#Aviation Job Profile

[opstechsanjana]

DGCA Approved Top Aircraft Maintenance Engineering College In Pune, Maharashtra, India

[somethinginthewayiam]

The girl behind the bar (Part 2)

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader

warnings: class A banter

words: 3.5k

Summary: You're getting better at your job rather quickly. You already had some regulars, a group of naval aviators in particular. Sadly, Hangman was one of them. Today, you meet a new member of the group...

a/n: Thank you all so much for the likes and comments. I hope you like this one just as much.

Link to my masterlist

Your shifts at the bar got better by the day. Just like you had promised Penny, you learned quickly and improved every day. You already made out some of the regulars who were mostly Navy, young and old, retired, active and newbies, including some naval aviators that were stationed at North Island and the Hard Deck was their afterwork hangout.

You knew most of the naval aviators by their call signs, some even by their regular names. They liked you and you liked them. You seemed to find your footing in San Diego and it felt like it could become your home for at least a little while with every day that passed.

It was another busy evening at the Hard Deck. You still didn’t have the speed that Penny had in serving drinks but she also had three years more experience under her belt, at least here at the Hard Deck.

“Here you go”, you put two tall glasses of beer in front of two older gentlemen that definitely were part of the regulars; retired Navy. “Who’s driving tonight?”, you asked them. “Bert over here”, Carl said and pointed at his friend next to him. His actual name was Ernie but his call-sign was Bert as in Bert and Ernie. Carl’s call-sign was Ping-Pong.

You always thought that everything relating to military had to be super serious and tough, but as it turned out with every naval aviator you met, the names got funnier.

“Alright Bert, you know what that means. One more beer and I’m cutting you off”, you explained like they didn’t know the drill. “Women. Always nagging”, Bert shook his head but with a playful smile on his lips. You knew he was joking and you liked the exchange. “I just don’t wanna lose my favorite customer”, you told him and patted his hand that rested on the bar top. “You make an old man very happy”, he said and put his hand over yours. “Bert! You’re making me blush”, you told him and put your other hand over his. Ping-Pong put his hand on top of yours and now there was a tower of hands. “I felt excluded”, he simply said when you looked over at him and made the three of you laugh.

“Bradshaw!”, you heard Phoenix, a female naval aviator you had come to know through your work at the bar, exclaim over the crowd from the pool table as you turned away from the men to serve other customers. You looked at her first and then followed her eyes to a young man, probably the same age as she was, wearing a Hawaiian shirt as he walked past the bar counter, weaving his way through the crowd towards Phoenix. You just saw his profile and noticed that he was sporting a moustache.

Your attention got pulled away from him by other customers wanting to be served. You looked over at the group by the pool table from time to time. The Hawaiian shirt was an interesting contrast to the khaki uniforms he was surrounded by. You noticed how Hangman and the new guy seemingly went at it with intense stares and tense body language. Maybe they had a past or Hangman was just getting to him. That man could be unnerving.

You delivered a few drink orders to tables and got a new box of beer bottles out of storage when the new guy suddenly appeared at the counter. “Just a moment”, you told him as you put away the last few beers into the cooler. “Sure, take your time”, he said with no hint of sarcasm or impatience. You liked him already.

“Alright, what can I get ya?”, you asked and pushed a strand of your hair that had come loose from the big hair clip behind your ear. It was the first time you got a good look at his face and it was a pretty one. He really pulled off the mustache which wasn’t an easy task. The sunglasses he had on when coming in were now dangling at the neckline of his white shirt.

“A beer, please”, he placed his order. You grabbed a bottle out of the cooler and opened it. “Here you go. That makes 8,50”, you placed the beer in front of him with a smile. He returned the smile as he put a 10-dollar bill on the counter. “Thanks. The rest is for you, sweetheart”, he said and winked at you. He had a charming coolness about him. “Thank you”, you said as you took the money. He didn’t leave immediately but instead was looking at you with the same smile from before. “I’m Bradley”, he mentioned and extended his hand. “Y/N”, you told him and grabbed his hand for a surprisingly nice handshake.

“How do you know Phoenix?”, you asked him as you put the money in the register. “We met at the naval academy a few years ago”, he told you and leaned against the counter, taking a sip of his beer. “So, you’re a pilot, too?”, you inquired but weren’t really surprised as he nodded his head. “Yes, ma’am”, he said. “What’s your call-sign?”, you continued with your questionnaire. “Rooster”, he answered and looked at you like he was a bit surprised that you knew what a call-sign was. “I just remember the call-signs better than the actual names. I don’t know why”, you explained with a chuckle and shrugged your shoulders.

“Rooster!”, Phoenix called him over to play a game of pool. “Thanks for the beer, sweetheart”, he said. “Thanks for the tip”, you said in return before Rooster pushed himself off the counter and walked over to his friends.

When you looked over, about two seats down from where you stood, you found Hangman looking at you.

"Why does he get to call you sweetheart without you getting all snappy on him?", Hangman asked after he witnessed Rooster calling you by, what he thought was, your hated nickname and instead of getting mad at him you just shot Rooster a wide smile.

"Because despite how our first meeting went, he patiently waited for his drink, said thank you AND tipped me", you explained to the aviator while you walked towards him.

After your first encounter, you had a few more run-ins of the same kind. Always douchey on his part and you always countered in a sarcastic, witty way, or so you’d liked to think.

"I tipped you on the next round", he countered. "I tipped myself on your next round", you told him, hinting at the douchebag tax you charged him.

"But with my money. And I paid your fantasy tax", he doubled down. "Tax isn't something you can avoid, fantasy or not. That's not how the IRS works", you lectured him in a playful seriousness.

"Good god, you're killing me, sweetheart", he rolled his eyes at you. "If only, Bagman, if only. And don't call me sweetheart", you told him off, intentionally using Phoenix' version of his call sign that you knew he hated.

“Are you just here to complain or do you want something from me?”, you asked him and wiped down the counter in front of him. “A beer, doll”, he placed his order. “A definite no to doll”, you immediately told him and wagged your finger in front of his face. “I’m just working my way through the nicknames until you like something or you give in. I don’t mind either way”, he shrugged his shoulder. “Rooster called me ma’am. I can work with that”, you told him and placed a fresh bottle of beer before him.

“I’m not calling you ma’am. I’d rather follow my original plan”, he countered. “You know what might be a crazy idea? Calling someone by their birthname”, you told him and rested your hands on the counter. He stared you down with his piercing green eyes and you felt a little twist in your stomach.

“Nah, that’s not fun”, he simply stated and shot you a wide smile, showing off his pearly whites before he got up and walked back to the others.

You shook your head over his cockiness which could get on your nerves sometimes and it really did, but the banter between the two of you was actually quite fun. The way he presented himself would have you think he was not very popular but actually the opposite was the case.

The way his teammates talked to and about him let you know that he had their respect but he also demanded it. He had no problem voicing that he was always top of the class, one of the best if not the best. He exuded BDE when entering a room, talked up a girl or got up against Rooster for what seemed like pretty much anything.

You didn’t know another way to describe it but he was a pretty boy with a HUGE ego and needed to be put in his place from time to time and you’d happily be the one to do it.

It was later in the evening when the jukebox suddenly stopped playing. You didn’t notice at first because of the wall of voices in the well-filled bar, only when you heard someone tickling the ivories of the piano that was standing right next to the bar circle.

You were making your rounds, collecting empty glasses and beer bottles as you heard someone starting to sing. When you looked up, you found Rooster sitting at the piano and his friends Phoenix, Payback, Fanboy and Bob were standing around him, joining in on his singing. You had just stopped at a table close to them, filling up the last space on your already full trey and smiled at the joy they had singing together. When Phoenix spotted you as you walked past them, she pulled you into the round. You only had about time to quickly put your tray down on the bar top, careful not to drop anything.

"Do you know 'Great balls of fire'?", she screamed in your ear over the music and loud singing around you. "Yes, but...", you tried to answer but she just shoved you next to the piano into Roosters vision. The current song had just ended and Phoenix tapped Roosters shoulder. "Play ‘Great balls of fire’, she’ll sing with you", she shouted at his ear over the loud noise in the bar. "No, guys, I have to work and I don't really wanna sing", you told them and wanted to get back to your trey of empty glasses.

Instead of listening to you, Rooster just started playing and Phoenix and Fanboy blocked your way out of the little circle that had formed around Rooster and you.

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain”, Rooster started singing the first line and then looked at you. You just looked at him with big eyes. People from the crowd started looking at you, too, as they expected you to sing as you stood right next to the piano. Rooster just played the part again and again.

"I play it until you sing", he shouted over the music. You looked at him with a distraught look on your face. People started whistling as they got annoyed at the same tune being played over and over again. Phoenix held her bottle of beer in front of you and nudged you with her shoulder. You got a feeling that Rooster could be relentless when he wanted something. You groaned, grabbed the bottle of beer and took a big chug before you handed it back to Phoenix.

"Start again", you told Rooster with your finger moving in a circle in mid-air and cleared your throat. He sang the first line again and this time you picked up the second part of the verse right away. “Too much love drives a man insane.”

You didn't sound bad, quite the opposite, Rooster thought to himself. He sang the next line and you sang back the next. "Louder, Y/N", he yelled and when the chorus came around you sang at the top of your lungs like everybody else around you.

“I’ve changed my mind, this love is fine. Goodness gracious, GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!”, you shouted along with everybody else.

“Kiss me baby”, Rooster sang and tapped his cheek with his finger for a moment before continuing to play. You guessed you were swept up in the moment because you bent down and kissed his cheek.

“Ooh, feels good”, he sang and shook his shoulders like your kiss actually made him shiver. Instead of singing along, you let out a laugh that was swallowed by the music and dozens of voices singing along.

When Rooster started playing the instrumental part in the middle of the song, he was really going off. You had no idea he was that good. He looked so cool and totally in his element. And on top of that, he was a fighter pilot. No wonder the girls were throwing themselves at him and he had easy game wherever he went.

You had to admit you were totally amazed and hypnotized by him at that moment. And when the line “Kiss me baby” came again, he didn’t have to ask you to give him a kiss on his cheek again.

You bent down to place your lips on his clean-shaven cheek but at the last second, he spun his head around and pressed his lips directly onto yours. “Ooh, feels good”, he sang even louder and threw you a mischievous smile while he kept playing.

Your eyes got big and you felt your cheeks burning up. Rooster was a real player and not just of the piano.

When you finally broke out of your paralyzed state, you playfully slapped his shoulder and joined back in at “Got to tell this world that you’re mine, mine, mine, mine”.

You had to admit you had fun singing with them. When everybody was really going off to another round of the chorus, you saw your chance and sneaked off, grabbing the trey of glasses, and making a beeline around the bar, getting behind the counter.

"Sorry, Penny, they made me sing", you apologized when you came face to face with your boss, starting to put the glasses into the baskets for the dishwasher. "Who knew you had a pipe on you, Y/N?", Penny said and lightly bumped her hips into yours, not looking the least bit mad that you had just taken a singing break in the middle of your shift on a really busy night.

When the song finally ended, everybody cheered and clapped for Rooster. He jumped up on the piano bench and pointed towards the bar. "And give it up for Y/N", he yelled and you saw dozens of heads turning towards you which made your cheeks blush again immediately. Everybody cheered just as loud for you and it sent an excited tingle up your spine. You blew your maestro a kiss from behind the counter and got back to taking drink orders.

Fanboy, Payback and Phoenix sat at the bar, Bob and Rooster stood behind them, completing the circle. Jake and Coyote also sat at the bar, a bit to the side.

When you walked up, you heard the group talking about fake boobs. You placed a new round of beers in front of them and managed to make out who they were talking about. They were all not so subtly looking at a tall blonde at the back of the bar talking to a guy, her boobs suspiciously big and high up for her overall size.

“I don’t know man, I can’t say. Not without touching them”, Fanboy said and cocked his head to the side as he studied the view. “Yeah, as you would ever get the chance to do that”, Phoenix commented.

You wiped the counter and smiled to yourself. “They’re totally fake”, you commented and all their heads turned to you. “Really? How do you know?”, Payback asked. “When she laughs, and she laughs with her whole body, they don’t give at all”, you explained and all their heads turned back to the woman. And as luck would have it, just at that moment she let out a big laugh, holding on to that guy’s arm. She’s totally going home with him tonight, you thought to yourself.

Even after your little time behind the bar, you got really good at spotting stuff like that. And Penny was really good at sniffing out when a fight’s about to break out and defusing the situation.

“Oh yeah, you’re right”, Fanboy said as he made the discovery. “Why do you know so much about fake boobs?”, Rooster asked intrigued. “I worked as a receptionist for a beauty doc in New York”, you told them. “Did you see a lot of boobs?”, Fanboy kept asking. “Probably more than you”, you commented, you couldn’t help yourself. The group laughed and Rooster gave you a high five.

