#flight instructor problems

[theonion]

Okay, so since time began, man has dreamed of flight, right? I know I have. I’ve always wanted to swoop between the mountains and hang suspended high above the earth and all that jazz. So naturally, I decided to try my hand at flying a helicopter. But here’s the problem: Everyone makes such a damn big deal out of operating one. I want to fly a helicopter, not look at a bunch of crazy dials.

You know what man has not dreamed of since time immemorial? Keeping an eye on his H-over-G indicator. Cavemen did not look to the hawks in the heavens and wonder about their approximate yaw angle, whatever the hell that is. Old Orville and Wilbur sure as hell didn’t dream about zeroing the VOR needle for bearing correction—I’ll tell you that for free. So why in hell is some instructor screaming at the top of his lungs for me to look down at the console when I’m in the middle of trying to avoid crashing into a barn?! Something tells me there’s no barn-missing meter down there! Full Story

[bullet-prooflove]

Yay! 3 things for Wes Mitchell please!

Career, cupcake & close

❤️

Tagging: @kmc1989 @toasted-stiletto @crusoe2000 @vivekaspencer @fanny-123456

Companion piece to:

Budapest

There’s a cupcake on the kitchen counter.

It’s a traditional Hungarian Zserbo from the bakery a few streets away from your apartment. It’s one of you favourites. Something Wes knows because you’ve eaten there together every morning for the past couple of weeks.

Underneath the cupcake is a note that simply reads.

Think about it...

You sigh, your fingertips tracing over his handwriting. He’d asked you last night to join the flight team, make the switch from teaching back into field work. You’ve been an instructor at the International Law Enforcement Academy for over a year now and haven’t had so much as a thought about a change in career until Wes offered up the position. Now it’s all you can think about.

The problem is you don’t know if you have the stomach for it anymore.

That last case you worked, it had fucked you up in ways you’re still trying to untangle to this very day. Wes may have read the file, flicked through the psych eval but he doesn’t understand the reality of it, what seeing ten young girls, starved to death in a storage container does to you. He doesn’t know that you’ve been in therapy since it happened, trying to combat PTSD because sometimes you see their faces in your dreams.

“You’re in an excellent investigator, you know it and I know it.” He’d said over a couple of beers, when he’d met you after your final class. “It’s time to step off the bench and get back in the game.”

You’d almost said yes but then you remembered that this is what Wes does, he comes into your life,  throws everything up in the air and then he leaves. It’s been that way the entire time you’ve known him. The two of you may be close now but it won’t last, not when he realises just how broken you are. It’s best to nip it in the bud before it gets any more complicated than it already is.

You pull out your phone before pulling up your message thread. Your fingertips swiping over the keys as you type out your text.

Sorry Wes, I think it’s time for you to start looking for your own place.

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[bekolxeram]

Regarding the mess that is Tommy's career timeline:

Mandatory not a pilot or firefighter or American, but it makes sense that Tommy started working at Harbor 5 years ago, despite leaving the 118 7 years ago.

The description Tommy gives Buck in 7x04 is lifted verbatim from the real LAFD Air Ops website, so it's safe to say its 9-1-1 universe counterpart pretty much operates the same way, other than the location, station number and the types of helicopters they own.

To become a firefighting pilot with the LAFD, you need: 1: 4 years experience as a firefighter with the LAFD 2: a private helicopter pilot license 3: a minimum of 100 flight hours in a rotary aircraft

You have to get all these with your own time and money before even applying for the training program, but it's not a problem for Tommy, who had plenty of experience in the army.

Once accepted into the pilot training program, pilots are put into intensive specified training for aerial firefighting, operating an aircraft in cramped urban space, flying in mountain terrain, and all sorts of aircraft emergencies. At the same time, they work on getting their commercial rotary pilot license, a flight instructor rating, and obviously a type rating for the helicopters they operate at Air Ops. This takes around 2 years, and it's tough, a good percentage of pilots drop out at this stage.

After finishing the program, pilots are assigned to Air Ops as trainees, and they will continue their training on the job, for another 2 years. Most of them end up getting an instrument license, which allows you to operate an aircraft in low visibility conditions, and even an airline transportation pilot license, which is the highest level of pilot certificate.

So Tommy was in flight school the 2 years between Buck's arrival at the 118 and Tommy's official transfer to the 217.

[brotherwtf]

was reading a fic for another fandom where one of the characters have selective mutism & i was thinking about what if there was an au where gale has selective mutism (maybe because of his childhood or any sort of past trauma) & bucky eventually becomes the exception but only after like a really long time of knowing gale and trying his best to make himself special to gale or something like that

hope you’re having an amazing day & sending you tons and tons of hugs & kisses xoxo

omg wait this is actually so interesting! thank you anon!! sending all of my hugs and kisses back 💕💕

Gale's father would almost always yell at him whenever he talked back, even if Gale was just asking a question, so Gale just learned to not talk at all. It made the relationship he had with his father a little easier because he sometimes wouldn't come up with an excuse to beat Gale if he hadn't talked first. That didn't mean everything was grand and dandy, but it helped a little

When he finally enlisted, he was able to muster up the strength to talk briefly during flight school, only when he found necessary. His instructors liked that he was brief and quiet, he didn't talk back and always did what he was told without a single peep. Everyone thought he was weird.

Of course when Bucky strolled into their shared dorm and found his roomie wasn't a talker, he made it his goal to make Gale talk.

Gale was very hesitant to the onslaught of attention and friendliness from John, he was so used to indifference and politeness that having someone genuinely interested in him shocked him a little bit. John would drag him to outings, try to make jokes with him, sit with him in their classes, while Gale would only smile and give him a curt nod.

But John never gave up, even on the hardest days where Gale wouldn't even say a word to anyone, not even his instructors. What Gale didn't realize was how much he also cared for John, and only realized that once John was shipping out before him.

It was a routine night, just like any at the pub celebrating, but when they got back to their small room Gale closed the door and turned back to John who was already wrestling with his uniform. He quietly walked over and helped him and tried to ignore the way that John stared at his hands.

The first proper sentence Gale ever said to John was "I'm going to miss you, Bucky," and John was absolutely over the moon, promising Gale that he would stay alive long enough to get him reciting monologues, which of course made Gale laugh.

Gale half expects him to go quiet again when he's overseas, especially thinks he's never going to speak again after his first mission, but John was always there, pulling sentences from him and having brief conversations. It wasn't hard, with John, Gale actually felt like he wanted to talk to him.

It got to the point where Gale was having full conversations with John, and only John, would lean into his ear when he wanted to contribute something to the whole group and John would repeat it no problem. Gale was able to tell John about his father, and John cleverly interjects "So that's why you don't talk, don't like sports," and Gale only smiles because it had taken him so long to figure that out himself.

Gale expected the Stalag to make him go mute again, to bring back some of the trauma he felt with his father, but in actuality he didn't. Seeing John suffering so horribly brought out something in him he couldn't quite place, he would talk to him even when John wouldn't respond, and he knew how it felt to be John all of those years. It helped both of them, in the end, even when there were some bumpy patches.

It becomes special to them, Gale would only talk to John and of course that blossoms into something far closer than friendship. John was able to rewire something in Gale's brain to allow him to speak freely, and Gale would be forever grateful for that.

They didn't kiss until after the war was over, up in that control tower where Gale had taken his first sip of alcohol. Neither of them spoke, just sat and watched the flares go up and listened to the men cheering around base. They didn't talk when Gale found John staring at him instead of the flares, and they didn't talk when John leaned in and pressed his lips to Gale's.

After the war, they lived together in some sort of peace, as much peace as two war veterans can have, and Gale spent his days talking with John about everything and nothing. Gale was eternally grateful that John helped him find his voice, and hoped he would never lose it again.

[clarisse0o]

Camp Wiegman-Part 46

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 7k

Masterlist

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Friday, February 5th; 1:50 PM - Manchester Airport.

It's hard to describe the feeling I have about what I'm experiencing right now. Not too long ago, this was a situation I couldn't have imagined. I lead the way ahead of my two instructors as we board the plane that will take off for Barcelona.

“Damn, Barcelona, really!” comments Ingrid. “How can you even think for a second about leaving that incredible city to live here?”

I raise an eyebrow, surprised that she knows something like that about me. Well, to be honest, it's not a secret anymore, but I had never talked about it directly with Ingrid.

“A place isn't everything,” I shrug.

I smile when I see Shay welcoming passengers in the distance. When she sees me, she seems to recognize me because she smiles back. We’re almost at her station now.

“Hello, Ona. I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“It almost didn’t happen,” I half-joked.

“What happened to you?”

I tend to forget the state of my face, but thanks to people’s comments, I’m reminded of it. According to Lucy, everything is healing well, though it will still take some time before it all disappears. At least my aches and pains are less severe, which is already a good thing.

“Oh, um…”

I stop when I feel a familiar warmth settle on the small of my back. I turn around to find Lucy.

“We're blocking the way, baby.”

I blush, still not quite used to this kind of comment in public. Shay smiles at me, not helping to ease my embarrassment.

“She’s right,” she says. “I’ll come to see you at your seat later, hoping you don’t fall asleep first.”

I nod, smiling timidly. It seems like she’s remembered my habits, even with all the passengers she sees every day.

“Have a good flight.”

“Thanks.”

I reach for Lucy’s hand to hold it as we make our way to our numbered seats. I sigh when we’re finally settled after all that waiting. I find myself in the middle because I let Ingrid have the window seat, which she seemed to appreciate. I get the impression she hasn’t flown much in her life.

“Who was that?” she asks me.

“Who? The flight attendant?”

“Yeah. You seem to know each other well.”

“Don’t play the jealous card, Lex,” Ingrid teases.

“I’m not jealous,” she retorts. “It was just a question.”

Since she found out about us, Ingrid hasn’t stopped teasing Lucy. If I understood correctly, she has been teasing her since we first met. It seems like I’ve been tormenting Lucy for much longer than I thought. Now, Ingrid brags about being right and that it was about time she opened her eyes. I gently take Lucy’s hand. My gestures are still very timid, but she does everything to make me comfortable. Not only is this the first time I’ve accepted being seen in public as a couple, but it’s also so strange. This is Lucy we’re talking about—the woman who caught my eye on day one and whom I thought was unattainable. If you’d told me a few months ago that we’d be where we are now, I never would have believed it. Plus, since Feli, I’ve had a big problem with commitment, and since Lucy is my first relationship since her, she’s bearing the brunt of it. I’m lucky that she’s very understanding. She lets me go at my own pace. I’m almost glad we’re still in school because we can’t behave like a couple there. It will give me time to get used to our new relationship. The only problem is that now it’s the weekend, which means we’ll be far from school. I’m a bit anxious about how it will go. Lucy looks at me curiously, reminding me of her earlier question, which makes me smile suddenly.

“Her name’s Shay,” I finally reply. “We became friends the day I came back to Manchester in a bad state. She took care of me and gave me a sleeping pill to help me rest.”

“Oh,” she relaxes, starting to play with my fingers. “I hope you thanked her.”

“Of course,” I giggle.

Lucy has become completely different since we made our relationship official. She’s much more expressive now, and I have to say I appreciate it. I finally know what she’s thinking, especially when it comes to jealousy. Although she doesn’t express it physically, she asks a lot more questions than before. That was the case this morning during our study session when she brought up the topic of Alessia. She noticed that we’ve gotten closer and used our study time as an excuse to find out what we do during those moments and also to gauge how much I like her. I could tell our relationship bothered her, but she didn’t comment on it. I kiss her on the cheek at this thought before letting go of her hand. She slightly frowns at this gesture. We’re about to take off, so I want to prepare for the flight before being limited by the seatbelt later. I take out a pair of earphones and offer them to Lucy, but she doesn’t take them. I sit up to see what she’s doing and realize she’s captivated by Shay, who’s still standing by the doors. She’s quite pretty now that I look at her again. I narrow my eyes and wave my hand in front of Lucy.

“Sorry, were you saying something?”

“No,” I giggle. “I just wanted you to take the earphones.”

“Oh,” she says, taking them.

“Shall we watch a movie?” I suggest. “I’ll fall asleep if we don’t do anything.”

“We can. Unless you’d rather sleep,” she teases.

“Oh no, don’t worry. I can change my habits for you.”

“That’s sweet,” she smiles.

