#flight data recorder

[sudden-stops-kill]

[macmanx]

On Memorial Day, I usually think about my Grandfather.

Not only about his service in the US Air Force during World War 2, flying P-51 fighter planes, but also that he lead the team at Lockheed Aircraft Service Company which pioneered the reusable and highly durable flight data recorder that is still in use on commercial and private aircraft today.

I hope he’s flying clear skies in the afterlife. At the very least, his technology is watching over us.

[futuretrendstoday]

Black Box Data Extracted in Air India Crash Investigation: What It Reveals So Far

In a major breakthrough, investigators have successfully retrieved and downloaded data from the black boxes of the Air India Boeing 787 Dreamliner that tragically crashed on June 12, 2025, shortly after takeoff from Ahmedabad. The crash resulted in the loss of 260 lives, making it one of the deadliest aviation accidents in India in recent years.

With the Cockpit Voice Recorder (CVR) and Flight Data Recorder (FDR) now in hand, the Aircraft Accident Investigation Bureau (AAIB) has begun reconstructing the final moments of the flight to determine the root cause of the crash.

What the Black Boxes Reveal

The black boxes are essential to any aviation accident investigation. They contain:

Cockpit conversations between pilots and air traffic control

Flight metrics such as altitude, airspeed, engine performance, and control inputs

Alerts and warnings received in the cockpit during the flight

The initial analysis of the data is expected to clarify whether the crash was caused by technical failure, pilot error, or external factors such as weather or bird strikes.

Possible Causes Under Review

While the final report is still months away, officials have confirmed they are reviewing several key possibilities:

Dual engine malfunction during initial climb

Autopilot system response and manual overrides

Emergency equipment deployment, such as the ram air turbine (RAT)

Pilot decision-making and crew coordination during crisis moments

The aircraft reportedly sent distress signals seconds before losing contact with air traffic control, raising questions about whether the crew had sufficient time to attempt recovery.

AAIB and Global Collaboration

India’s AAIB is working closely with international aviation safety bodies, including the U.S. National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) and Boeing representatives. The black box data is being analyzed in New Delhi’s newly modernized aviation lab, which is equipped for high-speed data decoding and acoustic analysis.

Experts have emphasized that this is the first Indian crash involving the Boeing 787 Dreamliner platform, raising the stakes for both regulatory authorities and manufacturers.

Regulatory Actions and Industry Repercussions

In response to the crash:

The Directorate General of Civil Aviation (DGCA) has launched a full-scale audit of Air India’s maintenance practices and crew scheduling protocols.

All Dreamliner aircraft operating under Indian carriers are undergoing comprehensive safety checks.

Air India has been instructed to submit updated compliance reports, especially regarding engine health monitoring and emergency training procedures.

This incident may also impact how India regulates long-haul aircraft operations, especially for carriers managing large, aging fleets.

What Happens Next?

The AAIB is expected to release a preliminary investigation report by September 2025, which will include factual findings from the flight data, an initial safety analysis, and potential recommendations for systemic improvements.

A final report, complete with cause analysis and proposed aviation reforms, may follow in early 2026.

Conclusion

The successful extraction of black box data marks a crucial step in the ongoing investigation into the Air India crash. As authorities piece together the final moments of Flight AI-267, the findings are likely to have far-reaching implications for India’s aviation industry, aircraft maintenance protocols, and passenger safety standards.

[themorningnewsinformer]

Air India Crash: Will Flight Recorders Be Sent Abroad?

Introduction Air India crash investigators face a critical decision: should the flight recorders from the deadly Ahmedabad Boeing 787 crash be sent abroad for decoding? With India’s new AAIB black box lab in Delhi official but untested, the stakes are high. Background of the Incident On 12 June 2025, Air India Flight 171 — a Boeing 787‑8 Dreamliner bound for London — crashed shortly after…

[hc24news]

Air India Crash: 28 घंटे बाद ब्लैक बॉक्स बरामद, जांच में मिल सकती है बड़ी सुराग

Air India Crash: अहमदाबाद में गुरुवार को लंदन के लिए उड़ान भरते ही दुर्घटनाग्रस्त हुए एयर इंडिया के बोइंग 787 विमान का ब्लैक बॉक्स आखिरकार 28 घंटे की मशक्कत के बाद शुक्रवार को बरामद कर लिया गया. जांच एजेंसियों को उम्मीद है कि ब्लैक बॉक्स के जरिए इस भयावह हादसे के कारणों का जल्द पता लगाया जा सकेगा. 28 घंटे बाद मिला ब्लैक बॉक्स, राहत की बड़ी कामयाबी नागर विमानन मंत्री राम मोहन नायडू ने सोशल…

[dougielombax]

The NTSB have taken the plane’s flight data recorder into witness protection.

[neosciencehub]

Truth inside the Box: Flight Recorders & the Science of Crash Forensics @neosciencehub #FlightRecorders #ScienceofCrashForensics #TruthinsidetheBox #firstfatalcrash #neosciencehub

[888-fr]

Festival Skin Entries by Year

Me and my friends who regularly enter festival contests have felt for the past few years that the number of entries per contest have dropped. Today we finally decided to compile every single festival submission thread since 2013 and see if that's true!

This was pretty interesting, so we wanted to make a quick post to share the results. You can find the spreadsheet here.

*Note that 2013 only had 6 festivals contests, and we are only 3 contests into 2025.

