#group transportation san diego

[pompeiilimousine]

Riding in Style: Exploring Luxury Car Transportation Services

Introduction:

In the world of transportation, luxury car services stand out as the epitome of elegance, comfort, and sophistication. Whether it's for a special occasion, a business meeting, or simply to indulge in a premium travel experience, luxury car transportation services offer a level of service that goes beyond mere conveyance. From sleek sedans to spacious SUVs, these services cater to the discerning traveler who values both style and substance. In this article, we'll delve into the world of luxury car transportation service, exploring what sets them apart and why they're the preferred choice for those who seek to ride in style.

The Allure of Luxury Car Transportation:

Luxury car transportation services hold a special appeal for travelers who appreciate the finer things in life. Here's why:

Unparalleled Comfort: Luxury vehicles are designed with passenger comfort in mind, boasting plush interiors, premium upholstery, and state-of-the-art amenities. Whether you're traveling for business or pleasure, the comfort of a luxury car makes the journey an enjoyable experience in itself.

Exquisite Design: From sleek exteriors to meticulously crafted interiors, luxury cars exude elegance and sophistication at every turn. Whether you're arriving at a red-carpet event or simply cruising through the city streets, a luxury car commands attention and leaves a lasting impression.

Personalized Service: Luxury car transportation services offer a level of personalized service that sets them apart from traditional transportation options. From professional chauffeurs to customized travel itineraries, every aspect of the experience is tailored to meet the unique needs and preferences of the passenger.

Convenience and Flexibility: Luxury car services offer unparalleled convenience and flexibility, allowing passengers to travel on their own schedule and in their own private space. Whether it's a last-minute airport transfer or a leisurely sightseeing tour, luxury car transportation services cater to the individual needs of each passenger.

Exploring Luxury Car Options:

Luxury car transportation services offer a diverse range of vehicles to suit every taste and occasion. Here are some popular options to consider:

Sedans: Sleek, stylish, and sophisticated, luxury sedans are a classic choice for business travel, special events, and romantic evenings out. With spacious interiors and cutting-edge technology, luxury sedans offer a comfortable and refined travel experience for passengers.

SUVs: For those who require extra space and versatility, luxury SUVs provide the perfect combination of comfort and functionality. Whether it's a family outing, a group excursion, or a weekend getaway, luxury SUVs offer ample seating, cargo space, and premium amenities to accommodate passengers and their belongings.

Limousines: The epitome of luxury and extravagance, limousines are the ultimate choice for special occasions and VIP transportation. With their spacious interiors, opulent furnishings, and chauffeur-driven service, limousines offer a level of prestige and glamour that is unmatched by any other mode of transportation.

Convertible Sports Cars: For those who crave the thrill of the open road, convertible sports cars offer a unique and exhilarating driving experience. With their sleek designs, powerful engines, and agile handling, convertible sports cars are the perfect choice for scenic drives along the coast or leisurely cruises through the city.

Conclusion:

Luxury car transportation services offer a level of style, comfort, and sophistication that is unmatched by any other mode of transportation. Whether it's for business or pleasure, special occasions or everyday travel, luxury cars provide a premium travel experience that is second to none. From sleek sedans to spacious SUVs, limousines, and convertible sports cars, there's a luxury car option to suit every taste and occasion. So why settle for ordinary when you can ride in style with luxury car transportation services?

#Luxury Car Transportation Service #group transportation san diego #San Diego Private Car Services

[opencommunion]

In recognition of Bisan Owda's call for protests worldwide from Saturday Feb 17th to Tuesday Feb 20th, and the Global March for Rafah on the 17th: AUSTRALIA Feb 17 Canberra - 1 PM Gold Coast - 4:30 PM Sydney - 1:30 PM Feb 18 Melbourne - 12 PM CANADA Feb 17 Ottawa - 2 PM Toronto - 1 PM Vancouver - 2 PM Feb 18 Montreal - 2 PM EUROPE Feb 17 Amsterdam - 1:30 PM Dublin - 1 PM Glasgow - 1 PM Helsinki - 7:30 PM Istanbul - 3 PM London - 12 PM (UK natl march, see link for transport from Birmingham, Bristol, Coventry, Derby, Newcastle/Durham, North Wales, York/Scarborough. Youths, join the youth bloc!) Mannheim - 5 PM Torino - 2:30 PM

Feb 18 Prague - 1 PM

UNITED STATES Feb 17 Atlanta - 4 PM Denver - 2 PM Greensboro - 2:30 PM Indianapolis - 8 PM New York - 1 PM San Diego - 1 PM Seattle - 12 PM Waterville - 1:30 PM Feb 18 Boone - 3 PM Detroit - 1 PM Milwaukee - 2 PM New Orleans - 11:30 AM Saint Paul - 1 PM

Feb 19 Cambridge - 2 PM Chicago - 11 AM This is far from a complete list so check your local solidarity group's socials, and if you still can't find anything, organize something!

#palestine #action

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

'Tis The Damn Season

Javy 'Coyote' Machado x Reader

Description: You've made your closest friends over the past decade as a Naval Aviator. That close friend group only expanded when your best friend fell in love when you were in flight school. Nat and Jake are cute together, you can't deny that. It helps that you get along well with Jake. Sadly, where Jake Seresin goes, so does Javy Machado. You can fly with the man, be the perfect wingman, but when both your feet are on the ground, you can't stand him. You're so sure the feeling is mutual. 48 hours in a car with him teaches you differently. Javy Machado is sweet and funny and you might just be falling in love with him. Or have you been in love with him all along?

Themes: Stuck in the snow, showers, shower-thoughts, hate-to-love, stranded in the snow,

Warnings: Female!Reader This fic is for adults age 18 and older, only! There are some fairly spicy thoughts in this part and 100% spicy happenings in the next part! Please do not read if sexual intimacy is disturbing to you!

Word Count: 3938

Author Note: This is part one of two of Gypsy and Javy's story and was written for @bellaireland1981's Winter RomCom Writing Challenge! I had an absolute blast writing this fic for Trope #17, Stuck Together/Snowed in/Stranded. I hope you all love reading this fic as much as I loved writing it! All my thanks go to @desert-fern who was instrumental as I bounced ideas back and forth for this fic, as well as for beta-reading it for me!

Cross Posted on AO3 Here!

My Masterlist

It was supposed to be the start of a fabulous holiday - supposed to be, being the key words. It’s rare, honestly nigh on impossible for you to end up having vacation leave lined up at the same time as your friends. You’re in the Navy, you’re a pilot; it kind of comes with the territory. But what is the likelihood you’d find yourself stuck in a car in the middle of a Colorado snowstorm with none other than Javy Machado? You’re unsure who you should blame because the universe clearly has it out for you.

Well, it's either the universe or Natasha Fucking Trace. Honestly, between mystic powers controlling everything that has been or will be and Nat, you��d pick her any day. A part of you has some sympathy for her. It can’t be easy dating a guy and knowing your best friend and his can’t stand each other. It’s the truth, too. You can’t remember why or when you started to get angry at the sight of his smiling face. Still, it was probably sometime between when he asked you if you needed a booster seat to see out of the cockpit and when he blitzed you on the first of the many flights you’ve taken with him. 

Why the fuck isn’t he going home to Louisiana? That’s what he usually does. God, if there’s anyone who’d know, it would be you. After all, you’ve been flying with Coyote Machado for the better part of the past decade. Every year, he’d cash in all his leave and fly home. Like clockwork, he’d return after the new year more infuriating than ever. But your knowledge of his behavior doesn’t explain why he’s in Colorado. You were both on an aircraft carrier in the Philippines, for fuck’s sake. There had to have been a transport to Louisiana via the East Coast. But against all odds, the two of you had been on the same transport and flight, hell, even the same bus to the terminal once you landed in Denver.

Now he’s staring at the same board you are, with flickering red signs as flight after flight gets marked as canceled. Including the one you were supposed to be on. It’s just your luck that Tash and Jake are reporting to Norfolk Naval Base right now. It’s just your luck that the only transport you’d been able to get on had landed in San Diego. And it’s just your luck that the cheapest flight you could get had been via Denver in the midst of what has to be the worst snowstorm the region has ever seen. Reception is spotty, but you huddle in a corner, praying to all the gods you don’t believe in that your call connects.

“Tash?” Her voice is grainy and barely audible, but god, if it doesn’t make you want to cry. “I’m in Denver, yeah. There’s a colossal snowstorm blowing in. My flight’s been canceled.”

“I don’t think I’m going to make it in time.”

“I know.”

“I know. I’ve missed you so much. But I don’t see a way for me to get out of here and get there in time?” 

“Yeah, Javy’s here.” You can’t control your eye roll as you say his name. “Yeah, I’ll give him the phone.”

“Yo, Machado. Tash wants to talk to you.” He takes the phone from you like he doesn’t want to touch you, which shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.

It’s loud and crowded at the airport, so you can’t hear a word of what he says to Nat. There’s nothing else to do but stand at the window and watch the snow fall and fall and fall. There’s already close to a foot accumulated on the ground, and while you’d been wishing for the snow in the heat and humidity of the ship, you hate it now.

“Here, Gypsy.” You accept the device with a half-smile. “Tash had a pretty good idea, y’know?”

You can’t help raising your eyebrow. Javy swallows, more than a little discomfited at your gimlet gaze. “She suggested we rent a car and drive out to Norfolk together.”

Eighteen hundred miles, and he wants to spend all of that time and distance stuck in a car with you? You scoff, “You couldn’t pay me to do that, Machado.”

“Yeah, I know.” There’s something sad and haunted in his eyes. “I know. Believe me, I do. But this isn’t about you and me. This is about Jake and Nat. They want us there, celebrating Christmas with them. So don’t think about doing this with me. Think about how you’re doing this for them.”

Damn him. Damn him for being right. “How are we going to get a car in this?” People are yelling at the poor airline staff behind the counter, kids are screaming, and Christmas Carols are pouring out of the speakers. It’s chaos - loud, unmitigated chaos.

“You leave that to me. You have your bags?” Before you can think or even respond, he’s cutting a swathe through the crowd, and you’re left standing near two Navy standard-issue duffel bags and your one small rolling suitcase. It takes half an hour before he comes back. In that half an hour, you find you’re glad you’d opted for carry-on bags because the mob at the counter waiting to collect check-in bags descends into an outright fistfight.

Javy’s rumpled, his sweater mussed when he lopes back to you, thankfully with car keys in hand. “I got ’em. We have to head down to the main concourse.”

“Anything to get out of this shitshow.” He chuckles and grabs your bags and his own despite your protests.

The car is old but functioning. It’s tiny, though. It's so small that you’re not sure he’ll fit behind the wheel. It can’t be comfortable when he does end up in the car. It looks like his knees are pressed against his chest, even with the seat pushed back as far as it can go. You’re in the passenger seat because he refused to let you drive, and as expected, you’re surrounded by snow the minute the car leaves the parking garage. Visibility is shit, and it feels like the car is moving at a glacial pace. You’re surprised the roads are open at all, and to add insult to injury, you’re sitting in silence. The radio isn’t working, there is more snow - this time of the feedback variety, ironically - and the car is old, so there is no auxiliary cable or USB cable to connect your phone to. And, well, you’re not a fan of the man you’re stuck in the car with for the next 24 to 36 hours, so the less conversation you have, the better. It’s not even like you can read. You’ve only been on the road for an hour at most when the sun sets. But the roads are still open, and traffic is still moving.

As the minutes turn into an hour on the dark, snow-covered roads, you feel your exhaustion setting in. You’ve never slept well on planes - go figure that ninety percent of the time you’re in a cockpit, you’re flying - but flying commercial somehow makes it work. Strap yourself into a jump seat on a cargo plane, and you’re out like a light. Sleeping on a carrier with planes taking off round the clock and midshipmen screaming outside the door, you’re snoring like a baby. But flying economy? Forget about it. So, besides the few hours of fitful sleep you’d gotten on the cargo plane - because you can’t sleep where Javy Machado can make fun of you - you’ve been awake for nearly 48 hours. Your eyes feel itchy and hot, each blink torturous as you fight exhaustion. The car is so warm, and Javy's silent. Even he can't object if you rest your eyes a little, right?

You wake up to a roar of the word, ‘SHIT’, echoing through the car. You startle, and if you were a cat, you’d be stuck to the upper upholstery, fur ruffled and back arched. A coat covers your lap, the soft, rich wool imbued with spicy cologne. It has to be Javy's coat. When did that get there? The visibility out of the windshield is even worse, if possible, and Coyote’s arms are corded as they clutch the wheel in an iron grip.

“Hey, how long was I out?” He doesn’t even look at you when usually he’d be more than ready to tease you on how you probably have drool on your face.

“Coyote? ‘Yote? Hey?!”

“Javy? What’s going on?” You place your hand on his arm, pretending not to notice how firm and warm it is under the bunched-up sleeves of the soft sweater he’s wearing. “Javy, you’re scaring me. C’mon. Tell me what’s happening. What’s a wingwoman for if she can’t help?”

“We’re somewhere in Kansas, and the snow makes this really hard.” There’s something unreadable in the expression on his face as he snarls at the other, far slower drivers on the road in front of you.

“We should stop for the night then.” 

“No.” He snarls the words at you, and that’s when you know something is wrong. “No, I can keep going.”

“Javy, maybe you can, but I can’t. I need to take a break, hit the head, and stretch my legs.” 

He doesn’t respond, content to make you worry the longer the silence spirals between you like an oppressive living thing. He pulls off the highway when the next exit presents itself. The motel he pulls up to on the side of the road is rough-looking. It’s small and old, but at least it smells clean, or well, at least clean-ish. As luck would have it - because your luck couldn't be any shittier - there’s only one room left for the night. You slap your credit card down on the counter before he can object. He’s Javy Machado. You know what he’s like better than almost anyone else. You may not like him very much, but you can read all of the signs. He’s not the type to let a woman pay for anything, not when he can pay for her. He can take it up with you when he’s not acting weird.

You push him into the shower once you’re in the room, content to just sprawl out on the bed until he’s done. Really, all you're hoping is that the hot water is enough to snap him out of this eerily quiet, angry mood and back to the pain in your ass you're used to. When he steps out, it’s wrapped in one of the motel’s paper-thin towels, and you have to avert your eyes. There’s just a shadow of a smirk on his face as you pass under his arm with all of your clothes bundled up against your chest, trying and failing to avoid making eye contact with all of his wet, glistening muscles. It takes you far too long for your brain to reboot after that sight, and mortification and anger are your companions as you hurriedly strip off your snow-laden clothes.

You’re grumbling the entire time it takes the shower to heat up because it is not fair that Javy Machado looks like that under his uniform. No wonder every girl within a ten-mile radius of base wants to get into his pants. You step into the shower nearly too early, stifling squeals as the too-cold water splatters across your skin. After a few minutes of determined shivering, you finally step under the warming water, coming out in a steady, roaring stream. At least it’s getting hot now, though it’s not as hot as you’d like. You let the spray beat your muscles into submission, relishing the first moment you’ve had by yourself since you left the carrier fleet hours ago. But you’re left in peace only for a few moments. Unbidden, your one-track mind finds its thoughts consumed by Javy Machado again. It starts off with an innocuous thought, “How did a man that large fit into this tiny shower? He could probably see over the curtain rod!” Then you’re wondering if he’s alright. But as your soapy hands trace over your skin, you start to imagine other things. 

You start to imagine water droplets sliding over the ridges of his muscles, skating over defined abs, and collecting in the dip of his collar bones. His hands are big and calloused as they lather soap across his skin and then over yours. Shit! When did you start dreaming of yourself in the shower with Javy Machado? There’s an ache in your pelvis as you clench your thighs together as you dream of how those calloused fingers feel on your skin. You get yanked violently out of the vision when the water goes cold on you. It feels like you’ve been immersed in one of the snowbanks outside. You almost fall as you step out of the shower, but it’s silent. Your face is flushed in the fogged-up mirror, your eyes fever bright as your blood pulses in your veins in the same rhythm as your aching cunt. You inhale and exhale raggedly, trying to get your libido under control. Please let there be a bar near Nat and Jake’s place - please - you need to get fucked so bad that you’re fantasizing about your wingman, of all people, now. 

It’s getting cold in the bathroom as the steam dissipates when you finally pull yourself together and get dressed fast in a bid to escape the cold. But it is still silent outside the bathroom - almost too silent. You expect laughter at the very least when you open the door because your warmest pajamas are covered in dancing penguins. Instead, Javy’s sitting on the bed, staring out the open window at the milling snow, looking for all the world like he’s lost something he’s just found.

It’s cold in the room, the motel’s shitty heating is barely able to combat the frigid snow outside, and he’s not wearing a shirt. But he doesn’t even notice the gooseflesh on the smooth, broad expanse of his back and chest. The cold blue light reflecting off of the snow piling up outside makes the room even colder, casting deep purplish shadows over his face and making the room eerie. You check that the door is latched and bolted before walking back towards Javy. He doesn’t move a muscle when you take his hands in your own. They’re like ice. He doesn’t even seem to care when you put the pillows down and fish one of your warm fleece blankets out of your bag. Bless Nat and Jake for not having a fully set up guest room yet because there’s no way you’re sleeping in this bed using sheets you’re not sure are clean. The blankets you brought are going to be perfect for the night. He doesn’t move or do anything until you intertwine your fingers with his own and tug on his arm's broad, burly expanse. He lists to the side without protest, and now you know something is wrong. Javy's not the type to do anything quietly. He's the type to shit-talk all the way while flirting endlessly. He turns towards you as you tuck the blanket around his big form, and when you move to pull another blanket out, his hand tugs you in until you’re in his arms.

The pinched furrow creasing his brow finally dissipates slightly. Something’s wrong, and you’re not sure what it is. If this helps, you’ll stay where you are. After all, you’ve slept in far more uncomfortable beds with much worse companions. Javy smells incredible, like soap, cologne, and something you can't place. You curl in closer despite yourself, letting him drag the blanket even further up around your shoulders. Everything is muffled around you. All you can hear is your breath and the soothing thud of his heart. It would be easy to curl in and fall asleep, but you can’t until you know your wingman is alright. But he seems content to lie there, brown eyes glittering with emotions you couldn’t read even if you tried. There’s barely any space between the two of you. Every breath you take has your chest brushing against his.

With the howling wind and the tink of snow against the window, you feel like you’re in a dream. Finally, Javy’s eyes close, even if he is still indescribably tense. You can feel it in the arms wrapped around you and in the muscles jumping in his jaw. His eyes fly open when your fingers trace the stressed tendons lightly.

“What’re you doing, Gypsy?” You’re unsure how to respond; instead, you trace your fingers over the furrow in his brow. Maybe your touch will wipe the stress frown away from his usually jovial face?

“You’re being awfully sweet, Gyppie.” You snort at the diminutive form of your already short callsign. “And here, I thought you hated me.”

Your gasp is barely audible, but you’re sure he can hear it anyway. “You never let it affect things between us when we fly, but I know you can’t stand me.”

