flight equipment


     When you picture a test pilot or astronaut wearing a pressure suit and strutting to their sleek ship, the mental image is not complete without them toting along a little metal briefcase connected to their suits via hoses. This yellow box is a portable liquid oxygen converter and serves the all important function of cooling the human inside the suit. Without cooling, the heavy layers of a pressure suit would cause the crew member to overheat within a matter of minutes.

     The simple device has no moving parts or electronics. It contains a small tank full of super cold liquid oxygen, constantly heating up and boiling away into a gas. The cold gas expands through the coil of tubing surrounding the tank, then travels through a hose into the suit where it’s distributed through the crew member’s cooling garment throughout the suit. Some of the oxygen is directed to the crew member’s helmet, allowing them to breathe 100% pure oxygen prior to the flight, purging their blood of nitrogen, thus avoiding decompression sickness, otherwise known as the bends.

     When the pressure suited individual sits in the cockpit, a supporting crew member will disconnect the portable system and connect the ship’s integral oxygen system which serves the same purposes during flight. Equipment identical to this was used during the Blackbird program. This interesting little artifact lies on display at Blackbird Airpark in Palmdale, California.

anonymous asked:

Hi! For the prompt, fluffy highschool keynew please~ and congrats for you both xD

His eyes are dark but he is spun of light. When he moves, when he dances, the stage thrums with his every step. He breaks into a sweat of diamonds that slip along his limbs and shower his collar with damp. He is finite in the iron of his muscles, it is the mercury of his movements that defines infinity. In one moment he is untouchable steel, and in another he becomes molten lava. What little audience he may find is struck as if by the crackling of a star, its power and heat released in waves at their faces until they are red with surprise, with delight, with shock–that something could be so bright and yet not blind them. He spends days, weeks, months in the auditorium; alone and tireless. He builds his skill from blocks of courage and pebbles of aspiration. He dances mountains, creates buildings with a form so few in this school can appreciate or enjoy. He dances because it gives him peace, he dances to validate his existence in his own mind. He dances because his pulse burns and his heartbeat soars and his life ripples like an ocean of calm suddenly shaken awake into tide. Jinki knows as he watches from the sidelines; he will be a great artist one day, a great performer. He will become unforgettable when his feet touch veneer. He will rise above the rest and take the throne that awaits him.

But Kibum is more than all this. Much more. 

Keep reading

cr1mson5thestranger  asked:

Hi! I saw quite a few of your answers to questions on comas and thought that I might drop by and ask a slightly different question. I have a character who's an Iraq War veteran and lost his leg in a helicopter crash while deployed. What sort of issues would a rescue team face getting him safely back to base/a military hospital? In addition, are there any painkillers commonly prescribed to recent amputees? Thank you!

Ooooooooh! I like this question! I like this question a lot. Thanks for this!

When you say “What sort of issues would a rescue team face getting him safely back to base/a military hospital?”, there are a few issues we need to discuss when it comes to your characters amputation, the specifics of the helicopter crash, and what may or may not complicate the SAR (Search and Rescue) op.

First, what brought down the helicopter? If it’s enemy fire, that’s a whole different ball of wax than other causes of aircraft crashes such as mechanical failure or CFIT (Controlled Flight Into Terrain–pilot error, disorientation, visual failure at night, pilot suicide, what have you).

The reason for getting shot down being a much bigger deal is that typically, after they shoot you down, people with guns will come to try and finish the job.

I am not a combat medic. I do not play one on TV. (I did consult with a veteran combat medic with service in both iterations of the Iraq war for this post.) But there was an excellent TV show called Inside Combat Rescue that followed an elite special forces group called the PJs, or Pararescuemen, who are Air Force special forces troops who are specifically adept at performing high-risk medevacs.

It’s a neat show, and I don’t typically go for neat. It was on Netflix a while back, but seems to not be anymore. Sadness. If you enjoy this type of thing, I suggest you go and find it.

Either way, there are a few phases of rescuing members of downed helicopters:

1) Learning that a crash has even taken place. Birds go down silent more often than you’d think; a pilot’s last priority is communication, her first is flying the goddamn bird, so hitting the deck without making a radio transmission is entirely possible. Also, consider that the initial hit could have incapacitated the pilot and/or co-, or destroyed comms systems in the bird. I don’t know if the US military has auto-transponders in the case of crashes; civilian birds are supposed to transmit emergency signals if they crash at anything higher that 4 Gs of force. A lot of crashes don’t hit that hard, so often times the transponder doesn’t go off even though it works perfectly in tests after the fact.


