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#Swing-wing aircraft
usafphantom2 · 11 months
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HU009376
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HU009376 by manhhai Via Flickr: 2 November, 1965, Arizona, United States --- CF-5 Freedom Fighter aircraft refuel en route to Vietnam. --- Image by © Hulton-Deutsch Collection/CORBIS
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Russian Sukhoi Su-24 Interdiction and attack aircraft
Introduced in 1974, the Sukhoi Su-24 "Fencer" was the Soviet answer to the American General Dynamics F-111 Aardvark. The Soviet design was no doubt inspired by the impressive and powerful "swing-wing" American design and attempted to follow suit with an equally capable mount worthy of her Soviet airmen. After some 35+ years of active service, the end is near for the impressive Fencer, gradually outdated in many facets of her makeup. She was debuted in anger during the Soviet war in Afghanistan and saw combat in the Persian Gulf War of 1991, actions against Chechen rebels of the Chechen Republic and thought to have participated in recent operations over South Ossetia in the 2008 "limited war" with Georgia. In all, approximately 1,400 Su-24s have been produced by Sukhoi OKB in three distinct operational variants and delivered to a handful of foreign operators. Approximately 1,400 were manufactured.
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mango-writes-savvy · 3 months
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Gentle Jake Seresin
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Prompt from @dumplingsjinson and this post. Hope you enjoy <3
Jake "Hangman" Seresin x f!reader
While in California you had seen a lot of Top Gun candidates come through, but none stuck out as much as Jake Seresin. Jake was cocky, but at least he could back it up- most times
While he and his team were on a mission, you were stationed on the same aircraft carrier as a medic. You were always hopeful to not see the soldiers in your wing, but enjoyed spending time with Jake. He was rough around the edges but he was kind to you. He always lit up when he saw it was you who would be taking care of him.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite medic! How you doin’ Chaos?” he smiled as he strutted into the med bay.
“Hi, Hangman, what can I do for you today?” you responded while filling out paperwork and checking the schedule to see if there was something ordered by the higher-ups. 
“I can’t just say hi?”
“Well, normally you want something so, what do you need? I have a lot of work to get done before y’all leave tonight,” you responded after not finding anything in the computer. 
He rubbed the back of his neck, “Well, Phoenix asked me to swing by and see if you had any more of that tape. She said it didn’t hurt to take off like the stuff they gave her on land.”
You nodded, “Yeah, definitely,” you started walking towards the cabinet it was in then paused, “Jake. This is the third time you’ve been in here today, are you sure there isn’t anything else I can grab or do for you?” You turned and looked at him carefully. 
“Wanna go on a date? With me. When we get back to Miramar,” he leaned against the wall across from you casually, but you could tell he was nervous with how he was trying to keep his hands busy. 
You smiled as your cheeks heated from the blood rush. You grabbed a few rolls of tape from the cabinet and walked back towards him. “When you get back tonight, I’ll let you know where to pick me up.”
He grinned as he walked towards the doorway, he spun around to face you and said,” See you when I get back, Chaos,” and gave you one of his signature winks. 
You playfully rolled your eyes at him and shooed him off while you got ready for their mission tonight just in case anything went south- getting out extra bandages, pain relief and suture kits. 
Jake and his team were flying out an hour before supper and were scheduled to be back by midnight. 
It was getting close to midnight and you were starting to get bored waiting in the mess hall, so you decided to start on inventory in the med bay. While walking down the hall, your mind started to wander, wondering where Jake would take you on this date. 
You felt a smack then a sharp pain in your head. 
“Ow! What the fuck!” You brought your hand to your forehead and when you pulled it away there was blood. While you were daydreaming you missed the shorter doorway and ran head-first into it. “This is why you’re a medic,” you muttered to yourself as you ducked under the doorway and made it to the medic bay. 
You managed to get the bleeding stopped and started putting butterfly bandages on the cut with the mirror hanging on the wall. 
“Hey- what happened?” Jake rushed over to you and turned your head so he could get a better look at the cut. 
“Hey, how did it go? And I’m fine, just bumped my head into a doorframe,” You waved him off and finished putting on the bandages and cleaning up the area. 
“I can’t leave you alone for one second without you hurting yourself, can I?” Jake followed after you, never being far from your side. 
“I mean, I’m fine so it’s fine—“ 
“No it’s not okay! Not when I feel like I’m going to go batshit fucking crazy, thinking you’ve hurt yourself.”
“Jake, I promise, I’m okay,” You grabbed his hands to help him calm down by rubbing your thumbs across the back of his hands, “I love that you care about me, but one doorframe isn’t going to take me out.”
He sighed and kissed your forehead gently. "Fine, but I'm still gonna worry about you."
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alex99achapterthree · 2 months
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Dark Aircraft...
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Haven't done one of these for a while.
Dark F-111 AARDVARK swing-wing fighter/bomber.
The 'Vark never had an official name until the day of its retirement ceremony when the Air Force officially gave it the name "Aardvark", catching up with what people had been calling it since it was introduced in the sixties.
Better late than never.
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emira-addams · 2 months
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Hazbin Hotel - Welcome To Heaven
Prologue
With his hands clasped behind his back, Sir Pentious stood on the bridge of his aircraft, his eyes narrowed to slits and his gaze fixed straight ahead. His heart raced with anticipation and the urge for heroism in his chest.
By now he had a direct line of sight through the milky glass towards their target, Adam hovering distractedly in front of him in his flimsy robe.
Pentious cleared his throat to banish the fear from his shaky voice. If he wanted to protect his friends and the hotel, then he had to kill Adam. Only when Adam was dead would his friends and his home be safe, even if it meant the sacrifice of his life.
"Fire!" Resolutely, he ordered his eggbois to fire the death ray.
Too bad, Pentious thought to himself, he would have loved to see Cherri Bomb again.
"Huh?" Adam turned around abruptly. His LED mask couldn't hide the shock that was now written all over his face. He swiftly wiped the airship and its entire crew out with a flick of his finger.
"Close call... It almost ended up ugly..." Adam muttered, scratching the back of his head in embarrassment.
"Radio's dead, old man!" Adam shouted between a sneer and a scoff as he shrugged off Alastor's attack.
"Wait... What?" Stunned, the radio demon stared at the destroyed microphone stand in his hands, the metal neatly sliced in two and the static had vanished from his voice. His sadistic shadows had retreated and he faced Adam alone. "What just happened?" Alastor lacked the words to curse as he clutched the metal in exasperation and frustration.
Suddenly, panic began to rise within him, he realized his mistake. Alastor had underestimated Adam and now he assumed that this mistake would prove to be fatal. If they scraped his remains off the roof, they would probably think he had died as an altruist for the hotel and his friends.
Alastor gulped grimly as he looked up at Adam with fear in his eyes. He, the radio demon, had felt the emotion of fear for the last time in his lifetime on earth. His time couldn't be over yet, he still had something to do...
"I think you need to reassign the position of facility manager for your hotel!" bellowed Adam. There was a self-satisfied smile on his lips.