“I’ve spent over a decade wondering why.” His next exhale is a harsh whoosh of breath. “But you’ve never told me, and right now, I think I know exactly why. It’s just me, isn’t it, Gyp? Just me and everything that I am.”

Your voice feels stuck. Trapped, lost, chained up behind a decade of hatred, hatred which wavers like it’s standing on a stool that may just have had all of its legs cut out from under it. You curl into Javy’s embrace, wrapping your arms around his waist like it’ll show him you feel differently. Because you do. At first, you had hated Javy Machado. You hated his effortless grace, charm, and ability to pick up concepts you’d had to work to understand yourself. But then he’d been persistent, and you’d been thrust into his company by the presence of Nat and Jake. 

That’s when you’d been able to see past the bravado, the mask he put on every day. That’s when you’d fallen headlong into a more profound and long-lasting crush than any relationship you’d found yourself in. But by the time you realized your feelings, he’d picked up on your stand-offish behavior and realized he couldn’t befriend you. Your crush never faded, but it’s evident that Javy had noticed your initial feelings and acted accordingly. But why would he blame everything that happened on himself?

“I know you’re probably wondering why I’m not home for the holidays right now.” What does that have to do with what he was just talking about? “Just chalk it up to another textbook case of me being myself.”

“I can't say I didn't wonder. But it's not my place to poke and pry. Why you're not heading home to Mama Machado is your business.”

“But you can't deny that you're curious, can you?” You shrug as much as you can with your arms wrapped around him.

“Of course you're curious. But how could I have gone home, Gyppie? How?” There's so much pain in his voice as he growls the words out.

He goes silent then, a frown creasing his face as his jaw moves under your fingertips. Your gentle touch doesn’t seem to bother him, just like the prickle of his stubble doesn’t bother you. In another world, in another life, could you have been sleeping every night in his arms like this? You’re not sure you deserve it. Javy was right earlier. You’ve been rude ever since the day you met him. Would anything have changed if you’d acted differently? If you’d been shy and withdrawn instead of angry and argumentative? That water’s long since flowed under the bridge. Too much time, too much history, too much animosity. All you can hope to do is listen. For your wingman, that’s the least you can do.

But your little nap in the car hadn’t been of much use. The longer you spend pressed against the human equivalent of a space heater, the sleepier you feel. You have to stay awake. This could be your one chance to go from rivals or enemies or colleagues to friends. Maybe you could even casually ask Javy to grab a beer after the holidays? But the first step to all of that is to stay awake.

His hands slide up until they're cradling the back of your head, pulling your face level to his own.

“You're not falling asleep on me, are you, Gyppie?” You shake your head wordlessly, captivated by how you can feel his breath against your lips, practically taste the mint from his toothpaste, and how you could kiss him if you leaned in just a bit further.

“It's okay if you do. You barely slept on the plane. My problems don't mean a thing in the face of your exhaustion.” Once again, you're speechless. How is he so selfless? How did you not notice before this very moment?

“I'm okay, Javy. Tell me one thing that's bothering you, the most important thing.” Your voice is the barest whisper, a sigh as he maneuvers you closer and traps your feet between his calves.

“Well, your feet are like itty-bitty ice cubes, Gyppie. The fuck did you do? Stick ‘em in a snowbank before you get into bed?” You gasp and growl playfully at him, pushing at his chest until he pulls you in even closer.

“But in all seriousness, you've been wondering why I didn't go home.” His words are expelled on exhales of breath, just as quiet as yours were earlier, spilling out in stops and starts. “I can't go home, Gyppie. My brother's wedding is on Christmas Day. But it's not that I'm against my brother's marriage. It's more like his fiancée is against having me there.”

You can’t believe anyone would go so far as to ban Javy from his brother's wedding just because she didn't want him there. You cup his jaw gently, letting your hand curl around to cradle the back of his in a position mirroring how he's still holding you.

“You want to know the kicker, Gyppie? She was my fiancée first. She dumped me because she couldn't stand the deployments and fell into bed with my brother days after.” 

“What a stupid thing to do.” You're no longer looking into his eyes, focused on his collarbones. “That was a dumb move, and you know it, Machado. She just alienated herself from most of your family. Your Mama first and foremost.”

His laughter has you giggling, too. When your laughter and his finally taper off, you're left to marvel at how much things have changed.

“You want to know the best part?” You hum in response. “The reason why we broke up was because I was already in love with someone else.”

He doesn’t wait for you to ask or even allow you a chance to get past your shock. His hands tip your head up again until you're face to face, and he kisses you, slow and sweet. Your moan takes you by surprise as you try to pull him even closer, letting him imprison you in his embrace.

“Fuck, this Christmas would've been so different if I'd just told you how much I loved you before we left flight school, Gyppie.” 

This time, you tug him in, kissing him slow and sweet until there's molten lava in your veins and there's snow in your mind. It's beginning to feel like a holly jolly Christmas indeed.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON TUMBLR BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR TUMBLR, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@chaoticassidy @kmc1989 @shanimallina87 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @dakotakazansky @sarahsmi13s @teacupsandtopgun @footprintsinthesxnd @roosterforme @beyondthesefourwalls @mak-32 @thedroneranger @cherrycola27

#star writes #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #javy coyote machado x reader #javy machado x reader #coyote x reader #WinterRomComChallenge #'tis the damn season #gypsy x javy #the coyote and his gypsy #coyote x gypsy

[usafphantom2]

Why, 100 years later, the power of aircraft carriers is still incomparable

The U.S. response to the recent attack on Israel highlights the lasting usefulness of aircraft carriers.

Fernando Valduga By Fernando Valduga 12/11/2023 - 18:57in Military, War Zones

On October 8, a few hours after the unprecedented attack on Israel, the Pentagon publicly resorted to its greatest military resource. While the clashes between Israeli forces and Hamas terrorists continued throughout southern Israel, Secretary of Defense Lloyd Austin ordered the aircraft carrier USS Gerald R. Ford to enter the eastern Mediterranean Sea.

The mobilization made it very clear that the U.S. had become aware of the crisis and was preparing to respond. He also made it clear that - despite recent pronouncements that question their value, given their surprising cost and vulnerability - aircraft carriers are still part of modern war.

HMS Argus, widely considered the first aircraft carrier in the world in the 1920s.

The aircraft carrier is just over a hundred years old. Initially conceived as a warship scout to locate the enemy fleet with its aircraft, the Imperial Japanese Navy demolished this concept during World War II, uniting several aircraft carriers to create an attack force with greater range and heavier attack capacity than a line of warships.

The attack on Pearl Harbor, when six aircraft carriers attacked the U.S. Pacific Fleet in Hawaii, catapulted the aircraft carrier to the top as the dominant weapons system in the seas.

When a weapon reaches the top of your domain, it is natural to assume that someday your reign will end. The Greek phalanx, the knight, the battleship, the warship and other weapons dominated the land and the sea, only to be set aside - violently and unceremoniously - by a new and innovative weapon. Aircraft carriers have remained at the top of the war in multiple domains for more than 80 years, and not even a new weapon has been designed that could replace them.

USS Liscome Bay transporting aircraft to San Diego on September 20, 1943. (Photo: U.S. Navy)

Admirals like to point out that a Nimitz or Ford class aircraft carrier represents "4.5 acres of American sovereign territory". Aircraft carriers are owned by the U.S. government and are so large that they are effectively American territory - a floating island of American power that can move anywhere in the world's oceans. In addition, wherever they go, American territory remains, and their actions are not limited by anyone except the U.S. government... and the enemy.

This advantage is particularly evident in the Israel-Gaza crisis. The U.S. military maintains air bases around the world, but coverage is irregular. The closest American air base to Israel is the Incirlik air base in Turkey, at a distance of 300 miles away. Aircraft flying from Turkey to Israel would also have to fly over Syria, a hostile country with its own air force. Giving Syria ample space would require flying about 160 extra kilometers and fighter escorts, increasing the complexity of reaching Israel. Another layer of complexity is that the Turkish host government may not be politically in agreement with the U.S. government on the mission.

The aircraft carrier USS Gerald R. Ford, on the other hand, can anchor in international waters off the coast of Israel and get as close as it wants (although not very close, since Hezbollah operates anti-ship missiles). Ford's four F/A-18E/F attack fighter squadrons have a straight and uninterrupted line to any point on the eastern Mediterranean coast. The U.S. government can order Ford to do everything it wants, including ordering it to combat, without the need for coordination with a host government. This ensures that the U.S. government, which is not exactly known for making quick decisions, can quickly take unilateral measures when necessary.

The current role of aircraft carriers includes the carrying out of air strikes against terrorist groups such as ISIS, Hezbollah and Hamas, and the dropping of guided bombs on enemies who cannot really react. This was true 20 years ago, when the end of the Cold War and September 11 changed the Pentagon's focus from the war between great powers to counter-insurgency. But although the mission has changed, the broad capabilities have remained the same and the aircraft carriers are still able to face threats on a broad spectrum, from ISIS to the People's Liberation Army of China.

Combat is not the only mission that aircraft carriers can perform. Aircraft carriers can carry out humanitarian assistance and humanitarian aid missions in real time, such as those carried out by the USS Ronald Reagan after the Fukushima earthquake in 2011. While Japan and the United States mobilized to rescue survivors and assess the damage, the Reagan served as a floating helipad for helicopters from both countries in an area where local airports and airfields were destroyed by earthquakes and tsunamis. Nothing else can function as a mobile and disaster-proof airfield as an aircraft carrier.

The U.S. government uses aircraft carriers to communicate with both friends and enemies, both as an instrument of assurance and intimidation. Although the aircraft carriers had not yet been invented when Teddy Roosevelt first said, "speak softly and carry a big club", they are the great club exemplified. Nothing draws more attention than a full-fledged aircraft carrier attack group arriving in the neighborhood, with 44 attack fighters, a cruiser and two destroyers in tow, and a nuclear-powered attack submarine prowling somewhere nearby.

Aircraft carriers can signal the intention like no other weapons system. If an attack submarine appears on your shore, you will probably have no idea that it is there. If a B-2 stealth bomber crew is training to attack targets in your country, you won't know unless they execute the mission. But if an aircraft carrier appears on your coast, it's impossible not to know. It is also a clear sign that you are on Washington's radar - and not in a good way.

From time to time the usefulness of aircraft carriers is questioned. Usually, it is only a matter of months before something, such as the ongoing crisis in Israel and Gaza, proves its usefulness again.

Aircraft carriers have their problems: they are expensive to buy, expensive to operate and expensive to discard when they end their useful life. Still, in a crisis, there is no other weapon system that can do so much before even firing a shot. Someday, something will replace the aircraft carrier - but that day is not today.

Source: Popular Mechanics

Tags: Military Aviationaircraft carrierUSN - United States Navy/U.S. NavyWar Zones - Middle East

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Fernando Valduga

Fernando Valduga

Aviation photographer and pilot since 1992, has participated in several events and air operations, such as Cruzex, AirVenture, Dayton Airshow and FIDAE. He has work published in specialized aviation magazines in Brazil and abroad. Uses Canon equipment during his photographic work in the world of aviation.

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[winterscaptain]

come home.

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Fem!Reader a top gun: maverick fic

a/n: i am so excited to share this fic with you all! i started writing it as soon as i came home from my first watch and the final edits came in last night as i reviewed my notes from my third visit to the theater. as always, let me know what you think! 

words: 16k content advisories:  language, alcohol use, alcohol mention, food consumption, general shenanigans and goofy group chats acknowledgements: thank you to my beta-readers and collaborators, aimz (@ssaic-jareau) and katie (@extrakatie). shout out to red (@hurricanejjareau), my concept co-creator who helped me at every step. couldn’t do this without you!

summary: if home is where the heart is, you hate it when your home has to crash-land on an aircraft carrier. or, what happens when dagger squad comes home.

masterlist | ask 

You hear your name over your cube and stand, surprised to see one of the few admirals in the building standing by your desk. They aren’t a rarity in the Pentagon by any stretch, but they don’t usually need to see you. 

Your phone sits open, waiting for a text from Bradley. The exchange from last night stands lonely on your screen. 

4:56am On the deck! I love you.

4:57am I love you! Fly safe and come home to me in one piece.

4:59am ❤️

“Sir?”

He hands you a piece of paper. It appears to be a boarding pass for a plane headed to San Diego in a couple of hours. Your stomach drops and you have no idea what your face looks like when you meet the admiral’s gaze again. 

“Transport is due in tonight.”

You swallow. There’s part of you that always worried about Bradley dying out there in one of his fucking planes…

“Sir, is…” You clear your throat. “Is he…”

The admiral spares you. “He’s alive. And mostly fine.” There’s a funny little smile on his face. “Be sure to thank Lt. Seresin when you arrive.”

“Hangman?” You ask, your brow furrowed. “Respectfully, sir, what the hell happened out there?”

+++

You check in to the naval hospital and practically jog to Bradley’s room. You don’t find him right away, but you do see part of his team - Hangman, Phoenix, Bob, and Payback - sitting in the little plastic chairs in the waiting area. 

Without thinking about it too much, you hardly wait for Jake to get to his feet before you’re throwing your arms around his neck, burying your face in his chest or shoulder, or whatever you can reach. 

“Thank you.”

You can feel him nod and tighten his grip on you. One arm secures you around the waist, his other hand holding your head to him. 

The few details you know are enough to owe him for a lifetime, so you thank him again. You’re not sure what you say in total, but you certainly repeat yourself a few times. 

“Of course,” he replies. “It’s my job and I’d do it again.”

You hear a scoff and pull back, wiping your eyes. 

You’re met with Phoenix’s grin. “He’s being dramatic,” she says. “It wasn’t that exciting.” 

“Excuse me,” Hangman retorts. “Did you dead-eye fire at a fifth-gen fighter yesterday while it was nose to nose with Maverick and Rooster, destroying the incoming missile and the aircraft, surely and heroically saving their lives?”

Phoenix rolls her eyes. You just know this incident will give him enough ego ammunition for the rest of time. 

“That’s enough,” you tell him with a smile. “Plus, I’m pretty sure you just breached your clearance.”

Bob pulls a face. “He definitely did.”

You grin, feeling truly relaxed for the first time in seven hours. “Where’s Fanboy?”

Payback looks up. “Cafeteria. He’ll be back soon. Want anything?” 

“No, I’m good. I ate at the airport in DC.” You peer down the hallway. “Just eager to see my boy.”

“That was…” Bob says under his breath, checking his watch and looking at Phoenix, “like seven hours ago.” 

“Is that who I think it is?” A voice down the hallway has you turning over your shoulder. “Chim!” 

“Coyote!”

He grins and scoops you up, turning you around in a circle before setting you back on your feet.

“With the Rooster in the coop, the Chicken couldn’t have been too far behind, right?” Hangman quips, that shit-eating grin back on his face. 

“That’s a stupid-ass nickname and you know it,” you tell him. 

He shrugs. “It’s your call sign, now. Better get used to it.”

“Wait,” Phoenix says. “Chicken, I get, but Chims? I’m lost.” 

“It’s just a stupid thing that evolved,” Coyote says, shrugging. “Stupid way to say chicken turned into chimken, then Chicken became Chim…” He waves her off. “I mean, how do you get Bag Man from Hangman?”

Hangman rolls his eyes, ready to come back at her but something stops him. He looks past you and smiles. “Hey, Mav! How’s he doin’?” 

“Good,” a voice replies. “He’ll be ready for visitors in about fifteen minutes. They’re running a couple of cognitive tests and then they want to keep him overnight, just in case. He smacked his head pretty good on ejection and again on landing, so even with the helmet…” The voice trails off and you turn. “Who’s this?” 

Maverick Mitchell’s face is a familiar one from photos and the old home videos Carole showed you before she died, not to mention the brief glimpses you got at the funeral. 

He’s got a place of honor on Rooster’s desk at home, but you’ve always known the focal point of that picture to be Goose in the RIO seat. Maverick is, of course, a recognizable figure, but not one that inspires any degree of fondness. 

He offers a hand to you and you take it somewhat coldly, keeping a neutral expression on your face. Before you can remind him who you are, Jake gives your name and adds, “We call her Chicken though.” 

“Chicken, huh? When did that start?” Mav asks with a smile. 

You shrug, your mouth pinched. “When Bradley was in OCS, I guess.”

“I’m sure I’ll hear the story later,” he says. His smile softens. “It’s good to see you again.”

Sure.

You give him a tight pull of your mouth that could be a smile if you tried a little harder. “Yeah.”

You feel a little bad - you know Maverick had a good hand in saving Bradley’s life as well, but the hours you’ve spent drying tears over this motherfucker in the last thirteen years makes that easy to overlook. 

Turning, you check in with Bob and Phoenix, “I’m gonna head down to mess and pick something up. Need anything?” 

“I thought you -” 

Phoenix elbows Bob and answers for both of them. “We’re good. We’ll be here.” 

+++

Maverick isn’t fazed by your chilly reception. He knows who you are. 

“What was that about?” Coyote asks, finding a seat. 

Maverick shrugs. “As you might recall, Rooster and I weren’t on the best terms when we all arrived. Recent developments aside, I get it. I’m sure it’ll be alright.” He offers a firm pat on Coyote’s shoulder before sitting down himself. 

“Why’d they let you loose?” Phoenix asks. “Didn’t you also go down in enemy territory?” 

“Ah, they don’t care much about me. Rooster still has many distinguished years to offer the Navy.” 

Phoenix snorts. “C’mon.” 

“Alright,” Mav relents. “I had them check me out on the carrier and I was fine. I insisted they send Rooster for a full work-up, just in case.”

Phoenix hums, leaving it alone for now. 

“How long’s it been since they’ve seen each other?” Hangman asks. 

“The poultry?”

Hangman snorts and nods. 

Phoenix shrugs. “Unless he stopped off in Virginia on his way here, it’s been five or six months. He’d been overseas for a minute and he wasn’t due back for shore duty until the middle of spring.” She sighs. “Maybe he’ll actually pull his head out of his ass and marry her this time.” 

+++

You check in with the front desk again to confirm Bradley can take visitors again before you go upstairs. You don’t want to spend any more time than is necessary with Maverick. 

It is strange though, you figure. The only reason you know Bradley at all is because Mav pulled his papers. It makes you smile, remembering back to undergrad at UVA, more than a decade ago. 

“Excuse me!” 

You turn and smile, finding a tall and sort-of cute (mostly tall) guy jogging up to you. 

“Do you know where I can find…um…” He checks his phone. “Professor Taylor? I have office hours and I’m late.” 

You nod. “I just came from her office.” You turn and point at the building a little ways down the path. “Head over there and she’s on the third floor. The elevator’s broken, though, so you’ll have to go up the stairs on the outside of the building.” 

He heaves a breath. “Thank you. You don’t happen to be in 312 with her, do you?” 

“Yeah,” you tell him. “I sit behind you.” 

He (you suppose unconsciously) brings his hand to the back of his head. “Really?” 

“Yeah, really.” You put an earbud back in. “I’ll be there Thursday. Don’t be later than you already are!” 