2015 had the highest amount of total entries that year.

Arcane 2015 holds the highest non-2013 record of entries at 45 pages.

The flights with the highest number of entry pages total is Arcane at 285, Light with 280

The lowest pagecount total is not actually Earth but Wind with 178 pages!

The total number of entries per festival has definitely been in drastic decline since 2015. What's the reason for this?

Contest prize went up to 1.5kg for Plague 2014, then to 2kg for Light 2019.

Fest entry slots scaled these fests:

Light 2013 - 6 slots

Fire 2013 - 8 slots (+2)

Plague 2013 - 10 slots (+2)

Fire 2014 - 12 slots (+2)

Fire 2015 - 14 slots (+2)

Light 2023 - 16 slots (+2)

Light 2024 - 20 slots (+4 - 2 permababy 2 general)

Light and Fire in 2013 did not have separate submission and discussion threads. We filtered the pages into those that contained an img and those that did not.

2023 Rockbreakers is an outlier. Entry pages are unusually high for that year (29 pages) because we ran a 500g giveaway to enter the contest.

...although, 29 pages would've been the norm in 2015-2016!

Pretty interesting data!

My own thoughts:

The observation that started this off was that Nature remained consistently high in entries over the past 4 yrs while every other flight seemed to decline. This is still true! Nature is the only flight that remains able to break the 20 page barrier!

Why has the userbase doubled, but festival submissions grow fewer and fewer each year?

What was going on in 2016?

Here's a link to the submission thread compilation on FR; I can't add the links on Tumblr, the site thinks I'm a spambot.

[fourorchid]

“Obedient Thing”

— Chapter 1 —

Description: The monotony of your day to day life as a lab assistant is suddenly interrupted upon meeting Viktor, a researcher at the academy, who has a gaze that pulls you apart and knows exactly how to piece you back together. His voice, his actions—they’re dizzying, frustrating—but madly addictive. Curiosity and happenstance seem to render you incapable of avoiding him as you come to terms with the newfound feelings he’s unintentionally (or maybe intentionally) stirred within you.

Chapter Index:

Chapter 1 (here)

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

— Viktor x fem!Reader | ~2.1K —

Disclaimer: I wrote this on a whim as an introduction to a plot I came up with for a Viktor fic and I’d love to continue it if people are interested! I wouldn’t call myself a writer by any means and this is also my first attempt at writing something of this nature—but regardless, I hope you enjoy ~

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The low-hanging glow of dusk casts soft shadows across the street as you walk towards the academy. You go over what Jayce had asked you to pick up from the lab—his two notebooks and the instrument filled with your latest experiment’s data.

“I’m sorry, I ran out of time and the numbers need to be recorded in the books before testing on Monday—would you mind grabbing them and doing it over the weekend?”

You recall Jayce’s voice asking sweetly over the phone—a voice you quickly realized is very hard to say “no” to. You told Jayce you were exhausted and would get it tomorrow but he insisted you retrieve them now. “Please, just to be safe,” he pleaded. Although you were unsure how Jayce managed to overlook this—and how his oversight landed on you to resolve—ultimately, you obliged.

So now you find yourself at your place of work, walking up the two flights of stairs that lead to the lab on what was supposed to be a relaxing Friday evening after a long week.

This was the life of an assistant—rather tedious, being at someone else’s beck and call, and more often than not you’re treated as an afterthought. But it was stable and predictable, so you deem the trade off fair.

Your heels click as you walk up to the familiar door. You plunge your key into the handle before realizing the latch was already unlocked. With a soft turn of the knob, you enter the lab. The sun has now nearly set providing little light from the window. Your eyes quickly move to a different source of light coming from the work bench deeper into the room. A lithe figure sat working, turning promptly at your entrance. His features were sharp, his gaze inspecting but not necessarily with judgement as he moves to face you.

“Hello—I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was still here. I just need to grab something,” you explain politely.

“Of course,” He replies. His voice is deep with a subtle accent, his tone formal.

You move to Jayce’s desk and begin sifting through the piles of notes and research. After multiple minutes, you realize you cannot seem to find the notebooks he mentioned. Even with Jayce’s usual messiness, locating something was never this difficult. You let out a soft huff in confusion. The other man turns to look at you recognizing the sounds of frustration all too well.

“What is it that you are looking for?”

As he speaks, you are unsure whether he wants to be helpful or if he’s trying to figure you out—maybe both.

“Oh, um—Dr. Talis asked me to pick up a few notebooks—but I, uh, can’t seem to find them,” your tone is perplexed as you return to shuffling through his desk.

The man stands up from his spot, leaning on the cane in his hand. He takes a second to process before speaking again.

“One red and one blue?” He takes a guess referencing the exact notebooks you are looking for. “Yes, those are the ones—have you seen them?” you ask as you continue your futile search.

His footsteps on the floor are echoed by his cane as he walks a few paces closer.

“Jayce had them in his hand when he left earlier,” he replies, his tone matter-a-fact but also questioning.

You turn to look at the man, entirely lost. Something about Jayce’s request starts to feel…off.

“Really? That can’t be right,” you say, confusion settling on your face as you return your focus to the mess of papers and books on the desk. The man let out a deep exhale as he brought his hand up, pinching the bridge of his nose—seemingly having come to a realization.

“But it is,” He affirms with a soft sigh, dropping his arm back to his side.

