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Thinking thoughts

Thots being thunk

Its so sugar daddy Bradley and his dude bro frat boy baby Jake

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The Dagger Squad in a Car

Maverick: Owns the car, is the driver, begging them to shut up.

" I swear, Hangman. For the love of God, shut up."

Rooster: Passenger seat, has sunglasses on but is internally spiraling.

" Mav... how old are you?"

Hangman: Sitting to the right in the back, gawking at Maverick.

" Sir, with all due respect, rail me into next week."

Fanboy: Constantly complaining about not having enough space, bickering with Hangman about 'wanting to stare at Maverick too'

" Your elbow is in my kidney, Bob."

Bob: Apologising to Fanboy, squeezed in between.

" Sorry, Mickey. I can't help it!"

Phoenix & Payback: In the third row, whisper-screaming about the stuff they would let Mav do to them.

"He can just ruin me and leave."

" And I'd ask for more."

Coyote: Forgotten at the mall.

(staring at a Hot Wheels collection he can't afford)

[overwhelmed-alien]

That one scene in the movie Armageddon, but Hangster:

It’s going to be a long, dangerous deployment for Bradley - his last - but also an especially miserable one because he’s just married the love of his life, and seeing Jake here at the docks with the other spouses left behind, teary-eyed but putting on such a brave face, breaks his heart into a million pieces.

He drops the heavy duffle and holds his husband close for the last time in a long time, the gentle swaying of his hips almost going unnoticed by those around him, and he starts whispering, singing sweetly into Jake’s ear:

-All my bags are packed, I’m ready to go

I’m standing here outside your door

I hate to wake you up to say goodbye-

He feels Jake smile against his chest, even as the tears begin to stain his fatigues

-but the dawn is breaking its early morn’

The taxi’s waiting he’s blowin’ his horn

Already I’m so lonesome I could die-

And Bradley knows he can’t leave without seeing his gorgeous Jake smile, hear is laughter one more time, see him happy, so he lunges forward and hefts a startled Jake up into his arms fully - staggering a bit because Jake’s all muscle - and twirls him around the crowd of on-lookers, belting the next verse slightly out of tune

So kiss me and smile for me

He drops a quick peck on those grinning lips so close to his own

Tell me that you’ll wait for me

Jake runs his fingers through his curls like a promise

Hold me like you’ll never let me goooo-

Jake’s laughing now, beaming like sunshine, squirming in his arms, and Bradley’s grinning like a lovesick idiot, his cheeks ruddy, and they both think the other is the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen. And Jake just throws caution to the wind and wraps his legs around his husband’s hips and holds on and revels in Bradley’s too-loud serenade and the attention it’s causing

-CAUSE I’M LEAVIN’ ON A JET PLANE

I DON’T KNOW WHEN I’LL BE BACK AGAIN-

And then, in a moment of nerves and excitement and a little levity fueled by sadness, frustration and hysterics, some of the members of Bradley’s team start harmonizing around them from amongst their own bemused families.

And even though it’s one of the saddest, most nerve-wracking days in their lives, that moment is still one of Jake and Bradley’s fondest, most cherished memories.

(And of course, one year later, Jake is standing on that very dock waiting for him to disembark so they can finally, finally, begin their lives together. And they lived happily ever after.)

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The taste of a tangerine (on your lips)

A little offering to the hangster clan.

Soft and sweet. Like a tangerine.

***

"Here," Jake says, handing Bradley a paper bag and plopping down on the couch right next to him; careful not to touch, but close, so close.

Bradley looks at him confused, brow creased with a question. "What is it?"

"Relax, Bradshaw, it's just a snack," Jake drawls lazily, sprawling on his side of the couch, seemingly without a care in the world. In reality, his heart is racing, his lips are dry and his leg wants to bounce, but he weighs it down with his hand, willing it to calm down. He manages a smirk, when Bradley throws a one last quirked eyebrow his way before diving right into the crumpled bag.

He unrolls the top of it to peek in, cautious. Jake can't blame him, he'd be suspicious of himself, too.

But Bradley's eyes light up the moment he sees the contents of it. His head snaps up and he's looking at Jake with a delighted smile spreading across his face, all wide eyes and a puppy-like excitement and so, so beautiful.

