#Remotely Piloted Aircraft

[nocternalrandomness]

US Navy QF-4N at Luke AFB, Az - 25 OCT 1995

[historyofguns]

In the article "Flying in Alaska — The Last Frontier," Will Dabbs, MD recounts his experiences during his military service in Alaska. Despite his initial desire to be stationed in Europe, Uncle Sam sent him to Alaska, a place vastly different from his humid upbringing in the Deep South. Dabbs describes the unique and challenging conditions of Alaska, from the intense cold to the stunning natural beauty. As an operations officer and later an aviation liaison officer, he flew CH-47D Chinook helicopters across the state, participating in numerous missions, including high-altitude rescues and resupply operations. He shares vivid memories of the rugged wilderness, abundant wildlife, and the camaraderie of military life. Through these experiences, Dabbs developed a deep appreciation for Alaska, despite the hardships of service and the extreme environment.

[vesearlee]

──── 𝑺𝒖𝒓𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒆 𝑭𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

Normally, when Caleb had to make it up to you, he had methods he had perfected; made tried and true over the span of time that stretched from childhood to adulthood. Only, this time, an accomplice was thrown into the mix to sweeten the deal, and it swayed you in his favour faster than you could comprehend the sudden, unique side kick.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ── Caleb x F!Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ── 1.1k 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ── Fluff, kissing, apologetic Caleb 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ── HERE 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 ── I saw a tiktok about a boyfriend bringing his girlfriend treats via a remote control car and went why not.

───  𝑳𝑨𝑫𝑺 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕  ───

It was a slow, albeit ordinary day in Skyhaven — the sunlight streaming through the floor to ceiling windows of Caleb’s living room brightened the room and dark accents to feel homely as you cosied up on the couch. A few blankets were piled in your lap and tucked underneath your fuzzy sock covered feet. The rustling sound of paper from your book was the only sound in the comfortable silence.

Your hoped-for company was tucked away in his study, pouring over a few documents sent to him that the Fleet classed as ‘urgent’ — the grumbled and muttered threats to his subordinates were enough to make you chuckle lightly. 

Caleb only went once your hands squeezed his broad shoulders and forcibly turned him towards his office space. “Sooner you get done with paperwork, sooner you can come cuddle, ‘kay?”

“But–” He started, a small pout playing at his bottom lip as he looked over at you — it turned into a smirk while he watched your valiant efforts to make him move.

“No buts!” you grunted, shoving between his shoulder blades so he would move faster. “I’ll be on the couch waiting for you. So, hurry up, Colonel.”

His heavy footsteps echoed off of the walls of his study, and you heard him groan quietly as he sat at the desk chair, before the wheels scuffed over the floor. And from your place on the couch, you could hear the slight huffs of annoyance that left his lips, no matter how stifled they were. 

While time passed, you contentedly watched the clouds go by, only occasionally distracted by the words on the pages of your book that lay flat and open in your lap.

So, when the sound of whirring gears and the robotic revs of a small engine reached your ears, you froze. 

It was a familiar sound — a remote, Spitfire plane Caleb and you built when you were younger sounded almost identical, the tinny sound and imaginary battles he played out for your immersion echoed over the years to the present. 

You glanced towards the hallway that led to the study, where Caleb should have been focusing on paperwork, nothing appeared amiss; no dancing shadows or the sound of slight shuffling from his clothes to reveal he was planning a surprise. 

Furrowing your brow, you turned back to the window and grabbed your book to delve right back in. 

It happened again, only this time, it was much closer than before. 

You jumped, and the blanket bunched up on your thighs while you moved to sit up and investigate the source, when you finally found it. “What the–”

A model plane, the exact same one that you both built together years ago, was rolling around on the rug with such enthusiasm you could have sworn the pilot was attempting to recreate the feat of making donuts with a three-wheeled aircraft. 

Behind the plane and trailing from the tail was a rope, and attached to the ends of the rope was a packet of sour candy. A sticky note in the shape of a heart was stuck onto the crinkling plastic with an apple sticker — the simple gesture made you arch a brow, and the words ‘for my girl’ stood out in red pen.

“Caleb!” you called, and the plane stopped moving. It sat facing away from you. “Are you–?”

The question was cut short by the sound of movement from the craft — it turned slowly around, its cargo now beside it. The small engine revved and the blade attached to the front spun with the sound. “Caleb?” you said quietly, bending to look closer at your robotic company. “Can you see me–?”

One loud rev was your answer, and the flaps on the wings moved up and down.

You grinned — somehow, Caleb had rigged a camera to the cockpit, and he was controlling it from his office. “And what’s this candy for?” Two revs this time, and the plane scooted over the rug to be by your feet. The spinning blade touched the very tip of your toe.

“Sorry, I don’t speak plane,” you laughed, staring down at the robot. “Maybe a certain pilot needs to come out of hiding, he can share the candy with me if he brings me some apple slices.”

The small plane whirred and hurtled backwards, and you tracked the movements as it pivoted and positively flew away, its little wheels somehow never leaving the ground. It disappeared around the corner of the hallway, no doubt headed straight back to the operator for its next mission. 

You settled back into the cushions of the couch, and you placed the blankets back over your lap to await the plane’s next landing. 

A few moments later, heavy, deliberate footsteps echoed down the hallway, until Caleb appeared around the corner with the plane right behind. This time, it had taken flight — Caleb’s hand swayed back and forth to simulate the swerves and tricks a fighter pilot could only accomplish. 

“Oh, there he is,” you teased. “Are you trying to make it up to me?”

“And if I was…” He continued forward, amethyst eyes darkened with playful tones of indigo. “What would you say?”

You hummed, and you shifted in place to face him, placing your elbow on the back of the couch and your chin on the palm of your hand. “If you were trying to make it up to me, I would say you’re only missing my apple slices.”

Caleb smirked. “Nothin’ else, huh?”

“Nope.” You grinned up at him as he came to a stop in front of you. “Well, if the Colonel has time for me now, I suppose I wouldn’t obje– Mmph!” Any further taunt you conjured was silenced by the feel of his lips on yours, and before you could reciprocate, he pulled back, his teeth only just letting go over your lower lip. 

Puffs of warm air fanned over your mouth, and you whispered against his lips: “That’s not fair.”

“Whatever you say, baby.” Caleb rose and glanced over his shoulder. “Oh, look.” The plane hovered behind his head for a second before it moved to the side to reveal a parcel fastened to its underside. A plate in the confines of what looked like an upside-down parachute, held the spoils of a few apples, sliced and plated to perfection. “It’s a mercy mission, see? My friend here softened the blow of my hasty return.”

Your hand reached for his wrist, and you yanked him forwards. “Wh–oa!” His tall frame collided with the couch cushions, and he landed with a grunt of surprise, sprawled against your side while the plane remained airborne. “Wha–?”

“Now you’ve made it up to me,” you stated proudly, smiling at his ruffled clothes and hair. “My big dummy.”

Caleb sighed and shook his head. “Where were we–? That’s right.” The remote to the wall-mounted television floated towards you. “Can’t spoil our show for you, can I?”

[mlqueen89]

Glossary of Terms linked to (i love you) it's ruining my life - jake "hangman" seresin x f!oc

Ace (Flying Ace or Fighter Ace) = Military aviator credited with shooting down five or more enemy aircraft during aerial combat.

Avionics = Advanced processors and networking systems to fiber optics and conformal wideband antennas, etc.

Bandit = an aircraft identified and verified as enemy.

Bogey = radar or visual contact whose identity is unknown and not yet verified as an enemy. Bogey can also be a friendly once identified.

Break (right/left) = when an aircraft is instructed to sharply turn left/right, essentially "breaking" away from its current flight path to the left/right side

HUD = "Head-Up Display," for fighter pilots is a transparent screen in the cockpit that projects critical flight information directly into the pilot's line of sight, allowing them to view essential data like airspeed, altitude, heading, and weapon targeting details without needing to look away from the outside environment, maintaining situational awareness during flight operations. 

Lt. = Lieutenant (rank)

Lt. Cmdr = Lieutenant Commander (rank)

LTJG = Lieutenant Junior Grade (rank)

Preflight checks = a thorough inspection that pilots perform on an aircraft before each flight, meticulously examining its exterior, systems, controls, and documentation to ensure it is in a safe condition to fly, identifying any potential issues that could compromise flight safety by checking for damage, fluid levels, proper functionality of components, and reviewing necessary paperwork.

Qual(ification) hop = refers to a flight performed by a pilot to demonstrate proficiency in a specific skill or maneuver required for certification or qualification. In the military aviation world, pilots must complete these hops to be officially qualified to perform certain missions, fly specific aircraft, or execute advanced tactics.

RADM = Rear Admiral (rank)

RIO = Radar Intercept Officer (now known as WSO)

SAM(s) = Surface to Air Missile(s)

Splash = typically refers to the moment of impact when a bomb or missile hits its target, essentially signifying the detonation or "splash" of the explosive upon contact.

Tally = communication used to tell a controller they are about to engage enemy aircraft. Also used to announce to the squadron leader (or other person of command in the flight) the spotting of an enemy aircraft.

Telemetry = the collection of data from a remote and usually fast-moving device for measurement purposes. It is used in aircraft/missile testing to track moving objects in action or collect data provided by instruments and sensors on the test object.

Tone = fighter pilot speak for a missile or weapons lock. When a pilot is tracking a target the computer will beeping as it acquires a lock-on, which changes to a continuous tone when lock is established.

VFA = Strike Fighter Squadron

Weapons envelope = the area around the bandit where your missiles or gun can be effective.

WSO = Weapons System Operator (formerly known as RIO)

NATOPS F-18 Manual

Am I missing any? Send me an ask!

[disasterarea-podcast]

Pull up a chair, y’all, we’re gonna talk about the plane crash.

1. i’m not going to share a screen cap of what our current president said in response to this tragedy on his social media site. But I’m sure you’ve seen it. The correct response by a president to a disaster like this is to say, “Our thoughts and prayers are with the victims and their families of this terrible tragedy at this time. The NTSB is currently on site to investigate what happened and we will find out the full story when their report is released.“ It is NOT to make a bunch of accusatory questions about everybody involved, including the dead pilots, when you have absolutely no information whatsoever with which to base any of your speculation. This helps no one, and you look like an ass. I mean more so than usual.

2. I did see a clip of one Republican politician on Fox News blaming this on DEI. Now, correlation does not equal causation, but I would love to show this man two charts - one showing how our pool of qualified commercial pilots has diversified over the past several decades from not just being straight white men, and one showing how the number of plane crashes in the United States has significantly dropped to the point where this is the first fatal commercial aircraft disaster in the United States in, like, 15 years. Again, correlation, causation, but I doubt he knows that. 

That said, just say what you mean. Go on and say the exact word that you mean. Are you blaming Black people, or women, or the queer community, or Latinos? Whichever one that you are blaming, say the exact words. Say the word that you want to say, even if it is offensive. Go on, say it. None of this sugarcoating “DEI“ nonsense, say the fucking word you mean. Yes, even if it’s that one. Let’s all be open with the words that we mean so we can be honest about what absolute trashbags we are, if we are.

3. Look, I don’t know if the chaos of the past week has had any sort of effect on what caused this crash. The NTSB is investigating, and their investigations try to be (and usually succeed in being) thorough and accurate and unbiased. But if the NTSB finds that it did have a part to play in what happened, I will not be remotely surprised. 

