#flotilla 2023

[doks-aux]

Fic: In the Wee Small Hours

Fandom: Our Flag Means Death

Characters: Izzy Hands, Sam Bellamy, original cat character

Relationships: Sam Bellamy/Izzy Hands

Rating: PG-13/Teen

Contents/Warnings: Domestic fluff (with a brief and vague allusion to the Toe Incident)

Summary: Izzy woke up alone.

Notes: Originally intended for No Angst November (prompt: warm drink), this ended up as the January entry for my self-imposed Flotilla Challenge. Set in a post-canon, everyone-went-to-pirate-school-together-style AU; all you really need to know is Sam is Izzy's childhood friend, now-lover and Izzy has a cat.

Word Count: 1210

Read on AO3

Read on Pillowfort

--

Izzy woke up alone.

This wasn’t exactly unusual. He’d slept and woken alone most nights and their subsequent mornings since being appointed Blackbeard’s first mate and gaining the associated perks--namely, his own cabin and a berth he didn’t have to share with two other crewmates at minimum. Even accounting for the night’s when he’d opted for company, squeezing in next to Fang and Ivan belowdecks on the Queen Anne or more recently above deck on the Revenge, and for the bed-hogging mouser that had claimed a portion of his space for herself the past year, that was still the majority of the last decade at least that he’d spent waking alone. So, no, it wasn’t out of the ordinary at all.

It just wasn’t expected. He’d woken the past three mornings to Sam wrapped around him like a boa constrictor and drooling in his hair, and he’d had every presumption of doing so again today and each following day for the foreseeable future. The Revenge was currently sailing with the Whydah Gally en route to another of Edward and Bonnet’s harebrained “adventures,” giving Sam the excuse to hop over to the formers’ ship and stitch himself to Izzy’s side twenty-four hours a day (probably half the reason he’d been so encouraging of this little detour in the first place). It had become routine already: Izzy rising early and sliding himself out from under Sam’s comforting weight, leaving his lover to sleep another hour or so while he began the day, brewing himself coffee in the galley, and then stepping out on deck to relieve the night watch and enjoy the quiet break of dawn with only the cat at his heels for company.

It was downright domestic, and he’d quite gotten to like it. But today he was alone. No Sam at his side, no cat across his ankles, and only the blue-grey twilight outside his tiny window to let him know he hadn’t overslept.

He didn’t have time to be more than curious about it before the door to his cabin creaked open, years of conditioning (and more recent happenings) having him fully alert and clutching the knife under his pillow within the instant. A figure loomed tall in the doorway, staggering to a stop and clutching something close to its chest. It lifted its head to peer at Izzy through a tangle of long, black hair.

“...Sam.” Izzy sagged in relief, relaxing his grip on his knife and dropping his cheek against his pillow. “Fuck are you doing up?”

Sam, swaying listlessly, gave a full-body grunt at being addressed and shuffled stiff-legged into the room, escorted by Izzy’s errant feline. The Bell Witch chirruped merrily as she darted between Sam’s unsteady feet a few times just for the sport of it before leaping onto the bed and bumping her face insistently against Izzy’s.

“Right, alright, you little monster. Good morning.” Gently shoving the cat back, Izzy squirmed upright, kicking his legs free of the blanket and swinging them to the floor to meet Sam as he reached the bedside. “And you. Did the Witch get you up? Never seen you conscious at this hour.” His gaze fell to the thing Sam held, unable to make it out by the still dim light. “What you got there?”

A softer grunt answered him this time, and Sam pressed forward, passing his prize into Izzy’s hands.

“C’rf’l,” he slurred, patting Izzy’s fingers as he wrapped them around the tin cup. “S’hot.”

The smell of fresh, strong coffee wafted up from their hands, and Izzy’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. Getting a better look at Sam’s face, it seemed “conscious” had been a generous assumption. His lover’s eyes were bleary and barely open, and he still wavered dangerously on his feet, half-awake at best. How he’d managed to make his way to the galley and back in this state, much less successfully make coffee, Izzy hadn’t the foggiest. Sam had never been an early bird. He’d acclimated to a sailor’s schedule by necessity and with no shortage of mulishness. Izzy recalled at least three separate mornings in their shared youth when the bosun had stormed in to personally flip Sam out of his hammock. Briefly reprieved of captainly duties while aboard the Revenge, he’d been reveling in sleeping in just that little bit more than he’d been able to in years.

But not today. Today he had woken up before even Izzy and dragged himself barely coherent down to the galley to make coffee. For Izzy. So that he wouldn’t have to.

Izzy looked down at the cup wrapped in his hands, at Sam’s hands wrapped around those, and swallowed against the sudden tightness of his throat.

“...Thanks.”

It was all he could think to say in the moment, but it seemed enough for Sam.

“Mmm...” He bumped his face against Izzy’s much like the cat had and gave him a pleased smile. “...G’night.”

And then he turned and collapsed face-first into bed, asleep before he hit the pillow. The Bell Witch leapt out of the way with a yowl, turning in an indignant circle before hopping onto his bare back to begin pointedly kneading.

Izzy remained sitting at the edge of the bed, the heat from the coffee seeping steadily into his hands and up his arms, warming him to his chest. Or maybe it was staring at Sam that was doing it: dead to the world, hair caught in his half-open mouth, and the most beautiful man Izzy had ever seen.

The Izzy of a year ago would have been embarrassed (and the Izzy of later today might be as well) by how badly he was tempted to crawl back into bed with Sam, to tuck himself securely into the cradle of his body and sleep just a little more, indulge in his presence as long as he could. There was only so often they could be together, only so many excuses they could reasonably find for their ships to meet, so many detours they could make. And Izzy would need every moment he could steal with Sam to tide him over until the next one.

But work was work, and Buttons was expecting to be relieved. He’d be needing some sleep himself after a full night of whatever the fuck it was he and the moon got up to. Izzy was needed.

Maybe next time.

Taking a gulp of the still quite hot coffee, Izzy let it scald his mouth just enough to rouse him from his woolgathering and to his feet. He dressed in the dark so as not to disturb Sam and lingered once more by the bed before leaving. The cat had made herself comfortable on Sam’s back, curled up and purring loudly as she blinked her one green eye at Izzy.

“Keep him warm for me, Bell,” Izzy said, smiling as she stretched up to meet the knuckles he gently ground against her scalp. He used the same hand to tug the hair from Sam’s mouth and bent to brush a kiss to his temple.

