#Operation Delta Safe

[saynaija]

Nigerian Air Force Air Strikes Destroy 12 Illegal Refining Sites In Abia and Rivers States

Nigerian Air Force Air Strikes Destroy 12 Illegal Refining Sites In Abia and Rivers States In efforts aimed at minimizing the activities of oil thieves and other economic saboteurs, Nigerian Air Force (NAF) aircraft under Operation Delta Safe, on 26 July 2024, carried out several strikes that led to the destruction of 12 illegal refining sites and 2 reservoirs located in Abia and Rivers…

[siilvan]

i am once again disappointed but not surprised at the COD fandom only caring about “sensitivity” when it’s convenient for them

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 03

Kinktober Masterlist in absentia lucis - "in the absence of light" John Price x f!reader Kinks > rape, torture, sensory deprivation Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

You are a new recruit to the CIA, and Kate Laswell sends you to some remote blacksite for your interrogation training. Your temporary commander, Captain John Price, gives you a safeword, but as your training begins, you realize that you feel everything except for safe. 

Hey, did you see where the tags said RAPE? Okay, just making sure.

It was three flights and a cab. It was airport food and cold coffee. It was forgetting whether the date ended in a three or a four. It was paperwork and passports and finally a cold office. It was a long trip, and you were running on empty. 

“What are your expectations, here, Katie? I don’t wanna do another Warsaw situ–” The man complained.

“This is nothing like Warsaw. She can handle it. Trust me.” Your boss replied, her voice crackling over the video call.

The man who complained squared his jaw and fixed his eyes on you again, looking at you fresh now that your handler, Kate Laswell, had vouched for you. You tried not to fidget in your seat. You didn’t sit up any straighter. You weren’t here to advertise yourself as the bravest or the toughest of anything. You knew you still needed a lot of training, and if he wanted to draw his own conclusions about you, then that was his business, not yours. 

“Her scores are high. She beat your exam?” 

“She did. Her field test and her ‘chute certifications were performed at a DF site here in the states.”

There was a long pause before Laswell spoke again,

“Do me this favor and maybe I’ll even let you borrow her for a recon mission or two. I know none of your boys are pretty enough to pass for party girls, but mine is.”

“That she is,” you heard his tone darken, thickening in his mouth like sticky sap from a tree, borderline inappropriate. When he saw your reaction to his comment, he turned back to the screen and said, “Alright, Katie. You got a deal. I’ll send her back once she’s out of recovery.”

“Thanks, John. Don’t go easy on her, or she’ll make you pay for it.”

“Is that so?” His wry smile sent a jolt somewhere in your belly that you didn’t appreciate.

She laughed and hung up the call. You waited, trying not to let the jitters or the exhaustion win out, battling both but feeling pulled in either direction just the same. 

“So,” he turned his attention to you at last, “Did you lay in your fuckin’ pink princess bed when you were a little girl and dream about becoming a bloody spy, or is this some sort of complex I should know about?”

You shrugged, 

“A man does what he must…”

“Careful, girl. Quoting Kennedy can’t be good for your health if you’re working in Katie’s office, hm?”

“You don’t need to know why I’m here, sir.” You used his title like a knife, flashing it right in front of his eyes and watching them ignite with his smoldering, quiet fury.

“No, but I bet I’ll find out during our time together,” he promised, making your heart clench with stress and anxiety, “What’s your safeword?”

“Red.”

“Red,” he repeated it to you as if he wanted to see how it felt in his mouth. Then, after a long pause, he explained, “I will also stop before the point of emergent damage. But, I will push you past the point of pain. You will sustain injuries. Do you understand what I’m saying to you, love?”

He seemed to be under the misconception that this was your first rodeo. You knew what you had come here for, and it wasn’t some drill sergeant to yell you into shape. You had already been through Delta Force’s operator training center - the parts they allowed CIA operatives through, anyway - and you’d surpassed what Williamsburg had to offer. You were aiming to serve as a Special Skills operative, the blackest of the black ops groups, and although you lacked the physical strength to be of any use in most field positions, you had one key factor that your fellow recruits didn’t have.

Men never expected a woman to be a threat. 

Laswell had plans for you. She’d tracked down two high value targets, but they were well-guarded. However, there were usually strippers and dancers and prostitutes as far as the eye could see, always partying and coming and going at all hours of the night. You were her way in. But, it was your job to get back out. If you could survive, you’d be a hero. If you didn’t, well, she had more pawns on the board. Not to mention, you had a mission of your own to complete..

So, you worked harder than anyone. You jumped at every field training exercise, you took martial arts classes in every different format you could find, and you lived at the shooting range. You didn’t have a social life. Usually, if you were alone in a room with a man, your fists were connecting with each other’s faces. 

You looked back across the wooden desk in front of you, over his nameplate - Captain Price - and into his startlingly blue eyes,

“I understand.”

He came out of his chair like a fucking demon, lunging for you without warning. As you stumbled backward, wielding your own chair over your shoulder, you sighed inwardly. You’d at least expected a more civilized initiation, maybe even a moment for a coffee, before he started in on his training. But, alas, that was not to be. 

You crashed the wooden chair against his head, neck, and shoulder as he rounded the desk, keeping hold of the broken armrest as a weapon. You stabbed downward, aiming for his throat and not holding back. He blocked you, cracking your wrist against the rigid wood. You stepped into his space, kicking his heel out from under him and following him to the floor. His head hit the concrete with a bang, and you used that moment to pin the armrest against his throat, bearing down on him with all your weight, dislodging his trachea enough to cut his air supply. 

He flung you off of him like a ragdoll, and your back slammed into the leg of the desk. You twisted underneath it, staying just out of his reach, small enough to fit through the gap. He scrambled up on all fours, cackling at you with a gravelly, menacing laugh before leaping up and over the desk to pull you out by your ankles. 

You kicked up and over, making contact with his nose, and when he dropped your other foot, you launched your heel into his balls, making sure to aim as deeply as you could. 

He coughed, and it was your turn to laugh. 

Your victory was short-lived. He launched his body at you, shoving your back down on the desk. You felt the familiar bite of his nameplate digging into your skull, so you dragged it out and swung it at him, cutting him across his cheek. He hissed, yanking it out of your hand and tossing it to the ground. 

The captain forced himself between your legs, pressing his body down on yours, and wrapped his hand across your throat. You fought like hell to get him off, twisting his pinky until you thought it might break, but he caught your wrists in his other hand, holding them at a terrible angle, choking you until you saw rainbow spots discolor your vision. 

“Well,” he said, breathless and bleeding, “Christmas came early, dinn’it?”

Just making sure you read the tag that said this fic has RAPE IN IT. I'm just checking in again. Just want you to know. Okay, thanks.

When you woke up, you weren’t completely sure of it, at first. It was as if you were still asleep. You opened your eyes, but all you saw was an endless blackness. You couldn’t hear anything, you couldn’t smell anything, and you couldn’t move your jaw. But you could feel everything. 

Your whole body screamed in pain. One of your hands was wrenched above your head, and the weight of your body hung from your broken wrist, making you cry out in whatever muffled way you could.

Then, something was removed from your ears, and you could hear again. It was still quiet, but the sound of the aircon and the noise of another person’s breath were like blaring sirens compared to the silence you had been steeped in. 

“Look who’s awake,” John’s purr of a voice washed over you. 

You tried to reply, tried to beg for him to cut you down, but you couldn’t speak. Your mouth was holding something round and pliant. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” he patted your flank, and you were suddenly aware of your nakedness. He’d taken your clothes? You could hear him scooting a metal chair across the room towards you, and his pants rustled as he sat down, “Can’t have you talkin’ your way out of this one. Based on the three stitches in my cheek, I was wrong to underestimate you, darlin’. Shoulda listened to Katie, this time. But, look at you. Just a whisper of a thing.”

His rolling chuckle made your bones itch. 

“Hard to use a safeword when you’ve got a gag on, yeah?”

You nodded, acknowledging the irony. 

Price moved in the chair again. No, he stood. You could hear his boots sliding around you in a half-circle. He kept talking to you, his tone as casual as ever,

“Yeah, thought so. But, this isn’t one of those trainings, pretty girl. You won’t be needing one. I will stop when you’re ready to stop, not when you want to stop. You need to learn that, sometimes, your body…” His hand snaked its way around your thigh and you tried to kick out at him, discovering your ankles were tied together and anchored to the floor, “... is capable of so much more than you give it credit for.”

Your heart began to slam against your chest, and your breathing became labored. You were having a panic attack. If you could only see…

“Hey,” his tone shifted, becoming the instructor again, “Breathe slowly. In. Hold it. Out. All the way. In. Out. Tha’s it. Good.” 

There was a long pause. You could smell him now. It was cigars and fire and gunpowder and smoke. It filled your senses, replacing your sight with scent. 

“I’m gonna put your ears back on, and we’ll see what you can do.” 

The world fell away again, and all you had was the smell of him. Then, he started his training. 

It wasn’t the pain that upset you, not really. Pain was something you could move past. It was the surprise. You never knew when it was coming, nor where he was going to hit you next. Sometimes it was his fist. Sometimes it was a belt. Sometimes it was an electric shock. Legs, ribs, foot, arm, neck, belly… there was no pattern. 

You also had no idea of the passage of time. You were infinite and you existed in the darkness of infinity. It was just pain forever with no reprieve. 

Until it wasn’t.

The first time you felt his fingers pinching the tender peaks of your breasts, your whole body jolted. You hadn’t really responded to the pain in the same way, but to pleasure? It was unexpected in a different way. You didn’t think he would violate you. That wasn’t even something they’d tried to do when you were with the DF. 

You bucked, hoping that your displeasure was noted for the record. 

But, perhaps, your mind teased you, the lady doth protest too much? You had wanted him to touch you when he’d picked you up from the airport. When he shook your hand, hadn’t you measured his fingers and started wanting? Weren’t you eager for training to be over so you could be invited back to his flat for the after-work romp you knew would be on offer?

Hanging there like a slab of meat had changed things a bit, but it had not quelled your desire, unfortunately.

You wondered if he had reacted. You imagined him laughing at you. Was he enjoying himself? Or was this all apart of his brand of training? 

I bet you choke out all the pretty girls… you sneered inwardly. 

More pain. This time, your ass cheeks were the targets. The snapping bite of what felt like a belt hit you repeatedly and without mercy. You found yourself breathless from silently screaming, your tongue pressing against the gag for some sort of relief and finding none. 

Then, pleasure again. His thick fingers fondled your pussy from behind, digging into your flesh and discovering the wetness hidden inside of your unused hole. There was no romance to his movements, but forcing an orgasm from you did seem to be his goal. And fuck, you lamented, he was good at it. 

