that other countries inexplicably pay for the privilege of selling very cheap things to Americans.

Ironically, this news desert is also a crowded field of hungry, unemployed, talented journalists. What if Dems funded free newsgathering and publication in news deserts that told the truth? What if these news outlets, by dint of being an explicitly partisan, party-subsidized project, refused to adopt all the anti-reader practices of other websites, like disgusting surveillance, intrusive advertising, AI slop, email-soliciting pop-ups, and all the other crap that makes the news worse and worse every day?

Cooper recounts how this was actually tried on a small scale, to modest good effect, when the Center for American Progress subsidized Thinkprogress, an explicitly leftist news outlet. This was going great until 2019, when corporate Dems and their megadonors killed it because Thinkprogress had the temerity to report on their corrupt dealings:

https://www.thedailybeast.com/thinkprogress-a-top-progressive-news-site-is-shutting-down/

And, Cooper points out, this isn't what happens with far-right subsidy news. Right wing influencers, personalities and writers can stray pretty far from the party line without getting shut down.

I love the idea of a disenshittified, explicitly political leftist Democratic news media. Imagine a newsroom whose purpose is to get its message repeated as widely as possible. It wouldn't have a paywall – it would be Creative Commons Attribution-only, allowing for commercial republication by anyone who wants to reprint it, so long as they link back to it. It wouldn't wring its hands over AI ingestion or whether a slop site that rewrote its articles got to the top of Google News. That's fine! If the point is to get people to understand your point of view – and not to attract clicks or eyeballs – other people repackaging your content and finding ways to spread it is a feature, not a bug.

Back in the Napster Wars, entertainment industry shills – like Hillary Rosen, who oversaw a campaign to sue tens of thousands of children before becoming a major Democratic Party power-broker – used to tell us that "you can't compete with free." That's not entirely true, but it's not entirely false, either. If your news is a loss-leader for a democratic society that addresses human flourishing and a habitable planet, then you can make that news free-as-in-speech and free-as-in-beer, and avoid all the suckitude that makes reading "real" news so fucking garbage.

For the past five years, I've been publishing a newsletter – this thing you're reading now – that has no analytics, ads, tracking, pop-ups, or other trash. As a writer, it's profoundly satisfying and liberating, because all I have to care about is whether people engage with my ideas. I literally have no idea how many people read this, but I know everything people say about it.

That's how the news worked back in the good old days that everyone says we need to return to. Writers and editors measured the success of a story based on how the public reacted to it, not based on clicks or metrics that told you how far someone scrolled before they gave up on it. The supposed benefits of "data-driven" editorial policy have not materialized – the "data-driven" part is the search for an equilibrium between how surveillant and obnoxious a website can be and your decision to stop reading it forever.

Outlets like Propublica have done well by adopting much of this program, albeit without any explicit leftist agenda (the fact that they seem leftist reflects nothing more than their commitment to reporting the truth, e.g., Clarence Thomas is a lavishly corrupt puppet of billionaires who've showered him with riches).

The fact that they've been as successful as they are on a national beat – and partnering with the scant few regional papers to do some local coverage – just proves the point. The Democratic Party doesn't need its own Joe Rogan – they need a nationwide network of local outlets, sponsored by the party, committed to never enshittifying, bringing relevant, timely news to a nation in desperate need of it.

[sayruq]

Statement: Student organizations in the Gaza Strip in solidarity with the Student Intifada in the United States

In the name of God, the most gracious, the most merciful… We, the students of Gaza, salute the students of Columbia University, Yale University, New York University, Rutgers University, the University of Michigan, and dozens of universities across the United States who are rising up in solidarity with Gaza and to put an end to the Zionist-U.S. genocide against our people in Gaza. As we remain under the bombs of occupation, resisting Nazi genocide, grieving for our martyred colleagues and faculty, and witnessing the destruction of our universities, we welcome the examples of solidarity offered by students facing arrest, police violence, suspension, eviction, and expulsion in order to demand that their universities end their complicity in the Zionist-U.S. genocide and renounce their support for the occupation and the war profiteers that arm it. We have seen hundreds of students arrested across the United States as they work to transform their universities into “Popular Universities for Gaza.” Students, faculty, and staff are disrupting university operations and making clear that while universities in Gaza are being bombed, university business cannot continue as usual in the United States. These actions come as university administrations collaborate with members of Congress to discredit conscientious student activists and faculty, expel students, ban events, shut down student organizations such as Students for Justice in Palestine, and condemn activists working to end the Nazi genocide. At the same time, these same universities invest in the same companies that profit from the continued sale of weapons to the Zionist regime to continue its genocidal offensive. Our students – and our educational system as a whole – in occupied Palestine are subjected to ongoing genocidal aggression: our universities destroyed and bombed, our student organizations banned, and our student leaders subjected to torture, assassination and mass imprisonment. However, in Palestine and around the world, the student movement has always been a driving force of our struggle for liberation. When we see videos and images from American universities today, we are reminded of our history of student struggle as well as the student uprisings of 1968, which challenged imperialism from Vietnam to Palestine and reshaped the face of Europe and the United States. Now, in 2024, the student movement is once again leading the way. From here in Gaza, we see you and salute you. Your actions and activism matter, especially in the heart of the empire, in the United States. As members of Congress agree to provide $26 billion in additional weapons to bomb our people and continue the Zionist-U.S. genocide, you are taking meaningful action to shut down the war machine on your campuses. It is clear that a new generation is rising that will no longer accept Zionism, racism and genocide, and that stands with Palestine and our liberation from the river to the sea. Your global student solidarity is breaking boundaries, and it is time to smash the US imperialist war machine. From Gaza to Columbia, to Ann Arbor and Berkeley, our hands are joined to end Nazi genocide and achieve our collective liberation.

