#Aviation Parts Production

[ajaydmr]

Exploring the Global Aerospace Parts Manufacturing Market: Trends, Growth, and Forecast

The global aerospace parts manufacturing market plays a critical role in the aerospace industry's expansion, covering a range of essential components for aircraft, spacecraft, and defense systems. The market has experienced substantial growth and is projected to continue its upward trajectory over the next several years. This article examines key market trends, growth drivers, and regional insights that are influencing the future of aerospace parts manufacturing.

Market Overview

The aerospace parts manufacturing market is expected to reach USD 1,067.6 billion by 2025 and grow to USD 1,554.1 billion by 2034, reflecting a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 4.3% from 2025 to 2034. This growth is primarily fueled by the increasing demand for air travel, space exploration, and defense, along with significant advancements in manufacturing technologies. Innovations like 3D printing, automation, and advanced materials are reshaping how aerospace parts are made, enabling the production of more fuel-efficient, durable, and lightweight components.

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Key Drivers of Market Growth

1. Growing Demand for Air Travel

With air travel booming, particularly in emerging economies, the aerospace parts manufacturing market is experiencing an uptick. The increasing demand for new aircraft and related components is essential to meet global travel needs. Airlines are focused on adopting fuel-efficient models, further fueling the need for new aerospace parts. As the aviation industry continues to expand, this trend will drive sustained demand for critical components.

2. Fleet Modernization and Aircraft Replacement

A significant portion of the market’s growth is driven by fleet modernization and the need to replace aging aircraft. As airlines look to enhance fuel efficiency and meet stringent environmental standards, they are opting for newer, more advanced models. This shift necessitates the production of high-quality parts such as engines, avionics, and control systems. The aging fleet globally ensures that demand for replacement parts will remain strong in the coming years.

3. Technological Innovations in Aerospace Manufacturing

Technological advancements are at the forefront of the aerospace parts manufacturing market's growth. New materials like composites and alloys, along with the rise of 3D printing and automated manufacturing processes, allow manufacturers to produce parts that are lighter, stronger, and more efficient. These innovations contribute to faster production cycles, better performance, and lower manufacturing costs, offering a competitive advantage to companies in the industry.

4. Government Investments in Defense and Space Programs

Government spending on defense and space exploration is a major contributor to the market. Investment in military aircraft and defense systems continues to rise, which drives the demand for specialized aerospace components. Furthermore, the commercial space sector is expanding, as private companies venture into space exploration, which further boosts the need for aerospace parts used in satellites, rockets, and other space technologies.

5. Sustainability and Fuel Efficiency

Environmental concerns are pushing aerospace manufacturers to produce parts that help reduce aircraft emissions and improve fuel efficiency. In response, manufacturers are focusing on developing advanced engines, lightweight materials, and energy-efficient components that contribute to reducing the overall carbon footprint of aviation. These innovations align with global sustainability goals, making them a key driver for market growth.

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Regional Breakdown

North America: Leading the Way

North America is expected to dominate the aerospace parts manufacturing market, accounting for 51.7% of the revenue share by 2025. This is due to the region’s robust manufacturing capabilities, skilled workforce, and significant investments in research and development. The United States, home to aerospace giants such as Boeing, Lockheed Martin, and Raytheon Technologies, plays a pivotal role in supplying aerospace parts for both commercial and defense applications. Furthermore, the region's aging aircraft fleets and the high demand for air travel continue to drive the market forward.

Europe: Innovation and Strong Demand

Europe continues to be a dominant player in the aerospace parts manufacturing sector, with industry leaders like Airbus and Rolls-Royce spearheading advancements in aerospace technology. The region’s strong emphasis on sustainability and energy efficiency has driven the production of lightweight components and eco-friendly solutions. Additionally, government investments in defense and space exploration further boost demand for aerospace parts in Europe.

Asia-Pacific: Rapid Expansion

The Asia-Pacific region is witnessing rapid growth in aerospace parts manufacturing, particularly in China and India. As the middle class expands, so does air travel, driving the demand for new aircraft and related parts. The region is also experiencing growth in the defense and space sectors, with countries like China and Japan investing heavily in military aircraft and space exploration. As these industries continue to grow, the demand for aerospace parts is expected to rise.

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Competitive Landscape

The global aerospace parts manufacturing market is highly competitive, with several key players competing to offer cutting-edge components. Major companies like Boeing, Lockheed Martin, Airbus, Rolls-Royce, and Northrop Grumman dominate the market. These companies focus on innovation, cost optimization, and quality control to remain competitive. Furthermore, many are establishing strategic partnerships with governments and private sector organizations to secure long-term contracts for aerospace components.

Future Outlook

The future of the aerospace parts manufacturing market looks promising, with sustained growth expected due to rising demand for air travel, technological advancements, and fleet modernization. The increasing focus on fuel efficiency, environmental sustainability, and automation will drive continuous innovation in aerospace components. Additionally, the growing importance of defense and space exploration will continue to contribute to the market's expansion, positioning the aerospace parts sector for ongoing success.

FAQs

What factors are contributing to the growth of the aerospace parts manufacturing market?

The key drivers include growing air travel demand, fleet modernization, technological innovations, and government investments in defense and space programs.

Which region is leading the aerospace parts manufacturing market?

North America is expected to hold a dominant position, accounting for 51.7% of the market share by 2025.

How is technology transforming the aerospace parts manufacturing sector?

Advances in 3D printing, composite materials, and automation are helping companies create lighter, more durable components at a faster pace, reducing costs and improving overall efficiency.

What role does government investment play in the market?

Government investments in defense and space programs are driving demand for specialized aerospace parts, particularly in the military and space exploration sectors.

What is the growth rate of the aerospace parts manufacturing market?

The market is projected to grow at a CAGR of 4.3% from 2025 to 2034, reaching USD 1,554.1 billion by 2034.

Conclusion

The global aerospace parts manufacturing market is set for robust growth in the coming years, driven by technological advancements, growing air travel, and ongoing efforts to modernize fleets. With North America leading the way, followed by strong contributions from Europe and the Asia-Pacific region, the aerospace parts sector will continue to evolve and play a critical role in global transportation, defense, and space exploration.

[gnar-slabdash]

Okay, so I did in fact call Paypal and Visa and use Nate Voice to make myself a nuisance. The full rundown is very long and probably not that interesting, because, like, the goal wasn't to be an ass or do a scam, the goal was just to take up space. But damn, I think I did a pretty good job of that. So I'm gonna give you the tl;dr up front and put the whole play-by-play under the cut.

tl;dr

PayPal still has no idea what's going on (or is pretending not to), whereas Visa has instituted a policy of basically hanging up on anyone who dares to mention it. The only material impact of any of this (besides wasting their time) was I managed to lodge a complaint with Visa about their policy of demanding that complaints only be made by email.

Nonetheless, this project did in fact allow me to:

have full conversations and take up space instead of trying to be as polite and efficient as possible

persist and push back and not let go of the issue when I was given the brush-off

think of (and execute!) different angles of attack when it was clear the head-on approach wasn't working

get correctly gendered by every single person I talked to??? (usually on the phone I get about 50%) I'll probably do it again sometime. Not with Visa specifically, I've about had enough of their shit. But maybe call my representatives. If this is what it takes to do all those responsible citizen things that I've been too scared to do before? Then let's go steal some self-confidence.

Since I wasn't able to do it at McRory's with a whiskey in hand, I did it outside the Evergreen Aviation Museum with an Irish cream-flavored iced latte in hand. Close enough.

I called PayPal first. I started by asking for information, but she told me this was the first she was hearing about it. So I told her about it instead. At length. While still insisting "You know, I'm hoping you can help me understand this, I don't really, ah, I don't really get it but what I'm hearing is [insert full explanation that I clearly understand better than her]." Eventually she sort of gets it and tries to tell me that it's all about how if companies want to use them they have to follow their Terms Of Service, and if they don't want to follow them they can just use a different processor. And I think this is the first place where *I* would have thrown in the towel, but Nate would push back and find a new angle. "So did the Terms of Service just change? Because these companies, yeah, they chose to use you and follow the terms of service, but they were able to sell these products previously, so did you just change up the agreement on them?" She kinda just mumbled some more about the terms of service without actually saying anything, and I decided I was about done with that and gradually circled around to ending the call.

Accomplished nothing, but 15 minutes of accomplishing nothing was an excellent low-stakes warmup to just get me talking.

My first call to Visa was when I learned that they've got a new policy in place to deal with people like me. The policy goes like this: As soon as they hear the words Steam or Valve, they read you a long script about how they understand your concerns and you have to go to the website and email them and they pinky promise they'll take you seriously. And then when you ask if you can register you concerns over the phone or speak to a manager, they tell you a manager will only tell you the same thing, and when you say "Yeah, I, I get that, but at least then I'd know that, you know somebody higher up has heard the concern, so I'd like to talk to them anyway," that's when they read the next part of the script: "This is all the information we can provide, so we will be disconnecting the call now." And then they hang up on you.

Second call went about the same, I can't remember what my plan was there but it clearly didn't work. Third call I still told them this was about Steam but I told them I wasn't looking for information, what I wanted was to talk to a manager because I had concerns about their policies of how they're treating customers who ask about it, how there's no way of knowing that a complaint by email is heard and not everybody can submit a complaint by email. And this time, this is when I learn how little they give a shit about customer service at all at this point because she starts reading the "I'm about to hang up on you script" WHILE I'm still talking and she doesn't even pause when I try to stop her and then she hangs up.

And here, again, is where *I* would have stopped. Actually, let's be completely honest here: *I* would have stopped after Call #1, if I even did it at all. But here's the point where I actually thought "Okay, I'm done now. That was the last one, there's nothing else I'm going to be able to do with this," and started walking back to the car. But Nate had other ideas. I realized there was another angle here.

Call #4: I refuse to say the word "Steam." And I'm pretty damn sure this guy figured out that's what I was talking about and really wanted to get me to say it so he could turn on the script as he kept pushing for more specifics. But it wasn't relevant and I wouldn't say it. Instead, I started by explaining that I was unhappy with how I'd been treated on previous calls, and then got around to "And they kept telling me the only way I could make a complaint was, was to make it by e-mail, but I can't do that, so what I'd like to complain about, actually, is this policy of only taking complaints by e-mail, because that's -- that's just bad accessibility policy."

And he told me,

He fucking told me,

"Well, if you'd like to make a complaint about that, you can do that by e-mail."

It took. So much more circling. So much more explaining. But I did eventually get him to open a ticket right there on the phone to register the accessibility concern. I also had to be very careful to stop him from making the complaint be about the people I had talked to on previous calls -- but I realized afterward that he probably couldn't have done that anyway, because that was the point where he asked me if I had reference numbers for those calls and I had to tell him "No, of -- of course I don't, because they hung up on me."

I couldn't get more than two or three minutes out of those first three Visa calls, but this last one was another good 15 minutes.

Takeaways:

You know, I was a little worried that if I did this on top of already having the rp blog, I wouldn't be able to turn it off. And that did sort of happen, I had some perfectly normal phone calls I had to make afterward and yeah, I could not switch out of Nate Mode and left some stupidly long voicemails, but-- because the goal of the project was to take up space but not to be an asshole -- I think it's fine actually? I honestly kind of have a problem with trying to be over-efficient when I talk and cram the most information into the smallest and fastest package and cut out anything extraneous, and it's actually really counterproductive. It's not the best way for other people to process things, and it makes me come off pretty abrupt. So honestly? If this makes me slow the fuck down and spend more time actually explaining myself and engaging with people, and feeling like I deserve to take up more time and space? Then that's??? GOOD????

Boy, Visa is fucked.

I have one regret: On the last call, in order to file my complaint I had to give them my actual name and account info. My name ends with N. And the urge to add "The N is mostly silent" was so strong and I so regret not giving into it. NEXT TIME.

Because yeah, I think there will be a next time. Like, if this is giving me the power to just pick up the phone and be a benevolent nuisance, I should be using it. Might try calling my representatives. Might try to make it a weekly thing.

Very fun additional outcome: In case anyone on the internet didn't notice by now, I'm a trans guy. I pass 100% in person, but only about 50% of the time on the phone. This time? 5 phonecalls. Not a single "ma'am."

[umseb]

"And yes: I am the greatest hypocrite whom there is"

In a personal interview, the German explains what he, as a former Formula 1 world champion, is doing for the environment and what he thinks about Ralf Schumacher's coming out.

It is Tuesday afternoon. Excited pupils are streaming out of a school in the Zurich lowlands. They have just had a visit from four-time Formula 1 world champion Sebastian Vettel. The German, who has lived in Switzerland since 2007 and in the canton of Thurgau since 2009, attracted attention in the last few years of his career by suddenly talking about environmental issues, such as the importance of biodiversity, or collecting rubbish from the stands after race weekends.

This Tuesday, the 37-year-old, together with Andreas Fehr, debated the topic of circular economy with four classes. Fehr is the owner of a fashion label and the topic was sustainability in the clothing industry. Vettel spoke about the possibilities of more environmentally friendly mobility. The former racing driver then took time for a personal conversation.

Sebastian Vettel, does your guilty conscience drive you?

That may have been the case at the beginning of my involvement, when I thought: Oh, I've been racing and flying around the world for so many years, that wasn't good! Nowadays, it's much more optimism that drives me.

What do you mean?

When we talk about the climate crisis, many things are very, very bad, the outlook is devastating, there is a doomsday mood. Children see their future as correspondingly bleak. It is important to me that we talk about solutions. There are lots of people who are thinking really well. Like in the textile industry, where there are so many approaches to more sustainability. Today's children are much more astute and have a greater awareness of these issues. I had no idea about it when I was young. Of course I knew that you can't just throw things away, but I didn't know anything about the meaning behind it.

How environmentally conscious are you?

I am in a position of luxury. I have the time to deal with these issues and also the opportunity to afford alternatives. Fast fashion is advertised, it is tempting to buy two or three T-shirts at once. Our aim is to show that these do not last long and that someone pays the price for them - the planet, the environment, the people involved in the production chain. It all starts with awareness. If you are aware of things, you can change something. I want to raise this awareness among children.

You were a racing driver, jetting around the world. Can you erase this huge ecological footprint?

I could do that by buying the relevant certificates. I did that before I retired in 2022. But that raises questions: Does that really balance the books? There are many great projects that may not have been implemented so well. Planting trees is a great way to do that. But: Are the right trees being planted? In the right location? Is care being taken to grow them? Will the tree still be standing in five years? Getting a certificate like this eases your conscience, but it's often worth taking a closer look. Even ticking the box for flying isn't enough. It's therefore very difficult to completely eliminate my footprint.

Where is it particularly large?

Aviation makes up the largest part. It's like other global sports. The fact that I drove a car in circles and burned petrol is no longer so important.

And today you are committed to environmental issues: are you a hypocrite?

I have to put up with this accusation. And yes: I am the biggest hypocrite there is when I talk about environmental issues and at the same time have left such a large footprint. I flew around the world for years - and not economy, but business or first class. But should I feel bad about it? We will not solve the problem with shame, but rather by confronting it and looking for solutions. We are all hypocrites because we also enjoy things that we know are not so good. Do we have to fly to Thailand on holiday? No. But it is also incredibly beautiful there. We should not ban travel, but offer technological options that allow us to do the same as before - only more sustainably.

You often travel in a camper with your family.

Yes, we set up camp at the campsite and are a completely normal camping family. When I am recognised, some people are surprised, but after the first beer together, that stops.

How much did your childhood influence you in this regard?

Very, we were out and about in the motorhome weekend after weekend, it was amazing. Camping is also about memories and experiences that I want to give my children.

You have two daughters, aged 9 and 11, and a five-year-old son: do you feel like you missed out on parts of their childhood because of your career?

After I retired, I realized that I was traveling a lot more than I thought. When I was still fully involved, I thought: I'll be home soon, just a few days and then I'll be back. When I retired, I realized that I had slept more away from home than at home. I enjoy having a completely different daily routine now.

Do you thrive in the role of father?

It's nice that I have time. I can also look back on a very rich childhood of my own, in which I was able to spend a lot of time with my parents and siblings. This time together is the most beautiful thing my parents gave me - and I live it now. Even if I don't travel from kart track to kart track with my children, like we did back then.

Why not?

It hasn't turned out that way yet.

Does racing have a future at all and still have a right to exist?

That's a very good question. While interest in Formula 1 is growing steadily in America, countries like Germany are questioning whether it is still in keeping with the times. If Formula 1 does not move quickly enough and find answers to important questions, it runs the risk of social pressure becoming so great that a ban is discussed.

What questions does Formula 1 have to ask itself?

How are the cars fueled? How does the whole circus get from A to B? Hundreds of thousands of people travel to the races: how do they get there, how do they travel home, what do they consume on site, what kind of food and drink is even offered? There are so many issues at stake. I would certainly think it a great shame if Formula 1 were to disappear.

Why?

There are many people who appreciate the sport on the one hand, but also the culture behind it on the other. It is a piece of history and cultural heritage, especially in Germany, where the automobile industry is very large and has a long history. You can't just erase that. So Formula 1 basically has a right to exist. But it needs to move forward in terms of vehicles and technology.

Formula 1 cars already have highly efficient hybrid engines, and from 2026 they will also run on synthetic fuel.

Yes, thanks to this fuel, CO₂-neutral driving is possible. But synthetic fuel is not a panacea. The big drawback is the high electricity consumption during production, regardless of whether gasoline, diesel or kerosene is produced. The process is inefficient - while the electricity is actually needed everywhere else, for example for heating buildings. Synthetic fuels are a bridging technology for forms of mobility for which we do not yet have other solutions, such as shipping or air travel. There are still no electric or hydrogen-powered container ships or aircraft.

And what about private transport?

The electric car is significantly more efficient and has a higher efficiency than a combustion engine. However, it is not fair to demand that people buy electric cars, as they are still more expensive than combustion engines. They need to become cheaper - and the range needs to be increased and the network needs to be better developed.

The reality is this: There are 1.3 billion cars with combustion engines on the road in the world.

And for them, synthetic fuel makes sense as a transition. But if we think ahead, 30, 40 years into the future, it is important that the rich countries set the pace, set a good example and make the transition to electromobility.

What does your personal fleet look like?

It's not entirely electric yet because I want to hold on to my VW bus, which runs on diesel. I also have an electric Porsche - OK, a Porsche - but also an electric Nissan.

You live in the country in Europe that has the best public transport system. How often do you travel by train?

I travel very often by public transport. Zurich is the perfect example of why it makes no sense to travel by car in a city. And that is a key factor: if the service is available and public transport beats the car in terms of attractiveness, people are more likely to switch. Switzerland is a model country in general; you can get to the most remote villages by post bus, the connections are great and the timetable is very well timed. Public transport must be a real alternative everywhere, then people will start to think differently.

Was it the same for you?

My childhood was shaped by motorsports and I counted the days until I could get my driver's license. It was important to my grandfather that his car had a star on it, our generation also drove other brands, and today's children often have completely different priorities anyway. This is how walls collapse and new things emerge. The future can also be better than the present. If there is less traffic in cities, more electric cars, more public transport, that is better for everyone.

When you sit on trains and buses, aren't you constantly recognized and harassed?

Of course I get recognized sometimes, but what I appreciate about the Swiss is that they are very discreet. That's completely different in Germany or other countries.

Is that one of the reasons why you moved to Switzerland in 2007?

That's the main reason why I want to stay here. I feel very comfortable. The initial spark was that I was working as a test driver for Sauber - even though I quickly moved to Toro Rosso. I liked it here. And of course there were tax advantages too. But I would have those in the place where many of my former colleagues live.

You're talking about Monaco. Why don't you live on the Côte d'Azur?

Switzerland is incredibly beautiful, a paradise. Monaco is certainly beautiful and a bit warmer, but living in such a concrete desert would not be for me. I need space, mountains and nature.

Michael Schumacher has also been living in Switzerland for years. They have always looked up to him.

He is my childhood hero and, in my opinion, the greatest Formula 1 driver in history, even if statistically that is Lewis (Hamilton).

Since his skiing accident in 2013, Schumacher has been cared for at home in Gland, Vaud. You are still in contact with the family through his son Mick, how important is that to you?

I get on well with Mick and we keep in touch, even though I'm no longer racing and he's no longer in a Formula 1 car. That's important to me.

Recently, Michael's brother Ralf Schumacher made headlines because he came out as gay. That's unheard of in motorsport…

… a taboo. As in many other sports. If we look at the statistics, many tennis and football players must be gay. But it is still very difficult to come out in sport and be accepted.

Why is that?

Let's take football: If a player comes out and then has to bend down to pick up the ball before a throw-in, for example, there are bound to be many in the stands who will burst into laughter. That's why role models who have the courage to come out are so important. I don't know if I could talk openly about it myself. That's why we should appreciate it when someone does.

How was Schumacher’s coming out received in the motorsport scene?