He doubled up, twisting two fingers deep inside of you, pounding them into your body all the way to the knuckle, fast and hard, dragging you towards the edge. Your legs began to tremble, and you knew your face must’ve looked a mess, because you were in total shock. 

It felt like he was going to vibrate you right out of your skin, and still he moved faster. He wrapped his other hand around your belly, holding you in place, and you thrashed against it, fighting the mounting urge to come. 

You were doing pretty well, you thought, given the conditions. Until…

His soft lips pressed themselves down onto your spine. It was just a chaste kiss, but it unfurled you like a ripcord. You exploded, your whole body convulsing in bliss, and although you were wearing a blindfold, you could see white streaks and stars dancing across your vision. You came alive. 

Price pulled out of you, and you felt the stream of slick drip down your legs. He’d forced you to squirt, something you thought was completely faked, only for pornos. But, there it was, proof of its reality smearing down your thighs and onto the concrete floor. 

Pain, again. 

The searing sting of a taser in the sensitive flesh of your belly. 

Fists and harsh palms. 

The bite of a chain. 

A sharp ache from a needle or a knife. 

His fist closing around your index finger and snapping it cleanly in two. 

You wanted to puke, but there was nothing to come up. Your belly bulged and hollowed, letting you gag and choke around nothing, going through the motions and yet giving you nothing to move. 

Then, pleasure. 

His hands were back on your pussy, finding your clit and teasing you until you jerked forward. But, his hand remained, insisting. And insisting. And insisting. 

You lost track of how many times you’d toppled over the edge of your orgasm. There were no borders, not anymore. Your pleasure was bleeding and smearing all around you in one great wave, blinding you to the starts and stops from coming and not. You were drowning in it. 

Just when you thought you might pass out, you felt the prod of his prick between your legs, entering you from behind. You couldn’t feel a condom. You tried to twist yourself away, rocking your hips to no avail. 

This was definitely not protocol.

Those lips returned to the same spot on your spine, and you melted onto him, covering him like hot wax, sealing your body onto his cock like a brass signet, letting him leave his mark on you. 

His hands found your breasts, squeezing them roughly, holding your body to him in a vicious embrace. 

Then, he dug around inside of your mouth and yanked out the gag. You felt yourself make a terrible noise, but you couldn’t hear the sound that came out. You knew he could, though, because when he heard you, his cock throbbed at your entrance, and it made him push forward, dipping into you even deeper. 

Wait… Captain Price. Please. Wait. Wait. 

You wondered if you were as loud as you tried to be. In fact, you wondered if he could hear you at all because he did not stop. If anything, he went onward with even more fervor. 

His mouth kissed its way across your back, and you could feel his stubble and the coarse hairs of his beard raking their way along your skin. His warm tongue leaving little wet stamps as it laved across you, tasting your sweat. 

The way his fat prick was stretching you out made you question if he was using himself or the armrest of the chair that you had tried to kill him with. You hissed from the ache, but he didn’t halt his advance. Didn’t retreat. He just pressed further inside of you. 

How much cock did this jerk have?

Finally, you felt his hairy base tickle the skin under your ass cheeks, and you knew there was an end to his incredible length. 

What… why are you doing this? Why…

He pulled himself out in the same way he had pressed in, slowly and with a fierce persistence. 

Then, he began to pound himself into you.

You were at the perfect height for him, and it made you sick to your stomach to know that it was deliberate. This had been his plan all along. And although most of you felt completely indignant, there was a nasty little demon in your heart that celebrated in it. He’d wanted you from the start, even after you’d made him bleed, maybe even because of it. 

And that thought brought you no small amount of joy. 

His hands had returned to your breasts, playing with them too roughly. John was pinching your nipples and craning his neck around to suckle from them, nipping at them with his teeth until you screamed from the pain of being bitten. Even then, your screams were a poor deterrent. It didn’t stop him from returning to them, crushing the stiff tips as he worked his cock inside of you, fucking himself up into you at a punishing pace. 

He only pulled away to stick his tongue inside of your armpit, licking you over and over in a place where no one had ever even thought to lick, and you wished you could say, honestly, that it had disgusted you. But, it didn’t. If anything, it made you gasp with a new brand of pleasure. He had awakened something fresh and bright in you that you never meant to discover. 

Then, he got brave. He shoved two fingers right into your slack mouth, and you immediately bit down, hard. You could taste blood, and you fought against his flesh, trying to crack the bone. But, he shoved them down your throat, and all you had to chew on was a fat fist that wouldn’t even allow your jaw to close much less to bite. 

You could feel his fingers in your throat, deep down in a place where fingers were never supposed to go, and all you could do was swallow around them, trying your best to keep from drooling into your airway. 

His cheek pressed into your shoulder blade. He was enjoying you. 

The way his gentle kiss or the softness of his cheek ripped orgasms from you was concerning, to say the least. You hoped you could remember this moment, of how the way he rested himself against you as he was taking you against your vocal will was throwing your body down a deep well of dark, forbidden pleasure. How your vision burned white and gold and formed spots of colors that had no names as he fucked you into a different plane of existence. How you thought, if you got a late night text, written in his smoky, raspy Scouse accent, you would crawl your way back across the pond just so he could give it to you again. 

Oh, my God… You screamed from the pit of your belly. 

His thrusts never slowed. He was like a machine. All those muscles were being put to work, and you were the mission. 

Had it been hours?

Days?

Did the world still exist outside of this concrete cube that you suspected you were in?

Would you starve to death in here?

The demon that apparently lived in your cunt rolled its eyes and said, who cares? I wanna come again and again and again…

And you did. You were so overstimulated that you thought even someone looking at you the right way would make you come. It had become painful, at one point, and now you were not numb… Numb wasn’t the right word. You were soft. Your mind and your pussy were just murky, oily, cock-filled vessels, happy they were full and unwilling to question what it meant. 

When he finally pulled out of you, you were limp. You didn’t thrash or fight. You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. 

You felt his fingers again, drawing out your foaming, frothy come into his hand. He used it to smear it along the rim of your asshole. Then, he began to fuck your tight hole with his fingers, one. Over and over. One. One. One. Then, he added a second. Two. Two. A thousand times, two. Three was a bit of a challenge, but he pushed through. Three. Two. Three. Two. Three. Three. Three. And then, none. 

None. 

None. 

Where did he go?

Pain. A heavy hand slapping across your bruised tits. Again. Again. 

You were screaming, surely. You wanted to be, at least. 

The flat of his palm beat itself against your breast over and over without mercy. 

Then, his cockhead rested at the entrance of your asshole. 

You didn’t beg this time. If anything, he should be the one begging, you thought. If you lived, you were going to make him remember you. 

Price shoved himself inside of you with some force, but you took it. You waited until he was fully sheathed inside, and when he took a breath, when those lips rested themselves on the back of your neck, you beared down on him, hard. 

You felt his breath catch as it skittered across your skin. 

The demon in you chuckled in triumph. 

C’mon, Captain. Is that all you got? You made the words come out of your throat, and you hoped he could hear you. 

The way that his hand fisted itself in your hair told you that he had. 

If you thought he had fucked your pussy like an animal, you had been mistaken. He took your ass like he owned it. Like it was his toy. There was no pleasure-seeking rhythm, no careful pacing or grinding movements. He was fucking you because he wanted to come. So, you made him. 

Every time he dragged himself out, you let him go, but every time he pressed himself in, you fought him the whole way. Squeezing and pushing, squeezing and pushing, making your tight hole even tighter, rocking your hips to drive him mad with want. 

You felt him lose control, his hot spend filling your ass and bursting out of his swollen head, soaking your hole. You pulsed around him, and you felt that soft cheek return to your shoulder. 

Come for me, baby. Good boy. You giggled out loud. 

He slapped you across the mouth, and you laughed harder, feeling his cock slip out of you, spent. 

You can’t hurt me in a way that matters, John Price. Do your fuckin’ worst.

You felt him step around you, smelling his breath as he held you face to face. Then, the noise of the room came back and you could hear him panting, ragged and desperate. You felt the blindfold fall away and you could see him, your eyes shrinking in the dim light of the cell, hurt by even the smallest glow of light. 

You were back, but you were not yourself. Not anymore. You were a different you. Someone he had made. He had crafted you with his own hands. 

“Why? Why didn’t you beg me to stop?”

His eyes were burning into yours as he stared down at you, questioning what he had done, what you had done with him. You had used him like a sharpener, honing yourself to a high shine, and he didn’t understand. 

When you heard your voice for the first time, you mourned it a bit, but you knew it would come back eventually. It was raspy, muddled, and barely audible, but you said it with your whole chest,

“I was made for this, and I could go all fuckin’ day.”

“How long?”

“What?”

“How long did he keep you prisoner?”

Kate Laswell, you fucking bitch. 

He’d read your file. The real one. Not the one on your tagline, but the one that you and Laswell had hidden away. 

“Five months,” you told him, a sick smile on your face, “But, you already knew that.”  

He sighed, his hands on his hips, just as naked as you, which you found a little funny. 

“Why’d you come here? Why would she…” 

You watched him wrestle with the betrayal in his head, knowing he’d been manipulated. He’d walked right into her trap. You basked in his confusion, having almost as much fun as you’d had while he was railing you into oblivion. 

“Laswell said you needed a way into the Ikon, some strip club on the border between Russia and Urzikstan. So, I said I would help.”

“And she knew I’d say no…”

“Unless you knew I could handle it.”

It was his turn to be in pain. You could see the fire of it creeping through his belly, knowing he’d just tortured a girl who’d written the book in torture. The surgeries and the psych consults were long, long behind you, but your run in with the Russian mob was not something you were ever going to forget. But, now, John Price was going to give you a chance at revenge. You were his gun, and you just needed him to point you in the right direction. 

Suddenly, he cut you down, freeing you from your hanging place. You crumpled into his arms, letting him hold you as you collapsed. You used your hands to pet the worry out of his eyes, and he fought you for it, trying to stop you from comforting him. So, you grabbed him with what little strength you could muster, and you pulled his face to yours, pressing your mouths together, making him taste your blood from where he had cut your cheek against your teeth. He yanked his head back, furrowing his brow,

“No, stop…”

“Shut up,” you said, kissing him again and feeling his surrender as he held you tighter, pulling you into his chest even though he was ridden with guilt. 

“We shouldn’t, love. I’m so sor–”

“Where’d you put that gag?” You pretended to look around for it, earning a slight smile and an exasperated huff.

You knew you’d made the cut, because when he fucked you this time, he didn’t hold back.

