#Valiant Shield exercise

[ghostwarriorrrr]

🔴E-2C Hawkeye Land On Nimitz-Class Aircraft Carrier

PACIFIC OCEAN (Aug. 7, 2007) - An E-2C Hawkeye, attached to the squot; Golden Hawks squot; of Carrier Airborne Early Warning Squadron (VAW) 112, lands on the flight deck of the Nimitz-class aircraft carrier USS John C. Stennis (CVN 74) after completing a training mission as part of exercise Valiant Shield 2007. The John C. Stennis, Kitty Hawk and Nimitz Carrier Strike Groups are participating in Valiant Shield 2007, the largest joint exercise in recent history. Held in the Guam operating area, the exercise includes 30 ships, more than 280 aircraft and more than 20,000 service members from the Navy, Air Force, Marine Corps, and Coast Guard. U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Jon Hyde

[judgemark45]

PHILIPPINE SEA (June 12, 2022) The U.S. Navy’s only forward-deployed aircraft carrier USS Ronald Reagan (CVN 76), USS Tripoli (LHA 7) and USS Abraham Lincoln (CVN 72), steam in formation during Valiant Shield 2022 (VS22). VS22 is a U.S.-only, biennial field training exercise (FTX) focused on integration of joint training in a multi-domain environment. This training builds real-world proficiency in sustaining joint forces through detecting, locating, tracking, and engaging units at sea, in the air, on land, and in cyberspace in response to a range of mission areas. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 3rd Class Gray Gibson)

[girlactionfigure]

The territory over which Palestinians have full “security” and civilian control once again becomes fertile soil for terror groups such as Hamas and Islamic Jihad who seek nothing less than to destroy Israel.

This has been the case with Gaza ever since @ 2006, and it is again the case with Jenin today.

The primary reasons the West Bank have been comparatively “quiet” in recent years are:  1) the scope of Israel’s operation “Defensive Shield” in 2002, which crushed terror infrastructure, 2) the much-maligned security barrier (the so-called “Apartheid Wall”) separating Palestinian enclaves from Israeli population centers, 3) the tenuous and partial cooperation in keeping quiet provided at times by the Palestinian Authority, who recognize the relative prosperity of the West Bank relative to Gaza, and most of all 4) the valiant and surgical efforts of Israel’s security forces.

Israel’s opponents in the West continually call for Israel to “end occupation” - i.e. to withdraw from more territory and cede it to the Palestinians, for the Palestinians (however bellicose) to have no limits on ingress and egress, and for these territories to be Jew-free (although of course Israel is not expected to be Arab free).

But they fail to reckon with this fact:

Palestinians have full autonomy (both security and civil) over their population centers.  This has been the case since the mid 1990s.  These areas are in no respect “occupied”.  There are external limits on movement for very valid security reasons.  Even then, tens of thousands of Palestinians work in Israel.

Have the Palestinians been responsible stewards of their proto-sovereignty?

No.  Time and again, the land ceded to the Palestinians becomes a launchpad for violent attacks against Israel.  Rockets, tunnels, shootings, stabbings, kidnappings, vehicle ramming. (A similar dynamic prevailed when Israel withdrew from South Lebanon - now Hezbollahland, btw).

And yet, the argument goes, the Palestinians should be given still more land, and Israel should yield even more security control, as a way to tamp down conflict.  

The core issue is this:  

There is no interest in Palestinian responsibilities, only Palestinian rights.

And there is no interest in Israeli rights, only Israeli responsibilities.

Peace requires recognition of the right of the Jewish people to self-determination, and the responsibility of Palestinians to be good neighbors who exercise police power appropriately.  

Until that happens, the status quo will prevail.  More Israeli land concessions would fuel conflict, not squelch it.

Kamel Amin Thaabet

[usafphantom2]

China’s J-20 Isn’t A “Dominating Aircraft,” USAF General Says

Oliver ParkenPUBLISHED Sep 13, 2023 7:00 PM EDT

Chinese J-20 aircraft on the runway

PLAAF

General Kenneth S. Wilsbach, the head of Pacific Air Forces, has offered new comments regarding China’s growing fleet of J-20 stealth fighters. Compared to the capabilities of the U.S., and those of its allies and partners, the general says that the J-20 does not constitute a "dominating aircraft at this point" — a statement which is broadly in line with insights he made on the type last year.

Wilsbach’s remarks were given at the 2023 iteration of the Air & Space Forces Association's annual symposium ongoing just outside of Washington, D.C., which The War Zone is attending. The only operational stealth fighter within the People's Liberation Army (PLA), the J-20 first flew in 2011. Precisely how many of the type have been produced since that time remains unclear, although best available estimates suggest somewhere in the region of 160-200 airframes.

Under Secretary of the Air Force Gina Ortiz Jones and Gen. Ken Wilsbach, Pacific Air Forces commander, participate in a panel called “Preparing for Global Competition” during the 2022 Air and Space Forces Association’s Air, Space and Cyber Conference in National Harbor, Maryland, September 19, 2022. U.S. Air Force photo by Tech. Sgt. Nick Wilson

"I don’t think that it’s a dominating aircraft at this point, compared to what we have [in terms of stealthy F-22 Raptors and F-35 Lightnings]," Wilsbach highlighted. "They’ve done some good copying… pretty much most of the technology from that airplane [the J-20] was stolen from the U.S."

Chinese J-20s on the runway. PLAAF

Wilsbach was unequivocal in his conviction that the capabilities of U.S. aircraft, combined with those of allies and partners, could counter any potential threat from J-20s. This multi-national coalition of partners, which regularly trains with high-threat scenarios in mind, would prove extremely difficult for any Chinese aircraft to counter, according to the general.