[kr-starz]

Sick and TIRED of people claiming Ekko loved Alternate Universe Powder and not main universe Jinx. Throughout the series Ekko has continuously proven that he cares for Jinx dearly, through both canon actions and deleted scenes we know that Ekko cares deeply for Jinx.

Within the AU we're able to see an emotionally available Powder who was able to have a stable support system alongside a flourishing relationship. Which shows that Powder, Jinx, is fully able to be a good person. A normal human girl. Ekko is finally able to see this, that Powder is only so happy because she's lived so peacefully. He's always had a crush on her, it's lingering and it's never gone away. During the bridge scene, and Jinx's debut, we notice that Ekko freezes up both times when seeing jinx face to face. That she's able to draw out strong and violent reactions out of him that aren't exactly rational.

Usually people aren't able to do that to him, he's confrontational and stern because he's the Firelight leader, but we notice that most all of his decisions so far have been well thought out and responsible. In s1e4 we see him look at his stopwatch, see he has little time left before their crystals break, and he STILL goes to pursue Jinx. This is probably because he still harnesses strong feelings of hate towards Jinx, shock and frustration overwhelm him. Because it's Jinx who's done this, one of Silco's goons, but most importantly his childhood friend who's become so twisted. Scar is forced to grab Ekko and stop him before he goes too far, which shows off that Jinx does cause an especially strong emotional response for multiple reasons.

But the bridge scene shows that Ekko still does see the girls he's loved inside of Jinx. He hits her twice, neither time's does he get a good look at her face. But as he's winding up to hit her a third time, he pauses, he looks at her desperate face and he see's nothing more but an innocent girl. Which is why he stops, he still bears affection for her, clearly. The rest of the bridge scene is intimate enough but if I do have to mention anything, people who don't bear feelings for each other don't smirk at the other person like that.

When Ekko finds himself in the AU he's able to see Jinx/Powder in her most healthy form, finding ways of mourning and coping considered healthy. He see's pieces of Jinx inside of this Powder, her potential and what she could be. That's not something you do with someone you don't bear affection for. You don't look at the seemingly perfect version of someone and say that there's something missing; something missing that only versions that have gone through hell have. Pieces of herself that can't be replaced. Ekko doesn't just love Jinx.

He loves her entirety, he loves her innovative mind able of creating the worst war weapons. He loves that she's able to push herself to limits that he couldn't dream of, because he loves her for who she is. In both universes, what we notice is that they're both artists, they're both creators. Powder doesn't discard her love for gadgetry because she didn't experience atrocities, she's still unbelievably smart, being able to help Ekko create the anomaly. Being able to follow along while not knowing anything beforehand.

Jinx is able to crack hex tech with nothing more than Viktor's notes and some tinkering, this shows that no matter what universe, Jinx/Powder is an unbelievably talented and smart girl who could do so much.

Ekko is able to recognize that with Jinx's Genius it comes madness, and he simply would rather have her be both rather than an assistant. Not saying that he wouldn't love Alt Powder, I'm just saying that Arcane Ekko wouldn't be nearly as happy with her rather than Jinx. Because with Jinx comes crazy ideas and a leadership that matches his. That's the Jinx he never fell out of love with.

Even in both of these characters, Jinx and Powder have never been different. In each universe, they never got to blossom yet they're one bud. Two sides of a coin who'd never know the other existed if not for "what if's"

Powder is what Jinx is if she was happy, soft and delicate, she still holds the potential to create extraordinary devices, yet she doesn't because she never had the need to.

Jinx is what Powder would become if she was put under tremendous stress and trauma, devoid of a support system she turns to her gadgetry and weaponry, while slowly losing the part of herself that could be soft.

They both exist in one person, and Ekko is able to see both of them, and give them what they need in order to bloom. He's able to give Jinx unconditional yet not unhealthy amounts of support, and he's able to give Powder the push to expressing herself through her inventions more harshly.

Ekko realizes that Jinx is still Powder, no matter how many times she changes her name. Us as the audience is able to realize that Jinx is still able to love for Powder, because we've seen her interact with Isha. Isha is similar to Powder which is healing for Jinx. When Jinx loses Isha, we can see that she never truly let go of Powder, that Powder was never different from Jinx. That they're simply a part of herself she never wanted to accept until she saw it from another perspective.

But Ekko doesn't know this, yet he still has continuous faith in her that she's capable of change. We see Ekko actively pursue Jinx in order for her not to kill herself, because he loves her. He cares for her deeply and he wants to redeem himself by simply being there, even if he's late. Because what Jinx has needed all along was an unconditional companion. Which is what Ekko can be.

Being the support that someone needs, unconditionally.

If that's not love then I don't know what is.