“Oh, shit.” He takes off at a run and hops backward for a moment, facing you. “Thanks!” 

You step out of the elevator and make your way down the hall, bypassing the team in a hurry. A couple of them stand to greet you, but you can see Bradley through the window and that’s your sole focus. 

He’s in pajamas - well, a UVA shirt and pair of joggers - rather than a gown. That alone is enough to keep your blood pressure down. He looks fine from here…

“Christ, baby! What are you doing he-”

Your lips on his are enough to shut him up. He lets out a little breath, melting into you. His arms slide around you, stealing your breath as your hands knead into the hair at the base of his neck. He flinches a little and you pull back immediately, letting go. 

“Sorry.” 

He shakes his head, his mega-watt grin blinding you. “You’re fine. You’re perfect. Hi.” His hand pulls from your waist, coming up to rest against your cheek. “When did you get in?” 

“About an hour ago.” You slide a hand down the outside of his arm, holding his hand to your cheek. You kiss his palm. “I missed you.” 

“Missed you, too,” he says, nearly at a whisper. 

You shuffle so you can wrap your arms around him and burrow deep, holding him as tight as you can. “You’re not allowed to crash planes anymore, okay?”

He chuckles. “No promises, sweetheart.” 

You stand there for a moment, swaying a little. The nurses are kind enough to leave you alone for a second. He smells the same - something warm and sunshiny, with a touch of jet fuel, canvas, and something clean and cozy.

“You scared the fuck outta me.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says. He means it. “I’ve got some stuff I want to talk to you about, too.” 

Your stomach drops and you lean back to look at him. 

“Ah, shit. Sorry. That’s - that’s not how I wanted to phrase that.” He smiles at you and your heart unclenches. “I just wanted to fill you in on a couple of things. But I want to hear about what you’re working on, first.”

He lets you guide him to the bed, where he settles in among the pillows and pulls you with him. 

You curl into his side and start telling him about the project you’re working on at the Pentagon - at least the basic details he’s allowed to know - for a few seconds before he interrupts you. 

“Wait, how did you get here?” 

You twist around to look at him. “Do I need to send you back for more concussion screening?” 

He rolls his eyes. “No, I mean -”

“I got here in a commercial airliner. They’re significantly bigger than the planes you fly, but I think you’ve seen them before? Maybe a Boeing 777?” 

“Shut up. You know what I mean.” 

You smile and relent. “Yeah, alright. My boss said, verbatim, ‘given your highly-decorated boyfriend got blown up in enemy airspace and crash-landed an F-14 on a carrier less than twelve hours ago, you can take a couple of days off.’” 

“He sounds cool.” 

“He’s reasonable.” 

There’s quiet for a moment. You breathe deeply, letting out a long, relieved sigh. Bradley’s fingers trace patterns on your shoulder somewhat absently. 

“Hey,” he says. 

You look up. 

“Does it bug you that we’ve been together so long and I’ve never asked you to marry me?”

You swallow to cover the bolt of adrenaline shot into your system. “You’ve asked me to marry you plenty of times.”

A cup of coffee lands in his hands after a bad night of sleep. You sit beside him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. 

“Marry me,” he says, smiling.

You laugh. “No.”

He mimes stabbing himself in the gut, twisting and pulling the invisible blade. “You wound me, my lady.”

“Call me when you’ve got a ring, honey.”

And it’s true. Except on paper and in the eyes of the Navy, for all intents and purposes, you’re married. 

“Yeah, but seriously,” he says. He almost sounds concerned. 

You sit up a little, bracing yourself on your arm so you can look at him. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well…” He looks anywhere but you, surprisingly bashful. “I just…I don’t want you to feel that I take you for granted.”

“I don’t feel that way,” you tell him, quickly. “Not at all.”

“I know. But you deserve better than just a long-time boyfriend who’s too busy to get his shit together and lock you down already.”

You huff a laugh. “Last I checked, I’m not dating Jake.”

Bradley rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. It’s been a long time.”

“Yeah, I do, and it has.” Your free hand shakes as you run it over his collar and down his chest. “But I’m fine, baby. You know that. I’m in no rush.”

“You’ve thought about it, right? Making it official?” He asks. 

The genuine insecurity in his voice makes you smile. “Don’t be stupid. Of course I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought about it since our fourth date.”

“Fourth?” Now he just sounds offended. 

You push at his shoulder. “Fourth. You know what you did on the third.”

He tips his head. You’re right. 

There’s quiet for another moment. 

“Bradley Bradshaw,” you start. He really does have a goofy, delightful name, doesn’t he? “When we’ve got time, we’ll make it happen. I don’t need time or a ring or a wedding when I’ve got you coming home with me after the Navy’s had her way with you.”

“You make us sound like swingers.”

You laugh. “Well, the Navy isn’t your mistress and neither am I, so I’ll leave you to do the math on that one.”

“Fair enough,” he says. He pulls you down beside him and kisses your forehead, tipping your chin up for something a little more proper. It’s easy to melt into him.

“But seriously,” he continues. “I want to marry the hell out of you and I love you. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” you tell him. “That’s definitely okay.” You pause for a second. “But when you’re actually ready to ask, you better do it for real so I know you’re not joking this time.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

+++

You run into a three-star admiral at the coffee bar later in the evening. He taps your shoulder and says your name. You throw your headphones off your ears and around your neck, looking over at him. 

“Sir?” 

“They call you Chicken, don’t they?” 

You can’t help but smile a little. “Should my ears be burning, sir?” 

“Only a little,” he says. He offers a hand. “Admiral Simpson.” 

You take it. “I’ve heard lots about you, Admiral. My supervisor at the Pentagon was class of ‘93 at Top Gun.” 

“Ah. Thunder is a friend. I’m glad to hear he’s still working his magic over there.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Shall we?” He gestures down the hall and you nod, walking a little ahead of him through the door. 

You walk with him in silence for a little while. At this point, you’ve grown immune to the intimidation factor of high-ranking Navy officers (especially pilots). You know they’re all, at least on the inside, little kids who love planes. Plus, anyone who willingly gets into a two-billion-dollar bomb for a day job has to be a little crazy.

“I was talking to Thunder this morning, actually.” 

Your step only falters a little bit, but you wait for him to say more. 

“I hear the work you’re doing at the Pentagon is important.” 

“Yes, sir. I think so.” You offer him a small smile and he returns it. 

He stops a little ways outside Bradley’s door. You join him, keeping your eyes affixed to the nurse schedule on the whiteboard across the way. “I also hear that you request a transfer every time Rooster is stationed somewhere new.” 

You shrug. “I make an effort. Since he’s been overseas so much the last year or so, I’ve settled in at the Pentagon a little bit more.” 

“We spoke a bit this morning about transferring your contract to NIWC Pacific. There are a couple of projects relevant to your current work that we’d like to have you lead down here, if you’re interested.” 

You blink a couple of times. “When would that transfer go into effect?” 

“Not this Monday, but the Monday after. You’d theoretically have the rest of this week off and next week would be spent facilitating the first part of the responsibility transfer among your Pentagon team. Of course, the Navy would be happy to assist with relocation, as your permanent address is also Rooster’s.” He sighs, almost sounding regretful. 

“Sir?” 

“Of course, this would be easier if you were married, but that’s neither here nor there.” He smiles at you and starts to walk away. “Just think about the transfer. Thunder will reach out soon for your official word.”

+++

“So,” Bradley says without preamble, “about Maverick.” 

You look over at him, a question in your eyes.

Bradley seems to struggle with his words for a second. “We both saved each others’ asses out there. I’d be dead without him.” 

There’s silence for a second. You know he’ll get there eventually. 

“He’s the closest thing to a father I remember and it was… weird being around him again.” 

He reaches out and you take his hand. His thumb passes back and forth over your knuckles, treating them almost like a worry stone. 

Bradley flies down the hill on his bike, going way too fast, but he can’t feel fear over the rush of the wind on his face. He pedals faster… faster… faster. 

Before he can blink, he’s upside down, tumbling over the handlebars and onto the asphalt. He lands on his arm and something doesn’t feel right. He licks his lips and wipes his nose of what he’s sure is sweat. It comes off his chin red, dripping onto the pavement. 

He’s stunned, frankly. There’s something in his nine-year-old brain that can’t grasp the concept of his own lack of invincibility. 

All at once, the pain starts and he begins to wail in earnest, yelling for his mom, or Mav, or whoever might be around. 

Maverick hears him first. He’s sitting at the Bradshaws’ kitchen table, nursing a beer in the sunshine from the window. Faster than the jet he flies daily, he rockets out of his seat, throwing the door open and hopping the porch fencing, bracing his fall with his hands before finding his feet again. He can see Bradley down the hill on the street, small and blond and covered in dirt and blood. 

“Mav!”

“I’m coming, buddy! Hold on.”

Pete isn’t even breathless when he gets to Bradley, scooping him onto his hip with one arm and rescuing his bike with the other. 

He can’t bring himself to care that his white v-neck is soaking up the blood from Bradley’s bloody forehead. He holds him tightly, tighter when Bradley burrows further into him. 

“It’s okay, bud. We’ll sort you out.”

Mav opens the door and calls out for Carole, his voice loud but calm. He kisses Bradley’s head and sets him down on the counter next to the sink. “Alright, buddy. Let’s see what we’re working with.”

Bradley’s sobs have calmed to hiccups and he refuses to let go of his arm, hugging it to his body. Mav figures ten minutes won’t matter much for that. 

Carole is admirably calm as she joins them, washing the garden off her hands before retrieving the first aid kit in the bathroom. 

With gentle hands, Mav cleans the dirt out of the cut on Bradley’s forehead and the scrapes on his chin and nose. Carole gives them space after a moment, watching Maverick talk quietly to Bradley, narrating his movement and giving him a hard time about “using the afterburner on the descent.”

It makes her smile. 

“I’m ready for him to be back in my life again, I think. Losing Ice has been…” He pauses. “It’s been hard and weird and I need what’s left of my family, I think.” He looks at you. “What do you think?”

“I think if you’re ready to move on, that’s a good thing.” You think for a moment and add, “I’m glad you and Mav had some time together. It’s been a long time.” 

You sit with Ice in the waiting room. He has a hand on your shoulder, warm and solid. The two of you get to your feet when Bradley returns, looking like he’s aged a decade in the past twenty-four hours. 

“How is she?” You ask. 

He shakes his head. “Fading fast.”

Ice’s hand slides off your shoulder as you leave him, crossing the room to take Bradley in your arms. He holds you tightly, burrowing into you, his eyes squeezing shut. 

His breath catches and you adjust your grip, holding even tighter. Tears land on your shoulder. 

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

He takes a shuddering breath. “She wants to see you if you’re up to it.” He looks over your shoulder. “You too, Uncle Ice.”

You lead the way down the hall, Ice following behind you. He’s like a looming shadow: lean, strong, and intimidating. 

Carole looks awfully small, but they’ve removed all the tubes and wires. She smiles at you, soft, before her gaze shifts to Ice. 

“Come here, you two.”

You take a seat to her left, by her head. Ice takes the one next to you. Carole holds his hand.

“I’ve asked Bradley to consider forgiving Pete, but I know he won’t for a long time.” She pauses. “You two are the only family he has left, in his mind. I know you’ll take care of him, but you need to take care of each other, too.”

“You got it, Carole,” Ice says, the side of his mouth lifting in a handsome, crooked smile. “Mav’s at our wing, too. Flying low-vis.”

She smiles at you, sharing a moment only the Navy-adjacent can truly appreciate. Her gaze grows serious and she looks at Ice. “Get Bradley back home and call Maverick, please. He’s the only one allowed to be here when I die.”

You’ll never forget the look of hollow grief on Maverick’s face when you saw him for the first time the next morning. You were left alone as Bradley brushed past him without a word and stepped into the room to see his mother’s body, to say goodbye. 

Maverick doesn’t speak and neither do you. When Bradley returns, Maverick reaches out. 

Bradley pulls away with a roll of his shoulder, taking your hand. “C’mon,” he says to you. “There’s a lot of stuff to do.” 

You don’t see Maverick, watching you go, feeling more alone than he has in his entire life. 

“Yeah. It’s nice to understand him a little bit better as an adult.” He shrugs. “I really hated him for pulling my papers but I know he was just…” He heaves a sigh. “He’s just trying to do right by me, I think. I didn’t get that before.” 

“That’s understandable.” You trace little patterns on his shirt. “He hurt you, held you back. You’d be insane not to be at least a little mad.” 

He hums again. “I guess. I did meet you, though, so it’s not all bad.” 

“No?” You ask, smiling. “Not all bad?” 

“No,” he replies. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “And I was thinking about how shitty I’ve been about that - I can’t imagine how me griping about my wasted time at UVA made you feel. I’m really sorry.” 

You shake your head. “I understood the implicit exception.” 

“It was still insensitive. Mav said something about that today and it kind of clicked. So…” He sighs. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like it was a mistake or a fluke that I met you.” 

“You’re the dumbest man alive, you know that?” You pat his chest. “And don’t you think I would have told you if that hurt my feelings?” 

He snorts. “Now, yeah. Ten years ago? No.” 

“Fair enough,” you reply, squeezing his hand. 

He smiles. “I guess what I’m really saying is, be nice to him. I’m sure he’ll want to get to know you.” 

“Alright. I’ll do my best.” You return his smile and kiss the back of his hand. “I love you, you know.” 

“I do know that, yes,” he replies with a smile. “And I love you.” 

+++

Bradley reaches for his phone and you hand it to him without looking up from your tablet. 

“I can get it, you know. I’m not actually injured.” 

You smile sweetly at him and he rolls his eyes. He fires off a text to Hangman. 

9:03pm I need a favor. 

Jake replies immediately. 9:03pm I just saved your life and you need another favor?

9:03pm It’s easy I promise.

Jake doesn’t reply, so Bradley sends his request anyway. 

9:04pm Can you or Mav grab Chims and take her to the hotel? She needs to sleep and I need to make a phone call before it gets too late.

The response is instant. 9:04pm Wait are you finally pulling the trigger??? 

Bradley stuffs his grin. 9:05pm If you say anything, I’ll ironically kill you. 

9:05pm I always wanted an unironic and heroic death. Just for that, you get Mav. 

9:05pm Thanks. Seriously dont say anything i swear 

He sends another text to a friend, Lt. Gavin “Stub” Alonso in Virginia - one who has keys to your shared apartment. 

9:05pm Are you still up/can you help me with something?

Stub replies promptly, thankfully. 9:05pm I’m up. All good in SD? 

9:06pm All good. Need a favor. Can you drive to the apt and call me? 9:06pm I need something shipped ASAP. 

9:07pm Easy. I’ll be there in 20 mins. 

He gets a final text from Hangman. 9:07pm I wont!! Who do you think I am? 9:07pm Don’t answer that.

Bradley puts his phone down and leans back against the pillows. “Hey, when’s the last time you slept?” 

“What?” You look over at him again looking admittedly a little dazed.

“I asked when’s the last time you slept.”

“I slept last night. Why?”

“I just know you’re still on East Coast time, so I wanted to make sure that you’re able to get back to the hotel tonight.”

You clamber out of the chair, setting your tablet aside, and sit next to him on the bed. “I’m fine.” You offer a pinkie to him. “I promise.”

He smiles and links his pinkie with yours, twisting your linked fingers to kiss the back of your hand. “I believe you, but you need to get some sleep.”

“Alright, fine. I’ll walk off base and call an Uber or something.” You hop off the side of the bed and start gathering your things. 

Bradley chases after you, grabbing you around the waist and kissing your neck. “I called in a favor. Stay put.” 

“Bradley,” you ask, “who are you inconveniencing this evening?” 

He shrugs, playfully pulling you closer. “Nobody important.” 

The two of you mess around, quipping back and forth a little longer than you realized. 

“I can come back,” comes a playful chirp from the door.

The two of you freeze and look toward the door - Bradley’s holding your phone in the air with one hand while you attempt to climb him like a tree. You’ve got an elbow digging into his shoulder while your legs wrap around his waist. 

Maverick’s in the doorway, leaning with his arms crossed and a smile on his face. 

You slide down and get your feet under you while Bradley wordlessly hands your phone over. 

“Hey, Mav,” Bradley says with a rueful grin, his hand rising to needlessly run over the back of his neck. “Thanks for the ride.” 

Maverick snorts. “Ride’s not for you, kiddo. You’re stuck here until morning.” 

“What?” Bradley says, a smile on his face. “I can’t be polite?” 

You look between them, feeling more than a little out of the loop. Strangely, you’re also looking forward to getting to know Maverick a little better now. 

Grabbing your bag, you give Bradley a quick kiss before shuttling him back into bed with a few gentle shoves. He pulls you back before you can get too far, running the back of his fingers over your cheek and pulling you in for another kiss. 

“Goodnight. I love you.” 

You smile, winking at him. “I love you too. Get some sleep.” 

+++

Tonight won’t be the night you get to know Maverick, apparently. He takes your bag as soon as you’re outside, strapping it to the back of his bike and replacing the helmet that used to sit there. He hands the helmet to you and helps you get it on, tightening the strap under your chin. 

You raise the visor. “Where’s yours?” 

He smiles. “Don’t have one. This,” he says, tapping the side of your head, “is for my protection as much as yours. I just got Bradley back and I’m not about to screw it up now.” 

You smile, letting him help you onto the back of the bike. 

He mounts up and starts the engine, zipping up his bomber jacket. You study the patches for a second before tentatively placing your hands around Maverick’s waist, leaning into him as he settles the bike, kicking up the kickstand. 

“Ready?” He asks. 

You nod, but quickly realize he can’t see you. “Yep! All good.” 

He covers one of your hands with his, pulling it into his shearling-lined pocket. There’s a lump of bunched fabric where you guess 30 years of passengers have held on for dear life. You take the lining in a tight fist, matching the hold with your other hand. Maverick pats your hand, satisfied. “Hang on tight.” 

+++

Stubs calls Bradley about two minutes after you leave. 

“Hey man, perfect timing,” Bradley says with a smile. “Thanks for helping me out.”

“Hey, look. As long as you’re getting what I think you’re getting, we’re all good. I still owe you from Oahu.” Stubs doesn’t even sound tired, which isn’t a surprise. He’s always been a night owl. 

Bradley tips his head. “I think we’re on the same page. So, head up to our room and into the closet. I have a chest of drawers on the left side.” 

There’s quiet while Stubs climbs the stairs. He can hear the closet slide open and the light turn on. “Damn, is she always this tidy?” 

Bradley snorts. “No.” 

“Just checking.” There’s a brief pause. “Okay, I’m here.” 

“Alright check the bottom drawer first.” Bradley sits up, resting his elbow on his knee and his forehead settled on his hand.  

“Are you telling me you don’t know where it is?” 

Bradley rolls his eyes. “I literally put it there over a year ago and I ran two three-month assignments overseas and a special detachment recall since then. Gimme a break.” 