“Maybe he forgot then,” you try to understand but something’s not adding up.

“I’m afraid he did not,” The man takes a few steps closer now standing behind you as he continues to clarify in a way that only leaves you with more questions. “He knows he didn’t leave them here.”

You turn, leaning your back against the rumpled desk to observe the man as he speaks in breadcrumbs. You feel like you’re missing the piece of the puzzle that completes the picture—and the man standing in front of you seems to have it.

“Are you saying he just sent me here to haze me?” You joke but your delivery remains reserved.

“No, no, Jayce is not cruel—just meddlesome,” the man cocks his head to the side, his expression curious as he scans your features.

“He wanted you to find something else—” the man connects the dots for you, his tone deep and a bit gravelly as he speaks, “—to find me.” He finishes, unamused with the prospect. Viktor recounts the subtle grin on Jayce’s face earlier as he had told him he would be working late through the evening, the man’s reaction suddenly making more sense now.

You are utterly lost. “Why?” You respond, unsure of what Jayce’s motive would be for sending you to the lab under false pretenses just to see this man that you don’t even know. “What would he be trying to accomplish in doing so?” you add skeptically.

“He is trying to play matchmaker, is what he’s doing.” The man answers simply. You don’t know how to respond. You chuckle nervously at the thought.

“I’m sorry—and why would he do that?” You pause before adding, “Did you know about this?” Your tone is a bit more standoffish and accusatory than you intended due to your revelation at being manipulated. At this point you just want an explanation, niceties be damned.

“No, I assure you, I had nothing to do with this—” the man gestures with his free hand between you and the notebook-less desk. “But he has mentioned you to me before on a few occasions—seems to think we would be ‘good together,’ so to speak.” The man in front of you is unfazed and straightforward as he explains, “And thinks he’s helping when he’s most certainly not.” He taps his cane against the floor softly as he readjusts his tall frame against it. His eyes slowly travel over you, taking in your appearance and your demeanor as he finishes speaking.

“I’m sorry—I’m not sure what to say,” you admit with a dry, halfhearted laugh at the absurdity of the situation. The man’s gaze makes you feel as though you’ve been placed under a microscope—exposed and waiting.

“It’s quite alright, really. You didn’t know, it’s Jayce who should apologize for such a ludicrous plan.” He breaks from surveying you, returning to look at your face as he responds casually.

There’s a beat of tense silence as you still are registering what this man in front of you has revealed. The conversation at hand is beyond small talk and you realize you still don’t know his name.

“I don’t even know your name,” you admit, still a bit miffed but your tone is weaker than before. An almost imperceptible smile makes its way across the man’s face as he seems to find your reaction intriguing.

“It’s Viktor,” his voice is deep and smooth as he answers. His eyes almost seem to glow in the dimly-lit lab; intimidating yet inviting at the same time. They narrow as he appraises you.

“How old are you, Miss y/n?” Viktor muses, his eyes never leaving yours as he awaits your response.

You know you aren’t obligated to stay and entertain this conversation—you could just excuse yourself politely now having cleared up the misunderstanding; but something about the man in front of you compels you to stay. You find it frustrating and a bit concerning but curiosity—as it often does—gets the best of you.

“24,” you reveal, a bit unsure where this new line of questioning is headed. A faint look of surprise flits over Viktor’s features as he hears your answer. “Why, how old are you?” You return the question.

“35.” he states simply.

“Oh, um—that’s a decent age difference,” you point out now more unnerved. “Why would Jayce try to set you and I up together if he knew that?”

Viktor seems to know the answer but isn’t sure how you will take it. He takes a few steps closer to you again, stopping just a couple feet from where you stand, his gaze fixed on you.

"It's because I prefer a certain...type." Viktor offers a vague explanation that leaves you on the edge.

“What? Younger?” You ask, slightly horrified by the notion. A small chuckle rumbles through Viktor’s chest as he clarifies. “No, not exactly,” he chooses his words more carefully as he continues, “It’s more about the kind of….personality I tend to go for.”

The room begins to feel warmer, you do your best to ignore the feeling. “Which is?” you try to get him to be more specific.

He looked you over slowly before deciding whether or not to tell you.

"Submissive."

He spoke the word carefully but with intent, clearly not wanting to make you uncomfortable but also testing the waters.

You swallow as the word reaches you—not exactly what you were expecting.

“Oh really?” you scoff softly, “Is that the impression I give off?” your tone becomes defiant. The corners of Viktor’s mouth turn up ever so slightly in an understated display of amusement.

Suddenly, he leans forward making up for the height difference between you two as he gently places his free hand under your chin, tilting your face up slightly so he could make eye contact as he speaks.

"Well, don't be so sure. I have a pretty good eye for these things." His voice is a coaxing and low rumble as he speaks.

You find yourself unsure of how to respond, clearly more affected by Viktor’s action than you expected as you feel heat crawl up your neck. His touch sends a shockwave through your body of…anxiety? excitement? frustration? desire? You can’t quite tell—all you know is that whatever it is has you unable to think straight. You avert your gaze for a moment of reprieve. Viktor gently pulls your chin up as he speaks firmly.

“Look at me.”

Despite your better judgement, you find yourself having a hard time disobeying. Before really registering it, you return your gaze to Viktor’s. You feel the same sensation as you did earlier; exposed and expectant as he studies you.