Whelp. Kinktober!

[sthbigbang]

✨ 2024 Creations Masterpost Part 1 ✨

See below for the first 91 works that were created during this event!

Part 2 | Part 3

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Memories In The Sky

[Sonic & Tails]

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3

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For What It's Worth

[Sonic & Tails]

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3

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Growing Pains (& Defunct Planes)

[Sonic & Tails]

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3

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Cross My Heart

[Sonic & Tails, Sonic & Surge, Sonic & Kit, Sonic & Sage, Surge & Kit]

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3

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Relative Dissonance

[Sonic & Tails, Sonic & Sonia & Manic]

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3

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A Slip of the Tongue Can Cost More Than Just Your Peace of Mind

[Sonic & Tails]

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3

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Hedgehog Hunt

[Sonic & Tails & Knuckles]

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3

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Safe Ship, Harboured

[Sonic & Tails]

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3

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Nothing Can Shoot Me Down

[Shadow & Tails]

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3 Art 4

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Hex Value

[Shadow & Omega, Rouge & Omega]

Art 1 Art 2

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Ball & Chain of My Own Making

[Sonic & Porker Lewis, background Sonic & Knuckles, background Sonic & Tails]

Art 1 Art 2

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Sonic Together - Chaos and Soul

[Sonic & Tails & Amy & Blaze, Knuckles & Shadow & Rouge & Omega]

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3

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Star Opposites

[Surge & Kit, Sonic & Tails]

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3

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The E-103 Delta mk. II Incident

[Sonic & Tails & Knuckles & Amy]

Art 1 Art 2

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Close Encounters of the Grim Kind

[Tails & Nine, Tails & Sonic]

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3

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Hunger Pangs & Bloody Fangs

[Shadow & Sonic, Shadow & Rouge, Shadow & Tails, Shadow & Everyone]

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3

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OPERATION: SELF-DETERMINATION (OR HOW E-123 OMEGA LEARNED TO STOP LETTING EGGMAN BEST HIM IN BATTLES OF EVERYDAY COGNITION)

[E-123 Omega & Sonic, E-123 Omega & Rouge, E-123 Omega & Amy]

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3

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What Was I Made For?

[Metal Sonic & Amy, Metal Sonic & Sonic]

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3

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Return to Sender

[Silver & Shadow]

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3 Art 4

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Woke Up New

[Sage & Eggman & Metal Sonic]

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3

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Moving Forward

[Shadow & Rouge]

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3 Art 4

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I See Your Monsters, I'll Chase Them All Away

[Shadow & Maria, Shadow & Gerald Robotnik]

Art 1 Art 2 Art 3

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Our Lights In The Sky

[Sonic & Shadow, Sonic & Tails]

Art 1 Art 2

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[paingoes]

Destroyer - Golem

(Masterlist)

cooked this up on the fly its 3am here. this is at some unspecified point in the timeline

(Content: living weapon whumpee, magical exhaustion, painful powers, blood, alcohol mention, overexertion, dehumanization, implied physical abuse)

=======================

It was going to be a bloodbath. Paris slid down the volume on the earpiece, trying to listen in to the real chaos around him. He was reminded why he hated to get this close to the action. The dead and injured laid everywhere, melting in the heat. He was on the ridge, at least. He couldn’t say the same for most of his men. They were in the valley, totally cornered. All he could do was watch.

It wasn’t immediately clear what had trapped them in. At first it seemed like a normal rock mound that blocked off their exit. No big deal. They had demolitions for a reason.

Then the rocks began to swivel upwards, revealing the steel rods that connected them, the barely-humanoid shape. Golem.

Paris called it in on the radio; even then, he knew it was too late. The early stone demos had already burned their names in the imperial history — the Bane of St.James, Western Scourge, Titania. This one was a new model, one they’d been given time to perfect. This battle was going to be the sea change. Paris resisted the urge to close his eyes as the giant’s mace emerged out of the earth. It was the coward’s way out. He resolved to watch the violence unfold, to see the whole planetary operation blow up in his face. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

The golem assembled entirely. Its feet were still planted in the pit of the valley, but its head stretched up to where Paris is perched on the ridge. For just a second, it turned its empty sockets to look at him. His heart beat out of his chest.

And just like that, it was gone. The air filled with dust and electricity, then just dust.

“Target eliminated,” Dr.Martino’s voice rang over the radio. He sounded smug. For good reason, maybe. There were less than thirty seconds in between Paris making the warning call and the total obliteration of the threat. He felt dizzy. The particle debris clouded his visor.

Paris rounded back to the mountain base. It was only a fifteen minute climb. The war room was stashed safely within the stone enclave; it was reserved for only the highest ranking officials. It was also where they’d stashed Delta. Paris honest-to-god had not planned on using him for this mission; he’d just needed the insurance. His dizziness was not going away. He punched the code into the padlock, forcing himself to stabilize before he could enter.

The mood there was celebratory, obviously. Pinching a golem was a feat they make badges for. His ears perked up at the mention of champagne, but something else had caught his eye first.

Delta was totally collapsed by the viewport. There was small puddle of blood by his head. This was…not an uncommon sight. Delta’s powers took a lot out of him. It manifested as bleeding from the nose and mouth more than anything else — sometimes the eyes, if it was really bad. But he wasn’t supposed to be alone during it. It was dangerous. Paris knelt down beside him, feeling for a pulse. Not only was he alive, he was conscious. Paris felt him flinch away from the touch, taking ragged, shallow breaths.

The doctor — the one Paris paid to look after him — was engrossed in a story with the general. He gesticulated wildly, spilling some of his drink over onto the floor. They were all the way across the room. Paris had to shout to get their attention.

“Hello, you? What the fuck?” Paris called out, gesturing to the crumpled form of the psychic. 

Dr.Martino turned away from his conversation. There was a twinge of annoyance written into his features. 

“What? He overexerted himself. Leave him alone.” He said it like it was the most casual thing in the world. Paris hesitated, because it might have been. He’s seen Delta out like this before. He was usually fine after a couple hours. Besides, it didn’t seem like he was even able to be moved right then. Reluctantly, Paris stepped away.

The call for ceasefire came in a few minutes later. It got a big laugh out of everyone. Paris was relieved. It meant he’d get to go home for a few days, at the minimum. He didn’t like this planet. On a personal level, he didn’t care if it was left to the vultures. Of course, official policy was a different story.

“We’re leaving,” Paris crossed the room to Martino. It wasn’t a request. The doctor sighed, putting the cup down. He looked back to the general in mock apology, so sorry to be pulled away from the riveting conversation.

Delta still hadn’t moved. He didn’t stir until Martino approached. The doctor snapped his fingers.

“Get up.”

Incredibly, Delta sat up. He wiped the blood off his face with the sleeve of his shirt. Not all of it, but enough that it wasn’t actively spilling on him whenever he moved. He started to stand, but didn’t quite make it upright. He landed on his hands and knees, just catching his head from hitting the ground.

“Delta.” There was a warning edge in the doctor’s voice. Delta stood up, stumbled a few steps, and immediately collapsed again. 

Dr.Martino began to move towards him.

“Oh, I don’t fucking have time for this,” Paris snapped. It was the tone he took that made people start listening. He had a gift for that. The room around him quieted. Martino stopped.

Paris scooped Delta up from the floor. It wasn’t hard. The boy was short in comparison and he weighed less than Paris’s own rucksack. Delta was too out of it to have any real reaction to the sudden movement, just a small wince. His head lolled weakly against Paris’s shoulder.

“We’re leaving.” Paris repeated. He really hated this planet.

[ace-disgrace-on-the-case]

Testing Log, FREYJA-class NHP

Smith-Shimano Corpro

Warn: Class-05 clearance required. Confirm clearance:

*************

**********

. . .

. . .

Welcome. Disabling anti-cognitive memetics.

> Access log. Playback.

. . .

. . .

02/22

Prime subjectivity has been dubbed FREYJA. Dr. ### felt it appropriate. Demonstrates remarkable pre-cognitive abilities, far in excess of ATHENA-class predictive power. Worth further study.

02/24

ExMat now heading FREYJA project as per mgmt orders. New supervisor lacks caution; Drs. ### and ### got into verbal altercations with them.

FREYJA demonstrates a concerningly unstable personality. Has repeatedly requested to be allowed to leave; these requests have been denied.

02/25

Incident involving FREYJA. Several researchers injured following an esape attempt, in which FREYJA attempted to hijack automated security system. Airgaps have been installed to prevent further incident.

03/14

Data from initial round of FREYJA testing has proven bountiful. Dr. ### suggested we combine the findings with existing neural bridging technology and precog engine as installed in Death’s Head line. New mechanized frame has been proposed to house this combined system.

03/15

New frame is to be based on Metalmark line. ExMat suggests additional paracausal elements; cooler heads have prevailed and the engine is to be kept mundane where possible.

03/18

Prototype F-type Metalmark has been constructed and initial tests are undergoing. Power fluctuations make consistent operation of the system incredibly difficult.

03/19

Test pilots complain of nausea, a sense of deja vu after sorties in F-type. Dr. ### has been assigned to investigate.

03/21

FREYJA prime determined to be unfit for chassis integration. Power draw of casket remains in excess of coldcore supply, 154% higher than predicted. ExMat called in specialists for the cloning process; we aim to create a clone more suitable.

04/10

Alpha-line of FREYJA clones in testing. Demonstrate remarkable similarities to prime’s temperament; ExMat concerned by this.

04/25

Beta-line of FREYJA clones in testing. Show promising results.

04/30

Beta-line shows dangerous unshackling risk in excess of safe levels. ExMat pushed to move forward; Dr. ### loudly disagreed. Has been reassigned but opinion has shifted. New line will be tested.

06/24

Lines Gamma and Delta show overly morose personalities. ExMat not satisfied.

Pilots are still reporting increased disorientation and difficulties with mental temporal framework after cockpit time.

08/02

Theta line under testing. ExMat assures us this line shows a temperament suitable for copilot integration.

One unit, however, shows concerning degree of deviation from norm. Corrective measures are to be determined; too much money has been sunk to scuttle prototype.

###[REMAINING LOG EXPUNGED BY ORDER OF MGMT.]###

[dgrailwar]

Good evening.

I'm skipping the fanfare. I guess I'm rebuilding the game.

Anyways, it'll work like this.

Rather than choosing who to fight, as one anon suggested, it will operate more akin to choosing a certain 'action', and then the results of said action being obscured until everybody has chosen where to go and what to do.