“But it’s ridiculous how expensive they are. Well, if you want it to be good, at least”, you told them further.

The main rush of the night was over and you had a little time to talk, not needing to hand out new drinks every two seconds.

“What was the most expensive pair you’ve ever seen?”, Phoenix asked you. You thought for a second. “I think the craziest were 8k a piece”, you told them and their eyes got big. “For boobs?”, Rooster said a little loud and some heads turned his way. Out of the corner of your eyes you saw Hangman looking over.

“It’s crazy how much people are willing to pay for stuff like that. I could never afford anything close to that. But I have to admit they looked spectacular”, you said and formed perfectly round boobs in front of your chest.

“To be fair, you have no need in that department”, Payback toasted you with his beer. Anybody else might have made it sound gross or sleezy, but he had a real charm about him and you knew how he meant it.

“Thank you, but just because they’re natural doesn’t mean they were cheap. The right one’s mostly McDonalds and the left one’s pizza. That’s because it is also the bigger one”, you told them with a smirk. As prove, you bent over and pulled your shirt down a bit, revealing the hem of your breasts. “See?”, you said and had them look directly down your cleavage.

Partially you meant it as a joke, but also you were sure that even they all liked to flirt and joke around, none of them actually considered you as sexy or a potentially datable person. That was just never the case for you. Why should it be different with them?

“Okay, shows over”, you pulled your shirt back up and snapped your fingers in front of their faces. “Pay up, it’s late”, you told them and made them close their tabs for the night. They waved a goodbye at you before they left the bar as a group.

“Pay up”, you said to Hangman as you made your rounds of closing the tabs of the remaining customers. Coyote must have left already as he was sitting there alone.

“So, you moved here from New York?”, Hangman asked as he handed you his credit card, having no trouble admitting that he had eavesdropped on your conversation. “No, from New Jersey”, you answered, not planning on going into more detail as you swiped his card through the machine. “And there were no more jobs left in New Jersey so you decided to torment the good people of San Diego?”, he asked and a mocking smile appeared on his face.

“You know, it has always been my dream to move across the country to become a bartender, getting to serve a green-eyed jerk for a living”, you told Hangman and handed his card back to him.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart. Here I am to make your dreams come true”, he said with a wink and a sleezy smile.

You waited for a moment then leaned over the bar counter to look at the floor right in front of it. “Nope, you didn’t drop dead. But a girl can dream”, you shot at him with a fake smile.

“You can dream as much as you want about me”, he said with a cocky smile plastered across his face.

“Why are you so easy on the eyes but so hard on the ears?”, you asked him with an eyeroll. “So, you think I’m pretty?”, he asked in return and leaned his underarms on the bar top. “No, you think you’re pretty. And that’s the problem. Have you ever considered therapy? Or a good hit to the back of your head?”, you suggested and polished some glasses.

“Sometimes I get my head banged against the headboard, I don’t always have to be on top”, he told you. You exaggerated a dry-heave motion and sound and Hangman let out a big laugh.

“See ya, Y/N”, he said as he pushed himself off the bar and walked towards the exit. “I hope not”, you called after him.

You turned around to put away the freshly polished glasses and tried your hardest not to picture Jake in bed, naked and sweaty. But you failed. Failed miserably.

next: Part 3

[roosterforme]

The Intern Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Five minutes into an interview with you, and Bradley knew he was in trouble. You were attractive, funny and smart, and now the summer was stretching out before him like an obstacle course he would have to navigate carefully. At least a visit from an old friend should be enough to help him work through his frustrations.

Warnings: Language, mentions of smut and masturbation (eventually 18+)

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

The Intern masterlist. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner by @mak-32

When Bradley got to the Avio headquarters the following morning, he rode the elevator up to his office. He'd already eaten breakfast, gone for a long run and taken a shower, and he was still one of the first ones here. Except for Judy. He smiled when her desk came into view as he turned toward his office door. She was sweet, and it scared him a little bit how much she reminded him of his mom. She was a widow with one son in college, and Bradley would be lost without her. 

"Morning," she said, handing him his mail as he walked past without her even looking up at him. "You have a very busy day, and I already turned on your coffee maker."

He really needed to give her another raise. "Thanks, Judy. Hey, what time is that interview I have?" he asked, flipping through the stack of envelopes in his hand. 

Now she looked up from her computer and met his eyes. "Nine o'clock. And it's Ted's daughter."

"I know," he replied with a small smile. 

"Do you really think she would be a good fit? You'll be working on the yacht for weeks, and all she has is a graduate degree and a daddy with a bankroll." She handed him your résumé with a concerned look.

He shrugged as he skimmed the page again. "She has some related work experience. She volunteered to run the finances for a handful of Philadelphia based charities every year. Her references include the Philadelphia deputy mayor. But you're right, she's pretty green. I'll take this with me," he said as he held the résumé up and headed for his door. "Let me know when she arrives."

"Will do," Judy muttered. 

Bradley made himself another cup of coffee before he settled into his seat. His office had a fantastic view of the Pacific Ocean in the distance along with the Naval base at North Island where he'd spent several years working. Sometimes he missed it, other times he didn't. Flying was in his blood, but after five air-to-air kills, it seemed like he'd given up enough of his soul to the Navy. Now he was helping oversee the design of software components that would help keep aviators safer in the air. 

He turned his gaze from the view outside back to your resume. Your name at the top made him smile, and the more he read about you, the more he liked. None of the other people begging him for a job in his department had the same level of academic chops or philanthropic endeavors you did. And he couldn't imagine you begging for a single damn thing, ever. He tapped his keyboard, wondering what your LinkedIn profile looked like. 

Well. Your photo was gorgeous. It was professional looking without a doubt, but he knew better now that the way your smile tilted a little higher on one side meant you were about to deliver a line that would make him laugh. He wondered if you'd had the photographer smiling nonstop, too. 

Bradley paused with his fingers on his keyboard, but he couldn't help it. He typed your full name into the search bar and sorted it by images. There were more headshots of you from academic articles and a few newspapers, but when he scrolled he almost spit his coffee out. There was one of you wearing that same bikini you had on yesterday. When he clicked it for more, it took him to your private instagram page. 

He stared at that tiny thumbnail before he closed his eyes. Really, the way you looked wasn't why he asked you to come here today, and he'd spent a good portion of last evening trying to focus on anything other than how it felt to have your body pressed against his while he held you.

"Fuck," he grunted. He really needed to get laid. He made another mental note next to the one about Judy's raise. He would call one of his friends with benefits and get that taken care of, because if you agreed to join him for a couple months on the company yacht, he'd probably see that bikini again and again. And there was no way he could touch Ted's daughter. Not like that. Even if he wanted to.

And that thought brought him back to the main reason you would be here in the next few minutes. What kind of information could he get out of you? Bradley noticed that the profit and loss sheets from several departments didn't seem to add up. That had been the case for two quarters in a row. When he mentioned it to one of the harried looking accountants one floor down, he told Bradley they wouldn't have time to run an unnecessary audit before next quarter started. 

Someone in this company was doing something shady, and Bradley wanted to know who it was and why. He'd gone over those numbers for days, double checking his math. He knew he wasn't crazy, but he didn't know who he could safely take this information to, especially when the specs on the software they were creating was considered top secret. 

"Your interview is here," Judy's voice suddenly announced through his intercom.

Bradley quickly closed out of the photo of you in a bathing suit that was still on his screen and slammed his laptop shut. "Send her in."

A few seconds later, Judy was holding the door open for you, and you thanked her as you strolled in like you owned the company. Your hair was styled in some sort of clip, and you were wearing a perfectly tailored black suit. Bradley shook his head; it was rich that you called him out for his proclivity for Armani when yours was probably worth three times as much. His gaze drifted down your legs. Your black and white heels were the kinds of things he would love to have thrown over his shoulders in bed, and the bit of white silk peeking out above your jacket buttons reminded him of your skimpy pajamas. 

Inviting you here was a terrible idea. 

You smirked as you ran your right index finger along the charm from Tiffany's that hung from your necklace, and then you reached out to shake his hand over his desk. "Mr. Bradshaw. So lovely to see you again today." Your voice was playful, and Bradley gestured for you to take a seat while he tried his best to gather his thoughts. 

"I was a little afraid you'd show up in your bathing suit," he said, and you nodded as you crossed your legs and set your leather portfolio on your lap. 

"I can certainly understand the cause for that concern," you replied, not missing a beat. "However, I promise you'll see nothing but Armani suits from here on out if I end up coming to the office every day. Now what would you have me do for you all summer? Fetch your coffee? Give you the abridged version of the Wall Street Journal? Sit in on pointless meetings in the conference room across the hallway?"

"That's just it," he said, tilting his head to the side and taking in your neutral expression. He hardly knew what to do with the fact that you made him feel warm and slightly uncomfortable when you were being sassy. "We wouldn't be here at all. And actually, you could wear your bathing suit and swim half the time for all I cared."

Your eyes lit up immediately as you leaned closer to his desk. "This sounds like a trap, but please, carry on. Tell me more."

He chuckled as he moved a little closer to you as well. "I'm being tasked with taking a few weeks to a couple months on the company yacht in the Mediterranean. I have the technical knowledge as well as the access to arrange meetings with members of Avio's European sales team to close some deals. This is all top secret information, but since you've got the right connections, I'll go ahead and tell you that the US government has given us the greenlight to sell our software to a select list of countries."

You licked your lips, and Bradley could barely focus as you said, "So you'll be the one calling all the shots. And you need to have access to some of these countries to schedule meetings and dinners and cocktail parties. You'll be working from the yacht in much the same capacity you are currently working from your office, still expected to head the research department here. But you'll have the added workload of trying to answer questions and sell the software in Europe? Did I miss anything?"

Bradley's eyes went a little wide as he chuckled. "No. Not really."

You were smiling now. "This sounds like half work and half sorority party, and let me tell you, I am more than capable of making both of those things go as smoothly for you as possible."

"Yeah," he said, his voice a little raspy now. "But you'll have to put up with me. And some of these clients have been known to be a little difficult in... a variety of different ways." Bradley's mind drifted to last summer when he'd been on the yacht for a week as well as the summer before that. The wealthier a man becomes, the more he seems to think he could have whatever he wants, and Bradley had seen some wild shit. "But I'll do my best to keep you comfortable and safe. The workload will be intense, to say the least. But it'll all be happening on a one hundred and thirty foot superyacht." 

You eyed him carefully. "This sounds like it was custom made for me, so you either want me or you don't, Mr. Bradshaw." 

Bradley smiled, and his gaze followed your hand as you touched that pretty charm again. "Oh... I want you plenty. Something tells me yachts and Mediterranean vacations are something you simply grew up with. I'm just trying to sell myself now."

The way you laughed reminded him once again of that night in December when you asked him if he wanted to share a bottle of wine with you. "You're very persuasive, Mr. Bradshaw. I can practically smell the sunblock and taste the pasta from here." You bit your lip and considered him, and it felt to Bradley like you could see every flaw and indiscretion inside of him. "Where did you go to school anyway? Yale? Brown? No wait... you look like a Princeton boy to me."

He shook his head as he pointed to his college diploma on the wall. "I went to a state school." 

You gasped, and your eyes went wide as you muttered, "Jesus," while you read it. "Political science? At the University of Virginia? Oh... you should be lying to people. I mean, at least say you went to Dartmouth."

Bradley tried and failed to hold in his laughter, because you truly looked scandalized by this turn of events. "Aww, come on, Ivy League. It's not so bad."

You sputtered with laughter, too. "Did you just call me Ivy League?"

"I sure did," he told you, still laughing. "It's about ten times nicer than what I was going to say."

Your soft gasp as your eyes positively lit up made Bradley's heart beat a little faster. "Well, what were you going to say?" you asked before biting your lip. 

Shit. You were trouble, and you knew it. "Never mind. My lips are sealed. Can't say that to Ted's daughter."

You sighed and rolled your eyes. "You're no fun right now, but I'm sure as soon as I get you loosened up in some Armani swim trunks on the yacht, you'll be an absolute pleasure for me to deal with."

The way Bradley's cock was twitching should have been warning enough. He was about to get in over his head. But all he could say was, "Does that mean you want the internship?"

Your smile tilted up a little higher on the one side. "Oh, absolutely." Then you stood before him looking like the cat who got the cream, and Bradley had to hope for the best as he stood as well. He could mark this as the first time he'd ever become slightly aroused during an interview, a sign that he desperately needed to get laid. 

He shook your hand and said, "We leave in a few days. Judy will help you get your visas in order. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect, Mr. Bradshaw." 

The way you here still holding his hand and calling him Mr. Bradshaw left his voice barely louder than a rasp. "Judy and I will be in touch."