"What I will tell you is if you compare just aircraft to aircraft, you take the training that our people [U.S. Air Force] get. Interoperability with [U.S.] allies and partners… the Chinese [are] probably still at a pretty big disadvantage because of the way we train, especially with [our] Korean allies and partners."

"[For the Chinese] a fight that would be China versus us [the U.S.]... that makes their math pretty easy, but if you make it China versus the U.S. plus the other countries… their math gets pretty hard to do… When I think about some of the recent exercises that we've done together with our allies and partners like Talisman Sabre, and Northern Edge, [and] Valiant Shield earlier, you know, there's some extremely high-end exercises that are happening. In the past, when we've done some of those large coalition-type exercises… the level of complexity is reduced, so that everybody can participate. We're not doing that. We're making it a high-end, if you want to play you show up and you execute."

"And so I've used the example of last year, in [exercise] Pitch Black… we had almost 20 nations participating in a night[time], high-end surface-to-air missile take-down … It was super complex, and everybody that was playing, which may surprise some of you some of the nations that were playing in the exercise, but it was really well done and well executed. And we're seeing that exercise after exercise."

Two Chengdu J-20s at Airshow China 2016. Alert5 via Wikimedia Commons, CC-BY-SA-4.0

Wilsbach was also pressed on the potential threat J-20s could pose for Taiwanese forces at the symposium, and how Taiwan would defend itself, if China were to conduct a military intervention across the Taiwan Strait. U.S. military officials have suggested that the PLA may be in a position to successfully execute a cross-strait intervention by 2027, if not sooner. For Wilsbach, the Chinese threat against Taiwan shouldn’t be pigeonholed to the J-20:

"They [Taiwan] have to have systems to be able to [prevent] the J-20… By the way, the J-20 is limited in my view to Taiwan. What is a major threat is the other aircraft that can come in and drop, draw their weapons on Taiwan, you know like their H-6 bombers, and then not to mention all the ballistic missiles and cruise missiles. So, you know, if I was Taiwan, I wouldn't be overly concerned with the J-20 at this point… they need to be concerned about it, but there's a lot of other things that they also need to defend themselves against to be that tough target we spoke about earlier." That is quite the statement as Taiwan’s most advanced fighter is the F-16V, with additional new-build Vipers on the way. Other upgrades are in play for the other fighters in its inventory. The island’s ever-evolving ground and sea-based integrated air defenses are also a factor here.

As Wilsbach himself indicated, his most recent assessment of the J-20 is broadly in line with the comments he made at the 2022 iteration of the Air & Space Forces Association's annual symposium. At that event, the general noted how J-20s "weren’t anything to lose a lot of sleep over," but that, "Certainly, we're watching them [China] closely and seeing how they… operate them." This viewpoint was supported by Air Force Chief of Staff General Charles Q. Brown, who was also speaking at the 2022 symposium: "Well, I'm like General Wilsbach… [The J-20 is] not something to lose a lot of sleep over, but I'm gonna pay attention to it."

Two J-20s break formation, November 2018. emperornie via Wikimedia Commons, CC-BY-SA-2.0

It should also be noted that Wilsbach has cited concerns with other Chinese aircraft in discussions on the J-20 in the past, too, including long-range command and control capabilities such as the KJ-500 airborne early warning and control aircraft. As we’ve noted previously, KJ-500s are regularly used to support combat aircraft flying sorties around Taiwan. In general, China has rapidly expanded its airborne early warning and control aircraft fleet while the U.S. has decreased its own, although the addition of the E-7 is now on the horizon.

If senior U.S. Air Force officials remain only moderately concerned by the rise of China’s J-20s, this likely has much to do with the capabilities that service will leverage in the not-too-distant future. Currently, the Air Force is developing various air combat capabilities under the Next Generation Air Dominance (NGAD) framework. This includes work on a sixth-generation crewed combat aircraft, various tiers of uncrewed platforms, as well as new sensors, weapons, and battle management systems. Lockheed Martin and Boeing are currently competing for the crewed combat aircraft contract, with Northrop Grumman having recently removed itself from the running. The Air Force hopes to pick a winner in 2024. Older 4th generation fighters are being reduced in numbers, but are also receiving critical upgrades and new ones with unique capabilities — the F-15EX — are being added to the fleet, as well. Meanwhile, the F-22 and F-35 fleets are the ‘tip of the spear’ of the USAF’s tactical aviation roster.

Lockheed's crewed component of NGAD. Lockheed Martin

With that said, the recent comments from Wilsbach clearly reinstate confidence that the U.S., alongside its partners and allies, retain the technological advantage over China’s current fighter aircraft designs.

Contact the author: oliver@thewarzone.com

[nocternalrandomness]

An F-15 launches from Andersen AB, Guam in support of exercise Valiant Shield

[agentrouka-blog]

Where did these so called BNF's get the idea that Hound would be sworn shield of Sansa in WF? That he would be true knight by serving he and gonna redeemed by Sansa's soft power. Imagine Sansa's inner thouhts: 'He almost raped me, harassed my sister and Jeyne and brutally killed Mycah. But he is sorry so all this is forgiven. Let me make him my personal bodyguard and I have to forget my trauma given by him. Oh Brienne, you are not my true knight now even though you are better than him."

Sansa has trauma? The Hound needs redemption? Pah. You classist dummy.

If you do a little brain-stretching exercise called "Sansa is always wrong", you will be able to ease into the mindset that makes the ideas you mention in your ask possible.

It doesn't matter what someone else does to Sansa, because she is always wrong, which means they are automatically right. Or at least, it makes her responsible for their actions.

Arya, Ned, Joffrey, Robb, the Hound, Cersei, Tyrion, Littlefinger... It doesn't matter who. They are right. Because Sansa is always wrong. Internalize it.

Sansa rewarding the Hound's valiant attepts to "open her eyes to the reality of the world" by making him her sworn shield (you know, like he was for Joffrey!) is really the least she can do to repay him.