“See you after sunrise, Sammy.”

Closing the cabin door quietly behind him, Izzy took a slow, savoring drink of his coffee and headed above deck to watch the morning come in.

[envisitadecortesia]

Un salto cualitativo

El día 10 de noviembre de 2023 hacía su entrada al puerto de Barcelona el buque de asalto anfibio Castilla (L-52) de la Armada española. Cruzó la bocana norte del puerto escoltado por los remolcadores Azabra que se situó en proa y Cala Sequer a popa. Quedó atracado en el Muelle de Barcelona paramento este, y allí permaneció hasta el día 12 quedando abierto al público. El Castilla tras cruzar la…

[gothhabiba]

[November 10, 2023. An exerpt:]

Gathering at the Port

The Port of Tacoma and the nearby ICE detention center are located in an industrial area that also houses a police academy. They are only accessible through narrow choke points; in the past, police have taken advantage of these to target and harass protesters. The preceding action at the Port of Oakland took place in a more urban terrain; as protesters prepared for the ship to dock in Tacoma, concerns grew about the various possibilities for repression. Veterans of the Port Militarization Resistance and other logistically-minded individuals compiled lists of considerations to take into account when carrying out an action at this particular port.

Other anarchists remained at a distance, standing by to do jail support and advising the participants on security precautions. Others set up at the nearby casino, investigating and squashing rumors in the growing signal groups and helping to link people to the information or communication loops they needed. Whether autonomously or in conversation with the organizers, all of them did their best to contribute to the unfolding action.

The demonstration successfully accomplished what some had thought might be impossible, preventing the ILWU workers from loading the military shipment. Unexpectedly, this was not enough. Even seasoned longshoremen were surprised that the military could be brought in to act as scabs by loading the ship.

Could we have focused instead on blocking the equipment from reaching the port in the first place? According to publicly available shift screens, the cargo that was eventually loaded onto the ship had already arrived at the port before the action’s originally planned 2:30 pm start time on November 5. Considering that Sunday afternoon was arguably the earliest that anyone could mobilize a mass action on such short notice, it is not surprising that the idea of blocking the cargo was abandoned in favor of blocking the ILWU workers. Of course, if the information that military supplies were entering the port had circulated earlier, something else might have been possible.

The organizers chose the approach of blocking the workers in spite of the tension it was bound to cause with the ILWU Local 23. Our contacts in the ILWU describe the Local 23 president as a Zionist; most workers in Local 23 were supposedly against the action, despite respecting the picket. The president allegedly went so far as to suggest bringing in ILWU workers on boats, a plan that the military apparently rejected.

There were rumors that a flotilla of kayaks was organizing to impede the Orlando’s departure the following morning. In the end, a canoe piloted by members of the Puyallup, Nisqually, and other Coast Salish peoples and accompanied by a few kayakers blocked the ship’s path for a short time on November 6, but nothing materialized for November 7.

This intervention is an important reminder of the ethical and strategic necessity of working with Indigenous groups who know the land and water and preserve a living memory of struggle against colonial violence that includes repeatedly outmaneuvering the United States military.

The ship departed, but one Stryker Armored Personnel Carrier that was scheduled for work according the ILWU shift screens was not loaded, presumably due to the picket. Given the military work-crew’s inexperience in loading shipping containers, it’s unclear how much of the shipment was completely loaded in the time allotted for the ship, as ports hold to a strict schedule in order not to disrupt capital’s global supply chains.

Evaluation

The main organizers received feedback in the course of the protest and adapted their strategy as the situation changed, shifting their communication to articulate what they were trying to do and explaining their choices rather than simply appealing to their authority as an organization or as Palestinians. Nonetheless, some participants have expressed displeasure about how things unfolded. It was difficult to get comprehensive information about what was going on, and this hindered people from making their own decisions and acting autonomously. Some anarchists who were on the ground report that the vessel was still being loaded when the organizers called off the event; others question the choice not to reveal the fact that the military was loading the equipment while the demonstration still had numbers and momentum.

It is hard to determine to what extent organizers intentionally withheld information. We believe that it is important to offer constructive feedback and principled criticism while resisting the temptation to make assumptions about others’ intentions (or, at worst, to engage in snitch-jacketing, which can undermine efforts to respond to actual infiltration and security breaches in the movement and often contributes to misdiagnosing the problems in play).

Cooperating with the authorities—especially at the expense of other radicals—is always unacceptable. This is a staple of events dominated by authoritarian organizations. Fortunately, nothing of this kind appears to have occurred during the blockade on November 6. Those on either side of this debate should be careful to resist knee-jerk reactions and to avoid projecting bad intentions onto imagined all-white “adventurists” or repressive “peace police.”

In that spirit, we will spell out our concern. The organizers simultaneously announced that the weapons had been loaded onto the ship, and at the same time, declared victory. This fosters room for suspicion that the original intention had been to “block the boat” symbolically without actually hampering the weapons shipment, in order to create the impression of achieving a “movement win” without any substantive impact. Such empty victories can deflate movements and momentum, sowing distrust in the hundreds of people who showed up on short notice with the intention of stopping weapons from reaching Israel. It might be better to acknowledge failure, admitting that despite our best efforts, the authorities succeeded in their goal, and affirming that we have to step up our efforts if we want to save lives in Gaza. We need organizers to be honest with us so we know what we are up against.

It’s important to highlight that ultimately it was the military that loaded the ship, not the ILWU. This move was unprecedented, just like the military spying on demonstrators during the Port Militarization Resistance. But it should not have been unexpected. From now on, we should bear in mind that the military is prepared to intervene directly in the logistics of capitalism.

This also highlights a weakness in the strategy of blocking a ship by means of a picket line and blockading the streets around the terminal. To have actually stopped the ship, a much more disruptive action would have been called for, potentially including storming the terminal itself and risking police violence and arrests. This isn’t to say that storming the port would have been practical, nor to argue that there is never any reason to blockade the terminal in the way that we did. Rather, the point is that the mechanics of war-capitalism are more pervasive and adaptable than the strategies that people employed to block it in Oakland and Tacoma. Any form of escalation will require more militancy and risk tolerance.

At the same time, we should be honest about our capabilities, our limits, and the challenges we face. Although many people were prepared to engage in a picket, storming a secured facility involves different considerations and material preparation, and demands a cool-headed assessment of benefits versus consequences. We should not simply blame the organizers for the fact that it did not happen. A powerful enough movement cannot be held back, not even by its leaders.