[nuzipilled]

THE GANGS ALL HERE 🗣️🔥‼️ information below the cut, “B” cast ( Doll, Lizzy, Thad) have not been included yet as they dont have a role in the main story yet. feel free to ask any questions, me and @kylelily123abc4 will do our best to answer them (:

UZI

Uzi is a 21 year old woman with an undergraduate in medical engineering, which she was coaxed into by her parents (Namely Khan). She is incredibly adept and smart and prefers the technicalities of weapons engineering, and majors in art on the side. She would like to do it full time, however her parents insist it’s not a “real job.” She volunteers at the local hospital N, V and J are relocated to from overseas so they can continue inpatient care until they are stable enough to be discharged and resume physio / psychotherapy as outpatients. She meets N during his time there and immediately clicks with him, and eventually begins to visit him on her off hours, and continues to visit him even after her contract ends. They end up establishing a relationship together and, after finding it is much less expensive commuting to school, moves in with N, V, J, Cyn and Tessa in their apartment for the semester.

She spent most of her childhood moving around and being bullied—the most significant moment having been when her first kiss was stolen by someone who only dated her because he was dared to.

Uzi is a big fan of all things anime, edgy humor, hot topic, and nightcore. she’s got the soul of an unabashed 2000s emo girl stuck in the modern day.

N

Private first class Nate (all his friends call him N) Is a 23 year old man who was fostered from a family in Utah alongside his sister Cyn under Tessa, another childhood friend, and the Elliot family in Melbourne Australia from the ages of 8-18. When of applicable age, he went back to the United States to enlist in the marines and live with Cyn, a former child prodigy who was scouted and given multiple scholarships due to record breaking academics and reflexes on simulator games.

He was severely traumatized during his first deployment overseas along with his other childhood friends, V, and J, after their humvee hit an IED during a routine supply run. All three were critically injured and the sole survivors of their team of 6. He, along with J and V spent a total of 12 hours alone in the desert before they were airlifted to an emergency hospital in germany, then, once stabilized, returned to the states to resume inpatient care in Salem, Oregon.

Despite his honorable discharge and severe ptsd diagnosis, N does his best to remain upbeat and positive, almost to a fault, oftentimes repressing “bad” thoughts or feelings.

He ends up meeting Uzi in the hospital and they form a relationship together, her eventually moving in and living with V, J, Him, Tessa, and Cyn in their flat after they’re discharged from the hospital.

J

Sergeant Jane (Only preferring J when around close friends) is a 26 year old trans woman who was fostered from an immigrant afghan family under Tessa, another childhood friend, and the Elliot family in Melbourne Australia from the ages of 4-18, having realized she was a woman very early in life. She began socially transitioning at 12, and began HRT as soon as she aged out of the system. She was the first to be involved with the Elliots and was pushed to enlist in the australian military, quickly moving up the ranks to sergeant and was eventually posted in the united states to assist in training other cadets. She was severely traumatized during her second deployment overseas along with her other childhood friends, V, and N after their humvee hit an IED during a routine supply run. All three were critically injured and the sole survivors of their team of 6. she, along with J and V spent a total of 12 hours alone in the desert before they were airlifted to an emergency hospital in germany, then, once stabilized, returned to the states to resume inpatient care in Salem, Oregon.

Having been their squad leader, J often blames herself for the incident, even if she doesn’t talk about it or say anything out loud. J is an ass kisser. She will do anything and everything to succeed and has a Holier Than Thou personality, often very uptight and not about any bullshit. Her relationship with N specifically is horrible, and she harbours lots of jealousy and resentment from their time growing up due to favoritism.

She has a long standing, massive crush on Tessa Elliot, her longtime confidant and friend, though it went unrequited for their entire childhood and into their early adult life, J often being subject to Tessa’s dating endeavours and crushes in the meantime.

V

Lance Corporal Victoria, (Who prefers to go by V present day) 4-18 who was fostered from a family in Vermont under Tessa, another childhood friend, and the Elliot family in Melbourne Australia from the ages of 8-18. She enlisted in the military alongside J and eventually N, and was transferred to the states to assist in training procedures for new cadets with J.

She was decommissioned during her second deployment overseas along with N and J after their humvee hit an IED during a routine supply run. All three were critically injured and the sole survivors of their team of 6. She took the brunt of the blast, sustaining the most severe wounds and was airlifted to an emergency hospital in germany, then, once stabilized, returned to the states to resume inpatient care in Salem, Oregon.

The doctors operating on her told her she would never walk again--V proved that wrong by walking the next week. It was a miracle—however V simply states it was due to “having that dog in her.”

She is very resilient, but is often grumpy with a dry sense of tone and humor. She used to have feelings for N when they were kids, but it's since faded as they grew and disappeared during their time in active duty. Though despite this, she still cares for him as a friend, even if she rarely shows it.

She is the first to be discharged, having been set up in an apartment downtown by Tessa, who lives with her and eventually is joined by N, J, Cyn, and eventually Uzi. She is a gym rat with a heavy workout regimen that she will make everyone else's problem if its interrupted.