“Fine. Okay. Bottom drawer.” There’s silence while he looks. “Do you guys seriously have two vibrat- never mind.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Nothing in here that looks like…a velvet box? Right? That’s what I’m looking for?” 

“Yeah. Try the next drawer. Shouldn’t be anything questionable in there.” 

Another pause. “Holy shit. Is this all your dad and Maverick’s stuff?” 

Bradley nods, closing his eyes and trying to picture the box, where he’d last seen it to hide it from you. “Yeah. It should be with the patches back there, I think” 

 “Sweet. Let me put you down a second.” 

There’s a bit of shuffling and then a little triumphant sound. Another shuffle. “I got it.” 

“Please make sure the ring is in there.” 

Stubs laughs. “It’s here. Damn, man. This looks great. She’s gonna love it.” 

“Thanks.” Bradley smiles to himself. “Can you get it same-day or overnight? I’ll give you the address. It’ll be out in the Mohave so I can avoid base mixups.” 

“Consider it done.”

+++

Maverick pulls the bike up in front of the hotel and you remove your helmet, shaking your head. You take Mav’s offered hand and dismount, unclipping your bag from the storage in back. 

“Thanks, Mav.” 

He steps off the bike and relieves you of your helmet. “Of course. Can I come get you tomorrow? I’ll have one of the boys bring Rooster’s car to the hospital before he’s due to get out.” 

“Sure. Thanks.” You hike the strap of your bag a little higher on your shoulder. “Hey, um.” 

He looks at you, his eyebrows high. 

“I’m sorry I was rude earlier. Bradley told me that you guys have kind of… figured your stuff out.” 

Maverick smiles, crooked and handsome. “I’d like to think so.” He takes a breath. “I’m glad he met you at UVA. Makes me feel better.” 

“Me too.” You offer him a smile and to your own surprise, reach out for a hug. He returns it, warm and kind. “Goodnight.” 

“Goodnight. Shoot me a text in the morning.” 

“I’m not sure I -”

“Bradley put it in while you were in the bathroom.” 

You smile again, wide and bright. “Of course he did.” 

+++

You wake up earlier than expected, no doubt still stuck on Eastern time, and fire off a text to the “Dagger Squad + Chim - Mav” group chat. The name, obviously, wasn’t your idea. 

On a whim, you change it when you send your message.

6:34am Breakfast? You changed the name of the group to “Dagger Squad Jr.”

Jake Seresin changed the name of the group to “Dagger Squad but on Land”

Bob Floyd changed the name of the group to “Why are we changing it???”

You sit and watch the small notifications come in. 

Tasha Trace changed the name of the group to “Dagger Squadron OSS”

You ask a question. 6:37am OSS?

Jake Seresin 6:37am Operational Support Staff

Coyote Machado 6:38am ^^^^

Reuben Fitch 6:38am When’s breakfast? 

Fanboy Garcia 6:39am Where’s breakfast? 

You reply. 6:40am Who’s breakfast?

Jake Seresin 6:40am Why’s breakfast?

Your heart leaps a little bit when Bradley replies. 

Bradley Love ❤️ 6:41am Some of us are trying to sleep in. Bradley Love ❤️ changed the name of the group to “Dagger Fuckheads”

Jake Seresin 6:41am Too fuckin bad. 6:41am I like that one. Keep it. 

Tasha Trace sent a gif. 

Bob Floyd 6:42am Who’s that?

Coyote Machado 6:42am Kim Kardashian hitting her sister with her purse. 

Jake Seresin 6:42am You’re lucky I’m feeling nice this morning and will choose to forget that you know that. 

You fire off another reply. 6:43am Jake……….You also know who that is. 

Jake Seresin 6:43am No comment. 

Bradley Love ❤️ 6:44am I’m muting you guys. Text me if you actually need something.

You smile. 6:44am Look what you guys did omg

Tasha Trace 6:45am I’m game for breakfast. 

Reuben Fitch 6:45am Chims - have you been to the Henry? 

You shake your head, alone in your room. 6:45am Nope. A favorite? 

Tasha Trace 6:46am Oooooooh good call. 6:46am Definitely a favorite. And it’s right next to base. 

Fanboy Garcia 6:47am Are we inviting Mav? 

You reply. 6:47am He’s supposed to give me a lift to the hospital later. Who’s dropping Rooster’s car? 

Tasha Trace 6:48am Me. @Jake Seresin can you come get me from the hospital at 0750?

Jake Seresin 6:48am Yeah I can get you. Probably still beat everyone to the Henry too lmao

Bob Floyd 6:49am Better you than me, Phoenix. Hangman’s driving scares the fuck out of me. 

Jake Seresin 6:49am Everything scares the fuck out of you.

Tasha Trace 6:50am Fuck you be nice

Jake Seresin 6:50am No ❤️

You roll your eyes and reply again. 6:51am So who’s coming to get me

Reuben Fitch 6:52am I’ll come get you. Are you at the lodge? 

You reply promptly. 6:52am Yeah. 6:53am Okay y’all. Meet @ 0800 at The Henry.

Finally rolling out of bed, you give Maverick a call. 

“Good morning!” he says, answering on the third ring. “You’re up early.” 

“So are you,” you point out. “Any interest in breakfast at 0800 at The Henry?”

He makes a noise. “I’m out already. I’ll be back on land around ten. Want to head to the hospital then?”

“Sounds good to me. Thanks, Mav.” 

“Of course.” 

+++

Maverick is still out on the boat with Penny and Amelia when he gets a call from Bradley. 

“Hey, you okay?” He has to shout over the noise of the water. 

“All good. Are you going out to the desert in the next couple of days?”

Mav checks in with Penny, who smiles at him and takes the wheel. Ducking into the cabin, he closes the little door behind him and falls onto the couch. “I’m headed out there this weekend. Why?”

“I’m getting something sent over there and I was wondering if you’d be okay going to pick it up or…?” 

“Bradley Bradshaw…” Maverick starts, a smile on his face. “Now, what on earth could you be shipping to my place in the desert?”

Bradley laughs. “It could be something that looks like jewelry…but I already threatened to kill Jake if he said anything.” 

“I won’t say anything. I was planning on inviting Dagger over to the hangar this weekend for some fun, anyway. I can give it to you then and get some of your dad’s stuff to camouflage it.” 

Mav still has a bunch of Goose’s stuff from Annapolis. Carole never wanted any of it back in the interest of keeping some storage space free in the house and Bradley inherited everything she had. 

“Sounds perfect. Thanks again, Mav.” 

“Anytime, kiddo. I’ll see you later when I bring your lady over.” 

+++

“That is absolutely not what happened,” Coyote says, setting down his coffee. “I’m the only one who got the climb-out on the first try!”

Jake snorts. “Yeah…and you went into G-lock and almost burned in doing it.” 

“That was so fuckin’ scary, dude,” Fanboy says. “We really thought you were a goner.” 

You lean forward, feeling strangely settled amongst the Dagger team (a moniker they’ve taken beyond the special detachment and will probably keep for the rest of their careers - you’ve even heard mutterings about making patches for their jackets) even without Bradley by your side. “So, what did happen?” 

“I finished the course and made it into exfil but I just couldn’t swing the Gs the first time, you know?” Coyote replies. “The thing is though, my little victory was totally overshadowed by the bird strike that put Phoenix and Bob in the hospital.” 

You blink a couple of times. You must have missed that in Bradley’s daily updates. “You’re kidding.” 

“Nah,” Phoenix says. “We got ambushed by some birds, both engines went out, and we had to bail. Mav saved our ass, I swear. He was babysitting everyone in the air that day.” 

Coyote shakes his head. “It was so smart, though. He told you guys to bail at just the right time and he pulled tone on me to try and get me unlocked. I dunno how he thinks of this stuff.” 

“At least you guys will know what to do next time, though, yeah?” You ask. 

“Definitely,” Payback says. “Throwing tone on someone in G-lock went straight into my toolbox, I dunno about you guys.” 

“Same,” Jake says, his mouth full of french toast. 

Bob nods. “I’ll always recommend that if I’m in that situation again, yeah.” 

More talk about training floats around the table for a while before Jake sits back, throwing his napkin on his plate. “So Miss Not-Bradshaw, what have you been up to in the last few weeks?” 

Phoenix snorts into her glass of orange juice.

“First of all,” you reply, “take that up with Bradley, not me.” 

That gets a laugh out of the table. 

“Secondly, I’ve been working on some highly-classified white pages for SecDef and SecNav, so they’ve been keeping me busy.” 

“That sounds interesting,” Bob says, his eyes kind and intrigued behind his glasses. 

You smile. “I actually provided the one-pager for your mission. It was one of my colleagues at the NSA that found the uranium enrichment plant and figured the timeline.” 

“No way!” Payback reaches over Phoenix and gives your shoulder a shake. “That’s amazing! So did you know what Rooster was going to be doing or?” 

You shake your head. “No. That part was outside of the scope of my work, but I knew he was headed back to North Island a couple days after I submitted my analysis. I took a few guesses from there.” 

“It’s cool that you can have at least some perspective,” Payback says. “I know my girl’s been in the dark from the jump.” 

You hum once. “I can’t imagine. I mean…” You think for a second. “I know enough to be very concerned, but not enough to ease it, you know? I’d almost rather not know anything at all.” 

“I can see that,” Fanboy says. “Kind of a no-news-is-good-news-thing, yeah?” 

“Exactly.”

“So what’d they tell you to get you out here?” Jake asks.

You grin at him. “My boss handed me a boarding pass, said Bradley wasn’t dead, and told me to thank you upon arrival.” 

“Oh my god,” Phoenix says with a laugh. “I would have flipped out.” 

“I did! I didn’t even pack - I just grabbed my overnight bag for late nights at the office and hauled my ass to Dulles.”

Jake grins. “Well, we’re sure glad you’re here.” 

You throw a potato wedge at him. 

+++

The boys whoop and holler when Maverick pulls up to The Henry with his bike and tosses you the helmet. You hop on, holding tight to Mav’s jacket. You can see his smile from over his shoulder as he waves to his students, his colleagues, his team. 

You can absolutely see yourself, once again, as a member of Bradley’s extended family. 

It feels good.

+++

“What’s the prognosis?” You ask, sitting on the edge of the bed. Bradley sits beside you, tying his boots. 

The doctor smiles. “Nothing but probably terminal foolishness.” She checks his charts again before confirming. “No serious head trauma, just two small burns under his ear and on his forearm. Keep an eye on those for infection.” She flips some pages again. “If anything doesn’t feel quite right, Lt. Bradshaw, please give us a call.” 

“Thank you, Captain.” Bradley stands. He offers his hand and she shakes it. “I appreciate your work and your thoroughness to keep me in good shape, ma’am.” 

“Of course, Lieutenant.” She hands him a folder. “There are your discharge papers. You are good to go.” She looks at you. “Take some time to review that with Lt. Bradshaw as well, if he’s comfortable with that.” 

“Absolutely, ma’am.” You look at Bradley, briefly, with a smile. “I’ll keep an eye on him” 

+++

“Do you mind if we stop somewhere before going back to the hotel? It’s kind of a pain in the ass because it’s off the island, but…” You trail off.  

Bradley shakes his head, his eyes on the road behind his sunglasses. “Not at all. Where to, m’lady?” 

You almost feel back for bringing down the room. “Can we visit Ice? I haven’t gotten a chance to pay my respects yet.” 

As expected, Bradley’s expression sobers. He kisses the back of your hand, bringing it up from where he holds it over the console. “Of course.” 

He makes a couple of turns, hopping onto the bridge, then the highway before getting off to wind through the curving roads of Point Loma. 

“Want to visit the lighthouse while we’re here? It’s a nice day. We could walk it.” 

You nod. “That sounds nice.” 

Bradley checks into base and parks, walking around the car to open your door and hold your hand as you get out. You don’t let go as you step onto the grass, letting him lead you to the gravesite of a man who was effectively another father and uncle to him. 

From what he’s told you, both Iceman and Maverick stepped up after his father died, tag-teaming where they could. Maverick was around a little more, but Ice was there, unfailing, for every baseball game, piano recital, and ceremony. From what you saw, Bradley deeply admired and respected his father’s classmate, called him and his wife “Uncle Ice” and “Aunt Sarah,” and never went a week without a phone call. 

Unlike Maverick, Ice was also there through college, OCS, and flight training. While you’re privately certain that Mav, Ice, and Carole collaborated on his Naval Academy sabotage back in 2004, Bradley’s always been firmly of the mind that it was all Maverick’s doing. It wasn’t your job to manage his anger or resentment, but it might be time for another conversation about that. 

You reach the stone, easily recognizable by the new, bright, white finish. Bradley releases your hand, standing at attention when he reaches the stone, offering a crisp salute. He takes one deep breath before his hand drops from his forehead, slow and controlled. 

THOMAS KAZANSKY “ICEMAN” ADMIRAL UNITED STATES NAVY

COMMANDER OF U.S. PACIFIC FLEET FLYING CROSS BRONZE STAR NOVEMBER 13TH, 1959 - DECEMBER 9TH, 2018

The two of you stand in silence for a little while. You’d known Ice well, spending holidays with his formidably-sized family once you and Bradley were established and attending various keynote speakers in your career contracted with the Navy. Before just now, you didn’t think you knew him well enough to deeply miss him, but your chest hurts. 

“One thing about Ice,” Bradley told you, walking up the path to the big house on the hill, “is that he’s loyal. He’ll rain hell on anyone that threatens his family and always goes back for his wingman.” 

“Did the cancer come back?” 

Bradley shakes his head. “I didn’t ask. I figured though. Mav went to see him a couple of days before he died.” 

“I’m so sorry for your loss, baby.” 

“Me too.” He takes you under his arm. “He loved you, you know. He always gave me shit for keeping you on the hook without a ring.” 

“I cannot believe you have not asked that young lady to marry you, yet,” Ice says, sitting down behind his desk and steepling his fingers. 

Bradley sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I just haven’t found the right moment.” 

“I know.” Ice smiles at him. “If you keep with that attitude, you’ll never find the right one. What’s it been, now? Six, seven years?” He tips his head. “You better hope she doesn’t wise up to your bullshit.” 

“I know.” Bradley sits down on the couch under the bay window. “I just want to do it right.” 

Ice stands, crossing the room to join Bradley with a pat on the knee. “I tried to make it perfect for Sarah, but at the end of the day, it’s just for you two. It doesn’t have to be right, it doesn't have to be exactly as you or she pictured it.” 

Bradley watches him remember, the softness of his face, the fondness in his eyes. It makes him smile. 

“All that ring does,” Ice continues, “is show her you love her and want to be stuck with her until you die.” 

“It sounds so romantic when you say it like that,” Bradley laughs. 

Ice shrugs good-naturedly. “Word on the street is your dad hopped out of a plane on his first training mission, dropped to his knee, and proposed to your mother on the spot.” 

He’s right. Carole told Bradley about it. 

“Thanks, Ice.” 

“Of course, son. I’ll always be here for you. You know that.” 

You laugh, smiling at the stone. “And here you are, flaunting him even in death.” 

Bradley kisses your temple. 

+++

On your way to the lighthouse, the wind picks up, buffeting into you. Bradley releases your hand, pulling you close with an arm around your shoulders. 

There aren’t many people out, so the walk is relatively quiet. 

“Y’know, honey, I was thinking,” you start, staring at the path under your feet as you continue along. You hesitate. “I’m not sure how to say this diplomatically.” 

You can almost hear Bradley raise his eyebrows. “I thought we were past diplomacy.” 

“I know, it’s just…It’s about your mom.” 

Bradley steers you off the path and to a bench conveniently placed on the grass, facing the ocean. He sits down, angling his body toward you and his arm extended, fingers brushing against your shoulder. “What’s on your mind?” 

“I was thinking about what you said - about Maverick pulling your papers. And I know I don’t know him like you do, but -” You cut yourself off. “He doesn’t strike me as the kind of person to…take initiative like that.” 

Bradley’s eyes wander to the grass, then out to sea. He’s obviously considering what you said, but you’re not sure if he’s going where you’re leading him. 

“I just -” You take another breath. “I don’t think I would want my kid in an F-35 if I lost my husband in an F-14, you know?” 

Bradley’s brow furrows. 

“I think you should at least ask him about it. He doesn’t strike me as the type to overstep in that direction on his own, he does seem like the type who would protect your relationship with your remaining parent, especially if he still feels responsible for your dad.” 

You reach for him and he comes back to you, holding you close as you scoot over and rest your head on his chest, listening to his heart. 

“Yeah,” he says, finally. “I’ll ask him about it.” 

+++

Dagger Fuckheads Jake Seresin 2:41pm Dinner tonight? Mav’s buying.

You and Bradley look at each other, reaching for your phones. 

“Want to go?” He asks. 

You nod. “I could go. I don’t have anything better to do.” 

Bradley replies. 2:43pm Chims and I are in! Where and when?

Jake Seresin 2:43pm Mav says dinner at his place at 1800 and then drinks at Penny’s when we’re done. 

“Sounds good to me. What about you?” Bradley asks. 

You nod and reply to confirm. 2:44pm We’re there! 

+++

“So, Mav,” Phoenix says, putting down her fork. “When do we get to go out to the desert and see your P-51?” 

Maverick smiles. “You’re all welcome anytime. I’m headed out there this weekend.” 

“No way!” Fanboy says. “You have a mustang out there?” 

“Hell yeah,” Maverick says. “You can fly it if you promise to take care of her.” 

All the lieutenants share a glance. Hangman finally confirms, “We’re in.” 

+++

You sense, rather than hear, Maverick come up behind you as you stare at the photos above the sink. There’s one of Penny, tucked behind a photo of Carole and Goose. She couldn’t be more than twenty-five, smiling at you from out of the Polaroid. There’s another Polaroid of her nearby, a much-younger Maverick kissing her cheek outside one of the buildings at Miramar. 

You reach out to another photo, gently brushing over the image of Iceman grinning at the camera in his dress whites and sunglasses. Maverick stands beside him, an equally bright smile on his face. 

“That was Ice’s wedding,” Mav says. 

You hum. “I’ve seen this picture before. It’s on - or…” You pause. “At least, uh, it was on his desk at home.”

Maverick steps up beside you, pointing out photos of Bradley and Ice you’d missed before. Your favorite, by far, is one of Ice hitting a baseball and Bradley ducking on the pitcher’s mound to avoid impact. 

“After Bradley and I were firmly an item, we spent every Christmas with Ice and Sarah,” you tell him, unprompted. 

“I know,” Mav says simply. “He loved having you both there.”

You smile. “He spoke so highly of you, Mav. He would always tell stories that ended with one of you heroically saving the day.”

Maverick has to smile at that. His eyes wander to a photo taken after one of their many missions together, Ice’s hair wild from his helmet. 

“I know that he tried to honor and respect Bradley’s anger, of course, but I know cutting you off hurt him, too.” You smile a little. “I think he knew that hearing his stories about you made it a little harder to dislike you. I think he figured I needed something else to round out what Bradley told me.” 

