ag airplane


Photo series #7

This photo series will bring a well known fighter jet, the fifth generation, twin engine, air superiority, stealth fighter, the Lockheed Martin F-22A Raptor.

Developed from the YF-22, the USAFs ATF (Advanced Tactical Fighter) program winner, the Raptor is one of the most modern fighter jets in the world, although it was primarily designed for air superiority and as a replacement for the F-15, it also has ground attack, eletronic warfare and SIGINT (Signal Intelligence) capabilities.

Because of a series of high costs and lack of missions for it’s intended role, production has ended in 2011 and the last F-22 was delivered in 2012.

The first combat sortie of this fighter jet happened in September 22nd, 2014 when F-22s dropped 1000lb GPS guided bombs on Islamic State targets, in June 2015, it performed the first CAS (Close Air Support) of the aircraft. Although combat sorties are still somewhat slim, the F-22 has had an increase number of missions for ISR ( intelligence, surveillance and reconnaissance) gathering during it deployment to the Middle East.

Here are some of it’s specifications:

Engines: Pratt & Whitney F119-PW-100 turbofans with thrust vectoring in the pitch axis (up and down)


 1 x 20mm  M61A2 Vulcan

For AA (Air to Air) missions:

6 x AIM-120 AMRAAM

2 x AIM-9 Sidewinder

For AG (Air to Ground) missions:

2 x 1000lb JDAM or 8 x 250lb GBU-39 Small Diameter Bombs

2 x AIM-9 Sidewinder

2 x AIM-120 AMRAAM

It also has 4 under-wing pylons for drop tanks or weapons with a capacity of 5000lb.

Now of all of this is controlled by an AN/APG-77 radar with an AN/AAR-56 Missile Launch Detector, AN/ALR-94 Radar Warning Receiver (RWR) and a MJU-39/40 flare countermeasures.

And that’s it for this photo series, don’t forget to like, reblog and follow, there is a new photo series every wednesday and sunday.

If you have any suggestions, contributions or want to send a complete photo series, don’t be shy, send them to me and i’ll upload them!


World War I dogfighting and the Synchronization Gear,

 Originally during World War I, airplanes were originally used for reconnaissance purposes; to scout out and map enemy positions or direct artillery fire.  Then pilots began firing pistols, rifles, and shotguns at enemy planes.  Then they had the idea to mount machine guns, operated by a spotter/gunner in the rear seat.  Then militaries had the idea of designing and fielding specially made planes with forward mounted machine guns whose only purpose was to shoot down other planes.  When those “fighters” began to do battle with other “fighters”, the art of “dogfighting” began. There was only one problem, how do you shoot a machine gun through a propeller?

One of the first solutions to this problem was to mount the plane with an armored propeller that would deflect bullets.  This was obviously far from a perfect solution. It was only a matter of time before the propeller wore out and failed.  In addition, the extra weight put added stress on the engine and crankshaft, and there was always the risk of ricochets striking the pilot

The solution to this problem was the invention of the synchronization gear, a device which prevented a plane’s machine guns from firing when the propeller was in the way. There were a few pre-war designs, and several designs used by both the Allies and Central Powers, but the first practical and reliable design was invented by Dutch aircraft designer Anthony Fokker in 1915.

For the next year, the German Air Force had a great tactical advantage over the Allies, an event which was called the “Fokker Scourge”.  During this period, the Allies either had to mount machine guns on the top of the wing, use armored propeller blades, or use unreliable synchronization gear designs.  By 1916, the Allies had developed their own comparable synchronization gear, evening the playing field.  Over time, a number of improvements were made to the Fokker synchronization gear and other designs.  The end of the synchronization gear’s usefulness came with the coming of the jet age. 

Achluophobia: Saturday

Title: Achluophobia: Saturday, Part 2 of 4
Author: @piecesofscully
Rating: PG-13 - Strong R
Timeline: Mid-season 7
Notes: Again, thank you to @bohoartist for all of her beta and support while writing this.  She was crucial to me finishing this, and was a constant source of support. Also, ½ of the multimedia is because of her.  And thank you to my baeta @kateyes224 for all the love and making my writing is the best it can be. 

Friday, Part 1 


The atmosphere within the house is relaxed the next morning, with much of the activity confined to the kitchen as Claire mindlessly hums a tune while preparing breakfast for everyone.  Jack sips coffee at the table with Mulder and Scully, while the smell of bacon frying on the stove sends their stomachs into a growling frenzy.

“Can I help with anything?” Scully asks.  

Claire waves her hand and shakes her head.  “No, thank you.  Breakfast is the least I can offer you.  Sit and drink that coffee.”  

“How’d you two sleep?”  Jack asks, his voice cloaked in nonchalance, but his eyes flick back and forth between the two agents desperately asking the loaded question he’s too afraid to speak out loud, did you experience anything?    