CYN

Cynthia (Who ONLY goes by Cyn present day) is N's little sister. She is still in active duty in the military air-force. She was a child savant who graduated highschool at 14 and college at 18, moving on to become one of the best UAV operators in history, with successful missions reaching into the hundreds. Cyn is autistic and physically disabled, having been born with cerebral palsy, and uses forearm crutches as mobility aids--but make no mistake, she is incredibly intuitive and adept. often knock-kneed and walks with an awkward gate, and speaks with very ‘robotic’ mannerisms. She sometimes struggles to show empathy in a ‘socially normal way’ or have a conversational filter. She has a very dark sense of humor as well, that for those not used to her may find jarring or off putting. Cyn hates being referred to as a child or incompetent because of her appearance or her disability, she will even go to an extent to prove the point that she does not need assistance. Tends to be protective of N, to a lesser but still protective of V and J and much later down the line Uzi becomes a close friend of hers.

In her off time she enjoys painting warhammer figurines, collecting cards and playing video games. She has a very kitsch, macabre sense of interest, often owning eclectic, odd knick knacks and memorabilia, namely a taxidermied wombat she’s affectionately named “Suzie.”

TESSA

Dr Tessa James Elliot is a very talented surgeon working out of a public hospital in Brisbane, Australia, descending from a very rich family. She is N, V and J’s childhood friend and frequently travels to different parts of the world to assist in surgeries or specialist care. Tessa paused all of her work when she learned of their incident overseas, flying to America to personally attend to their care–with some bribery and finagling due to HIPPA not allowing biased treatment. She just cares too much to not do anything. Tessa is a joyful, social butterfly. Excellent bedside manner and a good sense of humor but sometimes comes off as socially awkward. She is J’s lifelong crush despite not being aware of it, having spent some time dating around but nobody ever seems to be the right fit. She often complains about her recent dating endeavors to J much to her chagrin.

Tessa is, for the lack of a better word, weird. Think Cyn with a little more charisma, often not having a conversational filter or saying things out of the blue. She is not disturbed by otherwise off putting things like death, bodily fluids, nudity, gore etc, and has a bit of a dark sense of humor that she portrays very upbeat and positively. She is incredibly smart and adept bookwise, however socially she comes up a bit short.

there is an alternative version of these guys however it is 18+ for nudity. you can see it on bluesky here and twitter here

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPxDC. Talon Dick. Part 2 of Danny Fenton is a new master of The Court of Owls

~Hail, Emperor, those who are about to die salute you~

Danny was terrified when he got the body of Talon in his morgue. The Court of Owls was notorious for leaving no trace after work. But Talon, a young man only a few years older than him, did not look like a mindless killing machine at all. Of course, the first time he had a couple of stab wounds from his new acquaintance but after numerous assurances that his help would remain their little secret and that he would not inform his superiors that he had fucked up on the mission, Talon began to trust him a little. as one dead boy to another. In a few months, most of the Talons come to him for first aid, and of course he got attached to the guys. After all, Gotham is not Amity Park and without the other dead ones around Phantom felt a little lonely. It was nice to give these poor people a few quiet minutes. Danny’s assistant has warned him many times not to mess with the Court of Owls, but Danny are Phantom and from the first time he met one of them he was planning to lose his temper and beat the boys' bosses to free them.

Fenton was not prepared to lead the Court of Owls. Even if Danny got his education as a villain he never thought he’d work according to his profession. But leave a whole den? nest? of creatures turned into weapons he could not. Of course, the best choice after defeating the leaders of the Court would be to destroy the entire organization. But Danny couldn’t do that.

Talons were killers, means of intimidation, even if not of their own volition. They will be killed (again) or sent to prison for the rest of their lives. Talons needed safety and a good therapist, not all of this. Danny’s scared, and he doesn’t know how to take care of them, but the others won’t do it. People are afraid of everything different. They won’t care that these dead are just victims, they’ll only see monsters. He could be half-human, but now he has to think like a full ghost. Talons are dead like him. And they have been dehumanized, tortured, used. People can be cruel. To do the right thing, he has to protect them.

It was difficult for Danny to identify likes and dislikes of his new friends because they always had the same facial expression and were taught that they had no feelings. Bullshit. Danny’s parents also think ghosts have no emotions, but they just have wrong theories and do not manipulate them to make ghosts think the same. Well, maybe it’s because they don’t think ghosts can think at all, but still! So, Danny know that number three loves strawberry jam, and number five always steals some of his cereal, and number 11 always gets closer to the music column to enjoy the sound. And he also know that the Talons weren’t fully fed in their organization because they definitely have problems with their digestive system, and he is going to fix it. Vlad said that he had trouble taking human food for only a few months after the portal accident, and some of the Talons were dead for years and still use injecting nutrient solutions. When a Dead Man can’t have a couple of spoons of treats, well, that’s a crime.

He needs to find a way to consult with Frostbite and conduct a full-fledged health diagnostics for his 'minions'. And he needs to settle the paperwork so guys have a legitimate reason to live in the Infinite Realms.

~~~~~ Danny: Hey Jazz, I’m in trouble. When can you come to Gotham? This time I don’t mind hearing a little advice.

~~~~~

Even though Dr Fenton smelled like death and blood all the time, the smell was different. And this difference was enough that something dead inside them swore allegiance to this Owl at their will. Not that they had it, of course. Weapons don’t have free will. But at least pretending to be able to choose is nice.

The new Master was weird, but in a good way. Not that this Talon know more about what is good than any other Talon. Ah, Di- Talon had a headache. Anyway, serving him is right. They all feel it..And feelings matter!! Well, they are not supposed to have them too but… looks like the young owl didn’t mind.