You turned and shot him a smile over your shoulder as you headed for his office door, and Bradley dropped back down in his chair. He'd call Callie about getting together to hook up before he left for Europe, but he had another more important call to make first. He cleared his throat as he opened his contacts and then put his phone on speaker. He was greeted with a familiar voice filled with laughter.

"Rooster! When are you going to get that yacht warmed up for me?"

Bradley just shook his head and said, "Hangman. You're not going to believe who my summer intern is."

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

You were floating on a raft in the pool wearing your second favorite bathing suit when you were greeted by the sound of your father's voice. "I sincerely hope you know what you're doing by wasting your time right now."

"Daddy," you greeted with a smile. "My day was a complete and utter success."

He checked his watch as he said, "Please, elaborate."

You had the trump card, but you knew all too well what it would be like if you didn't. Instead of lecturing you like you could tell he wanted to, he smiled when you said, "I have a job."

"Where?" 

"Avio."

He nodded in appreciation as he said, "I am actually impressed right now. You managed to secure an internship at the company I've spent decades with, and you did so without me knowing anything about it. Which department?"

"Research and development," you replied smoothly.

His eyes went wider. "With Bradley Bradshaw?"

Your tummy swooped, and you sucked in a breath at the mere mention of his name. Spending weeks working with him and entertaining guests with him was going to be... well, something. "Yes. With Bradley Bradshaw."

"Sweetheart," your father said. "He had a career in the Navy."

"Yes. He was an aviator," you recalled from his Avio bio.

"That means he's not going to put up with any nonsense. You don't make him repeat himself, and you don't give him attitude. I'll know immediately if he's displeased with you, I'm sure."

Bradley didn't seem stuffy. He'd already encouraged you to pack your bathing suits. Hell, you were determined to get him to join you in some fun. "Well maybe not immediately as he and I will be on the Avio yacht in the Mediterranean."

Your father stared at you, speechless. Finally he said, "I really don't know how you managed to get exactly what you wanted, but I applaud you, Sweetheart. Well done. I know it sounds fun, but you'll be kept very busy. I hope you know what you're in for."

When he finally wandered back inside after you promised to join him for dinner, you soaked up the last few rays of the dying sunlight. Then you made a mental list of everything you needed to spend the next few days packing as you brushed up on your French and Italian.  "J'adore mon travail. Amo il mio lavoro. I love my job."

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

Bradley was still chuckling as he got off the phone with Ted a few days later. Your father tried to warn him that you could be a bit of a handful. Like Bradley wasn't fully aware of that fact. As if he hadn't known since December. He could practically hear your disdain for his alma mater and your delight in international travel from his condo.

He was stacking his suits up in his extra bedroom along with several pairs of shoes, and he shook his head as he looked down at his swim trunks in his hands. They actually were all Armani, and you'd have a field day when you realized it. Or perhaps skinny dipping would become a thing?

Fuck. He needed to stop thinking about you like that. Callie Bassett was on her way over, so that should help alleviate some of this tension. He'd been friends with Halo for over a decade, and she had slowly and naturally turned into a friend with benefits over time. She was still in the Navy, and she was discreet. It was easier than having a girlfriend. It was all he had time for. 

As he organized his suits, he remembered you told him he looked like a Princeton boy. He could just picture you with a parade of preppy assholes following you around, and he wondered if you ever slummed it with anyone like him before. It made him want to pack some of his casual clothes including his Virgina baseball cap and his worn out golf shorts. So he did. 

Then his doorbell buzzed, and he went to let Callie in. He needed this taken care of right now. She smelled good, and she looked cute. She always did. And she wore something a little skimpy just for him. The kiss on his cheek in greeting quickly turned to her lips brushing his as she said, "I haven't seen you in weeks."

"Been busy," he replied, taking her by the hand and heading for his bedroom. "And I'm leaving for Portugal on Saturday."

"How long?" she asked, pouting a little bit as Bradley reached for the hem of her dress and eased it up and over her head in one fluid motion. 

"Couple months," he whispered, taking in her soft, naked body with his gaze. 

"Months?" she whined as he wrapped his hands around her waist and smirked at her. 

"Don't even act like we are anything close to exclusive, Cal. Now... how do you want it?"

She licked her lips and looked up at him with those familiar dark eyes just as his phone rang in his pocket. He didn't hesitate or check the number; he never did. "Bradshaw."

"Hey, State School. I have a few questions for you."

Bradley froze with your voice in his ear and Callie's fingers on his zipper. He grunted softly as she eased it down and touched him. He just knew if he closed his eyes and listened to your voice, he'd probably finish in her hand within two minutes. 

"Ivy League," he rasped, taking a step back away from Halo who was now standing before him completely naked and rolling her eyes.

"Are you busy?" you asked, and Bradley looked Halo in the eyes without remorse as he answered you.

"No. I'm not busy. I can talk." He held up one finger and zipped himself up as he left his bedroom in favor of his office. "As long as you tell me how you got this number."

You laughed as he sank down into his desk chair. "You think it's exclusive or something? Judy gave it to me. And it's probably listed on the company website."

Brat. He narrowed his eyes, adding a note to his mental list to make sure it was not listed on the company website. "What can I help you with?"

"Well, I'm packing and hoping for a little input from you."

"On Thursday night at nine?" he asked. "And don't you have a butler to help you with that?"

"Like you have anything else going on?"

Bradley thought about Callie waiting in his bedroom, but instead of ushering this call along, he asked, "What did you pack so far?"

You sighed. "Sixteen bathing suits, piles of lingerie, and sunglasses. And I'm only kind of kidding."

Fighting the urge to ask for more details, he said, "Unfortunately I can't let you wear any of that in front of potential clients. So throw in some suits and dresses."

"Some suits and dresses? You'll need to be a little bit more specific, Sir." 

Sir.

That one word was echoing through his mind along with your bratty tone, and he had to take a deep breath. "Why don't you bring the suit you wore when I interviewed you? That looked good. And so did the dress you wore to your father's holiday party. The dark green one."

There was a pause before you said, "You remember what I wore to the party?"

"Yeah," he grunted, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration. "It looked nice. Pack some cocktail dresses, too."

"How many should I pack?"

"How many do you have?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Bradley laughed. "I'm sure you know better than I do what you should wear."

You scoffed. "You're acting like you've never spent a summer on the Avio yacht before."

"I haven't," he replied easily. "Just a few days here and there. I'm sure I'll be learning things from you."

"Then you'll be learning from the best."

He bit back a groan as he said, "That's what I'm counting on. That's why I hired you."

"I won't let you down," you promised, and Bradley believed you. "I'll see you at the airport on Saturday morning. Don't forget your swim trunks."

You ended the call before he could say another word, and now he was convinced you had called him simply because you could. If he was frustrated before, it was nothing compared to the way he felt now. Spending weeks on end with Ted's daughter was supposed to help him get to the bottom of the messy business with Avio, not cause other issues to arise. 

He unzipped his pants, intent on touching himself,  before jolting to his feet. "Shit," he muttered as he left his office and went back to his bedroom. "Cal?" he called out. "Sorry. It was a work call." But he was completely alone. He laughed as his phone vibrated in his hand with a text from her.

Have a great time in Europe. Don't bother calling me when you get back.

Bradley was sure he'd hear about this from his old friend Natasha when Callie bitched about him at work. But it didn't really matter. After she had a few weeks to cool off, she'd come back when he needed her again. For now, he'd take matters into his own hands and hope that would be enough.

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

Your father insisted upon seeing you off on Saturday morning which gave Bradley a few minutes alone with him. He was listening to Ted as he watched you struggle with your seven pieces of Dior luggage on the tarmac next to the chartered airplane. 

"Bradley, you don't know what you've gotten yourself into," your father told him with a laugh. "She's tenacious though. And whip smart. Make sure you challenge her, because she will certainly challenge you."

Now Bradley laughed as he shook Ted's hand. "I'll do my best."

"If she gets to be too much, just leave her in one of the marinas with her passport."

He would never do that to you. He doubted it would ever come to that. In fact, he was already impressed by the way you took care of things for yourself. Sure, you looked like you belonged in an ad for designer gym clothes with your leggings and soft hoodie zipped over your sports bra. But you were also taking your luggage from the back of the black Mercedes-Benz G-Class yourself.

"I can assure you that she and I will be just fine, Sir."

"What have I told you about calling me Ted?" Bradley received a friendly cuff on the shoulder before shaking his hand and turning toward you. 

He picked up the last two pieces of your luggage at the same time and carried them to the cargo hold while you trailed after him. "I don't need help," you told him as he stowed them away. Then you added, "You look weird out of your Armani."

"I look weird?" he asked with a laugh as he glanced down at his chinos and Oxford shirt.

"A good kind of weird. Like when you wore that Fair Isle sweater last year."

Bradley examined your pretty face, and you didn't look away. He remembered the dress you wore to Ted's holiday party, and you remembered his sweater. Right now he was wishing he'd joined you for that bottle of French wine that night, something he'd remedy on the yacht. A flood of bad decisions just waiting to happen filled his mind as he said, "Go say goodbye to your father. It's almost time to go."

"Yes, Sir," you told him with your chin held high and a smirk gracing your lips. Bradley stood at the bottom of the stairs while you flung your arms around Ted and kissed him on the cheek. Then you came strolling his way once again, and he followed you closely up the stairs as you turned back and softly said, "I'm all yours."

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

Ivy League spells trouble for Bradley, but at least he knows it. And he didn't get an ounce of relief before getting on that plane. What could possibly go wrong? Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

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[sanerontheinside]

On the basis of my own comment, "I fully missed this because I cannot handle the news except in ‘weekly postmortem’ format", I've decided to do a write-up of everything I've been reading about the crash over Washington, D.C.

If this isn't the sort of posting you'd like to see from me in the future, please feel free to block "#the post mortem". I'm not sure how many of these I have in me, but if I ever find myself struck by the fancy to do another, that is the tag I will be using.

I'd also like to thank Canary (canary_lux on Discord) for help gathering, scanning, and organizing sources, and for their insight on flight training.

Throughout this write-up, I will refer to the current president by number of term (45 or 47), mostly to differentiate policies enacted during his first term from the present.

Intro

On the night of Wednesday, 1/29/25, 67 people died in a collision between an American Airlines passenger aircraft and a military Blackhawk helicopter. This tragedy was immediately followed by outcry and the usual hunt for someone to hold accountable. This was also the first fatal air crash involving a US airline since 2009—a 16-year safety record.

While it’s tempting to assign blame to various politicians, parties, and policies for the accident—and in fact many do (FAA blames trump, trump blames DEI, FAA, Biden in particular and democrats in general, etc.)—sole political ownership cannot be assigned. The initial outcry drew attention to a hiring freeze for air traffic controllers, and to curt dismissal of FAA personnel, but the problem has been brewing for far longer.

This post mortem seeks to provide some context for the incident at Reagan National Airport by looking back at policies of the last two presidential terms, as well as the reality of local air traffic in Washington, D.C.

.

The Shortage

Before addressing the current shortage of air traffic controllers, it is important to note that since the accident all reports indicate the air traffic controller on duty that night gave proper instructions.

Both planes and military aircraft are equipped with Automatic Dependent Surveillance-Broadcast (ADS-B), but this system is suppressed at low altitudes because of the high likelihood of false alerts. At last reporting, the Blackhawk was at an altitude of 375 ft. For helicopters, the permitted flight ceiling over Washington, D.C. is 200ft.

With that established, however, there is still value in drawing attention to the national shortage of air traffic controllers (henceforward ATC's).

In 2021, the US Bureau of Statistics ranked air traffic control as the 4th most stressful job among all. The position has a high employee turnover rate due to transfers, resignations, removals, deaths, and attrition. An ATC's skills are unique, and costly to replace both in money and time, as candidates go through 2-3 years of training and must pass a rigorous exam.

During the COVID 19 pandemic, lockdowns drove down the volume of daily flights, putting many air traffic controllers out of a job. Agencies worldwide let go of trainees, stopped hiring, and stopped training new hires. In many cases, academies closed outright. Many air traffic controllers were offered early retirement.

Once travel restrictions were lifted, demand bounced back—and the aviation industry suddenly faced a bottleneck. A 2 or 3 year one, in fact. Flights haven't really bounced back perfectly since the pandemic; many airports experience serious delays—not least because they don't have enough ATC's.

In June 2023, the DoT inspector general reported that 77% of air traffic control facilities were understaffed. In December 2023, after a series of high profile near-misses, the FAA named a panel of experts to address air traffic controller fatigue. Reuters reported that air traffic controllers work mandatory overtime and 6-day weeks.

The FAA's response to these findings was to appoint a three-member panel to "examine how the latest science on sleep needs and fatigue considerations could be applied to controller work requirements and scheduling" until more personnel could be hired. Furthermore, the FAA Reauthorisation Act of 2024 expanded air traffic controller training capacity and required the FAA to update the training process.

Unfortunately, the near-misses and flight delays are likely to continue under recent policy changes.