The light from the LED mask blinded the demon on the ground as Adam kissed Alastor goodbye and wiped out the demon's life with a single swing of his golden guitar.
The holy light drove away the shadows and Alastor's vision went blank...
Frantically, Carmilla struggled to focus on the computer screen with her work and to ignore the distraction of the black smoke rising in the background over the hotel of Lucifer's daughter.
"They have to fight their own battle..." she sighed somberly. She massaged her aching temples, trying to banish her headache and not let her worry get the better of her.
Suddenly, the window pane behind her desk shattered and the first lieutenant of Adam's army of exorcists, Lute, crashed into Carmilla's office, wings spread, angelic spear raised and emitting an extremely enraged battle cry.
"Do you think I've forgotten your face?" she spat, eyes narrowed to narrow slits and words stoked with venom. Sweaty hands wrapped around her spear and grabbed Carmilla roughly by her collar.
Defense was pointless. Lute had planned her revenge carefully, taking advantage of the moment of surprise and her inattention to attack.
Carmilla screamed in sharp agony as the tip of Lute's spear severed each of her Achilles tendons, rendering her immobile and unable to fight. Lute blocked Carmilla's escape path out of the office and pinned her to the ground.
"At the last extermination, you murdered one of my sisters..." Lute muttered lowly. Her tone was disturbingly calm. "Do you think you could just kill an angel and expect to get away without any punishment?"
Carmilla groaned as her skull hit the hard ground roughly. The raw surface of the cold stones dug into the back of her head and the light from the overhead lamp blinded her as Lute loomed over her. Tears gathered in her eyes and blurred her vision.
"Today you will pay for this!"
The last thread of thoughts Carmilla could grasp was that her daughters were safe at home and thankfully not in the factory before Lute beheaded her with her spear the same way she had first beheaded the exorcist.
Forcefully, the field of vision of the three sinners turned white again.
The piercing pain that threatened to split their skulls was followed by the stunned realization that the blood-red horizon of hell was gone, replaced by blinding glitter and gold.
"Where am I?" The first one who seemed to regain full consciousness was Pentious. He straightened up from the soft ground beneath him and was about to brush the dust off his suit when he suddenly realized that he was wearing completely different clothes. "Help!"
Pentiou's panicked cries slowly reached Alastor and Carmilla's consciousness.
Carmilla blinked. She shielded her eyes and desperately tried to dispel the glaring veil that blurred her vision again and again.
Alastor struggled to regain his balance and stand upright on two legs. He looked around. "Fucking heaven!" Alastor grumbled as he recovered the ability to curse and was the first to realize that he was standing with Sir Pentious and Carmilla Carmine in front of the pearly gates of heaven on clouds of cotton candy.
"Sera!" A panicked angel fluttered up and down in front of the three sinners and called baffledly for the help of the oldest seraphim…
Chapter 01:
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archie-sunshine · 5 months
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So, What Now?(Rehabili/Cohabi-Tation)
Chapter 3: In Which the Robots are Fucking Ballin’
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FIC TAGS: Eventual Whirl/Cyclonus/Tailgate, Cyclonus/Tailgate, polyamory, slowburn romance, mutual pining, slice of life, fluff, comedy, eventual smut(planned for later chapters), sappy mushy lovey stuff, polycue, May eventually have illustrations
The Lost Light has a brand new universe to explore! But everyone's still tired from the old one! In the interim between wacky hijinks, a solution is offered to those bored to death by peacetime- Why form a club about it or renovate your hab suite of course!
Whirl doesn't know how he feels about all the pep. And even worse, he doesn't know how to feel about Cyclonus and Tailgate wanting him to join in on their clean slate. 
Chapter 1 Here! Chapter 2 Here!
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Author's Notes: I think that all robots should get to play basketball as a treat. I also think they should be objectively bad at basketball to keep them humble.
CHAPTER TAGS: Humour, fluff, robots playing sports, robots being bad at sports, background Rewind/Chromedome(as god intended), banter, rivalries flaring up but in a fun way.
“And that, in its simplest form, is how you play ‘Baskets Ball’!” 
Whirl squinted at Rodimus, peeking over Nautica’s shoulder where the would-be sports team stood to get a better look at him. He was holding a kind of flimsy looking rubber ball, occasionally bouncing it against the newly fitted gymnasium floor with a satisfying ‘Phoonk!’. 
“Any questions?” Rodimus posed to the group, glancing around the crowd. 
Whirl raised a claw. “Considering that some bots here can turn into aircrafts, what’s the rules about alt modes?” 
Rodimus set his intake in an unamused line for a second, before venting and smiling big. “No transforming, no alt modes, just some friendly sport between bots!” He said, bouncing- or he thought he called it dribbling- the ball again. “Let’s pick teams shall we? Five to a team!” 
Rodimus stepped back to let the group disperse and talk amongst themselves. Immediately, Whirl shuffled up beside Cyclonus, who in turn was shuffled beside Tailgate. Whirl waved a bit at Chromedome, who nodded in acknowledgement. Whirl looked around for a second, trying to spot Rewind.
Chromedome chuckled and pointed at a set of bleachers behind him. “Not his bag. He’s just here to record, he’s doing it for all the clubs.” 
Rewind waved at him from his spot in the wings, sitting comfortably next to Swerve- the team’s referee, a wise choice considering he was the only one who had ever actually watched a game of ‘baskets ball’. 
Whirl waved back. “He’s gonna have a lot to record then, there’s gonna be loads of these.” 
Whirl turned back around as Chromedome chuckled in agreement, facing the other couple as they welcomed one of those lousy ex-cons onto the team. Lousy as in bad at being a ‘con, of course. Fuelpump? Was his name fuelpump?
“Welcome to the team Fulcrum.” Cyclonus said in that weirdly formal kind of way, pinning Fulcrum (OH! Yeah Fulcrum) with that intense stare. 
Fulcrum cycled his optics, glancing around and offering a kind of weak smile. “Yeah man- thanks-” 
Cyclonus then turned to Whirl, who fell in beside him quietly. He nodded curtly at him, turning his red optics on the competing team with a firm edge to his brow. 
“Sizing up the competition, Teeeeeammmate~?” Whirl sing-songed, leaning his helm down until he was nearly touching cheeks with him. 
“Mm.” Cyclonus grunted. 
Whirl flicked his gaze over to the other five bots. Nautica, Skids, Velocity, First Aid, and Blaster. He glanced back at Cyclonus, who was now rubbing a contemplative digit against his chin. Whirl copied him with a claw and a high pitched scratching noise against his own helm. 
“The odds are even here… We should consider their collective and individual strengths before we proceed.” He mused. Whirl nodded slowly, considering the easiest route to swinging First Aid by the pede joint directly into Blaster’s knees. 
“Aren’t you taking it a bit seriously?” Chromedome pointed out. 
Tailgate hopped from pede to pede, optics big. “We’re going to mop the floor with them, they’ll never play baskets ball again.” He muttered to himself. 