2) Assessing that crash. Is there another bird that can get a visual on the crash? A ground unit? A satellite? Where is it, exactly? How much bad guy is between a rescue unit and that crash? How many crew were on board? A single medevac chopper can take several patients, but if a Black Hawk filled with troops plus pilots plus crew chief just went down, or if ground units have taken casualties protecting the aircraft, additional aircraft may be required to take all the casualties.

3) Planning and executing a response. Commanders will have to weigh sending one crew out to try to save another–while the people who just shot the bird down are still around.

4) Launching the rescue mission, arriving on scene. This is relatively obvious. There may be additional units dispatched to secure the scene and provide cover for the medics while they do their job.

5) Attaining fire superiority. One of the basic rules of combat medicine, as has been told to me by military medics and what little brushes I’ve had with it in the civilian world, is: The first priority at any scene involving gunfire is shoot back. You want more lead flying the other way than toward you, because that’s how you stay safe.

6) Assessing the crew. Who’s fucked up, and how bad? Who’s dead? Who’s injured? Who needs to be boarded and collared, and who can be dragged? Who’s bleeding to death, and who can wait? Does anyone need an airway?

One major point about the mechanism by which your character loses his leg: helicopter crashes are really violent. People and equipment get thrown. He likely suffered other injuries in the crash. Many many survivers of helo crashes have significant trauma to their back and head. Spinal fractures are possible. Broken bones in other limbs are very likely, especially in the arms and hands (as people try to protect themselves and/or brace for the impact).

7) Evac and care. Patients will need to be loaded into the medevac chopper on stretchers and secured for transport. Care is ongoing during all phases of flight. People might get IVs in the air, or airways in the air (though it’s MUCH better to tube on the ground if you can). Again, it depends on how many patients there are and their condition.

If they’re shocky enough, your character may even get a blood transfusion in-flight with a unit of O- whole blood.

8) Arrive at Field Hospital. I will be honest: I don’t understand the military’s exact structure when it comes to field hospitals. I’m not sure what they’re called.

I can give you a very confusing graphic from a military lecture on joint trauma systems, but I can’t give you the explanation that goes with that chart:

Your soldier was likely medevaced (the actual term is CASEVAC, casualty evacuation) to a Combat Support Hospital, or CSH (pronounced $), where a Forward Surgical Team (FST) would have performed the amputation. He would have been stabilized there, likely with blood products, and then flown back to a hospital in a major city, such as Baghdad. The next step would have been to be flown to a hospital in a US base, such as Rammstein, Germany.  Ultimately he would have been flown home to the US and likely sent to a VA hospital such as Walter Reed.

As to pain…. here’s what things might have looked like for pain management.

Field Care / CASEVAC care: Your character would likely have gotten ketamine or fentanyl for pain, if he got anything at all. Morphine tanks blood pressures too much and it’s likely that whatever caused the amputation caused enough bleeding to be life-threatening, so no morphine.

Surgical Care: Your character would have gotten an anesthetic for the surgery, and likely some intravenous fentanyl for pain management.

Post-Op Care: Opiates. Now that he’s been stabilized, he can get morphine in the first few days. After that, oxycodone with acetaminophen (Percocet) is likely. This will continue throughout the recovery process.

I hope this was helpful!

I also really want to say thank you to the vet who helped me write this answer. I am in your debt, sir, and thank you for both your time and your service.

xoxo, Aunt Scripty


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jellybeanie2-deactivated2016090  asked:

Can I request a scenario with Oikawa, Bokuto, and Daichi where a wasp gets into their crush (and friend)'s room and they have to devise a plan to kill it without any wasp spray, and the guys want to look macho and heroic ((whether they scream at the sight of it and if they wasp assassination goes according to plan is up to you))

alright so quick lesson in entomology

this is a Japanese (giant) hornet (aka satans honey bee):

these things can grow up to 4.8 centimeters (1.8 inches) and their sting is not lethal if stung just once, but it does have a corrosive effect on the skin. they don’t produce honey, like other species of hornets they just waste space and terrify people

Christ almighty if that thing was in my room id just burn the house down 

He was right on the verge of asking you out, he was so close to ushering out the words when the sudden yelp you emit cuts him off.