He smirked, noticing the change in your expression when you returned to look at to him. He held your chin for a few moments, his eyes locked on yours as he spoke again.

"There you go. That's better."

The low warmth of his voice as it vibrates from his chest with subtle praise causes your heart rate to jump. His gaze flicks down to your lips and back up to your eyes again, as if memorizing each feature individually.

Suddenly, you feel Viktor remove his hand from your chin. He takes a step back to allow you to regain your bearings. He observes you closely, taking note of your body language and flushed appearance. You feel your breathing has become a bit shallower now too. A hint of satisfaction washes over his features at what he’s managed to make of you from such a simple gesture.

"It's as I thought." He affirms, crossing his hands over the top of his cane. He let his eyes run over you again, studying the way your chest visibly rose and fell as you breathed.

All at once, the stretching walls and tall ceiling of the lab somehow manage to feel suffocatingly small. Your cheeks burn and you wish nothing more than to be able to come up with something clever to quip back, but the synapses in your brain have been short-circuited and rewired.

You let out a wavering breath as you finally find your ability to speak.

“Well, it’s getting late—I should be going.” Your voice is flat and sterile as you try to compensate for how affected you still feel. Viktor, seemingly having returned to his earlier demeanor as if none of that just happened, speaks nonchalantly but the look in his eyes betrays something more intense.

“Of course, of course,” he nods cordially, “I apologize for Jayce’s…antics.”

You nod, accepting Viktor’s apology on Jayce’s behalf—ugh, Jayce—you feel your jaw tighten as you make a mental note to confront him about this nonsense later. You turn your attention back to the man in front of you.

“Goodnight, Viktor,” you say, your voice taut as you move to leave the lab. You feel his eyes trace your movements as you walk out the door.

“Goodnight, y/n.” Viktor replies, his voice low as your name rolls off his tongue in an almost purr.

You swiftly close the door to the lab behind you. At the click of the latch, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

As you walk back home, you are left with the sound of your tense breathing and a headache’s worth of thoughts swirling in your head. You can’t help but replay the interaction over and over again as you try to make sense of the feelings it had stirred within you.

A switch had been flipped—one that you didn’t quite understand, let alone know existed in yourself.

All you do know is who flipped it.

The man in the lab with a calculating gaze and a velvet-wrapped voice. The man who can see things others don’t, who has a penchant for pushing the envelope—whose name was Viktor.

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[caelumwingstar]

List: MegOp Recommendations

COMPLETED

THREAD: Advice - Interface Dream About Best Friend?? - auri_mynonys (7ch | TFP Gladiator!Megatronus/Archivist!Orion Pax)

Ethics and Employee Management: A Love Story - perictione (leclairage) (7ch | both leaders disguised & obliviously met up)

Ride Eternal - spaceliquid (20ch | TFP, post-apocalyptic Cybertron AU, Imperator!Megatronus/Scribe!Orion Pax, bittersweet ending)

War Bride - Kit_SummerIsle (11ch | Barbarian Tribe AU | Nomad!Megs kidnaps CityDweller!Orion)

Plus One - auri_mynonys (19ch | Gladiator!Megs/Archivist!Orion)

Contact - auri_mynonys (11ch | Orion committed accidental marriage proposal to Gladiator!Megs)

Spin the Bottle - auri_mynonys (4ch | TFP, with illustration)

Head Strategist - Yuna Yami Mouto (26ch | FF.net, a sparkling discarded)

How Sweet He Sounds - Zira (18ch | TFA OP works as a phone call role player)

Take me out - jeune_hibou (12ch | Hitman!Megs/SugarBaby!OP hired by Jazz to target a Senator, misconceptions ensue)

All I wanted was to be more - AenElle_Undvik (20ch | TFO D-Pax sold to Tarn, Warning! Slavery but HE)

Dancing Around the Pole - Rinny636 (4ch)

ONGOING

Primus' Rising Prophet - IsekaiGirl (33ch | OC reborn as OP)

Optimus Prime is Destined to Die!! - Chuzilllaa (13ch | Orion reincarnated into a NOVEL, Royalty AU)

caught in the undertow - callalypsolily (6ch | TFO AU Miner!Pax/Imprisoned Megatron, Friend!Sentinel/Bumblebee)

Can't survive with you, can't survive without you - Tf_Tere (Tere706) (32ch | TFA Megs/OP survive together on wild, hostile planet)

Forged/Bound - taiyari (3ch | DataClerk!OP/Miner!Megs before the war, with COMIC illustrations)

Lion's den - VioletCringe (Glyphthedragon) (61ch | TFA, Captured!OP treated well by Megs who wants him to defect)

Pandora's Box - StrawberryErotica (4ch | TFO D-16 given a interface data chip)

I Am The One Who Sleeps - Anonymous (4ch | Senator Megatronus/Orion Pax, Unrequited!SenatorShockwave/OP)

Pull the stars down to us - Blackberreh (4ch | TFP Optimus time travelled & forced into the Gladiatorial Arena, Megatronus & Soundwave mistook him for Orion. Fic comes with the author's own illustration, Warning! Updated 2020)

And yet (I want you more) - wasureukiyo (3ch | OP's secondary job is a cyberbunny)

SERIES

Cops and Mobs Collection - GeminiWishes (4 works | 5 times Megs try kiss OP)

Designation:Mine - auri_mynonys (2 works | mutual pining & eventually coupled)