“Alright big guy, take a vent-” Chromedome started, cut off by the sudden sound of a whistle being blown. The groups turned to face the source of the sound, a very amused Rodimus with a silver whistle between his dentas. 
“Arright teamsh!” He called, before spitting out the whistle. “To your positions, who wants to do the tip off?” Wordlessly, Cyclonus walked to the middle of the court, facing down against Nautica as they both took an athletic stance. Whirl glanced at Tailgate, expecting some swooning, only to find the little bot vibrating in anticipation completely devoid of any affection. Had there been an ounce of love on the court, it had been traded out in favour of pure, athletic focus. Snickering, he glanced back at cyclonus, appreciating the couple’s mirrored intensity and taking up a stance along with them. Rodimus held the ball up high with one servo, replacing the whistle between his teeth. Whirl watched him countdown his digits on his free hand with straining anticipation.
Fweeeeeeet~!!
In a flash of indigo and magenta, Nautica snapped up the ball out of the air, ducking under Cyclonus’s arm and rushing for the opposing team’s net. She grinned broadly, ducking another swipe from Cyclonus’s servo attempting another grasp for the ball. 
From the bleachers, Swerve shouted, “DRIBBLE! Ya can’t just carry the ball!!!” Nautica’s helm twisted briefly to look at him.
“Oh-! Sorry-” she started, clumsily spiking the ball against the ground, and directly into Tailgate’s chassis.
“I GOT IT!” He shrieked, awkwardly beginning to dribble the ball forwards across the court. Whirl took up his flank, looming a bit over him and glancing over his own shoulders. 
It was in the instant that he had taken to peek at what Cyclonus was doing that he crashed directly into Skids’ chest, the two of them stumbling backwards as Tailgate made a break for it between the taller mech’s legs. 
“Oi- sneaky fragger-!!” Skids shouted stiltedly, just as Whirl jogged after the minibot. 
He was making considerable progress considering his size and inefficient dribbling. The ball would bounce a couple times away from Tailgate as he stumbled forwards to nab it back in his servos. He caught it back, letting out an almost involuntary cackle as he mirrored the stance Rodimus had taken and popped up on his pedes for a shot at the net.
The ball thunked against Velocity’s chassis, quickly cradled in her servos as she fumbled to begin dribbling. 
Whirl spun around to follow after her, catching up and passing her but giving a wide berth as Chromedome flanked her other side. 
“Er- Over to you!” She chirped out, bouncing the ball down to First Aid, who had slinked his way over to their half of the court. Just as the ball hit the ground, Whirl jerked a servo out, widening his pincers to welcome the ball home-
*BANG!*
The sound of squeaking rubber and grinding metal pedes on the concrete floor of the gymnasium game to a sudden halt. Whirl stared long and hard at the burst rubber now hanging from his claws. He picked it slowly off one of his digits. 
Tailgate jogged up to him, peering up at the spent ball in his hands. “Uhm, Rodimus?” He called, turning to glance around for their ‘coach’. 
Rodimus glanced up from his conversation with Rewind, finally noting the presence of the popped ball. “Oh- Sorry Whirl-” 
“Ball’s kinda flimsy.” Whirl said, jokingly attempting to dribble it, letting it hit the floor with a pathetic smack. “Want me to sit this one out, coach?” 
“Maybe it would be for the-” Rodimus started.
Cyclonus cleared his vocalizer. “Perhaps Whirl would be best suited to a defensive position.” he boomed, raising his voice just under a shout with a formality that was kind of weird. 
Whirl squinted a little bit at Cyclonus. “Aw- and miss all the fun on the front lines, you wound me, ‘clonus, you wound me bad.” He gave cyclonus one big puppydog optic. 
“We could fit some rubber tips over your claws, if you want.” Chromedome offered, reaching a servo towards his talons. Whirl snatched his servos back to his chassis, squinting at the broader bot for a second before rolling his optic. 
“Yeesh- fine I’ll play defense or whatever.” He grumbled. 
“Alright! Let’s start over, then.” Rodimus barked, wandering over to a metal cage full of auxiliary baskets balls. Whirl fell back towards the underside of the hanging net. After a few kliks of reset, Cyclonus returned by his side as Fulcrum reached the center of the court for the tip off. 
“Thanks for gettin me stuck with you.” Whirl whispered at Cyclonus, raising his servos and dropping into a slightly lower stance. “I thought you’d be chasing TG around the court, not me.” 
“I know when to pick my battles.” Cyclonus said dryly, mirroring his stance. Whirl could almost see his servo instinctively twitch towards a sword at his back, before coming to rest held around his abdomen. 
Whirl rolled his optic. “I know when to pick my battles!” He mocked under his vent, wagging his helm back and forth a little before focusing up.
Fweeeeee-!
The whistle blew, cut off this time as Fulcrum lunged for the ball, half knocking over First Aid with a hipcheck. 
“Hey-!” The medic started, cut off by Fulcrum’s even louder exclamation of “ACCIDENT!” The scavenger zig zagged down the court, skidding to a stop in his tracks facing down against Blaster, arms outstretched to guard either side of him. 
Whirl’s optic twitched a bit, glancing at Cyclonus for a prompt. Cyclonus didn’t budge. Whirl swallowed a frustrated groan and hopped from foot to foot in anticipation. 
“I’m open!” Chromedome shouted over the clanking metal din. Fulcrum tossed the ball over Blaster’s shoulder, landing it in the mnemosurgeon’s waiting servos. 
Whirl fidgetted, clicking his talons together as Skids shuffled backwards towards their side of the court in anticipation of a lob his way. Defense was BORING. Whirl’s pedes clacked against the floor impatiently, his frame practically vibrating with pent up energy. 
There was a loud, rattling ‘DONK’ as the ball bounced off the corner of the backboard, falling into Nautica’s servos. She wasted no time in dribbling her way over towards their half of the court, bounce-passing the ball over to Skids, who quickly flipped around with the ball in hand, prepared to make his shot. 
Whirl’s optic shrunk to a point, all harnessed energy releasing in one sharp movement. “GYAHH!” Whirl cried, slamming his elbow joint up between skids servos and sending the ball flying straight up. It pinged off the ceiling, slamming down directly into the floor in front of Tailgate. The minibot swung his arms out immediately, almost by instinct grasping hold of the ball as it drove up into his chassis. 
“IGOTIT!!” He shouted, hugging the ball to his chassis as he absorbed the excess kinetic energy skidding him backwards towards the opposing teams net. 
The little bot clumsily dribbled closer to the net, crouching down tight. There was a flash of glowing energy from his visor, before Tailgate leapt upwards with a force so great it left cracks in the gymnasium floor. Two hearty white servos dunked the baskets ball directly through the hoop. 
Tailgate whooped and hollered, swinging on the rim of the net as the sparsely gathered crowd joined tailgate and his team in cheering. 
Fweee- 
Again, the whistle was cut off, this time by Rewind smacking at Rodimus’s arms with a free servo- the other occupied in trying to cover his audials. 