She leans in to peck my lips. This simple, spontaneous gesture fills my stomach with butterflies. Maybe this weekend will be good for us after all. Her role as a responsible person will finally be out of the picture, and we’ll be able to enjoy ourselves. I was starting to stagnate with all the studying she’s made me do since last night. It was far from fun, but I can’t blame her. She wants me to be ready for my upcoming tests before we leave, and I am now. Thanks to her and the tons of exercises she prepared for me, I’m now unshakeable on my management lessons. It was excessive, but at least I’m free for the weekend. I reach into my bag to pull out my laptop. It gets stuck, prompting me to lean over to unjam it.

“Nice butt, Batlle,” comments Ingrid.

I was about to reply, but a throat clearing interrupts me. I notice Shay when I glance over at Lucy. She’s looking at me with amusement.

“Sorry to interrupt, but you need to buckle up. We’re about to take off.”

I notice the seatbelt sign flashing above my head. It seems like she always has to remind me.

“Oops. I’ll do it right now.”

I grab the seatbelt and fasten it right away… Well, actually, Lucy does it for me when she sees how I was struggling. A small click assures me it’s properly secured. I double-check to make sure the light isn’t flashing anymore, and it’s not.

“Still as talented as ever.”

“Well, you have to be good for something.”

“Hey!”

“You know I’m joking,” I giggle before turning back to Shay. “We didn’t get to chat earlier. How are you, Shay? We can speak casually, right? We seem to be about the same age.”

“Yes, I think we can,” she smiles. “Unfortunately, I can’t stay long. I have to finish my round and then head back to my station. My supervisor would come down on me otherwise.”

“Oh, well, I won’t keep you any longer then.”

"Thank you. Have a good flight," she says as she continues on her way. "Oh, and lots of happiness to you both."

I don't have time to thank her before she's already off to check on the other passengers. Lucy's hand gently slides onto my thigh.

"She's nice," she comments.

"Did you see? She's cool, right?"

"Mmhmm."

I finally manage to get my laptop out of my bag. Lucy removes her hand so I can place it on my lap.

"Do you want to watch with us, Ingrid?" I offer.

"No, I think I'll take a nap instead. But thanks for asking."

"Too bad for you."

The intercom finally announces our takeoff. I plug in my hard drive while my laptop boots up. Meanwhile, Ingrid disconnects from the world with her headphones and the view outside. The plane begins to tremble slightly, a sign that we’re finally taking off. I glance at Lucy, who suddenly seems tense.

"Are you afraid of flying?"

"A little," she admits.

I smile as I notice her grip tighten on the armrest. I didn't know about this fear. I didn't even think she could be afraid of anything. I gently take her hand so she can hold mine instead.

"Hey, look at me."

"Sorry... It's just the takeoff that always gets to me."

Goodness, she's adorable when she blushes. For once, it's not me. I reach for her neck to kiss her. My gesture seems to have its effect, as her muscles relax, and her grip on my hand loosens slightly.

"Don't apologize. It's okay to have fears. You should have just told me."

"I should have, yes. I'm sorry."

She rests her head on my shoulder, gently rubbing her nose against my neck. It's rare for me to be the pillow, but I love this role too. I hand Lucy an earbud after plugging it in. The plane has gone quiet, which will allow us to enjoy the movies in peace. I'm not sure I'll make it through the whole film, but I don't dare move now that Lucy seems to have found her comfortable spot against me.

"We can continue Harry Potter if you want," she suggests as I scroll through my movies.

"Really?"

"Of course. You wanted to see them anyway."

"Cool. Thanks."

I quickly find where we left off last time and start it in full-screen mode.

"Can you sit up for a moment, please?"

"Are you kicking me out?"

"Of course not," I chuckle. "I just want to get comfortable."

She sits up with a groan, giving me the chance to settle into my seat. A sigh of relief escapes her lips when she finds her position against me again. I finally relax too. Just a few more hours and we'll be home.

Friday, February 5th; 11:05 PM - Barcelona Airport.

Getting off the plane is always difficult. Even more so today because of the position we were in with Lucy. Unsurprisingly, we fell asleep along the way. My limbs are seriously stiff now. I can't be the only one, given how Lucy stretches. We wave goodbye to Shay, with whom I managed to have a brief conversation before landing, and then we head down the hallway leading to the airport. Lucy takes the initiative to hold my hand. Unlike us, still struggling to wake up, Ingrid is full of energy and makes it known with her good mood.

"Who's picking us up again?" she asks me.

"Hector, my driver."

"Driver, as in personal driver?"

"Uh... Yeah, you could say that."

"Seriously?" she laughs.

"Hey! Don’t make fun. Hector's super cool, too!"

"You really do get chauffeured everywhere by everyone."

She's not wrong, even if she's joking. Buying a car will be one of my priorities once I leave school. I'll become much more independent. There are advantages to being driven, especially for nights out, but otherwise, it's much better to get around on your own. Speaking of Hector, I smile as we reach the end of the hallway and spot him in the distance.

"Is that him?" Lucy asks, looking around.

"Yeah. Come on!" I say, pulling Lucy along with me.

"Take it easy, we have time now," grumbles Ingrid, struggling to keep up.

My impatience makes me walk quickly. I'm eager to see everyone again. Sam immediately texted me when he heard I was coming back, thanks to my mom. He was so excited that he took charge of organizing everything with Sophia. He didn't seem to know I was bringing company. At least, he didn’t mention it. He'll probably tease me when he finds out about Lucy and me. I've told him countless times that I wasn't ready for a relationship, especially not in Manchester. And now I've done the complete opposite. As we reach Hector, I let go of Lucy's hand to hug him. My embrace seems to surprise him, and it’s no wonder. We're both far from being touchy people, but he responds without question. I've missed them all so much. After all, I haven't seen anyone since Christmas.

"Hey. It's good to see you again. Let me introduce you to Lucy and Ingrid, friends of mine," I say, introducing them.

"Friends, huh," he smiles knowingly, making me blush. "Hello, ladies. It's nice to meet you."

Lucy isn't one to hide, so I tend to forget myself around her. She chuckles and takes my hand again, likely confirming my chauffeur's suspicions.

"Hello. Thank you for picking us up," she says.

"No problem. It's my job, after all," he smiles.

"Did Mom spill the beans?" I ask.

"And then some," he laughs. "Samuel had to push a bit when he found out you were bringing company, but she told him everything."

I'm surprised. Not that Sam insisted, but that my mom talked about it. What's even weirder is that Sam didn't mention anything this morning when we spoke on the phone, even though he knew. I have a feeling I'm in for some teasing later.

"I see..."

"I've never flown before, but shouldn't we grab our bags?" Ingrid interrupts.

I laugh and nod. I was right again. She seemed too amazed for someone who's flown before. Her comment gets us moving toward the baggage carousel. Once we've collected our belongings, we head outside to meet Hector's service car. I sit in the front since neither of the girls wanted the seat. The ride is peaceful. Hector, usually so quiet, surprises me by chatting with my instructors to get to know them. Thanks to that, the trip feels shorter. Upon arrival, I chuckle at Ingrid's exaggerated comments about the sight of my house. Well, it is true that it's luxurious and very impressive from the outside. She won't be disappointed with the interior... Hector drives the car into the property after the gate and garage doors open via the remote controls.

"What kind of world do you actually live in?"

"A miserable one," I murmur.

"I doubt that, given where we are," she retorts.

"Believe me, if there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that money isn't everything."

If I had the choice back then, I would have much preferred to live with my dad. He earned less money since my mom is a renowned surgeon and her boyfriend has a good position in the Police, but at least I would have had his love. His death left me feeling empty, which led to my downward spiral. It's not something I would have experienced with my mom. Besides receiving regular transfers, our relationship is unbearable. To think that she even blocked my access when I left home. At least now I manage it again. To be honest, I've never really taken advantage of it. The only times I've used it were for my outings, and now I also use it for my plane tickets. Everything else, I've saved, and I'm glad I did. I've always wanted to leave home early, and I'm closer than ever to that goal given the future that awaits me. We finally get out of the car, and Hector helps us with our bags. We thank him and wish him goodnight before heading inside my house. I tell the girls to be quiet since I'm not sure if Joan is already asleep. I lead the way into my entrance hall, gently rolling my suitcase on the floor. I quickly press the light switch to prevent the girls from bumping into any furniture in the dark.

- Ona!  

I barely have time to turn towards the living room doorway before a little bundle literally jumps into my arms. Looks like we didn’t need to be discreet after all. I hoist him onto my hip, letting him cuddle me as much as he wants.

- Hey, what are you still doing up? I thought you’d be in bed.  

- You should know him by now. He was determined to wait up for you.

My smile widens as I see Sophia standing beside her. I kiss Joan on the head, then move towards Sophia to hug her, ignoring my brother’s complaints between us.

- I missed you guys.  

- We missed you too. And who are these lovely girls with you?  

- This is Lucy and Ingrid. They’re spending the weekend with us.

- Nice to meet you both. It’s great to finally put faces to your names.  

- Are you going to say hi? I whispered to Joan, who was curiously watching them.

He blushed and shook his head, then buried herself into my neck. I rolled my eyes playfully as I moved closer to the girls, which made Joan press even more against me. He’s always been shy around new people, but it seems even worse now.

- Oh come on, Joan. They’re really nice.  

He shook his head again, making Lucy laugh, which in turn brought a smile to my face. I love hearing that sound and seeing her dimples.

- Leave him be. He’ll say hi when he’s more comfortable.  

- I didn’t know you were good with kids.  

- My brother is a special case, I replied to Ingrid, kissing the top of Joan’s head.

I turned to Sophia, who had a blissful smile on her face. It was surprising to see her still here. Normally, she goes home on weekends since my mom and Marcus are either around or take turns. I’m glad we came just for this. I would’ve been annoyed if she had to stay just for us.

- When did my mom and Marcus leave?  

- This afternoon.  

- Oh, you could’ve left and let Hector take care of Joan. He could’ve taken him to the airport.  

- I didn’t want to bother him, and besides, it gave me a chance to see you too.  

- You’re so sweet. How are you?  

- I’m good. And how about you? I’ve never seen your mom so happy since she came back from Manchester. She hasn’t stopped talking about the great day she spent with you... I have to admit, I was a bit surprised, she smiled.  

- Oh, um... Yeah, I replied awkwardly, running a hand through my hair. It was nice. Thanks to Lucy, I said, pointing to her.

- So she’s the lucky one? Your mom couldn’t stop talking about her either, she teased. You were so nervous about coming out.  

- Who’s Lucy? Joan finally popped her head out of my neck.

- That’s her, I said, pointing to Lucy again.  

- Is she your girlfriend? Mom talked about her.

Wow, Lucy must’ve really made an impression if my mom mentioned her so much. I chuckled and nodded. Joan looked at Lucy more intently, tightening her grip around my neck. He seemed a little intimidated.

- You’re still going to sleep with me tonight, right? I don’t want you to leave.  

- I’m not going anywhere. As for sleeping together, we’ll see, I said, glancing briefly at Lucy.

I didn’t want to agree without checking with Lucy first. We’re a couple now, and I’m not sure she’d appreciate me imposing my little brother in our bed.

- Of course she’ll sleep with you, Lucy answered my brother. But only if you share her with me a little too!  

Joan relaxed in my arms. He looked at Lucy for a moment, as if judging her, before nodding with a small smile. Lucy must have that special something that makes everyone like her. At least she’s already managed to win over my brother.

- Hey everyone!  

The front door slammed shut as Mapi burst into the room. Sometimes I wonder if this is really my house or hers. My mom had the idea of giving her a key so she could come by whenever she wanted. Now that I think about it, maybe she did that because she knew we were together for a long time back then.

- I know I’m a little late, but I really wanted to finish my project so I could relax this weekend.

She came over to greet us one by one with a kiss on each cheek. She lingered a bit longer with Ingrid, then surprisingly hugged Lucy before moving on to Sophia and finally Joan and me. She hugged me tightly, a gesture we both understood. We missed each other, especially after these last few emotional weeks. She pulled back with a smile.

- I’m glad to see you doing well. A bit battered, but still in good shape, she teased. And you, my little terror! Not even a hello for me? she said to my little brother.

Joan gave her a kiss, but my best friend pretended not to be convinced. She took him from my arms to give him some tickles. Joan burst out laughing, squirming against her, just as ticklish as I am, if not more. I took advantage of their moment to return to Lucy. She welcomed me by placing her hand on my hip to pull me closer.

- Nice house, she murmured. I’m looking forward to seeing your world.  

- We’ll go up soon. But if you want to know the truth, I prefer your apartment, I admitted.

It’s much cozier than this big house. I immediately felt at home the first time she took me there. Maybe she’s my "home." At that thought, I wrapped my arms around her and rested my head on her shoulder, prompting her to wrap her arm around mine.