.

The Policy of 45

The main reason for addressing the shortage itself at the top of this write-up is that a lot of early outcry held the 47th President's recent hiring freezes, cuts, and firings responsible for the accident.

Context is critical. Obviously, trump’s hiring freeze in no way helps this issue, and neither does the dismissal of people in leadership positions. Even the panel he dismissed was the Aviation Security Advisory Committee, which is geared towards TSA operations moreso than air traffic control.

But on the ground, it's probably his policies as 45 that did the most lasting damage.

In 2018, the proposed budget cut funds to the DoT by 13%, or $2.4 billion. The proposal eliminated funding for the Essential Air Service, a program that guaranteed continued commercial air service to small communities in the US which would not otherwise be profitable. Air traffic control would also be privatized under the proposal.

This 2018 post by Democracy Forward provides a good summary of 45's policies. (It's also an interesting read if you've been following the recent changes in regulation of airline fees. In brief, the struggle to regulate fees and accessibility has been ongoing since before 2013, and trump's policies are unsurprisingly airline company-friendly.)

By contrast, in 2021 the proposed budget for the FAA included $11.4 billion (increase of $432 million from FY21) to oversee the safety of civil aviation, and to provide for the operation, maintenance, communications, and logistical support of the air traffic control and air navigation systems. There were additional requests totalling over $8 billion to improve airfield infrastructure and grants for Aviation Workforce Development programs.

The final 2021 budget, the American Rescue Plan Act of 2021, passed with $15 billion for airlines and airline contractors for a third extension of Payroll Support Program which would otherwise have expired at the end of March 2021. The extension prevented the furlough of more than 27,000 aviation employees. There was an additional $8 billion for U.S. airports.

As a result of 45's budget cuts, the FAA was forced to lay off many people. “He slashed our budget and a lot of people, including myself, were laid off. So, we’re just waiting to see what programs will continue,” a longtime FAA contractor, rehired under the Biden administration, told What A Day.

Former House Transportation and Infrastructure Chair Peter DeFazio also notes, "The unnecessary government shutdown [in 2019] shut down the Aviation Academy, and a number of people did not come back after the academy closed down." He cites this as a crucial interruption that was then followed by a yearlong closure due to the lockdown.

.

Congested Airspace

In his interview with Politico, DeFazio puts Congress front and center: "Every senator in particular wants a nonstop flight to and from wherever they live. As you saw, [Kansas Sen.] Jerry Moran said this was a flight which he had encouraged or otherwise supported. The last FAA bill, [Texas Sen.] Ted Cruz said he needed a direct flight to [San Antonio], so he engaged in a lengthy battle."

The bill referenced here is S. 1939, the FAA Reauthorization Act of 2024, which contained many positive items. This was the bill that required air carriers to provide a full refund for a cancelled or significantly delayed flight; it expanded air traffic controller training capacity and required the FAA to update the training process.

This bill also increased the number of daily round-trip flights allowed at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport (DCA), despite protests from the airport authority. (Though it should be noted that the new flights added to the airport's schedule by this bill have not yet been fully implemented.)

DeFazio has words for the military, as well: "And it’s one thing, when there’s an urgent need or a security issue, to move people by military helicopter to the White House or from one base to another in the D.C. area. It’s another to do it for convenience for generals and “very important people” who don’t want to sit in traffic. […] for training, they should be doing that in the hours when there are way fewer flights coming into National Airport."

The flight rules over Washington, D.C. are very complex, developed to manage civilian, military, and government traffic. It is simultaneously the most restricted and the most congested airspace in the country. Pilots have been complaining about the complexity of flight rules for years.

This stretch of the Potomac in particular is designated a Special Flight Restricted Area. In the words of Senator Tammy Duckworth (D-IL), "You don't get to fly in that without additional flight training." All crew members aboard the Blackhawk were experienced, having logged 500-1000 hours. Transcripts of the air traffic control instructions and responses from the pilots in the minutes before the accident show that the Blackhawk crew twice confirmed visual of the plane with the ATC, including approximately 25 seconds before impact.

But in multiple stories published since the crash, there are quotes from pilots who had similar experiences in that area, and recall near-misses with passenger aircraft coming in to the same runway. One retired Army National Guard helicopter pilot recalls that he lost sight of the jet in the city lights and descended to an altitude of 50 feet to avoid collision with an unseen flight. There are at least two reports of near-misses under very similar conditions from 2013 and 2015.

.

The Post Mortem

The President's flurry of executive orders, hiring and funding freezes, have dominated the news cycle for the last 12 days. There isn't currently evidence to support that various budget and staffing cuts, including those attempted by 47 two days before the accident, directly contributed to the incident on January 29th.

However, cutting personnel, funding, and abolishing positions once vacated will increase the risk of accidents going forward. Many US government services have not recovered from the combination of 45's policies and effects of the pandemic. They are presently in a state where funding and personnel cuts will result in direct consequences to the American people, and likely very quickly.

As for the Washington, D.C. crash itself, it is indeed a tragic loss of life. In all likelihood, it could have been prevented by appropriate response to prior near-misses, addressing concerns voiced by pilots and professionals, or perhaps a less entitled Senate.

.

Sources

https://webcf.waybackmachine.org/web/20250120173159/https://simpleflying.com/us-atc-shortage-analysis/

https://www.reuters.com/business/aerospace-defense/panel-review-us-air-traffic-controller-fatigue-after-near-miss-incidents-2023-12-20/

https://www.tumblr.com/gunsandfireandshit/774138773393063936?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/huffy-the-bicycle-slayer/774137554059575296?source=share

https://democracyforward.org/work/sidebar-airlines-and-the-trump-administration/ (published 2018, edited 2022)

https://www.politico.com/news/magazine/2025/01/31/defazio-plane-crash-blame-00201767

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2018_United_States_federal_budget

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/American_Rescue_Plan_Act_of_2021

https://phys.org/news/2017-06-pros-cons-privatizing-air-traffic.html

https://www.tsa.gov/sites/default/files/asac-charter-september-2022.pdf

https://www.wdsu.com/article/pilots-worried-dc-airspace-crash/63626297

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/experts-ask-why-black-hawk-helicopter-may-have-been-flying-above-allowed-altitude/

https://www.cbsnews.com/news/tammy-duckworth-american-airlines-crash/

https://commons.erau.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1910&context=jaaer

[thedialoguedilemma]

The Dilemma Bulletin: Thursday January 30th, 2025

Keeping you informed about the daily events of the Trump Administration

An American Airlines commercial plane heading to Washington DC from Wichita Kansas collided with a military Blackhawk helicopter causing the plane to crash into the Potomac River. This comes after President Trump fired the heads of the Transportation Security Administration (TSA) and the Coast Guard, and disbanded the Aviation Security Advisory Committee and fired 100 Federal Aviation Administration agents. No survivors are expected as efforts are now heading towards recovering the victims.

President Trump has officially signed the Laken Riley Act into law which widens the scope arrest and detainment and directs federal immigration enforcement to detain and deport those without legal status charged with minor theft or shoplifting, assault of a law enforcement officer or crimes resulting in death or serious bodily injury of another person. Critics of the bill argue that this will lead to mass racial profiling, and targeting of immigrants whose only crime is entering the country illegally.

Federal Reserve keeps interest rates the same at 4.50%

A judge has ordered a restraining order for the federal government in regards to the federal aid freeze after the Trump Administration claimed that the original federal aid freeze they instituted was rescinded only for Press Sec Leavitt to say only the memo was rescinded and not the Executive Order leading to mass confusion. The legal battle continues.

The Trump administration says it will sign an Executive Order deporting any “Pro-Hamas” protestors and sympathizers in the United States on student visas. Critics say this order will target innocent Pro Palestinian students who protest in support of a free Palestine.

Egg prices are still soaring and bird flu cases on the rise as the Trump administration ignores outcry.

Nissan plans to cut 2,000 American jobs and slash factory outputs as more uncertainty about the Trump administrations tariffs war lay amidst.

[jakekazansky]

In juvy jake au you said jake knows Russian, does ice also speak Russian in this au?? If so I can so see one of the dagger dinners ice muttering under his breath in Russian "bloody idiots can't belive I love them" and jake just sipping his drink and responding "tell me about it, I think it's the looks" and ice and everyone else just being baffled

Hi yes Ice does speak Russian in this au!! Jake speaks Russian but he can only read some words and phrases but not enough for him to consider himself fluent. I imagine the Navy is like a job when you join up and they’ll ask if you’re fluent in anything besides English. Jake put down Spanish due to the amount of time he spent running cars to and from Tijuana in his youth he learnt a good bit of the language, enough so that he passed the fluency tests the navy made him take when he was made to join.

Ice wasn’t sure if heard Seresin right, “I’m sorry but did you say what I think you just said”

Jake froze from where he was getting a beverage out of the fridge, he hadn’t realized Ice was in the house when he came in to get a drink. It was second nature for him to talk to himself in Russian at this point, but only when no one was around.

Ice turned to the frozen aviator who was half in his fridge, “Jake, I know you just spoke in Russian”, Ice said in Russian softly in hopes the kid would reply back.

“Yeah, I speak Russian, so what” Jake replied back in Russian just as quiet, unfreezing to grab a beer as he glared at Ice. Daring him almost to speak louder.

“Hangman, if you’re fluent in Russian you should’ve put that down on the paperwork when you joined.” Ice stepped closer to the younger man, so the other daggers and his husband wouldn’t overhear.

“I can barely read it so the last time I checked that doesn’t mean I qualify as fluent” Jake replied back, walking out of the kitchen, “And, sir? I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourself”

Ice stood in the kitchen a bit dumbfounded, Jake had been a bit of a mystery as long as Ice had seen his profile. There was so much redacted and missing info on it. Even at four stars, though he’s only been four stars for a year at this point, Jake’s navy profile and information was still much hidden to him. All that did was make him more and more curious about the younger man. He would have to send out an email to SecNav to see if he had more info on the kid. Much like his husband, he was too curious for his own good at times

Thanks so much for the ask!!!!! I really loved this one! I love talking about this au so thanks for giving me the chance!!

[vague-humanoid]

The federal government is going MAGA — fast.

Why it matters: President Trump has only been in office a week, but the departments under his command are moving with blazing speed to transform the federal bureaucracy into an army of loyalists.

The new administration immediately moved to freeze nearly all foreign aid, root out DEI programs, remove officials and whole offices deemed ideologically suspect, and muzzle public health agencies.

"We're getting rid of all of the cancer ... caused by the Biden administration," Trump told reporters while signing a Day One executive order that stripped employment protections from civil servants.

Driving the news: Late Friday night, the White House fired 17 inspectors general — independent agency watchdogs responsible for identifying fraud, waste and corruption.

The mass firings, relayed via email, appear to violate a federal law that requires the administration to notify Congress 30 days before removing inspectors general.

Amid outrage from Democrats and ethics experts, Sen. Chuck Grassley (R-Iowa) — a Trump ally and longtime advocate for whistleblowers — called on the president to explain his decision to Congress.

Zoom in: DEI offices and programs have been shuttered across the government, including at the CIA, Department of Veterans Affairs, Army and Air Force, and the Federal Aviation Administration.

Federal workers have been ordered to report colleagues who may seek to "disguise" DEI efforts by using "coded language."

And Trump directed federal agencies to each identify "up to nine" major companies, universities or non-profits to investigate over their DEI practices.

There have been hundreds of staff removals or reassignments, including at the State Department, where far more career officers were asked to resign than in past administrations.

The Department of Justice reassigned at least 15 senior career officials, including a top counterintelligence attorney involved in the FBI's investigation of classified documents Trump stashed at Mar-a-Lago.

The DOJ also rescinded job offers to recent law school graduates who were placed through the Attorney General's Honors program.

Trump's National Security Council sent home around 160 staffers while Trump officials conducted loyalty screenings to ensure they're aligned with his agenda.

One of the administration's highest-profile firings so far was Coast Guard Commandant Adm. Linda Fagan, the first woman to lead a branch of the U.S. military. She was accused of leadership failures and an "excessive focus" on DEI at the Coast Guard Academy.

Between the lines: Trump loyalists have also moved to centralize control around public messaging, particularly when it comes to public health.

The Department of Health and Human Services ordered an unprecedented "immediate pause" on all health reports and social media posts through at least the end of the month, leading scientists to cancel CDC meetings on the escalating bird flu outbreak.

The Pentagon also ordered a global pause on all official social media posts until the confirmation of Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth, who has promised a radical culture shakeup across the U.S. military.

The new administration is also moving quickly on issues including LGBTQ and civil rights.

The State Department froze all passport applications with "X" designated as the gender.

DOJ ordered a freeze on civil rights litigation and is weighing a potential reversal of police reform agreements negotiated by the Biden administration.

It also ordered federal prosecutors to investigate local and state officials in so-called "sanctuary cities."