“NIIIICE PLAY!” Rodimus called, giving a big stupid thumbs up and a polite round of applause. “Take a second and we’ll contin-”
“I’d like to come down now!” Tailgate interrupted. The bot still hung from the hoop, kicking his pedes lightly as he swung gently back and forth. 
Cyclonus jogged across the court, hopping up and gathering his conjunx in his arms to carry him back. 
Whirl side opticed them, catching their hushed little exchange.
“You would have been fine just letting go.” 
“And miss out on being carried?” 
That remark made cyclonus crack a quiet smile, his chassis rumbling with a chuckle as the two of them bumped their fore-helms together. 
Whirl rolled his optic, turning away from the two of them. Sickening, truly, they just let them get away with that in public? He felt a pang of something in his tanks, watching them canoodle like that. It was probably annoyance, definitely not anything deeper… or uglier than that. 
Cyclonus set Tailgate down with a little squeeze on his shoulder pad. He then shifted back to his position defending the net beside Whirl, nodding at him quietly. 
“... Good play.” Cyclonus murmured, clipped like he had tried to hold it in as he sank back into a defensive stance.
“Don’t hurt yourself biting back that compliment.” Whirl scoffed back. 
“Bet there could have been a better one.” Cyclonus added, turning a blazing optic to Whirl. 
Whirl felt a little flare in his spark, that familiar urge to compete blooming in his tanks in that way only Cyclonus’s stupid challenging could draw out of him. 
“I’d like to see you try and top it.” Whirl hissed, craning his neck to get his optic right in Cyclonus’s personal space again. 
FWWEEEEE-*smack* “Ow-! fine! God-!”
***
It had been a while since something had gotten Whirl to break a coolant. Baskets ball certainly did it though. 
“Wheeeeeew, that was a workout, huh?” Tailgate huffed, vents going wild as he exited the gymnasium. He bounded cheerily down the hall, flanked by Cyclonus and whirl, both of whom were producing coolant considerably more than their Outlier companion. 
“It was fun, but I dunno if I’m gonna be so cool playing babysitter for the net…” Whirl grumbled a bit, enviously eyeing Tailgate. He’d gotten to bound around the court the whole game while Whirl had been practically exploding with potential energy. Not fair at all.
“You made a fine defense.” Cyclonus observed. Whirl met his optics. Cyclonus’s dermas imperceptibly quirked up at the corner. “Just a fine one though.” 
Whirl’s engine flared, his propellers taking a few indignant cycles as he pinned the mech with his optic. “I made the best defense, nobody’s ever defended like me even a little bit, nobody’s ever DREAMED-”
“Ahhh, hab at last!” Tailgate sighed, trotting up to the familiar purple door and tapping at the access pad. The door slid open and Cyclonus sauntered inside past Tailgate. 
Whirl went to follow him but paused for a moment. 
Tailgate walked into the suite, no goodbye, no ‘see you later’. Whirl cautiously plodded forwards. 
“You coming?” Tailgate asked, as if it was obvious. 
Whirl cycled his vocalizer a bit, searching for something to say. 
“This doesn’t look like my hab suite.” He retorted sarcastically. 
“Yeah, but it’s late anyway, come on, we can talk shop about our baskets ball game over some engex.” Tailgate said, all matter of fact like it was something they’d all agreed on. 
Whirl glanced around, catching a peek of the window on the back wall of their new communal space. It was hard to tell, but he supposed it was a little late. 
“... alright, but just for a little while, huh?” Whirl begrudgingly agreed, stepping in through the open door. It closed with a soft hiss behind him.
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yutafrita · 1 year
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[08:59am]
Mafia!Kun x Reader (gen. Neutral)
Word Count: >1K
Warnings: references to ending someone’s life
Thank you @dearj43 for the request/ idea 🥹
Kun had pretty much given up on a love life as soon as he hit the age of 27. His last two relationships had lasted less than half a year, every time he’d try to start a romantic relationship or even a flirtationship it would devolve into a disaster.
So, when he was approached to become the private Pilot for a mafia, he felt that he had no reason to say no. He had some friends, but there was no one at home for him to put at risk. The pay was stellar, and frankly it offered enough thrill and a sense of community that the bad parts seemed so small in comparison.
“So Mark’s partner…?” Kun let his question hang, and knew from his co-pilots silence that his suspicions were confirmed. They were flying a few mafia members back from a small trip they made. “He should have taken out those construction members,” Kun sighed. He felt bad, of course, that Mark was now alone, but Kun couldn’t fathom having a partner and putting them at risk like that.
“Well, no way Mark will ever not complete an assignment now,” Yangyang sighed. Upon landing, Kun was always the last one to disembark and leave the plane, making sure that any names were scrubbed off the books and no one left anything behind. He never wore a uniform since he was a private pilot, but he always brought his cap with him for good luck, so he slipped the cap back on as he made his way through the airport.
The terminal he had left from was fairly empty, most other aircrafts having recently taken off. He was alone. And he was okay with that.
“You did so good, sweetheart!” Kun heard a soft voice chirp. He glanced over his shoulder, backpack swinging as he saw you crouched down, meeting the eyes of a small child that was crying.
“I don’t ever want to fly again,” they cried, and your face contorted into a frown. 
Instinctively, Kun moved towards you. You looked up confused as he knelt next to you, already taking out the small weighted baggie in his pockets.
“Did this little hero just make it through their first flight?” he asked, smiling widely. He was gorgeous, you thought to yourself. Insanely so. And he was so sweet to your sister’s kid, making the sad child cheer up as soon as they laid eyes on the small pilot wings pin pilots give to kids going on their first flights.
“Thanks again, that was very sweet,” you hummed, walking out of the airport with Kun and the child’s hand squeezed tightly in your own. “This little one is visiting me for the week so I’m glad we got to get rid of the tears.”
Kun didn’t know why he offered to walk you two to your car, or why he asked for your number, but everytime he learned something new about you he fell more and more- and all that did was terrify him.
Tag! @nini0620
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nhaneh · 3 months
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so the way I've come to typically describe my asexuality is basically how, for me, seeing an attractive person is a lot like seeing a beatiful-looking car or a sexy-looking fighter jet: I recognise that what I'm seeing is aesthetically pleasing to me, that the various shapes and curves and edges and textures can be satisfying to look at, but at the same time no amount of me saying that the F-14 Tomcat is the sexiest aircraft if not vehicle period known to man will ever give me the urge to rub up against one of their landing gears.
This may however be occasionally undermined by how there are absolutely people who in fact do have the entirely valid if perhaps not entirely safe urge to have literal sexual intercourse with a 50 year old supersonic, jet-powered swing-wing aeroplane.
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Chapter 9: Hurt
A/N: I am so glad to be back in the full swing of things. You have no idea how much I have loved watching this story develop…not to mention my craft too! I mention this in my notes for every chapter, but just in case you missed it– I do not give permission for my work to be re-posted without credibility. If you do want to post this story to your page, please be sure that you tag my account or at least mention its original source in your post. Again, thank you for being here and I hope you enjoy :)
Warnings: Swearing (It is the navy after all)
Chapter Nine: Hurt
BRADLEY’S POV
The reading quiz in chemistry was a breeze on Tuesday. Although I must give credit to Trace for that one. She knew exactly what parts to study and which paragraphs from the reading would be questioned. It was like she had a natural gift for intuition.