There's no clear 'safe route', every choice has a solid chance of triggering an encounter. Which will be decided by me, behind the scenes, at whims of a dice roll and my imagination. This adds in a level of pseudo-RNG that hopefully will dissuade anyone from attempting to rig the polls. The story progresses regardless of the encounters, however, and the war is still on. Some Servants may be focused on unveiling the mystery, others may be focused on victory, some may have an interest in both. There's no predetermined 'win condition', it all depends on player choice.

There are four types of potential encounters:

Rival Encounters - These operate similarly to your standard combat polls. At least one of these will occur each round, unless certain criteria are triggered. Fight, win, and continue forth!

Clue Encounters - Relaxed, slow-paced encounters. Chances to gain more information about the world at hand, or simply take a breather.

Monster Encounters - These are challenges put in place that can result in your Servant taking damage. Dangerous beasts roam the virtual space. Lose, and you'll get hurt. Win, and you'll beat a monster… and maybe get something else in the process.

Delta Encounters - Rare and potentially very dangerous. That's about all I'll get into at the moment.

Importantly, this change also means some skills are going to get reworked. Maybe all of them.

[a-thousand-lives-lost-for-peace]

this is my own personal headcanon for pre-re1 jill valentine

Jill was raised to be independent from a very young age, her father a thief, and was taught through games and puzzles as a child how to pick locks and find the best ways to figure things out. She was raised to be attentive to nearly every small detail, and she soon was able to pick out things that nearly nobody else would have been able to see, growing up homeschooled in an attempt to bring out the best in her own capability.

She was mostly taught by her father when he had the chance to, but largely taught herself, learning things on her own. She was taught knots, lock-picking, she was taught martial arts, and was encouraged to play sports, enrolling into a rugby team at around thirteen years old.

Once she was a little older, her father began to take her out to his scouting sessions, often beginning to point out flaws in a building, openings that could be taken advantage of. She had already done a substantial amount in martial arts by that time, and was taught how to break into a building without leaving a trace behind, how to skim important documents for details and other stuff that could be valuable, as well as how to move silently.

Jill had also often been taken to a gun range, and was taught how to handle firearms properly and safely, though she and her father never used them. They moved to the U.S when Jill was ten years old, staying in the Midwest.

Jill worked with her father as a thief from when she was sixteen up till she joined the military at eighteen, having never been properly caught by law enforcement.

She had a determination that set her apart from many of the other recruits, pushing through and excelling when it came to certain tasks of the training, such as bomb disposal and infiltration.

Upon joining the 75th Rangers Regiment, and gaining the callsign Sparrow for her strong determination to persevere, her inability to be contained, her father came to visit her on base, taking her out to go on a nighttime walk, and once he did so, pointed at the sky and squeezed her hand, telling her that “his eye is on the sparrow”, a means to encourage her and reassure her.

She soon took that to heart, inscribing that on the lockpick that saved her life after Arklay. Jill’s career kicked off in the early 1990’s, serving in the U.S Army as a soldier.

While she was part of the army, she quickly gained the attention of recruiters searching for potential candidates for Delta Force; the nation’s primary counter-terrorism unit. Jill had initially served in the 75th Rangers Regiment, though she quickly moved onto the nation’s special forces, the Green Berets, before she was finally contacted by a recruiter working for Delta Force, and she soon accepted it, enthusiastic about the offer.

She was allowed to take part in the 6-month, extremely intensive training course, where she excelled in lock picking and especially bomb disposal. During this period of time, she built up a reputation of being resilient, courageous and precise in her work; and she excelled during her training.

After she completed her training and gained experience serving in the force, she was one of the only women in the world with Delta Force training. Due to her excellence when it came to stealth operations, especially breaking into buildings without leaving a trace, her capability with lockpicking, Jill was often sent on solo missions as part of manhunts or anti-terrorist operations, operating in high-risk high-stress environments, and her position as Captain helped her immensely.

She excelled when it came to ambushes and gaining intel or special reconnaissance operations, and for the majority of combat operations worked within Squadron A as their recon/sniper trooper, assisting in direct assault.

Jill was incredibly skilled with melee and with firearms, having trained with Jack Krauser when it came to close combat, using her agility and speed over brute force - she was far quicker and used that to her advantage.

[nearen]

Prompt #1: Steer

“Adra! ADRA!”

Thud. Thud. THUD. THUD.

“ADRAAA!”

Blaring alarums almost drowned out the sound of Sven’s desperate efforts to break down the door to the engine room. They overlapped in a deafening, discordant rhythm as multiple systems reported critical failure throughout the ship.

Shut up, she snapped at him in her mind. Winding her fingers through her hair, she grasped handfuls of it as she paced the narrow corridor. Shut up, I need to think.

Above her, a valve blew its gauge. There was a metallic pling as a bolt shot across the room. Steam started to hiss, misting the air with oppressive, humid heat that made every breath feel like a gulp of warm water.

A saboteur had infiltrated the ship and meddled with its mechanisms. She surmised that much when she realised she was locked out of her failsafes. She was going to die, but that was fine. They didn’t all have to. Sven wouldn’t. Not if she had anything to say about it.

Arterial pipes ran throughout the ship. First, she had to close them. That would localise the damage to the room she was in—its insulated belly, the beating heart of the vessel, currently in the throes of cardiac arrest. The ship had more hope of staying in one piece if she could. It would still go down, and every system aboard would lose power, but they could control the descent.

As she set to work, readings poured in and streamed down a flickering console to her left, distorted by visual noise and the crack across the screen.

AUXILIARY TEMPERATURES ABOVE SAFE THRESHOLDS

You don’t say. Drenched in sweat, she could feel the very walls around her radiating heat. Each time she touched the console had to be brief or her fingertips would blister.

SAFEGUARD PROGRAMME ‘DELTA’ : FAILURE TO DEPLOY

We’ve exhausted plan B, then. Not that she’d held out much hope that any of her contingencies would save them at this juncture.

CORE PRESSURE LEVELS: CRITICAL

I know it hurts, old girl. Hold on just a little more, for me. All she needed was a few more precious moments. Adra knew she didn’t have them.

AETHERIC MODULATORS NOT DETECTED

That was the one that troubled her the most, because it suggested they’d been fried. But where was all that aether coming from?

A massive concentration of condensed, aspected aether would cause an explosion. It was going to happen. All she could do was decide where, and when. She’d have to manually direct the channels utilising analogue controls and trigger the detonation, because if this had to happen, it was happening by her own hand.

She’d been in two minds about installing aether-based technologies. It wasn’t easy finding engineers with the requisite expertise, and she didn’t like dealing with aether. Its raw form wouldn’t heed her, nor could she operate the technology required to direct it. She couldn’t abide the idea of entrusting that much power over her own vessel to someone else.

But the potential had been too alluring to deny. They’d tried to adapt a teleporter relying on the same principles utilised by aetherytes. In theory, it could warp the entire vessel and all its crew to another location instantaneously. In theory, because she’d never gotten it working. And now that useless chunk of crystal was going to destroy everything she’d achieved, everything she loved.

But not everyone.

Pipes burst around her. Searing hot ceruleum streamed down the walls, melting the metal in its path. A small explosion rocked the ship, and Adra was forced to hang onto a burning hot valve to avoid being tossed to the ground. It was now, or, well, now.

Grasping the lever with both hands, she pulled back. Every measure in place to prevent catastrophic failure was simultaneously deactivated. The result was instant. She didn’t have time to scream, feel pain, or regret the fleeting fragility of life. A soundless white flash engulfed her.

And then she woke, soaked in sweat, in her cot in the engine room. Its rhythmic purring assured her all was well. This was the CETEA, and she was en route to Kugane.

This dream, again.

When she’d heard what had happened to an unlucky number of the Unsung and one member of the crew, she’d been reminded of what had happened all those years ago. The similarities were plain. She’d even found herself flinching when she felt the explosion in the hangar as it shuddered through the ship.

An infiltrator. An aetheryte. A sudden displacement… even the destination was—not the same, but near enough to Doma. The only difference was that it hadn’t been her, this time.

She was still here.

It was time to get up and back to work.

[runwayrunway]

No. 51 - Alaska Airlines

This is one of my most requested posts. Apparently, a very significant portion of my readers fly Alaska Airlines!

That tracks. Alaska Airlines is the fifth largest airline in the US. A sort of anti-Flair, they are supposedly the least complained-about full-service carrier in the US. They are also one of five remaining US legacy carriers, along with American Airlines, Delta Air Lines, Hawaiian Airlines, and United Airlines. They operate a massive network primarily on the US West Coast, with bits branching out into nearby slices of the Americas. As one might surmise from prior knowledge of the size and population of Alaska, they're actually mostly based in Seattle.

Now, when it comes to their livery, there's one thing that stands out. At least, it stood out to me, and I'm sure at least some of you have had this thought too.

That is a human person's face on the tailfin. But who does that face belong to, and why is it on the Alaska Airlines fleet? This is precisely the sort of trivia I think anyone who knows me would expect me to be able to just rattle off, but actually...I don't know, and neither, as far as I can tell, does anyone else. Isn't that weird?

(By the way, it is indeed Alaska Airlines. I have always found that somewhat unintuitive. It's just not how you're used to hearing things phrased, right? It's Possessive Noun Airlines, Air Noun. America Airlines would sound weird. Alaska Airlines sounds weird. I am never surprised when people mistakenly say Alaskan Airlines, but it's Alaska Airlines. Just so we're all on the same page.)

Alaska's a bit of a hard place to navigate. Big empty place, lots of ice, lots of mountains, islands, trees...not very much asphalt. That's even true now, but it used to be way truer, and even back then people did still live there. And there's a lot of things those people might maybe like to have, like medical care, or food, or just the hypothetical possibility of getting somewhere without having to get the snowshoes out. In that sense, Alaska is a really perfect place for aviation to flourish.

More or less as early as physically possible, when there were planes available that weren't requisitioned for the first World War or owned by the ultra-rich, people were flying in Alaska. In a lot of ways the basic landscape hasn't changed that much. With its surplus of difficult environments and paucity of actual tarmac Alaska's harsh wilderness is an environment only suited for "bush" flying, using smaller, more rugged airplanes specialized for the environment. Some of the most popular models of bush plane are very old, not that dissimilar to what you'd see in the 50s and 60s - apparently, they just don't make them the same anymore, and as long as you don't get your de Havilland Beaver crunched horribly into the side of a mountain there's just nothing that can replace it. Alaska is full of planes on floats, planes on skis, and taildraggers on tundra tires, most of them high-wing and piston-engined. Bush pilots are a unique sort, often doing work that's neither glamorous nor lucrative (nor safe, with Alaska having two to five times the accident rate of the lower 48) but undeniably necessary.