[murasakikagekitsune]

Arthur, your white fragility is showing…

The way England fans reacted to their loss on Sunday was a prime example of white fragility.

White fragility, is, at its heart, most Anglo centric peoples’ way of dealing with a bruised ego. Because England lost to Italy on Sunday, England’s national pride was wounded. England didn’t have the glory of winning the Euros. The glory of winning is a common wartime rhetoric-and we all know that Britain loves things like this. War efforts, like football matches, require a certain degree of patriotism. Being patriotic is often equated with the glory of winning and the glory of war, or glorifying Britain’s achievements in both world wars.

In this case, being the opposite, being opposed to war and imperialism, even if it’s on ethical grounds (i.e. care for other human beings) is seen as being extremely unpatriotic, because war is viewed by many former empires as an opportunity to justify their past actions. This was especially the case in America in the 50s and 60s, where vocal opposition to the Vietnam War was regarded as a direct attack on the White House, and thus reduced the popularity of the civil rights movement.

Losing a war is also an exercise in national shame, as many cases throughout history have shown. Losing a football match can act in a similar fashion. Football fans, who are in many cases the white working class, see losing a football match as an excuse to lash out on those they deem as people who had directly contributed to the loss, much like how the American white people saw opposition to the Vietnam war as an opportunity to attack black people. Essentially, they have temper tantrums, and start pointing the finger at “unpatriotic” people because they are seen as the enemy; people who aren’t jingoistic. This is an important fact to remember when considering Italy was the one England faced, because Italy was formerly part of the Axis Powers in World War II-Italy fans were beaten up on their way out the stadium; England has an overwhelming need to win this football match (this war) because they want to see their former assailant on their knees-they won’t be satisfied with anything else because losing is shameful. (Italy's team even have blue kits-a blatant form of tribute to Mussolini's forces as they were the same colour.)

My family members and I have all agreed that if the losing members were white, then they wouldn’t have had half as much abuse thrown at them on social media. It’s as if they are saying you can’t be truly British if you lose a football match, so we hate you. It is a strikingly similar situation to what Sam Wilson was facing as he decided whether if he should take up the shield. Actually, we only like you if you’re doing something important for our country, not yours, if you’re not doing that, you’re useless to us. This is essentially what is happening; it is the black players who missed the penalties, not the white ones.

We only care about you if you’re winning.

England’s major national sports teams, both the football and the rugby teams, have always been glory chasers. The white players who participated in the match will be praised and hailed as valiant soldiers, while the black players, because they didn’t serve the Crown properly, are thrown aside by normal fans and told to (pardon my use of racist language) go home because they are no longer useful; they are no longer winning.

[city-of-ladies]

Women at war in the Catalan grand Chronicles

“Not all women close to the front lines of battle are of royal blood. Noblewomen, the wives and daughters of knights, are often called to active duty. During the French invasion of 1285, Dona Alicsèn de Montesquiu is credited with saving her town on the plains of Roussillon. She «did not allow the French to enter there but resisted them with much courage». No details are given as to her specific actions in battle, though she is clearly in command; the town is said to «belong» to her. Her military acumen is no doubt sharp as she defends her town from four full French assaults and inflicts heavy casualties.  

The account of Malcalda Scaletta's role in the defense of Messina during the War of the Sicilian Vespers is a little more expansive. The wife of a captain in Peter III's army, Malcalda is described as being: 

 «... of high spirits and strong in courage and body; she was in truth as valiant as any knight and went about daily with thirty armed horsemen and kept guard over the city and stationed her soldiers wherever they were needed to do battle, whether on the walls or in any other place in the city.»  

Malcalda's case is striking for a number of reasons. She takes on an active role  in the absence of a man to defend her, but in the presence and with the apparent approval of her husband. As commander of thirty horsemen she must be well versed in military strategy and the use of arms. Her leadership is not exercised at a distance; rather, she rides with her knigths and seemingly at their side. It is no wonder when Peter III visits Messina that Malcalda participates in every council between king and captain. She is always at the king's side «when he walked forth or rode through the city or was hunting.» That Malcalda has won the respect of her male peers is perhaps best illustrated by the fact that Desclot deems her story worthy of inclusion in his chronicle in the first place. 

While one might assume that Macalda Scaletta donned armor when riding about with her horsemen, it is certain that Mercadera, a woman who kept a shop in Perelada, did precisely this during the French invasion of 1285. With her town besieged by the French army, this woman puts on a man's gown, takes a lance, girds on a sword, carries a shield, and sallies forth to pick cabbages in the hort just outside the city walls. When she comes upon a French knight hopelessly lost in the hort's maze of irrigation ditches, quickly attacks. She wounds the man in the leg with her lance, subdues his horse by a blow to the head with her sword, grabs the reins, and cries, «Knight, you are a dead man if you do not surrender!». Wisely, the Frenchman complies. The woman is rewarded for her valor with the French knight's armor and 200 gold florins in rams on money that he raises. In addition, she is given an audience with the king and is asked to «relate many times how she had captured» the knight.  

The chronicler Muntaner clearly sees this woman's actions as extraordinary, «a marvelous thing». His purpose in including her story is to ridicule the invaders and to show that «the anger of God» was upon the French. Yet this should not discount the story's veracity. Muntaner was a native of Peralada, was present during the French siege, and testifies to knowing the woman personally. Once again a woman is presented who acts independendy, without any intervention from a husband or male relative. She ventures outside the walls alone. She does not flee from but initiates the confrontation with the knight. She alone reaps the benefits ofher actions. While it is clear women did not often singlehandedly capture enemy soldiers, questions remain as to whether all of this woman's actions were so uncommon. How often did women go outside the walls of a besieged city to gather food? Did they do so alone or in groups? Guarded or unguarded? Armed or unarmed? Muntaner's ton suggests that the food-gathering expedition itself was not so odd; he does not comment on the novelty of the other circumstances.  