Although there were some highlights, the rest of the week was a drag. Allie and her two friends were not in the cafeteria at all for breakfast that week. I couldn’t not blame myself for that one. Despite Emmett continuously pestering me for updates, I didn’t bring Allie up at all. Well, I at least didn’t bring her up first. And thanks to the rigor of the academics, it was pretty easy to forget her while I was focused on my studies. Yes, I still thought about the two encounters we’ve had, but seeing her less and not thinking about her as much has made that slight hurt go away.
Flash forward to Thursday, and we were now sitting in our flight training course, scratching our heads as we read, and re-read, and re-re-read the same problems over and over, not seeming to make sense of them. It started off pretty easy, with basic takeoff and landing calculations. Now, in the middle of this fifty question test, they were referring to flight gargan that I had never heard before. There was a scenario about a wing that made no fucking sense. 
Natasha and I made eye contact with each other. She let out a deep breath as she played with the pencil in her hand, looking way more flustered than I did. Javy was sitting next to her, keeping his hands buried in his face, elbows on the table, as he struggled to get through the problem.
“Time!” Officer Tate called out in a military-esk yell. She was our professor for our aircraft interior units. We would work with her once every three weeks. This week we focused on the parts in the nose of the aircraft. She was a rather large woman, with skin deeper than Javy’s and thick black glasses. She looked to be in her mid-30’s, but I wasn’t ever good at guessing ages. 
All of us put our pencils down right away, half of the class learned the hard way that if you kept writing after she called ‘time’, you’d get a 0. Even if it was only a split second after she yelled out to us. However, I feel that our immediate sense of ending the assessment came from frustration and overall just being over it, rather than her conditioning. 
There were 8 of us in the class. Very small, but that’s what you expect when you go down such a specific, and dare I say not very popular, career path. The guy that has assumed the role of the class pet, Taylor or Tyler or Tyson (something like that) volunteered to pick the papers up, which Officer Tate gladly accepted.
Once Ty-whatever the fuck- was back in his seat, she gave us our next assignment, one that was due by the next time we saw her in September. We had to learn the names and purpose of every mechanical device that was in the middle of the airplane, right below the wings.
We were randomly put into pairs, everyone excited about their partner except for Natasha, who got put with the pet. She gave me an annoyed look before she made her way over to him, which made me smirk. She was the woman that would say what everyone was thinking. I loved it.
I quickly took her former spot, greeting Javy, my new partner as we looked over the work packet that he had to fill in. Over 14 pages stapled together, all of which had at least 2 or 3 different parts, or cords, or machines outlined for us to fill in.
Today was the only day we could do some hands-on work with the anatomy of the cessnas before we started to fly them next week. Amen! We all followed Tate to the oversized hangar that had 4 naked cessnas scattered about. All of the groups found their own to work with for the remainder of our class time. Javy and I opted for the one closest to the opened garage, letting the breeze hit our hot bodies as we looked at our aircraft.
I looked outside of the hangar, noticing the building on the opposite side of the runway. The words “U.S. Naval Academy General Hospital” stuck out in bold, slightly faded, navy letters. The outlines of the letters were covered in dirt and moss, confirming the older age of the building. It was a medium shade of brown brick, with a row of outdoor entrance rooms lining the tarmac. I remember hearing that those were used for general treatments for students that got minor injuries, not essential enough to take up any of the hospital rooms inside. The hospital had 2 levels. The bottom floor housed their emergency room wing and recovery wing from the surgeries that took place in the wards that were at the end of the wing. The second floor was used for the general hospital visits. Where people would go if they were in labor, or recovering from an illness, or receiving treatment. 
“Fuck!” I heard Javy yell next to me, as he grabbed his hand and took numerous steps backwards from the aircraft. “Watch out for that powerbox by the fuselage Bradshaw. That shit’s super magnetic. Almost took out my whole hand”. He winced as he walked away, shaking out the pain that I’m sure was radiating through his body.
“Do you need a medic?” Tate asked Javy, who was pacing now as he waved his hand, having a hop in his step, in a shit ton of pain for sure!
“No,” He answered, “I’m good. I just need a minute”.
“Let me know if you need to see a nurse,” she continued, “they can wrap it up for you if the swelling gets too bad”.
I walked over to where he was and looked at the magnetic powerbox. It was resting right in between two other parts, with less than an inch of room between its parameter and those of the other parts. It would for sure take out anyone’s hand if you didn’t pull it away in time when it latched. There was a button that you could press below it, which caused the magnetic strips to give so you could easily take the box out of the airplane.
It was the powerbox that was outlined in the fourth page of our packet. I quickly turned to that page and read up on its performance. I was in the middle of the page when I froze, thinking about Officer Tate’s words: Let me know if you need to see a nurse, they can wrap it up for you if the swelling gets too bad. 
Could it be this simple? As far as I could tell, this was the only way where I could ensure that I was in a room alone with Allie. She would be forced to listen to me then. And then I could explain all about the stupid bet, and how I just went along with it to entertain my moronic roommate, whom I loved very much. She needed to know that I was serious about getting to know her. That she was more than just a “bet”. I quickly made my way back over to the middle of the aircraft, ducking over and finding the space that the powerbox normally lay. 
I kept contradicting myself. Always finding reasons for why I should or should not do this. This would all be a waste if she wasn’t at the hospital, or if another nurse treated me, and by doing this, I was risking my flight time for the rest of the month. I wouldn’t be able to work out as much as I nurtured the injury. But she was so worth it. Talking to her, and clearing my conscience sounded like a bigger benefit in my eyes. I couldn’t live with myself if she thought I was just a run-of-the-mill fuckboy. I was far from.
Suddenly, I felt Emmett’s spirit enter my thoughts. I have to give him credit, for how grossly immature he was, I sure was learning a lot from him. He taught me how it was okay to let go, to not be serious all the time. He was surprised to learn that my senior superlative was “Best Personality”, but I gotta admit, I was a character before my mom died. She would call me her “mini goose”.
Carole rushed to grab the video camera, laughing as 9 year old Bradley, who had put on his one dress suit, his wig that he still had from his einstein costume that he wore from halloween, and his moms black reading glasses.
“Hi everybody!” Bradley began, speaking to an imaginary audience in front of him, “Harry Carey here! And it lookth like we got a very exthiting world theries on our handth”!
Bradley was imitating one of Will Ferrel’s SNL characters, recreating the scene he had just watched with his mom a few days ago. He kept going with the scene, looking over at his mom and laughing when he realized she was filming, before creating his own skit with the character:
“And if you look over here,” he grabbed the camera and turned it to Carole, who was sporting a red sundress in the summer heat, continuing with his speech; “You thee a very pretty Carole Bradthaw!” Carole struck a pose and did a twirl for the camera. “I love you mom!” Bradley yelled out to her, still holding the camera on her.