- You look exhausted.  

- I am.  

- That’s hardly possible. You slept one hours on the plane, little sleepyhead.  

- You did too, remember?  

- I never said I was tired.

I buried my head in her neck, savoring this simple moment. Maybe I’ll actually be able to relax this weekend. I’m starting to think I can.

- Can we go to bed now? I suggested.  

- Great idea, Mapi replied. The little rascal should already be in bed anyway, it’s getting late.  

- I’m not a rascal, Joan grumbled.

Mortified, my little brother hid in Mapi as we all laughed. The sight warmed my heart. Joan is so shy that he rarely gets close to adults, but my best friend is one of the few exceptions. He tends to interact with her the same way she does with me. I hope he’ll accept Lucy in the same way over time. Nothing would make me happier.

You’re right, he’s got sleepy eyes, I finally said.

He's far past her bedtime. Usually, he goes to bed around ten p.m. on weekends, and now it’s already past midnight.

"Are you two sharing a room?" I asked Mapi and Ingrid.

They exchanged a quick glance before Ingrid shrugged. It seems things aren't going so well between them. Lucy was right when she said there would be some tension at the beginning.

"I don't mind... Unless it bothers you?" Mapi asked timidly.

"No. We can sleep together."

"Cool. Can I take any room, Onita?"

"Yes, of course."

"Great, see you in a bit then. Should I put Joan in your room?"

I looked at her, now dozing off in Mapi's arms. It seems the wait wore her out.

"Yes, you can."

We wished them goodnight as the girls disappeared up the stairs. I finally turned to Sophia.

"Thanks for staying to watch her. You should head home now. They must be waiting for you."

"You know everyone must be asleep by now. How are you doing? I didn't want to bring it up in front of Joan, but you're pretty banged up."

"I’ve been through worse," I shrugged. "And I had a good nurse, so I’m okay," I replied, leaning closer to Lucy.

"I see," she smiled. "I’m happy for you... for both of you, actually."

"Thanks, Sophia... Thanks for everything."

"It’s nothing. Your mom asked me to stay available this weekend, so don’t hesitate to call if you need anything," she said.

I nodded, thanking her. I don't like making her come back on weekends, but knowing the girls, we'll probably go out tomorrow night, so the offer is appreciated.

"Goodnight, girls."

"Goodnight," Lucy and I replied in unison.

We waited for her to leave before heading up the stairs with our suitcases. I chuckled as I heard Lucy grumbling behind me. It was far from easy, especially since I forgot to turn on the downstairs light. It must be even harder for her since she can’t see anything. I turned on the light once we reached the top and immediately went to help her. I guided her to my room, where a small lamp was already on. Joan was fast asleep in the middle of my bed. I was surprised to also find Ingrid there. I quickly understood her presence when I heard a noise coming from my closet.

"Ouch!"

"What are you looking for, Maps?" I asked, exasperated, while setting my suitcase down beside the closet.

"Ah, there you are! I can’t find Joan's pajamas," she replied.

"Maybe because they’re in his room?" I suggested.

"I told you so," Ingrid said.

"No, I’m pretty sure you always kept them here," she argued.

"And what do you think his room is for?" I rolled my eyes. "Never mind, I’ll handle it now that I’m here."

"Oh well... I’ll just grab my own pajamas then."

She dove back into my closet. My house is practically her second home, so she has plenty of clothes here. Most of them have been here since our relationship ended. She never bothered to take them back. I groaned as she dropped a pile of clothes at least three times. The girls stifled their laughter behind me. I glanced at the mess she made. She finally managed to pull out a pj set from the now-disheveled pile.

"Got it!" she announced, returning to us. "Sorry for the mess and, uh... the chaos," she grimaced, looking back. "You don’t mind cleaning it up, do you?"

"Get out before I change my mind."

"Thanks," she said nervously.

"Don’t forget your toothbrush," I teased.

"Oh yeah! I’ll be right back."

I held back a laugh as she almost ran to my bathroom. I looked at Lucy, who seemed just as amused. We were probably thinking the same thing. Mapi reappeared with her toothbrush and a tube of makeup remover.

"Well, goodnight, girls."

"Goodnight."

As soon as the door closed behind Ingrid and Mapi, we burst out laughing.

"Oh my God! I’ve never seen her like that before."

She was so stressed; it’s not like her. I wonder why. Ingrid has proven to me many times that she’s not a difficult person. She’s very kind and even supported my relationship with Lucy before it even began.

"I don’t know how Ingrid will manage to stay so calm. Mapi’s definitely going to drive her crazy."

"You think so? Poor thing."

"Yeah," she smiled. "But don’t worry, Ingrid will know how to handle her. Still, I’m a little jealous of Mapi."

"Oh yeah? Why’s that?"

"How come she has so many things in your room?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, that," I grimaced. "Well, she practically lived here when I came back, so she kind of took over my room. Let’s just say she doesn’t get along with her parents, so my house has always been her refuge. But she has an apartment now, so she could take them back."

"Relax," she laughed. "I wasn’t asking for that. It was just a question."

"Sorry," I replied, embarrassed.

"Can I take a look around?" she changed the subject.

"Of course, go ahead."

With a smile on her lips and a curious look, she began exploring my room. It’s quite large and divided into three areas. There’s my closet on the left, my bed in the middle, and a small sitting area on the right. I call it that because there’s a small sofa and a little table in front of my TV, which is mounted on the wall. The colors are neutral, with my personal touch all around. I painted the walls back in the day. My mom’s reaction was priceless the first time she saw it.

"It’s beautiful," she murmured.

"I had my teenage rebellion a bit late."

She chuckled as she approached the wall where the entrance door is. A massive forest is painted across the entire length. I’ve always loved nature. She looked up at the ceiling, where I had painted different shades of blue and purple with small white spots for the stars. My room is really like my sanctuary, my private domain. Few people have had the chance to see it.

"You did a great job. The result is stunning. You love nature?" she asked, making me nod. "Maybe we could go hiking or camping one day."

"Why not," I replied, smiling at the thought.

The bubble that had formed between us was suddenly burst by a noise at the door, followed by it opening to reveal Mapi. She looked even more stressed than before.

"Sorry to bother you again. I-I forgot the cotton pads."

"There are some in the drawers of every bathroom, Mapi," I said, raising an eyebrow.

She groans in frustration and then sighs, running a hand over her face. She really seems at her wit's end.

"Relax, Mapi."

"I’d like to see you try! You were in my shoes not too long ago, remember? Seriously, girls, I don’t know what to do. She’s so cold towards me. It feels like she hates me. What should I do?"

"Maybe it's because she does hate you," Lucy murmurs.

"But why!? I haven’t done anything wrong!"

"You're avoiding your relationship. It’s as simple as that. Ingrid doesn’t like being kept waiting. Own up to your feelings, and maybe she’ll change her behavior."

"I was just trying to do things right," Mapi sighs. "I wasn’t avoiding her… I couldn’t exactly start our relationship long-distance!"

"Really?" Lucy challenges. "I think you’re just being a coward. Do I need to remind you that Ingrid is my best friend? If you hurt her, you’ll have serious problems with me, no matter how much you supported me with Ona."

I had never seen Lucy so serious about Ingrid before. I knew they were close, but I never realized how deep their bond went.

"T-That’s the last thing I want... I’m just trying to handle this situation and do things right, I promise."

"You’re not handling anything right now. It’s easy to send sweet messages and then run away. If you want to prove that you’re ready to move forward, then own up to your words and kiss her."

I bite my lip, seeing Mapi's state. She clearly wasn’t expecting Lucy to react this way. Neither was I, honestly. It’s rare for her to swear or lose her temper. It’s almost... sexy. Mapi can only manage a nod.

"Th-Thanks. Good night."

She leaves as quickly as she came. She’s probably even more shaken up after what Lucy just said.

"Don’t you think you went a little hard on her?" I giggle.

"She just needed a push. Trust me, she needed it," she says, making me laugh.

She pulls me close when I start to move toward her, placing her hands on my cheeks. I close my eyes to enjoy the soft caress of her thumbs. She takes advantage of my slightly parted lips to kiss me tenderly. The kiss deepens quickly as her hand slides up to my neck under my hair. Her touch and the way her tongue meets mine make me feel breathless, like I’m losing my footing.

"Ona?" Joan whimpers.

I jump, accidentally biting Lucy’s tongue in the process. She groans in pain, pulling back. I bite my lip now, seeing her bring her hand to her mouth.

"Damn, Luce ! Are you okay?!"

"It hurtsh," she lisps.

Under different circumstances, I might have laughed, but right now, it’s just embarrassing. Her lisp is kind of cute, though, making me stifle a laugh.

"I’m sorry, Luce... Let me see."

This time, I can’t hold back my laughter when she actually sticks out her tongue to show me.

"Stop laughing! It'sh not funny!"

"Sorry. Please, show me again."

"No, you'll laugh again."

"Ona," Joan calls again.

"I’m coming, Joan."

"Take care of him. Can I use your bathroom?"

"Of course, you don’t have to ask. Make yourself at home. I’ll grab Joan’s pajamas from his room and be right back."

I kiss her cheek and go to get Joan’s pajamas and toothbrush. At least, that was the plan until I couldn’t find the toothbrush anywhere in the bathroom. Giving up on the search, I head back to my room. I stop at the door when I see Lucy sitting on the edge of my bed, deep in conversation with my little brother. It’s such an adorable scene that I hesitate to interrupt. But then Lucy notices me. She smiles warmly and motions for me to join them by holding out her hand. I walk over to find Joan wide awake. He was fast asleep just fifteen minutes ago. I hope he’ll fall asleep quickly again.

"Everything okay?" I ask.

"Yeah, we were just talking," Lucy answers, wrapping her arm around me.

"Cool... Hey, Joan, where’s your toothbrush?"

He timidly points to my bathroom. I really did search for it for nothing.

"Go brush your teeth."

"But—"

"No buts. Go on!"

It’s always a battle over this, but I’m glad he doesn’t put up much of a fight tonight. He trudges off to my bathroom, dragging his feet.

"He’s a lot like you," Lucy teases, laughing.

"Hey!" I say, playfully hitting her.

She laughs, pulling me between her legs. I instinctively place my hands on her shoulders to keep from falling on her.

"How’s your tongue?"

"It’s better. I brushed my teeth to ease the pain."

"I’m really sorry. That was so embarrassing," I say, blushing.

"It’s okay," she laughs. "It’s not your fault. These things happen," she says, resting her head on my chest.

She sighs, hugging me tightly. She must be as tired as I am. I smile, seeing her so peaceful against me.

"I’m glad you came back home with me..."

"Me too."

"You make me feel at ease wherever you are."

She lifts her head to smile at me tenderly.

"We’re going to do things right. I promise."

I nod eagerly. I know we will. As long as she’s by my side, I feel invincible.

"I’m looking forward to tomorrow. You’ll finally meet Samuel. I’m sure you’ll like him."

"I’m sure I will."

"Ona?" Joan interrupts us.

I reluctantly pull away from Lucy to see my little brother standing timidly in the bathroom doorway. I go to him and pick him up. Meanwhile, Lucy has gotten up to grab her things from her suitcase. I quickly change Joan so he can get under the covers. I ask him to choose a side instead of settling in the middle as he does when we sleep with Mapi. Joan listens without fuss. Since Lucy isn’t done yet, I decide to change in the room to save time, picking out a long t-shirt and shorts from my closet.

"I really like your new girlfriend," Joan tells me. "She's really nice."

"Really? I'm glad to hear that."

I sit on the bed to take off my shoes and socks, listening to my brother talk about Lucy. Apparently, they introduced themselves and had a little chat. I'm really happy that Lucy took the first step. It means a lot to me. I take off my pants and replace them with shorts, folding the pants neatly afterward. I've always made sure to keep my room tidy without my mom having to tell me. I finish by taking off my top, and of course, that's when Lucy comes out of the bathroom. She pauses for a moment, finding me in my bra. I quickly cover myself with my pajama top, which makes her smile.

"I've seen you in worse situations than this, you know."

"That was different," I mumble. "I'm going to brush my teeth, I'll be right back."

"Aren't you going to take a shower?"

I shiver as her fingers brush against my bare hip when I pass by her. I'm sure she did it on purpose. I clutch my t-shirt a little tighter in front of me.

"Tomorrow morning… I'm too tired now," I manage to say.

"Alright, hurry up then. I'll be waiting."