Actually, it's good. But of course, motorsport is still the world where old white men have a petrol party. Some things are taboo for many people. Lewis has already torn down a lot of walls as the first black Formula 1 driver. He brought up the subject of racism and other things that were suddenly being talked about. I came into Formula 1 at the same time as him, and I can remember that there were a lot of bad comments about him.

For example?

Because of the color of his skin, he had no place here. He has now shown, not only through his performance, that they were completely wrong. People like him are needed. We used to be told that we shouldn't talk about certain topics, like money, love, sex, religion. Today we are much further along, and that is good.

You are committed to issues affecting the LGBTQ community. Why?

In sport, people fight very hard and do everything to win. But it should be fair. And that's what I'm concerned about: fairness, fair treatment of all people, no matter who they love or who they are. Sometimes we take a step back in this development, such as with the election of Donald Trump as US President. Such decisions usually come at the expense of people who do not fit into society's image. Raising awareness of this and giving these people a voice is extremely important.

You spoke earlier about your former homeland Germany: Can you still show your face there?

For what reason?

Because you support a speed limit on motorways.

(smiles) In this discussion, freedom is often confused with habit. I live in Switzerland, where there is a speed limit. Does that mean we are less free here? Or do Germans feel that their freedom is being taken away from them when they cross the border into Switzerland or France? But I am aware that driving without a speed limit is sacred for many Germans.

You've been able to let off steam on the racetrack your whole life. What do you miss now that you can't do that anymore?

I miss a lot of things, especially the competition. Or getting a result straight after a performance and knowing where you stand. The sport, the kick. But I have also gained a lot and have more time for other topics and interests. I see it more as a trade-off than a loss.

[the-ace-with-spades]

History repeats itself AU or an AU where Bradley, one way or another, becomes what Mav was to him

When Bradley enters flight school, he's still reeling with anger about Mav and everyone tries to stay outta his way - he demolishes the training, talks to no one and ignores any attempts at assimilation with his train group.

There are only two people who never get offended - Mike and Sarah, an aviator and WSO couple that is also (not so secretly) a couple in their personal life.

Sarah is a laid-back lady who always has the right quips, Mike is a walking sunshine, always trying to see the best in people - Bradley often wonders how they ended up in the military. (He learns it not long after - they were both products of foster care, just like Bradley's mom and Mav, and in parts, Bradley himself, and had little choice given their financial situation.)

They're both nothing but persistent at befriending Bradley, always too handsy, always too smiley, always replying to his grunts and insults with the same without minding the attitude, always inviting him everywhere and inviting themselves into Bradley's plans without asking for permission.

By the time they finish flight school, all three of them live together in a two-bed house. When they got assigned to the same F-18 training squad, they move together, too, this time in a three-bed house in a nicer location.

A substantial amount of people actually think that there’s some kind of a trouple thing going on with them… Jake included. When Bradley starts being interested in him, for a minute or two, Jake thinks Bradley is trying to find a fourth for some kind of harem — this quickly gets resolved, though, because Sarah and Mike tease Bradley ruthlessly about Jake.

Jake and Bradley are not quite dating but they start having a thing just around the same time when Sarah finds out she’s pregnant.

Bradley is the first to learn that Sarah is pregnant, even before Mike. She is panicked as hell, still with the pregnancy test, rumbling all about how they will separate them now, how they won't be able to fly in a duo, how she might have to quit the Navy - and Bradley is the one takes her off the edge, reasoning that Mike would never want her to quit, that it's all going to work out some way.

And it does, at first. Sarah goes on light duty and Bradley and Mike negotiate a switch with their command — Bradley will take on Sarah as his WSO and Mike will start flying solo. They won’t be able to get deployed together anymore, but there will be at least one person at all times, with the kid, once they’re born. Bradley is named the godfather before they even know they’re having a girl and is the one to help Sarah plan the wedding — is the one to help her find a wedding dress that fits her baby bump, helps find a nice public place to hold the ceremony, helps to arrange the other bits, helps mix up the baby shower into the party. Mike takes a two weeks leave from his deployment to get married when Sarah is 6 months pregnant and they’re all really happy. It feels like Bradley has a family - a brother and sister, like he’s going to be an uncle.

Jake teases him so much because Bradley keeps on crying throughout the day, as the witness and when he makes the speech and when the gender reveal happens — even though Bradley had actually been the secret keeper of the little piece of paper they had been given by the tech when he accompanied Sarah to her scan. Jake is Bradley’s date to the wedding, which is also the first time they show up together anywhere officially — the relationship is still not really defined or named, but it is a Relationship with a capital R.

And then Mike dies on deployment, not even two weeks after their wedding.

Bradley is left grieving his best friend, feeling guilty because it was supposed to be him on that deployment, before they switched Sarah to fly with Bradley, and Sarah is 7 months pregnant and newly a widow. So he steps up even further, just locks everything he feels and tries to get them both through all of it, despite doubting how they can survive this.

Jake steps up, a lot, too. Because Bradley is there for Sarah but someone has to be there for him, too, and he can’t ask that of Sarah. He’s a their place almost every day, helps organising the funeral, helps get the nursery in order.

And then the worst scenerio possible happens — Sarah goes into labour and everything that could go wrong, goes wrong. The labour takes hours on end, going so slow they’re sent away and come back to the hospital a couple of times, but the minute when they try to induce her and speed up the process, the baby turns around and becomes breech and she is born but there’s so much blood they roll Sarah into the OR before she can even hug her.

Bradley is left in the NICU with little baby Daisy for hours and hours, never getting much of an answer of what is going on. The nurses try to dodge his questions as they show him how to change the baby and how to feed her the bottle and it all feels so surreal — all those firsts should've been Sarah’s to do.

He never sees Sarah alive again.

He doesn’t know what to do, once they tell him, so he calls Jake.

And being honest, Jake doesn’t know what to do either. He brings some more clothes for Bradley and Daisy into the hospital, brings him takeaways to eat, lets him sleep in the armchair for a few hours, keeping an eye on Daisy for him, brings him a coffee and a sandwich from the downstairs shop, and when the time comes, tries to remember as much information as possible, because Bradley might look calm, but he’s hysteric on the inside.

Bradley attends his second funeral in less than three months with a week old baby in his arms.

The shock doesn’t fully wear off when the CPS makes Bradley the temporary guardian for Daisy - he was Sarah’s next of kin and the only living person close to her - but the panic sets when he discovers the will states that in the event of death of both Mike and Sarah, he gets everything, Daisy’s custody included.

And the headaches start — Bradley is on special leave now, but at some point he’d have to leave the nursery and face the world. And no amount of Jake doing grocery runs and picking up paperwork for Bradley and phoning in to book appointments for Bradley can prevent that.

One of the evenings, when it all becomes too much, when Daisy hasn’t stopped crying for hours, when he can’t stop wishing Sarah or Mike were here, where they should be, when he can’t stop thinking about how this is all his bad luck’s fault, when the legal and social teams are on his ass to make a decision on what he wants to do next, he has a little breakdown. Because he wants to do all that, he wants to honor Sarah and Mike’s wishes, he wants to keep the last bit of his best friends close to himself, but how is he supposed to do that? He’s a wreck and his only support is Jake, who despite all this never made any promises or commitment declarations about their relationship. The Navy might let him leave based on special circumstances, but finding a job in any industry that would allow him to take care of a baby on his own would be a miracle — and there’s no one he could leave Daisy with, if they send him somewhere with his squadron.

And Jake comes back from the base that evening and finds him a mess, and sure enough, solution to all this is simple enough to him — he will move in, permanently, and help Bradley take care of Daisy and take care of her once Bradley starts getting deployed again.

What if they deploy us at the same time? We can’t just refuse, it’s not going to work, because while Bradley wants to believe this is an option, it really isn’t. Even if he felt comfortable with putting so much on Jake, it just wasn’t a viable option — if they both were away, the same problems would arose. Jake had no family, either, got disowned years and years ago, and even if Bradley, somehow, felt comfortable with reconnecting with his own family, he wasn’t quite sure if he could just trust them with Daisy straight away.

Well, I’ve got this crazy idea that might just work, is all Jake says, Give me a few days.

And the life goes on for those few days until one evening Jake comes back from work an hour later than usual and sits down next to Bradley on the couch, waits until he finishes feeding Daisy her bottle and she takes a little nap when he rocks her in his arms — and he shows Bradley a set of generic wedding rings and filled marriage licence application.

Married couples can’t be deployed together.

I can’t ask that of you.

Good thing you aren’t asking, then — I’m offerin’

Because, in truth, Jake knew he was in it for the long run for months now. He was going to pace it, just because Bradley clearly was a bit slow with those things and had a lot of baggage that he wasn’t as keen to share as Jake had been with his own.

So they get married, formally. Bradley accepts the custody and adopts Daisy and sure enough, they both spent some time away on adoption leave, getting used to things. It doesn’t make it all okay, but it makes it all easier, the burden to bear falling on two sets of shoulders instead of one.

At first, they don’t even mention the whole marriage thing, but as things go on, the word husband comes up in their lives more and more often — people shut up easier when it’s a husband and not a partner — and as the years go on, it feels like breathing, calling each other husbands. They might have married for one reason only, but the marriage feels more and more genuine with the years spent together piling up.

Daisy turns five when they both get called back to Top Gun at the same time.

[baronessvonglitter]

Code Blue

Javier Peña x Tim Rockford | WC: 2K

Summary: On a double date, Agent Javier Peña and Detective Tim Rockford are more interested in each other than in the bubbly blonde badge bunnies they're with.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit for smut. Mentions of drinking alcohol. MLM. BJs. Deepthroating. Semi-public sex. Restroom sex. Pena goes commando - this is canon, duh. Spit as lube. Anal fingering. Anal sex. Protected sex. If this ain't your thing, keep scrolling.

A/n: This is for the Pedro Pascal Pride Challenge hosted by @mandaloriankait 💙thank you for putting together such a fun and inclusive challenge! I had another one in mind to add but I haven't had the time, hopefully I'll get to it soon 😊

This is my first go at mlm fiction! I've written ffm and mmf fics, but never just guy-on-guy and I have to admit, I had fun with this 😏

Here we are - the Holster and the Tac Vest.. I wanted to write a pairing that I personally haven't read before, so Tim and Javi P were a perfect fit, pun intended. If anyone has any Tim x Javi fic recs, please send 'em my way! ❤️

dividers by @strangergraphics 👑

JAVIER PEÑA MASTERLIST

TIM ROCKFORD MASTERLIST

FULL MASTERLIST

Badge bunnies. That's what everyone calls them. They see a shiny law enforcement officer badge and get all wet and creamy for the man behind it. Tim Rockford has never really taken advantage of the charisma his status provides, even when a woman has been more than ready and willing. He's just not the type. He'd rather come home to a good woman, find her asleep on the couch waiting for him, their dog curled up at her feet.

But in a town like this a steady relationship is hard to come by. So he commits himself to his job and the very, very occasional fling.

Javier Peña was the one to convince him to go out. A DEA agent in town who was part of Rockford's new task force, Javier had a natural way with the ladies, out with a different one every night. Within a few weeks his exploits had become legendary among the rest of Tim's team. Now he's sitting across from the man, gritting his teeth as he glowers at Javier's perpetual smirk, his dark tousled hair, the aviators hanging on the front of his shirt which is already unbuttoned more than Tim would ever do. He can see the man's chest hair for crying out loud.

The woman sitting next to Javier is friends with the woman sitting next to Tim. You'd think they were sisters. Both blonde and bubbly, wearing too much lip gloss and too much hair product and way too much perfume. Tim has never known such flammable women.

"Rockford is the man in charge. Locally, at least," Peña says, raising his beer to the detective. "He's the hardass keeping us all in line."

"I hope not only his ass is hard," Tim's date giggles, her pink-taloned hands squeezing his bicep through his long-sleeve work shirt. He still has his suspenders on, despite Javier telling him to ditch them before they left the station.

Despite himself, Tim is more annoyed than intrigued. He shifts around in his seat, glancing around at the other bar-goers. His date pouts a little, looking to Javi as if he holds the answer. "It's okay, chiquita," he says softly, his thumb stroking her wrist. "Why don't you two angels go powder your noses?" he suggests, and he and Tim get out of their seats to let the women out.

Javi winks and waves at them before they disappear out of sight beneath the neon restrooms sign before his smile drops and his gaze hardens on Tim, still sulking in the booth across from him. "What the hell is your problem?" he hisses.

Tim snaps his head up, eyes narrowed and steely. "What the fuck are you talking about, Peña?"

"You! You're such a goddamn stick in the mud, acting like a pendejo when this beautiful woman is all over you, practically begging to ride your cock. What, you're not into women?"

"Fuck you." Tim's glare is lethal.

Javi mutters something like you wish and leans back in his seat. "Fine. If you want, I'll take them both home with me. Wouldn't be the first time. Just thought I'd share the wealth since you can't get any pussy on your own."

"I can get pussy any time I want," Tim counters, hands on the table as if he's getting ready to fight.

"Okay, man," Javi shrugs, calmly lighting up a cigarette, unaffected by his partner's ire, giving the ladies a smile as they return. "All prettied up for us, huh, dolls? How about another round of cherry margaritas?" He motions to the bartender.

"Gotta take a piss," Tim mutters, giving his date a tired smile as he gets up and heads towards the restrooms at the back.

He doesn't actually have to pee. He just splashes some water on his face, doing a mental countdown of how long he can get away with being in here. He leans over the sink, splashing more water onto the back of his neck, cooling his skin. He doesn't know how he started getting so hot.

Peña comes in, casting a casual glance over at the detective. "You good, man?" he asks, settling in front of a urinal and unzipping his jeans.

"Yeah," Rockford grunts, adding some soap and washing his hands. In the mirror he eyes the younger man, head bowed down as he stands at the urinal. Tim eyes up the man, checking out his broad shoulders, his narrow waist, and he swears he sees Peña's ass clench and unclench-

Shaking his head, Rockford turns off the faucet and heads for the motion-sensored hand dryer, which is taking longer to activate.

"You look pretty worked up," Peña says, washing his hands at the sink. "I could suck your cock for you."

Rockford hears the last part as if he's underwater. His mouth goes dry, heart pumping wildly. "What?"

Peña shrugs, finishing up at the sink and moving towards Rockford at the dryer. "If I suck your cock it might calm you down a bit." He gives the dryer a solid slap and it starts up.

"I'm not- I'm really not-" Tim backs away.

"Not what? Hard? Look down, my friend. You've been hard since I walked in."

Tim groans, not needing to look below his belt to know he's bricked up.

"It's just an offer," Peña says coolly. "I had a feeling you weren't digging that chica by your side tonight. Is that the reason you don't want to be here?" He walks Tim backward until he meets the wall and is effectively trapped. The younger man's smirk grows to a smile. "You were checking out my ass in the mirror, weren't you? And all night you've been eyeing me instead of the sweet piece of ass next to you. You think I don't know what kind of thoughts you have in mind?"

Rockford is speechless, staring at Peña's lips, licking his own as he imagines how they'd feel wrapped around his cock.

"You can tell me to leave," Peña offers. "Tell me to fuck off and I'll go, and we'll forget this ever happened."

This is a way out, a proposition to go back and just be work buddies again.

Instead, Rockford locks the door. "On your knees, agent," he says gruffly.

Peña's mouth fills with saliva as he eagerly unzips Rockford's pants and undoes the button, slowly revealing the detective's boxers: white with red hearts. "Just like the cartoons, eh?" Pena smirks.

"Shut.... up," he moans as the younger man palms him through the material.

"Dios mio," Peña mutters. "I thought I was pretty hung, but you're huge."

"Think you can take it all?" Rockford rasps.

"I guess we'll find out." Peña peels down the underwear and lets Tim's cock free, his girthy length bobbing up, the tip flushed red and already leaking precum. Javi's tongue laps up the pearly bead and grins when he hears Tim groan. "Ever had your cock sucked by another man?" he asks.

"None of your business," Tim grunts. "Put your mouth to work."

Peña complies, giving the crown a languorous lick and enjoying the detective's needy groan. He spits on Tim's rod, using his hand to stroke it to full hardness before descending his lips on Rockford again. Tim sighs, placing his hand on the back of Javi's head and Javi fondles his balls, looking up to see Rockford react. They're already big and swollen. Javi's sure to get a good, thick load out of them.

He spits on it, giving Tim's dick a few tugs, feeling him pulse and twitch in his hand. Javi's tongue caresses the length of it, from base to tip, tongue circling the crown again, teasing, wiggling his tongue into the slit at the top. Rockford groans, his blood on fire as he urges the younger man forward. His breath catches in his throat when Javi's lips wrap around him, taking him into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks.

"Just like that," Tim rasps. "Didn't know you were such a pro.."

"You ain't seen nothin' yet," Peña wears a shit-eating grin as he gives the older man's balls a light squeeze before taking him into his throat, all the way back deep, and Tim nearly blows his load when Javi gags on it. Though his eyes water, he holds onto Tim's thighs, covering his cock in thick saliva. He gives a pitiful moan as Tim's large hand presses on the back of his head, keeping him there.

Peña takes a big gulp of air when Tim finally releases him. His eyes are lust-glazed and dark as he meets the detective's similarly lecherous gaze. "I bet you don't have it in you to fuck me.."

Rockford bends Peña over the sink, turning the agent's head to give a sloppy kiss as he shoves the younger man's jeans down. He raises his brow when he sees that Javi goes commando.

"I don't like restriction," Peña says coolly. Tim grabs a handful of his bare asscheek and smacks it. "I think you just wanted to make it easier for me," he huffs in his ear.

"Grab the condom, it's in my front pocket," Javi tells him, and Rockford finds it, places it on the sink edge. He lubes up his fingers with spit and traces the rim of Peña's ass, watching the agent's face in the mirror. "Damn, you're tight.. and hot," he mutters.

"More," Peña moans, bracing the sink, biceps bulging with the effort. Tim obliges him, stuffing a second thick finger into Javi's anus. Javi bites his lip, letting out a sighing grunt.

"Need more than this?" Rockford mutters, nipping Peña's earlobe with his teeth.

"I can handle it.. can you?" The agent smirks at him in the mirror. In return Rockford pistons his hand, fingering him harder. "I'll give you more, god damn it."

He grabs the condom and rips it open, sheathes his cock with it before teasing it at Javi's ass. Javi's already spitting into his palm and jerking off, his face pink with exertion and anticipation. Tim lands another glob of spit right on Peña's ass and nudges in smoothly, pressing his forearm down on Javi's back as he bottoms out. They both gasp in relief and pleasure.

He moves slow at first, savoring the way Peña's hole tightens around him, sucking him in. "It's what you wanted, isn't it?" Javi's telling him, jaw hung open as he gets stuffed. "You've been thinking about it the past few weeks."

"Jesus. Anyone ever tell you you're a mouthy bottom?" Tim grunts, grabbing hold of Peña's hips and thrusting in deep, smirking when the younger man loses his words, just moans, gripping the sink harder.

The sound of Tim's balls thwacking against the backs of Javi's thighs is resounding in the small room, punctuated by their groans and sighs and muttered curses. Javi's stroking himself in time with Tim's thrusts, ready to spill.

Tim pulls Javi close as he comes, hips stuttering then stilling. Javi wastes no time as soon as Tim disengages, getting rid of the condom. "My turn, detective," he says, and Rockford goes on his knees to finish him off.

It's sloppy work, nothing like the precise and thoughtful steps he takes in his work. Rockford is all tongue and spit, barely intelligible, begging for Peña's come. Peña grabs his hair, pulling him roughly against him. His pubic hairs tickle Tim's nose as he keeps him there, a small taste of his own medicine from earlier. He thrusts in roughly a few times, throat fucking him until he comes, his hot white spend shooting into the detective's mouth.

"Oh shit, they're gone." Javi states the obvious as they emerge from the men's room, cleaned up but still a little disheveled.

"Oh no." Tim's voice is flat, relief flooding his veins.

"Think we should find out where they went?"

"Nah.. badge bunnies come and badge bunnies go." Peña leans against the bar, lighting a cigarette as he settles the bill. "Wanna come back to my place?"

"What do you think?" Tim grants him a quick wink before they leave.

taglist: @sunshinehaze1 @604to647 @cxrsed-angel @joelmillerswife9

@tateypots @bergamote-catsandbooks @whoaitspascal

@milla-frenchy @captainredspade @timpletance @inept-the-magnificent

@platinumblondeedition @loveisacowboyyy @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

@bunniboo0015 @girlboss30004 @vindictivegranny

@jaeisd-blog

[missmarveledsblog]

A little something unexpected (Jake Seresin x Reader)

Summary: a routine shopping trip leads to something something unexpected for a certain blonde aviator .

warning: fluffy , goofy , jakes new to the simp life but hes not complaining . not proof read ( Soz )

( just realised i haven't done any hangman oneshots so here's one)

In the unknown of life it can throw curveballs , unexpected courses throughout life that  test whether you go through with it or not .  Like talking to a stranger in a bar , crossing the road at the wrong or right time , changing plans at the last minute, all things not expected but can cause a big or little outcome . Jake Seresin didn’t realize such an occasion was going to happen as he was grocery shopping one sunday morning. He didn’t know he was going to be changed in such a way it would alter his life in such a way .  He was going aisle to aisle getting and checking off his list , he may have shot  a few smiles and winks at the women he passed getting his various produce and products .  It was normal , part of his Sundays since he’s been stationed permanently in San Diego . turning corner as a women check him out shamelessly but it was his favorite  kind , then again he like whether they took charge or not once they left the next morning.  He was a hound dog , not yet ready to settle down just wasn’t in the cards for him and he was more than ok with that . he  wasn’t looking for love or so he thought  then he look up saw a scene before him  , she was beautiful , stunning and everything he didn’t know was real  only in some sort of movie or magazine . their was a familiar feeling to the woman he was looking at , maybe she was famous seen her in some movie at some point in life. But she was standing crossed arms looking completely unamused at the man before her , some sap trying to put the moves on ,jake thought or couples quarrel . 