4. I’ve already seen talk about them possibly wanting to privatize the air traffic control system, and … look, I just woke up, it’s still too early for me to deal with the sort of thing without screaming and throwing things, and my weighted Highland cattle stuffy is too heavy to throw.

5. It’s called National. If you’re a pilot, you can call it DCA. It is NOT called Reagan. If you don’t understand why, someone from the DC area will arrive shortly at your home with a whiteboard and posters to explain why.

6. Since the first thing that I thought of when I heard about this tragedy was about the crash of Air Florida flight 90, which occurred on January 13, 1982, I figured I would share a link to the episode just in case anybody missed it.

[fearfulfertility]

CLASSIFIED OPERATION SUMMARY

DRC, Planning & Evaluation Office, Logistics & Infrastructure Division

Date Initiated: [REDACTED]

From: Assistant Director [REDACTED], Logistics & Infrastructure Division

To: Director [REDACTED]

Subject: Operation Overdue

Background

Paternity Compound 110 exceeded maximum capacity due to an influx of high-multiparity surrogates and operational delays due to the ongoing [REDACTED] in the Philadelphia metropolitan area. Overcrowding led to strained medical staff and diminished care standards.

Operation Overdue was launched to mitigate these risks. It was a cross-country air transport initiative intended to distribute surrogates to Paternity Compound 133 in Portland, far below occupancy capacity. This initiative required covert execution to avoid public attention and ensure all surrogates reached their destination intact.

Paternity Compound 110 (Philadelphia)

Paternity Compound 110 is an aging and overcrowded facility located in a repurposed commercial structure in Philadelphia. Designed to house a maximum of [REDACTED] surrogates, it currently holds over [REDACTED] (20% over capacity), leading to severe resource strain and cramped conditions. Despite its deteriorating infrastructure, the compound remains operational due to its proximity to a high-fertility urban population, ensuring a steady influx of conscripts.

Paternity Compound 133 (Portland)

Paternity Compound 133 is a modern, state-of-the-art facility in a remote area outside Portland. It is designed to accommodate up to 1,000 surrogates and boasts cutting-edge medical technology and advanced monitoring systems. However, its location in a region with a lower urban population has led to concerns about underutilization, with only a sporadic influx of conscripts to fill its capacity. 

Transport Details

Stage 1: Ground Transfer 

Surrogates were loaded into climate-controlled transport vehicles with hydraulic lifts to accommodate limited mobility.

Vehicles were disguised as commercial cargo containers to minimize civilian interference.

Stage 2: Cross-Country Airlift

[REDACTED] cargo planes were requisitioned from [REDACTED] for the operation. Each aircraft was retrofitted with cushioned flat beds, oxygen units, and onboard medical stations.

Medical personnel monitored surrogates for complications, administering sedatives to those exhibiting distress or restlessness.

“Flying cargo is one thing. Flying this cargo? Another beast entirely. I could hear the medical staff scrambling in the back every time we hit turbulence. It wasn’t until we touched down that I realized how close we came to disaster.” - [REDACTED], Pilot

Stage 3: Arrival & Integration at Compound 133

Surrogates were offloaded and delivered to their assigned wards, where medical personnel assessed their condition.

Immediate hormonal stabilizers were administered to counteract the physical strain caused by altitude changes and prolonged immobility.

Mobility & Transport Constraints

Issue

Many surrogates, especially those late term (+25 days), were unable to walk or sit upright due to the size and weight of their pregnancies. The average weight of surrogates and supporting equipment was over [REDACTED] lbs, +300 lbs average surrogate weight, 489 lbs max weight transported.

Solution

Specialized equipment, such as reinforced stretchers, forklifts for heavier surrogates, and bariatric wheelchairs, was employed to move surrogates from Compound 110 onto the planes. Stretchers were secured in a palletized format inside the aircraft to maximize space.

“The forklift crew had a hell of a time loading the bigger ones. You’d think they were moving industrial machinery, not people. One was so massive they had to be rolled onto the stretcher like a beached whale. It wasn’t pretty.” - Anonymous Ground Technician

Issue

While the standard [REDACTED]-type plane has a cargo capacity of approximately [REDACTED] lbs and an internal volume of [REDACTED] cubic feet, the vehicles needed retrofitting to accommodate the unique needs of heavily pregnant surrogates. This included safety measures for turbulence and environmental controls to maintain appropriate temperature and pressure levels.

Solution

The [REDACTED]-class plane could transport [REDACTED] surrogates per flight with DRC modifications. 

Planes were equipped with mobile dividers so that if surrogates suffered complications, they could be rapidly isolated from view for treatment or birth. Climate control systems were enhanced to maintain a stable environment and portable restroom facilities were added for staff use (surrogates were catheterized to avoid the need for movement).

“They told me this was for my own good, but I can barely breathe in here. Every bump in the air made it feel like my belly was going to burst. I just want this to end—I don’t care where we’re going.” - Surrogate S110-523-Q

Key Incidents

Mid-Transport Medical Emergency

During the flight, Surrogate S110-399-Q, pregnant with septendecuplets (17), began exhibiting severe respiratory distress. Initial symptoms included difficulty breathing, chest tightness, and visible [REDACTED]. Onboard medical personnel swiftly administered oxygen and sedatives to stabilize, but within minutes, signs of early labor emerged, prompting the emergency medical team to prepare for an in-flight delivery.

The medical team worked tirelessly to assist the surrogate as he delivered all 17 fetuses before arrival in Portland. Each newborn was immediately evaluated for viability and determined to be stable. As expected, the surrogate's vital signs rapidly declined following the final birth, and he succumbed to [REDACTED] failure. 

"I’ve never seen anyone that big in my life. I couldn’t stop staring. His belly was so massive it looked like it was about to split open. When he started struggling to breathe, the medical staff was all over him, but the sounds he made… it was like he was suffocating under his own weight..." - Surrogate S110-403-I, Observed Situation

Public Visibility Concerns

Several bystanders filmed the convoy and uploaded clips online during the ground transfer stage. DRC Cyber Security immediately intervened, scrubbing social media platforms and issuing cease-and-desist orders to content creators.

Surrogate Stuck in Chair

One surrogate, pregnant with octodecuplets (18), experienced significant growth during the flight, reportedly due to hormonal surges and fluid retention. Upon landing, the crew discovered that the surrogate had become physically wedged in his reinforced seat due to his expanded abdomen and swollen extremities. Extraction required the partial disassembly of the seat and the use of specialized equipment to free him. 

“I wasn’t even surprised anymore. His belly was literally spilling over the armrests. That’s when you realize these missions aren’t just logistical—they’re borderline impossible.” - Anonymous Transport Specialist

Behavioral Issues

Three surrogates attempted to resist boarding at Paternity Compound 110, citing fears about the unknown destination and poor treatment. They were sedated on-site and securely transported.

Post-Operation Notes

Total Surrogates Transported: [REDACTED]

Surrogates Expired En Route: [REDACTED]

Fetuses Delivered During Operation: [REDACTED]

While operational challenges were anticipated, the results align with DRC efficiency standards. The use of modified cargo planes and specialized medical protocols ensured the safe delivery of most surrogates despite several complications during transit.

Additional safeguards are required to manage the physical strain of long-term pregnancy during extended transport. Enhancing hormonal regulation pre-flight may mitigate extreme growth events.

Stronger sedation measures, particularly during boarding, will reduce incidents of resistance and streamline pre-departure logistics.

Transport plans must minimize exposure to the public. Future operations should prioritize routes and timing to limit interaction with civilian populations.

Conclusion

Operation Overdue underscores the complexities of large-scale surrogate relocation efforts and demonstrates the DRC’s capacity to execute such operations precisely and adaptively. Lessons learned during this mission will inform future strategies, ensuring the continued success of critical population sustainability initiatives.

----------------

Click Here to return to DRC Report Archives

[usafphantom2]

The mini F-15

A 3/8-scale model of the F-15 was mounted under the wing of B-52. Known as the F-15 RPRV (Remotely Piloted Research Vehicle), the model was used for spin research. After being launched from the B-52, it was remotely piloted from the aircraft’s cockpit.

@Destroye83 via X

[msilwrites]

The Mystery of Ghost's Better Half (Simon 'Ghost' Fic)

Gamekeeper! Reader, Groundskeeper! Reader, Ex-MI5! Reader, Stalker! Reader, Naughty! Ghost, Naughty! Simon, Stalker! Reader, Possessive! Reader, Sunshine! Reader, Shy! Reader, Introvert! Reader

A/N: This story features the same Y/N (that’s YOU!!) from How I met your Mother, Midnight Snack Mystery and The Mystery of Who Dressed the LT Like That?

You’ll notice I’ve kept physical descriptions and most of your aesthetic to a minimum—no name, race, or colour—because I want you, the reader, to be able to fully immerse yourself in the story. Imagine it’s you!

That said, I’ve crafted your background and bio to be absolutely awesome. Let’s be real—you deserve to be as amazing as the characters you’re sharing the story with! 💪

For those curious about the timeline, this story takes place WAY before both The Mystery of Who Dressed the LT Like That? and Midnight Snack Mystery. and after How I Met Your Mother. I’ll be putting together a proper timeline for all the chaos soon—stay tuned! Genre: Comedy/Fluff

Summary: Set almost a year into your relationship with Ghost, a casual supermarket run takes an unexpected turn when you bump into Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick—who also happens to be your former subordinate. As stories unfold and secrets unravel, Ghost discovers there's more to your past than you've let on... and you learn he’s been keeping a few surprises of his own. What starts as a mundane errand turns into a hilariously revealing chapter in your lives together. Some Terms to take note of;

RAF: Royal Air Force – The air force branch of the British Armed Forces, responsible for aerial defense and operations.

UAV: Unmanned Aerial Vehicle – A drone or remote-controlled aircraft used for surveillance, reconnaissance, and sometimes combat, without a pilot onboard.

MI5: Military Intelligence, Section 5 – The British domestic counter-intelligence and security agency, primarily focused on national security, including counter-terrorism and espionage.

SAS: Special Air Service – A special forces regiment of the British Army, known for its expertise in counter-terrorism, hostage rescue, and covert operations.

SBS: Special Boat Service – The Royal Navy’s counterpart to the SAS, specializing in amphibious and maritime operations, including counter-terrorism, reconnaissance, and hostage rescue. RMP: Royal Military Police – The military police branch of the British Army, responsible for maintaining discipline, investigating crimes within the military, and providing security for military operations.

SRR: Special Reconnaissance Regiment – A special forces regiment of the British Army, specializing in covert reconnaissance, surveillance, and intelligence gathering.

MI6: Secret Intelligence Service (SIS) – The British foreign intelligence service, responsible for collecting intelligence from outside the UK, mainly focusing on espionage, counter-intelligence, and security issues abroad.

SCO19/CTSFO: Specialist Crime and Operations/Counter Terrorism Specialist Firearms Officers – A unit of the Metropolitan Police Service responsible for handling counter-terrorism operations and armed responses to incidents involving firearms or other serious threats.

Case Officer – A role within intelligence agencies, such as MI5 or MI6, where the officer is responsible for managing agents or assets, gathering intelligence, and overseeing operations involving covert operations and surveillance.

----------

The supermarket buzzed with quiet chatter and the soft clatter of carts. Simon pushed their trolley with one hand, the other draped over Y/N’s shoulder. Both wore masks—not because they were hiding from the world but because they were both introverts who preferred to keep their faces to themselves.