I leave her space and lock myself in the bathroom, taking a deep breath. If she wanted to kill me, she almost succeeded. I quickly change, remove my makeup, and brush my teeth. I fix my hair in the mirror and catch my breath. I smile at myself in the mirror to gather some courage, but I quickly lose it when I see how ridiculous I look. I suddenly understand Mapi's nervousness, even though our situations are different. I give myself a little pep talk before leaving the bathroom. The first thing I see is Joan, peacefully asleep again. Lucy is lying on the opposite side, tapping on her phone. I slip into bed between the two of them, relieved that the bed is big enough to comfortably fit all three of us. I wouldn't have allowed Joan to stay if we were cramped like sardines. I observe Lucy, who smiles at me. I barely have time to notice she was on Instagram before she closes the app and locks her phone. She sets it on the nightstand and lies down to face me. She slides her hand under the pillow to touch mine. Her smile widens softly as her other hand reaches for my face to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

"Is everything okay?" she murmurs.

"Why wouldn't it be…? Do you think I'm not okay?"

She laughs softly, running her hand along my back, pulling me closer.

"No. I just think you're stressed and distracted. Are you trying to compete with Mapi?"

I blush, lowering my head. She kisses my forehead. Why am I feeling this way? It's just Lucy in front of me, the one who knows everything about me and who helped me open up to the world again in just four months.

"I'm sorry…"

"Was it my gesture that bothered you?"

She moves her hand to my hip, her eyes following the movement under the blanket. I was about to speak, but she interrupts me.

"You know," she begins, "I know it's hard for you to let yourself go with me."

"That's not it," I interrupt her.

I take a deep breath before lifting my head to face her. My heart aches when I see the look on her face. It can't be easy for her to be in a relationship with someone like me.

"I'm sorry you're bearing the brunt of my psycho ex. You're not the problem; you're the solution, I promise. Just give me some time to adjust to all this… It's hard to open up in a relationship, especially with you. You can read me better than anyone, and it's kind of unsettling."

She chuckles softly, continuing to stroke my hip. I force myself to stay calm to prove my point.

"Are you sure about that? That's not the impression you're giving me. Since we made our relationship official, you tense up at the slightest touch. It wasn't like that before."

"That's because our relationship has evolved, and I don't know what you expect from me. I don't really know how to explain it…" I murmur.

"Hey," she says, lifting my chin with her fingers. "I don't expect anything specific. I just want us to regain the connection we had before. The rest will come naturally, without forcing things."

I sigh in relief, nodding. Why was I so worried? Lucy is perfect with me. I should have talked to her about it right away. She always has the right words to reassure me.

"The only thing I ask is that you don't push me away," she continues. "I'm here for you, and I want to help you as best as I can."

"I would never make that mistake, Lucy… I know you're the only one I need. One day, you'll know everything… if you want to, of course."

"I do. Everything about you interests me," she says before kissing my forehead. "Don't hesitate to talk to me if you ever feel like it."

Once again, I nod as I snuggle closer to her. Her arms automatically tighten around me. They make me feel like I have a shield protecting me from everything around us. Some time passes before she breaks the silence with a throat clearing.

"And, um… I don't know if this needs to be said, but you know I would never raise a hand against you, right?"

"Of course," I reply with a smile hidden from her eyes. "I trust you more than anyone, Luce."

She sighs heavily, letting the air brush through my hair. She kisses the top of my head again, holding me even closer.

"Good," she murmurs. "All I care about is that you find peace within yourself."

I close my eyes, seeking as much contact with her as possible. I want to feel normal again, too. My fears and nightmares are starting to weigh on me more and more, but I have no doubt that everything will be resolved in the coming months. I'm not alone anymore. A smile crosses my face when she starts exploring my hip again with a gentle touch. If I don't think about anything, I can finally enjoy it.

"I'll get there with you by my side… I promise. But… don't take this the wrong way, but I was dreading this weekend…" I admit. "I was afraid you'd expect too much from me."

A genuine laugh escapes her lips, though she softens it, given our surroundings. I almost forget about my sister, who is peacefully sleeping behind my back.

"You idiot. Did you really think I was going to jump on you or something?"

Now that she says it like that, I feel really ridiculous for having thought such a thing. She pulls away from me, forcing me to look at her. Embarrassment washes over me when I see her teasing smile.

"S-sorry," I stammer.

"Ridiculous," she gently teases me again. "We have all the time in the world for that kind of thing; you don't have to worry about it."

"You're right, sorry," I say, my cheeks still flushed. "It's just that I don't want to deprive you either."

"You're not depriving me of anything. Having you close to me is all that matters. You don't have to worry about that. I'll make you enjoy all this again, and most importantly, I'll always keep you safe."

"I already feel safe, Luce. Why do you think I slept so well when we first started sleeping together…?"

"I messed things up more than I thought… Your nightmares have come back, haven't they?"

"You didn't mess anything up. We wouldn't be here otherwise. Stop blaming yourself for something I've already forgiven you for. And yes, my nightmares have come back, but it will get better. All we need to do now is move forward."

"You're right. We'll take it slow. We've already overcome so much, so we'll manage to live as a couple, I promise you."

I nod, completely agreeing with that.

"Okay, it's time to sleep now…"

She turns for a moment to turn off the light and then pulls me back into her arms. I find my position easily, without feeling any discomfort. I close my eyes, desperately clinging to her t-shirt. This conversation has done me good. I know everything will be okay now. She doesn't realize how much I need her. I slip my leg between hers to get as close as possible.

"Can I?" she asks, slowly sliding her hand under my tank top to touch the bare skin of my back.

I smile and nod. I enjoy her touch. She's probably the only person I allow to do so much, even if she doesn't realize it yet. I've been waiting so long for this moment when she'd finally lower her barriers too, and it's finally happening. Her warm hand returns to caress my spine with the tips of her fingers. I lift my head to try and find her lips in the dark.

"Goodnight, my love," she murmurs against my lips.

That nickname makes my stomach flutter. It throws me off so much that all I can manage is a mumbled goodnight into her chest before falling asleep peacefully.

[ambernotember]

Day 59: Flight

could follow Day 54: Alarm (here)

“Hey, Tommy is a flight instructor, right?” Ravi asked.

“Yeah, he does lessons, why?” Eddie spared him a quick glance as they loaded up the tools.

“I was thinking it could be a good thing to learn, you know? More options in the department.”

“Better watch your ankles,” Chimney chimed in. 

“My ankles?” Ravi asked, confused. 

“Buck still has a bit of a jealousy problem about Tommy,” Hen said. 

“Don’t steal my boyfriend,” Buck said, pointing at Ravi and ignoring Hen.

“Yeah, I’m more afraid of Sergeant Grant,” Ravi muttered under his breath.

“Why would you need to be afraid of Athena?” Hen asked, eyes glittering with the possibility of gossip.

“Just like, in general, I mean?” Fuck.

(@118dailydrabble)

on ao3

(more drabbles)

[usafphantom2]

#TomcatTail

#TomcatTuesday

That Time at Top Gun I Got Jumped by an F-5

Disclaimer: This #TomcatTail occurred almost 30 years ago and while I’ve got the lion’s share of the details correct, there may be a few errors but not in anything substantive to the story. Sorry, I’m old.

Getting selected to attend Top Gun in March of 1995 was pretty cool. Back in those days, TG was still at NAS Miramar so a good bit of training occurred in the Top Gun hangar and out over the water off San Diego. Other elements of training involved training ranges near El Centro/Yuma, Fallon, Nevada and China Lake, CA (emitter hop). All in all it was a great experience but it did have a couple “others”.

First, both the selected pilot and RIO are supposed to be cruise qualified, having done a deployment as they would likely become Pilot and RIO training officers after they graduated. Unfortunately, the luck of the draw had it that a non-cruise-experienced RIO got the nod to attend with me which made it just a bit more challenging. No dig on my RIO, it’s a really hard thing for anyone to do, but it made for some extra work on me in a learning environment.

The second “other” – and I know you aviators out there will be shaking your head in recognition – was that when I went through there was a HUGE budget problem in the flying hour program: not enough money for gas (when is there, right??). My CO’s solution was to only partially fill all the jets for each flight (internal fuel only) and NOT fill the drop tanks. Your normal fuel load of 20,000 pounds was reduced to 16,000 pounds (yes, 20% reduction). Not my favorite CO, BTW. I asked “can I at least take the drop tanks off so I don’t have the drag penalty?”, his answer was, in a word, “no.” D*ck. Any other classmates have this problem? Nope. Double D*ck.

That was my challenge all the way through Top Gun; an inexperienced RIO (still love him like a brother) and a 20% fuel penalty for every flight. My RIO got better pretty quickly and generally rose to the occasion, and for my part (having always been a Friend of Maintenance or FOM) I managed to often times sweet talk the Sailors fueling the jet to “accidentally” fill up the drops. I always had a great relationship with Sailors (my Dad was Enlisted before he became a Naval Aviator), so it wasn’t that hard to get ‘em to help me out on occasion.

It was a pretty lengthy syllabus (I counted 28 hops in my logbook just now) with your standard “small to big” training focus. 1v1s, 2v2s, 4v4s, the infamous “Flanker Hop” against high alt/high speed Vipers, threat emitters at China Lake, and Strike missions around Fallon, Nevada. The instructors were absolutely top notch and literally everything you did (from brief, to flight, to fight, to debrief) was critiqued. It’s like applying Blue Angel precision to the fighter environment.

With that, we come to the story of getting jumped by an F-5. As I recall, the hop was a four plane Self Escort Strike (Fighter/Bomber configuration) at the training range around Fallon, Nevada carrying two each inert Mk 82s (cement 500lb bombs). We’d fight our way in from the east on the north side of the range, hang a left at the right time to attack the Bravo 19 target complex to the south, and egress/hook out to the west after that (picture counter-clockwise flow). We were in a four plane and the section of F-14Bs were in the lead, and I was Dash-2 in the section of F-14As.

Side note – one crew per squadron was selected per class so they generally ran 2 sections of Tomcats and two sections of Hornets (maybe a few more). At the time, I was in VF-24 in the F-14A so I got crewed up with another Pilot/RIO [admission – for the LIFE of me I can’t remember their squadron……VF-213?.....31?... ...dunno….it was 1995 and they were flying A’s out of Miramar] and we’d swap leads every other mission/syllabus hop. Today “Stinky” was in the lead (not his real callsign).

We started the run from the east headed west along the northern boundary of the working area. We were one mile combat spread (each jet 1 mile apart) in a line abreast and I was on the far right (northernmost fighter); lead fighter in the B was on the far left and Stinky was 1 mile to my left. Break those hands out again if it helps. Looks about like this:

◄ - Dash 4 (me)

◄ - Dash 3 (Stinky)

◄ - Dash 2 (F-14B)

◄ - Dash 1 (Lead F-14B)

The expectation is that we’d see some long-range contacts (we did) and fire some BVR weapons (we did) and then make our way to the target area and get jumped either in the middle during our turn south (we did) or immediately off the target after we released (we did).

So we’re “haulin’ the chili” as we used to say, ingressing at 480kts and nearing the swing south. Parenthetically, we liked to travel at speeds in multiples of 60 because that made the time/distance calculation easier…..480kts = 8 miles a minute means 16 miles away = 2 minutes. We hit the turn point and start this sweeping gentle “wheel” to the left and steady up on a southerly heading as I get back in position having been on the outside of the turn. Right when we settle back in and we’re all 1-mile line abreast, my RIO shouts out on the tactical frequency “BOGEY RIGHT THREE O’CLOCK ONE MILE!!!” I look over and sure enough there’s an F-5 at one mile away on my altitude pointing right at me. Dang it.

Here’s where it gets funny. Stinky calls out on the radio “We’re clear!”, meaning he thinks we don’t need to engage and can blow through. Well yes, Stinky, YOU are clear because the F-5 is TWO miles from YOU and has no chance of catching YOU, but I’VE got him in my knickers and I HAVE to honor his presence and engage. So I do.

INTERMISSION – I will say that Stinky was a resoundingly gifted Tomcat pilot and was as good at ACM as anyone, but this was NOT the first time he’d left me to engage as he blew through. It happened on a previous 2 plane ingress; I got jumped and he kept going. Not the coolest move, naturally, and the Instructors were savage in their critique but honestly I didn’t have to worry about it after Top Gun because he wasn’t in my squadron. We now return you to your previously schedule dogfight.