“ come on stop playing hard to get “ the man almost whine same time as jake rolled his eyes , she did the same. 

“ i ain’t interested so why don’t you get on stop bugging me “ she huffed walking off or least trying to until the man grabbed her arm that when jake stood taller , chest out  ready to intervene help the pretty lady out . he  was hound dog in the sense he slept around but he never would pressure or alone put his hands on a woman .  Ready  to intervene and save the day  but before he could even step forward  she grab the man quickly having him now pressed up against the shelf hand twisted behind his back  before jake could even speak . 

“ let go of me you crazy bitch “ he squealed trying to get out of her grasp whole thing was amusing granted she was tiny compared to both him and the man she had in her hold .

“ don’t grab strangers or they grab back  now i’ll let you go and you’ll be on your way or i can hold you til the cops come sugar it’s all up to you “ she smiled sweetly .

“ first one “ the man pained out almost whisper as she did just that and watched him walking off  slightly impressed with the outcome til she realised she had an audience one a little old lady and another was a face she didn’t think she would see ever again . 

“ well done you show him “ the little old lady almost cheered before heading off . 

“ jake seresin ?” she called making him freeze . 

“ you know me ?” he asked confused she was familiar but not in the known familiarity sort of sense of things , cluing to scramble every inch of his brain to think of how he knew her , was she past flame but then again if he did go there he would remember her definitely. 

“ it’s y/n “ she laughed suddenly more closer and everything clicking into place , she was his best friend back homes little sister although she wasn’t little anymore. The former wildchild who wore baggy clothes getting trouble constantly of her escapades infairness jake barely saw her , she was either up in her room , sneaking out or out causing trouble.  She was always pretty but it was always an off limits sort of thing plus she was never interested in her brother or his friends jake was one of em . 

“ well trouble what hell you doing here” he smirked . 

“ was trying to shop you know it’s a grocery store”  . 

“ funny i mean san diego smart ass” he shook his head. 

“ well lets walk and talk  big guy  i ain’t causing a traffic jam “she walked. “ to answer you question i moved her last year for work , i am now a  nurse more specifically an ER nurse where all the action is , i’m guessing your stationed here ?” she asked . 

“ sure am ma’am ,  can’t believe your a nurse though?” he chuckled .

“ should seen my mama’s face when i told her i wanted to be one she thought i’d finally lost it but hell no one expected me pull it off except my big brother  mikey he always believes in me “ she smiled . 

“ hows big mike now haven’t talked to him since in a couple years, i know he married i missed the wedding because  i was deployed”. 

“ he’s got like five little one like she just kept going one after another “ she shook her head amusement filled her tone. “ but he loves dad life and he’s deputy on the force badge and all “ . 

It was so natural to fall into the conversation with her , more easier than anyone he’s met ,  reminiscing over the past and filling in the gaps  and present to the point he felt a little disappointed when they were heading out the store , swapping number did help stop the disappointment  , knowing the conversation could still continue. It was strange to say the least a normal routine moment leading to more as they parted ways  .  still there was something  there , something he couldn’t place his finger on  that was lingering after she left but he knew he had to see her again that was for certain .  heading home and yet she was all that he could think about , even stepping out and heading into his house, usually waving over a scantily clad housewife across housewife but he completely ignored her presence as he headed into his house  . 

It would be weeks before he would see her again  giving her busy schedule and his own the meet up was something very hard to maintain yet still keeping in contact he felt like teenager waiting for his crush to respond was that what this feeling was . Standing  at the dart board ready to take rooster money once more even he was starting to feel sorry but hey he asked for the rematch.  He wasn’t paying attention to the bell ringing above the door , it was when he started hearing the low whistles . 

“ christ on a bike “ was all he heard from the hawaiian shirt wearing man following  who suddenly wasn’t caring about the money he was losing , his gaze set completely else where only for jake to follow .  He stopped in his track , he himself was less caring of taking his fellow aviators money .  She stood out , of course her friend were pretty good looking women but shit she was breathtaking , she took his breath away that was for sure. The little black dress , boots and leather jacket all simple pieces of clothing and yet on her looked like  she was ready for a run way or glamorous photo shoot .  he watched the way her head fell back laughing at whatever her friends where talking about .It like she could sense his eyes ,  her connecting and smile bright on her face as she mouth a hi and  little wiggle of her fingers  in a wave .  his throat was dry but hell his mouth was watering . 

“ shit they have to be lost” was all rooster said as he made his way to the bar offering his services to the ladies if needed .  another new thing was the way his jaw clenched when roosters hand extended to her , the flirty grin and whatever he was saying had her laughing away.  Jealousy wasn’t a new feeling for jake, he was man enough to admit   it ( to himself and never out loud ) . But he was never jealous of a women attention  , usually he would just move on or get her attention his way . but now he watching his friend and a face from his past that he couldn’t shake like she permanently inserted herself into his brain .  then they were coming over , men watching the group of girl sauntering over to the familiar spot that was occupied by the famous dagger squad .  he watched as rooster introduced each of the girls to  his friend . 

“ i know hangman ,  we go way back “ her voice god it beat any melody of his  favorite songs . 

“ that we do darling “ he flashed flirty grin of  his own. 

“ we grew up  in the same town actually him and my big brother were best friends at one stage “ she explained to the perplexed face of her own friends and his  .

“ oh so was jake always well this or was he awkward secret nerd before .. please tell me he was a pip squeak  who couldn’t get lad “  nat perked up .

“ nah he and my brother were  ladies men , completely the star of everyone’s eyes including the women of our town  “she rolled her eyes as he had a beaming smile . 

“ i can see why he and you brother total heart throb material “ her friend mia purred and yet it was easy she was already showing the blonde the go but his eyes were solely fix on y/n .   the whole night he was following her every word it was like she was the only woman in the bar and in his eyes she was . even his friends were a little shocked at the  behavior of their friend . her friends gave up on pursuing the man well most of them did mia on the other hand seemed to be determined to get the blonde eye shedding  layers pulling her dress up a little more show off her legs or down to show cleavage and t was getting anyone but jake seresins .   she giggled louder and talked more lewdly  the dagger squad stood confused , while y/n friends looked slightly embarrassed  what they didn’t know was the seemly secret need to be better than y/n , mia goal to be the one who performed better , got everything that y/n wanted , she wasn’t a friend not really .  not that y/n cared it or took notice it was really one sided  , she was happy with her life , a job although stressful but worth it she enjoyed it most parts but came with hard times .  she  had boyfriends but never stayed around something never clicked not like it did with jake seresin which well was strange . not in sense she didn’t find he wasn’t attractive because even knew it  , it was more they were such different people back then  probably now too. Texting was fun , catching up was best. Someone from home here in san diego was something they both could enjoy. 

The night was going well other than the glares from her so called friend but other than that she and her other friends were having a great time she found them great bunch of people even being invited to other nights out if she was available . she hopped of the seat headed to the seat jake was at the bar getting more drinks while she was standing at juke box punching in the keys two heading to the group at same time as slow ride because booming throughout the speakers. Every single one of the dagger squad huffing and sighing.   

“ really bag man” nat groaned rubbing her temples . 

“ hey this good song but this time , it wasn’t me i was at the bar” he chuckled raising his drink in one hand and handing y/n a bottle of beer . 

“ actually this ones on me , it’s one of my favorite songs “ she winced . 

“ yeah totally good song” mia cheered. 

“ you told her turn it off earlier “ clara , one of y/n arched her brow. 

“ actually yeah you said you hated it” emma snorted . 

“  she only likes it because blondey , does even though blondey  isn’t haven’t having a bar of her” izzy scoffed starting to get annoyed a pick me mia . “ probably because y/n likes him is why she wants him “ she let slip . 

“ not true at all “  mia whined . 

“ yeah it is , why you come you don’t even like us or y/n “ izzy probed . 

“  i like you guys  , where is this coming from … not my fault y/n boyfriend came on to me that time “ she shook her head . 

“ wait what ??” y/n face fell . 

“  what it was just one time or two .. maybe it was three  relax it meant nothing  plus you dumped him so like chill , come on you get everything  let me have that and stop hogging his attention “ mia whined completely like she had done nothing wrong. 

“ she aint hogging my attention actually in fact i’m hogging hers  hope you girls don’t mind i’m gonna steal her to “ he looked to the others who couldn’t help have shit eating grin. 

“ enjoy “ izzy smirked  waving as jake pulled her hand waving to penny a silent he would pay his tab next day.  She on other hand was quiet  not the usual way she was before trying  to think back and it all clicking .  she heard the bell ring and a yell of mia screaming  “ come on “ as jake looked to see the woman pouting pulling her phone off the bar and round of cheers, an instant karma not to the point it really measures but hey it was a start .  

He brought her down the beach still some light of the bar illuminating in a sense but not too much it disturbed the beauty of the night . how the moonlight reflected on the ocean , the sound of waves crashing  such calm compared to the storm that was nearly brewing in the hard deck .  He realized the fact he was still holding her hand only this time her fingers where intertwined with his and he could stop thinking how perfect  they fit like two pieces of a puzzle .   they didn’t talk , like  the unspoken words spoke volumes enjoying the silence and each others company til she shivered once more then wordlessly he lead them off the beach towards his truck . unlocking  it opening the passenger side as she hoped in , all not a word spoken from their mouths but the eyes told each other everything.  All that was running through jakes mind was how perfect she fit in his life in different ways , like how perfect she was sat in his truck . taking the hoodie from the backseat handing it to her a whisper of “ thanks “ spilling from her lips . this was new this was something he hadn’t experience in a long time .  the drive was different somehow  but it was almost routine.  Driving pretty girl home but this wasn’t just any pretty girl it was y/n . She was different  , everything about his feelings were different to what he was used to. The fact he like seeing her in his clothes or at his side.  Pulling up to her house he didn’t want it to end not the night , not her company , it all . 

“ you wanna come in for a drink or coffee”  seemly she was feeling the same the long forgotten drama of a jealous friend  to the fact she was solely in trance from the blonde aviator that sat beside her. 

“ yeah i’d like that “  he smiled hoping out of the car jogging to her side and holding his hand out to help her out of the car .  once more fingers intertwined walking up toward the  house , something even in the exterior felt homely , flowers that sat perfectly  around the deck in a weird sense reminded him of home  in texas ,  she opened the door throwing her keys in the bowl her hand still in his only for jake to puller her spinning her into  his arms , a yelp and giggle spilling from her lips man he loved that sound , tipping her face up with his free hands leaning down so close he could hear her breathe hitch , he could feel how close it was  all he had to do was do it  , just move that little bit that would connect his lips to her plump pillow soft lips .  the nervous feeling in his was definitely new one , had him frozen almost looking into her eyes watching him closely only  to be the one  to  be the one to take that step , that one push that had her lips on his. Instantly the nervous feelings gone his hand gone straight to her hair pulling her closer if it was possible . never had he felt a kiss like it , one that  had him lost , one that had him addicted  just one touch  like  it was his sole source  of living . her lips perfect against his , her hand on his chest sliding up and around his head  , her own tilting for new angle to deepen the kiss . the way his tongue dance with her own , tasting each other  like it was only thing in the world even the need for air wasn’t a  thought when the two so lost in each other . until it was pulling back both breathlessly looking at the other , the smile appearing on their faces .  lifting her up he could feel the vibration of her laugh matching his own  giving directions  around the house in between pecks and sensual kisses , nothing was rushed .   nothing was pushed and exceeded  his own need , no jake wanted to take his time , he wanted to burn this moment into his memory  . the feeling of her in his arms still swallowed by his hoody or the feeling of her soft skin on her legs on  the palm of his hands .  her taste , the way she was looking at him it was all something that he didn’t want to stop not ever .  

That moment of confusion when  he began to stir , the scent of somewhere else  , the feel of somewhere else . eyes cracking open to see the morning sun settling in the room , turning to find the bed empty .  brows scrunched together  as rubbed the sleep out of his eyes til he could hear the muffled voice coming from behind the door . a smirk on his lips as he got out of bed grabbing his underwear , his shirt somewhere missing could find it later .  following the sound of the voice , taking in her home something that was missed the night previous the way it felt cozy , the way it felt like home laced in the wall . how he could picture himself coming home from a long day and just something simple as sitting with her wrapped in his arms eating take out . 

“ is that jake seresin “ a voice called as he walked into the kitchen , a familiar voice one he’s spent his whole childhood until he went to the naval academy . 

“ hey mikey “ he wince not realizing he just interrupted a family facetime  while in his underwear . 

“ it is hey y’all catch up while i finish this “ she smirked , amused at his reaction  or how heated his cheeks where. 

“  hey Mikey , how are you man “ he winced walking closer taking her phone in his hands so he wasn’t exposing much of  himself to his childhood friend while standing in said  friend little sisters kitchen .  

“ breakfast will be awhile sit “ she called not looking at him but he could tell she was fighting the urge to laugh . 

“ he’s the guy ?” mikey called. 

“ he’s the guy now catch up “ she called back . 

“ hurt her  and law be on your ass seresin . but other than that how you been man hows the navy “ her brother said easily even making her look at her phone with a look of “ what the fuck” written on her face. 

“ good man permanently stationed here , deployments aren't as long and get to teach the future aviators how its done “ he chuckled . 

Wasn’t long  til the bestfriend chatting up a storm  jake was barely paying attention though his missing shirt that almost swallowed her whole as she moved around kitchen making him breakfast shit this wasn’t helping his fantasies it was only feeding them , when she came over plates in her hand place them on table and heading back to get more jake said his goodbyes as she yelled her placing the drinks and condiments on the table only for jake to pull her on to his lap. Kissing her neck and her cheek til she turned her head and kissing his lips , the domestic feel to it all didn’t scare him , it should of but  it was y/n  , it felt right .  her perched on his lap while they ate breakfast  . She told him of her lack of plans  so she was probably going to chill home for day , so he invited her to the beach . a sort of weekly tradition of going the beach with the dagger squad  and friends on base , something she knew of from their text . what she didn’t know this was a first of many things. It was first of him staying over that was rare he usually went home once the deed was done , he was usually home along sitting at his kitchen island  , it was also a new thing of him bringing someone with him to the beach , never had he brought a fling but he hoped this wasn’t a fling it was too good to be a fling. Once breakfast was done and he cleaned up much to her telling him to stop falling on deaf ears . they showered  , ready  and headed to jakes so he could change his clothes knowing he was going to take another shower after beach . 

The faces of his friends where priceless except javy and nat the two sense something growing and it was an answer to jake sudden behavior change over the last few weeks. How he was glue to his phone  or barely paying attention to the women that batted their lashes at him in hard deck .  her hand in his as they got closer only to see her friends there too  well two izzy and emma. 

“ bob and rooster invited us “ izzy smirked . “ see jake had same idea” . 

“ well since there is girls here , lets set up over here and leave  the boys to their football “ nat cheered just as y/n  went to leave with the girls jake pulled spinning her as she fell into a fit of giggles as jake kissed every part of her face before getting her lips . 

“ ok ok come on suck face later”rooster groaned pretending to be repulsed but the smile on his face betrayed him . 

“ see ya later honey “ jake winked  patting her ass as she shot him a playful glare . 

Rushing to her friends to find out what happened when she left to here mia had to pay for a round of drinks  and left in an uber alone not long after  .  the turn in events izzy asked bob for his number  which the shy WSO almost thought she was joking , while shy emma gave rooster hers  but left the bar alone but all wanting to know what happened with her and jake . she told them it all  ( well not all ) . nat couldn’t believe it  , all her time knowing jake seresin and hearing this almost husband material man , one of the biggest man sluts of the hard deck being so soft   and  fluffy . then when she looked to the group of her fellow dagger squad members , the way jake seresin was looking at y/n . Such love and awe in  his green eyes it all made sense. 

Distracted was the best term to use as he and guys stood , his eyes automatically landed on her , ears picking up her laughter as she sat in the warm sand , talking animatedly about something . it made a bright smile emerge on his face . like it was just here on the beach , she wasn’t even talking to him , or could he hear what she was saying but she had his attention either way . 

“ i’ll be damned , never thought i would see the day unless this is some coma , drug induced dream “rooster let out low whistle finally bringing the texan back to the group. 

“ what are you  talkin bout now bradshaw” jake rolled his eyes. 

“ it’s seems a miracle has happened and bag man is in love “ rooster smirked .

He wanted to tell him no , he was wrong that jake seresin and love never even crossed paths and yet he couldn’t . It was all clicking in his head , how it all made sense and this was one of those instances where he could actually agree with rooster. Jake was in love and it wasn’t scaring him like he thought it would shit he was welcoming it ,  letting it fill his brain and his heart. 

“ i think rooster is on to something i think my boy is in love” javy shook jake shoulders side to side playfully.

“ i ain’t denying she something special but if you think ya beating me today bradshaw got another thing coming “ he winked .  “ LET'S PLAY SO I CAN BRING MY GIRL ON A DATE” he yelled catching her attention how her wide eyes soften and the coy playful smile on her lips appeared. 

“Since when am i your girl  seresin” she stood hands on hips . 

“ since the moment i saw you in that aisle kicking ass honey lets not deny the obvious here” he smirked walking toward her , not one of them complained the sudden shift of the game change . 

“ well kiss your girl and get back to your game cowboy “ she wrapped her arms around his waist as he held her face so softly kissing her soft lips like it was first time and definitely vowed to himself he would be doing it til the last day he had on earth. Ignoring their friends hoots and hollering in the background . nah his girl was his main thought. 

Things were unexpected , one little thing could alter and change course of someone's life and in this instance jake seresin was happy with the outcome  what was a routine shopping trip because it would lead him to this , to love and even more importantly it would lead him to her .

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Boeing’s deliberately defective fleet of flying sky-wreckage

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me TOMORROW (May 2) in WINNIPEG, then Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), Tartu, Estonia, and beyond!

Boeing's 787 "Dreamliner" is manufactured far from the company's Seattle facility, in a non-union shop in Charleston, South Carolina. At that shop, there is a cage full of defective parts that have been pulled from production because they are not airworthy.

Hundreds of parts from that Material Review Segregation Area (MRSA) were secretly pulled from that cage and installed on aircraft that are currently plying the world's skies. Among them, sections 47/48 of a 787 – the last four rows of the plane, along with its galley and rear toilets. As Moe Tkacik writes in her excellent piece on Boeing's lethally corrupt culture of financialization and whistleblower intimidation, this is a big ass chunk of an airplane, and there's no way it could go missing from the MRSA cage without a lot of people knowing about it:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-04-30-whistleblower-laws-protect-lawbreakers/

More: MRSA parts are prominently emblazoned with red marks denoting them as defective and unsafe. For a plane to escape Boeing's production line and find its way to a civilian airport near you with these defective parts installed, many people will have to see and ignore this literal red flag.

The MRSA cage was a special concern of John "Swampy" Barnett, the Boeing whistleblower who is alleged to have killed himself in March. Tkacik's earlier profile of Swampy paints a picture of a fearless, stubborn engineer who refused to go along to get along, refused to allow himself to become inured to Boeing's growing culture of profits over safety:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-03-28-suicide-mission-boeing/

Boeing is America's last aviation company and its single largest exporter. After the company was allowed to merge with its rival McDonnell-Douglas in 1997, the combined company came under MDD's notoriously financially oriented management culture. MDD CEO Harry Stonecipher became Boeing's CEO in the early 2000s. Stonecipher was a protege of Jack Welch, the man who destroyed General Electric with cuts to quality and workforce and aggressive union-busting, a classic Mafia-style "bust-out" that devoured the company's seed corn and left it a barren wasteland:

https://qz.com/1776080/how-the-mcdonnell-douglas-boeing-merger-led-to-the-737-max-crisis

Post-merger, Boeing became increasingly infected with MDD's culture. The company chased cheap, less-skilled labor to other countries and to America's great onshore-offshore sacrifice zone, the "right-to-work" American south, where bosses can fire uppity workers who balked at criminal orders, without the hassle of a union grievance.

Stonecipher was succeeded by Jim "Prince Jim" McNerney, ex-3M CEO, another Jack Welch protege (Welch spawned a botnet of sociopath looters who seized control of the country's largest, most successful firms, and drove them into the ground). McNerney had a cute name for the company's senior engineers: "phenomenally talented assholes." He created a program to help his managers force these skilled workers – everyone a Boeing who knew how to build a plane – out of the company.