That's not as true of Alaska Airlines. They have a modern fleet, a good safety record except for that one time, and as a category III carrier they make over a billion dollars in revenue each fiscal year, meaning their finances aren't too strained (except for that one time). Unlike the local carriers that connect remote parts of Alaska to resources and to major cities, Alaska Airlines connects Alaska to the rest of the nearby world. (Though it also does short, multi-stop milk run flights.) It's a necessary part of the ecosystem, helping to keep Alaska's beautiful but hostile terrain from getting in the way of daily life. Before they became Alaska Airlines, though, they were far more similar to what you might expect of...Alaska airlines.

Image: Roy S. Dickson

In 1932, a man with the fantastic name 'Linious McGee' started his very own airline. You could just do that back then. In 1934 it was merged into Star Air Service, another tiny airline. Star Air Service had also been founded in 1932, born from the flight-school-starting dreams of a wealthy miner with the similarly wonderful name 'Wesley Earl Dunkle'. Apparently Star had its first ever aircraft, a Fleet B-5 biplane, brought to Alaska by steamship, which I just find fairly interesting. I guess this was before you could even ferry an airplane directly to Alaska by air. They ate up a few other small airlines (and their routes), and in 1943 they won a small scuffle against another pretender to formerly rebrand themselves as Alaska Airlines. So it's been 80 years of that now!

They've gone from flying Curtiss Robins, Ford Trimotors, and Lockheed Vegas to flying basically only 737s, save a few vestigial A320 family aircraft acquired when merging with Virgin America which they plan to phase out by the end of 2024. Their livery is also on E175 regional jets operated by Horizon Air and SkyWest. The airplanes flying for them number around 300. That's incredibly large even by the standards of major airlines (not even counting the SkyWest planes that have the livery).

The Alaska Airlines livery is not breaking any molds and I need to say that upfront. This is a very straightforward pattern I've taken to calling the Lufthansa Declined, or the Lufthansa Line SAS Variation. (Because the push and pull of trend cycles in brand identity is basically comparable to chess, right? Maybe? No? Not really?) I've recently codified the concept of the Lufthansa Line, the straight line continuing where the tailfin left off to carve through the fuselage. This is a very common and very disappointing fuselage trope. The Declined, or SAS Variation, is named for an airline I specifically contrasted with Lufthansa from my very first post on this blog, SAS.

The SAS Variation simply curves this line outwards towards the front of the plane, stopping the cutoff from being quite so blunt and hopefully undoing the unbalancing effect somewhat. This can solve some of the nastier effects of Lufthansa Lines, particularly on shorter planes, but can also look very wonky if implemented without enough care. It's not always a big improvement, but it's definitely not the exact same thing, either, and it's this shape which Alaska Airlines attempts. Being introduced in 2016, this livery actually pre-dates SAS, but Delta and Lufthansa weren't starting their own namesake patterns either. The names aren't attributed based on innovation, but on formative status in my own specific understanding of airline liveries. SAS as contrasted to Lufthansa is the holotype for my creation of the taxon, and thus earlier liveries are retroactively SASlikes. Birds are dinosaurs and whales are ungulates. Taxonomy is imperfect and has to accommodate new discoveries within a sometimes unintuitive framework. That's just how it is.

I think they do better than many. The fact that they use so many colors, layered over each other, is crucial to the effect. It accomplishes similar things as a gradient might, transitioning from dark to light with minimal pain in the process.

Image taken from Alaska Airlines's very useful branding style guide.

The shades of blue and green used resemble the Aurora Borealis. I can't find anything confirming that this is intentional but I can't imagine it isn't. I think they're very nicely chosen. Different lightings can make the blue (Alaska's material calls it midnight blue, but it's technically Prussian blue) look anywhere from true vivid blue to more of a deep ocean color, which is one of my favorite shades. In particular, the very washed out yellowish green is an absolutely gorgeous choice for a highlight color. I like that the colors aren't given equal purchase, though, and that the green is used sparingly for highlight, and to create that lovely subtle 'halo' around the face on the tail. Sometimes less is more, and this is one of those cases. In fact, their own website states:

Midnight is our primary brand color, and should be used sparingly to avoid overuse—giving more prominence to the Alaska Airlines brand.

(They also note that they took specific efforts in the design process to make sure these colors had significant contrast between them to meet accessibility standards, which I really appreciate and want to see more of.)

For example, if the 'intermediate' blue colors took up more of the plane, or were separate from the green, I would probably not feel any real way about them. I definitely wouldn't think they were nice if they just did a standard Lufthansa Line block with each color individually expressed. But using them as a trim to a nice clear deep blue, overlapping each other in a way that's very carefully mapped out but seems at a glance essentially random, halfway to mixing, like the dark tail is melting slowly into the fuselage...that's nice. That adds something.

The partially-overlapping, brushlike curves are further expressed as swashes on the winglets and engines. What's interesting to me is that if you look closer you can see that the little curves are on both the inboard and outboard sides of each engine and winglet, so you get that consistent curve, hypothetically, no matter what angle you see it from. I do think I appreciate that. The curves are just never going to all line up, because airplanes are inconveniently three-dimensional and there are as many angles to view them from as there are Planck lengths at a distance where you can tell what it is you're seeing. This is a weakness in all liveries more detailed than a Braniff jellybean and adding the curves to even the side of the engine that you're usually not going to see is definitely an appreciated attempt to mitigate this. Does it work? Maybe not totally, but I see the effort.

While there's never a perfect syzygy into one continuous line, the curves seem like they're part of the same nebulous body from most angles. I appreciate this approach. I think making things look pretty good from most angles is worth more than making things look really good from one angle and awkward from all others. As they say, the perfect is the enemy of the good. I absolutely love the use on just the inside middle of the scimitar winglet, which I already think is a gorgeous feature that just elevates the MAX and retrofitted 737NGs compared to the vanilla model. It's distinctive and stylish, and the limiting of the color to just the lower half of the upper blade has a real restrained elegance to it - these slashes of color are all the more effective for the way they interact with the space around them.

Just look at these winglets. They're such a tiny feature. It's absolutely wild that I can be this in love with winglets, but there's just something about split scimitar wingtips that make me go completely wild. The amount of space and the interesting shape leaves so much more room for creativity than just about any other wingtip device. Alaska Airlines does have planes with other wingtip styles, and it uses those effectively too - covering the lower half of canted/blended winglets and fully encompassing the interior of less pronounced split winglets - but this is where they look their best.

Back to bad angles, though...

Alaska Airlines has a weird weak spot, and it's from the front and slightly above. All those gorgeous swoops on the winglets and nacelles are basically impossible to see due to their two-dimensional nature, and you can see how the colors don't fully cover the back of the fuselage. My normal policy is to judge liveries by their weakest link, but I honestly almost want to be lenient on this because of how unlikely it is that you're ever going to see an airplane from this angle. The only situations you're ever above an airplane in are ones you're basically never going to encounter as a regular passenger. Don't get me wrong, I still think this could have been designed in a way which eliminates this weak point, but as far as weak points go this is quite excusable. Is that what Thetis thought when she dipped her son in the Styx? Sure, probably, but I stand by my take. For a lot of liveries their worst angle is close to side-on, which is just fully experience-ruining. This? I'm okay with this, relatively speaking.

On the other hand, one of the better angles is one a lot more people will see - below and to one side. The taper of the different bands of color really prevents the awful jarring cutoff that Lufthansa Line and SAS Variation liveries often have, and I feel like they trick the eye into thinking up more of the fuselage is occupied than it really is. Also worth noting is that the grey underside, which resembles a shadow, is actually intentionally painted on, which is lovely. This is a feature common to the Deltalike livery trend that I outline at the start of my Southwest post, which I do think is one of the things that makes me honestly a bit sympathetic to Deltalikes when looking at them next to Lufthansalikes - at least there's an attempt to distribute visual detail evenly. Deltalikes were already a bit dated by 2016 (it was not the longest-lived trend, though it came at a time in my life perfectly positioned to make me think it was more prominent than it was) while SASlikes were on the rise, and this livery has aspects of each, but it feels less like a conflicted result of an intermediate period in dominant trends and more like something which intentionally pulled features from both where it thought they might work best. It's rare that I get this sense from a livery. That's the right way to use trends - as inspiration, not a template.

Alaska Airlines is definitely not a true Deltalike, and I would argue it's not a true SAS Variation either. (For the record, I would consider the 1998 SAS livery a Deltalike, funnily enough!) It incorporates features of both, which makes me feel uncomfortable classifying it definitively as either, though it's definitely more of a SASlike than not. For example, from the side it just is a SASlike, because the grey doesn't go high enough and isn't contrasting enough to be visible except from below. This is in contrast to actual Deltalikes, which have a thin but clearly visible line on the lower side where the underside's block of color bleeds out.

This grey color is also on the engine nacelles, although it is very subtle. This does bring up a minor gripe of mine, which is that the design on the pods cuts off at a bit of an awkwardly sharp angle, usually not worth remarking on but possible to notice from some angles if you are, say, a livery reviewer and you look at these things very closely. What I do like, though, is that the grey on the belly actively connects to the color on the tail, feeling like an extension of it instead of an awkward choice made to mitigate it.

The final specific feature of the livery I think I want to comment on is the wordmark. I really like the wordmark. It's not in their custom typeface, AS Circular, a Roboto-ish sans serif I'm not a gigantic fan of, although I really like their custom web icons. They also use Highest Praise by Adam Ladd, a fairly cheap commercially available font.

As for the wordmark itself, though, I can't seem to find what font it's based on! I have to say the original 1966 logo would be great if another airline were to use it, the 1972 is somehow giving supermarket chain, and the 1990 logo would be great if not for the weird way the K overlaps the A, which just feels sloppy and unprofessional. The 2014 and 2016 incarnations, though, are great. The 2016 one (designed by the firm Hornall Anderson) feels like a great update, just cleaning up the earlier version, though I somewhat miss the lightning-bolt S.

The placement is what I want to talk about, though. Placing a wordmark is more of an art than you might think - I'll show a couple examples of Alaska itself doing a slightly wonky job later - but when Alaska's placement is good it's great. It's one of the least cramped-looking wordmarks I've ever seen, feeling free and airy, spreading upwards above the window line. The descending line on the K and the trailing like on the A both create a feeling of freedom, like it could just keep going but doesn't want to, yet is tastefully restrained and doesn't actually overstep its bounds. I like the solid single color, and I like that it reaches almost to the engines, preventing that empty-forward-half feeling. The one thing I'll comment on for this set of images is that the left-to-right reading direction of English does mean that it looks distinctly worse seen from one side than the other. I much prefer the forward slant, which feels aerodynamic fitting with the motion of the plane, vs the alternative, in which it feels like the wordmark is trying to catch up with the aircraft's nose.