The bravery of this love woman of Peralada is matched and perhaps exceeded by a whole «army» of women who defend the Catalan camp at Gallipoli. This incident is recorded by Muntaner and is again taken from his personal experience. While the greater portion of the army is away on a raid, Muntaner is left in command of seven knights, 135 footsoldiers, 2000 women, and an unrecorded number of children. In this vunerable state, they are attacked by the Genoese fleet. Because he lacks sufficient numbers to «man» the defense, Muntaner is forced to utilize women. «I made all the women who were there put on armour and ordered them to the walls». These irregular recruits fight well enough to earn a few lines of praise: 

 «The battle was very hard, and our women defended (the walls) with stones and pieces of rock in so masterly a manner it was marvelous; indeed, a woman was found there who had five wounds from flying stones on her face, who still continued the defense as if she was not hurt.»  

(...)

The women in the Catalan Chronicles, however, raise issues that go beyond their individual «desperate times». When called up on, several of these women have skill with arms and knowledge of military strategy. Where was this training acquired and how widespread was it? In a society whose inheritance laws claimed that  armor was passed to male heirs only, how did Mercadera of Peralada have access to sword, lance, and shield? The women at Gallipoli are not camp-following prostitutes; this raises questions about the participation of women in offensive armies.”

McMillin, Linda A. "Women on the Walls: Women and Warfare in the Catalan Grand Chronicles." Catalan Review 3:1 (July, 1989) pp. 123-136.

[judgemark45]

PHILIPPINE SEA (Sept. 13, 2016) The Arleigh Burke-class guided-missile destroyer USS Benfold (DDG 65) conducts a live fire of a harpoon missile, with the Arleigh Burke-class guided-missile destroyer USS John S. McCain (DDG 56), as part of a sink exercise (SINKEX) during Valiant Shield 2016. Valiant Shield is a biennial, U.S. only, field-training exercise with a focus on integration of joint training among U.S. forces. This is the sixth exercise in the Valiant Shield series that began in 2006. Benfold is on patrol with Carrier Strike Group Five in the Philippine Sea supporting security and stability in the Indo-Asia-Pacific region. (U.S. Navy photo by Sonar Technician (Surface) 2nd Class Aaron Lyons/Released)

[shih-coulda-had-it]

Just i m a g i n e ; Nana and Gran Torino know the friends / almost boyfriends of Toshi and Torino was like; "go away of that blond idiot or I'm going to hit them without mercy" while Nana is; "Sora, let them, are childrens. But if they hurt m’lil Toshi, I'll also hit them without mercy :) ". The boys, (Dave, Sir, Tsukauchi and Aizawa), are scared of the threats of Toshi's parents and he does not realize that his parents have threatened his almost boyfriends. I think that would happen 👀.

Oh, I like where your head’s at. This is technically the beginning of either a recurring arc/a long one-shot in the NanaLives!AU that’s been building as tumblr snippets.

*Note: Sorahiko did not join Nana and Toshinori in the States for several months. He was cleaning up their tracks/records. On a last-second impulse, he asks the Commission to retrieve Kotarou. Kotarou’s reunion is a whole drama of its own, but the end-result is that Kotarou (1) gets therapy (2) gets a whole year off school! (3) gets a whole family!!!

//

Neither Nana nor Sorahiko are blindsided by the first boy Toshinori brings home. They’re trying not to invalidate All Might’s work by playing chaperone, but they do pay attention to the news. And the news is captivated by the presence of an exceptionally handsome young foreigner popping up to take care of problems.

Problems like the explosion at the local college laboratory.

“Okaa-san,” says Kotarou, enraptured by disaster, “Toshi-nii’s shirt got burned off.”

“He doesn’t know he’s got a camera trained on him,” observes Nana.

“Figures,” Sorahiko says darkly. He’s sitting at the couch, financial paperwork spread out on the coffee table. Kotarou is cross-legged, ostensibly keeping Sorahiko company and doing his English handwriting exercises. Nana had been busy with laundry, but she poked her head in at the first excited cry. “All this work to stay under the radar, and the brat immediately gets trapped in the spotlight.”

“No one will recognize him.” Goodness knows Nana hadn’t, the first time Toshinori tapped into One for All and puffed up.

“Who’s he talking to?”

“He’s talking to somebody?” Sorahiko’s head snaps up at Kotarou’s innocent inquiry, and Nana doesn’t need to see his face to know that he’s studying the grainy screen, eyes narrowed in calculation.

“He looks nice,” she tries. The two boys on-screen are laughing together, bright-eyed and grinning. Toshinori’s new friend is totally staring at Toshinori’s chest.

“Looks like a sycophant,” he growls.

She rolls her eyes. “Toshinori just saved him from a burning building. Gratitude and admiration, along with some heart-eyes, aren’t out of the norm.”

“Hn.”

“What’s a sycophant,” Kotarou says, twisting around when the camera finally cuts away to a pair of commentators. He peers at Sorahiko’s papers like he can understand not only English, but also Sorahiko’s chicken-scratch handwriting.

Long-sufferingly, Sorahiko answers, “A sycophant is a person who always says yes to another person.”

“Oh.” Kotarou dwells on this. “Like you with okaa-san.”

There’s a beat of silence. The first giggle escapes Nana’s valiant grasp, and then she’s leaning on the wall, overtaken by them. Kotarou looks pleased; Sorahiko starts to sputter and defend himself.

Several hours later, Toshinori’s boisterous voice announces, “I’m home!”