Under the Beast's Claws (2 works | Sequel Updated 2020, Warning!: Forced Preg)

Symphony of Life - BlairDrakko (2 works | Sequel Updated 2021, Warning!: Slavery, Flight Frames are the leaders of Cybertron)

ONESHOTS

The Bot Who Went Through Time - Commoncoral (TFA | so emotional, so sweet)

The Con Who Remembered - Ghost_Library (inspired by the above link | Megs POV)

To the Victor - eiseedoesit (There is a story about a certain lake hidden beneath the Hall of Records)

A Couple Promises - loserVillain (TFO Miners!D-16/OP, best friends sharing a couple's meal)

Quarter After One - auri_mynonys (A drunk ex-gladiator & warlord comms OP)

(Restricted) Unfold Me - orphan_account (Megatron searches the ruins of the city for his beloved courtesan)

Helpless - platonicharmonics (Orion dragged to an elite midnight gala by Alpha Trion)

OTHERS

The Day The War Ended - Or At Least Was Put On Hold - And_The_Rest (35ch | Megs/OP/Jazz)

Amalgamation - Maunakea (22ch | slave coded OP/Warlord Meg/Starscream | Warning! SE Megop, HE MegsStar)

Bad End Office - Anonymous (1ch - ongoing | Mainly MegOp, Orion Pax/Jazz, OP/Everyone)

[macmanx]

This Veterans Day, I'm thinking about my Grandfather, a World War 2 P-51 Mustang pilot who went on to lead the team at Lockheed that pioneered the reusable and highly durable flight data recorder still in use on commercial and private aircraft today.

[apod]

2025 May 19

Charon Flyover from New Horizons Video Credit: NASA, JHUAPL, SwRI, P. Schenk & J. Blackwell (LPI); Music: Juicy by ALBIS

Explanation: What if you could fly over Pluto's moon Charon -- what might you see? The New Horizons spacecraft did just this in 2015 July as it zipped past Pluto and Charon with cameras blazing. The images recorded allowed for a digital reconstruction of much of Charon's surface, further enabling the creation of fictitious flights over Charon created from this data. One such fanciful, minute-long, time-lapse video is shown here with vertical heights and colors of surface features digitally enhanced. Your journey begins over a wide chasm that divides different types of Charon's landscapes, a chasm that might have formed when Charon froze through. You soon turn north and fly over a colorful depression dubbed Mordor that, one hypothesis holds, is an unusual remnant from an ancient impact. Your voyage continues over an alien landscape rich with never-before-seen craters, mountains, and crevices. The robotic New Horizons spacecraft has too much momentum to ever return to Pluto and Charon and is now headed out of our Solar System.

∞ Source: apod.nasa.gov/apod/ap250519.html

[themorningnewsinformer]

Air India Crash Analysis: What May Have Gone Wrong with AI171?

Introduction The tragic crash of Air India flight AI171 shortly after takeoff from Ahmedabad on June 12, 2025, has shocked the aviation community and the nation alike. Early Air India crash analysis suggests several critical anomalies in the aircraft’s configuration during its initial climb, raising concerns over a possible cascading technical failure. Here’s what a commercial pilot’s first…

[lusmeitli]

Where light in darkness lies

Summary: How helping with a panic attack can lead to something more.

Pairings: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Panic attack, a hint of angst, fluff, a bit of fingering.

A/N: There aren’t a lot of explanations given. I have also taken a great deal of liberties to bend characters at my will.

9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9~9

The kettle seemed to take forever. Wasn’t there a saying… a watched pot never boils? Apparently, it applied to kettles, too. As the appliance imitated sounds of an imminent blast off, you poked the tea bag at the bottom of the mug with the spoon from one side to another, then clockwi–

Suddenly, everything was plunged into darkness.

“Curses.”

You stretched your hand out to hold onto the kitchen counter for something… tactile. Grounding. Darkness was your foe.

The familiar fireball under your skin licked up your back and across your chest. Its heat seemed to suffocate you. Breaths came out faster, shallower, harsher. Fumbling to try and find your phone on the counter your hands knocked something over. It shattered on the floor. The mug.

Not enough air. You just couldn’t get enough air into your lungs. The only sounds you heard was the pounding beat of your heart and the ringing in your ears. The panic rose up like a monster looming in front of you, a cruel smirk on its face, before it would open its horrifying hellmouth and swallow you whole.

And then you felt hands on you, whirling you around. Soft lips firmly pressed onto yours, moving with purpose and absolutely no hesitation. Its spark set a fuse alight, burning through your body until it reached your brain, sending a shockwave through you. It took your body a long moment to snap out of your onsetting panic attack and to respond to the kiss. You nearly sobbed into the lips, at the distraction and relief they provided, your hands fisting in a shirt, warm skin and contracting muscles under your fingers.

The heat you had felt moments before was gone. In its stead grew an all consuming need. A soft moan escaped somewhere from the back of your throat. It broke the spell. You heard the person kissing you take in a shaky breath, before their lips left yours and it was over. Several moments later the lights flickered back on. You stood rooted to the spot, staring at the empty space in front of you and the broken mug on the floor.

Your fingertips ghosted over the spot where lips had touched yours and a blush crept over your cheeks. In the corner the kettle clicked, the water now boiled.

*****

“Loki?”

“Mhm.”