“Why do we always look like we’re about to rob the place?” Y/N muttered under her breath, glancing at their reflection in the freezer doors.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Simon replied, his voice dry. “You’d be the worst getaway driver. Too many stops for snacks.”

“Bold words for someone who insisted on two different types of biscuits last week.”

He smirked behind his mask, steering them toward the drinks aisle. “Tea,” he said. “Running low.”

She chuckled softly. “Heaven forbid we face a morning without tea.”

They rounded a corner when a familiar voice stopped them in their tracks.

“LT?”

Simon glanced up sharply to see Kyle Garrick standing a few feet away, looking equal parts amused and bewildered.

“Garrick,” Simon greeted, nodding in acknowledgment.

Kyle closed the distance, clapping Simon’s shoulder in a friendly grip before offering the traditional handshake-bump. “Didn’t think I’d ever catch you out here, sir, in a domesticated way!”

Simon rolled his eyes but let a smirk slip through. “Everyone’s got to eat, mate. Even me.”

Kyle chuckled, but his attention drifted to Y/N, and his expression froze. His eyes widened in disbelief. “No bloody way.”

Y/N blinked, tilting her head. “Kyle?”

“Ma’am!” Kyle’s grin split wide as he snapped a playful salute before pulling her into a hug. “It’s really you!”

Y/N laughed softly, hugging him back. “Look at you, all grown up and out of trouble.”

Simon stood off to the side, arms crossed and brow raised. “Ma’am?” he echoed, his tone skeptical but sharp.

Kyle stepped back from the hug, hands raised as if to placate him. “Relax, LT. Not nicking Mrs Riley.”

“I’m not yet—” Y/N started, only for Simon to cut in.

“She will be,” Simon said matter-of-factly, his voice laced with quiet authority.

Kyle chuckled, shooting Y/N a knowing look. “Fair enough. But seriously, LT, you’ve bagged yourself a legend.” He gestured to Y/N. “This woman was my case officer back when I was just starting out. Pulled me and my team out of more fires than I care to count.”

Y/N winced. “Kyle, don’t.”

But Kyle continued undeterred. “She’s the reason I got placed with the CTSFOs before Price found me. Without her, I wouldn’t be where I am now.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed slightly, the edge in his tone unmistakable. “That so?”

Kyle nodded earnestly. “She didn’t just handle the logistics—she made sure we got in and out in one piece. Always had a knack for knowing when to pull us before things got messy.”

“Kyle,” Y/N interrupted, raising a hand. “Enough. You’re making me sound like a bloody action figure.”

Kyle grinned, sheepish but unapologetic. “Sorry, ma’am.” He turned to Simon, adding, “Go easy on her, LT. She’s earned it. And don’t worry—I won’t tell the lads.”

“Good,” Simon said curtly, his tone clipped but not unkind. “I’ll interrogate her myself. Now, get on with your shopping, Garrick.”

Kyle saluted again, grinning. “Aye, sir.” He turned back to Y/N with a softer look. “We’ll catch up one day, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said with a faint smile. “Take care, Kyle.”

As Kyle walked off, Simon’s amber eyes fixed on her, curiosity and amusement dancing in their depths. “So,” he drawled, “you’re a legend, are you?”

She groaned, pushing the trolley forward. “Don’t start.”

Simon followed, his tone low and teasing. “You’re my Mrs Riley, and yet I’m only hearing this from Garrick? What else are you hiding, love?”

She sighed, glancing over her shoulder. “Plenty.”

He smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “We’ll sort that later. For now, let’s stock up. Wouldn’t want to run out of biscuits again.”

Y/N muttered something under her breath but let him guide the trolley forward, knowing full well that “later” was going to be anything but quiet.

----------

Back at Simon’s house, the rustle of grocery bags filled the quiet kitchen as Y/N started unpacking their haul. Simon leaned against the counter, arms crossed, his amber eyes fixed on her with that signature intensity she found equal parts alluring and irritating.

“So,” he began, voice low and calm, “how exactly do you know Kyle?”

Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes as she pulled out a loaf of bread and a jar of honey. “He’s just a kid I looked after, that’s all.”

Simon arched a brow. “Looked after? He was going on about saving lives. Sounds a bit more than babysitting, love.”

She set the bread down and shot him a look. “It’s not worth mentioning. Besides, you never asked.”

His brow shot higher, and a hint of amusement flickered in his gaze. “Never asked, huh?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, focusing on the next bag. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hi, I used to babysit rookie agents and soldiers when they couldn’t keep themselves out of trouble’? Bit of a conversation killer, don’t you think?”

Simon snorted, stepping forward to help as she tried—and failed—to push a box of tea onto the top shelf. His hand brushed hers as he easily slid it into place. “Funny how you leave out that you were apparently some kind of mastermind,” he said, his tone casual but teasing.

She rolled her eyes, but a faint smile tugged at her lips. Then she turned the tables. “I heard Kyle call you ‘LT.’ And since he’s SAS, that means you’re SAS, too, yeah?”

Simon smirked, pulling another bag closer. “And here I thought you knew everything about me.”

“All you told me is you were RAF,” she countered, her arms crossed now. “Are you really going to act smug about not mentioning that detail?”

He set a box of biscuits on the counter and leaned in slightly, his voice dropping an octave. “You never asked. How was I supposed to tell you?”

She snorted, trying to brush past him to grab more groceries, but he moved faster, blocking her path with his broad frame. His eyes glittered with mischief. “Anything else you’ve been keeping from me? Or do I have to wait for Garrick to fill me in again?”

She tilted her head up, glaring playfully. “Oh, I’m sure there’s plenty you don’t know about me.”

“Plenty?” he repeated, feigning surprise. “Should I be worried?”

“Maybe,” she teased, pushing at his chest lightly. “You’ll find out eventually—if you’re lucky.”

Simon caught her wrist, his grip firm but gentle, and pulled her closer. The corner of his mouth curled into a smirk. “Lucky, am I?”

“You might be,” she replied, her tone breezy but her pulse quickening as his thumb brushed her wrist.

“Guess I’ll have to keep asking then,” he murmured, his voice a deep rumble. “Can’t have my Mrs. Riley keeping secrets from me.”

“I’m not—” she started, but he cut her off with a soft kiss, the groceries temporarily forgotten as his teasing turned into something much more serious.

When they broke apart, her breath hitched, and she quipped, “You’re still putting away the rest of those groceries.”

He chuckled, leaning back slightly but not letting her go. “Fair enough. But don’t think you’re off the hook, love. We’ll have another chat about Garrick soon enough.”

“You know, we don’t have to wait until later,” she teased, “might as well start the ‘interrogation’ now.” She raised a brow at him. “But fair’s fair. For every question about me, I get to ask you one. Deal?”

Simon grinned. “Deal.” His voice was steady, but there was an undeniable edge of anticipation as he leaned in, clearly ready for his next round of questioning.

“How do you know Sergeant Garrick?” Simon asked again, now that the gauntlet had been thrown down.

Y/N took a deep breath, her eyes flickering briefly to the side before she met his gaze. “I was a Case Officer for MI5,” she began, her voice steady but with a note of something deeper. “I worked with MI6, the SAS, SBS and SCO19/CTSFO. Gaz was stationed in the Middle East during a critical operation. There was a leak within MI6 that affected MI5, and I had to pull his team out at the last minute.” (A/N: Gaz working in the middle east is actually canon material, you can find it in his bio)

Simon didn’t interrupt, his curiosity piqued.

“Garrick was just starting out, but he was good,” she continued. “His team was in real danger. I saved them—kept them from walking into a shitstorm that would’ve cost them their lives.” She paused, her expression clouding slightly, as if remembering the tension of those moments.

“Fuck,” Simon muttered, clearly impressed. “You really didn’t mention any of that.”

She shrugged, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You never asked.”

Simon was about to speak again when Y/N raised a finger. “Now, my turn. Is that why you’d disappear for weeks before we got together? You were deployed?”

Simon’s jaw tightened slightly, but his expression remained calm. “Yeah,” he admitted quietly, “that’s why.”

Y/N nodded, her lips pursed as she processed that. “I thought so.”

Simon let out a soft breath, the air around them suddenly heavier. “Your turn now. How did you end up in the military?”

Her eyes flickered for a moment before she spoke, the story tumbling out with the quiet weight of years gone by.

“I left home at eighteen,” she said, her voice low but clear. “Got into a bad relationship... ran off again when I realized what a mess I’d gotten into. Ended up in Scotland, working at a distillery as an apprentice brewer.” She sighed, the memory bittersweet. “I was happy, for a while. But then my ex found me. Kept harassing me, threatening everyone around me. I had to leave, for my own safety and everyone else’s.”

She paused for a moment, her gaze distant, before continuing.

“For a while, I didn’t know what to do. I felt like I had nothing left. But then, one day, I saw a recruitment ad for the RAF. I remembered a colleague I’d worked with at the distillery. He’d always said I had some kind of observational ability that might make me good in the military.” She gave him a dry smile. “I guess I thought, 'why not?' Free food, free place to sleep, and some semblance of security. Plus, they offered sponsored education, which was a bonus. And then there was the therapy—” she hesitated for a moment, her voice softening. “That helped. More than I thought it would. It gave me the space to sort myself out, to stop feeling like I was constantly looking over my shoulder.”

She glanced at Simon, her expression resolute. “I’d had enough of running. Joining the military taught me how to defend myself—and fight back when I needed to.”

Simon’s eyes softened as he listened. She wasn’t finished yet, though.

“I joined the RAF first as an infantry soldier,” she explained, her tone matter-of-fact. “Did a few tours overseas, got some solid experience under my belt, and eventually took an opportunity to upskill as a UAV pilot.” She paused, the faintest smile tugging at her lips as she recounted the progression.

“After that, I transitioned to the RMP and later the SRR. Both roles had me deployed for more tours, sharpening different skill sets along the way,” she continued, her gaze steady. “Eventually, MI5 took notice and recruited me.”

She sighed, leaning back slightly as if the weight of those years momentarily settled on her shoulders. “Stayed there for more than a decade, till they told me to retire. Ran into Kyle during all that, though. Didn’t think I’d see him again, but here we are.”

Simon was quiet for a long moment, processing everything she had just revealed. His eyes never left hers.

“You really know how to keep a secret,” he murmured, clearly impressed—and maybe a little surprised.

“When were you planning to tell me?” he asked after a beat, tilting his head slightly. “Were you ever planning to tell me? Or were you just hoping I’d find and figure it all out?”

Y/N leaned against the counter, crossing her arms with a sigh. “I was just hoping you’d figure it out,” she admitted with a soft laugh, her tone tinged with playful exasperation. “Accept me and my crazy head.” She paused before adding, “To be fair, though, you wouldn’t have believed me even if I told you! I mean, look at me, Simon!” She gestured to herself dramatically, as if presenting a case in court.

Simon’s lips twitched into a sly grin, his gaze sweeping over her as he let out a low chuckle. “Alright, you’ve got a point,” he admitted, amusement lacing his voice. “Small, unassuming, and, dare I say it, bloody adorable. Not exactly what springs to mind when you think of MI5, yeah?”

Her jaw dropped slightly, though her grin remained firmly in place. “Excuse me? Did you just—”

He stepped closer, cutting her off with a laugh. “It’s a compliment,” he teased, his eyes glinting with mischief. “But yeah, unless someone like Kyle spilled the beans, I’d probably still be clueless.”