Master was not angry at how Talon № 4 frowned when the master had to pull a bullet out of his shoulder, and he missed Talon's sweet laughter when it saw the battle of Signal and Spice King on TV. The only times he raised his voice to them were when they were trying to threaten people near the master. Looks like this owl wanted to instill fear on his own. Strange. Usually there was always an enemy of the court who had to be hunted down and destroyed.

~~~~~

Danny: See, when you kill people, you do not make it easy for me. First, I will need to examine the bodies and write the report of their death. Second, if their souls remain restless, they will become my problem again. No more trying to get the cashier to have a heart attack. He said they ran out of the product I needed, not that he’s cursing my family for the next millennium. No one wants to see any more angry ghosts in Gotham. Me after a 24-hour shift is enough, okay?

Talons were alarmed. So far the master had shown no signs that he might want to completely break one of the weapons. But what if this owl is planning on punishing them for all their mistakes at once when he’s really angry?

Talon is not supposed to show initiative or empathy. But Talon 12, who suffered an injury in the course of a mission with old owls, has not yet recovered. They inadvertently hid it when the leadership changed. 12 has not yet met Doctor Fenton, and they do not know whether the privileges of medical care are retained now when they belong to him. So far, the Master has been rather careless about their movements and a few of them have slipped away for a while to check on a fellow. They didn’t lie if they weren’t asked about another weapon, right? They shouldn’t be punished too severely when the Owl finds out. Talons were hoping that Doctor Fenton, who was not in a hurry to look at the document of the court, would allow them not to write off the damaged thing. № 12 was an old and experienced weapon and could train beginners even if it has only one hand now.

Well, that was the plan. Talons allowed themselves to become too careless. Terrible mistake. Even the Owl that is usually nice to them remains dangerous. They need to find a way to satisfy their young master. Young Owls always have anger issues, not that Talons can judge.

The youngest Talon shared information that he sometimes had flashbacks of a working red bird who always had a murderous expression until he got to the coffee pot fluid. And it's non-Talon past was never afraid of this bird. The chick could always be calmed with this dark liquid. Coffee is something that will return the master to the favorable mood!

Talons rejoiced at this remarkable discovery and decided to send one of them on a mission as soon as possible to get rid of the potential danger.

~~~~

Danny: Thanks for the coffee, man. Hey, you also took another drink, judging by the dollars in the check. I'm so proud of you! How it was? Good?

Talon thought for a second and nodded. Yes, it was good. He didn’t drink the drink himself but when a coffee shop employee wrote down his order with a trembling hand, a boy appeared in the door.

This boy, now almost a young man, he was from his memories. Another coffee was automatically added to the order.

On his way out, Talon walked up to the sleeping chick and gave a cup to him. Even without opening his eyes, the bat’s cub sniffed and sucked the drink. Dick chirped with delight and patted boy's head, ignoring the frozen people.

That's a true magic drink which is commanding the minds of the powerful of this world. Yes, it will help them for sure!

~~~~

Danny: See, Jazz, Dick’s making progress! He went to the coffee shop today. That’s great, isn’t it?

Jazz: First, don’t call him that, we’re still not sure that’s his name and not the way Owls used to insult him.

Danny: Hey, the fact that he hissed when you called him Richard proves nothing. I don’t like being called Daniel either, or, over my dead body, Dan. I have to call him something. They’re all Talons. What are your suggestions? Jazz: We’ll talk about this later. Now back to the coffee question. Danny, did you forget anything when you let Talon go for a walk? Danny: Which one? Jazz: Don’t play dumb! Did you open the news headlines today or not? This is serious! Danny: What? Shit...civilian clothes. I didn’t think he’d wear a combat suit for it. Jazz: Didn’t you give them outfits for everyday use? Danny: Yeah, I did! But they still wear their Halloween outfits. All the time. Look, it’s not my fault they take everything I say as an order. When I asked them to make the tea and our teapot broke, they broke into some guy’s house and stole it. Jazz: Which guy? Did you at least apologize? Danny: One of Hood’s goons. I’m pretty sure he’s already met Dick on patrol, 'cause the first thing he did called Jason and start crying about being followed. Lucky for him Red was at my house that night and went to calm goon down. But I swear to you, Dick was a little shit on purpose. Of all the apartments choose his? Nah, such coincidences do not exist.

Jazz: I could be happy that he’s getting more independent in his decision making but now I feel like I have to offer the poor guy a discount therapy course.

Damian: Drake, we need to talk. I know about your investigation. You suspect one of the Talons is our missing Grayson. I’m willing to provide some evidence in exchange for… Tim: I don’t suspect, I know that. Damian: What? Where from? Tim: Well, the quadruple somersault was a good hint. And the fact that the Red Hood ran from him through the streets screaming that he wouldn’t take lunch from a damn golden child is also a tip. Damian:...Not a word to my father until we know more, right? I don’t want my older brother thrown in Arkham. Tim: Agree. It’s not like he doesn’t have a memory problem. He wouldn’t have made Alfred worried if leaving was his choice. We need more information.

Meanwhile in Gotham, Alfred aka the only one batfam member with more than one functioning brain cell *on his way to his first grandson and future husband of his sweet angel Jason*.

Danny: Jazz, we need to clean this house right now. Jazz: Since when do you start spring cleaning? Danny: I don’t know how to explain, it’s not a ghost sense, it’s more an unexplained sense of danger. Where’s the vacuum cleaner?