“Are you sure it was him? I mean how can you tell?”

You brought a hand over the receiver, trying to shield the words so only your friend could hear.

“I, um, hacked into the security camera footage from just before the power cut. He had walked into the kitchen literally a second before it happened.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Then a heavy breath. “Wow. I don’t know what to say. Ain’t that something.”

“You’re right,” you huffed out, “I mean, this is me we’re talking about, right?”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“But it is though, isn’t it,” you said, rubbing your tired eyes. “It’s just little old me. Even if it really was him, it probably just was some silly prank or a dare.”

*****

The Quinjet in the hangar was your favourite place to work. Even though today you were in the tail of the jet downloading the aircraft log from the Flight Data Recorder, which involved squeezing into a rather tight space. All that to plug in the USB cable and to then balance the laptop on the palm of your right hand, whilst operating it with the left. You had tried to talk to Tony about moving the access point, seeing as it was a weekly task, but Pepper had walked past and diverted his attention. Judging by the way he immediately stalked after her, he hadn’t heard a word you said.

Thirty-seven percent through the download, the power in the jet cut out and you cursed. Setting the laptop down, you fumbled for your phone, turned on the torch and made your way through the jet to inspect the fuse box you knew was located just outside the cockpit. No light came in from the hangar, which seemed odd. Maybe it was another power outage that affected the whole tower. You tripped and the phone slipped from your grasp, landing somewhere face up.

“Not again…”

The panic started to rise in you once more. You felt too hot, the air seemed stuffy and heavy. Your breath came out fast and ragged. Hands outstretched, you bumped into something hard. Something that shouldn’t be there. You gulped as hot dread shot through your veins and took a step back. With lightning speed slender fingers wrapped around your wrists, tugging you forward to bring you flush against the hard body. Instead of consuming you, the panic ebbed off. Your body knew this touch. Though firm, it meant no harm.

You felt their chest rise and fall, a lot slower than yours. Slender fingers trailed up your arm, over your shoulder and neck. His fingertips skirted over the skin of your throat, goosebumps erupted all over your body. Someone released a slow breath - presumably you.

The fingers moved into your hair and curled around the base of your head, tilting it up. And then those wonderful lips were on yours again. This time, he angled your head to deepen the kiss. The taste and feel of his tongue moving against yours robbed you of your bones and you faltered, glad that his hands held you pressed so tightly up against him. He seemed hungry, needy. His lips left yours, trailing a few kisses over your jaw, before he rested his forehead against yours, noses touching for a wonderful moment, your short breaths mixing.

And then he was gone again. Your hands fell to your side and you blinked against the bright light in the jet that hummed over your head. Yet again you were left wondering what had just happened and, more importantly, why.

*****

“It only affected the hangar this time.” You pulled a book off the shelf in the shop.

“More hacking?” your best friend asked, finger searchingly running over the spines.

Shaking your head, you thumbed through the pages. “My coworkers told me.”

“So you’re saying he did it on purpose?”

Shrugging, you put the book back. “He knows magic, that’s what I’m saying.”

“Honey, I love you, but before you go down that obsession-rabbit hole, it’s my duty as your bestie to warn you. Just please be careful. This is Loki after all. Hm, where is it?”

“Whatever is that supposed to mean?”

The pitying look in your friend’s eyes was almost too much. “Oh where to start… He’s a god, immortal and several centuries older than you,” she counted off on her fingers.

“Actually,” you mumbled, “he is mortal. Asgardians just have a longer life span of about 5,000 years.”

Your friend blinked, surprised. “Who told you that? Dr Google?”

“Thor, actually. He had to fill in a form for the Quinjet learner’s licence and we joked about his age.”

“I love you, but you’re weird. Happy rabbit hunting then.” A victory cry fell from your friend’s lips as she pulled out what she was looking for and pushed it into your hands. “You want spicy? Here you go.”

“‘Three Swedish Mountain Men’?” you read.

She wiggled her brows. “They’re hot and they like sharing…”

You rolled your eyes, but put it on the pile of books you were getting anyway.

*****

Late shifts were your favourite, because it allowed you to actually get work done, without the phone going off every other minute. The only thing you didn’t like about them was walking back to your room afterwards.

It was 3am when the lift doors slid open and your shoes softly squeaked on the dimly lit corridor. Nightlighting mode, as Tony called it. You hated it and walked faster. Rubbing your stiff neck and rolling your shoulders, you rounded the corner. Just a few more metres to your door. But someone grabbed your hand and pulled you into the refuse room, which was pitch black.

Cool fingers were placed on your lips signalling you not to make a sound.

You nodded your head and the fingers moved from your lips, slowly, tracing. Then both hands were in your hair. His fingers cupped your head and you felt his breath against your lips. Your hands were on his chest, gripping the front of his t-shirt. Soft cotton. You closed your eyes.

“Please,” you said so quietly you thought he didn’t hear.

But he had and his lips brushed against yours, light as a feather. Your head was swimming, your heart aching. His touch was soft and gentle. He had kissed you before, but it was as if he was now seeing you, in the darkness of the refuse room, for the first time. Taking you in, kissing every inch of skin that was exposed. His lips grazed the knuckles on your hand and a lump formed in your throat.

His hands cupped your head and you felt his fingers fiddle with your hair bobble, before the restraint was gone and your hair hung loose. His hands combed through the strands. You couldn’t remember the last time someone did that.