Considering that the United States military outmaneuvered the picket strategy—and in view of the grave stakes of what is occurring Palestine—”Why not storm the port?” might be a good starting point for future strategizing. Yet from this point forward, the port is only going to become more and more secure. Another approach would be to pan back from the port, looking for points of intervention outside it. In this regard, the rail blockade in Olympia in 2017 might offer a promising example.

Likewise, while we should explore ways to resolve differences when we have to work together, we can also look for ways to share information and coordinate while organizing autonomously. We might not be able to reach consensus about what strategy to use, but we can explore where we agree and diverge, acquire and circulate intelligence, and try many different strategies at once.

[monstersandmaw]

Male werewolf x female character (Gabe & Odessa) - Chapter Twenty Two (sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

___

Well, folks, we finally did it! This is my longest-running story on here, and it’s finally come to an end. Kind of. This is the end of ‘Season One’ (for want of a better term), and I have a short interlude planned from Gabe’s POV, followed by a ‘Season Two’. I also asked you what other ‘non-humans’ you’d like to see for 2023, so I’m going to be working on some other stories too since my workshop is currently flooded and out of action for the forseeable future. Thanks for your input and ideas with that - I always welcome prompts and ideas, even if I don’t guarantee to write them!

Anyway, enough waffle. Here’s the wrap-up to G&O (if you have any ideas for actual titles for this story, please tell me - I did ask ages ago but my dumb brain cell forgot them!).

Content: After two blissful weeks, Odessa has to say farewell to Gabe and Pinewatch, and return to the city, but once she’s there, things turn out to be not quite so bleak... Wordcount: 4367

Catch up here:

Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw), Part Three (sfw), Part Four (sfw), Part Five (sfw), Part Six (sfw) Part Seven (sfw), Part Eight (sfw), Part Nine (sfw), Part Ten (sfw), Part Eleven (nsfw), Part Twelve (sfw), Part Thirteen (sfw), Part Fourteen (nsfw), Part Fifteen (nsfw), Part Sixteen (nsfw), Part Seventeen (sfw), Part Eighteen (v. light nsfw), Part Nineteen (nsfw), Part Twenty (nsfw), Part Twenty-One (nsfw)

Odessa woke the next morning and for three full minutes, she didn’t think about having to leave.

The moment she did, she began to cry.

Silent tears slid from the corners of her eyes to melt into her hair as she lay on her back and stared at the ceiling while Gabe slept on silently beside her, curled on his side and facing her. His chest rose and fell with the regular, quiet ease of someone deeply and contentedly asleep, and she tried to focus on that instead, letting her mind drift along with each steady inhale and exhale. Memories of her fortnight in the forest scudded across her mind’s eye like little boats in a flotilla of happy snapshots: walks to the lake, shy flirting, drinks at the pub, new friends, discovering fairytale creatures were real, more mind-blowing and affectionate sex than she’d ever had in her life, pancakes, blackberry cupcakes, waterfalls and werebears, adorable wolf-dogs, Gabe’s hazel eyes and dimpled smile…

Somehow, her last day in Pinewatch had dawned, and the idea of leaving all that behind just seemed more painful and unfair than anything she’d ever experienced, even if it wouldn’t be for long. For a long time, she couldn’t move so much as a muscle as the sudden, sharp grief crushed her and buried her beneath its weight.

Beside her, Gabe inhaled deeply through his nose. “Hey,” he mumbled, coming awake sharply and reaching for her with a frown. He blinked back the bleary remnants of sleep from his eyes and brushed the tears from her face with his knuckles. He kissed her temple, shuffling closer to her and tucking the duvet up around her. “Come here.”

With Gabe wrapped around her body from behind, holding her tightly enough that she felt a little more grounded, she began to feel marginally better, and with a deep sigh, she tried to let it all go. “I know it’s only temporary,” she said, kissing his hand before he moved it to continue stroking her hair. It was too wildly curled and tangled for him to comb his fingers through it, but the way his palm skated over the contours of her skull calmed something deep within her.

“Still sucks though,” he said and she hummed. “Could I come and visit you there?” he asked after a pause.

She frowned. She hadn’t even considered that as an option. “In the city? I thought you hated it? And what about your family? And the dogs?”

She felt him smile and he kissed her again. “I hated it there because I thought I had no choice about my future. The dogs will be fine on their own in the enclosure for a few days. I’ll take them for a long run when I get back, and Tala or Carys can feed them for me once a day.”

“And… your family?” she asked when she realised that was the only thing he hadn’t answered.

Gabe gave a big sigh and Odessa rolled onto her back to look up at him properly. He had a pillow crease on his cheek that she wanted to kiss, but she just smiled privately and let him talk. “When a wolf enters the territory of another pack, unless they’re literally just passing through that day, it’s custom for them to announce themselves to the pack leader and state their intentions. If I’m staying longer than a few hours, I’ll need to go to them for permission to stay.”

Her heart rate picked up and she bit her lip. “Is that something you’d be… comfortable doing? You said your mother literally exiled you… They won’t… I don’t know, turn on you?”

He shook his head. “It’ll be… strained, for sure. I can write to my brother about it. We’re still vaguely in touch at Christmas and sometimes in between. He knows where I live and what I do for work and stuff. I could ask him if I could come and present myself to the pack in order to visit my — to visit you,” he said, his gaze drifting towards the ceiling.  

“Would he advocate for you then?”

Gabe nodded. “Yeah, probably. I think he’d stand up for me. We used to be very close.”

Something sad stabbed just below her ribs at the way he said it. “Do you miss him?” she asked in a tentative whisper.

“Yeah,” he rasped, eyes closing for a second. “He’s two years younger than me, but we were inseparable from the moment he was born. Until… til I left…” He paused and let his thumb play distractedly over her shoulder joint. “He has cerebral palsy but it’s never really hindered him doing whatever he wanted to. We did everything together: went climbing at the sports centre, running in the park, kayaking and camping in the school holidays… he played soccer after school and I’d go to watch…”

The image of him as ‘devoted older brother’ only made it more painful that they were now so distant, and she didn’t miss the way his breath caught and his throat tightened as he listed everything they’d once shared. The loss of contact with Raph — the gulf which Gabe’s actions had opened up between them — was clearly as raw to him then as on the day he’d caught that bus out of the city.

Instead of offering him some empty platitude about how sorry she was that it had turned out that way, she squeezed his middle with all her strength, and he grinned through a wheeze and looked down at her with a grateful flash of his golden eyes. She was learning to speak werewolf pretty well, she thought.