McNerney's big idea was to get rid of "phenomenally talented assholes" and outsource the Dreamliner's design to Boeing's suppliers, who were utterly dependent on the company and could easily be pushed around (McNerney didn't care that most of these companies lacked engineering departments). This resulted in a $80b cost overrun, and a last-minute scramble to save the 787 by shipping a "cleanup crew" from Seattle to South Carolina, in the hopes that those "phenomenally talented assholes" could save McNerney's ass.

Swampy was part of the cleanup crew. He was terrified by what he saw there. Boeing had convinced the FAA to let them company perform its own inspections, replacing independent government inspectors with Boeing employees. The company would mark its own homework, and it swore that it wouldn't cheat.

Boeing cheated. Swampy dutifully reported the legion of safety violations he witnessed and was banished to babysit the MRSA, an assignment his managers viewed as a punishment that would isolate Swampy from the criminality he refused to stop reporting. Instead, Swampy audited the MRSA, and discovered that at least 420 defective aviation components had gone missing from the cage, presumably to be installed in planes that were behind schedule. Swampy then audited the keys to the MRSA and learned that hundreds of keys were "floating around" the Charleston facility. Virtually anyone could liberate a defective part and install it into an airplane without any paper trail.

Swampy's bosses had a plan for dealing with this. They ordered Swampy to "pencil whip" the investigations of 420 missing defective components and close the cases without actually figuring out what happened to them. Swampy refused.

Instead, Swampy took his concerns to a departmental meeting where 12 managers were present and announced that "if we can’t find them, any that we can’t find, we need to report it to the FAA." The only response came from a supervisor, who said, "We’re not going to report anything to the FAA."

The thing is, Swampy wasn't just protecting the lives of the passengers in those defective aircraft – he was also protecting Boeing employees. Under Sec 38 of the US Criminal Code, it's a 15-year felony to make any "materially false writing, entry, certification, document, record, data plate, label, or electronic communication concerning any aircraft or space vehicle part."

(When Swampy told a meeting that he took this seriously because "the paperwork is just as important as the aircraft" the room erupted in laughter.)

Swampy sent his own inspectors to the factory floor, and they discovered "dozens of red-painted defective parts installed on planes."

Swampy blew the whistle. How did the 787 – and the rest of Boeing's defective flying turkeys – escape the hangar and find their way into commercial airlines' fleets? Tkacik blames a 2000 whistleblower law called AIR21 that:

creates such byzantine procedures, locates adjudication power in such an outgunned federal agency, and gives whistleblowers such a narrow chance of success that it effectively immunizes airplane manufacturers, of which there is one in the United States, from suffering any legal repercussions from the testimony of their own workers.

By his own estimation, Swampy was ordered to commit two felonies per week for six years. Tkacik explains that this kind of operation relies on a culture of ignorance – managers must not document their orders, and workers must not be made aware of the law. Whistleblowers like Swampy, who spoke the unspeakable, were sidelined (an assessment by one of Swampy's managers called him "one of the best" and finished that "leadership would give hugs and high fives all around at his departure").

Multiple whistleblowers were singled out for retaliation and forced departure. William Hobek, a quality manager who refused to "pencil whip" the missing, massive 47-48 assembly that had wandered away from the MRSA cage, was given a "weak" performance review and fired despite an HR manager admitting that it was bogus.

Another quality manager, Cynthia Kitchens, filed an ethics complaint against manager Elton Wright who responded to her persistent reporting of defects on the line by shoving her against a wall and shouting that Boeing was "a good ol’ boys’ club and you need to get on board." Kitchens was fired in 2016. She had cancer at the time.

John Woods, yet another quality engineer, was fired after he refused to sign off on a corner-cutting process to repair a fuselage – the FAA later backed up his judgment.

Then there's Sam Salehpour, the 787 quality engineer whose tearful Congressional testimony described more corner-cutting on fuselage repairs:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PP0xhIe1LFE

Salehpour's boss followed the Boeing playbook to the letter: Salehpour was constantly harangued and bullied, and he was isolated from colleagues who might concur with his assessment. When Salehpour announced that he would give Congressional testimony, his car was sabotaged under mysterious circumstances.

It's a playbook. Salehpour's experience isn't unusual at Boeing. Two other engineers, working on the 787 Organization Designation Authorization, held up production by insisting that the company fix the planes' onboard navigation computers. Their boss gave them a terrible performance review, admitting that top management was furious at the delays and had ordered him to punish the engineers. The engineers' union grievance failed, with Boeing concluding that this conduct – which they admitted to – didn't rise to the level of retaliation.

As Tkacik points out, these engineers and managers that Boeing targeted for intimidation and retaliation are the very same staff who are supposed to be performing inspections of behalf of the FAA. In other words, Boeing has spent years attacking its own regulator, with total impunity.

But it's not just the FAA who've failed to take action – it's also the DOJ, who have consistently declined to bring prosecutions in most cases, and who settled the rare case they did bring with "deferred prosecution agreements." This pattern was true under Trump's DOJ and continued under Biden's tenure. Biden's prosecutors have been so lackluster that a federal judge "publicly rebuked the DOJ for failing to take seriously the reputational damage its conduct throughout the Boeing case was inflicting on the agency."

Meanwhile, there's the AIR21 rule, a "whistleblower" rule that actually protects Boeing from whistleblowers. Under AIR21, an aviation whistleblower who is retaliated against by their employer must first try to resolve their problem internally. If that fails, the whistleblower has only one course of action: file an OSHA complaint within 90 days (if HR takes more than 90 days to resolve your internal complaint, you can no have no further recourse). If you manage to raise a complaint with OSHA, it is heard by a secret tribunal that has no subpoena power and routinely takes five years to rule on cases, and rules against whistleblowers 97% of the time.

Boeing whistleblowers who missed the 90-day cutoff have filled the South Carolina courts with last-ditch attempts to hold the company to account. When they lose these cases – as is routine, given Boeing's enormous legal muscle and AIR21's legal handcuffs – they are often ordered to pay Boeing's legal costs.

Tkacik cites Swampy's lawyer, Rob Turkewitz, who says Swampy was the only one of Boeing's whistleblowers who was "savvy, meticulous, and fast-moving enough to bring an AIR 21 case capable of jumping through all the hoops" to file an AIR21 case, which then took seven years. Turkewitz calls Boeing South Carolina "a criminal enterprise."

That's a conclusion that's hard to argue with. Take Boeing's excuse for not producing the documentation of its slapdash reinstallation of the Alaska Air door plug that fell off its plane in flight: the company says it's not criminally liable for failing to provide the paperwork, because it never documented the repair. Not documenting the repair is also a crime.

You might have heard that there's some accountability coming to the Boeing boardroom, with the ouster of CEO David Calhoun. Calhoun's likely successor is Patrick Shanahan, whom Tkacik describes as "the architect of the ethos that governed the 787 program" and whom her source called "a classic schoolyard bully."

If Shanahan's name rings a bell, it might be because he was almost Trump's Secretary of Defense, but that was derailed by the news that he had "emphatically defended" his 17 year old son after the boy nearly beat his mother to death with a baseball bat. Shanahan is presently CEO of Spirit Aerospace, who made the door-plug that fell out of the Alaska Airlines 737 Max.

Boeing is a company where senior managers only fail up and where whistleblowers are terrorized in and out of the workplace. One of Tkacik's sources noticed his car shimmying. The source, an ex-787 worker who'd been fired after raising safety complaints, had tried to bring an AIR21 complaint, but withdrew it out of fear of being bankrupted if he was ordered to pay Boeing's legal costs. When the whistleblower pulled over, he discovered that two of the lug-nuts had been removed from one of his wheels.

The whistleblower texted Tkcacik to say (not for the first time): "If anything happens, I'm not suicidal."

Boeing is a primary aerospace contractor to the US government. It's clear that its management – and investors – consider it too big to jail. It's also clear that they know it's too big to fail – after all, the company did a $43b stock buyback, then got billions in a publicly funded buyback.

Boeing is, effectively, a government agency that is run for the benefit of its investors. It performs its own safety inspections. It investigates its own criminal violations of safety rules. It loots its own coffers and then refills them at public expense.

Meanwhile, the company has filled our skies with at least 420 airplanes with defective, red-painted parts that were locked up in the MRSA cage, then snuck out and fitted to an airplane that you or someone you love could fly on the next time you take your family on vacation or fly somewhere for work.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/05/01/boeing-boeing/#mrsa

Image: Tom Axford 1 (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Blue_sky_with_wisps_of_cloud_on_a_clear_summer_morning.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

--

Clemens Vasters (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:N7379E_-_Boeing_737_MAX_9.jpg

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/deed.en

[roosterforme]

Adult Education Part 1 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake ends up sitting in on a college physics lecture purely by accident. He's rewarded with a cute smile and a cheap beer when he defends the professor. But since when is he like Bradshaw, getting turned on by math and college classrooms?

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 3600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! It was also written for a request and Rocktober! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"Hey, Bradshaw."

Bradley spun to face Jake in the parking lot, throwing a questioning glance his way. "Hangman?"

"I need a favor." 

Jake wanted to laugh at the annoyed look on the other aviator's face, but he really did need Rooster to help him out. 

"What favor?" Bradley asked, making a production of checking his watch for the time. It was 5:32. Jake could have told him that without checking his own watch. But once again, being at Bradshaw's mercy had him biting his tongue.

"I need a ride home," Jake informed him, nodding to where that vintage Bronco was parked. "My truck is in the shop."

"Why are you just telling me about this now?"

Jake sighed. "Because I live to annoy you. Can you drop me off at my place or not? It's like a mile from your house."

"I'm not heading straight home," Bradley informed him. "My wife is giving a back to school mini lecture at the college."

"Doesn't she teach calculus?" Jake asked, starting to sweat through his khaki uniform while the two men stood in the hot blacktop. "Why are you going to a college calculus lecture?"

Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, clearly annoyed that he was being held up. "Because my wife is hot, and I want to get laid tonight."

"That's fair," he replied. Bradshaw somehow ended up marrying a dime. And Jake supposed he'd willingly attend some stuffy math lecture as well, if the woman giving it was hot enough.

"Listen, I'm leaving," Bradley said, already backing away. "If you want a ride from me, you'll have to swing by San Diego State for an hour or two first. I can drop you off after the lecture."

Jake looked around, deciding this was going to be his best option. "Yeah, alright. Thanks, Bradshaw."

"Just don't embarrass me," Bradley replied, climbing in the driver's side door. Jake climbed in the Bronco as well and rolled his eyes. Really, in what world would he be the embarrassing one here? 

"I'm cool," Jake insisted as they pulled out of the parking spot. 

"And please, don't call my wife Dr. Tits."

"Okay, that was one time," Jake said, trying to defend himself. "At the holiday party. And I was very drunk."

"Yeah, well she thinks you're annoying."

"Hmm," Jake hummed, looking out the window. "I'll behave."

They rode the rest of the way in a silence that thankfully wasn't as awkward as it could have been. And when they went walking through the campus side by side, Jake chuckled at all of the college aged girls turning to get a look at them.

"Yeah," Bradley grunted. "It happens every time."

"Hey, some of these girls are cute."

"You're thirty."

"I don't see a problem." 

Jake held open the door to the mathematics and science building for Bradley to walk inside, and they were met with clusters of students and professors talking in the long corridor. He followed Bradley into one of the lecture halls on the first floor, and a pang of jealousy shot through him when Bradshaw's wife made a beeline their way with a smile on her face.

"Hey, Sugar," Bradley crooned, and she kissed him so sweetly, Jake had to look away. 

"Beer Boy! I can't believe you came."

"Wouldn't miss it."

"Oh, hi Jake," she said, waving to him from where she was tucked under her husband's chin.

"Hi," he replied, feeling kind of bad about calling her Dr. Tits a few weeks ago. "Rooster kindly offered to drive me home after your lecture, since my truck is currently in for repairs."

"You're sweet," she told Bradley before leaning up to kiss him again. But now he had one hand sliding down along her ass, and Jake waved as he walked away.

"Text me when you're done," he muttered, despising the feeling of being the third wheel. It happened more and more as his friends and coworkers started to pair off in serious relationships. He didn't mind being single; it gave him more opportunity to save money for a Cessna, and he didn't have to stop picking up girls from the bar. But he didn't like it when he was expected to stand there and watch everyone else sucking face and saying I love you. "Disgusting."

When he wandered back out into the main hallway, he noticed that it was 6:00 and everyone seemed to be heading into the different lecture halls. So he chose a door at random and ducked inside behind a kid holding a skateboard. If he'd had more time to consider his options, he might have looked for something different to listen to for an hour, but it just so happened he walked in as a physics lecture was starting up. 

There was a woman with her back to the room writing her name on the white board. Dr. Jessica Reed. When she turned around, adjusted her glasses and smiled, Jake tripped over a chair leg and sat down a little hard in one of the empty seats. She was beautiful. And now she was looking right at him since he'd made the chair screech a few inches across the floor. 

"Sorry," he whispered, wincing in apology. But she just shrugged a little bit and got started. 

"Welcome back for the spring semester. I'm Dr. Reed, and this is my second year teaching at San Diego State after earning my PhD in physics from Texas A&M." She paused and gestured to five men sitting in the front row. "Tonight some of my colleagues and I will be talking about propulsion and thrust in relation to aviation and aeronautics."

Now Jake was sitting on the edge of his seat. She went to college in Texas? She knew about aviation? She looked hot in her glasses, skirt and high heels? He was fascinated. She gave a short lecture, pausing to write some formulas on the board in her tidy handwriting, and he was pleased to note that he remembered some of this from his classes at the Naval Academy. He actually remembered a lot of this.

Now she was writing a problem on the board while she said, "Thrust provides the forward motion needed to sustain lift and counteract drag. It is also used to accelerate, gain altitude, and sometimes to maneuver. Propulsion is the act of moving or pushing an object forward. So if an aviator needs to prevent altitude loss because of drag, they would need to know how this formula works."

Jake sat with a smug smile on his face. He did this every day at work. And he already solved her handwritten problem in his head, because he took and aced four semesters of physics himself.

"Can anyone solve for the required thrust?" she asked, adjusting her glasses a little nervously when nobody immediately raised their hand. 

Jake glanced from side to side. The college kids either looked lost or too shy to answer, so he slipped his hand into the air. 

"Yes?" she asked, calling on him. "Go ahead."

"2900 meters per second," he answered smoothly, and her face lit up. 

"Perfect," she replied, turning back to the board to finish solving for everyone to see. She gave a few closing notes and some information about her class schedule, and when she was finished, she grabbed her notebook from the podium. Jake and a few others in attendance clapped for her as she made her way to the empty seat right in front of him. She smiled at him softly before she sat down. 

And then Jake had to endure a very loud, very cranky old man named Dr. Benson Leeland give a similar lecture. But his voice was not conducive to learning, and his handwriting was atrocious. He complained in a passive aggressive tone that Dr. Reed hadn't erased the board for him, and Jake watched her squirm a little awkwardly in the seat in front of him. That was pretty rude of Dr. Leeland. 

But now Jake was noticing the way the other physics professors were hanging on every word that this guy was saying. A few even asked for more information. But as Jake studied the sloppy equation he was scribbling on the board, he realized the answer was wrong. 

"He doesn't even have the right information," Jake mumbled, squinting at the board. 

"No," Jessica Reed whispered, "he really doesn't."

"Is he new here or something?" Jake muttered.

She laughed softly and looked at him over her shoulder. She looked so cute, and her eyes were sparkling with wit and intelligence. "He's had tenure since 1995."

"Jesus," Jake groaned, looking back to the board just in time to see Dr. Leeland cap the dry erase marker. 

"Any questions about the problem?" he barked, and once again everyone else in the room looked half asleep. Well, other than the panel of professors in the front who were hanging on his every word.

But Jake raised his hand and said, "Yes. Several."

"Fine," Dr. Leeland growled. "What would you like to know?"

Jake scoffed and stood up as he gestured to the white board. "I'd like to know why your answer is wrong."

The room went silent as Dr. Leeland turned and looked at the board. A few seconds later, he said, "It looks correct to me," but he sounded far less confident now.

"Well it's not. It's off by a thousand. And you need thrust not propulsion to rapidly gain altitude during takeoff," Jake said, and he noticed that Jessica appeared to be holding in her laughter in front of him. "So not only is your math wrong, your equation just doesn't even make any sense."

"I'm sorry, but are you a student here? Did you graduate from this program?" Leeland asked Jake.

"No," he replied with his hands on his hips. "I'm an aviator. And I attended the Naval Academy where the professors taught physics correctly like Dr. Reed."

He could have heard a pin drop, and Jessica was looking back at him from her seat with her lips parted and her eyes wide. Then a smile crept onto her face, and Jake decided that it was so stunning, he'd like to keep it there. 

Just as Dr. Leeland started to shuffle around the front of the lecture hall, and another equally geriatric professor took his place at the podium, Jessica stood, clutching her red notebook to her chest. She still looked kind of surprised by him, but pleased nonetheless. And when she was standing this close to him, Jake was having a hard time remembering why he was annoyed a few seconds ago. 

When she nodded to the doors at the back of the room and headed toward them, Jake tripped along after her. She slipped silently out into the hallway and he followed her lead. It was cool and quiet out here, and she laughed softly as soon as the door closed softly behind him. 

"Sorry, but there's no way I could listen to another lecture after Leeland put his foot in his mouth like that," she told him softly with a smile. "And it seemed like you were probably done, too?"

"That's right. I'm pretty sure I already got to hear the best physics professor give her lecture," Jake said as smoothly as he could. "No sense in staying for whatever the hell that was." He jerked his chin toward the door, and she looked delighted. "He didn't even know what he was talking about."

"Yeah," she agreed, adjusting her glasses and nodding vigorously. "He's been tenured. Since 1995. Welcome to my world."

Jake chuckled, and when he held out his hand, she juggled her notebook and shook it. "I'm Jake Seresin." Her hand was small and sure, and he had to fight the urge to pull her closer.

"Jessica Reed," she replied, pulling her hand from his all too soon. 

"I really liked your mini lecture, Dr. Reed," he said, tucking his hands into his pockets. 

She laughed and looked at the floor for a beat. "You can call me Jessica." She glanced toward the elevators like maybe she was going to leave, but then she turned back to him and asked, "You feel like grabbing a drink? There's a hellaciously shitty dive bar across the street."

He grinned. "Do they have cheap beer?"

"Oh, yeah. And they give you peanuts and let you throw the shells wherever you want to with reckless abandon," she said before biting her lip. Was she nervous to ask him? She shouldn't be. Jake would have followed her out into oncoming traffic if she said that's what she wanted to do.

"Let's go," he replied, earning himself another smile. 

"It's my treat," she said, pushing open the doors and heading out onto the sidewalk with him. "Honestly, a three dollar beer and some stale peanuts is the least you deserve for standing up for me in there."

As they walked side by side toward the corner and the crosswalk, he asked, "So you're the only competent one in your department, Jessica?" Oh, he really liked saying her name. He wondered if she would respond with one of those pretty smiles if he whispered her name in her ear.

"Yes," she replied with conviction as she crossed the street toward the bar called Chippy's. "And I'm also the youngest one, the only female, and the only one without tenure." She pushed open the door, and Jake immediately noticed the crowd of college students and the floor that was simultaneously sticky and slippery from peanut shells.

"Hey, Reedy!" called the bartender, and she waved to him before grabbing the last empty high top with two stools. 

Jake smirked. "Are you a regular at Chippy's?" he asked, and she rolled her eyes with a grin as she took a seat. 

"If you were in my shoes, you'd need a shitty beer at the end of the day more often than not, too."

And then to Jake's surprise, the older bartender stopped by the table with two beers and a bowl of peanuts. He set them down next to Jessica's red notebook. "Reedy," he said with a wink before looking at Jake like he was already on thin ice. 

When he headed back to the bar, Jake sat on the stool opposite hers and watched as she took a sip of her beer. Then she licked her lips, and Jake leaned a little closer.

"Okay, so earlier you said you're an aviator?" she asked, looking at his uniform shirt. "You're a naval Lieutenant? Top Gun?"

"That's right," he confirmed, and that smile was back. "Your lecture took me right back to my Physics of Propulsion and Combustion class from about ten years ago."

She cracked open a peanut, and Jake watched her toss the shell to the floor without a care in the world, and he laughed. 

"What were you doing in my lecture anyway?" she asked before popping the peanut into her mouth.

Jake suddenly remembered Bradshaw and his wife and his ride home. He'd gotten completely lost in Jessica and managed to forget all about everything else. "I actually came with a friend of mine, but he went to a different lecture. I just picked a door at random, and let me tell you, I'm happy I ended up in your lecture hall."

She pressed her lips together, and he crushed a peanut of his own. "Well, I hope you learned something useful today, Jake."