"Tangerines," he breathes out through that smile that Jake is sure must be hurting his cheeks.

With a tenderness that has no right to be applied to a simple fruit, but makes Jake's heart skip a beat nonetheless, he fishes one of them out of the bag, pressing it to his nose immediately. With eyes closed, he breathes in slow and deep, taking in the fresh, zesty smell of the tangerine with the air that fills his lungs.

Jake watches him with that kind of a reverence one feels when watching a sun rise over their world. Only instead of a sun, there's a tangerine and in place of the whole world, there's Bradley, happy and golden and alive, god, alive. 

Jake has never been a religious man, nor does he believe in past lives. How could he? If Bradley had lived before, he'd be long ago carved into a marble, the shape of his lips forever remembered by a cold stone, the form of his body worshipped by strangers. The past would never let him go without memorizing every curve of his body, every contour of his face. 

So no, Jake doesn't believe in past lives, but sitting here, watching the crinkles form at the corners of Bradley's eyes, he wishes for a future one. He wishes for forever.

Bradley pulls the tangerine from his face, going a little cross eyed as he tries to keep an eye on the precious gift while also catching Jake's eyes with his.

"You got me tangerines," he says again, redundant, unbelieving, in awe.

Jake tries, tries so hard to keep up the act, but he can feel a small smile making its way through the faked casualness on his face. He can feel it ruining the facade he's so laboriously put on.

"It's not a big deal, Bradshaw," he says, biting his lower lip, fighting the urge to surge forward and swallow the smile on Bradley's face. 

They're not quite there yet. 

Jake likes to pretend they're nowhere near either, but deep down in his heart, he hopes. 

"Last time you said-"

"I know," Bradley interrupts him, the… thing in his face even more profound.

Jake's smile falters under the heaviness of Bradley's gaze.

But he did - he said… On this exact couch a week ago. They were spending their Friday evening rewatching their favourite cooking show while trying to ignore the fact that they've spent the last several Fridays doing exactly the same: ignoring their friends, ignoring their social life, ignoring the something growing in between them. Ignoring the tension. Ignoring everything in favor of sprawling on the couch with their thighs spread so wide their knees brushed with their every breath. Still lingering on the side of not yet.

Bradley had just leaned forward to grab his half-drank bottle of beer from the coffee table. The innocent movement made his thigh press against Jake's in a long hot line. Nothing new. 

Jake's eyes darted from the TV to the point of contact and back again quickly. He didn't feel strong enough to tear his eyes away from the long line of Bradley's throat as he finished his drink, so he chose the lesser evil and did not look at all.

The TV was not enough of a distraction but he willed his mind to focus. The camera was focused on a female hand holding a tangerine, fingers and nails expertly peeling the skin, uncovering the soft orange flesh. They were making the famous tangerine cake that had gone viral on Tik Tok only a few days prior. He couldn't care less.

"God, I haven't had a tangerine in ages," Bradley breathed out, the rim of the bottle resting against his lips. The tip of his tongue darted out to lick an escaped drop of beer. 

Jake cursed at his own self control. He shouldn’t have been looking.

"Huh?" he tried, clearing his throat, trying to drown out the sound of his own heart beating loud, oh so loud, in his chest, his head, his throat, down south.

Bradley lowered the bottle, perching it on his thigh. He started to scrape the label off, trying to catch the corner with the nail of his index finger. The tiny sound of a nail scratching on the glass was all Jake needed to snap back into reality.

"Why? They literally grow them here?" he asked, aiming for semi-indifference.

"Dunno," Bradley shrugged absent-mindedly, lost both in the show he was watching and in his memories. "I used to eat them all the time in Japan. They were everywhere, served with every meal, so sweet and easy to peel, not like the ones they grow here. A different variety, I gues…" he finished without ever looking at Jake, too engrossed in whatever the baker was currently mixing in a bowl. 

But Jake, unable to do anything else when it came to Bradley, took that little piece of knowledge and filed it in the catalogue of all the other little things he got to know about him over time. And sure enough, a few days later, when he passed by an asian shop tucked in a surprisingly narrow alley right behind his favourite take out place, naturally, this piece of information popped up in his head with the exact lost-to-the-world tone of Bradley's voice he said it with.