“How did the pack react to him becoming your mother’s Second instead of you?”

He shrugged, jostling her slightly. “From the impression he’s given me from his emails, they just accepted it. Mother’s word is law, after all,” he added dryly. “Raph’s thriving on it, the pack is as strong as it’s ever been, and mother got a willing Second, so it all worked out in the end.”

“So what happens if… if you ask to stay and she says no?”

A beat of silence stretched until he exhaled heavily. “Then I’ll have to leave. By werewolf law, they could kill me if I stay without their permission, but I highly doubt it’ll come to that.”

She gasped, going cold all over. “They’re your family, Gabe!”

Again, he shrugged and reached over to lay his palm on her hip. The action calmed her a little, but her heartbeat still galloped wildly. “Pack law is pack law,” he said. “It’s archaic, and while they’re probably traditional enough to give the English aristocracy a run for its money, I don’t think they’d escalate things that far. Killing a family member as a punishment is a huge taboo; no one’s done it for centuries. They’d probably just run me out of town.”

“Would I have to meet them?” she asked with no small amount of trepidation. Honestly, his mother sounded terrifying, but Raph didn’t seem so bad if he was anything like Gabe.

Gabe’s eyes flashed and a short, instinctive growl escaped his throat. “No. I don’t want any of them anywhere near you,” he finally managed to spit out around the sound that took a while to stop and die away.

She half-suspected that the approaching full moon stoked a little of the protective fury in his tone, though probably not by much.

“You’re human, and I don’t want you mixed up in werewolf politics. It’s a minefield, and they already think the worst of me for turning my back on my own family. Settling down with a human is… well, to them it’d be another insult, put it that way.”

“Oh.”

For a while, she just lay there in his arms until he kissed her. “Hey,” he murmured. “Don’t stress it.”

“I don’t want to put you in danger, or more at odds with your family,” she said. “It’s, what, a five hour drive from there to here on a good day? I can do that to come and see you. You don’t need to risk all of that for me.”

Another growl rumbled in his chest like a fading thunderstorm. “I don’t want it to be all on you,” he said. “Until we figure something out, I want you to know I’m there for you. That I’m… invested in this. In us.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “I know that.” Vague, half-formed plans for the future resurfaced, and she began to mull them over again as they lay there in affectionate silence.

“Hey,” he said, and she twitched back to the present moment. “You want to come over to mine for pancakes before you go?”

She nodded. “Yeah, and say goodbye to the dogs, if that’s ok?”

“Don’t blame me if they corner you and refuse to let you out. They’re very intuitive…”

“I won’t be complaining if they do,” she mumbled and hugged him for a while longer.

Their sombre mood didn’t match the morning’s weather at all. Sunlight finally decided to come pouring in through the curtains following days of grey skies and rain, and after lying there anxiously for another half an hour, Odessa huffed a sigh and got out of bed.

The moment she was upright, she felt every ache and stretch from the night before in every corner of her body, and she smiled. She could still feel the way his knot had filled her utterly too, and the way he had come — eyes rolling back, his body submitting completely with a great, heaving shudder as he gave himself to her — was something that would stay with her forever. She’d have to see if he was willing to have shifted sex with her again in the future too, she mused with a bashful smile, and caught herself blushing in the bathroom mirror.  

In the privacy of the bathroom, she popped a couple of ibuprofen to help her aches subside, and showered briefly. Gabe seemed in no hurry to get up, and he watched her dress from the warmth of the duvet before finally crawling out of bed and heading for the shower himself. He emerged ten minutes or so later to find her making a cup of tea in the kitchen of the cosy little holiday cabin.

“At least you’ll have good weather for driving,” he said as he came up behind her and put his arms around her middle. The gentle pressure eased the soft ache and she hummed in pleasure.

“I think I’ll pack up my stuff here and drive over to yours,” she said, dunking the teabag a few more times to get it to the right colour. “Then I’ll just go home from there.”

He nodded and said, “I’ll let you finish up in peace then. Just come over whenever you’re done.”

Odessa deliberately didn’t watch him walk out the door, and while she did feel the urge to cry when she heard his truck tyres roll out, she pulled herself together long enough to get her belongings in order. Packing up after a holiday was never going to be a long job, and she carelessly stuffed all her clothes into her rucksack and her hold-all, slung her hiking boots into the back of her little VW, and stumped back to the cabin to make a final check.

It still looked like a fairytale.

The newly planted flowers outside had had two weeks to settle in, and they sat in the beds at the base of the log walls waving merrily in the breezes that scudded around the clearing in the wake of the previous day’s rain. Little birds flitted and twittered in the branches around the cabin, and she could hear the stream trickling along the gully behind the house. Her breath billowed in the damp, cold air, and she shivered.

With the cabin left in order, and the bed linen already stripped and stuffed into the dedicated laundry bag in a corner of the bedroom by Gabe, Odessa locked up and drove the short journey up the road to Gabe’s house.

She found him sitting outside on the back step with Axel’s head in his lap. Mia yowled at her the moment she shut the car door and walked towards the gate in the enclosure fence, and Gabe looked up and smiled without disturbing Axel.

Thunder paced slowly towards her as she slid the latch back on the gate. “Alright to come in?” she asked and Gabe nodded.

She closed it behind her and turned to find Thunder standing immediately behind her. He looked like an emperor awaiting an audience, and she held her hand out shyly to him. He sniffed her knuckles and then licked her skin gently, exhaling with an audible rumble. “I’m gonna miss you too,” she said and glanced self-consciously over at Gabe.

He smiled and said, “He can smell that we’re both kind of stressed,” he said. “He doesn’t like it. Neither does Ax,” he added, stroking the white fluff between Axel’s tense ears.

“I’m sorry buddy,” she said, gently chucking Thunder under the chin while Mia finally gave in and harrumphed over to her. She jabbed Odessa in the thigh with her pointy husky nose, and yowled like a broken car alarm. “I’ll be back to steal all of Gabe’s attention before you know it,” she laughed. “I promise you’ll barely have time to relax before I’m back and you have to chase me off him again.”

Mia growled but it was all play, and Odessa sighed as she crossed to sit with Gabe and Axel for a minute or two before her butt got too cold on the damp step and she stood up again.

Gabe dusted her backside off affectionately and she chuckled. Then he stood up too with a little grunt and said, “Come on. Let’s make some pancakes. Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee, please.”