“There was one time,” Ice recalls, “when Bradley was little, that I thought Maverick had truly gone insane.” 

“Oh?” You ask. It’s not rare to hear stories with and about Maverick, but they’re usually of the heroic-endeavors variety, rather than stories of Bradley’s childhood.

The two of you sit out on the porch, watching the sunset. Bradley, of course, is in assisting Sarah with dinner. You offered your help, as did Ice, but Sarah practically kicked you out, claiming, “While you’re both nice to look at, you’re in the way.” 

“Mav volunteered to be the coach of Bradley’s little league team.” Ice shakes his head. “I’d never seen him throw himself into something like that. Carole had to tell him to tone it down.” Ice pauses. “Bradley was a helluva ballplayer though. He’s always been patient, attentive. Good qualities for everything, but especially baseball and flying.” 

Ice looks over his shoulder, satisfied that you’re alone. “The two of them are more alike than they’d like to admit.” He looks at you. “I was about to say, I wish you could know him. However, knowing me and knowing Bradley tells you more about him than he’d ever like anyone to know, for better or worse.” 

Maverick looks at you for a second. “Can I show you something?”

You nod, dragging your eyes from the photo. Mav takes you to the corner, where a cup full of challenge coins sits on the counter. He pulls a frame from the shelf, bringing a photo down from its place. 

To your shock, it’s a photo of you and Bradley graduating from UVA. Your matching orange stoles stand out brightly against your black gowns and the green grass behind you. 

Bradley holds you close to his side, kissing your temple as you look at the camera with a smile. 

“Sarah took this one, didn’t she?” You ask, looking over at Maverick. You remember the moment well, but it’s only now you realize you’ve never seen the picture before. Your eyes fall on pictures of Bradley through the years - his high school baseball photos, his NROTC and college graduation portraits, Bradley and Ice standing together at Bradley’s OCS commencement…

He always looked out for him. All these years. 

Maverick replies, pulling you from your thoughts. “She sent me a copy. I have a couple more from Christmases, too. You landed in the New Years’ newsletter more than once.”

“Wait a second.”

You turn around, finding Jake squinting at another photo on the shelf.

He points to one “Is this you?”

You walk over, brow furrowed. Lo and behold, it’s a Kazansky Christmas card, dated 2010. You sit on the arm of the sofa next to Bradley, mirrored by Ice’s daughter on the other side. The two Kazansky boys take the other two seats on the couch, their now-wives seated on the ground in front of them, forming a cozy picture with Ice and Sarah behind you all. 

“Yep, that’s me,” you tell him. “That was when I was in my masters and Bradley was in OCS.”

It’s like you aren’t even there as Hangman calls over his shoulder. “Rooster!” 

“Yeah?” Bradley trots over, meeting your eyes with a questioning glance. You shrug. Maverick joins you, standing at your side with his arms crossed and a funny little look on his face. 

“How long have you guys been together, exactly?” Hangman asks, a grin blossoming on his face. 

Bradley knows he’s already in trouble. “Well,” he answers diplomatically. “If you ask me, we started dating in February of 2005. If you ask her,” he points at you, “we started dating in August of 2005.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong-“

He’s not going to be wrong, is he?

“- but that’s thirteen years.”

Bradley’s hand rises to his neck. “Yeah.”

Hangman turns to you. “Jesus Christ you’re either a saint or an idiot and I can’t decide which.”

“We’ve been busy!” Your voice sounds shrill and defense even to your ears. 

“For thirteen years straight?” Hangman doesn’t wait for an answer before moving on. “Hey, Siri!” There’s a series of beeps from his phone, connected to Mav’s speaker. “Play Slow Ride by Foghat.”

You bite back your laugh as Jake turns around again with a wicked grin. 

“God, I love this song.”

+++

“Ready, baby?” Rooster’s voice rumbles in your ears through the headphones. 

You turn on your mic. “Let’s go!” 

“Alright. Hang on tight.” 

The P-51 accelerates down the runway and Bradley hauls it into the air, the Gs pressing you into the seat. 

“How many Gs can this thing pull?”

You can almost see his smile from behind as he answers you with a laugh, adjusting one of the countless switches and knobs in front of him. “Not enough.”

“That doesn't answer my question!” It takes a little more effort to get the words out with the pressure on your chest, but you know it’s nothing compared to the F-18. 

As expected, Bradley’s voice is still even and cool through the mic. “It tops out around six or seven. We’re only pulling three and a half right now, but it’ll ease up in a second. Take a deep breath.”

You follow instructions, letting your head and body press into the seat as you close your eyes. You remember how he taught you to breathe years ago when you felt like you were suffocating in broad daylight in a Cessna.

The plane levels out and you already feel better, taking one more deep breath before opening your eyes. 

“Oh my god.”

You’re thousands of feet in the air, looking down on Death Valley and the surrounding desert. 

“Beautiful, right?” Bradley asks. “Ready?” 

“For what?” 

You don’t get a response, but let out a yelp as you go inverted, flying upside down a mile over the brown hills and bright orange California poppies. 

“Relax,” he says with a laugh. “Enjoy the view.” 

It’s a strange feeling, to be looking up and down at the same time. It is, however, easy to see how this feeling can be addictive. Even at relatively low speeds, you feel alive with the plane’s frame around, Bradley’s gentle hands holding you all aloft. 

Bradley glides into a loop, correcting the inversion with ease. You let yourself relax again, looking out the canopy to find where the mountains meet the sky. The plane arcs in a wide circle, headed back to the hangar. 

“I can see why you love this so much,” you tell him. 

He reaches back with one hand and you take it. He squeezes once before letting you go. “Happy you’re here with me, baby.”

When you get back to Maverick’s place, you notice Bradley looking down at the runway. You follow suit, finding Dagger Squad standing just outside the hangar. You can’t quite see details from up here, but it looks like they’re watching you. 

“Hey, babe?” You ask. 

Bradley’s head tilts a bit. “Yeah?”

“I think you should remind them why you’re Dagger Two.”

You can see him, but you’re sure he’s grinning. You can hear it. “Alright. Hang tight, honey.”

Bradley’s hand flies forward on the throttle and you’re pressed back into your seat with a laugh. He swoops down over the hills, taking a hard bank before climbing high and barrel-rolling twice. 

You can’t stop laughing, only losing your breath once or maybe three times. He pulls a few more maneuvers that have your stomach twisting and dropping. The sound of his trained, measured breath in your ears keeps you glued to time and space. 

He gets back to wings-level and checks in with you. “You still with me back there?”

You swallow, laughing a little again. “I’m good.”

“I owe Mav some fuel, but that was fun.” He banks again, gentler this time, and starts the descent down to the runway. The landing is smooth, hardly jostling you as you settle back on the ground. When the canopy opens, Bradley stands and gets out, holding his hand out to lend you an assist. 

You feel a little wobbly when you get your feet on the asphalt again, but Bradley grabs you around the waist, pulling you close. He’s somehow already removed his helmet and lends a hand with yours. 

Dagger Squad rushes the two of you and Jake claps you on the shoulder. “I thought for sure you were gonna puke.”

“Thanks for your overwhelming vote of confidence.”

Bradley’s still grinning from ear to ear. Mav saunters out of the hangar with a smile on his face and hands in his pockets. “Not too bad for a rookie,” he says. 

“Pretty sure they’ll revoke that thing once you get your AARP card. Flying’s dangerous, you know.” 

Maverick frowns and checks over his shoulder, looking left, then right. 

“What’re you lookin’ at, Mav?” Bob asks. 

Mav looks at Bradley. “I’m trying to find who the hell Rooster thinks he’s talking to.” 

Bradley grins and throws his helmet at Mav, who catches it easily. “It is a sweet ride, though.” 

+++

“Hey Bradley, let me get your help with this,” Maverick calls from across the hangar. 

Bradley stands, setting his beer down on the little coffee table. “‘Scuse me, folks. I’ve been summoned.”

“Hey, excuse me, sir, there’s a tax for that,” you remind him, looking up from your seat in the armchair. 

With a smile, he gives you a quick kiss and jets off to find Mav in the back. 

Jake scoffs. 

You look at him. “Can I help you?” 

“Y’all are gross.”

With a sigh, you shift in your seat, leaning forward to condescendingly place a hand on his knee. “One day, Jake, you will love someone who misses you when you’re gone and you, too, will be gross.” 

Bradley looks over his shoulder before he reaches the archway to Mav’s back “office.” The image of you sitting with his team, chatting like you’ve known each other all your lives, warms his heart. 

“Bradley?” Mav calls quieter than before. 

Bradley finally rounds the corner, grabbing the arch and swinging wide through the turn. “Yessir.” 

Mav holds up a first-class box and grins. “I think it’s here.” 

The two of them open the box, trying to keep the noise of the bubble wrap to a dull roar. Inside, the small, navy-blue velvet box smiles up at them, nestled deep in the packaging. 

“Can I see?” Mav asks. 

Bradley nods. 

With similar care to a father holding his newborn for the first time, Maverick takes the box into his hand and opens it with the smallest of worn pops. 

There’s silence for a moment, followed by a swell of laughter from the hangar. 

“It’s beautiful, Brad. She’s going to love it.” 

Bradley tips his head. “I hope so.” He pauses. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.” Maverick meets his eyes, open and receptive. 

“Was it your idea to pull my papers?” 

Maverick sighs, looking down for a second before returning Bradley’s steady gaze. That’s pretty much all the answer Bradley needs, but still Maverick says, “Yes. It was my idea.” 

He’s always been a shit liar. 

“My mom asked you to do it, didn’t she?” 

Mav’s jaw flexes. 

“Pete,” Carole says, looking at him from the couch. She leans forward and Maverick mirrors her, the use of his first name somewhat unsettling. He glances at the clock. Bradley’s at baseball practice for another hour or so, at least. 

“Yeah?” 

“I got some bad news today.” 

Maverick’s heart drops to his stomach and he immediately stands to cross the room, sitting next to her on the couch. 

She continues, taking his hand. “I’m sick. They’re sure it’s some kind of cancer but they’re doing some more tests. I have to go back tomorrow for a PET scan. They do know it’s serious.” 

Tears, unbidden, jump into Maverick’s eyes. He can’t speak. 

“Oh, Mav.” Carole cups his face with her ever-gentle hands. “Mav, it’ll be okay.” 

He clears his throat. “Do they have any ideas about… treatments, or…?” 

She shrugs, looking off somewhere across the room. “They’ll know more after this week. The doctor told me it could be months, maybe years, but he determined that it is terminal.” 

A set of tears fall down Maverick’s cheeks, dripping gracelessly off his chin. 

With a sigh, she adds, “I would really like to see Bradley graduate from college, but... Speaking of…” She trails off. 

The muscle in Mav’s jaw jumps several times before he speaks again. “What can I do?” 

“Bradley applied to the Naval Academy,” she replies, shaking her head. “I can’t - I can’t have him in a jet, Maverick. I won’t do it.” 

“Carole, he’s an -” 

“Don’t tell me he’s an adult, Pete. Look at him.” She throws a hand to the most recent school portrait on the mantle. “He’s not ready and I’ll never be ready.” 

Again, Mav asks, “What can I do.” 

She’s quiet for a moment. “Can you talk to admissions?” 

“Carole, I -” 

“Promise me, Mav. I know Ice can do it if you can’t, and I’ll ask him next.” 

Something cold settles into Maverick’s veins. He’s fairly certain it’s fear. “Fine. I’ll see what I can do.” 

Carole surprises him, throwing her arms around his shoulders. “I might be dying, but he - I won’t let him kill himself.” 

“Do you think I’m killing myself?” Mav asks, only half-joking. He holds her tight as if she’ll break apart if he lets go. Maybe it’s him who needs to be held together. 

She takes him seriously. “Every goddamn day. And I hate you for it.” She leans back. “But as much as I love you, he’s my son. I need you to take care of him when I’m gone.” 

Maverick realizes he’s been quiet for too long. He thinks of Penny, what she would do if Amelia asked him a question like this. 

She’d tell the truth. 

“Carole, she…” Mav sighs, looking over his shoulder at a photo of the three of them at some function or another. “She made me promise. The same time she told me she was sick.” 

Bradley takes a deep breath before asking, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I didn’t - I couldn’t have you hate her, too.” 

Strangely, that pulls a smile from him. You were right.

“What?” Mav asks. 

Bradley shakes his head. He looks over his shoulder for a second, finding only a wall but knowing you’re beyond it. “Someone who’s only known you a sum total of ten hours knows you better than I do, apparently.” 

Maverick smiles, clapping Bradley on the shoulder. “They’re all smarter than us, you know. Sooner you figure that out, the easier it’ll be.” 

+++

Penny sits at the bar, working through the inventory and accounting for the week by hand. It’s easier this way, she tends to rationalize, but really it’s just a good excuse to get her away from her laptop. 

Checking over her shoulder, she finds the ocean rough, white caps popping on the top of the waves. The sky is thick with clouds, giving the entire world a greyish-blue cast. As much as she loves the sunshine, a winter Southern California storm feels good to the bones. 

Before she can get up to either close the back door or find a jacket, there’s a hand on her waist. 

“Chilly?” 

She turns, finding Maverick behind her. He drapes his soft, warm bomber jacket around her shoulders, kissing the side of her head. 

“I’ll be in the back. Just wanted to check on you.” 

She hums, leaning into him. “I’ll be here.” 

He gives her one final kiss before he disappears again, probably fixing a leak or patching a hole she failed to notice. 

He sees everything . 

It’s alarming, sometimes. 

She checks her watch but it’s pointless. She’s not sure when you and Bradley are due in from your afternoon out in La Jolla, but she’s sure she’ll get an ETA when you’re good and ready to share. 

The front door opens and closes. Penny doesn’t bother to look up - there are only five people who walk in casually like that and two of them work here. 

“Penny?” 

That’s not one of the four . 

She looks up, finding the eyes of her ex-husband. “What are you doing here?” She pulls the jacket closer to her, almost like armor. 

“Can’t I just stop by and say hello?” He asks.

“...It’s a five-hour flight from Hawaii,” she says. “And dropping in unexpectedly kind of defeats the purpose of a divorce, if I’m remembering correctly. Where’s your wife?” 

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he says as if she didn’t say a word. That was half of the problem when they were married. Penny’s not sure why she thought it would change now. 

“Penny, sweetheart?” 

Mav’s voice almost startles her, but a wave of relief follows close behind the bolt of adrenaline. 

“Bradley’s due in anytime now. They just called from the -” Mav finally steps out of the back room and spots the visitor in the bar. “Hi.” 

Penny hastily stands and introduces them to each other. 

“Wait,” the unwelcome guest says, “you’re Pete Mitchell? Maverick Mitchell?” 

Mav smiles, but only friends would know it's not a real one. This is the one he wears for show. “That’s me.” 

“Huh. I’ve heard a lot about you.” The way he says it doesn’t sound like a compliment. “I thought you’d be taller.” He shakes off another thought and asks, “Where’s Amelia?”

Your daughter, the afterthought , Penny thinks sourly. “She’s -” 

“Anybody home?” Bradley crows, interrupting from the doorway, a grin on his face. You’re right behind him, trying to get in as he purposefully blocks the door. 

Through your laughter, you cry, “Penny, help! I’ve been taken hostage.” 

Despite the stress of the moment, that gets a smile out of her. “Let her in Rooster.” 

The two of you shove your way through the door, landing with your arm around Bradley’s neck as he half-carries, half-drags you across the plank flooring. The smile falls from Bradley’s face when he sees the unfamiliar person in the room, putting you down behind him. “Who’s this?”

“Sam Longbourn,” comes the introduction. Sam extends a hand 

“Rooster,” Bradley replies. You shoot him a look. He hardly ever introduces himself with his callsign alone. 

Men. 

You shake Sam’s hand as well, but he doesn’t ask your name. You don’t offer it. 

Bradley’s chin lifts a touch. “Longbourn? Isn’t that -”

“Amelia’s last name?” Penny finishes. “Yes.” 

Bradley hums once, staccato. “Imagine that.” He slips past Maverick, placing a hand over the big patch between Penny’s shoulder, pressing a quick, chaste kiss to her cheek by way of greeting. “Want me to take a look at those books?” 

“Sure,” she says, trying to be casual. 

You just think it’s funny that all three men in the room have immediately started preening upon recognition. Only two are succeeding. 

There’s an awkward pause. You offer a tight, polite smile and join Bradley at the bar, leaning on him. 

“And Bradley is…?” Sam asks. 

Mav answers promptly. “My son. He’s a naval aviator as well. One of the best we’ve got.” 

The pencil in Bradley’s hand stops moving for the briefest of seconds. You glance at his profile without moving your head too much to see him blinking a few times in quick succession.  

You lean into him a little more purposefully and he leans back. Taking a quick look over at the uncomfortable little triad, you catch Penny’s eyes. 

Was that okay? She seems to ask. 

You take a deep breath. I dunno. 

Amelia’s father ends up taking a seat at the bar, absolutely overstaying his welcome. You stand, grabbing a rag from behind the bar and attempting to make yourself useful. 

“Can I get you anything?” You ask.

He raises his eyebrows. “You work here?” 

“Nope. Just like to help Penny when I can. And she’s busy, so…” You shrug. 

He takes a second. “I’ll do a Miller Lite, if she’s got it.” 

Bradley covers his snort with a cough into his elbow. You can’t help but agree. 

Fly five hours from Hawaii only to come to a bar and order a Miller Lite. Shameful. 

You find one under the bar and open it, setting the bottle down in front of him. Penny comes back, squeezing your upper arms fondly as she slides in behind you. She approaches her ex, leaning against the bar on the heels of her hands.

“Look, we’re about to open up and it’s gonna get crowded. You better say what you want to say.” 

You sneak back around to Bradley, helping him organize the binder the way Penny likes it, packing up and getting ready for opening. You’re all gonna have backup here in a moment - Dagger’s due in anytime now. In the weeks they’ve been here, they’ve all grown particularly fond of Penny and Amelia. Jake, especially with his two-year shore duty at North Island after Annapolis, is more at home here than anywhere else. You can’t imagine them taking too kindly to an interloper. 

You and Bradley head to the back while Penny and Sam talk. Mav’s there, already straightening up from his project along the south wall. 

“I’m so sorry, Bradley. I didn’t mean to overst-” 

Bradley waves him off and pulls him in for a hug. “All good. I get it.” He says something else, but you can’t quite catch it. 

Doesn’t matter, anyway. You heard enough to know that Carole was right. 

“They’ll figure it out,” she used to say. “Bradshaws and Mitchells always find a way, especially together.” 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” comes a booming voice from the great room, “the party has arrived.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you jump out of the back room with a grin. “Damn, they let just about anyone in here, huh?” 

“Well, yeah,” Jake says. “You’re here, aren’t you?” 

“Uh uh. No,” Penny scolds, pointing at Jake. “Behave.” 

Jake grins at her, wide and toothy. With a roll of her eyes, she throws a bottle opener on the bar, followed by a bottle of his usual brew. “Thank you, Miss Penny m’dear.” 