"I did," he replied, throwing the shell over his shoulder, and Jessica laughed. "I learned that if I'm not nice to the best physics professor at San Diego State, the bartender at Chippy's will kick my ass."

The sound of her laughter as she tipped her head back had Jake entranced. Her neck and collarbones looked soft, like they were made for his lips and fingers to explore. And her clothes were kind of sexy in an academic way. Since when was he like Bradshaw, getting turned on by math and college classrooms? 

"Yeah, you better watch your back," she said, cracking into another peanut. "What kind of jet do you fly?"

He had to clear his throat. "F/A-18. Super Hornet."

She moaned softly, and Jake almost dropped his pint glass. "One of my favorites for aerodynamics and combustion studies. I actually just read the most interesting article in the Journal of Propulsion Science about the Super Hornet. It was fascinating, because they touched on-" She froze with a peanut shell in her hand and looked embarrassed. "Sorry."

He wanted her to finish her sentence. He needed her to. She knew about the fucking physics of his aircraft! She was hot as hell! "Keep going," he urged. "Why was it fascinating?"

Jessica licked her lips again and said, "It was fascinating because they touched on the way temperature affects draft and drag."

After that, Jake was completely hooked. He listened to her with rapt attention as she told him a bit more about the article before saying, "I kept the journal. If you ever wanted to borrow it."

"Yes," he replied immediately, leaning even closer to her. "I'd love to borrow it."

"Great," she whispered, adjusting her glasses and finishing her beer. But when she set her glass down, she gasped. "I left my wallet in my office. I was going to treat you to the beer for being so sweet and essentially telling Leeland to go fuck himself earlier."

Jake was the one with his head tipped back in laughter this time. When he met her eyes again, he said, "Oh, you're cute, Jessica. But I was never going to let you pay for the three dollar beers." She giggled and covered her lips with her fingertips, and Jake asked, "You want another pint?"

But then his phone rang, and he muttered, "Sorry," as he dug it out of his pocket. 

Bradshaw

He ignored the call. All of the lectures must be over by now. He was probably ready to leave. But Jake wanted to spend the rest of the night sitting in Chippy's with Dr. Jessica Reed, throwing peanut shells on the floor with reckless abandon.

"You have to go?" she asked softly, and Jake thought she looked a little sad at the prospect. 

"Yeah," he started before his brain helpfully informed him that he could easily stay longer and just get a cab or an Uber to take him home later. 

But when he was about to tell Jessica that he actually wanted to hang out with her longer, she said, "Okay. No worries. I... should get back to my office anyway. Thanks for the beer, Jake." 

And then she stood, and he felt instant regret as he left twenty bucks on the table and followed her outside. But his phone was ringing in his hand as she turned toward the math and science building and pushed the button for the crosswalk. 

Jake answered Bradley's call with a clipped, "Yeah?"

"Meet us at the Bronco." And then the call went silent. 

He watched as Jessica pushed the button for the crosswalk two more times. "Jessica," he started, but she cut him off.

"Thanks again, Jake. Have a great night," she said, running across the street in her high heels. So he ran after her. 

"What happened?" he called after her. "Jessica!" But she was already near the doors that would take her inside to her office. She glanced back at him one last time before she walked inside, and he didn't look away until she was completely out of his sight. 

"Fuck," he shouted, turning back toward the street where the Bronco was parked. Everything had been going well. Fucking great. Jessica was smart and attractive. Funny, too. And the chemistry was definitely there. He was almost certain he was about to seal the deal with her phone number. 

As he rounded the corner, he saw Bradshaw leaning against the Bronco. "There you are," he said, opening the driver's door and sliding the seat forward for Jake to climb in the back. 

"Which lecture did you end up attending?" his wife asked as Bradley started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

"Physics," he muttered, still trying to figure out how he managed to fuck up the night. Then he looked at her again. "Hey, do you know anything about Jessica Reed?"

"Oh, yeah, sure. She's nice. Physics professor. Kind of keeps to herself, probably because the rest of her department is comprised of a bunch of old douchebags. She's only been at the school one year longer than me. Why do you ask? Ohhhh," she said knowingly and turned to look at him. "She's a genius, and she's gorgeous."

"Sounds like she's a little bit out of your league, man," Rooster said with a laugh. 

Jake raked his fingers through his hair. "More like a lot," he said, fully agreeing with Bradshaw for once.

"Don't act like I'm not out of your league, Beer Boy," his wife said. And then Jake had to endure their little cuddle fest for the rest of the drive while he mentally kicked himself for having no clue how to treat a woman who he wanted to get to know, not just get in his bed. 

-----------------------------

Give it up, Jake. You're just as bad as Beer Boy. Oh, Jessica, where did you go? I'm kind of torn between leaving this as a one-shot and writing a second part. Big thanks for @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

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[corporationsarepeople]

Elon Musk is the richest man in the world and the owner of X, Tesla, and SpaceX. But perhaps the more apt description of the guy would be the internet’s biggest and most dangerous troll—a characterization that has been on full display over the last several weeks, as Musk has trafficked in all manner of misinformation concerning the devastating hurricane that hit the South last month and the one headed for Florida as we speak. And while the internet—and Musk’s social media network in particular—is rife with misinformation, Musk’s fame and 200 million-plus X account following mean the falsehoods he has spread have had actual, devastating consequences.

Among other things, Musk has amplified false claims that the Federal Emergency Management Agency was “actively blocking” shipments of donated items for victims of Hurricane Helene and was “seizing goods…and locking them away to state they are their own”—claims that FEMA says are not true and that also appear to be bullshit based on Republican leaders’ praise of Washington. Musk has additionally shared baseless accusations that FEMA doesn’t have enough funding to get through hurricane season because it gave away too much money to undocumented migrants, and he personally wrote that “FEMA used up its budget ferrying illegals into the country instead of saving American lives,” accusing the agency of committing “treason.” He also absurdly claimed last Friday that the Federal Aviation Administration planned to “shut down” airspace over parts of North Carolina that had been hit hard by Helene, a falsehood Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg had to personally explain was not true.

Addressing the onslaught of misinformation—which has also, unsurprisingly, come from Donald Trump—FEMA administrator Deanne Criswell said Tuesday that it “is absolutely the worst I have ever seen,” adding, “I anticipated some of this, but not to the extent that we’re seeing.” While she did not call out Musk or Trump directly by name, the issues she has been forced to deal with are products of what the two men have been irresponsibly saying online. “It’s just really unfortunate that [people] continue to try to create this level of fear in these communities that is impeding our ability to do our job at the level that we need to do it, but we’re not going to let it deter us,” Criswell told reporters. “We are going to continue to be in these communities and support them for whatever they need.” Keith Turi, FEMA’s acting associate administrator for response and recovery, listed off numerous falsehoods that have been shared, including by Musk, like that FEMA was “confiscating supplies.” He called the misinformation “extremely damaging to the response efforts from Helene and from any disaster,” noting that it “is reducing the likelihood that survivors will come to FEMA in a trusting way to register for assistance.”

[eliashirsch]

God Tier Top Gun Fanfictions. A Masterlist. (3/3)

Part three of my fanfic recommendation! This one's for the best fics!

Winner Categories:

1. Best of the Best Authors (1/3)

2. Best of the Best Series (2/3)

3. Best of the Best Fics (3/3)

REMINDER! READ THE AUTHORS' TAGS AND WARNINGS!!!

Best of the Best Fics

Fics that shine bright as the stars. Make sure to check the author’s other works too!

ICEMAV

Kings of the Air by FabulaRasa @fabula-unica

Fighting and fucking: two things he did extraordinarily well. How could he have known what the effect would be when you combined the two?

This and COMPACFLT’s work directly inspired one of my works:) The writing quality is absolutely amazing. My favorite fics are those that have Ice returning to Top Gun and joining Mav as an instructor and this one just takes the whole motherfucking crown.

Indian Ocean. Present Day. by Jay Tryfanstone (tryfanstone)

Isolated on an aircraft carrier in the middle of the Indian Ocean, cut off from any source of information about the global political and environmental disaster which has engulfed the planet, Maverick and Goose struggle to make sense of an increasingly claustrophobic command structure and failing resources on board. When a refugee helicopter is spotted approaching the carrier, its pilot could be the catalyst for an explosive re-evaluation....

This fic man. This fic. It made me fall in love with post-apocalyptic fics. The writing style, the plot, Ice and Mav and Goose. Goose, man… Oh my god. If you read this fic you know why I’m still thinking about these boys’ fates. 

Rhinestone Cowboy by omnidirectional

That’s Doctor Iceman to you! Maverick bangs himself up and gets rescued by someone he didn’t expect. A Missing Scene featuring contrived situations, questionable life choices, gratuitous product placement, and shirtlessness. You know, everything you love about canon.

And it is absolutely everything I love about canon! I always love missing scenes or canon divergent. Not to say that I don’t enjoy AUs, but I love vibes like this the most where the story works alongside canon and elevates it to a whole other level. Mav and Ice and Slider feels correct.

Sleepless Nights by demiclar @demiclar / @slidersimp

Five times Maverick wakes himself up with nightmares and one time he's woken by someone else.

Fics about Mav’s grief over Goose’s death will always wreck me. This one in particular shows itself as a physical manifestation. I love love love all the guys stepping up and taking care of Mav, never once judging his pain. I’m a sucker for portrayals of the ugly side of grief.

Mal de Mer by saurora_borealis

"I thought you said you didn't get seasick, you little liar," Slider snaps. Maverick doesn't answer, head bowed, but Ice can see him shaking from here. Of all the times for Maverick to be sick, did it have to be on a night that Ice is ill too? Or: the carrier experiences some ocean turbulence. Even the most seasoned aviators fall prey to it.

This one has sort of the same vibe as the fic above. I never get tired of seeing the flyboys take care of each other<3

be my soulmate (and i'll be yours) by ChexMix

Of course Maverick dreams about finding his soulmate. Who doesn't? But he'd never imagined the possibility that it could be the Iceman. So when he catches sight of Ice's soulmark, it suddenly becomes all he can think about.

Classic Icemav soulmate AU. This is like exactly my type of angst and happy ending. Sometimes the things you’re familiar with are still the best:)

To Build a Home by LadyLanera @k9effect

Eighteen years before Top Gun Maverick, there was a home being built from ashes and ruin. When the dust finally settled and dusk fell, the house of cards collapsed, shattering three lives forever. Is it possible to rebuild, reclaiming the past in the future...when they're all hurtling towards their worst nightmare?

Goddddd. I love Mav’s character flaw in this. I love Ice’s maturity born from grief and sickness. I love Bradley’s anger and abandonment issues. I love that these three have hurt each other more than anyone ever could, but their love is still starkly present. My thoughts when I was reading this was that LadyLanera wrote their flaws so beautifully, making them human, and by doing so I understood their motivations and their actions. Amazing characterization. 

all is fair (in love and war) by dulcetines (evecstasy)

oh, ice, maverick bisa merasakan hati kecilnya meringis, ice, sori banget— hollywood menyelak lagi, kali ini dengan suara impersonasi terbaiknya: “teruntuk kuncen TOPGUN, yang mana di sana kuyakin matahari belum juga terbit sebersamaan dengan ditulisnya surat ini. aku ingin saat ini juga kau bersyukur tidak mesti mendengarkan slider ngorok di sampingmu. tuhan jesus. pria ini sudah kuanggap saudara sendiri, tapi terkadang ada saja hal-hal yang dilakukannya yang membuatku ingin menggulingkannya ke laut. kau apa kabar di sana? sudah berapa pilot yang kauhabisi egonya? apapun itu. jangan mati kebosanan dulu. aku bisa bilang begini karena surat-suratmu selalu mengancam demikian. ingat kau masih hutang makan malam denganku. dan sepuluh dolar. sampaikan salamku ke bayi itik. bilang aku kangen padanya. dan,” hollywood memalsukan dehem, sambil ia melanjutkan, “padamu juga. setiap detikku. ice.” begitulah.

Hehehehehe. Now this is more for me LMAO because as you can see, it’s written in Indonesian. Finding this fic in my mother language is like finding GOLD. Again, I love love love Icemav in their Top Gun era. This is for all of you Indonesian Top Gun enthusiast *blows a kiss* 

a higher fidelity by basedchamp

“C’mon.” Tori nudges him with an elbow. “C’mon. He’s cute. You can admit that one thing but you can’t admit this?” Gritting his teeth, Ice thinks very carefully about his next words. “He’s…” he trails off. “Some would say that…Mitchell is not. Unpleasant. To look at.” (Alternatively: the one where Ice and Mav learn to park bad, eat good, and love even better.)

Ice’s family, man… It’s refreshing to see them so supportive and loving. I’m guilty of making Ice’s backstory so tragic>:) But this one is heartwarming! I love the style and flow of the writing. It’s something that I want to achieve in my own writing as well, so kudos to basedchamp!

Tunnel Vision by brainjuicey (anzietyfreak) @brainjuicey

Instead of Ice biting the air in the locker room, he antagonises Mav by biting his neck, unknowingly setting off dormant Omega genes and sending him into heat. Everyone involved is forced to remain secure on base until they’ve investigated. AKA. Five Alphas, a Beta, and an Omega in heat, walk into an Air Base prison. Ramifications ensue. Alternative title, "Locked in Sex Jail With The Boys"

This scratched that specific part in my brain, man. ABO with the original cast of Top Gun? Sign me up, baby. Steamy and perfect. 

The Five People You Can't Escape in Heaven by V_Evergreen

Maverick dies, but it doesn't end there. Alternately: [“Hey, kiddo, are you with me?” Maverick opened his eyes and found that he could see. He blinked in the sudden light as his surroundings came into focus. Quite literally came into focus, as though everything around him was resolving into itself as he looked, deciding to form a lawn, flowerbeds, the tree trunk that he had been leant against. The sun was blinding overhead, high noon. In the distance, hazy and indistinct, he could make out a house. It looked vague, like a half formed memory but it was familiar. Just like the man crouched in front of him. “Dad?” He croaked.]

I was reading the original book (The Five People You Meet in Heaven) and came across this fic. Which in turn made me want to write my own rendition from the same idea.  That last chapter, man. It’s unreal how creative it is. A punch to the gut for sure.

(Here’s my fic if you want to read about it :) >> Estrellita)

He Ain't Heavy, He's My Brother by V_Evergreen

Five meetings between Thomas Kazansky and Ethan Hunt. Alternately: [Ethan heard the door click shut behind him and turned to ask after the papers when he was abruptly spun by a hand on his shoulder and pushed against the door. His first and immediate thought was that he was certainly being attacked. Kazansky had him pressed against the door, chest to chest, a hand around his wrist and then- oh. Oh no. He wasn’t being attacked at all, it was infinitely worse. He was being very thoroughly kissed. He pushed back against Kazansky’s chest and tried to think of something eloquent to say. “Um?”]

Another banger by V_Evergreen. Ice not knowing Mav has a twin and mistakenly kissing him is so funny. And the end is heartwarming as well. Love love love it.

Allies by Shearmouth

After getting shot down over a war-torn Iraq, Maverick makes some unlikely friends. They have something– a big something– in common. But all Mav really wants is Ice. Too bad he's half a world away, and even Mav can't run that on a shattered leg. Not with the infected chest wounds thrown in, at least.

Oh my goddddd. I keep being at a loss for words when describing these fics. It won’t do anyone good if all I wrote was goddd, oh mannn, it’s so goodddd. But it’s the truth. This one hits home so much. The risk and homophobia present when you’re in a place that punishes queer people for existing and being in love, how a single mistake will cost you your future. And it’s so heartwarming to see that even then, you’re not alone. Mav being helped to reunite with Ice and breaking down that since their relationship was private, Ice had to grief Mav alone. Man, oh man. 

There is a pain—so utter by CurSirrr

Pete Mitchell was fine. Completely fine. He didn’t feel dizzy with denial, or an utter trainwreck of hopelessness. He hadn’t shed a single tear or cried himself to sleep for the past week. His guts were twisting and turning, squeezing and cramping. His eyes were swollen and red, and his scalp hurt from his vicious hair tugs as he tried to understand the past week. OR Three times Bradley misses the chance to say goodbye before it is too late.

Just read the summary and prepare for a world of pain:) Ice’s canon death still haunts me. Good thing he’s sleeping away in his big house that he co-owns with Mav, regularly saves his husband’s ass, have barbeque Sunday with Bradley and Jake and the dagger squad, happy and healthy:))

keeping his cards close to his chest by Serie11 @oathkeeperoxas

It's not that Lucy wishes that her boss would be more open with her. It's that she quite literally knows nothing about the man, despite Admiral Kazansky being her CO for half a decade. Or: 5 times Ice successfully hid something from his staff, and 1 time Ice revealed his biggest secret

Love seeing Icemav seen through other people’s perspective. It adds so much to the universe. Ice and Mav being their usual old married couple while everyone around them suffers. Excellent.

'til I meet you there by adiduck (book_people) @adiduck

Maverick wakes up in the snow, helmet on, entire body aching intensely and parachute still attached. It takes him about half an hour of trekking through the snow to notice that there’s anything amiss. (Or: Maverick Mitchell is in the habit of talking to his ghosts. Usually, they don’t talk back.)

Mav’s journey through the underworld. This fic is just too creative😭Always a delight to see how loved Mav is. It’s so whimsical and confusing and so great.

the ships have come to carry you home by indigofudge

“Here it is,” Carole says, bringing Mav’s wheelchair to a stop. Mav’s mouth is dry. He aches for another cup of water. “Carole, tell me something, and don’t lie to me.” “Anything, Maverick.” “How bad does he look?” Carole is quiet for a while. Then she comes around and kneels in front of Mav, taking both of his hands in her own. Her eyes swim with tears. “If I didn’t know any better,” she says, voice breaking, “I’d think he was dead.” • Or, Goose is alive when they hit the water. That's enough.

Goose survives AU!!!! Huh? This isn’t canon? What are you talking about? Of course, Goose survives and the Bradshaw family is still whole and Mav still has his family and gets to have Ice too. What are you talking about??

Swallow by wildglitterwolf 

Ice is getting tired of Maverick's inability to be a team player. Maverick is annoyed by Ice's gum chewing. Ice is more than happy to get rid of it, he just needs a place to put it...

TT.TT Just… I didn’t know I like this dynamic so much…

HANGSTER

cruise control by res_judicata

Rooster’s plane goes down on a Tuesday.  Jake remembers that it’s a Tuesday because he had been out grabbing a quick bite for lunch with Javy and the little chalkboard on the wall of the cafe had proclaimed that Tuesday’s special was linguine in white wine with fresh mussels. (Jake deals with grief and love)

Made me cry a goddamn river. I’ve said this before, but Hangster is one of those ships that I had trouble getting into. When I first got into the fandom back in June 2022, I strictly read Icemav, never dipping my toes into Hangster’s relationship because I never felt the spark. But as time goes by I’m starting to warm up and have read more and more. This fic is one of those where it captured my attention instantly. I knew it was going to be angsty, but still holding out hope for a happy ending (just like Jake in this story). The grief that blanketed the whole writing only made the resolution more beautiful.

WHORES IN MY BED. by pornogirl

“Jake-” Bradley’s eyes have a wet glimmer to them, the kind of wet that looks like the beginnings of tears and Jake wants to kiss him so badly. “Jake, is it loaded?” Jake rolls his eyes at the question. “Open your fucking mouth.” (Author’s notes: it's really not as bad as the tags may suggest but like. read the fucking tags!)

I’m a freak and I’m not ashamed of it:) Basically, Jake's going on about how pretty Bradley is crying and scared. If this is your kink, definitely worth the read. I don’t know if it’s because I find it hot, but I don’t get the unsafe feeling as opposed to reading other works that have noncon elements. I don’t know it feels more like it’s both of their kinks or like something they’ve discussed before but Jake didn’t warn Bradley prior. Like CNC, I guess? Anyway it’s really hot and I have not looked at my retainers the same way;)

we're fools to make war by whimsicule @baroness-elsa

In a Walmart at three am, between beef jerky and tortilla chips, with the lights flickering above them like it’s the fucking twilight zone, Bradley wants him more than he’s ever wanted anyone. or: it's a hundred degrees in texas.

This is so Jake and Bradley I’m blown away by how right they feel. Seriously. I didn’t even notice this was 66k words. The vibes, the writing, Jake’s family. Oh hell. Definitely check out the author’s other works too! They’ve got a lot of other Hangster long fics:)

cinnamon and sugar by bottledyarn

Jake was slumped in the doorway, propped up against the wall beside the door. He was a strange, pale, near-gray against the dark backdrop of his apartment, and he looked—well… “You look like shit," Bradley said. – Bradley draws the short straw and has to take care of Jake when he's sick with a stomach flu. Jake doesn't want to be taken care of.

Sigh. Jake and Bradley, man. They’re the ship that you can shove as much angst as you want and it’ll fit right in with their dynamic. They’re just so stubborn!!!! The push and pull between them is magnetic, man. I think I get why people love them.

habits by rararatatouille

Jake and Bradley come together in a series of jagged stops and starts. They fall apart in the exact same way. In which habits are hard to break, even for the people we love most.