Having forced herself to be at peace with the knowledge she was leaving, she leaned her hips against the kitchen counter while Gabe cooked, and they ate together at the dining table with their feet intertwined underneath.

“What are your plans for Christmas?” Odessa asked apropos nothing.

Gabe gently speared a strawberry with his fork and pushed it through a small tidal wave of maple syrup. “Nothing adventurous. I usually spend Christmas Day on duty at the centre, just in case,” he said. “A few people like to go camping or hiking in the snow, and sometimes they get into trouble. If I’m not working, Carys has been known to ask me over to her place,” he added with a smile. “In that case, I’ll give the dogs a frozen hunk of venison to keep them busy and I’ll have lunch with her.”

“Is she with anyone?”

He shook his head. “No. Sometimes we go for a hike if the weather is nice, but mostly we just share a meal and swap a few presents. It’s all very low-key. What about you?” he asked. “What were you planning to do this year?”

She shrugged. “Hadn’t got that far ahead, to be perfectly honest. In the past Jake and I each went back to our parents’, but if you’re around, maybe I could come up here and spend it with you and the dogs instead?”

“Your family won’t mind not seeing you?”

“No, I don’t think so. We’re fairly close, but not so close that they’ll kick up a fuss if I don’t go this year.”

He tilted his head. “Would you rather go and see them though?”

After giving it a second’s thought, she shook her head. “No. I want to spend it with just you, if that’s ok?”

Gabe’s smile lit her up inside. “Alright. We’ll do something here. But can I still come and see you before then?” he asked, hope ringing quietly in his voice.

She nodded. “Yeah. I don’t think I can get through the whole of November and December without seeing you at all…”

With that decided, they moved on to other things, but after a while it became obvious that they were just prolonging the inevitable. She ducked outside to say goodbye to the dogs, and discovered Axel standing with his front paws already up on the back step and his big, blue eyes round with worry.

“Hey, buddy,” she smiled, dropping gently down into a crouch and letting him put his fluffy little face in her hands. “I’ll see you soon.”

He whined and licked her tears and wagged his tail, and after a moment or two she felt a second nose nudge up against her elbow, demanding to be let into the cuddles, and was surprised to find Mia’s icy eyes glaring at her. The half-husky snorted, sat down heavily, then threw back her head and howled like a fire alarm directly in her ear.

Odessa lurched back to spare her left ear drum, Axel complained, and Thunder trotted over to tell everyone off for behaving like hooligans. He snarled at Mia and bowled her over with his massive size, and the two began to play-fight in the dirt while Odessa and Axel just looked at them with a mix of bafflement and amusement.

Gabe’s hands squeezed her shoulders a minute or two later and he leaned down over her. Axel looked at him and gave a soft ‘woo’ as if to say ‘I didn’t start it’, and Gabe snorted, ruffling Axel’s soft fur. “You all set?” he asked Odessa, and her heart skipped a beat.

“Yeah,” she sighed, standing and dusting off her jeans.

After a final bathroom stop, during which she adjusted her hair and wiped beneath her eyes where her eyeliner had smudged a little, she stepped out into his living room and gave a tense exhale.

“I don’t want to go,” she whispered when Gabe joined her from the kitchen.

“I don’t want you to go,” he smiled. “But it’s not for long. I’ll be here.”

“I know. And I’ll come back,” she said, because it suddenly seemed very important to make him that promise.

Gabe inhaled, held the breath, and as he let it go, he stepped in close and hugged her. He held her until she felt the stress melt away a little, and she swallowed and stepped back. “If I don’t go now, I never will.”

“Mmm, don’t tempt me,” he whispered with a smile even as he let go of her and cuffed vaguely at his nose with the back of his wrist. His eyes were glassy and his expression open and vulnerable. “Safe drive.”

“I’ll call you when I get there,” she said.

She didn’t remember much of walking out of Gabe’s house for the last time that holiday, and for the first few miles of driving away from Pinewatch, all she could see was Gabe standing on his wooden veranda, his right arm raised in farewell, his left hand dug deep into his pocket, and the muted sound of howling coming from the wolf-dogs at the back of the house. She felt like her heart made the same desperate sound for miles, and she wondered if they’d kept it up as long as her chest had kept hurting.

The drive back was uneventful, and with a sugary breakfast and too much coffee in her veins, she made it easily without even having to stop to rest.

The volume of traffic slowly built as she hit the suburbs, and as she wove through the mounting afternoon traffic, she felt hemmed in and stressed in a way she never had before. The city had always felt lively to her — buzzing with vibrant activity and people — but now it just felt over-crowded and hectic. She drew up in the street outside her apartment block and as she cut the engine, the dull hum and roar of the city beyond immediately pressed in on her.

With a sigh, she got out, dragged and struggled her bags up the stairs and opened her apartment.

Everything was exactly as she’d left it, but her light, airy flat no longer felt all that comforting. It felt empty. She ached for the barely-there tread of Gabe’s feet as he moved over the hardwood floor in his adorable woolly socks, or the sounds of wolf-dogs scrapping and playing outside; for the hiss of wind through pine needles and the ceaseless trill of birdsong in the trees. All she had now were sirens and car horns and engines.

She texted Emma and Dandy first to let them know she was back, and as she hit ‘send’ on the latter of those, a message from Gabe popped up.

>>Missing you. Hope your drive back was ok. G xxx<<

Swallowing thickly, she smiled and texted back.

A week later, Carys sent her a text asking for her email address, and the next day Odessa opened up her inbox to find a message with the subject ‘—Forwarded message— RE: Legal Policy Officer/Legal Adviser - Part-Time Post @ Three Peaks National Park Service’, and her heart leapt. She had never opened an email quicker in her life, and she hardly took in anything the first time she read it. Forcing herself to calm down, she sank down into her office chair in the bright, sunny morning sunshine and bit her lip.

Dear Odessa,

Hope you’re well and that it’s not too much of a culture shock being away from the woods. This came through to me a few days ago and I thought I would forward it to you. I haven’t mentioned it to Gabe, as I thought you’d want to have a look at it first.