Meanwhile, the Pentagon moved to abolish an office set up during the Biden administration focused on curbing civilian deaths in combat operations.

Zoom out: Trump made no secret of his intentions to build a MAGA-aligned federal workforce during the campaign, and he quickly imposed a hiring freeze after taking office.

The vast majority of federal workers are career employees, not political appointments, but the president has made clear he wants them all to board the Trump train.

His administration is currently testing the ability to email the entire federal government workforce from a single email address.

What to watch: Trump's nominee to lead the Office of Management and Budget, Russ Vought, will be a key architect of the White House's efforts to re-engineer the administrative state.

Vought has assailed "the woke and weaponized bureaucracy," and said in a 2023 speech to his conservative think tank that he wants to put federal bureaucrats "in trauma," ProPublica reported.

"When they wake up in the morning, we want them to not want to go to work because they are increasingly viewed as the villains," Vought said — comments he defended during his confirmation hearing.

[trickphotography2]

D-Day by TrickPhotography | Chapter 3

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Synopsis: After finding out his girlfriend is pregnant, Jake is ready to move in and get married. The last thing he expected was to be hit with a six-month deployment at sea and missing the birth of his first child.

Chapter 2 | Master List | Ao3

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

Chapter 3

“You have got to be kidding me,” you grumbled while lying in bed looking at your phone. There, staring back at you, was Jake freaking Seresin with the words ‘Most Compatible: We think you and Jake should meet!’ appearing over his head. Apparently, the dating app algorithm thought you two had something in common.

Against your better judgment, you tapped on his profile and scrolled through his pictures. Pretty standard - a couple of selfies, a group shot with some guys drinking in their dress whites, and a few at the beach and bar. The obligatory shot of him flexing in the mirror… you may have lingered on that one for a minute. For his job, he’d put military aviation, but there wasn’t any other mention of him being a pilot. One of the prompts he’d answered was a friend’s endorsement, which said, “He’s kind of an asshole but a good guy.”

Scrolling back up, you paused at the picture of him smiling down at the camera in his car, hair rumpled and the collar of his flight suit bringing out the green of his tired eyes. When you tapped on it to see the caption, he’d written, ‘Morning after a long night at work.’ The corner of your lip twitched into a smile. Jake was objectively attractive, but that soft look was adorable. 

When the screen dimmed, you realized you’d been staring at the picture too long. Sighing, you tapped it and hovered your finger over the dislike button. But you couldn’t bring yourself to hit it. Instead, you closed the app and locked your phone, tossing it onto the nightstand. The algorithm would pick another Most Compatible for you tomorrow, and Jake’s profile would disappear. Rolling onto your side and hugging your pillow, you forced yourself not to think about the jolt you’d felt at the coffee shop when he’d leaned close, his breath on your neck… Your fingers curled in the sheets to keep from reaching for the phone again. 

Across town, Jake lounged on his couch, one arm behind his head and smiling as he looked at a picture of you. You were driving a convertible by the beach, one hand buried in your hair to keep it from your face with the most carefree smile he’d seen. For the description, you’d written, ‘Hair by Mustang.’ After liking your profile, he locked his phone and set it on his stomach, turning his attention back to the nightly sports recap.  

Friday afternoon traffic was the worst, you decided while waiting at another red light. Usually, you could avoid most of it by jumping on the highway, but you’d run out of coffee creamer that morning. It was grocery shopping weekend, and you had a list of things to get from multiple places, but creamer was an absolute necessity to kick off the process tomorrow morning. 

A quick run into the store, a shower, and sitting on your couch with a pint of ice cream were in your immediate future. It had been a spectacularly shitty week at work. In a moment of anger, after a higher-up “helped you out” by explaining the details of a contract bid you’d written, you’d applied for a government contractor job on Lemoore. It was a long shot, and the money wasn’t as good as the private sector, but at least it would be somewhere new. And this afternoon, you’d taken advantage of the office gym and spent the last hour of your day running on the treadmill with the music high enough to drown out the others working out. Even with your eyes straight ahead, you’d caught a few of the guys checking you out in the mirror. Thankfully none had said anything to you - apparently, they caught the ‘don’t fuck with me’ attitude.

It was the first time you truly regretted taking a transfer out here. Things had been okay in Florida - you’d only been six hours from your parents and had a good network of college friends living nearby. A year after moving to California, you felt more isolated than ever. You weren’t sure the promotion had been worth it. 

So yeah, maybe some alcohol would be thrown in for good measure.

Jake lifted his hand and nodded at the driver he walked in front of. The woman waved in acknowledgment - not that she could have moved anyways. The turn out of the parking lot to reach the light was already fifteen cars deep, and the light was backed up half a mile. The madhouse of the civilian store made him regret not hitting the Exchange before leaving the base, but this store was closer to the gate he lived off of. All he wanted was to head home, shower, and figure out something for dinner. He’d been up in the air all day and was hungry and tired. 

He’d just reached his truck when he heard an engine gun it. Frowning, he looked up to see what idiot was speeding in a parking lot. A second later, breaks screamed, and there was the unmistakable sound of a car crash. Standing on his toes, he saw it’d happened two rows over. For a moment, he debated driving away but then heard a door slam and someone start yelling. “What the fuck! You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Sighing, Jake tossed his bag into the truck bed and jogged towards the accident. Up close, he could see that a lifted truck had collided head-on with a sedan, which was pinned bumper to bumper with the truck and an SUV behind it. The sedan’s hood was crumpled, and it looked like the airbags had deployed. The truck driver was yelling by the sedan’s passenger side, gesturing at his vehicle. The SUV driver - a woman - hopped out and walked along the car, screaming at the truck driver that he’d been going the wrong way. 

More people were congregating, and a few guys were trying to get the truck driver to calm down while at least two people were on the phone with who he hoped was the police. A woman was leaning over the sedan’s driver's side. “They okay?” Jake asked as he drew near.

“I think so. She looks shaken up, though,” the woman replied. He nodded, and his heart stopped when she stepped away for him to look. 

You were struggling with your seatbelt, hands shaking too hard to press the release. It had locked up when the truck hit you and tightened even more when you’d been pushed back into the other car. 

A pounding sound broke through the ringing in your ears, and you turned to see Jake outside your window, fist resting against the glass. His lips moved as he pointed at the door. When you froze, he removed his sunglasses and clipped them to his flight suit. His green eyes were hard as they bore into yours as he repeated something and pointed at the door again. Finally, his voice broke through the fog as he gestured. “Unlock it!” As soon as you pulled the handle, Jake ripped open the door and pushed down the deflating airbag. “You okay?” he demanded, leaning across to put the car in park and turn off the engine.  

“He was going the wrong way.”

“I know, darlin’. Are you okay?” Kneeling on the car door sill, steering wheel digging into his back, he reached up to brush the hair from your face and tuck it behind your ear. His eyes bore into yours, “You hit your head? Neck okay?” 

“I’m fine. I just wanna get out of here,” you said, a hint of panic creeping into your voice while tugging at the seatbelt again. His angry expression softened, and he leaned to look at the side of the seat. Shifting, he reached between your legs and pulled the lever to move your seat back. Brushing your shaking hand away, he hit the belt release and held it away as it retracted. Lightly, he ran a finger along your neck where the seatbelt had bit into your skin, checking for blood. “You hurt anywhere else?” 

“No.” There was a wail of sirens in the distance as Jake helped you out of the car. His eyes swept over you, and he gently took your wrists, bringing them up to inspect the irritated skin - the airbag had dragged over your forearms when it deployed. “I’m fine.” His lips were pressed into a thin line when he met your gaze. Taking half a step forward, he tucked you into his chest and wrapped his arms around you tightly. Releasing a shuddering breath, you allowed yourself to sink into him momentarily, fingers digging into the rough texture of his flight suit. The scent of sweat and jet fuel overwhelmed your senses, and you started to shake with an effort not to cry. Jake tightened his hold. 

“Is your… uh… is she okay?” a bystander asked. 

“She’s good. They okay?” 

“Mom and kids are fine. Guy’s got a couple of cuts but seems to be okay. Cops are gonna be here in a second, and they’re sending an ambulance to check everyone out.” When Jake shook the bystander’s hand you took advantage of his loosened grip to slip out of his arms.

“Fuck,” you breathed, turning to see what the car looked like. The hood was crumpled, the bumper hanging off, and plastic and metal shards littered the ground. Jake followed as you walked to the back of the car to inspect the damage - the bumper and back panel were dented. Squeezing your eyes closed, you bit your lower lip and let out a shaky breath. “I just fucking paid this off,” you said, hating how your voice wobbled. Something brushed your fingers, and you looked down to see Jake’s hand squeeze yours before letting go. Slowly, you look up at him and shook your head. “What are you even doing here?” 

“Whatever you need.” At your silence, he shrugged. “I ran out of deodorant.” The unexpected answer startled a laugh out of you, and a few tears escaped. Mortified, you quickly brushed them away and sniffled. He moved as though to reach for you but checked the instinct, clenching his fists instead.

“Thanks for… that,” you said, motioning to your open car door. “But don’t feel like you have to stay. I have a feeling this is going to take a while.” 

“I got nothin’ but time,” he replied, looking over your shoulder to where two police cars had pulled up.

“I’m going to get an Uber. Thanks for hanging out with me,” you sighed two hours later, watching the tow truck drive away. Overhead, the parking lot lamps flickered on. True to his word, Jake had stayed through the whole ordeal, taking pictures of everything for the insurance claim while the EMTs checked you over. Other than the minor contact burns, they gave you a clean bill of health. 

“I can take you home.” 

“You’ve already done more than enough, Jake. Go enjoy your Friday night. Please. Someone should.” The original plan of ice cream and alcohol was mentally swapped out for a hot shower and aspirin - your body was already starting to ache from the accident, and you were exhausted. 

“It's getting dark and it’s gonna take another thirty minutes to get a car. I’m parked right over there. Either way, I’m not leaving until you do, so let’s go.” 

“My parents told me not to get in cars with strangers,” you deadpanned. 

“I’m less of a stranger than some rideshare driver.” When you shook your head, he sighed, unzipped his pocket, and withdrew his wallet, handing you his driver’s license. Without another word, he turned and walked away, your work bag dangling from his shoulder, leaving you no option but to follow. Arms crossed, he stood in front of the open passenger side door as you reached his truck. “Well? Am I still a stranger?”

“A little bit less of one, Jacob Michael Seresin of Texas.” Holding out his license, you gave him a saccharine smile. “A piece of friendly advice? Don’t do the buzzcut again.”

Smirking, he took it and slipped it back into his pocket. “Thought we weren’t friends.” 

“We’re not.” His laugh was warm in your ear as he shut the door behind you and walked to the driver’s side, pausing to grab his deodorant from the truck bed and toss both bags into the back seat. Through the window, he watched you rub your neck and grimace. After settling into the driver’s seat, he hit the ignition switch. Country music blasted from the stereo, and he quickly turned it down and switched on your seat warmers before nodding towards the GPS. 

“Put your address in.” 

“You’re not going to use it to stalk me, are you?” you asked, stifling a yawn. “This feels like it could be the beginning of a 20/20 episode about how I mysteriously disappeared from a parking lot after being seen getting into a car with a military pilot.”

“Sweetheart, if I wanted to make you disappear, you think I’d have signed paperwork with the police for your accident and then have you get in my car in a parking lot covered with cameras?”

Narrowing your eyes, you paused with your fingers hovering over the screen. “I feel like you were a bit too quick with that answer.”

“I didn’t get to be one of the best aviators in the country because of my looks.” 

“Are you trying to tell me there’s a brain in that pretty head?” Grinning, he shifted in his seat to face you.

“You sayin’ you think I’m pretty?” Rolling your eyes, you typed in your address and pointedly ignored his laugh. It took only a few minutes to get out of the parking lot. Once out onto the main drag, you groaned, head falling back into the seat. He glanced over, raising an eyebrow, “What?” 

“I just realized that I didn’t get my coffee creamer.” 

“Want me to turn around?” 

“No. I just wanna get home. This day needs to be over already,” you muttered. 

“Something happen? Other than the accident?”

“Ignore me, I’m just tired,” you replied, pasting on your customer service smile. And you were. So bone tired of dealing with work and being alone, and now whatever it was going to take to get your car fixed. 

“Wanna talk about it?” Blowing out a breath through pursed lips, you turned away from him, propping your elbow up on the door to subtly brush away a few stray tears. 

“Nothing to talk about.” The hand draped over the shifter moved towards you before he pulled back, tightening his grip on the wheel. The air in the cab suddenly felt too stifling. You cracked the window, needing a shot of fresh air.