“I love you too, mini goose!” She said before walking forward and reaching for the expensive equipment.
Bradley beamed as he went back to his scenes, spending hours and hours creating SNL skits in his living room as his mom watched, seeing Nick in his eyes, knowing how much he would have loved to do this with his son.
‘JUST FUCKING DO IT’ I heard “Emmett” saying to me in my head. If he was really here, he would have thrown my hand in the aircraft long ago, carrying me bridal style towards the hospital before dumping me at Allie’s feet.
Before I could even change my mind, my hand was holding the powerbox in the aircraft, letting the force carry me forward as the magnets snapped together.
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he Ukrainian Air Force claims to have shot down a Russian Su-24M Fencer swing-wing attack jet flying over the western end of the Black Sea near the famed Snake Island. There is unconfirmed speculation that a U.S.-made Patriot surface-to-air missile might have brought the Su-24M down. If true, that could point to a new effort on Ukraine's part to disrupt Russian strikes on targets in the western portion of the country(..)
P.S. The waters of the Black Sea are used by Russia to attack the civilian infrastructure of Ukraine. It is a great shame that the West has failed to supply the Ukrainian Air Force with modern aircraft, air-to-air missiles and anti-ship missiles. With limited resources, Ukrainians are doing quite effectively what they can to protect their territory against Russian invasion. In order for Ukraine's defense to be sufficiently effective, the Ukrainian army needs the means to strike Russian warships and airfields located at the bases of the Russian Black Fleet as well military logistics centers deep in Russian territory, at least 600 km behind the front...
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usafphantom2 · 2 months
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The Lockheed Boeing AFX was an early 90’s proposal to replace the A-6, F-14, and F-111. This was a short lived proposal that was cancelled in 1993.
Still, it’s awesome to see that swing wings were still in equation for new aircraft into the 1990’s.
@TomcatJunkie via X
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beardedmrbean · 1 year
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I remember reading somewhere that the real reason that the Air Force keeps the A-10 around is that they're worried that if they stop using them, then the Army will take them. The Army loves the A-10; it's essentially a flying tank. And if the Army takes the A-10, then they can say to the DoD, "Well, now that both the Navy and the Army both have helicopters and fixed-wing aircraft, do we even really need a separate Air Force anymore? They can just be folded back into the Army again." And of course, the Air Force likes being it's own branch, so no fixed-wing aircraft for the Army.
That could be it too, I can't remember the actual reasoning behind it and that sounds very reasonable, though I can't actually see the DOD shuttering a entire branch.
And I decided to look, because why not. Before reading it again, since this the same article I read before, I'm going to guess they don't want to scrap planes that still work and have to buy new ones.
Let's find out
The Air Force told Congress it wanted to retire 113 aircraft from its worldwide inventory.
The 138 aircraft included A-10 Thunderbolt II ground attack aircraft, bombers, spy drones, and tankers.
Congress mostly said no, and refused to retire any A-10s at all.
The Air Force tried several times over the last three decades to retire the ugly, slow-moving, close air support jet. The service wanted to replace the A-10 Warthog with the F-35 Joint Strike Fighter, but has run into both significant resistance from backers of the A-10 and claims the F-35 can’t do the close air support mission as effectively.
The Warthog has become one of the Air Force’s most popular planes, in part due to its enormous GAU-8/A Gatling gun, and a lobby of veterans and members of Congress have kept the airplane flying.
OK My initial crack about it being too popular to retire was right then, at least in part.
Still capable of carrying out it's mission so it's not a national security issue to keep the old dump trucks flying and shootin.
I also take offense as the use of the word "ugly" ain't the prettiest thing that's for sure but, take it away Quora
How much damage can the A-10 Thunderbolt endure before being shot down?
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KWEEN
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The Bathtub
Cockpit armor is a good thing, especially since that is where your stick actuator resides. Knowing that the A-10 would be the target of lots of ground fire, the Hawg designers went to great lengths to extend the life expectancy of its pilots.
For some in-depth pontification on this item, swing by this question: Does an A-10 really have a "titanium tub" for the pilot to sit in? What kind of hit can it actually take? Can it take a 50 cal explosive or armor piercing round?
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Pretty ain't gonna get you home in one piece if it ain't sturdy too
This went in a alternate direction from the one I started on, hope that's OK.
Let's end with a couple step doors
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And a link to another Popular Mechanics article about this bad boy
The A-10 Warthog Will Fly Into the 2040s
Gonna go ahead and tag @the-davest-of-uncles because I just know he's got a story or 5 about these guys too, and will also just get a kick out of this whole thing anyhow.
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siremasterlawrence · 1 year
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Gotham Knights: The Fallen Angels
Part 1
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Batman is not expecting any guest in the Bat cave when the metallic door swings right open as the water flows through a jet flew in.
A strange air craft rolls in floating in the mid of the surrounding areas quite the shiny ilk to it and he lands in the flying pad lands a gust of it shoots out.
The doors to the object lift upward in to the sky two men exit the aircraft each land in a heroic style I see a theme of star spangle stripes.
Captain America drops his shield in an odd manner with a tough guy demeanor he has never exuded before in his life his eyes are narrow.
Bruce is in a state of shock he faces him in a stand off walking toward the sexy star spangled titan and he smirks with a nervous smile.
Bruce jumps off the ramp flipping in to the air he does a cannon ball style landing and it shook through time Bucky walks out an evil glare.
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“What the fuck? Steve how on earth did you find me?””
“We have our ways idiot! We have an offer for you.”
“What would that foolish offer be?”
“Join the Legion Of Lawrence”
“Mwahahahahaha “
“Are you kidding me?”
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“We are deadly serious”
“Apparently! Let me guess or you will kill me.”
“Precisely!”
“Alfred run! I will be fine “
“No you won’t”
“Agreed Cap”
Bucky falls to one knee giving his allegiance to me in love and admiration of my power to let Captain America have his time with a fist he races in.
Bruce lets smoke bombs go throwing them as they drop to the floor exploding on to the way with impact filling the room up with so much smoke.
Its lifts in the skyline a white light washes on to him showcasing his bat symbol with just his wings in the vision of images flashes on and off.
“Why do you resist Bruce? You rather suffer all your life.”
“Be happy and healthy! Join us”
“What then? Let you groom me into a villain no thanks.”
Steve throws his shield knocking Bruce in to a coma like state unconscious to the world he lays limp at the mercy of his captures two of his ex Allie’s.
Master Lawrence refrains a bit pressing the down button as the elevator skyrockets to the basement Bat cave with Alfred in toe who tries to flee.
The man snaps his fingers as the two slaves get to work unloading all four of the stasis pods and just in case you are wondering the rest of the bay family is resting in pieces.
One quick shove locks Alfred in place as the fumes of darkness overshadow his form and Bruce soon becomes the real intended victim.