At the mere mention of sleep, Scully struggles to stifle a yawn and her recollection of last night with the back of her hand.  

Jack chuckles.  “That well, huh?  I know that mattress is a little lumpy.”

“No,” Scully answers quickly.  “No, it was fine, thank you.”

He rests his elbows on the table, leaning towards her.  Slivers of reluctant hope glimmer around the edges of his voice when he finally verbalizes, “Something else then?”

Mulder nudges a fresh cup of coffee in Scully’s direction, who takes it with a small smile of appreciation.  “Just new surroundings,” he offers.  

Concealed beneath the table, Scully brushes her knee against Mulder’s, a silent thank you for stepping in and ending a conversation she wasn’t in the frame of mind to have.  “Not working today, Jack?”  she asks, changing the subject.

“Took the weekend off,” he says turning to flash a smile in the direction of his wife.  She turns as if on cue, and winks at her husband.  “I’m planning to spend it with my family, and you fine people.”

Mulder downs the remaining coffee from his mug as Claire shuffles to the cupboard and begins pulling down plates.

“Breakfast is almost ready,” Claire says as she crosses to place the dishes on the table.  “Just waiting on the biscuits.”

“Would you mind if I went and introduced myself to Joey before we eat?” Mulder asks.

“Of course not,” Claire responds.  “Go on up, he’s in his room playing.  It’s the last door on the right.”

Mulder flashes Scully a smile before exiting the kitchen.

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Home, Chapter 1

AUTHOR: Losille2000
GENRE: Romance/Drama
FIC SUMMARY: Tom returns home grouchy and exhausted from a cramped flight after four months away for work. Unfortunately, there’s already someone sleeping in his bed.
RATING: M (sex, language)
AUTHORS NOTES: I’ve unapologetically borrowed some ideas from The Holiday and, well, “Goldilocks and the Three Bears.” This won’t be all rainbows and butterflies, though, so you’ve been warned.

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My opinion is that new needs new techniques. And the modern artists have found new ways and new means of making their statements. It seems to me that the modern painter cannot express this age, the airplane, the atom bomb, the radio, in the old forms of the Renaissance or of any other past culture. Each age finds its own technique.
—  Jackson Pollock, from an interview with William Wright, 1950.
Your Heart Is Laid Bare

Another day, another city, another hotel room. Criminal Minds is on. Serial killers are everywhere. I am in Texas, Austin. I am here for about eighteen hours. On the flight here, I read short stories from students in my workshop. I tried to at least mentally plan my craft of fiction class on Tuesday. I have to be efficient to make any of this work.

At the airport, two of the American employees said, “You’re not going to LA today?” I laughed. I said, “Not today.” The TSA employees at the airport also know me. This is what happens when you travel too much. You have fewer secrets. Your heart is laid bare. 

On Facebook, announcements, pictures of sonograms. Facebook calls these things “life events.” That is such a corporate way of trying to explain the most significant moments in our lives. Sometimes, it is a reminder of all the ways you are being left behind. 

In ten days, I am turning forty years old. This is supposed to be a significant milestone, a “life event.” This is the age when people start sending you Over the Hill cards with images of gravestones like we’re still in the 19th century and 40 meant not much time left.

I will be traveling home from another speaking engagement on my birthday so I guess I’m not celebrating this year. It’s a day. Whatever. I am not afraid of forty. The last few years have been great. I am looking forward to forty. What I fear has nothing to do with age.

On the first airplane today, I read a tweet from someone who recognized me, she was 99 percent sure.  I let her know it was indeed me and we took a picture together in the terminal when we landed. I cannot believe what my life is becoming.

I gave myself a paper cut beneath the fingernail of my right pointer finger. It is shockingly painful and there is no easy comfort from this very specific discomfort. 

This has been a week of revelations about certain men in the literary scene. These various situations cannot be conflated but it’s easy to look at the sum of the revelations and think, What the fuck? I don’t have any grand pronouncements to make but I have been thinking a great deal about consent and how men, mostly, love to complicate consent, either implicit or explicit. It is not confusing. If you are confused, take a look at that. It also drives me crazy when people act like focusing on consent is basically asking someone to sign the Magna Carta before getting down to it. Stop being terrible. Consent is not confusing. It’s about people unwilling to stop when they are all in the heat of the moment. It’s about entitlement. All of this exhausts me. It breaks my heart that these things still fucking happen. It breaks my heart that too many women are socialized to just lie there and let him finish because that’s just easier. I’m frustrated because it is so hard to talk about these things and I’m frustrated because I don’t think we should offer up judgments about the personal experiences of others. We can’t help it though. That’s what happens when these disclosures happen online. The court of public opinion begins and it is merciless and all too often, it is heartless.

Why is everything so damn hard? Why do I want so much? When will that stop? Am I the world’s biggest fool? Yes. That is likely.