Mannnnn. Goddamnit. I think this fic converted me to like Hangster. I think this has become canon in my brain too. I can’t even. Just read it. Words aren’t enough to describe this fic. 

Days Like This by chase_acow @cowsalot

Jake's in Hawaii to lose himself after getting the Navy's first air-to-air kill in decades. Instead he finds a ramshackle diner, a cast of odd characters, and possibly the love of his life. Bradley goes to the Hard Deck to order waffles. He orders waffles. He goes to the Hard Deck to get some waffles. He goes to the Hard Deck, and who is this hot asshole acting like they know each other?

So good. A 50 First Dates AU. Jake just loves Bradley so much, man. And Bradley finally showing up in the end. Love really will make you walk miles across Earth for your special person<3

OTHERS

Other pairings, romantic and not.

Mr. Blue Sky by omnidirectional

Tragedy first brings Iceman into Bradley’s life, but he quickly becomes the steadiest presence of the boy’s childhood… until a betrayal tears their small family apart. After years of silence, can Bradley find the words to make up for lost time? Five times Ice sings to Bradley, and the one time Bradley sings to Ice.

Another one from omnidirectional. Ice and Bradley’s father and son relationship… Here’s one of the tags: Who Wants To Cry Today? If you’re up for emotional damage, click the link🫵

On Mighty Wings by PurpleArrowzandLeather @purplearrowzandleather-blog

Maverick raised geese over the years while Bradley was gone. Bradley does not know this until the flock comes home for the summer.

Short and sweet. Legend author as well. Love the geese preening Mav and Bradley sobbing while surrounded by honks. This is just too damn cute!!

Neglected by proprioception @mnstrfkr

"Do I look God-fearing to you, ma'am?" Maverick asked with a grin. "You most certainly do not," Carole said. "That's why I didn't marry you." "That and the mustache," Goose added.

Can’t forget about this GooseMavCarole fic of course! Hot and heartwarming. Absolutely amazing smut. This one sparked my brain to make a fanart of my favorite polycule. Their dynamic is just so fun!

Yearling by Fopperies , pohjanneito @pilvimarja

Alone in a cabin in the snowy mountains, Maverick is supposed to help Bradley on the path to presenting as an alpha soon. Bradley's body has other ideas.

Just gonna put this here… A different take on ABO’s biology, which I absolutely love. It’s so hot… Bradley, I feel you, honey…

Seeing a Trailer by daenabenjen42

In the aftermath of the Layton rescue, Merlin has questions.

Sighs for the millionth time. It’s so good. Again, I love the portrayal of Mav’s PTSD and grief here. And it’s not just him, but daenabenjen42 wrote about the other boys’ trauma too. I love it so much I must’ve reread this one about fifty million times. 

in between what's already done by crawsley

“We aren’t doing this,” Maverick says, firmly, and he’s tensing like he’s about to move, about to shove Rooster off of him, push him away like he pushed him away before, when all Rooster had wanted was some guidance, some help, some love and kindness and— Rooster bears him to the ground, right there on the rug in the entryway.

This is legitimately one of the first, if not the first fic I’ve read from RoosMav. I still remember clearly going home from watching TG:M in the cinema and KNOWING that there were definitely going to be people who ship Mav and Roo. I rushed to AO3 straight away:D Imagine my delight when finding this one!

shake my nerves and rattle my brain by BogBeast

This wasn’t supposed to be intimate. This was about punishment, humiliation, stubbornness and spite. Not this gentle crap that made him sigh, the hand in his hair making his stomach swoop with every tug, the heavy scent making his head feel foggy, the praises making his heart skip a beat. That shit is just weird. The horrifying realization that he’s hard in his flight suit has nothing to do with it.  - Mav's gotten them into a lot of weird situations, but giving blowjobs to their rivals because of a stupid bet has to be the weirdest one.

Icemav AND Sloose? SIGN ME UP, BABY!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That’s all of it! This is my list for now. Thank you all for reading through to the end! Let me know if you enjoyed any of these fics so we can gush about them together:) I hope you enjoyed my yapping:}

My works have always and will continue to take inspiration from others. So thank you for creating stories as beautiful and profound as these, dear beloved authors<3

If you want to see my bookmark collection of all of these fics, click here >> TOPGUN (Best of the Best) While you’re there, how about you read some of my fics too?>:) EliasHirsch

(PS!!! There will be a 4th part because there are definitely more good fics that people need to know about:))

[rainbowsuitcase]

My favorite bits from Top Gun Memos

which is a really cool book about the making of Top Gun! I did my best to make this post accessible, but please tell me if something could be better. Emphasis is mine.

Part 2!

1.

(Transcription: [bold] Holding up a single glossy image of a naval aviator in sunglasses in an F-14 to describe the concept for a major motion picture as criterion for gaining approval for a project wasn’t the norm, even in the mid-80s. [end bold] But this was Don Simpson and Jerry Bruckheimer, the hottest producing team in the country thanks to Flashdance (1983) and Beverly Hills Cop (1984). In 1985 those successes led to a lucrative four-year exclusivity deal at Paramount Pictures. End Transctiption.)

2.

(Transctiption: “Tony wanted everything backlit,” said Dan Kolsrud, the first assistant director, whose job was to run the set while also acting as the right-hand person to the director from when he started in prep through principal photography. “He wanted sunset behind everything. [bold] It was meant to be romantic rather than real. [end bold]”

In very early stages Scott pictured something dark for the movie but soon came around to an almost opposite vision, one of [bold] “blue skies with silver jets, and rock and roll music.” And good-looking guys. [end bold] End Transcription.)

3. Kafka mentioned, my beloved.

(Transcription: In the Proser script, Maverick had become a darker, more conflicted character, his relationship with an openly critical Goose was more nuanced, and Carole, Goose’s widow, never explicitly forgave Maverick for his part in Goose’s death. One unidentified observer described the Proser script as more “morally inquisitive” and less feel-good than either the Cash and Epps original or the eventual final product.87 Simpson and Bruckheimer, though, had a formula for success and angst was not one of the ingredients. Don Simpson, blunt in all things, summarized the Proser script, [bold] “He saw Kafka, and this ain’t Kafka.” [end bold] End Transcription.)

4. Figuring out Goose's death scene (RIP Goose).

(Transcription: Semcken to tell the director there would be no midair collision depicted. He predicted his response: “I’m not making a documentary!”

The lieutenant, who had a diplomatic approach that had endeared him to the movie crew, decided to be blunt. “I said, ‘Tony, think about it! If it’s midair, they both die. The planes are each going 600 miles an hour. If they hit, everything comes apart and everybody dies.” Even if a pilot lived, hitting something was career-ending. “If Maverick didn’t die, he wouldn’t fly again!”

[bold] “Well,” the director said, “you need to kill him and it can’t be Maverick’s fault!” [end bold] Semcken said he would come up with something, although in that moment, he wasn’t sure how. End Transcription.)

5. Maverick's goddamned cowboy boots.

(Transcription: The expensive cowboy boots for Maverick ended up being a line of demarcation. Whether it was one thing too many or the specific sticker price, which wasn’t stated, it prompted the most serious budget memo yet to Scott, despite Badalato’s effort to keep it light.

The June 7 memo, cheekily addressed to “Sir Anthony Scott,” hinted at the growing tensions. “As the costume department cannot give me a budget, I cannot give go-aheads on things like outrageously priced boots,” he wrote.

[bold] “If you’d decide on the look of our pilots et al I could find out where we have extra money for things like handmade boots!” [end bold] End Transcription.)

6. The lucky men who got to buzz the tower. Also, I think this might be my first "bitchin'" in the wild.

(Transcription: When Abel landed he was told to report to the admiral’s office. “I looked at my RIO and said, ‘You’re a witness! We were ordered to do it.’” They weren’t in trouble. The only drama was that no one had told the media, so no one had told the public.

The flight was [bold] “the most bitchin’ thing I’d ever seen,” [end bold] Semcken said. End Transcription.)

7. I need to know who. It is very important to my continued existence to know who.

(Transcription: Frank Whiteley, who worked for the production as an uncredited bodyguard to Tom Cruise, recalled being at the hotel to deliver sides, which are pages of the script to be shot the next day. He heard laughter behind one door as he knocked on it. One of the male actors opened it about two inches, until he recognized Whiteley, at which point he opened it all the way. The young man smelled marijuana.

“Hi Franky,” said the actor, reaching for the paperwork. “Look, everyone, homework,” he said, tossing it over his shoulder into what was a small party. “Let me guess … Cruise has rewritten the scenes?” The actor gestured for him to join them, but by now the young man could see [bold] he was wearing a pink negligee with a furry collar. [end bold] Behind him were other actors in a state of undress, and alcohol.

“I was a young Mormon boy, and I was sure the gates of hell had opened up,” said Whiteley, who said he nervously backed away, drawing more laughter. End Transcription.)

[mariacallous]

The other day, I flew to New York, an event that normally occasions an elation only briefly dampened by the humming trepidation of flight anxiety. Flying scares me, it’s true, not that my Instagram profile or frequent-flier status show it. Recent events, though, have ratcheted that worry to something more acute. On January 29th, American Airlines Flight 5342 crashed into the Potomac River in D.C., after colliding with a military helicopter, marking the deadliest airline accident in the U.S. since 2009. Two days later, a medevac flight operated by Jet Rescue Air Ambulance nose-dived into a Philadelphia neighborhood. These tragedies, whose causes are under investigation, followed decades of deregulation of the airline industry, and understaffing of air-traffic control sufficient to give even fearless fliers pause. Our reinaugurated President, meanwhile, was scything the payrolls of federal agencies, including the Federal Aviation Administration. As I brushed my teeth the day before the flight, my dread coalesced into the shape of a meme: Does anyone know if we have airline safety tomorrow?

The meme, in its original form, features an image of a bandanna-clad boy taking a serious-faced mirror selfie, given voice in screaming font that asks, “DOES ANYONE KNOW IF WE HAVE TO BRING OUR BACKPACKS TO THE FIELD TRIP TOMORROW.” With some slapdash editing—slapdashery is part of the charm—others have turned the child’s straightforward query into a template for expressing a memeable malaise, for example, “DOES ANYONE KNOW IF WE HAVE January TOMORROW,” posted during the doldrums of that seemingly interminable month; or, perhaps, alluding to the current Administration, “DOES ANYONE KNOW IF WE HAVE federal government TOMORROW.” Presented without the expected interrogative mark, these questions suggest a tossed-off despondency, retaining the anxiety of the child who seems unprepared for tomorrow’s excursion. The meme’s humor lies in its shallow expressions of deep feeling: existential problems otherwise worthy of metaphysics or high literature here flung out as low-res Internet flatulence.

I doubt anything bad would have happened had I posted my little joke; a few likes, that precious currency of attention, may even have come my way for the trouble. At worst, friends who saw the post might have clucked at my show of poor taste in the face of tragedy and then moved on with their lives. Nevertheless, I didn’t post it. The line felt dumb and flaccid, derivative in an irritating rather than with-it sense, and lacking the transgression found in good gallows humor. What productively blackens such humor is its embrace of dire circumstance, the way it holds terror to its bosom like an old friend. This was not that, nor is much of sociable humor these days, however much it may purport to highlight our frightening moment. Cheaper laughs run rampant, invoking and evacuating seriousness in one limp gesture, smothering any thought or feeling at risk of requiring fortitude. Irreverent is not the word. This strain of humor is not too cool for school; it’s desperate. It says, LOL that’s crazy, emphasis on the LOL, before moving along.

This posture of unseriousness pervades institutional and individual channels alike. It’s Duolingo, the language-learning app, siphoning cachet from the statutory-rape allegation against Drake teased on Kendrick Lamar’s Record of the Year by inviting users to “learn how to play A minor in our music course.” (Drake denies engaging in underage sex.) It’s the State of New York, responding to President Trump’s elimination of congestion pricing with a cutesy message on its official X handle: “beep beep babes we’re taking you to court 🫶.” It’s the countless jokes leaning into the President’s screwy supposition (which one, you ask?) that D.E.I. was to blame for planes falling from the sky. It’s the chatty true-crime podcast “My Favorite Murder” cultivating fans who call themselves “murderinos.” The proper first response to anything is laughter, it seems; nothing impugns one’s taste quite so completely as being told one is “taking it too seriously.” A critic, professional or otherwise, found too solemn in her critique just doesn’t get it. Jokes are safer, forestalling opinion—and thereby contention—by forgoing one. And this attitude rather suits the powers that be in media and entertainment, for whom attention of any kind suffices. (How much of what appears on, say, Netflix is a joke?)

LOL that’s crazy once felt apt as a response to our media environment, a quasi-absurdist means of palliating a 24/7 onslaught of slickly mediated information. But it shows its wear. I have to thank Ethel Cain for noticing. Last fall, the singer-songwriter posted to Tumblr that she felt “constantly bombarded by jokes,” adding, “listen, i LOVE to laugh and i love funny shit but like. we are in an irony epidemic. there is such a loss of sincerity and everything has to be a joke at all times.” Though the post was soon deleted, screenshots found a wider audience among people, myself included, who agreed with her read on our current climate. Our unfunny times are nonetheless rife with laughter, and it’s a laughter that seldom offers relief. When did everything—everything—become ha ha ha? What kind of laugh is this?

Comedy and tragedy have been involved in a long and fruitful two-hander; a faith that the best of one leaves room for the other undergirds the rhapsodies of Shakespeare and “The Bear” alike. The twin pillars of the American comedic sensibility, Black people and Jews, burlesqued their people’s conditions to hysterical effect throughout the past century, metabolizing the times as they went. When Lenny Bruce threatened to piss and Richard Pryor opened his ass, they served up the very shit from which postwar America sought escape in the cleansing assimilation of the suburbs—“a flight from industry and business and money and filth,” as the literary critic John Limon has put it, as well as “a flight from the power of jokes” and all their lowly associations. But people were laughing at what the standups had to say, long and loud and among fellow audience members who were (at least according to America) different from one another. Limon, who is credited with composing the first serious study of standup as an art form, is as fascinated by this collective laughter as he is by the comedy itself. The comedian curls the viewer into the drama of his own debasement, Limon theorized, and the relationship is christened, if the joke works, with a laughter that amalgamates the many into one. This became the hope, and the promise, of comedy as standup exploded in popularity in the latter half of the twentieth century, its cadences absorbed into other realms of American entertainment, from late night to the sitcom. “This eventuality—the comedification of America,” Limon writes, “is the most astounding fact about the American sensibility from 1960 to 2000.”

Limon was writing, incidentally, just a year before the nation would profess to have its sense of humor upended. On September 11, 2001, the Twin Towers came down and broke our funny bone, or so it was said. Comedy made a brief retreat from national life; late-night and comedy institutions such as The Onion went dark. The vacuum was filled with eulogies to irony and cynicism. The thought was that the U.S. had been irrevocably jolted out of a late-twentieth-century posture, an irreverence fomented by an age that understood irony “not only as a sneering overused pose of detachment,” as the literary critic Michiko Kakutani put in a piece for the Times, “but also as a potent weapon for delineating a fractured and frightening world.” Yet any viewer of the nineties film “Reality Bites,” with its scene in which Ethan Hawke coolly recites the definition of irony, knew how available and thus threadbare the term had already become. In an essay from 1993, David Foster Wallace had ascribed the “trendy sardonic exhaustion” among his peers to the increasing sophistication of television. Writers strove to position themselves as more cynical than the idiot box that knew itself to be an idiot box. The effect was “not liberating but enfeebling,” Wallace wrote. Even before 9/11 was said to have killed it, irony was no longer confrontational in its address. It pointed out everything while standing neither for nor against anything in particular. It said, as Wallace ventriloquized, “How very banal to ask what I mean.”

When humor returned to the mainstream post-9/11, it was not irreverent or edgy but grating, jingoistic, and racist, complementing the nation’s earnest reclamation of its tragedy to promulgate American values, which is to say war. “I’m here to give you permission to laugh,” Rudy Giuliani, the so-called Mayor of America, said at a charity event a month after the attack. “If you don’t, I’ll have you arrested.” Har har. America needed to laugh. Laughter was proof of coping, of winning. Laughter was American. It is telling that when “South Park” returned to air, after a hiatus, the show, previously impudent toward the establishment, now joined the rest of media in mocking Arabs and Muslims, and ended the episode on an earnest cheer: “Go America!” The thought was that to meet something with a laugh was the same thing as defanging it, a fearful humor inflated with American self-importance.

As media outlets wrung their hands over the utility of humor after tragedy, though, a burgeoning Internet culture lent no such consideration. Indeed, the digital world persisted as an all-hours laugh factory, with 9/11 providing “an impetus to a new genre,” as the sociologist Giselinde Kuipers wrote, of “cut-and-paste Internet jokes that were shared and spread around the world through e-mail, newsgroups, and Web sites.” Slipshod, crass, and sick, these jokes, dialling in from abroad and at home, were distinct from the humor that had followed other U.S. catastrophes. Their authors didn’t seem touched by the events they digested. The person who created an image of Teletubbies jumping to their deaths from the World Trade Center, evoking Richard Drew’s harrowing 9/11 photograph “The Falling Man,” wasn’t doing so through tears, presumably, nor was anyone who passed the image along. The jokes that proliferated did not seem to be working through a singular grief. Nor were they “difficult and painful, and productive,” as Wallace lauded the “rebellious irony” of postwar fiction that exposed bureaucratic hypocrisies.

No, humor of this sort, as it flourished online, was juvenile and unfeeling. It was smug, resembling the latter-day irony that Wallace associated with TV. So it makes perfect sense that it would be further propagated by the next big thing in telecommunications, the social Internet, where nobody had to be who they said they were, let alone own what they said. Maybe you meant it, maybe you didn’t. Everyone was trying stuff out—a good thing, in life and in comedy, but any speech can get rotten, especially speech one never has to claim. The Internet—that is, the Internet as carved up by billionaires—didn’t invent shock-jocking; it only gave it a better alibi than it had on the radio. Online, jokey provocations feigned a detachment from real life. If friends were calling each other “mein Führer,” it did not make them Nazis. That was just their sense of humor, a dose of online irony poisoning. A decade ago, one such friend, a firefighter trainee named Dirk Denkhaus, set fire to a refugee group home in Altena, Germany. On his phone were racist memes and xenophobic articles and the phrase “mein Führer” used among pals. His lawyer, as reported by the Times, argued that Denkhaus had otherwise displayed no prior anti-refugee sentiment: “It was only online that he’d dabbled in hate.” The irony-poisoned spew the most darndest and heinous things not out of conviction—or so we’re meant to assume—but just for funsies, until evidence shows otherwise.

The diagnosis of online irony poisoning tends to understate the extent to which social media’s rightward drift regulates so much else in life, establishing the terms and the tenor by which we enter that bustling intersection called discourse. The comedification of America has become the memeification of America. Take, for instance, the ultimate Internet troll, Elon Musk, appearing a few years ago as a host of “Saturday Night Live,” a coup that seems quaint, in retrospect, now that Musk is leading Trump’s gutting of the federal government as the head of an agency that he renamed after a meme. The puerile hasn’t confabbed with the establishment so much as replaced it, with the latter’s permission. Jokes mingle with cruel and lethal austerity measures. At the podium during a rally held after the Presidential Inauguration, Musk raised a stiff right arm in what looked like a Nazi salute yet it was laughed off by the Anti-Defamation League as just an “awkward gesture.” This month, Musk briefly changed his profile name on X, the social platform he owns, to Harry Bōlz, a brilliant display of homophonic potty humor that prompted a surge in an obscure cryptocurrency by the same name. This is where America lives and what America does. Nothing is funny, but everything is. And therein lies a sense of impotence, because our ability to discern the consequential ghoulishness of this nation’s policies–LOL that’s crazy!–doesn’t in and of itself constitute resistance. Those who feel they can’t do, laugh.

The inverse of falling Teletubbies and deniable Seig heils might look like a sincere attempt to meet the moment. But audiences, even for art-house entertainment, have gone feral with laughter. Two years ago, I went to my favorite movie theatre in Chicago to see Todd Haynes’s “May December,” a film that is funny in the way that melodrama, in its overdrawn intensity, can be. I enjoyed the movie. I laughed. Others did, too. But it did not feel like we were laughing together. The room was too loud, out of proportion with the film. Toward the end, the character played by Charles Melton attempts to confront his wife, played by Julianne Moore, about the fact that their two-decade-long relationship began with statutory rape; he was thirteen and she was thirty-six. “I’m saying, what if I was too young,” he ventures, to which she replies, indignantly, “You seduced me.” There is something farcical in the retort—an older woman playing child to the man she coerced into sex as an actual child. What was comical about the exchange was the very thing that made it disturbing. In the theatre, though, peals of laughter drowned out Melton’s cries and the scene’s devastatingly anticlimactic end. The tragedy was lost to the comedy, rather than being thrown into relief by it.