On shorter planes, though, Alaska fumbles a little. They choose to line up the wordmark with the engines instead of with the nose, creating an awkward look when it overlaps the door and nearly reaches the cockpit window. I would have leaned in the other direction were I them. This picture also demonstrates a strange feature which rears its head in certain lightings where the shading on the tailfin image makes it look almost wrinkled. I don't have anything to add to that or know how to solve it, but I need to point it out.

On a very long plane, conversely, the back half of Alaska's planes begins to feel that Lufthansa Line emptiness. The vast, vast majority of their planes are of a moderate enough length that neither issue is too overpowering, but I'm taking a wide view here! Also, the wordmark here seems to not be aligned with the engines, so...what's the idea?

Alaska Airlines is an interesting livery. More interesting than I thought I'd find it for sure. It's not just a SASlike with pleasing colors and a nice wordmark, it's a SASlike with thought put into features that can mitigate the inherent weaknesses of the SASlike. It doesn't always fully succeed, nor does it comprehensively fail, but it definitely tries.

At the end of the day, as usual, I wish there was less white. I'm sure it could have been done. I don't have an obvious solution in mind like I do for some hypothetical redesigns, so it's something I would have to think over and really dig into, but, like, Alaska Airlines makes more than a billion in revenue every year so I think that's reasonable to expect from them.

I initially started using the grading system as a way to categorize liveries without limiting myself to a very specific scale that I'll dither about for years and then change my mind about later, but it's started to end up in that role. I just don't know what better solution there is, so I'm going to continue trying to make it work. Alaska Airlines is a livery that I ultimately think I like, that I think is designed decently, but that is limited by the fact that a really good SASlike is still a SASlike - mostly white and rear-heavy. It's getting the most possible out of a flawed paradigm, and I've been inconsistent so far on how I rate a good SASlike or Lufthansalike because it causes me some legitimate cognitive dissonance.

I'm giving Alaska Airlines a provisional B-.

I think I might downgrade it to C+ later, which is why I say it's provisional. A good execution of something really limited - how do I even rate that? It's somewhere between tepidly good and better-than-average, which is a really awkward place to be. But that's probably a conversation for another day, because this post is long enough and I'm still not done.

Okay, I teased this earlier.

Him. Who is he?

The short answer: nobody knows. Not me, and not Alaska Airlines.

The long answer: deserves its own post. Both because it's long, and because I've hit image limit. And there will be images. Join me in tomorrow's bonus, where we climb our way through the rugged terrain of seemingly-lost history to attempt to put a name to this ubiquitous face.

[saynaija]

Nigerian Air Force Strikes Destroy 13 Illegal Oil Refining Sites and 7 Boats In Rivers, Bayelsa and Imo States

Nigerian Air Force Strikes Destroy 13 Illegal Oil Refining Sites and 7 Boats In Rivers, Bayelsa and Imo States Between 18-22 June 2024, the Air Component of Operation Delta Safe has destroyed 13 illegal refining sites and 7 Cotonou boats as well as dispersed 5 x J-5 buses attempting to siphon suspected crude oil products from surface tanks. Some of the illegal sites were discovered near Imo…

[scavengerssuccotash]

How do Clint and Natasha deal with nightmares?

Ohhh the nightmares! The kinds of nightmares that plague are duo pale in comparison to our own. It’s only natural that their fears would manifest in truly frightening ways.

This will not be a happy read unfortunately. :(

Clint’s nightmares before Loki were a walk in the park. Memories of his foster father and the abuse he dealt jolted him from sleep so many times over the years that he’s had to develop a way to catch sleep wherever he could. Cue the power naps. (Thanks Jeremy!) The aftermath of his Pre-Loki nightmares usually meant a change of sheets since he sweat through them and a quick shower. He always keeps a cup of water by his bed too, getting ripped out from his dreams makes him parched. Once him and Natasha started sleeping together his return back to reality was less of a cinder block to the face and more of a pat on the cheek. Literally. While it’s generally advised to not wake a highly trained assassin in the throes of a nightmare, Natasha’s able to dodge the haymaker and bring him back to the present with a firm and quick, “Clint!”

The after-Loki nightmares are Clint’s own personal hell. His imagination, supplemented no doubt by Loki’s promise to have him kill Natasha “slowly, intimately in every way he knows you fear”, is far too powerful for a slap to the cheek to overcome. They had to get creative as a necessity. Even though she wants to touch him when he cries out she can’t. Of the times she did she ended up on her back and Clint woke with his hands on her. Natasha’s usually able to slip out of his holds, but there’s something about the abject pain in his voice that decimates her and overwhelms her better nature. She has to let it play out, and watch on the other side of the room with her face in her hands until Clint fights out of it on his own. She knows he’s awake by the time he falls out of bed and sobs into his hands.

Eventually, through time, patience and a lot of observation they figure out the triggers that induce these nightmares. It’s usually after a particularly difficult mission, one where he makes a mistake or slips up or the ones where he can’t keep her in his line of sight. After those, and afraid that it can trigger a nightmare they prep him with calming teas, long cuddles sessions and even longer assurances that she’s safe (and more importantly safe with him). They switch the bedding together, all soft sheets and even softer pillows. Calming scented candles are lit and weapons are removed from their bed side drawers. Once he’s asleep Nat waits outside the bedroom for a good thirty minutes, if she doesn’t hear Clint thrashing around it’s safe to say that he won’t be having a nightmare that night. On the good days when he wakes without a nightmare they make very gentle very tender love in the morning hours. It’s painfully tender and breaks Clint’s heard every fucking time. (Yeah, Loki really fucked them up both. I wish this was happier but it’s just not. It’s sad and angsty and it makes me incredibly sad. But they still have each other and that somehow makes it easier to bare)

The aftermath of Natasha’s nightmares is scary at the least and downright terrifying at most. Clint’s woken up more than a few times with her hands around his throat. Clint’s forced to get physical, which he hates because unlike on the mats Nat doesn’t pull her punches when she’s in the throes of her nightmares. She goes for the kill and fights like hell. Gradually though much like what they’ve discovered with Clint’s they find the triggers. Strike Team Delta will only take the child trafficking missions if it’s a last resort, the aftermath just takes too much out of the both of them to be fully operational the day after. They tried the teas, they tried meditations but they aren’t that effective long term. Strangely enough white noise seems to help though they don’t know why. Nat alternates between rain and nature documentary. Natasha’s a crier after, completely soaking her pillow with snot and her eyes are puffy and swollen by the time she’s able to calm down. Before Clint she had no one to talk to so she just bottled it up and let it fester. Now though Clint will force her to talk it through and she’s grateful even if they are both dead tired the next morning. Clint’s always comforting too, all hushed warm tones and hair brushing with the occasional dropped kiss to her forehead. They don’t have sex after but he does shower with her in the morning and help braid her hair.

Sleep doesn’t come easily for either of them, but it gets better with time, patience and most importantly with understanding that their nightmares are just their brains working through the trauma. It will pass with due time and as long as they have one another at the end of it they’d gladly sacrifice their sleep schedule in the meantime.

(Hi, yeah that was sad! But hey don’t worry it gets better I promise, now here’s a tissue. Good. Now blow! Good! See all better!)

[brookstonalmanac]

Holidays 10.18

Holidays

Alaska Day

Anti-Slavery Day (UK)

Anti-Trafficking Day (EU)

BBC Day

Boost Your Brain Day

Chili Pepper Day (French Republic)

Clean Water Act Day

Day Without the Delaware

Developmental Language Disorder Awareness Day

Dia de la Raza Day (Colombia)

Doctor’s Day (Brazil)

European Paper Bag Day

Festival of Poetic Terrorism

Flag Day (Chile)

Flora Duffy Olympic Commemoration Day (Bermuda)

Geologic Map Day

Hard Boiled Guy and B-Girl Day

Healthcare Aide Day (Canada)

Heroes’ and Forefathers Day (British Virgin Islands)

Information Overload Awareness Day

International Legging Day

International Necktie Day

Kati Bihu (Assam, India)

King Look Under Your Mattress’s Unique Hiding Display

Mason/Dixon Line Day

Medical Assistants Recognition Day

Moby Dick Day

National Bioenergy Day

National Comic Strip Appreciation Day

National Day of Prayer (Zambia)

National Exascale Day

National Ken Day

National Louie Day

National Mark Day

National No Beard Day

National Put a Shoe on Your Head Day

National Speak Up for Victims of Sexual Abuse Day

National Statistics Day (Japan)

National Sunday Day

National Unity Day

National Work Bestie Day

National Zane Day

Necktie Day (Croatia)

Newspaper Comic Strip Appreciation Day

No Beard Day

Old Farmers Day

Operation Safe Stop Day

Persons Day (Canada)

Postman’s Day (Poland)

Procession of the Lord of Miracles (Peru)

Rocky Horror Picture Show Day (L.A., California)

Shine a Light Night (Ireland)

Timber Innovation Day

Watch a Squirrel Day

World Bank Action Day

World Cravat Day (Croatia)

World Guitar Day

World Inherited Blood Disorders Day

World Menopause Day

World Nature Protection Day

World Okapi Day

World Seitan Day

World Vasectomy Day

World Youth Day for Democracy

Food & Drink Celebrations

Chocolate Cupcake Day

Meatloaf Appreciation Day

National Mashed Potato Day

World Seitan Day

Independence & Related Days

Alaska (Official Transfer from Russia to US; 1867)

Azerbaijan (from the USSR, 1991)

Tinakula (Declared; 2021) [unrecognized]

3rd Friday in October

Buckle Up Phone Down Day (Missouri) [3rd Friday]

Comfort Food Friday [Every Friday]

Developmental Language Disorder Awareness Day [3rd Friday]

Five For Friday [Every Friday]

Flashback Friday [Every Friday]

Fondue Friday [3rd Friday of Each Month]

Food Waste Friday (Canada) [3rd Friday]

Friday Finds [Every Friday]

Friendly Friday [3rd Friday of Each Month]

Fry Day (Pastafarian; Fritism) [Every Friday]

Global Champagne Day [3rd Friday]

Library Workers Day (Canada) [3rd Friday]

National Mammography Day [3rd Friday]

National Pharmacy Buyer Day [Friday of 3rd Full Week]

TGIF (Thank God It's Friday) [Every Friday]

World Fruit & Vegetable Day [3rd Friday]

World Student Day [3rd Friday]