So Jake went in and asked for a Japanese variety of tangerines. For a whole bag of them.

The result now is a bag of tangerines in Bradley's lap and his undecipherable stare aimed right at Jake. He shouldn't have gone in that shop, shouldn't have filed that information away in the first place. No one remembers details like this.

Bradley holds out his palm with the tangerine perched on it like it's something more than just a piece of fruit. "It's the Japanese variety." 

It's not a question. Jake nods anyway.

Bradley shakes his head fondly, the surprised smile turning into something softer, sweeter. He starts to peel the tangerine and he does it so reverently that only watching him makes Jake's body tingle.

Bradley never tears his eyes off the fruit in his hand, letting Jake watch him without being caught.

He peels the skin away, careful to keep it in one piece, and sets it on the coffee table. Then, gently, oh so gently, he extracts one of the wedges and puts it in his mouth. 

Jake watches, mesmerized, as it disappears in between his lips. It's one of Bradley's many talents to make such a basic thing as eating a tangerine to look like the most significant event of his day. Or… it could just be one of Jake's many talents to attach great importance to anything Bradley does. In the end, it doesn’t really matter.

He can tell the exact moment when the tangerine bursts in Bradley's mouth, filling his taste buds with the sweet and sour taste and the memories locked within. He watches him savor it. With his eyes closed, he chews the little piece, humming with pleasure.

Jake can't look away. He doesn't want to.

When Bradley opens his eyes, the joy in them is as bright as sunshine making him look like his own, burning and golden, Californian sun. He smiles at Jake, bright and pleased and all too knowing. All too beautiful.

Jake lets the corner of his lips curve up again. He must come up with something clever to say soon, something that'll put the distance back between them, something that'll tear his gesture from reality and shove it back to where it belongs, in the land of hope and dreams. 

But now, he'll allow himself half a second. He needs it to catalogue the sound Bradley just made when biting through another wedge. He needs it to file it all away and then school his face into something that's not pure worship. He just needs a second, that’s all.

But Bradley doesn’t give him one. Mouth full of tangerine, eyes shining with joy, he looks at him. 

"What?" Jake asks when the eye contact lingers.

Bradley swallows. Another wedge goes in. "Nothing," he shrugs. "You got me tangerines," he says again with his mouth full. 

Then - keeping the rest of the fruit in safe distance from Jake's sweats, very cautious not to squish it against anything - he leans over Jake's sprawled form and pecks him on the lips.

Just like that.

Like it’s that easy. 

Like he's not turning Jake's world on its axis.

It leaves a sweet taste on Jake’s lips.

With a cheeky grin, he leans back, throwing the rest of the tangerine into his mouth. He grabs another one from the bag and starts peeling it, as careful as he was with the first one, only now with a pleased smile glued to his face, chomping on the bright orange flesh of the fruit, carefree. The swell of his cheeks grows bigger as more tangerine pieces make it into his mouth.

Jake stares.

Did he miss something? Is it now already? 

Of the two of them, was it really Rooster to get off that perch first?

At first sight, things don't add up.

He licks the taste of the tangerine from his lips. It’s there. It’s fresh and it’s zesty and it tastes like summer. And it’s there. On his lips. 

He stares at Bradley who’s happily chewing away, relaxed and confident on Jake's couch on yet another Friday evening. The flush on his cheeks, the only thing betraying the seeming normalcy.

At second sight, Jake starts to catch up. And when their eyes meet again, he surges forward.

He rolls over his own legs, all but landing in Bradley’s lap. His hand cups the swell of Bradley’s cheek as he leans in and swallows his surprised "oof" with his lips.

He tastes tangerines.

He tastes hope. He tastes dreams. He tastes Bradley Bradshaw and it's the sweetest taste his lips ever got to try.

He presses close and chases the flavor. He wants. He wants. He wants. He wants to taste Bradley from inside out. He wants to know all of his flavors. 

He wants the taste of him on his tongue.

He licks at the seam of his lips, cut loose and bold, determined. Ready to devour.

But Bradley pushes him away.

 "You can't start kissing me for the first time when my mouth is full, Seresin,” he chuckles, eyes dark with want, yet amused. Typical.