~~~~~

Talon №5 stood in the knitting shop in thought. What color would the little mistress prefer? It should remain useful even if the Owl does not give them direct orders. Knitting a cute sweater for mistress Dani would be a good start. Yeah, that color’s gonna be perfect. And maybe it should stop holding those needles like a weapon, it makes the cashier nervous, and he wants to pay without saving a civilian from losing consciousness.

~~~~~

Danny became a little alarmed when Talon threw himself at the old man standing on the porch. To his surprise, the Briton readily embraced the bird, and Dick let him. Talons who stood behind Danny happily chirped. Making their youngest member happy things always meant something good.

Alfred: Gentlemen, good afternoon. I guess I should thank you all for taking care of my dear grandson. Would you let me come in for a cup of tea?

[romerona]

Ethera Operation!!

You're the government’s best hacker, but that doesn’t mean you were prepared to be thrown into a fighter jet.

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Awkward!Hacker! FemReader

Part I

This was never supposed to happen. Your role in this operation was simple—deliver the program, ensure it reached the right hands, and let the professionals handle the breaching.

And then, of course, reality decided to light that plan on fire.

The program—codenamed Ethera—was yours. You built it from scratch with encryption so advanced that even the most elite cyber operatives couldn’t crack it without your input. A next-generation adaptive, self-learning decryption software, an intrusion system designed to override and manipulate high-security military networks, Ethera was intended to be both a weapon and a shield, capable of infiltrating enemy systems while protecting your own from counterattacks in real-time. A ghost in the machine. A digital predator. A weapon in the form of pure code. If it fell into the wrong hands, it could disable fleets, and ground aircraft, and turn classified intelligence into an open book. Governments would kill for it. Nations could fall because of it.

Not that you ever meant to, of course. It started as a little experimental security measure program, something to protect high-level data from cyberattacks, not become the ultimate hacking tool. But innovation has a funny way of attracting the wrong kind of attention, and before you knew it, Ethera had become one, if not the most classified, high-risk program in modern times. Tier One asset or so the Secret Service called it.

It was too powerful, too dangerous—so secret that only a select few even knew of its existence, and even fewer could comprehend how it worked.

And therein lay the problem. You were the only person who could properly operate it.

Which was so unfair.

Because it wasn’t supposed to be your problem. You were just the creator, the brain behind the code, the one who spent way too many sleepless nights debugging this monstrosity. Your job was supposed to end at development. But no. Now, because of some bureaucratic nonsense and the fact that no one else could run it without accidentally bricking an entire system, you had been promoted—scratch that, forcibly conscripted—into field duty.

And your mission? To install it in an enemy satellite.

A literal, orbiting, high-security, military-grade satellite, may you add.

God. Why? Why was your country always at war with others? Why couldn’t world leaders just, you know, go to therapy like normal people? Why did everything have to escalate to international cyber warfare?

Which is how you ended up here.

At Top Gun. The last place in the world you wanted to be.

You weren’t built for this. You thrive in sipping coffee in a cosy little office and handling cyber threats from a safe, grounded location. You weren’t meant to be standing in the halls of an elite fighter pilot training program, surrounded by the best aviators in the world—people who thought breaking the sound barrier was a casual Wednesday.

It wasn’t the high-tech cyberwarfare department of the Pentagon, nor some dimly lit black ops facility where hackers in hoodies clacked away at keyboards. No. It was Top Gun. A place where pilots use G-forces like a personal amusement park ride.

You weren’t a soldier, you weren’t a spy, you got queasy in elevators, you got dizzy when you stood too fast, hell, you weren’t even good at keeping your phone screen from cracking.

... And now you were sweating.

You swallowed hard as Admiral Solomon "Warlock" Bates led you through the halls of the naval base, your heels clacking on the polished floors as you wiped your forehead. You're nervous, too damn nervous and this damned weather did not help.

"Relax, Miss," Warlock muttered in that calm, authoritative way of his. "They're just pilots."

Just pilots.

Right. And a nuclear warhead was just a firework.

And now, somehow, you were supposed to explain—loosely explain, because God help you, the full details were above even their clearance level—how Ethera, your elegant, lethal, unstoppable digital masterpiece, was about to be injected into an enemy satellite as part of a classified mission.

This was going to be a disaster.

You had barely made it through the doors of the briefing room when you felt it—every single eye in the room locking onto you.

It wasn’t just the number of them that got you, it was the intensity. These were Top Gun pilots, the best of the best, and they radiated the kind of confidence you could only dream of having. Meanwhile, you felt like a stray kitten wandering into a lion’s den.

Your hands tightened around the tablet clutched to your chest. It was your lifeline, holding every critical detail of Ethera, the program that had dragged you into this utterly ridiculous situation. If you could’ve melted into the walls, you absolutely would have. But there was no escaping this.

You just had to keep it together long enough to survive this briefing.

So, you inhaled deeply, squared your shoulders, and forced your heels forward, trying to project confidence—chin up, back straight, eyes locked onto Vice Admiral Beau "Cyclone" Simpson, who you’d been introduced to earlier that day.

And then, of course, you dropped the damn tablet.