“Welcome back,” Nana calls out from the kitchen. Over the course of a few months, her cooking repertoire has expanded to include boxed yellow curry. It bubbles ominously in the deep pan, set over a low heat. “Watch out in the living room, I think Sorahiko’s still napping with Kotarou.”

“Ah.” Nana hears a murmur. Then the sound of an unfamiliar voice. Involuntarily, she tenses and activates Float, her world narrowing down to the question: who is that. Her hands curl into fists, scarred and white-knuckled. She navigates the hallway to the front door and checks the mirror--oh.

Float deactivates. Nana briskly re-ties her hair, shakes out the adrenaline still thrumming in her hands, and steps out into the open with a smile.

“Who’s this?” she asks pleasantly.

Toshinori hasn’t stopped using One for All, but he’s picked up a white “I <3 LA” shirt. While he can stay puffed up for as long as he wants, there’s an unspoken rule to leave All Might in the streets. Thankfully, Nana thinks, Kotarou understands the secrecy regarding Toshinori’s Quirk.

The reason why Toshinori is still All Might finishes toeing off his sneakers. He’s tall, slender, and perceptibly nervous. When he executes a short bow, his shoulder-length hair moves with him.

“Hello,” Toshinori’s friend (boyfriend? Nana wonders, a little alarmed at the thought, because Toshinori can only have known him for four hours, max, and now Toshinori has brought him here, perhaps to meet the family) says in awkward Japanese. “I am David Shield. It is nice to meet you.”

“I understand English,” she says, not unkindly. “Your accent is very good, though.”

Shield exhales in relief. “I wanted to try,” he says, sheepish. “I’ve taken classes, but it’s just--difficult.”

“You need a willing language partner,” Nana agrees. “Call me Shimura-san, David. Are you here for dinner?”

“If it’s no problem.”

“Oshishou,” says Toshinori happily, “Dave’s offered to build me a sturdier suit! I thought the least we could do is dinner, right?”

Then, Kotarou comes barreling down the hallway, only to come to a reeling halt at the sight of someone new. He ducks back behind Nana’s legs, wary of strangers. She reaches back to ruffle his hair, and notes that David looks similarly taken aback.

Dave, however, is apparently going to tailor a new suit for Toshinori. Nana studies the young man and his fine-boned hands--an engineer? a researcher?--and decides that she needs Sorahiko to take a second look.

“This is Kotarou, my son.” Nana smiles reassuringly. “And of course. A friend of Toshinori’s is always welcome. Take your time, boys. It’s chicken curry tonight.”

She retreats back to the kitchen, Kotarou in tow.

“Are you fixing my cooking?” she gasps, catching Sorahiko in the midst of seasoning the pan’s contents. He doesn’t even flinch, and tosses in another pinch of black pepper.

“Little bland. Overall, tastes like the box promised. Good job on not burning it.”

Nana scowls. “This is because we teased him this afternoon,” she tells Kotarou, and Kotarou finally unclenches his fingers from her sweatpants and laughs. She bops his nose with her finger, and informs Sorahiko, “Remember the boy Toshinori saved? He’s here for dinner, and his name is David Shield.”

“What,” says Sorahiko.

“He’s, hmm, offered to make Toshinori a suit, and Toshinori thought he should pay the favor back with dinner.”

“I don’t understand English yet,” Kotarou complains.

“There’s that too,” she adds, but comforts Kotarou with, “I’m sure he’ll understand Japanese if you speak slowly, Kota.”

Footsteps on the staircase. They’re both heavy-footed, Nana distantly registers, and they’re headed for Toshinori’s bedroom. Which is normal for friends to do. Heck, she and Sorahiko used to have sleepovers together. This is fine.

Toshinori has known Dave for, at most, four hours.

Sorahiko sets the ladle to the side. He appears to be tracking a similar line of thought, because he says, slowly, “You know, when Toshinori came out to us as bisexual last week, I didn’t think…”

“He didn’t have anyone in high school,” Nana points out. “If there’s any place to explore romance without consequence, it’s halfway across the world.” She grimaces. “Also, let’s not jump to conclusions. We shouldn’t assume everyone Toshinori brings home is a potential partner.”

“He doesn’t bring people home,” Sorahiko stresses.

“Before, Toshinori wasn’t able to.”

Kotarou’s eyes flick back and forth between them. Incredulously, he asks, “Toshi-nii has no friends?”

They wince. Toshinori has friends the way someone builds a rolodex; many people extend their friendship, and Toshinori accepts, stores their information (name; Quirk; details about family, likes, dislikes) away in his encyclopedic brain, and never pursues a follow-up. It isn’t something they taught him, but it’s not a habit they’ve tried breaking either.

“He has friends,” says Nana. “So, best behavior, okay?”

Sorahiko grimaces. He bobs his head, but Nana assumes he’ll ask pointed questions during dinner anyway. Depending on how good a mood Toshinori is in, maybe their charge will let the interrogation slide. If not, well, Toshinori knows how grouchy Sorahiko can be.

“Okay,” Kotarou replies, oblivious to the byplay. “When’s dinner?”

“Soon,” Sorahiko promises.

(There is a long stretch of time between David Shield and Sasaki Mirai. In the span of this time, Kotarou has grown up and gotten married and had two children. Nana and Sorahiko have officially tied the knot, and they are in the midst of renovating a small apartment complex in Yamanashi Prefecture. Following Sasaki is Tsukauchi Naomasa. Then Toshinori brings home Aizawa Shouta.

“He’s like you,” Nana mourns to Sorahiko, after cheerfully seeing Aizawa off. Toshinori is walking with him to the train station; it’s fifty-fifty on whether Toshinori will spend the night in his own apartment, or in Aizawa’s bed.

“How’s that,” Sorahiko grunts, locking the front door. They trail their way to bed.

“His kids will be his students.”

He glances at her. “Kotarou wasn’t my student.”