All the best,

Carys

P.S. It’s obvious to all of us just how much Gabe misses you, but he’s putting on a brave show for the rest of us. For what it’s worth, I thought you make a great fit and the two of you are clearly made for each other. I hope you find something that works out for you, even if it’s not this. X

— Forwarded message —

The Three Peaks National Park Service is currently recruiting for a Legal Policy Officer/Legal Adviser to form part of their legal team, focusing on how strategic, legally sound and ecologically significant measures for nature can be delivered. This ambitious and challenging work provides an opportunity to be at the forefront of environmental conservation and recovery. The legal team is part of the… (read more)

Hardly daring to hope, Odessa clicked the job description and read it through three times. The pay was significantly less than she’d been on before, but it being part-time certainly had its appeal, and she had more than enough saved up for the time being anyway. Having no social life to speak of and a high paying job in the city had been good for at least something.

Odessa spent the rest of the day ignoring her mounting pile of household chores, and sent in her application the very next day. She did not tell Gabe, deciding to wait and see if she was asked to interview first. She didn’t want to jinx anything, and she didn’t want to get his hopes up. Or hers.

That afternoon, her phone buzzed with a message from Gabe, and she nearly dropped it with a laugh of surprise when she found a photo attached to the message which read: >>Gabe and the dogs move into the 21st century… (we have wifi and a smartphone now. Expect daily photo updates)<<

Attached was a selfie Gabe had taken crouching outside in the wolf-dog enclosure, with Axel’s muzzle tucked under his raised arm, Mia, clearly mid-lunge into the frame and little more than a blue-eyed blur, and Thunder staring over Gabe’s shoulder with a look of cautious disdain on his noble face.

Odessa cackled another laugh and sent a selfie back of her sitting on her cream coloured sofa, bathed in soft, city winter sunlight, beaming.

>>God, you’re gorgeous<< Gabe messaged back instantly. >>I was not prepared for that<<

<<Just wait til you experience the wonders of the video call, Gabe. It’s like a picture, but it moves and talks…>>

>>ha ha very funny<<

<<You love me>>

>>Yes I do.<<

[Incoming video call: Gabe Kirkbride]

She and Gabe called morning and night for another week after that, but she still didn’t tell him she’d applied for the job with the park service, even after the interview, which had turned out to be the most relaxed and almost enjoyable job interview she’d ever experienced. Her hopes were high, but until she had a confirmation email, she was determined to keep silent about it. She also begged Carys not to say anything, to which the older woman agreed without argument, on the rather preemptive condition that when Odessa surprised Gabe with the news of her inevitable success, Carys could be there to witness it in person.

One Saturday morning in early November, Gabe called her while she was still in bed, and she could tell the moment she answered it that something was different. “What?” she asked blearily, blinking and searching his hazel eyes for any kind of clue, all the while trying not to fumble and drop her phone onto her own face. He looked a little apprehensive and a fair bit excited. “What is it?”

After a tight, shy smile, Gabe said, “I’ve been emailing my brother.”

“Oh?”

He nodded. “Raph said he’ll advocate for me. I’d… I’d like to come and see you… if that’s still alright?”

“Alright?” Her heart leapt wildly and she laughed, scrambling to sit upright and letting the covers fall down a little way. Gabe’s eyes dipped briefly down to take in the sight of her bare collarbones as her pyjama top slipped down and he smiled. “Of course it’s alright! Yes! When? I was going to suggest making a trip to see you soon, but that works too, if you’re sure about it?”

“I’m sure,” he said. “How does next weekend sound?”

___

And there is where we leave Season One! A HUGE thank you to everyone who’s got involved in this, be it with asks and comments or reblogs (special shout out to anyone who screeched and flailed at me in the tags, you know who you are and I see you and I think you’re wonderful!). I know 3rd person werewolf romances aren’t every monster-lover’s cup of tea, but to those of you who’ve fallen in love with these goofballs along the way, thanks for sticking with it to the end!

In the ‘interlude’, we will see Gabe’s visit from his POV, and we are going to meet the pack... Who are you most excited to meet? Oh, and Odessa’s gonna find out exactly what Gabe’s been studiously avoiding saying in exact terms...

As always, take good care of yourselves please, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this. Thank you, and Happy New Year!

Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

[illusivesoul]

N7 Month 2023 ‑ Day 19 Prompt: Volus

.

Pilots of the Volus Bombing Flotilla. Part of the Take Earth Back mod.

[usafphantom2]

Japan starts sea tests of its second modified helipter carrier for F-35B jets

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 12/28/2023 - 22:22 in Military

The Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force (JMSDF) began sea testing for its JS Kaga (DDH 184) helipter carrier after undergoing significant modifications to accommodate F-35B fighters, as announced by JMSDF on December 25.

New images shared on the social media platform X (formerly Twitter), by the service's Escort Flotilla Four depict JS Kaga leaving his pier at the Japan Marine United (JMU) shipyard in the city of Kure, Hiroshima province, to undergo tests at sea.

The Escort Flotilla Four post expressed enthusiasm, stating: "Today's post is about JS Kaga during the sea tests. There is only a little time left until the special modification of JS Kaga is completed! We can't wait!"

The port of origin of JS Kaga is the JMSDF Naval Base of Kure, where the Fleet Four Escort Division is stationed. Although the official date of the sea tests was not disclosed by the JMSDF, an officer confirmed to Naval News that the initial sea tests took place on November 13.

JS Kaga left the JMU shipyard pier in Kure on April 20, marking its first departure in more than a year, after undergoing modifications that transformed its appearance into that of a light aircraft carrier. Notable changes ?? included the modification of the bow section of its cockpit from a trapezoid to a square shape, similar to those of the Wasp class and America-class amphibious assault ships of the U.S. Navy.

JMSDF plans to complete the modification of its two Izumo-class helipter carriers, JS Izumo and JS Kaga, into aircraft carriers capable of supporting the operations of Lockheed Martin F-35B fighters until fiscal year 2027.

For JS Kaga, the renovation work at JMU's Kure shipyard began in March 2022, involving initial modifications, such as cockpit reinforcement, installation of additional guidance lights, marking of yellow lines in the control cabin for F-35B launches and landings, and incorporating heat-resistant systems at points on the deck for vertical landings. Fiscal year 2023 will see the acquisition of Raytheon's Joint Precision Approach and Landing System (JPALS) and additional modifications to the satellite communication system.

Subsequent and final modifications during the next revision of the Kaga, scheduled to begin at the end of fiscal year 2026, will include changes to the ship's interior compartments.

F-35B during testing on JS Izumo.