Jake drops his head on Bradley's shoulder. "Shut up, Bradshaw," he groans. "Shut up and eat your tangerines."

Bradley laughs, pressing his smile into Jake's cheek.

The 'Shut up and kiss me already' is left unsaid.

Bradley hears it nonetheless.

He's done with tangerines for the night. 

[overwhelmed-alien]

TOP GUN: MAVERICK | 2022

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[Cuts to Bradley sprinting across base because the Bronco wouldn't start]

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Some scary Hangster/Dagger Squad vibes in honor of it being September (pre-spooky season! Woo! 👻)

Someone (or someTHING) is targeting Navy personnel on base. Rumors of a serial killer are on the rise, despite NCIS trying to keep the incidences hush-hush to not cause panic. But local news channels are saying that the bodies of four men have been found discarded on base, tortured for days before being killed in the same gruesome way. Photos are leaked and people do panic then, because the faces of the unfortunate victims are frozen in unadulterated terror, like they looked into the eyes of the devil himself before meeting their end.

The Dagger Squad and the 86 flyboys panic for a different reason: the killer obviously has a type. All the dead men look eerily similar to each other - Caucasian males, 30s, blond hair.

Naturally they circle the wagons around an unamused, dismissive Lt. Jake Seresin. It’s just a coincidence. He’s a proud Texan, he’s highly trained, he’s tough as nails, he’s untouchable. He does NOT need to be babysat and escorted to the restroom, thank you VERY freaking much.

No one listens to him, of course, and he finds himself boxed-in by a protective group of Daggers everywhere he goes. The Admirals go nuts as overprotective uncles of one of Mav’s kids, breaking whatever Naval rules that get in their way of keeping Seresin off the radar and out of sight.

Mav and Ice instantly “adopt” Jake, and Ice uses every bit of COMPACFLT authority to frog-march a reluctant Jake to their own home to keep eyes on him at all times.

Rooster, of course, has his feathers ruffled and his spurs out in full force the second he sees photos of the victims on the news, and Jake suddenly finds himself with a 24-hour bodyguard. Which is weird because, sure they had a “thing” back in the day, but Rooster literally just started not hating him after The Mission. But suddenly Bradley Bradshaw is not only invading every minute of his days, but he’s sleeping on the floor of the guest bedroom in his godfathers’ house because “somebody could climb through the window, JAke!” - “I’m on the second floor, BrADLEY.” But it doesn’t matter. At least two Daggers and the occasional Admiral are inhabiting Mav’s home at all times. Whatever is offing blond pretty-boys on base will have to go through them to get to their resident blond pretty-boy jackass.

But after a week of this nonstop nonsense - even after the fifth body is found: blond, terrified, mutilated - Jake uses his “wild problem child raised in a strict conservative Christian household” skills to slip out of a window one evening. Just to go to the Hard Deck for a while. He hasn’t been able to BREATHE without Rooster questioning his every move and the rest of them just WATCHING him at all times. He’s felt suffocated, trapped, and he hates it. He only likes attention on HIS terms, and dammit he doesn’t need an entire battalion to keep him safe. He’ll go to the bar for a while, maybe sweet-talk Penny into waiting at least an hour before she discreetly calls Mav to send in the security detail (his squadron). Ice, Rooster and Coyote were probably already nailing all the windows shut because of his rebellious teenager escape.

And maybe the pride in him wants to prove to his friends, to himself, to everyone, that he’s not called the Hangman for nothin’. That he’s perfectly capable of keeping himself safe.

He doesn’t anticipate the sudden drop in temperature around him - the sun went down during his walk to the bar, but just a second ago it was a balmy Southern California summer evening, and now he’s shivering, his teeth chattering, he can see his breath fogging. The hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end, and suddenly he knows what a rabbit feels like in the presence of a wolf - hopeless, helpless, alone, petrified. Too fucking small. He doesn’t know what’s out there, can’t see it, but he knows, he KNOWS, eyes are on him. He’s being watched. He’s being stalked. For the first time in his life, he knows he is prey. He is in the presence of evil - the evil his daddy talked about during Sunday sermons. The vague, incorporeal idea of evil he didn’t really believe in until this very moment, when it inexplicably became something tangible that he can feel squeezing his heart, his lungs. Something horrifically real.