“He learned a lot from you anyway,” Nana promptly responds, and he snorts. She’s undeterred. “Anyway, I can only assume he’ll bond with every class, and act as their collective dad. Tons and tons of encouragement, complete with rigorous physical training.” She sighs as she pushes their bedroom door open. “All those extended grandchildren we may never get to meet…”

“Be glad,” Sorahiko suggests. “I can only imagine Toshinori fathering a child with even crazier dreams, and we’ve finally reached a point in our lives where we don’t have to deal with that shit.”

“You’ve jinxed it.”

“I’ve jinxed nothing.”

Four months later, when they are watching the Sports Festival live on television, staring at a fluffy green-haired boy shout ‘Smash’ battle-cries and perform therapy so bad (so well? The result may have been the goal), he’s knocked clear out of the tournament--

“I jinxed it,” says Sorahiko in disbelief, as Nana cackles and starts texting Toshinori to bring home Midoriya Izuku.)

[usafphantom2]

South Korea close to acquiring 20 more F-35A fighters

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 06/29/2022 - 08:00 AM in Military

The subcommittee of the South Korean Defense Project Promotion Committee endorsed a basic proposal to buy about 20 F-35A Lightning II fighter jets.

The defense purchasing subpanel gave its nod of approval to a 3.9 trillion won project to introduce new F-35A poachers on June 9, Yonhap news agency reported citing authorities.

These aircraft will be manufactured by the American defense company Lockheed Martin from 2023 to the mid-2020s.

The approval came at a time when the conservative government Yoon Suk-yeol is striving to strengthen defense capabilities to combat North Korea's nuclear and missile threats, the report said.

The Southern armed forces completed the deployment of 40 F-35As in January under their first project to acquire fifth-generation warplanes. He plans to add more to the current F-35A fleet under the second planned project.

The proposal will probably be presented at a full session of the committee scheduled for July 13, according to the authorities. If approved, the Administration of the State Defense Acquisition Program (DAPA) plans to conduct a feasibility study and other follow-up procedures.

Tags: Military AviationF-35 Lightning IIROKAF - Republic of Korea Air Force

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Fernando Valduga

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, he has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has works published in a specialized aviation magazine in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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[planesawesome]

PHILIPPINE SEA (Sept. 16, 2020) An F/A-18F Super Hornet, attached to the Diamondbacks of Strike Fighter Squadron (VFA) 102, prepares to land on the flight deck of the Navy’s only forward-deployed aircraft carrier USS Ronald Reagan (CVN 76) in support of Valiant Shield 2020. Valiant Shield is a U.S. only, biennial field training exercise (FTX) with a focus on integration of joint training in a blue-water environment among U.S. forces. This training enables real-world proficiency in sustaining joint forces through detecting, locating, tracking and engaging units at sea, in the air, on land and in cyberspace in response to a range of mission areas. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Erica Bechard)

[crow-crowson]

Canary Glow. ❜

Summary:  Gods are not constant.  Like most, they have a beginning  -  even if not an end.

Chapter: 1.

Chapter trigger warnings:  N/A

Author’s notes:  This is set in a fictional world that I created myself, featuring just a handful of my own cast!  This is just one story I plan to make with these characters, as I figured the best place to start in any narrative is the beginning.  This novel will delve into the creation of Huron as we know it today.

      “What in the blazes is that?!”

    Wide green eyes followed the burning arc in the sky intensely, watching its fluorescent trail shimmer as it rocketed towards the ground;  neon yellow, crackling like electricity, and showing no signs of slowing down.

    The speed of that thing…  it’s incomprehensible!  It looks like it’s going to crash!

    Aldierno watched as his surroundings lit up, a fierce sheen of gold spreading across the treetops as the comet continued to fall.  In a display of primitive fear, the man flung himself onto the ground, arms shielding his head, his face buried into the dirt as he braced for its impact.  It was far too late to run away...  impossible, really, with how close it was.

    The sound of it hitting the ground was unlike anything he’d ever heard--  a crash of thunder so loud that his hands abandoned his head in favour of his ears.  Even then, the noise shook his brain, rattled thoughts around like loose change, and the searing light that followed like a shockwave had his eyes screwing shut, his face pressed tightly into the mud.

    Please, please just let me die quickly.     Whatever this thing is, let it kill me in a single moment.

    Time crawled by like a snail, his body on fire with the knowledge that he would soon be engulfed by pain.

                                                              But it never came.

    After what felt like a lifetime, Aldierno raised his head and squinted.  The woodland was dark once more, an eerie silence smothering him like a quilt.  What just happened?  What did I see? What was that?

    His questions were rewarded with a sudden beam of light shooting high into the sky, breaking the clouds and vanishing into the abyssal black above him.  It was hard to look at, blinding even, but he persisted in trying--  in trying to make sense of anything that he’d witnessed thus far.

    When his world dimmed once more, Aldierno found it in him to stand up.  Aside from mild disorientation and a fiercely fast heartbeat, he had left the situation unscathed.  Knees knocked as he straightened up, heightened senses latching onto anything they could.  The whistling wind;  the breeze weaving through the trees;  the dull scratch of dirt beneath his bare feet.

    He only realised he’d taken a step forward when he found himself closer to the treeline than before.

    What are you doing?  Turn around.  Go back to the house, where it’s safe.

    … but the uncertainty of what had transpired was tantalising.  Perhaps it was the rush of bravado one experienced after surviving something fearsome, or the curiosity that was allegedly responsible for the death of so many cats, but he felt intrigued-- no, compelled--  to press on.

    “To hell with it,”   he muttered through clenched teeth, stalking into the undergrowth before he had the chance to change his mind.  He couldn’t explain it, that cloying need to go forward, but it raged in his head like a war cry.  It saw him filing through the thicket, braving the sharp bite of brambles and the pervasive scratch of nettles without a single complaint.  Even so, the deeper into the dark he went, the more foolish he began to feel.