“Didn’t realize I smelled that bad,” Jake said, trying to lighten the mood. When you apologized and reached for the button to roll it up, he used the controls on his side to lower both windows. The wind tugged at your hair, and you reached up to smooth it into a ponytail, twisting it into a knot. Without a hair tie, you leaned back in the seat to hold it in place and closed your eyes, arms crossed over your chest. The cool night air washed over you, a pleasant counterpoint to the seat warmers soothing your sore muscles. When the radio volume lowered, you sighed. 

“You don’t have to turn down the music of your people.” He chuckled but didn’t adjust it. The soft sound of him humming and his fingers tapping on the wheel lulled you into a light doze, and you woke as the truck slowed. But rather than being at the entrance to your apartment complex, Jake was pulling into a fast food place. He looked over at you as you sat up, hair uncoiling on your shoulder. 

“I’m starving and I’m guessing you haven’t eaten anything either.” Your stomach rumbled at the thought of food, making him grin. After ignoring your request for a separate order, he waved off your attempt to pay. Once back on the road, you opened the bag and pulled out a fry. He glanced over when you took a bite, and you saw a slight tick of his jaw. 

“Want one?” you offered.

“No, I’ll wait.” When you snuck another fry, there was another jaw tick. 

“Jake, do you not want me to eat in your car?” 

“It’s fine.” Smirking, you reached into the bag and retrieved a napkin to wipe your fingers. 

“You’re one of those guys, aren’t you?” He gave you a confused look. “No empty straw wrappers or loose change rattling around, carpets look pretty clean, and - ” you reached up to tap the decal hanging from the rearview mirror for the local car wash. “You’re a neat freak, aren’t you, Jake Seresin?”

“Nothing wrong with that,” he replied. 

“Of course not. I bet you even make your bed in the morning with hospital corners and everything.” When he glanced at you, you laughed. “You do, don’t you! Do you iron your socks?”

“No. Boxer briefs, though…” he shot you a sly grin.

“Tell me you’re joking.” Knowing you’d left yourself open for a retort about checking, you cut him off when he opened his mouth. “How do you survive road trips? Road snacks are the best part!” 

“Alright, alright, give me a fry,” he grumbled, reaching for the bag in your lap as he stopped at a red light. You held it out of his reach. 

“Are you sure you want to come to the dark side of people that eat in their cars? Once you start, it’s impossible to go back. Fries are just the gateway food. Next thing you know, you’ll be eating chips and burgers, and - ” you let out a fake gasp - “dipping sauces.” 

“Give me a damn fry.” Laughing, you plucked one from the bag and held it out to him. 

“You’re life is about to get so much better, Seresin. You have no idea what kind of world you’re opening up for yourself.” Rather than take it, he pulled your hand closer. Holding your gaze, he lowered his mouth, teeth grazing your skin as he plucked the fry from your fingers. Heat blazed across your face, and you inhaled sharply. Jake’s smirk was sinful as he tugged your hand closer, lips parting to wrap around - 

A car honked, and you ripped your hand out of Jake’s grasp, turning to look at the green light. 

You drove in silence and then he groaned. “Damn it. Give me the fries.” 

Your hand rested on the handle of your apartment door, Jake a solid presence at your back. He’d insisted on walking you up so you wouldn’t have to juggle your food, drink, and bag while unlocking the door. You’d ignored that he’d grabbed his drink as well. “Everything alright?” he asked when you didn’t move to go inside. 

Steeling your shoulders, you turned to face him. “I, um… I clean on the weekends.” One eyebrow rose, and he fought a smile. 

“Are you trying to warn me that your place is a mess after making fun of me for being a neat freak?”

“It’s not a mess; it’s just messy. There’s a difference.” Leaning against the wall next to your door, he motioned for you to explain. “You could currently describe my apartment as messy, but it’s not always that way - it’s not a quality of how I live. Adjective verses noun.” Laughing, he shook his head.

“Alright, Ms. English Degree, I promise I won’t judge you too hard.”  

“Thank you,” you replied primly. With a sigh, you pushed open the door and flipped on the light, pausing to toe-off your shoes once inside. 

“Here you had me thinking you were a hoarder or something,” Jake said, stepping in behind you and locking the door. His eyes darted around the room, taking in the stack of books on the coffee table, papers on the kitchen island, jackets thrown on a chair, and a pillow and blanket on the couch.

“Messy, not a mess.” Taking your bag from him, you dropped it on the chair and walked to the kitchen, flicking on a light. When you turned, Jake was crouched, unlacing his boots by the door. Smiling to yourself, you pulled two plates from the cabinet, grimacing slightly at the stack of dirty dishes in the sink. 

“Make sure you divide those bag fries evenly,” he smirked, dropping the food on the island and leaning forward with his elbows resting on some unopened mail. Matching his posture, you narrowed your eyes.

“I’m pretty sure you ate all your fries in the car.” 

“I don’t get any extra for delivering you home safe and sound?” 

“So you’re asking for a reward for being a gentleman?” 

“Somethin’ like that.” 

“Will my undying gratitude suffice?”

“It’s a start.” Rolling your eyes, you stood up straight. If he wanted to tease, two could play that game. Grasping the hem of your shirt, you pulled it over your head, leaving you in your sports bra and leggings. Jake straightened, his green eyes darkening. 

“I need a shower,” you explained, walking towards your bedroom. Pausing at your door to see his conflicted look, unsure if it was an invitation to join, you smirked. “Ketchup is in the fridge if you need it.” 

As you shut the door, he mumbled, “Fuck.”

Choosing to forgo washing your hair to finish faster, you quickly showered and changed into a tank top and sleep shorts. You’d half expected Jake to knock on the bathroom door the whole time. Instead, he was sitting on the couch when you exited your room. He’d taken the opportunity to get comfortable, unzipping the top half of his flight suit and tying it around his waist. His black t-shirt clung to his chest and arms, and his hair was slightly mussed as though he’d run a hand through it a few times. 

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” you said, motioning to his untouched plate on the coffee table. Yours sat beside it, and he’d even put the drinks on coasters. 

“I always wait for my partner. It’s better to do it together.” The double entendre was clear as his eyes swept down your figure. Raising an eyebrow, you stepped between his spread knees to get to the other side of the couch and grabbed your drink, biting the tip of the straw as you curled in the corner and pulled your knees to your chest. “You gonna stay over there all night?” he asked, voice low as he smirked.

“Yup. And you’re gonna stay over there.” 

“I am?” 

“Yup. Because you’re a gentleman who drove me home after a car accident.” Some of the heat drained from his gaze as his eyes drifted to the red wound on your neck. His Adam’s apple bobbed when you stretched out a leg to nudge his thigh. “Right?” 

“Right.”

“So we’re going to eat dinner, watch something on TV, and then you’ll head home.”

“Still not friends.”

“Still not friends.”

“The gazelle now faces man’s most perilous question - north?” Ben Affleck said in a horrible Australian accent while moving an animal cracker across Liv Tyler’s stomach. “South…way down south? Tune in next week.” 

“Baby, do you think it’s possible that anyone else in the world is doing this very same thing at this very same moment?” she asked. 

“I hope so. Otherwise, what the hell are we trying to save?”

“Damn, and people used to think that was romantic,” Jake groaned.  

“Shut up and watch the movie.” 

“He didn’t even take the animal cracker out of her underwear before he - ”

“It’s a movie.”

“It’s a horrible movie.”

“I didn’t say it was a cinematic masterpiece, I said it was a comfort movie.” 

“You need better comfort movies. Something not by Michael Bay.” Looking up from the pillow, you scowled and tapped his thigh with your toe. His hand shot out to pin your ankle down as you crossed the invisible line dividing the couch in two, raising an eyebrow. 

“What would you say if I told you that I really enjoyed Pearl Harbor?” Head falling back against the cushion, Jake swept his free hand down his face, palm rasping on his stubble. 

“Jesus Christ.” 

“Come on! That one has to be a little bit better. It’s about pilots and World War II and a really heartbreaking love triangle. Oh! And the part about launching planes off of carriers at the end.”

“I’m sure they did the Doolittle Raid very realistically.” 

“So what I’m hearing is a double feature with Armageddon and Pearl Harbor.” Shaking his head, he ran a finger along the bottom of your foot, holding on tightly when you shrieked and tried to pull away. The effort nearly got him kicked in the face as you tried to wiggle away from him, but he didn’t stop laughing. 

The music swelling woke Jake, and he sat up to see Pearl Harbor’s film credits rolling. Yawning, he looked over to see you lying on your side, hugging your pillow with one hand curled by your face and the other dangling off the couch, fast asleep. For a moment, he debated stretching out behind you and closing his eyes but pushed that thought away. He needed a shower, and you needed to not sleep on the couch tonight. A glance at his watch showed that it was just after two in the morning. Carefully, he lifted your feet from his lap and stood to stretch. After putting the dirty cups by the sink, he laced up his boots and grabbed his phone.

Kneeling beside you, Jake brushed the hair from your face before lifting your hand from the pillow and squeezing it gently. When you didn't move, he swept his thumb over your knuckles. “Darlin’, wake up.” He smiled when you hummed, eyebrows furrowing as you fought waking up. “I know. You can go back to sleep once you lock the door. Come on, open those pretty eyes.”

“Just stay,” you mumbled. Chuckling, he brushed his lips over the back of your hand and squeezed again.

“I’ll be back in a bit. Go sleep in your bed - you’ll be more comfortable.” Reluctantly, you opened one eye. “There she is.” Groaning, you sat up and let him pull you to your feet. Half asleep, you followed him to the door and, when he turned to say goodbye, leaned forward to rest your head on his chest.

“Thanks for everything,” you yawned as Jake wrapped his arms around you.

“Course. Happy I was there to help.” 

“Text me when you get home.”

“Good thing I saved your number.” When you lifted your head, you saw him smiling softly at you. He could see that you were trying to come up with some comeback and shook his head. Leaning down, he pressed his lips to your forehead. “Goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning. Lock the door behind me.” 

He waited outside until he heard the lock click. Twenty minutes after you climbed into bed, your phone lit up with a text that said, ‘Home. Sweet dreams.’

When he got out of the shower, Jake saw your response and smiled. 'Night, not friend.'

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

Read Chapter 4

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[mariacallous]

Engineers who work for Elon Musk’s SpaceX have been brought on as senior advisers to the acting administrator of the Federal Aviation Administration (FAA), sources tell WIRED.

On Sunday, Sean Duffy, secretary of the Department of Transportation, which oversees the FAA, announced in a post on X that SpaceX engineers would be visiting the Air Traffic Control System Command Center in Virginia to take what he positioned as a tour. “The safety of air travel is a nonpartisan matter,” Musk replied. “SpaceX engineers will help make air travel safer.”

By the time these posts were made, though, according to sources who were granted anonymity because they fear retaliation, SpaceX engineers were already being onboarded at the agency under Schedule A, a special authority that allows government managers to “hire persons with disabilities without requiring them to compete for the job,” according to the Office of Personnel Management (OPM).

These new hires come after the terminations of hundreds of FAA probationary employees, and the most deadly month of US aviation disasters in more than a decade.

According to a source with knowledge of the situation, none of the SpaceX engineers were fully vetted by their start date. Unlike the very young technologists associated with Musk’s so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) who have been given access to critical systems at agencies ranging from OPM and the Treasury Department to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration in recent weeks, though, the engineers identified by WIRED—Ted Malaska, Thomas Kiernan, Sam Smeal, and Brady Glantz—do appear to have experience relevant to the FAA.

Malaska is currently, according to his LinkedIn profile, a senior director of application software at SpaceX, where he started working in May 2021. Formerly the senior director of data engineering at Capitol One and a senior architect at FINRA, he graduated from the University of Maryland Baltimore County in 2000 and cowrote a 2015 book on Hadoop application architectures.

Kiernan is currently a lead software engineer at SpaceX, according to his LinkedIn page. Before joining SpaceX in May 2020, he worked at Wayfair and is a 2017 Dartmouth graduate.

Smeal is a software engineer who has worked at SpaceX since September 2021, according to his LinkedIn. He graduated from Saint Vincent College in 2018.

Glantz is a software engineer who has worked at SpaceX since May 2024 and worked as an engineering analyst at Goldman Sachs from 2019 to 2021, according to his LinkedIn, and graduated from the University of Michigan in 2019.

Malaska, Kiernan, Smeal, and Glantz did not immediately respond to requests for comment. The FAA also did not immediately respond to requests for comment.

In his post on X, Duffy wrote, "Because I know the media (and Hillary Clinton) will claim Elon’s team is getting special access, let me make clear that the @FAANews regularly gives tours of the command center to both media and companies.”

But on Wednesday, FAA acting administrator Chris Rocheleau wrote in an email to FAA staff, viewed by WIRED, that DOGE and the teams of special government employees deployed in federal agencies were “top-of-mind,” before noting that the agency had "recently welcomed” a team of special government employees who had already toured some FAA facilities. “We are asking for their help to engineer solutions while we keep the airspace open and safe,” he wrote, adding that the new employees had already visited the FAA Command Center and Potomac TRACON, a facility that controls the airspace around and provides air traffic control services to airports in the DC, Maryland, and Virginia areas.