He whips around, eyes wide and darting, sees nothing. Not just nothing, but an emptiness, the world around him unsaturated, dreamlike. Fear grips his body then, and he can’t breathe.

He’s frozen, legs like jelly as he tries to run down the empty sidewalk, but all he can do is stagger like a drunkard trapped in tar. He flies fighter jets, he’s been in constant danger so many times it never really fazes him anymore. He seeks out the thrill of terror, never runs from it, but he’s trying so desperately to run now. Begging his legs to find the strength, the speed he prides himself of meticulously cultivating, but something visceral’s got ahold of him and his heart is about to explode out of his ribs. He understands the expression “scared to death” now, because he’s literally about to have a heart attack trying to escape something he can’t even see.

A strong hand grips his shoulder and Jake lets out a scream that feels like its tearing his throat to pieces - the sound a rabbit makes as the wolf’s jaws snap around it’s small, fragile body - and he knows he’s done for. He falls to the ground and waits for death.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Jake-oh shit!”

It’s Rooster, and his voice in Jake’s ears sounds almost as scared as Jake feels, and Jake almost weeps as the terror immediately seeps from his body and leaves him exhausted and limp on the clumpy grass of some stranger’s front lawn. Rooster is here. Standing above him, legs bracketing Jake’s downed body and posed for a fight like an angry lion protecting a wounded mate. Thank God. Rooster will keep him safe.

He hears Coyote’s Jeep skid to a stop on the road beside them and a gang of Daggers fall out, and he’s being bombarded with flashlight beams and angry, relieved voices.

“Jeezus, he’s white as a sheet, get him up-”

“-Is he in shock?-“

“-Where the hell were you going, asshole?”

“-Did you really think we wouldn’t come after you, you idiot?”

“Bob, call Mav and tell them to call off the search.”

“Jake, are you okay? We saw you fall-“

“-sit him up front and get some AC on him-”

“-no don’t, feel his skin he’s fucking freezing-“

Jake hadn’t really focused on anything until suddenly there’s warm, concerned brown eyes directly in his vision and big, strong hands came up to frame his chilled face. He’s suddenly aware that he’s sitting sideways in Javy’s Jeep, and Bradley fucking Bradshaw is kneeling by the open door, the others crowding close watching him, always watching him. “Jake, look at me,” Bradley’s raspy voice cut through the remnants of terror in Jake’s mind. “Take a deep breath, honey, try to calm down. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Jake feels his own cold hands come up to bracket Bradley’s warm ones without his consent, and he leans closer instinctually. He’s always so damn warm.

“Jake?” That was Coyote, behind him in the driver seat, his big hands rubbing more warmth into his back. “What happened? Was someone after you? Did you see something?”

Jake shook his head in Bradley’s grip. Tears welled in his eyes. He’d never been so scared in all his life, but of what he couldn’t understand. He swallowed, again, trying to thaw his frozen throat. He looked into the warm depths of those whiskey brown eyes in front of him and finally drew in a pained lungful of air.

“I…I…oh, God-“ that couldn’t be his voice, that voice belonged to a scared little boy, not a decorated Naval aviator. Eventually it’ll piss him off, make him angry at himself for being such a wuss, but right now he’s just trying not to throw up. “…it’s real, Bradley. It’s real-“ he gripped tight those hands in his, and begged, pleaded, “-I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me. Please take me home-t-to Mav. I’m sorry…please…it’s real…”

Bradley shook his head, his fingers running through damp blond hair. His brows furrowed when he felt…it couldn’t be. It’s summer, how could there be frost in Jake’s hair?

“What’s real, sweetheart?” Bradley’s jaw tightened dangerously when two fat tears escaped the wild, haunted green eyes he still (not so) secretly loves so much.

“…I…I don’t know.”

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kinda gay for a man to sit with his legs far apart. what is all that space there for? another man?

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I didn’t see “baby” at first so I was sitting here thinking about grown ass Lt Jake Seresin sitting in Ice’s floor happily drinking a juice box that his doting Icepops provided him 🥹🤣🤣🤣

One day, Ice is working in his home office and Maverick isn’t home. Baby Jake comes up and asks for juice and a snack but he’s busy and can’t get up right that moment. That night, he buys a mini fridge to put in his office and stocks it with juice boxes and snacks, and Jake’s favorite thing to do becomes sitting on the floor of his Pops office and watching him work while snacking

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Y’all! The Em Dash has finally delivered a public statement regarding the AI allegations.