    And then light.

    Dim, at first.  A pale yellow in the distance, like the very first rays of morn, before it opened up into a pool of liquid sunshine.  As he emerged into a clearing, Aldeirno found his gaze falling to the ground, gaze snagged by an unfamiliar crackle.  It was teeming with some sort of current, grass combed over, frayed ends burnt and fizzling.  Slowly, he inched a toe towards the lip of the undergrowth--  then quickly recoiled when he received a sharp static shock.

    How is that possible?  Grass burns.  I use it in fires all the time.

    A murky shape in the near distance caught his attention.  It looked weathered and strange, composed of old rock and something all too cosmic.  It was simultaneously shimmery and plain, and through a crack did Aldeirno think he saw something molten.  It oozed like lava, its canary glow both beautiful and foreboding.

    Caught between a rock and a hard place, he hovered at the entrance to the clearing for several minutes.  Every so often, he stuck his foot out, then retracted it once more, not keen on the idea of getting shocked again.

    You’re never going to find out what the hell that thing is if you don’t press on.     Maybe I don’t need to know.     Really?

    It should have been no surprise to him that he found himself darting across the clearing without much regard for his sense.  A dozen sharp static shocks wrangled the soles of his feet, his teeth grit as he skidded to a halt in front of the strange stone, surprised by how quickly he’d grown a tolerance to the current.  It was a force of nature, of that he was certain, but it seemed residual at most.  If it wasn’t, I’d absolutely have been fried.  He dropped to his knees, eyes all but bulbous as he raised a trembling hand to touch the foreign mass in front of him.

    It fell apart before he could.

    Like an egg after a bird had emerged from it, its granite walls crumbled to the ground, forming a small pile of rubble beside what could only be described as a ball of light.  Aldierno tilted his head, persistent in trying to grasp exactly what he was seeing.

    There was something dark swimming in the centre of the golden glow;  a nondescript shape that seemed suspended by invisible string.  Slowly, it began to unfurl, and from the light did Aldierno witness a body come into view.  Then arms, then legs, slowly followed by a vague head shape.  The thing was tiny, an inky black blot on a white sheet, and only when two pinprick lights appeared on what he could only assume was its face did the man think to fall back.

    He landed gracelessly on his rear, the corners of his vision swimming.

    “Wh-What are you?!”   he exclaimed, voice wobbling meekly, as if it was going to break at any moment.  He was numb to the current, heart pounding in his chest as he witnessed the shape flicker like static.

    Then, akin to a phoenix, it rose.

    He watched the indiscernible mass float upwards, limbs fanning weightlessly outwards.  It slowly morphed into a more determined shape, its limbs like fine pencil streaks, two tall ears sprouting atop its round head, before it expelled a final pulse of light.  As the energy faded, Aldeirno’s surroundings began to dim once more--  and then the body fell.  The mysterious creature hit the ground with a resounding thup, its still mass resembling a ragdoll that had been hurriedly discarded by a rambunctious child.

    What is this thing…?   Aldierno asked himself as he inched his way closer.  He could taste his pulse, feel it flickering across his tongue like lightning--  and the effect only worsened as he lowered himself to a squat, his tall, lanky frame dwarfing his unknown visitor in moments.  Despite their clear difference in size, the man felt tiny in its presence.  There was something about it that radiated power, power he’d had yet to witness with his own eyes.

    Gingerly, he nudged the body with the very tips of his toes.   “Hello…?”

    But it was no use.  His persistence, though valiant, elicited no response.

     The longer he stared, the deeper the strange thought sank into him.  He felt it first in his mind, then in his soul--  a streak of nonsense so woefully insane that he came to fear it:  I need to take it with me.  He couldn’t describe the desire unfurling in his brain like a bad omen;  the desire to pick the thing up and take it back home, nurse it back to health somehow.  It wasn’t as if he knew much about playing nurse, nor did he feel he was overly altruistic as a person.  Though he would have liked to exercise his good will from time to time, the simple fact was that his land was Godless.  It didn’t pay well to appear weak.

    But this poor thing…  it looks so small, and so defenceless, and it’ll probably get eaten if I leave it alone.

    Your self-preservation is piss-poor.  How have you lasted this long?

    “... damn it,”   he muttered, scooping the creature up and drawing it close to his chest. Though it was unconscious, he felt a strong surge of life spilling from it.  The longer he held it, the deeper the pit of dread in his stomach felt--  as if he’d touched something forbidden, opened his mind to a knowledge that should remain unknown.

    He clung to it regardless.

[thewatermelloncat]

Jinx

Summary: Short fic written from this prompt by Anonymous:

What about the boys living at all getting sick but Allison isn’t around to take care of them so Diego or Vanya (or both!) comes to take care of them and then ends up getting sick from them.

Author’s Note: For the purpose of this story, Diego still lives in the room at the back of the gym.

Warnings: “I mean, is shit even a swear word?”

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

With Vanya and Allison out of the house, Diego had come over for an unofficial boy’s week. Only this wasn’t the typical have a couple of drinks, watch the game, then go outside for a random maybe death-defying adventure kind of boy’s week. Instead, he was stuck inside playing nurse.

Soon after Allison had taken Vanya to meet up with a composer that she had previously worked with, and Vanya had always admired, a particularly bad strain of head cold had swept through the remainder of the academy. No one really knew who got sick first but it was a sure bet that they were both glad to have got out of the house when they did. Though with their absence there was little availability of caretakers with only Grace around.

While their mother is a robot constructed for the sole purpose of caring for the once children, Diego had come back to the academy after a phone call with Allison, them both knowing that their mother couldn’t handle it alone. Although she had protested when he walked through the academy doors, it really wasn’t a problem. The old mansion was better than the cold and dingy room he had at the back of the gym.