Your hands ran over his biceps, his shoulders, his pecs, his abs. You wished you could say something, anything, but you feared you’d spoil the moment, that he’d pull away. His lips found yours again and he angled his head, his tongue slowly dancing with yours. It was the most erotic thing you had ever experienced.

He changed his footing to come at you from a different angle, pressing his body flush against yours. He peppered small kisses on the corner of your mouth and down your throat. He seemed to have found a spot he liked, because he sucked on it, his teeth grazing, lips easing the light bite. Before he pulled away, he inhaled deeply at the crown of your head, and placed a gentle kiss on your hair. You felt safe, basking in his warmth. And like the times before, he was gone.

By the time your legs felt stable enough to support you again, you opened the door and walked back to your room.

A smile crossed your lips as you realised that this was the first time you hadn’t panicked in the dark.

*****

“Maybe he’s shy?” your bestie suggested as you sat on her couch, both spooning ice cream out of the same tub.

Loki and shy were not words you would have put in a sentence together. But then, sometimes you were wondering if his aloof stance was just for show.

“Have you tried talking to him?” she asked.

You shook your head. “I could never work up the nerve. He seems… so unapproachable in the light of day. Maybe it all really is an elaborate prank.”

“Or,” your friend leaned forward, lowering her voice conspiratorially, “or he has the hots for you and just can’t find any other way to show it.”

You mulled this over for a while. “But why in the dark? Why isn’t he saying anything ever?”

“When do you see him?”

“At extended team briefings, but the Avengers come in last and sit at the front. Rogers requested it.”

Your friend rolled her eyes. “Any other time?”

“Well, in the hallways, but either he’s with someone or I am.”

“Meh. Where else?”

You leaned back, thinking. “In the canteen?”

“Okay, now we’re talking.”

“But, again, he’s always with someone.”

“Well… looks like you’re screwed.” She made a show of licking her spoon. “Or about to be screwed.”

She laughed as you threw a pillow in her face.

*****

It was just an autumn storm. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except for that it was five in the morning and had been going all night. You were standing by the window, looking out onto the soft glow of the city that never slept. Angry gusts of wind whipped big raindrops against the windowpane. Your breath misted against the cool glass. Normally, you slept through storms, but not this one.

The team had yet to return from a mission and you were worried sick. The mission was particularly perilous. You knew this because Tony had called you into his office, shut the door (something he never had done before) and told you that he couldn’t give you any information, but that ‘some serious shit is going to go down tonight’ and to trust - dramatic pause - him. It all was accompanied by a stare with which Tony seemed to try to convey a secret message. You guessed he didn’t mean himself, but Loki. Hence, you had chewed off all your nails for the last few hours.

When the door to your room opened, closed and footsteps approached, relief flooded through you. Not a moment later his hands were on your waist, pulling you back into his chest, his presence seeping through your pores. His arms curled around you, the slightly damp leather of his suit softly creaking, and your hands flew up to grip his forearms tightly. His head nestled in the crook of your neck, his lips soft against your skin.

“Thank heavens,” you whispered.

You couldn’t remember who moved first, but you found yourself up against the wall, his hands on your ass. Your legs wrapped around his hips that pushed into you; his mouth felt hot on yours. The kiss was all teeth and tongues. Desperation mixed with relief. A moan rang through the room - definitely yours - as you offered yourself up to him. And he took, greedily. His hands were everywhere on your body, pulling you close, pushing more into you, closer still. A disgruntled huff made it clear it wasn’t enough. And then his hands were under your hoodie, bare skin touching bare skin. A tug, a pull and the fabric was up and over your head, landing somewhere on the floor. His lips closed around your lace covered breast until he found your nipple and sucked on it.

Your hands weaved through his damp hair - if you had any fingernails left, they’d be scraping his scalp. Instead you tugged gently on the soft strands, eliciting a strangled moan from him. His hips rolled into yours, his desire evident and yours dampening your knickers. His hand slipped into your leggins, his fingers moving over the globe of your ass, slowly, squeezing, as his mouth was plundering yours.

The moment his fingers found your soaking centre, you both groaned. He slid two digits inside you, making you gasp. His hips rocked into you, the leather seams on his crotch providing friction for your clit. Your hands tried to fist in the leather, to get to feel his skin.

The orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, taking you by surprise, propelling you into oblivion. Loki grunted, his movements became jerky, before he stilled and rested his damp forehead against the crook of your neck. His hot breath puffed against your skin, and he just stayed like that, letting you run your fingers through his hair in a comforting rhythm. Then he slid his fingers out of you and gently placed your feet back on the ground. His forearm leaned against the wall behind you as he kissed you thoroughly, with a gentleness that made your eyes sting with unshed tears.

Your thoughts were going a mile a minute and you were thinking of what to do or say now. Would he stay the night or would he vanish again, like always? You heard the soft creaking of his boots as he moved through the dark room and then back to you, handing you your hoodie. You took it, fingers brushing his. The moment you pulled it over your head, your bedside light was on and you found yourself alone.

Again.

*****

The APU of the Quinjet was situated - as in most aeroplanes - in the tail. One of the reasons you were in charge of the upgrade of the jet’s internal bleed ducting was that you were small and slim. None of your co-workers could squeeze in there (thank you, Tony, for prioritising sleekness over practicality). Ironically, there was no air conditioning in this part of the jet. Droplets of sweat gathered on your forehead as you lay under the engine with your torch and toolkit, religiously running through the protocols.