So bam, max performance turn to the right to take the F-5 down my right side close aboard to try and neutralize the threat and then figure out what’s next. I figure that if I want to have a snowballs chance in hell to get back to my division, I had to steer the fight properly. So he goes down my right side and I take the fight two circle (continue the right turn, but mostly in the vertical), come out of blower to get the speed down and turn rate to increase quickly and pull hard to get nose on. It works pretty well because the F-5 turns about like a Phantom (meaning: it doesn’t). I get the nose to rate around quickly and pull down to get nose on the F-5 and call a quick “Fox 2” on him. Fortunately for me, we’re kind of pointing the way we were going originally, so it’s blowers to Zone 5 and try and find our buddies. Honestly, I think that was a gift from the Instructor to configure it so I’d bag him and be able to continue. They were always good like that.

My RIO finds them on the pulse scope pretty quickly; they’re a number of miles ahead but we’re heading down hill toward them in full grunt, haulin’ and extra helping of chili. I get a visual and aim for the Dash-4 position to the right of Stinky where I was previously. By this time we’re getting close to the roll in point on the Bravo 19 target. The plan is to do a “John Wayne Left”, where – just like in the movies – we all roll in on the target leftward, one after another. We’ll likely even mentally make that noise from those movies…..”Brrrrr…..Brrrrrr…..Brrrrrr”. The timing works out absolutely perfectly (rather be lucky than good). I’m sliding up into position when Dash 1 rolls left….Dash 2 goes……my RIO gets Air-to-Ground read into the system, good symbology…..Stinky goes….then I go.

Master Arm on, roll left, pull nose to the target, 45° dive set, symbology tracking (a vertical line through the target with a que marker marching down to a release marker), que marker hits release marker, press the bomb button (“pickle”), thump-thump, and we’re off target. I pull out hard, roll wings left to look back briefly at the target (a hit, or at least close enough) and find and join on Stinky in spread again.

The B guys get jumped from the north now and me and Stinky have a couple bogies on our nose to the west. We’ve split into roughly separate sections so now it’s time to fight our way out. Fortunately for us, the bogies are right on our nose, so discretion being the better part of valor we blow through as we accelerate through the number at about 5,000 feet off the deck. Not a good idea to hang out over simulated bad guy country after you just bombed the shit out of ‘em. “Evaluate the bug” says Stinky…..”good bug” says the Instructor. Success.

We come back for the debrief and it goes fairly well. For those that haven’t been through, “fairly well” means you get talked to about each and every point of the flight for about 3 hours. Stinky got savaged for not honoring the threat to his wingman but again, no big deal to me. And then we go to the tapes to evaluate our strike run. It comes to my turn and we roll tape. The vertical line (Bomb Fall Line, I think) tracks over the target, que hits, bombs come off, and the instructor hits pause.

“So how fast were you going at release?” Uh oh. I had no idea. So you know, there are actually limits to how fast you can drop ordnance based on how much testing had been done on the airframe. At that point the Tomcat wasn’t cleared for supersonic release. Conjecture was that depending on speed and airflow that a released bomb may get “stuck” in the air around the jet and clatter around in the tunnel between the engines. On the “good/bad scale”, that’s clearly on “bad.”

“I’m not sure, Sir. I was trying to get into position on time to roll in with the division and I didn’t check.”

“Well, based on what we could see on radar, you joined your division nearly supersonic, right around 600 knots. Then you rolled in, so I figure you may have dropped past the number. Congratulations, you’re a test pilot.”

Oops. “Uhhh…..thank you Sir.” What a time to be alive!

@RSE_vb via X

[voch]

idk if I ever shared my grown up versions of the cups but I updated them today

Cuphead is a famous baseball player on the Inkwell Inkspots, the team he’s dreamed of joining since he was little. He’s rich and unmarried and probably has unresolved problems.

Mugman is a history teacher at Inkwell Elementary. He’s happy with his job, is roommates with Canteen Hughes, and often helps him repair planes.

Chalice gave up her dream to become a race car driver to help Saltbaker feed the poor and needy around the Isles, and now she’s his official assistant. She keeps her Super Art II always summoned as a pet.

Canteen Hughes is an ace of aces pilot who fought in WWII. He’s also a mechanic, flight instructor, and plane repairer.

[quakerjoe]

A CUPPA JOE: 14 JAN 2025

Let's keep on point for a moment and screw the civility for a bit. My sense of civility died with Heather Heyer.

As tragic a thing it is when violence breaks out, TOO OFTEN it is the ONLY language that seems to get through to the rich and powerful since the voices of those whom they lord over always, reliably, fall upon deaf ears; ears crammed with corporate cash and bribes from oligarchs.

"Can we all just get along?" did nothing leading up to the American Revolution

"Hey, how about we don't allow slavery, huh?" didn't free a single slave in the USA.

"Yeah, Pearl Harbor... how about that? And those natsi death camps! We should all be waving fingers at those nations, especially when you look at how bad Stalin's Soviet Russia outdid Hitler but Stalin got away with it because he mostly kept Russian atrocities in-house. Ammiright?" Thanks, Mr. Chamberlain, but no thanks. Churchill's predecessor kept trying to play nice with natsis. How'd that work out?

Since the dawn of humanity, there is a line of trust between those who give consent to be governed, and those who do the governing. History is filled with countless examples of rich @$$holes who just don't know when to quit and they push and push and push until the breaking point hits and these dip$hits are suddenly surprised to find themselves being put up against a wall to be shot, led up a scaffold to be hanged or beheaded. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

We can warn them, time and again, that if the masses aren't being responsibly governed by people who see to the needs of ALL (or for feck sake, at least MOST) of the people in the country, it is inevitable that the masses no longer consent to the governance being applied.

Thomas Jefferson said it well in the Declaration of Independence: "When, in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation."

In other words, government in question anywhere, any time- "You're Fired!" When government agents sell their souls to oligarchs and push lies and create an environment where "We the People" cannot hold free and fair elections and hold the results of said elections to come to bear in favour of the MAJORITY, then we, as a society, as a whole, have failed ourselves and our posterity.

Every industrial nation on the planet has socialized medicine but one. ONE! You guessed it- the U.S.F'n-A. Every day the American people, no matter what side of what aisle you're pitching for, are highly strung out knowing, consciously or subconsciously, that their family's fortune can be erased with a major medical debt. This alone should be as uniting factor among ALL Americans, but the people of this country have grown increasingly stupid, less informed, more ignorant and certainly more apathetic.

Americans have a SERIOUS problem with TRUTH. This is what brought us to this sheep-like state of being.

Does anyone seriously believe the USA was minding its own business when the Japanese destroyed Pearl Harbor in WWII? History classes never teach 'Murican kids about how we helped the Chinese repel the Imperial Japanese forces from invasion. We cover up all the planes we sent to China to bolster their air force and the stories of brave American pilots who served as flight and combat instructors during this time. Covert submarine missions conducted by the US Navy to destroy Japanese shipping rarely, if ever, gets a mention. You know who DID know about US involvement in hindering Japanese advancements in the Pacific then? The Japanese. We weren't sucker punched. We weren't broadsided by the Japanese. We just didn't have the guts or gumption to answer the calls of our allies in China and the Pacific OR of our allies in Europe to stand up and fight when the call came. It wasn't until the Axis powers openly punched us in the face that we finally had enough support to DO something other than continuing talks and sending out pleas for the Axis powers to knock off all the killing and conquering.

This begs the question- when do we acknowledge that sometimes to stop the slaughter, one must stand and fight/commit violence? Is it only wrong when it's against our own rich @$$holes running the show at home? How many people DIED because trumplefuckstick screwed us ALL during the pandemic? How many DIED because insurance companies refused to keep up their end of the faith/trust and cover the life-saving things needed for people to survive an accident or curable disease? How many CEO's out there listen to those who, in the case of insulin alone, literally BEGGED to have the prices brought down to some reasonable level of affordability?

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any form of government becomes destructive to these ends, it is the right of the people to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their safety and happiness." Paragraph II of the Declaration of Independence; just a reminder that the oh-so-sacred Founding Fathers were very well aware that government gets power from those consenting to be governed. When government betrays the sacred trust of the people that put these @$$holes in power in the first place, it is on US to remove them and while through the rendering of laws that should allow us to do so peacefully, Jan 6 has proven that even those pillars of democracy mean f-all today.

So who is going to help us out? God? Jesus? The Great Pumpkin? The Spaghetti Monster? I highly doubt it. God hasn't show up for a war since, oh, ever. I mean, never. Religion has gone from an early stage of mystery where the wise find themselves on a quest for knowledge and to seek the Divine in any and all things while the not-so-enlightened use it like they do today- a tool to make even the dumbest, stupidest, most ignorant tw@ts appear smarter than they are because they were clever enough to tell an even greater body of people following them "It's God's Will and He works in mysterious ways- DON'T QUESTION." Nothing has drowned out God(s) like human arrogance and hubris like 'organized' religion has. It has trained the less fortunate to believe what they're told and to not question anything. Those who see behind the curtain see it for what it is: The Oldest Grift that's still going after thousands, maybe millions of years.

If you think I'm having a poke at God(s) (There are more than the One God- the First Commandment makes it abundantly clear) you're wrong. I'm not. I have no truck with God, and if we, as a species, are truly the recipients of the gift of Free Will, then that's simple enough to understand and it would of course explain why never openly see or hear from God. Then again, who REALLY does?

For example, look at Joseph Smith. This convicted grifter from my state of Vermont, managed to somehow procure unto himself some mysterious golden tablets that only HE could even see, let alone read. He managed to con a bunch of desperate, disenfranchised burnouts to follow him across this continent, to settle in bum-feck nowhere in Utah near a poisonous lake. He convinced these poor, less-than-bright acolytes that he was their new messiah and that they should all give him their possessions as well as their women (meaning their wives and daughters of all ages for him to F'k as he pleases). Yeah. That's Mormonism. That's religion in general, from ancient times to Charlie Manson and David Koresh and Jim Jones. It's not about gods or sacred tomes and riles, it's about selfish shitbags finding a flock of dimwits to follow them and that in places in the world where education thrives, it is harder and harder to find such dimwits to lead in a collective flock.

It happens all the time in the US; a nation continually crashing the education system to the point where it's beyond the point of being a matter of national security because the troops are literally too stupid to work the equipment. People aren't so stupid, I think, that they don't know why the GOP wants to end TikTok. It's an untethered platform where we can see, unedited, what's going on elsewhere. We can see the war crimes committed by the IDF in Palestine. We can see the atrocities committed by Russia in Ukraine.

The point is, sooner or later THE TRUTH GETS OUT. As the protagonist in "V for Vendetta" said- "People shouldn't be afraid of their government; government should be afraid of its people." He's right. In a time where civics is no longer taught in public schools, that's just the GOP and corporatists in government suppressing the truth of how things work, to keep them in fear of all sorts of things that really DO NOT MATTER in the realms of reality!

Racism- an artificial construct that means literally nothing. You may as well hate people because of the color of their car or house or shoes. Nonetheless, it is a perfect tool to keep people divided. It is the tool of white men to keep black people in a state of fear, but is the KKK publicly branded a TERRORIST organization? What about Natsi groups? Churches that promote division and hate? I don't see them getting hit with terrorism charges, but one young man kills some rich prick? HE gets a terrorism charge? How do we define "terrorism" in the US these days? Is it only when rich people are made to be afraid? Hmmm.... Must be. This is why it's just hunkey-dorey for cops to shoot black people in the back for no reason. Kill some rich CEO who is LITERALLY responsible for a death rate akin to 9-11 EVERY MONTH for years?

Gender Issues- Literally meaningless in the grand scheme. Why are so many GOP/MAGA f'n OBSESSED with this? It is something that a very, VERY small percentage of the population is affected by, and still, it's nobody else's business. Just the same, this little prop in the culture wars if waved around, set on fire, and used as yet another prop to divide us all when it takes far less effort to just not be a dick, not let it be a thing, and to either ignore it (best choice of the apathetic) or to take a sincere crack at trying to actually understand it, the sciences behind it, and to get a little smarter (best for those with empathy and a sense of curiosity for learning what was once considered a fictitious thing that people with "issues" had. Biologists have been mapping the genetic spectrum for a while now, laying out their findings to show why some men are androgynous and feminine and others are 'alpha male' douche-canoes, mouth-breathers and knuckle-draggers. You know; MAGA types.

The list is far longer and more specific, but you get the point. There's no TRUTH to 'race' or 'gender' that matters worth a damn for those who are accepting of everyone around them and tend to judge others by their character, not skin tone or by what's going on in their crotch.