Simon closed the distance between them, his smirk softening as he looked at her. “Oh, and since I did find and figure it out,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, “let me just say—your ‘crazy head’ might actually be my favorite thing about you.”

She couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close in a firm embrace. He pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, the faint scratch of his stubble brushing against her skin and drawing another burst of laughter.

“Simon, that tickles!” she protested, trying to squirm away, but his grip only tightened.

“Good,” he murmured into her hair, his deep chuckle vibrating against her cheek.

As the laughter subsided, she tilted her head, her expression suddenly thoughtful. “Alright, my turn,” she began, her voice carrying a teasing edge. “Why didn’t you ever mention you were in the SAS?”

Simon’s grip loosened just enough for him to lean back and meet her gaze. His expression shifted, the humour giving way to something more serious. “It’s not exactly something you drop into casual conversation,” he replied. “Most of it’s classified, anyway.”

She raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking in amusement. “Oh, so it’s alright for you to keep secrets, but when I do it, it’s a problem?”

Simon let out a low chuckle, conceding with a nod. “Touché.”

But then his gaze softened, and he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly choosing his words carefully. “Truth is… I was afraid.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “Afraid of what?”

“That you might run off,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “If you knew I was SAS, I thought… I thought you might see the risks, the danger, and decide it wasn’t worth it. And I wanted you too much to risk losing you like that.”

Her brows knit together, her expression softening, but before she could speak, he continued.

“And then there was the other fear,” he added, glancing away briefly. “That you might… I don’t know… only be with me because of what I do. You know how it goes—there’s always someone sniffing around, looking for the ‘glamour’ of it, wanting to brag about dating a ‘hero’ or whatever rubbish they’ve built up in their heads.” His tone held a mix of frustration and vulnerability. “Didn’t want to be someone’s bloody trophy.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then burst out laughing.

Simon frowned. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, Simon,” she said between giggles, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “You’re telling me that was your big worry? That I’d only be with you because of your job?” She grinned, giving him a playful jab to the chest. “Mate, I dated you because you’re hot. And, let’s be honest…” She leaned closer, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “I couldn’t resist the free show you were giving me at the reserve.”

Simon’s brows rose, a sly smirk creeping onto his face. “Free show, eh? So you’re finally admitting it? All that time you denied it, called me full of myself—and here we are. Caught you, you cheeky little bird.”

“You, lugging those sacks around, all sweaty and brooding?” She waggled her eyebrows at him, her grin downright wicked. “Honestly, Simon, who needs an OnlyFans subscription to some bloke when I could just hide behind a tree at the reserve and watch the free show? I might’ve been pretending to work, but really, I was just enjoying the live performance.” She gave him a cheeky shrug. “So don’t get it twisted, mate—I’m only here ‘cause I fancied you.”

Simon let out a bark of laughter, his initial frown dissolving completely. “You’re an absolute menace,” he said, shaking his head as he pulled her into his arms. “But I guess it’s a good thing I was giving you a free show, eh? Saved you from wasting good money on some bloke online who charges for access.” His smirk turned downright wicked as he added, “Though now that I think about it, I probably should’ve started charging you admission—could’ve made a tidy profit. Maybe even a subscription service, just for you.”

“And what’s your mode of payment, then?” she asked, her tone dripping with mock curiosity, eyes gleaming mischievously.

Simon raised a brow, his lips curling into a sly grin. “Oh, I think you know,” he teased, his voice low and playful. “This show is exclusive to you, love. No one else gets the ‘personal, one-on-one access.’” He leaned in slightly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “As for payment? A bit of affection, maybe. A kiss here and there. And, of course, the occasional batch of those baked goods you make. Can’t say no to those.”

She didn’t hesitate. With a gleeful laugh, she jumped on him, her legs wrapping around his waist as his strong arms instinctively caught her, hands gripping her thighs to hold her securely. She grinned wickedly, leaning in close and playfully nipping at his jawline.

“Rawr, rawr!” she growled, nipping and biting at his cheek with exaggerated ferocity. “Good! Because you’re all mine!”

Simon barked out a laugh, his hold tightening as he steadied her against him. “You’re mental,” he teased, his voice filled with warmth and amusement. “Utterly bonkers, but yeah... all yours.”

Her triumphant giggle filled the room as she adjusted her arms around his shoulders, leaning back just enough to meet his eyes.

Simon’s smirk softened, his gaze steady on hers. “You’re trouble, y’know that? The kind that sneaks in and takes over before you even realize it.”

“Trouble?” she echoed with a playful scoff, tilting her head. “You love it. Admit it.”

“Maybe I do,” he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face with a tenderness that made her heart flutter. “Maybe it’s the kind of trouble I’ve been needing.”

Her grin turned victorious as she tightened her arms around his shoulders, pulling herself closer. “Good, because you’re stuck with me. No take-backs, no loopholes, and absolutely no chance of escape. You’ve been claimed, Riley.” She gave him a mock-serious glare, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “And I’ll make sure you’re glad for it.”

Simon chuckled softly, shaking his head as he gazed at her. “You’re completely off your trolley,” he murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to her temple. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

What Simon didn’t realize, though, was that he’d only scratched the surface of who he’d fallen for. Sure, she’d hinted at her “crazy head” and shared just enough to keep him on his toes, but the full truth? That was a different story. As he was soon to find out, being with her wasn’t just about late-night tea debates and cheeky banter—it came with a side of secrets, surprises, and the occasional “how in the hell did you even know that?” moment. Poor bloke thought he’d seen it all. Spoiler: He hadn’t.

A/N Please Read: Hi, everyone! The inspiration for the character bio of You (Y/N) actually comes from Nathan Muir in the film Spy Game and Charles Heller from the book The Amateur (soon to have a film adaptation starring Rami Malek!). I chose these influences because of their unconventional approach to operations, leaning heavily into psychological warfare and intricate strategizing. I found it fascinating that I couldn’t resist putting it into Y/N’s backstory.

As for the next part of this story in chronological order, it’s actually The Mystery of Who Dressed the LT Like That. However, these stories can stand alone if that’s how you prefer to read them! For those who want to follow the timeline, I’ll include a “Next Part” link below to guide you.

Hope you enjoyed this one! Cheers! 💀✨

Next part --------->

[lilacella]

Your moodboards are amazing! 🤩 How about Finnish James? Curious to see what you come up with!!

Hello!😊😊🥰 So. This has escalated a little into a whole, potential, fic idea.

But first, the moodboard: SÁMI JAMES!

This was peer-reviewed and supported by @plecotusauritus 💜

Teenage Sámi James is from Nuorgam in Lapland and helps to take care of his family's reindeer herd. He's pretty great at reindeer races and has a huge obsession with aircraft. When he's done with school he wants to be a pilot!!

Living in such a remote area, James spends many evenings in front of his laptop, often in scetchy video chat roulette websites because he thinks it's fun meeting people from all around the world. So he is surprised when he actually matches with a boy from Finland one night. He's from Hanko though - on the other end of the country - but no distance can harm the immediate bond that forms between them.

Sirius (because of course it's him, who did you expect?! Regulus?) is very interested in Sámi culture and language since his parents have told him much crap that he is already quite certain is incorrect. James teaches him gladly 😊 They keep talking and talking, then exchange numbers (because all sense for stranger danger has left the chat for these lovesick babies already) and continue to videocall each other daily...

There's more but that's for another post 😊😇

Hope you like him!!

[paingoes]

Destroyer

Prologue

(Masterlist)

It was the first sunny day of the season and they had spent it out over the water. By the morning light, the sea was blinding. Each steel gray battleship reflected the White Sun’s rays right into the cockpit. The aircraft, small and inconspicuous, hovered above the enemy fleet like a nervous fairy. It was no weapon of war. The shipmen down below took notice and little green lines of inquiry began to flash upon the craft’s receiver. 

The pilot tilted the screen down and positioned the craft a good mile away from the north-most ship. A reassuring squeeze on the shoulder, a finger pointed in the right direction, and then the unbearable cacophony of steel rendering.

The sea rushed in to fill the gap, causing massive waves to rock the once-still ocean. Where the SS Iselin had been only seconds prior, there now sat a deformed metal mass no larger than the length of a truck. The surrounding water filled with a reddish color, blood and oil escaping the same clutch. As the radio went wild between the remaining fleet ships, the broken body of the Iselin sunk quietly beneath the waves. There were no survivors. Delta had been twelve.

The hovercraft took him back to dry land. The Emperor, the only person the show had ever really been for, stood up to shake the hands of the pilot, of the scientists, and of his Admiral who had pushed so hard for the demonstration. The Emperor lowered himself to speak to Delta, the way you might any child, and saw the tremors all through his body, the cold sweat of convulsions. The Emperor wiped Delta’s hair from his face and said no more.

He was returned to his own quarters back at the institute. The nurse had to hold up one side of him just to make it down the hall. He kept it together as he’d been taught to while in company, but back in his own territory he could no longer suppress the nausea. He spent most of the night on the cold tile floor of his bathroom, as the doctors and the scientists buzzed around taking vitals and hooking him up to strange machines.

By the next week, the deal was done. The royal guards had been sent to collect him. All that he owned could fit into one suitcase, which the director had packed for him personally. The director had also picked who would be leaving with him as a charge - one physician, one scientist. Dr.Martino’s grip tightened harshly on his neck whenever he fidgeted too much. Dr.Yanna had a bad drinking habit. Delta was not happy about these choices, even from the most remote corner of his mind. But he had learned to tolerate both of them at the institute and could appreciate the familiarity. He wasn’t scared of the guards. He kept his head down until they arrived at the palace - and long after that too.

It had presented an interesting but not unprecedented engineering problem, finding out where to keep him. In the past week, they had built the basement up with the same dense psychic insulation that the institute had perfected. Delta had five hundred square feet of space, at the time sparsely furnished. His vague hope was that while in the isolated chamber, they would remove the dampening collar from around his neck. But they left him there with no mention of it. He thought back to the wreckage of the Iselin and realized it was unlikely the collar would ever come off again. He rubbed at the raw skin idly, leaning against the new bed frame. The space was larger than his old room had been, but he had not gotten up to explore it. He sensed that the guards would not like to open up the chamber doors and find him anywhere they had not left him. It was the inclination of many third parties to treat the psionics like machinery - and to be disconcerted by anything that contracted this. Besides that, he knew they were scared of him. As isolated as he had been, even in such ascetic surroundings, he could read fear. It radiated off all of them now.

[sjsmith56]

The Duality of Nature, Chapter 3 - Return

Summary: The Avengers go to Norway to destroy the Cerberus site but a strange beam incapacitates everyone except Bucky. When the facility explodes he is injured but manages to evacuate the team. After surgery back at the compound it becomes obvious that something is seriously wrong.

Length: 5.2K

Characters: Bucky, Carol, the Avengers, Fury, Noelle, Winter.

Warnings: Mission goes wrong.

Author notes: The description of medical treatment is movie medicine, folks. I did my best but if there are errors or omissions, I’m sorry. Cliffhanger.