In a Department of Transportation all-hands meeting late last week, Duffy responded to a question about DOGE's role in national airspace matters, and without explicitly mentioning the new employees, suggested help was needed on reforming Notice to Air Mission (NOTAM) alerts, a critical system that distributes real-time data and warnings to pilots but which has had significant outages, one as recently as this month. “If I can get ideas from really smart engineers on how we can fix it, I’m going to take those ideas,” he said, according to a recording of the meeting reviewed by WIRED. “Great engineers” might also work on airspace issues, he said.

SpaceX functioned as the pre-inauguration staging ground for the DOGE team, according to reporting from The New York Times and sources who spoke to WIRED. In the months between November 5 and January 20, members of DOGE including Steve Davis (president of Musk’s Boring Company) and the young engineer Luke Farritor were operating out of the company’s DC office, according to a source with knowledge.

The company did not respond to questions about whether these employees will retain their salaries and positions at the company during their time with DOGE. Many of the so-called department’s operatives have joined as “special government employees,” who are limited to working 130 days in a year. Last week WIRED reported that Tom Krause, a DOGE operative at the Treasury Department, would continue to maintain his position as CEO of the Cloud Software Group while also performing the duties of fiscal assistant secretary. Other members of Musk’s companies, including xAI and Tesla, have also taken on positions with DOGE.

Late last week, the Trump administration laid off 400 FAA workers, according to their union, the Professional Aviation Safety Specialists. The union says these included probationary employees who worked on air traffic control communications and related radio and computer systems. Air traffic controllers were not affected by the layoffs, Duffy said in an X post.

Just two weeks before that, the US suffered its most deadly aviation incident in more than a decade, when 67 people died after an Army helicopter collided with a passenger jet in Washington, DC. Though initial findings suggest complex equipment and communications issues possibly played roles in the disaster, President Trump was quick to blame “DEI,” railing against a decade-old program that helps the FAA identify talent among populations with disabilities. People with disabilities hired into the FAA and other federal agencies are often accepted under the Schedule A authority—exactly the route these new engineers have taken into the agency.

The FAA has frequently tangled with Musk’s SpaceX, as the rocket company and others fight to operate their own interests in crowded American airspace. In January, the FAA temporarily grounded SpaceX’s program after one of its Starship rockets broke apart midflight, reportedly damaging public property on Turks and Caicos in the Caribbean. The FAA diverted dozens of commercial airline flights following the explosion and announced an investigation into the incident, which is ongoing and being led by SpaceX. Musk, however, characterized the failure as “barely a bump in the road” and did not seem to indicate that the investigation would slow SpaceX’s launch cadence. Last year, the company indicated it was aiming for 25 launches of the Starship in 2025.

FAA spokesperson Steven Kulm told WIRED that “the FAA is overseeing the SpaceX-led mishap investigation.” The FAA did not respond to further questions about whether the presence of SpaceX engineers at the agency would constitute a conflict of interest.

In September, the FAA proposed $633,000 in fines following two 2023 incidents in which SpaceX allegedly did not follow its license requirements, violating regulations. Responding to an X user posting about the penalties, Musk wrote, “The fundamental problem is that humanity will forever be confined to Earth unless there is radical reform at the FAA!” Shortly afterward, Musk called for FAA head Mike Whitaker to resign.

In January, more than three years before his term was due to end, Whitaker did resign.

“I told Elon, any conflicts, you can’t have anything to do with that,” said President Trump in a press conference this week, in response to a question about Musk, SpaceX, the FAA, and conflicts of interest. “So anything to do with possibly even space, we won’t let Elon partake in that.”

The White House did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

SpaceX is directly regulated by a small FAA agency called the Office of Commercial Space Transportation, which since 1984 has licensed the launch of US space rockets. “The purpose is to ensure public safety,” says George Nield, a former associate administrator of the office. “People on the ground did not consent” to rocket launches above them, he says. ”We absolutely need to keep them safe. The office has done a great job of that.” The office oversaw 157 launches in 2024 alone.

On February 10, several days after Musk posted on X that DOGE “will aim to make rapid safety upgrades to the air traffic control system,” a group of Democratic legislators wrote to Rocheleau—a career civil servant whose ties to the FAA go back to 1996—requesting information about any planned changes to FAA systems.

“We are extremely concerned that an ad hoc team of individuals lacking any expertise, exposure, certifications, or knowledge of aviation operations being invited, or inserting themselves, to make ‘rapid’ changes to our nation’s air traffic systems,” they wrote. “Aviation safety is not an area to ‘move fast and break things.’”

[unsentimentaltranslator]

“Wait, why are the edgelords right about the people who make ‘translation is loss’ posts?”

I don’t want any of the people I reblogged from under my old account, or any of the people I will undoubtedly reblog from under this account, to think I’m judging them for reblogging those posts. Those posts are the only point of view that non-translators on here tend to see, both because media translation is more interesting to the average non-translator than the majority of what we do and because while the tortured artist types are posting their laments on the internet, the rest of us are typically just getting on with our work. But “translation is sad because you can’t translate great literature in a way that fully replicates the experience enjoyed by those who speak the original language” is…not the best way to conceptualise translation for numerous reasons.

1. Most translators will never get to work on high-profile literature projects. You know that line in the song Don’t Be A Lawyer in Crazy Ex-Girlfriend where he says “Did you hope one day you’d find a way to spend four years working on a pharmaceutical company’s merger with another pharmaceutical company?” Yeah. And that’s not always a bad thing. “Translation is loss” is a romantic way of saying “if you work on prestigious literary projects, EVERYONE will have an opinion about the translation you did and many of those opinions will be the same kind of bitching that any high-profile creator has to deal with”. At most, I’d be willing to work on something like Marie Kondo’s books, where the audience is interested in the substance, not the style. Beyond that, forget it. I know what people are like.

2. Translation loss in prestigious literature is the kind that’s most talked about, but it’s one of the least actually consequential kinds. Not getting 100% of the original experience of reading a novel might be a bit of a bummer, but it’s not comparable to people dying because someone messed up a translation for an aircraft or a medical device or a bridge. It just isn’t. In my country, a dodgy translation of a treaty occupies the same place in our history as the smallpox-covered blankets in American history. That’s a tragedy. “We can be sad about both!” But you’re not.

3. Bridging the gaps between the two languages is OUR FUCKING JOB. If it was easy, we wouldn’t be hired in the first place. Academic study for translators is not supposed to be a fucking funeral for the source text (again, where would we be if translators in fields like aviation, medicine and construction did that?!); it is supposed to equip you with the analytical and problem-solving skills necessary to create the best target text possible. Which brings me to my final point:

4. If you’re a novice translator, the reason you find it so difficult to convey the source text in a way that is both accurate and natural is BECAUSE YOU ARE NEW TO THIS. You are going to need a lot of corrections at first. WE ALL DO. Some people never get good enough to translate professionally, just as not everyone is cut out to be a professional writer or artist or doctor or lawyer or teacher or pilot or athlete. That isn’t the profession’s fault. Every novice translator has to deal with a difficult learning curve and you can either blame it on the inherent nature of the profession or you can work on becoming the best translator you can be.

In closing:

 “ReAdEr i HaVe TaKeN LiBeRTiEs” NO FUCKING SHIT.

[silly-goose-extraordinaire]

19. online dating if it hasn’t been taken

i gotchu anon

Prompt #19: Online Dating

just fyi i have never been on a dating app. i don't care if this is inaccurate.

⚠️TW: Implied/referenced sex⚠️

———

“Goose, I don't want a relationship. Stop badgering.”

“You're so stubborn. Just try it. You could meet your soulmate or something!”

“I said no. Drop it, Nick.”

“I had hoped it wouldn't come to this.” Goose takes a deep breath. “You're a coward.”

Maverick gasps dramatically. “How dare you? A stab at my honor? after all we've been through together?”

“I'll take it back if you make an account and at least try it.”

Mav huffs. “Gimme the phone, bitch.”

Goose cheers, handing the phone to Pete triumphantly. He reluctantly creates an account, only adding the necessities. He doesn't put his rank or his job at all. 

God, this is so dumb. 

———

Thomas “Iceman” Kazansky does not like the concept of online dating. Yet he created an account.

Why? Slider’s insistence, of course. 

He was uncomfortable even opening the app. Yet he did. 

Why? 

He was curious, he'll admit. It was an app designed for any orientation, not just heterosexual people. That was a bonus. Plus, he was approaching his 30’s, and he wanted to at least go steady with someone. 

He set up a blind date with a man in his area through the app. They were going to meet up at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant next to the beach on Friday. It sounded fun, but Ice was hesitant to get his hopes up.

———

Mav had a date. Friday evening. 

He was excited, if a little worried. It was a blind date with someone named Thomas at a place he'd never been to. But it was near the beach, so he can count on that going well. Hopefully.

———

Ice walked into the restaurant and checked his reservation. He was early, but extremely anxious about being stood up. 

Until Maverick came sauntering in the door, aviators hung on his white tee. 

He wore the same jacket as always, his hair windswept from riding his motorcycle way above the speed limit. He smiled as he approached Ice's table.

“Hey, Ice. Who you waitin’’ for?”

“My date. He’s not late, but I don't know if he's going to show.”

“Do you know his name?” So he didn't care if he was into men. Noted.

“I think his name was Peter?”

“Oh, cool. I'm here for a date, too. Really nervous.”

“What's her name?”

“Well, his name is Thomas….. Wait—” His eyes widened, but Ice didn't catch why. “Show me his profile.” He sat in the seat opposite Ice.

“Uhh… okay?” 

Ice opened the app and showed Mav the card, confused. Mav bursted out laughing, and other patrons glanced over, presumably annoyed. 

“What's so funny, hotshot?”

“Ice, that's my profile. We're supposed to be on a date together.”

“Oh my god. We got set up by AI.”

“Guess we have more in common than we thought.” Pete is still grinning like a menace, barely stifling laughter. Ice is thoroughly embarrassed, knowing he's red as a lobster.

Conveniently, the waiter popped up and handed them menus. Ice ordered alcohol immediately.

———

They oddly had a pleasant evening, stopping at an ice cream shack on the beach before strolling on the beach. Despite the cliché, Ice thought Mav looked stunning in the golden glow of the sunset, smiling and laughing. Ice wanted to see him like that forever. 

But he didn't mind seeing him sprawled out under him that night, eyes blown wide and smiling widely. 

He didn't mind seeing him basking in the morning light, laying on Tom’s chest, either.

———

make sure y'all are drinking water and resting!

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Adult Education Part 2 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake wasn't sure what he had done wrong, but the last thing he wanted to do was scare Jessica off. With a little bit of help, he manages to get a few minutes alone with her again. And all she does is effortlessly make him want even more.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 2600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

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

Jake was still perplexed the following afternoon as he listened to Maverick lecture about the efficiency of the modified fuel system in the F/A-18. He couldn't help but think that Dr. Reed would have done a much better job speaking on the topic. And looked cute while doing it. 

He'd spent most of the night thinking about her, trying to determine where exactly he had fucked things up. It seemed like she was into him while they were at the bar. The cheap beers and peanuts at Chippy's let Jake know she would be relaxed enough to hang with his friends. And the way she looked and her PhD in physics let him know she would hold his interest. If he was looking for someone to date, it would be Professor Jessica in a heartbeat.

She was so charming and intelligent. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe it only took her an hour last night to recognize that Jake wouldn't be enough to hold her interest. She really went running for her office as soon as they were outside.

"Damn," he muttered once the aviators were all dismissed for the day. When he unlocked his phone, his browser was still open to the tab of Jessica's profile on the San Diego State University website. That little photo of her wearing her glasses and a blouse with the top buttons undone was really messing with him. He practically had the About Me section memorized by now, and she'd said nothing about a spouse. He went to close out of it, but he couldn't. 

"Hey, you need a ride again today?" Bradley asked him, checking his own phone.

"Nah, I got my truck back this morning," he replied. "But thanks."

Bradshaw just shrugged and grunted in response, but then he was holding up his phone for Jake to see the screen. "My wife apparently has a message for you."

Sugar: Tell Hangman I ate lunch with Dr. Reed today. And she wanted to know if my sexy aviator husband happened to know another sexy aviator by the name of Jake Seresin.

Jake perked right up at that. "Mind if I text Dr. Tits myself?" he asked, and Bradley handed over his phone. 

"Just as long as you don't call her Dr. Tits. Jesus, I'm shocked you're still alive."

But he wasn't listening. Rather he was already texting. 

Hey, it's Jake. Did Jessica say anything else? After we had some beers at Chippy's, she kind of ran off. I'd like to see her again, but I'm not so sure she'd want to see me.