And it’s glorious!

Read the full article on the McSweeney’s website here!

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Have y’all seen those “find your long lost friend or relative” facebook groups? I’ve noticed a lot of them involve military families and people trying to find their childhood friends.

So I’m picturing Bradley posting while he’s still estranged from icemav. He’s looking through old pictures and feeling nostalgic:

“I’m looking for my best friend from childhood. Our families were both stationed in Pensacola for several years. His dad was a Marine, or Navy, and so was my uncle.

The only picture I have is from Halloween that year. My friend was a few years younger than me, but he still tagged along with our group. He was a really sweet kid, and he helped me out a lot when my mom was sick.

Right before my mom died my friend’s dad was deployed, and I think he moved back to Texas with his mom and siblings. I have tried to remember his name but I had a lot going on at the time, and I just forgot it. I think it might have started with a J.

He would have been born around 1988 or so, and at the time he was the middle child between two sisters. Help me find him?”

Javy sees it and recognizes the picture instantly. Jake’s mom has it hanging up right beside the mantel where his dad’s flag is. He had teased his friend exactly once, until Jake told him quietly that his dad had taken that picture.

Unsure what to do since Jake is currently deployed, he sends the post to Nat to get her opinion. They decide to wait until Jake gets home to mention anything.

As it turns out, Jake reaches Bradley first. He’s banging on Bradshaw’s door fresh off the boat. “What the fuck is this?” he demands, absolutely furious. He doesn’t even notice at first that Bradley is shirtless with messy bedhead.

“You act like you don’t know me in flight school, and then post some fake thing with my mom’s favorite picture of me? What the fuck did I ever do to you???”

Bradley is completely lost. He has no idea what Hangman is talking about.

“You’re the whole fucking reason I even went Navy—you and Mav—and then I finally get to flight school, finally see you again, and you treat me like the dirt under your boots.”

He’s still lost, but Bradley begins to get the faintest hint of an idea. Then blazing green eyes are staring at him from a furious, beautiful face. Jake waves his phone at Rooster, his facebook post front and center.

“And this is how you want to play it? Act like you’re some innocent kid? Like you didn’t completely abandon me after my dad died, when I needed you the most??”

Jake tried to hold onto his fury, but just thinking about that time was enough to make his eyes well up with tears. His dad had been part of a Marine peacekeeping mission to Bosnia when the vehicle they were in was hit by a stray IED. He was seven years old and mad at the world.

His mom took their family back to Texas, to his grandparents’ ranch, but Jake had carefully penned letters to Bradley, asking him about his daily activities, and asking him for advice on how to handle missing his dad.

He never got an answer, but he never gave up on his dreams, either. He worked hard, graduating high school early and entering the Naval Academy at seventeen. He had hoped he would see Bradley there, but it would be four more years before they crossed paths at flight school.

Jake had finished one of his first official solo hops when he saw Bradley pacing in the ready room. He strolled over to greet him only to be met with Rooster’s searing glare. “You keep flying like that you’re going to get your whole squadron killed,” Bradley spat the words in his face, instantly getting Jake’s back up.

It was going to be like that, was it?

They had been at each other’s throats ever since. Jake irritated Bradley by way of his similarities to Maverick, while Jake was deeply hurt by the apparent betrayal of his oldest friend. They were at an impasse.

A soft sniffle from Jake had Bradley looking back at the younger man. The hand holding his phone had dropped slightly, but that picture of that brightly smiling boy was still showing. Bradley looked between the picture and Jake, trying to make his mind process the truth.

The teary eyes, the hurt look, it all reframed the past years since they met (reconnected?) at flight school. No wonder Jake was so prickly. And had he said…?

“Your dad died?” Bradley questioned softly, reaching a hand to steady Jake’s elbow.

Jake stared at him, brow wrinkling in confusion. “You didn’t know?”

Bradley was already shaking his head. “No, I was at the hospital a lot with my mom and when I asked where you were Mav said your family had moved to Texas. I guess I assumed it was a new post for your dad, and I didn’t ask any questions. My mom died a few months later.”