<<Chapter 2

Bucky set the course while everyone else busied themselves doing more preparatory work; Sam and Shaun monitored the onboard computers for any updates, while Peter, Kate and Yelena checked the comms pieces and timers for the explosives which would be transferred by portal shortly after their arrival. Dr. Strange and Tony's remote-controlled suit would arrive with the explosives. The decision had been made to use a portal sparingly, not wanting to introduce any excessive energy ripples into the environment of the lab that could interfere with their operations. Scott and Hope were going over some intelligence on their iPad. Thor slept. Carol Danvers acted as co-pilot for this trip, looking over at Bucky.

"Your daughter has sure grown," she said. "Looks just like her mom."

He smiled. "She does take after Noelle," he agreed. "Has my eyes, though. She's quite the kid. Thor wants her to begin training but we want her to be a kid for as long as possible."

"You like being a family man?"

"Love it," he answered. "Avoided even thinking of it before the war, decided during the war that it might not be so bad, then never got the chance until I met Noelle out of the blue."

"I'm happy for you," said Carol. "Does Winnie have abilities?"

"Yeah, she does." He shrugged. "We encourage her to be active like any other kid, but she's already given us a few scares, like jumping from the top of the playground equipment when she was two. She took to swimming like a fish. Already wants to be an Avenger." He looked over at Carol. "I'm good with that. What kept you away so long this time?"

"Hunting renegade Skrull terrorists," she replied. "After what happened here Fury asked me to keep looking for others. Found a few but it wasn't easy. For so long the Kree made it seem like they were all like that but most just want a quiet place to live in peace."

"Don't we all," he replied, then he got a message from Air Traffic Control and activated the mike on his headset. "Roger New York. Avengers aircraft Quebec Mike zero one, acknowledging transfer to Gander Domestic ACC." He switched frequencies and listened for the controller to confirm his position. When it came, he acknowledged them. "Roger Gander. Avengers aircraft Quebec Mike zero one, maintaining assigned course and frequency."

"You want to take a break until we transfer to Shanwick Oceanic?" she asked.

"Sure," he replied. "Didn't get a lot of sleep last night." He noticed her grinning. "It wasn't all that. Too many variables on this mission kept me awake. Had to leave for the couch because I was so restless. I could use some shuteye."

"Go ahead," she said. "If anything comes up, I'll wake you."

With a nod he went over to Sam, advising him that he was going to sleep for a bit. Heading to the back of the quinjet, he pressed a button that popped out a handle and pulled out a bunk. Slipping his jacket and boots off, he laid on the bunk, turned off the overhead light and began some deep breathing, listening to the hum of the aircraft, reading somewhere that it was the equivalent of pink noise, a frequency that should have a calming effect on listeners. It must have worked because when he was awakened, they were under the control of Bodø Oceanic OCA out of northern Norway, less than an hour from their target. He quickly put his boots and jacket on then headed to the pilot's seat, grimacing a little at Carol.

"You should have woken me sooner," he said.

"You needed the sleep," she replied. "The flight was all by the book. I didn't mind."

She updated him on their position then turned control of the quinjet back to him. Sam had already advised HQ of their position and the final preparations of the explosives were being made, prior to sending them through the portal. Just before they landed Sam took another look at the latest satellite readings for any sign of the portal, but nothing was showing up. They landed some distance away from the entrance into the site then everyone assembled their weapons, and each took a number of timers, while Bucky and Carol completed the landing checklist. Bucky then fastened his holsters and inserted his weapons as Carol went out to do a quick recon before they all left the quinjet.

"Everyone miked up?" he asked, receiving their responses in his earpiece. "Carol? What's it like out there?"

"Quiet," she replied. "I don't like this, but we don't have much choice, do we?"

"Nope," answered Sam. He contacted HQ. "Ready for portal insertion. Locate those explosives far away from the quinjet. Don't want them going up and taking out our transport." Acknowledgement came and they watched as a portal formed outside, closer to the entrance of the facility. "Okay, you all know your duties. Carol, Tony, and Strange will monitor the airspace, with Thor at the entrance. The rest of us will take an assortment of charges and place them, then set the timers. Mapping of your assigned section is on your wrist piece. As soon as you're done, come out. Let's go."

The explosives came through the portal by magic, accompanied by Dr. Strange and the Ironman suit, under Tony's remote control. They joined Carol in the sky while the others went to the pallet, noting that their names were on the assorted cases that contained the devices. With Bucky on point and Thor guarding the entrance they entered the facility and raced to their assigned coordinates, setting the charges, then the timers, all of them rigged to go on a signal when the final charge was set by Captain Marvel in the portal. By then they were all to be inside the quinjet, ready for a quick take off. Strange and the Ironman suit were to be back at HQ through another magic portal.

Everything seemed to be going well, as one by one the team members laid the charges and returned to the outside, gathering at the quinjet. Just before Bucky, as the first one in and the last one out, signalled that he was approaching the exit, it all changed. The portal opened above them, visible to Tony first as he was monitoring in the long-range infrared frequency they had discovered. Then the cold started bleeding through, causing the Ironman suit to start malfunctioning. Dr. Strange found out he couldn't handle the temperatures, lowering himself and Tony's suit to the ground where it was warmer, while Carol ventured into the portal to send the explosives, setting the timer and advising everyone to leave. Just as she did that a multi-beam of energy came through as if targeting every individual out there, doing exactly what Joaquin had described; batting them away as if they were flies. Bucky came out of the facility to the scene of everyone on the ground, including Carol, which surprised him as she was virtually invulnerable. Not having been hit by the beam he picked Thor up first, as he was closest, carrying him to the quinjet, somehow avoiding notice of whoever was controlling the beam. Carol was next then he dragged everyone else onboard. Returning for Tony's suit, he had carried it to the ramp, where his luck ran out as he was hit by a glancing blow of the beam, unable to avoid it completely. At that moment, the explosives in the portal went off, followed by those in the facility, and he was caught in the blast wave which lifted him up, then throwing him hard against the side of the ramp. Dazed, he didn't move for a moment before he came around, finished dragging the suit up the ramp, raised it and stumbled to the pilot's seat.

"Emergency takeoff," he mumbled, placing his right hand on the security readout. "Authorization, Barnes, Sergeant James Buchanan ...."

Friday requested the rest of the authorization code but didn't get it as Bucky had passed out and no one else had responded as they were all out as well. Taking a scan to confirm that and noting the addition of Ironman's suit and the presence of Dr. Strange, the AI instituted its own emergency evacuation procedure and took off. The AI made several attempts to initiate communications with HQ, but it wasn't until the aircraft was almost out of Norwegian airspace before it was able to relay the emergency to air traffic control, receiving priority to return to base. It had been 23 hours hours since they left the Avengers base on the mission.

Avengers compound

"What do you mean you've lost contact?" asked Joaquin, who was in the control room with the support staff, monitoring communications. "Bring up the satellites, include the long-range infrared images." As he saw the evidence of the portal opening, then the signs of the explosive charges going off as planned he watched the replay, before noticing the quinjet transponder had moved away from the site. "Contact all the Air Traffic Control agencies for their return flight path. Notify them of the possibility of an emergency evacuation. You better contact Fury as well. This is above my pay grade."

Fury arrived by portal within minutes and watched the displays closely as Joaquin and Tony filled him in on what they had seen. By all indicators the explosives had done their job, destroying the facility and at least had closed the portal, hopefully destroying it. Joaquin also briefed the director on what happened to him previously at the site.

"Let's get all available satellites monitoring that infrared frequency for the reemergence of that portal at any other location," said Fury to the technician on duty. Then he watched the quinjet transponder move from Norwegian airspace into the Scottish ACC airspace. A Scottish accented voice came on. "Avengers HQ, Scottish ACC has received an emergency evacuation request from the aircraft Quebec Mike zero one's AI. How do you want to proceed?"

"Roger, Scotland. Can you give them priority to cross the Atlantic?" asked Fury. "The AI only takes control if there is no one physically able to fly the aircraft."

"Roger, we can do that," said the man's voice. There was a pause. "Confirmed with the AI that all passengers are unconscious and will require medical attention, but all are alive. It updated the passenger list which has been emailed to your contact. The AI also indicated that its multiple attempts to contact you directly have been unsuccessful. Will be flying top speed, with ETA of 2.5 hours. We have advised Shanwick Oceanic, Gander Domestic and New York ATC to continue priority emergency evacuation status of aircraft Quebec Mike zero one. Good luck, Avengers."

"Roger that, Scotland. Thank you for your assistance."

Fury turned to the other two. "We better notify medical, all staff on alert. Just medical, no one else yet."

"Even Noelle and Dawn?" asked Joaquin, referencing Bucky and Sam's wives who were both nurses.

The man in black would have normally glared at anyone who questioned an order, but he also knew he better talk to the two women first. He grimaced slightly at the flyer.

"I'll alert them personally," he said, turning around and leaving the control room. "Friday, locate Noelle Barnes and Dawn Wilson."

"Both women are in their quarters," replied the female voice. "They should be walking their children to play school within moments then reporting for duty in the medical centre."

"Advise Dr. Banner that both women will be delayed and possibly not reporting for duty," he said. "Do not let them leave the play school hallway until I get there. Friday, keep me updated on the quinjet flight."

There was no acknowledgement of any of his requests, but he knew they would be done. As he strode towards the family services wing of the compound, he could see several people hugging their children. Standing back, he watched as Noelle and Dawn arrived, both of them affectionately hugging their children then waving goodbye at them. He stepped forward blocking their path.

"Director Fury," stated Dawn Wilson, smiling. "We don't see you here often."

Noelle read the look on his face instantly. "What's happened?"

"Come with me," he said. "I'd rather do this in private, but they're both alive according to the AI."

Slipping into a nearby office he pressed the control to close and lock the door, then faced the two women who stood in front of him.

"At this point I'm not sure exactly what has happened," he said. "By all the satellite images we have studied so far, the mission went off the way it should, but Scottish air traffic control received communication from the quinjet's AI that it was requesting emergency evacuation priority as all passengers were unconscious. The passenger list included Dr. Strange and the Iron Man suit. They were to have returned by portal, so something went wrong, and they ended up on the quinjet. We were advised to have medical on alert. ETA is 2.5 hours. Since both of your husbands are on that flight, I'm leaving it to you whether you want to be there in your capacity as experienced medical professionals or if you would rather wait as a spouse and let the assigned medical staff deal with whatever is coming."

The two women looked at each other then fixed him with a firm gaze. "We're reporting for duty," said Noelle. "We'll make sure we're assigned to other crew. We've both been there before with family members."

"Very well," he replied, with a stern nod. "I'll let you go. If it gets too hard, you'll be relieved of duty."

They both acknowledged him, and he unlocked the door, watching them leave. All they could do was wait. Neither woman said anything as they quickly strode to the medical centre. Bruce nodded to them as they entered, then drew everyone together.

"All I know so far is that everyone is unconscious, and Friday is flying the quinjet home at top speed," he said. "Considering that Falcon sustained an injury at the same site from an energy beam I am assuming that a similar incident happened. We're looking at broken limbs, possible internal injuries, head injuries, and because of exposure to a cold source with a temperature of absolute zero, possible hypothermia. Let's prep for all contingencies. I'll coordinate triage at the landing site while Helen is in charge up here."

Both women dove into their duties, assembling a cart of supplies to cover the injuries specified by Bruce. Neither said anything to anyone but they could feel the eyes of their co-workers on them, as it was known they were married to Barnes and Wilson. When they had a moment, they called the daycare, advising them they may be delayed picking up their children at the end of the day. Then they waited for anything to come down the line, both of them doing their best to tamp down their worries over their husbands.