Not a graceful drop. Not the kind of gentle slip where you could scoop it back up and act like nothing happened. No, this was a full-on, physics-defying fumble. The tablet flipped out of your arms, ricocheted off your knee, and skidded across the floor to the feet of one of the pilots.

Silence.

Pure, excruciating silence.

You didn’t even have the nerve to look up right away, too busy contemplating whether it was physically possible to disintegrate on command. But when you finally did glance up—because, you know, social convention demanded it—you were met with a sight that somehow made this entire disaster worse.

Because the person crouching down to pick up your poor, abused tablet was freaking hot.

Tall, broad-shouldered, with a head of golden curls that practically begged to be tousled by the wind, and, oh, yeah—a moustache that somehow worked way too well on him.

He turned the tablet over in his hands, inspecting it with an amused little smirk before handing it over to you. "You, uh… need this?"

Oh, great. His voice is hot too.

You grabbed it back, praying he couldn't see how your hands were shaking. “Nope. Just thought I’d test gravity real quick.”

A few chuckles rippled through the room, and his smirk deepened like he was enjoying this way too much. You, on the other hand, wanted to launch yourself into the sun.

With what little dignity you had left, you forced a quick, tight-lipped smile at him before turning on your heel and continuing forward, clutching your tablet like it was a life raft in the middle of the worst social shipwreck imaginable.

At the front of the room, Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson stood with the kind of posture that said he had zero time for nonsense, waiting for the room to settle. You barely had time to take a deep breath before his voice cut through the air.

“Alright, listen up.” His tone was crisp, commanding, and impossible to ignore. “This is Dr Y/N L/N. Everything she is about to tell you is highly classified. What you hear in this briefing does not leave this room. Understood?”

A chorus of nods. "Yes, sir."

You barely resisted the urge to physically cringe as every pilot in the room turned to stare at you—some with confusion, others with barely concealed amusement, and a few with the sharp assessing glances of people who had no clue what they were supposed to do with you.

You cleared your throat, squared your shoulders, and did your best to channel even an ounce of the confidence you usually had when you were coding at 3 AM in a secure, pilot-free lab—where the only judgment you faced was from coffee cups and the occasional system error.

As you reached the podium, you forced what you hoped was a composed smile. “Uh… hi, nice to meet you all.”

Solid. Real professional.

You glanced up just long enough to take in the mix of expressions in the room—some mildly interested, some unreadable, and one particular moustached pilot who still had the faintest trace of amusement on his face.

Nope. Not looking at him.

You exhaled slowly, centering yourself. Stay focused. Stay professional. You weren’t just here because of Ethera—you were Ethera. The only one who truly understood it. The only one who could execute this mission.

With another tap on your tablet, the slide shifted to a blacked-out, redacted briefing—only the necessary information was visible. A sleek 3D-rendered model of the enemy satellite appeared on the screen, rotating slowly. Most of its details were blurred or omitted entirely.

“This is Blackstar, a highly classified enemy satellite that has been operating in a low-Earth orbit over restricted airspace.” Your voice remained even, and steady, but the weight of what you were revealing sent a shiver down your spine. “Its existence has remained off the radar—literally and figuratively—until recently, when intelligence confirmed that it has been intercepting our encrypted communications, rerouting information, altering intelligence, and in some cases—fabricating entire communications.”

Someone exhaled sharply. Another shifted in their seat.

“So they’re feeding us bad intel?” one of them with big glasses and blonde hair asked, voice sceptical but sharp.

“That’s the theory,” you confirmed. “And given how quickly our ops have been compromised recently, it’s working.”

You tapped again, shifting to the next slide. The silent infiltration diagram appeared—an intricate web of glowing red lines showing Etherea’s integration process, slowly wrapping around the satellite’s systems like a virus embedding itself into a host.

“This is where Ethera comes in,” you said, shifting to a slide that displayed a cascading string of code, flickering across the screen. “Unlike traditional cyberweapons, Ethera doesn’t just break into a system. It integrates—restructuring security protocols as if it was always meant to be there. It’s undetectable, untraceable, and once inside, it grants us complete control of the Blackstar and won’t even register it as a breach.”

“So we’re not just hacking it," The only female pilot of the team said, arms crossed as she studied the data. “We’re hijacking it.”

“Exactly,” You nodded with a grin.

You switched to the next slide—a detailed radar map displaying the satellite’s location over international waters.

“This is the target area,” you continued after a deep breath. “It’s flying low-altitude reconnaissance patterns, which means it’s using ground relays for some of its communication. That gives us a small window to infiltrate and shut it down.”

The next slide appeared—a pair of unidentified fighter aircraft, patrolling the vicinity.

“And this is the problem,” you said grimly. “This satellite isn’t unguarded.”

A murmur rippled through the room as the pilots took in the fifth-generation stealth fighters displayed on the screen.

“We don’t know who they belong to,” you admitted. “What we do know is that they’re operating with highly classified tech—possibly experimental—and have been seen running defence patterns around the satellite’s flight path.”

Cyclone stepped forward then, arms crossed, his voice sharp and authoritative. “Which means your job is twofold. You will escort Dr L/N’s aircraft to the infiltration zone, ensuring Ethera is successfully deployed. If we are engaged, your priority remains protecting the package and ensuring a safe return.”