“What is it, ________-chan?” Oikawa questions curiously, he’s reaching for your hand when suddenly, he hears a buzzing whir around his ear.

It’s not the hum of a fly, or a passing bumble bee, it’s deeper than that, the baritone hum of the rapid beat of wings instills fear in the setter, that kind of deep hum can only mean one creature.

Without sparing so much as a second glance to confirm his rising suspicion, he darts after you into the bathroom conjoined to your bedroom.

He closes the door behind him hastily, nearly clipping his shirt in the door crack. Switching the light on, he looks at you in your state of panic. He’s thinking that maybe the two of you can wait it out in here, you can sit on his lap while he strokes your hair to calm you down, he can hold your hand and tell you it’s alright. Oikawa nearly considers the possibility of confessing to you in a bathroom, but quickly abandons the thought. He’s pulled out of his day dreams when you speak.

“You have to kill it.”

Oikawa’s heart stops. For a split second he’s thinking about his feelings for you, and how it might not be worth putting his life on the line for.

“But it’s your house!” He shrieks back. “So? you have to kill it before it kills us!” You argue, gesticulating wildly. He hates that he can’t argue with your logic. What he hates even more is that he shares it with you.

“Do you have any spray?” He asks, hopefulness raising the tone of his voice. You shake your head indignantly, and move to sit on top of the bathroom counter.

Oikawa curses his luck. Then, an idea hits him like a volleyball to the face.Or rather, the back of his head. He’s thinking he can trap it under a glass and a magazine, and set it free and win your affections without killing it. He notes the half empty water glass on your counter.

“________-chan, do you still have the magazine I gave you?”

You nod. It was the magazine that he appeared in, he brought you a copy and exclaimed that his career as a model had began.

“It’s still on my nightstand.” You affirm, and it makes Tooru gulp. He reaches for the glass, dumps the rest of the water out and stands by the door with his spindly fingers slowly clasping around the doorknob. He looks back at you, and is met with a reassuring, yet nervous gaze.

He gives a small, quirky smile. When he receives one back, he embarks on his mission. Slowly turning the doorknob he peeks out, calculating brown eyes scan your bedroom for the insect, pinpointing it on the window sill. He slides the door open a little more, and weaves his lithe body out of the small opening with all the grace of a feline.

You have half a mind to shut the door, but decide against it in favor of watching Oikawa through a much smaller crack.

 Momentarily, he disappears from your slim line of vision to grab the magazine. He thinks he hears the horrible buzzing again, but the bug hasn’t taken flight. Yet.

Oikawa, fully equipped, slowly makes his way towards the window. He’s trying to pump himself up, telling himself that this is worth it, and how proud of him you’ll be when he releases it. He thinks of the kiss on the cheek he hopes you’ll give him too.

However as the setter encroaches on his target, it suddenly takes flight, directly towards him.

Oikawa shrieks, abandons all bravery in favor of chucking the magazine and the glass at the hornet, and flees back into the bathroom, almost knocking you over in the process.

Later that evening when the hornet decides your room has nothing to offer except two scared teenagers, it leaves. In its wake, a broken glass, and a Volleyball Monthly magazine on the ground outside your window.

However, the acceptance of his confession on your part makes Oikawa think that the whole ordeal was worth it.

You’re both laughing as Bokuto manages to pin the last corner of the blanket up, completing the less than pitiful blanket fort he some how convinced you to build in your room when you’re supposed to be studying.

As he crouches back down, you maneuver to lay on your back, stealing Bokuto’s pillow in the process.

“Hey!” Bokuto screeches, reaching for the plush cushion that you tuck under your head.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” you mimic his trademark call, giggling.

“what the heck, ________, that’s mine.” Bokuto smiles, fixing himself to lay his head on your stomach. “You’ll just have to make due, I guess.” He shrugs, then receives a whack in the face from said pillow.

“Bo, that tickles!” Squirming, you try to push the boy’s head off, instead he decides to lay on you entirely.