Unlike his mother, Diego was faced with the dilemma of contagion. Grace had offered him a shot of something soon after he’d arrived but he’d taken a hard pass on that because: needles. He wasn’t worried about getting sick either, years of a healthy diet and exercise helped him build up a strong immune system.

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

Over the few days he had been there Five had bounced back quickly with the body of a child, only a lingering cough left behind.

Luther kept mostly to himself up in his room, the virus draining most of his energy. His immune system not what it once was after years away on the moon.

While true to his dramatic nature even when healthy, Klaus was a handful which didn’t make caretaking easy. So, Diego mostly focused his time on him, leaving their mother to look after the two easier patients.

Though despite his brothers all feeling like shit, Diego quite enjoys it. Able to spend quality time with his mother one on one. He’d missed her after he’d left the academy and savours the time that they spend cooking together down in the kitchen, even if it’s just making simple things like soup.

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

“Where’s mum?” Five asks stepping into the kitchen.

“Charging, her battery got low” Diego says as he turns around from the stove. “Do you need her?”

“No” Five shakes his head. “Just wondered.”

“How are you feeling?”

“All right, I guess” his voice still sounds a little scratchy but all other things considered Diego believes him.

“That case, do you mind taking lunch up to Luther?” Diego asks, beginning to dish out the soup into different bowls.

“You sure you don’t want me to take Klaus? Give you a break from him” Five checks.

“Nah, I got him” Diego affirms as he hands Five one of the bowls and a spoon.

Five takes the bowl from him but maintains eye contact with Diego when he doesn’t look away.

“Afterwards you’re coming straight back down here to eat your own” he instructs him and Five nods once in confirmation before turning the leave. “And no jumping!” he calls after him once he disappears around the doorway.

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

“Jesus Christ! Would it kill you to open a window?” Diego splutters as enters the stuffy confines of Klaus’ room.

“I’m dying, Diego. Cut me some slack” Klaus whines from where he is tangled in his bed sheets.

Diego only rolls his eyes as he moves over to the window before pushing it open, cherishing the cool air he breathes in from the outside.

“Why are you disturbing my descent to death’s door?” Klaus asks.

“Why not ascent?” Diego raises before answering, “I brought you lunch. Sit up.”

Klaus obliges and takes the bowl of soup from Diego. “Really Diego, me going to heaven?” he scoffs before swallowing a spoonful of soup. “I’m going to hell where all the fun people are.”

“Suit yourself” Diego sighs as he sits in a chair which he’d pulled up to the bed. “But you don’t need to worry about that yet. You’ll be fine in a couple of days.”

“Just in time to dote on you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on, Diego. That impenetrable immune system you claim to have doesn’t exist” Klaus says matter-of-factly.

“Haven’t gotten sick yet, have I?”

“Ah, key word is yet” Klaus points the end of the spoon at him.

Diego rolls his eyes. “It won’t happen.”

“Because you’re too stubborn or you’re in denial?”

“You are so lucky I don’t have my knives on me right now” Diego sighs to himself.

“Hey, if you’re going to get violent you can leave me alone with my soup” Klaus objects.

“All right” Diego agrees standing from his chair. “I’ve got to go check in on Five anyway.”

Klaus laughs to himself clearly thinking of something as Diego makes for the door. After almost closing it behind him, Diego hears Klaus’ voice filter through the gap. “You ever heard of jinxes?”

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

Unfortunately, Diego had heard of jinxes. He’d always labelled them down as unlucky coincidences seeing jinxes as a child’s form of superstitious bullshit. But means to say that he was none too pleased to wake up the next morning to find that, as a child would put it, he’d been jinxed.

The pain in his throat that he’d listened to Klaus complain about for days on end isn’t as bad as what was described. More scratchy and dry if anything. That he’d be able to ignore easily.

Though he winces at the stiffness in his neck traveling down through his shoulders as he pushes himself up in bed. That would be harder to push past. He rolls his shoulders a couple of times hoping to ease out the tension, but no luck.

With a deep sigh he pushes himself off his mattress and shuffles over to the bathroom mirror to assess more of the damage.

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

For the couple of minutes that he’d stared at himself in the mirror, he’d thought that maybe he could get away with no one knowing his impenetrable immune system had failed. Though that only lasted until his lungs revolted and he was bent forward to shield coughs into his elbow. The hoarseness and the sudden onset of the onslaught surprised him and he knew from then that would be something he couldn’t get away with hiding.

Though that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

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

For all the valiant effort he was about to make concealing his ailment, nothing could get past mum.

As soon as he walks into the kitchen Grace fixes him with a knowing look. For all her characteristics as a robot, she is particularly good at reading people, and not just in the sense of vital assessments.

Diego opens his mouth to draw in the inhale of a sigh but his breath catches and he covers a couple of coughs behind a fist.

“Oh dear” is all Grace says as she comes over to him. Her voice as sweet and nurturing as always.

When she reaches him, her touch is gentle and Diego lets her lead him to sit down in one of the chairs at the table. There is no point in her carrying out a full medical diagnostic seeing as it’s fairly obvious what he’s caught, but she does reach the back of a hand up to place against his forehead.

“38.3°C” she tells him, moving her hand down the side of his face to cup his jaw. “Not too warm.”

“I’m fine, mum” Diego tries.

“Don’t be silly” Grace laughs lightly before moving away from him back to the bench. “Breakfast will be ready soon.”

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

When the breakfast plate is placed in front of him, he doesn’t ignore the small cup of medicine accompanying it. Reaching forward he downs it like a shot before taking a bite of toast to rid the taste from his mouth.

For all his resistance to admit that he could fall sick, he knows when he’s been beaten. Though the longer he can keep Klaus from knowing the better.