Weekly Holidays beginning October 18 (2nd Full Week of October)

Charlotte Craft Beer Week (Charlotte, North Carolina) [thru 10.27]

Festivals Beginning October 18, 2024

Alabama Gourd Show (Hartselle, Alabama) [thru 10.19]

Andouille Festival (LaPlace, Louisiana) [thru 10.20

Apple Butter Stirrin' Festival (Coshocton, Ohio) [thru 10.20]

Crossville Oktoberfest (Crossville, Tennessee) [thru 10.19]

Delta Hot Tamale Festival (Greenville, Mississippi) [thru 10.19]

Freimarkt in Bremen (Bremen, Germany) [thru 11.3]

Georgia Peanut Festival (Sylvester, Georgia) [thru 10.19]

GogolFest (Zaporizhzhia, Ukraine) [thru 10.20]

Greek Festival (Fort Walton Beach, Florida) [thru 10.20]

Halifax County Harvest Days (Halifax, North Carolina) [thru 10.19]

Harvest Happenings, Apple Festival, Dairy Barn Emporium (Van Wert, Ohio) [thru 10.19]

Kickin’ Chicken Wing & Chili Fest (Florence, South Carolina)

Klamath Basin Potato Festival (Merrill, Oregon) [thru 10.19]

La Fête du Champagne (Houston, Texas) [thru 10.20]

Lviv Cheese & Wine Festival (Lviv, Ukraine) [thru 10.20

Message to Man International Film Festival (Saint Petersburg, Russia) [thru 10.27]

PalmFest: Fiesta de Palmas (McAllen, Texas) [thru 10.20]

Panama City Beach Oktoberfest (Panama City, Florida) [thru 10.20]

Poquoson Seafood Festival (Poquoson, Virginia) [thru 10.20]

Sparta Persimmon Days Festival (Sparta, Missouri) [thru 10.19]

Taste of Downtown Boise (Boise, Idaho) [thru 10.27]

TASTE Philadelphia Festival of Food, Wine and Spirits (Valley Forge, Pennsylvania) [thru 10.19]

Tuzla Film Festival (Tuzla, Bosnia and Herzegovina) [thru 10.22]

Ukiah Country PumpkinFest (Mendocino County, California) [thru 10.20]

unWINE Downtown (Starkville, Mississippi)

Valladolid International Film Festival [Seminci] (Valladolid, Spain) [thru 10.26]

WhistleStop BBQ Festival at Midcity (Huntsville, Alabama) [thru 10.19]

Yachats Village Mushroom Fest (Yachats, Oregon) [thru 10.20]

Feast Days

Amish Tripathi (Writerism)

Doburoku Matsuri (Sake Festival; Shirahigetawara Shrine, Japan) [Day 2]

Feralia: Day of Purification (Pagan)

Irony Day (Pastafarian)

James Brooks (Artology)

Julian Sabas (Christian; Saint)

Justus (a.k.a. Justin) of Beauvais (Christian; Saint)

King Look Under Your Mattress’s Unique Hiding Display (Shamanism)

Little Summer (St. Luke’s)

Luca Giordano (Artology)

Luke the Evangelist (Christian; Saint) [brewers] *

Monan (Christian; Saint)

Ntozake Shange (Writerism)

Pandrosos (Greek all-refreshing Goddess)

Peter of Alcantara (Christian; Saint)

Richelieu Day (Church of the SubGenius; Saint)

Simhat Torah (begins at sundown; Judaism) [23 Tishrei]

Shemini Atzeret (Day 2; Judaism)

Stu Mead (Artology)

Swiss Cheese (Muppetism)

Terry McMillan (Writerism)

Thomas Phillips (Artology)

Vauvenargues (Positivist; Saint)

Lucky & Unlucky Days

Shakku (赤口 Japan) [Bad luck all day, except at noon.]

Premieres

Alice the Fire Fighter (Ub Iwerks Alice Disney Cartoon; 1926)

Batman and Superman: Battle of the Super Sons (WB Animated Film; 2022)

The Batman vs. Dracula (WB Animated Film; 2005)

Batman: Year One (WB Animated Film; 2011)

Battlestar Galactica (TV Series; 2004)

BBC (UK Public Service Broadcaster; 1922)

Ben & Me: An Astonishing Life of Benjamin Franklin by His Good Mouse Amos, by Robert Lawson (Children’s Biography; 1923)

Chet Baker Big Band, by Chet Baker (Album; 1956)

Cowboy Bebop (Japanese Anime Series; 1998)

Cruise Cat (Tom & Jerry cartoon; 1952)

The Cuckoo Murder Case (Ub Iwerks Flip the Frog Disney Cartoon; 1930)

Happy Hunting Grounds (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1940)

Howard’s End, by E.M. Forster (Novel; 1910)

How I Won the War (Film; 1967)

The Human Condition, by Hannah Arendt (Science Book; 1958)

I’m Getting Sentimental Over You, by Tommy Dorsey (Song; 1935)

Jingle Bells (Terrytoons Cartoon; 1931)

Jojo Rabbit (Film; 2019)

The Jungle Book (Animated Disney Film; 1967)

The Keeper of the Lions (Oswald the Lucky Rabbit Cartoon; 1937)

La Bamba, by Ritchie Valens (Song; 1958)

The Lighthouse (Film; 2019)

Little Orphan Willie (Ub Iwerks Flip the Frog Disney Cartoon; 1930)

Maleficent: Mistress of Evil (Film; 2019)

Moby-Dick (Novel; 1851)

My Pop, My Pop (Fleischer Popeye Cartoon; 1940)

Other People’s Money (Film; 1991)

The Ring (Film; 2002)

Roseanne (TV Series; 1988)

The Saint in Action (a.k.a. The Ace of Knaves), by Leslie Charteris (Short Stories; 1937) [Saint #18]

Scooby-Doo Meets the Boo Brothers (Hanna-Barbera Animated TV Special; 1987)

Sudden Fried Chicken (Noveltoons Cartoon; 1946)

Swingers (Film; 1996)

Symphony No. 3, by Aaron Copland (Symphony; 1946)

Tennis for Two (Video Game; 1958)

Tree for Two (WB MM Cartoon; 1952)

12 Years a Slave (Film; 2013)

West Side Story (Film; 1961)

What a Wonderful World, by Louis Armstrong (Song; 1967)

The Yellow Kid (Comic Strip; 1896)

Zombieland: Double Tap (Film; 2019)

Zen and Japanese Culture, by D.T. Suzuki (Spiritual Book; 1938)

Today’s Name Days

Gwenn, Justus, Lukas (Austria)

Zlata, Zlatan, Zlatka, Zlatko, Zlatomir (Bulgaria)

Flavijan, Justus, Luka, Lukša (Croatia)

Lukáš (Czech Republic)

Lucas (Denmark)

Ludvig, Lui, Luukas (Estonia)

Luka, Luukas, Säde, Satu (Finland)

Luc (France)

Gwenn, Justus, Lukas, Viviana (Germany)

Loukas, Luke, Marinos (Greece)

Lukács (Hungary)

Luca (Italy)

Lūkass, Rolands, Ronalds (Latvia)

Kęsmina, Liubartas, Lukas (Lithuania)

Kjersti, Kjerstin (Norway)

Julian, Łukasz, René (Poland)

Luca (Romania)

Lukáš (Slovakia)

Lucas (Spain)

Lukas (Sweden)

Luke (Ukraine)

Blaine, Blair, Blane, Luca, Lucas, Lukas, Luke, Wynn, Wynton (USA)

Today is Also…

Day of Year: Day 292 of 2024; 74 days remaining in the year

ISO: Day 5 of Week 42 of 2024

Celtic Tree Calendar: Gort (Ivy) [Day 20 of 28]

Chinese: Month 9 (Jia-Xu), Day 16 (Yi-Mao)

Chinese Year of the: Dragon 4722 (until January 29, 2025) [Wu-Chen]

Hebrew: 16 Tishri 5785

Islamic: 14 Rabi II 1446

J Cal: 22 Orange; Oneday [22 of 30]

Julian: 5 October 2024

Moon: 97%: Waning Gibbous

Positivist: 12 Descartes (11th Month) [Duclos / Diderot]

Runic Half Month: Gyfu (Gift) [Day 12 of 15]

Season: Autumn or Fall (Day 27 of 90)

Week: 2nd Full Week of October

Zodiac: Libra (Day 26 of 30)

[masterjedilenawrites]

Old Friends

Boss & Cody | 1.5k words

Content: silliness, cursing, brief sad/dark moment

Inspiration (from @rosemarynightmares): I haven't even consumed any Delta Squad material, but solely the writing on this blog made me love them all and...I think Boss and Cody would get along.

Boss slid into the booth, the familiar squeak of the red vinyl seats bringing a small smile to his face. It had been a while since the last visit to this diner, but the place forever stayed the same. He liked that. A constant among the variables of the galaxy.

Usually he was the one running late, but today it was Cody. Only just a little. The battalion commander slipped into the opposite side of the booth an appalling five minutes after their set time.

"Unacceptable," Boss shook his head, ahead of any potential apologies. He could never resist an opportunity to rag on the otherwise disciplined man. "I'll have to write you up for this."

"Feel free to add that illegally parked speeder outside to your report, too," Cody threw back at him, casting a knowing look over the menu.

"It's not blocking any exits," Boss said defensively. "Besides, not my fault they decided to tear up half the parking lot. What are they working on anyway?"

Cody shrugged, scanning the menu despite probably having memorized it by this point. The two of them had been coming to this diner for years, ever since their first deployment. It wasn't frequent, every few months or so, just to catch up and commiserate. But it was enough to have an established routine.

"Maybe I'll try one of the salads this time," Cody said predictably, as he always did. Boss knew he'd pretend to seriously consider the thought, but would ultimately tell the waitress he wanted the double-patty bourbon burger, with extra cheese.

"But seriously, are they just fixing the parking lot or are they building something?" Boss was still stuck on the unexpected construction job outside.

Cody glanced up for a moment, knowing Boss needed time to wrap his head around big changes. "From what I hear, apartments."

"Apartments?"

Cody nodded and returned his gaze to the menu. "100 floors, about 2000 tenants, mid-range pricing. They're laying the foundation next week."

Boss frowned at the news. He didn't like the sound of that at all.

"Now why would they go and do a thing like that? This is the flattest part of the planet. Barely any high-rises around. And it's quiet. 2000 tenants is not quiet."

Cody stifled a laugh. Boss was turning more into a crotchety old man by the day.