“Bokuto get off! You’re heavy!” Not even putting much effort into it, your shoving at the musculature that’s almost suffocating you.

“That’s because I’m swole.” He answers, pressing his back into your chest and laying his head next to yours. Quietly, you accept defeat, taking it in the form of going limp and turning your head to look at him.

“So when are you going to go out with me? You’re breaking me heart.” He teases, leaning in closer to press your noses together.

“I already told you, you have to prove to me that you’re boyfriend material, Bokuto.” you sigh, reaching over to run your fingers through his spiked hair.

He closes his golden eyes, and rolls off of you just enough to lay at your side. “Am I doing it now?” He asks softly, opening his eyes and leaning closer.

“Bo please,” You protest. To your surprise, it comes out much weaker than intended, and you find yourself closing your eyes. Your lips brush his and you can smell the faint dregs of the mint gum you shared on the way home.

“________, I want you so bad.” He mumbles, moving an arm over to cup your cheek as your lips connect fully, with intention, purpose.

The thing is, this isn’t the first kiss shared between you two.

You indulge, longer than you should. The glide of his slightly chapped lips siphons the breath right out of your lungs, replaces it with something slow, easy and comfortable.

When his breath fans across your face and Bokuto grows hungrier, his teeth begin to nibble at your bottom lip.

All of it feels so good, so right, and yet you remind yourself that you’re hurting him by not giving providing the answer he already knows.

This is when you’re thrust back into the shores of reality. You pull apart slowly, like you’re surfacing, a strand of saliva connecting your lips, your eyes half lidded.

“I should go start dinner-” You stammer, slowly making your way out of the newly dilapidated fort entrance.

“Stay with me for a while.”
Bokuto says, collecting your wrist in his firm grip. You cave instantly, and fall into supine submission by his side.

He wraps a single arm around you and tugs you to his chest, nuzzling into your hair and inhaling your scent shamelessly.

Closing your eyes, you decide suddenly, you could use a nap.

After a moment, both of your breathes sync together in time with your heartbeats, and it feels like the low him to a lazy love song. You’re just about to fall into slumber when you hear something.


You crack your eye open and look up at the stooping roof of your fort. The blanket selected to be the roof is thin enough for you to make out the shape crawling on it.

“Bokuto-” You whisper, and he simply grunts in response. Until the buzz sounds again, then the shape on the blanket disappears. Bokuto’s halcyon eyes shoot open, with the intent to kill.

It’s a wordless exchange between the two of you, yet it feels tangible because of the fear refined into instinct. Instinct that tells you nothing good comes from that sound.

“________, run! I’ll kill it!” Bokuto hollers, Rising up quickly and destroying your fort as you scramble to the door.

Now is his chance, he decides.

Stretching to his full height, his eyes search for the intrusive bug that’s flying around your room. He doesn’t bother grabbing a weapon, opting instead for his open palm once the bug lands on the reflective glass of your mirror.

All of it happens in a whir of chaotic motions, Bokuto shouts, there’s a bang as the mirror is hit and falls off its hinges to shatter against the floor, you think you hear the crunch of an exoskeleton, but that’s probably the glass of the mirror.

Later, when you’re scrubbing bug entrails off of Bokuto’s hand, you’re amazed he didn’t get stung.

“________, I told you I’d kill it! Who’s a good boyfriend now? I saved your life!” He cheers, beaming at you so widely you can’t stop yourself from giggling as you lather warm water and soap over his awaiting, bug splattered hand.

“True, that was pretty heroic of you, but you smashed my mirror.” You respond, holding his hand under a stream of lukewarm water.

Bokuto wracks his brain for the pickup line Kuroo told him once that involved a mirror.

“You don’t need a mirror to tell you you’re beautiful ________, I can do that for you!”

You roll your eyes and decide that maybe having the energetic captain around isn’t such a bad thing.

Your lips are connected in a bond of sweetness and bliss, and Daichi can hardly ignore the rapid spring of his heart beat. You have just accepted his confession, after weeks of pining he’s finally obtained the nerve to ask you out. He can feel the delicate press of your lips curve into a smile, it makes him smile too as he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you closer.

His chest is solid, built from years of practice. however, the sinewy muscle paired with a thin cotton t-shirt isn’t enough to mask the increasing thrum of his heartbeat, you can feel beneath your finger tips as you slide your hands up his abdomen to wind around his neck.