Jake sent the message and stared at the screen. "She might not be able to respond right now," Bradshaw was saying. "She's got a late lecture this evening." But the messaging app was telling Jake that she was in fact currently typing. 

"Shh," Jake said, devouring the message as soon as it arrived.

Sugar: I told her I know you. Be thankful that I painted a much, much prettier picture of you than I could have. But she didn't say much else. However... she does have office hours until 7:00 tonight. Just so you know.

Jake groaned and handed the phone back to Bradley. Of course he was relying on help from the woman he had accidentally given a vulgar nickname. He didn't know what he should do. On one hand, he'd love to show up at Jessica's office and pick up where they left off. On the other hand, there was a good chance it would be awkward. But he wanted to know what he did wrong. 

While they were at Chippy's, Jake had been thinking about inviting her to have dinner at his place one night. He thought about making her smile and laugh in his kitchen while he tried to convince her he was smart enough to keep up with the conversation. Imagining how it might feel to press his lips to her elegant neck.

"Yeah, I'm going," he grunted, checking the time. 

"Going where?" Bradshaw asked, looking at him like he had two heads as they finally exited the deserted classroom. 

"Visit your wife at work," Jake replied with a wink. 

He just rolled his eyes in response. "Tell her I'll pick her up at 9."

Jake didn't even bother to change out of his flight suit. He'd only been out on the tarmac for a short period of time today, so the jet fumes didn't seem to be an issue. He grabbed his wallet and keys from his locker and rushed for his truck. It was already after 6 o'clock. Depending on traffic, he might not even make it to campus before Jessica's office hours ended. But what did he have to lose?

"Come on," he complained, merging with the congestion of cars leaving North Island. Everyone was creeping across the bay bridge, and Jake was watching the minutes tick away. When he was finally close to campus, he tried to remember where Bradshaw had parked yesterday. He cut down a side street and came out near the math and science building, but there was nowhere to park. 

"Shit," he said, and then someone was pulling out of a spot further up the block. Somehow he managed to successfully squeeze his truck between two other cars, and he hopped out onto the sidewalk. He tossed his sunglasses onto the front seat before locking his truck, and tried to fix his hair as he walked toward her building. He could see Chippy's across the street, and he briefly wondered if she might head over there if he couldn't find her office in time. 

When he tried to open the door to the math and science building, it was locked. He jiggled all the door hands, but none of them were open. There was a card reader off to one side, but no students in sight. "Fuck," he groaned. The building was probably only left unlocked yesterday for the mini lectures. 

Jake started scrambling for his phone so he could call Bradshaw and get his wife's number. But then he saw her walking down the hallway inside, and he pounded on the door. She turned and looked at him with a cautionary glance until she realized it was him. Then she walked over and pulled the door open for him.

She grinned and said, "Just in time for office hours, I see."

"Thank you," Jake said, and he didn't even call her Dr. Tits. "I owe you one. For the information and for opening the door."

She just pointed him toward the row of elevators and said, "Dr. Reed's office is on the fifth floor, to the left when you exit the elevator."

"Thanks!" he called out as he practically ran to push the little up arrow. And now he was nervous. Why did he think this was a good idea? As the doors slid open, he registered that it wasn't too late to just go back to his truck and drive home. But as they started to close again, he found himself darting inside and pushing the number 5. 

If he got completely shot down, then so be it. And if she was already gone for the day, then maybe he'd consider stopping by Chippy's and running the risk of having her bartender friend give him the third degree. But it would be worth it just in case Jessica wanted to talk to him again. 

Fifth floor. He turned to the left and read all of the names on the doors as he made his way down the long hallway. And then he saw it on the placard on the second to last door on the left. DR. JESSICA REED, PHD.

The door was slightly ajar, and Jake let out a deep breath before he knocked. 

"Come in."

When he pushed the door open and stepped inside her small office, he smiled. Jessica was sitting at her desk, writing something down in that red notebook he saw yesterday, and when her gaze slid up his body, her lips parted in surprise when she met his eyes. "Jake."

"Dr. Reed," he drawled. "I almost missed your office hours."

Her eyes were wide, and she nudged her glasses up higher on her nose with the backs of her fingers. "What are you doing here?"

Jake took a step closer to her desk, and she slowly stood. And hell if she wasn't wearing another cute skirt today. 

She was eyeing him curiously, still waiting for an answer when he said, "You told me I could borrow your copy of the Journal of Propulsion Science. The edition with the information about Super Hornets."

"Oh," she whispered, her face falling a bit. "Right. Of course." She turned away from him and started to search along some shelves that were jammed with books and periodicals. His eyes roamed over the back of her body all the way down to her feet and her high heels. He watched as she pulled a few glossy journals out and turned to hand them to him. "Here's the Propulsion Science journal, and here are a few more that might interest you. I don't need them back. You can keep them."

Jake took them and immediately set them down softly on her desk without looking at them. "Thanks, but that's actually not the only reason why I'm here."

"Why else are you here then?" she asked carefully, and Jake wished there wasn't a large desk between his body and hers. He felt himself starting to hesitate again, but he was already in this deep. Might as well go all the way.

"Listen, Jessica. I was having a pretty great time last night at Chippy's." He was trying to gauge her reaction as he added, "You're beautiful, funny and smart, and hey, I'm only human. And I thought you were maybe feeling what I was feeling? And correct me if I'm wrong here, but I thought we were having fun? And it didn't even seem like you expected me to lay down my usual bullshit, which was really nice."

"Oh," she gasped. She worried at her bottom lip with her teeth before she said, "No. You're not wrong."

He shrugged at her, heart pounding as he asked, "Then what did I do wrong? Why did you run off?"

She laughed softly and looked down at her desk. "I nerded out so hard."

Jake grinned as the sheepish look on her face. "You must have been able to tell I was enjoying myself. God, I could have stayed at Chippy's with you all night long. You know more about my jet than I do, and I have the NATOPS memorized."

She ran her fingers nervously along the top of her desk as she looked at the stack of journals he was meant to take with him. As Jake planted his hands on his hips, she glanced up at him. "It's just too good to be true."

He shook his head slightly. "What's too good to be true?"

"You."

He raised one eyebrow, about to ask what that was supposed to mean when she said, "There's always a catch with the charming, good looking guys, right?"

"A catch?"

She licked her lips and pressed her palms on the desk, leaning a little closer to him. "I've been through this before. There's always someone else. A sexy naval aviator in his uniform shows up to my lecture and then flirts with me? Please. There's always another girl."

Jake was kind of stunned. "I would never do that."

But she still looked apprehensive as she said, "As soon as you started ignoring calls and messages, you said you had to leave."

Bradshaw. He was ignoring calls from Bradshaw who was trying to tell Jake to meet him at the Bronco. And he was only ignoring him because he didn't want to leave her at all.

When he didn't respond right away, she shrugged and said, "Figured it was your girlfriend calling you."

Jake made sure she met his eyes before he said, "I don't have a girlfriend."

She barely hesitated before asking, "Wife?"

"I don't have one of those either."

Jessica slowly pushed off from her desk so she was standing at her full height, lips forming a perfect, kissable pout. She looked a little embarrassed now as she messed with her glasses. "That's all really useful information to have," she muttered, picking up the stack of journals and walking them around her desk. 

Her steps were intentional and deliberate, the little click of her high heels muffled in the small space. Even in those shoes she only came up to his chin, and she didn't stop until she was right in front of him. He could smell her shampoo or perfume. He could see gold flecks in her eyes. This time when she held out the journals, they grazed his flight suit. He took them in one hand and murmured, "Thank you."

"Mmhmm," she hummed, and Jake almost tossed the literature aside and pushed her against her desk when her fingers met the patches on his flight suit. He stood still against his desire to tilt her face up and press his lips to that pout. She looked good, and she smelled good, and Jake was convinced she would taste good, too. Then she glanced up at him, fingers still tracing his patch that said HANGMAN. 

He cleared his throat softly. "What if I decide I want to return the journals after I read them? And what if I have some questions only an expert would be able to answer?"

She smiled and said, "Then I would implore you to find me and avoid Dr. Leeland and the rest of the physics department."

Jake laughed softly, but then she removed her hand from his flight suit, and he started to reach for her. But she was already turning toward her desk, tearing a page out of her red notebook. As she bent at the waist, Jake stifled a groan and rubbed one rough hand over his mouth. Her skirt rode up along her legs, exposing so much skin, he couldn't look away. Perfect, gorgeous skin from her bare thighs down to her ankles and those stupidly high heels. 

He was definitely caught staring after she finished scribbling on the sheet of notebook paper and spun to face him. He wanted to ask her if she wanted another three dollar pint and some peanuts, but she folded the paper in half and handed it to him before he could gather his thoughts into a sentence that actually made sense.

He glanced down and saw that she'd written her office hours in her neat penmanship. 

Dr. Reed's office hours for journal topic discussion:

Tuesdays 5:30 to 7:00

Thursdays 6:00 to 7:30

"I might be willing to stay late again. For you." 

Jake looked up into her pretty eyes and tapped the sheet of paper. "Any chance you'd add your phone number for me, Dr. Reed?"

The soft smile and dreamy look she bestowed on him had him grinning like an idiot, he was certain. He wanted that phone number in the worst way. When Jessica's fingers ghosted along his patch one more time, she said, "Maybe I'll see you on Thursday?"

"Yes." Jake would make it a point to come back on Thursday. 

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

Professor Jessica thought she nerded too close to the sun. And Jake really did give off some of the telltale signs of a man who is up to no good (including but not limited to looking hot in his uniform). Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 3

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[rohanisblog]

Tool Storage Market Revenue Forecast: US$ 4,040.6 Mn by 2031

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The global tool storage products market is expected to experience a steady increase in revenue over the next few years. The market is projected to grow from US$ 3,091.4 million in 2022 to US$ 4,040.6 million by 2031, representing a compound annual growth rate (CAGR) of 2.8% from 2023-2031.

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Key Companies: 

Stanley Black & Decker

Techtronic Industries

Snap-on Inc.

Griffon Corporation

Taparia

Apex Tools Group

K-Tool International

Huot Manufacturing

Stahlwille

SAM Outillage

Prokit's Industries

Other Prominent Players

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Market Segmentation: 

By Product Type:

Job Site Boxes (Tool organizers)

Tool Bags

Belts & Pouches

Chests & Cabinets

Tool Trolleys/ Carts (mobile units)

Accessories

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Professional Grade

Consumer Grade

By Distribution Channel:

Direct Sales (B2B)

Wholesale Distributors

Retail Stores

Hardware Stores

Home Centers

E-commerce

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Residential (Individuals)

Automotive

Trades (carpentry, electrical, plumbing)

Construction

Gardening & Agriculture

Aviation

Heavy Industry

Machine Shops

Mining, Oil & Gas

Medical

MROs (maintenance, repair, and overhauls)

Railroad

Manufacturing

By Region:

North America

The U.S.

Canada

Mexico

Europe

The UK

Germany

France

Italy

Russia

Rest of Europe

Asia Pacific

China

India

Japan

South Korea

Australia and New Zealand

Rest of Asia Pacific

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UAE

Saudi Arabia

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Egypt

Rest of MEA

South America

Argentina

Brazil

Rest of South America

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Industry Value Chain Participants: Those directly or indirectly involved in the Tool Storage Products market need to stay informed about leading competitors and current market trends. 

Analysts and Suppliers: Individuals seeking up-to-date insights into this dynamic market will find the report particularly beneficial. 

Competitors: Companies looking to benchmark their performance and assess their market positions can leverage the data and analysis provided in this research. 

Astute Analytica's report on the global Tool Storage Products market is an essential resource that empowers stakeholders with the knowledge needed to navigate and thrive in this competitive landscape. 

Download Sample PDF Report@- https://www.astuteanalytica.com/request-sample/tool-storage-products-market

About Astute Analytica:

Astute Analytica is a global analytics and advisory company that has built a solid reputation in a short period, thanks to the tangible outcomes we have delivered to our clients. We pride ourselves in generating unparalleled, in-depth, and uncannily accurate estimates and projections for our very demanding clients spread across different verticals. We have a long list of satisfied and repeat clients from a wide spectrum including technology, healthcare, chemicals, semiconductors, FMCG, and many more. These happy customers come to us from all across the globe.

They are able to make well-calibrated decisions and leverage highly lucrative opportunities while surmounting the fierce challenges all because we analyse for them the complex business environment, segment-wise existing and emerging possibilities, technology formations, growth estimates, and even the strategic choices available. In short, a complete package. All this is possible because we have a highly qualified, competent, and experienced team of professionals comprising business analysts, economists, consultants, and technology experts. In our list of priorities, you-our patron-come at the top. You can be sure of the best cost-effective, value-added package from us, should you decide to engage with us.

Get in touch with us

Phone number: +18884296757

Email: sales@astuteanalytica.com

Visit our website: https://www.astuteanalytica.com/

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