“Yeah,” she says. “Keep that up and I’ll ring the bell on you.” 

He chuffs. “You love me.” 

“I don’t,” she insists, laughter in her eyes. 

Bradley and Maverick join you, headed to the pool table to rack up. You find a seat at one of the tables, ready to watch whatever masculine posturing bullshit the boys have up their sleeve. 

Jake, as if noticing the unfamiliar face for the first time, looks over and raises his eyebrows. It’s all for show - you know he clocked Sam the second he saw him. He doesn’t break eye contact when he asks, “Who’s this?” 

Penny gestures between them. “Sam Longbourn, Hangman. Hangman, Sam.” 

Jake squints. “Hm. I’d say it's nice to meet you, Sam, but I’m not sure it is.” He grins, softening the blow, before turning to Penny. “Wait, lemme see that patch.” 

Penny turns, pulling the jacket so Jake can see the patch that’s always been there. 

“Mav,” Jake asks, raising his voice. “Is this a new patch?” 

Smooth . 

“Nope. It’s been there for a minute. I’m having a patch made for Dagger, though. Should be in before they scatter us again.”

“Sweet. Guess I never noticed it before.” Jake’s smile grows sly. “I guess it just looks better on Penny than it does on you.”

Maverick snorts and says something that has Bradley laughing out loud. 

Sam, for the first time, looks a little self-conscious. Jake doesn’t seem to notice, pointing out the rest of the team, hovering around the pool table. “That’s Phoenix, Bob, and Payback. Mav’s a legend of course, and Rooster’s just been named Wingman of the Year.” 

“Yeah, and you’re what, our Lord and Savior?” Bradley says. 

“You said it, not me,” Jake says, that grin back on his face.

Poor Sam has turned into a ghost at this point, looking between everyone present with increasing confusion and awe. 

Rooster rolls his eyes, leaning over the pool table, his break shot sinking two. He beckons you over. “C’mon baby, we’ve got stripes.” 

Mav straightens and looks across the bar, watching Penny idly organize glasses. She turns, meets Maverick’s eyes, and leaves the bar with a shake of her head. “Shall we show them how it’s done, Mav?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

+++

“Hey, Mav!” Bradley calls, later that night. “C’mere.” 

Mav obliges, making his way around to Bradley’s side and leaning against the piano. Penny’s ex seems to have disappeared as quickly as he arrived. You didn’t even see him leave, but between Jake and Mav, you’re sure he had enough.  

Good riddance.

“Take a look over there.” Bradley points with the neck of his bottle to you and Penny, sitting on a pair of barstools, chatting amongst the evening rush. “What do you see?” 

Mav thinks for a second. “...People we care about?” 

“Yeah. See anything wrong with them?” 

There’s a creeping sense of deja-vu, but Maverick can’t quite place it. He looks again. You have Bradley’s sunglasses stuck into the front of your shirt and you’re babysitting a small pile of coats in your lap - Payback, Fanboy, and Hangman’s, to be specific - but nothing looks out of the ordinary. Penny looks great, of course, Maverick’s leather jacket still slung casually over her shoulders. 

Bradley’s definitely up to something. Mav, after his assessment, says, “...I’m not seeing anything.” 

“I think…I think they’ve lost that loving feeling, Mav.” 

Mav laughs, his chin falling to his chest. “I’m too old for this shit, Rooster.” 

“What are you too old for?” Jake asks, arriving seemingly out of nowhere. 

“Hangman, I think the girls have lost that lovin’ feeling.” 

Jake shakes his head, a confused little smile on his face. “What?” 

“C’mon, Mav. Back me up here. They definitely have lost that loving feeling.” 

Mav sighs. “I hate it when they do that.” He pushes off the piano and throws two quarters in the jukebox. “You’re gonna have to help them find it after this song, you know. Patience is a virtue.” 

As promised, as soon as the song comes on over the bar, Penny’s head shoots up, her eyes wide. If you had to name it, you would call the look repeat trauma . 

“What?” You ask, but you already hear it. 

“You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips…” 

Her only reply? An exhausted, “Oh, God.” 

“And there’s no tenderness like before in your fingertips.” 

The crowd parts and your jaw drops. Bradley is serenading you at the top of his lungs, his hand extended dramatically toward you.  

“ You’re trying hard not to show it, but baby, baby I know it,” He sings. “ You’ve lost that lovin’ feeling. Whoa, that lovin’ feeling.”

You cover your face with your hands as he continues, the rest of the crowd joining in. Penny’s laughing in earnest, happy for once she’s not the victim of this stupid charade.

The chorus ends and you look at Bradley, gesturing to the empty seat beside you. “Sit down, you idiot.” 

The entire bar cheers. 

Penny looks up, finding Mav still at his place near the piano. He meets her eyes and smiles. 

+++

“Is that mine?” 

You’ve just stepped out of the bathroom when Bradley looks over at you skeptically, his eyes running across your shoulders and down to your waist. 

You are, in fact, wearing one of his Hawaiian shirts. However, in your defense, he has way too many (you’d approximate three dozen) and he’s never bothered to ask about any that have gone mysteriously missing (of which there are about eight). 

You hesitate just a second too long. “…No.” It sounds an awful lot like a question. 

“I think it is,” he says, leaving his bag and sauntering over to you from across the room.

You shake your head. “Nope. I got this one in Hawaii while I was visiting you a few years back, remember?” You double down, knowing your efforts are futile.

“I think,” he says, finally reaching you and dipping down to kiss your neck, “this is my shirt. I also think,” he adds, his lips trailing to your collarbone and his hands wandering over your back pockets, “that you stole it from me in Hawaii while you were visiting a few years back.” 

“That’s ridiculous.” Your assertion is breathless at best. 

He shakes his head. “You’re a thief.” 

“Am not.” 

“Are too,” he whispers, kissing you under your ear. “And before you can continue to argue with me, I have a question for you.” 

“Oh?” you ask with a laugh. “Is it shirt-related?”

“No.” 

He kisses your cheek and gracefully slides to a knee at your feet. He pulls the small box out of his back pocket and you’re pretty sure you can’t breathe. 

“It’s past time, beautiful, and there’s a lot I could say but…” He opens it and the image of the ring nestled in navy blue velvet steals your breath. “Will you marry me?” 

You definitely can’t breathe, so you settle for a nod, finally able to pull a breath after a second. “Yes. Absolutely, yes.” 

He stands and wraps you in his arms, the box still in his hands.

+++

The wood plank flooring feels cool under your feet, despite the San Diego summer waiting for you just outside the door. Penny picks up the hem of your dress, letting it flutter loosely to the floor so you don’t trip. 

“You’re still good barefoot? I’ve got your sandals here if you need them.” 

You nod. “It shouldn’t be too hot.” 

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll have Mav take them out when he goes back.”

There’s an awful lot of movement for the final moments before a wedding. The boys are goofing around outside in their summer whites while Penny and Maverick fuss between you, Bradley, and the bar. 

Penny picks up the sandals in question, snagging Mav by the sleeve as he passes her. “Take these out and put them under your seat.” 

He looks confused and almost makes the mistake of asking a question but shakes his head, taking the sandals and kissing Penny’s cheek without another word. He hops out the back door and down the steps, hastily making his way to his seat to drop off the shoes. 

The little lattice arch sits on the sand about thirty feet from the back patio of The Hard Deck. You peer out the window from where you stand by the piano, seeing Bradley approach Mav with a concerned little pinch in his eyebrows. You know you’re running late, but after all this time he knows better than to really worry. 

Mav clasps his shoulder briefly with a wide smile before dusting imaginary debris from his uniform. Bradley returns the favor, straightening the ribbons on his chest. You step back as Mav looks through the back door, staying out of sight. 

With a deep breath, you nod at Penny. She hands you the bouquet and heads outside, calling in your wedding party from their shenanigans and giving the rest of the assembled company the cue to take their seats. 

Phoenix reaches you first, giving you a hug. “You excited?”

You nod. “Very.” 

“It’s gonna be so fun.” 

Jake winks at you as he offers Phoenix his arm, taking his cover under his other elbow. “He’s freaking out.” 

“No, he isn’t. He’s ecstatic,” Payback says, smiling at Amelia in her blue bridesmaid dress. “May I, miss?” 

You’re sure she’s blushing when she nods and tucks her hand into his elbow. Penny smiles, kissing your cheek before giving the same treatment to Amelia’s head. She gives Payback a quick pat on the shoulder for good measure and then she’s gone - jogging barefoot to her seat. 

Everyone else gets settled and you’re ready. 

+++

You look up from the sand, finally, to see Rooster standing before the water in his summer dress whites. His uniform and his smile are equally blinding. You almost have to squint to look at him directly. The smile on your face, though, could give him a run for his money. 

The wind off the water whips around your face and pulls at the skirt of your dress. You let your eyes wander down the short line of crisply-dressed aviators that just left you in the bar. Hangman, Bob, Coyote, and Payback grin back at you behind their sunglasses when you smile at all of them in turn. 

Maverick and Penny, of course, stand in the front row beside the empty seats reserved for Bradley’s parents and Iceman. Sarah and Ice’s oldest son stand on the far side. Your closest friends and family fill the remaining seats. There’s not a person out of place and everything is just as you pictured it when you sketched out the quick plans in Maverick’s desert hanger five months ago. 

After what feels like an hour, you finally reach Bradley at the end of the aisle. He take your hand and you walk the final few steps to the officiant together, passing your bouquet to Phoenix. 

“You look beautiful,” he says.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Lieutenant.” 

He squeezes your hand. 

+++

You practically wilt into the bar when the jukebox falls silent. With a laugh, you look up and see Penny’s rueful smile. The inside of the place has gone wild, most of the respectable family out on the patio enjoying some degree of peace and quiet while the “kids” have fun inside. 

“They’re predictable, aren’t they?” Penny asks. 

You nod. “Terminally, I’m afraid.” 

She grins at you. “Go play. I’ve got your drink.” 

A path opens for you as you make your way to the piano. Bradley’s warming up with a few riffs, but you know what he’s going to play before he even starts. 

“ You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain…” 

The entire bar eggs him on, some starting to sing along already. You let out a loud laugh, almost warning him you’re there before he can look. 

“… You broke my will, oh what a thrill. Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire!” 

He opens an arm so you can settle into his lap without a break in the music. You lean into him, giving him more room to play. You catch Mav’s eye as he settles next to Penny at the bar, a pint in his hand. 

“ Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!” 

You know exactly what he sees - how strange and difficult it must be. You smile at him before turning, sliding an arm around Bradley’s shoulder. 

“ Kiss me baby -” 

On cue, you wrap your other arm around Bradley's neck and plant a downright filthy kiss that has the entire crowd whooping and hollering. 

“ Woo, that feels good, baby. Hold me, baby… ” 

You stay tucked up against him, singing along, crowing the lyrics to the ceiling, and losing your breath to laughter. 

At the bar, Maverick is indeed seeing double. He sees what’s in front of him - his nephew playing an old song on the piano with the love of his life in his lap - and what’s behind him - Carole and Goose, laughing through their own wedding reception over 35 years ago. 

“You okay there, Captain?” 

Mav looks over at Penny with raised eyebrows as she leaves her place behind the bar. “Hm?”

She reaches him, raking her fingers through the graying hair at his temples. “Just asking if you’re alright.” 

Pete catches her hand and kisses the back of it. “Fine. Just, ah…” 

“Remembering?” She offers. 

He hums. “That, and I’m… getting old, I guess.” His eyes wander back to you and Rooster at the piano. 

Penny nods, checking on Amelia over her shoulder. She and Phoenix are at the pool table, actively hustling Coyote out of a hundred bucks. “We all are, Pete. You’re not special.” There’s no heat in her teasing - only affection. 

“You know I love it when you tell me I’m just like everyone else,” Mav replies playfully. 

Penny hums facetiously. “You are in fact, the most average man I’ve ever met.”

“Hmm…” Maverick wets his lips and studies her from top to toe. “That’s definitely not what you said last ni-”

“Mom?”

Penny smacks her hand over Maverick’s mouth and leans over his shoulder. “Yes?” 

“Coyote says there’s house rules to pool.” 

With an affectionate brush of her thumb over his lips, Penny releases Maverick. “Oh, no. Absolutely not. Not in this house.” She raises her voice over the crowd noise. “We play by the book here, Machado.” 

“Yes ma’am!” Comes the reply. 

“Is that really true, though?” Mav asks. 

Penny scoffs. “If it were, would you listen?” 

He just grins at her. It’s all the answer she needs. 

+++

Something slow and sweet plays on the speakers. Your head rests heavily on Bradley, whose hand covers yours on his chest. Your eyes are closed, swaying to the barest suggestion of the actual beat. 

“When will you be back?” 

Bradley sighs into the phone. “I don’t know. Sweetheart, this…This might be one of those missions where someone isn’t coming home.” 

You sink to the floor, legs crossed. “Bradley, I -” You swallow heavily. “You better come home.” 

“I’ll do my best.”

“You always do,” you tell him. “I need you to do better.” 

There’s silence. 

Eventually, Bradley says, “I love you.” 

“I love you, too. So much.” It doesn’t, surprisingly, sound like goodbye. 

“I’ll text you when I’m on deck and I’ll see you when I get home, okay?”

Your voice is a whisper when it leaves you. “Okay. Fly safe.”  

Having him back never loses its novelty. 

Mav and Penny look much the same on the other side of the floor, speaking quietly and giggling like a pair of teenagers. 

Amelia is fast asleep on one of the chairs, Maverick’s leather jacket serving dutifully as her blanket. She crashed against Reuben about an hour ago and he found a place for her to rest somewhat peacefully after a little while. She is, after all, no stranger to falling asleep at The Hard Deck; it’s become her second home. 

The remaining members of Dagger Squad - Jake, Natasha, Reuben, and Bob - sit sprawled out in chairs, watching the two couples left standing on the dance floor. 

“Figure we should tell ‘em the party’s over?” Payback says. 

Tasha shakes her head. “Leave them alone. Look at them.” 

Their eyes bounce from you and Bradley to Penny and Maverick, varying degrees of small smiles on their faces. 

“Hey, Phoenix, you think -” Jake doesn’t get to finish.

“I’m gonna stop you there,” Tasha says. 

He scoffs. “You didn’t even know what I was going to say.” 

“I do, in fact.” 

“Alright, enlighten me.” 

Reuben and Bob roll their eyes, both suddenly and violently reminded that this bullshit will make up at least a quarter of their careers, at this rate. 

“You were either going to make a joke about dancing with me or reference someone’s sex life. Neither one of those options are ones I’m interested in.” 

“You flatter yourself.” 

“Am I wrong?” She raises her eyebrows. 

Jake rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his beer, muttering into it, “No.” 

+++

“Can you see him?” Amelia asks, standing on her toes to see around the people in front of her. 

Penny snorts. “They’re all in their whites. You won’t be able to tell who’s who until they’re off the carrier, love.” 

She humphs. Mav places a hand on Amelia’s shoulder. 

“It won’t be long now,” he says. “

You take a deep breath, enjoying the sunshine on your face and the breeze of the water. Thousands of families surround you, including the Fitches, Traces, and Seresins. Jake’s mom, you’ve recently learned, is a total sweetheart. 

“Your son,” you told her upon meeting, “is a huge pain in my ass and I love him so much.” 

She’d only laughed. “Tell me about it.”

Now, you’re all standing together waiting for the carrier to finally dock. It’s been six months, all of them long. You can’t wait to have Bradley back. 

Turning, you ask Mav, “When are Fanboy and Bob due back?”

“They’re due into Ft. Lauderdale in a couple of months. I think they got stuck in the Med again.”

You pull a face. “That sucks.”

He shrugs. “It is what it is.”

That should be the tagline for all US Armed Forces. 

The final minutes seem to last forever before a bunch of sailors seems to tumble out of the carrier, walking briskly to the assembled families. Like a dam breaking, they start to run as people rush forward into the arms of their loved ones. 

You use Mav’s shoulder for leverage, trying to see. Your eyes land on a small group and four smiles greet you. 

“I’ve got them!” You call. “They’re on their way.” 

It takes everything you have to stay still, knowing you’ll likely lose them if you try to seek them out. After a minute or so, you can’t help it. You break from the line, artfully dodging families and sailors and everyone in between. 

You crash into Bradley at full speed, wrapping around him like a koala. He hikes you higher, finding a place for your legs around his waist and holding you tight. 

“Damn, Rooster!” Comes a familiar voice. “Save some for the rest of us!” 

You get your feet under you again, pressing a hard kiss to Bradley’s mouth. Immediately upon letting him go, you turn and hug the life out of Jake. 

“Aw,” he says. “I knew you missed me.” 

“Don’t ruin it,” you tell him. The laughter in your voice and the tears in your eyes cut the harshness of your tone. You pull back just far enough to grin at him, moving on to Reuben, then Natasha in turn. You point out their families to them, but Reuben’s wife has her own ideas and they’re embracing before you can blink. 

Bradley pulls you back, his arms around your waist, to press kiss upon kiss upon kiss to your temple. You turn, taking his face in your hands. 

“I missed you,” you tell him, both belated and redundant. 

He grins. “I missed you too.” He kisses you once, twice. “I love you. I think I love you more than when I left.” 

You grin at him. 

The two of you separate enough to walk, Bradley’s arm around your shoulders and yours around his waist. Your family greets you with kisses, and smiles, and hugs. Mav looks between you. 

“Let’s go home.” 

#bradley bradshaw x fem!reader #rooster x fem!reader #rooster x reader #top gun maverick #tali writes fanfiction #top gun maverick fic #bradley bradshaw x reader

[techni-coloured]

One San Diego Evening 0.1 - Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw

Pairing: Rooster x Female Reader

Summary: Bradley Bradshaw always has a plan. It may not be well executed, but he always has a plan. 

But with you, he was willing to take a risk. Even if he nearly passed out on your lap after one too many drinks.

TLDR: Rooster meets romcom. That’s it that’s the tweet. 

Part 1 of RomCom!Rooster

Previous Part || Next Part

TW: mentions of alcohol, cursing

*Parts updated biweekly!*

————————

“Come on, Bradshaw!” Payback shouted. 

The Dagger Squad decided to expand their excursion radius. The Hard Deck was a timeless classic, a hot spot for naval men and women to get together and drink to their hearts’ content. It was an added bonus when someone willingly (or unwillingly, bless Penny Benjamin’s heart for that beloved bell) bought a round.

It was Bob’s suggestion that they try something new. Since the successful mission of the uranium plant, it was a rarity for all of them to get together. They would try to meet up but often end up missing one or two people. In this instance, it was Penny and Maverick. The older couple was currently landing on the island of Hawai’i. 

Penny was told that it was to visit a couple of old pals of her father. Unbeknownst to her, Maverick had a stunning 2-carat gold band tucked into his trusty leather jacket. The Squad was checking repeatedly for any updates to the proposal, whether it would be a surprise or not, but truthfully told, the captain has one of the worst poker faces. The fact it was a secret for this long was an impressive feat. 