Inside the quinjet, 1 hour later

Carol groaned, slowly opening her eyes, then realized she was in the quinjet, and they were in flight. Looking around at the others she realized that she was the only one awake. Tentatively moving her arms and legs she confirmed she had no injuries then stood up, feeling dizzy at first. As she breathed deeply to get her bearings back, she spoke to the AI.

"Friday, what happened?"

"An energy beam from the dimensional portal incapacitated all crew members except one," said the AI. "Sergeant Barnes was still inside the facility when the beam erupted. He carried everyone inside the quinjet and was in the process of bringing in the Ironman suit when he received a glancing blow by the beam, then again from the blast of the explosion at the target site. Although it dazed him, he completed his task and was able to request emergency evacuation before passing out."

"Are we in contact with HQ?" asked Carol.

"Negative, although I have acquired contact with all Air Traffic Control agencies on our flight path. We have received emergency clearance for the entire flight back to the compound." The AI paused for a moment. "If you wish to administer first aid, I am fully capable of continuing to operate the aircraft."

"Do that," said Carol, getting businesslike.

She went to where the first aid kit was, satisfied when she saw there was a portable diagnostic unit, as well as an assortment of sedatives and stimulants, splints, bandages, and neck braces. Starting with Thor she set the unit to the normal settings for an Asgardian, confirming he had no physical injuries other than being unconscious. Peter was next to him, and she reset the unit for enhanced human, found some internal injuries, a bruised lung and kidney, as well as a hairline fracture of his jaw. Quickly she printed a slip with the details of his condition off the unit and attached it to his suit, assuming a triage team would be in place when they landed. There was a broken arm, suffered by Kate, but surprisingly the majority of the others so far had only bruising, superficial cuts, and sprains. Other than the fact everyone else was still out, they had come through it pretty unscathed. She was surprised to see Dr. Strange, but it appeared his cloak had protected him as he had no injuries other than being unconscious. Then she reached Bucky.

"Shit," she said, when she saw the readings indicating a brain bleed, as well as a broken right shoulder, several broken ribs, and a punctured lung. "Bucky? Can you hear me?"

She tapped his cheek, then pinched the back of his right hand to check his pain stimulus response but there was nothing and she printed out the slip that identified him as priority. Being hesitant to even try treating his injuries she instead went for the backboard and used her abilities, which thankfully still worked, to levitate him while she slid the board under his body. Gingerly, she attached a collar to keep his head steady then strapped him on the board. When she finished, she glanced over at Thor, who had started moving.

"Thor," she said, moving closer and tapping his cheek. "Wake up, big guy. I need you."

"Father, were we the victors?" He mumbled some more then opened his eyes and slowly focused on Carol. "Danvers, what happened?"

"Same thing that happened to Joaquin by what Friday tells me," she said. "You have no injuries, but I need you to monitor Peter. He has a bruised lung and kidney. Keep him from moving around. There should be another backboard you can load him on. Just be careful you don't do more damage." She looked over at Bucky. "Apparently, he carried us all in then was hurt himself. He's in rough shape."

Thor smiled slightly and nodded. "He has always been worthy of our trust," he said, with admiration. "I will take care of young Peter."

"Captain Marvel, I have reestablished communications with Avengers HQ," said Friday. "Do you wish to respond?"

"Yes, put me through," said Carol. "Avengers HQ, do you hear me? It's Carol."

"Roger, Carol," said Joaquin, sounding relieved. "We've been trying ever since we lost contact. What's your status?"

"So far, only myself and Thor are conscious, neither of us have other injuries," she said. "I've already done preliminary triage, identifying Bucky, and Peter as priorities, followed by Kate with a broken arm. Everyone else is just banged up, with cuts and bruises. Was our objective achieved?"

"So far, it appears the link has been destroyed but we are monitoring all available satellites for other incursions," said Joaquin.

"Fury here," said another voice, and Carol smirked, not surprised he was there. "How bad are the injuries?"

"Bucky has a brain bleed, broken right shoulder, several broken ribs and a punctured lung. Friday said he was thrown by the blast wave, but he still managed to get us all onboard and start the emergency evacuation then the AI took over when he passed out. Peter has a hairline fracture of the jaw, bruised lung and kidney. Kate has the broken arm. Everyone else is just banged up but they're all still unconscious."

"Okay, your ETA at this point is 10 minutes," said Fury. "We'll let medical evacuate everyone. I still want you and Thor to get checked out then we'll talk. Fury out."

She sat back, satisfied that she had done all that she could but until Dr. Strange looked into the past and saw exactly what happened they were still as clueless about that portal as they had been. Returning to Bucky's side she monitored his vital signs, letting Friday land the quinjet. When the ramp came down the triage team came up, picking Bucky up first and carrying the backboard down to the waiting gurney where Bruce read the triage note. He looked back at Carol, smiled and gave her a thumbs up for thinking of doing this part of his job first. Then Bucky was wheeled away, and they came for Peter next. He was also wheeled away. Carol and Thor moved down the ramp, leaving more room for the others to be lifted onto gurneys and wheeled in after Bruce gave them the once over. Finally, it was just him and those two.

"Fury wants you two to be checked out quickly," he said. "I can do it in the elevator on the way up. Since you're both enhanced, I'm guessing you're okay. Let's start with you Carol, tell me everything. You shouldn't have been affected by anything."

She recounted her last memory before waking up on the floor of the quinjet, of being lightheaded when she woke up then recounting what Friday told her, before she began treating the injured. Then he turned to Thor who told him what he remembered, except Carol mentioned what he said when he first started stirring.

"I must have been dreaming of a battle fighting at my father's side," he said. "I don't remember thinking of any of it or of saying it.   Very strange."

"Okay, I'm good with declaring you both released from medical," said Bruce. "But let me know immediately if you experience anything out of the ordinary and I mean anything."

The elevator to the medical floor opened to a scene of organized chaos where everyone was intent on treating the patient in their care. Carol and Thor stayed at the entrance to the medical centre, not wanting to add to the scene then she nudged Thor, gesturing to where Noelle and Dawn were treating their patients, while trying not to look over at their husbands. He gave her a grim smile.

"They are good wives," he said. "Both men chose well."

Bruce joined Helen who was bent over Bucky, checking all of his vitals before sending him for an MRI to determine the extent of the brain bleed. She had already inserted a tube into his chest to treat the punctured lung.

"I have a neurosurgeon on notice for immediate surgery," she said, in a low voice, trying not to alarm Noelle. "But we'll need to use a portal to get him there. If Bucky's already sustained significant brain damage, there might not be much he can do."

"That's why you need me," said a voice nearby and Dr. Strange joined the pair, still looking a little pale but alright otherwise. "I can do the surgery. I'm still certified. They'll treat him as a normal human, but we know his enhanced abilities gives him a better chance than most people." He looked over at Noelle briefly. "He's already been unconscious for several hours. I can stop time in the operating room, time I can use to treat him and fix the damage. Get him to the MRI then straight to the surgical suite. You still have a neurosurgical package in storage?"

Bruce nodded. "Alright, I'll get the OR ready," he said. "Know any residents or OR nurses that you can work with?"

Strange smiled his enigmatic smile. "Leave that to me. Just get the imaging done."

Twenty minutes later Strange and Dr. Nicodemus West were scrubbing up to perform surgery on Bucky. Two neurosurgical nurses had already scrubbed and were preparing the super soldier for the procedure while an anesthesiologist who had monitored Bucky before agreed to do it again, although this was going to be a slightly different situation. Strange explained to West how he had already stopped time on the brain bleed and that Barnes, as an enhanced human had great regenerative abilities. The MRI imaging was being displayed as they scrubbed.

"Why me, Stephen?" asked West. "I know you've never thought of me as a capable surgeon."

"On the contrary," replied Strange. "Your shortcomings were because you were trying to compete with me. Since I no longer need the thrill of performing exemplary work to prove my superiority you have allowed your own abilities to excel." He stopped and looked at West in a conciliatory fashion. "I have faith in our combined skills to save Barnes' life."

West sniffed, understanding that was the closest to an admission of confidence he was ever going to get from Dr. Stephen Strange. One of the medical centre nurses met them with sanitized towels to dry their hands while another helped them gown up. As they entered the OR both surgeons acknowledged the others as they approached the operating table where Bucky's head was elevated and a spot on his skull already shaved.

"Begin the music," said Strange.

Outside the operating room, the sounds of jazz reached where Nick Fury, Bruce Banner and Helen Cho were observing the craniotomy surgery. When the piece of Bucky's skull was removed and placed in a tray Fury left and headed towards a waiting area where several of the Avengers who had been released were waiting. They were all sitting with Noelle who had been relieved of duty after she finished treating Scott Lang.

"It's started," he said. "It's going to be a while. What about your daughter?"

"Dawn Wilson has picked her up and will look after her until I have something to tell her," stated Noelle. "Are you staying?"

"Yes," he replied. "I'll stay if you wish me to stay."

She nodded and Fury took a seat. He did take his cell phone out to monitor other situations, occasionally texting something. More of the Avengers came to wait but no one talked. Instead, they all sat silently although Thor started to fidget. After some time of becoming more agitated he finally stood up and kneeled on one knee before Noelle, taking one of her hands in his.

"I'm sorry, I must do something," he said. "It is difficult for me to wait in silence. Buck is a strong man and a worthy one. He will come through this. I am sure of it."

"Thank you for waiting," she smiled. "Go do whatever you must." She looked at the others. "Please, don't feel you have to stay with me. As soon as I hear anything I will pass it on."

Several of the others stood up then came over to hug Noelle, leaving reluctantly. She truly didn't mind as most of them hadn't even changed out of their tactical gear and likely needed a shower and some food. Fury, Sam, and Joaquin stayed, along with Yelena, who held hands with Joaquin. Carol returned a short time later with donuts and coffee, then sat down with the others. As the surgery neared the 5-hour mark Bruce and Helen appeared in the waiting area.

"It's done," said Bruce. "Dr. Strange is just removing the time spell and checking to make sure the sutures hold."

A few moments later there was yelling and Dr. West, the anesthesiologist and the nurses came running out. The others stood up, with Noelle wanting to go in immediately, but Fury looked to Sam, who held her in place. Fury then gestured to Carol to go with him, finding Strange on the floor, wrapped securely in his cloak except for his one hand which was keeping Bucky floating in the air. He was immobilized but his face was full of anger as he struggled to free himself from the spell.

"What the hell?" said Fury, looking from Bucky to Strange.

"As soon as I removed the time spell, he awakened but he wasn't Bucky," said the doctor. "He ripped his IV out and was trying to get away. He was speaking in Russian."

Fury looked closely at Bucky who stopped struggling when he noticed the director. It was an eerie sensation for the director to look into the dark eyes of Bucky Barnes but instead of seeing the usual recognition from the man, saw something he hadn't seen since 2014.

"Soldat, speak English," said Fury, in Russian, already dreading what may have happened.

"Fury, Nicholas J., targeted for elimination on March 14, 2014," said the Soldier, in a deep, almost monotone voice. "Target eluded first attempt. Second attempt was thought to be successful, but it was revealed that the target survived." He noticed Carol. "Danvers, Carol Susan Jane, code name Captain Marvel, human-Kree hybrid." The others came in and he identified Joaquin and Yelena in a similar manner, then Noelle pushed her way in, and he stopped speaking for a moment when he saw her, staring at her intensely instead. When he resumed speaking, his manner was more like Bucky's. "Noelle Belanger Barnes, married to James Buchanan Barnes, June 1, 2024. Mother of his daughter, Winnie Sarah Barnes, born March 17, 2025."