Now that I've written a small novelette here, I'm going to conclude by reminding you that violence is often the last viable hand dealt to those who can't afford an anty and are never given a seat at the game. "Freedom's just another word for 'nothin left to lose." When you live in a time and a place where fear is a daily part of your mental diet because some religious nut is going to terrorize you because of your gender/sexuality, it's not right and when there's nobody to help, this leads to violence (self inflicted or lashing out). Everyone has a breaking point.

If you live somewhere where white people cause you to pucker-up because you're about to get pulled over by a white cop and this could literally be your final moment of life, it's only a matter of time before it invokes violence.

Tragic, though it may be, this is where selfish, evil, vile people in power push things, over and over again. They truly bring it onto themselves. They literally turn kind-hearted, loving people against them because they no longer want their boot on their necks. "We the People" out here will, when pushed far enough, bring the torches and pitchforks. There are more of those people than rich people have bullets.

Luigi got a terrorism charge, not because he killed a man. He got it because of who he killed and that the result wasn't as negative as those in power demanded and the bullshit terrorist charge is simply the rich man's way of saying "We can't be having you kill one of us rich elites and we'll have to make an example of you."

Sadly, nothing heroic is likely to transpire from Luigi's actions. Americans forget shit very fast, all the time. They're conditioned to it. I find myself fighting against that sort of forgetfulness all the time. It's why I read books on history, and if history is anything to go by, one of two things is going to happen this year in the USA.

ONE: All hell is going to break loose and the US will have ended its existence as a sovereign nation, or

TWO: Fuck-all nothing.

You know all of those 2nd Amendment fanatics who sit out in the woods having firearm fantasies about saving the world from tyrannical government while have group circle-jerks at their special camp? Well, decades of looser and looser gun control have been put at their feet so they could DO that, even sacrificing our children in schools and other loved ones out there in movie theaters and other public venues, just so they can have they're ammosexual fantasies. So... Where are they now? An ACTUAL TYRANT, guilty of grape, theft, grifting, stealing secret gov. documents and officially convicted of 34 felony charges is about to have round two in making 'Murica a hateful, divided shithole. Are the Gun Nuts coming to save us? Don't be stupid. Of course they're not. If ANYTHING, they'd be trying to pucker up enough to be able to kiss dipshit-donny's ass nice and deep. We're talking some serious colon cleaners here. We DO know that they're going to feel more embolden than they did on Jan 6 and that a LOT or people are likely to die. That's not the use of violence to solve a problem; that's them using violence in order to keep the problems going and they goddamn know it.

In the end, while I seriously don't condone violence, I cannot condemn outright since that's sometimes the only way to solve the problems dropped on us by a government that has betrayed you on one side of the aisle while the other side continues to take corporate cash to do nothing about it. While my heart is adamantly against violence, history has shown us all, repeatedly, that sometimes, as a measure of last resort, when the rich and powerful have left "We the People" with nothing to work with or to survive off of, gets the job done.

There are far more of us 'common folk' than there are rich people, and they forget, constantly, that they need "WE" more than we need "THEM". NOBODY with a conscience felt remotely sad when Luigi put 3 well-labelled slugs into a total tyrant. Boo-fucking-hoo; he had kids and blah, blah, blah... So did a lot of the people he consciously and willingly MURDRERED with his business practices just so he could have... money.

[telesodalite]

Really slogging through this month creativity-wise, so... uhhhh??? Various scavengers headcanons in no particular order??

Putting them below in case it gets too long 👁👁👍

-

: Misfire has freakishly good handwriting. He won't say why, claiming it's just pure talent or something, but in truth it's because he spent most of his academy days stuck in some form of detention writing rules, regulations, and flight calculations over and over again until some form of perfect standard academic print became muscle memory as a side effect.

: Misfire also has an uncanny ability to mimic people's voices and various sounds. Lots of time to kill throughout his life led to some odd talents. Can't hit a high note to save his life though.

: Speaking of high notes, Krok is mildly sensitive to loud noises. Being on the frontlines for most of the war left him with an on and off again tinnitus. Certain loud noises trigger it, causing his audials to glitch and statically ring with feedback.

: Both Krok and Crankcase suffer from the occasional migraine, with Krok's being more akin to a silent migraine, and Crankcase's being more severe and frequent due to the head trauma.

: Krok has a habit of collecting old personal logs and journals from the abandoned bases and stations they pick through. They have no value, but it mattered to someone once, and their perspectives and experiences are recorded within. He's not sure what he's going to do with all of them, but he often finds himself reading through their words again and again.

: Spinister is often incredibly quiet despite his size, and frequently unintentionally sneaks up on everyone. The mix of his controlled footfalls, and softer way of speaking, (outside of stressful moments at least), have led to the others nearly jumping out of their own frames when he seemingly just pops up behind them to ask a question or check-in.

: This quietness makes Spinister an incredibly scary opponent in close-quarters, as at any moment he could slink around a corner, and next thing you know, there's a rotor blade protruding through your chest. As you bleed out, he finally makes noise by loudly, and cheerily proclaiming he "got one!' :D

: Krok is also a fairly tough opponent in close-quarters. While he's skilled in a range of weaponry, mostly shotguns and sidearms, it's when he doesn't have range that things can get brutal. Think martial arts meets some sort of nightmare soccer strategy with a knife. Lots of broken legs and shattered kibble as he brings opponents down to his level, or rather, the floor.

: Post-war though, Krok often gets caught in a flashback, and sort of checks out during or after the fight. Especially at the sight or sound of any spinal breaking or tearing, he'll freeze and has to be pulled back to safety until he's with them again.

: Despite how much he tried, and still tries, to become something of a marksman, Misfire would honestly do better with hand-to-hand. His previous instructors and leaders knew this, and sorta kinda hoped he would pursue it for the sake of actually being useful during grounded combat. But nah, its not what he wants to do. Until he's forced to at least, then he's a menace who has no qualms with playing dirty. Only problem is his lack of training, which more often than not ends up biting him in the aft.

: Krok also sees Misfire's potential, but trying to teach him any legitimate strategy goes nowhere. Usually during sparring, Misfire taunts Krok into dropping any strategy himself, pissing him off to the point they're both beaten and bloody and heaving on the floor, because Misfire won't back down, and Krok is still very competitive at his core. It's a good way to blow off some steam tho, even if no one is learning anything from it.

: Crankcase hates close combat, and greatly prefers a comfortable distance in any situation. Fulcrum would probably rather kiss an organic than willingly put himself in close-quarters with someone trying hurt or kill him. So sparring isn't really much of an interest to either of them. Crankcase pulls the medical exemption card when asked, and Fulcrum tried every excuse when the others attempted to teach him something. Ultimately he was tossed into a few sparring lessons whether he liked it or not. A few kicks and one hell of a punch from Krok, a couple enthusiastic tackles and strangleholds from Misfire, and one very scary attempt to escape Spinister only to end up on the floor in seconds, and he quickly reconsidered self-defense.

: On the topic of floors, Fulcrum is quite the architectural nerd, and greatly enjoys getting to freely explore and pick around through abandoned bases and colonies. While the decline in Decepticon style and grand structural flair post-empire is disappointing, and frankly a lost art in his eyes, he still finds the more practical run-of-the-mill bases and structures just as fascinating, and can and will ramble on about the materials and structural details. Finding remaining blueprints is a rare and exciting achievement that no one else but him really appreciates :(

: Misfire, despite being all for their whole scavenging thing, isn't terribly keen on the whole exploring abandoned places angle of their work. He's not terribly claustrophobic, like most fliers, but certain spaces send a chill up his spine. Something about a place that should be full of noise and life sitting empty and quiet just doesn't sit right with him. Add a hint of his neither here nor there superstitious beliefs, and half of these derelict places might as well be haunted or cursed. Fulcrum finds this incredibly amusing, because, psh, its just an empty building? There's literally no rational thing to be scared of, like organics, or pirates, or killer plants, or blood walls, or small organics, or Autobots, or bugs, or wooden frames, or big organics, or the DJD, or ceiling brains, or cops, or- etc etc. So, get over it, lol. They all think it's weirdly hypocritical tho, since Misfire tends to be the most casually morbid. Totally chill with dead people, just not "dead" spaces. Perfectly fine on the remains of a battlefield, hates being near an actual tomb.

: Crankcase sometimes hangs back from scavenging trips, either making some excuse about fixing something on the ship or not feeling well, just so he can work on a small collection of handmade starship models he's been making from scrap in secret. He's a little embarrassed about it, hence the secrecy, but it's a hobby that brings him a lot of joy. Cons4eva was the first person he showed them to, and after some encouraging feedback, he showed the others, and was a little taken aback and suprised when the rest of the scavs found his creations really impressive and neat.

: After that, sometimes the others would buy or steal actual models from markets and such to bring Crankcase. Misfire is usually the one stealing things, but it was Fulcrum who somehow pocketed and made off quietly with a very rare and expensive model he remembered being a favorite of Crankcase's.

: Generally they all apply the five finger discount approach to shopping. But Misfire and Spinister are the best at it, with Misfire being very good at causing a distraction, and Spinister just naturally having a habit of quietly picking stuff up as he goes along. Krok sometimes overthinks it too much, Fulcrum almost always hesitates, and Crankcase just doesn't often care enough to try.

: Misfire isn't allowed to go out shopping alone tho since the incident...

: Spinister also isn't really allowed to go shopping alone, but for reasons not relating to stand-offs with local law enforcement. He always forgets the list, and just comes back with random items that caught his attention, some paid for some stolen. He bought a giant alien squirrel once. It "disappeared" not long after, much to his disappointment, but everyone else knew Fulcrum left the cargobay door open on purpose.

: Krok and Fulcrum shopping together is simultaneously as efficient as it gets and also pointlessly drawn out. They're going to argue about something inane while going over what goes on their strict list of necessities, then be in and out of the store casually and without any trouble or unnecessary purchase. Consider stopping for lunch afterward, argue over where to eat, then have a pleasant vaguely gossip-y lunch, and then have another argument about the directions getting back to the W.A.P. "Maybe we should stop and ask for directions.", and "We have a perfectly good map, we don't need directions." can go either way depending on their moods.

: That said, Krok and Fulcrum get into a lot of very pointless arguments, for reasons Fulcrum can't pinpoint and Krok doesn't care to disclose. Fulcrum tries to deescalate more often than not, but after a certain amount of snide remarks, he gets very petty about it. Unfortunately Krok is yet again, still competitive, and will dethrone any reigning monarch of pettiness that day if his hand is forced. This is entertaining to everyone but Fulcrum. Don't dare try and interrupt tho, or you'll get caught in the crossfire. Spinister tried to mediate once... it went poorly. Misfire likes to make it worse tho >:)

: Personally, Spinister does not like to argue, and if he finds himself in a heated argument or verbal fight, he'll just straight up leave. Without a word, just up and gone. Won't bring it up either, might as well have never happened. This is simultaneously a blessing and a curse for everyone else.

: Misfire likes to argue, or rather, he likes to debate. Especially about random topics, just for the hell of it. Spinister doesn't tolerate it, Krok will humor it occasionally, Crankcase sometimes plays along also for the hell of it, and Fulcrum sorta missed the whole "for the hell of it" part, and will legitimately debate back because wtf do you mean "is cereal soup?"!?

: Out of the whole group, only Misfire and Fulcrum can really "cook", in the sense that they're the only two capable of making more than one thing from scratch. But, they cook very differently, and the kitchen can become very hectic if they're cooking together.

: Fulcrum is more the type to follow a recipe to the T, very precise with each measurement, and careful with all the cheaper additives and "recycled ingredients" they have to work with. He likes a challenge, but he's also not particularly adventurous, so he doesn't stray too far from the basics. That way it's almost therapeutic, just following a recipe, and going through the motions. He tends to clean as he goes, figuring that just makes it easier for him after he's done. Getting the first bite or best of whatever he's made is obviously a justifiable reward for that effort.

: Misfire on the other hand, is the type to throw whatever tastes good in a pot or pan and somehow make something miraculously edible out of it all. Recipe-smeshipe, it's all about flavor and texture for him. You measure with your spark and your tank. The sweeter or spicier or both, the better. Food is a journey in his opinion, the newer and weirder the neater. If you see an optic float to the top of your bowl, awesome, lucky you! He uh, totally intended to put that in there... totally. Oh, and don't ask what's in the drink, you don't want to know. The kitchen looks like a warzone when he's done, and he's probably not going to clean it.