Meanwhile, Izumo is expected to undergo modifications to the bow section of its cockpit, transforming it from trapezoid to square during the next fiscal year of 2024, starting in April. The JMSDF allocated $287.3 million for the modifications of the bow section of Izumo in fiscal year 2024 and an additional $4.2 million for the installation of a landing navigation system, which is expected to be Raytheon's JPALS. The Izumo class ships, measuring 248 meters in length and moving 26,000 tons at full load, are the largest Japanese military ships built since World War II, with the capacity to carry up to 14 helicopters.

Tags: Military AviationJMSDF - Japan Maritime Self Defence Force/Japan Maritime Self-Defense Force - Japanese Navyaircraft carrier

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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 specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. He uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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[penaltybox14]

Tis the summer season, and that means it's time to fundraise for the annual Provincetown Swim for Life! For 36 years (that's nearly as long as I've been alive guys) the swim has raised money for women's health, people living with HIV/AIDS, community elders, and environmental protection and awareness.

The swim itself is a vibrant, joyful event, supported by the entire Provincetown community. Swimmers of all ages, competitive levels, genders, and backgrounds get together with one common goal. We swim together, and we swim for life. Please give as you are able and share widely.

[prince--thomas]

Thomas Edward Richard Harrington III -- Miscellaneous Outfits: February 2023-December 2023

Mardi Gras (02/23)

Puppy Bowl (02/23)

St Patrick's Day (03/23)

Fairy Flotilla (04/23)

Daffodil Dance (05/23)

Showcase (08/23)

Fall Carnival (09/23)

Christmas Tree Lighting (12/23)

Winter Ball (12/23)

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

[The Daily Don]   Pride Month

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

June 4, 2023

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

JUN 5, 2023

Patriarch Kirill of the Russian Orthodox Church, a staunch supporter of Russian president Vladimir Putin and his invasion of Ukraine, last week awarded the First Degree of the Order of Glory and Honor from the Russian Orthodox Church to Hungarian prime minister Viktor Orbán. Orbán has dismantled Hungary’s liberal democratic government in favor of what he calls “illiberal” or “Christian” democracy that rejects LGBTQ and women’s rights, claiming that the equality valued by liberal democracies undermines traditional virtue. Kirill called out for praise Orbán’s “great attention to the preservation of Christian values in society and the strengthening of the institution of family and marriage.” This award makes explicit the link between the Putin regime, which has been committing war crimes against Ukraine’s people, and Orbán, who is such a hero to America’s right wing that the Conservative Political Action Conference has twice gathered in Hungary, most recently just last month. Orbán has called for Trump’s reelection. The common thread among these groups is a rejection of democracy, with its emphasis on equality before the law, and the embrace of a hierarchical world in which some people are better than others and have the right to rule. In Poland today, an estimated half a million people marched in the streets to protest the loss of rights for women and LGBTQ people amid an attack on democracy by the nationalist Law and Justice party (PiS), which condemned the protest as a “march of hate.” Leaders for PiS claim they are only trying to protect traditional Christian values from Western ideas. Today is the 34th anniversary of the first democratic elections in Poland in 1989 as the Soviet Union was disintegrating. Former Polish prime minister and president of the European Council Donald Tusk, who called for the march, told the crowd: "Democracy dies in silence but you've raised your voice for democracy today, silence is over, we will shout.” Today is also the 34th anniversary of the Chinese government’s crackdown on demonstrations for democracy in Tiananmen Square in Beijing, with troops firing on their own citizens. For 22 weeks now, hundreds of thousands of Israelis have been protesting in the streets against the plans of right-wing prime minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s government to overhaul the judiciary, weakening the country’s system of checks and balances by shifting power to Netanyahu, and threatening the rights of minorities and marginalized groups. In Sudan today, the war between two military generals who seized power from a democratic government continues. Tens of thousands of Sudan’s people have fled the country since the fighting broke out in April. The political career of Florida governor Ron DeSantis is the epitome of Orbán’s “Christian democracy” come to the United States. DeSantis has imitated Orbán’s politics, striking at the principles of liberal democracy with attacks on LGBTQ Americans, abortion rights, academic freedom, and the ability of businesses to react to market forces rather than religious imperatives. Last week he told an audience that “the woke mind virus represents a war on the truth so we will wage a war on the woke. We will fight the woke in education, we will fight the woke in the corporations, we will fight the woke in the halls of congress. We will never, ever surrender to the woke mob. We will make woke ideology leave it to the dustbin of history; it’s gone.” But DeSantis’s speech was a perversion of the real speech on which he based it. On June 4, 1940, nine months into the Second World War, British prime minister Winston Churchill addressed the House of Commons. British, Canadian, and French destroyers along with dozens of merchant ships and a flotilla of small boats had just managed to evacuate more than 338,000 Allied soldiers from Dunkirk, in northern France, as German troops advanced. Britain was fighting fascism, and Churchill warned his people that the war would be neither easy nor quick. But, he promised, “we shall not flag or fail. We shall go on to the end, we shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our Island, whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender....”

—

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[fictionisthebetterreality]

Fallout Fic - NaNoWriMo 2023

Lex is a raider, fightin' tooth and nail just to survive.

She meets Gage Porter, and becomes a Queen with a Queendom, killin' her way through the wastes, laughing the whole way.

She meets Gage Porter, and loses everything.

Lex is an outcast, relyin' on nothin' but the jagged edge of her knife and the blood of anyone gettin' in her way.

Preston Garvey finds her, and promises her revenge.

Preston Garvey finds her, and Lex promises him freedom.

These things are not what they seem.

The flotilla is huge. Lex stares with a grim face at Gage’s amassed wealth, gathered from the boneyard of Nuka World. That’s her raiders in there, her money he’s been using to bribe the border patrols, her blood he's building sandcastles out of.

Gage doesn’t come out to play no more, they say.

Somethin’s hunting him, they whisper.

She smiles.

Someone, maybe.

Her face itches, mud and blood drying and pulling the skin. It was more fun than she thought it would be, playing dress-up. Preston’s eyes were big as hubcaps when she came back to camp, all covered in guts and gore. One of his new boys was halfway toward pulling his iron, ‘till Garvey caught his arm – lucky for the boy. The new hires get twitchier every time, and most nights she feels like a Deathclaw in a Molerat nest.

Her tattoos are gone, most buried under a layer of muck, the ink of her Nuka Crown tucked away beneath a scrappy bandage on her arm. Her boots are in a stash she found a couple blocks away, along with everything else that could ruin this for her. Her hair is stuffed into a scratchy, stained cap, one of Garvey’s. It was knitted by Mama Murphy, he said, like that’s supposed to mean something. He’s mentioned her only once or twice, in the half-sentences he uses when he forgets who she is. Who they are.