"What's happened to him?" asked Noelle, her face clouded by fear. "Why is he talking like that?"

Sam was behind her, drawing the Soldier's notice. "Wilson, Samuel Thomas, code name Captain America, present during elimination attempt on Rogers, Steven and Romanoff, Natasha, targeted under previous code name Falcon during launch of Project Insight ...." His voice trailed off as he looked at Noelle again. This time his voice was anxious. "Where's Winnie?"

"Soldier, what was your mission?" asked Fury. The Soldier still stared at Noelle, so he repeated it in Russian. "Soldat, what was your mission?"

He slowly turned his gaze towards Fury. "Set and detonate charges at site of suspected Cerberus lab, protect Avengers team, return team safely to headquarters," he said, as if he was repeating it by memory.

"Mission report," ordered the director.

"Site destroyed; beam of unknown origin was directed at team members, incapacitating them, requiring immediate evacuation. The Asset lost consciousness until awakening in medical lab. The Asset panicked, assuming recapture by HYDRA. The team, are they safe?"

"Everyone came back in the quinjet," said Sam. "You saved everyone."

"No, there is one casualty," said the Soldier. "He isn't there anymore. The Asset failed the last requirement of the mission."

Noelle came closer to him. "Who is the casualty?" she pleaded. "Please tell me."

He blinked his eyes several times, then licked his lips, displaying anxiety. "Barnes, James Buchanan, Sergeant. Birthdate, March 10, 1917. Previous code name, Winter Soldier. Current code name, White Wolf."

Chapter 4>>

Series Masterlist

Please support the author by commenting or reblogging.

[allthecanadianpolitics]

New government regulations can be hard to get excited about — but not if you're a drone pilot like Ian Wills. Transport Canada's updated rules, to be unveiled early this year, will lift restrictions on longer-distance flights for the remotely piloted aircraft (RPA) or drone industry, making it simpler for pilots to take to the skies. "The entire drone space is exploding," said Wills, president of Coastal Drone, a drone pilot training organization in Langley, B.C. "They're evolving and getting more powerful and more capable and empowering people to do things that we can't even imagine yet." Think large-scale drone deliveries, aerial inspections or vast overhead mapping or inspections.

Continue Reading

Tagging: @newsfromstolenland

[lonestarflight]

Launch of STS-7 Challenger

Space Shuttle Challenger lifts off during STS-7 from Launch Complex 39A at 7:33 a.m. EDT.

"The crew consists of astronauts Robert Crippen, commander, the first two-time space shuttle astronaut; Frederick H. Hauck, pilot; and three mission specialists -- Sally K. Ride, John M. Fabian and Norman E. Thagard. During the mission the crew will deploy the Indonesian PALAPA-B and the Canadian ANIK-C communications satellites. They will also use the Remote Manipulator System (RMS) arm to deploy and retrieve a platform for space experiments called the Shuttle Pallet Satellite (SPAS), and serve as a spaceborne laboratory for OSTA-2, a scientific payload. Getaway Special canisters and materials processing experiments will fill out the complement of payloads on the mission."

"This high-angle view of the liftoff, a lengthy stretch of Florida Atlantic coastline and a number of large cumulus clouds was photographed with a handheld 70mm camera by astronaut John W. Young. Young usually pilots the Shuttle Training Aircraft (STA) for weather monitoring at launch and landing sites for STS missions."

Date: June 18, 1983

NARA: 6375200

NASA ID: DF-SC-83-09267, KSC-83PC-0419, S83-35702, S83-35620

[gumnut-logic]

It all happened so fast.

But then this was International Rescue and Scott Tracy, everything happened fast.

A plane on an irrecoverable dive towards the ocean. Fifteen passengers needing to be saved. One daredevil brother perched atop the aircraft, lasering a hole into the dying craft’s fuselage so he can yank those fifteen people out of their flying coffin.

Virgil at the helm of Two executing the fine control needed to keep his ‘bird a pace and able to lower the rescue rig to get those people off the plane.

Fast, extremely difficult, and one of International Rescue’s ‘Tuesdays’.

That completely went to all shit just as fast.

Virgil had pulled up all fifteen souls and stashed them safely in the belly of his ‘bird and Scott was the sole person remaining. Virgil saw him stand up and call One with his wrist control.

Just as the dying plane shook, causing Scott to stumble. Something flew off the front of the craft and hit Virgil’s brother from behind.

“Scott?!”

The pilot fell face first and onto the back of the plane, obviously not entirely unconscious, but the lack of response from comms as both Virgil and John called their brother’s name again clearly indicated that something was not right.

“I’m getting erratic vitals, Virgil, and he is not responding. Sixty seconds and that plane is in the water.

Virgil was already moving. “You have Two. Allow for my remote adjustments.”

“FAB, Thunderbird Two.”

Fast and ever so professional.

Two was flying parallel to the ailing plane, directly above, but simply lowering himself wouldn’t be enough to reach his brother. Calculations bounced around his brain as Virgil attached his grapple line and activated the hatch.

Wind tore at his helmet.

Scott was still prone on the back of the aircraft. It was a miracle he hadn’t been thrown off.

The ocean loomed far too close below.

Calculations made, Virgil jumped.

It was a wild ride, something his older brother would have revelled in. For a moment, Virgil was virtually weightless until his boots hit metal.

Then he was fighting the wind and running the length of a falling plane.

He didn’t have time to scan his brother, the ocean was far too close. So, it was with a prayer to the universe itself that he grabbed Scott, holding him close, and leapt off the plane. It collided with the water in a violent spray and died an all-consuming death.

Virgil grit his teeth as Two caught their line and coasted them just above the waves until John could push the Thunderbird into an gentle climb.

Scott’s head lolled against Virgil’s shoulder, limp.

He clung to his big brother.

God.

Virgil hooked Scott’s harness to his own and set the grapple line to retrieve. They were safe.

He held Scott ever so tight all the way up, regardless.

Surfacing inside Two’s cockpit was a relief battered only by Scott’s unknown condition. Unclipping Scott’s harness, Virgil lifted his legs properly into his arms and carried him over to one of the pull-down stretchers. Virgil nudged it with a foot and it unfolded, letting him place his brother down gently on the soft surface.

A flicker of yellow light and the mediscanner declared that while Scott had a pile of new bruises across his back, his only major complaint was a concussion.

As if the diagnosis was a trigger, Scott groaned and attempted to curl up.

“Hey, relax. You’re okay.” Virgil reached over and unclipped his brother’s helmet, sliding it off carefully and lowering his head to the pillow.

“Virgil?” Scott screwed up his face and raised a hand to his head. “Ow.”

“You’re okay. Just a little encounter with some random fuselage.” He gently pulled Scott’s hands away from his face. “Let me see those baby blues.”

“Not babies.”

Virgil arched an eyebrow as Scott opened his eyes and squinted.

“Urgh.”

The baby blues disappeared quickly into a grimace.

“Nausea?”

His grunt was affirmative.

“Hang in there. I’ll get you something and then we’ll get you home.”

“One?” It was a single syllable, but it meant everything.

“John has her. Don’t worry.”

Another grunt. Scott’s face was still scrunched up and Virgil grabbed a kit, hunting for the anti-nausea meds.

“Virgil?”

“Yeah?” He was going to have a word with Gordon. Why was this pack out of order?

“Thanks.”

Virgil turned to his prone brother and found those blue eyes struggling to stay steady enough to convey exactly what he felt.

Virgil reached out and placed a hand on his brother’s arm. “Hey, anytime. You know that.”

His brother groaned again, and Virgil went back to locating medication before he had to clean up a mess.

Fortunately, he found it and, moments later, both brothers breathed a sigh of relief. Scott melted into the mattress, knotted muscles unwinding and Virgil leant against the side and took a moment.

He would have to pick up control of Two shortly, deliver the fifteen passengers to the nearest GDF base, and then fly home.

But right now? He reached over and brushed a stray hair off Scott’s forehead. His brother wrinkled his brow in response, eyes still closed, and Virgil couldn’t help but smile just a little.

Injured, but safe.

Thank god.

-o-o-o-

[123countwithme]

Break Buddy - Father Figure Movers & Reader

Summary: You take a much needed break with your dads to do something fun together.

Note: Several mini stories of each dad because struggles.

...

DAVE:

Your Dad had made a new invention and you were helping him test it out. He called it the "Double Loop De Loop Looper Flyer Hoverwing." Basically, it was a stunt-type remote control plane. You two were testing it out in the aircraft room. A room with a runway, control tower, and wonderful blue sky up above.

"And this comes up like that and there! it's ready for its first test flight" He tada's it stepping back so you can see it.

"Wow!" You look at the remote control plane toy with a smile.

"Now are you ready to go to the control tower?" He asks. You nod happily waving a little bye to the toy plane as you walk over and up the stairs of the control tower with Dad holding his hand.

He picks up a headset sitting on the bench and hands the other one to you. "Testing testing 123 can you hear me co-pilot y/n?"

"Loud and clear pilot Dad sir!" You respond saluting him causing him to chuckle at the action.

"It looks like a splendiferous day for a test flight wouldn't you say so co-pilot kiddo?"

"For sure! The sunny skies and the lack of wind are perfect conditions for this little plane."

"Turning the controller on can I get a countdown?"

You start counting down he joins in with you and soon enough the little toy plane is off the ground and in the air.

"Up up and away!" He steers the little plane higher and higher.

You watch it zip to and fro without a care. You then gasp as the little plane does a loop-de-loop.

"We're just getting started" The little plane performs heaps of tricks including barrel rolls, twirls, and loads more loop-de-loops.

"Cool," You said in awe.

The little plane started going out of control. "Uh-oh," He spoke quietly while his fingers were frantically trying to keep it under control.

"Not working?" as you questioned the remote controller broke with buttons springing up and falling to the floor.

You took your Dad's hat off of his head as he focused on fixing the controller. You placed the cap on your head letting it connect thinking of what you needed. Then you took it off of your head and reached in pulling out two butterfly-catching nets. Placing the cap back onto your Dad's head causing him to look up at you from where he was kneeling on the floor.

"Butterfly catching nets?" He questioned.

"Better yet extendable butterfly nets so we can catch the little plane." You nodded handing one to him.

"Clever."

"Learned from the best" You let go of the other net once he took hold of it and started going down the control tower stairs. He smiled following close behind.

Once out on the runway you both quickly spotted the little plane. He extended the net and just missed it sending it off further up the runway. The two of you chased the little plane around for a good while before stopping to catch your breaths.

"We're so close" You shake your head.

"If only we could get a little higher to catch it." He scratched his head.

After brainstorming for a moment your eyes lit up. "I've got it! Can I have your net please and a screwdriver?"

"Certainly since you asked so nicely." He searched inside his hat pulling out a screwdriver and handing it over to you.

"Thanks!"

"You're welcome!"

You used the screwdriver to get the net off of the extendable pole then laid it down and put your net above so it was all in one line.

He got a drill out to drill in the screws to piece it all together. He tried high-fiving you but missed causing you to chuckle.

"Now what's next?" He asked gently smiling as if he didn't already know what came next. (he did).