Not long ago, the same theatre released a statement about an incident that occurred during a showing of David Lynch’s “Blue Velvet”; instead of treating the film’s “darker material”—including a bizarre, voyeuristic rape scene—“with respect,” the theatre said, patrons had been “loudly mocking abuse on the screen.” There have been similar reports of excess laughter among Broadway audiences at “Cabaret,” especially during “If You Could See Her,” the ridiculous duet with a gorilla that ends on the thud of an unfunny joke, a dose of antisemitism that is meant to jerk the audience back into the realities of late-Weimar Berlin. In each case, humor is proper to the unease—one cannot have their expectations (of a publicized scandal; of an American suburb; of a German night club) unsettled without first getting too comfortable. But each of these works asks audiences to attune themselves to on-the-dime shifts in atmosphere, to the psychodramas thrumming beneath the rituals of ordinary life. And, in each case, the audience seemed to only see a joke.

Laughter is both the easiest and the hardest thing to critique—easy because it is a conspicuous target, hard because taking issue with humor can put you in league with a bunch of pearl-clutching losers. The person accusing another of not taking something seriously might herself be too serious, missing a point best apprehended through the shoulder-shaking discomfort of an inappropriate laugh. In December, when the C.E.O. of UnitedHealthcare was gunned down in midtown Manhattan, an outpouring of online tomfoolery unfolded alongside the news story itself. Humorless pundits in the media were aghast at the crime in a way that seemed out of touch with the grand joke that is American health care, through the fault of people such as the man shot dead. “Fortunately the bullets were classified as preexisting,” a user quipped on Reddit; another declared, “Thoughts and prayers are out of network!” To some observers, the incessant joking was the sort of heartless mirth that social media had been running on for decades. But I have to admit that, for me, the laughs were productive. The death of Brian Thompson and the hilarity that followed placed greater focus on health care than did our last Democratic President, who refused to plainly say whether he would veto Medicare for All if it came across his desk. Rather than holding the thing they referenced at arm’s length, these jokes brought ugly truths close.

In a recent lecture on the visual artist Hamishi Farah, the writer Tobi Haslett wondered what role laughter can play when institutions unmask themselves. Farah had been commissioned to create an art work for the Transmediale festival, in Berlin, which then balked at Farah’s submission: a tranquil portrait of Joe Chialo, Germany’s senator for culture and social cohesion, who has, in lockstep with Western cultural institutions, endeavored to ban criticism of Israel from cultural life. The festival’s withdrawal of the painting, presumably out of fear that it was a work of ridicule, was, Haslett wrote, a laughable “irony of ironies” best appreciated in his contemplative, principled read of the situation. Laughter, Haslett went on, remains “a political question, but also an art question, which is to say that it’s a matter of everyday life.” Laughter does not speak for itself. We must ask after it, and when we do we might find that it has things to say. We ask the universe, as one memesmith did, “DOES ANYONE KNOW IF WE HAVE TO maintain our senses of kindness and empathy despite the world constantly trying to destroy the individual and destroy feelings in impersonal society TOMORROW.” We laugh, but the joke’s on us until we answer, resoundingly—with thought and action, with politics—yes.

[patroxlos]

home base . ch8

"friends who are for the people" - 6.7k words

ultraman: rising (2024). kenji sato x reader

master post. ao3 link.

previous: ch7. "friends who use their phones in bed"

next: [SOON]

When you said you were busy with your own things, you meant it.

You have your own fun when Kenji is not around.

---

Dr. Onda has a special ability to be the most imposing person in the room.

Even in front of a long panel of the most important figures in Tokyo, he intimidates with the glare from his shades and his permanent frown. His second-in-command is much more approachable with his youthful face and calm but reliable demeanor, but Captain Aoshima can only do so much with his digestible powerpoint slides and well-crafted charts to lessen the heavy air of the room.

“...and you can see in this graph, that with your help, the KDF has managed to expand our fleet to tackle airborne kaiju. Our aviators have suffered less injuries due to the fortification of our aircrafts, and we are able to more efficiently terminate kaiju with our updated munitions. Any questions?” Captain Aoshima glances around the room to check whether the board was following.

They only nod, some casting glances towards Dr. Onda as he stood at the side to monitor his assistant’s presentation. The KDF’s board is composed of some of the most decorated war veterans, politicians, and arms dealers in the country, yet all are wary towards the senior researcher.

All except you.

“Captain, I have a question,” You say. You look up from the comprehensive board report they had passed around earlier, neat inside a plain black folio. “You discussed that the updated munitions arming the refurbished planes are necessary for more efficient ejection of projectiles, correct?”

“Yes, Director.”

You swallow.

You don’t think you earned the title compared to the others seated at the long table–this being your first board meeting, after all–but you let it go. They will sense weakness if you do not appear more confident. You continue your line of inquiry. “The report states that we have not introduced new projectiles in the armory within the quarter, yet based on the most recent kaiju attack, I have noticed that your fleets utilized non-lethal tranquilizers on the target. I reviewed the previous reports from the past five years and there has not been any mention about the research and development of such. May I ask why there was this omission?”

Murmurs broke out amongst your fellow board members. You keep your eyes trained at the commanding captain. He does not seem fazed at all by your question; he merely turns to look at Dr. Onda, who nods back, for permission to answer.

“Yes, Director. The tranquilizers were not mentioned in the quarterly review because they were not a recent development nor acquisition. They have been archived in our inventory for a better part of two decades. However, I can assure that our aviation ordnancemen checked prior to its use whether they are still effective as they were when they were first developed.”

You cross-check the provided digital database, manipulating the holographic screen. The inventory displays the potent tranquilizers. You skim over the document, pausing momentarily when you catch a line of text stating ‘Developer: Dr. Emiko Sato.’ You swipe away from the tab.

“Why take out old tranquilizers from storage for this specific kaiju?” You inquire.

“It was imperative for us to take this Kaiju alive.”

At the corner of your eye, you notice the Chairman of the Board stand up from his seat. Of course, as he is also Japan’s Minister of Defense, he has the most interest in increasing the KDF’s productivity. “And for what reason did you feel it was necessary to keep that kaiju alive?! I thought we agreed that the infrastructural costs outweigh the necessity to study these monsters?”

With a flick of his wrist, the Minister pushes one of the holographic screens to the center of the room. It plays the footage of that abnormally small, pink kaiju that ran through the streets a week prior. You see yourself on the screen get picked up, and you get phantom pains on your body as you remember how constricting the hold of that kaiju was. The stares of the other directors stab into your skin as they also recognize you from the footage.

Before anyone else can make a comment, Dr. Onda steps forward. The Minister falls back down on his chair, startled that the man has decided to finally speak after two hours in the boardroom.

“Captain Aoshima, thank you. I will take over the presentation for now.” He commands attention despite not raising his voice. Even if his eyes are covered, even you can feel the wuthering stare he sends towards the Minister. “Minister, while I respect your position as Chairman of the Board, I don’t think it is part of your responsibilities to scold my subordinates. Let your grievances out towards me.”

While the panel is silenced due to fear, you instead are stricken with respect for the older man. You appreciate how he takes care of his workers. Although, you still have your own job to do.

“Very well, Dr. Onda,” you speak up and everyone’s focus is now back on you. “Does this kaiju have anything to do with your current updates on Project Surrogate?”

He actually looks impressed, and you try not to look too pleased about his nod of approval. “Yes. I will move the presentation along towards it.”

The screen in front of you now presents a concise, bulleted summary of action points that Project Surrogate aims to achieve. This isn’t new to the panel, and the project needs no introduction. After all, it has been in development for the past five years, and most of taxpayer money being invested in the KDF has went towards it.

Project Surrogate’s main objective echoes that of the KDF’s original purpose: to locate Kaiju Island. It is hinged on the long-standing theory that Kaijus exhibit homing behavior towards their island of origin. Since it has been notoriously difficult to track adult Kaiju to the island, Project Surrogate hypothesizes that infant Kaiju might make it easier. The KDF has spent nearly half a decade trying to find proof of juvenile kaiju, until they finally stumbled onto a nest.

You have studied all of the declassified information on the project, yet even with your clearance level, you and the Board are kept out of the loop from Dr. Onda’s plans.

“We have seen this slide before,” you say, a bit frustrated as you stare at the screen. “Can we skip towards the project’s developments?”

Bowing slightly to your direction, he acquiesces to your request and switches to the photo of Gigantron, Queen of the Kaiju. Stepping forward, he begins his presentation. “Project Surrogate has made large progress since we have discovered the nest of Gigantron at the town of Oshima, by its coast. It has confirmed for us that kaiju, or in particular Gigantron, do not necessarily lay eggs nor reproduce exclusively in their island. The evidence in the surrounding area suggests that this is not the first time Gigantron has laid her eggs there.”

“Is it possible that Gigantron has natal homing?” You ignore the murmurs of confusion around you, but you do spot a few board members rolling their eyes at your display of proficiency.

You’re trying too hard to impress others, they think. Everything you do is performative. At your core, you’re just as dumb and vapid as everyone says you are.

“Indeed,” Dr. Onda nods your way. “This display of migratory behavior brings us closer towards finding Kaiju Island, as the infant would soon be instinctively motivated to fly away from our territory.”

The slide changes to the baby kaiju, and the pieces begin falling in place for the Board. The egg had hatched, and the kaiju has been alive for a few months at the moment. You raise another question. “Has the child been in KDF custody this entire time? Can you explain why it was allowed to roam the streets of Tokyo?”

“Unfortunately, the egg was stolen from us by Ultraman, and it had hatched under his control.”

Loud, outraged murmurs broke out amongst the board. Ultraman? Isn’t he supposed to be on our side?

 “Wait, Dr. Onda,” the Minister says. “So, even after the Tokyo fiasco, Ultraman still has custody over the kaiju?”

“Yes.”

A gruff-looking general shouts “Then doesn’t that mean Project Surrogate is a bust?”

“Hardly.” Even at the face of angry investors, Dr. Onda keeps his cool. He simply changes the slide to show an image of Ultraman cradling the kaiju against his chest while he hangs from the side of Tokyo Tower. Chills run down your spine. It is as if Ultraman was in the room himself, staring down everyone with a righteous fury.

Like a mother holding her child close, baring her teeth at the dangers that creep near.

“Due to Ultraman letting the kaiju loose on the streets, we have learned that the baby is capable of echolocation. It is possible that adult kaiju use echolocation at a frequency our sensors fail to pick up, but this child uses it as clear as day. Once we recapture the kaiju from Ultraman, we can set it free to the ocean and follow it towards Kaiju Island.”

As Dr. Onda finishes relaying the plan to the room, murmurs of approval soon broke the silence. The plan is reasonable, but you still remained unconvinced that he is telling you everything. You open the quarter report again, this time towards the expenditures for Project Surrogate.

“The plan does not seem clear to me yet, Dr. Onda. How sure are we that the KDF will be able to track the kaiju as it navigates through open waters?” You probe.

“I’m afraid I cannot disclose that for now,” He dodges your question.

“And what about the amount of lithium and uranium in the itemized budget? If you wanted to make bombs I would prefer it if you declare it.”

“We are making bombs, that is nothing new at the KDF. That is as much declaration I can make,” he dismisses your concern.

“So you do have a more thorough plan that you are not telling us about?”

“For two decades, the KDF and its Board of Directors have operated together with a strong sense of trust. You might not be familiar with it now, since this is your first meeting with us as a board member, but soon you will be.”

“But—” Shit. You are getting a little frazzled as he points out your inexperience. “Okay, that’s beside the point. What about Ultraman? The continuation of this project hinges on the KDF tracking his location, but he remains an elusive figure to the Japanese people.”

Dr. Onda gestures towards the Minister of Defense. “We will double down our efforts into tracking him, and we are encouraging the people to send to our tip line any sightings of the vigilante. Our chairman has been most helpful in declaring Ultraman persona non grata.”

“With much public backlash,” the Minister comments.

Another board member pipes in. “Ultraman is seen as a Japanese icon. The favorability of KDF has been declining steadily in the past several months, but it has been crashing to the gutter ever since the announcement that Ultraman is wanted.”

The meeting is getting derailed as the Board grows restless with the lack of direction in the KDF, exposed by you. You are starting to wonder whether you should have just sat there and listened like the others were.

Soon it ends, and everyone begins to shuffle out of the board room. You personally bow to each of the board members before they leave, half of them sizing you up but the rest giving you their blessings for being part of the team. Either way, your stomach turns.

You approach Captain Aoshima, and do the same bow towards him. “Thank you for that presentation, Captain. I look forward to seeing more of you in the future.”

“Likewise,” he returns the courtesy, though after he rises from his bow he fiddles with his pockets. “Actually, before you leave, ah– sorry, this is a bit unprofessional.”

You already have a feeling on what he is going to ask, but it still humors you slightly that he is breaking a bit of his respectful decorum that you know him for. You glance around the room, and the only people left are you, the captain and Dr. Onda. At least no one else is there to make fun of what you’re about to do. “Sure, we can take a photo.”

Aoshima brightens significantly. “Thank you, my daughter would be thrilled. Is it okay if you record a greeting as well? It’s her birthday soon.”

“She knows who I am?” Your eyes widen.

He thinks you’re being too modest. “She used to follow you before you deleted your accounts.”

“Then, it’s no problem! Sorry if I might seem a bit awkward. I haven’t done this in a while so I’m a bit rusty,” you laugh nervously.

You take his phone from his hands, angling the camera for a self-photo with him at your side. The recording goes just as smoothly, with you giving a small pep talk on how his daughter should focus on her studies. Captain Aoshima bows in gratitude, glowing with the excitement of a father who will do anything in the world for his kids.

Dr. Onda watches as his assistant leaves the room, leaving you and him alone. Swallowing your nervousness, you turn to the man and give a respectful bow. “Thank you for the meeting, Dr. Onda. The KDF remains safe in your hands.”

His silence makes you a bit more nervous. It is one thing for you to conduct a thorough interrogation during a quarterly board meeting, it is another making small-talk.

“I’ll…be going?” You try to have a smooth exit, but he raises his hand to signal you to stay.

“I was never fond of businessmen meddling with the organization,” he says, matter-of-fact.

“Well…Motsubishi prides itself in our social involvement—”

“Spare me the sales pitch, your father has done a lot of that when he served on the board,” he interrupts you. “I doubt you believe weapons development equates to welfare.”

“We only make it to the KDF,” you immediately rebut.

“Not fond of the dirtier sides of the business? Isn’t this what you’ve studied?” He raises an eyebrow at you.

You pocket your hands into your slacks. “I’m not entirely fond of profiting from war.”

“Would you call our fight against kaiju a war?”

“...You’re testing me.” You click your tongue. “Please, Dr. Onda.”

“You used to call me ‘Uncle’, when you played with Akiko.”

The room grows a little colder.

“Have you seen Hayao lately?” He changes topic, turning away from you.

“Can’t say I have, but I’ve seen him a couple of times since the incident,” you admit.

He gives a hum of acknowledgement.

“His knee is getting better, not that you asked,” you inform him, stepping forward to stand by his side. You look ahead as you speak. “I think…I think Kenji is taking care of him? Not sure, I didn’t get to confirm, but Emiko…before she disappeared…she told me that he flew all the way here just to take care of the Professor. It took a bit but I think they’re finally talking.”

It’s quiet again, for a moment. “And…Ultraman?”

“I…I don’t know who it is now, I’m sorry,” you don’t know why you are apologizing.

Dr. Onda merely sighs.

You turn to face him properly. “He doesn’t blame you, you know. For his knee.”

“I never asked for his forgiveness.” His face is steel, not betraying a hint of emotion. You see your worried face in the reflection of his shades. “Nor do I feel any sort of guilt.”

“You didn’t know he was Ultraman—”

“And even if I did, I still would have ordered the shot.”

You suck in a breath through your teeth.

“And I don’t make it a habit to shoot at superheroes. Ultraman was interfering with an official KDF extraction. It was necessary.” He remains stone-faced.

“You let him go.”

He walks away from you to another side of the room as he dismissively waves you off. “A mistake.”

“Admit it. You saw his crumpled body on the ground and you just let him go.” You follow, hot on his heels.

You nearly ram into him when he briskly stops in his tracks to turn to you. “I saw the crumpled body of my daughter’s killer and decided I wouldn’t stoop down to his level.”

“He is only one man.” You run a hand through your hair.

“Ultraman is not my enemy, but if he proves to be a nuisance that hinders us from achieving some peace in our shores, then I am not against making him one,” he booms. The conviction of his words might have shaken you, but you notice his shoulders sag slightly, defeated.

You cross your arms, tucking them close to your torso. “That’s…that’s one thing I agree on.”

“...Thank you.” You can tell he means it.

“The new Ultraman…he still needs to grow on me,” you divulge. “He kind of acts like some young hotshot. Seems pretty immature.”

“It’ll be easy to track him down then. But Hayao…he must have taught his new protégé all he knows about how to hide himself.”

“Doctor, you know that I am dedicated to help the KDF in anyway I can,” you affirm.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Even if it means going against your tutor?”

“I think we and Ultraman have the same goal,” you answer. “We all want to be able to keep the people of this city safe. I don’t know how useful I can be to Ultraman’s cause but I know that I can affect real change here in the KDF. Like how Emiko used to.”

He’s a bit unsatisfied with your reply, but his lips almost twitch into a smile at your, as he calls it, misguided idealism. “You should also go by Doctor, then.”

You wince at the title.

“I’ll pass.” Even if you did recently graduate, it feels like a brag. It does not help that most of the internet thinks you’re lying when you discuss your educational background.

“Receiving a doctorate at 26 is no easy feat. You deserve to be acknowledged for it,” he coolly praises you. The flattery is getting to you a bit, but you still avoid letting it seep in.

“Doesn’t seem to matter much to others,” you dismiss his words. “I’ve tried so hard to distance myself from my old image. I deleted all my social media. I have placed full attention into preparing myself for what I’m about to inherit and I’m still…It still isn’t enough.”

Dr. Onda pushes his shoulders back. “The media play against you has been rampant since you were younger. It is hard to push back against such schemes.”

At eighteen, you formally entered society.

At eighteen, you had the world at your fingertips.

At eighteen, your father officially named you as his successor. He did not have much of a choice, given that you were his only one.

At eighteen, you made enemies who to this day are intent that you stay far away from the title Chief Executive Officer.

“My dad’s officially retiring within the month.”

“I’ve received the invitation to your welcoming gala,” he states. “Congratulations. While I’m not fond of public outings, since your father personally requested my appearance, I cannot say no.”

“I need a win.” Your arms fall to your sides, hands balling into fists. “I refuse to be driven out of the company my family built.”

His shades reflect a small flash of light. “Is this the purpose of our chat?”

“Project Surrogate. I need this to work. If the KDF can get stronger public approval I can solidify my position.”

“I can’t guarantee anything,” he warns you. “And I’m not doing this to satisfy anyone’s greed for power. This is for the people.”

“Because of the kaiju, I got separated from my best friend.” You place a hand over your heart. “And he grew up without a father. Believe me. My ambitions are here but I am fully committed to making this work.”

His hands clasp behind his back. “All I ask is for trust— an understanding, that I am using your investments for the greater good.”

You grin. “Where do I sign?”

A/N: hello … I’m not dead :D

And yes you are pro-KDF for now :D I think Dr. Onda is such a cool and well-written antagonist. DYK in early Ultraman he actually does just straight up kill the kaiju. From a utilitarian standpoint, kaiju are an invasive species. They’re not inherently bad but they don’t belong in the environment they are in. (I watch a lot of those lion fish exterminator tiktoks…)

If you saw on my Tumblr I posted a WIP snippet of what was supposed to go into this chapter, but ultimately I decided that maybe having a portion that focused solely on adding more context to who the reader is would help push the story forward. You go by a lot of different names around these parts! But next chapter would have too much Ken to make up for his absence here! The WIP I posted will be moved to ch10 as well :>

Since I’ve already finished a portion of the next chapter and it’s ready to publish in no time, as it’s a direct continuation from chapter 8’s flashback, here’s a snippet of its introduction so you know what’s in store!

——-

You hear a rapid knocking on the door.

You don’t register it at first, your head pounding from waking up too early. The only thing you can sense is Ken’s warm back against your bare chest, your hands around his waist. You press your face against the back of his neck, groaning at the hour. “Kenji, S’noisy.”

You feel his body shift, and he shrugs you off. “Y’face too cold…”

You just bite his shoulder and tug him closer. He lets you.

Soon, the knocking stops, but Kenji’s phone rings from the bedside table. Groaning, he blindly reaches for it to take the call, and you whine when he shifts in your hold. You realize that you won’t be able to get any sleep, so your eye cracks open to check the clock.

2:17 AM.

Now who—

“Kenji? Kenji are you awake? I’m outside your door. Please let me in.”

You both bolt up when you hear Emiko Sato’s voice from the phone. You slap his back to get him moving. “The sofa,” you hiss, lowering your voice.

Both of you struggle to keep quiet as you rush to find your clothes. Ken quickly pulls out the sofabed, and tosses rumpled blankets onto it to give an illusion that he’s been there the entire time. You find the bra he tossed away earlier on top of a nearby lamp. He grabs an air freshener can to spray lightly across the room— not too much for it to be obvious.