For a dreaded second you think he’s stopping, until you feel the hot slide of his tongue swipe across your lower lip.

Parting your mouth, you crack your eyes open momentarily to look at him, and you do, albeit only for a second. A whir of yellow and brown accompanied by a buzz shoots past your line of sight, and lands on the table beside your bed.

It’s probably the biggest one you’ve ever seen.

Imbued with panic you pull away hastily, backing up and leaving a confused Daichi standing at the foot of your bed.

“Daichi! there’s a hornet!” You shout, pointing a finger at the insect crawling over a stack of books. The brunette nearly jumps out of his skin, but remembers your presence and decides to swipe on a calm-as-possible facade.

“I’ll get it,” He states, without really thinking about it. His gaze follows the bug on its flying path until it lands on the dead center of your bed, where Daichi had planned and hoped to ahem, hold you.

You slide him a shoe from your closet, a sandal, of all footwear, Daichi inwardly curses. With that, you scamper into the hallway, peeking your head around the door frame.

He swallows, the inebriation from kissing you only moments before ebbing out of his system, adrenaline and astute paranoia taking its place in Daichi’s veins.

His fist tightens around the sandal as he slides forward to the left of the bed, behind the intruding insect. Daichi thinks he has the element of surprise, when in reality the bee’s four eyes have had a visual on him since it intruded into your room.

He slams the sandal down on your comforter just short of clipping it, but the hornet just manages to evade death by a wing.

Great, now it’s mad.

Against his better judgment, Daichi strikes again, swinging his muscled arm through the air and more or less slapping the large hornet from its original course, right towards you.

You dash down the hall and into the kitchen, where a can of flammable air freshener awaits. If only the lighter had fluid.

Cursing your luck, you run back to the end of the hall way and call for Daichi.

Half of a heart attack later, he answers, affirming his unstung, well-being.

Seconds later he actually appears, and struts down the hallway like he’s on his way to accept an Oscar. “I think you’ll find your room hornet free, ________.” He thinks you can’t tell, but by the nature of his smugness you know he wants another kiss.

Which of course you’re happy to oblige.


One of the world’s most famous and oldest spacecraft is revealing some of its past. Apollo 11 was the first mission to land humans on the moon. As Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin walked on the lunar surface, Michael Collins circled above in the command module called Columbia.

Columbia is where the three astronauts lived during most of the eight-day mission in July 1969. It’s the only part of the spacecraft that returned to Earth, and it’s been at the Smithsonian since 1970 and at the National Air and Space Museum in Washington, D.C., since it opened in 1976.

Museum guests are able to peer inside the windows of the cramped, 10-by-12-foot, cone-shaped capsule and look at the flight controls, navigation equipment and the three uncomfortable-looking seats. What they haven’t been able to see are markings hidden from view for the past 47 years.

Astronaut ‘Graffiti’ Seen For The First Time In Decades

Photos: Smithsonian Air and Space Museum and NASA

anonymous asked:

Wait you got shot at by terorists?

Not quite, but you’re correct in a way. Bear with me here, as this is a semi long story.

So back in 2014, my father and I went to Israel to participate in the six week dig Tel Megiddo. Tel Megiddo is situated on a hill in the Jezreel Valley, and has had 16 cities built atop one another and 34 battles. In the Bible, it’s the place where the final battle between heaven and hell will take place, and the name translates to “Armageddon.”

In antiquity, the hill controlled the Jezreel Valley. The Jezreel Valley bisects Israel, so whoever controlled the Valley controls Israel, and whoever controls Israel controls much of the traffic in the ancient Middle East. So therefore, if you control Megiddo, you control a large part of the Middle East. You can see why the place was interesting.

Now, in an effort to save money, we got the ex-IDF DI on the dig to arrange for a cheap but high protein meal. She went above and beyond; she got very cheap meals for every single day, three meals a day. We were glad until we realized what the meals were.

Eggs. Eggs and more eggs. You want variety? Fuck no! This is Israel, take your fucking eggs! Eggs for breakfast, eggs for lunch, eggs for dinner, rinse and repeat, for thirty days straight.