So here the group was, scootering along the streets of San Diego aimlessly on electric scooter rentals. Bob was leading the pack, Hangman and Phoenix, with a competitive edge, attempting to catch up, and the remainder of the squad trailing behind. Rooster lagged the most, cursing at the wheels of the device.

“Why on earth did we decide to do this?” Rooster huffed, gripping the handles for dear life. For a man regularly pulling upwards of 7-8 G’s on a somewhat basis, Lime scooters were his worst enemy.

“Someone’s upset he’s falling behind,” Phoenix quipped, pulling up to Bob. For someone wearing chunky heels, she navigated the streets with ease, her glossy brown hair whipping with the wind.

“Or the fact he can’t look as fantastic as me doing it,” Hangman snickered. In true Seresin fashion, the blonde could never turn down an opportunity to show off his Southern roots. A tan Stetson hat perched on his head, and dark brown leather boots peaked out of his blue jeans. 

Rooster rolled his eyes at his friends’ sass. He enjoyed spending time with them, plus, the rest of the world could see him and his ridiculous patterned Hawaiian shirts. Even at 8 P.M., he brought his aviator sunglasses, tucked into the collar of his white tank top.

“Two blocks and it’ll be on your left,” Coyote said, glancing at the directions on his phone with one hand, the other hand steering the scooter. Him and Fanboy were responsible for picking the bars, since they were planning on having everyone bar hop. The night was young, and none of them were getting any younger.

Plus, none of them had work the next day. A full 24-hour recovery for whatever hangover needed to be nursed. Bob made sure to stock the Airbnb’s rental fridge with Pedialyte and Gatorade, ever so prepared. 

A block and a half later, the scooters were parked on a curb a couple of yards from their first destination. Well, most of them. Rooster was muttering angrily because the scooter wouldn’t stay put when he tried to leave it with the rest of them.

“This darn piece of crap!” He mumbled under his breath. Just as he managed to get the transportation device situated, he whipped around to catch up with his pals.

Too quickly one might add, as he collided into you, startled from the sudden movement.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t look where I was going!” You exclaimed, looking up to meet the stranger’s eyes. You were first met with a bushy mustache, a little higher up, chocolate-colored irises. 

His gaze softened, focusing on who he crashed into. The green silk top you wore complimented your skin perfectly, the black leather pants hugging your curves. Even at night, you radiated. Time seemed to slow just a bit.

Rooster was never quick to judge, but he was certain you were one of the most beautiful women he has ever seen. The only other woman on that list was his mother.

“No, I’m sorry, this scooter was the death of me,” He quickly apologized, gesturing to the hell on wheels behind him. “I should’ve paid attention better.”

“Rooster, we go out once, and you’re already embarrassing us!” Fanboy said, suppressing a laugh. He knew how Rooster was eyeing you, and he was planning on teasing him about it later. Payback and Phoenix were thinking the same.

“Oh, is it your guys’ first time around here?” You asked. A phone began to buzz in your pocket, and you reached to pull it out. 

Rooster nodded. The rest of the squad moved closer to the two of you to be included in the conversation. 

“How lovely!” You glanced at the rest of his friends. You pointed to the bar a couple of yards away. “This is one of the best bars in the city. They don’t skimp out on alcohol either.”

“See, Fanboy,” Coyote shot the WSO a smug look. “Yelp never lies.”

“I have to take this call,” You gestured to your buzzing phone. “But perhaps I’ll see you inside. Again, I’m so sorry for bumping into you, I hope you guys enjoy the rest of your night!

And you were off. The group collectively gave a wave, while you made a beeline for the entrance.

His eyes followed you as you walked in.

He wished he got your name.

#rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster top gun #top gun x reader #top gun maverick #natasha trace #jake seresin #pete maverick mitchell #maverick fluff #rooster fluff #romcom rooster #bob floyd #phoenix #hangman #bob is my scooter king #miles teller #i havent written in so long #pls help

[homerforsure]

Ahem: 2

Tour Guide!Buck

My beloved ♥️

💗💗💗 I love him so. This maybe got away from me a little bit sorry about that.

Once he glues himself to Buck’s side, Patrick doesn’t seem to have any trouble at all maneuvering the segway (though he still wobbles at every single street corner, making Buck reach out to steady him.) Eddie scowls at him from near the back of their small group, unable to even feel smug about his own superior driving skills when he still feels incredibly silly about even being on a segway in the first place. He reminds himself that he’s not here for history or for the sound of Buck’s laugh. All that matters are street signs, short cuts and landmarks so Eddie focuses his attention on the shapes of the buildings he’s passing by, trying to imagine where he is in relation to home, to the station, and how he might find his way back again on a less embarrassing mode of transportation. 

They pass Staples Center and LA Live, the Convention Center and the Grammy Museum. The big clock in Grand Hope Park helpfully reminds Eddie just how long he’s going to be trapped in his own personal hell and he wonders if Buck would get in trouble if one of his tour guests ditched their segway a quarter of the way through and caught an uber back home. 

Not that it’s Buck’s fault. He’s just as charming as ever, full of enthusiasm and stories and endless patience for what is, Eddie thinks, one of the most irritating groups he’s ever been part of. Patrick, with his giggly faux-clumsiness and obvious flirting, isn’t even the worst of it. His friends pay even less attention to the tour than he does, missing traffic signals, talking loudly about where they’ve been drinking so far and where they’re going to be drinking tonight, weaving through the crowds on the sidewalk instead of keeping to the neat line Buck tries to herd them into. The middle aged couple stuck in the middle of all of it are growing more annoyed as the trip goes on, the husband calling loudly for Buck to repeat himself and both of them muttering about having had much better tours in San Diego.

It’s deliberately loud enough that Buck hears it and, after pointing out the path for Patrick, drops back to ride beside them for a while. 

“Ray! Katherine! Are you guys having a good time?” he asks, his smile bright and inviting. 

Katherine wobbles on her segway as it goes over a bumpy piece of sidewalk and lifts a hand to hold her wide brimmed hat on her head, “I think we’re a little lost.”

“I missed most of what you said back there,” Ray adds. “About the fires at the library.” 

“Would you mind telling us again?” 

“No, no, of course not. I’ll start from the beginning.”

“Buck!” Patrick yelp-laughs from the front of the group. “I think this thing is acting up again.” 

Somehow, Buck manages not to react. He pauses, seeming to Eddie like he’s holding his breath in order to hold off saying any of the things he’s actually thinking, and then Buck sighs and answers, “Just keep it steady, Pat. You’re doing great.” 

“I don’t remember where you said to turn!”

This time Eddie cringes too and tries not to imagine running Patrick off the road and into a bush. He’s just a dumbass kid after all. He’ll be embarrassed about this someday. Hopefully.

“Forget it,” Ray says. “I’ll just google it when we get back to the hotel.” 

“No, don’t do that! We’ll- we’ll stop up here and rearrange everybody. I’ll talk about the arson and we’ll make sure that you don’t miss anything else, okay?”

Exchanging a glance with each other, the couple tartly replies, “Fine.” 

“Awesome. Thank you,” Buck says. 

Before he glides back to the front of their caravan, Buck turns his head to look at Eddie. His mask falters for the first time, revealing stress and irritation and the kind of resignation that comes from realizing that you’re the only cat herder in a room full of cats and no backup is coming. 

A tiny furrow appears between his brows as he asks, “Are you doing alright back here, Eddie?”

And suddenly Eddie is. He can’t not be when Buck is trying so hard and wants all of them to be doing alright. The bad mood drops away, softening the line of his shoulders and his grip on the handlebars, and Eddie nods back, “Don’t worry about me. I’m having a great time.”

#tour guide buck #birthday snips #yes it's been a month since my birthday #don't worry about it #am writing

[mandsleanan]

Sorry, parents: The American dream is only for DINKS

Homebuyers with kids will likely spend 66% of their income on a mortgage and childcare this year.

Parents in Los Angeles and San Diego can expect to spend as much as 121% and 113%, respectively.

Some Californians have moved across the country to afford to buy a home.

Thinking about buying a home this year with kids already in the picture? Get ready to dig deep.

A recent study from Zillow found that potential homebuyers with children are likely to spend 66% of their income on mortgage payments and childcare expenses — an increase of nearly 50% from 2019. 

The real-estate company estimated city- and state-level childcare costs from 2009 to 2022 for the typical American family with 1.94 children by analyzing data from the Women’s Bureau of the US Department of Labor and advocacy group Child Care Aware.

According to Zillow’s analysis, in 31 of the largest 50 US metropolitan areas with available childcare cost data, families looking to buy a home can expect to spend more than 60% of their income on mortgage and childcare costs.

Some areas are even costlier, with parents in cities like Los Angeles and San Diego needing to dedicate as much as 121% and 113%, respectively. (In those areas, the cost of buying a typical home and childcare is so big relative to the median income that Zillow's calculation results in figures over 100%.)

Zillow determined that a family earning a median household income of $6,640 per month can expect to allocate $1,984 of that to childcare. If the family purchased a house at a 6.61% interest rate — the rate in early January, when the US Department of Labor released its latest data on childcare costs — and made a 10% down payment, their monthly mortgage would amount to $1,973.

That leaves just $2,683 for additional expenses like food, transportation, and healthcare. This means many households with kids are financially strained; they're likely spending more than 30% of their income on housing, well above what experts recommend.

It all adds up to a costly reality that's making the American dream of homeownership seem farther out of reach for parents than ever before.

Parents can blame a yearslong battle with inflation, as well as stubbornly high home prices and mortgage rates, for contributing to their predicament.

Based on the study, a new buyer household in the United States, making the median income, would spend 30% of it on housing. It's paying for childcare, then, that adds so much on top of the housing budget.

The upshot: Another group, less encumbered financially, appears better poised to realize the dream of homeownership: "DINKS," an acronym that stands for "dual income, no kids."

Some child-free DINKS — who boast a median net worth above $200,000 according to the Federal Reserve's Survey of Consumer Finances — devote their disposable income to luxuries like boats and expensive cars.

Without the financial obligations of raising children, such as covering medical expenses or enrolling them in daycare or private school, DINKS can save thousands of dollars a year and build greater long-term wealth.

Some DINKS use their savings to finance vacations and travel the world, like Elizabeth Johnson and her husband, who, over the past couple of years, have hiked in the Swiss Alps, snorkeled in Hawaii, and enjoyed leaf peeping in Canada.

"We hang out with other people's kids every once in a while," Johnson previously told Business Insider's Bartie Scott and Juliana Kaplan, "but then we happily just give them back to their parents."

Some Americans with kids move to places where their money goes further

One solution to the high cost of both buying a home and raising a family?

Move.

In recent years, young Americans in higher-cost states have decided to move to places that offer them a cheaper cost of living.

Janelle Crossan moved to New Braunfels, Texas, from Costa Mesa, California, in 2020 following a divorce.

She was able to become a first-time homebuyer and found a safe community to raise her son.

"I paid $1,750 for rent in a crappy little apartment in California," Crossan told BI earlier this year. "Now, three years later, my whole payment, including mortgage and property taxes, is $1,800 a month for my three-bedroom house."

Pengyu Cheng, a program manager for a tech company, told BI in 2023 that moving from California to Texas allowed him and his wife to afford their first home, giving them the confidence and security to have their first child.

"Living in California has always been expensive," Cheng said. "I knew that when my wife and I eventually expanded our family, we wouldn't be able to afford San Francisco or the Bay Area in general — even though we both earn good salaries."

#Childfree #DINK Life #Homebuying #Formatting's wacky on this one

[slackville-records]

Iron Butterfly is an American rock band formed in San Diego, California, in 1966. They are best known for the 1968 hit "In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida", providing a dramatic sound that led the way towards the development of hard rock and heavy metal music. Although their heyday was the late 1960s, the band has been reincarnated with various members with varying levels of success with no new recordings since 1975. Their second album, In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida (1968), remains a best-seller, and Iron Butterfly was the first group to receive an In-House platinum album award from Atlantic Records. Their music has found a significant impact on the international rock scenes, influencing numerous acts such as Black Sabbath, AC/DC, Rush, Alice Cooper, Mountain, Uriah Heep, Soundgarden, Stone Temple Pilots, Slayer, King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard, and Queens of the Stone Age.

The band had been booked to play at Woodstock in August 1969 but got stuck at New York City's LaGuardia Airport. They explained their situation to the concert promoters and asked for patience. Their manager, however, sent a telegram demanding that Iron Butterfly be flown in by helicopter, whereupon they would "immediately" take the stage. After their set, they would be paid and flown back to the airport. According to drummer Bushy, "We went down to the Port Authority three times and waited for the helicopter, but it never showed up". Woodstock production coordinator John Morris claims he sent the manager a telegram reading: "For reasons I can't go into / Until you are here / Clarifying your situation / Knowing you are having problems / You will have to find / Other transportation / Unless you plan not to come." The acrostic formed by the first letter of each line in the telegram (FUCK YOU), made it clear that the band was not welcome.

There are a lot of stories about bands that almost made it to Woodstock but for various reasons failed or declined invites, but of all the acts that were invited and accepted the offer, none came closer than Iron Butterfly. They were only a helicopter ride away, but alas that helicopter 🚁 never came.

source: Woodstock Counsel of Elders Local Tribe #1969

[tossacointoyourhotmess]

Dr. Ian Malcolm

Born: June 29th, 1955

Significant other: Unknown status. Several ex-wives

Children: Kelly Curtis Malcolm + four other unnamed children

Occupation: Chaotician

Portrayed by: Jeff Goldblum

Along with Dr. Alan Grant and Dr. Ellie Sattler, Ian was invited by John Hammond to Isla Nublar as one of the specialists who was to sign off on the park, declaring it safe and ready to open for the public. Ian, however, had previously told Hammond of his many concerns regarding the park and believed that Hammond had invited him in order to try and prove him wrong.

Although continuing to express his concerns, he joined Alan and Ellie on the park tour along with lawyer Donald Gennaro and Hammond's grandchildren Lex and Tim. During this tour, the group came across a sick triceratops and abandoned the vehicles. Upon the arrival of a tropical storm the group, save Ellie, returned to the tour cars and began their journey back to the visitor centre.

While this was happening Dennis Nedry, the parks computer specialist and program designer, shut down the security systems in order to smuggle embryos out to a Biosyn operative. Due to the shut down, the tour behicles came to a stop outside the T-Rex paddock and the Rex was able to escape her enclosure due to the fences being unpowered.

The Rex attacked the car containing Lex and Tim, the same car that Gennaro had abandoned. In an effort to rescue the children, Ian was wounded by the Rex and knocked unconscious. He was later found by Ellie and game warden Robert Muldoon, and returned to the visitor centre where he received what minimal treatment that he could. When it was decided that they would completely shut down the parks remaining systems, Hammond ordered everyone to the emergency bunker while it was rebooted. It was in this emergency bunker that Ian spent the remainder of his time on the island until they were able to contact the mainland and have a helicopter sent for them.

After the incident on the island, things took a bad turn for Ian. After trying to go public with what had happened, Ian was discredited by Hammond's nephew Peter Ludlow. Ludlow went to great lengths to make Ian appear insane which resulted in Ian losing his university tenure. His book only made matters worse as it was a direct violation of the non-disclose agreement he had signed after leaving the island. However, despite this, he managed to establish a relationship with Sarah Harding, an accomplished paleontologist.

Four years after the events on Nublar, Ian was contacted by Hammond who asked him to document the remaining dinosaurs living on Isla Sorna, Site B. Ian adamantly refused until he learned that Hammond had also contacted Sarah and that she was already on the island. Declaring it now a rescue mission, Ian began working with a team to prep for a journey to Sorna. It was during this time that his daughter Kelly was left in his care by her mother and, not wanting to be left behind, stowed away in the trailer.

After finding Sarah on the island, and discovering that Kelly had stowed away, his priority became removing the ones he loved from the island, fearing what would happen to them. The group, however, saw the arrival of another InGen group and discovered that Ludlow was rounding up dinosaurs for transport to the mainland so that they could appear in Jurassic Park San Diego. While he stayed in the trailer to contact a nearby boat, Sarah and fellow team member Nick Van Own went to free the captured dinosaurs and ended up bringing an injured baby T-Rex back to the trailer. This attracted the parents of the baby to the trailers and they attack the group, pushing the trailers off of the cliff and killing Eddie Carr. They are rescued by the InGen group who also found Kelly in the high-hide where Ian had hid her. The two teams teamed up to access an abandoned facility in the islands centre in order to contact the mainland.

After much difficulty Ian, Sarah, and Kelly reach the facility but are attacked by raptors. After fighting them off, they ran for the helicopter that had been called by Nick who had reached the facility before them. As they flew from the island, they saw the mother T-Rex sedated and loaded for transport to the mainland.

After reaching the mainland Ian and Sarah made their way to the docks to try and stop the arrival of the ship carrying the Rex. However they could not contact the ship due to all the crew members having been killed during the journey. The ship crashed into the dock releasing the Rex onto the San Diego streets. Realising that she was looking for her baby who was also in San Diego, Ian and Sarah learn from Ludlow that the baby was being held at the San Diego attraction. They go and retrieve the baby, using it to lure the mother Rex back to the boat and into the cargo hold before the authorities can kill her. Ludlow is killed by the baby T-Rex in the cargo hold. The ship is then escorted back to Isla Sorna where the Rex family live in peace.

Many years later, after the fall of Jurassic World and just before the imminent destruction of Isla Nublar by Mt Sibu, Ian appeared before the senate declaring his belief that the volcano eruption was a way of nature correcting itself, and that the remaining dinosaurs should be left to go extinct. After they were rescued and released onto the mainland, he appeared before the senate again declaring "welcome to Jurassic World."

By the events of Dominion, he is working as an in house philosopher for Biosyn. Sometime between the events of Isla Sorna and working for Biosyn, he had two more children.

Alan and Ellie bios coming soon

#ian malcolm #jurassic park #jurassic world #jeff goldblum

[c0mpvlsive]

The Dawn of AI (Paperwar) by Ryan LeKodak

Book Summary:

One malfunction…

Millions dead…

The search for answers begins…

In the year 2040, the world's transportation is dominated by a highly advanced artificial intelligence system.

However, this seemingly perfect technology collapses, resulting in catastrophic disasters and the loss of millions of lives worldwide.

The disaster is dubbed Mayday, and its aftermath affects everyone. But was it simply a malfunction, or is there a more nefarious agenda at work? Who is accountable for the mass slaughter, and why was it carried out?

Order your copy and find out if the rise of AI, will be the fall of civilization!

Buy the Book – Amazon

Reviews:

★★★★★“LeKodak's stellar debut is a science fiction thriller that utilizes elements of speculative fiction, apocalyptic fiction, and conspiratorial mystery in a globe-hopping narrative that chronicles a group of adventurers trying to unravel who—or what—was behind a software malfunction that killed tens of millions of innocent people. It is well-written, relentlessly paced, and thematically profound, and will surely appeal to fans of SF thrillers by luminaries like Clarke, Dick, and Crichton. This is the good stuff.”