She hasn’t been bottom of the feeding chain for a long time. She can’t remember how to hold herself, how to move – prey, not predator. But it doesn’t matter, really – by the time anyone gets close enough to notice, she’ll be close enough to bury her knife in their throat. She can’t wait.

Nearby, a pack of mutts send up a howl, delving into shrieking snarls as they uncover something to eat - sounds like a ghoul.

“I’d say stick to the plan, but I’m not convinced you have one.”

Preston’s voice is low, muffled by the scarf around his neck – another present from the elusive Mama Murphy? His jacket is frayed and split, the Minuteman insignia faded and worn. Ironic or symbolic, she hasn’t decided.

These days, she has a feeling about Preston Garvey. Under all that justice, and righteousness, and good, she thinks there’s something else. Something dark. Something dangerous. She just has to set it free.

She smiles, slow and easy.

“Sure,” she says, “sure.”

[duchessofvastergotland]

28th April 2023 // Crown Princess Victoria visited the Air Force and the Armed Forces joint exercise Aurora 23 at Hagshult Air Base. The Crown Princess began her visit by seeing an approach by a rescue force from the Blekinge air flotilla and American helicopters. The Crown Princess then received information about the management of the air base, met personnel, and toured the site. 

[corona-journal]

Cover image change; now, and then.

Here's the header image for this blog, which is the first thing of covid pandemic we all relate to. Toilet paper shortages.

And now, in 2022, verging on 2023

Start the count from 28 March 2020 ( Covid restrictions started officially, in Australia) we've been going through this for 993 days....

7 days from now, Friday 23rd December 2022 will be 1000 days of covid pandemic in Australia.

That's a lot of days....

I'd like to note @scrapironflotilla (and associated blogs) with @bundibird and @peashooter85 for their insights and occasional observations during covid.

Double mention to scrap iron flotilla, for his historian insight into what makes a good journal.

16 December 2022.

[sirladysketch]

Fandom Flotilla 2023

I wanted to do something a little different for Vday this year, and I've come up with three things y'all can do!

Ship Charters - Analyze your Ships

Nautical Charts - A Personal History of Your Ships

Boat Floats - Share Things You Love, Ships & Beyond!

~RULES~

It's not an official event, but I do ask that you follow these three courtesy rules:

Tag your posts with the ship name/any trigger warnings

Be respectful - Promote love, not hate

Have fun!

Use the hashtag #FanFloat23 to share & track the event if you want!

Descriptions and examples for each prompt below the cut!

~SHIP CHARTERS~

Your typical "analyze your ship" meme, but nautical themed! What does the ship mean to you? I've included a blank and a Zelink sample for you guys.

Fun fact this is the only version of Zelink I actually ship lol

~NAUTICAL CHARTS~

Where have your ships taken you? How would you chart your journey? (idk it made sense in my head, just roll with it). I've attached a (lite) version of my shipping journey as an example for you.

The Xs are deaddove shipwrecks ships I love but will not publicly promote, lol.

~BOAT FLOATS~ aka what floats your boat

Share the love by sharing things YOU love about your ship, fandom, life in general, whatever! This is your free square (bonus points if you make it nautical themed, lol)

[nando161mando]

Swedish Communist Party stands with Palestinians against Israeli occupation

“The Communist Party in Sweden—we are the strongest supporters of Palestine [out] of all the other parties in Sweden,” says Jonas Hjelm Smith, Swedish-American human rights activist and member of the Swedish Communist Party, on board the 2023 Gaza Freedom Flotilla. The Freedom Flotilla Coalition, a grassroots people-to-people solidarity movement working to end the illegal Israeli blockade of Gaza, has launched numerous Freedom Flotilla voyages since 2008. TRNN contributor, lawyer, and freelance journalist Dimitri Lascaris reports from The Handala, the flagship vessel of the 2023 Gaza Freedom Flotilla, en route from Gothenburg, Sweden, to Oslo, Norway. On board The Handala, Lascaris speaks with Hjelm Smith about why he is traveling with the Flotilla, and about the Swedish Communist Party’s unwavering support for the Palestinian freedom struggle.

[usafphantom2]

Saab delivers the first serial-produced Gripen E fighter to Sweden's Defense Material Administration

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 10/20/2023 - 09:08am Military, Saab

On Friday, October 6, an important milestone was surpassed when Saab delivered the first serially produced Gripen E aircraft to the FMV (Sweden Defense Material Administration), which will now operate the aircraft before delivering it to the Swedish Armed Forces.

In the past, two JAS39 Gripen E were delivered to FMV for use in flight test operations, but under the Saab operating license.

"I am very happy and pleased that we have reached this important milestone towards the implementation of the hunt. It is an important milestone and more deliveries will take place soon," says Lars Tossman, head of Saab's aeronautical business area.

Lars Helmrich accompanied the development of the Gripen system for almost 30 years, first as a fighter pilot and then as commander of the Skaraborg F7 air flotilla. As the current head of FMV's aviation and space equipment business area, he is impressed with the aircraft that are now being delivered.

"The delivery means that FMV has now received all parts of the weapon system to operate the Gripen E independently," said Mattias Fridh, Head of Delivery Management for the Gripen Program. "Its technicians have received training on the Gripen E and have initial capabilities for flight line operations and maintenance. The support and training systems have already been delivered, and parts of the support systems delivered in 2022 were updated in August to match the new configuration."

So far, three aircraft have been delivered to the Swedish state, used in testing operations. From 2025, the plan is for FMV to deliver the JAS 39E to the Swedish Air Force. However, Air Force personnel are already, and have been since 2012, involved in development activities with both pilots and other personnel. It is an important part of the Swedish model to ensure that what the user receives is really necessary.

“This is a very important step for deployment in the Swedish Armed Forces in 2025 at F7 Satenäs, and FMV has now applied for its own flight test authorization from the Swedish Military Aviation Safety Inspection. This is the culmination of intensive work in both development and production, where many employees have done a fantastic job."

In addition to Sweden and Brazil, which have already placed orders for JAS 39 E/F, several countries show interest in the system. Today, Gripen is operated by Hungary, the Czech Republic and Thailand through agreements with the Swedish government and FMV. Brazil and South Africa have business directly with Saab.

Tags: Military AviationFlygvapnet - Swedish Air ForceFMVGripen EJAS39 Gripensaab

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Fernando Valduga

Fernando Valduga

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

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