We were planning on leaving the dig four weeks in, and get home on July 12 - a day before my birthday. I was glad we weren’t staying the full six weeks because I was fucking sick of eggs. I couldn’t eat eggs for a year after I got home.

And then all the shit with Gaza and rocket attacks kicked in one week before we left. Half the Haifa University students were ex-IDF just out of the military, and were almost immediately called back into uniform. On one night, we had an air raid siren go off while I was in the office - the one place with Internet. Everyone was wondering where I had been instead of the shelters, and this is when I discovered how bad my hearing loss had become. I couldn’t hear the goddamn air raid siren.

Apparently, the sirens went off three more times while I was there. The first one I slept through, the second I didn’t hear, and the third I was dragged to the shelter since the other people decided they shouldn’t leave somebody so obviously deaf.

In the nearby town of Uum Al-Fahm was some trouble brewing, so our kibbutzim was host to an Israeli riot control team for the rest of the time I was there. On the last day in Israel, the power to the kibbutz was cut twice.

Finally, it came time to leave Israel. We got in the car that had gained twice its weight in dust from the dig, and we drove to Tel Aviv and Ben Gurion International Airport. At every bus stop were IDF troops, waiting to board to get to their bases. At one point on the highway, we passed by a broken down truck and the trailer it was towing - which had a Merkava MBT aboard it. When we got to the airport, we got through security very quickly. My father was wearing a Jewish star, which helped some, and the security seemed more welcoming to people leaving the country than entering.

Once we got through security, we passed a Pizza Hut thing with one dude standing behind the counter.

I have eaten nothing but eggs for thirty days, three meals a day. I am not starving, but I’m craving something, ANYTHING, that isn’t shitty eggs.

So I bought a cold slice of crappy pizza and a tiny plate to go with. As I’m sitting there munching on it, a security guards comes up and motions for us to come with him. “Why? We’ve already gone through security!”

He pointed at the sky and said “Boom.”

He led us to a hallway with a good three hundred people crammed into it. There was at least ten babies in that mess, all of them shrieking - and then there was me standing in a corner eating frozen pizza.

I looked up at that point. There was a skylight. The hallway was supposed to be explosive proof, that’s why they led us there - but that’s a skylight. And in that moment, in watching three fucking rockets launched from Gaza falling towards me.

And then Iron Dome launched. I guess BGI is a rather important thing to defend, as they intercepted every rocket - it was boom, boom, boom, flashes in the sky and the little tinkling of shrapnel hitting the roof about two minutes later.

Five minutes later, my frozen pizza was done, and the all clear sounded.

Forty minutes later, we boarded the plane like we weren’t in a country currently under constant rocket bombardment, took off, and immediately turned hard to avoid Gaza. It was at that point the captain helpfully informed us that all El-Al flights were equipped with a flare system called Flight Guard in case of missiles.

We got home on schedule.

The next day - my birthday - I checked the news. There was a report on a rocket attack on terminal A of BGI, successfully intercepted by Iron Dome. I was in terminal A. So therefore, I technically owe my life to Iron Dome.

And that ends the story of Shig Goes To Israel, Digs, Constantly Eats Eggs, Gets Caught Up In A War, And Nearly Gets Blown Up.

Snagged a G43 since I had to leave my Shield at home due to my own stupidly in chosen flight equipment. Either way I bought this from a buddy and will be carrying this for a few till
I get back home with my shield. So
Far it carries real well and since I scored this from a buddy , I also got an armiger solutions holster with it. ( i would have ordered it anyways ) Pretty stoked.

dudeitscorey-blog-blog-blog  asked:

Ugin seems better equipped to flight alongside the Eldrazi than against them. Not that I'm complaining because I think he is a really sweet card. It's just flavor wise, doesn't he seem a little... off?

Or maybe Ugin is the perfect person to challenge the Eldrazi because he understands them better than most. : )

Today’s pet peeve: while the current efforts toward more scientifically accurate depictions of dinosaurs are laudable, feathered dinosaurs probably did not have flight feathers on their forelimbs. Modern flightless birds typically have flight feathers because they evolved from flying ancestors; feathered dinosaurs, on the other hand, predate the adaptation of feathers for flight, so depicting flight-feather-equipped forelimbs is anachronistic, evolutionarily speaking.