Paul Goat Allen, BlueInk Review

★★★★★“It's refreshing to see a talented author like LeKodak take the trope into the dystopian disaster novel niche and deliver an action-packed tale that gives just as many blockbuster thrills as it does intelligent technological questions. The plot and its themes are the primary focus, but in the ensemble cast of characters caught in the crossfire, each one has good solid development and moments to shine. I recommend The Dawn of AI to enthusiasts of intricately penned and exciting science fiction everywhere."

K.C. Finn, Readers' Favorite Book Review

★★★★★“The characters are extremely well developed, which is quite an accomplishment given how many there are. The most intriguing characters to me are conjoined twins with incredible story arcs and whenever the point of view kicked back to them, for me, it was like a favorite song playing again on the radio."

Jamie Michele, Readers' Favorite Book Review

★★★★★“The Dawn of AI connects the dots between characters that I neither expected nor saw coming in a story configuration that has an after-before-after pattern. I love this configuration as it hooks immediately and then goes back to fill in the blanks after I am invested in the plot. Excellent storytelling. Very highly recommended."

Asher Syed, Readers' Favorite Book Review

★★★★★“With the rise of Artificial Intelligence being a hot topic in the real world right now, I’m grateful to see such thought-provoking stories that explore this emergent technology's potential. This book is an easy recommendation to anyone interested in exciting science fiction, which takes a prevailing concern of today's world and explores it with intelligence and consideration."

Lexie Fox, Readers' Favorite Book Review

★★★★★“The pitfalls of giving the machines too much control play out in the storyline of Ryan LeKodak's novel. His take on an apocalyptic event is so vivid it is frightening to contemplate. The Dawn of AI is a science fiction aficionado’s dream novel."

Essien Asian, Readers' Favorite Book Review

★★★★★“In a world where jobs and livelihoods are being increasingly threatened by AI’s potential, this book is a reminder that machine malfunctions will inevitably happen.”

Theresa Kadair, Los Angeles Book Review

About the Author:

Ryan LeKodak is a science fiction author who lives in San Diego, California with his family. After emigrating from Vietnam in 1980 by boat, Ryan dreamed of becoming a doctor and nothing more. But upon learning the sight of blood made him squeamish, he pivoted from premed to begin a thirty-plus-year career in high-tech engineering, IT, quality assurance, and operations. Now a cybersecurity program manager based in San Diego, Ryan juggles a hectic career, raising his twin sons, and appeasing a needy Poochon puppy. At home, his lively boys take center stage, and their colorful comic doodles, adolescent puns, and wildly exaggerated stories from school inspired him to craft fast-paced science-fiction thrillers that explore the ominous potential of a future where AI surpasses human control. Through his writing, Ryan champions the extraordinary strengths that reside within each of us and celebrates the individual quirks that lighten fantastic worlds on the brink of disaster.

[pompeiilimousine]

Streamlining Corporate Travel: Top Transportation Solutions in San Diego

Introduction

In the fast-paced world of corporate travel, efficiency and reliability are paramount. Navigating through a busy city like San Diego can be challenging, especially when time is of the essence. That's where top transportation solutions in San Diego come into play. These services are designed to streamline corporate travel, providing professionals with seamless transportation options that enhance productivity and ensure a stress-free experience. In this article, we will explore the benefits of utilizing top Corporate Transportations in San Diego for corporate travel and how they can optimize your business trips. So, fasten your seatbelt and get ready to discover a new level of convenience and efficiency!

The Importance of Streamlined Corporate Travel

Corporate travel often involves tight schedules, multiple meetings, and the need for prompt and reliable transportation. Here are some reasons why streamlined corporate travel is essential:

Time Efficiency: Corporate travelers understand the value of time. Streamlined transportation solutions prioritize punctuality, ensuring that professionals reach their destinations on time. This eliminates the stress of navigating through traffic or searching for parking, allowing travelers to focus on their work and maximize their productivity.

Professional Image: First impressions matter in the business world. Arriving at meetings or events in a sleek and well-maintained vehicle enhances a professional image. Top transportation solutions offer a fleet of luxurious vehicles that exude professionalism, helping corporate travelers make a lasting impression.

Productivity: Streamlined transportation solutions provide professionals with a conducive environment to work while on the move. Instead of worrying about driving or navigating, corporate travelers can utilize their travel time to catch up on emails, prepare for meetings, or brainstorm ideas. This productivity boost allows them to stay ahead in their professional endeavors.

Stress-Free Travel: Dealing with traffic, parking, and unfamiliar routes can be stressful, especially in a new city like San Diego. Streamlined transportation solutions take care of all these aspects, allowing corporate travelers to relax and focus on their work. This stress-free travel experience contributes to a positive mindset and increased productivity.

Benefits of Top Transportation Solutions in San Diego

Now let's delve into the specific benefits of utilizing top transportation solutions in San Diego for corporate travel:

Airport Transfers: San Diego International Airport is a major hub for business travelers. Top transportation solutions offer efficient airport transfer services, ensuring seamless arrivals and departures. They track flight schedules, provide meet-and-greet services, and handle luggage, allowing corporate travelers to start or end their journeys stress-free.

Luxurious and Comfortable Vehicles: Top transportation solutions in San Diego boast a fleet of high-end vehicles, including sedans, SUVs, and limousines. These vehicles are equipped with luxurious amenities, such as plush seating, climate control, and advanced entertainment systems. Corporate travelers can enjoy a comfortable and enjoyable ride, enhancing their overall travel experience.

Professional Chauffeurs: The chauffeurs employed by top transportation solutions are not just skilled drivers but also trained professionals in customer service. They are well-versed in the local area, providing efficient navigation and personalized service. Corporate travelers can rely on their expertise and professionalism for a smooth and pleasant journey.

Flexible Scheduling: Top transportation solutions understand that corporate travel plans can change at a moment's notice. They offer flexible scheduling options, allowing for last-minute changes to itineraries. Dedicated customer service teams are available 24/7 to assist with any modifications or requests, ensuring a seamless travel experience.

Customized Services: Every corporate traveler has unique needs. Top transportation solutions offer customized services tailored to individual requirements. Whether it's a single point-to-point transfer or a full-day chauffeur service, these solutions can accommodate specific travel needs, providing a personalized and efficient experience.

Conclusion

Streamlining corporate travel is essential for professionals seeking efficiency, productivity, and a stress-free experience. Top transportation solutions in San Diego offer a range of benefits that optimize business trips. From time efficiency and a professional image to increased productivity and stress-free travel, these services enhance the overall corporate travel experience. Whether it's airport transfers, luxurious vehicles, professional chauffeurs, flexible scheduling, or customized services, top transportation solutions cater to the unique needs of corporate travelers. So, the next time you plan a business trip to San Diego, consider utilizing these services to streamline your travel and elevate your professional journey. Get ready to experience a new level of convenience, efficiency, and comfort with top transportation solutions in San Diego!

#Corporate Transportations San Diego #group transportation san diego #Private Car Transportation Service

[podcasttoday]

The Dawn of AI (Paperwar) by Ryan LeKodak

Book Summary:

One malfunction…

Millions dead…

The search for answers begins…

In the year 2040, the world's transportation is dominated by a highly advanced artificial intelligence system.

However, this seemingly perfect technology collapses, resulting in catastrophic disasters and the loss of millions of lives worldwide.

The disaster is dubbed Mayday, and its aftermath affects everyone. But was it simply a malfunction, or is there a more nefarious agenda at work? Who is accountable for the mass slaughter, and why was it carried out?

Order your copy and find out if the rise of AI, will be the fall of civilization!

Buy the Book – Amazon

 Reviews:

★★★★★“LeKodak's stellar debut is a science fiction thriller that utilizes elements of speculative fiction, apocalyptic fiction, and conspiratorial mystery in a globe-hopping narrative that chronicles a group of adventurers trying to unravel who—or what—was behind a software malfunction that killed tens of millions of innocent people. It is well-written, relentlessly paced, and thematically profound, and will surely appeal to fans of SF thrillers by luminaries like Clarke, Dick, and Crichton. This is the good stuff.”

Paul Goat Allen, BlueInk Review

 ★★★★★“It's refreshing to see a talented author like LeKodak take the trope into the dystopian disaster novel niche and deliver an action-packed tale that gives just as many blockbuster thrills as it does intelligent technological questions. The plot and its themes are the primary focus, but in the ensemble cast of characters caught in the crossfire, each one has good solid development and moments to shine. I recommend The Dawn of AI to enthusiasts of intricately penned and exciting science fiction everywhere."

K.C. Finn, Readers' Favorite Book Review

 ★★★★★“The characters are extremely well developed, which is quite an accomplishment given how many there are. The most intriguing characters to me are conjoined twins with incredible story arcs and whenever the point of view kicked back to them, for me, it was like a favorite song playing again on the radio."

Jamie Michele, Readers' Favorite Book Review

 ★★★★★“The Dawn of AI connects the dots between characters that I neither expected nor saw coming in a story configuration that has an after-before-after pattern. I love this configuration as it hooks immediately and then goes back to fill in the blanks after I am invested in the plot. Excellent storytelling. Very highly recommended."

Asher Syed, Readers' Favorite Book Review

 ★★★★★“With the rise of Artificial Intelligence being a hot topic in the real world right now, I’m grateful to see such thought-provoking stories that explore this emergent technology's potential. This book is an easy recommendation to anyone interested in exciting science fiction, which takes a prevailing concern of today's world and explores it with intelligence and consideration."

Lexie Fox, Readers' Favorite Book Review

 ★★★★★“The pitfalls of giving the machines too much control play out in the storyline of Ryan LeKodak's novel. His take on an apocalyptic event is so vivid it is frightening to contemplate. The Dawn of AI is a science fiction aficionado’s dream novel."

Essien Asian, Readers' Favorite Book Review

 ★★★★★“In a world where jobs and livelihoods are being increasingly threatened by AI’s potential, this book is a reminder that machine malfunctions will inevitably happen.”

Theresa Kadair, Los Angeles Book Review

 About the Author:

Ryan LeKodak is a science fiction author who lives in San Diego, California with his family. After emigrating from Vietnam in 1980 by boat, Ryan dreamed of becoming a doctor and nothing more. But upon learning the sight of blood made him squeamish, he pivoted from premed to begin a thirty-plus-year career in high-tech engineering, IT, quality assurance, and operations. Now a cybersecurity program manager based in San Diego, Ryan juggles a hectic career, raising his twin sons, and appeasing a needy Poochon puppy. At home, his lively boys take center stage, and their colorful comic doodles, adolescent puns, and wildly exaggerated stories from school inspired him to craft fast-paced science-fiction thrillers that explore the ominous potential of a future where AI surpasses human control. Through his writing, Ryan champions the extraordinary strengths that reside within each of us and celebrates the individual quirks that lighten fantastic worlds on the brink of disaster.

[academicvoyager]

The Dawn of AI (Paperwar) by Ryan LeKodak

Book Summary:

One malfunction…

Millions dead…

The search for answers begins…

In the year 2040, the world's transportation is dominated by a highly advanced artificial intelligence system.

However, this seemingly perfect technology collapses, resulting in catastrophic disasters and the loss of millions of lives worldwide.

The disaster is dubbed Mayday, and its aftermath affects everyone. But was it simply a malfunction, or is there a more nefarious agenda at work? Who is accountable for the mass slaughter, and why was it carried out?

Order your copy and find out if the rise of AI, will be the fall of civilization!

Buy the Book – Amazon

Reviews:

★★★★★“LeKodak's stellar debut is a science fiction thriller that utilizes elements of speculative fiction, apocalyptic fiction, and conspiratorial mystery in a globe-hopping narrative that chronicles a group of adventurers trying to unravel who—or what—was behind a software malfunction that killed tens of millions of innocent people. It is well-written, relentlessly paced, and thematically profound, and will surely appeal to fans of SF thrillers by luminaries like Clarke, Dick, and Crichton. This is the good stuff.”

Paul Goat Allen, BlueInk Review

★★★★★“It's refreshing to see a talented author like LeKodak take the trope into the dystopian disaster novel niche and deliver an action-packed tale that gives just as many blockbuster thrills as it does intelligent technological questions. The plot and its themes are the primary focus, but in the ensemble cast of characters caught in the crossfire, each one has good solid development and moments to shine. I recommend The Dawn of AI to enthusiasts of intricately penned and exciting science fiction everywhere."

K.C. Finn, Readers' Favorite Book Review

★★★★★“The characters are extremely well developed, which is quite an accomplishment given how many there are. The most intriguing characters to me are conjoined twins with incredible story arcs and whenever the point of view kicked back to them, for me, it was like a favorite song playing again on the radio."

Jamie Michele, Readers' Favorite Book Review

★★★★★“The Dawn of AI connects the dots between characters that I neither expected nor saw coming in a story configuration that has an after-before-after pattern. I love this configuration as it hooks immediately and then goes back to fill in the blanks after I am invested in the plot. Excellent storytelling. Very highly recommended."

Asher Syed, Readers' Favorite Book Review

★★★★★“With the rise of Artificial Intelligence being a hot topic in the real world right now, I’m grateful to see such thought-provoking stories that explore this emergent technology's potential. This book is an easy recommendation to anyone interested in exciting science fiction, which takes a prevailing concern of today's world and explores it with intelligence and consideration."

Lexie Fox, Readers' Favorite Book Review

★★★★★“The pitfalls of giving the machines too much control play out in the storyline of Ryan LeKodak's novel. His take on an apocalyptic event is so vivid it is frightening to contemplate. The Dawn of AI is a science fiction aficionado’s dream novel."

Essien Asian, Readers' Favorite Book Review

★★★★★“In a world where jobs and livelihoods are being increasingly threatened by AI’s potential, this book is a reminder that machine malfunctions will inevitably happen.”

Theresa Kadair, Los Angeles Book Review

About the Author:

Ryan LeKodak is a science fiction author who lives in San Diego, California with his family. After emigrating from Vietnam in 1980 by boat, Ryan dreamed of becoming a doctor and nothing more. But upon learning the sight of blood made him squeamish, he pivoted from premed to begin a thirty-plus-year career in high-tech engineering, IT, quality assurance, and operations. Now a cybersecurity program manager based in San Diego, Ryan juggles a hectic career, raising his twin sons, and appeasing a needy Poochon puppy. At home, his lively boys take center stage, and their colorful comic doodles, adolescent puns, and wildly exaggerated stories from school inspired him to craft fast-paced science-fiction thrillers that explore the ominous potential of a future where AI surpasses human control. Through his writing, Ryan champions the extraordinary strengths that reside within each of us and celebrates the individual quirks that lighten fantastic worlds on the brink of disaster.

[beardedmrbean]

Four residents of Tijuana, Mexico, face federal drug trafficking charges in connection with a Southern California methamphetamine seizure that authorities say was "record-breaking"  because of its size.

The suspects — identified as 37-year-old Rafael Alzua, 41-year-old Galdrino Contreras, 41-year-old Mario Contreras, and 44-year-old Ethgar Velazquez — are accused of attempting to transport large quantities of meth after police found them unloading a vehicle filled with the illegal substance on Thursday.

Agents tracked the group to a spot in San Diego County's National City after noticing that a 20-foot-long commercial box truck had crossed the border between Mexico and the U.S. through an entry point in Otay Mesa, near Tijuana. The U.S. Attorney's Office for the Southern District of California alleges that agents then saw the men removing dozens of cardboard boxes from the truck and into a Dodge van. Both vehicles allegedly contained about 148 bundles of a material that tested positive for methamphetamine, according to the statement.

Federal authorities said contents of the seized packages weighed more than 5,000 pounds, an amount they believe constituted at least one of San Diego County's largest methamphetamine busts in history. 

The four men were arrested during the seizure and charged with conspiracy to distribute methamphetamine, classified as a schedule II controlled substance due to its high potential for dependency and recreational abuse. If convicted, such charges carry substantial maximum penalties that include a mandatory minimum of 10 years in prison along with a $10 million fine.

"This monumental seizure represents another win against drug cartels that fuel addiction in the United States," said Shelly S. Howe, DEA Special Agent in Charge, in a statement issued with the U.S. Attorney's press release. "Because of our great partnerships with other law enforcement agencies, we will continue to disrupt the cartels' flow of drugs into our cities."

Deaths related to methamphetamine use have been on the rise in San Diego in recent years. Large quantities of the drug have been discovered in trucks that entered the country through the Otay Mesa commercial point of entry before.

#nunyas news #that is a fuckton of meth #that should do a number on the supply down there for a few days

[mariacallous]

As data continues to accumulate on how local governments are using their flexible funds from the American Rescue Plan Act (ARPA), a picture is forming around the priorities these places sought to address through the first year of the program. Last month, our analysis found that large cities had committed about 40% of the total flexible dollars available to them under ARPA’s State and Local Fiscal Recovery Funds (SLFRF) through the end of 2021—a plurality of which they invested in basic government operations.

While restoring state and local government services and basic fiscal health was a central purpose of ARPA, so too was addressing the economic needs of populations and communities that suffered the most from the pandemic. These included lower-income households and people of color who faced higher rates of unemployment and a lack of basic necessities such as food and housing, as well as historically disinvested communities that saw higher business closures, declines in public safety, and degraded infrastructure. Other statutory SLFRF priorities included public health responses to the pandemic, investments in water and sewer projects, and premium pay for frontline workers.

The latest data from our Local Government ARPA Investment Tracker—a joint project with the National League of Cities and National Association of Counties—sheds light on the degree to which large cities and counties are using their funds to address the needs of these impacted populations and communities. Large cities and counties (those with populations of at least 250,000) report on individual SLFRF-supported projects to the Treasury Department, and the Tracker places each project into one of seven spending groups and one of 41 spending sub-groups, based on its purpose.

This analysis classifies 19 of those sub-groups as principally related to addressing the needs of impacted or historically disinvested populations and communities.[1] It also includes projects outside these categories that recipients classified as providing “services to disproportionately impacted communities” per Treasury’s own reporting system, such as Buffalo, N.Y.’s investment in a low-income neighborhood park, San Diego County’s provision of public transportation subsidies for lower-income young people, or Washington County, Minn.’s investment in new staff capacity to better address socioeconomic disparities in health outcomes.[2]

This approach cannot fully capture the desired intent or practical effect of each city and county’s spending plans. For instance, several cities (e.g., Chicago, San Francisco, Tampa, Fla.) have made generous use of the SLFRF’s revenue replacement provisions. That classification may allow them to reinvest in programs and services that benefit lower-income households and communities, though not necessarily in ways that are apparent in their project reports to Treasury. Moreover, other types of SLFRF investments that don’t by definition address economic disadvantage—say, premium pay for city/county workers, or public goods like water/sewer upgrades—could still combat economic disadvantage, depending on their implementation details. Still, this analysis offers a useful benchmark for where the needs of these populations and places stood within cities’ and counties’ initial prioritization.

A little more than one-quarter of budgeted project dollars explicitly address economic disadvantage