#Mach 2

[usafphantom2]

Supersonic is back - the penny has finally dropped we can't stand still and not move forward we have to go faster. Mach 2.0 is on the cards again ....@boomaero @blakeshelton @clairepriddy @Bremont @BremontMilitary

@BlickyIan via X🇬🇧

[dronescapesvideos]

Flying At Mach 2. The Concorde Story, An Engineering Marvel

VIDEO ➤➤ https://youtu.be/FGVEKstDeJw

[hawkzeyes]

Girl you could have absolutely just used the front door 😭😭

Thunderbolts #43 (2000)

[historyofguns]

The article, authored by Peter Suciu, chronicles the evolution and significance of the McDonnell F-101 Voodoo, an advanced military aircraft developed during the Cold War. Originally designed as a long-range escort for Strategic Air Command bombers, the F-101 was adapted into a long-range interceptor, nuclear strike aircraft, and tactical reconnaissance plane. Notable for its speed and altitude capabilities, the Voodoo's design stemmed from the XF-88 prototype. The article highlights its various configurations, including the single-seat F-101A, the two-seat F-101B, and the RF-101 reconnaissance models. It discusses its operational roles and deployments by the United States Air Force, Canadian Air Defence Group, and Taiwanese pilots, particularly during crises like the Cuban Missile Crisis and the Vietnam War. The Voodoo’s legacy is preserved in numerous museums across the globe.

[aeroloversone]

Concorde Retro Vintage British French aircraft travel pilot t-shirt

A unique aviation-themed graphics tee depicting the Marvel of British French Engineering, the Concorde supersonic passenger aircraft. Fans of vintage British travel advertising and the Concorde are sure to be please by this late-60's/early 70's inspired design.

[t00thpasteface]

saw some great photos of prince earlier

[jeebweezers]

regretting this elevator or whatever the kids say

[paper-mache-stars]

hello alan wakers. i called out of work sick today and fell down the stairs.

[kaiserouo]

mach rush into your favorite warframe

[sunseed-fandump]

"WHAT DO YOU HAVE?!" "A KNIFE!" "NO!!!!!!"

[skrunksthatwunk]

skwisgaar punished arc

[hawkzeyes]

Clint.... you are so lucky you are cute

Thunderbolts (2000) #44

[king-magppi]

Was inspired to draw guys from THE most comfy nostalgia franchise ever again! I do love to revisit LBP from time to time here. The character designs and shapes never get old (at least to me)!

Felt the need to experiment with different brushes for a bit to get back in the groove and inspiration struck big time... I had fun!

[crewtawn]

Hello followers and new folks, here's a teaser for a big project coming!

I'm currently working on a comic series called "Uber-Heavy"! Join team BLU's "Uber-Heavy", a nervous and paranoid medic main as he's adopted into a competitive team during his first week of being a mercenary by a spy who admires him. Wacky hijinks ensue!

Main cast will be posted soon! Hang in there, you'll get some updates as time progresses. I hope to sell these as full-color doujins as soon as they're complete!

[cathodecreature]

Unbleeding (2023)

375 x 280 x 820 mm

Papier-mâché pulp, air-dry clay, acrylics, PVC tube, food coloring, cotton doilies, stained elm

been chipping away at this thing since uhh. september 2022?? I think I'm at a point where I can finally call it done. turns out building a nearly life-size body from scratch is challenging!

[chimerahyperfix]

You are a scientist. You like testing theories, making hypothesis. Working with dangerous materials that get you scolded. You are a scientist, and you are also a writer! You’ve swung at a few things before: sappy poems, work papers, crab, you’ve even attempted a horror short at Mirabelle’s inquiry. You’re favorite thing to write, though, are just basic letters.

You like to write letters. It's easier, to you, to write your thoughts on a piece of paper and hide it somewhere the recipient can find than to tell them what you think face-first. You’ve done it for years, long before you even came to the House to learn about the Change religion. A childhood habit that’s rolled over through your life like a wave on the sea.

So, of course, when time begins to loop, you write. Many, many letters. They all get lost to time when it twists back, and now, many loops in, that leaves a hole in your heart and a spot in your brain you can’t itch, for the words of each letter are mostly forgotten before you fight the King. It’s… fine, you guess? You can word things as many ways as you need to. Anything described can be described some more, after all.

For the first handful of loops, you wrote the same letters. Rather sappy, lovey things, your specialty. The furthest depths of your heart smeared onto a page for eternity, for you love and love and love, and you want those around you to know it.

Though as time trudges on, the same twenty four hours over and over in a nice single circuit built for it to run through, built by wishes and stars and twisted leaf-baring branches, so do your thoughts; therefore your letters move so, too, to adapt. More theoretical things. Questions. Ifs, ands ors buts and whys. Sadder ones after the bad loops, wailing and endlessly upset and mourning those who froze and those who were killed for standing in the King's way.

They get angrier as time goes on. More enraged. Wrath melts into the corners, edges fold and tear and warp under the weight. You stop delivering them, because you're here in this time loop hell to protect the ones you love, and you'd just make it worse if you gave them a letter like that.

You write a scathing letter, once. You write it after an absolutely abysmal loop, ending with blood and tears and probably the loudest you've ever screamed. It flows onto the page easily, and you leave it out on your desk, because you were hungry and hadn't eaten that loop with how beside yourself stressed you were.

Mirabelle finds it. Asks you, quite worried, if you're okay. You must've said something, and it had to be bad, because she flinched away from you like you'd tried to light her ablaze.

You panicked. Time looped.

Never again.

You hide them, after that. Shoved in your pillowcases or in piles of books, stacks of other papers. In the barrels. When you write only one or two you shove them in a bottle and push them to the back of your potions.

You're a shedding snake, a leopard changing its spots. Time is your prisoner and you are it's, and that melts into you as a human being until you are flesh and blood and twenty four hours that shouldn't continue.

Words spill from you, your mind, onto the page. You don't read them anymore. Just write and write and write, and tuck them away and pray no one finds them. You long for the days you could sit and write sappy love letters-- and sometimes, you still do them, but they're tinged with something, regret or rage or the absolute despair you feel, they're wrong, so they're tucked away as well. Letters just wrong, noticeably so. You’d be asked what’s wrong. Cornered. You can hear it now, “What’s wrong? What does this mean?” And all you can think of is the horrors you’ve seen.

One of these loops, whenever you get out, you expect to have a pile of ramblings with time-burnt letters and tear-stained edges. Whenever you get out, if there are any, you'll burn them. As a rite of passage, or something. A Change. Because time changed you, and the less people have to know about it the better. You can't get rid of your rotten voice or the tiredness in your bones or the way your brain has twisted to think, but you CAN get rid of letters.

You like to write. The horrors you write, of twisted time and dying and what being frozen in time is like— it can go. No one needs to know. No one WILL know. It’ll all fall on you, like every other crabbing thing in the time loops. And that’s okay, it’s enough.