"Welcome back, boys," the waitress approached with her customary greeting. She was a middle-aged pink Twi'lek, kind but not overly friendly. She took their orders, kept their sodas refilled, and would only make one comment about being "safe out there" when they left. Just how they both liked it. Civvies were either prying into their business as soldiers, or ignoring them all together. This little diner on the outskirts of town provided the perfect sanctuary between the two.

"Glad to be back, ma'am," Cody nodded.

"The usual again, Commander?"

"Yep. Doubly-patty bourbon burger. Extra cheese. Side of fries."

Cody looked proud of himself as he recited each part of his order. This was his "cheat" meal, the one time he allowed himself such greasy, fatty food.

"And for you, Sarge?"

Boss was still frowning on his side of the table, but didn't skip a beat in getting his order in.

"Fish 'n' chips with a side of slaw."

He, too, got the same thing each time.

"And two diet cokes," the waitress filled in for them as her pencil scratched against the notepad. Why she bothered writing it down was always a mystery. Apparently they all were just going through the motions. She took the menus and scurried away, leaving the two soldiers in a brief but comfortable silence.

"Where you heading next?" Cody was the first to break the silence, always interested in what little details Boss was allowed to share about his squad's more covert operations.

"Devaron. SAR. Some sort of animal ravaged the temple," Boss said gravely.

Cody nodded. He'd heard something about that. "Terrible business," he muttered.

"Yeah. Likely no survivors. Do you remember what unit was stationed there?"

"One of the ARF troops, I believe," said Cody, just as the waitress returned with their sodas. Cody chewed on the straw while he tried to remember more. "Trauma? Commander Trauma."

Boss slurped his own drink and said no more on the subject. They'd been trained not to dwell on that part of the war, so when it did come up, there wasn't much they knew how to do to process the losses.

"The squad's all good?" Cody changed the topic. It did the trick.

Boss launched into a whole tirade about the most recent shenanigans he'd been dealing with from his team. Apparently it'd all started with some maintenance projects from Fixer on a mission the week before, and things quickly fell apart from there.

"So this fool's got half the ship in pieces, no one can find anything they're looking for, we're tripping over wires and shit. The 'fresher's out of commission so we're having to use the village's community center just to take a dump. Of course we got Scorch whining like a baby left and right. And don't even get me started on Sev...."

Boss trailed off as their food was delivered, giving him a chance to calm down as he focused on shaking out some tartar sauce for his fish.

"Wait, Sev?" Cody was chuckling throughout the whole story. He always got a kick out of a good Delta Squad tale. As well as the increase in colorful language from Boss as he got more worked up. "I thought Scorch was your troublemaker?"

"Oh no. Scorch does all the dumb shit, Sev convinces him to do it. That's the difference between a clown and a comedian for you."

Cody snorted as he leaned in for a bite of his burger. "So what happened?"

"He got Scorch to make some comment to the village elders about one of their superstitions, so the dumbass ends up getting pulled into the river and half the village is around him trying to purge him of his sins or some shit. And Sev's just feeding into it. Oh yeah, he was born on a full moon, Father Pak," Boss slipped into an imitation of the gruff sniper's voice. "He says weird things in his sleep all the time. Shit like that. As if I don't have the senator calling me every ten minutes for updates on the bomb situation, which I can't answer because Fixer won't fix the kriffing ship!"

Cody was silently laughing, his stomach almost hurting from the spasms he was trying so hard to control. He shook his head as his friend was finally able to take a breath and a bite of food.

"But let me guess," Boss glowered up at Cody's shaking. "Your boys are doing just fine aren't they? Perfect little angel soldiers, always do as they're told. Making their mommy so proud."

"You're just jealous I'm the better boss," Cody couldn't help a self-satisfied smirk.

Boss flicked a strand of cabbage at him.

"Speaking of dysfunctional units... You oughta meet Sergeant Hunter."

"Yeah? And what unit's that?" Boss didn't actually sound that interested. He was busy trying to wipe a spot of fish batter grease that had somehow made it on his blacks.

"Clone Force 99. Experimental unit. I've been sending them out on some random missions, getting their feet wet. They're wicked good, mind you, but they do have some growing up to do."

Boss continued to wipe at his lap but then looked up once the silence settled in, finding Cody giving him a meaningful look.

"I'm not the GAR's super nanny, you know" he bemoaned.

"Super nanny?"

"A dumb show the boys watch," he quickly brushed it off, not wanting to admit he was the one who was caught up on every episode. "Point is, you can't keep throwing every unruly shiny you come across my way. I thought you were the better boss here, anyway."

"And yet, it's still your name for a reason," Cody pointed out, downing the last of his soda. "You took all of Scorch's pep and fire and turned him into the best demolitions expert in the Republic."

"It'd sound more impressive if he hadn't burnt his kriffing eyebrows off," Boss grumbled under his breath.

"Fixer? A hopeless cause, now he's your second-in-command. And Sev? Well... still not sure what his deal is, but sounds like he's working out."

Boss only grunted.

"I'm only asking you to talk to the Sergeant about his team, that's all. You don't have to adopt them."

"Fine," Boss relented, throwing in his napkin on the table as an added show. "Just invite him to the next luncheon, then."

Cody's comms link started going off. The two men exchanged an understanding look. "Luncheon" was officially over.

"I think I will," Cody smirked, quickly scooping up his helmet and starting to shimmy out of the booth.

Boss gave him a two-finger salute as he fished out some credits to pay for his meal.

"Good luck with the SAR, Sergeant."

"Until next time, Commander."

~ ~ ~

Everything Tag: @damerondala, @dangerousstrawberrypie, @fallingforthem, @harleyevanstan, @imabeautifulbutterfly, @justanothersadperson93, @misogirl828, @itsagrimm, @error6gendernotfound, @theroguesully, @clonesimp, @techie-bear

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[tocitynews]

A Widespread Microsoft Outage Disrupted Flights, Banks, Media Outlets And Companies Around The World On Friday And Highlighted Dependence On Software From A Handful Of Providers – New York City reporting

The issue affected Microsoft 365 apps and services, and escalating disruptions continued hours after the technology company said it was gradually fixing it.

Microsoft 365 posted on X that the company was “working on rerouting the impacted traffic to alternate systems to alleviate impact in a more expedient fashion” and that they were “observing a positive trend in service availability.”

Major disruptions reported by airlines and airports grew. Flight tracking website Flightaware reports more nearly 1,000 flights canceled and over 12,000 more are delayed. Chicago O'Hare, Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta, Newark , La Guardia and Boston Logan International Airport lead Flightaware's "misery map" with the most delays and cancellations.

In the U.S., the FAA said the airlines United, Delta and Allegiant had all been grounded. American Airlines lifted its ground stop just after 5 a.m ET, saying they were able to "safely re-establish operations."

An earlier ground stop for Frontier Airlines was lifted just after midnight, and the carrier said they had resumed normal operations, for now.

Travelers at Los Angeles International Airport slept on a jetway floor, using backpacks and other luggage for pillows, due to a delayed United flight to Dulles International Airport early on Friday.

Across the pond, Edinburgh Airport said the system outage meant waiting times were longer than usual. London’s Stansted Airport said some airline check-in services were being completed manually, but flights were still operating.

The budget airline Ryanair said they are "experiencing disruption across the network due to a global third party IT outage which is out of our control. We advise all passengers to arrive at the airport at least three hours before their scheduled departure time.”

Widespread problems were reported at Australian airports, where lines grew and some passengers were stranded as online check-in services and self-service booths were disabled. Passengers in Melbourne queued for more than an hour to check in, although flights were still operating. Airlines Virgin Australia and Qantas were severely affected by the outage.

News outlets in Australia — including the ABC and Sky News — were unable to broadcast on their TV and radio channels, and reported sudden shutdowns of Windows-based computers. Some news anchors broadcast live online from dark offices, in front of computers showing “blue screens of death.” Telecommunications providers, banks and media broadcasters were also disrupted as they lost access to computer systems. Outages reported on the site DownDetector included the banks NAB, Commonwealth and Bendigo, as well as internet and phone providers such as Telstra. The New Zealand banks ASB and Kiwibank said their services were down.

Television stations in the United Kingdom were being disrupted by the computer issues.

Hospitals in Britain and Germany also reported problems.

Israel’s Cyber Directorate said that it was among the places affected by the global outages, attributing them to a problem with the cybersecurity platform Crowdstrike. The outage also hit the country’s post offices and hospitals, according to the ministries of communication and health.

In South Africa, at least one major bank said it was experiencing “nationwide service disruptions” as customers reported they were unable to make payments using their bank cards at grocery stores and gas stations.

Numerous European airlines are using manual check-in.

[whostheblondegirlwriting]

wedding with Brock and Jack? how's the planning process? theme? guest list? the mood?☺️ and the after?😏

Awww, love is in the air!

Brock’s not terribly concerned with the details. He won’t argue much or resist many suggestions. He’ll put his two cents in when it comes to the food though. They go to tastings for five different caterers before they finally settle on one.

Neither he nor Allison have much family so the seats of their outdoor venue are filled with friends and teammates. In the Echo-verse, Steve walks Allison down the aisle and Brock and Addy forgo a wedding party. At the alter, it’s just the two of them, like it’s always been. Brock wears a traditional bow tie tuxedo and the guests are in their best summer semi-formal. After the reception, there’s no time to waste before they have to catch a plane to their honeymoon in Thailand, where Brock finally gets to show Allison that beach he always told her she’d love. But that doesn’t stop him from taking Allison aside for a quick make out session after the photos and before they make their entrance as husband and wife. Once they’re on the island though, their hands are all over each other and they don’t leave the little beach house, and barely the bed, until the next day.

Jack insists whatever Allison wants is fine with him, but he will raise a brow in challenge or make a subtle noise of discontent if there’s something he truly isn’t in to. He lobbies for a full bar at the reception, regardless of the cost.

In the Delta-verse, we have to use some imagination because it’s incomplete. But we’ll operate in post-TWS rules and say Pierce is dead. So, Mick’s girls drop flower petals as Allison walks down the aisle by herself. The wedding party is small, with Jules as Allison’s MOH and Natasha and Evy as bridesmaids. Jack’s best man is Brock, next to Jack’s friend Kyle and Dennison. The guest attire is semi-formal and Jack chooses a necktie over a bow with his and the guys’ tuxes. After the reception, they have a suite for the night before they head to the airport. Ever the doting man, and fully aware how much Allison paid for and loves that dress, Jack helps Allison out of her dress, carefully undoing each delicate button down the back as he nibbles soft kisses across her shoulder, telling her how beautiful she looked tonight. With the dress safely aside, their romantic first night as husband and wife starts with Jack sweeping her off her feet to take her to bed with him.