Jake felt the last of his anger deflate. “I’m sorry, Roo.

Bradley stepped closer, wrapping his other arm around Jake’s hunched shoulders. “Do you want to come in? We can talk some, catch up?”

Jake couldn’t keep the hope off his face. He really wanted a fresh start with Bradley, instead of Rooster.

———

Update: thanks everyone! I found him:

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Not Hangster related, but I wanted to share!

As I get closer to 40 years old, I have decided to quit my almost 2 decades long accounting career in the next few months, and I’m going back to school to be a licensed massage therapist!

I start January 2026! It’s something I’ve always wanted to do, and I feel like it’s now or never.

Ok, back to your regularly scheduled Hangster content!!

🥰

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don't wanna miss a thing

Hangster | E | 34k Getting together, secretly married, slice of life, love letters Bradley spends 34k drinking 'I love my husband' juice

"Who are you always writing to, Bradshaw," Nat slides into the seat next to him in the rec room, a bag of potato chips in her hand. Bradley eyes the chips, he hasn't gotten anything from the commissary all week, he should do that. "Got a girl back home you haven't told us about?" Bradley pauses for a second before answering, "Yeah, something like that." Or: Bradley Bradshaw is a sappy romantic — vignettes throughout the years of Bradley being in love with Jake.

Read on Ao3

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Nobody over 30 cares about the opinions of children. 😌💅✨

aren't you almost 30? it is weird when people over 30 watch shows aimed at teens and 20-somethings. but you even said you stopped watching it, so it's fine :).

ohmygod please don't be one of those people who thinks when you're thirty you're suddenly 'old' and can't enjoy things that give you nostalgia because 'they're for teens!'. guess what, a switch doesn't flip when you hit a certain number that means you stop enjoying things you did before. this attitude will only make yourself miserable

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Looking for friends who get my Hangster/Sereshaw obsession

If you're 18+ and have a Hangster/Sereshaw ship obsession and would like to talk then please DM me so we can chat. Also I have a Hangster/Sereshaw Cult community if you'd like to join that as well.

[overwhelmed-alien]

Mmmmm Jake and Bradley who got together during tg but rooster called it off not long after they graduated for reasons Jake didn't quite understand but finds out years later during the detachment training that Rooster has a baby chick (9 yo son) and has been raising him basically alone this entire time and so after the mission Jake confronts him and Bradley says the mother contacted him right after giving birth and said if he didn't want to she would put him ij the system and that was his sign to step up, so he did and now Caleb, cute little glasses wearing NATOPS reciting airplane fiend is Bradley's whole life and at the time (somewhere around their graduation) he knew Jake wouldn't be ready to be a parent and that his career would take precedent, which, fair. But Jake grew up with a big family and was convinced he'd never have kids because he's gay and adoption is very difficult, especially with his job, but he understands why Bradley put his son first.

They get back together eventually, with Caleb charming the socks off the entire dagger squad and Icemav too. 🥰

[overwhelmed-alien]

^ hey! It’s all yours if you want it! 👏😃💙🩵🙏

I saw a random comment on TikTok that I can’t get out of my head, somebody said Jake and Bob could be fraternal twins.

And that of course got me thinking.

They’re fraternal twins, Jake is older by 3 minutes and never lets Bob forget it. Jake really doesn’t acknowledge Bob in the Navy, especially when they’re in the same squadron, not because Jake is mean or hateful but because he’s trying to protect his little brother. He knows Hangman has a bad reputation and he doesn’t want Bob’s name dragged down with him. He watches out for him from afar, keeps him safe and protected, has shoved guys into lockers and threatened to maim a few meathead assholes who try to pick on Bob. Nobody can pick on Bob but HIM.

Being in the Dagger squad is the first time he feels comfortable enough to be “brothers” in public with his Bobby. He can be silly and loving and affectionate and typical brotherly with Bob (ie: throwing a screaming Bob over his shoulder and dumping him into the ocean, etc). The Daggers get to see Bobby and Jakey in action being TWINS (finishing each others sentences, having the same reactions, they even sneeze the same way, and most times together).

And Bob never cared about Hangman’s reputation. He just wanted his brother.