: Put them in the kitchen at the same time? You'll probably get a very decent dinner and desert, but it's going to take a bit before there's something to put on the table. Outside of the times Fulcrum has chased Misfire out with a kitchen knife and an actually decent aim, and that one time Misfire wasted a whole cake by shoving Fulcrum's face in it, it's mostly just a whole lot of bickering and minor food fights before they put their heads together and compromise. It's a rare occurrence, but also very worth it for everyone else.

: Spinister can't cook, but he can dice and slice like a pro. Krok can make like, one thing from scratch, and that's it, that's his thing, his one thing, but he's good at it. Crankcase just doesn't want to cook, he's fine living off their equivalent of coffee, beer, and ibuprofen.

: The temperature control of the W.A.P is caught in a silent war between them all. Krok and Fulcrum naturally run cold, Fulcrum more so than Krok due to a predominantly hollow frame, so a warmer temp is more comfortable. But Misfire and Spinister run warm, very warm in Misfire's case, so cooler is better. Crankcase could go either way, so he enjoys hijacking the thermostat just to mess with the others whenever he likes it. Ultimately the W.A.P itself is winning the war though, since it resets itself on a whim outside of anyone's control.

: Grimlock isn't participating in the "war", but due to his poor bodily control early on, he fluctuates wildly between being very cool and very warm, and is an unfortunate victim caught in the crossfire -_-

: Outside of the Captain's quarters, most of their rooms weren't originally bedrooms/bunkrooms.

: Misfire's room used to be the ship lab, but he converted half of it to be his quarters and the other half for collecting and mixing the energon they've scavenged. It's like if a circus, a frat room, a butcher shop, and a osha violation of a laboratory got turned into a bedroom. There's colorful string lights hanging from the walls, and an cracked TV that's always on in the corner, sometimes with music playing at the same time. He shoved two berths together and covered them in thick worn cushions and various mismatching pillows. The remaining lab holds glowing canisters full of various organs, with drip lines spiderwebbing haphazardly across them into portable vats. Vials of energon and other various bodily fluids fill the spaces between. Depending, sometimes a partial corpse is resting on the lab counter, only halfway siphoned and emptied of it's internals before Misfire got distracted from working.

: Crankcase's used to be a storage room, but he's converted it into both a sleeping quarters and a workshop. While he often just works and repairs things in the cargobays for convenience, anything requiring more attention or precision ends up in his room. Tools and soon-to-be repurposed junk alike hang from the walls, and shelves and the floor are lined and cluttered with even more parts and pieces. It's very work focused, but there's a poster or two here and there, a small radio to keep up with what's going on in whatever sector there in, and the box of starship models shoved underneath his berth. The berth itself is fairly simple, worn cushions, just enough pillows to keep his helm protected, and a thin blanket in case he gets cold.

: Spinister technically has a room, one of the few rooms that had originally been a bunkroom, but he never really did anything with it ouside of simply shoving as many berth together to sleep on. More often he just sleeps in the medbay instead of dragging himself to "his" room. Other times he just sleeps in Krok's room, because the captain's quarters has the biggest not-shoved-together berth on the ship, and with Krok barely using it himself due to raging insomnia, Spinister's not letting those nice cushions and padding go to waste.

: The captain's quarters probably used to be nicer, neater, and more spacious, back when the W.A.P was just an Autobot exploration vessel, but Krok has filled as much of the space as possible with an overflowing desk, crates full of their most precious/expensive cargo, multiple crowded bookcases, a small personal arsenal, a secret cooler he had Crankcase install after one too many stolen drinks, and that large cozy berth that everyone but him seems intent on sleeping on.

: Like Crankcase, Fulcrum also ended up taking an old storage room, as the idea of taking Flywheels' room just didn't feel right. But besides the desk he maintains for working at and storing personal items in, and his berth, shoved in corner and piled high with padding and pillows, the rest of the room is still used for storage and organization of salvageable technology and more delicate items that he and Crankcase trade back and forth between their rooms to each repair and work on. On the days he's losing the thermostat war, he's got a small heater he runs to keep the chill out. A cold room reminds him too much of Styx, so nice and toasty it is. Keeping it toasty also has the added benefit of warding off Misfire from interrupting his work.

: None of them have particularly healthy or "normal" sleeping habits, mostly due to inconsistent energy and energon levels, but also for a range of reasons.

: During longer trips from sector to sector with no stops and little fuel, they all sort of enter a vaguely hibernating state of fuel conservation. Which just means they nap on and off again for most of the trip.

: All of them suffer from nightmares, but Crankcase also gets sleep paralysis, and Krok and Fulcrum have night terrors.

: Krok's insomnia probably wouldn't be as bad as it is, if it weren't for him making it worse by actively choosing not to sleep until absolutely necessary. He hates the fear and confusion of night terrors, and struggles with rumination while trying to sleep. So, he pushes himself until his body almost shuts down for him. This concerns everyone, but particularly Spinister and Fulcrum.

: Spinister sleepwalks and sleeptalks. Sometimes coherently enough none of them can tell that he's actually asleep unless he wakes up mid-sentence or falls over. Mostly he just comes into someone else's room and stands silently over them, before either waking up or wandering off to curl up somewhere not made for sleeping to keep sleeping.

: Misfire just sleeptalks, both quietly and loudly, about any and every topic imaginable. Often incoherently, but sometimes not, other times it's basically a confessional slew of things the others usually silently agree on not bringing up when Misfire's awake again.

: They're all restless, either physically, mentally, or both, and struggle with falling asleep unless utterly exhausted. But once asleep, they each have different ways of sleeping.

: Fulcrum always curls up, which isn't great for his shoddily replaced joints, but it's a hard habit to beat.

: Krok tries to sleep on his side, but usually ends up on his stomach despite how instinctually wrong it feels to leave his back "unguarded".

: Spinister is either splayed out or curled up, rarely any in-between.

: Crankcase usually sleeps like he's in a casket, and often looks the part.

: Misfire shifts and moves so much it's probably a miracle he hasn't pulled or torn his own wings by accident.

-

So, wow, huh, it got long lol. But also I'm tired, so, yeah, that's good enough for now perhaps. Might do more later, since these are like, very basic ones, and it definitely didn't cover much with Flywheels, Grimlock, Nickel, and any others. But I'll get to those later. Probably. Hopefully.

Mostly doing this for myself tho, just to compile a bunch of random notes in one place. But if y'all read this far, cool <3

Also, if you see some and think, hmm, that sounds familiar? Yeah, probably is. Picked up a lot from fics and others ideas, and it all just sorta ended up in my garbled notes to save as inspiration for fics or drawing at some point. So, it's here now too, and that probably goes for any possible future hc posts as well.

If you see any that sound vaguely like yours, or are something you've thought of before, or aren't listed here at all, then I love you, you're brilliant, tell me more of your hcs pls and thank you <333

[vivaspark]

Ensign Lars: Human Resources

Star Wars AU in which Luke Skywalker intends to sign up for the Imperial Flight Academy but doesn't meet the height standards, so he settles for the next best choice: Imperial Department of Human Resources.

Luke is 16 when he heads to the imperial garrison in Anchorhead with the intention of enrolling into the Imperial Flight Academy, he didn't take into account the fact that there may or mey not be a height requirement for that

But you know, he's already there, he still wants to get out of his planet and hopefully see the stars with the added benefit of getting that sweet sweet imperial salary, so our boy signs up for the next best choice: the newly formed Human Resources department of the Imperial Military.

So, our boy has a great and easy time getting thru the training process, he's apparently a natural at reading people, their intentions and whether someone is breaking some rule or protocol somewhere near him,, who knows why

Anyway, Luke "Lars" graduates and gets his first assignment, which luckily for him is one of the Navy's star destroyers, so at the end of the day he'll still be able to roam the stars like he always wanted

Oh, what ship you ask? Of course, the Devastator, Lord Vader's flagship

Had Luke known why that ship was in dire need of a human resources officer and he would've listened to his instructor and acceped the offer for the Chimaera instead, but he's a Skywalker and he won't back down from a challenge

Working with Lord Vader was an absolute nightmare. Why? Because this man has a single objective in his life and it appears to be giving Luke enough work to last him a lifetime between having to rehire a quarter of the personnel on a yearly basis and spending half of his days writing letters to the families of the "laid off" personnel and trying to explain that their child has left the land of the living because Lord Vader doesn't tolerate soldiers tripping on a mouse droid within his hearing range

The good side is that at least there are enough competent people so that efficiency is not a problem in the Devastator

Luke still has a bone to pick with Lord Vader murdering half of his hires tho. Let's just say that as a little revenge plot he may or may not have intentionally hired heavily incompetent people to fill those gaps while he's looking for actual decent hires so that his boss can share just a tiny bit of his suffering too

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Re the many posts about whether Richard is in pain right now or whether he was in pain at a certain gig:

I have the same "disease" / problems with my back as Richard and the sad answer is that Richard is always in pain. more or less. This kind of problem never goes away completely. It's not even certain that surgery will work. There are phases when the pain isn't bad or you're even almost pain-free and then it can get so bad from one day to the next that you can hardly walk. Especially after sitting for a long time, which explains the video from last year. when he limps at the hotel after the flight/car journey. If the pain gets worse, then injections, painkillers and physiotherapy help (he knows a good physiotherapist;) ). That's all you can do. I'm sure the recurring pain or the prevention of pain is also the reason for his "Marlene Dietrich leg" on stage. At least thats a pose that helps me when standing becomes uncomfortable.

And as sad as it is, I think he can live with it as good as possible and has his tips and tricks ( yoga for example, which can help).

Sorry to hear you have to deal with back problems as well anon 🥺🌺

can confirm that yoga, and other exercizes did wonders for me too, back-wise 🌺

Wouldn't be surprised if this indeed was one of the reasons for the existance of the Rammstein yoga team

(Richard was at this session too according to the instructor, just didn't make it to the photo)

[bekolxeram]

Long sigh......

I've heard that one of the most problematic bnf from the other side of the fandom claimed on Tiktok that Tommy wouldn't be part of the emergency landing rescue because "the controls (of a helicopter and a jet airliner) are different". I know I made a whole thing out of Tommy being a helicopter pilot instead of a fixed wing one. (I even made up a sunshiny airplane pilot ex boyfriend for Tommy, that was fun while it lasted) I have no idea how that bnf makes the logical leap that if Tommy isn't physically solo flying that plane, then he won't be involved at all. He's still a firefighter working with aircrafts at an airport. Unless the writers for some reason don't want Tommy to be in the episodes at all and pull the "not on duty" card, it would actually make less sense for him not to be there.

You know the drill. Don't read further if the discussion of Tommy not being able to fly everything bothers you. Block the tag #aviation realism if this whole topic doesn't interest you. I've hesitated a lot whether I should post my thoughts on this, but I guess this is the last chance to speculate, so here goes nothing. This is my specs for Tommy's involvement in the plane disaster.

First, I want to clarify something. I never said Tommy wasn't on the plane in 2x14. If by flying that plane, you mean actually taking the pilot seat, grabbing the yoke and executing risky low altitude maneuvers over mountainous terrain, no, I don't think Tommy can do it. The thing is, operating an aircraft that size requires a whole team, up to 5 in this case. I can totally imagine Tommy onboard sitting behind the pilots, helping out with navigation or precise drop coordination.

It's possible, even common to transition from flying rotary to fixed wing. JetBlue and Frontier both provide rotor transition programs to veterans, I've also seen a former Army Blackhawk pilot now flies the C-130 for the Coast Guard. Training ex-military pilots to become commercial airliner pilots has a higher success rate and takes less time than training a regular civilian. But you see the problem, none of them have been working as an active firefighter for the past 20 years.

Let's cut to the chase, I don't think Tommy will be landing that plane. In the original film, they decide transferring an Air Force pilot into the crippled 747 is the only option, because they think woman dumb Nancy can't handle it. Aviation technology has come a very long way since the 70s. This MythBusters episode from 2007 proves that not only is it possible for a complete novice to land a jet airliner by following verbal instructions, modern planes are so advanced that they can practically land themselves.

Sure, there probably will be some major damages to the systems needed for a normal landing (landing gear, flaps, brakes, thrust reversers) rendering an autoland impossible, because drama. But then you run into the problem of where the hell is the Air Force. Last season, the Coast Guard was busy rescuing other ships stranded at sea so some LAFD firefighters had to steal a helicopter to search for a cruise ship that didn't call for help. This time, a passenger airliner without its flight crew has a very real possibility of crashing in a densely populated urban area, the whole incident is also reported live on TV news, how can they explain the absence of the Air Force? Even assuming no commercial pilots in the area, including the ex-military ones are willing to do such a dangerous stunt and tether into the cockpit from outside, what's stopping the AIr Force pilots?