Ken opens the door just after you dive back into the covers, pretending to be asleep.

---

lmk if u want to be on the taglist for future chapters ty!

[greatworldwar2]

• Fokker D.XXI Fighter

The Fokker D.XXI fighter was designed in 1935 by Dutch aircraft manufacturer Fokker in response to requirements laid out by the Royal Netherlands East Indies Army Air Force (Militaire Luchtvaart van het Koninklijk Nederlands-Indisch Leger, ML-KNIL). The D.XXI was designed as an inexpensive, rugged, and compact fighter aircraft that would possess respectable performance for its era.

On November 14th, 1934, design proposals for a new fighter aircraft were submitted by Fokker to the Luchtvaartafdeling (Dutch Army Aviation Group). Fokker's design team, led by Erich Schatzki, and based at the firm's newly completed plant in the southern district of Amsterdam, had sought to incorporate and combine various new concepts and recent features from successful fighter aircraft, including the previous C.X and D.XVII aircraft. The proposed aircraft was a low-wing monoplane which adopted an entirely enclosed cockpit; initial design work had been conducted in cooperation with British engine manufacturer Rolls-Royce, and it had been originally envisaged that the type would be powered by a Rolls-Royce Kestrel IV. Projections of the aircraft's performance included a maximum speed of 420 km/h at an altitude of 4,350 meters, a range of 888 km, and an altitude ceiling of 10,000 meters. The planned armament included rifle-calibre machine guns or 20mm cannons, which were to be embedded into the wings and fuselage.

In early 1935, the Luchtvaartafdeling signed a contract for a single prototype of the proposed fighter to be constructed for an evaluation to be performed by the Royal Netherlands East Indies Army. This prototype, designated FD-322, which was powered by a single Bristol Mercury VI-S radial engine which drove a three-blade, two-pitch propeller, performed its maiden flight at Welschap Airfield, Eindhoven, on March 27th, 1936. According to aviation author G.H. Kamphuis, the prospects for series production of the new fighter looked doubtful shortly after the first flight was performed due to a high level change in Dutch defence policy; Minister for Foreign Affairs Hendrik Colijn informed the Ministry of War that, in response to the changing international situation, a higher priority would be placed on building up a substantial bomber capability over new fighter aircraft. In addition to the Luchtvaartafdeling's interest in a trainer aircraft, the service had also attached great importance to the concept of a heavily armed 'cruiser' aircraft capable of performing multiple mission types. Further doubts and confusion were added by the emergence of a competing aircraft proposal in the form of the Koolhoven F.K.58, which had also been designed by Ir. Schatzki. It was decided that the D.XXI and F.K.58 should participate in a series of comparative tests against one another, leading to the D.XXI prototype being dispatched to Soesterberg Air Base, Utrecht, in November 1936. However, head-to-head testing between the two types was delayed by the F.K.58, which did not perform its first flight until September 1938.

During 1937, the Dutch government gave funding and its approval for a limited expansion of the Army Aviation Group, which resulted in an order being placed for 36 Fokker D.XXI fighters, to be powered by the 830 h.p. Bristol Mercury VII or VIII engines. According to Kamphuis, Dutch interest in the D.XXI had been revived, in part, due to an examination of the first aircraft by an evaluation board, which itself had been conducted due to interest expressed by the Finnish Air Force, which itself would result in export sales being made to Finland. On July 20th, 1938, the first Luchtvaartafdeling D.XXI conducted its first flight, after which it participated in test flights prior to deliver to Soesterberg. On September 8th, 1939, the final aircraft of the first batch of 36 was delivered. Even as the domestic demand for the D.XXI was being questioned, the type had attracted the attention of a number of foreign governments. In 1937, the Finnish government decided to place an order for an initial batch of seven aircraft, further negotiations were also conducted towards the acquisition of a manufacturing license, under which Finland proceeded to domestically produce further aircraft as well. Throughout 1940 and 1941, the Finnish State Aircraft Factory set about reconditioning the aircraft that had been used in the Winter War for continued service; an additional 50 D.XXIs were ordered in 1941, which were powered by the Pratt & Whitney R-1535 Twin Wasp Junior engine, acquired via Sweden. The Danish government ordered a pair of D.XXI fighters along with arrangements for its own manufacturing license. The Danish D.XXI fighters were powered by a 645 h.p. Bristol Mercury VI-S radial and carried a Madsen 20 mm cannon under each wing. Ten aircraft were completed by the Royal Army Aircraft Factory in Copenhagen prior to the German invasion of Denmark in April 1940. The Second Spanish Republic also acquired a manufacturing license for the D.XXI. Reportedly, a total of 50 fuselages were manufactured on the Spanish production line; however, the Spanish plant in which the fighter was being produced was overrun by Nationalist forces before any of the Spanish-built aircraft were completed.

The Fokker D.XXI was a low-wing monoplane fighter aircraft. Following standard Fokker design practice of the period, it featured a welded steel tube fuselage that was largely covered by fabric, including the flight control surfaces; element forward of the trailing edges of the wings were covered by detachable aluminum panels instead. The wings were of a wooden construction, being composed of two box spars attached to ribs made of plywood. The aircraft was outfitted with a fixed spatted undercarriage with cantilever legs; braking was provided by independently-operated pedals using compressed air. The cockpit of the D.XXI was fully enclosed by a plexiglas hood featuring large sliding sections, and was entirely jettisonable in an emergency situation to enable pilots to bail out. Pilots were protected against turnover injuries by means of a pylon built into the structure of the aircraft set behind the seat. Fuel was housed in a 350-litre (77 imp gal) tank located aft of the engine. The main armament consisted of two pairs of 7.92mm M36 FN-Browning machine guns, one pair housed within the wings, carrying 300 rounds of ammunition each, and the other pair within the forward fuselage and shooting through the propeller blades, carrying 500 rounds each. Upon its entry to service in 1938, the D.XXI represented a significant leap forward for the Dutch Army Aviation Group, whose fighter force had until that time consisted of aging biplanes with open cockpits. The new Fokker quickly proved to be an extremely sturdy aircraft, being capable of attaining a speed of 700 km/h in a dive.

The Fokker D.XXI was first used in combat by the Finnish Air Force during the 1939–1940 Winter War between the Soviet Union and Finland. Upon the war's outbreak, a total of 41 aircraft were in Finnish service, all powered by the Mercury VIII engine. On December 1st, 1939, the D.XXI achieved its first victory with the shooting down of a Soviet Tupolev SB. The Fokker was evenly matched against the aircraft of the Soviet Air Force, and its rugged design with a radial engine and fixed undercarriage made it well suited for Finnish conditions. As the Winter War continued and newer models of Soviet fighters appeared, the Fokker D.XXI proved to be increasingly underpowered and too lightly armed to compete; plans to arm the Fokkers with 20 mm cannons were dropped, and only one fighter was armed with two 20 mm cannons and two 7.92 mm/.312 in machine guns. The conflict between Finland and the Soviet Union was resumed in the Continuation War (1941–1944), the D.XXI was again a key element of the Finnish Air Force. During the first air battle, six Mercury-engined D.XXIs shot down a pair of Soviet Ilyushin DB-3 bombers. Several Finnish Air Force pilots became fighter aces with the Fokker D.XXI.

Although the order by the ML-KNIL was cancelled, the Luchtvaartafdeling (Dutch Army Air Force before World War II) placed an order of 36 aircraft, which were all delivered in time to participate in the war against the Germans in May 1940. On May 10th, 1940, the day that Germany launched its invasion of the Netherlands, 28 D.XXIs were serviceable and ready for operations. That first day, six D.XXIs escorted a formation of Fokker T.V bombers to attack the Meuse bridges to hinder the German advance; they were intercepted by nine German Messerschmitt Bf 109s, and during the ensuing dogfight, one Bf 109 was shot down and two more damaged for the loss of one D.XXI and two T.Vs. That same day, a flight of D.XXIs intercepted and shot down 37 out of 55 inbound Junkers Ju 52 transports which had crossed the border during the early morning. Due to many aircraft becoming unserviceable as a result of battle damage after the first day, it was decided to regroup at Buiksloot, north of Amsterdam, on May 11th. For the following four days, missions out of Buiksloot were flown by D.XXIs flying in both solo and small formations to escort friendly units as well as in the search-and-destroy role. Sorties against the numerically superior German forces continued until the middle of May 14th, at which point news of the Dutch capitulation reached Buiksloot, upon which both the remaining aircraft and the airstrip were destroyed to prevent their use by the Germans. Out of the original force of 28 D.XXI aircraft, eight fighters had remained airworthy. The D.XXI, although much slower and more lightly armed than the Bf 109, performed surprisingly well in combat due to its manoeuvrability. It was also one of the few aircraft that could follow a Stuka bomber into its dive. Nonetheless, the numerical superiority of the Luftwaffe led to the destruction of most Luchtvaartafdeling D.XXI fighters during the campaign. The LVA (Netherlands Air Force) scored a total of 38 victories against the Luftwaffe during their struggle against the German juggernaut. 16 of those went to Fokker D.XXI pilots.

A Mercury-engine Finnish-built Fokker D.XXI, FR-110, is on display at the Finnish Air Force Museum, Jyväskylä, Finland. This is the highest scoring (10 victories) D.XXI airframe. It was the mount of Lt. Viktor Pyötsiä during the Winter War. In 2022, a flyable replica was completed at Hoogeveen Airport by veteran aircraft restorer Jack van Egmond. A number of original parts was used and the plane was built according to original Fokker build specifications as Jack van Egmond is in possession of 397 out of 416 Fokker blueprints.

[odinsblog]

Elon Musk is the richest man in the world and the owner of X, Tesla, and SpaceX. But perhaps the more apt description of the guy would be the internet’s biggest and most dangerous troll—a characterization that has been on full display over the last several weeks, as Musk has trafficked in all manner of misinformation concerning the devastating hurricane that hit the South last month and the one headed for Florida as we speak. And while the internet—and Musk’s social media network in particular—is rife with misinformation, Musk’s fame and 200 million-plus X account following mean the falsehoods he has spread have had actual, devastating consequences.

Among other things, Musk has amplified false claims that the Federal Emergency Management Agency was “actively blocking” shipments of donated items for victims of Hurricane Helene and was “seizing goods…and locking them away to state they are their own”—claims that FEMA says are not true and that also appear to be bullshit based on Republican leaders’ praise of Washington. Musk has additionally shared baseless accusations that FEMA doesn’t have enough funding to get through hurricane season because it gave away too much money to undocumented migrants, and he personally wrote that “FEMA used up its budget ferrying illegals into the country instead of saving American lives,” accusing the agency of committing “treason.” He also absurdly claimed last Friday that the Federal Aviation Administration planned to “shut down” airspace over parts of North Carolina that had been hit hard by Helene, a falsehood Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg had to personally explain was not true.

Addressing the onslaught of misinformation—which has also, unsurprisingly, come from Donald Trump—FEMA administrator Deanne Criswell said Tuesday that it “is absolutely the worst I have ever seen,” adding, “I anticipated some of this, but not to the extent that we’re seeing.” While she did not call out Musk or Trump directly by name, the issues she has been forced to deal with are products of what the two men have been irresponsibly saying online. “It’s just really unfortunate that [people] continue to try to create this level of fear in these communities that is impeding our ability to do our job at the level that we need to do it, but we’re not going to let it deter us,” Criswell told reporters. “We are going to continue to be in these communities and support them for whatever they need.” Keith Turi, FEMA’s acting associate administrator for response and recovery, listed off numerous falsehoods that have been shared, including by Musk, like that FEMA was “confiscating supplies.” He called the misinformation “extremely damaging to the response efforts from Helene and from any disaster,” noting that it “is reducing the likelihood that survivors will come to FEMA in a trusting way to register for assistance.”

(continue reading)

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Boeing, Spirit and Jetblue, a monopoly horror-story

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables TONIGHT (Jan 22) at 8PM. Berliners: Otherland has added a second date (Jan 28) for my book-talk after the first one sold out - book now!

Last week, William Young, an 82 year old federal judge appointed by Ronald Reagan, blocked the merger of Spirit Airlines and Jetblue. It was a seismic event:

https://storage.courtlistener.com/recap/gov.uscourts.mad.254267/gov.uscourts.mad.254267.461.0_6.pdf

Seismic because the judge's opinion is full of rhetoric associated with the surging antitrust revival, sneeringly dismissed by corporate apologists as "hipster antitrust." Young called America's airlines and "oligopoly," a situation he blamed on out-of-control mergers. As Matt Stoller writes, this is the first airline merger to be blocked by the DOJ and DOT since deregulation in 1978:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/antitrust-enforcers-block-the-jetblue

The judge wasn't shy about why he was reviving a pre-Jimmy Carter theory of antitrust: "[the merger] does violence to the core principle of antitrust law, 'to protect] markets –- and its market participants — from anticompetitive harm."

The legal arguments the judge advances are fascinating and worthy of study:

https://twitter.com/johnmarknewman/status/1747343447227519122

But what really caught my eye was David Dayen's American Prospect article about the judge's commentary on the state of the aviation industry:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/01-19-2024-how-boeing-ruined-the-jetblue-spirit-merger/

Why, after all, have Spirit and Jetblue been so ardent in pursuing mergers? Jetblue has had two failed merger attempts with Virgin, and this is the third time they've failed in an attempt to merge with Spirit. Spirit, meanwhile, just lost a bid to merge with Frontier. Why are these two airlines so obsessed with combining with each other or any other airline that will have them?

As Dayen explains, it's because US aviation has been consumed by monopoly, hollowed out to the point of near collapse, thanks to neoliberal policies at every part of the aviation supply-chain. For one thing, there's just not enough pilots, nor enough air-traffic controllers (recall that Reagan's first major act in office was to destroy the air traffic controller's union).

But even more importantly, there are no more planes. Boeing's waitlist for airplane delivery stretches to 2029. And Boeing is about to deliver a lot fewer planes, thanks to its disastrous corner-cutting, which grounded a vast global fleet of 737 Max aircraft (again):

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-01-09-boeing-737-max-financial-mindset/

The 737 disaster(s) epitomize the problems of inbred, merger-obsessed capitalism. As Luke Goldstein wrote, the rampant defects in Boeing's products can be traced to the decision to approve Boeing's 1997 merger with McDonnell-Douglas, a company helmed by Jack Welch proteges, notorious for cost-cutting at the expense of reliability:

https://prospect.org/infrastructure/transportation/2024-01-09-boeing-737-max-financial-mindset/

Boeing veterans describe the merger as the victory of the bean-counters, which led to a company that chases short-term profits over safety and even the viability of its business:

https://www.airliners.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=213075

After all, the merger turned Boeing into the single largest exporter in America, a company far too big to fail, teeing up tens of billions from Uncle Sucker, who also account for 40% of Boeing's income:

https://www.thebignewsletter.com/p/its-time-to-nationalize-and-then

The US government is full of ex-Boeing execs, just as Boeing's executive row is full of ex-US federal aviation regulators. Bill Clinton's administration oversaw the creation of Boeing's monopoly in the 1990s, but it was the GOP that rescued Boeing the first time the 737 Maxes started dropping out of the sky.

Boeing's biggest competitor is the state-owned Airbus, a joint venture whose major partners are the governments of France, Spain and Germany – governments that are at least theoretically capable of thinking about the public good, not short-term profits. Boeing's largest equity stakes are held by the Vanguard Group, Vanguard Group subfiler, Newport Trust Company, and State Street Corporation:

https://prospect.org/blogs-and-newsletters/tap/2024-01-18-airbus-advantage/

As Matt Stoller says, America has an airline that the public bails out, protects, and subsidizes but has no say over. Boeing has all the costs of public ownership and none of the advantages. It's the epitome of privatized gains and socialized losses.

This is Reagan's other legacy, besides the disastrous shortage of air-traffic controllers. The religious belief in deregulation – especially deregulation of antitrust enforcement – leads to a deregulated market. It leads to a market that is regulated by monopolists who secretly deliberate, behind closed board-room doors, and are accountable only to their shareholders. These private regulators are unlike government regulators, who are at least nominally bound by obligations to transparency and public accountability. But they share on thing in common with those public regulators: when they fuck up, the public has to pay for their mistakes.

It's a good thing Boeing's executives are too big to fail, because they fail constantly. Boeing execs who are warned by subcontractors of dangerous defects in their planes order those subcontractors to lie, or lose their contracts:

https://www.levernews.com/boeing-supplier-ignored-warnings-of-excessive-amount-of-defects-former-employees-allege/

As a result of Boeing's mismanagement, America's only aircraft supplier steadily has lost ground to Airbus, which today enjoys a 2:1 advantage over Boeing. But it's not just Boeing that's the weak link aviation. US aviation is a chain entirely composed of weak links.

Take jet engines: Pratt & Whitney are Spirit's major engine supplier, but these engines suck as much as Boeing's fuselages. Much of Spirit's fleet is chronically grounded because the engines don't run. The reason Spirit buys its engines from those loveable goofballs at Pratt & Whitney? The Big Four airlines have bought all the engines for sale from other suppliers, leaving smaller airlines to buy their engines from fat-fingered incompetents.

This is why – as Dayen notes – smaller US airlines are so horny for intermarriage. They can't grow by adding routes, because there are no pilots. Even if they could get pilots, there'd be no slots because there are no air traffic controllers. But even if they could get pilots and slots, there are no planes, because Boeing sucks and Airbus can't make planes fast enough to supply the airlines that don't trust Boeing. And even if they could get aircraft, there are no engines because the Big Four aviation cartel cornered the market on working jet engines.

Part of Jetblue and Spirit's pitch was that they hand off the routes that they'd cut after their merger to other small airlines, like Frontier and Allegiant. But Frontier and Allegiant can't service those routes: they don't have pilots, slots, planes or engines.

Spirit hasn't been profitable since 2019 and is sitting on $4b in debt. Jetblue was proposing to finance its acquisition with another $3.5b in debt. The resulting airline could only be profitable by sharply cutting routes and massively raising prices, cutting 6.1m seats/year. With a debt:capital ratio of 111%, the company would have no slack and would need a bailout any time anything went wrong. Not coincidentally, the Big Four airlines also have debt:capital ratios of about 100-120%, and they do get bailouts ever time anything goes wrong.

As William McGee reminds us, it's been 14 years since anyone's started a new US airline:

https://twitter.com/WilliamJMcGee/status/1747363491445375072

US aviation is deeply cursed. But Boeing's self-disassembling aircraft show us why we can't fix it by allowing mergers: private monopolies, shorn of the discipline of competition and regulation, are extraction machines that turn viable businesses into debt-wracked zombies.

This is a subject that's beautifully illustrated in Dayen's 2020 book Monopolized, in the chapter on health care:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/29/fractal-bullshit/#dayenu

The US health care system has been in trouble for a long time, but the current nightmare starts with the deregulation of pharma. Pharma companies interbred with one another in a string of incestuous marriages that produced these dysfunctional behemoths that were far better at shifting research costs to governments and squeezing customers than they were at making drugs. The pharma giants gouged hospitals for their products, and in response, hospitals underwent their own cousin-fucking merger orgy, producing regional monopolies that were powerful enough to resist pharma's price-hikes. But in growing large enough to resist pharma profiteering, the hospitals also became powerful enough to screw over insurers. Insurers then drained their own gene pool by combining with one another until most of us have three or fewer insurers we can sign up with – companies that are both big enough to refuse hospital price-hikes, and to hike premiums on us.

Thus monopoly begets monopoly: with health sewn up by monopolies in medical tech, drugs, pharmacy benefit managers, insurance, and hospitals, the only easy targets for goosing profits are people:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/01/05/hillrom/#baxter-international

This is how you get a US medical system that costs more than any other rich nation's system to operate, delivers worse outcomes than those other systems, and treats medical workers worse than any other wealthy country.

Now, rich people can still buy their way out of this mess, but you have to be very rich indeed to buy your way out of the commercial aviation system. There's a lot of 1%ers who fly commercial, and they're feeling the squeeze – and there's no way they're leasing their own jets.

Stein's Law holds that "anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop." America's aviation mergers – in airlines, aircraft and engines – have hollowed out the system. The powerful, brittle companies that control aviation have so much power over their workforce that they've turned air traffic controller and pilot into jobs that no one wants – and they used their bailout money to buy out the most senior staff's contracts, sending them to early retirement.

Now, I'm with the people who say that most of US aviation should be replaced with high-speed rail, but that's not why our technocrats and finance barons have gutted aviation. They did it to make a quick buck. A lot of quick bucks. Now the system is literally falling to pieces in midair. Now the system is literally on fire:

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/01/19/us/miami-boeing-plane-engine-fire.html

Which is how you get a Reagan appointed federal judge issuing an opinion that has me punching the air and shouting, "Yes, comrade! To the barricades!" Anything that can't go on forever will eventually stop. When the system is falling to pieces around you, ideology disintegrates like a 737 Max.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/21/anything-that-cant-go-on-forever/#will-eventually-stop

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