Steve and Bucky lift him up one at each end in a last test of their will they fall prey to my power and throw him into the pod sealing it permanently shut.
The gas shall consume him in his a mental hell of his owns making watch as it seeps in through his nose he can’t stop it from his lungs.
Part 2
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“Is that the Bat alert” Dick Grayson rolls
to his side of his bed drifting in and out of sleep.
“Bruce? Alfred?” He yells smacking himself in to a feverish pitch he leaps from the bed performing parkour to the bathroom.
Kicking the door close be lands on his feet in a perfect ten fashion he imagines the rose of fans applauding him.
That was the good ole days with his family being The Flying Graysons for Haileys circus for years.
His head darts downward as he grasp the bathroom sink tightly, slamming his eyes shut he sobs.
Memories of the night present themselves in a more vivid fashion than usual constantly unwavering In intensity with fear set in he looks upward.
“Mom? Dad?” Dick says their faces appear on the mirror glass haunting him he backs up.
“No way this can’t be happening!” He lets go screaming like a little girl.
“Oh yes! It is you little bitch.” A hollow heavy voice emerges from the chaos.
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“What the? Oooooohhhhhh” Dick barely can say before he injected.
“So much more pleasing now.”
“You won’t be giving Master any trouble now will you.”
“Blaabbbbb”
“Babbling like a idiot “
“Boss I right of course”
“It works miracles”
“Apparently “
“Nice ass by the way”
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Bucky cracks his knuckles this time having no regard for anything or anyone speeds through the window.
Glass shatters everywhere raining to the city below but he does not ever notice the event as it play.
All he can think about so pleasing the man who single handled freed him from his do gooder mind set.
The city is in an uproar since Batman has left the building it has become a far worse place a seedy bin of corruption.
Criminals running rampant nobody gives a damn about it not even Mayor Hill or a hero in a badge Commissioner Gordon.
Bucky enters the Batcave the pod opens he slips him in and sentences him to a life of service to me.
“Who are you?”
“Your friend “
“Mwahahahahaha “
The end
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stukagoggles · 9 months
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How about a bit of a broader question: Favorite Carrier-Borne fighter?
(here goes my "i don't pick favourite planes, they're all lovely" attitude bc i realized that i DO have favourites)
oh, that's a great question! unfortunately, i'm neither super well-versed in the pacific theatre nor jet powered aircraft LMAOOO but i have Opinions about some carrier aircrafts, so here's my top 3:
3. Harrier
an absolutely blursed meme machine, VTOL planes freak me out. like, you're not supposed to move like that
also apparently they're Nasty in war thunder (i don't play it anymore and if i still did, i would definitely not pay the ungodly pricetag they slapped on that thang)
youtube
from all accounts i've heard so far, this is an accurate depiction of what the gameplay feels like
2. F-14 Tomcat
not a huge fan of Top Gun but the tomcat is my favourite jet overall! it's Shaped, it's a swing wing, it's fucking massive. we don’t have many (if any??) tomcats here in germany but i did see one in the US and got blown away by the sheer size of it.
and with that we come to my favourite carrier-borne fighter of all time:
1. B-25 Mitchell
i don't think that i need to explain that one
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xtruss · 1 year
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As US Prepares to Unveil B-21 Stealth Bomber, Meet the World’s Other Strategic Bombers
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B-52H Stratofortresses from the 2nd Bomb Wing line up on the runway at Barksdale Air Force Base, La., Oct. 14, 2020. The B-52 is a long-range, heavy bomber that can perform a variety of missions and has been the backbone of U.S. strategic bomber forces for more than 60 years. - Sputnik International, ©Senior Airman Tessa Corrick
— Fantine Gardinier | Sputnik International | December 2, 2022
The US Air Force is set to unveil the first of its forthcoming stealth bomber, the B-21 Raider, which is being built by military aerospace firm Northrop Grumman, on Friday evening after years of secretive development.
The new aircraft will become the US Air Force’s (USAF) newest strategic bomber, a class of heavy aircraft rarely seen in the world today. Just the United States, Russian Federation, and People’s Republic of China still operate such bombers, each of which has a unique story.
Northrop B-2 Spirit
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B-2 Stealth Bomber. ©Photo : Northrop Grumman
The B-2 is the spiritual godfather of the B-21, also built by Northrop and bearing a very similar “flying wing” design. When the B-2 was unveiled to the world in 1988, it was the first stealth aircraft the public had ever seen and it shocked the world, which is why its nickname is simply “The Stealth Bomber.”
The Spirit’s stealthy design disperses or absorbs most radar waves that hit the aircraft, making it look like a small bird on enemy radar screens. Despite its sneaky ways, the Spirit packs a massive punch, able to carry 80 JDAM 500-pound laser-guided bombs or up to 16 B83 thermonuclear bombs before they were retired. It can also carry large cruise missiles in its internal bomb bay.
The B-2 project was controversial because it was top secret, was redesigned during development as a low-level terrain-following infiltration aircraft instead of as a high-altitude bomber, and became hard to justify after the Cold War ended in 1991. Just 21 were built, at a cost of $1 billion each.
Rockwell B-1B Lancer
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B-1B Lancer. CC0/United States Air Force/Staff Sgt. Bennie J. Davis III/B-1B Lancer
The B-1B or “Bone” (B-One) was built by Rockwell, now a part of Lockheed Martin, in the 1970s. While the Bone is an impressive, swing-wing bomber with stealthy characteristics and terrain-following technology, the initial plans for the aircraft were far grander.
The B-1A was envisioned as the nuclear bomber to end all bombers. It was to be big and ultra-fast, with a large bomb capacity, able to sprint past Soviet air defenses just above the treetops and deliver a nuclear bomb to a target that would never see it coming. It would be the spiritual successor to the Mach-2-capable B-58 Hustler nuclear bomber, and replace the bulky B-52 Stratofortress, too.
However, the Lancer project lived in the B-2’s shadow: US President Jimmy Carter canceled the B-1A project in 1977, officially because it was over-cost and seemed to be made obsolete after the West became aware of the Soviet Union’s ultra-advanced MiG-31 interceptor, but secretly it was because the Stealth Bomber program was showing promising developments. The program was later revived in 1981 after the B-2 encountered new delays, and the B-1B was reimagined as a less ambitious version of the B-1A. After the end of the Cold War, the B-1Bs were converted to carry conventional bombs, and they were used so extensively in a close air support role during the US war in Afghanistan that the fleet required extensive repair.
Boeing B-52 Stratofortress
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Munitions on display show the full capabilities of the B-52 Stratofortress. ©US Air Force; Tech. Sgt. Robert J. Horstman
Affectionately known by its crews as the “Big Ugly Fat F**ker” (BUFF), the B-52 has been a mainstay of the US Air Force since the 1950s. This lumbering beast, with a 185-foot wingspan, can carry 70,000 pounds of weapons and has an 8,800-mile range without refueling.