I don't think Tommy will be the one instructing Athena through the landing either. You run into basically the same problem. There are plenty of flight instructors of that exact model of aircraft out there better suited for the job. Flying a modern airliner, especially an Airbus, is more like flying a computer than an actual plane. You need someone with intimate knowledge of the plane's flight control systems in order to talk a non-pilot through operating it.

I know, I know, I'm being a killjoy right now, I'm worse than the Tommy haters and I should shut the fuck up, but even if we're going 100% realistic, referring to real life aviation incidents of this scale (Yes, I'm talking about JetBlue 292 again), Tommy is especially going to be part of the rescue.

Real!LAFD deployed a few helicopters in the JetBlue sideway nose gear incident to monitor the airfield and to help coordinate ground personnel/equipment, with a couple more standing by on the ground in case anyone on the plane needed emergency medevac.

I think the first officer might need a chopper ride if they want to save his femoral artery.

In the same incident, a local news copter also helped survey the landing gear issue from the outside. Tommy's helicopter can do that as well.

It's getting too long, but I have a few out-of-universe reasons for why Tommy will likely not play a super major part in this plane disaster arc, I'll just speed through them: Tommy's not a main character when screen time is already tight for the mains (I'd prefer to see him more in later Buck centric eps), he's already saved the day last season, I think production has blown all their budget on the airplane sets, the new trucks and the CGI bees already that they can't fit a helicopter in. (Let alone to replicate the original pilot transferal scene, it was a real stunt, they really got an AIr Force helicopter to dangle a stuntman in front of a flying 747. It was dangerous and hella expensive)

I actually hope Tommy would be working on the ground this time, I would kill to see him working with Buck and the 118, and not in the sky doing his own thing.

[elspethdixon]

Major Robert Lawrence: The Man Selected to Be America’s First Black Astronaut

Though his untimely death meant he never flew above the von Kármán line (the official requirement for members of the US armed services to be awarded astronaut wings), Maj. Robert Lawrence (October 2, 1935 – December 8, 1967)  was the first African-American selected for any national space program.

Bob Lawrence, a Test Pilot at Edwards in the mid-1960s, graduated from TPS Class 66B and was immediately selected as a member of the third group of aerospace research pilots for the Manned Orbiting Laboratory (MOL) program with three of his TPS classmates. Not only was he a superb test pilot, he also held a PhD in physical chemistry from The Ohio State University (the only MOL pilot with a Doctorate). Colleagues described him as a “super guy”... brilliant, humble, and charming. The MOL was a joint project of the Air Force and the National Reconnaissance Office to obtain high-resolution photographic imagery of adversaries during the American Cold War.

At the press conference announcing the selection of the MOL Group 3 pilots, Maj Lawrence laughed when asked “Will you have to sit in the back seat of the capsule?” He was also asked if his selection was historic for race relations in the United States. His humble answer was characteristic: “No, I don't think so. It's another one of those things that we look forward to in civil rights -- normal progression.”  He said that he had faced problems like other black people, but “Perhaps I have been more fortunate than the others in the opportunities.”

MOL was a classified United States Air Force & National Reconnaissance Office (NRO) project to put a series of mini-space stations in low-polar orbit to conduct advanced surveillance during the Cold War. The stations would launch on Titan IIIs, be occupied by 2-man crews for 30 days, then return in Gemini capsules. A test flight was successfully launched in 1966, but the program was canceled in 1969 by the incoming Nixon administration. When the program was cancelled, the MOL astronauts transferred to NASA and became part of the Shuttle program. Had he lived, there is little doubt Bob Lawrence would have joined them, piloting one of the first Space Shuttle missions of the 1980s.

Tragically, his contributions to spaceflight ended too soon. On 8 Dec 1967, while teaching another test pilot the low-L/D (steep descent glide) landing technique that was later used for Space Shuttle landings, Lawrence was killed in an F-104 crash at Edwards AFB.  During the steep approach to the lakebed runway, Maj Harvey Royer initiated the flare too late and the F-104 impacted the runway hard, collapsing the main gear and causing the F-104 to skid and roll down the runway. Royer survived the ejection with major injuries; Lawrence was killed due to the delay in the rear-seat ejection sequence. Ironically, Lawrence had indeed been sitting in the back just as the reporter had joked - not because of his race, but because the back seat of the aircraft is where the (more senior, in a position of authority) instructor pilot sits.

Thirty years after his tragic death, on 8 Dec 1997, Robert Lawrence Jr’s name was engraved on the Space Mirror Astronaut Memorial at Kennedy Space Center. In 2017 on the fiftieth anniversary of his death, NASA honored Maj Lawrence once more, with his former classmates and MOL astronauts sharing memories of his flying skills, brilliance, intelligence, courage, and character. Former NASA Administrator and four-time shuttle astronaut Charles Bolden, who benefitted from the shuttle landing flare technique that Robert Lawrence developed at Edwards AFB, remarked at the ceremony:

“He was the First--but definitely not the Last!”

Lawrence (front row, third from the left) was a member of USAF TPS class 66B. He was the 809th alumni to graduate from the school, and the first black man to do so. In this class photo, he poses with his classmates in front of an F-104, the same model of aircraft he was killed in.

Lawrence (far left) taking notes in class (photo taken from the USAF TPS 35 anniversary yearbook).

Bob Lawrence and his wife Barbara pose with classmates and their spouses at Test Pilot School graduation.

[redfurrycat]

Hallo!

I really appretiate your's Top Gun fanfiction recommendation list. Help me a lot to find good fictions. Can you please help me to find fiction I read, but forget the name?

What I remember about plot:

It was Hangster (or pre-Hangster), both were together in flight school and Hangman has problems with take-off and landing, so instructor put them together in a plane and Hangman can see how Rooster does it. They like each other and Rooster pretends bad radio signal to switch it off and talk together without witnesses. When they are landing there is stronger wind than they faced in training before but Rooster lands perfectly becouse he secretly knows how to fly a plane.

Thank you!

PS: Sorry for my bad english.

Hello hello anon!! 🤗🤗

Nonsense. Your English is fiiiiiiine! (Not my mother tongue either sooooo I couldn't possibly judge, if I ever was someone to judge how people talk... 😊)

Can someone please help this lovely Anon?? I'm not sure I know this one. Was thinking of two, but they're not it, I beleive.

Thank god, we have @the-ace-with-spades to thank for recognising his fic!! Thank YOU CHARLIE!!!!!! <3 slow down (you're doing fine) by charlie_mou "But have you ever thought about what happened after?" Suddenly, Jake felt like the tone alarm was going off and he was stuck in the cockpit with the hydraulics out. "After?" "His dad died before he even turned three. His mom died a week after he turned nine. Have you thought about what happened after?" Or, Seven years after their break up, Jake and Bradley are finally about to admit why it happened. But instead of resolving whatever there is between them, Bradley starts giving Jake heart attacks while in the sky - and Jake has a feeling it's all about more than flying. Going to Maverick for advice might just clear things up for him. (or, I heard 'slow ride' and 'waiting for the right moment' and made it into a backstory for all of Rooster's issues)

Have a sweet day!! 🤗

🐈

[usafphantom2]

SAC Crew Dog War Stories: The Missing Aircraft Commander

T Campbell

@tcamp202

·

6h

Every good war story starts with the best four words in the English language… “So, there I was.”

(“So there I was, leading a four ship of (F-4) Phantoms over the Ho Chi Minh Trail; So, there I was, in the O’Club casual bar in Subic Bay on a Fri night…”).

So, there I was, on SAC Alert in the late 70’s at Loring Air Force Base, Maine when I got a call from the squadron admin. He told me the Ops Officer wanted to see me right away. Well, sh*t!

First, a little about me. I was first term Senior Airman who had just been upgraded to Instructor Boom Operator assigned to the 407th Air Refueling Squadron. I had been stationed at Loring for almost three years and had a pretty good reputation around the squadron. I knew I hadn’t done anything stupid lately, so I was concerned about my visit to the Operations Officer’s office. When I walked in, I could tell by the look on his face that I wasn’t going to be happy when I walked out.

He had me sit down and said, “There’s no easy way to tell you this so here it is: I have to send you TDY to the Alaska Tanker Task next week.” I had been to Alaska once already and had totally enjoyed it. Great flying, cool environment, and it meant no alert duty for a month. What’s not to love? I told him, “No problem, Sir. That would be great.” Then he gave me the bad news by saying “You’re going with Capt. Joker’s (not his real name) crew.” Well, sh*t!

Every squadron I was ever in had THAT one crew. The crew that could never get anything right. Always late for the crew bus, flunking Emergency Procedure tests, going DNIF (Duties Not Including Flying) so other guys had to cover for them. You know…THAT crew. Well, in the 407th, THAT crew was Capt. Joker’s and it started with him. He was actually a really nice guy and a pretty decent tanker pilot, but he was nothing but trouble. He had filed a Congressional Inquiry over something at his previous base and the “powers that be” decided he should spend his last year in the Air Force experiencing all that northern Aroostook County Maine had to offer. He was down to his final month in the Air Force and needless to say, he was sour. The co-pilot was a rich kid who was getting out in less than a year to go back to Georgia and run the family business, the Navigator was a sad sack that wanted to be a pilot but didn’t get the opportunity, so he was getting out in a few months. The boom operator was OK, but not well liked and I liked him even less when he got the DUI that landed me in the Ops Officer’s office at this moment.

Patches for the Alaska Tanker Task Force and the 407th Air Refueling Squadron. The 407th was stationed at Loring AFB, Maine.

So, off to Alaska. The first three weeks of the TDY were pretty routine and everything was going OK until our second-to-last flight when Joker told us that he had just gotten a call from an airline that wanted to interview him. Pretty cool, except that it had to be done while he was still going to be in Alaska and the interview was in San Francisco.

Sucked for him, but I didn’t give it any more thought until later that week, when we had to go to the Strip Alert bird to do the daily preflight since we were the strip alert crew. The Copilot and Nav picked me up in the alert truck, but we had no Aircraft Commander. “Where’s Joker” I asked logically. The copilot almost whispered “He went to San Fran for his interview. Left last night, and he’s supposed to be back tomorrow.” We were scheduled for our last sortie in two days, so if everything went well, it would all work out.

Of course, while we were at the plane, command post called us on the radios and told us to prepare for launch. Radar had spotted a Russian Bear bomber on course for an ADIZ violation flight, and we had to refuel the Phantoms launched out of King Salmon to intercept them. Well, sh*t!

An air-to-air left side view of a Soviet Bear H bomber aircraft March 25, 1986, National Archives DD-ST-86-06589

We had a quick crew meeting, and the subject was broached about launching with just the three of us. I was the first to speak. “I am NOT gonna be party to any of this. We’ve gotta tell them that we don’t have an AC.” The copilot sheepishly called the command post and told them we didn’t have an AC and they told us to keep preflighting up to engine start and then wait.

About ten minutes later, the ATTF (Alaskan Tanker Task Force) Ops Officer came out in the SOF vehicle, jumped in the left seat, and we took off. It was actually a pretty cool mission. The Bear came a lot farther in that they usually did, so they launched another pair of Phantoms out of Galena, and we got to refuel both pairs three times each. Lot’s a work for me and nothing was said about our missing crewman during the flight.

An air-to-air left side view of an F-4E Phantom II aircraft over Mount McKinley. The aircraft is assigned to the 21st Tactical Fighter Wing, Elmendorf Air Force Base, Alaska. Nationa Archives DF-ST-84-07308

Once we landed however, that all changed. It usually sucked being the only enlisted guy in a world of officers, but this one time, it was GREAT. They dismissed me, and whatever was said wasn’t my business, and to this day, I don’t know what officially happened to Joker, but he never flew again in the 407th after we got home the next week. And then he was gone.

There were many truths about SAC Crew Dog life and one them was “Be careful who you piss off because it’s a small world and you will meet them again.” This was true in my case. Fast forward three years, and I was at my next duty station flying, pulling alert, living the life. I was chatting with our squadron commander one day and he said we were getting a new Ops Officer who was coming in from the Alaska Tanker Task Force staff. You guessed it…it was the staff pilot that flew for our AWOL AC. I figured it was three years later and he probably wouldn’t even remember me. His first day in the squadron, I met him, and he looked at me and said firmly “I remember you.” Well, sh*t!

Notes about this story:

This story was provided to me by a fellow boom whom I’ve met on X. He asked if I would “host” his story and I agreed because these stories are total gold and they need to be preserved.

@Tcamp202 via X