“Five more checks, Y/N,” you heard your colleague, peering down at you from the moveable steps he was standing on, holding up the upper engine encasing with another work mate. A whistling noise became louder. “Then we can test– what the hell?!”

You lifted your head just as a massive explosion tore through the hangar. The space where your co-workers had been a second ago was swallowed up by a fireball. It felt as if the jet was airborne, tossed to the side, then came to a sudden stop. Metal screeched and groaned.

Your head hurt. A lot. There was a ringing in your ears and you just couldn’t see anything. It was dark, so dark. You wriggled backwards but to your horror realised that you were stuck, trapped between the engine and the jet wall. It felt like you were burning up and you tried to shout, scream for help, but you couldn’t get air in your lungs, no matter how hard you tried. Then, mercifully, you fainted.

When you came to, you were in the medical bay. It looked like a war zone, people lying or sitting on the floor, waiting to be seen. Some of them with burns and cuts, others in the bays next to you with drips and field surgeons around them. You spotted your two work mates, both with minor burns and a few bruises, but thankfully alive.

A few stitches on your forehead, one arm plaster casted and in a sling, and a packet of painkillers thrust in your good hand by a disgruntled, stressed out medic later, you limped your way out of there. Anything was better than sitting around in the sick bay, where there were people who were much more in need of a bed than you were. It also helped with getting away from the sight of the body bags that were quietly carried past you. Six, you had counted. The biggest attack on the Avengers Tower so far, people murmured. And the deadliest one.

In front of the debriefing room, you were handed a tablet and sat down. It was standard protocol after an incident like this: you filled in your report and then talked it through with your supervisor. End of. So you filled in the boxes and waited outside Tony’s office for your turn. As you walked in and sat down, he looked at you.

“You okay, Y/N?”

You gave a brief nod. He blinked and then tapped a few keys on his phone, before taking the tablet you held out to him.

“Let’s get this over with.”

In the middle of your interview, the door suddenly burst open. A very out of breath Asgardian god almost stumbled over the threshold, a stony expression on his face. He was like a vision from your dreams, donning his leather suit, covered in dust and blood - not his.

His eyes roamed over you as he stood in the doorway, lingering on your arm in the sling and the stitches on your face for a moment. Then his eyes met yours. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t looked into one another’s eyes before, but this felt different. Intimate.

In four strides he was next to your chair. He stretched out his hand and you placed yours in his, as if it was a practised gesture between you two. A gentle tug had you standing up.

“Loki…,” you started.

“I thought you were dead, love,” he murmured, voice rough, lifting your good hand to his lips to ghost a kiss onto your scratched knuckles. Your insides melted at the endearment and his gesture.

“I give you a thousand thanks, Stark,” he addressed the other man, eyes never leaving yours, “for alerting me that my beloved is okay and with you. However, Agent Y/L/N will have to finish the incident debrief at a later point. I require her presence for an extremely urgent personal matter.”

“Get outta here already, Shakespeare,” Tony grumbled, trying to hide a smirk. “Who’s next?”

But Loki didn’t pay him any heed. He gently cradled your face, his thumbs caressing your skin.

And there, right in front of Tony, with the door wide open for everyone in the very busy hallway to see, right there was the very first time that Loki kissed you in the daylight.

~fin~

[vigilskeep]

do you think there's every been mage talons? the crows have a lot of power and influence in antiva but I feel like there would be limits pre mage/templar war - it would be hard to justify being one of the head crows and still say that magic is being used to serve man and not rule over him. the crows began as a chantry organization after all I'd think it would be pretty controversial

I think by the time veilguard takes place it would be more of a possibility - I have a mage de Riva who's determined to beat teia's record for youngest talon and I go back and forth between wanting her to be a complete trailblazer and there having been precedent that she can recite the full history of off the top her head

this is a very dealer’s choice worldbuilding question because we rlly have no data on the role of mages in the crows

on the one hand, the crows’ chantry roots and semi-legitimate status as an accepted part of antiva’s politics make it hard for me to believe mages were able to occupy positions of such high standing and notoriety. the chantry might tolerate apostates being used for murder, everyone has them, but apostates being given influence and personal stability and a role where it’s customary to have heirs? the chantry would turn against them imo. it’s significant to me personally that the one mage crow i recall us meeting in veilguard, the one who helps us break into the ossuary, is a hooded, nameless figure who affects a cold mysterious air rather than engaging with us like every other crow we meet. i personally like to expand on that to believe mages stand somewhat apart from other crows, at least in house dellamorte

on the other hand, there’s calien d’evaliste, the mage crow from the last flight, who four hundred years prior to veilguard had enough standing to be present at a royal court and picked out by the grey wardens as one of the handful of people there politically important enough to rescue. and he publically wore mage robes while he was doing that. honestly the whole thing kind of makes no sense to me but i love him so i’m allowing it

i veer on the side of there not having been mage talons, or if there were, they weren’t recorded that way and had to keep up at least a passable pretence otherwise. personally i feel like if it could happen it would happen, because mages have so many tools at their disposal, you’d think they’d have an advantage if given a fair chance. and yet when we meet the current eight talons in tevinter nights, there are no mages in sight even though there are three elves at the table. but like i say dealer’s choice i think it’s rlly up to you