It may look obsolete today, but when it first flew in 1952 its swept wings and turbojet engines were state-of-the-art. The bomber’s massive load capacity and huge fuel tanks enabled it to perform “loitering” patrols with nuclear bombs on the edge of Soviet airspace, ready to fly towards their targets at a moment’s notice. However, it has only ever dropped conventional bombs in anger.
In the 70 years since it first flew, the B-52 has seen almost every one of its systems upgraded and replaced, enabling it to keep up with 21st century aircraft and carry new weapons like cruise missiles, hypersonic missiles, and jamming pods.
The US Air Force expects to continue using the B-52 until the 2050s.
Tupolev Tu-95/Tu-142 “Bear”
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A Russian Tu-95 Bear 'H' photographed from a RAF Typhoon Quick Reaction Alert aircraft (QRA) with 6 Squadron from RAF Leuchars in Scotland in April 2014 © Flickr/Defence Images
Perhaps no other aircraft epitomized the image of Soviet Air Forces during the Cold War like the Tu-95, which NATO assigned the reporting name “Bear.” However, Soviet air crews called it the “Mixer,” because of how violently the aircraft shook.
Introduced in 1956, the “Bear” was intended to threaten the US mainland with a nuclear strike in the same way US bombers were able to threaten the Soviet Union. Its debut shook the West, which pushed forward on a new generation of surface-to-air missiles, interceptors, and nuclear missiles to meet the challenge.
The Tu-95 has continued to serve in the Soviet, and now Russian air forces in the decades since. It has been extensively modified to serve in reconnaissance and maritime patrol, where it was designated as the Tu-142, and was even adapted into the Tu-116 passenger airliner. The aircraft was most recently used in the opening stages of the special operation in Ukraine.
When the Soviet Union was dissolved in December 1991, a number of Tu-95s and Tu-142s were inherited by the Ukrainian Air Forces, which later traded them to Russia as part of a gas deal, or dismantled the rest. The Indian Navy also operated several Tu-142s until retiring them in 2017.
It is the only turboprop-driven bomber still in service today. It is the loudest aircraft in existence, thanks to its double-propeller engines, which are so powerful their blades break the sound barrier.
Tupolev Tu-22M “Backfire”
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Russian TU-22M3 Backfire bomber ©AFP 2022/Norwegian Air Force/HO
The Tu-22M (NATO reporting name “Backfire”) emerged from a redesign of the earlier Tu-22 (NATO reporting name “Blinder”), which suffered major design flaws making it difficult to operate and maintain. However, the Soviet Union needed a powerful, long-range, Mach-2-capable bomber capable of carrying the deadly Kh-22 anti-ship cruise missile - a major threat to American aircraft carriers. The new design was much more capable and featured variable geometry “swing wings.”
The name deceived Western observers, who only realized it was a new aircraft when it was unveiled to the public in Warsaw Pact war games in 1980. It was used extensively during the Soviet War in Afghanistan, and in the Chechen Wars by Russia after the dissolution of the Soviet Union.
Ukraine also inherited several dozen Tu-22Ms, which were later scrapped under an agreement with the US aimed at preventing the spread of nuclear weapons during the USSR’s dissolution. The aircraft remains in service with the Russian Air Force, and has been modified to carry hypersonic missiles.
Tupolev Tu-160 White Swan
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Tupolev Tu-160 Blackjack strategic bomber ©Sputnik / Aleksey Nikolskyi / Go to the mediabank
Like the US’ B-1B Lancer, the Tu-160 can be a “penetrator,” despite its immense size, and can sprint at twice the speed of sound while hugging the ground with a special terrain-following radar. However, its primary mission is serving as a massive platform for launching standoff weapons like cruise missiles and hypersonic weapons, and its internal bomb bays can be fitted to carry a rotary launcher for nuclear missiles.
Its NATO reporting name is “Blackjack,” following a simple formula used by the alliance, but is known affectionately as the “White Swan” in Russia, due to its elegant shape and color, which mimic the graceful water bird.
The Tu-160 is an aircraft of superlatives: it’s the largest, heaviest, and heaviest-lifting bomber aircraft ever put into service by any nation. Its Kuznetsov NK-32 afterburning turbofan engines are the most powerful ever built.
The graceful weapon entered service in 1987, and due to the financial difficulties of the late Soviet and early Russian Federation period, just 35 were built at first. Production was later resumed in recent years, with the first new bomber being delivered in early 2022.
Ukraine inherited 19 Tu-160s from the USSR, which it then tried to sell back to Russia. When Moscow refused the high price, Kiev scrapped several of the massive bombers, although it did decide to sell seven of them back in the early 2000s.
Xi’an H-6 “Badger”
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In this Feb. 10, 2020, file photo and released by the Republic of China (ROC) Ministry of National Defense, a Taiwanese Air Force F-16 in foreground flies on the flank of a Chinese People's Liberation Army Air Force (PLAAF) H-6 bomber as it passes near Taiwan ©AP Photo / Republic of China (ROC) Ministry of National Defense
China’s strategic bomber, the H-6, began as a copy of the Soviet Tu-16 bomber from the late 1950s. However, the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) has keep the planes up-to-date with modern avionics, equipment, and weapons, and constructed several new designs for the bomber, including for maritime patrol and for carrying ballistic and hypersonic missiles.
NATO gave the Chinese H-6 the same reporting name as the Soviet Tu-16 - Badger - but the modernized version, the H-6K, is called the “God of War” by Chinese pilots. The H-6K can threaten American carrier fleets and bases across the region, being able to carry a wide variety of cruise, hypersonic, and nuclear missiles.
Xi’an H-20(?) & J/H-XX(?)
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A teased image of China's forthcoming H-20 stealth bomber taken from a People's Liberation Army Air Force promotional video ©Sputnik Screenshot
A Chinese stealth bomber in known to be in development, which has been provisionally called the H-20, but little is known about the program. A PLA promotional video in January 2021 teased its future debut, suggesting a flying-wing design similar to the American B-2 and B-21 aircraft. It is seen as a potential replacement for the aging H-6.
Rumors have also swirled about a second stealth bomber in development in China, which has been provisionally dubbed the J/H-XX, but little is known about the aircraft.
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gepetordi1 · 3 months
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The Boeing 2707 was an American supersonic passenger airliner project during the 1960s. After winning a competition for a government-funded contract to build an American supersonic airliner, Boeing began development at its facilities in Seattle, Washington. The design emerged as a large aircraft with seating for 250 to 300 passengers and cruise speeds of approximately Mach 3. It was intended to be much larger and faster than competing supersonic transport (SST) designs such as Concorde.
The SST was the topic of considerable concern within and outside the aviation industry. From the start, the airline industry noted that the economics of the design were questionable, concerns that were only partially addressed during development. Outside the field, the entire SST concept was the subject of considerable negative press, centered on the issue of sonic booms and effects on the ozone layer.
A key design feature of the 2707 was its use of a swing wing configuration. During development, the required weight and size of this mechanism continued to grow, forcing the team to switch to a conventional delta wing. Rising costs and the lack of a clear market led to its cancellation in 1971 before two prototypes had been completed.
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