Oh, fantastic, you could not only feel your heartbeat in your toes, you were now officially the package.

You cleared your throat, tapping the screen again. Ethera’s interface expanded, displaying a cascade of sleek code.

“Once I’m in range,” you continued, “Ethera will lock onto the satellite’s frequency and begin infiltration. From that point, it’ll take approximately fifty-eight seconds to bypass security and assume control."

Silence settled over the room like a thick cloud, the weight of their stares pressing down on you. You could feel them analyzing, calculating, probably questioning who in their right mind thought putting you—a hacker, a tech specialist, someone whose idea of adrenaline was passing cars on the highway—into a fighter jet was a good idea.

Finally, one of the pilots—tall, broad-shouldered, blonde, and very clearly one of the cocky ones—tilted his head, arms crossed over his chest in a way that screamed too much confidence.

“So, let me get this straight.” His voice was smooth, and confident, with just the right amount of teasing. “You, Doctor—our very classified, very important tech specialist—have to be in the air, in a plane, during a mission that has a high probability of turning into a dogfight… just so you can press a button?”

Your stomach twisted at the mention of being airborne.

“Well…” You gulped, very much aware of how absolutely insane this sounded when put like that. “It’s… more than just that, but, yeah, essentially.”

A slow grin spread across his face, far too entertained by your predicament.

“Oh,” he drawled, “this is gonna be fun.”

Before you could fully process how much you already hated this, Cyclone—who had been watching the exchange with his signature unamused glare—stepped forward, cutting through the tension with his sharp, no-nonsense voice.

“This is a classified operation,” he stated, sharp and authoritative. “Not a joyride.”

The blonde’s smirk faded slightly as he straightened, and the rest of the pilots quickly fell in line.

Silence lingered for a moment longer before Vice Admiral Beau Cyclone Simpson let out a slow breath and straightened. His sharp gaze swept over the room before he nodded once.

“All right. That’s enough.” His tone was firm, the kind that left no room for argument. “We’ve got work to do. The mission will take place in a few weeks' time, once we’ve run full assessments, completed necessary preparations, and designated a lead for this operation.”

There was a slight shift in the room. Some of the pilots exchanged glances, the weight of the upcoming mission finally settling in. Others, mainly the cocky ones, looked as though they were already imagining themselves in the cockpit.

“Dismissed,” Cyclone finished.

The pilots stood, murmuring amongst themselves as they filed out of the room, the blonde one still wearing a smug grin as he passed you making you frown and turn away, your gaze then briefly met the eyes of the moustached pilot.

You hadn’t meant to look, but the moment your eyes connected, something flickered in his expression. Amusement? Curiosity? You weren’t sure, and frankly, you didn’t want to know.

So you did the only logical thing and immediately looked away and turned to gather your things. You needed to get out of here, to find some space to breathe before your brain short-circuited from stress—

“Doctor, Stay for a moment.”

You tightened your grip on your tablet and turned back to Cyclone, who was watching you with that unreadable, vaguely disapproving expression that all high-ranking officers seemed to have perfected. “Uh… yes, sir?”

Once the last pilot was out the door, Cyclone exhaled sharply and crossed his arms.

“You realize,” he said, “that you’re going to have to actually fly, correct?”

You swallowed. “I—well, technically, I’ll just be a passenger.”

His stare didn’t waver.

“Doctor,” he said, tone flat, “I’ve read your file. I know you requested to be driven here instead of taking a military transport plane. You also took a ferry across the bay instead of a helicopter. And I know that you chose to work remotely for three years to avoid getting on a plane.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “That… could mean anything.”

“It means you do not like flying, am I correct?”

Your fingers tightened around the tablet as you tried to find a way—any way—out of this. “Sir, with all due respect, I don’t need to fly the plane. I just need to be in it long enough to deploy Ethera—”

Cyclone cut you off with a sharp look. “And what happens if something goes wrong, Doctor? If the aircraft takes damage? If you have to eject mid-flight? If you lose comms and have to rely on emergency protocols?”

You swallowed hard, your stomach twisting at the very thought of ejecting from a jet.

Cyclone sighed, rubbing his temple as if this entire conversation was giving him a migraine. “We cannot afford to have you panicking mid-mission. If this is going to work, you need to be prepared. That’s why, starting next week you will train with the pilots on aerial procedures and undergoing mandatory training in our flight simulation program.”

Your stomach dropped. “I—wait, what? That’s not necessary—”

“It’s absolutely necessary,” Cyclone cut in, his tone sharp. “If you can’t handle a simulated flight, you become a liability—not just to yourself, but to the pilots escorting you. And in case I need to remind you, Doctor, this mission is classified at the highest level. If you panic mid-air, it won’t just be your life at risk. It’ll be theirs. And it’ll be national security at stake.”

You inhaled sharply. No pressure. None at all.

Cyclone watched you for a moment before speaking again, his tone slightly softer but still firm. “You’re the only one who can do this, Doctor. That means you need to be ready.”

You exhaled slowly, pressing your lips together before nodding stiffly. “Understood, sir.”

Cyclone gave a small nod of approval. “Good. Dismissed.”

You turned and walked out, shoulders tense, fully aware that in three days' time, you were going to be strapped into a high-speed, fighter jet. And knowing your luck?

You were definitely going to puke.

Part 2???