"Can I get on your shoulders?"

"Sure thing kiddo hop up"

While on top of his shoulders, the little plane came flying above in your direction. You lifted the net up and extended the pole which extended greater than before and the little plane flew right into the net the propeller at the front getting stuck in the net causing it to stop and go quiet.

"Got it!" You joyfully celebrated.

"Way to go you!" He cheered as you got down from his shoulders.

You retracted the net pole and he turned the plane off so it didn't fly off again. A butterfly flew past catching your attention.

"Ooh butterfly" You proceeded to chase it with your butterfly net.

Your Dad chuckled watching you chase the butterfly. "Definitely my kiddo." He then gets another net from his hat. "Wait for me!" he then joins in the chase. The two of you goofy ran all over the place following the butterfly.

...

SCOTT:

It was an arts and crafts kind of day today you and Dad were making sock puppets using anything you could find in the craft cart.

"Check out this rainbow sock!" He showed you.

"I like all the swirls!" You traced it lightly.

"I know right!" He beamed causing you to smile brightly back.

"I think I'm going to go with this sock." You showed him a soft light green sock with a variety of sizes of darker green spots.

"Groovy"

You both then get right onto it rummaging and creating your characters. Sequences, beads, googly eyes, and glitter ended up scattered all around the cart on the floor trailing to the bench where you two currently worked.

"Be careful the hot glue gun is hot" Scott reminded you as you picked it up to use it.

"Yep," You said focused.

He took his eyes off of you and focused back on his own sock puppet but not even two moments later movement caught his attention looking up he saw you shaking your hand.

"You okay?" He asked.

"Mhm."

"Did it get you?"

"Yeah," you said quietly.

He walked around to you, took your other hand and led you to the kitchen sink tap, and ran the cold water. "Put your hand under it'll help." The sting came first, then the cooling sensation straight after calming you down, letting you breathe.

"Is it working?" Scott rubbed your back soothingly.

"It really is" You regained your smile to which Scott's face relaxed and smiled back.

When you didn't need to put your finger in water anymore you still didn't feel 100% like yourself. Scott sensed this tension and did what he did best. He put on a puppet show for you to make you feel better. Of course, it worked. It worked like magic. The movers called it "Scott magic" No one knows how he does it or what his secret is but boy does it make anyone feel better. It was a gift you'd hope to learn from him someday.

"Hey, Mr Flip Flop why don't you come and join!" One of Scott's puppets spoke. You picked up one of the puppets you made and joined him.

While you two were being silly together it was never spoken but you could feel it. You could feel the conversation between the two of you. The silent conversation playing out like 'You always know how to make me feel better thanks Dad' and the response 'I'm glad you're okay. I love you. Always.'

...

RICH:

"Alright, go ahead and start guessing," He says, drawing in the air with a scribble stick. You two were playing Pictionary, a fun game in which one person draws and the other guesses as the drawer draws.

You thought hard as you watched him draw in the air carefully watching each stroke with curiosity and determination.

It clicked. "A sleeping bag!" You point at the half-made drawing in the air.

"Correct!" He points his scribble stick in your direction. "Well done!" He proudly smiled. He then walked over to you and held out the scribble stick in front of you. He had never let you use his scribble sticks before.

"Are you sure?" You look at your Dad unsure if he's serious.

"Very sure. I trust you. Plus how will we keep playing this game if you don't have anything to draw with." He puts a softly firm tone like he's quite sure about his decision.

You smile brightly as you hug him with gratitude. "Thanks, Dad" he hugs back wrapping his arms in a secure embrace.

"Anytime, darling," he gently rubs your head with such love. "Do you know what you're going to draw?" he asks you as you finish the hug.

"I sure do!" You step back 4 steps and then turn around bringing the scribble stick up and clicking it on making it glow blue. You began to draw.

"An elephant?"

"No"

"A tiger?"

"Nope"

"Ah, I know a sailboat!"

"Not even close." You chuckle.

He raised an eyebrow confused as anything squinting his eyes with such focus.

After a while of guessing, "I give up. What are you drawing?" He smiles shaking his head in utter failure.

"You."

"Me?" He was surprised to hear that to say the least.

"Yep." You smile at him fiddling with the scribble stick in hand.

"Aww, you come here." He walks over to you in pure adoration and pride. This time, he cuddles you longer and a little tighter, too. He loves you more than you'll ever know.

...

SMITTY:

"I've got an idea. Come with me." He holds out a hand, and you take it.

He leads you to a door in the warehouse. You look at the door then at him a bit confused.

"I reckon you'll like this but you'll have to close your eyes first." He softly says. You do as he says and you shut your eyes tight as you were led into the room. Smitty closed the door behind you and his footsteps were heard walking around the room.

The footsteps then fell silent. You started to worry a little.

"I'm still here do not worry. Only a few more seconds and there. Okay, you can open your eyes now." He warmly speaks.

You open your eyes slowly, then widen with awe as you take in the scenery that goes on and on and on forever. It was a meadow with lush, long green grass, wildflowers growing throughout the meadow, and a gentle breeze that swept through the field. You take a deep breath in and out, filling your lungs with the freshness of it all.

"You ready?" Smitty asks coming to a standstill beside you holding a picnic basket with a blanket attached holding a hand out towards you.

You nodded happily and went to take his hand but he booped your nose and proceeded to shoot off running through the grassy meadow.

"Tag you're it pumpkin!" Your Dad shouts as he runs.

You giggled and chased after him, trying so desperately to tag him. He eventually stopped and set the picnic things down, to which you tagged his back.

"Oh, I'm gonna get ya!" You ran off with Dad not too far behind.

Eventually, you both ran out of energy and Dad set the picnic blanket up and called you over. You lept up from where you were lying down in the grass and bounded over to him

The meadow was filled with laughter that afternoon.

"I love you, Dad."

"I love you too, bear." He puts an arm around you and gives you a side hug, holding you close as you both enjoy sitting on the picnic rug, the scenery, the food, and each other's company.

[nuxthefirst]

Derad Network: The Crypto Project That's Taking Aviation to New Heights https://www.derad.net/

Hey Tumblr fam, let's talk about something wild: a blockchain project that's not just about making money, but about making the skies safer. Meet Derad Network, a Decentralized Physical Infrastructure Network (DePIN) that's using crypto magic to revolutionize how we track planes. If you're into tech, aviation, or just love seeing Web3 do cool stuff in the real world, this one's for you. Buckle up-here's the scoop.

What's Derad Network?

Picture this: every plane in the sky is constantly beaming out its location, speed, and altitude via something called ADS-B (Automatic Dependent Surveillance-Broadcast). It's like GPS for aircraft, way sharper than old-school radar. But here's the catch-those signals need ground stations to catch them, and there aren't enough out there, especially in remote spots like mountains or over the ocean. That's where Derad Network swoops in.

Instead of waiting for some big corporation or government to build more stations, Derad says,"Why not let anyone do it?" They've built a decentralized network where regular people-you, me, your neighbor with a Raspberry Pi-can host ADS-B stations or process flight data and get paid in DRD tokens. It's a community-powered vibe that fills the gaps in flight tracking, making flying safer and giving us all a piece of the action. Oh, and it's all locked down with blockchain, so the data's legit and tamper-proof. Cool, right?

How It Actually Works

Derad's setup is super approachable, which is why I'm obsessed. There are two ways to jump in:

Ground Stations: Got a corner of your room and a decent Wi-Fi signal? You can set up an ADS-B ground station with some affordable gear-like a software-defined radio (SDR) antenna and a little computer setup. These stations grab signals from planes flying overhead, collecting stuff like "this Boeing 737 is at 30,000 feet going 500 mph." You send that data to the network and boom, DRD tokens hit your wallet. It's like mining crypto, but instead of solving math puzzles, you're helping pilots stay safe.

Data Nodes: Not into hardware? You can still play. Run a data processing node on your laptop or whatever spare device you've got lying around. These nodes take the raw info from ground stations, clean it up, and make it useful for whoever needs it-like airlines or air traffic nerds. You get DRD for that too. It's a chill way to join without needing to turn your place into a tech lab.

All this data flows into a blockchain (Layer 1, for the tech heads), keeping it secure and transparent. Derad's even eyeing permanent storage with Arweave, so nothing gets lost. Then, companies or regulators can buy that data with DRD through a marketplace. It's a whole ecosystem where we're the backbone, and I'm here for it.

DRD Tokens: Crypto with a Purpose

The DRD token is the star of the show. You earn it by hosting a station or running a node, and businesses use it to grab the flight data they need. It's not just some random coin to trade—it's got real juice because it's tied to a legit use case.The more people join, the more data flows, and the more DRD gets moving. It's crypto with a mission, and that's the kind of energy I vibe with.

Why This Matters (Especially forAviation Geeks)

Okay, let's get real-flying's already pretty safe, but it's not perfect. Radar's great, but it's blind in tons of places, like over the Pacific or in the middle of nowhere. ADS-B fixes that, but only if there are enough stations to catch the signals.Derad's like, "Let's crowdsource this." Here's why it's a game-changer:

Safer Skies: More stations = better tracking. That means fewer chances of planes bumping into each other (yikes) and faster help if something goes wrong.

Cheaper Than Big Tech: Building centralized stations costs a fortune. Derad's DIY approach saves cash and spreads the love to smaller players like regional airlines or even drone companies.

Regulators Love It: Blockchain makes everything transparent. Airspace rules getting broken? It's logged forever, no shady cover-ups.

Regulators Love It: Blockchain makes everything transparent. Airspace rules getting broken? It's logged forever, no shady cover-ups.

Logistics Glow-Up: Airlines can plan better routes, save fuel, and track packages like champs, all thanks to this decentralized data stash.

And get this-they're not stopping at planes.Derad's teasing plans to tackle maritime tracking with AlS (think ships instead of wings). This could be huge.

Where It's Headed

Derad's still in its early ascent, but the flight plan's stacked. They're aiming for 10,000 ground stations worldwide (imagine the coverage!), launching cheap antenna kits to get more people in, and dropping "Ground Station as a Service" (GSS) so even newbies can join. The Mainnet XL launch is coming to crank up the scale, and they're teaming up with SDR makers and Layer 2 blockchains to keep it smooth and speedy.

The wildest part? They want a full-on marketplace for radio signals-not just planes, but all kinds of real-time data. It's ambitious as hell, and I'm rooting for it.

Why Tumblr Should Stan Derad

This isn't just for crypto bros or plane spotters-it's for anyone who loves seeing tech solve real problems. Derad's got that DIY spirit Tumblr thrives on: take something niche (flight data), flip it into a community project, and make it matter.The DRD token's got legs because it's useful, not just a gamble. It's like catching a band before they blow up.

The Rough Patches

No flight's turbulence-free. Aviation's got rules out the wazoo, and regulators might side-eye a decentralized setup. Scaling to thousands of stations needs hardware and hype, which isn't instant. Other DePIN projects or big aviation players could try to muscle in too. But Derad's got a unique angle-community power and a solid mission—so I'm betting it'll hold its own.

Final Boarding Call

Derad Network's the kind of project that gets me hyped. It's crypto with soul, turning us into the heroes who keep planes safe while sticking it to centralized gatekeepers. Whether you're a tech geek, a crypto stan, or just someone who loves a good underdog story, this is worth watching.

Derad's taking off, and I'm strapped in for the ride.What about you?